Today was a day off the bikes so the blog will be brief. We started the day riding in a different way – on horses. The word “Cappadocia” means “land of beautiful horses” in Persian, and hence it seemed an appropriate place to trade 2 wheels for 4 legs.

For those who think riding a horse must be much like riding a bike, let me assure you they are totally different riding experiences for 3 reasons. First, the good bit. There are no pedals to turn when riding a horse and the horse puts in most of the effort (although 3 hours in this type of saddle still left us exhausted). Secondly, the more dubious part. Horses have a mind of their own which is independent of the rider and the horse makes its own decisions whether to respond to commands – which bikes do not (even though it sometimes seems that way). Thirdly, the scary part. Horses are much bigger than bicycles, much scarier when they start to move at anything other than walking speed and there is far more potential to do serious harm to one’s self (or so it seems perched on top of the animal).

  
But despite these potential drawbacks, our mounts were placid and mostly well behaved. We really enjoyed our ride over the hills above the town of Avenos. Our guide was the multi-lingual Enda, who also had an encyclopaedic knowledge of local bids, flowers and trees. We saw lizards, a hare, all manner of birds and some fantastic views. It was a real change and might just be something we want to repeat back home.

 In the late afternoon sun we went to the Goreme Museum, which is an area outside the village of rock churches and monastic settlements. These were similar to other Cappadocian monastic ruins but were excellently presented with good signage. Some of the frescos were amazing – telling the story of the passion and death of Jesus and his resurrection in pictures across the walls of these ancient churches. The frescos came from a time when few could read and religious ideas were communicated orally and by pictures on church walls. The dark church in particular was memorable – but apologies for the lack of pictures because these were not allowed.

  
We then strolled through the Rose Valley and managed to avoid slipping down any crevasse type formations in the rock as we took pictures. There is a reason that some photographers never make it back from these rock formations and we were determined not to join them by slipping as we searched for the perfect angle for a photo. So the photos may not be great but we live to snap again.

On the way back we came across the sign to this pansion – not where we were staying but it seemed to promise more than the usual accommodation.

In the evening we met and had dinner with a lovely Turkish/Australian family from Melbourne. Umit, Nihal and their boys live in Australia but originate from Turkish Northern Cyprus and all speak fluent Turkish.

They were funny, informed and excellent company. We hope to see them (or any of them) if they make it to London.

I woke to cacophonous birdsong – or at least that how it sounded at dawn- which is pretty early at this time of year. Preferential though to the drumming of rain. All was quiet on that front and we were cozy and dry. When the birds finally drove me out of my sleeping bag, it was damp outside but dry. There must be something about our choice of campsites but again as we were finishing our packing up routine a large herd of cows was being driven up the track. This time they were meandering slowly and several took to sniffing our bikes. Having been taught to keep cattle at a healthy distance I was particularly anxious when the bull decided to take a look at our camping spot and was pawing the ground where we had been cooking but the small boys driving the herd didn’t seem concerned and and eventually they all moved on without incident.

There was a sharp bottom gear climb out of the gorge at Guzeloz and back up the the plain. When the ground levelled out at about 1600m it was desolate and windswept and only 8C! We layered up again and cycled across the strangely beautiful landscape without seeing a single car. 

We dropped steepy off the plain again down another gorge into a fertile valley with cones of rock typical of the cappadocian landscape where layers of compressed volcanic ash from milennia ago had eroded leaving wierd and wonderful shapes. 

We stopped at site of Keslick Monastery, another C9th to C11 rock cut monastery complex. 250 monks had lived with most of the them housed in rooms carved out of the conical rocks. As we tend to get going early when we camp, the site caretaker was just getting his tea brewing when we arrived. It was a delightful peaceful site. The rock churches and carved rooms were again amazing but also around the ancient structures were beautifully tended vegetable plots, ringed by flowers. Much I guess as it would have been when in use. The caretaker proudly told us that this was his garden and sat us down and gave us tea after we had had a good poke round the site.

The next section to Urgup was meant to me a gentle down hill but was interspersed with sharp little – or not so little – undulating climbs which are energy sapping. Urgup is the first main tourist centre in Cappadocia and we were suddenly surrounded by cars, having hardly seen one all morning on the minor road we had been on. We stopped for a welcome cup of extortionate tourist coffee and particularly delicious chocolate croissant when we perused booking.com for a place to stay in Goreme, our destination for the day. Or at least I should say I irritated David while I insisted on looking at about 20 hotels on the website (before booking the first one) whereas David would probably have just booked the first one on the grounds it seemed fine!
Another very steep climb out of the village but this time with numerous tourist onlookers – some taking photos of us. It is difficult to try and look cool when you can hardly push the pedals round (as if we warrived every day. We were shown where to hang our gear – changed into dry clothes and had tea and something to eat. It occurred to both of us that we would have made it to the town in the dry if we had not had the puncture. But then again, the rain may have come earlier!ould ever look cool anyway!). A few km further on to the turn off to Goreme and a steep descent that quickly turned to irregular cobbles. It was treacherous riding and we had to get off the wheel the bikes down the last stretch then a final section of bone rattling cobbles into the village.
After a few wrong turns we found the Melek Cave Hotel. I like to think my booking.com perusal was well worth it (although it was the first hotels I looked at) as it was a delightful hotel with, as the name suggests, rooms cut into the hillside as of old. I think we have the prime cave room because we are also the only guests. Every second building in Goreme is a hotel so competition must be high at the best of times but, as with everywhere we have been, tourism in Turkey has been hit very hard by politics with numbers well down.
We spent the rest of the day chilling out. A stroll round town took about 15 minutes at a stretch so we spent the rest of the time relaxing at the hotel and even dug out the travel scrabble (game abandoned due to ever decreasing places to make words and overwhelming hunger requiring dinner – but I will just record for the record that I was winning at the time). David accepts this but points out that if the game is unfinished, there is no record – which may right but who would marry a lawyer.

(David writing this) Today was a mixed blessing – a sort of getting from A to B day across some fairly boring landscapes, but with a spectacular place to explore in the middle.

 
We started with a puncture on one of my trailer tyres. Only the second so far but the 20 minutes it took to change the tyre had damp consequences later. We started with a fairly tough climb and then descended across a very open landscape. This is not how Cappadocia is marketed but is fertile land between the tourist hot spots. We could tell we were in    country by the number and quality of the coaches – both high!

  
Then we started climbing again across a fairly uninspiring plain, although there were some lovely wild flowers, Someone had built a massive thermal holiday complex just off the main road, but there was no sign of traffic going to this enormous complex. All the signs of a white elephant, probably funded through tax breaks.  

  
We had 53km to cover to get to Derinkuyu but, about 7km from arriving, the heavens opened and it rained and then hailed with massive hailstones that hurt our faces. We togged up but the road was instantly wet and the passing coaches (of which there were many) sent spray water all over us. We arrived at the town wet through, looking like drowned rats and feeling a tad cold. The Turks in the restaurant did not bat an eyelid and you would have thought dripping cyclists  arrived every day. We were shown where to hang our gear – changed into dry clothes and had tea and something to eat. It occurred to both of us that we would have made it to the town in the dry if we had not had the puncture. But then again, the rain may have come earlier!

Derinkuyu’s claim to fame is that it has the largest underground city in Cappadocia – the largest of maybe 40 such cities. They were developed in the C9th to C11th and provided protection for locals – mainly Christians against invading armies for months at a time. There was room in this one for 10,000 people to live underground!

  
Only a small part is open to the public and our experience was influenced (in a positive way) by a large party of school children who were marginally ahead of us. They made a great deal of noise and took in the experience for all it was worth. The tunnels and staircases are tiny and steep, and the public part goes down 7 stories – so not for the claustrophobic. 

   
  At one point we were trying to get back up a staircase and realised that there was only 1 way for both up and down, and as long as people kept descending there was never space for anyone to ascend! After 10 minutes there was a critical mass of ascendees who gently forced those trying to descend to wait or reverse whilst they escaped. It all brought home to us what a fantastic defensive achievement this was. The marauding mongols must have been mystified and frustrated.
There were – so it was reported – tunnels going many miles underground to allow people to escape and refuel those underground. The sheer level of engineering involved was astonishing – with churches, grain stores and living quarters all buried hundreds of metres below the surface.

After that any climb seemed a doddle compared to the exertions of the early inhabitants of the valley. After leaving Derinkuyu we climbed another few hundred metres and went up and down towards the village of Guzeloz which was in a gorge. We found a camping spot just out of the village by the little river in a well protected spot. More rain was predicted so we struck camp, cooked quickly and then it tipped down just as we had finished. We are now cozied up in the tent with rain drumming down – always quite a nice feeling. Hopefully everything will remain dry, but we shall see. This is not a brief shower – but better weather is predicted for the next few days.
    

As luck would have it we had planned a day off in the Ilhara valley so this coincided with the opportunity for David to recuperate from his bug. The worst was over but he was still drained. We therefore planned a gentle 14km stroll along the Ilhara valley, a steep sided gorge, which was written up in the guidebook as the nicest walk in Turkey. I’ve not seen all of Turkey but the walk certainly leapt into one of my top 10 walks of all time both in terms of the environment and interest.
  
Selime, where we were staying was at one end of the gorge so we started the day with a taxi ride to the other end at Ilhara village where ticketed entry allows you down the steps into the gorge where a path runs alongside the river back to Selime. We arranged the taxi for 9.30 and got off in Turkish time by 10.15. There was no clear reason for the delay and we were repeatedly told “couple of minutes” because that is what we wanted to hear. C’est la vie – we were not in any hurry.

In this first section the gorge walls are steep sided and the bottom of the gorge seemed to be its own little ecosystem with the river lined with willows and silver birches and wild flowers including bushes of wild roses in abundance, The bird life was incredible and one of the overriding memories is of the birdsong echoing around. My birding ignorance is quite profound so I can’t identify for you what we saw and heard but we just enjoyed seeing all kinds of birds flitting around and listening to the magical birdsong. It was a rather damp and cloudy morning which made it feel all the more mystical. 

   
 
The walls of the gorge were dramatic enough but all the way along are rock hewn caves where byzantine monks would come to meditate on the coming second coming (which of course did not quite arrive as expected) and do whatever monks of that era did. 

   
 
As well as the caves, some of them very high up on the walls, there were a series of churches carved out of the rock face. Several of the churches, which dated from the 9th and 10th centuries had walls covered in frescos in varying states of disrepair. Sadly many of the frescos were defaced by graffiti but where arms could not reach some of the frescos were amazingly well preserved. 

Half way along the route was a small village which allowed for a rest and a “cay” stop (of course). The second half of the route is much less walked. The gorge widened out somewhat and the valley floor in parts had some small cultivated fields. The sun came out for a glorious afternoon. At times the path climbed up to more caves, including one which was still a mosque, with great views along the gorge. A highlight was seeing 2 eagles (or at least very large birds of prey with enormous wingspans) gliding up and down the walls of the gorge.

We hardly wanted the walk to end, but the ending in Selime revealed a further highlight. The rock formations here were typical of Cappadocia with cones and ‘fairy chimneys’. One rock face was hewn into what they called ‘the cathedral’. This was a whole complex of rooms, grain stores, winery, church, chapel and cathedral hewn out of the rock with a caravanserai road running up as a tunnel to the complex. It is the largest of its kind in Cappadocia and was truly extraordinary and ended a wonderful trek.

We ended the day with the map stretched out and route planning for the next week or so and another nice meal at the restaurant by the river. Back on the bikes tomorrow for more Cappadocian exploring.

Stuff happens when one is travelling – it just happens. The “nice spicy lentil soup” (see yesterday’s blog) proved that it was not quite so nice at about 2am for me (David). I suspected that the relatively low attendance at the cafe meant the soup was re-heated and thus bugs got in. Anyway it re-emerged powerfully at various points during the night leaving me feeling dehydrated, exhausted and generally ill. That led to a difficult choice – stay in an anonymous roadside hotel, which gave me the D & V, but would give recovery or press on slowly to reach Cappadocia despite feeling crap. Fine balance but we decided to press on. The wind had died and so we were assisted (or opposed) by a mild breeze instead of being driven along at 30kph.
Cycling when one is feeling crap is a totally different experience. It is still rhythmical but the rhythms are harder to keep going. Slow but steady progress was the order of the day.

   
 After 4km we came to Sultanhani and saw the incredible “han”, the massive building for travellers on the silk road. The sheer scale was impressive. This was a hostel, storage place and trading post for camel trains coming from the East and those coming from the west. It was eerily empty (apart from some Columbians we met who were on tour and the statutory Japanese or Korean tourists who seem at every tour stop).  

  
After Sultanhani the road went for another 45km across the plain towards Aksaray. It was at least fairly flat and a good surface. We were cycling on the hard shoulder of a dual carriageway which had cars and trucks every few moments. We have reported before on the reaction of drivers in Turkey but it shows something about the national character. All cars beep their horn before overtaking a cyclist. This does not produce a crescendo of noise because there are so few cyclists. But many drivers do more than give a simple warning beep. We get multiple horns blazing, windows being wound down, waves and cheers to celebrate the effort of cycling across their country (with trailers). The Turks are a relaxed, sedentary race and obesity is a major problem, particularly for women who are culturally confined in what they can do and hence are effectively prevented from regular exercise. Travel is by car or motorbike and a serious girth is traditionally a sign of prosperity. Men smoke in numbers which make a health time bomb inevitable. Those Turks that we have spoken to about this recognise that public health is a real issue and that they need to change deeply ingrained habits. Maybe that is why there is such a positive reaction to the contrast we present by cycling. Anyway it appears to give genuine moments of joy to car and truck drivers as they pass us.
As we approached Aksary we could see the end of the plain. The hills rose from the town steeply in a line, with an impressive volcano at one end.
  
We reached Aksary about lunchtime and had some delicious pide (thin cooked pizza type bread) at a cafe to decide whether to stay or press on. As Bernie said “Eat – it will make you feel better or worse”. Luckily it was the former and so we pressed on out of the town. The road surface was rubbish and the road wound its way through the town rubbish tip for the first mile or so – delightful. Then the serious climbing started.
  
The less said about the next 25km, the better. It was steep at times, hot and my mind was partially on the cycling and partly in many other places. However things improved with an ice cream at the aptly named Dogentaria and eventually – deo gratis – we reached the village of Selime about 3.30pm. We found a hotel and after a couple of hours being horizontal life was beginning to get back into focus. We went down to the main village for a meal (back in the tourist areas so plus side is we got a beer, downside was double the price).

  
We also saw the very first part of the Cappadocia rock formations that have made this area so famous. More of that tomorrow but they look fascinating. More exploring tomorrow.

We had a nice, leisurely morning sorting ourselves out and then cycling the few minutes back into the city centre. We visited the Tile museum in a fantastically restored Seljuk era madrasa (1251). The ceiling and upper walls were lined with wonderful blue and white tiles. The building itself was more impressive than the ceramics displays, although there were more patterned Seljuk tiles from excavations of a palace near where we camped at Lake Beysehir. 
   
 
We then strolled round the Grand Bazaar and were struck by how clean and ordered everything was. After stocking up on some basic provisions we headed back to Mehmet’s lovely apartment for a simple lunch and final pack up and were on our way again about 1pm.

The road out of Konya was not as pretty as the road in, passing through the industrial heart of the city’s economy but eventually we turned east again (well north east) off the main Ankara road towards Aksaray. The road was straight, flat and very barren for about 45km. The wind had been swirling round us in the city but thanks to God, Allah, any other deity or just pure luck, the strong wind was firmly behind us. We flew along the flat road . The road was boring with just mile upon mile of brown empty landscape, the legs just pumping round and in spite o the tail wind I struggled for the first hour until I found the right headspace and rhythm for that type of cycling. 

In the distance we could see some hills which gradually got nearer and after about 45km the boredom was relieved by a climb over a series of small hills. On the other side the tail wind was still as strong but the land was more fertile and, after a while, became a little more populated. In a few places we passed small huddles of plastic shelters on the edgers of villages and wondered whether these were signs of refugees. Up to now we have seen nothing of the massive influx of refugees into Turkey from Syria.

   
 
We came across the village of Yenis – and so pretended we were back in Italy!

At about 65km we finally found a tea stop at a little shack at a petrol station. Although if we are camping, we like to find a spot and settle in by late afternoon, we decided we would keep pressing on 1) because the land was still flat, barren and blowing a gale with no shelter and 2) by tomorrow the wind may have turned and we wanted to make the most of it blowing us along apace. We had our eye on one spot where there was a lake marked on the map but when we got there, there was no water, just marshy land and still no shelterhe village of Yenis whatsoever. Just before reaching Sultanhani where we had decided we would stop whatever happened a hotel suddenly appeared like a mirage. Large, swish and empty we negotiated them down from 180TL to 120TL (about £30 – old travelling habits die hard) and decided that would be preferable to being blown away in our tent overnight. We had done 105km and only left at 1pm. We will never cover ground that fast again I am sure!
We were tempted by a nice spicy lentil soup in the canteen style restaurant next to the hotel (clearly designed for tour groups) but not by anything else so we ate up our hard boiled eggs, salad and peaches that we had brought for camping in our room and felt satisfied. A rather weird cycling afternoon but it has got us within striking distance of the Capadoccia region tomorrow which we are really looking forward to.

I am typing this in a lovely apartment where we are being hosted by our new friends Mehmet and Ahmed. It is early morning and they have gone to work, leaving us alone at their home. Such incredible hospitality is not so uncommon in this great country.

   
 
For those who are unaware of the “warmshowers” phenomenon, let me say a few words in favour of the geniuses who created http://www.warmshowers.org. This is an online community of touring cyclists across the world. We register to host touring cyclists (for nothing) and can ask to be hosted by other members. Membership is free and the site is kept going by donations. The key to trust is reviews – we leave reviews for our hosts and they leave reviews on us. It is – as our daughter Becky explained – “counchsurfing for cyclists”. No money changes hands, friendships are made and lots of great memories are created.

Anyway back to the trip. We woke and packed up in our lovely campsite by the river. We knew we had a short day so lingered a little. Just as we were ready to leave the cows came back over the bridge. The young boy whose photo we took yesterday arrived with his (basic) phone (or possibly someone else’s phone borrowed for that purpose) and wanted a photo of us – so we obliged. Smart phones are everywhere in Turkey and the mobile coverage is great. I suspect there has not been any investment in landlines for years because everyone uses mobiles

After all the cows had passed we wheeled our bikes up to the road and started the long but shallow climbs on the road to Konya. 60km later and a few more ups and lots of downs saw us reach the massive city of Konya. We had arranged to meet Mehmet via Warmshowers and had no trouble finding his flat (immediately above Willy Wonderr’s Coffee Shop which helpfully provides free wifi).  

  
Mehmet and his brother work in the family Foundary and metal casting business and he has many customers in the UK – and he knows Dudley, Stourbridge and Birmingham well. He will be back in the West Midlands before us, which made us feel that it is a small world indeed. Business is tough because many of his customers are in the oil and gas industries that are affected by the drop in the oil price, but he is the Sales Director is clearly hugely able and dedicated to making the business work.

We showered – since that was necessary after 2 nights camping and is the point of the website – and then went out to see Konya. This city has a population of 1.3M and is growing. Construction of new roads and buildings is everywhere (although there is concern that the property boom may be based excessively on credit and thus could stall like Spain or Ireland). It is a thriving industrial city but combines this by being the centre of Islamic tourism due to being the place the great Islamic teacher, Rumi, made his home after leaving Afghanistan in 1220. His followers created the whirling dervishes – where a trance like state is entered to enter the presence of God during ritual dancing.

   
   
The Rumi doctrines of tolerance to all, mysticism and self-knowing after years of study make a stark contrast to the approach of whahhabism which dominates the thinking of IS and Al Qaeda. The centre is the Mevlana Museum which contains the tomb of Rumi – also known as Mevlana – and his key followers. It starts with a beautiful rose garden and then there is a superb mausoleum with fantastic calligraphy on the walls and displayed books.  The devotion of followers was evident amongst the crowds. They hustled and bustled around the site with all the devotion of nuns or priests visiting the Vatican for the first time. It was a sunny, warm afternoon and was a complete delight to be in such a special place.

  
We returned to the flat via the lovely Aladdin park in the centre of town where we saw groups of young Turks walking around. There are just so many children here – happy, smiling and squeezing the sponges of their young lives. We also saw teenagers walking, talking and laughing – often groups of girls had some with headscarfs on and others with T-shirts with English writing saying the usual type of slogans one would see on Oxford Street – and occasionally the combination of a headscarf and a very unIslamic T shirt slogan. This may have a reputation as a very conservative religious city but there was clearly tolerance at the heart of it as well and not everyone conforms to a religious stereotype. However one result is that virtually nowhere is licensed for alcohol, maybe half a dozen places in the whole city – much to Mehmet’s regret!

  
Mehmet and Ahmed took us out to dinner at a restaurant overlooking the city. The food was just fantastic – slow cooked lamb, aubergines, salad and the most brilliant okra soup to begin with. We chatted (in English of course) laughed with our new friends and felt privileged to be in such company.  
Later we went for coffee and met more for their cycling friends – all but Mehmet were also smokers. The message about the dangers of smoking is slowly getting through to educated Turks and is prominent on cigarette packages but often it is printed in English so maybe is of less power than it could be. Again delightful people and lots of fun. What a day!

We woke early to complete peace. As the first brew went on, the sun rose over the lake, the line of clouds causing shafts of light reminiscent of resurrection paintings, glinting on the water. 

Many people find it difficult to understand why we like camping – and wild camping is something totally incomprehensible – but this little campsite is just why we do it. A spot with views of snow capped mountains and sunrise over the lake with complete peace just cannot be found in any hotel. Being able to stop when we like – or at least when we can find a flat piece of ground and access to water – and not have to battle on to the next to the next town has its benefits. Being (nearly) completely self sufficient feels like real freedom compared to our usually ordered life. So after leisurely drinking tea whilst watching the sun get higher and packing up, we were treated to an hour and a half of perfect cycling.  The sun came out and the little road wound round the edge of the lake. The water showed extraordinary colours of turquoise and aquamarine. A huge variety of birds flew up from reed beds as we passed by – including white, black and grey storks and various birds of prey that we could not identify. And in all that time we saw less than half a dozen vehicles. We felt we just had to suck it up and savour the experience.

However, days are often variable and the next section turned drizzly and the road was not very interesting. We got a bit cold and our legs were tired from the previous day. We pressed on for 50km to the lakeside town of Beysehir and in all that time we didn’t pass a tea shop. We did not think that was possible in Turkey – but part of the reason was that the new road by-passed various villages. There are lots of new roads in Turkey – they are investing big time in travel infrastructure as we have seen new rail lines as well. It means our maps are often inaccurate and we spend periods cycling along pre-tarmac roads which are hard on the bikes (and hard on us)

In the town of Beysehir we found a pleasant restaurant and decided to have a proper meal and spend an hour recuperating. Whilst we were in the street David was stopped by a woman who had lived in the town for 12 years but grew up in Doncaster. It was strange to hear a south Yorkshire accent in Turkey. She said – no doubt accurately – that she was the only English person in the town and probably in the wider area. She said that Germans and Norwegians came to see the famous mosque, and even the occasional person from the US, but never any English. She had married a Turk in England and moved over permanently with him. She had spotted the small Union Jacks on our flags and came to say hello – which was great. She strongly recommended we see Esrefoglu Camii and gave us directions.
We then headed to Esrefoglu Camii – a mosque built in 1297 – so I think that counts as pretty old. It was a truly amazing building and very well preserved. The inside is wooden with wooden columns and capitals. The entrance is of carved stone and the inner entrance beautifully tiled. It was an experience to see it and felt very simple and peaceful.

  
  
  
Eventually it was time to move on from Beysehir and away from the lake. We took a cut through road to the more minor road to Konya which turned out to be 15km of bone rattling road which was being prepared for tarmac surfacing but apart from one small stretch had none! At last we reached the main road – only to find that the road that was marked on our maps as a minor scenic road was a new big dual carriageway! Well sometimes these things happen but it was a bit of a disappointment! We battled against the wind then up to a big climb. By now we wondering where we would be able to get off the fenced dual carriageway to camp. From the top of the climb there were some road works and we were able to coast down the newly paved side that wasn’t yet open to traffic and at the bottom there was a little track leading to a river, a little bridge and a beautifully placed flat camping spot! We went for it! Not quite as idyllic as last night as although the setting is lovely we are accompanied by the roar of traffic but you can’t always have the perfect spot!

We set up camp, cooked and then as I was washing up the cows came by – with some taking a close interest in our food bag. I chased around shooing them away to the amusement of the farmer (who had sort of warned me, I think. Then his “boy” came up at the rear and was highly amused to see us camping in his field (no permission of course because there was no one to ask). We exchanged simple words and took his photo – showing him on the camera to his great delight.

Today delivered so much more than it promised. I am typing this in our tent on a lovely pitch, just off the road with views of Lake Beysehir on one side and Mount Dipoyrax on the other side.

   
 The day did not promise much because the forecast was for more or less continuous rain. We paid up and said our goodbyes to the eclectic cast of characters at the hostel many of whom felt like friends. We were – after all – fully at home with a bunch of eclectic travellers. The hostel owner assured us that our route topped out at 1650m – not 1800m as Googlemaps suggested. Sorry to report that local knowledge was not 100% accurate but we topped out at 1804m – and felt every one of those extra 154m we had to climb. But more accurate than the tea shop owner in Karadilli who told us that an 80km ride was only 30km.
Anyway we breakfasted and set off in the gloom but without it actually raining. Th road was largely flat for about 10km and then the climbing started. We climbed from 900 1300m and then went down, and up and down and so on. Only touring cyclists know how irritating it is when roads cannot make up their minds whether to go up or down. One feels like saying – just do one thing or another but don’t keep changing your mind! However the road followed the valleys and the ground undulated and so the road followed suit.  

 After 30km and with rain now falling heavily we reached the nondescript town of Aksu. There are lots of Turks who have worked in Germany and assume that any foreigner can speak German.  Confession time – I have only failed one exam in my life and that was O Level German in 1976. I was taught by Herr Fifer who was a jewish German emigrant who hated the Germans with a passion but had to teach this hated language as his only way of making a living. He took it as a mark of accomplishment whenever a student failed as it was one in the eye to his persecutors. I was a spectacular success for him with my D overall but my U for the oral. All this came back to haunt me in the tea shop in Aksu.

Having just about made oral progress, we paid up for the excellent tea and headed off in search of Aksu’s main attraction – the Zindan Cave. This is a remarkable fissure which goes 750m into the mountainside. It is a narrow cave to walk along, well lit with fantastic stalactites and stalagmites.  

   
   
As we emerged the sun came out and the rain clouds appeared to have temporarily abated. It was overcast but dry as we cycled back to the village and picked up the road to Yenisarbademli. We knew there was a mega limb to get there and started to ascend. But then the road started to descend again – and dropped by a full 200m to about 1180m. We must have crossed the 1200m marker about 10 times during the day. 

   The valley was stunning and started to feel pretty remote and then, eventually, we began the BIG climb. This was 750m of continuous up – and in parts it was very steep. But most was 10% or less and so we trudged up over the next 2 hours watching the landscape change in that imperceptible way that it does wen one is going at 5km per hour. Lots of stops, photos and drink breaks and we made it to the top. The scenery was reminiscent of both Greece and California – high mountains surrounding the valley, fir trees and sandy soil and sparse vegetation. It felt remote and the road was very quiet.  

   The descent was, of course, over in no time. We passed Yenisarbademli and camped a few km on, by the lake. It’s a lovely spot between the lake and the mountains even if, as we suspect, we are the first and only people to have ever camped here. We cooked, brewed coffee and tea and ate chocolate (thinking of and speaking to Pippa who has exams tomorrow). Last year it was Ant and next year it will be Becky on her Masters. It never seems to stop for them.
Anyway with double sleeping bags we hope we will be cosy all night. I type this as the dark has come and the wind has got up. If we get blown away this will be the last blog!

After 6 days on the bikes we already seem to have passed a lifetime since we left Birmingham airport but being the 7th day it was time for a rest for body and mind to recuperate and attend to mundane things such as washing. We couldn’t have chosen a better place. After a week of talking more or less only to each other, Charly’s Pension was a melting pot of nationalities. We met people from England, Germany, Khazacstan and Brazil. We booked to go on a trip arranged by the Pension to the ancient ruins of Sagalossus deep in the Taurus mountains and 6 of us set off in a minivan. It was rather strange to be whizzing along in a motorised vehicle!
  
The Site of Sagalossus was amazing. It must be in one of the best settings we’ve ever been to, perched high on the mountains overlooking a valley below. For anyone who has ever been to Ephasus or similar and battled with coach loads of tour groups this was completely the opposite. A few cars in the car park, a few people dotted around the enormous site and we were free to wander around pretty much anywhere. 

   
 We climbed first right to the top of the site to the 9000 seater ampitheatre that looked down on the whole site and over mountains and valleys, The city had been mostly destroyed in an enormous earthquake in 560 AD and completely abandoned not long after following an outbreak of plague. It was rediscovered in the early 1700’s but true excavation has only been relatively recent and still on going, Most of the seating of the ampitheatre was intact but you could see how large parts of the structure had tumbled down in the earthquake and lay scattered, Above the ampitheatre they had just started to excavate a large area containing pottery workshops, which produced pottery on an industrial scale for across the Roman empire. Fragments of 2000 year old pots were scattered everywhere. 

  
 Working our way down were market places, arches, burial sites, monuments and an incredible fountain. “Fountain” is an understatement as it was a whole ornately carved facade. It was only re-attached to a water source in 2010 to become a working fountain again. The place was atmospheric and well set out and we really enjoyed the visit.

After the cultural influx we had lunch in a cafe in the village below and then were driven on a longer route back through the mountains on small winding roads. A foretaste of what we would be tackling the next day.
Back in Egidir we brought additional cheap sleeping bags to supplement our current ones. More weight but we were going to even higher altitudes so decided we needed them, I am sure we will be grateful for them before the trip is out. We finished the day with a pleasant meal and fascinating conversation with Debbie from England and Aray from Kazakhstan (who is the same age as Becky). Feeling rejuvenated for our next section, 3 days to get to the city of Konya.

I am sitting typing this by a stunning lake in a pension – totally exhausted but with a totally unmerited feeling of accomplishment. We woke in our informal campsite when the sun came in about 5.30. That may sound early but we had turned in about 9pm and had slept well, not so cold.

  
Breaking camp has a rhythm which we have re-discovered over the last few days but from opening eyelids to leaving on the bikes is never less than 1 hour, 15 minutes but of course it can be longer. This morning it all seemed to work and we left just after 7. The road was flat(ish), quiet and the early morning air was still. As I ambled along the thought occurred to me that this was almost perfect. Storks flew low overhead, farm workers waved as we passed fields of white poppies and the road ambled ahead with very little traffic.  

  
After 15km the flat lands ended and we faced a tough 150km climb. Bottom gear and just head down to the top. In fact it was not too bad – partly because it was still early.. Then we found ourselves in a wonderful valley – the pictures will tell the story.

  
After 30km we reached the town of Karadilli. It was Friday and market day. There were wonderful smells coming from a bakery at the edge of town so we followed our noses and bought bread and mini-pizzas. Then to the centre where we had tea “iki cay lutfen” ( 2 glasses of tea please) from a cafe by the market. Two things make this memorable. First, the imam came over the loud speaker with prayers (at maybe 10am) and everyone stopped and held their hands in prayer. All of the men in the cafe stopped talking, gripped their hands facing them upwards and listened to the words in silent prayer. It showed how deep Islamic belief permeates society here.

    
Secondly, the tea shop owner spoke some English and was very friendly. He had worked at a hotel in Kusadasi on the coast and so spoke some English and German – as he demonstrated to us. He wanted to hear a bit about our trip but assured us that Egidir was “30km” away. We suspected that it was nearer 70km but said nothing. However he had obviously thought about this and came back a second time to say “many hills, many hills”. It was 70km (as we found out later) and this told us a great deal about how far people travelled.

  
Fed with tea and cheese slices – also from the wonderful bakery – we left and faced the big climb of the day. It started gently to get us into the feel of the climb and then was very steep as we climbed from 1100km to 1440km. Again the pictures tell the story.

    
The descent was 10km of the best descending I can recall. 50km per hour swinging round corners on a decent road with stunning views of the valley and the lake below. The road took us across the valley floor and then alongside the vast Lake Egidir. Lunch by the lake was mainly cold pizza – which may not sound good but was just what we needed. Then it was an undulating road along the lake for 45km to the lakeside town of Egidir. Great views but tough cycling as the road was a series of small but steep climbs and descents.

    
We booked ourselves into Charley’s Pension and had a shower and got clean after 2 days camping. We had dinner, bought a new sleeping bag from the outdoor shop (this is a big walking and trekking centre) and met the fellow residents of the pension. We were back (temporarily) in tourist country which has its advantages and drawbacks. However we are tourists but, like drivers in a traffic jam blame “traffic” without seeing themselves as part of the traffic (or at least I feel like that), we don’t feel we are tourists when we are in places that other tourists rarely venture. It is a comfortable illusion of course.

We woke at 6am with frost on the ground and both feeling a little cold in the night. Our 3 season tent and sleeping bags did not quite manage a very cold night at 1000m following a thunder storm where everything got wet and a very stiff breeze. Our night was also broken by the croaking of frogs, judging by the noise they made they must all very wide mouthed frogs! However the view in the morning with mist over the lake was magical. 

 Having packed up our first mistake of the day was to decide to make our way up to the road on a little track we had seen and our second mistake was not to turn back when the track turned into a quagmire. It took us half an our to push the bikes up by which time everything was caked in clay/mud and we got filthy getting it all off the bikes, trailers and shoes! However we eventually made it back to the main road and had a lovely ride in crisp bright sunshine along a beautiful valley.

  
Our route was along the Phrygian Way and ruins were dotted along the way but none actually along the main road. When we saw that the main sight was 18km off the road we decided our cultural interest in this ancient civilisation did not extend to a 30km round trip, especially after our morning experience of being ‘off road’! We carried on and started climbing out of the valley, ending at a flat plateau with a picnic area and water trough flowing with mountain water that allowed us to clean up ourselves and our bikes a bit better.

We then had a long downhill and flat road across the valley to the city of Afyronkarahisar, stopping for Cay at a nondescript little town along the way.

  
 Our aim in the city was to try and get additional sleeping bags to pad our our current ones as we didn’t fancy another cold night. This was a false hope though as such a thing did not appear to exist so we settled for buying some body warmers (with hoods as hats also did not appear to exist either) and decided that this would do.
We set off again into the late afternoon sun and had a stiff climb – our first continuously in bottom gear. Panting and rather wobbly legged we made it to the top and could see our destination, the town of Suhut, in the valley below, The last 12km in double quick time down hill. Still a bit worried about the cold (we were now at 1100m) we thought we would see if there was a hotel in town. The problem with the Turkish being so helpful it took three quarters of an hour to establish that there wasn’t but that we could camp in the local park. We decided that was a bit too public so we stocked up on provisions and headed a few km out of town, turned down a side road and then down a little track (dry) to a flat area in the middle of fields. Not as picturesque as camping by the lake but pleasant and considerably warmer and we were treated to a lovely sunset.

Day 4: Eskisehir to a camping spot by a lake near Kirka: 72km and 650m of climbing
Today started slowly – on purpose. We were in too nice a place and too comfortable a hotel to get off quickly. So we ambled around, had a leisurely breakfast and then went back to see the mosque in the morning light. It was stunning as before but also seemed to have different textures to the stone than the night before. 

  
We wandered around the old quarter, got lost and then found our way back to the hotel.
  
We packed and got on the road by 11, which is seriously late to start the day (but then we only planned a shortish day). The sky was overcast and the road from the city climbed for the first 15km from 800m to about 1050m. It was high altitude plain but was intensively cultivated. Can you imagine cultivated fields at 3000 feet plus in England. A market garden on top of Hellvellyn for example. But we are a long way south, I suppose.

  
After 40km we dropped into the plain town of Seyitgazi – a town on the plain and a plain town. But the tea was excellent and 2 glasses each came to a total of 2TL – about 50p. Nearly had a total disaster when I knocked over Bernie’s bike by accident and she had left her bar bag open (by accident), and he mobile phone slipped out and down a drain. Luckily it was retrievable and caused much amusement for the locals as they worked out who had the longest, thinnest arm to get hold of it. Our welcoming hero – who spoke a little English (along with our little Turkish) was the hero of the hour.

    
There was a spectacular mosque on a cliff, way above the town but the effort of getting there and its total absence from any guidebook persuaded us to give it a miss. We are, however, getting quite boorish on mosque architecture (just in case this is useful for pub quizzes in the future). Mosques and pubs in the same sentence is probably not wise – now I think about it.

  
As we left the plain town, spots of rain started – the first of this trip. Jackets, over trousers and overshoes all came out and were needed. The temperature plummeted as the thunder and lightening seemed a tad too close. Cycling on steel bikes we felt like mobile lightning conductors and so ducked into a bus shelter for cover. It was also occupied by 2 smoking motorcyclists – and their motorbikes – so was a bit of a squash. We got bored, wet and even colder as the storm raged. It is times like this when we doubt our sanity (appreciating that family and friends have reached an unfavourable but clear verdict on that long ago). Anyway the bikers finally left and so did we, tempted by better light in the direction we were headed. Eventually the rain eased, the sun tried in a pathetic way to come out and we carried on up the valley. It topped out at 1113m – our high point of the trip so far.  

  
More rain was threatening so we pressed on down the hill towards another nondescript town, and then on a side road to a lake where we set up camp. The sky cleared, the sun came out and the spot was made for camping. I am writing this sitting in our (new) tent (where the poles have not snapped) after a lovely meal (could have eaten a horse between 2 bread vans of course) but feeling content. 

  
 Tomorrow promises Phrygian ruins and more – but that can wait to tomorrow. 

Today started slowly – on purpose. We were in too nice a place and too comfortable a hotel to get off quickly. So we ambled around, had a leisurely breakfast and then went back to see the mosque in the morning light. It was stunning as before but also seemed to have different textures to the stone than the night before. We wandered around the old quarter, got lost and then found our way back to the hotel.
We packed and got on the road by 11, which is seriously late to start the day (but then we only planned a shortish day). The sky was overcast and the road from the city climbed for the first 15km from 800m to about 1050m. It was high altitude plain but was intensively cultivated. Can you imagine cultivated fields at 3000 feet plus in England. A market garden on top of Hellvellyn for example. But we are a long way south, I suppose.
After 40km we dropped into the plain town of Seyitgazi – a town on the plain and a plain town. But the tea was excellent and 2 glasses each came to a total of 2TL – about 50p. Nearly had a total disaster when I knocked over Bernie’s bike by accident and she had left her bar bag open (by accident), and he mobile phone slipped out and down a drain. Luckily it was retrievable and caused much amusement for the locals as they worked out who had the longest, thinnest arm to get hold of it. Our welcoming hero – who spoke a little English (along with our little Turkish) was the hero of the hour.
There was a spectacular mosque on a cliff, way above the town but the effort of getting there and its total absence from any guidebook persuaded us to give it a miss. We are, however, getting quite boorish on mosque architecture (just in case this is useful for pub quizzes in the future). Mosques and pubs in the same sentence is probably not wise – now I think about it.
As we left the plain town, spots of rain started – the first of this trip. Jackets, over trousers and overshoes all came out and were needed. The temperature plummeted as the thunder and lightening seemed a tad too close. Cycling on steel bikes we felt like mobile lightning conductors and so ducked into a bus shelter for cover. It was also occupied by 2 smoking motorcyclists – and their motorbikes – so was a bit of a squash. We got bored, wet and even colder as the storm raged. It is times like this when we doubt our sanity (appreciating that family and friends have reached an unfavourable but clear verdict on that long ago). Anyway the bikers finally left and so did we, tempted by better light in the direction we were headed. Eventually the rain eased, the sun tried in a pathetic way to come out and we carried on up the valley. It topped out at 1113m – our high point of the trip so far.  
More rain was threatening so we pressed on down the hill towards another nondescript town, and then on a side road to a lake where we set up camp. The sky cleared, the sun came out and the spot was made for camping. I am writing this sitting in our (new) tent (where the poles have not snapped) after a lovely meal (could have eaten a horse between 2 bread vans of course) but feeling content. Tomorrow promises Phrygian ruins and more – but that can wait to tomorrow. 

(Bernie) Today was a great day. It all fitted together amazingly and we both felt much better. It is astonishing how quickly the body adapts and gets fitter – so although in those moments of half sleep before the alarm went off my body was telling me not to get up, once we were up and going it all went well.  

  
We headed out of Bilecik in good time – coasting downhill – and losing almost 250m of hard gained height – to the valley bottom. We tried to enjoy it and blot out of the mind that this means having to gain all this height back again and more. We were soon climbing on the road to Sogut, a lovely quiet road into beautiful landscape. Not saying the climbing wasn’t hard but the weather was cooler and the air was getting fresher as we got higher, which helped.

  
Sogut was very conveniently placed for elevens’s and we stopped in this pleasant little town with cobbled streets. I still have to get used to being the only woman in a cafe and getting odd looks (well that could be the lycra shorts and bright pink T shirt). As everywhere in this part of the world, there are men sitting in cafes conversing and passing the time and drinking tea. Good social interaction and far healthier than sitting in pubs. The women presumably drink tea at home. In spite of what we hear about Turkish coffee, very little coffee appears to be drunk. But the tea, served in little glasses, is delicious and refreshing. We stocked up with some supplies then it was steeply up out of town. We had a minor mishap when we thought the road we were on joined up with the main road. But in fact came to a halt by a steep bank with the main road just above us! We manhandled the bikes and trailers up the bank and managed to get on to the road without mishap! This section of the road climbed up into an area reminiscent of alpine meadows with herds of sheep along the way and fantastic views. We were reached over 1000m we allowed ourself to stop for lunch and had a lovely picnic.  

  
The afternoon run was relatively easier with no prolonged climbing. Wild flowers were in abundance and crickets chirping. The scenery gradually changed to become sparser as we started a whizzy downhill to the next main valley that we were to follow to the city of Eskisehir. A large motorway cut along the valley but David managed to navigate a lovely back road right to the outskirts of the city. We paused at that point to look at the guidebook, googlemaps and booking.com. 

  
 The SIM card we had nearly given up on the evning before came into its own. The best hotel write up in the Guide Book was on booking.com reduced from over £200/night to £37! Those of you who know me will know I like a bargain, and this really was one! Then as a loyal member of the site it dropped even further.
Navigating cities can be a nightmare but we found out way there pretty easily, The city had a lovely feel – clean wide streets lined with trees and flower, a good bike path along some of the way. We stopped just to find the last bit of the way and, as now seems inevitable, a man asked us if he could help. We were in fact very close to the hotel but he made sure we got there with a friendly wave goodbye, No hassle, not wanting anything in return.

    
The hotel was amazing. It is a listed historic ottoman building with rooms round a series of courtyards. Our room has an amazing original panelled ceiling. There are even fluffy dressing gowns! We really will camp tomorrow……..perhaps.
After reviving and resting we set out to explore. The hotel is in an old district of wonderfully ottoman buildings. We found a stunning old mosque, next to a caravansari (a hostel for travellers) with cavernous ceilings! There was an old education centre where a choir was practising ancient music. This is where the “whirling dervishes” come from – an islamic monastic sect with strict rules including a 1000 day initiation process. We didn’t see any dancing but there were lots of photos.

  
Then to dinner in town – a traditional bistro with meses and shish kebab. You just point and they bring it! No prices and goodness knows if we were charged a “special rate” or not but it was fine and the end to a great day.