Out of Russia and into Europe?Thursday 23rd August 17114km
I met Peter and Tanya on the ferry. An Australian couple who were doing the rounds of all the great motorcycle events of the world on their trusty BMW airhead. The morning dawned over the Black Sea as we made our way to Trabzon in eastern Turkey. To say I awoke to breakfast would be incorrect. I remained awake as breakfast was served, I hungered for sleep to claim me as breakfast was served, I would kill the steward for 5 minutes real sleep before breakfast was served, that would be more appropriate. Despite having slept on the ground for the last months, the flat carpeted expanse defeated me.
Breakfast was what would turn out to be typical fare in Turkey, boiled egg, fresh tomato, crispy bread with butter and hot sweet tea.
Nothing to do all day except sit in the sun on the after deck, poor me!
Arrival in Trabzon was exciting. Trabzon itself is built on the cliffs facing the sea with just a thin strip of flat land for the port facilities and the coastal road. It has a well-protected harbour and an abomination of cranes and ratty equipment gracing the foreshore.
The bikes were first off and we joined the milling throngs in the arrivals hall. Plenty of confusion all around as to who needed visas and who didn’t. Lots of misinformation and discontent. After a good deal of thronging in close confines we exited the arrivals hall into Turkey and now to get the bikes out. Naturally there were documents that needed stamping and vital pieces of information missing all of which could be made to disappear by the lubrication of palms. The person next in the queue to me had paid US$20 and top whack was apparently US$200 for VIP clearance. At that price, I can wait.
The necessary insurance turned out to be a snip at US$5, I can’t imagine that it would be of any use in a real accident but it had letterhead and stamps and an approximation to my number plate details. I managed to get my entry certificate stamped on the front steps of the customs building as the last person left for the night. My friends had organized a room in the Can Hotel just up the road and it was with relief that we rode up to it over the cobbled streets and parked on the curb outside at dusk.
The hotel was sliver of a building near the centre of town but was clean and the proprietor was great.

Hotel Can perhaps?

Friday 24th August 17119km
Met Peter and Tanya at breakfast and they escorted me as we rode to Dursun’s motorcycle shop. Dursun is a member of the Trabzon Bike Riders Club and seems to be the unofficial contact for adventure motorcyclists in the area. He has a great bike shop and is obviously very keen. There were new XT600s all over the place. Peter and Tanya had availed themselves of his services as I was, as a delivery point for couriered parts. Not a heavy load this time but oh so critical.
Dursun hadn’t arrived when we got there so we sat down to the ubiquitous yet strangely refreshing sweet tea until Dursun arrived with a translator. I bought some oil and then rode back to the hotel having waved Peter and Tanya goodbye as they headed back to Istanbul.
Another enforced rest allowed me to check out the town. Trabzon is quite a pretty town with lots of activity. It is centred about the leafy Meydan square. It has many large trees beneath which people eat and drink tea served by waiters from the many eateries surrounding the square.

Meydan Square

There are hundreds of small shops arranged like bazaars with many veiled women buying. Following the alleys westward brought me down to the food markets. There were all manner of fish, meat and vegetables for sale from a wide range of vendors. Some old women were selling just a few scraps, one would think barely worth getting out of bed for. Generally all good clean fresh produce.
There are also lots of hardware stores in the main street-but-one. I am in shop heaven but can’t for the life of me think of anything I need.
I met Tracey, a Queenslander on an Africa Twin. It is his first motorcycle experience and he seems pretty well set up. He is wiry looking bugger and he needs to be, being smaller than me (I’m no gargantuan) and with a standard (heavy) Africa Twin. We talk until 11:30pm and decide to meet for dinner tomorrow night. Tracey is east via the ‘Stans but I think he will run out of summer.

Saturday 25th August 17124km
A stroll eastward down the hill in to the port and the strip of shops along the coast road. These are the cheaper shops and mechanics/petrol stations. There also seemed to be places to meet working girls (of good family you understand) nudge nudge, wink wink.
There were a line of mini-buses, one of which had a sign to Sumela Monastery. I had seen this on a brochure so paid up my YTL10 and took a ride. We had soon cleared the town and were on a winding road up the valley floor to Macka and then turned off up the road to Sumela. The scenery is amazing, steep hills with many mosques way up the slopes, there must be villages near each one. The hills are light coloured and dry, very Provence-like. Once we begin the climb to Sumela, the scenery becomes alpine with dense moist forest down low and alpine meadows above. We wind up steep grades beside a boisterous stream to the tourist spot of Sumela, a collection of restaurants and accommodation nestled in a cool valley. It is such a pleasant change from the heat of the valley floor and Trabzon itself. I bet that it is cool in winter though! The monastery is a climb of a further 2.5km and we all opt to pay the driver another YTL2.5 for his continued services.
The monastery itself is a small collection of houses build into a sheer rock wall. It was originally founded in the 2nd century and has ebbed and flowed since then. It is now a historic place and is undergoing renovation. Inside, the huge task of restoration is underway, repairing the mindless scratchings of thoughtless people who have carved their names into the frescoes.

Some of the rooms are complete and give an idea of the harshness of life. The only things in abundance up here are wind and water. Everything would have been carried up, the arable land being many kilometers in distance and 1200m in altitude away.
The monastery itself is stunning in it’s location and outlook. Magnificent scenery with this outcrop formed by human hands in the vastness of the rocks around.

Sumela Monastery from afar

In the evening, I stroll the streets again (I am NOT a street-walker!). The buildings always amaze me. To a New Zealander everything seems so old. We only have a history of less than 200 years.

One of the less desirable accommodations in Trabzon

Wednesday 29th Aug 17124km
Rain in the night and absolutely persisting down now. I walked to Dursun’s store to burn time before he opened. The cobbled streets were very slippery. The parts have arrived and are even right! Leigh’s duct-taping job takes quite some time to breach, very thorough that boy.
Fitted the carburettor slide in Mr. Grumpy-pants paid car parking. The other side of the carburettor slide had cracked and was about to break off. I doubt that I would have been twice lucky because I have subsequently read that this problem can be very expensive. The thin rubber gasket had also been ingested somewhere on the way so it was lucky that I had ordered a spare. Eventually got the bike running but it needed bump-starting all the way down the hill to the port. At least it started, I would have been hard-pressed to push it back up there! Changed the rear disk pads and retaining pin. I have never seen a retaining pin wear like that, almost half way through. Normally they last the life of the bike with no visible wear. That’s adventure riding for you, all unexpectedness.
Lunch, loaded up by 12 and on the road toward Macka. The scenery is fantastic as I wind up a huge valley, rugged rocky outcrops, alpine meadows, stunning. Missed a turning somewhere so I do some extra distance but back on track soon enough. The bike is running fine, such a change from the previous 1300km.
Big scare as I look up from the map to see a truck turning across in front of me. Locked up the rear end in fright, crossing up one way then the other with visions of another Aldan incident (where I hit the car) but with far worse results. I was doing about 90km/hr and a truck would be a nasty thing to collide with. Luckily the truck aborted the turn and I got around in front of him. Phew!
More amazing mountain passes and twisting roads. I took some back roads that were well maintained and just fantastic to ride, steep, twisty, just about perfect.

I found a camp-site by a large river, down through some generally untended fields. Great to be camping again, albeit alone. There is such a great feeling of self-sufficiency, just a few possessions but everything you need. Simple hot tucker in the open air. I found a few grapes in the tangled trees between the plots.

Thursday 30th August 17578km
Awoke at 6am refreshed. No vestige of the sore back of previous days, the benefits of moderate exercise and sleeping on the ground. It definitely is sleeping on the ground as my mattress has another slow leak.
Up, tent dried and away by 8:30. Determined to maintain a rest schedule today. It is too easy to get the bit between the teeth and just keep riding all day. Without rests the result is severe fatigue, headache and a spaced-out feeling. It also takes some time to come back down.

The road generally follows long winding valleys between huge steep hills. I stopped to buy some fruit from a roadside vendor. It turned out to be the local gossip shop for men of all ages from boys with their father to old men. I was made most welcome and partook of several glasses of hot tea before making my huge purchases of fruit (a few peaches, an apple and some grapes). While sitting there not speaking Turkish, three jet fighters streaked down the valley at low altitude. Very impressive. It is very hot even in the shade and in the breeze. When I stopped for lunch, it wasn’t for long because the heat was so intense. It might have been OK had I disrobed a little. I take my helmet, gloves and jacket off but the trousers, knee guards and boots are too much bother. I always ride with the full gear on mainly because I have nowhere to store it if I take it off.

I have made excellent progress today, 605km bringing me within 200km of Istanbul.
I have kept to the secondary roads where possible even though there is a motorway.
I wore sunglasses (without goggles) today and ear-plugs. It seemed to help with the fatigue. I keep forgetting to put earplugs in and when I remember, I can’t be bothered stopping and doing the whole de-glove, de-helmet and vice versa thing.
The road came over a spectacular pass today, quite high and with lots of gravel as the road was under construction. The Istanbul side was wide sweeping corners with great views.
Very hot on the plains today with crazy drivers. Motorcycles are apparently invisible. I was driven off the road today by a Renault on my side of the road. Normally it is by on-coming cars.
Some difficulty finding real food to buy, plenty of snack places and restaurants but I want something I can cook myself. It gives me something to do when I’m too tired to ride but it is only 7pm.

As Turkey is becoming more populated, it is more difficult to find a camp-site. I thought I had a goody, trail-riding a couple of km up steep muddy hills and eventually coming out in an olive grove. I would have camped but there was a man there who said I couldn’t. At least that’s what I think he said. When he spoke to me he saluted me and then held his right hand to his heart, a sign of respect I believe. I am always amazed by the genuine respect and formality of greetings. It is not the obsequious or formulaic greetings of corporate America.
Anyway, that was the best trail-riding so far unfortunately with the most road-oriented rear tyre ever. This is the Mefo Explorer tyre that I got from the rubbish in Ulaan Baatar. The tyre had been abandoned by the german guys (JJ’s friends) I wouldn’t use it to explore the end of my driveway!

Found a campsite on a hilltop amongst immature oak trees. I am in between many villages but am reasonably camouflaged by the small trees and because I am on high ground. I could hear the call to prayer from 3 villages nearby. Interestingly, there is no Mullah atop the tower these days, it’s all loudspeakers. The call to prayer itself must be a broadcast because it started at exactly the same time from all three villages only delayed by the speed of sound to my hilltop.

I was resigned to another NesQuik night tonight (it really is awful without milk) but luckily found 3 Three-in-ones in my trouser pocket left over from camping in Russia. Oh frabjous day!

I tried out the laser-level that I bought in Trabzon. I set it up in a grassy field and the beam intersecting grass stalks made it look like stars dancing in a plane, quite beautiful.

I received a text on the sat-phone to call my wife. She says that it’s not serious but who knows. I must wait until about 11pm to catch her in their early morning. I will make another delicious Three-in-one while I wait.

It is very hot and humid here, 9pm and I am still sweating. I was considering sleeping without the tent fly tonight but chickened out. I have had quite a few showers of rain while in Turkey and I think the dew may be quite heavy.

It turned out that my daughters car had finally dropped it’s clogs and we needed to decide what to do with it. It has never been the same since the coolant hose blew and it overheated. Repair it at a cost or sell it as a non-runner? Fix it is my choice but it means another car sitting around outside our house.

Friday 31st August 18203km
Istanbul here I come!
Dried and aired all my gear before setting off this morning. Only 180km to Istanbul on the D100. The roads are great, lots of room and a wide sealed shoulder on which to escape. The traffic increased drastically as we got closer to Istanbul and I eventually chose the tollway to escape the dust, heat, and bad drivers. I drove for bloody miles on the tollway and it still only cost YTL2.50. I thought I would see how far I could go before going onto reserve on the fuel tank. I lost my bottle at 448km when the sign said next fuel stop 70km. Still, 448km is huge, that would mean a total range of around 600km. Somewhat different to the all-out-of-gas at 400km on the last day to Sochi.

I have been stopping just before every off-ramp and checking the map. I don’t want to screw up and end up in Istanbul itself. Stopped at Tekirdag to use the internet. Found a park and then asked at a street stall. Much discussion and disagreement, the consensus being that there wasn’t one nearby. That is until I noticed a sign behind them, obscured by their stall, that said internet inside.

It is even hotter inside and I have attained a ripeness worthy of Camembert. I attempt to sit away from others and avoid any unnecessary arm-lifting but even I find myself unpleasant in confined spaces.

Out of Tekirdag and down the sea coast to the Gallipolli peninsular. I passed a mosque on the side of the road with a huge billboard saying “American Siding”. America siding with whom I wonder?

Once on the peninsular the roads are better, that is narrow, winding country lanes. It is incredibly hot and dry here and I look for a camp near a stream so that I can wash. No luck and so eventually turn on into a layby that extends fairly well back from the road. I find a secluded spot and strip off. There is something perverted about sitting around in a forest in daylight wearing just underpants. Also a feeling of vulnerability. With the heat, fallen pine needles dry out and become exactly that, needles. So now I am wearing underpants and tramping boots. It is all too bizarre.
Some locals arrive at the layby and seem to be making an evening of it. They don’t know of my presence but my seclusion is no more. The sense of vulnerability increases so I put my trousers on.

While deciding whether to leave, I hear an intermittent clonking sound in the bushes nearby like two stones hitting together. I strain to see but cannot. The sound gets closer so I brandish my trusty walking stick/motorcycle side-stand and approach. I glimpse a fat python-coloured movement in the undergrowth and my hackles rise. Then the clonking sound again as one amorous tortoise bumps into his less than amorous consort-to-be.

I decide to shove off so put all my gear on again and saddle up. The locals are surprised when I power out of the bushes where they believe they were alone. I ride on passing the odd squashed tortoise as we would pass possums in New Zealand. The tortoise defense mechanism of hiding in your shell doesn’t work all that well with trucks I fear.

I stopped at a roadside stall and bought 3 small onions. He wanted to sell me a huge sackful for YTL10 but I paid YTL1 for the 3 little ‘uns. Won’t he have a tale to tell his wife about the stupid tourists. I just needed those onions to spice up the rice and sausage staple diet.

My expensive Suunto watch sucked a kumara again so it’s back to the trusty Pasnew watch that I bought in Ulaan Baatar. How will I ever maintain my traveler cred without a serious wrist computer? I am devastated. Maybe I should just wear it and hope that nobody asks the time. I will distract them with the altitude and barometric pressure and point them towards Mecca with the compass to avoid telling them the time.

Camped in a more open pine forest south of Sarkoy. The sun has gone down and with it the temperature so my humour has returned. It is severely tried in the hot hours from 3pm to 7pm

Saturday 1st September 18631km
428km yesterday and only 8 more sleeps until I meet my wife in Athens!
Rode the 40km to the town of Gallipolli and Googled the military campaign. A summary is necessary here. During the First World War, Britain decided to sail up to Istanbul and threaten the Ottoman government to prevent them siding with the Germans. Only one slight problem, the guns protecting the narrowest point at the Dardanelles. A military campaign was launched with a sea-borne invasion. Unfortunately a large contingent of ANZACs (Australia, New Zealand Army Corp) were accidentally landed under the very cliffs where the major fortifications were. They were pinned down for almost a year, suffering heavy casualties until eventually evacuated. For Australia and New Zealand it was a coming-of-age where we were recognized as a distinct military unit. Since that time ANZAC day has been commemorated in New Zealand as a remembrance of all those who died in the two Great Wars.

It turns out that it didn’t all happen at Gallipolli itself but on the other (western) side of the peninsular from Suvla bay south. I bought 2 brochures, lunched overlooking the sea and headed off. One of the brochures was written from the Turkish perspective, which was interesting. We are brought up with the ANZAC view of the campaign and venerate our own soldiers. Neither brochure criticized the other side, it was part of a war but each highlighted their own efforts and bravery.
I rode to ANZAC cove stopping at cemeteries on the way NZ Outpost No. 2, Shrapnel Gully, Johnson Jolly, Lone Pine, Shell Green. It was an unexpectedly moving experience. All those soldiers from quaintly-named regiments like NZ Mounted Rifles, Canterbury Regiment, Otago Regiment and Maori Battalion. All the countries represented Australia, New Zealand, Wales, Ireland and France. Most soldiers were very young. So many unmarked graves and most headstones of the marked ones read “Believed to be buried here…”
I stopped at a Turkish cemetery and the soldiers buried there had been even younger than at the Allied cemeteries. The two styles of cemetery are quite different. The Allied are simple and geometric, the Turkish more ornate. All are beautifully maintained.

Turkish cemetery

The cemetery at ANZAC cove is beautiful with oak trees on lawns sloping gently to the sea. The hills behind are rugged and steep with deeply eroded gullies. Considering how generally flat the rest of the peninsular is, you can see how vast a cock-up landing here was. Several tour buses were also doing the circuit so it was crowded at times. I never did get an unobstructed shot of the ANZAC cove sign. Still, it was good to hear a Kiwi accent again.

Terrain above ANZAC Cove

I stopped at a beach area near ANZAC cove and bathed with many others in the picnic area amongst the pines. Many people swimming here including Muslim women swimming fully clothed. One woman looks like an English fish-wife with knotted hankerchief on her head, pendulous breasts and long skirt
I think that I will camp here tonight when everybody has gone. It is away from the road with no dwellings in sight. It is actually the bay where the remains of a landing craft can still be seen. I don’t know the name.

Everybody has left now so I can prepare dinner. I will sleep under the stars tonight on my riding gear as it is very warm. Many bats flying around at dusk. I try to spot-light them with my torch but they move too fast.

Sunday 2nd September 18631km
So much for sleeping under the stars! The wind came up and it blew all night. I should have put the tent up but was too lazy so just used my poncho. Up at 7am, coffee and away to Chunuk Bair by 8am. There were many Turkish people visiting the Turkish cemeteries even at that hour. Chunuk Bair is the hilltop from which the Allies got a view of the Dardanelles (their ultimate goal and the whole reason for the Gallipolli campaign). They held the hilltop for two days before being overrun and never seeing it again. The view from up here is incredible and the enormity of the task for the ANZACs to come up the hill becomes apparent. ANZAC cove is pretty much directly below Chunuk Bair.

View from Chunuk Bair

Rode down the hills and up the peninsular to the main road towards the border with Greece. As I approached the mountain pass leading to Kesan, it absolutely hosed down. I managed to get my wet weather gear on before it hit. The wet weather gear is actually just thin breathable membranes that go inside my jacket and trousers which are time-consuming to fit properly. They have however been very effective on the odd days that I have ridden in rain.

The roads are greasy and there is a lot of spray put up by trucks and cars. In New Zealand, where we get a lot of rain, the asphalt road surface is made porous so that the water doesn’t sit on the surface and vehicles traveling over it force the water into the road surface instead of creating spray. This means that the roads look dark black, not shiny with surface water. Hydroplaning is generally not a problem. In continental climes, where the summers are hotter and winters colder, a more durable surface is required so concrete is often used or an impermeable asphalt.

In Kesan itself some of the roads are flooded but no problem to motorbikes. Turning left onto the main road to Ipsala (the border crossing). I am getting a strong feeling of the end as I leave the “exotic” countries and get closer to Europe.

At the border I initially stop behind a queue of trucks but am waved on. As I pass kilometers of waiting trucks, I thank my lucky stars, these guys must be here for days to get across the border. At the crossing itself, I am again waved on past waiting cars to the checkpoint. Almost no document checks and no forms to fill. Waved on again to the final check on the Turkish side where I am asked for documents. Aha, I knew there had to be a catch! One quick telephone call and I am on my way.