Day 70: Monday 10th October 2011. Sobhia Gokcen Airport to Apsley

And you thought it was all over. After being taken away in men by white coats at the airport, because of repetitive strain injury to my brain because of listening to the announcements non stop The morning finally came and after much debarcle at the check in desk was eventually allowed to check in. The plane was grounded for 40 minutes and the flight had the most turbulence I have ever experienced. At Luton, My arrival airport in England the fun just kept on coming. The bike was supposed to arrive through that blue door over there. After 30 minutes of sitting at an empty carousel I went for a wander and found it sat at that blue door over there. Exiting Luton Airport I had the enjoyable task of cycling home in some of the strongest winds I have ever cycled in..ever. A lot of screaming and laughing hysterically got me home and when Maddy said have you seen the text I sent you, I almost cried. It said, I'm home early. Would you like me to come and pick you up?!

I bet you can't wait for some post trip analysis and recommendations on what gear to buy or not buy?

Day 69: Sunday 9th October 2011. Buyukcekmece to Istanbul.

A combination of the wind when putting the tent up, not being able to use tent pegs and perhaps a little bit of Austrian lager may have contributed to the state of it this morning, that and the fact that it rained and blew all night. Apart from a quick dash to the on site toilets I just tried to pretend it wasn't happening and hid under the foil bubble wrap, but the Security Guard came a knocking and wanted to know when I was going. I gave the signal of 5 minutes and hid back under my blanket and closed my eyes and hoped it would all get better on its own, it didn't. The guard went off on his motorbike and when I checked the gate I was locked in. It was a Sunday, would I be here until Monday? Oops. Rather than worry about such trivial matters I just packed up best I could in the weather. The rocks I had used to secure the tent where not rocks but a really weak, sand heavy cement mixture and just crumbled in the rain. My tent pegs through the fence method had worked really well though, must remember that one. By the time everything got packed up, I was wet but a new guard had appeared and let me out. Off into the miserable morning blowing a gale and chucking it down. The hill I thought I had avoided was now before me and I had to scale it for myself. I forgot to charge the GPS and had no idea how far I had gone or even how long but stopped, looking rather pathetic and got some food and tea. My hopes to warm up a bit where rather scuppered by the back door of the establishment being permanently open and creating a fantastic through draft. Wet, miserable and cold I dragged myself back outside into the rain which had now got worse and set off for Istanbul. With having to catch the plane tomorrow I wasn't looking forward to a rain soaked quick look round the tourist fuelled and money driven big city after experiencing so much genuine hospitality from genuine people. The ride into Istanbul took for ever in driving rain and four lanes of traffic. The pot holes got you by hiding under puddles and the water poured down the hills onto the roads and brakes were virtually useless . My hands became numb from being a permanent fixture holding the brakes as tight as I could whilst careering down hill at about 30mph. A glint of sun came through the clouds about 12 and I started to feel a glimmer of hope. A quick kebab and a coffee at Istanbul prices got me ready and when I reached Sultanhamet I went looking for a cheap hotel. The first one I tried was the best because he assured me the transfer to the airport for 10 Euros would take a bicycle. No one else would. The easyjet airport I was using for the plane home is about 50km from central Istanbul and I needed to check in around 11:00. This meant a really early start and hoping nothing would go wrong and crossing my fingers for half decent weather. It was just too much to ask so 10 Euros seemed the perfect solution and I could relax and stay here for the rest of the evening. I went back to the hostel and double checked about the bicycle. The guy at reception seemed offended by me asking this and he kept saying no problem no problem but he would phone them, just to make me happy. They wouldn't take bicycles! Even for extra money. The guy gave me two other options: a private taxi, about £40 and an airport bus from a different part of town, 10km away. The private taxi was out so that left the bus, hitch-hike or pedal my way to nearer the airport tonight. The cycling tonight would mean I couldn't spend any time in Istanbul the weather was still not great and it was going to be dark before I got there. I would also still have to find somewhere to stay and get to the airport in the morning. Whilst deciding on the options a guy comes up to me and asks where I have been etc after seeing the bike. At first I dont sport his Ortlieb bar bag he is carrying and don't realise he is a cyclist too. When I mention Thomas Stevens his eyes light up. Have you heard of him I say. Yes he says, do you know another French guy called Roman I am his friend. A little Thomas Stevens moment for me as someone knows Who I am without having met them before. We arrange to meet back at this spot at 7pm to have dinner if I'm still in Istanbul. I cycle off to Taksim Square to find out about the airport buses. I end up climbing ridiculous side streets of anything up to 15% and decide this might be a ridiculous idea but I persevere and find the bus. 12TL gets me to the airport, bicycles no problem and they leave every half an hour. It's started to rain again now and I really just want to pay my 12 lira and get on the bus now. Romans friend had suggested sleeping at the airport which hadn't even occurred to me, too easy you see. No building sites or dogs or burning corn fields to worry about. I decide with all the hassle of packing the bike up for the plane, this is unfortunately going to be the option I am going to take....So what should of happened was: I got on the bus, didn't see much of Istanbul and enjoyed the coach ride in the warm and slept at the airport. A relaxed end to the end of the adventure. Istanbul will have to be the start of the next part rather than the end of this part. EPIC WRONG of massive size. What actually happened was...I'm outside the coach talking to the driver who asks me if I'm getting on, and something comes to me that I hadn't thought of. If I get on the coach now it means I will not be cycling into Asia when I go across the bridge. I will be on a coach.

Even though its been a miserable day and the thought of sitting on that warm coach eating something nice and just having a chill for the next hour and a half is so nice I decide not. The plan is I will cycle over the bridge, take the picture of me with the Welcome to Asia sign and cycle back and then get the coach to the airport. I've come too far to not finish a continent. I can live with not having much time in Istanbul as I have been here a couple of times before and crap weather is not the way to see it. So off I go into the damp evening, its rush hour and I encounter the most traffic I've seen in 69 days. I take a wrong turn to the other bridge by mistake and have to do some barrier hopping with the aid of a Traffic policeman. If this policeman had told me what the next one told me the evening may worked out quite differently. I weave my way through the three lanes of traffic which is chock-a-block going out to the Asian side of Istanbul at 6pm. I can see the traffic snaking out towards and over the bridge, I'm nearly there, I'm getting quite excited even with the rain and traffic to negotiate. What happens next certainly changes the feel of the whole trip. Two Police on the hard shoulder stop me. They say I can't go over the bridge on a bicycle. I try to explain I'm going to the airport but they think I mean the other airport ad point back the way I've come. Airport mix up resolved the answer is still no. I ask how do I get to the airport with only two bridges being the way across. Needless to say I'm getting a bit upset and what a time to encounter some Police authority of which I've had none on the whole adventure. A minibus driver on the hard shoulder in front of me is gesticulating at the police and at me. I think he has been pulled over for something and is getting irate that they are not dealing with him rather than me but what transpires is just plain Turkey. The Police have commanded this guy to stop seeing that he has an empty bus and is stuck in the traffic and commanded/asked him to take me across the bridge. This then puts me in a right fluster as this is not what I set out to do at all. I get whipped up in the moment and go along with it. I quickly form a plan that I can get out near the other side and cycle back and do some photos. This is not quite what happens though. My free private driver doesn't speak English so I have to wait for my opportunity to tell him to stop. Before this opportunity happens he keeps asking if I'm going to the airport. I say no, but then say yes as I think this will be an easier answer. I think he is asking me this as he is going to the airport as well. So perhaps the best solution to this whole sorry day is just to sit tight, miss out on a photo and a few km's of cycling and go to the airport. I can treat myself with the money I've saved. Yes yes airport I say enthusiastically and off we go. I relax and enjoy the ride. UNTIL.....30km from the airport he drops me off and explains he is getting off the motorway here. Bloody hell, could today get any more fucked up. Off I get dejected, 7pm dark, motorway, rain. So what would any other ordinary human being do in this situation. Of course. I start singing chirpy chirpy cheep cheep for some unknown reason at the top of my voice and get on with it. I saw signs turning off to the airport ages ago on the bus so I don;'t know the way. My map of Turkey is next to useless because it covers the whole country. I come off the motorway find a garage and ask someone. The magic of the iPhone comes into its element and someone shows me the way on googlemaps. Back on the road I go trudging along in the dark on the hard shoulder. I see a small kebab shop on the side of a road parallel and head off for the best meal I've had so far. A chat with the owner who is also a cyclist, a warm up, a few chais and back on it. A while later I see a parade of shops and decide to stock up for the night and spend the last of my Turkish cash. I would do this anyway but spending the night in airport and buying from there will cost a fortune so you know me. I visit various shops to get what I want including a few beers, one of which is a new Efes I havent sampled which makes the cycle a little easier. Pretty soon I see a sign for the airport and I start to relax knowing that I am at least heading in the right direction. The call to prayer wails out in the darkness and I peel off for the long airport road. Although I spend about 10km on this I'm rather amused and distracted by the thousands of little snails that have come off the grassy slopes in the wet and for some reason want to try and cross the road. I cant imagine many are successful. I must of crunched at least a couple of hundred of them. I try my best to weave in between them but there are so many it's unavoidable. Soon I see the planes fly over head taking off from the runway. Before you know it I'm at the airport and warm and cosy inside.....WRONG. I get to the airport and a rather common feature of airports near the middle east is they have x-ray machines before you get into the airport. I had this nightmare when I went to Egypt. Rolling up on a bicycle loaded with stuff is not on the menu of the airport staff. No one knows what to do and they just point you off in different directions till you leave your bike behind or cycle off. Problem 1. Bike does not go through x-ray machine so has to have all luggage taken off it. Problem 2. Bike needs to go one place, luggage another. Does any body help or offer advice. Course not. Do they get upset when you leave one of them unattended. Of course they do. Luggage is through, now bike. The policewoman is dealing with this and when satisfied will let me through the side. PROBLEM. I'm called back to luggage. One of my bags needs to be emptied. You just knew it would come back to haunt me. Its the used bullet I found in Austria. Souvenir I say. Not any more they say. But nothing happens so I go back to dealing with the bike. In the massive hilarity that has been today I have plain forgot to empty my fuel bottle of petrol. I make sure I get in first and tell them this, offering to take it outside and tip It away. No NO, you cant do that. Thrice in one day Turkish law suddenly springs into action. The customs man who found the bullet and the policewoman have a conversation with lots of pointing. p and a bullet, I have to be a terrorist. I persuade them both that me going outside and getting rid of the 100ml of petrol is the shortest happiest ending to all this for all of us and they agree but I have to be escorted and shown where to pour it, the nearest drain. So bike and luggage finally through x-ray machine No. 1 I can finally relax (ish). I now have to repack the bike to move it all. I find a little spot as out of the way as possible, crack open a beer and give the biggest sigh I have ever given. Adventure, Shenanigans and Ridiculousness right up to the very last second.

I have been Richard Turner following Thomas Stevens. Thank you for reading. GOOD NIGHT!

Day 68: Saturday 8th October 2011. Mavi Yelken to Buyukcekmece, TURKEY. The hunt for a spindle.

Not having been shot or wounded in the night I get up grab a welcome shower as my foot bandage came off in the sea and with all the shenanigans I hadn't even realised. A big flap of skin is opening the cut and all sorts of nasties are working their way in. Mehmet was most kind/odd/drunk in the night. He came back rather late, crept into my room and put a blanket on me. Later on he came back and tucked it in. Go with the flow I did and I here I am. Mehmet was still asleep when I woke up so I eat what I have in my bag for breakfast and pack up. Still no stirrings in the other room but the telly is on and the phone is off the hook with the message repeating over and over every five minutes. I give the guy a knock and wake him up to say goodbye and thanks at the least. He stirs a bit but nothing is registering, then he looks me straight in the eyes and straight through me. It's like he hasn't even seen me and rolls back over. I call his name a few more times and nothing, a bit louder and he grunts and I look at him until he focuses. I'm a bit worried he doesn't know who I am but when I mention the bicycle he jumps into life has a quick wash and we're off looking for the local bicycle shop which may or may not be open as it is a Saturday. We find the shop which is a shed with less spare parts than my garage. He does have a spindle but is too big. He says to Mehmet that I will have to go to Istanbul but I'm sure a city of Silivri size will have something I can use even if not the proper part for the job. On the way back to somewhere for coffee I go back to the cafe where I met the guy from Hackney to see if they are about and say thank you and explain what happened to me last night. They are closed but opposite is a hardware shop. I know exactly what I want, march in, ask if they speak English (no) and go looking around the shelves for a piece of long threaded metal to use instead of a spindle. I manage to get the message across by pointing at various bits, and lo and behold out he pops with exactly what I'm after, only not. Because it's 2mm too big in diameter. He has no smaller but I take a photo and get the name of it for future reference. I meet up with Mehmet who has forgotten about coffee so I say my thank yous and wave goolay goolay. On the way to the main road to Silivri with my 1mm of nut holding the wheel on I pass the cafe again and this time there is life. I explain what happened but there's no translator here this time to help. I'm invited in for tea, we work out how to use the internet and I'm also invited for breakfast with the family. They are Kurds who have moved here from a town called Oflar in the south east of Turkey. They play some Kurdish wedding music and do a little dance linking their little fingers together. Sedir pulls a face that I know well, whilst listening to the music. He's just in a state of bliss. On the road to Silivri a van pulls along side me and starts to chat. It happens all the time but it's normally locals. It takes me a little while to realise they aren't. They are two guys from Austria. I notice a cycling sticker on the back of their van. They are off to Istanbul too. I limp into Silivri and have no problem finding the part for my bike. Even though I know they've charged me more for the part than it should normally cost it still only costs about £3. In order to redress the balance I ask them to wash the bike, which they do with the jetwash and they give me a coffee so all in all we are both happy. Now the bike is roadworthy I'm ready for Istanbul. It's about40km away.

I get some miles done and pull down into a small town to ride along the coast. It's dotted with picnic tables and two guys sat at one beckon me over for a coffee. They ask if I have eaten and

and I say yes not long ago, but they still go off and get me food and insist I take it with me if I'm not hungry now. I say ok as long as I can give them some Serbian raki in return. This gets a strange reaction but I insist. About 5pm I find a little village and go looking for a good place to camp by the sea. As I'm looking someone puts their head out of a window and shouts Liverpool. It's the two Austrians. They are looking for somewhere to camp too. They invite me to have a cold beer, which naturlich I do and we have a good old chat about all sorts. Then we decide to chuck my bike in the van and go looking for a camp together. This doesn't go very well as it's too built up and we stop in Buyukcekmece. They decide the car park is fine for them tonight and so they buy me a fish sandwich and then I go off looking for a camp. I find a building site that is locked and the head of security has decided to let me camp inside the compound. I say I'll be back in a bit and go back to the Austrians who ply me with Austrian beer they have brought with them and it turns out one of the guy's wives is a Steiner Teacher the same as Maddy's mum. We chat about the virtues of this particular educational idea and they head off to bed. Luckily they have parked next to a five aside football pitch which has showers and toilets so we make use of the facilities. I go off to the building site but the guard has changed and is a bit surprised at my request to camp and says no. Can't blame him. Then I bump into the other guy, who has a word and I'm let in. Before this though it's chai time, the small kiosk selling beers, cigarettes and food has an extension specifically for chai. I think it's for the people working on the site. It's blowing a gale and rain is due. The ground is too hard to get the pegs in so I have to tie some of the tent to the fence and use some rocks. The tent is a bit pathetic but a few beers have enabled me not to worry and I creep in and disappear.

Day 67: Friday 07th October 2011 Lulebergas to Silivri, almost. Sublime to the Ridiculous

As I write this I am currently sat in someone's living room, which doubles as their bedroom. I do not know this man's name and he speaks not one solitary word of English and he is mainly drunk. I have the spare room. How did I get here? Well....

I woke up where I went to sleep just outside Lulebergas, took forever to get going, managed 10km before stopping at a petrol station for biscuits and got chatting to some guy over a chai about dieting, sugar intake and balconies whilst he was waiting for his friend who was over the road negotiating something? I arrived in Chorlu 40km later and at about lunchtime. A kebab was found which was a sandwich which lead to another kebabwhich and a chai of which payment for both was refused. The next stop was Silivri but was never reached. I found the sea and went to investigate instead. I dipped my toe in the water but got frightened by children telling me of an electric fish which was actually dead, not asleep. One of the children chased after me up the hill shouting at me and when I looked round he had a biscuit for me, which I ate. This lead to looking for a camp by the sea which I found but was unable to reach as the whole area was a ghost town of derelict holiday homes that were not that old but the streets had gates guarded by dogs. I took a short cut to a German holiday village but ended up in a sewer and got a puncture. I repaired the puncture outside the gate of the village with the help of the security guard who said I could use the shop but his superior said no. Then the spindle on the wheel I had fixed broke and now I was in shit. But the shit came off 'cos the spindle was just long enough by 1mm to do up as long as I didn't go over any bumps. So I cycled down the motorway with 1mm of spindle nut holding the wheel on and the security guard appeared and guided me to a shop. The shop had no kebabs but it had beer and yoghurt but it was dark. So a 10 year old guided me to the kebab shop but I didn't have enough money so I just had a Turkish pizza thing. I didn't have any money after this but they gave me a coke but then a man from Hackney who was staying upstairs came in and this meant I got more pizza and chai for free and a lift to the bike shop if I wanted, which I might well do. They said to camp on the beach so I did, but three men I had said hello to earlier said don't camp here, camp up here instead, so I did, but they talked to a man in a beach side cafe and he said don't camp where they said, camp here, so I did. He said have a cup of chai so I did. He spoke German so so did I and a little man in the corner made jokes in the corner in Turkish so I laughed. Then the man who could speak German said I should sleep in a house, so I said yes. And me and the man who spoke German and the little man and another man walked up a road in the dark and I put my bicycle and me in a room with 2 beds and all the men went away and I stayed in the room. Then the little man came back. It's his house, so I got up. He put the telly on and we watched Turkey play Germany at the football. He said I must drink his beer which is in the fridge, so I did. I offered him some of my Serbian Raki but he thought this was a bad idea and I agreed. Then he said something in Turkish so I nodded then he pulled the mattress up off his bed and showed me his gun! Then he said something about three/four which I understood because I can now count up to ten in Turkish. Then he did a stabbing action. Then he phoned his wife/girlfriend/daughter/escort/chatline ??? in Istanbul and then he went out smoking a cigar and a bit drunk. So you see this is how today went.

Day 66: Thursday 6th October 2011. Havsa to Luleburgas, TURKEY

We all walk back to the cafe and I discover I have a puncture in the front wheel.

I fix this while the other two set up shop for the day. By the time I've got the puncture fixed about an hour later (there are many distractions) it's reached 27 degrees. Three cheeky school girls walk past and spy a stranger and immediately guess that I am English. I think they are 10 years old. They try out some English on me, which I try to help with. When they get stuck they reach for their text books and try out some other phrases. I think it has to be one of the highlights of the trip. I don't know if I can think of any other lesson where kids might get out their school work and say, oh hello! Let's try out what we learnt at school today in a real world situation. Yes that's a fantastic idea do you have the book???? They were so confident and so cheeky it put a massive smile on my face all day. This also reminds me that Turkey is the first place I have seen kids wearing school uniform since England. A combination of circumstances, place, education facilities and school holidays are probably the reason for this. It's a bit of a reality check as it reminds me of normal life back home. I manage to tear myself away from Havsa just before 12, my admirer makes an appearance so I think this is a good idea. On the road I am accosted by three old men who I resist but I'm had by a 4th man on a motorbike in a pincer movement. This results in much eating of various melons, because the melon man had arrived. One man couldn't stand up, another couldn't see and Tarzan, the owner of Tarzan's restaurant has one leg, or half of one leg, I can't quite tell.

Melons tested I head for Baba Eski and find a locals' eatery. I test the kofte and vanilla pudding and head out of town . 5pm finds me in Lulebargas and whilst I debate the price of figs here compared to Edirne with a greengrocer, an elder gentleman introduces himself and declares he has visited Reading. Put on my guard by the higher fig prices I instantly take him as some sort of cad and when he asks me where I am sleeping tonight I think he is angling for his brother's hotel,ncarpet shop, fez boutique etc. I couldn't have been more wrong for Gengis offers me a guided tour of the market. He gets his bicycle and I follow him closely, negotiating the busy streets. We find somewhere safe to park the bikes and we walk around the market with him answering all my questions about the various products. When we return to the bikes I buy some yoghurt and am duly furnished with some free bread to boot. I say goolay goolay to Genghis and his rather cool bike: a Bianchi with a double top tube and a rear centre stand and head out of town for Chorlu. It's just starting to get a little bit dark and I'm joined by a spotty yute at my side. After a few unsuccessful attempts at finding a shop that sells beer he points me in the right direction. His name is Cesar and he is so helpful. He rides with me to the edge of town before heading back. He teaches me to ignore the traffic lights. Not far out of town I find a little track heading off into the fields and follow it. As I get out of sight and sound of the road the track winds towards some derelict buildings. A car comes out from behind them and says meharba in a (are you lost) kind of tone. He has slots from his bee hives on the back seat. I acknowledge the bees with the worldwide recognised bee sound of buzz buzz and he nods and then points to the buildings and says buzz buzz. So I camp under a tree instead. Hopefully the stubble in the fields I can see burning in the distance wont burn this far and I will see the morning. I take all the bags off the bike and realise I have beer, yoghurt and dinner but no water. I leave all the bags where they are and drive back up the track to the road. I go the wrong way up the hard shoulder for a bit until I reach a university halls. I ask if I can get some water and the guard directs me to the canteen but I have to leave the bike. I chat to some students who guide me in to the kitchen to fill up my bottles. Some students are comparing their soft drinks and chinking their bottles. I think to myself that surely students who don't drink alcohol must do better at uni. If not, why not? I get back to where I put the bags and you can guess what's happened can't you? Yep nothing. Still all there.

Day 65: Wednesday 5th October 2011: Edirne to Havsa, TURKEY

 It's cold outside when I wake up around 7am but I'm toasty warm. I've found that my silver blanket works better over the top of me than underneath. Because of this it's rather difficult to drag myself out of my pit.

Next stop Havsa and the road is under construction. My side is shiny, new and finished. The other side is still having the finishing touches done and is not yet open to traffic. For all I know this has been done on purpose to aid the farmers. They are utilising the lovely smooth black tarmac to dry some seeds of one kind of another. Huge swathes of road are coloured light brown with the drying seeds. The farmers walk up and down the 100s of metres long strips with a big wooden rake turning over the seeds and thinning them out. Further along in my travels I see people bagging them up once dried and shipping them onto big lorries. Twenty five km up the D100 I come to Havsa. Although it's only 11am I stop for a kebab and a well needed coffee. No coffee at this establishment but they send out for chai. I love the fact that restaurants in a certain area rely on a central chai maker who arrives from no where with steaming hot red brown chai tea in a small glass on a silver tray. Usually accompanied by some sugar lumps. Kebab and chain dealt with, I do the rounds in search of some history. A lot of places I've visited in the last week or so seem to have very few reminders of the past 130 years. Old fortresses from long before but most architecture and buildings have been from 1930 onwards. Whilst investigating I come across a cafe selling ice cream and I enquire if they do coffee. Yes they do and that is the end of that day. By pure coincidence Burak the owner is a cyclist and is on couch surfing. Once I've been there for about an hour it beomes apparent that a couch is available upstairs and although I've only done a paltry 25k and it's only lunchtime, I decide to stay. Lovely people, cyclists, decent amount of English. A no brainer.

It's a lovely afternoon, 27 degrees and I while away the hours chatting to various people, learning Turkish and drinking heaps of chai and coke, with various kebabs thrown in here and there for good measure. Although I arrived as a paying customer, once the invitation has been made I am made to feel as welcome as any guest and Burac refuses to take a copper coin for anything. Upstairs in the cafe are some sofas and a small bar selling soft drinks. I'm expecting I will end up sleeping here. Chatting away to a local lady who after a while I realise may have designs on me, (sometimes things get lost in translation and I dont think my pittance of Turkish has helped at all) I ask her what time the cafe closes and she explains it is 24hrs. Umm. Could be interesting. So could the fact that she has started to tell me that her boyfriend is getting jealous of her being with me but it's ok because he is at work!! My host has been absent for the last few hours so I decide the best plan is to just stay put, drink tea and chill. When he arrives back it's time for my admirer to head home to her boyfriend and me, Burak and a few other lads have a beer. We have to go to the shop to buy it and when some customers come in, girls around 16 years old, the beer has to disappear. When he closes up for the night, I go with him and and his friend who works for him to his friends house who lodges with a family close by. The family are all in Istanbul so it has been arranged that all 3 of us will sleep there for the night. I also take the chance to grab a well needed shower. Burac prepares some pasta before bedtime and I have a lovely snooze in my Sponge Bob duvet.

Day 64: Tuesday 4th October 2011. 10km past Harmanli to Edirne TURKEY

More rave up action this morning in my field. This time its Top Buzz at Fantazia. The easy start to the morning is to get back on the motorway where I came off and get on with it, but you know me. I've seen a road running parellel with the motorway since Harmanli and I reckon it might be a tad more interetsing than Mr M. So I follow the dirt track under the bridge in the hope of ending up on said road. All goes swimmingly and I jump on the road without any fuss at all. Trouble is the road is fast going in opposite directions to Mr M and a quick peep at the map reveals why. It also says this road it eventually a dead end. I go in search of a local to seek the truth. A man says problem. No problem I say. He points to the bottom of his field and the motorway and then to his gate. I get th picture and bump off down the field chasing after the lorries like a sick dog. Sick as in well sick, yeah. The gate is locked. I spy a shepherd and am just starting over towards him when I see the loveliest of sites: an open gate. Up I pop and before you can say Michael Jackson I'm on the M. By lunchtime I cruise into Svelingrad but it's still 10k to the border crossing to Turkey, the point is called Kapitan Andreevo. Then a small chink in the armour reveals itself to me. The sign to Svelingrad peels off the M, Istanbul is straight on. No problem there. However the road to Svelingrad is also the road to Greece, it's only 8km away and a plan hatches. I stop at a shop that takes credit cards and find the beer I've been searching for for the last 3 days. I saw it in Plovdiv and haven't seen it since. It's by Kamenitza, one of the big breweries and it's an unfiltered beer. Right up my street. I have this on the table outside with last night's extra pasta I made. And crazy luck, they have wifi too. I decide to have lunch and a bit of a rest then go to Greece for the afternoon, which is not on the route and head back across the Turkish border at Edirne which is the first Town Stevens stopped at in Turkey. Well why not, it's not everyday you can cycle to Greece at the drop of a hat. It turns out not to be today you can either, some people outside of the supermarket give me lots of advice, most of which I'm nbot sure I understand. They keep pointing to their watches. I take this as a bad sign with time against me and decide that this little holiday will have to happen another time. I head back on the highway to Edirne and Turkey. Kapatan Andreevo soon comes around and it certainly feels like a border town with petrol stations, cafes and change offices lining the street on both sides.

Arriving on a bicycle seems to tickle the border guards as they ask the usual questions. At the Turkish side I have to present my passport which has no visa and then go to another office on the other side of the compound to buy one. Why they dont make the visa office at the start of the compound I will never know. I have three ways to pay. £10, E15 or $20 dollars. I knew this in advance and changed up some Bulgarian Lev into Pounds for just such an occasion. Without so much as a look through my handlebar bag I'm through customs and into Turkey. 4000 or so km since leaving Liverpool and I'm in bloody Turkey. Well I'll be. I'll be honest with you I really had no idea if I could do it, but I stuck to my mantra which I think can enable anyone to do it which is: Stop when you're worn out, eat when you're hungry, sleep when you're tired.

Things do change when you enter Turkey. A big mosque greets you for a start. The roads are a bit dustier but cleaner. The car horns have a different tone to them and are heard more often, normally as a sign of overtaking. As I'm on the hard shoulder this happens lot to me. Lots of waving from pedestrians to acknowledge my travels. They somehow know I've travelled from further afield than Bulgaria. Edirne is the first city Stevens visited, and so it will be for me too. I don't make it. About 2km out of town I run out of steam, wobbly legs all that business. I roll down a dirt track to some shady trees, put the bike down and fall asleep. About an hour later I wake up to find I'm in somebodies driveway about 50 metres from their front door. No one is around. I get up and head on to Edirne. It's about 5pm when I reach here and first thing on my mind is food. I have a kebap in the main pedestrian area and devour it. When I look up the staff of the kebab place are laughing at me, gesturing that I must have been really hungry. I was. A few days ago I had told Maddy that the trip had been the perfect length and that I thought it would be perfect timing to come home soon. But as I'm sure a lot of travellers find, when you reach a new Country as different as Turkey with the cultural, religious, food, music fashions and what not. It's hard not to get swept along on the crest of an adventurous wave and the feelings of why you departed on your trip in the first place all come flooding back. The wanderlust. The sights sounds and smells of Edirne are an instant pick me up. I buy some figs from a fruit barrow, darker here than in Serbia. Delicious. I buy some more. Some Yoghurt from the milk, cheese and yoghurt shop and an Efes, Turkeys only beer as far as I know. By the time I negotiate the difficult task of finding a toilet it's dark. I just head out of town on the main road and keep the eyes squinted looking for a break in the houses somehwere. The houses turn to fields but they are fenced off until a fortunate/unfortunate car crash has steamrollered the fence and in I go. This field is right next to the road but there are more further into the distance, a small ditch seperates me from it. I reach the end of the field and thankfully a little path takes me over the ditch and into the further field. Away from the traffic and the eyes I whip the tent and everything up super-quick in the moonlight without the need for a torch. And I enjoy my Efes, Figs and some Turkish sweets I bought from a confectioner. Marhaba Turkey.

Day 63: Monday 3rd October 2011. 30km before Haskovo to 10km past Harmanli, BULGARIA

Although chilly a fantastic nights sleep is had and I wake up and dance around my cornfield with the sun coming up like it's 1989. By placing your phone in a small coffee saucepan with the speaker facing down into said pan you can double the volume. The first song that comes on shuffle is The Guillemots: Annie, Let's Not Wait. In the first verse of this song comes the line..I woke up in a field of corn. Things like this can't help but set you up for a good day can they. The stove is too choked up with soot from using petrol to make coffee and so I down a can of red bull courtesy of the Hotel fiasco yesterday. Add some early 90's raving tunes courtesy of the telepathic shuffle on the iphone and all I'm missing is a few thousand other people. When the tiny/tinny DJ inside the garage tent starts to mix it up with some more peculiar choices I lay on my back with sun warming the day and I realise that I'm raving in a field on my own to a phone less than 50 miles away from having cycled to Turkey, fooking hell, what a laugh. Not wanting to lose the vibe man, I put the phone on its litle holder on the handlebars and leave the tunes pumping (minus coffee pot) and bump my way out of the field, down through the dried up but muddy stream and back onto the E80 towards Istanbul. When I pull up in the next town with the fat beats pumping out like a wasp in a baked bean tin the local ladies who are fitting a new pavement outside their house give me a warm reception but with a roll of the eyes thrown in for good measure. The anthems keep me rolling well today and I hit Haskovo for Lunchtime. The road here is littered with shops displaying three gold coins outside. When I drove this way three years ago I thought it was some kind of lottery. Now blessed with the perfect speed of the bicycle I realise its the sign for cheese. Doh!

I change up my 50 lev note from the hotel and get 63 turkish lira in return. I have a gigantic although only officialy medium kebab and a small savory doughnut covered in garlic sauce. I go to the local square and have a rest on a bench whilst the sun does its worst and remark on the majority of old men sat in the square. 9 out of 10 sport the Haskovo gentlemans uniform of: Baseball cap or Beret, an acrylic knitted jumper or suit jacket, suit trousers and most important of all, a pair of slip on deck type shoe of a knitted cord type material so you can see the socks through them. These shoes are usually in cream but I did see blue and white and a blue pair too.

Refreshed fed and watered I rejoin the E80 towards Svelingrad: the final town before the Turkish border. Half way and 40km from Svelingrad I reach Harmanli where I set about spending the last of my Bulgarian Levs. I still have a few coins left and instruct the lady behind the prepared food counter to dish me out some pork and rice. I pour the contents of my purse onto the counter and say that much worth please. The lady points at some of my coins laughing and says super! Then another lady points at them and says these and these pointing out the 1c and 2c coins and just says No! Soemone else had mentioned 1c and 2c coins are no longer valid but otherwise everyone is taking them. Whatever the situation I get my pork and rice and I'm a happy bunny. The signs out of Harmanli are a little confusing as two roads both point to Svelingrad. One is the motorway the other the road I have been on. Then the sign for the local road is crossed out and the motorway sign has both colour roads on it. I'm not worried about the motorway so head that way. The motorway has been built to a higher standard than most of the roads in Bulgaria and is nice and smooth with a nice wide shoulder for cyclists. The last motorway I went on had little roads and escape routes quite regularly for me to disappear on. Typically now the sun is starting to go down I can't find a way of getting off. A fence about 6 feet high runs the entire length keeping the animals off the road. After 5km I spy a small gate and wade through the undergrowth to see where it goes. It is welded shut along with all the other gates I try. Sticky buds like synthetic cycling clothes and I look like I have been paintballing, covered in little green and yellow splats. I'm resigning myself to staying on the motorway 'til Svelingrad and having a bit of a ride in the dark, when lo and behold an open gate, off I pop and meet a shepherd on the way home with his sheep and goats. I drop down from the raised motorway and into the field below. Its just scrub in between crops of squash and I here I stay.

Day 62: Sunday 02nd October 2011. Polvdiv to 40km before Haskovo. BULGARIA.

I go down stairs to tell them about the toe and enquire about a chemist. The receptionists has to ring around because it's Sunday and they don't open today. She finds one that's open. The hotel does not have a first aid kit rather annoyingly. This is not a cheapy place by the way, but the sort where business people and indeed some of the musicians from last night are staying. I go and practice the art of miming a cut toe at the chemist and acquire some antiseptic cream. Having only sandals I think this is one injury worth taking care of. I cycle to the chemists to see if the foot is ok and it appears to be, I'm lucky. When I get back the manager is called to see me about the foot debarcle, apologises for the sharp step, the lack of first aid and offers to refund the money on the room. Unfortunately it's her first day as manager, and refunding my credit card on a sunday is well out of her league at the moment. In the end I just take cash. All this takes so long to sort out I wish I'd said dont worry about it. It's 12:30 when I leave and the sun is spanking me. I stop at a supermarket for some food as everywhere else seems to be shut and head on out to Haskovo, 100km East. The road is busy all day and I have a very tiny hard shoulder to cycle in or none at all. The lorries whizz past my ear. I decide if I'm gonna go this way I'll have a smile on my face when it happens so I plug in some tunes and dance half of the day away. It is possible to dance while cycling but needs a particularly jiggy move to pull this off. Something I happen to be quite good at. I stop at a town whose name escapes me and get some supplies and at 5 o clock I disappear into a corn field and get a fair distance from the road. Apart from the hum of the traffic not a single dog or other noise is heard all night, although I do now own a zoo of insects, some of which like to jump. I will be bringing them back to England and charging admission.  

Day 61: Saturday 1st October 2011. Chiminovo to Plod Did

I decide to make the most of being up early and go across the road to get a coffee and make an early start. When I see the price and the quality and the size of the coffee I order another. This causes a bit of a mix up and I end up with three. It just seems easier to take all three and I neck em down one after the other. What happens next must to an onlooker resemble a cartoon fight when the furious ball of bodies whirrs around with various legs and arms poking out at all angles. I tear through the packing and before I know it, I'm washing some clothes in a tap and I'm off. With the extra caffeine and no sleep my plan is to ride as fast as I can for as long as I can then stop at the next town or collapse in a heap. I end up doing both at Pazardzhik. Thankfully I take refuge in a cake shop with wifi and do some computery things until I start to nap. The nap is a pretend one cos I'm wired with coffee and I go in search of food. A chips and meat kebab is ordered and I feel a bit more alive. I plod on to Plovdiv. Around 5.30 I reach the outskirts. The road here has been quite uneventful save for the vineyards. The owners (presumably) are selling grapes in huge bin bags by the side of the road. What looks to be happening is someone will come along, try the grapes, strike up a deal and buy a whole load. I'm assuming to sell on or make wine from.

Utterly exhausted and making no logical sense I decide to try and explore Plovdiv; Bulgaria's second biggest city. Then I'll get out the other side and find a camp. UTTER FAIL! After 5 minutes I ask in a hotel the cost for the night: too dear. The next one says 50lev about £22 and they show me the room. No dogs, no clubs, a big bed and for once the most important thing: a lovely bathroom. A proper shower or wash has not been had since Belgrade and my clothes could do with a proper wash too. I whip the bike and all the luggage up one flight of stairs and jump in the shower. I'm magically revived and head off into town without the bike. The receptionist has suggested a concert to go to, so after a few travellers and another kebab I find the church and take a pew (literally). Apparently the musicians are all Bulgarians who have done well for themselves getting together for a bit of a bash. It's mainly classical faves rather than Bulgarian music and whilst the setting is nice, I leave half way through in search of some gypo music. I dont find any and retire to the hotel nicely tired. Then disaster strikes. In 2 months of cycling, rabid dogs, dodgy roads, worse tracks and camping in woods, rubble, roads and rivers I give myself the worst injury so far. I cut myself on the step into the bathroom. The edging they have used is razor sharp and splits my big toe wide open, blood gushing everywhere. HOTELS ARE DANGEROUS! Dont use them:)

I mop up the blood and for the first time most of the contents of my small first aid kit are actually needed. I fall asleep watching Bulgarian folk music MTV.