BEYOND

THE

KNOWN:

Bikepacking

in

Turkey.

The

Taurus

Mountains.

The summer months are usually packed with travel plans and ideas. Is there even time for spontaneous adventures? When Sami called me, I was standing in the supermarket between tomatoes and bananas. Looking back, it was one of those calls that enrich life.

It took me far away from all-inclusive hotels and luxury buffets. Instead, I immersed myself in a culture that was still unknown to me, communicated with the locals primarily with my hands and feet, and experienced the fascination of a bikepacking trip with all its highs and lows – both topographically and emotionally.

The art and appeal of bikepacking lies in finding the balance between weight and comfort. After a week on the bike, you realise how little you really need to live. You have to rely unconditionally on everything you have with you – even on your fellow travellers and companions.

When I answered Sami's call with a determined ‘Yes, I'm in’, I didn't know anyone in the group. I would only get to know them at the start of the trip in Turkey.

Maybe you know this magic in groups:
In the first few hours, you're still reserved. But the more kilometres you pedal together, the more you grow closer. You not only share the physical effort, but also the emotions. Everyone plays their part in the group's success, be it through motivation or simply by smiling at a difficult moment. You grow together quickly, no matter how different your backgrounds or stories are. We became a unit in a very short time. To this day, this journey has created a close bond between us all.

Our route covered a total of 327.9 kilometres and 7,204 metres in altitude. We wanted to complete it in five days. It took us into the heart of the majestic Taurus Mountains and the Köprülü National Park – a landscape so strange and fascinating that at times it felt like travelling on the moon. The rugged peaks and deep valleys offered a backdrop that I had never experienced in Europe before. Everything was so unspoilt.

The first day on the bike along the canyon was already picturesque: crystal-clear water, turquoise-coloured rivers winding their way through steep rock faces, and steep mountain climbs that took our breath away – not least because of our heavy luggage. Our bike bags were filled with a repair kit, camping gear, a light down sleeping bag, sleeping mat, tent, and personal belongings. A pack of cards for evenings around the campfire and a penknife were also essential. After all, I couldn't really guess what wild animals were supposedly waiting for us in the hinterland of Antalya...

On the second day of our route, we made our way to Derebucak. The journey through the picturesque landscape was exhausting, but the prospect of our first camp site motivated us. After a one-pot pasta dinner and a starry night, we continued our journey the next morning towards the historic village of Sarihacilar on the legendary Silk Road. The Ottoman architecture and the buttoned houses took us back in time. Much of it was destroyed and uninhabitable, but the hospitality was outstanding. An elderly woman spontaneously invited us to a tahini tasting in her small factory. It was precisely this smell of roasted sesame seeds that accompanied us again and again during our first few days on the bike. Whenever we could, we listened to the stories of the locals – at least when we could find a way to communicate.

On day four, we continued our journey to Gündoğmuş. The anticipation of the sea grew with every kilometre we covered. After all, we would reach the coast off Manavgat on the last day. The thought of a refreshing dip in the cool water to wash the dust of our journey off our skin gave us wings. But this cycling project was to end differently for me.

We were in the middle of nowhere again and had been on the bike for about an hour when I suddenly felt like a deer in headlights – a moment in which you realise in a matter of seconds that it's too late to take evasive action. The next moment, I collided head-on with a car coming around the bend. Denisa had made it ahead, but the driver must have been startled to see cyclists here in this wasteland, as he changed course slightly and suddenly headed towards me. The next moment I opened my eyes again, I was lying with my head in the windscreen. Time seemed to stand still. The helmet absorbed the force of the impact, and while everyone around me was anxiously trying to free me from the shards, I had this strange feeling of safety. I felt no pain and didn't notice the shard in my neck or the wounds at the time. It wasn't really all that bad, was it?

I arrived at the hospital without anyone really understanding me at first. In the ambulance, the paramedic tried to make friendly small talk with me via Google Translator. Later, the doctor told me without any words how close the whole thing had come. The shard that had pierced my neck only missed a vital artery by 1-2 centimetres.

I had more luck than sense in this accident. The next morning, the girls set off again and continued our route alone. My gratitude at having got off so lightly gave way to another feeling: incompleteness. Somehow, I was sad. It was my first sporting challenge that I hadn't been able to complete. Of course, setbacks are part of sport. You grow with the mountains, and you fail at them – logically. But after all the bike races, tours, and kilometres I had already collected this year, who would have thought that the Turkish mountains would teach me this important lesson in such a hard way?
You have no control over your destiny...

And yet, the thought of having let them down a little accompanied me to the end.

We had grown incredibly close together in such a short time. Everyone had their role in the team. It was clear that I didn't want to miss a minute with them, especially not the end. I was all the more pleased to see them all again on the beach – our destination. I certainly learnt a lot on this adventure, but even more valuable was the realisation of how quickly strangers can become true friends. It certainly wasn't the last time we cycled together. The next adventure is definitely just a supermarket visit away.