Tough Turkey

The last two weeks have been physically very hard. I caught the ferry to avoid Istanbul's vast urban sprawl and was soon in peaceful, rural hills. A lot of road signs were missing, as was the road surface in places. Locals gave me directions and many cups of sweet tea. Powered by sugar and caffiiene the climbs seemed easy. Next day I reached the proper mountains, in the heat of the afternoon, with melting tarmac and little shade they were draining. As I crawled up at snail's pace the driver of every other passing car, lorry, motorbike or tractor would wave, hoot their horn or shout "hallo"; by the time I had waved back for the two hundredth time I just wanted them to leave me alone.
Next day I drank water from a great loking water fountain, within hours I was regretting it. I kept going for three more days although I had lost my appetite and was running on empty.
One rest day in the beautiful old city of Amasya turned into three rest days as my stomach bug returned. Several locals had told me not go to far into central or eastern Turkey due to terrorism and the mountainous terrain. Of the the two I was more scared of mountains and so planned a flattish route to the Black Sea. The road turned out to be a tiny, twisting farm track deep into the mountains, I had to back-track and stayed overnight at a teacher hostel. It took two more days of hard riding to reach the coast.
It was a relief to look out over the flat sea rather than wave after wave of mountians. I met another turkish cyclist who had spent one day riding in the mountains before deciding head for the easier coastal road. We rode together to the border town of Hopa. Tomorrow I will go to Georgia.

Great views of Istanbul from the ferry.

The most opulent hotel I have stayed in, so far.

Some of the caves and old houses in Amaya

Locals helping me with directions and coke.

 The Black Sea - a welcome sight.