Two major emotional surprises hit me in Turkey. As I crossed over the border from Greece, crossed the bridge over no-mans-land, had my visa and passport checked and rolled past the boom gate, I entered Turkey. I was finally here, the road sign welcoming me to Turkey a symbolic achievement and end-point to my efforts over the past few months. Tears welled up in my eyes and ran down my dusty cheeks, my throat choked up and I felt an immense wave of relief rush over me. It was a strange feeling and I hadn’t expected this at all. I still had 300km left to ride and yet today it finally felt like I might actually do this.
Gathering myself together, and after taking the requisite border-crossing selfie, I hit the road and continued riding into the wind that had been with me all day. Aside from a few mad dogs and the numerous melon farmers camped out by the roadside, the wind was the only really notable feature on these Turkish highways. Long, long undulating roads, stretching straight off into the far distance, narrow shoulders, hot dry days and ever more aggressive traffic.. and yet it was the constant headwind that really got under your skin. From the time I set off in the morning the persistent struggle against the wind sapped at your strength and willpower, so much that I found I was pedalling manically downhill just to maintain enough speed to continue forward.
One particularly long day of riding, passing by sub-standard campsites, I arrived at a family run camp by the beach and was immediately welcomed and introduced to Turkish hospitality. No one spoke English, I didn’t speak Turkish and we had no wifi to even Google the most basic phrases. It appeared the campsite was full and completely booked but I was instructed to set up my tent in the family garden. With no restaurants or shops in the vicinity, I was told to sit at the family table, my faint protests being ignored while mama presented a tray laden with delicacies and unknown delights. After dinner with the family I excused myself and strolled down to the beach to watch the sunset and ponder where I was, how I’d gotten here and the general goodness in the world.
My second emotional surprise hit when I finally rolled into Istanbul. Perhaps it was because I had been riding through the outer suburbs for the past 30km, slowly getting deeper into the city, watching it build up around me. Perhaps it was because I stopped at the busiest tourist intersection of the old city, buses disgorging their selfie snapping hordes, pushing and shoving their way through the crowds including me and my overloaded bike. Regardless of why exactly, I felt empty. I thought I would be overjoyed, relieved, happy, energised.. something. But I felt empty and rather glum. I think it was simply that I’d finally reached a goal that I’d been working towards for so long, something that got me up each morning, kept me riding up the longest of hills and hottest of days, and now here I was. All of a sudden it was done, finished, over. Without something ahead of me I felt empty. It was a strange and conflicting emotion and realisation to process.
