Monday 25 June 2012

Greece and Bursa Enduro Festival


I'm now back in Istanbul after a mad and really unexpected couple of days.

The ferry crossing was pretty good, even for me. Sea was calm, but even if it wasn't I probably wouldn't have minded, the entertainment was so good. No magicians or dancing girls, just massive arguments between some of the passengers and crew while I had the best seat in the house. We even won the football (I'm a couple of days behind in writing so will just pretend I don't know about Italy)




Greece is a country I had never been to before and to be honest I hadn't put any effort in finding out what was there or planning a route. It was just a place that happened to be between me and Istanbul.

But now I've been there I'm already looking for reasons to go back.

The first few hundred kms was through the mountains in the north west.





I was going to write an entry complaining about my GPS. It is a capable speedometer but when it comes to routing it often leaves a lot to be desired. Many hours have been wasted going round in circles in town centres, or going down what turn out to be one-way streets. But when it takes me places like this I can't stay angry with it. Good GPS. As a reward, I will provide you with a proper power source this weekend. No longer will you have to struggle to suck electricity from some mouldy wires carelessly draped across the fuel filler cap.

This was one of the places I have enjoyed the most, probably because I wasn't expecting it. But after a great morning I was forced to jump onto the motorways and get to as close to the Turkish border as I could.

Even the motorways in Greece were good. Almost no traffic, good condition and great views. It was, however, blisteringly hot. Like 40 degrees, no clouds and hot, dry wind. Like riding into an industrial hairdrier. I didn't bother taking any pictures just because I knew that if I stopped for too long I would never get going again.

By the end of the day (just after I nearly ran out of fuel - "yeah, I can easily make it to the next station") I arrived at a ladybird infested campsite in Alexandroupolis.


It's a hard life

The next day as I was just about to leave a KTM turned up with a German plate and a tyre strapped to the side. Obviously I had to talk to him. He was heading towards Georgia for a couple of weeks so I told him about an enduro festival in Bursa, Turkey that I was thinking of going to and not really expecting to see him again said goodbye.

And off to Turkey

I've never crossed a non-EU border with a vehicle before so was not really looking forward to it. But it turned out to be very quick and painless. I've been told that getting into Turkmenistan involves filling out 24 forms in 10 different buildings. That really is something to not look forward to.

On the bridge over the border


I decided to keep off the motorways in Turkey and take the slower but still major road for the 200k or so to Istanbul. And I'm glad I did. Turkey is an undeniably beautiful country.




I arrived mid afternoon at the Istanbul Motorcycle Club having decided I didn't want to fight my way into the middle of town for the Iranian embassy.



These guys are brilliant. They are really welcoming and friendly, are helping out with technicalities and have sorted me out with safe parking and accommodation while I am here. It seems almost everyone who passes through Istanbul on a bike stops here so the people here know everyone and can tell all the stories. All the members are passionate about motorcycles in some way or another, but travel seems to be the common theme. They all have stories about riding off to various parts of the world over the years.

All my rushing to get to Istanbul was pretty much in vain because apparently the embassy was closed on Friday (I later find out that it wasn't) so I didn't even bother going down. Instead I went out to a KTM workshop run by one of the club members who was going to the enduro festival.


With a community chainsaw


I did ask about this, and as far as I can tell it just stays hanging on the wall there and people come and take it as they need. I dread to think what would happen if someone tried that in Bristol.

Eventually the 'working' day ends (work mostly involved sitting around and chatting to people as they wandered by) we set off for Bursa about 5pm. Rush hour. In a very big city. On very big bikes.

Before we left they were getting very excited about filtering. I'm ok with that. But I have never experienced anything like this before. I wish I had the camera set up to record this because I know I won't be able to find the words to describe it. There were no rules. 'Filtering' through tiny gaps 60kph faster than the traffic, along the hard shoulder (if it was more than 15cm wide), through building sites (it is the workmans job to get out of the way). Eventually you see the blue lights of a police biker in the mirror, but all they want is for you to pull over so they can go even faster. I was quite looking forward to riding over the bridge in Istanbul into Asia for the first time. I wasn't expecting to do it along the hard shoulder at 100kph past gridlocked traffic desperately trying to keep up with some mad Turks who thought they were going slowly for my sake.

Past the toll we were meant to meet someone else but he hadn't turned up yet. So we need to call him. So we need to stop. Where do you stop on a motorway? That's right. On the motorway.



Back riding again. This time the traffic is a bit thinner so we can go even faster, dangerously weaving in and out without even looking.

I was so glad when that was over and we reached the ferry.



We met up with the other guy on the other side of the Marmara sea and carried on. We stopped briefly in Bursa but when we set off again we found we were a man down. Out come the phones (while still moving), lots of shouting before opening up again and tearing into a scene straight out of The Italian Job. Down tiny alleys and passages, darting across more major roads with only to briefest of glances first. U-turns at a thousand miles an hour. Cardboard boxed piled up for no reason. People walking very slowly across the road with a giant pane of glass. Chicken coops that absolutely must be ridden into. I have no idea how we got from dual carrageway to this.

Somehow we get out of the city and onto a mountain road. From out of nowhere the guy who got lost immediately turns up behind us.

By this time it is getting dark and we are racing up a twisty mountain road a breakneck speeds following a satnav which has aready led us astray several times. We pull into a layby because we think we are lost.



It dawns on me that this is one of the most ridiculous, unbelievable and yet completely plausible situations I have ever been in. Stood on the side of a mountain with 5 Turkish people I have know for less than a day and 3 others none of us have ever met, at night, arguing about a satnav. For the last 20km we have been riding up a mountain, the lead bike is ridden by a guy who earlier in the day told me his idol is a famous KTM racer and who, every time we stop, comes up to me and shouts "Ver gazi! Ver gazi!" (more gas). The second bike was always parked 5mm off the tyre of the front bike because none of the lights worked. The third rider wasn't wearing a helmet - he has taken it off and threaded it over his arm so he could have a smoke while riding. The guy behind me had a moustache. While we stood there an ambulance pulled into the layby. The driver got out, lit a fag and cracked open a tin of beer. This was a normal thing to happen.

Later on they asked me whether I was having a good time. Quite honestly, yes. Even though I have broken all the promises I made myself about always wearing my gear, not driving like an idiot, never riding at night in a foreign country, never going out when my phone battery was dead or without any maps or GPS, I would do it all again tomorrow if I had the chance.

We get to the festival about midnight. Set up (my tent is still full of dead or crippled ladybirds), straight to bed ready for the next day.








Start them young
I ran into Hanno (Spooky from Horizons), the German guy I had met a few days earlier. We spend most of the afternoon drinking tea and chatting to the endless numbers of friendly bikers who kept coming up to us.



And then night





Then next day we were in no hurry to get back.

Abdurrahman: We are going to a canyon, ok?
Matt: Yeah, is there a road there?
A: Yes all the way.
M: And is it tarmac? I only have road tyres fitted.
A: Yes yes yes, of course. Very nice asphalt.

He has a funny definition of asphalt.











But in fairness it was very pretty.





Then there is a lot of shouting. They have seen a snake and decided they want to catch it.



And back


Oh, I forgot to mention. At the festival I entered a race and won first place.


If you believe that then the internet police requires you surrender your modem immediately.

3 comments:

  1. Mate, loving reading your blog and seeing all the pictures, you're making me a jealous man!

    ReplyDelete
  2. Did you really break all your safe travel promises to yourself?

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  3. Shame on you Matt!
    You wrote about all the guys on the ride but you mentioned about me only when I was missing. :)
    I think this is only because my bike had no faults and I was riding properly :P
    Hope to see you again,
    Engin

    ReplyDelete