Troglodytes

Lovely roads, lovely scenery...  enough to make you miss a turning or two!

Size matters in Turkey.  Today’s riding was across huge plains, on A-roads that had us grinning as we lent into the long sweeping corners on lovely predictable asphalt.  With the occasional tortoise.  In cramped corners of England such riding is rare and I found these hours an absolute hoot.  The wind blast and drone of 330 miles was still tiring, but it was a re-invigorating change to the motorways we were on last week.  As we scorched across the vistas, round hill and along valley, hill and valley, I fell into an easy lope and rhythm.  

Our visiting bikes made his day

If it wasn't for the growing discomfort from moulded plastic ear plugs, I could have ridden tank after tank of gas.  The plug-pain is difficult to avoid without trading for deafness, so we still stop regularly to give our ears a break.  But the pain soon returns as we set off, a consequence of wearing them for so many hours, day after day.  It's odd what becomes your limiting factor.

Actually, this guy was talkative.

We stopped at a giant burial mound - not King Midas’, but not Mr Smith’s either - and then made for Ankara’s ring-road.  Today I have been riding with our seasoned traveller and famous lady-biker, Tiffany, and later with Rory and Oliver.  All our groups were changing up as petrol, navigation, hunger and sleep take their toll.  

Everyone was going along quite quickly, and we are getting comfortable in the saddle and quicker at our routines.  Yes, even I am getting a bit better at finding my keys.

The roads were rural... shepherds came over for a chat when we pulled up.  Herds of goats blocked one road.  Dodgy trucks rolled slowly long as we zipped past.

Oliver steered us to Kaymakli, a good example of ancient underground cities found in this region. I didn’t know until now that Troglodytes were real people, inhabiting caves and tunnels for thousands of years - partly to keep cool, but also as an effective defence against enemies.  Size mattered again, as we struggled to fit though the tunnels, unwisely still kitted in our motorcycle gear.

We accessed only a few of the 7 or 8 levels of the city complex, marvelling at the array of deep dug dwellings - complete with areas for kitchens, wine stores, meeting places, animal enclosures, etc.  And at the huge stones rolled across to close off strategic tunnels:  persecuted occupants must have been harder to get at than a giraffe's chinstrap.

Tonight we’d been warned about our accommodation - a cave carved into the rock, and our main ride guide, Mark, was non-committal about what we could expect.  I had visions of group quarters around a campfire, eating local kebabs in the smoke-filled interior.  Great, I thought: at last - a bit of proper camping...

Rough camping...?

Mark had been pulling our legs.  The accommodation is a beautiful hotel made up of very impressive decorated ‘caves’, carved in the rock face, each with an ensuite bathroom and central heating, polished wooden floors and WIFI in the courtyards.  This is a BMW cave suitable for Batman.  And whoever may have been the original occupants, they'd picked a remarkable view.

Syau-fu impersonates a Troglodyte

It would be churlish to say I was disappointed that we weren't camping in and on the rocks.  Once I’d tested the bed, however, there was no question of wanting to rough it.  

I’ll worry about camping and all it's good / bad points later in the trip - for now I just lapped it up.  No wonder this first leg of my world trip is so bloody expensive!  So much for low key travel on a shoe-string budget.

Drinks on the rooftop terrace as the sun went down.  

The team relax with a drink and a view, the warm stone wall a lovely seat.