Day Seventy Two


23/07/25


An eventful day today, just what we like. A pleasant breakfast of honey and bread, basking in the morning sun. I left as the sun began to gain some strength, and whizzed along to the town of ortakoy. A couple in a car stopped me telling me I was going too fast and asked about my trip. They gave me red bull and a water. Then they gestured me over to a fruit stall, and bought me about 3kg of grapes. That’s not exaggeration. Thankful, but thinking to myself, what was one man meant to do with such a mass?! I found a cay place in a park and had a coffee. In classic Turkish fashion a man sat down next to me and so we talked enjoying the moment together. He even paid for my coffee too! Then got me a cay too as his friend came to join. As I tried to leave ortakoy, two metallic twangs rang out. The battle damage assessment was two rear spokes broken. I thanked my fortune as I was only 600m from a bike shop. Sipping on cay while he worked, I anxiously watched as he struggled to get my cassette off in a very DIY fashion. I chatted with the young boy who worked there also, via Google translate. When the wheel was trued, and I had handed him 200 lira, we all sat together chatting and drinking cay. He spoke about an English girl named Esme who had come to his shop last year on her way to Singapore! I pressed on. After leaving a village where I’d filled up my water at a mosque, I spotted a motorbike climbing the hill in the distance. After a minute or two I snapped out of whatever I was thinking and thought to myself, that motorbike sure is moving slowly. On closer inspection it had panniers - a cycle tourer!!! I pushed the pedal to the metal, and hossed it up the hill in pursuit. It didn’t take me too long to catch up with Adi, a Frenchman. He was touring to turkey and then home again! We stopped for lunch at next village, and chatted away. We shared our experiences on the road, relating to each other’s tales of dogs and other trials. We cycled the last 40km together to Cappadocia, breathing fresh life into the road. We laughed maniacally together at every passing toot of the horn. Eventually we parted ways in Uchisar. Here I met with my host for next couple of nights, who led me to his house in his car. Manuela, had given me the number of a sweet, but gruff old man who was a couch surfing host. I had my own room with a sofa bed. The man had to go out, taking his son to work, but offered me some of the orzo soup he had made. Not long after the soup followed by my own pasta, I grew sleepy and went to bed.






Demon Dogge


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