The voice of caution knows nothing about real pleasure.
What pleasure is there in doing something you already knew you could do? Try something you might fail at — only then will you discover what it truly means to be alive.
We'd ridden into Turkey by bike, but winter had caught up with us. It wouldn't be the first winter we'd faced on the road, nor the last.
Our progress towards Istanbul was being killed by a fierce headwind. Bad weather, good attitude — just keep pushing. Then something completely unexpected happened.
A van slowed down alongside me and the driver started gesturing for me to stop. What does this guy want?
He pulled ahead and parked on the verge in front of me, so I got off the bike and waited to see what was going on.
Out stepped a man with his phone in his hand, typing into Google Translate: "I'm going to Istanbul — do you want to come with me?"
Hitchhiking with bikes, by accident
It was the first time anyone had ever offered me something like that. I've hitchhiked thousands of times before, but no one had ever pulled over without me making the slightest gesture.
We'd also never put our bikes in any vehicle before, apart from crossing from England to France, and that was because there was no alternative.
The traffic was getting heavier the closer we got to Istanbul, the headwind wasn't letting up, and the road was turning into a slog. I said yes in about three seconds flat.
Ilze hadn't seen the van — she'd stopped a bit further ahead to take a photo. So after explaining to our good Samaritan that we needed to pick up my girlfriend, I loaded my bike in and we set off.
A couple of minutes later we caught up with Ilze, and I leaned out the window: "Hey Ilze, do you need a lift?"
It took her a while to make sense of what had just happened, and a few explanations, but she was grinning as she lifted her bike into the van for the last stretch through Istanbul's mad traffic — without the risk of getting wiped out.
Several hours of conversation ended with a warm goodbye, the driver repeating more than once that this is simply Turkish hospitality. It's a phrase you hear constantly out there, and after a while you stop being surprised by it — Turkey had been throwing this kind of kindness at us since the moment we first tasted it on a bicycle.
Istanbul — Europe and Asia
In Istanbul we spent a handful of days — a couple of nights with a Warmshowers host and a few more with Cemil, a Turkish artist who invited us to his studio after connecting on Facebook.
We wandered through the city, an enormous sprawl where the neighbourhood we slept in alone had two million inhabitants, and where nobody could agree on how big the whole thing actually was.
A city where someone who lives 15 kilometres from the centre in a straight line tells you they live in the centre.
A city with history that, symbolically and physically, divides Europe from Asia. Clear differences between one side and the other, but one shared heartbeat.
A city with stunning views from the Galata Bridge over the Golden Horn, the Bosphorus, and iconic landmarks like Hagia Sophia and the Blue Mosque.
Despite Istanbul's extraordinary architecture, the best moments were the ones we spent with the people we met.
Istanbul — a city of encounters
Staying with Cemil, we met Soeren, a young German hitchhiker who'd been on the road for a year, looping around Europe and heading towards Asia. Among his 20 kilos of pack he carried his blacksmith's hammer, which he'd pull out occasionally and offer his services as a metalworker in whatever country he happened to be passing through.
Shirine and Kevin, "The Wandering Nomads", are a cycling couple also going around the world by bike. We'd been following each other online for several months, and it happened that we arrived in Istanbul at the same time — them from the east, us from the west.
We met up in Istanbul to swap road stories. A wonderful pair with whom we have a huge amount in common, and with whom we'll cross paths again sooner or later.
Speaking of reunions — also back in Istanbul was a German couple who'd cycled all the way from Germany to Turkey, and with whom we'd shared experiences and kilometres on the roads of Greece.
Don't just watch. Experience. Act.
That's where the real meat of life is.
With batteries recharged and stories exchanged, we got back on the bikes. Leaving Istanbul heading east, planning to ride the northern Turkish coast despite the winter ahead — the start of a Turkish winter we'd later look back on in photos.
Frequently asked questions
Can you cycle into Istanbul?
You can, but it's not the gentle finish you might hope for. The traffic builds and builds as you approach, the motorways funnel everything together, and there's no relaxed bike lane easing you into the old city. We'd ridden all the way across Europe to get here and were perfectly capable of riding the last stretch too — but when a van offered to skip us through the worst of the chaos, we took it without much hand-wringing. Sometimes the smart move is to swallow your pride and accept the lift.
Is hitchhiking with a bike actually possible?
It is, though you need a vehicle big enough to swallow the bikes — a van, a pickup or an empty lorry. In two years on the road we'd only ever put our bikes in a vehicle twice: once crossing from England to France where there was no alternative, and this time into Istanbul. A loaded touring bike is bulky, so don't count on every car that stops being able to take you. When it works, though, it's a brilliant way to skip a dangerous or miserable stretch of road.
Is Istanbul in Europe or Asia?
Both. The city straddles the Bosphorus strait, with one bank in Europe and the other in Asia — you can literally cross continents on a ferry in a few minutes. That split is the whole character of the place: clear differences from one side to the other, but, as I put it above, one shared heartbeat.
Where should you stay in Istanbul on a budget?
We barely paid for a bed — a couple of nights with a Warmshowers host (the cycle-touring equivalent of Couchsurfing) and the rest with a local artist we'd met online. If you're travelling cheap, hospitality networks like Warmshowers and Couchsurfing are worth their weight in gold here, and the people you meet end up being the best part of the city anyway.
