A long week in Ankara

It is the eve before I travel by train with bike to Tehran. I cant wait, I have been stuck here in Turkeys capital, Ankara for over a week now and I am completely bored out of my skin. I sit here with two stark choices. Either stay here in my hotel room and watch Man Utd play in the Champions league, or venture out from this cheap hotel,  avoiding  propositions from the multitude of working girls who seem to hang around the nearby streets (classy area). I am not feeling that brave so decide to stay in and suffer.

I arrived in Ankara on a wet afternoon 6 nights ago. I immediately took a dislike to the place on account of the air pollution and the nightmare I had, in trying to find my way around. Unfortunately this opinion has not softened over the week. The place is like London without the attractions, there seems to be little in the way of monuments or historical buildings of any worth and unlike Istanbul there is no Asian feel to the place. In fact it could be mistaken for any large city in the UK  with an imported Turkish population.

The reason I have been stuck here for a week, is on account of there being only one train a week travelling to Tehran and as sod’s law would have it , I actually arrived  in Ankara on the day before it left last week . It was just impossible for me to be ready to go on that following  morning. For one I hadnt even  collected my Visa for Iran . I resigned myself to the fact that I would be spending a week in Ankara,  finding the cheapest hotel I could to accomodate this.

Collecting my Visa for Iran was relatively pain free, apart from trying to locate the place. Having found it and being let through a number of large  remotely operated steel  doors, I found myself seated in a large white waiting room with  large glass counter with no one at it. I sat there for some time looking from wall to blank wall acutely aware of the immense two way mirror, which occupied the space in front of me. Was I being observed and weighed up for suitability for entrance to the Islamic republic? I had taken a shave that morning and looked fairly presentable. I felt more comfortable when I heard one of the electric doors click and a couple of scruffy Spanish backpackers walked in and sat down, unshaven. Eventually  one of the staff appeared and I explained that I had a reference number since my Visa application had already been authorised via an agent in Iran. He asked for my passport and the reference number, before giving me details of a bank account into which I was to deposit 95 Euros . having done this and returning an hour later I was advised to return the next morning and collect my passport with visa. As easy as that 30 day visa in the bag. My next problem was to arrange my finances for my month in Iran. There are no ATM machines in Iran and in fact no means of using plastic at all there. Basically any money you will need, has to be taken into the country in hard cash, preferably dollars. Being an HSBC account holder and a premiere one at that, I thought it would be easy for me to visit the large branch in Ankara and withdraw $2000 from my account. Not on your Nelly, it had taken me , what , 2 hours at the most to get a visa for the so called “Axis of Evil” but it took 4 hours to try and get money out of my account, in my bank, and changed into dollars, I was interviewed by the bank manager, he took copies of my passport and driving licence. I had to speak on the phone to the head office, and god knows who else. eventually after all of this , The bank manager came over to me smiling and said that he was happy to confirm that I could have the money out of my account, but that due to some banking policy they were able only to give me the money in Turkish lira not in Dollars and I would then have to go and change the money at another bank. I was absolutely livid and went into the usual rant. I had wasted four hours of my life stuck in the bank,  to be given money in a currency that I could have simply withdrawn from the cash point machine outside of the bank. what morons. Never the less, I now have my visa , $2000 in cash and a single rail ticket to Tehran costing the princely sum  of  around £40 , not bad for a 36 hour train  journey, complete with bed cabin and meals.

 I really would have loved to cycle over the border into Iran, but things have become a little dodgy with the Kurdish terrorists in the region calling off their ceasefire with the government troops, and I also fear that the weather will just get too difficult in that area to manage on bike (lots of snow is usual) So I am quite happy to arrive in Tehran by train and cycle down into the warmer weather around the Gulf where I can catch a ferry across to Dubai.  So I will sign off for now and start packing for tommorrow and load a few photos of Reading , sorry meant Ankara onto the blog.

sat here updating the blog

 

downtown Ankara

fish market Ankara

one of few monuments

a taste of things to come

Lakes and Fairy Chimneys

I have really enjoyed the last couple of weeks. The weather has been wonderful , meaning i somehow managed to get sunburnt in October, which is a first for me, and I am , once again feeling  fit and good about myself after covering some fair distance by bike over some pretty difficult terrain. My journey took me away from the beautiful Aegean coast of Turkey heading inland towards Cappadocia. The first few days took me through some pretty nondescript areas, following flat and busy main roads, spending nights in large  and certainly not quaint rural towns . To be honest the most interesting part of those first few days , which may seem a little  macabre, was the diversity of dead wild life I spotted along the road side. There was everything from Kingfishers to wild boar, there were tortoises , snakes ,foxes, falcons, lizards and even a dead donkey lying bloated with its four legs raised to the heavens. Amazing, since there seems from my experience  very little in the way of live wild life to be seen in Turkey.

 On route I visited Pamukkale (“Cotton Castle”), where hot mineral enriched water pours out over a rock terrace high above a small village. Forming a cascade of white mineral rockpools. To be quite honest I was a little disappointed with the place. It is really heavily advertised and promoted as a tourist destination and it really does not live up to its reputation.  I expected a vast area of white  cascading pools , as shown in the posters. In reality the area covered is rather small and only a few naturally formed pools are visible. With the majority of pools that are now present being built out of concrete with the water channelled over them to make them look natural. Being so small an area the place also seems constantly overcrowded with tourists and I found it quite a struggle, if not an unpleasant one fighting my way through the crowd of young bikini clad women who seem to litter the area bathing in the mineral pools.

On exiting Pamukkale I headed through hilly country for a few days. Though cursing each hill that seemed to emerge around every bend. I enjoyed the exhilarating feeling of conquering the slopes and could feel my fitness really improving. Eventually I emerged from the hills and descended to the shore of Egidir Golu (lake) What a stunning ride this was. Down into the pretty  little village of Egidir, which sits out on a little spit on the  azure  blue lake. then out to follow the shore of the lake for 40 km along a meandering road. climbing and descending the surrounding hills bathed in beautiful sunshine. In and out of apple orchards where all  the locals were out in force, busily harvesting this years  crop, and keeping me well supplied with peaches and apples. Certainly one of the most enjoyable days riding I have had to date.  Another days ride around another vast lake and I find myself in Konya, the home of the whirling dervishes and one of the most religiously conservative cities in Turkey. I only stay the one night as I am eager to get Cappadoccia as quickly as I can. I know that I have a difficult 100 mile journey accross a flat dessert like plain in the morning, so book into a cheap no thrills hotel, with the view to getting away early in the morning . Very early in the morning say about 5 am. I awaken to the sound of shouting and wailing coming from the hotel lobby, being English and in a foreign country I decide not to investigate and go back to sleep. an hour later I am sitting in the lobby being questioned by a Turkish police officer as about a dozen of his colleagues are running amok around the hotel and a large crowd is gathering outside. I still am a little unsure as to what actually happened, I know that someone had been found dead in the hotel,I know that  the police officer interviewing me seemed very interested in the lump of wood that I had strapped to my bike to protect me from dogs, I also know that when he said it was OK for me to leave, I did so very quickly and without trying to find out any more details.

When I did eventually get out of Konya, I found myself on a flat and seemingly endless road through what I would describe as dessert, though seemingly, not technically called that on the map . At first the ride seemed pleasant enough and I thought I would make it across the 100 miles of flat quite easily, but gradually the state of the road worsened to that of a narrow gravel and potole strewn main road with little hard shoulder.Then  the wind started whipping up into a fierce and blustery head wind. At times it really felt as if  I were on a stationary bike at the gym, getting nowhere fast. One of the worst days riding yet, my only respite were the few service stations along the way, where I could get a welcome can of coke and 10 mins out of the wind.

 I have spent a lot of time in service stations in Turkey, I guess this is only natural, since when on a bike they seem to be the most frequent place you pass and visit for refreshment . Most visits tend to generate friendly discussion with the usually friendly staff and it is not uncommon to find yourself seated with a free cup of tea on your lap and in conversation with a crowd of interested locals. I have started to notice a general pattern to these encounters. As you roll into the forecourt you are firstly welcomed then the order of conversation seems to focus firstly on where you are from and quite naturally next where you are going to, after this there only seems to be one other trail of conversation which almost always  centres upon which football team you support, once this is established then names like Stephen Gerard or Wayne Rooney are shouted into the air in pigeon english and I respond with   ”Galatasary good !” instantly there seems to be some kind of united camaraderie where international borders are crossed and I am no longer a foreigner, tea appears and general conversation around how many miles I have travelled, where I have been in Turkey, and do I like Turkey evolve. However  one thing that has started to cause me some concern in these encounters , is how often after communicating the number of  Km’s  I have travelled, I find a hand clamped firmly  to the back of my calf , copping a squeeze. I am rightly pleased with the shape of my legs and proud that they have covered nearly  7000 Km’s so no matter how little action the local men get around here , having  large hairy nicotine stained hands enveloped around my calf  is often the cue  for me to make a hasty exit and hit the road again.

Eventually I manage to cross the vast flat dessert plain after a stopping the night on the famous Silk Road at Sultanhamet , where the camel caravans had  stopped for many centuries on the trade route.  I am finally within striking distance of Cappadoccia.

My first visit in Cappadoccia was to the Ihlara Valley where I spent two nights . This wonderful place is where the river Melindiz has over thousands of  years carved out a deep canyon in the harsh volcanic landscape of Cappadocia, this canyon streches for some 13 km, and in the steep sides of the gorge are carved numerous ancient churches and dwellings. I walked the full length of the canyon and loved every minute of it. The valley floor was very green and plush with flowers, plants and wildlife  and i spent many hours exploring the numerous caves and churches along the way. a really enjoyable day apart from an incident with a cow which unerved me a little, I thought it was only bulls that chased you? thank god for a large stone wall which I managed to jump just in the nick of time – no more said.  After my stay in the Ilhara valley I made a quick stop to visit a vast underground city, at a place I cant pronounce let a lone spell  (very claustraphobic) and then onto Goreme in the heart of Cappadoccia where I have spent 3  wonderful days  in the most laid back of towns complete with plenty of hippies and backpackers. A wonderful place and area , the scenery is just unexplainable Fairy Chimneys, Hobbit like houses, Pink and Red valleys , strange natural sculptures, rock churches  all very surreal and I would recommend a visit to anyone and everyone. tomorrow I am on the bus to Ankara to pick up my Visa for Iran and to try and figure out my plans for the next 6 months or so.

Pamukkale - not what i expected

beautiful lake and Egidir

nothing for miles but headwind and bad road

caravanesi at sultanamhet refuge on the silk road

above , looking over the Ilhara Valley

down in the Valley

2nd from the left-one mean cow!

Villages, Hills and men on donkeys

saying goodbye to these potatoe pickers , after lunching with them.

underground city - very cramped

exploring in the heart of Cappadocia

ancient villages

fairy chimneys

rock churches

stunningly surreal landscapes