Monday    18.8.2025
370km Total: 4038km  5h 52m Total: 60h 06m
  3.74km Total: 162.05km

I need to start the day with a call to my useless bank where I kindly ask if I'm allowed to use my own money to buy a ferry ticket to Cyprus since the payment didn't go through when I tried to book it the night before.
The sailings are starting to get fully booked so arranging this was a high priority.
That call at €2 a minute cost me eighteen euros.
At this point, there is no longer any outer limit to exactly how far to hell Nordea can actually go.

I leave a chaotic Yerevan behind me and head towards the border (with Georgia, the land border between Turkey and Armenia has been closed for over 30 years).

I stop at a monument called The Iron Fountain where one of the countless number of stray dogs I've encountered looks up seemingly only to realise that it was another confused tourist before it settles down again in the shade of the "fountain".
The risk of drowning is minimal as the fountain has not held water since the late eighties.

Before I set off on this trip I went to a private vaccination clinic and asked what I might need.
I got a tetanus and cholera vaccine refresher, but despite the fact that rabies still exist in the Caucasus countries, they thought it was unnecessary.
"Just make sure you don't get bitten by a dog" was all the prophylaxis they thought I needed.
Solid advice. If I hadn't gotten that I would have definitely put on a suit of raw pork chops sewn together and chased street dogs just for fun.

Just like when I went the other way (albeit on a different road), the last few miles towards the border are fantastically beautiful rides, both scenic and entertaining.
Through the border control where a border police officer really wanted to find a drone in my pack but was bitterly disappointed, the entertainment value drops drastically.
To describe the road standard as lousy is a huge overstatement.

For some reason, the GPS didn't want to route anywhere near the shortest route to Kars.
It wanted me to head to the border crossing at Türkgösü at all costs, which would have added 100 kms to the days total mileage.
It felt completely unreasonable that it would have been quickier than the closer route.
So only by sprinkling waypoints quite liberally I managed to force the route via S11 and the Çıldır-Aktaş crossing.

I now understand Garmins thinking because this was the absolute worst "paved" road I have ever ridden by quite an astronomical margin.
It was actually so bad that there were signs on the side of the road apologising for the inconvenience.
There were craters that if they couldn't swallow an old Vaz whole, they would at least have taken a big bite out of it.
Luckily, not many others had come up with this idiotic idea because the vehicles I encountered were all over the road.
You don't feel very cocky when a lorry is heading straight for you on the wrong side of the road.

When I finally get to the border, all activity is frozen because the internet is down.
The car at the front of the queue had been waiting for three hours.
But apparently today was my lucky day because it probably took a quarter of an hour at most before they started up again.
It still took a decent while to get through but at least it was moving.
And just when I was  a little cocky standing on the edge of Europe's borders with a Swedish bike, I was soon humbled as in front of me were two French cars and an Italian one and after me came a Czech biker who had ridden across Russia to get here.
Just like the Italian at the border with Armenia, he rode a CF Moto which puts my elitism to shame because personally I would not have chosen a Chinese budget bike for a thousand-mile trip but it's demonstrably possible.
The OEM panniers on the CF were a total plagiarisms of the Touratech panniers I have on the Tiger, I don't even want to know how little they probably cost in comparison.

On the other side of the border it feels almost post-apocalyptic, a two-lane highway with smooth asphalt where I probably drove almost ten miles without seeing a single vehicle in any direction.
The road standard on the Turkish side is absolutely fantastic, not only in comparison (because that wouldn't have said much) but the roads are spectacular.
The brand new asphalt road on the eastern side of Lake Cildir was so pleasant that I actually slowed down a bit to really take in the surroundings.
There was virtually no other traffic apart from the occasional car and truck.

I check in in at the hotel and going down to the garage an old man with a cigarette in the corner of his mouth asks me to hurry up so he can continue watering the weeds that were growing all over the driveway.
Weed killer would have been my personal choice but to each their own.

It's definitely time for a bite to eat and there seems to be a decent restaurant less than 100 meters from the hotel.
Not a single person spoke a word of English but one guy is quick as a weasel with his mobile phone and using Google Translate he welcomes Sir to their restaurant.
You just have to love that attitude.

I feel a bit daring when I order something that Google translated to garbage skewer which turned out to be the most delicious garbage I've ever eaten.
A plethora of side dishes with free tea after the meal for the equivalent of nine euros.

Back at the hotel I need to make sure I haven't completely miscalculated the route because, due to a lack of sailings, I have opted to spend five days in Cyprus and need to make sure that I actually have that time without causing major disruption to the remaining route.

The Iron Fountain

Great riding by lake Çıldır

Why on earth would you want a jungle growing in the drivein to the garage?

Best garbage I've ever eaten

Tuesday    19.8.2025
393km Total: 4431km  4h 44m Total: 64h 50m
  5.33km Total: 167.38km

A real transit-day on the motorway but not at all without entertainment value as there are actually a lot of twists and turns on Turkish motorways and the scenery was incredibly diverse.
Everything from pure grand canyons to lush greenery.
Animals on the road have become something you constantly have to watch out for but here in Turkey I started to wonder if it is the case that compensation for cattle killed in traffic is higher than for slaughter when there is a whole herd of cows clattering around on a two-lane 110km/h motorway.

Now there is no doubt that I am driving on a motorway that is part of the toll system here (KGM).
I tried to ask the porter at the hotel in Kars about it but his English skills did not extend to that so he simply ignored the question and I don't blame him.

However, I find it a bit strange that I've been able to drive just over 400 km without seeing a single place where you can register for the toll.

Once at the hotel in Erzincan, there is a resident Palestinian among the staff who speaks significantly better English, so I try asking about it again.
After a wild discussion with two other staff members, I have been given an address to investigate tomorrow.
I need to arrange this because as I understand it, I am not allowed to leave the country unless I have paid my dues in the tolls.

I have supper and go for a walk along the main street in Erzincan before bedtime.

There were some cool bikes from brands I'd never heard of.

Wednesday    20.8.2025
445km Total: 4876km  5h 01m Total: 69h 51m
  7.34km Total: 174.72km

Before I leave Erzincan I try to sort out the problem with the tolls.
I've done a bit of googling myself and it seems that it is, among a few others, the Turkish Post (PTT) that arranges this so I head off to a post office.
Once there they state that they can only register cars and they suggest I go to a bank instead.
One of the banks that cooperates in this has by Swedish standards the somewhat ominous name Halkbank.
The joke doesn't translate at all but in Swedish it's "Slippery Bank".
I head there only to be told that they too only register cars and am rather farcically referred back to the post office.
Even though I don't really have a lot of faith in it, I also try what the hotel people came up with, which is the Turkish Traffic Police.
They really have nothing to do with the matter but they refer me to a specific bank, Akbank.
There I simply got a flat: no.
I simply have to accept paying some kind of fine for not having registered the bike in the system because I simply can't waste any more time pursuing this.

Once out on the highway I have another pure transit day to look forward to but it is by no means without entertainment value today either.
The journey will take me over two mountain passes which admittedly didn't cause the temperature to drop more than to just over 25° (77ºF) but anything under 30° (86ºF) I'll take as a win.

Arriving at the hotel in Kayseri I message Bartosz, the Pole from the ferry as I am extremely curious if he had done better research than me as the specific purpose of his entire trip was to get to the Azerbaijani capitol of Baku.

Turns out they had turned him away at the border as well even though he had gone to the trouble and expense (€130) of applying for a 'proper' Visa.
He was so disappointed that he took one day in Armenia and then drove back home to Poland along the Black Sea coast with a maximum daily stage of 18 hours and almost 1300 kilometers!
That's fucking respect. 💪

In these temperatures, I took to shade where it was available, in this case a disused petrol station

You know you're staying at a classy hotel when the water is served in a plastic can

Try saying this quickly five times after a stiff drink

A blonde sat beside my at the al fresco dining