Türkiye/Turkey – a new love

03.-27.09.2023

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On waking up, the cool morning wind blows freshly through the mosquito net into the inside of the tent, so that we muffle ourselves deeper into the sleeping bag for a moment, knowing full well that it is only a short moment until the rays of the just risen sun will drive us out of the tent.

Since the heavy downpour on our arrival in Yalova, which we, thus avoiding the city traffic, reached by ferry from Istanbul, and apart from a short thunderstorm intermezzo a few days later, which caused considerable damage in the surrounding regions but largely spared us, the sun has been shining from a cloudless sky and has given us high summer temperatures throughout the weeks in Turkey.

And so, this morning, everything proceeds in the usual routine: Putting water on the gas stove for Astrid’s morning coffee and Herbert’s tea, preparing muesli portions with fresh, chopped fruit and yoghurt or kefir and sandwiches for the daily snack. This is all Herbert’s job, while Astrid starts rolling up sleeping bags and sleeping mats. So every morning about two hours pass between waking up, breakfast, morning toilet and then packing the bikes until we set off.

While the journey through south-eastern Europe along the Danube, apart from short off-road sections, occasional short climbs and the hot spell, was more of a stroll until our train journey from Vidin, Bulgaria to Istanbul, the onward journey in Turkey turned into a real topographical challenge. Between us and our destination, Cappadocia, 750 km and almost 7,000 m accumulated elevation gain away, countless steep mountain climbs tower up, demanding the utmost effort from us time and again. Gradients of 6-10% and more, occasionally even up to 18%, are almost commonplace and soon make us realise that our originally proven rule of thumb of an average of 75-80 km per cycling day or 400 km per week cannot be adhered to. Adjustments to our planned routes and routines are thus unavoidable, but do not cause us any problems, even if occasional motorway sections have to be inserted to reduce the number of metres in altitude. We actually have to pay bitterly for the attempt to do without: a route indicated by Komoot as an alternative cycle route turns out to be an extremely steep, totally washed out dirt road of a total length of 8 km with a gradient of over 18% in parts, absolutely impassable and ultimately only manageable by us with outside help – spontaneous towing services by a motorcyclist and separate luggage transport to the top of the pass by a friendly car driver.

Nevertheless, our efforts are rewarded time and again and thus reduce the suffering on the mountain. On the one hand, there is the landscape, whose diverse and beautiful scenery always captures us anew, making us stop and linger, admire and enjoy in our efforts to make progress:

• the view back after a 13% ascent into the densely forested mountains to Lake Iznik, shimmering deep blue in the sunlight;

• the 360° panorama over Anatolia’s gentle mountain ranges, gleaming in the gold of the seemingly limitless mown grain fields;

• valleys and plains spreading out to the horizon, sometimes bordered by bizarre rock formations, crossed by large herds of sheep, goats and cattle and broken up by small, sometimes even poor villages or towns with their traditional life and mosques always dominating the purlieus; often surrounded by the green of fruit, olive or hazelnut plantations or small vineyards, but also with large brick and concrete factories, one of Anatolia’s most important industries;

• finally, the crowning glory is Tuz Gölü, glistening white in the sunlight, one of the world’s largest salt lakes, which covers around 60% of Turkey’s salt requirements and is unfortunately no longer home to the once existing, now extinct flamingo population.

But we are also fascinated by visiting the towns, each with its own character and charm, where we take short rest breaks with doing the laundry, patching and plastering:

• the beautiful and lively university town of Eskişehir, perhaps already 4,000 years old, but eventually founded by Phrygians in 1,000 B.C. and today modern, almost Western in appearance, where gondola rides on the Porsuk river give a touch of Venice to the predominantly domestic tourists;

• the small town of Haymana in the heart of Anatolia, known for its thermal springs and baths, which has a Turkish-Kurdish identity seemingly untouched by outside influences, and where Leki, a language otherwise only found in Iran, is often spoken;

• Nevşehir, a city dominated by international tourism due to the unique topography surrounding it, our last stop in Turkey after we decided to stay here for a longer time to visit the UNESCO World Heritage listed attractions of Cappadocia and then fly directly on to Tel Aviv, Israel.

Whereas the term Cappadocia used to refer to the land between the Taurus and the Black Sea, today it is more commonly understood to mean the volcanic landscape between the cities of Avanos in the north and Niğde in the south. The landscape is dominated by the extraordinary rock formations created by volcanic emissions and erosion, as well as by the caves carved out of the rocks. Another attraction are the underground cities discovered only in the second half of the last century, whose origins go back some 5,000 years and which served as a safe hiding place for three thousand or more, allegedly even up to fifty thousand people, during the persecution of Christians in 1,000 AD.

We dedicated three days to visiting this exceptional landscape with the absolute highlight, the hot air balloon ride into the sunrise, an unforgettable and incomparable experience.

In addition to these unique scenic and cultural impressions, however, it is the encounters with the people that touch us again and again, their unconditional friendliness and willingness to help, that leave a lasting impression on us and remain in our memories, such as:

• the truck-driver family at Lake Iznik who, while we pitch our tent under the pine trees on the beach, invites us to their picnic and provides us with delicious food and valuable route tips;

• the elderly gentleman who invites us to tea in the first small, traditional village we reach after setting off from Yalova and immediately points out to us in a polite manner that it is not appropriate for Astrid, i.e. a woman, to have the Turkish flag on her bike, but that it belongs on Herbert’s bike – advice we nevertheless decide to ignore;
• Birgül, a fluent German-speaking tourism manager from Oldenburg, visiting her family in the small village of Yenimehmetli on the farm once run by her father with over 1,000 hectares and now run by her brothers; she not only invites us to her farm, but is also decisive in helping us organise our onward flight to Israel and the necessary bicycle transport;

• the crew of the emergency service in Acipinar, who first makes it clear to us that the water tapped from the water hose in the garden is not drinkable, but then not only provides us with drinking water from their supply, but at the same time invites us to a sumptuous dinner, perfectly timed for our wedding anniversary day; in addition, we are allowed to pitch our tent in the well-kept front garden of the station and, of course, use the existing sanitary facilities;

• the cheerful owners and employees of the bicycle shop ‘DMK Bisiklet’ in Nevşehir, who not only provide us with the boxes for the air transport of our bikes, but also take care of the professional packing and transport to our hotel;

• the countless friendly invitations for a glass of tea, mostly from more or less well German-speaking former guest workers, which we nevertheless often have to politely but firmly decline in order not to dramatically jeopardise our travel and time schedule.

So we leave Turkey, which we have now travelled through for more than four weeks, enriched by a kaleidoscope of human and scenic impressions and experiences and filled with respect and affection, arising from the direct experience of the special features and characteristics of the country and its people.