15-20th May 2026
We would soon be approaching Istanbul and we still weren’t completely sure which of the myriad ways we’d enter into this sprawling metropolis. What we’d read online and heard from others was that cycling into the city was a sure fire way to raise your heart rate and is something that would stay with you forever. Possibly not in a good way. Whilst this sounded tempting, we weren’t entirely convinced so we looked it what options were open to us… Ah yes, but first that border crossing and a few days riding to get done.
After passing through the Greek side of the border control, we somewhat apprehensively cycled towards a bridge free of any cars and without any indication of whether we should proceed. Our unease was compounded by the very young looking armed guards, Greek on one side of the bridge, Turkish on the other. l don’t know if it was in our heads, but the tension felt palpable. However we needn’t have worried – we managed to get to the other side of the bridge without causing a diplomatic incident or falling over.
As Holly mentioned, we had previously had a “heated” conversation about how to reach Istanbul. She favoured the more circuitous route which meandered to the north of the city, allowing you to enter on quieter roads. Meanwhile l wanted to take the ferry, bypassing the traffic completely. Fortunately for me, the slightly busy road out of Alexandropolis that morning was enough to convince Holly that my lazy/sensible plan was the one to go for.
We cycled down a motorway on the huge hard shoulder for a bit before stopping for lunch. Just as we were finishing a man who was in the (we thought empty) building we were sitting next to in our camp chairs returned from the garage with a couple of chocolate bars for us – “Monsieur” he said, as he passed them to me. This generosity set the tone for Türkiye and has been a consistent aspect of our time here. We saw our friends Janna and Jay again, both when stopping for lunch and at the hotel we stayed in that night (we weren’t quite ready for wild camping just yet), as they too were headed for Istanbul.
We had some scenic cycling the next day as we edged towards Istanbul. A friendly chap stopped in his car to ask us where we were from. After telling us he had recently been to Sheffield he was on his way. But he then decided that he wanted to talk to us a bit more and that he would be our guide for the next few kilometres. This was very nice in theory, but it was getting late, was a bit chilly and we needed to find somewhere to camp. He would drive on for a few kilometres, stop, show us a view point or picnic area that apparently were good places to go in summer, then carry on a bit more. At around 7:30pm when we were stopped again and he was showing us photos of him outside Meadowhall shopping centre and at an Irish themed mega-pub he’d been to, his friend, someone that worked in forestry, pulled up and showed us a good camping spot just down the road. It was next to an old graveyard but was fine for us. Despite Sheffield man’s kind invitation for us to cycle another 20 kilometres to his grandparents village for coffee, we decided we were done for the day as we had a 3:30pm ferry to catch the next day and 110 kilometres to cycle.
We woke up at the crack of dawn and made it to the ferry with plenty of time to spare, despite a couple of cow traffic jams. Getting onto the ferry was seamless, if a little chaotic, and before we knew it we were disembarking in Istanbul. We immediately had to shelter from a short but intense hailstorm before the stressful 2 kilometre cycle to our Airbnb – getting the ferry into Istanbul was definitely the right thing to do (yes I am smug about this one).
We both loved Istanbul. It was intense, but never really felt overwhelming. On the first day we strolled around the Grand Bazaar and the free bits of Topkapi Palace, visited the Blue Mosque and had lunch in an initially peaceful park until what seemed like hundreds of kids suddenly descended out of nowhere to consume neon blue bubblegum ice cream – we both went for cones with scoops of chocolate and pistachio, very classy, but apparently more expensive than the standard flavours/tourist tax applicable.
The second day was hotter and a bit less relaxing but still enjoyable. We went out in search of a gas canister which we found, had lunch at a very trendy vegan restaurant and strolled around hipster central, before meeting Janna and Jay again in the evening for a very tasty dinner. They also gave us their barely used gas canister so luxuries such as pasta would be back on the menu alongside our quick cook noodle staple. Our two rest days hadn’t been that restful, but it had been good to do a bit of touristing. We went to bed, ready for an early start to catch the ferry out of Istanbul again – no heated debate required. Unfortunately we weren’t to get the good night’s sleep we needed.
BANG BANG BANG. BANG BANG BANG BANG.
What the hell was that?! We had no idea what was going on. It was 2:30am and sounded like someone was pounding on our door.
A man was in fact banging on the door next to ours. “I’m going to call the police”, he shouted. l sensibly waited inside, trying to see what l could through the door peephole thingy. All l could make out was a guy with his top off. Once he seemed to have gone, I went downstairs to check our bikes were ok – priorities and all that. When l got back upstairs he was there, door now open. I politely reminded him of the time and he mumbled an apology. We later found out from the Airbnb host that the guy had had an argument with his girlfriend who had locked him out and he had thought that his approach to resolving the situation was reasonable.
I guess the point of this rambling story is that we, and especially me, were very tired the next day. Continuous heavy rain, an immediate uphill hike-a-bike and a not so positive interaction with some massive dogs led to me having a strop and us deciding to stay in an ibis hotel after cycling only 25 kilometres. Something about the anonymity of a chain hotel is sometimes just what you need and after watching Death in Paradise and Call the Midwife on BBC First we were ready to head off into the rain again the next day.
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