As usually happens, I have no idea what exactly to write about. Therefore, at the beginning of each post, I will clarify what it's about.
So, first off, some technical and bureaucratic information. The pages where we agreed on the trip are in a special section. Also there are some short discussions in the comments.
The trip was conceived and organized by Igor Shchukin , for which, obviously, a huge thanks to him. I will introduce the rest of the participants more broadly as events unfold, so as not to overload you with information right away. But we won't be able to do completely without it, because on the trip I somewhat served as a culturologist. As is widely known, the best way to get rid of excess garbage in your head is to dump it on others, which is what artists and other creative types usually do. So I'll follow their example.
So, 6 people participated in the trip, it lasted 8 days, but the last one was just flying home, just like the first one was arriving. That is, effectively, 6.5 useful days.
Turkey, if anyone is unaware, is located right here:
That is, on top it has - the Black Sea, on the bottom – the Mediterranean, and on the left - the Aegean. The rest doesn't interest us, because we weren't there. Also next to Turkey are Armenia and Georgia, and across the sea – Russia and Ukraine. Greece, obviously, well, and Syria with Iraq and Iran. Not the most pleasant neighborhood, let's be honest.
This is the first, rough map of the project.
Syria is a wild country altogether, and the Turks would gladly bomb it, considering that it's full of Islamic fundamentalists, and Kurds are hiding there (a separate topic about them). At my workplace (and not only there), many people for some reason think that the moment a tourist appears in Turkey, they'll immediately be attacked by janissaries on camels with sabers and in national garb, who will take all their money and throw them in a zindan to await a ransom. In reality, if there is any danger for a traveler in these parts, it's only in Syria, Iran, and Iraq. And even then — usually only for women traveling alone.
After we got a sixth expedition member in the role of a navigator, a refined route plan emerged.
Anyway, I'm getting ahead of myself, and I've drifted off topic. I'll write about the organization, since I promised. In general, there is all sorts of information on the internet about how to organize tourist bike trips, so I won't delve deeply into it.
What they usually do.
1. Plan the route. For us, the chief and the navigator planned the route, and from a culturologist's point of view, it was quite successful, had it been fully realized. But more on that later. After planning, you have to buy tickets — in advance, because it's cheaper that way. They cost us only 194 lats per person. Transporting a bicycle one way — 20 lats. We flew with airBaltic. And let's not forget the quirks of economy tickets — you can't return them, you can't change the departure date, and changing the passenger costs a lot of money. Plus one (no more) bag weighing 20 kg - that's a separate 6 lats added to the ticket price.
2. Assign roles. If there aren't enough people, one person takes on several roles at once, if there's an excess of participants — some will be left without one.
We had a chief, a navigator, a doctor, and a quartermaster. For a bike hike, you also need a mechanic, it's good to have an accountant too, and very nice to have a person who will mostly communicate with the locals, if not in the local language, then at least in English. I partially fulfilled this role, since I was the culturologist. The latter isn't mandatory for a hike, but it's useful — because at least you understand what you're seeing, how to perceive it, and how to act.
The people in the respective roles, naturally, must prepare properly and take communal gear to perform their necessary functions. That is, the doctor — a first-aid kit and some medical knowledge, if possible. The mechanic — more tools and spare parts. The quartermaster — food for the first little while, a burner to heat food, and tents (they need to be distributed among the participants). The navigator — detailed and not-so-detailed maps, as well as a GPS, if available. I, as a culturologist-linguist, took an iPhone, onto which Wikipedia, the Great Soviet Encyclopedia, a Russian-Turkish dictionary, and English-Turkish phrasebooks/tutorials were loaded. It all came in very handy, the iPhone was top-notch here. As a GPS, it's absolutely useless, but hopefully more on that later.
3. Pack personal items. This is at the very least cycling clothes, panniers, a bike helmet, documents (insurance and passport), money, dishes, a sleeping bag, and a sleeping pad. I also brought an emergency and a regular charger for the iPhone (see below), emergency rations in the form of beef jerky, nuts, and dried apples, a small backpack, and bungee cords for securing cargo, which turned out to be very useful. Also, don't forget medical insurance, and it should match the type of trip you are undertaking. In our case, it's amateur sports. Moreover, the bicycles went under the category of skis, because the insurers didn't have another one provided. In any case, I don't advise skimping on insurance — medicine in Turkey doesn't shine, so it's better to have one that also covers evacuation back to your homeland. I also had a small, crappy little camera, but it'll do for documentation.
There's also all sorts of stuff about gear on Google Docs.
4. Pack the bike. For the flight there, I used a very simple approach — I asked a Trek bike shop for a cardboard box, the kind bikes are shipped in from the factory. I liked this option, and I will use it in the future. I also had to drag along packing tape and 300-liter trash bags to pack the bike for the way back. They take up not as little space and weight as it might seem.
As for the bike itself, it additionally had: a front fender, a rear rack (you can't install a shortened rear fender if there's a rack), front and rear lights, a GPS mount, a simple ugly bike water bottle from Maxima, and a cage for it. Naturally, my CatEye CD300DW bike computer as well. It's a useful thing, whichever way you look at it, especially knowing your current speed — it helps not to get too carried away on steep descents.
As for the dates, we were supposed to fly out on Thursday, April 30, and return on Thursday, May 7. This gap included two public holidays — in this cunning way, Shchukin saves vacation days to fly somewhere else later. I only get vacation in full weeks, so the savings didn't work out, and I'll only go back to work on Wednesday. Ah, whatever — this report will eat up a lot of time anyway, and I don't feel like working right after coming back. Especially since it's far from a given that I'll have enough money to travel anywhere during all my vacations.
In the next part — departure and arrival.