An awfully long way uphill just to go underground!: A silly idea really

March 6, 2014

It was a windy night and I slept badly because I kept being woken up by the flapping of my tent flysheet, so I was a little grumpy when I got up and cycled onward. Cheering me up a little was the sight of the morning hot air balloons taking off from on the hill above Goreme as I continued east to a town called Urgup. I almost rode straight around this town, but changed my mind and decided to go in, primarily to look for a hardware store because my front rack was giving me problems again(!), and I needed to find some new screws and washers and nuts to fix it properly.

In Urgup the new homes sit in front of the old

I located a hardware store which was open even though it was still before eight in the morning and went inside, where I found two men. One of these men actually spoke English and introduced himself as Bahadir. A man of sixty, he had slightly erractic white hair; not quite as erratic as Einstein’s, but certainly more erratic than the Queen’s. It was somewhere between Einstein and the Queen on the erratic white hair scale. He translated what I wanted to the shop owner, Hasan, a round man with a neat moustouche who did not have what I needed. Bahadir told me that he thought I could instead get this particular type of screw at a mechanic shop down the street which opened at eight, and in the interim I should stay and have some tea with them. Of course I accepted.

Hasan was very interested in my trip and asked lots of questions which Bahadir translated. The latter was himself an interesting character, having spent fifteen years living in Amsterdam and moved around a lot, been twice married, twice divorced, formerly a mountain guide (although presumably not when he lived in Holland) and now occupying himself writing a book concerning entropy and the Cappadocia environment. At my asking where I could use internet he marched me to a computer shop where I was allowed to use their wifi for free. I used this time to research and then realise that I would really quite like to visit the underground city at Ozkonak and when I told Bahadir this he said that I should stay that night with his friend in Avanos, which was nearby. He told me that this friend was a keen cyclist and would happily host me, so I naturally agreed. By now Bahadir had organised me some tea, some free wifi and a place for me to stay that night. And all I asked for was a screw.

Which is what came next as Bahadir accompanied me to the mechanic store that he had told me about. He translated what I needed to one of the guys in the shop who disappeared out back to look for me. Another man, who I took to be the manager, stood behind the counter and smiled at me. He had very neatly combed hair and a smooth red silk shirt on. He said something to me which Bahadir translated: "He says you are very handsome." I was a little taken aback. I noticed there was a goldfish in a small bowl on the counter. I might have blushed a little. "Thank-you" I replied, "but that's not what I meant when I said I wanted a screw."

The man returned and gave me a handful of screws and nuts and washers, exactly the type that I needed, which was all free of course. I quickly fixed up my rack and Bahadir phoned his friend and then told me that it was fine for me to stay there. In fact there was already a couple of British cyclists staying there, but there was plenty of space for me too. Even better, now maybe I was going to find someone to cycle onwards with, or at least share some stories that evening. I thanked Bahadir for all his kindness and left Urgup a very happy man.

To get to the underground city I had to cycle back to Avanos along the road where I had slept in the cave, essentially meaning that I had come around in a big circle. Beyond Avanos I had to cycle up a really long climb with some ridiculously steep sections. I know I'm using the term 'ridiculously steep' a lot recently, but hey, welcome to Turkey. The road signs made it worse, antagonising me with 5% gradient signs before the steepest bits, which I could tell were much more like 15%. But the long climb gave me time to reflect on what I had read online about the underground city. Apparently it was used as a means to hide from the enemy and could house 10,000 people for up to three months. As I thought about this a little more, it did seem to be quite a cowardly tactic, and, in many ways, a flawed one. I imagined the conversation the King may have had when he decided to build this underground hideaway:

King: "Right peasants, I want to build an underground city that can house 10,000 men."

Bold peasant: "But why me Lord?"

King: "In case of invading armies. We can hide can't we? Now get excavating."

Bold peasant: "But me Lord, what will we eat?"

King: "Stupid peasant! We'll have a food store won't we? Enough for three months."

Bold peasant: "One more thing me Lord, if I may be so bold. What will we do after three months? I mean, while we've been in there hiding, won't the enemy have invaded, and obviously won, and therefore have taken over all of our land? What will we do about that?"

King: "Off with your head!"

The climb up went on and on and on. It really seemed rather unlikely that any invading army would ever bother to come up this hill anyway. But eventually I made it to the top and took the turn for the underground city and just as I was doing so a bus load of tourists overtook me. Nooo! Not one single bus had come up in the whole hour and a half I'd been cycling up and then my hope to not have to share the experience with a load of tourists was shattered. And not just tourists, but bus-tourists. I looked at the windows of the bus and caught a glimpse of white permed hair. Nooo! Not just bus-tourists, but old-bus-tourists.

I sat and had some food and waited for a while before I went in, hoping that they would be far into the city by the time I entered. Then after about ten minutes I bought my ticket and went in down some stairs and into an underground room. It was similar to the caves in Cappadocia; carved out of the rock with windows and cubby-holes. I walked through into another room and then through a short tunnel as I moved further underground But then up ahead I could hear the tour group, being addressed by their guide. In German. Noooo! Not just old-bus-tourists, but German-old-bus-tourists. Nooooooooo!!! I tried to move past them - they were moving very slow, I would just race ahead and enjoy a further part of the city without them. But there was only one way, down a longer tunnel which sloped down diagonally and it was taking each of them a long time to move slowly down, so I had to wait my turn behind them all.

I ran back through the rooms I had been through, marvelling at how impressive it all was. When I went back all of the Germans were down the slope and I started walking down myself, which required crouching slightly as I walked because it was a small passageway. When I was halfway down I came face to face with a disturbed-looking woman who was crying "Nein, nein, nein. Bitte, bitte, bitte." I quickly translated this as "I'm feeling very claustrophobic, please I must get out of here!" So I backed up, walking backwards all the way up the slope as there was no way for her to pass otherwise and allowed her her freedom. Then I went back down and walked past all the Germans who were standing in another room listening to their tour guide. I went through another short passage at the end of which a German man almost landed on my head as I came out of the tunnel and he jumped down from another room above. I scolded him for not staying with his tour group.

There was another long narrow tunnel, another room, then another long narrow tunnel, another room. But there was no way out of this last room. This was apparently already the end of the city. I was rather disappointed by how small it was. I was extra disappointed by the fact that there were two Germans also in this room. I went back looking for another way but there was none, this was the whole thing. It was only six or seven rooms, I would hardly have called it a city! And as for housing 10,000 men for three months, it was plenty cramped enough with 20 Germans for 10 minutes. It was a bit of a disappointment really. I assumed there must have been a lot more to it, and they just didn't open most of it up for us. But there were some interesting details, such as the big disc-shaped stones that could be rolled across the doors to stop the enemy from entering, and then there were holes above the tunnels that the enemy would be stuck in, that could then be used to pour hot oil through onto the blocked invaders. Very paranoid, whoever this king was.

The big stone that could be pushed to block the tunnel

The German tourists finally all left and I had the whole place to myself. It was small enough that I could run all through it from one end to the other, and now it seemed a really fun place to be, my very own underground city, all to myself. The narrow tunnels now seemed a lot more dangerous, the carved rooms more exciting. But then I heard another tour group coming in from the room above. Nooo! I considered running down a tunnel and pushing the big stone across to block their entry. It initially seemed like a super idea, but there were a few drawbacks which made me decide finally against it, namely 1) I didn't have any hot oil, 2) I didn't have three months supply of food, 3) I was bored of the underground city anyway and quite wanted to leave and 4) the stone was too heavy to push.

I left the underground city and cycled back to Avanos which was really fun because it was all downhill. Now I had to find the 'Surban Hotel' which is where Bahadir had told me to meet my host at four-thirty. "Everyone knows the Surban Hotel" he had told me, "just ask anyone." Which seemed like great advice, except of course that nobody I asked knew where the Surban Hotel was. Finally I found someone who told me that it was in Urgup. That was where Bahadir lived, and he had definitely told me that I could stay with his friend in Avanos. There had clearly been some mistake here. The man I was asking spoke no English but wanted to help me very much. He led me to another hotel, the Suhan Hotel, which I assumed must be the one that Bahadir meant. It was a huge and very expensive looking hotel in the shape of a castle. It was absurdly extravagant. Then the very helpful man went too far and tried to help me with my bags, and then ran and got two porters from the hotel door to come over and get my bags for me. Nobody spoke any English but everybody was quite taken aback by my frantic arm waving and my cries of "Are you mad? Are you completely out of your minds?! Look at me, do you really think I am staying in a hotel like this?! Look at it, it looks like a castle for goodness sake!"

Shortly after this my host, Arif turned up along with his other guests, Kieran and Natasha. Kieran did seem like a much more logical name than what Bahadir had written down for me - the beautiful British name of Crean. Kieran and Natasha were really nice and had cycled from the UK and have a nice blog with a very clever title, Downhill From Here. They are planning a similar route to me and I have a feeling I will see them again, so I won't write too much now about them now as this post is already getting rather long. As for Arif he was one of the funniest men I've ever met. He looked and acted quite a lot like Borat, but with a bit more beard. He spoke some English, but not always in coherent sentences, which had really rather comic effects. When the words failed him he sometimes turned to google translate and used the voice on there to read things out for him. At one point he turned to me and his laptop said, in an American voice, "Not your fault."

"What's not my fault?" I asked, which seemed fair enough.

He typed some more and then clicked for it to read it out again. "Its not your fault."

"What's not my fault?" I asked again, "What?"

Understanding, Arif deleted what he had written, typed something else and then clicked: "Crime."

For his part, Kieran also had a very funny story which I will share with you. It happened when he and Natasha were outside of their home in Oxford, loading up their bikes and preparing to begin their cycle around the world. Someone came running over to them and shouted "Wow! Where are you guys from? What are you doing? Where have you come from?" to which Kieran had to reply "Actually, just over there in that house. We're neighbours."

Amazing what it takes for neighbours to say hello to each other isn't it?

With Natasha and Kieran the next morning. They travel a lot lighter than me

p.s. I'm only joking about the Germans, I love Germans really. No, but seriously though, I do, really. Why can't you take me seriously?

Today's ride: 51 km (32 miles)
Total: 14,134 km (8,777 miles)

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