We all enjoy giving. Whether it be resources, energy, or time. It’s part of a human’s intrinsic nature. Simple acts of kindness are beneficial to one’s soul and spirit. The receiver and giver each receiving a double blessing.
Yesterday’s final run in, or rather run down, to Bursa Caravan Park ended after a bit of a runaround the houses. Often, at these critical moments our sat nav will throw a blue-looey. Toddler-like. Throw him-self down on the floor, with stiffening limbs. Go blue in the face. While we go red in the face. We never know what to expect. Sites can be found in the most unlikely of places. This one more so . . .
Day 21 – Of course, come this morning, what goes down, must go up . . .
From here we travel kilometre after kilometre along rutted dirt tracks. Pass through acre after acre of olive groves. Beastie bouncing along like a heavyweight balloon, filled with rubbery cement. Luckily we’re not wearing dentures. He’s aiming for the nearest highway, with a smooth black-top. He can’t wait. He’s decided to take the most direct route. We sit back. Enjoy. Pleased to have broken free of the site. At one point we’re so high we can see our motorway. There’s just a small town to negotiate. The dirt track empties us onto a back street, no doubt relieved as much as we. Our relief bursts as quickly as if we’d stuck a pin in Beastie’s backside. The seemingly only way out of this no-way-out-town is up for repair.
It’s customary at this point, for Mr S to also adopt the aforesaid pose of a toddler. He may go a little blue at first, audibly at least, then red in the face, as he confronts the fact he can’t have (in this case, go) his own way.
Google Translate has been a God-send this trip. So Mr S steps down, phone at the ready. Firstly to check out all route options. Secondly, to collar a friendly Turk. The first man collared, doesn’t understand. I ask my phone the obvious and indicate I need him to read and reply. He insists on ignoring the phone. Instead, gesticulates various directions along with verbal instructions. When he eventually realises what his part entails, instead of answering my question “Can you please tell me how I can get out of this town and onto the highway.”, he replies “Where you from? Where you going”. I thank him for his time . . . Argh!
The second man behaves as if he’s never seen a phone before. Treats it with suspicion. Afraid to get too close. He watches how I do it. After several attempts, the penny drops. I ask my question. Hooray, he speaks clearly. Mr Google translates for me “Where you from? Where you going” . . .
I spread my on-foot search for a way out, with no success. It seems we’ll have to go back up and across the olive groves. Find a different route from there.
Just at that moment, the first man reappears in his car. Indicates, follow me. We do.
Tonight’s stop-over at Atilgan Terapi Havuzlu Camping in Saricakaya, is not quite as warm as it was on August 15, 2023. On that day it reached 49.5 °C (121.1 °F) A new record for the highest temperature ever recorded in Türkiye.
Earlier, our mountainous route took us through some fascinating scenery.
Day 22 – After a 323K mountainous journey, we are now pitched up a short two minute walk from the UNESCO World Heritage town of Safranbolu – tomorrow’s looksee. Karavan Kamp Alani perches within the confines of a massive rock bowl. Beastie has to climb to the top of the site, just to find level ground.
