Taksim, Turkey. 5th November 2024.

The great city of Plovdiv disappeared in my mirrors as I headed to Turkey. Getting out of the place had proved challenging after Google tried to send me down a set of steps. Then I got stuck behind a concrete truck. Such is life on the road.
I refueled on the motorway then went to the border. Getting out of Bulgaria was very simple. Turkey a little more tricky. It was getting bike insurance that held me up. Customs sent me across to a building. I got the insurance and went back to the booth with the guy I’d seen at first. No good. I should have gone to the window next to the insurance outlet so they could register the insurance on their system.
That guy sent me back across, saying to go to a special motorcycle place. There wasn’t such a place as far as I could tell so I went back to the first customs guy again. He asked me what the hell I was doing back with him and sent me to see the guy who’d checked my baggage. He told me to go, so I went!
Because I’d been told the Iranian visa letter could take up to ten days I had time to kill and decided to go back to Istanbul. This time I went to an area called Taksim. A tourist area but nothing like as busy as the city centre. I stayed there a couple of days, chilling out and waiting for the letter. I took a couple of walks around the area, checking out the very big mosque and a memorial statue. One thing I’d forgotten about Turkey is how late in the evening people hit the streets. I went to get food later on and they were rammed with people.

On my second day there I had the good news from Tap Persia that my Iranian visa letter had come through. I was very relieved.
I left ‘Stumble and headed to Cannakale. It’s a very long city but with good through roads. Even so, it took a while to get out into the fresh air. But then it was easy riding, on dual carriageways, with no tolls. I was pleased about that. I’d had to use toll roads coming into ‘Stumble and they weren’t cheap. The route included a ferry across the Dardanelles straight.
In Cannakale I found my hotel, down in the tourist part of the town. Pavement parking was in order due to lack of space on the road. But when I went out later the bike was surrounded by rubbish. It was obviously a collection point. I hoped they’d leave my bike behind when they collected it, only half jokingly. I went for a walk around the town before finding a place to eat.
The next morning I went for a walk along the sea front. I had considered divesting some of my warm clothing but the very bitter wind soon disabused me of that notion. There’s a model of the Trojan Horse along the front. It’s big and it looks good.

I left soon after that and enjoyed a good ride, although the wind was a bit of a challenge at times. I stayed on single track roads all day. Some of them were narrow and quite rough. Some had a very polished road surface, which looked very slippery, even in the dry. A friend had warned me about those. I was riding through the hills, which were bare and cold looking. Nothing to thrill me in the slightest.
An overnight stop in the town of Akhisar. The hotel had a restaurant with a fixed menu, so that was an easy win.
I was heading down to Milas, to stay with my friend Tolunay. He’s the young guy I’d met when I was in Turkey last year. He lives with his father, who was away for the week. I’d kept in touch to advise him of my arrival. Milas is by the coast so I was hoping for warmer weather. I was not enjoying that wind! I arrived at his place just before 4pm and he made me feel very welcome.
We went out to get something to eat and on the way back we bought some beer and some cheap red wine. As you can imagine, we had a great evening chatting and catching up until the early hours.
As I mentioned before, base camp had sent a parcel out to Tolunay’s address. While I was in Istanbul the tracking website had said it had arrived there. So I was hopeful of an early collection. Nope! Nothing happened for several days and the tracker said it was still in ‘Stumble. Tolunay knows someone who works there and was told that the package had been sent to Bodrum, a town about 40 kilometres away, and the postal centre for the area.
So we went down there on his bike and discovered that it was there but had yet to be checked by customs. Progress of a sort. It was Thursday and customs made a routine visit on Fridays. So my plan was to go back next afternoon, by which time I hope it would all be sorted out.
That’s what I did, on a lovely warm, and sunny day. Customs had indeed been but there was some import duty to be paid. The helpful guy at PTT, the Turkish postal service, who spoke some English, explained to me where the customs office was and rang up the customs officer for me. And here the fun began.
He explained it all to me. He asked me if the contents would be worth more than €30. When I said yes he told me there were three options: 1. To send the parcel back; 2. Take out items so as to reduce the value to €30 and abandon the rest; 3. Go through the process of importing the items, necessitating lots of form filling in and possibly engaging a professional. Thank you Brexit!
I told him I absolutely had to have the paperwork that was in the package so couldn’t send it back, but would take items up to €30, and give up the rest. That would mean keeping the sprocket and backpack cover, the two most important items, and losing the expensive Seal Skinz socks.
I went down to their office and met the fella I’d talked to on the phone. He explained it all to me and asked for receipts for the items. At that point I regretted stopping Tolunay from doctoring some fresh ones. He’d worked out, from online information, that there was a limit and had offered to create some receipts for me, but I’d declined. The customs guy was very sympathetic but rules were rules.
It was obvious that the socks on their own were above that limit so we agreed I’d keep the other two items and abandon the socks, being the least vital of the three. I had to sign to agree to that. He worked out what duty I had to pay. 60%, now we’re not in the EU. He wrote out something on the back of the form and stamped it. All official now. He said he would call PTT to say I was on the way back.
I went back to PTT and the helpful guy from out the back sorted me out. He found the package and took my money. Then he gave me the package without removing anything from it. It had been opened so maybe he’d already taken the socks out?
I wondered if it still had the socks and when I got back to Tolunay’s, discovered that it did. I’m wondering if the sympathetic customs officer told the PTT guy to give me the package as was. Or did the PTT guy just not bother about it? It’s impossible to know. But I was happy to have it all and considered it a nice little win.
Meanwhile, on the social front, Tolunay took me to visit some friends. I was reluctant to go at first, as I was feeling a bit tired. But of course I went. It would have been anti social not to. And we had a great evening chatting about music, travel, youthful times and drinking a bit. They guys play in a band, part time. Like me, they’re Beatles fans, so we had a lot in common.

While I had time on my hands I got some things sorted out on the bike. When I set up the luggage system I’d included a tank bag. Not massive in size, but it was becoming a real nuisance. It wouldn’t stay in place properly and kept trying to hang off one side. It had to go! I took all the panniers off the bike, brought them up to the flat and reorganised everything.
I’d decided to send the tank bag back home and sorted out some things to go in it, which I didn’t need. By moving things around I was able to do without it, and I bought a handlebar pouch from a bicycle shop to hold some small items that needed to be handy. The heavier items were able to fit into the panniers. I was very pleased with the result.
The next challenge was to make a bit more room in the ‘cockpit’ of the bike. I found that when I stood up on the footrests I felt very cramped. Ideally I needed to raise the handlebars with some clamp extensions. The problem with that was there just wasn’t enough slack in the front brake hose to be able to do that. The compromise was to move the bars forward a bit to give me more space. I’d already fitted higher Renthal Enduro barsl. It wasn’t ideal but it would have to do. The next move might be to lower the footrests a bit.
The last task was to get a service done while I was in a country that I knew could deal with my bike. It was 1,500 kilometres earlier than the schedule demanded, but that didn’t matter. Tolunay knew a Honda mechanic so we went there to get it done.
He was impressed by my Aussie made foam air filter system. The snorkel (inlet tube) has a foam filter inside it, which traps most of the dust before it gets to the main filter. It was filthy black and yet the main filter was completely clean. We were all impressed by how well it works. I was more impressed by the £41 price, which included engine oil and filter. Cheap indeed!
Everything was sorted out now and I was ready to hit the road. But there was one more social event to enjoy. The town of Milas is at the centre of an olive growing area and they have an annual festival to celebrate the harvest. On the Friday night I went with Tolunay to some friends who were running a coffee stall there. Elif, Tolunay and some other guys loaded up equipment into a van and took it down to the site. I was left behind with Mehmet, Elif’s husband, who’d been Tolunay’s English teacher. So we sat and drank beer and had a great conversation about history, culture, various other things and our mutual liking for English beer.

The festival itself was a washout. It rained heavily all day. We went down later in the afternoon and walked around a bit. But soon we escaped the weather by sitting in on a presentation about cooking with olives, delivered by someone from Turkey’s equivalent of Master Chef. I sat and played Solitaire on my phone. We visited Tolunay’s grandparents on the way back to his place, just to say hello.
Sunday arrived and it was time to go. A sad parting from a good friend. Tolunay had helped me out a lot and we’d had a great time together. But I needed to move on. I set off late in the morning, destination Erzurum, right over in Eastern Turkey.
That ride, across Turkey, took four days. Long, cold and dull. In summer this would be a busy area but in November it was bare and desolate. And did I mention cold?

Generally the roads were good but deserted. I got up as high as 2,160 metres and was riding between snowy hills. To be fair, the area had its own natural beauty, with the hills folding over each other in the distance. I crossed a couple of high plateaus which, in the summer, would have been covered in wheat. Bare, dry grass was all I could see though.
The hotels I stayed at were all OK. The food was good enough. Eventually I got to Erzurum, from where I’d collect my visa.
Although it was cold, up at 1.800 metres, I went for a walk around the town. I visited Three Kumbets, which is a historical site comprised of three tombs. Two buildings are conical, one rectangular. They date from the 13th/14th century but the occupants are unknown. Opposite is an ancient house with some interesting design features.

Just nearby was the Double Minaret Madrasa. This was a very attractive building, open to walk in and look around. The lighting was beautiful and really made the building special. Reckoned to be from the 13th century also. Just across the way was the Erzurum Kalesi, an old fort up on a rise. Sadly it was closed for the day. No photos of that as it was too dark.

I walked back towards the hotel and passed a café. I called in and had a really tasty chicken shish. Served with salad, rice and bread. Cheap too.

The number one job for the next morning was to go to the consulate and get the visa permission letter. When I went in I had to deposit my phone at security. A small taste of Iran’s nervous approach to security. The guy found my application then sent me to a shop next door to pay the €50 fee. But the guy there wanted €80. So I went back to the consulate to find out what was going on. Well, it transpired that €80 was the correct amount because I wanted it that day. No choice other than to dig a bit deeper and pay. Very soon the important piece of paper was mine!

The nearest town to the small border crossing I was heading to was Dogubeyazit. A relatively short ride ensued, with a pass to cross at around 2,210 metres and another wide plain to ride across. It was a real shame I hadn’t had time to explore this area when I was in Turkey in 2023. It would have been a real delight.
When I booked the hotel, using the Turkish booking site, Otelz.com, I’d had to pay for the room online. But when I got there the hotel said they had a lot of problems receiving payments from Otelz and mine hadn’t come through. So I had to pay again, in cash. Very annoying as I’d now have to chase up a refund. The hotel had a restaurant where I had a tasty meal and a last beer, probably for quite some time. Next day would be all about entering Iran.

A few words about border crossing preparation. Around the time I was organising my visa I joined a Facebook group called Overland To Iran, run by a young guy named Erfan. That turned out to be one of the best moves I made. He’s very helpful and experienced in getting people across the border. I was going to head to Khoy, the city where he lives. One of the most useful things he was going to do for me was to arrange a fixer at the border, to ease me through all the processes.
Did it work? What else was he able to do for me? Stay tuned for the next episode, coming soon!