Road to Tokyo

8 days and 1,783km (Total: 40 days and 8,202km)

I always considered crossing into Türkiye and through Istanbul a big milestone for this trip. Probably a similar feeling literally millions of other humans have had travelling through this special place on some journey of their own.

Despite visiting the country before, we weren’t sure what to expect this time round. And within a few kilometers after the border the uncertainty clarified itself as a van started beeping next to us on the highway. He seemed pissed off at something I was doing. But there were no blinking lights on my dash and I could still see Becs so she hadn’t fallen off. At 100kmph the van pulled up next to us, the guy wound down his window and stuck out two bars of chocolate. Becs grabbed them and the van sped off giving us a quick beep to say goodbye (over here beeping also seems to mean hello and thank you — very confusing). At our next petrol stop, the conservative British in us checked to see what was wrong with this free chocolate, but they were delicious and gave us enough energy to see through the rest of the ride into Istanbul.

We stayed in the suburbs — a high rise flat with postcard-quality views of the sun setting over the city. That evening we had my favourite meal of the trip so far as we stopped by a woman serving a dish which Google translated as “rice with plenty of chicken” on the side of the road. As we ate literally those two ingredients (perfect), for the first time it felt like we were genuinely a long way away from where we had started. It wasn’t the beginning of our trip anymore.

The next day we whittled our way through chaotic Istanbul and into Asia, settling for the night in a small town near Bursa. The little blue hotel had advertised private parking (actually the side of the street next to the bin) and we splashed out €20 on dinner that night using our “Mum Fund” (a little bit of money our mums had given us before we set off). The next morning I woke early to go for a run, passed the hotel receptionist (also acting as security guard, chef, and waiter) fast asleep on the coach downstairs, and ran up and down a 500m hill a few times scared of the stray dogs aggressively barking at me whenever I got close to the top. People always told me motorbikes are dangerous, but I now calculate that the biggest dangers on this trip are 1) stray dogs attacking me when I’m off the bike, 2) animals running into the road whilst riding, or 3) a fly blinding me whilst I lift my visor to itch my face.

We headed West for a change towards a town called Edremit, where we had found a campsite that had pictures of motorbikes on its website. The hosts told us not to follow the Google Maps directions because it led to a 4km off-road route. I asked them how difficult it was and they had replied “it’s not too bad”. Well, maybe that’s true if you’re riding a trials bike or… walking. But riding 4km fully-loaded two-up on an Africa Twin weighing nearly 400kg all-in was a different story.

Within 1km, we were down in the dirt. It wasn’t a sudden fall — it’s more like a ship sinking. The bike loses its balance and there’s nothing you can do to prevent it. You even have enough time for a quick dialogue — “Becs we’re going down” — “OK I’m ready” — and prepare to jump off. We’re getting quite good at it (picking up the bike on an incline afterwards is the difficult part). The remaining 3km took us about 30 minutes but we eventually got there covered in dust, with a leaking 5 litre water bottle, and Ayran (yoghurt) exploded inside our top box. The hosts laughed a bit and showed us their Honda CRF300 which is basically an off-road bike. There was enough of a language barrier for me to smile and think out loud “well yes, doing the off-road on that would indeed be ‘not too bad’.”

But Mikail and Su were awesome. A Turkish couple I guessed in their 30s that had ridden motorcycles through 35 countries over the last 6 years and had returned to Türkiye to start a campsite. We were, again, the only campers that day and at about 5pm both couples emerged to the outside table with beers and snacks in hand. They spoke enough English for us to have a good chat about motorcycle travel, their favourite countries they travelled through (Slovenia and Iran), and tips on our route through Türkiye. They asked If we wanted to stay another night but we had places to be so left the next morning heading south and east a bit.

We found a small village called Birgi, which I later discovered was listed in “32 most beautiful villages in the world”, and indeed it was beautiful. We went to the door of a Pansiyon (guest house) and asked the woman if she had any rooms available. She did but they were outside of our budget so when we asked if there was anything cheaper she showed us a much smaller room on the ground floor made for single travellers with a small bed and a tiny bathroom. Everything we needed. We said yes and she welcomed us and K inside the gates. It’s a glorious feeling finishing a long day’s riding with you and the bike safe for the night. That evening the host, Dilek, made it even more glorious when she brought us some Turkish tea and freshly-made biscuits whilst we chatted about the cats she had adopted, her divorce, and other places we should see in Türkiye.

We nearly stayed there another night too, but were on the road the next day by 9.45am. We continued our path south east and further into the mountains — riding next to stunning lakes whilst dodging pot holes, stray dogs and tortoises like you’re playing Mario cart.

On our sixth night we had nowhere to stay so at about 4pm pulled down a dirt road and found a spot to pitch our tent and camp for the night. We boiled some vegetables in the single pot we’re carrying with us and enjoyed them with Turkish bread. Of course afterwards we sat in our camping chairs, made tea, and tried the next variety of biscuits we had bought, freely letting time pass with nothing to do and no worries except where to go the next day. A very serene moment in stark contrast to our previous lives.

After a few nights in the more mountainous regions, we had an urge to be close to the sea so booked a cheap Airbnb for a night on the south coast in a place called Kargicak. It was so perfect that within an hour of arriving we asked the host if it was available the next night too. She said yes and that’s the end of this part of the story because the next 48 hours were blissfully uneventful. Washing clothes, hanging out with cats, making our own burgers, and doing a bit of bike maintenance. Happy and content, to new levels.

We’re loving this country. I think we’ll be here for a while.

Next stop: the right direction.