roller-coasting

sun and a wide shoulder

 It only takes a flash of sunshine to fill us with optimism.  At last, we're off again, heading westwards, the sea to our left and the mountains to our right.  When we reach a headland the coastal road invariably cuts inland to climb a pass and we start to realise that this stretch of coast is a bit of a roller-coaster ride.  Thankfully the road has a decent shoulder in most places.  And there are tunnels.  Not long. Brand new, well-lit.  We sprint through each one and as luck would have it, they always seem like they're gently downhill.  It's probably an illusion.

invited to take tea by Şener, who has a friend cycle-touring through Africa

lunch in the gutter, looking back down a hill

In some places we find ourselves descending to a wide bay and this is where there are villages or towns and lots of poly-tunnel farming going on. And these are usually followed by a long climb up and out again.  Two days in a row we find ourselves leaving towns at the end of the afternoon, mistiming because the sun is setting early and there never seems to be any decent camping spots out of sight of the road.  But when the sun does set and night falls it's easy to be hidden.  
 

after the rain, sun

The daytime weather stays kind to us but the nightimes are different.  Rainy storms pass through with thunder and lightning which keep us awake.  Gayle has a chest infection and is developing a hearty cough and every long climb we come to is a slow but steady plod.  On our third day we decide at lunchtime to call it a day once we spot a place to camp.  We've been climbing solidly all morning and we're tired.  Happily a long traverse follows, we bump into another cycle-tourist, David from Lithuania heading to Cyprus, and then a descent into pine forest where we find a dirt track leading off into the trees.  

It's too early to put the tent up and we're just sitting on the carpet of pine needles and chatting when three men appear.  We exchange hellos.  Unsure who is more surprised.  One man takes out his phone - to translate.  He kicks some of the pine needles away to show us a mushroom.  "No good." On his phone he shows us a photo of the type of mushroom they are looking for.  It's the season.  After the rain the mushrooms pop up, and we soon get used to seeing people wandering through woods with a bucket and knife searching for mushrooms.

sometimes the wide shoulder just disappears......

The dramatic coastal scenery of pine-clad mountains tumbling precipitously into the sea gradually gives way to wider, flatter bays full of poly-tunnel farms and larger settlements.  There are quite literally hundreds of plastic-sheeted warehouses full of banana trees covering the valleys.  It's not pretty.  It's the usual cycling quandary - in general the harder the road the greater the scenery. Or conversely, the easier the road, the less-appealing the scenery.

when it's good, it's really good

We reach Alanya in a hail storm.  There's a long run into the city with the beach on one side and an eternity of hotels and holiday appartments on the other.  The highway sits incongruously in between.  When we reach the town centre I get that familiar sense of satisfaction and achievement from arriving by bike after some tough days.  But this feeling contrasts with the eerie sense of culture-shock as we sit on a bench and watch the hundreds of tourists, up to now unseen on our Turkish ride, coming and going around us.  We are of them but they are not of us.