Description
Last winter, we planned to pedal along Turkey’s Aegean Coastline to wait out the colder months in Cyprus. It was a long, fast, flat journey, almost exclusively following a great serpentine beast of tarmac. Day after day, we dripped with sweat, covered in grit, trying to distract ourselves from the nauseous blur of speeding traffic worryingly close to our side.
Reaching Cyprus was the logical option; the Turkish Mountains were unforgiving in winter and best saved for spring. But, looking inland, the snow-capped peaks of the Taurus Mountains were presenting themselves proudly on the horizon. We’d been lured into the mountains the previous winter, and they’d ultimately got the best of us. But there was something indescribable pulling us there once more.
And so, in a rash decision, with a dodgy knee and just days after dropping off our remaining winter layers at a clothes recycling point, we gave in to temptation.
Within an afternoon, the heat had subsided, the air was fresher, and we’d replaced a dual carriageway with a dusty single lane. Sarah pedalled ahead, with peaks hanging over her to one side, and to the other, land fell sheerly away with a worrying drop. I quickly realised that this is what we’d been longing for. Picking up supplies from the available last market, I told the owner we hoped to reach Taşkent. His expression said it all. “You can’t cycle there… the route is hard… there will be a lot of snow.”
It was roughly 125 km, with 2,700m of ascent, winding higher and higher into dark, snowy clouds. Eager, naive and unperturbed, we began to slowly climb. The following two days were a charge of unbounded euphoria, completely uplifted by the mountains and curious encounters in small villages. This was mixed with dread of the looming final pass that separated us from Taskent. Any drastic changes in conditions would see us retreating with tails between our legs.
As we rode, the pass stood constantly in my mind. It grew into this great frozen monster I knew we’d eventually have to duel. With each meter climbed, the temperatures dropped further, the conditions becoming more and more volatile. “Why did we drop off those last layers?” I thought to myself, as we inched further into the abyss of the Taurus.
On a journey like this, you have time to analyse the peculiar workings of the mind. We can build things up in our heads to the point they seem unattainable. And this was certainly the case with this climb. Inching ever closer, the tension built, with my heart racing, nervously watching for any change in conditions, all the way up and over the summit. And then, at the high point, it all miraculously faded.
Together, we laughed as the scale of the challenge immediately shrank. An uplifted happiness sank in, guiding us gleefully down from our snowy high point to find Taşkent perched amongst the rocks.
We spent two days wandering its cobbled streets in awe, having tea with old traders, trying the local cheese and observing this mountain-top life. We marvelled at the ancient town perched amongst the Taurus rocks, but also that we’d made it here.
Print details
• Printed on premium C-Type Fuji Matt photographic paper
• Available in multiple sizes
• Made to order
• Carefully packaged for delivery
• Photograph taken during our cycle journey from England to India
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— Josh & Sarah
