Christmas day.
We permit ourselves and alarmless wake up. Once up we have several rounds of cay - with sugar!! I then bust out our second Christmas present - a carefully smuggled chocolate snowman (from my red cross package delivered in Istanbul) sadly no carefully enough, he was a little cracked. I didn't have the heart to tell Stu that said snowman had been wrapped in my pants all that time : ). Merry Christmas dude!
After a lazy morning of utter luxury we hit the road and soon the day feels like any other. We stop at a bread shop for a snack. Outside (under the shelter of the bus stop) we dip bread into a mixture of olive oil, salt and chilli. The closest we get to turkey is simply being in Turkey. Christmas fail! While we eat Jergen rolls up. A cyclist from Germany - who had perhaps spent a little too much time alone. He insisted we'd met before and then laughed at the puny distance we'd covered, while he had managed to cycle to the far side of Iran and back. Merry Christmas to you too Jergen.
The snowman gave us the taste for chocolate and at our first cay stop we devour several bars each.
As darkness falls we ride into the town of Tosya. Which is hands down is the friendliest town in Turkey - while having no seemingly obvious reason for being so. Around twenty thousand inhabitants. Endless manky car workshops and dingy markets. And yet - every single soul we pass greets us with a mighty grin. After a quick cybercafe stop for Stu we stop by a shop for a treat - whiskey. With a cheap bottle of "highland malt" we head on out of town.
A few kilometers down the way we make out a building in the dark. After some inspection we realise it to be a disused chicken farm. Wheel the bikes into the barn, roll out the beds, cook dinner, drink. Our tipple is so far away from "highland malt" you cannot believe - for a start it was made in Bulgaria and was a "blend" of who knows what - I'd guess kerosene, Danube water and piss. But it mattered not. All in all a top Christmas and one I shall not forget.
Christmas Eve!!
My normal day back home would involve a lie in, meet friends at lunchtim,e and then spend the entire day drinking and chatting. Not today.
I wake next to another smelly bearded cyclist. The room has no warmth to it despite last nights fire. Horse hair plaster, mud and straw - while cute and rustic, is not the best insulater. We get up and ready. Snap a few pictures of what is possibly the coolest place I've ever stayed. Hit the road.
The fog refuses to lift. The valley we ride through is littered with tiny old houses much like lastnights. We explore a few and find them all to be empty. Untended plots of cabbage ensure our evening meal wont be lacking in nutrition. Yoink! We name it the "Valley of Plenty" - providing all we need to survive. We pick our accomodation quite carefully. The idea being it'll be nice to wake up somehwere cool for Christmas morn.
After a night of camping experimentation (may I add, not involving Stu and myself). Simply trying to see if it's possible to evade condensation when camping in sub-zero temperatures. Our idea being that perhaps increased ventilation (from our open tent doors) may reduce the water that gathers inside our tents. As it happens, this is not the case – what condensation does occur freezes to the inside of the tent and outside of the sleeping bag. Fail!
Boots on a face the day. Get the çay going. Randomly bursting into a sprint or shadow boxing (while singing the Rocky theme tune) to beat off the cold. This is the first morning of hard frost on the trip. By standards further East I expect it's mere child's play – but it's a novelty to us all the same.
The riding is joyous. As the sun burns away the foggy blanket rolling snow dusted hill are revealed. We pull off the main drag to a village called Eskiahir for Stu to visit the post office. While I wait I'm swarmed by a group of school children. They speak their basic English and I my Turklish. They're very friendly and cheery and we have a luagh while I wait for Stu. Upon rolling further into town we meet Isamil an English speaking lorry driver. We sip çay while he tells us that he didn't like Iran “No women, no alcohol”. Both rather valid points – though I've heard differently from others. We thank our new friend for the caffeine boost and get on outa town.
When we reach sunny spot with a good view we stop for lunch and dry out our wet gear.
Do our usual wifi checks at garages along the way. A guy videos us while talking to his camera. We get talking. After the briefest of introductions he says “ok, go inside and get a meal, I'll pay.” What a legend! After shovelling a good meal down us we join him and his family outside for a drink. He is a Turkish businessman who works all over the Middle East. After two rounds of tea we all leave. As the fog gathers for the night we seek out a shelter. Just off the road we spy an old farm building. Mud/straw/horse hair plaster, no windows – rustic bliss. We utilise the working chimney to beat off the cold. Get a film on the laptop...oh how hardcore we are!!
