Road to Tokyo

5 days and 1,770km (Total: 45 days and 9,972km)

After our blissful day off in Antalya, we clicked on a random town in Google Maps, ensured the road there was windy, and got on the bike. It was a stunning ride up into the mountains again and through towns that were low on the tourist guage (a measure of how peculiar the looks you get are).

We were riding to a town called Mut and we passed some fantastic scenery along the way.

But as we got closer, the lakes faded and the greenery turned to rock, gravel and, well, trash. We threw our plan to wild camp into the trash too and did a quick scout for hotels. We found one on the outskirts of Mut so put our sweaty gloves back on and continued. Our eagerness to finish the long day’s riding and take off our boots clouded any expectations we might have had.

We arrived to the hotel and, to be honest, I think we would have preferred to keep our boots on. It wasn't the prettiest or comforting of hotels. The door to our room didn’t lock but the owner soon fixed that with a bit of WD40. The toilet didn't flush either but WD40 wasn't going to solve that. That evening we sat outside for our end-of-day tea and biscuit ritual. After a few women, dressed provocatively to say the least, walked out the hotel and got into the back of men's cars, we quickly realised that we were staying in a brothel. The owner realised that we had realised and kept bringing us coffee, biscuits, and fruit as if to say “yeh sorry guys I think you've stumbled into the wrong place.”

Mut was definitely rock bottom on the tourist guage. So the next day we dialled it up and headed to Cappadocia after countless locals told us it's a must. After 4 hours of riding we knocked on the door of the first guest house we saw, offered the host half what he quoted, and he welcomed us in. Local beers and snacks on the terrace before an early night. The call to prayer woke us the next morning at 4.30am so we rode K a few kilometers and perched ourselves on a small rock overlooking the open landscape. Soon, flickers of light emerged in the distance before hundreds of balloons started to rise in harmony with the sun. Time slowed down and we had a moment to really appreciate where we were and what we were doing.

Before long we were back on the road to our next destination directly East. We stayed in a campgarden that evening and met the only other camper, a German guy cycling from Germany to India. We ended up having dinner together and it was a lovely evening (although a bit awkward that we were eating the same as him after he had just ridden 150km and we had sat on a motorbike all day). All the overlanders we have met so far are so friendly and humble. Overlanding seems to train your patience, teach you the difference between a “problem” and an actual problem, and appreciate that everyone lives their lives in different ways — none of them right or wrong.

The next day was more humbling as we rode South East through more arid mountains. Along the way we kept passing huge development sites that had hundreds of empty houses identical to each other. 10km later we were riding through equally large towns but they were inhabited and everyone living in identical white tents. They were such strangely similar but contrasting sites so close to each other that we asked the guy at the next petrol stop. He illuminated our ignorance by telling us that we were in the region that was obliterated by the 2023 Turkey-Syria earthquakes. The new houses were being built by the Turkish government for the thousands that had lost their homes. The tents were the temporary accommodation they have been living in for the last two years.

After “we are strong and resilient” his next Google translation was “you are our guests, please have lunch with us.” We said we have to get back on the road but then realised he wasn't asking us. We sat down and they (yes, the entire staff of the petrol station) brought out a huge platter of roast vegetables — potatoes, tomatoes, peppers, jalapeños — with piles of bread. And, of course, unlimited Ayran. Some locals stopping off for fuel sat down and joined too.

For the next hour they asked about our trip and recommended we go see Göbeklitepe, which was a coincidental oversight in our planning as we had recently listened to a podcast about it (it's the site of the oldest known megaliths, pre-dating the pyramids). That night we stayed in Şanlıurfa and met an English and German couple that had been travelling from Hong Kong back to Germany semi-overland. They also recommended Göbeklitepe, so it was decided... we'd go in the morning.

Afterwards we followed a long road directly East, not fully aware that the road skirted within 1km of the Syrian border. The landscape was changing quickly and police cars transitioned to military tanks. We got stopped a couple of times (they stop 90% of the vehicles passing through) but when they realised we don’t speak Turkish they would always say “ok go!” with a big smile on their face. That night we pitched our tent in the garden of a hotel, feeling pretty safe with a military checkpoint right behind us.

Next stop: 👉