The SolarCycle Diaries: 3 riders. 12,000 miles. 1 cause.

Ah the old Boy Scouts motto. Well, at least I think it is the old boy scouts motto. I had to be a Brownie and sit around a plastic mushroom while my brother got to run around obsticle courses winning sweets. Rubbish.

Anyway, it would have paid to take heed regardless. Central Asia is not the easiest place to travel. The fact that our plans needed to be flexible has caused many unforseen visa-based headaches. Today we are heading back to the Uzbeki embassy for the third time to (fingers crossed) get into the country. Our intended arrival date of the first now out of the window as the border is closed for three days of national partying and our applications were - in any case - accidentally sent to Kazakhstan!

When it rains, it pours.

Anyway, not content with one five hour administrative episode, we decided to make the most of the time by picking up our Krygystztan visas too.

The Krgyz embassy saw maginally less pandemonium (the Uzbek one involved getting your name on one of several lists flying around an insane crowd of manic Turkmenis, all of whom appeared to be reaching breaking point in an ever more frenetic melee. I, shamefully, went straight into eye lash batting / I have no idea what is going on as a helpless foreigner mode, until a kindly security guard took pity. Jamie hid in a bush.)

Nevertheless, it was never going to be as straight forward as we had hoped. Only after handing in our passports, did we find that it would take three days to get them back…

To avoid spending another three days in the capital, a speed-train based retrieval mission is now in place for mid-way through our cycle across the country.

The stay in Ashgabat has certainly been a good one though. It is an intiguing city. Some exceptionally zealous town planning gives it a Disneyland-esque appearance. Massive marble buildings and an abundance of neon as far as the eye can see. Under the surface of this Russian/Islamic/Asian melting pot though you find bustling bazaars, crumbling Soviet era apartments and thousands of monuments to the ‘Great Leader of Turkmen’.

The city is also a cyclists dream. Wide, pristine, tarmaced roads and only a little traffic. Sadly, cycling was outlawed for many years and is only just making a revival.

Another thing sadly lacking is concern about the environment. Sustainability is certainly not top of the agenda in a town where gas is free so people leave it running to avoid buying matches!

A shame though as the copious amounts of sunlight and ultra modern feel of Ashgabat would lend itself so perfectly to solar power. Who knows. Maybe one day.

In many ways, Turkmenistan is certainly more advanced than some of the places we have been through. However, our investigations have led us to realise that the region does have a more traditional side to it. Not least in the Krgyz practise of… Bridal kidnap!

Why bother with a long winded wooing process if you can just pick your lady and sling her over your horse?

Iain is back with us soon (whoop) but after the ‘goat herder’ incident in Libya, I am not relying on either of the guys for protection. Shall be pedalling up those hills at unprecidented pace.

Attempts to find out more about this region have also led to several other discoveries. Not least, the random plethora of public holidays. My favourites being: Melon Day, Holiday of Poetry of Magtymguly and Drop of Water is a Grain of Gold Day.

Brilliant.

If only we had the same back home.

Sadly though for us, like you, there is no time off. It is off to the Uzbek embassy and then - we hope - onwards towards Mary.

Will let you know how it all goes…

Susie xx

We made it through Iran!

Not actually at all worrying in terms of safety (most of the Iranians we met being amongst the kindest people on the planet) but an epic mission in terms of distance as our visas were only valid for 15 days.

But - from the muggy mountains in the North, complete with trucks spewing fumes, wolves and jam packed mountain passes through the jungle to the coast - flat but humid as hell - before the  final evil, muscle destroying fight over 5 ranges, we made it to the Turkmeni border.

We are now in Ashgabat a strange sight - much like a magic wonderland rising from the plains.

Have to write a speed post (cant get into my email which is why I am cunningly disguised as Jamie) but it is wonderful here. Not least as women can reveal their hair and there is flesh to be seen far and wide. Jamie doesn”t quite know what to do with himself.

Speaking of whom - I would just like to agree with all of his family on the last post but one. He is amazing. Especially on this last leg where he had to do loads more than me. Such issues as not legally having the right clothes to leave my room made it quite easy for me to pass over the chores!

Anyway, off tmrw towards Merv and for this leg we have to have another guide. This time, though, we have a cycling one. A sturdy looking Russian named Eugenie who doesn’t speek much English.

Should be fun!

Right - have to go but hope all is well out there. We have twitter back though so will be solar-SMSing all the way across the Turkmen desert!

Be back soon properly too.

Susie xx

1600km down, 200 to go.

We have to be at the Turkmen border at 2pm on Wednesday. A lot of unpaved road lies between Bojnurd (where we are) and Gauden (where we need to be) but we’ve avoided getting the bus so far and it’s still all to play for.

Iran has been incredible. Wonderful, heart-warming, buttock chaffing…

It is safe to say that - much as numerous cycling blogs attested - the Iranian people are the most generous and gracious you can find.

It’s been quite the education in hospitality and chivalry (’My dear Lady, it was my priviledge to be of service’ is not something you hear often when getting directions around the M25) and we have had to battle not to offend people when declining their offers of kindness.

But I’ll come back to all that in a minute.

I got lunged!

Me oh my - that takes affronts to my modesty up to 3.

It was on our second day along the coastal road. 

After being awoken by a good natured football team (dangers of camping on the pitch) we had made great progress all morning from Anzali to Ramsar. Flat terrain, tailwinds, good roads. 

We stopped for lunch and the owner refused payment, instead asking his English speaking friend to insist we stay and finally conceeding that we could leave following photographs with all the staff and providing we took fruit,  bread and doggy bags with us.

Bouyed by the great conditions and bon homme we set out to try another 100k to the Port town of Chalus.

Boom.

Splat.

Argh.

Well - I assume that was what happened.

Jamie was behind me when his tyre decided to leave his bicycle, resulting in a rather abrupt halt.

Fortunately it was while he was chatting to guys on one of the three motorbikes lining up to ask him questions*.

They waved me down and Jamie was duly dispatched - offending wheel in hand - with one motorcyclist to the nearby town.

I was left with three.

One, when his Mum came out and got the others making tea.

Unfortunately, by this stage I had let it slip that Jamie and I are not married. Furthermore, made the fatal error of explaining that he is not my boyfriend…

Once alone, the remaining guy pointed at me, then at himself and puckered up, using the international code for ‘give us a snog luv’.

I declined.

Sadly, as I did so, I also laughed (well, come on -if a grown man is sitting there making kissy kissy noises…)

The no was abrubtly ignored and he dived across.

Fortuitously - following an evening back in 2007 (long story) - I can spot a lunge from 100 paces and swiftly deflected the advance.

Attempting to look outraged I scalded the offending young man who then went crimson, realised that that is perhaps not what happens in Europe and apologised profusely for a long period of time. 

Then - thankfully - everyone else came back.

It was more tea. More joking about and back on the road.

Anyway, it was nothing too worrying but I mention it really as it is the reason for the terrible lies we have subsequently told.

I am an awful liar and I detest lying.

It isn’t too bad if it is a quick white lie but protracted lies that get worse and worse… I would therefore like to make my own apologies to a wonderful guy called Essen and his family.

Following ’the lunge’ it became apparent that - even when chatting to guys whose English is great - it might be safer to pretend that Jamie and I are, indeed, happily betrothed.

It also helps to keep things simple in quick conversation but when someone has kindly invited you into their home and starts to enquire about your wedding, family plans and… how you fell in love. It all becomes a tad awkward.

Jamie - who has no problem dallying with the truth - took to the situation with aplomb, heartily amused by my discomfort. The more I squirmed, the more comments he made about his ‘beautiful wife’.

Bas*ard.

Anyway, I only hope that when Essen does find out (he is an avid cyclist and keen to do his own long-distance venture) he realises that the intent was in no way malicious.

It would actually be awful to offend such wonderful people. More than the heat, distance or the astoundingly bad driving we have experienced, the thing we struggle with most here is how to refuse the many offers of help.

One guy even stopped his car to check we had enough money yesterday. And several have asked us to talk to their friends on the phone so that they too can ask to assist.

It must be what Tom Cruise feels like.

Ish.**

Anyway, once again I have run out of time.

Apologies for the rather jumpy post but having covered so much ground over the last two weeks it has all merged into one a little bit.

We are back in the hills again now though and it is only 2 more days to more exciting adventures in Turkmenistan.

For some reason I have yet to fathom we may not be able to cycle from the border to the capital, Ashgabat. Will write from there and let you why but I imagine it is wolves or gun totting highway men or something devilishly exciting like that.

Right, better go but hope life is going swimmingly wherever you are and will be back twitteringad getting photos up soon.

xxx

*In general enquirers tend to talk to Jamie rather than me. Which means that I get to trundle on blissfully listening to my music while behind me I hear: ‘English. Sorry? Yes. English. Going to Turkmenistan. Uzbekistan. Chine…. No. English. English. Thank you. Yes. Turkmenistan. Uzbekistan. Chine.’ on perpetual repeat.

**This experience goes something like this:

Scene - Steep hillside descent. Two cyclists. Dirty. Gleaming from the humidity. The female is wearing 3 layers and a headscarf. A constant flow of traffic is going past them at trecherous speeds. In nearly all cars, the occupants are leaning out of windows, waving, holding up their mobiles, videoing, proffering sweets.

Both: ‘Salaam’, wave, wobble, cling to bikes, POTHOLE, ‘Hi’, use one hand to grab phone as it bounces over the front of bike, POTHOLE, wave, swerve to avoid POTHOLE, ‘Argh’ swerve to avoid car, POTHOLE, ‘Hello’, pull out into traffic to avoid slow moving truck, POTHOLE, ‘Salaam’, POTHOLE, grab phone, road turns into undulating bumps that means it is more like riding a horse than a bike, ‘oOf cOursE yoU cAn taKe a vidEO..’, swerve to avoid wing mirror of car containing enthusiastic film makers, POTHOLE, etc. For 30km.

Iran.

What can I say.

There is - I can report - great danger.

But this is largely as the nation is clearly trying to sabotage the trip using the little known ”sugar related dental destruction” technique.

Never have we had so much tea laced with the sweet stuff.

The worst thing is, it starts to get addictive.

It gets to 10am and we need another hit.

We begin to look around.

Surely there must be a local family having a picnic? Workmen taking a break? A petrol station manager sitting outside on the forecourt…

The generosity of the Iranian people is overwhelming.

Almost too much so. 

One of many examples is the exceedingly effusive lady who made several attempts to empty the contents of her handbag to us through the car window. Her husband was forced to swerve violently and irratically towards our fast moving bicycles with each newly proffered treat. Right up until she tried to hand over a particularly succulent looking chocolate cake. When he began to swat her repeatedly. Failing to adhere to even the basic rules of road safety. Such as ‘looking at the road’ and ‘keeping your hands on the wheel’…

Really though, the generosity we have met at every turn is absolutely extraordinary.

Not more so than on our first night. We had just laid down a fighting 175k in our bid to cross the country before our visas run out and so reached the town of Evolgli exhausted.

We pulled up to a restaurant to ask about good places to camp.

The kind faced old gentlemen sitting outside was having none of it. Jamie was duly dispatched with him to the building across the road.

It looked much like a police station.

Hmmmm.

Moments later he returned. Beaming.

“We have beds!”

“Really? How come?”

“Well technically we have a whole ward…”

The Red Crescent (Red Cross equivalent) had agreed to put us up. They then made us tea, gave us soap for the shower and were devastated that we had to leave before they could make us breakfast.

And so began our introduction to Iran.

Since then we have been invited to peoples homes, joined them for bread and honey, been escorted across towns and - in one rather more unusual episode - been chased down the motorway by a man wielding a microphone.

In fact, we have been filmed, photographed and waved at so many times I am surprised we have only caused the one collision so far.

Luckily in that incident it was only the cars that got damaged but there has been an injury. Naturally though…. it was us crashing into one another again!

This time Jamie veered into me as I was on his tail.

He did this just after the words “look over there” enticing me to take my eyes off thr road.

Suspicious…

Well I have been holding him back on the hills.

The hills. Man that was a killer few days. And the headwinds.

Now on the Caspian coast though so the landscape is flatter, which is a huge relief. Even if the humidity does give you a bit of a ‘glow’.

Anyway, so much more to tell but have only just found this internet cafe and it is already really late so will save it for the next post.

All going well though and on track for getting to the Turkmeni border on the 25th.

Just.

No phone reception so sorry for the lack of ‘Tweets’ but will try to write again when we can.

P.s. then I’ll tell you about the wolves.

P.s.s. And the 10 year old with a worrying penchant for armed close quarter combat!

xxx

After the bone-shaking ride through South East Turkey to Tatvan it was with some tredpidation that we got back on the bikes. Having assessed the aerial view of Lake Van we were heading along the Northern edge. The edge that avoided several incredibly high peaks.

Thankfully it was to be one of the best days riding we have had.

The Lake shore was cool, the road fairly flat and - most importantly - it was actually there!

Stopping by the lake edge was refreshing (I refer you to photograph specimin one ‘Jamie resting by the lake’. Ladies…..?) and following the exertions of the previous days we had done well to prepare - like the finely honed athletes we are - by filling one of the panniers with baklava, chocolate and Turkish delight.

Half way round we met a couple of Polish cyclists.

‘What do you think of Turkey?’ (We have so far been met with an almost overbearing number of tea invitations, welcomes and general hospitality.) ‘It’s awful.’ ‘The children ask you for money, the roads are unpaved and last night we were woken up in our tents by a man with a Kalashnikov.’

Oh dear.

Despite the good conditions, the road North suddenly began to look less appealing….

Then we had a visa crisis.

We always have visa crisis so this was no real exception but I panicked nevertheless.

Several phone calls were made. Bank transfers from a hilltop attempted and then - when all was still in utter confusion - we decided to spend the night in the town of Ercis to plan.

Ercis is not the most beautiful town but - as in even the smallest settlements - has a plethora of internet cafes. Our home for the whole of the next day. (Well, technically our home was a pretty grotty hotel, but it was better than the one next door that didn’t have showers. Not just in the rooms. At all…) 

And a plethora of kebab shops.

A visit to which usually goes something like this.

Point to one of many images of spectacular cuisine adorning the walls: ’Do you have chicken shish?’ ‘Kebab.’ ‘Stew?’ ‘Kebab.’ ‘Hamburger? ‘Kebab.’ ‘Erm - Kebab please…’

Finally though the panic subsided. Though a little later than hoped, it was confirmed that our Turkmenistan visas would be available on the 25th August. As we had only been issued with Iranian visas for 15 days we would therefore not be able to enter Iran till the 11th. Which meant that we had 6 days to cover 130km.

Heaven.

The next day we found the lake again and breathed the cool air. Then, after a couple of hours, headed inland and began to climb.

As we did we noticed some strange blue lines on our map near to the town of Muradiye. Investigation brought us to a waterfall. Laziness and a new found lacksidaisical approach to mileage meant that we didn’t make it any further.

Such bliss to only have 50k to cycle. A temperate climate. Stunning scenery and a gorgeous campsite.

The relaxing day was made even better by the guys at the local cafe. They not only gave us bread and tomatoes but looked after our bikes, showed us card tricks and - with no comprehension of the rules - beat us hands down at Whist.

Rather than Kalashnikov’s, the only danger we encountered was the slıghtly zealous play of the owners 5 month old puppy.

The following day we decided to cycle the remaing 85k to the Iranian border town of Dougubayzit and to relax for the weekend.

There was one massive hill but otherwise the going was good and again - being in the mountains - the cool climate made everything easier.

Cruising into town we heard the cries of ‘Hey Tourist. Money!’ (Really? Come on. Has a cyclist going downhill at 60kmph actually stopped pedalled across a field and provided cash. Ever?) but otherwise were pleased to find that we had avoided the worst of the Pole’s experiences.

And so here we are.

Being lazy.

Properly lazy.

For the first time in months.

It is actually quite strange having spare time and not being on the brink of exhaustion but with a 15 day race across Iran ahead it is probably a blessing.

Most of the time has been filled with eating (an exceedingly common pastime) but also Scrabble (Jamie cheats…) and a visit to the stunning Ismak Pasa Palace. Stunning for the walk up the mountain at least before ıt got shrouded in mist and the heavens opened. Very strange to feel rain and the cold!

It has also been a time to review the - rather depeleted - team dynamics.

‘Jamie, if you tell me one more time on the hills that you aren’t tired/have hardly broken a sweat/nearly fell asleep while cycling etc but then refuse to go ahead of me, I am going to kill you.’

‘I don’t do that!’

‘You did it yesterday.’

‘Ok. I did do it yesterday.’

‘And the day before that.’

‘Ok and maybe the day before that.’

‘And the day before the day before.’

‘Ok ok - but if you say you are going to stop at a shop but then stop AFTER the shop one more time…!’

Anyway, tomorrow we hit the road again.

Quite looking forward to getting back on the bike.

All that we have read about cycling in Iran is overbearingly positive so - despite the strict 15 day deadline - I am sure it will be an incredible experience.

Just found a blog written by two people who have travelled this part of our route. For anyone interested - or worried -it is fantastically written. http://www.tandemtoturkestan.com/log_iran/ir_01.html 

So yeah. Hopefully we will be able to update much as normal but if not, don’t worry, it’ll just be the networks.

Hope the week has started well,

Susie xx

Technically we went into Syria after Jordan. However, we took a 24 hour side step to the Lebanon in the middle of the Syrian part of the trip. So this Typical Day is a quick Lebanese one.

Our time in Lebanon doesn’t leave me much room to summise a ‘typical day’ but it’s surprising how much you can do in 24 hours if you’ve got ‘the most impressive Roman site in the middle east’ and other places to discover. 

Before entering Lebanon we needed to cycle 50km from Damascus and made an early start hitting the road about 6am. Although the map indicated that the terrain would be very hilly toward the border we didn’t find the cycling tough (3 days of rest waiting for visa’s helped!). After one brief roadside stop we managed to get to the Syrian border.

The border was typical. Like many other borders we had to run around from office to office getting bits of paper stamped, paying exit fees, returning to the previous office to get stamps for the bikes to fınd there is no stamp for bikes etc. All the while rejoining ‘queues’ that turn out not to be queues. Clearly demonstrated by someone just walking in passing his documents over your shoulder to the offıcial behind the desk.

Saying that, getting out of Syria definitely involved less of an interrogation than getting in and we headed toward the Lebanese border some 5km further down the road.

Arrival at the Lebanese border taught us that free transit visa’s are only valid if you are leaving Lebanon within 48 hours and are not leaving by a land border. Our visa’s would cost 25000LD (sounds bad but is in fact about 10 pounds) and more worrying, payable in cash, cash that we didn’t have. Fortunately I was allowed to briefly pass over the border to use an ATM. We were offıcially in the Lebanon around 11.30am with only a little more cycling to do to reach Anjar.

As we’ve been cycling the number of sights of interest and quality have not yet failed to impress. I’m glad to say that Lebanon didn’t disappiont.  We have cycled past sights of interest because they are a couple of kms out of our way. When the cyclıng is hard it’s very difficult to add kms to an already heavy day (normally due to Frodo’s relentless push toward Mordor).     

The road to the ancient site at Anjar was thankfully not too far off the road to our destination, Baalbek. On approaching the site we were even happier to see a big restaurant not far away. We decided to head straight into Anjar before the heat of the day really hit. An ice cream and drink set us up for a nice stroll through the fortified town’s streets, temple and courtyards. As the only Umayyad Islamic site in the Middle East, it is remarkably still intact. Although a lot of the buildings and arches have clearly been restored. Very good to see something a bit different to the Roman sites we’ve been getting used to.

Ahoy there!

These columns are in the centre of Anjar’s walled town. Watching Susie’s clamber onto the podium was extremely funny… clearly an expert at parkour indeed!

Graceful

Susie is in this photo if you look hard enough

I couldn'd resist

As soon as we left the temple grounds and the awe had dissipated we realised just how hungry we were and spent the next couple of hours eating. 

On the way back to the hotel we couldn’t fınd any shops that sold breakfast food and I went out to find something suitable for Frodo. Sadly there was to be no Elven Bread as all I could fınd was pitta and honey… close enough.

The next part of our time in Lebanon was spent on the road back toward Syria. Unfortunately the road turned rough again and we had a bit of a pit stop to give temporary reprieve to our derrieres. Though typically Susie still seems to be largly immune to saddle problems. I’m beginning to thınk that she either has faulty pain receptors or she is, in fact, a robot… we will see.

We reached the Lebanese border at around 11am. More rigmorol at the borders, as usual. Susie is more of a seasoned traveller than I, she has left the Shire many times and is used to complicated borders. I am now getting used to them. Once you are over the fact that the officials don’t seem to have any sense of time they’re not too bad and actually we were through to Syrian soil before lunch. Our Lebanese cycle was over and although it was only 24 hours long it seemed as though 3 or 4 days had passed since leaving  Damascus.

Worse.

Oh - so much worse.

Our introduction to Turkey was fantastic. Green grass, friendly people and a ever more temperate climate.

The one thing that we hadn’t anticipated though - was the roads.

On our way out of Syria we had bumped into Esse, a lovely Russian guy, who had kindly given us his map of Turkey. ‘What are the roads like?’ ‘Brilliant. Camping is easy and food pretty cheap.’

It sounded good.

But Esse clearly hadn’t been to the part of Turkey we have just been through.

Leaving Gaziantep the terrain was gently undulating and the tarmac smooth. In fact, other than a tearing side wind, the going was good. We stopped in Sanliurfa, a lovely city with massive ponds of Carp(?)  and then - bouyed by the fantastic conditions - set out on a 185k day to Mardin.

Oh my word I think I have bruised my internal organs!

First things first though and…

My inaugural flat.

Jamie has not been blessed when it comes to punctures. At one point they were a daily occurance. However, both I - and Iain - had escaped unscathed. Until now.

It was the moment of truth. Had my NVQ in bike maintanance equipt me for the situation…..*

It was 17.5 seconds before the boys arrived.

I had adeptly removed the inner tube but - as I turned - it was taken from me, I was given a tissue to wipe the dirt off and my tyre was repaired within moments.

I was then kissed on the hand in a gallant manner.

Jamie looked on shaking his head… ‘You jammy g*t!’

Jamie fıxıng a puncture

Jamie fixing a puncture

Jamie fixing a puncture

Susie fixing a puncture...

It was then only an hour or so before his tyre followed suit. Naturally with a larger and more dramastic puncture and much less gallantry.

The reason for the punctures was quıte simply the massive amount of shrapnel strewn across the potholed road as well as the gravel verge it was often preferable to pedal on.

The day got longer.

And longer.

Night began to fall.

We had by this point given up on the actual thoroughfare and were cycling along one under construction.

Everything was going fine until we saw the rocks. Clearly put there to deter traffic, they had been placed at ever depreciating intervals.

We were 15k off our target (though - it transpired - 27k from our intended destination) but we called it a day.

Dusk slalom was brilliant. Night slalom had started to become sucidal.

It was lucky we stopped when we did. The following morning we pedalled the last bit of our journey across the plains and hit a vertical wall.

950m straight up before breakfast!

Then, to compound the punishment on our legs, 400m straight back down only to climb right back up again. Plus a bit.

We had hoped the roads would improve.

They didn’t.

Nevertheless, we had started to see trees and feel cooler air. And - just as the sun was setting - we made it to Hasankeyf. The troglodyte houses built into the cliff edges were bathed in an orange glow. It had been a long day but it was a stunning descent into the riverside town.

At dawn, though, it was back on the road.

We were heading for ‘The cold city’ of Tatvan.

After another night in the sauna of our tents we set off with renewed determination.

 Most especially as the route took us straight through… BATMAN!

Pow!

The day dragged on. After the mornings sign making excitement (by us and several eldely men - regardless of the fact they couldn’t fathom what on earth we were doing) the endless toil of the heat and bumpy roads began to tell.

We started to climb again and only the infrequent pit stops and generous offers of tea kept us going. We wanted to stop but the towns we passed were all too small to have shops to buy supplies. I cut my leg and my gears began to slip. (Uphill on bumpy roads, the effect of you pushing the pedal with optimal force, only for that force to slam you into your seat rather than turn the wheel is much the same as being kicked repeatedly. Where you really don’t want to be kicked.) Jamie was also suffering but did so silently. Generously he was more concerned with stopping me from throwing a tantrum. I had begun physically hitting and threatening the bike!

Finally we reached Baykan.

We were offered more tea. Got some food together and headed just out of town to a beautiful camping spot. Right behind a bridge by a fast flowing river.

The extra miles the day before meant we only had 70k left to reach a mountain lake and a day off.

70k would be no bother. We were in stunning hills. We had eaten well. The altitude had tempered the searing heat….

THEY DUG UP THE ROAD!

After 3 days of excruciating jolts this was not a pleasant surprise.

The mud had been gouged into jagged edges, big piles of gravel lay in wait for any lapse in concentration and massive ruts bounced you into the path of lorries overtaking on blind corners.

The day before my wheel had fallen off when the axel undid itself with the reverberations. Today I wasn’t sure I would be able to stay on the bike either.

A car pulled along side us. It was the construction site manager. He kındly offered us help and pointed out the nearest place to get water. ‘If you come back in 10 months it’ll be finished…’

Eventually. And with relief from every part of our aching bodies. We made it to Tatvan.

The town, situated by the lake edge, is indeed cooler.

We found a cheap hotel and - waiting for the shower to heat up - went and bought a couple of beers!

We are now luxuriating in a day off the bikes.

A much needed day off the bikes.

Our aches and pains have begun to subside but tomorrow we hit the road again. Heading North around the lake to the Iranian border.

Will be sure to check in before we attempt to cross though.

xxx

P.s. Max Ryerson. You have WAY too much time on your hands (see Jamie’s last blog). Well done though! Loads of love to you and the family and hopefully see you soon. Thanks for the solar plug too xxxx

*Before looking exceptionally uncharitable I should note that I had offered to help Jamie on many of the occasions he had tyre problems. However, after nearly blinding him with a spoke, he has never again accepted assistance!