Distance: 87km
Elevation: 1.359m
I woke up at around six in the morning to thick mist and five degrees. Too cold for my taste. After breakfast the sun broke through quickly, and it stayed a crystal clear blue sky for the rest of the day.
I left Buzüyük and turned south. About ten kilometers in, just before a gravel road over a mountain ridge, I met a shepherd with his small flock. He told me to turn around and take another route. This one would not work. He tried to reach his daughter, who speaks English, but we managed without any common language between us. I was genuinely grateful. The terrain ahead was steep, with no infrastructure for the next sixty kilometers, and my Komoot was set to road bike mode. It kept trying to lure me onto gravel sections throughout the day. You always have to stay alert.
The road I found was good. Most drivers were gentle and traffic was light. There were not many shops, villages, or gas stations along the way. What there were, in reassuring numbers, were drinking fountains for sheep and cows. There is always enough water in this area. That gave me a good feeling. With no place to stop for lunch, I worked through my stock of apples, cookies, and nuts. It was enough.
Troughout the day I kept hearing the calls of the Muezzin drifting across from the mosques, and there are many out here. You can hear them from a considerable distance. At some point I noticed that the calls never seemed to fall on a full hour. Not at one o’clock, not at two. I looked it up, and it turns out the timing has nothing to do with the clock. The five daily calls are tied to the position of the sun. The first comes just before sunrise, the last just after sunset. The remaining three are spread across the day, each one determined by where the sun sits in the sky. I had not known that.
Also, I saw some large quarries cutting deep into the earth. They were providing sand and stones for a nearby cement plant, I reckoned.
Twenty kilometers before Kutahya, I stopped at a gas station. Three young lads were there with their motorbikes, doing a little tour. One of them sat down next to me without invitation and started talking loudly. He did not speak a word of English. I smiled at him. Like some Germans, when you do not understand them, they speak louder. It was actually quite funny.
One of the three spoke a little English. His name was Salih, seventeen years old, working as a mechanic and going to school on weekends (dark hoodie). We had a good conversation. He told me he had picked up English from online games, mainly one called Rust, where he also learned some Russian and a little Arabic by playing with others around the world. The other two did not speak a word of English. The Turkish school system does not seem very focused on foreign languages, at least not at that level. What started as a slightly awkward situation turned into a pleasant exchange. They wanted to know about my bicycle, what it cost, what it could do. We worked out that my bike costs more than their motorbike. The value of money is clearly a real issue in Turkey right now. We took a selfie and exchanged Instagram contacts before I headed off.
The cycling into Kutahya was beautiful, through a canyon and past a lake. But again, no camping site to be found. Public or private, they are a scarce resource in this part of Turkey. I had already booked the cheapest hotel I could find. Small room, but perfectly fine. I was able to store Rosinante in a secure spot. After the usual chores, washing clothes, charging batteries, drying the tent from the previous night’s thunderstorm, I went out to get some food.
On my way back I came by a cemetery which seemed abandoned. The translation of the sign had me wonder though. Seemingly there was a good reason to point this out.
Then something small and funny happened. I bought a beer to celebrate the day, took it back to my room, and carried a small stool out onto the balcony to sit on. It collapsed under my weight. It turned out it was decorative. Who would have thought. It made me laugh hard about myself.
Overall, a good day. Around 1,400 meters of elevation gain, but it felt easier than the day before. One thing the crystal clear sky had cost me, though: a fairly bad sunburn on my left thigh. I had put on sunscreen twice during the day, but it was not enough. Something to keep in mind for tomorrow. Maybe the sleep will help with the rest.
Or maybe I am simply beginning to get used to being on the road.