The first week on the bike was a rollercoaster for me in more ways than one.
The weather
I had, of course, been looking forward to spring-like conditions. At the same time, I was aware that winter had only just left the highlands of Turkey – and had probably not taken everything with it. The schedule was consequently varied: sun, rain, warm, cold. Sometimes all in one day.
In summary, I was able to test all (!) of my items of clothing in the first few days.
Almost all of them. The swimming trunks are still unused.
The topography and the road surface
The topography challenged me from the very beginning. Right from the start – I surprisingly had a proud 30 kilometres of cycling from the Starnberger See under my belt – it was already really tough.
In the middle, you're looking at around 1,000 metres of elevation gain over 100 kilometres. On top of that, those responsible for road construction in Turkey apparently have a pronounced fondness for rough. Very rough.
So, truthfully, I've had descents where I had to pedal despite a generous incline – thanks to headwinds and the surface condition. Physics can be very humourless.
The Feelings
Emotionally, it was also a constant rollercoaster. Everything was included, from „Why am I even doing this s***?“ to „Please don't let it end.“ Although the positive feelings clearly dominated.
The last couple of days have been particularly difficult for me. Back home, preparations for Easter are in full swing – a festival I like and enjoy celebrating – and I’m heading in the wrong direction; I’m not there. Even though I’m fully aware of my privilege, I’m finding this difficult. Travelling apparently also means consciously missing out on things. A new experience.
The area
After I'd fought my way out of the Moloch that is Istanbul – indeed, almost swum out – it was time to head for the mountains. Destination: Cappadocia.
Between Istanbul and Cappadocia, there are no Alps, no dramatic peaks with names worth remembering. They are more like elevations than mountains. They don't seek to impress, yet they leave a lasting feeling in your thighs.
Behind the Sea of Marmara, the land slowly rises. Forests become sparser, hills wider.
These mountains form part of the Anatolian highlands, a vast inland region framed by the Pontic Mountains to the north and the Taurus Mountains to the south. There is no sharp division, rather a gradual transition in altitude and expanse.
Historically, these passes have long been trade routes. Routes ran here long before they were called roads. Hittites, Persians, Romans, Byzantines – they all passed through this landscape, using its passes and its fertile high plains. Anatolia has always been a connection: between East and West.
And there, where the long-extinct volcanoes Erciyes and Hasan Dağı cast their geological shadows all the way to Cappadocia, that landscape was created from ash and time, which today seems like a dream – and which I hope to report on next week.
I wish you all a happy and blessed Easter.
P.S.: There is a short daily summary in moving pictures every day on Instagram. Those who don't mingle there will at least find them on this page for the release of new episodes. here.