Let’s go Mojo

Right.. my bloody mojo is acting like a stroppy teen.  Refusing to get out of bed before 12, walking round with a face like someone thats just found out they have the smallest dick in the class, grunting and refusing to communicate.  My mojo is my biggest problem.  He’s a spoilt brat, a bit of a twat to be perfectly honest.   On the trip so far he’ll just occasionally just look up .. mutter ‘whatever’ .. and go straight back to sleep.  The only ways to stimulate him out of his stupor are either a shot from a taser or something new to look at.  I want to try the taser.. I’ve often wondered what that feels like ..

But luckily for him,  from today we’re heading out into unknown territory for a while.  We’re heading into the mountains to  see the Nemrut Heads.   That’s about as far as my research often goes.  It’s on the route.  There is a road. 2 out of 2.  Let’s go.

As I’m eating my breakfast I get a text from Steve, the rider that went home in Germany.  He’s had a load more episodes, including one so bad he called his daughter out to help him.. who insisted he go to A&E.. who diagnosed him with Sepsis.  42 degrees temperature and close to organ failure.  He’s in ICU hooked up to drips as they bring him back from the brink.  Fuck..

Out of Cappadocia in the rain.  No balloons today. The brightly coloured balls of hot air that usually welcome in the day have been replaced by dark clouds of lead and slate.  The cool and wet is a bit of a relief and gives you something to think about until thoughts of coffee butt in.  The road is pretty desolate and it’s another polished shitter too.  Even the trucks and cars are taking it really easy up and over the hills.    I’m peculiarly enjoying it today though.  It’s quite cold, it’s wet and it’s windy.  Its not a day you would choose to ride and that’s maybe why I like it.  It’s a good contrast against all the beautiful hot easy riding we’ve had so far and it makes you appreciate it.

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And another reason my mojo has joined me up at the controls is that we’re leaving the main tourist border behind us.  Escaping the traps. Checking out and going more our own way.  Of course we’re not alone. Many many people come this way but as the isolation increases and the bad lands that sit next to Turkey get closer you get a different type of traveller.

Stop at a cafe for a break and its virtually deserted.

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And get cake.. can a block of pure sugar and honey and what looks like shredded wheat .. or maybe beard .. be called a cake?  My tongue has  quickly recalibrate itself the moment it enters my mouth for fear of me being overtaken by the sugar rush.  Honey is a huge industry out here.

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The heads are way up on a 7000ft mountain top in the middle of bum fuck nowhere and so getting there is not as straightforward as I thought.   Imagine a road builder with one big FUCK OFF brush that he dips once in tarmac and pulls all the way to the heads some 50 miles away.   At first the brush is full of tarmac.. all lovely and smooth

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Then as we get further away from the pot of tar, the strip gets narrower and narrower..

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and narrower

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until the tar all buts runs out and you wonder if you’re really on the right road.  It gets stupid steep with lots of very tight switchbacks .. like those paths up from some beaches .. I remember it almost disappearing entirely for a while and getting like a footpath through some trees.. but then all of a sudden you meet the road started by the other bloke on the other side of the mountains and it all starts to improve again until very near the heads you reach a long brick paved section.  Its stupid steep again but the views open out, the sphincter starts to relax and you just sit back and enjoy.

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You’d think there would be loads of accommodation around a site like this but no.  We’re in a very basic place whose Booking.com pictures were taken on film back in the 80s I reckon.  It’s falling apart at the seams and the swimming pool is empty and full of rubbish.   The glass on the office door is smashed and the rooms are pretty basic but who cares.  This is an evening where the worst of times just unexpectedly turns into the best of times.  You think you’ll remember it for one reason, but you will remember it forever for another.

We haven’t really planned how we’ll get up to the heads.  Maybe try to ride up in the morning.  So I speak to the owner and ask if they organise anything.  She says if we want to go, then we want to go at sunset and we have to leave now.  They have an old transit they can take us up in.  £12.50.  Sounds fair enough.. that’s only just over £60 for the 5 of us.. but no .. thats £12.50 total.  Thats a bag of fish and chips.

So we all quickly get into civvies and get in the van.  The route up is very very steep and the bloke can’t loose any momentum anywhere.  About 10km later we arrive at a concrete building and the driver takes us in to get our tickets.  Sunset isn’t for a couple of hours yet and we all think we’ll have a quick look and bugger off quick style.

There are quite a few people here .. bussed in from towns to the south, drawn to these weird objects way up on top of the mountain.  The sun is beginning its evening ritual now and the light is changing quickly.. I walk to the edge of the balcony and look out.. it feels like I’m flying

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I’m absolutely not into any of this spiritual nonsense .. but places like this are again appealing to senses beyond the normal 5.  Its busy with people.. but it feels like every person has other souls along for company .. you can almost hear their voices or the movement of their feet as we all head out and up the long long long climb up to the heads.  7000ft isn’t that high but the path is long and steep with very big steps.  Lots of people are resting/dying on the way and talking quickly gives way to the sounds of panting and deep breaths.

And here they are.  Nothing special really.  Not on their own anyway.  Some consider these 2000 statues as the 8th wonder of the ancient world.  Originally the heads stood on the bodies but at some point they were separated and  placed on the ground in front.  As I look at them I can’t help wondering if I am looking at them.. or if they are looking at me.
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The whole experience is getting inside me.  Way up on the top of a mountain in the middle of nowhere people toiled and sweated and worked themselves to death for this for who knows what reason.  Fuck what a lucky twat I am to be right here right now ..

People are gathering to watch the sunset, sitting on the rocks, some singing, all with faces painted deep orange as the last of the suns rays make their 90 million mile journey to their eyes.

For me its a peculiarly pleasurable experience that I wont ever forget, and I think some of the others think likewise.

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Back at the hotel we have a simple dinner by candle light as the power decides to cut out then we all disappear into the darkness of the night.

Next morning I’m woken by the sounds of birds swooping and eating on the wing just outside the windows.  Watching their shadows chase across the curtains is quite mesmerising

IMG_8677 IMG_8727 IMG_8635 When we were coming down the mountain last night we were overtaken by a group of kids and their dad having a race, and they’re here this morning having breakfast.  They’re British and they’re travelling round in a big converted van.  Him, his wife and FOUR kids.  He is in the army and is currently stationed in Turkey on one of these psudo missions that exist the world over to give soldiers something to do when they’re not fighting.  I think by the looks of it, his mission is some sort of NATO breeding program.

I really like moments like this.  A simple breakfast in rough accommodation with the sun shining and looking forward to yesterday’s ride in reverse.  We really wanted to go south and east from here but ukgov advises against it, and the soldier says its best to keep away from there at the moment.IMG_8743 IMG_8735 IMG_8731

Riding a route in reverse is always a completely different experience.  The views are all different, the wind is different, the smells are different, but all just as good if not better than the journey in

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We’re headed for Elâzığ today so just a short hop.  Another random provincial city but I often like these places more than the brand name places.  They’re not pretending to be anything, or keep a 1000 year legacy alive, they’re just going about their business.

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Today’s hotel is the polar opposite of yesterday.  Functional,, clean, comfortable, and completely characterless.  But its just a means to an end, a waypoint on the journey.  It will have its memories like everything else but they will fade a lot faster than the rest.

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There is a car in the car park that looks to have had a ‘functional’ respray :)

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Looks like my level of handiwork..

Take a wander round the town to try and find some stuff for my verruca thats started to really hurt.  BTW.. if you need to know the translation for verruca its ‘take your sweaty shoe and sock off and put your foot on the pharmacy countertop and point’.  Worked for me ..

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Time for another shave I think.  We’re now in the middle of Turkey and you would think that all I can find would be old Turkish barbers with 200 years of experience.  Walk into the barbers and the only bloke available is a 10 year old Iranian immigrant.  Ho hum .. I like to let fate decide as much as I can so I sit down and expect the worst.  I dont think they get that many tourists here because as soon as we start we’re mobbed by all his mates.  The shop is full and the bloke is having trouble finding elbow room to get round me.  I’m having a dozen simultaneous GoogleTranslate conversations and trying to keep still and avoid a razor/jugular moment.   The shave is another in a long line of disappointments but its the experience that counts.

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It takes ages walking about looking for somewhere to eat but eventually we spot something above a parade of shops.  It smells of stale ashtrays and spilt drinks but maybe thats the way the locals like it.   Still, it has a couple of enthusiastic young waitresses.   Strange though.  I knew the Turkish were a hairy, but this is the first time I’ve seen a girl with a moustache on her nipple.

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