In which Sid and Doris travel through tiny towns and meet Joe the Ukrainian Beaver.
We had spotted a rather attractive cafe for breakfast, and then (Sid) ignored it in favour of the adequate hotel offering and getting away quickly. All morning he regretted eating the plant based copy of a poor substitute for stale, ersatz margarine. Together with a honey-coloured offering called “pine flavoured breakfast syrup” it made for fragrant burps, but that is probably enough detail.
Our breakfast table had a fine view of the cemetery including this joint headstone which we believe is a husband and wife who died on the same day and who do not seem to have relatives who are keen to maintain their memorial. A big contrast to the shiny pre-booked Danubian plots.
The themes of the day were the D020 and the cement industry. We have been on the D020 all day as it changed its nature from country road to to near motorway with three lanes dual. Most importantly it then had a hard shoulder for us to use as a bike lane while the cement trucks ran their routes. This is Bonkers squared but there really are not other roads, we have tried.
So we have covered 83 kilometres, managed 1062 metres of ascent and are now 45 k ish from a ferry station where we aim to catch a boat for The Center of Now (Doris will explain in some later post).
On the way we pulled off the road into a couple of villages. In the first we were pleased to see the broom salesman on his rounds. The cafe itself had barely enough more than nothing to be other than a biggish room with old men outside. It was a cafe without coffee, not even Nescafé; so to be kind it was a chai house. Further on we found a bakery and met four lads who were home from working in Amsterdam and Berlin. The borek and buns fired us up another couple of climbs.
From quite a long way back we could see the new towers in Istanbul (picture attached showing once again that the eyeball is mightier than the camera), and we were in Istanbul county.
We have seen few foreigners along here so stopped to talk to a cyclist. He was from The Ukraine and had made an epic trip to Istanbul and with 5,500 kilometres done since April – see his map – was on his way home. Best of all he is travelling with a beaver called Joe (who had a real growl in his tummy). We showed him The Beave, took photos and cycled off. No doubt Rodent Central will be ringing with the news of this epic meeting.
These up and down fortune tellers’ roads are quite sapping. At Ihsaniye (don’t look for it in your atlas) we were very lucky to find a cafe selling food. Yes, really. Our man invited us to look at what he had on the stove, as he confessed in sign language that although he’d had to learn English in school he hadn’t really had any opportunity to practice it since and so had forgotten it all. Fab lentil soup you would be pleased to eat in any restaurant in the world, served with juicy lemon to squeeze and a loaf of soft bread. He had us wash up at his sink and gave us water from his carboy. We had mandarin drinks. We tipped him lavish, so lunch for two cost three pounds.
On the way back though the village to the road we were pleased to see the onion-and-potato sellers on their rounds in their smokey pickup. ‘Onions, lovely onions, buy them by the sack load. Stop us and buy some. What is a home without an onion? Venez nombreux.’ Sid translates loosely. The lads overtook us on the way into the next village and tooted cheerfully.
Soon after that the road became three lane dual with a longer wavelength. Long climbs and long drops. Pic attached of Sid looking glumly resigned to our hard-shoulder existence, but at least the hard shoulder was wide, debris-free, smooth, and mostly observed by the trucks.
One of the climbs took about a half hour. The road is not a motorway. There are some dirt tracks off and on. At one point we had a Fiat Doblo coming towards us on the hard shoulder having popped out of one of the local roads. As they could not cross the central reservation they just went WD up the road. This is probably quite routine for them (“I always drove back home up this road before they over-engineered it, and I’m still going to”). Still, not much more mad than biking it on the correct side of the road.
From one of the last climbs Doris won 50p being the first to see the Black Sea (“50p to me! I can see the sea!!” – thanks again to the Specs for that one). Pic attached of the Black Sea shown as a smudge on the horizon as we sweat over another crest.The Durusu is a country hotel selling itself on being handy for the airport. Fortunately it is not very close and not on the flight path, so quite quiet EVEN THOUGH WE ARRIVED SHOUTING LOUDLY BECAUSE WE WERE SO USED TO THE NOISE OF THE TRUCKS with big views and a swimming pool. It is very different from the Elit Hotel in Saray, but then in Saray four beers, bed and breakfast for two with a shower flooded bathroom came to only £30.
[We have not included the standard pics of pool, beer, umbrellas etc. Please fill in from your own imagination although make it slightly more neglected and strangely empty of other guests – Doris.]
Future plans have more pools and less margarine.