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Dear Friends and Family, Sorry for my long silence. My last e-mail had been composed and was in the process of being sent when the computer dumped it, and with moving and other events, I have been too busy to recompose it until now. And so, here it is... the end of my travels across the ocean and the beginning of my more recent adventures here. The first few pages are directly from my journal, with only minor modifications... continued... from Saturday, December 2, 2000 ...I was only slightly suprised to hear myself asking the motorcycle mechanic what kind of a deal he would make if I rented the motorcycle for SIX DAYS. I returned to the pansyon and asked them to hold the majority of my equipment while I packed my daypack and tied it to the back of the bike. By noon I had hit the road, glad to be doing what I wanted to do instead of what I expected myself to do. It was cold. In the morning a hard frost sparkled on the ground. Although the frost was gone when I set out I soon discovered wind chill factor at 100 km/h. My first target was the intriguing underground city of Derinkuyu. "City" is too big of a word, I think, but a small town is surely believeable. "Bizzare" is perhaps the perfect word, as it has been for so many things on my trip. Narrow, short, and twisting stairways link a maze of rooms, both small and large. Looking up the three-foot-diameter airshaft from the bottom, I think I was at least one hundred feet underground. The builders mad clever rolling-rock defenses with which they could block all entrances. They had everything, including wells, churches, graves, wine cellars, and schools. It was odd to imagine people playing, working, living, and dying under solid rock. I hit the road a bit too late after enjoying a local soccer game for a few minutes. I had looked for gloves, as my hands were frozen almost solid (it felt like), and finally found them in the city of Aksaray. The leather-like plastic gloves were a bargain at just over $2, although not high on quality; but the curisous crowd that gathered was priceless. Older men watched quietly from the edge and glanced at me as they spoke among themselves. School-age kids were shy to practice their English, and the younger ones crowded cloase and chattered or shorused questions in Turkish as they played with my helmet. I just grinned, and was kind of sad as I kicked over the motor and putted off. I wanted to hit Konya, 140 Km away, but the sun sets quickly and cold comes with the darkness like an icy blanket. I was forced to stop at Sultanhani, only 40 Km from Aksaray. The pansion was obviously closed when I arrived, and my prospects looked bleak and chilly, even with 3 shirts and my jacket on. The friendly proprietor heard me from his home next door though, and the night (and most likely my health!) was saved. He unlocked the pansion and gave me a chilly room, inviting me to their home for the Ramazan fast-breaking meal. I was chilled to the bone, but still removed my shoes outside the door. Five minutes after the call from the mosque the hearty dinner of spiced bread with cilantro rolled inside was begun. We chewed turnips and roasted green chiles and drank the traditional watered-down yogurt (which is a bit tough to get used to!). After sitting down I noticed that everyone but myself had covered at least a few toes with the table cloth which trailed on the floor. I was sitting on it, but quickly remedied my mistake!! I've got over 300 Km to ride tomorrow, so plan to leave about 9am, hopefully after the frost has melted. As for tonight, I've finally thawed, sitting beside the small wood stove lit just for me. Sunday, December 3, 2000 7:15pm What a day-- I'm exhausted. I left the pansion about 8:30, wearing every scrap of clothing I have. I taped plastic around my legs between my first and second pair of pants to help break the wind. The frost was thick, the fog... thicker. After a few miles I rode into sun, and the ride was almost comfortable for a few Kilometers until I hit a wall of fog. I rode down into it toward Konya. I had been in the fog only a short time when something on my glove caught my eye. Directly behind my knuckle a small white streak was forming. I looked closer. It was frost. At one point I stopped to try to warm up, stomping my feet up and down to restore circulation and holding my gloved hands to the muffler to warm them, but nothing worked. I knew that standing there by the side of the road in the freezing fog would get me nowhere, and so I pushed on. By the time I arrived there was ice on everything in the wind. Large chunks on the turn signals, my boots, shoulders, and knees... Ice even froze my eyelashes together! I have never been so cold. Even now, after a thorough warming, my fingertips hurt. I think they were close to mild frostbite. I know the first stage of hypothermia was setting in, because I stopped shivering. The sun broke through in Konya, and I stopped to thaw. After a little more fog I hit steady sun, and the rest of the ride was comfy. Here's what I wore: 2 pr. boxers, 2 pr. pants with plastic shields, 2 pr. socks, boots, 2 t-shirts, a flannel shirt, wool sweater, windproof/waterproof jacket, bandana, sock hat, helmet, gloves... I rode straight, stopping only for gas. In the early afternoon I rode over a mountain pass, I don't know which one -- everywhere the scenery was wintry wonder, the snow capped peaks between which I rode were spectacular. I passed the town of Atalya just before sunset. A few Km later I ran out of gas and switched to "reserve," only to find that the mechanic had misinformed me, and the bike had been running on "reserve" all the time! It didn't get me far. I ended up pushing the bike about 1 km for gas! I rode on down the beautifully curvy road as the twilight thickened. It was dark when I reached the obscure turn-off for Olympos. I came to sleep in a treehouse and see the "Chimera." The road was full of potholes and gravel, but the German-designed MZ 301 was trusty. I think I'm nearly deaf from the 5000 rpm scream of one cylinder. The first turnoff I took abruptly ended in a washout. The second led me here. The pansyon is nice, and in the off-season uninhabited. Although the weather is noticeably Mediterranean. I am prayerfully hoping I stay warm tonight. A huge Ramazan dinner of bread, soup, and green beans in sauce with fresh tomaties stuffed me, and I barely made it through cake and tea. It's a family night, like they all are, and we sat around the glowing wood stove watching TV and playing with the baby. What a beautiful night. I can pick out some of the constellations... the summer stars gone, and the winter stars are appearing now. I arrived at 5:30 pm - 9 hours after I left. The odometer read 525 Km (310 Miles). I had hoped to make better time, but I am enjoying myself immensely. Thursday, December 5, 2000 7:50 am The odometer clicked off 332 Km (195 Miles) yesterday. I started with a wonderful breakfast and a happy farewell. If I return I will certainly stay at Bambolero's Pansyon again. They want me to bring my girlfriend next time. I first tried to find Olympos beach, but after a loop around the greenhouses (they're everywhere here!) I headed back out to see the "Chimaera." According to legend (Homer?) a beast called the Chimaera is trapped underground here, perpetually breathing fire. The flames coming out of the rock of the hillside here and there are at least as strange as the odd story. A couple Roman temples, buried in mud and briars, hant the place. I felt odd walking under an inscribed lintel into a roofless temple thousands of years old - quite alone. Anywhere else these places would have an autobahn runningto them and be sheathed in glass. Here, rusty signs kind-of point the way down dirt roads and over dirt piles... watch out for chickens! My first sight of the sea made me stop to get a better look. The water is more blue than any I've ever seen, and the tilted layers of rock run into it unbroken. My next stop was Myra (after a fantastic ride down the coast). I saw a strange Lycian necropolis, with mausoleums carved into the rock cliffs, and climbed among the unkept ruins of a nearly-intact Roman theater. The facade, now fallen, had been ornate. Carved faces stared out at me with hollow eyes from the many piles of rubble. I cut along a side road through chickens, goats, and wild ponies, and quickly passed the tour port for boats to the underwater city of Kekova -- I hope to return. I whizzed past the tourist town of Kas at about 130 Km/hr (80 MPH) and reached Letoon as the school-kids walked home. Temples to Leto, Artemis, and Appolo, a nymph fountain, and an early Christian church (with buried mosiac), a portico, and a helenistic-style theater make a grand mound of ruins. These are my favorite yet. The temple of Leto is easy to imagine intact, as the bases of the walls remain, and the pillars lay in rows where they fell. As the sun set over the, I could feel the past and believe. I made Fethiye before it got dark, and had to search to find the pansyon. I glanced into the mirror as I was settling into my room and found that my cheeks, the only uncovered portion of my body, were caked with insects... the hapless victims of my high-velocity journey. I grinned. I had to wonder how the inn-keeper had taken me seriously. Tuesday, December 5, 2000 8:00 pm Once again, I'm exhausted. No breakfast didn't help (note: lunch was not even considered during this trip) I searched for the tomb at Telmessos through rocky mud trails, but to no avial. I finally decided to just hit the road. While getting out of Fetyhe, I had my first traffic accident ever. A car turned left while I was beside it. I tried to brake, but hit the accelerator at the same time. As the bike revved, the front went up, bouncing off his hubcap and somehow scraping around him. I laid the bike down hard, but slowly. I removed their hubcap, but the car did no damage to the bike. Laying it down, however, damaged the other side, cracking the mirror, breaking off the left turn-signal lens, and bending the footpeg slightly. Somehow the mudguard got crooked also, but all told there was no major damage aside from that sustained by my confidence. I continued more cautiously, but without incident, through the mountains onto dirt roads and past scenic views. At one point I had to stop and wait for a cat to clear a path through a recent landslide. I finally arrived in Laodicea, where I browsed alone through a field full of ruins which was once a city. It is amazing... an arch here, a wall there, half a pillar... I'm sure I crossed paths with Paul. I headed for Pamukkale, where I supposed Aphrodisias to be, and arrived in late afternoon, only to find that I had misseed Aphrodisias and had to loop back about 1 hour. It was cold, and the sun was rosy on the snow-capped peaks in the distance as I rolled through Aphrodisias. I looked at the only 3 hotels in the area and finally returned to the first... this place is more expensive than Istanbul. After a huge dinner (not: only meal all day... I'm not sure yet how much this will cost me) I enjoyed a hot stove which had a huge piece of wood jammed in the door, causing smoke to fill the room. Seeing my rock collection, the matron of the house, a very friendly soul, donated a crystal from near here. Her daughter sat behind me studying for a medical exam. Their 2-month-old puppy whined endearingly in the outer room. I made 435 Km (261 Miles) today. Thursday, December 7, 2000 8:30 am My whole body aches. Aphrodisias was great, even though too many tourists have been there, and the staff are rude. I was the only one there besides the grounds-crew, but the first tour-but (of retired Americans) pulled in just as I was leaving. I was embarrased, and didn't say a word to them. The theater was large, and I tried a bit of acting from the tiled stage before the ghosts of a thousand Romans. Next I wandered through the huge remains of the Temple of Aphrodite, picking up a rock and hoping.... The many intact pillars were at least 40 feet tall. The stadium, the best preserved anywhere, and one of the largest, reminded me of an American football stadium -- and I'm sure the same atmosphere was present. The gate was most amazing, with eight each of serpentine and straight-fluted pillars. It was quite ornamented and, most impressively, was almost 100% intact. I left just after 10 and rode east. The weather in the valley was almost balmy, but I soon hit a fog bank which I froze through to the lakes. The lakes are beautiful, two within 20 miles of eachother and quite large. I have a shout of joy as I emerged from the fog to see them. I'm sure they are relatively expensive for tourists, but I would like to return. From there the road was wide and supered, and the sun warmed my back. I road at about 130 Km/h, thoroughly enjoying myself. I made good time, and crested the hill overlooking the valley of Konya just as I had planned, just after sunset. I was starting to chill, but knew there would be a cozy hotel in town. I HATE KONYA. All I could see as I entered the valley was a black haze. Most of it was smoke... thick smog. I smelled Konya before I saw it. The perpetual night of Gotham... As I rode it got darker, and a fog supplemented the haze. Soon I had to stop almost directly beneath road signs to see them at all. The traffic was fast and wild, and I started to worry when the engine coughed. I switched to the reserve tank and found a gas station. The attendant had no idea about 2-cycle oil, and recommended brake fluid for my motorcycle! It was there that I discoverd that none of the lights on the back of the bike worked... none. In the fog I must have been invisible. It was only 5:30, but deepest dark as I went in the direction of Aksaray, hoping to spot lodging as I left town. I could hardly see cars with their headlights coming toward me, and knew they could never see me. I knew if I didn't get out of town I would get hit or worse. There was no place to stay. As the houses vanished the fog, more wet than cold, soaked me. I knew Sultanhani, where I had spent my first night, was only 80 Km (50 miles) away. I couldn't go fast in the fog. I figured 3 hours, max. I don't know how long it took. I fell in behind a semi, using his lights to pretoct me from behind. We were going about 90 when the speedometer started to drop. RPM was constand, speed was constant... I pulled over and checked the cable. It looked ok. When I got back on the road the needle stayed pegged at zero and the odometer didn't move. Perhaps they were frozen... although I felt warmer than I had last time I was in fog, I was soaked, and there was ice beginning to form here and there. Every 10 Km there was a sign... 40 Km... "I'm halfway there... no use turning back now. I can go twice that far... I have to. I'm so cold. My neck hurts so much. I have to just sit here, holding the throttle... just sit here behind these two red lights at the end of this white tunnel of fog" 30 Km... "Only 45 minutes to go... max. I'm so cold. God help me. I've got to make it. God help me. I'm so cold. I'm so cold. I'm so cold..." 20 Km... "30 minutes... I'm so c old... Help me... Just sit here... Ice... keep blinking.... do n ' t le t you r ey ela shes fre eeez e....... Onl y 30 minu te s . less.... God hlp mme..." 10 Km... "oh..... I can makkkke it, i canmakeit... icanmakeit i c an ma k e i t...." I don't know what happened... I don't think I blacked out, but 30 seconds later I saw that sign indicating the city limits of Sultanhani. I found the pansyon after a couple wrong turns in the fog. I rolled the bike to a stop in front. As I dismounted the bike tipped and I was too weak and unsteady to keep it from falling, pinning my leg beneath it. I just lay there on the frosty grass for a little while, enjoying the warmth of being out of the wind. The proprietor was shocked when he realizeed I was covered in ice. They invited me in and I sat by the heater. My neck hurt terribly from holding the helmet up into the wind in the same position all day, and all my limbs drooped in exhaustion. They gave me a pill and some water, asking if my head was ok. I don't know what it was. Finally I grabbed five blankets and crawled into the freezing bed. Thursday, December 7, 2000 9:30pm I had no choice but to hit the road in the cold. The bike didn't want to run. It would idle for a while, then die of cold. I knocked the ice off my seat and cautiously wnet toward Aksaray, 40 Km away. Within 10 minutes my gloves were frozen and I was hurting. Frost was everywhere under the fog. I went slowly to stay warm. When I reached Aksaray the fog was actually freezing... I could feel ice crystals blasting my face. I had hoped to find a repari shop for the moto, but settled happily for a truck-stop-like restaurant where I tried to get warm with hot tea na sour soup as I waited for the weather to change. By noon there was no change, so I decided to bite the bullet and go. Within 10 Km of Aksaray the fog lightened and I broke into welcome sun! I shouted for joy to see it! The rest of the 80 Km was chilly, but not freezing. I was very happy to see Goreme and the warm cave-rooms of the Anatolia Pansyon. It took three hours for my body-core temperature to come up. It is strange to feel cold actually emanataing from one's knees. I realized how hungry I was and went to a restaurant while I still could for an expensive but much-needed meal. A mixed group met in the Pansyon commons tonight, and I realized that I have only touched the tip fo the travelling iceberg -- It doesn't matter how far one goes. It's nice to stop. Home is in view now. The rest of my time in Goreme I spent quietly recovering, mostly reading in my warm room. Within a few days I took a bus back to Istanbul, and soon arranged a flight to Paris. Paris was beautiful. It was raining when I arrived, and I was shocked by the western prices, but the rain added a clear-dream crispness to the gargoyles of Notre Dame and a gothic mood to the dark streets. I stood under the Eifel Tower at 11 and watched as thousands of strobe-lights flashed along it. I took the expensive underground metro-tain back to the airport in the morning. The 30 minute ride cost more than half as much as my overnight trips through Turkey. I quickly got a flight to Chicago, which went nonstop over the white cliffs of Dover, the white plain of Greenland, and the white mountains of Canada, arching over the great circle... chasing the sunset to Chicago's O'hare. It was strange being back. People rushed here and there, cursing the bad weather into their cel-phones. They would be delayed one hour, maybe two... try freezing to death in Turkey or waiting all day for the only train from Macedonia to the outside world... I watched them go by, seeing from different eyes my home and my country. I sat comfortably and happily in the airport, disturbed only mildly by the strange madness which the west seems to consider essential to life. My pants had holes in the knees and were ragged around the bottom. My pack was repaired in inummerable places with fishing line. My sweater hadn't been washed for weeks. My life had been changed. I got back to my home in Oregon three days short of six months from the date I had left. |