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While we were plodding on to Kas it threatened to rain. I had been using the satnav to take us to Kas but we were not sure if the actual place we were headed to was in the town or outside it so we stopped about 10km out to figure it all out. I had an address and some coordinates so plugged them in. The satnav did not know the address but seemed a bit sketchy in that area anyway so I had a go with the coordinates.

After about 10 minutes i figured out that the coordinates were in a different format and we had a distance and direction to go with an arrow and not much else. We went around Kas and up a twisty sand laden road into the mountains being passed by maniac bus drivers obviously being paid per job rather than the hour. The distance slowly got lower whilst we hoped there was a road in the right direction. About 7km out the satnav quit because the battery was too warm from trickle charging all day. With battery swapped I managed to get a dot on a map that we needed to head to and off we went down a twisty road covered in black goats and their Shepard.

Then like magic we arrived right at the gate to David and Juliets house. We were greeted by a pack of dogs all with interesting and sometimes sad histories to tell. It was heart-warming to see them here being well cared for having come across so many wild dogs both in Turkey and Bulgaria.

We were instantly welcomed into the house with a comfy laid back approach and felt at home immediately. Over the next couple of days we met Nick who runs an overland truck and all the cats as well.

We emptied all the luggage off the bikes and went into the mountains on a little off-road track David knew. Neither Helen or I had any offroad experience so it was quite daunting but we felt reassured by some advice so we set off up a gravel track. Over the course of a km or two we encountered a couple of different surfaces each doing different things to the bike. All the while it felt strangely like we should not be up here, away from the traffic and civilisation, but I mean that in a good way (if that makes sense). In any case it was to turn out the experience would be useful later…

We got up to a valley and stopped to take some photos and listen to the bells on the sheep. The weather started to turn so David wisely decided we should head back. The track suddenly became slippier although Helen seemed to manage very well and overtook me on the way down. i had to steer across the track at one point to avoid a missing piece at the edge when the front wheel got caught in a rut. The bike went sideways for a bit and then went down. Thankfully no real damage was done and it made for a good photo. At least the panniers seem pretty strong.

I rebuilt the brake caliper on my bike that had been causing so much hassle. Pistons out, seals out and cleaned then put back together. They were the best they have ever been. I was left with a load of brake fluid so we bled the brakes on David‘s bike too.

By now we were getting comfy and didn’t want to leave. Juliets cooking was superb and the bed comfy. We had no way to know what the next place would be like and our current place was good but I guess this is the dilemma that every traveller faces. We bid a fond farewell to Kas and hoped that one day David and Juliet could visit us one day.

The road over to Gokova was impressive. We had a run up over mountains with terrific views. For some reason we could not fathom a lot of people had arrived at the top of one of these mountains and were gathered at the sides of the road. There were so many people that the police were there to direct the traffic. We were not sure if we should stop to see what it was or if that would be intrusive so we carried on. Helen spotted a helicopter and some Turkish flags on the other side of a valley so maybe some VIP?

The guidebook described Gokova as a beautiful place near the beach with a selection of places to stay. We wound up following the signs in only to find a single place to stay and no beach. We asked the price which we were told was “fifteen“ but this later transpired to be a pronunciation thing and was in fact “fifty“. I managed to ask where the nearest cash-point was and we had to go up the road a couple of km to another town. We saw our mistake immediately. Gokova is obviously the name of the area as well as the town centre. The other town was beautiful and it was the same price to stay there as the place we were (and had unpacked). So we stayed a while and had something to eat before dragging ourselves back.

It was depressing and felt like a dark cloud was following us so the following day we left the place we were in (with no breakfast and a grumpy owner when I asked) and went the couple of km back up the road and booked into a nice seafront hotel with balcony overlooking the beach and breakfast included for 25 eur. Totally the right thing to do – the place was deserted and we had all day to ourselves without even hassle from people selling stuff.

We went for a walk up the road and noticed a small kitten playing in the street. We got talking to the owner, Ozgur, who had an estate agency business and also a TDM 900. He invited us in for a chai and we had a nice chat about our travels and his. As we shook hands to leave he gave us his card and offered translation service if we got stuck somewhere. All this without trying to sell something was quite strange but very welcome to us.

Leaving this idyllic place the following day was difficult but we had arranged to meet a guy off Horizons Unlimited in Kas and still were unsure exactly where it was…

Selcuk seemed to be a nice little town, setup to cater both for the tourists going to Ephesus ruins and also for the locals, making it a perfect place to find somewhere to stay. Behind the Museum there were a raft of Pensions all competing heavily. They seemed to compete on features like breakfast, laundry and internet rather than price but we haggled two of them off against each other and got a private room in a pretty place for the price of a dorm. The place was filled with wrought ironwork which the guidebook explained was made by the owners.

We asked him what time the ruins closed at but he helpfully suggested forgetting about it for the night and checking out the weekly market in town instead. We wandered over to discover the town centre packed with local people trading just about everything you could imagine. I noticed one guy repairing some metal teapots with an oxy-acetylene torch in the middle of the chaos. Brightly coloured herbs and spices jostled with shoes and vegetables for space.

The next morning we went to Ephesus as suggested and looked around. It is apparently the best preserved Roman ruins. The library and amphitheatre in particular were impressive and gave some idea what the place must have been like, but truth be told it was not as good as Acropolis since it was swarmed with people. Perhaps someone more acquainted with the history of the place would appreciate it more than we did which is a shame really. Perhaps we were getting sucked into the tourist trap.

we caught the fast boat from Istanbul to Bandirma. 2 hrs and we cut out around 350km of the traffic madness we had seen in the city before. Unbelievably people were actually trying to overtake us in their cars in the queue to get on the boat. This despite the fact that all seats are pre-booked on the ferry too. The loading guy didn’t seem to think we needed to fasten down the bikes at all to which my response was something like “er ducking dead on“. He seemed annoyed when i ignored him and lifted 2 straps off the wall to tie them down but i did it anyway and somehow it all got sorted. I am glad we did it because the boat captain sailed the ship much like everyone drives but you have to admire the fact were were on time and it cost less than half what it costs to go Belfast to Stranraer.

We refuelled at a station just outside Banderima where the attendants were interested where we were from and then amazed when I told them the bike is diesel. I gave them a little suckindiesel.com card and they gave us a cloth each embossed with the company name etc. It was a nice change of pace to have people excitedly interested in the bike and us.

we moved on around 150 miles to Bergama where we got a fantastic pension called “Athena“ at the top end of the town which was handy to go to the site of the ruins. It was run by a nice guy who smiled in a welcoming way every time he said yes. He was friendly and helpful and could not do enough for us. The bikes were securely parked in a closed courtyard which he was sure to lock whenever we were not around and didn’t get frustrated at our continual requests to get in and out. In short it was perfect. Our plan was to visit the ruins in the morning before heading further south.

In the morning our new friend emerged proudly wearing a T-shirt proclaiming “Your village called, they are missing their idiot“. How apt I thought. We shook hands and went to leave when I turned the bike on and noticed low fuel pressure. It started anyway but I looked at the pump that had a slow leak in Germany and saw it was leaking pretty badly now. Nuts. Though as Helen pointed out it happened in a great place. We‘d have to stay another night. No complaints from the owner gleefully rubbing his hands and smiling. Happy days.

I spent most of the day stripping the bike down to get at the pump. The job went quite quickly and was even enjoyable in the sunshine and quiet, interrupted only by the gentle blowing of the breeze in the tree leaves above or the strangely soothing call to prayer from the local mosque. I guess it went fast because all the tools were beside me on a picnic table as opposed to scattered all over the garage floor. I am sure there is a lesson there somewhere…

Bike back together we headed out to the ruins to discover the road was closed (its 5km up there). we turned and a tour guide seemed to suggest we needed to go 20m up the road then park and go up to a shiny glass building. Helen got annoyed at a group of young boys from the bus who were pushing and wiggling the bike with her on it causing her to be unstable though they got the message when I shouted and blew the horn at them. Its more the fault of those meant to be looking after them though I guess.

We parked the bikes up as suggested and were welcomed into the glass building by a security guard who put us in a lift. We got out to discover it was actually a cable-car. having been suspicious of seemingly helpful people we had to ask the cost several times only to be told each time it was free. Why? It was the very first day the thing was open!

As we ascended our spirits were also lifted with our turn of fortune. I couldn’t help but wonder if it was like the scene in Titanic where Leonardo is ecstatic with his luck being able to get on the boat, and wondered if it is a good thing the system was brand new or not. However it was extremely smooth and quiet, even over the rollers at the pylons. Having arrived safely we spent a couple of hours exploring the place more or less to ourselves in the evening sunshine. It was amazing and really made us wonder what civilisation must have been like all those years ago. There was clearly a lot of organisation involved and a large amount of manpower and considerable skill. My mind turned to the forces needed to get that many people to do something like that and the considerable respect and belief that leaders in ancient times must have commanded.

the day rolled on and i wanted to stay for a while to see the sun set though we left at quarter past six with just 15 minutes til they closed. we arrived back to find the cable-cars stopped. We wandered towards the road to see if it went the right way but were unsure so went to ask. For a moment they considered starting the cable again but then helpfully decided to lay a car on to take us back.

while we were waiting the engineer got talking to us and seemed keen to practice the English he had been learning at night school. It was a real treat to be asked where we were from without the next sentence being “come see my shop“. It was even more interesting to get some insight into his life and ask a few geeky questions about the cablecar system which had been built over 6 months. He had noticed the bikes and had a VFR 800 himself. Due to the lack of engineering jobs and pay he had to work 2 jobs and seemed like a busy guy with his first child also on the way.

The car that arrived for us was a pick-up truck and didn’t have the room for everyone inside the cab so being opportunistic Helen and I climbed into the back with our new friend at which point I remembered the driving standards in Turkey. Too late we were hurtling down the road which was thankfully closed talking and trying distract ourselves although we were probably only actually doing maybe 30 mph. We arrived at the bikes and chatted about the diesel conversion and our journey for a while. After resetting all the controls and taking my bike out of gear I started it to show what it sounded like, we wished each other well and parted ways, somehow enriched for the experience.

As we left for the second time the next day it was playing in my mind how none of this would have happened had it not been for the fuel pump failure. It‘s strange how something that seems bad at first often has the best consequences.

So we decided to spend 3 nights in Istanbul although we actually left after 2. I had noticed my brake pads at the front worn down to the metal in Bulgaria so Istanbul seemed like the last chance to get some new ones for a while. I was concerned they would not be available here but was surprised when we found a street full of bike shops, the second of which had the pads. I was even more surprised to find they fitted and that they were decent sintered pads although not surprised they were a little dearer than home.

In turkey it seems they are fond of putting all shops of a type together, hence the street of bike shops. There were also streets of phone shops (where I got a battery to fit the intercoms) and in the grand bazaar we were surprised to find an entire street of buttons. I am still not sure how they possibly make money given the immediate competition just next door over something with a low price like a button but business seemed ok nonetheless.

another feature of a big city of course is the touts. Istanbul is no different to anywhere else although with tourists around everyone was out trying everything with varying degrees of success. “hello – spiro“. eh? ah spirographs. I haven‘t seen those in a while. There were a few people selling them in different parts of the city too. It led me to wonder where they get this crap from. There must be a website that sells it somewhere. www.tatfortourists.com maybe. Complete with a phrasebook of just enough english/german/french/etc to sell it. this years trend is spirograph apparently.

Yet somehow you can‘t blame them for trying. Behind the façade some powerful economics are at play. If they were not making money from it they would not be trying, and life in the very big city seems tough for some. It left me not sure how to feel about it.

We did the tourist thing and saw Haga Sofia (another 20 eur) and the blue mosque (free). Haga Sofia was interesting although crowded with the same people taking the same photos of the same things. I bet flickr is full of them so I gave up and instead turned to taking pics of Helen in the crowds. Someone was making a lot of cash off the place that was for sure. It was fascinating to see the clash of two major religious ideologies here in the middle of the city which bridges two continents. Perhaps the driving here was always crazy. The blue mosque was beautiful both inside and out although the guy outside who tried to sell us carpets after duping us by seemingly offering us help with our visit seemed to be the last straw for Helen.

I fitted the brake pads in the street and gathered quite an audience in the process. I admit I can be a little short when my concentration is absorbed on the bike so having Helen to distract people was a welcome break for a while. Plenty of people came to look and then the word spread it was a diesel bike and seemed almost like Chinese whispers. Perhaps the dieselbike.net T-shirt didn’t help. Job done with a huge tin of grease left over that I only used to grease the pins on the caliper. It seemed the pistons were sticking but that was not a roadside job so we left under cover of darkness at 5am…

Just a quıck post. Will do a proper one ın next day or 2. Currently in Istanbul! My bike needs front brake pads if anyone has any ideas…

Update = seem to have found something resembling the correct pads in a little back street shop. Will know more when I go to fit them…

Another update. The pads fit ok although left and right are labelled the wrong way round. And they seem to be pretty decent since the box says they are sintered. Who knows if it is the truth or not but I have a spare set now too. Bad news is one of the retaining pins head rounded off on me on the (thankfully) other side. Should be ok until the pads that side wear out but might be fun after. Some work required before that happens…

Changing them in the street outside the Hostel in the fading light was interesting. The bike seemed to be becoming a tourist attraction itself.

N

We left the security of the cheapo (and nice) motorway hotel behind with a view to finding a campsite on the outskirts of Istanbul. The Turkey guidebook which we did not have said that the campsites were not worthwhile due to the distance to the city and the availability of cheap pensions in the city for only a few quid more. Not that it mattered though because I had managed to leave the incorrect gps co-ordinates on my satnav which slowly took us to a campsite in the city which had either closed long ago or, never in fact, existed.

As soon as we left the motorway the already poor driving standards deteriorated instantly into pure mayhem. The indescribable cacophony of horns and soot were a sight to behold. The impossible thing to understand is that most Turks are the friendliest most patient people when you meet them. Yet as soon as they are behind the wheel the entire picture changes. The driving is impatient and dangerous at best, if there is a gap at all then a car is instantly wedged into it. Lanes are created out of thin air. Motorcyclists wear no helmets. It was even worse than the driving we had seen in Serbia although we would not have believed that possible at the time.

So pity then the poor fools who are lost in the middle of this with only a google map on a phone with no street-names or campsite POI‘s, on two bikes with no intercoms trying to negotiate a city of some 20 million inhabitants, all of whom seem to be in a big hurry someplace. Hesitance at traffic lights of more than 10ms is met with much beeping of horns. Back home drivers not seeing motorcycles is an occasional occurrence. Out here it seems to be the law.

Coupled to all this Helen was not feeling well. Something she had eaten disagreed with her and her strength was fading fast. In a bout of desperation we stopped at the first hotel available. Unfortunately this turned out to be the Ibis at 90 eur per night. We had no choice but to take it. So we spent the night in a posh hotel but were somehow unable to enjoy it.

Having travelled for a while my thoughts on these “nice“ hotels seemed to have evolved a little. Everything has been created to portray a certain type of image. An image that sells and at a very nice price thank you. it was like an oasis removed from the city around it but felt somehow contrived. It reflected in the type of people staying there, fooling themselves they were well travelled on business or holiday when we were all missing out on the ‘real‘ Istanbul. “can I get the pesto sauce you use in a jar?“ (and then tell all my friends about it back home).

so I was relived when we left. We hammered google into submission on the hotel business centER pc‘s and managed to find out most of the cheap accommodation was in Sultanhamet, a little over 10 mins away. when we got there we felt like complete amateurs because we could have made it there ok and there must have been about 10 pensions there all competing heavily in the slight off-season and we landed a 4 bed dorm with just us in it for 20eur a night.

You really do need the info at times like that, but we discovered a guidebook that someone had left on the trading shelf and it helped us a lot. I’ve since got the electronic versions of Iran and Pakistan which we left behind due to space issues which display on the phone so we should be good now hopefully. Pity we learned the hard way though I am sure there are still a few tricks to come.

Pensions for those who don‘t know are a fantastic thing in Turkey. They are basically like a B&B though are fairly inexpensive and plentiful. Mostly based in peoples houses they seem to be quite regulated by the authorities and work quite well.