Hiking sandals. Waterproof socks.  Zip off shorts.  Sweat bands.  If you ‘ve managed to keep your gag reflex in check and your lunch down after reading that list then prepare yourself for the big one, because Brian and I have recently been discussing the acquisition of long johns.  Amidst the cloud of technical gear that is our lives who thought there could ever be such a silver lining!  We’ll come back to an explanation on this later but the most important thing to share right now is that 35 years ago tomorrow, Brian came into this world, a sacred day for us all. Once you’ve had your two minutes quiet reflection of thanks, please continue.

Kutayah was our last stop, from which we peddled ourselves into a whole new area of Turkey.  The Central West region we’ve met over the course of the last couple of weeks has been vast.  Wide open spaces, breathtaking skies and lonely shepherds herding their livestock with packed donkeys to carry their tents and gear for the days on foot.  There’s been a feel of the wild west to some of the vistas we’ve taken in and the temperature was back up to boot with a crotch stickingly 29 Celsius.  Keeping to the cowboy theme, and all brokeback mountain jokes to yourselves, we’ve been wild camping and using animal troughs to wash in before bedding down.  Luckily we’ve yet to be stumbled on by a shepherd in our birthday suits, pan of water in hand though one can only wait in hope.

The wild west of central Turkey

Wild camping next to our animal trough bath

Another means of camping we’d read about before starting our descent South were Petrol stations.  If you ask nicely most will let you whack up your tent on their plot and use the luxury of the gents drop toilets with a jug and tap for your evening scrub down.  It’s been a great way to keep the budget on track and we’re finding the only nights under a roof we’re having since Istanbul are the rest days taken post every 4-5 days in the saddle.  There’s a plethora of stations even in the most remote villages so it’s been no compromise on the route we’ve taken.  A few of the rougher trucker stops we’ve asked to pitch at have even offered to bring in a couple of sheilas for the night, although tempted thus far we’ve abstained.

The lovely Irhan looking after us at his station 🙂

Vast plains in the distance after a hot climb (sweat band going on)

Back by ever popular demand from Eastern Europe has been the delightful angry dogs.  In Turkey they’re feeding them proper chow as they tend to come in only one size, XL.  Keeping off the beaten track has its advantages though one challenge we’re having to get used to again is these critters.  With security alarms costing a bomb it’s clear to see how easy on the wallet a four legged friend, or not, is as an alternative.  At some point over the last couple of weeks, the exact time has been erased from my memory, we had a run in with a large, frothy mouthed beast who went with great gusto for me and my bike.  Luckily Brian galantly hopped off his saddle, hurled some rocks and we sped on.  For the days to follow, every breath of wind sounded a lot like a dog barking so I’m afraid rocks in our top boxes has become an neccesary evil.  Brian quite rightly pointed out too that now he has saved my life we really are stuck together for a while.

From the wild west plateau we descended into the central Western Turkish valleys where fruit and cotton farming are the main commerce.  It was a pretty glorious descent and within a few hours we were drawing closer to our upcoming rest stop of Pammukale.  As we slid down the valley the white scar of the mineral basins came into view.  Pammukale is rightly a world heritage site made up of Hierapolis, which is quite the most astounding set of Roman ruins we’ve ever seen, and the mineral basins that it sits upon. On our day off we were up early to beat the crowds and took in the wonder of the site.  Heading back to the town I managed to wedge myself very un-elegantly into a stream of hot water which had been funnelled from the salt spring.  As soon as I was in place I looked up to see a man with a large beard heading up the mountain, a couple of seconds later I’d realised it was Andy from the Andy and Claire cycle duo, our friends from London. A lovely coincidence and a quick catch up on our differing routes we’d taken since Istanbul.

The mineral shelves of Pamukkale

The stunning amphitheatre at Hierapolis

We decided to only take a 24hr stop in Pamukkale and took to the road the following day.  As if to give us a lesson to sit still and let our bodies suitably recover we met some bum tingling headwinds over the next couple of days.  It’s hard to gauge how much rest your body needs but it’s definitely something we need to get better at, patience is a virtue!  Our first night back in the trusty tent we were awoken by the dulcet tones of Euro Disco at 1 in the morning.  Luckily the revellers who had lit a fire and kicked off a good old fashioned sing along didn’t notice our tent nearby, alas our energy bars were down a notch or two the following day.  To up the anti a little more from a week prior, basking in the sun and bathing in troughs, the temperature at night had now plummeted, sometimes getting below zero.  Which gives context the the Long John acquisition above, though we won’t dwell on that again as I can feel the nasuea rising myself.

Wind blown, tired and dreaming of Long Johns we peddled on to our next stop on Burda Lake.  What a magnificent sight we met on turning the final corner with both the view and the face of a smiley young English girl, Jess, pulling over for a chat.  It turned out the lovely Jess was staying at a wildlife conservation base, The Lisinia Project, on the lake and was wondering if we had anyway to stay for the night.  It couldn’t of come at a better time as our food stores and moral were a little depleted so with smiles from ear to ear we cycled on to the base.  On arrival we were greeted by the volunteer coordinator Matt who insisted on giving us a room for the night and feeding us up for the road.  It was a treat to hang out with a group of international volunteers and all the animals on the reserve including two young wolf pups!  Matt is a very proud foster dad indeed 😉

Burda Lake just down the road from the base

Breakfast with the Lisiania volunteers 🙂

Before leaving the following morning we had done some research on the project, area and more specifically the lake itself.  For such a stunningly beautiful and undiscovered part of Turkey it was disappointing to hear the lake  will probably not be there in 25 years due to over-farming of the land with water heavy crops.  It seems a unique human trait to desire more and place status against it, without a thought to the long term picture of what that entails.  Having worked for plenty of multinational brands and organisations, it’s very clear that growth, profit and making more money is not something reserved to multinationals.  Surely there are business models out there that champion sustainability as a means of success?! But we’ll leave it there as you’re here to read and enjoy not get an ear full of Miss Worldness!

The growing banks of Lake Burda

We mentioned above our food supplies had been getting low on arrival to the Lisiania base and we’re starting now to get to grips with Turkish grocery shopping.  Refreshingly there’s no big supermarket chains here so buying fresh veggies and dairy produce is done at a weekly farmers market.  Local shops consisting of about 6 shelves in total will usually have 2 of them taken over by biscuits with the remainder looking pretty bleak and extremely coeliac unfriendly.  The markets are a wonderful sight and truly form the heart and pinnacle of a village week.  Buying things in bulk has become the norm though the other day we were reminded of the overwhelming Turkish hospitality when we went to purchase some rice in a local shop.  No sooner had we entered the door the kettle was on, fresh popcorn was made, fruit and cakes put out for our delection and a chat ensued.  The husband and wife spoke of their children in Istanbul and Ismir and I think welcomed the opportunity to fire up their paternal instincts, even with a couple of smelly cyclists.  The hugs goodbye gave me a memory pang of bidding farewell to my mother at boarding school, there’s nothing like the embracing arms of a mama to stoke the embers of forgotten childhood memories.

Mama loving Turkish style. Note the 2 x shelves of biscuits behind!

So with Brians birthday thanksgiving arriving tomorrow, I’ve promised him a 6 pack of beer and a Turkish breakfast (there is no euphomism for this, it’s just breakfast) and we’ll probably be back in the saddle for Sunday.  We couldn’t of picked a more wonderful place to stop and re-boot as Egirdir is simply stunning, another ginourmous inland lake left alone by tourists.  It continues to be a country of hidden gems and delights at every turn and the only question left to ask is; Long Johns, to be or not to be!

Beautiful Egirdir

The birthday boy keeping things arty

The view from our balcony, two very lucky boys

Keep it clean and cosy until the next time you big juicy bunch

Love

Tommy and Birthday Brian 🙂

XXX