Journey to myself

I woke up in my tent at after a cosy night in the tent. Luckily my sleeping set-up had proven itself, merely my sleeping bag felt wet on the outside, when waking up. Ice crystals were decorating the inside walls of my tent. -6 degree the temperature showed. I felt content and grateful for the warmth, I had experienced during the night. Leaving the tent and the warmth of my sleeping bags behind, I was freezing immediately. While getting my stove to brew some coffee, my hands got stiff and painful. The bike was covered in ice, the water in the water bottles frozen. -6 degree – I had never camped in such temperatures. The coffee was soothing my cold hands and my soul. Fortunately also Marcel’s and Frazer’s sleeping arrangements had passed the test. We cooked porridge for breakfast and packed up.

The sun was shining which made the pack up bearable. When we started cycling I was wearing top and bottom thermals, two pairs of thick socks, my rain gaiters (as protection from the cold), a fleece jacket, as well as a windbreaker and a buff. The temperature read -2 degree.

We were still on the same road, the same road that had led us out of Konya. The landscape was unremarkable and flat, with nothing but plains in sight. Marcel’s back tyre pointed towards a slow leaking puncture. When we reached a restaurant around lunchtime, he changed the tube, while Frazer and me found shelter in the restaurant. We had a delicious, warming lentil soup and pide for lunch. Being inside was reviving our spirits and toes.

After lunch we stocked up on groceries for dinner. Then pushed the pedals again, as hard a we could, to make some distance. Our plan for the night was to sleep in a mosque or a meskit, a room for praying. This would guarantee more warmth, and would also save some time for the pack up in the morning. When it was close to sunset we scoped out a meskit on the other side of the road, decided however that it is unsuitable, as a kilometre long road barrier, would have needed to be crossed with the bikes. Instead we continued cycling until we reached the next village, to examine the mosque as a possibility. ‘We just need to meet someone kind’, I said, hoping that someone would help us with shelter. The door to the mosque was open, the inside looked like a perfect shelter for the night. We wanted to cook dinner and wait for the 7pm prayer. While I was about to boil some tea in front of the mosque, a man appeared, walking into the mosque. He chatted to Frazer for a while, when he then saw how many layers we put on, he led us into a room with a heater. We chatted to the man, Hassan, via google translate. He then went home, just to come back with a delicious dinner for us: cheese, olives, eggs, yogurt, jam, bread and even cay. It seemed like all my prayers had been heard: we found shelter, with the shelter we found warmth and we found a kind soul – Hassan, who brought us dinner. Thank you universe! While eating dinner we were chatting to Hassan, I told him about my journey, my journey to meet my father for the first time.

After dinner we chatted and got our sleeping arrangements ready in our cosy and heated room in the mosque.

So Long – hoscakal from Uzunkuyu!