Distance: 106km
Elevation: 854m
Maksutlu: https://maps.app.goo.gl/4FF2sZT7vVTM77Q57?g_st=ic
I woke up with the rising sun and had slept around eight hours. Light, but enough. During my morning routine, a farmer came past on his tractor. I waved and called out “Merhaba.” He waved back without any flinch or sign of disapproval. He just drove on. So that was that.
Because I wanted to let the tent dry, I did not get into the saddle until half past nine. For the day I had decided to stay on the highway. The alternative would have meant too much detour and too much elevation gain, and I needed to conserve my energy.
From a fellow cyclist I had heard about a famous caravanserai nearby called Sultanhani. The caravanserai was not just a building. It was part of a vast network that made long-distance trade possible across Central Asia and the Middle East. From the 11th century onward, Seljuk and later Ottoman rulers built hundreds of them along the major caravan routes, spaced roughly one day of travel apart so that merchants and their animals could rest, eat and shelter for free. Sultanhani, built in 1229 under the Seljuk Sultan Alaeddin Keykubad, is one of the largest and best preserved in Anatolia. The thick stone walls and vaulted halls have survived nearly eight hundred years of weather, war and earthquake, and they still stand exactly where the caravans of silk, spice and livestock once stopped for the night.
I visited and was genuinely impressed. In the middle of it there was even a small mosque. I spent some time walking through the halls and trying to imagine the noise of business and the smell of it all when it was full of camels and traders.
I rode on. Around noon I stopped at a gas station for a break, as I often do. Two fiercely looking motorcyclists pulled up with leather vests and club colors. They were members of an MC. They were French, and we started talking. This time my French was actually present. They were riding to Georgia and Armenia. A six-week tour, starting from France. After the usual traveler conversation, we took some pictures, exchanged numbers and said goodbye.
Thirty minutes later I found them at the first restaurant along the highway. We had lunch together. It was absolutely delicious. Phillipe, a former seafaring captain, was sixty-nine and Gerard seventy-two years old, both in the same club, and they would do one long tour together every year. It turned out that you can stay members of an MC as long as you can ride your bike. Ride or die. We talked about motorcycles, clubs, and how people react when they see a group of bikers coming. I asked them whether people get nervous. They said no. You just give them a big smile, and then everything is fine. When we touched on politics, we found that we had pretty different views. That was fine too. In the end they were nice guys and their way of life had a lot to do with comradeship and loyalty, two values I deeply share. We shook hands, said farewell, and I rode on. About twenty minutes later they overtook me once more on the highway with loud honks and big waves.
The rest of the day was straightforward. Highway riding with little traffic, wide shoulders, and a blue sky. The mountains of Cappadocia had given way to gentle hills. The plateau stretches far to the east and the riding became rhythmic and quiet.
Towards evening I stopped for dinner at a road restaurant in Şarkışla. It was delicious but super spicy.
I was getting tired. There had been a constant headwind all afternoon and it had eaten steadily into my energy. After dinner I restocked on groceries, and even found a place that sells cold beer. The owners kindly refilled my water supply, too. Then I headed out to find a place to sleep.
A few kilometers later I found a harvested field, enclosed on all four sides by poplar trees (Pappeln) as windbreaks. A perfect spot. I set up camp, sat down in my small camp chair, and watched the view for a while. Earlier in the day I had seen some kangal dogs roaming nearby. Kangals are large livestock guardian dogs, bred to protect flocks from wolves and bears. They can look intimidating. These ones were not aggressive. They kept their distance.
As always, I sent my wife my GPS position and asked her to send some protective energy for the night. She kindly gratulated me to our wedding anniversary. Ups, I had totally forgotten about that. Carolin is my soulmate, my biggest fan and critic at the same time. And she is the love of my life.
By half past nine it was fully dark. The sky was clear and the stars were sharp. A string of Starlink satellites moved steadily overhead in formation. I fell asleep quickly to the sound of dogs barking on the nearby farms. That is always how the night starts out here. The barking runs until around midnight. Then the night goes quiet. Then the birds and the frogs take over.
Learnings of the day:
Sometimes you feel weak for no particular reason. But if you go slow and keep going, you can still reach your goal. And one of the real pleasures of this kind of travel is meeting people from completely different worlds. You hear their views. You do not have to agree. You just have to be willing to listen and find out what you have in common despite all the differences.