Our train ride proved to be spectacular, weaving through a narrow river gorge surrounded by wooded slopes stretching for miles.
On reaching Erzerum, we cycled back the way we had come to the beginning of one of the infamous mountain roads, which would lead us over the top of Ovit Dagi mountain - at 2600m our highest so far - and then down to the Black Sea.
The road was beautiful from the start and an incredible change from the arid landscape we had been cycling across since we left Konya. We followed the river for several kilometres through increasingly steep hillsides dotted with wildflowers.
And then we began to climb. As we sweated and puffed our way past several road workers (who insisted we stop so they could take selfies with us) we pondered the fact that after nearly 5 months of cycling and almost 6,000 kilometres we now actively chose mountainous routes wherever possible. Quite a change from the podgy couple who would do anything to avoid a hill when they left Brighton.
After an intense slog, we reached the top of a pass to see a blue sign announcing we had reached 2,349 metres and were now on top of Dallikavak Pass.
Unfortunately, this pass had clearly been left off our map, and the three peaks we thought we had to climb to reach the Black Sea had suddenly become four. The whizz down the other side helped erase this unfortunate news, especially as it was accompanied by a gigantic thunderstorm, complete with forked and sheet lightening. We were forced to seek refuge in a small bus shelter, where we were promptly joined by an old man chewing a piece of straw, who quickly indicated that he would like us to feed him before rushing out to try and cadge a lift from a passing car.
Once the storm had passed we set off again, through an incredible valley splashed with purple streaks of wildflowers. There was a very different feel to this area of craggy mountains and green vales. Even the people we passed looked different, their blue and green eyes suggesting they belonged to the Hemsin hilltribe which populates this area.
After a break to refuel, we headed up our second peak of the day (2, 348 metres), before dropping down to camp in an idyllic streamside spot. We spent the night listening to a series of thunderstorms roll across the sky.
The next day saw us battle up another mountain, this time watched by an amused cowherder wearing a Bob Marley t-shirt. He clearly couldn’t understand why we weren’t driving rather than cycling, and as the hill continued, we began to feel the same. However, on reaching the top, the views, endorphins, and sense of achievement reminded us why cycling is always the best option!
A tremendous 32km downhill was our reward, and we landed in a small riverside town, where we were again warmly welcomed by the locals and treated to cups of tea and juice. Here, for the first time, we spoke to a man who was a true fan of President Erdogan.
His discussion of the economic stability provided by the AK Party offered us some insight into why so many people had turned out onto the streets to support the government. While his conspiracy theory that Israel and America were behind the coup was a bit far-fetched, it was interesting to hear a different opinion to that of the younger, liberal Turks we had spoken to so far.
Exhausted from the three 2000m-plus passes, we carried on the short distance to Ispir, where we shared tea with a Hemsin family of travellers who found our dishevelled appearance quite amusing and desperately tried to get us to accept new socks to replace the mangy ones on our feet.
Finding an idyllic spot to camp by the river, we spent the next day relaxing, cleaning ourselves in its raging currents, reading and playing cards.
Unfortunately the heat of the sun caused one of our mats to self-destruct, forming a giant bubble which one of us (Harriet) now had to sleep on.
The next day we tackled Ovit Dagi. At 2640m this is Turkey’s 3rd highest drivable pass, although as the highest is only 2650m we felt that we could count it as number 1! It was a long, slow 36 km slog, punctuated with some more wonderful hospitality from a local shop owner who laid out a spread for us consisting of butter covered in honey, cheese, olives and bread.
The views were stunning, with steep mountain slopes on either side of us and the river tracking our course. The final leg took us past the small huts of the local hill tribes, with the road reaching a new level of steepness as we approached the peak. At around 2pm we made it to the top, only to be confronted by a wall of mist which prevented us from seeing the spectacular views we felt we had earned the right to see, and also made descending that day quite dangerous. So there was nothing to do but set up the tent and settle down for a night at the top of the pass.
The next morning the mist had parted, and we saw jagged, craggy, snow-splashed mountains all around, and a wonderful green plateau.
This view was only trumped by an astonishing 85km descent down the other side of the mountain, through a constantly changing landscape which began as grass and shale slopes and gradually became more and more green, turning into alpine, then deciduous forests, and finally semi-tropical tea plantations which wouldn’t have looked out of place in India.
We landed in Rize, where we finally met the Black Sea, and spent the night camping on a little shingle beach.
The next day saw us cycle from Rize along the coast, into the home of the Laz tribe. Camping on a beach again, we were invited for tea by a Laz family, who insisted on filling our panniers with many edible goodies.
The next day was to be our last in Turkey and we spent it whizzing along a four-lane highway ,through several tunnels partially blocked by queueing lorries, until we suddenly found ourselves crossing the border into Georgia!
In total, we had spent nearly 6 weeks in Turkey and had cycled around 1500 km, cutting diagonally from the south west to north east. It felt strange to leave, particularly given the seismic shifts which are currently occurring in the country. Turkey was an incredible place to cycle through, with the people the warmest and most generous we have met. It truly restored our faith in the goodness of humanity. Although we were excited to move on, it was also sad to leave, particularly given the increasingly draconian response to the coup which we were reading about in the news. The political situation in Turkey seems precarious, and the possibility that the secularity of the country could be under threat felt very real – we were astonished by the number of government- funded mosques being built as we passed through, with 5 being constructed in the little space of the Ovit Dagi pass alone. Combined with the bizarre use of the mosques to broadcast political rally calls, secularity no longer seems to be protected by the state. Mehmet, our Warm Showers host in Konya, said that he thought we might look back and be pleased to have visited Turkey in 2016, before the Turkey that he knew and loved was lost. Sadly, recent events suggest that he might be right.