We’ve got a boat to catch but its not until 8pm so we’ve got a day to waste. I booked the ferries a few weeks ago but the process was quite protracted and I’m concerned. The website was up, down, inside out, backwards, and never the same twice. Trying to pick tickets was like trying to pay darts on a trawler in the middle of a storm in the north sea. I walk down to the docks to the office and collect printed tickets, which are all in Steve’s name as he was the first rider on the list. Steve has gone home. This could be interesting. Changing the booking seems impossible so we’ll just have to rock up and see what gives.
First we need to sort Brian’s tyre. There are a lot of bike shops round here. One of the riders has booked an oil change for his Tenere so I wander down and see if they can sort the tyre.. but no. They don’t have tubes it seems. They are a Yamaha dealer, and stock bikes with tubes .. I dunno. I’m going to change the habit of a lifetime and push some goo into my tyre in the hope it can seal the split in the band.
Then get a coffee at a place that sounds like it was opened just for me 
Luckily there is a pukka tyre fitter not too far away. He’s an old racer with pictures of his endeavours all over the walls. He takes the tyre off and has a laugh at the tubeless solution inside. He’s seen it a few times before.. which is telling in itself. It only cost about £2.50.. how good do you think it’s going to be! I wouldn’t ride to the end of the drive .. which in my case is approximately 5 ft.. with it, let alone Greece and beyond. We go for a coffee across the road and the bloke tells me to move my bike directly in front of his door as its a very high crime area. Perhaps my bike really is safer in Mordor than out on the street after all.
Its absolutely roasting outside, too hot to be walking about wasting time so we decamp to reception, pile up our belongings and wait. I decide to repack, it doesn’t take long. All my clothes and my shoes fit inside a small bag that I live out of.
About 6 we all wander down to the docks and go to board. There is a ship here with the back door open, which is good, and they accept our tickets which is even better. Go to get the keys to our cabins and the shitfest devil decides to make an appearance. I was wondering where he had been. I hoped .. well.. never mind ..
There were going to be 6 of us and I’ve booked one full cabin of 4 and two of us in another 4 bed cabin. The 4 is fine. The 2 isn’t. It’s a women only cabin. The booking system has let me book 2 men into a women only cabin.. ummmm. I could tell the eyes staring at me from behind the screen that I’m identifying as ‘Madge’ today and that I demand they respect my chosen identity. I could do that.. but I think I’d find myself drinking sea water within about 10 seconds of saying it. The creature behind the glass is identifying as a she-devil and presently the plexiglass seems to be protecting me more than her .. the conversation is over.. I can’t use that cabin. ‘Can you look to transfer me?’ Of course she cant, that would be far too efficient. I have to get off the ship, go to the dock and find the ticket portacabin. I get there and I’m only 50% by fluid weight than when I started. The ticket girl takes pity and hands me some water and towels… and tells me she cannot change the booking without the other part of my ticket.. that was torn off when we boarded. So I have to go back onto the ship and ask for the stub. One very dirty look and 10 minutes later and I’ve got the stub and I’m back at the cabin. There are absolutely no spare cabin spaces. Well that was well worth all that trouble then. They give me a seat but thats not going to work. I’ll just have to lay on the floor somewhere. Still. We’re all on board at stage one of the journey and thats all that matters.
We’re off. Night falls and I choose the cleanest bit of carpet I can see and just get horizontal. I’ve got my full kit on and right now its a fully charged sweat sponge. I spend a fractious few hours with teenage dreams of nights on random floors covered in party food and discarded clothes before peeling myself off the stain on the carpet and raising the others from their beds. The ship docks at 5:30 in Chios just as the sun begins the daily struggle to lift itself off the horizon and slowly drag its mass into the sky.
The dockside cafes are geared up to bring half dead bodies back to life. They rush out like paramedics and administer strong coffee through drips and wave warm confectionary under our noses until we come round and join the human race again.. and pay of course. Turkey is just across the water from here and the next ferry.. all being well.. leaves at 8:30 from just up the dock. Another set of tickets booked on the internet during a fractious late night internet session. All I can do is cross my fingers and wait.
We wander up to the dock and queue for the ferry. Its right there in front of us. We have to go through some immigration check before we can board. ‘Do you have insurance?’. ‘Nope. We’re going to get it on the other side’. Maybe a look crosses his face. Maybe he deliberates about whether to drop us in the shit or not.. but either way he lets us through. After some confusion about them thinking we had unconfirmed tickets they let us board and we’re on our way across the water to Cesme in Turkey.
Before we left I tried to find out about getting insurance here. I’ve been to Turkey before and you get it at the border no problem. But here I read you need to leave the bike and go into town to get it then come and retrieve the bike. I talked to the others about it. I KNOW I read it.. but self-confidence can be shattered in a blink of an eye when confronted by someone at a border in uniform. And so it goes today..
We get through the immigration no problem but at customs they want to see insurance. I say we’re going to get it in town but the customs bloke declares, ‘Turkey doesn’t issue insurance to foreign vehicles any more. Not for the last two years. You’re going to need to sort insurance out yourself’, redirects us to a small cafe in a nomansland holding area and walks off. My self-confidence has evaporated. It’s shattered on the floor. When did I last come? 2018, so more than 2 years ago. And how old was that post? More than 2 years? Quite probably… fuck… so what do we do now? I have a quick google.. there are insurance agents in town.. but the bloke said .. I dunno.. One of the riders has got Turkey on his green card. He is riding a bike bought through a company in Italy. That company gives us a contact for someone who can help and who we get in contact with but it could be a protracted process. And then, as if by magic, someone from the cafe points us to a young bloke with a laptop who works for the local tourist agency. It’s almost like they planned it.
Anyway, he says he can do it for us. Horah. We’re saved. He gets on the web and off he goes. Apparantly the process can only be done with a Turkish credit card. So he takes all our details. Price is €50 for 90 days which is fine. OK. Click the button please. Time to go
5 minutes later he appears with paperwork. One piece of paperwork. He says they have taken the money for 4 bikes but only send the insurance for the first bike. Great. Given my experiences with the Turkish ferry websites I’m inclined to believe him, but again, maybe I’m just a perfect mark. So now he’s in contact with both the bank and the insurance to get the €150 back. He shows me his bank statement with the 4 withdrawals on.. I’m in deep by now.. I’ll believe anything. We wait a few hours.. then a few more. He talks to the bank (or his uncle) on speakerphone to get updates. The answer is basically fuck knows. Could be today. Could be tomorrow. He wont apply for the other 3 bikes again until he has the money back.
The natives are getting restless by this point.. and they suspect we’re being played. I like to think I’m not, I generally like to give people the benefit of the doubt but, wether this is a scam or not we’re not going anywhere until this is sorted out. We’re stuck. So I resort to the last rule of negotiating. I give up and throw money at the problem. My own money. I wave €150 in cash at him and tell him that he can have that. He can keep it. But he needs to reapply for the insurance a single bike at a time.. and he has to do it now. And surprise surprise, 10 minutes later we all have insurance in our hands and we can leave the building. We arrived about 9 and it’s now getting on for 4pm.
We have only about 100 miles to run from here so its straight onto the motorway and south to Ephesus. Park the bikes behind a highly secure locked metal gate, go for a swim, trip on a turtle and go for dinner.
You have to register for an HGS card to use the motorways here so the next morning after breakfast its a trip to the local PTT office to register. Only takes 5 minutes but as an outsider you can’t use the app so we just load the cards up and hope for the best. I think you can stop at motorway services and check them anyway. We wont be on any motorways for weeks yet but we could have been tagged last night.
We’re heading south to the coast today. I’m prepared to be bored.. prepare for the worst and hope for the best .. and sometimes the best happens
Hot and sticky. Just the way we like it. One of the riders has couriered for the Turkish WRC rally and has suggested a tiny place in the mountains on the coast. Its up a stupidly steep and twisty climb like all the best places are. Everything is trying to discourage you from getting there. The surface is frequently shot to pieces and covered in oil from any truck stupid enough to try its luck but the risk is worth the reward. A little B&B built into the side of the mountain and a terrace with a 30 mile ultra high definition widescreen display currently showing a slowly setting sun.
