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Dogubeyazyt was like any other border town I guess although it felt safe enough and the accommodation was cheapish too including breakfast.

The road up from Van was nice too with a decent surface and nice scenery. This was only interrupted once by about 4 wild dogs viscously chasing and barking at us. We were quite taken aback when we accelerated up to around 60mph and they were still beside us. The kids from the settlements were not much better, Helen saw one who was about 4 picking up a rock the size of his head to throw at us. Not quite sure what the reason is they do it for. Boredom? Hatred? Jealousy? Robbery? Answers on a postcard…

On the road up it was strange to think that the other side of the mountains was Iran and that we would be there tomorrow (Inshallah). The area seemed a little dodgy overall with checkpoints on the road but the guys there were friendly enough. I wondered how much fuel must come over some of the mountain tracks from Iran where it is cheap to Turkey where it is very expensive. I made a mental note not to help anyone with baggage at the border…

The following morning we left the mosquito infested Hotel Gap sharpish. The bike alarm had gone off at 3am and disturbed our sleep anyway. As we left there was a full scale row going on between a woman and the hotel guy though it was hard to tell at first because everyone had been talking that loudly all night.

The early start did us good however and we got to Tatvan at around 2pm. The place didn’t look great and seemed like another built up crowded town so we headed on to Edirmit. By the time the day was finished we had done 250 miles, some of it on unsealed roads which was pretty good for us.

The campsite in the guidebook did not seem to exist anymore and Antolia camping restaurant did not have any camping to speak of. Though this was a much nicer town and we were able to find another campsite just down the road for the princely sum of only 10 lira a night (5 euro). The owners kept bringing us a constant supply of tea and a few of their friends took some photos. They misunderstood Helen when she was asking where to buy clothes for Iran and gave her a blanket and some of their own clothes clearly concerned about us getting cold at night.

The following day we managed to get use of internet at a cafe and replenished the toilet roll stocks at a hotel where we paid 4 times more for breakfast than we did for the camping. Helen got some new threads in a wee shop near Van and all was good. We were unable to determine if the border crossing on the D300 nearest Van would be open or not so we headed to Dogbiscuit to cross there.

It was on the road to Diyabakir that I had one of the stranger experiences of the trip so far. As we rounded the corner into a small village I noted the speed limit and slowed down a bit. I then saw some cones in the road for a police control and slowed even more. Now, perhaps 20km/h under the limit we approached the control and the cop stood out into the road indicating for us to stop. ‘Oh no here we go‘ I
thought. It was our first pull of the trip. I wondered if they would be corrupt or if we had done something wrong. The conversation went something like this…

“hello, salam“
“ah hello. Where are you from“
“Irelanda“
“ah ok and where are you going?“
“Diyabakir“
“You want eppill?“
“Erm sorry?“
“apple. you know, to eat?“
“erm yes that would be nice“
“There you go. OK?“

The other cop gave us both an apple which we pulled in to eat. They gave us another couple of them too. So we had some chatting and photos both with the police and also with the children who were leaving school (who the police were looking after as they crossed the road). I noticed the grip on their sidearms was very decoratively painted and guess this must be something they take a personal pride in.

I finished my apple and went to get a business card to give them to see the pictures and set the apple core in the topbox. They exclaimed “no don‘t put it there, you must toss it. Hey, this is Turkey!“

And so Helen was first to throw hers over the road into the verge on the other side. When I came to throw mine I threw it as hard as I could including a little run up to the road and a flick of the wrist at the last moment. It worked. The thing sailed in an arc beautifully through the sky landing well into the valley on the other side. This drew cheers of approval from our new friends Sindar and Olash.

As we got into Diyabakir we had our second brush with the law. This time we were lost trying to find the hotel so I asked a motorbike cop riding a Honda varadero. Before we knew it he had about 7 mates round, one of whom spoke enough English to explain that the normal road was closed (just as well we asked). They seemed genuinely concerned for us so led us through the traffic to the right place. An hour later they came past again to make sure we got sorted ok.

The Hotel Gap was grubby and noisy. It was also a good bit more expensive than the outdated guidebook had suggested. I guess a lot can change in about 8 years. Mind you the shower worked.

We parked the bikes right outside the entrance which was in fact another hotel beside it. The guy working there said nothing while we spent about 15 minutes locking them up and then started giving off loudly in Turkish. Helen was confused why he waited til after they were locked, but I noticed a blonde haired middle age woman had just come down to him and henpecked him about something. I guessed he was passing on what she didn’t want to do herself. We played the dumb foreigner card which worked well since he spoke no English and eventually he gave up as we walked off.

So ended a strange day. Its not very often you get pulled over by the police to be offered an apple and then told you must litter afterwards. I‘m not sure what the school-kids made of it but the police told me to…

As we left Gurun I was increasingly grateful for the accommodation we‘d been given the night before. The roads got worse and buildings looked quite dilapidated as we passed through the town. I never did notice the hotel that was meant to be 2km down the road.

We progressed onwards to Nemrut Dais, the site of ancient stone statues. I am sure they are pretty impressive but we never actually made it there. Instead we passed through Malatya and turned down the road signposted to the site. The road was a twisty mountain road, which started off enjoyable but degraded into potholes before turning into a building site.

We stopped on the way in and a guy driving a road roller told us the road was closed (after we spent an hour and a half getting here) and that we should use the temporary road they had put in just 100m back.

We went back to this track and looked at it for a while concerned. After some animated deliberations as to what we should do the guy from the roller came back.
“where you from“
“Irelanda“
“AH you know eee aahh aaa, Sinn Fein. I am Kurdish, I love Ireland, Sinn Fein“
“um ok. Whats the craic with this track then, how far is it, is it rough?“
“for you on these motorcycles no problem. 3km. I can drive my car, the bike will be no problem“

We knew from reading travel books and the HUBB that often people are trying to be helpful and seem to think the bikes are invincible. Even so, we wanted the track to work out ok after the past hour and a half of bad roads so we went up to at least take a look.

We didn‘t get much more than perhaps 300 metres up when we decided to turn back. The track was a nice mix of rocks, sand and bumps, one of which dented my sump but thankfully did not puncture it. When we got back I wanted top go throttle the guy, but he had gone, probably luckily for both of us.

Thoroughly disheartened we plodded back to Malatya to look for whatever hotel we could find. Unfortunately it was pretty expensive although not the dearest one we had so far and they let us park the bikes inside a disused basement lobby so all was well. We got out of there early in the morning to head to Diyabakir.

Little did we know as we left the campsite that morning that this was to be one of the most special days of our trip so far. We did not know exactly where we would stay because the guidebook had a hole in the area and so did the map. There did not seem to be any big cities on our way up to Matalya.

We did well because we left early. The roads were empty and in fairly good condition, plus it was fairly cool and we were making good progress. Towards the second half of the day we had strong crosswinds but continued on to around 250 miles when we came to a small town called Gurun, population 10,000.

At the start the town did not look promising and I wondered if we would have to try to continue all the way to Matalya to find somewhere to stay. There were only a couple of houses and I wondered how it could have 10000 inhabitants. The first sign things were starting to get populated was a market shop so we pulled in for some chai. Kids materialised out of nowhere, still wearing school uniforms since it was around 3pm. keen to practise English they were saying who they were and asking where we were from. I enjoyed the friendly banter and nobody was asking for Lira. I had a warm feeling about the place already and the people seemed more genuine.

We asked about Hotels nearby and the owner with the help of some kids translating had a chat with a woman (who turned out to be his wife) and we managed to figure out there was a place around 2km down the road but the wife looked concerned. She made the fingers rubbing together sign that indicated money and seemed to suggest it was expensive. From what we could discern they offered to let us stay in the tree-house type building beside their shop.

The wife left on a bus with the kids as we drained our tea, still unsure if we had understood correctly. Asking the owner again I pointed to the tent on the bike and to the field to see if they meant to set it up. With the aid of an English phrasebook he seemed to be happy enough for us to do that but said we could stay in the tree-house (making the universal hand signals for steps) if we wanted. I went to pay for the tea and some food and made clear I wanted to give something for the camping too though in the end the bill seemed very reasonable.

We cooked some pasta on the stove after I figured out the venturi type thing that lets air in was blocked. Later the wife of the owner came back and we were introduced to everyone and invited into the house for some tea. Bread rolls were offered, as were apples picked locally, figs, walnuts and some sort of bean that looked like an olive but with a sugary powder inside. We managed to chat about life in our countries (via an enterprising son and Google Translation) and looked at all our photos and all theirs. It transpired the owner had built the tree-house himself as well as some miniature wooden furniture and was interested in antiques. Overall they seemed quite happy in their lives together and it was fantastic to be welcomed in here.

We went to bed much happier with the world and truly humbled by the hospitality. I considered how we could have easily driven right by if we had arranged another hotel/campsite on the way and what a great loss that would have been. To quote someone “these are the days that must happen to you“.

We got to Goreme in the region known as Kappodocia in reasonable time so we were able to check out a few places to stay and settled on Berlin Camping. A nice enough place with some cooking facilities and near to the attractions. We attempted to go to the open air museum but Helens feet were very sore from being eaten by mosquito’s in Magnavat. So rather than go waking round the place in misery we came back to the campsite and emptied the stuff off my bike for us both to climb on.

Following directions from James (the only other guy at the campsite) we headed off for Love Valley. After we missed the turnoff we found the place up an unpaved track giving a panoramic view over it and later we took the low track into the valley too. There was nobody but us and the pressed juice sellers there so we got a look round parts that most people don‘t get to see thanks to David for the little bit more off-road confidence I had.

The next day we got up early to see hot air balloons taking off and look round the open air museum properly. It was interesting to see all the little cave houses and churches that had been built in to the natural sandstone rock formations. I wondered if they had not been done before would they be allowed to build them today or would it be some sort of protected park or something. It must have been a very strange place when it was inhabited.

I got talking to James later that day who was travelling in a 1969 LPG converted VW camper van. He‘d had a brake problem too although it was a slave cylinder that went. He ended up importing the part from UK but had a lot of customs problems involving coach trips to other cities and a lot of money to sort out. In the end it would have been cheaper for him to fly home, get the part and fly out again. All in the name of pig headed bureaucracy that helps no-one. I was beginning to be thankful I had not had to import the brake pads or caliper seals for my bike.

we tried to go to an underground city nearby to see what it was like but failed miserably due to roadworks and several missed turn-offs. Helen was falling asleep on the back of the bike so we turned around sharpish and took it easy for the rest of the night. In the morning we headed off into the unknown again.

Before we got to Konya we saw a couple of pension/campgrounds along the way. we turned at the sign for one and headed down the road. We were met by some kids who first spoke some English “hello, my name is“ followed quickly by “turkish lira, turkish lira“.

Simultaneously the owner of the place Rasheem came running out to meet us. we got the sales pitch for a room but in the end negotiated a campsite for 20 lira. Helen was not comfortable with the pushy sales approach but we went anyway. After setting up the owner came over again to ask about dinner but seemed disappointed when he found out we had stuff with us to make. He then came again to suggest a drink so we said ok.

We had our first taste of Rakki, the local Turkish drink of aniseed brandy somewhat similar to Ouzo (though I didn’t mention that in case it would cause some sort of offence). Another drink came with the promise it was free and then another couple plus beer followed with the offer of a joint and a Turkish girl (both declined in case you wondered). We were offered a room instead of the tent for the same price and it all got rather messy with the owner guy up dancing. we went to bed as he went out to get some urgently needed Chicken soup 2km away by taksi.

In the morning things were somewhat more subdued over the free breakfast we were also promised. Somehow all this free stuff came to 4 times the original price quoted for camping which put the beer over par with even Dublin prices. A final error was made though that I won‘t go into here but suffice to say we were quite lucky for our experience. We took it for a lesson well learned to agree the price for everything upfront even if it seems rude. Even so, the false courtesy was beginning to get under the skin.

Keen not to repeat previous escapades we stopped when we got to Antalyia for fear of not finding accommodation before dark. We pulled off the road at a sign that said something like Parki and looked like camping but found only a littered disused gravel beach with overhanging trees and a few mobile port-a-kabin type things. I wandered over and was lucky to find someone that not only spoke good English but had a 1200gs. It turned out they were working on some sort of pipeline and that the campsite was further on somewhere.

We went up and down the road trying to find the campsite but in the end settled on a Pension for 30 lira (about 15 eur). Helen was annoyed we didn‘t find the campsite and the Pension was a bit run down but had air con, en suite and a balcony for a lot less than we have paid in Europe.

It appeared we had landed in the Russian tourist area of town because a lot of the signs had that strange looking cryllic script we had last seen in Serbia and the touts at the shops tried to beckon us in Russian (which made it a lot easier to ignore). We really needed to get out of these tourist areas but they certainly had plenty of accommodation on order which was quickly becoming a bugbear otherwise.

The next day we stopped at Manavgat because the leg after took us up over the mountains where there would be nowhere to stay (at least not designated campground anyway). It took a while to find somewhere to stay because most places in the area are big all inclusive tourist resorts where people go to stay and don‘t leave until the bus comes to take them to the airport. We chanced upon a Pension/Campground and setup the tent.

Later that night there was a terrific thunderstorm that lit up the tent every time there was a lightning strike. I counted 3 seconds from flash to sound on one occasion but that was the closest it got. We also got a big dose of rain, but the tent held up ok. Incidentally the tent was beside 2 trees on a site beside the beach which was probably not the best setup for the circumstances. I was wondering if the aluminium poles of the tent would be enough if the worst happened but it all came to nothing but experience.

As we left in the morning I formulated the idea that we needed to make sure we always have food, fuel and water in stock so we are never caught out looking for them. This having been learned through painful mistakes so far.

What had really surprised me though was how well Helen was adapting to the new lifestyle. She was automatically saving things like toilet roll or good condition banknotes (for exchange) that we would need later. We‘d stop for fuel and she would say to go another 60 miles and stop for something to eat etc or complain we had “only“ done 150 miles on a particular day. All this from the woman who before leaving on the trip had been only as far as Cavan on the bike.