From the snow to the sea.

Ankara, Nevsehir -> Ortahisar -> Cappadocia area -> (London) -> Antalya -> Konya -> Mediterranean Coast -> Antalya.

Love-in Turkey.

Love-in Turkey.

When Brooke suggested joining our journey, we jumped at the opportunity. We love to share our adventures with others, especially those who will jump on their bikes and come along for the ride. Therefore it was exciting to see Brooke and the bike box coming out of the arrivals gate in Ankara. Soon we were back at our cosy apartment, sharing duty free rum and planning the route ahead. It would be a three month journey together, through a handful of countries. But first Brooke needed to recover from some jet lag. Between sleep-ins and early nights we wandered the streets in the snow, visited the imposing Ataturk Mausoleum, explored the incredible Anatolian Civilisations museum and introduced Brooke to Turkish cuisine and chai.

Brooke has arrived and so has the snow.

Brooke has arrived and so has the snow.

Walking through the snowy streets.

Walking the snowy streets.

Ataturk's Mausoleum.

Ataturk’s Mausoleum.

Inside the Anatolian Civilisations museum.

Inside the Anatolian Civilisations museum.

Looking at the ancient carvings.

Looking at the ancient carvings.

On top of the Anakara castle.

On top of the Anakara castle.

Ankara spreads on and on.

Ankara covered in snow.

It seems as if no trip to Turkey is complete without a visit to the magical rock formations of Cappadocia. Such sentiments found us shivering at the bus station in Nevsehir surrounded by a thick blanket of snow. We had organised to stay with a host in the town of Ortahisar, a ride of just under 20km away. Usually not a problem, but as we cycled along the roads my gears began to slide and stick, with them eventually freezing in third gear. Not good, especially as I have a Rohloff hub that is meant to be failure free (being engineered in Germany and all). It would have been quicker to walk and by the time I arrived in Ortahisar I was blue from the cold – literally. The pot-belly stove in Aydin’s living room was the only thing between me and severe hypothermia. That night the thermometer hit minus 17 degrees Celsius – not something this antipodean is used to.

Yes that is really a max of -4 and a minimum of -17.

Yes that is really a max of -4 and a minimum of -17.

Jude and our dinner heating by the pot belly stove at Aiden's house.

Jude and our dinner heating by the pot belly stove at Aydin’s house.

Meal times at Aiden's was always a delicious feast.

Meal times at Aydin’s was always a delicious feast.

Cappadocia was a wonder to explore.  The valleys, the ridges, the pinnacles and the caves that were once people’s homes became our playground.  We cycled…

Exploring Cappadocia by bike.

Exploring Cappadocia by bike.

The bikes taking a rest in the snow.

The bikes taking a rest in the snow.

Ta daa...

Ta daa…

Bok bok meets camel rock.

Bok bok meets camel rock.

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One of the roads through the valleys.

We hiked…

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We explored a myriad of caves and churches carved into the pinnacles…

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We saw it from a hot air balloon…

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We enjoyed the spectacular views..

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Our evenings were spent with Aydin and Fatih, and all the cycle tourists and backpackers they were hosting.  We would cook amazing meals together, drink local wine and raki, and play card games that involved punishments such as putting snow down our tops, eating copious amounts of chillies and doing the break dancing move – the worm.

Pulling my best moves.

Pulling my best moves.

Cooking in the kitchen

Cooking in the kitchen

And enjoying a shared meal.

And enjoying a shared meal.

Enjoying morning cup of tea on Aiden's terrace.

Enjoying a morning cup of tea on Aydin’s terrace.

We even spent a night in a cave hotel…

The entrance to our cave hotel.

The entrance to our cave hotel.

Excited about spending the night in our cave hotel.

Excited about spending the night in our cave hotel.

From here we did a flying visit to London so that Jude and I could sit an examination and interview to work as paramedics for the London Ambulance Service when we finish this leg of our journey.  In between studying, nervousness and buying appropriate second hand clothes to interview in (woollen thermals and polar fleece don’t seem to cut it) – we squeezed in some cheeky pints and visiting with friends.  I won’t keep you in suspense as we were for three days – yes our new home will be London and jobs have been secured!  So when we are settled our door will be open to all cyclists and friends passing by.

Beers at the airport.

Beers at the airport.

Practising CPR on pillows.

Practising CPR on pillows.

After a fortnight off the bikes it was time to hit the road.  For Brooke the first day ended up being a baptism by fire.  What I thought would be a relatively flat road with a gradual downhill gradient to Aksaray, ended up being a consistently undulating 90km slog into a frigid headwind.  Copious amounts of food, beers and games of table tennis were required to refuel us for the next day.  Fortunately the road onwards to Konya was flat to the point of boredom, and the sun shone warmly on our backs.

Our cycling route from Ortahisar to Antalya

Our cycling route from Ortahisar to Antalya

View of Hasan Dagi from the road.

View of Hasan Dagi from the road.

Resting on the side of the road.

Resting on the side of the road.

The caravanserai at Sultanhani.

The caravanserai at Sultanhani.

A fire is good for keeping warm and cooking dinner.

A fire is good for keeping warm and cooking dinner.

Camping with agricultural equipment under a petrol station.

Camping with agricultural equipment under a petrol station.

The view of the road to Konya

The view of the road to Konya

Taking a break on the side of the road.

Taking a break on the side of the road.

Years ago I was exploring different spiritual beliefs that resonated with me.  During this time I came upon the ‘whirling dervishes’, a branch of Sufism based upon love.  The idea of entering a trance like state of love while spinning on the spot appealed, but as usual I soon found out that this love was discriminatory and women were not allowed.  Despite this draw back I remained interested, and was super excited when I found out that Konya had been their home.  It was fascinating to explore the Mevlana museum where the whirling dervishes lived, prayed and practised their whirling.  They did this by nailing a shoe to a board and spinning on the spot to overcome the wooziness such spinning causes.  For fun I tried it again with hilarious consequences.  The highlight though was our opportunity to see a whirling dervish ceremony at the cultural centre that night.  Mesmerising.

Being a whirling dervish.

Being a whirling dervish.

Exploring the public gardens of Konya.

Exploring the public gardens of Konya.

Excited in front of the Mevlana museum.

Excited in front of the Mevlana museum.

Mevlana's mausoleum.

Mevlana’s mausoleum.

Inside the Mevlana museum grounds.

Inside the Mevlana museum grounds.

The complex from the outside.

The complex from the outside.

Part of the whirling dervish ceremony.

Part of the whirling dervish ceremony.

In a trance of love.

In a trance of love.

A beautiful mountain range provided a lengthy climb for the following two and a half days.  As we cycled the D696, we gained altitude and soon enough the stunning alpine scenery filled our vision and our thoughts.  Ice, wind and storm signs lined the road, but unseasonably clear and sunny weather surrounded us.  The snowy peaks sparkled, the tops of the pine trees swung in the wind and our lungs and legs enjoyed the constant workout they were receiving.  At nights we pitched our tents, built fires and snuggled in our warm sleeping bags while the temperature dropped below zero.

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Enjoying the steady climb.

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Entering the alpine area.

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The snow sparkles and the pine trees glow.

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Jude loves cycling with this scenery.

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Nearing the end of the long climb.

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Yo! Do you like to climb?

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Collecting firewood for the evening.

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Chilling out with dinner and a whisky by the fire.

It was exciting to reach the Alacabel summit at 1825m.  Now it was time for the long downhill to the Med coast.

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As we cruised down from the snowy terrain to pine forests the thrill of freewheeling made me giddy.  There is nothing like being fully in the moment, the wind in your hair and laughter coming from deep inside as you lean into another corner.  Unfortunately it was not to be all sunshine and lollipops.  Further down, mines and logging in this area also provided a dearth of truckies with questionable driving abilities.  On a particularly long, steep section of switchbacks, I just avoided being killed twice by two different truck drivers.  My front pannier was not so lucky.  It bounced off on a particularly potholed section of the road and was run over by the truck that was tailgating me.  It exploded and a shower of red lentils went everywhere.  I was so angry that I didn’t even collect my litter and threw some trash on the ground.  Doing this I didn’t feel bad at the time as many Turkish people seem not to care for their environment either – there is litter everywhere here.

This is where my pannier was revived using rope and a bit of love.

This is where my pannier was killed and then revived using rope and a bit of love.

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The alpine terrain became lush agricultural land the lower we cycled.

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After three days of climbing and no shower, this section of the river was too enticing – so we went for a swim.

Making dinner at this perfect campsite by the river.

Making dinner at this (almost) perfect campsite by the river, the rubbish around did detract from the natural beauty.

Our first view of the Mediterranean coast brought whoops of delight.  Stalls selling bananas and oranges lined the streets and the salty air hit our faces and we knew we had reached warmer climes.  After making our way through the conglomeration of ugly beachside resorts we found a place that lead to the Mediterranean Sea.  It was time for a swim.  But first I had to deal with the pompous resort worker who tried to tell us that we couldn’t swim there.  Poor chap.  Don’t get between me and swimming, it’s like getting between a hippo and water.

Excited by our first view of the Mediterranean waters.

Excited by our first view of the Mediterranean waters.

I may not look like a hippo, but get between me and this water at your own risk.

I may not look like a hippo, but get between me and this water at your own risk.

Our first sunset at the Me coast.

Our first sunset at the Med coast.

Cycling friends had pre-warned us that our hopes for the stereotypical stunning Mediterranean coastline were not to be realised on this section of the journey.  Seaside beauty was distorted by the thousands of mega resorts that hid the coastline.  Riding was along a very busy main road, luckily with a wide shoulder.  Despite popular Turkish opinion, we found that the driving became worse the further west we went.  Arrogance and speed don’t make for safe and courteous drivers.  We were impatient to reach Antalya, and with no reason to stop and tunes filling our ears the kilometres flew by.  Winding our way through the vibrant new city we located the walls of the old town and stepped into a vortex of tourism.  As the high season had not yet arrived the streets were largely devoid of people and we enjoyed the peace of the place.  An Efes (or two) were drank in celebration of our arrival and we relaxed into the rhythm of rest day life.  Slow meanders along the city streets led us to the top of cliffs that dropped dramatically into the sea.  We joined the locals basking in the sun on the pier and tried the local dish of Balik Ekmek.  One rest day turned into two as a tropical storm front, with full thunder and lightening show, hit the whole night and morning that we were to leave.  We spent this day watching movies in our underwear, drinking beer and listening to the tempest outside.  Tomorrow would be perfect again, that we knew.

The bustling new town makes a stark contrast with the peace of the old town.

The bustling new town makes a stark contrast with the peace of the old town.

The old town wall.

The old town wall.

Celebrating with an Efes.

Celebrating with an Efes.

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The dramatic coast of Antalya.

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The port of the old town

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Basking in the sun like a local.

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View of the old town.

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Thanks for joining us again,

Love Astrid.

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2 thoughts on “From the snow to the sea.

  1. Absolutely stunning photos of the landscapes and the buildings. Great writing as usual. You manage to take us with you on your holiday. Very exciting. Love from Vita and Gavin. xx

  2. Hi Astrid and Jude,I love the journey you are on always exciting places to visit, beautiful photos to show, love your blog,all good wishes from Gwen.

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