Sofia (Bulgaria) – Istanbul (Turkey)
It was a seemingly simple task to meet my mother in Istanbul airport and then fly on to Sofia together, that is unless you’ve spent the last 10 days constantly partying, inebriated or flying, culminating in a hearty combination of all of the above. Ironically this period was all in the name of a work trip to South Africa & Nigeria, but I made the most of the trip home with plenty revelry with mates and family. Suffice to say that the utterly deranged state in which I arrived in Turkey, after a raucous departure from Nigeria, resulted in mother missing our flight trying to find me while I just wandered aimlessly about the airport for 10 hours…not the optimum start to 3 months of travelling together!
Finally in Sofia together, we celebrated my birthday with some fine ale and a few days later rode out with fond memories of this fun interesting city. A local guide had given my mother a recommended route out of Bulgaria that she had ridden herself, and I was not one to argue with a local who knows her stuff, especially when a quick peruse of the map suggested that it looked pretty lumpy.
Finally in Sofia together, we celebrated my birthday with some fine ale and a few days later rode out with fond memories of this fun interesting city. A local guide had given my mother a recommended route out of Bulgaria that she had ridden herself, and I was not one to argue with a local who knows her stuff, especially when a quick peruse of the map suggested that it looked pretty lumpy.
Five days later we had climbed 6000m through the verdant Rila and Rhodope mountains, climbing way more and higher than anything I could find in the mighty Italian dolomites. Now my mother is far and away the fittest 68yr old woman I know, but most of that is from arduous trekking, and this was an utterly brutal start to life on a heavily laden bike. But as was to be the case many times in the coming months, her indefatigable spirit and resilience was astounding and inspirational…even if she did need a few mid ride power naps en route!
She wouldn’t admit it, but over a week after leaving Sofia, as we summited yet another big pass to take us to the Greek border, I was certain she must be sorely regretting suggesting her guide’s recommended route!
As with others in the Balkans, Bulgaria turned out to be one of those countries that I (ignorantly) hadn’t expected much from, but turned out to be a real gem – Sofia is a great vibrant capital and the relentlessly mountainous route south eastwards into Greece took us through endless lush forests, ski resorts, quaint rural villages, and wild mountains still inhabited by bears and wolves.
As with others in the Balkans, Bulgaria turned out to be one of those countries that I (ignorantly) hadn’t expected much from, but turned out to be a real gem – Sofia is a great vibrant capital and the relentlessly mountainous route south eastwards into Greece took us through endless lush forests, ski resorts, quaint rural villages, and wild mountains still inhabited by bears and wolves.
The Greeks were in a bit of a kerfuffle in our brief sojourn through their country, what with their economy all but collapsing amidst much political wrangling, but they were pleasant enough considering! We only took in the north eastern corner so we really couldn’t immerse ourselves in the culture, but a great time was had with kiwi couple Robyn & Don (who were riding a similar route to us) at a seaside campsite. And for good measure we knocked back many lagers in anticipation of a distinct scarcity of the amber nectar in the vastness of a Turkey in the midst of Ramadan.
Waving the European Union adios for good, we crossed the river into Turkey, greeted by armed soldiers, seemingly just there as a symbol of strength against their ‘much loved’ Greek neighbours, their relationship being only ever tepid at best.
Waving the European Union adios for good, we crossed the river into Turkey, greeted by armed soldiers, seemingly just there as a symbol of strength against their ‘much loved’ Greek neighbours, their relationship being only ever tepid at best.
Although still in Europe for the moment, entering Turkey felt like crossing a large frontier, touted as east meets west, but as a large Muslim state bordering Syria, Iraq and Iran it was always going to be a new world for me, and we intended to thoroughly explore this ancient and powerful land.
The cultural shift was gentle to begin, although the friendly nature of the people and regular bargaining were sure signs we were crossing a divide. Hopping on a ferry at the tragically famous WW1 battleground of Gallipoli, we crossed the strategically vital Dardanelle straits and I set foot in Asia for the first time. Only briefly letting my mind wander as to the vastness of this continent, what wonders and challenges I would experience and how long I might call this currently foreign land home.
The cultural shift was gentle to begin, although the friendly nature of the people and regular bargaining were sure signs we were crossing a divide. Hopping on a ferry at the tragically famous WW1 battleground of Gallipoli, we crossed the strategically vital Dardanelle straits and I set foot in Asia for the first time. Only briefly letting my mind wander as to the vastness of this continent, what wonders and challenges I would experience and how long I might call this currently foreign land home.
As a thankful respite for mom, the riding flowed relatively easily, the wild camping was relaxed and before long we were on a ferry across the mercifully calm Sea of Marmara into the iconic craziness of Istanbul, and in doing so effectively avoiding the suicidal traffic around the metropolis.
It’d had been a tough and stimulating opening leg and the mother-son journey was underway, relations were amicable (not a guaranteed, but other than mild petulance on my behalf we make a great team!). And battle-axe mother was clearly ready for anything this journey could throw at her. First though, there was the vast tapestry of history and culture to discover in one the world’s great cities.