The Mongol Rally:
Welcome to Turkey
Not feeling very welcome
Our first experience of Turkey was not a pleasant one. Three hours queueing in 35°C heat. Baking in a gigantic mass of cars. Crawling forward a few feet at a time. With no sign of the end of the line. And no shelter from the relentless sun, except inside our oven-of-a-car. Would we ever reach the front? Cross the border? Enter Turkey? Time slowed, almost to a standstill, like the cars.
Finally, we did reach the front. With our papers in order, we were waved through. However, as we queued to leave the border area, an unmarked police car tried to cut in front of us. Fed up with the incessant queue-jumping, we did not oblige (not knowing it was the Turkish police).
Before we could even blink, the policeman was out of his car, brandishing his badge and yelling at us at full pitch. Handing our passports over, we thought we might get deported before we’d even finished crossing the border. Thankfully, he eventually calmed down, and we crossed the final checkpoint. We were in. Welcome to Turkey!
Lost in Turkey
Rico tells me Istanbul traffic is chaotic and stressful. Napping in the passenger seat, I found our entry to Istanbul incredibly serene. That soon changed as we swapped places in the steep, narrow maze of streets leading to Gokay’s house, our next Couchsurfing stay. It took us over an hour to find his flat and, armed only with an inaccurate offline map and a photo of the apartment building, it was a miracle we found it at all. The friendly locals were a godsend.
The view of Istanbul, Turkey, for our room
A brief stop in Istanbul
Gokay seemed to be hosting all the couchsurfers in Istanbul; Spanish, Japanese, Ukranian, so it was a busy apartment and a late night for us, sleeping in the lounge. The following day would be our first day of the rally without driving, so we enjoyed a lazy morning before riding the metro downtown.
Turkish sightseeing
This was Rico’s first time in Istanbul, so he chose the itinerary for the day; the Grand Bazaar (one of the oldest and largest covered markets in the world), Hagia Sophia (built in the 6th century, a cathedral for nearly a millennium and a mosque for over 500 years after that, now a spectacular museum) and the Blue Mosque (17th-century Ottoman era mosque) before lunch. After tucking into a couple of the obligatory Turkish kebabs, we took one of the many ferries across the Bosphorus to the Asian side of Istanbul.
The Hagia Sophia, built in the 6th century, is a highlight of Istanbul and Turkey as a whole
Enjoying the cool of the Blue Mosque, Istanbul
Istanbul isTurkey’s biggest city
Many visitors to Istanbul take a Bosphorus cruise to view the city skyline from the water. With limited time and resources, we opted for the cheaper version; a ferry to the other side for just over £1. The views of Istanbul’s many mosques and minarets on the short journey to Asia were well worth the nominal fee. The full scale of this city of almost 15 million is only appreciable from a distance.
The view from our ‘cruise’ in Istanbul
A Turkish Hamam experience
After a day of traipsing around the city in 30°C heat, we were hot, sweaty and more than a bit grimy. So, hearing that things were cheaper on the Asian side (away from the main tourist trail), we headed inland towards the Cinili Hamam. Built in 1604 and renovated in the 1960s, the hamam is full of Ottoman charm and the interior is clad in beautiful marble.
The fee was steeper than expected, but after a bit of haggling, we seemed to have a price we were willing to pay. No one at this hamam spoke English, so we bartered by writing numbers on scrap paper at the front desk.
The hamam in Turkey has gradually faded from significance as the population has prospered, with people now having decent facilities in their homes. As such, we were the only guests and had the pick of the changing cubicles (all elaborate wooden constructions, two stories high) to change into our loincloths.
Dressed for the occasion, we were led to the sauna through two progressively hotter and steamier chambers. Already somewhat dehydrated, after a day of walking in the sun, we could only handle the sauna for so long before moving out into the main room of the hamam. Heated by a large wood fire under a central marble platform, this room is still sweltering. So it was with relief that our attendants finally appeared for our scrub and massage.
First, we were led into the cooler (still hot) outer room of the hamam, where we were doused with water from marble basins (expertly mixed to the perfect temperature) and then scrubbed by our attendants to remove the past week’s worth of car grime (and more than a few layers of skin, it seemed).
Next, we were led back into the main room and told to lie on the heated platform at its centre. Here, we were cleaned from head to toe with copious soap and bubbles until we positively shone with cleanliness. A nice change after over a week on the road.
Finally came the massage, verging on a form of light torture, with arms and legs pulled into elaborate contortions and joints cracking under pressure. A relief when it was over, but refreshing and invigorating all the same. The best bit: the icy water thrown over us at the end, leaving us awake and ready to face the world again.
Hitting the road again
This was a fortunate state of affairs, as the next day we were setting off early (after another late night at Gokay’s) on the long drive to Cappadocia. Cappadocia is an area in central Turkey famed for its unusual weathered rock formations and towns of cave dwellings. It’s a highlight of Turkey that we didn’t want to miss.
The drive was long and, for the most part, through incredibly boring scenery of dry wheat fields and even drier hillsides. The main points of interest along the way were close to Istanbul: crossing the Bosphorus bridge from Europe to Asia, traversing the coast of the Sea of Marmara, and then, hours later, the unexpected salt lake, Tuz Golu, right by the highway.
Tuz Golu, on the drive from Istanbul to Capadoccia
Cappadocia, Central Turkey
The view of Cappadocia as we arrived in the afternoon light was stunning, and our sandstone hotel room was a real treat after nearly two weeks of camping and couchsurfing.
The following morning we were awake by 4am and ready for our hot air balloon ride, which is a great way to see Cappadocia’s otherworldly landscape. It’s surprisingly affordable, but it was still a big splurge for us, our one big splurge of the trip. We were both excited to get going as we arrived at the partially inflated balloon in the semi-darkness. But as the slowly inflating balloon started to slowly deflate, our excitement began to deflate with it.
‘The winds are too strong’
‘Balloon is cancelled’
‘I think you try again tomorrow’
Sadly not. With a lot of road left ahead of us on our way to Mongolia, we could not afford to lose time. So we hiked up the nearest hill to watch the sunrise before breakfast and hitting the road once again. This time north and towards the Georgian border.
Waiting for sunrise in Turkey’s Cappadocia
Getting into the Mongol Rally groove
We spent another three days on the road before crossing the Georgian border to reach Tbilisi, our destination for this stage of the trip. A long way. A lot of time. The trip stopped feeling like a casual road trip. It started feeling like the endurance overland travel that is the Mongol Rally. The full magnitude of the journey ahead started to hit home, and our time in Europe felt like a different trip altogether.
As we progressed northward, the landscape gradually changed, from central Anatolia’s dry hills and wheat fields to a more mountainous landscape, even a smattering of trees. And then a lake, Lake Tercan, where we camped on the lakeshore in the shade of a poplar tree and enjoyed a lie-in in a cool morning tent.
Sunset across Lake Tercan, somewhere in Turkey
The Mongol Rally is full of the unexpected
The next day we continued through dry mountains and deep gorges. Surrounded by high rock walls, we slowly baked in the oven-like 41°C heat until we reached a cooler land of steep forested mountainsides and gushing mountain rivers. Spying a sign, around lunchtime, for an old monastery, we detoured up a side valley to a small Muslim village centred around a 10th-century monastery.
Winding our way through the rock; Turkey’s landscapes are incredibly varied
Oshki Monastery was built between 963 and 973AD and was, in days gone by, an important centre for the Georgian church. It was very eerie to see this vast structure damaged and decaying, with burn marks on the outside and the remaining frescoes defaced, in the centre of a thriving village.
All but ignored and left to rot on the village square adjacent to the newer mosque, the monastery stands as a monument to a people now gone from this land. Where they went and for what reason was not possible to discern from the small information board outside. Only that around the time of the Armenian genocide (a taboo subject in Turkey), the monastery was converted into a mosque and later abandoned. Was history swept under the carpet? Even Wikipedia isn’t helpful on this subject.
The abandoned Oshki Monastery, right on the village square
Goodbye Turkey
A few hours later, we reached Artvin, a small provincial town in Northern Turkey situated on an impossibly steep mountainside, almost a cliff face. We spent the evening, our last in Turkey, drinking Turkish tea, and beer, with our hosts in the steep mountain streets.
The following day, we climbed higher into the mountains, over passes 2,500 metres high, the poor car struggling up the never-ending hairpin turns. At the top, we reached an Eden of scattered villages, alpine wildflower meadows, and shepherds with their flocks. And then it was down. Down. Down to the Georgian border and a fond farewell to Turkey, a land of many contrasts.
Off the tourist trail in Artvin, Turkey
Looking back through the wildflowers of Turkey’s mountains
This Leg
Days: 6
Countries: 3
Distance: 1,590 miles
Time in car: 1 day 18 hours
Total
Days: 15
Countries: 17
Distance: 4,223 miles
Time in car: 4 days 5 hours