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November 1st 2011

Published: November 1st 2011

What a difference a week makes!

At about this time a week ago we were snorkelling in Kas, and lying in the sun. Today it is 1 degree Celsius. In the previous two days we rode about 1,000km, some of it above the snow line, and all of it bloody freezing. We are now in Dogubeyazit, almost at the Iranian border. The altitude here is about 1,700m, and the town is a dump. Still, in terms of ‘famous inhabitants’ Dogubeyazit holds its own, as Noah was supposed to have parked his boat just over the hill on Mt Ararat.

On the subject of weather…

Kas camping (14/10/11 – 23/10/11)
After a week in Olympus we were getting a bit bored of ‘chilling’ in the tree houses with the ageing hippies, backpackers and curious Russian strays, so headed back to Kas; hoping my shock would have arrived. We found a lovely campsite right on the water, and set up our tent on a little terraced bit. Our second morning at Kas we heard the all too familiar ‘splat-splot’ of rain drops on the tent. “It’ll be ok”, we thought as we lay in the tent reading books, we’ll just have a late start to the morning. But the ‘splat-splots’ were getting heavier. Hmmm… it’s not going to be another Olympus?

Bugger! The rain had begun to hammer down. Time for a look. Our tent has a nice feature, where you can undo a couple of zips and stick your head out the top for a peek at the surroundings. The ‘peek’ was not promising. To the left of us was a big brown puddle. Behind the puddle was our neighbour’s tent. Actually, in the puddle was our neighbour’s tent.

Sh*t! One of our neighbours was out constructing flood defences. A short argument ensued in our tent, as I tried to explain that: firstly, I got out in the rain last time and so it was Tanja’s turn, and secondly that as she is Dutch conducting dykes and flood defences ought to be second nature. Unusually, as we were ‘discussing’ who was going to get out to check the situation, our tent floor started to float. It was a bit like being in a tent waterbed. Not really a good sign. On went the boardies, and out I went. It was pissing down. Now, I like lakes and waterfalls as much as the next chap, but not when the waterfall is filling a lake underneath my tent!

I built dams, dug canals and generally ran around getting wet and muddy. Tanja, bless her, peaked out of the tent offering advice. None of it made any difference, but fortunately the rain stopped, the waters subsided and eventually the sun came out. On the upside, we did make quite good friends with our neighbours; there’s something quite bonding about having tents flooded together. Hi Birgit and Andreas, if you’re reading.

Kas camping 2: it wasn’t all bad!

Leaving aside the flooded tent, there were some highlights at Kas. We went snorkelling and saw a big turtle. Quite amazing to be swimming along with it, they actually look very graceful under water. We also went for a great ride into the ‘hills’ around Kas, reaching about 2,000m and seeing the valleys where the shepherds graze their sheep in summer. Thanks David for a great route!

And, eventually, after nine days of waiting the shock arrived. So on it went, and off we went… into the cold.

Cave dwelling in Cappadocia

After leaving the coast our first main stop on the route to Iran was Cappadocia. It’s a fascinating area with strange landforms, underground cities and ‘cave hotels’. We found what I thought was quite a nice cave. It even felt warm… when we were wearing all our bike gear… having just come off a five hour ride in about 5 degree temperatures. It was not warm. It was bloody freezing in our cave. It was cold and damp and miserable. If it was nice living in caves we’d probably still be doing it. So we moved to a proper hotel, with walls and stairs and heaters. It was much nicer. But, as much as we were enjoying visiting underground cities (they make caves look like a pleasant place to live) and cycling around Cappadocia, the weather was getting colder and we still had to cross the East Anatolian plateau.

Not the only lunatics

So that brings me up to where I started this entry, Dogubeyazit. Although, we have in fact left Dogubeyazit, crossed the border and we are now in Iran. Whilst I was writing this entry at Murat camping Markus and Esther, two other motorcyclists we had arranged to meet, turned up so I had to stop writing to meet them, admire their bikes, meet another motorcyclist, Oli, drink some beer, drink some Raki. Listen to some Kurdish music. Watch the ‘Kurdish napkin dance’, and wake up with a hangover to discover our bikes covered in snow!

But it was a great feeling for all five of us to be riding out of there, headed for Iran together. Reassuring to know that we were not the only ones wise (silly) enough to have chosen this time of year to ride a motorbike across Turkey and into Iran.

Oh, I should say one more thing about Dogubeyazit: do not go! The streets are muddy, the people look mean, the children actually are mean – they kick at the bikes, flick things at you and generally pester and pull at you when you stop. Possibly things were better in Noah’s day.

Not all went according to plan

While it was nice to have ridden to the border in a group of five, unfortunately only three of us made it across. Markus and Esther were turned back because their Iran visas had expired, hopefully they’ll get them sorted and catch back up soon. We have also now left Oli behind, as he discovered some broken spokes in his back wheel so has stopped to get them fixed.

Hoping to see everyone soon when we stop to catch our breath somewhere warmer – because Iran is bloody cold too!

Iran

So far, we are loving Iran. Well, except for Tanja’s scarf. There has been a fair bit of complaining about the scarf, and at least five different methods of tying it. But, I think she has found a way that works. The fact that everyone stares at her like she is either a movie star, or creature from another planet, is also starting to wear a little. It seems they don’t see many Western women in Urmia. I’m finding it quite entertaining though. Crossing the road is also an unnerving experience; the approach appears to be to just walk like a lemming in front of the throng of buses, taxis, cars and motos hoping they will stop. So far, they all have. At first I thought riding in the traffic was quite risky, but in comparison to being a pedestrian it seems relatively safe!

Hmmm... photos to follow, it appears my Iranian internet connection doesn't trust my subversive photos. Heck, Iranian internet connections don't trust Facebook, I'm lucky to be posting this at all!