Winter Wonderland and Hot Air Balloons
An Adventure Through Central Anatolia
Having reached Antalya,
we head up through the mountains to the Central Anatolian Plain. How we are saved from the freezing cold several times, find hot springs and discover the magic of Cappadocia? Find out in this article!
Happy reading!
Table of Contents
Tarmac or Gravel
We are heading north-east towards the mountains. The road we now follow is a tarmac, two-lane highway with little traffic. We quickly gain elevation, but in Beydigin we suddenly come to an abrupt stop: The road turns into a dusty gravel track with truck after truck trudging up the mountainside serpentines. Our hopes of reaching today’s destination fade. Yet above the embankment, about 10 metres to our left, an asphalt road emerges out of nowhere.
While we are still standing indecisively at the side of the road, several cars stop next to us. The drivers are eager to offer us their help – and their opinion. At first, we are advised to follow the gravel road. Eventually, even a police patrol stops next to us. We ask the young policeman if we can continue on the asphalt road. Yes, of course, he says, and points in the direction of the asphalt road: “Right good.” This answer puzzles us even more, because the asphalt road is to the LEFT of us.
Adventurous Roads in the Turkish Mountains
We take the risk and push our bikes with difficulty through dirt and rubbish up the embankment. The road is in great condition! Naturally we have the freshly asphalted road completely to ourselves. Only the road signs – a white line on a red circle – are disconcerting. After a few hundred meters and to our relief, cars gradually reappear.
We spend our lunch break in a Caravanserai – an old fort where caravans used to rest on their travels. It used to contain restaurants, hostels, doctors and traders. The Caravanserai is unrestored – we feel like explorers from the olden times. Nobody is around except a stray dog. Two dozen steep serpentines later, we suddenly find ourselves in another world: in front of us lies a range of barren mountains in varying shades of grey and brown. Deep down below in the valley, we can see the shacks of a few cattle breeders. Otherwise, the impressive landscape is deserted. We are taken aback by the unspoiled beauty – this is how we had imagined the mountains in Central Asia, but not Turkey!
In the course of the afternoon, our route becomes much more difficult. This is not only due to the constant gradients between 5 and 12%, but also to the condition of the road. The new deserted asphalt road turns into a dusty gravel track with ongoing construction work. We pass dozens of excavators and trucks. The road construction workers stare at us in bewilderment. After a few kilometres of cycling through the road works, a truck driver stops and gives us a bottle of water, which we gratefully accept. He then has a short chat with us – in the middle of the road – much to the annoyance of the surveyors.
The Fog
Finding a place to sleep is proving difficult. We are back on a tarmacked road that winds its way along the rocky massif. On our right, the bare rock looms high above us, on our left, the road descends steeply into the valley. Eventually we pass a parking bay. Below it, a small path leads over to a flat section on the mountain ridge. We heave the bikes down the slope and change our damp clothes, hidden from the prying eyes of passers-by. After more than 1000 metres of altitude we have climbed today, we are completely drenched in sweat. And it gets very cold. In layers, we put on almost all the clothes we have with us. Although it is quite windy, we decide to camp on the mountain ridge. From there, we will have an amazing view of the valley below the next morning!
But far from it! It rains and storms all night. When we peek out of the tent in a dry moment the next morning, we find ourselves in the clouds. There’s absolutely no chance of a coffee and a nice view. We pack up our 700 things as quickly as possible and leave at 08:00, uphill, into the fog.
Don't Worry in the Lorry
The fog is incredibly thick. We struggle to see further than10 metres ahead of us. Everything in front disappears into white nothingness. Luckily there are hardly any cars on the road and we have a tailwind. Yes, today it actually feels like an invisible hand on our backs pushes us up these hills. We really need it in these cold and wet weather conditions that render us sweaty on the inside and wet on the outside of our clothing. Cycling really is no fun today. We briefly stop in a parking bay to have a drink. While I reach for my bottle with clammy fingers, the driver of a truck parked next to us opens his window. “Cai?” he asks and invites us into his truck. Just what we need right now! It is warm in the driver’s cabin and we quickly strike up a conversation with driver, Erdal.
Thanks to Google Translate, we can communicate from time to time while the internet is working – there is hardly any reception up here. Erdal himself would like to emigrate, to Australia or Switzerland. But with a Turkish passport and without the necessary language skills, it isn’t easy. Erdal says he has already tried to marry a Swiss woman. The easiest way to emigrate, he is convinced. Now he is looking for an Australian woman.
A strange approach to getting a visa, we think. But one just can’t help liking the friendly young man with the dreamy eyes. After we turn down Erdal’s offer several times to drive us to Konya, it is time for us to cycle on. Too bad, Erdal says, he wishes he had met us earlier, then we could have become friends.
Mehmet, our Saviour when in Need
Even when the fog lifts around noon, it remains damp and cold. We both agree that we definitely don’t want to camp tonight. Ahead of us lies Derebucak, the largest settlement in the region with about 6000 inhabitants. We arrive in the late afternoon at a wet and cold 5 degrees. While Joel enquires about guesthouses in a nearby pharmacy, I stay with our bikes in the shelter of a bus stop. It has started to rain again. My fingers have gone stiff in the cold, wet gloves. I should probably take them off, but I am so cold that I just can’t move at all. I just stand still until Joel returns after what feels like forever.
The bad news is that there is no hotel, pension or guest house in the whole of Derebucak. But Mehmet, a helpful man in his late thirties, has overheard Joel’s conversation and is now phoning all his contacts to help us! Shortly afterwards, Mehmet drives off with Joel in his car. Where to? No idea. Meanwhile, I wait in the pharmacy, where it is a bit warmer, but I am still shivering from the cold. I don’t know exactly how long I sit there. It feels like an eternity. Various people come and go – customers, policemen and a few older men for a chat. They all eye me curiously, but no one speaks to me. Every time the door opens, a gush of cold air floods into the room. Brrr. The pharmacist eventually asks me if I’d like a coffee. My eyes light up – yes please!
And just as he hands me the paper cup with the steaming hot liquid, Joel and Mehmet come back. Joel gets a coffee too, we drink in a hurry and then hop on our bikes and follow Mehmet’s car to our shelter for the night: A guest room in need of renovation, which will be used for prominent visitors to the mosque. Mehmet and Joel have already swept aside alot of building rubble, so that the room with four large armchairs is now habitable. The other rooms are a complete building site and can’t be entered. What a relief though – tonight we will be protected from the wind and rain! At the same time, Mehmet has even organised a heater for us, as here, at 1250 masl, it is forecast to snow during the night and get down into the minuses.
Three-Course Dinner and SPA Derebucak-Style
We quickly put on dry clothes, then Mehmet drives us to his family’s house a couple of kilometres away. The family has set a table for us in the middle of their wonderfully warm carpeted living room. Mehmet’s wife Hülija has prepared a meal consisting of bean stew, bulgur, yoghurt sauce, salad, bread and semolina cake especially for us! We are overwhelmed and feel a bit awkward eating while the grandparents, Mehmet, Hülija and their son Mustafa watch us from the sofa. They themselves are fasting Ramadan and will not eat anything until sunset.
After a hearty meal, we move on to Mehmet’s friend Hüsein – for a shower. Hüsein, too, has a carpeted living room with a crackling wood stove that heats the room up to about 40 degrees. He shows us the (hot) shower, offers us tea and coffee and then leaves his flat to us for an hour while he goes to pray in the mosque. Warmed up and satisfied, we return to our guest room.
We are completely overwhelmed by the hospitality of the people in Derebucak. The locals who have helped us are not rich and don’t have much. How easy would it have been for Mehmet to just look the other way at the pharmacy? Instead, he has moved mountains to help us. When we ask him the next morning how much we owe him for the food and the lodging, he is almost indignant and shakes his head vigorously. Money is not important to him, he says. He is glad that he was able to help us, and any traveller will be welcome in Derebucak in the future.
Beysehir in the Snow
Fortunately, it is only 50 kilometres to the town of Beysehir, but the temperatures are approaching freezing point and we have a strong headwind. Around 2 pm we arrive at the office of Mustafa, who has agreed to host us today via warmshowers.org. However, this Warmshowers experience goes quite differently than expected.
Mustafa is a sports-loving man around 50, whom we meet in the office of his tourism agency. As he doesn’t speak English, his daughter translates by phone. She explains to us that a Turkish outdoor brand sponsors cyclists like us, so we are going to stay in a hotel including breakfast. But that’s not all: we are each given a professional cycling shirt and two scarves from the outdoor brand. What a great gift given the icy temperatures outside! Mustafa proudly shows us a slideshow of the cyclists he has already hosted this year. Then he asks us to take a few photos with the new shirts. We do – while it snows thick flakes! Then we make our way to the hotel a few kilometres away in the snow flurries and enjoy the hot shower and an afternoon off.
In 10 Hours to Konya
The distance from Beyshehir to Konya is about 90 kilometres. Plus about a thousand metres in altitude. Will we be able to make it in one day? A glance at the weather forecast helps us decide: In the next three days, the temperatures will barely climb above zero and it is supposed to snow. We HAVE to make it if we want to avoid a very uncomfortable night camping in sub-zero temperatures.
After a hearty breakfast at the hotel, we are ready to ride at 8:30 am and -4°C. Luckily it remains dry for the time being, but we have to brave the freezing headwind. Two hours later we find a roadside restaurant and warm up with a Cai. We are the only guests in the large dining room – after all, it is the middle of Ramadan.
The closer we get to the highest point of the day – 1540m – the more the landscape around us turns into a perfect winter wonderland. I would never have thought that we would cycle in the snow on this trip. It is exhausting, but beautiful. Even the sun pops out from time to time and ensures that we don’t freeze despite the 2°C ambient temperature. For lunch we find a bus stop at the side of the road, which reasonably shelters us from the wind. Luckily we have brought hot water in our thermos flask – hot coffee is really good in this cold! At 4 pm we have almost made it: a road sign informs us that it is now only 19 kilometres to Konya! Finally, we cross the Sultan Mountains and look down on the kilometre-wide plain of the Central Anatolian Plateau. Below us lies Konya!
Conservative Konya
Konya is a very conservative city. We already assumed so, when we had to cancel our hotel booking, because a double room is only rented with a marriage certificate. In this city of millions, one hardly sees a woman without a headscarf and the few cafés open during Ramadan are deserted. Even Starbucks in a large shopping mall still has many free seats – very unusual for Turkey. Our AirBnB experience is also rather … well … conservative. The young landlord of the flat in a 14-storey building asks us not to tell the neighbours that we are paying guests. “If anyone asks you,” he urges us, “just say you’re my friends and you’re only visiting. We don’t want the neighbours to know that we are renting out the flat in this way.”
Over the next few days we visit the Mevlana Museum in Konya. It consists of the mausoleum of the Sufi mystic, Rumi, who founded the Mevlevi devotional brotherhood in the Medieval period, and a museum depicting various customs of the brotherhood. The Sufi current of Islam exhibits ascetic tendencies and a spiritual orientation. To this day, the Mevlana Museum is considered a place of pilgrimage for many Muslims. We are particularly impressed by the detailed calligraphy and the writings on display, some of which are over 800 years old!
The Central Anatolian Plain
Our way takes us further east across the Central Anatolian Plateau. The day begins drearily. Terribly littered and dusty, the outskirts of Konya are populated by stray Anatolian shepherd dogs. The sand-coloured animals barely stand out in colour against the steppe around us. We have to be very vigilant not to miss yet another one jumping out of the bushes and chasing our bicycles.
Even when we finally leave Konya behind us, it remains dreary. The main road runs dead straight along littered fields – kilometre after kilometre after kilometre. Finding a place to pee in the absolutely flat landscape is really difficult. Luckily we have a tailwind and make good progress. After 90 kilometres we have reached our destination for the day, but far and wide we can’t see a sheltered place to pitch our tent. We decide to continue a little further. It is another 30 kilometres to a crater lake that might be suitable for an overnight stay. At our current speed, we could make it there before sunset.
Of course, this is exactly where things go south: Joel cycles over a barely visible wire and gets a flat tyre. While we change the inner tube under the curious gaze of some petrol station attendants, it starts to rain. The 90 minutes turn into two hours and dusk slowly sets in as we cycle slightly uphill on the hard shoulder of the highway. I start sweating not only because of the incline, but also because we are supposed to reach our destination in 2 kilometres. At the present time, nothing looks like a crater lake. And Joel has been nagging behind me for a while now already.
We cross the four-lane highway and take a small path next to a Shell petrol station. And indeed: Behind the petrol station, we find a steep descent down to a beautiful crater lake. From the mainroad, this stunning place is not visible at all. I had assumed we would first have to climb a mountain to get to a crater. Instead, it is the other way round.
Remote Villages, Money and Hot Springs
Over the next few days, the roads become worse, the villages poorer and the people more curious. We have arrived in the heart of Central Anatolia, in an area where bikepackers are hardly ever to be found. The people are friendly and very, very inquisitive. Despite Ramadan, we are invited for a coffee at a petrol station. In a small village, the shopkeeper rings her English-speaking son out of bed to find out what the heck we are doing in this area with two packed bicycles.
Only the children are difficult to deal with. Besides “Hello”, “How are you” and “what’s your name”, crowds of children frequently shout “Money Money Money” at us while rubbing their fingers together. Considering the boundless hospitality of most adult Turks, this seems strange to us. Do the children even know what they are saying? Joel eventually just shouts back “Money money money!” – what else can you do?
The 3268 m high mountain Hasan Dağı of volcanic origin becomes our constant companion. For three days we cycle around it and I just can’t get enough of this imposing dome shaped snowy mountain, standing out majestically against the plains.
Near Ihlara we are looking to pitch our tent close to some hot springs. As is often the case, the small gravel road leading towards the springs is very inconspicuous and without any signage. To reach the springs themselves, a small trail leads down into the Ihlara Gorge. It is beautiful here: The water from the springs runs into a pool about 1.50 m deep, it is clear, does not smell and has the perfect temperature of about 37°C! Our tired muscles are thrilled.
Here we also meet Ute and Detlef, an older couple from Germany, who are travelling through Turkey in their converted military vehicle. They spontaneously invite us to dinner and wine in their van – a feast for our senses! Very close to the springs we find a small cave with a beautiful view towards the gorge. Protected from wind and rain, we pitch our tent there.
Off to Cappadocia
Cappadocia has been on my bucket list ever since my friend Charlotte raved about it just before the start of our trip. Is the area really as beautiful as everybody claims? We are about to find out. But first we pass through the small town of Derinkuyu, where an underground city with several floors was discovered as recently as the 1960s. Whether the city was built before Christ by the Hittites or by the Christians in the early Middle Ages is unclear. The underground city in Derinkuyu is one of a suspected 53 underground cities in Cappadocia, but the largest that has been opened to the public. The village of Derinkuyu itself is poor, run-down and dirty. Extortionate prices await us in the supermarket. From the outside, there is not much to be seen and for 15 € entrance fee, we decide against a visit.
That same afternoon we arrive in Uchisar on the edge of the Göreme National Park in Cappadocia (where the balloons fly!). We have booked a hotel room here for a few days. The building in which the boutique hotel is supposed to be located looks quite dilapidated from the outside. Some of the windows still have the white stickers on them, indicating that they were recently installed. The front door of the building is locked with the key in it.
Joel disappears inside the building and then comes back with a worried look: “Jana, I don’t know what you want to do now, but the room definitely doesn’t look like in the pictures.” “What?”, I exclaim in dismay, “you mean it’s a dump?” I ask. Joel shrugs, “Well, make up your own mind. You have to decide, you booked this room.” Panic rises in me and I’m on the verge of tears. Then Joel suddenly starts laughing. “Go check out the room – it’s perfect!” And it really is. We even have a jacuzzi in our room. That afternoon, Joel gets to feel what I think of his “joke”.
Magical Cappadocia
Over the next few days we get up early, always hoping to see the famous hot air balloons fly at sunrise. One day we are lucky, but otherwise it is unfortunately always too windy. We spend the days with hikes to the spectacular castle of Uchisar, which is completely carved out of tuff or to the Dove- and Love Valley. Looking for the best place to camp, we ride our unpacked bikes through the entire national park. And we find it – the ultimate dream spot!
At the edge of the red valley, we follow a rocky outcrop to a small path over the cliffs, no wider than half a metre. To the right and left the rock drops steeply, but after about 10 metres the grade widens to a plateau that is perfect for our tent and bikes. I wonder if the balloons will fly the next day? It would be breathtaking, but we don’t get our hopes up too high. Wind and rain shake our tent around all night long.
At 05:30 I wake up to loud noises. Shhhh shhhh. Is that the wind? I turn to Joel. He grins. Balloons?? Balloons!!! I tear open the zip on the tent and sure enough – in the semi-darkness we see the first balloons rising into the air! We quickly get dressed to withstand the weather – it’s still drizzling and quite cold. Then we climb out of the tent and watch the spectacle. Over 100 hot air balloons rise into the air in front of us in the Love Valley. And the best thing: due to the north wind, they fly right towards us and over our heads! Some balloons come so close that we can almost touch them. Just WOW!
Bye Bye Turkey
After this successful farewell to Cappadocia, it is also time for us to say goodbye to Turkey. In the evening we take a night bus from Göreme to Rize at the Black Sea. This time we have to pay an exorbitant price for our bikes – the employee of the bus line insists that we buy a separate seat for each bike. There is no point in arguing, we have no choice. On a positive note, our bikes receive individual tickets.
Maybe I’m misinterpreting it, but as we load our luggage onto the bus, the clerk argues intensely with the bus driver. It almost seems as if the bus driver is unhappy because now he cannot demand an extra tip from us. To be honest, we would have preferred that – it would have certainly been the cheaper option. At least we now have plenty of room to spread out on our four seats in the moderately occupied bus!
Bye Bye Turkey!
Very well written Jana, fantastic read and really enjoyed seeing your photos. Missing you both and very envious.❤️
Thank you Aido! Really glad you enjoyed the read!!