Category: Türkiye

With two speeding tickets to my name, I needed to up my game if Turkey was not going to become very expensive. The obvious strategy would be to stay below the limit. However, as I had found out to my cost, it is not always easy to know what the limit is for bikes. My satnav was completely useless in this respect. Roads signs only gave limited information. Background reading was often contradictory. I read that the limit on motorways was 80 kph for bikes. With the rest of the traffic doing 130 kph this did not sound at all safe. All the speed radars that I had seen were forward facing. This is good news for bikes because they can’t capture your number plate. It only works when there is someone down the road, watching a live feed, that can flag you down. The set up for this was usually a small temporary warning sign on the hard shoulder. A couple of hundreds of metres later would be a parked police vehicle with the radar mounted on its roof and a similar distance further along the road would be coned down to one lane where the police were waiting. There were also radar and other sensors on gantries over the road. Most of these, at the entrance and exit to towns, were, I think, more to do with ANR. Keeping track of who goes where.

The road north to Hapa on the Black Sea was spectacular. It wound along a series of mountain passes and was virtually deserted. The sun was shining and the air was fresh. We had a relaxed night at a resort type hotel on the coast and then turned west. The coast road was very different but equally enjoyable. Mostly it was tight, twisty roads in and out of the small valleys running down to the sea. Occasionally we dropped into a town and here the road would be dual carriageway interrupted by multiple sets of traffic lights. There was usually a hard shoulder. Separated from the main carriageway by a solid white light. It found far more use that just being for breakdowns. It was also used for parking, for horse drawn vehicles, for filtering at lights (even for cars), for loading and unloading trucks and could also be used if you needed to drive against the main flow of traffic. Very useful.

After three days we turned inland to avoid Istanbul. Far too busy to be an enjoyable ride. We find big cities are better visited on foot. Instead, we headed towards the Dardanelles straits where we could cross to Gelibolu and mainland Europe. This area controls maritime access to the Black Sea and has been the scene of many conflicts over the ages. In WW1 over 300,000 soldiers were killed at Gallipoli in a failed invasion that lasted eight months and badly discredited Winston Churchill. The largest single span suspension bridge in the world is here. Built in 1915, the Çanakkale bridge has a central span of just over two kilometres. We chose the ferry but nearly changed our minds when we saw the queue. Sometimes, however, being on a bike is just wonderful. We were waved though. Past rows of trucks and scores of cars right up to the ship. Here we just had time to buy a ticket before being literally the last vehicle onboard.

A short ride took us the border with Greece. Here I had to pay my speeding fines. Just the two, I had successfully avoided any further trouble. No further checks, so long as the bill was paid I was free to go. So we arrived in Greece and lovely hotel in a quiet village just past Alexandroupoli.

Leaving Göreme we headed off into some lovely wide-open roads that curved up into the hills. Traffic was light. The air was cool. We lent into the curves and let the KTM enjoy a bit of space and freedom. Then, coming round a bend, the traffic police pulled me over and gave me a speeding fine. That smarted a bit. Suitably contrite, we resumed the road at a steadier pace. Then came a textbook example of the sympathetic use of nature. One that completed our transition from joyous freedom to serious intent. It started to rain. The rain got heavier so we took shelter at a petrol station. We didn’t need fuel. Just sat under cover drinking Turkish tea until things improved. Back on the road we got another couple of hours in before another squall hit. This time we did need petrol, so I dived into the next station. A pleasant young lad filled the bike and then invited us for tea while the rain passed. I went out to check the bike while it was parked under the station canopy. Always a good idea to periodically look over the tyres, chain and so on. While I was busy with this, the lad, barely in his mid-twenties, was declaring his love for Diane – via Google Translate. Seriously. She explained that she was nearly seventy to which he replied that she hid her age with her beauty. When the conversation turned to sex my princess decided it was time for a swift exit. Putting her helmet on as she came over to the bike, she explained that she had pulled but it was time to go.

Arriving at our hotel in Mus, which advertised private on-site parking, we were invited to park the bike right outside the hotel entrance. This involved a couple of steep ramps onto a polished marble floor. I was happy that I managed this without dropping the bike. Next day, we headed to Lake Van. This is enormous. We could not see across it. The weather improved enormously and we had a lovely drive along the south side of the lake to the city of Van. Parking arrangements here were similar to Mus. The bike ended up right outside the rotating door to the hotel. We went of to explore the city but did not get much further than a very nice bar where we enjoyed some wine. For dinner we visited a restaurant specialising in pide. A Turkish version of pizza (which came first?). Bread with melted cheese and mushrooms cooked in a wood fired oven. Served with salad and a tomato and garlic salsa.

In the morning, we went to see a sanctuary for Van cats run by the university. Van cats, originating from Lake Van in Turkey often have heterochromia (one eye of each colour) and are known as the swimming cats. They have been observed to swim in Lake Van. The ones we saw in a sanctuary had their own swimming pool but we did not see them swim – and we were not allowed to throw them in the water. They were extremely cute though and we paid extra to feed them. Leaving Lake Van we passed a big blue road sign that posted the speed limits for various vehicles. 110 kph for cars, lower speeds for different categories of truck. Ten minutes later I was pulled over for speeding again. Now I discovered that although it is not posted, anywhere, the speed limit for motorcycles, on the main roads, is 90 kph. I was flabbergasted. A key issue for motorcycling is being able to keep up with the flow of traffic. Forcing motorbikes to be slower than cars and most trucks is simply asking for trouble. And I had another speeding fine.

Pressing on, our route took us off the main road and up into the mountains. The rain arrived and then got heavier. The temperature dropped as we climbed. The road was terrific but we found it increasingly hard to enjoy as we got colder and wetter. By the top of the pass, 2,600 m, it was a mere 4°C. Leaving Van it had been a balmy 26°C. We looked and felt like a pair of drowned rats. My toes were numb. Diane was shivering. Only just higher than us was fresh snow across the mountain tops. Coming down was a dilemma. Crack on and suffer the wind chill or slow down and take longer. The route was spectacular but we were very pleased to reach our hotel in Erzurum. This is one of Turkey’s premier ski resorts. The receptionist told us there had been snow there in the morning.

The next day was one of those when I was really pleased that we were not on an organised trip. The weather forecast was awful. More rain and cold. The following day however was sunny and warm. So, we changed our plans, we stayed put. I did some more planning. We explored the city and caught up with the clothes washing. By the time we left, we were refreshed, relaxed and the weather was lovely. Aiming due north, we set off towards the Black Sea.

Two days of steady riding bought us to Göreme in the region of Cappadocia. We had a night in a very local hotel on the way, where I am sure we were the only foreigners. Dinner and breakfast were served as a buffet in an enormous and mostly empty restaurant. The translation app on my phone saw heavy service as we attempted to identify the dishes. We mostly enjoyed the food. Diane was not impressed by raw chillis for breakfast, I thought they did a wonderful job of waking you up. Tea, Turkish tea, was ubiquitous. Often prepared in a heated urn with two taps. One for tea, one for hot water. We found we needed to dilute the tea considerably. Coffee was usually the instant, powdered stuff although occasionally we found genuine Turkish coffee. Made using very finely ground coffee beans so you get an espresso sized cup which is about 1/3 coffee sludge. Strong and bit gritty. I am developing a taste for it while my teeth are turning black.

The second day was wet. We arrived in Göreme in the rain. Fortunately, the hotel was lovely and, one of the benefits of visiting a tourist destination, is that we found an Indian restaurant. In stark contrast the last few days, this place was crawling with foreigners. Göreme sits at the heart of a network of valleys filled with astonishing rock formations. Fairy towers are pillars of rock that pop up everywhere. Many of these have been hollowed out inside. Once, they were hiding places for Christians escaping the Romans. Today, many of them have become boutique hotels. Göreme was little visited by tourists until the 1970s but by 2000 had become the tourist capital of Cappadocia. Tourism brought wealth and a better standard of living to the village. It also changed the local agricultural life completely. The town is now packed with shops offering balloon trips, local tours, souvenirs, ATV trips, pony treks, camel rides and photo shooting opportunities. Here you can hire a voluminous red silk dress, an open top American car and a photographer so that, early in the morning, you can pose in front of the balloons. This mostly appeals to young Asian women but I guess it would be open for anyone.

The hot air balloons. I had seen photographs of balloons at Göreme and assumed that the image was from an annual festival. No. Every single morning, weather permitting, over a hundred brightly coloured balloons take to the sky. Hot air ballooning in Cappadocia started in 1991 with a competition of professional hot air ballooners from all over the world. Since then it has blossomed. 25 balloon companies, 250 balloons and up to 165 balloons launched each morning. Cappadocia is considered one of the best places in the world for ballooning. The weather is generally well suited and the area has a unique scenery of magnificent volcanic mountains, natural fairy chimneys, oddly shaped valleys, pigeon houses and stone carved churches. It was going to mean an early start but we steeled ourselves to it and signed up.

4am in the morning we were sat outside waiting for our ride. It was dark and quite chilly. Once in the minibus we were served breakfast – small carton of juice and biscuit bar. Other people were collected and eventually we bounced off along some dirt tracks. Over an hour later we were on an area of green fields above the valleys. Balloons were everywhere. We arrived as ours was in the final stages of being inflated. Hot air comes from a powerful LPG burner mounted about the basket. Strong fans were also being used to drive air into the envelope. Around us, in the first light of dawn, we could see many other balloons inflating on the ground or already taking to the sky.

The basket was divided into eight compartments each holding four people. You jammed yourself in here quite snugly. Seemed like quite a good arrangement. Everyone could see in most directions and it was secure and comfortable. Then we just wafted into the sky. Just like that. No drama or noise, apart from the burner. In just a few minutes we felt part of the great wave of balloons drifting up in the ever-brightening sky. There is no wind when you are in a balloon. Because you drift with the air currents, at the same speed, there is no relative wind at all. Very comfortable and relaxed. Initially we gained height. The world was reduced to little ants running around. It felt very safe. The walls of the basket come up to chest level so there is no chance of falling out. In fact, as we found out later, getting out can be a bit of a challenge.

Then we descended. A wide valley full of fairy chimneys runs north from Göreme and many of the balloons drop right down into this. Crowds had gathered at the overlooking escarpment. We passed within a few metres of them as dropped into the valley. We skirted over bushes and almost touched the ground before climbing again at the far side. I noticed that balloons never collided and never seemed to get caught up on the fairy chimneys. I am guessing that something about the way air currents work helps with this. You cannot steer a balloon, just go up or down to find different airstreams. There seems to be quite a lot of skill involved and our pilot was doing just fine.

Past the valley we crossed into a more level area and then landed, very neatly and gently, in a field. The ground crew of four appeared with their Landrover and trailer within minutes. First job was to inflate the balloon just slightly so that the basket could be manhandled onto the trailer. Then then trailer, complete with basket and passengers was moved to a suitable location for deflating the balloon. Finally, with the balloon now laying across the ground, we were allowed to clamber out of the basket. We were given a glass of champagne, which was not champagne. We listened to a short speech that could have been précised as “please give us a tip”. The minibus took us back to the hotel where we enjoyed a buffet breakfast on the rooftop terrace. Then we went back to bed.

Early next morning we got a view from the hotel of the day’s balloons. Then we went on a day trip. Sometimes these are good but not necessarily. The main advantage for us is that we get round a bunch of interesting places without having to first find them out for ourselves. So, laziness really. First stop was an overlook of pigeon valley. Many small caves carved into the rock formations with the purpose of attracting pigeons. Pigeon guano was used as fertiliser. I imagine the odd bird found its way into a stew pot. The sight was embellished with the usual ways of getting money from tourists. Camel rides, small ponies, souvenir shops and so on. On to the jewellery making shop which was just an excuse to try and sell us jewellery. Fortunately, I am immune and was able to keep a close eye on Diane. Next stop was some carved caves that had been used as a cathedral. Extensive and quite magnificent. The soft stone, actually a compressed volcanic ash, lends itself to digging and carving but also erodes quickly. Preserving these sites can be quite difficult. Then came a walk down a canyon. This was very enjoyable and it made a pleasant change not to be just standing around.

Penultimate stop was an underground city. There are several of these in Cappadocia. They were started two thousand years ago for Christians to hide in and have been used and expanded ever since. Came in very handy when the Mongol hoards crossed from the steppes and many other times as well. Calling the place a city is possibly a bit of an exaggeration. The tunnels are extensive. Apparently 5,000 people could hide in here. They are all quite small and it seemed quite stuffy with just a hundred or so tourists in there. None the less, very impressive and interesting. Final stop was a sweet making shop where they were simply selling sweets and dishing out free samples. That was us done with Göreme. Next day we would go in search of swimming cats.

The crossing to Türkiye was windy and choppy. It was only a small ferry and our poor bike, strapped onto the rear deck, got thoroughly drenched with sea water. Fortunately, the trip was only 90 minutes. We rode the bike off, parked by a locked gate and were directed into building to get our documentation checked. Everything went fine until the very last moment. I thought I had checked our vehicle insurance for Türkiye but in fact I had only checked the breakdown insurance. We had no insurance and the authorities were not going to let us take the bike until we could prove otherwise. Now usually, on this sort of border, getting vehicle insurance is not a problem. Often there are several insurance offices lined up by the border just desperate to sell you something. On this occasion we had arrived by a rather obscure route, just a handful of vehicles each week and to exacerbate the issue it was labour day, May 1^st, a public holiday.

We walked over to the ferry office and attempted to sort something out. They were very helpful and soon had someone on the phone for us. He explained that it was not possible to buy insurance in Türkiye for a foreign vehicle and that I needed to contact my insurers in the UK. There then followed a surreal conversation with Carol Nash, who insure my bike. First of all, they understood that I was trying to insure an additional bike called a Türkiye . This got escalated to a supervisor who realised that Türkiye was a country but explained that I was covered for the whole of Europe. Up to the next supervisor who recoiled in horror over the notion that I wanted to ride my bike outside of Europe. Why would you do that? Finally, after a long time on hold, I was told that it was quite impossible. Half an hour later, while I was busy trawling the internet for something useful, the ferry office man came back with another phone call. This one worked. Several email exchanges and a trip to an ATM later and we had the necessary document. Eventually collected the bike late afternoon but whatever, we were in, all sorted and legal. We stayed at a local hotel and then picked up the planned trip a day later.

First stop was Kuşadası, a delightful small town packed with tourist shops. We aimed to get there on the main road but got turned around by the police. Some incident had blocked the road. We took to smaller roads and picked a route out through some hills to the north. The proved to be a pleasant ride and probably much more fun. We took an extra day at Kuşadası so that we could visit the Ephesus Archaeological Site. This is the massive, excavated remains of a of a temple, theatre and library in an ancient city taken over by Romans in 129 BC. Although clearly battered by 2,000 years of neglect this place is still impressive. In particular, you can get a sense of what life might have been like for the Romans. The rich Romans obviously. The slaves and servants probably had a horrible time of it. The weather was boiling hot and the crowds fearsome but we eventually managed to get round the whole site and even read some of the noticeboards. If you are into Roman ruins then this place should be on your list. The entrance area to the site is a covered roadway lined by tourist shops. Any kind of replica watch, jewellery, handbag or other accessory at a bargain price.

Back at our hotel the very nice owner invited us to a family barbeque in the evening. I am not at all keen on either meat and children but fortunately Diane is much more polite that me and she stepped in to explain that we were vegetarian. The owner replied that surely her husband was not one. He did not look like a vegetarian. What does that mean? I think he is saying I am fat. And they would be serving salad. Oh joy, the stench of burning meat, the screams of crying children and a bit of lettuce leaf. I attempted to maintain a fixed smile on my face. One that had nothing to do with what was going on inside my head. I nodded in what I hoped was a polite way and we left.

Next day we continued along the coast road as best we could. In places there was not a road near the sea. Even so we managed enough road with bright blue ocean immediately to our right to keep Diane happy. The riding was great. Perfect weather. Sunny but not too hot. Quiet roads that twisted and looped through hidden coves and over small hills. The Rhapsody hotel at Kalkan was all but deserted. It is still early in the season. We’d had a long day. We were quite happy to eat by the pool as the sun set. Then Gillian and Reynaldo turned up. A lovely couple that had a holiday home nearby. We had a pleasant chat with them and picked up some nuggets of interesting local knowledge.

More coastal roads brought us to Antalya, popular amongst British tourists. We kept moving and ended up at a serious holiday hotel an hour or so later. This was an all-inclusive establishment in a gated compound with its own restricted beach area. I’d chosen it as being good value for money. Which it was. Drinks and half board for around £80. On arrival we were tagged with wristbands. The room was lovely. Overlooking swimming pools and the beach. Food was served buffet style with an excellent range of food to choose from. Wine was either red or white and the cocktails were rubbish. Overall, the stay was good fun although we did feel a bit out of place.

In the morning, we had a sobering start when, not five minutes after leaving the hotel, we came across two bodies. They were clearly very dead and had been laid out by the roadside. Not covered. Looked to be a couple in their early twenties. No helmets, dressed for the beach. The police were in attendance and thirty metres down the road was a flipped over ATV. A few other vehicles were parked up and a small crowd was standing well back. We did not see what happened but I am sure the gist of it would include inexperience, exuberant driving and excessive speed. Very sad. We have seen a lot of people on rented ATVs since then and I can’t help thinking how dangerous they are without a bit of training.

Our costal odyssey continued in much the same way as the previous days. The roads became quieter and we eventually arrived at the Kupala beach hotel. Tiny little village at the end of a beach where we were absolutely the only people staying at the hotel. There is something strange and a little disconcerting about staying in an otherwise empty hotel. It was being run by three blokes – none of whom seemed the hotel manager type. We sorted out the check-in and even organised food but they discussed everything amongst themselves, apparently in great detail. Like they were not sure what they were supposed to be doing. I am sure there is a story here. Definitely something a little bit weird. Nothing bad happened. We ate well. No idea where the food came from but it arrived in bags brought by runners. We turned in early ready to leave the coast and start inland.