Warning...rain gods don’t particularly like hamburgers and lemonade

The road curves around and the thick black clouds that I had been playing hide and seek with all morning lock their gaze on me. Their pent up fury ready to spit at the injustice of a human lasting so long in the game. I hope that the road will head back to the narrowing corridor of sun that had lead me this far but my heart falls as it aims directly into the black. Just as the skies erupt I pull into a service station (well it worked last time) I‘m a third of the way to today’s destination and decided to have lunch while I wait it out. One hour passes and the rain is not getting any lighter - the clouds as black and as angry as they were before, their monologue is not finished yet. The service station people come to speak with me. It's going to be like this for a while “very unusual weather we are having”. Usual yes…my trip preparation regarding the weather had been in vain. I made a chart for the places I wanted to travel around, noting down weekly high and low temperatures then colour coding them…the ideal travel conditions coloured green (12 - 26 degrees and no rain). With this chart I plotted my route. But it was useless as this Spring, everything was out of the ordinary and that cloud knew it.

I wondered who the ancient pagan god of rain was….just so I can leave a small portion of my lunch as an offering. “Please let the rain go, bring some wind to dry the road and make my path safe“. I ceremoniously sealed the request by breaking off a piece of my hamburger (not my first choice but the only option available) and thinking that water would have to be involved I sprinkled some of my precious liquid (read lemonade) over the bread for good measure…what god would not like a soggy hamburger offering??

There was a small portion of blue sky showing…I assumed the rain god liked my offering so donned my rain gear and set off. The rain was light and I stuck behind a car going just the right speed for me in these conditions. The road was new and perfectly drained…I started to relax - it will clear up soon and hell…any other biker can ride in the rain, so....I can too! I didn’t look at the kilometre signs, I wanted to be pleasantly surprised when I did. After a while the rain got heavier again and the road was obscured by the splatters on my visor. I couldn’t really see the road surface anymore so I kept telling myself, it was a good road however the traffic crept along at 60km/h and I could feel the back wheel slipping every now and then. I was feeling every metre only having eyes for the narrow wheel tracks in front of me and what the car directly behind me was doing.

Wet sheep in a village

My arch nemeses (the graded grooved road) raised it’s ugly head going through some towns just to make the trip even more tricky. I had been travelling like this for about 2 hours until the rain was so heavy I thought it best to pull over and try to find somewhere to stay for the night. To answer my ‘who can I ask for help??‘ question the local police were waiting at the next village. Pulling over to speak with them, I stuttered through chattering teeth “otle lewt fen” (hotel please). They discussed something between themselves and said that the nearest hotel was in 20 kim’s away - just keep going and turn right…great, I wouldn’t be far from my destination by then.

So a very soggy Helen headed back out. I could feel the water pouring into my boots and was entering my waterproof pants by some unknown means making me sit in a pool of liquid. My toes were clawing my boots - because that would help with traction obviously??!! And to keep my spirits up I sang…sang in a silly southern American twang ..I sang of Hamburger offerings displeasing the gods, soggy socks, Ginger whose tyres must be made from tacky glue to keep me on the road…how 20km‘s really would fly...how I hoped the pool of water in my pants was just water..and how I would treat myself to a BIG chocolate when I got there…anything to take my mind off my drenched fear.

Then as if by some miracle...a sign to Parmakkule showed - a new road had been created and it would get me to my destination quicker than diverting through Denizil. The road was brand new, no traffic and perfect to ride on in the wet. When I got into town I missed the turnoff to a guesthouse I thought I might stay at but was waved down by a knight in shinning armour (KISA aka hotel owner). Oh god, I’m not going to be able to afford a hotel…so I ask before I dared to get off the bike “what price”? 25 …oh I must be so cold I heard incorrectly. “How much“?? 25 lira...I almost fall of the bike which was hard to do because every part of my body had been clinging on for dear life for the past 2.5 hours …I don’t think I need another Pilates class for a year and my butt has muscles that I never knew existed. KISA asks me in..."do I want to see the place?" - heavens no..for 25 lira all I need is a shower and a bed. I’m dripping water everywhere so I rip off my jacket and boots before entering - he shakes my hand, they are red and cold, so he immediately strips of his jumper and puts it around me to keep warm…ahhhh a chivalrous KISA - who also happens to look like a pirate! He shows me to my room and turns up the heater to 30 degrees so I can thaw out. I can’t believe I made it through the storm, I can’t believe how scared I was but how much silly singing helped (note- this does have to be in a Southern American twang to work!) I can’t believe that the rain god would so dislike my soggy hamburger offering when it was given with such sincerity and especially since this was my first time riding in a storm!

KISA second from right with his parents and  brothers

I made it


The small calcium ridges gentle massage my feet while the mineral water warms my toes on a cool blue sky day. Climbing up the side of the ‘white mountain’ I can see the beauty of the valley that I missed yesterday in the rain. There are snow capped mountains in the distance bordered by brilliant green valleys and terracotta roofed villages. The stream gets warmer the higher I go - running over the sides of soft blue pools that have white clay floors that squelch between your toes. There are calcium icicles mimicking a winter wonderland but this is more special as it has been here for thousands of years.

Pool at bottom of white mountain

Tingly calcium toes

Snow capped mountains in the distance

The white mountain leads to Roman ruins that house the Hole to Hades - a hole that hisses poisonous gas that the ancient priests would show their immortality by entering and returning alive (unfortunately some tourists didn’t so you can only access the smaller hole in a wall). An overgrown path leads to the Church of St Phillip high on a hill at the spot he was crucified.

Aerofoils twist and turn on the thermals and cast graceful shadows down the side of the white mountain. The call to prayer is the best I’ve heard in Turkey (bar Istanbul) as the voice projects off the natural amphitheatre of white mountain so the breaks are filled with the sound of a mellow echo…beautiful.

Old hot water channel

Hole to Hades

Follow the overgrown road to St Phillip's church

Total kilometres travelled: 1139
Butt clenching kilometres travelled in rain: 147
Useless offering to defunct rain god: 1
Warm jumper when I needed it: 1
Tingly toes from walking on calcium: 9 (for some reason one of them was not tingly)
Aerofoils casting shadows on white hill: 26 plus