A Cycling Blur

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That's not to say I am travelling at breakneck speed and that is I appear to be. No. It's that there have been a few days of cycling with not much else. Hence the blur as each day just melds with the next.

The scenery along the D-320 has been fairly consistent not changing all that much. I had mountains on either side of me - big, brown, bare mountains with even bigger brown bare mountains behind them which felt like I was riding on the set of some western movie. And I did have a stretch of beautifully tarmaced road which made cycling an absolute dream although that was fairly short lived and it was back to the gravelled hard shoulders before I could really appreciate what it was I had. Hmmm, think there is a message in there for me.

The thundering trucks, laden down with hay the height of their truck and 2 widths of them, thundered past constantly. They kind of reminded me of me. Carrying way too much weight than can possibly be good for the motor, or the frame, but somehow they still managed to move unlikely as it seemed - like me.

Along the D-320 there have been some unusual accommodation options (or lack thereof) as only a highway can really provide. It's a bit difficult knowing where to aim for as there is always that uncertainty that there may not be a place to sleep once you get there. (I know I have a tent but that really is a last resort. After a day's cycling I really want a shower.) Anyways, after Aydin I had thought I would maybe head to Burharkent. I got there and just had a gut feeling that this would not be the place to spend a night. When I asked a woman if there was a pansyion in town she suggested the lokanta. I had seen this on the way in and it looked decidedly seedy, too well attended by males and not the sort of place a lone woman would like to spend the night (and guaranteed it would have been grotty to boot). When I asked if she knew of a family hotel she called on a passing policeman for help. All of a sudden I had a crowd of people around me all trying to tell me where this family hotel was. Well, at least there was one and apparently it was only 8km away. So off I cycled.

When I got to the Guney Motel I was very pleased to see the word "Aile", meaning family, in their advertising. As it turned out this motel was a thermal motel which meant that all the rooms used geothermally heated water. In winter I would have been well pleased but honestly, I was hot and all I wanted was a tepid shower. Instead, I got a scolding thermal shower with no cold water to add and came out of it feeling hotter than I started. Maybe this is all part of the health treatment. It did make my hair and skin feel lovely and soft though...

It was here too that I got to meet some Turkish women. Since being in Turkey I have had mostly contact with Turkish men which is understandable given their culture. But here, at this motel, at the most unlikely of all places, I was the centre of attention for families who had come here from Konya. They provided me with home made borek, apples, ice cream, coca cola. Everything to make me feel welcome. I could not have dreamt that this day would have ended quite like this but am very grateful that it did.

The following day I was Pamukkale bound. Pamukkale is on practically every tourist's itinerary to Turkey and this was also the main reason for me travelling on this road. It is the site of the ancient city of Hierapolis as well as having the geologically formed travertines created by a spring and saturated by dissolved calcium bicarbonate.

I went to Pamukkale via Karahayit (where there are really hot springs) and Akkoy. The road was only a minor road and passed through small villages enroute where shepards grazed their sheep and corn was growing in abundance. Akkoy was having their weekly market so it was quite lively and a good place to stop. As with most stops I was given tea by a woman in a shop. An elderly man also came over and invited me to tea at his house with his "madam" and even though I declined his offer he went off and came back with a handful of apricots and a big slice of watermelon. Um, how do you say that you don't like watermelon in Turkish without offending? Well you don't. So, my mother would be surprised to hear, I ate that slice and even though I am not a convert it was sweet and juicy and helped quench the thirst.

Karahayit is where most of the Turkish families could be found whereas Pamukkale had a decidedly different feel to it. The accommodation touts were in full force, even following me down the hill on the scooters. I asked at a number of places as I had wanted to camp and no one seemed to provide any shady spots. I ended up at Coskun Pension (and camping) where I was able to pitch my tent in a lovely spot between two very large fig trees which provided all the shade I wanted, and needed, in the stifling heat. I had a lovely rest there and probably could have stayed longer in Pamukkale although I did not like being the centre of attention for Sait. He said he would drop me off at the travertine terraces on his scooter (which he did) so I could see the sunset. This is the better time to see the site as most of the tour groups have gone and the light of this natural phenomen is softened by the colours that a sunset provides.

Sait also suggested we could go for a "skin swim" later that evening which I took to be a kind of mud bath. I was not too keen on this idea moreso because of the company than anything else and made sure I was tucked up in my tent before I could be dragged out. Sait did come looking for me but I told him (from the confines of my tent) that I was trying to sleep and would be leaving very early in the morning. Oh well, you can't blame the guy for trying.

From Pamukkale to Carduk, another little dot on the map. Nothing there except for a hotel that was fully booked (!) and a salt lake. I was told there was a hotel at the petrol station just out of town and when I asked if it was a suitable establishment for a woman I was assured that it was. Phew!

When I got there, I was told that they did indeed have a vacancy. Great. Can I see the room? Five minutes. So I waited and I was shown the room. It was new and on first appearances clean. On closer inspection, once the deal had been done (but not paid for!) I noted the sheets had not been changed - I could live with that and use my own - and the toilet had not been flushed and was disgustingly dirtly - I could not live with that. I went downstairs to complain and was directed to speak with the owner. Thankfully the owner had worked in Austria for 26 years and spoke German so I was able to tell him the issue although my facial expression would have been enough I think. I got a new room, clean sheets but a still not very clean bathroom - albeit a lot cleaner than the last. What is it with throwing cigarette butts down the toilet anyway? Or smoking in the loo for that matter? Ugh, disgusting.

Anyway, yesterday I had planned to cycle to Dinar and spend the night there. I made surprisingly good time considering two flat tyres (am getting very tired of this) and a sore bike bum. So much so that I got to Dinar at about 1.30 which was way too early to start asking for accommodation. But looking on the map there was not much else between Dinar and Isparta, my next destination. Then I saw the sign to the bus station. Why not take the bus to Ispart? What a great idea Bern! So off I went.

Now Dinar is a small town of about 35,000 and it being Sunday, the buses were not nearly as frequent. I was told there would be a bus at four o’clock which could take my bike. OK. I’ll wait, afterall what else was I going to do in tiny town? So I waited. One of the young guys made me feel welcome, offering me cola, letting me sit in the office, putting the television on for me. This was very much appreciated as I had noticed a man who had been following me firstly from the downhill to town, then at the BP service station and now appearing at the bus station. Experience has shown me that this was more than just coincidence and thankfully he gave up hanging around once I was sitting in the office and had indicated that he was not a good man.

Four o'clock came. Oh no. I had seen this type of minibus before and knew that the situation was futile there was no way the bike was going to fit. Truth be told I was a little peeved at having hung around at the bus station for 2 and a half hours but I could not really be angry at my own misunderstanding of the size of the bus. And, it was not the guy's fault that I could not understand Turkish. I was told though that there was another 6 o'clock bus to Isparta but that we would have to check with the driver first if it was OK to travel with the bike and if indeed there was room for me. Yes, I know this scenario well.

Six o'clock came and we had to hail the bus from the main drag. Yes, there was room! Yay! So, a quick kiss Turkish style which is a shaking of the hands and a touching of both cheeks (but no kissing) by the other's and I was Isparta bound. However, I did make mention of Egirdir too which the bus driver took to meaning that I wanted to go there. So, as fate would have it, after a brief stop in Isparta we drove to Egirdir and here I am. In Egirdir which is a lovely lakeside town surrounded by mountains. I think I might stop a couple of days here. It's a beautiful setting, I need to restock on spare inner tubes and I feel rather tired. No other excuse needed.

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