A SPIN BICYCLE FROM THE BLACK SEA TO THE MEDITERRANEAN
When we think of the Black Sea we think of crashing
waves, rain, and mist swathed green mountains. Two of us set off
by bicycle from Sinop. It was raining hard, and the sea was billowing
as we pedalled along the coast. Everything was just as we had imagined.
The Sinop-Anamur cycle route was first completed
by 29 year old Caroline Williams in 1993, and we planned to retrace
it, with just a little modification of route. That way we hoped
to reach Anamur on the Mediterranean coast in less time. At 18.30
on the first day we reached the 1365 metre Dragos Pass after cycling
uphill for eight and a half hours. When a while later we saw the
lights of Boyabat ahead, we were too exhausted even to speak.
The next day we aimed to reach the town of Osmancik,
where we were to rendezvous with another cyclist. That day we followed
the Kizilirmak through emerald green rice fields. Just like its
name, the Red River, the waters were a deep red.
Then came six kilometres of upward haul. Some-times
the bicycles carried us and sometimes we carried the bicycles. In
the reddish glow of the sunset and with a cool breeze blowing, we
arrived in the town. Now there were three of us.
Our first stop after Osmancik was Laçin.
We were still in the Black Sea climate belt, and the magnificent
scenery was as green as ever until we topped a summit, and found
ourselves looking out over Çorum Plain. The cool winds and
cold rivers of the Black Sea were behind us, and ahead were the
bare, brown hills of central Anatolia.
On the fourth day we reached the imposing Hittite
capital of Hattusas, the site known in Turkish as Bogazkale. Here
we spent the entire afternoon exploring the famous ruins of this
ancient civilisation. Since the rock carvings known as Yazilikaya
were on our route, we left that to the following day and turned
off to spend the night in Yozgat.
All the way we travelled by narrow village roads
rather than the main highway wherever possible. Comfort was in short
supply that way, but the route more than made up for it in scenic
beauty, plus being safer for cyclists. So no one saw us racing the
storks, or every now and then scaring the person in front out of
his pedal-turning trance by barking like a dog.
The roads, particularly the village roads, were
dusty and stony. Each evening when we arrived at our destination,
our first thought was a hot bath. Scattered all over Anatolia are
hot mineral springs, and at a spa near the village of Mahmutlu we
resolved to make use of this convenient natural facility. However,
the water was so hot that we reluctantly gave up the idea.
Almost in the dead centre of Turkey, in the village
of Pöhrenk, we received an invitation to breakfast the following
morning.
That kind of pleasant surprise is always possible
for travellers through Anatolia. So on the sixth day of our journey
we set off after a delicious breakfast. Cycling through scenery
that was more desert-like than the real thing we arrived at Haci
Bektas as the sun went down.
In this centre of the mystic order of Bektasi dervishes
there was so much to see that we did not set out until noon, leaving
an exhausted member of our party behind in the hotel.
As we entered the town of Gülsehir, we crossed
the Kizilirmak for the second time. Now we were in the fertile wonderland
of Cappadocia. Before visiting the underground city, we drank a
cool glass of ayran (diluted yogurt with salt) and chatted to the
villagers returning from the harvest. We had been travelling for
a week.
The next morning we left Acigöl, the Bitter
Lake, and headed for Aksaray along the main road. Thankfully, it
was not far to our turn-off onto a side road leading to Taspinar,
where we were to meet up with the third member of the team again.
We could not resist halting for a meal of fish caught in the dam
lake, and then carried on through Gülagaç, Demirci,
Kizilkaya, Gücünkaya, Sevinçli, Akhisar, Bagli
and Gözlükuyu. In this way we bypassed Aksaray, and reached
Taspinar, famous for its carpets. The plain stretched to the horizon,
and in the centre rose the extinct volcano of Hasandag. Now we were
in a region where water was in short supply, and ubiquitous fountains
made way for wells. As we cycled across this vast flat expanse,
we were astonished to meet an icecream seller on a motorbike.
Side by side we carried on to the Meke Salt Pans,
where the volcanic lake is one of natursic wonders. Seyit, the icecream
seller, had gone out of his way to accompany us there.
On the tenth day we reached Karaman. There people
warned us that the road from Bucakkisla to Ermenek was so steep
that cycling up was impossible, but we dismissed the idea with a
careless, ‘You should see the hills we have climbed’.
As far as Bucakkisla we had no problem, but by the time we arrived
at the village of Bayir we realised they had been right. The day
was nearly over, but we had gone only seventy kilometres and it
was another twenty to Ihsaniye. We gave up the struggle and hired
a tractor to take us the rest of the way.
Now we began to catch the faint smell of the Mediterranean.
That day we pedalled hard, driven by the intoxicating fragrance
that increased steadily. At eight o’clock in the evening we
stopped for the night close to a signpost reading Anamur 55 kilometres.
The next day we would be at our journ’sr end.
The road led through pine woods and across the mountain
pastures of Abanoz and Kas. It was just thirty kilometres to the
sea and nothing could stop us now. The far off Mediterranean was
enveloped in mist, but we knew it was there waiting for us. On day
eleven at 11.30, after a journey of 1108 kilometres, we spun into
Anamur. We had beaten Caroline’s record.
* Kuvvet Lordoglu is a lecturer at Marmara University
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