For quite a while, I was contemplating which route I should follow. The most logical option was to follow the D100 road, which took me directly eastwards, however, it was an inland journey, at least till the town of Samsun, where it would then continue of the coast for some five hundred kilometers. The other option was to cut over to the coast leaving Düzce, the sea being only some three dozen kilometers away., The issue with the latter option was that it was considerably longer, by about 150 kilometers, and about 2,000 meters of extra elevation. I was not sure how my progress would be, so I went for the safer option, riding inland, only then following the coast. One more comment about coast roads - while there are sections when one rides next to the sea, a few hills (or sand dunes), a couple of house blocks can block the view of the water, or the road can veer away from the coast - then there is no benefit riding there. On top, it can be rather windy at times. So the decision was made, the die was cast.

This D100 would be my companion road for quite a few more days to come and I even drove on the second part of my adventure, by car.

In the morning, while all my gear dried, I noticed that the sole of my left biking shoe come off - probably due to all the water, then the heat. Hmmm, not a pleasant thing, but we were in Turkey. I had gone through a similar experience on the Balkan - I had an issue with a shoe, you would find an expert for everything. Here I also experienced just how nice the Turkish people are.

At the check-out in my hotel, I asked for the direction for a shoemaker, it was a few minutes from the hotel. On the way there, I noticed that even for local standards, the downpour the previous day was rather strong. BTW, in the meantime, I chatted with Ella, who told me it was monsoon-like rains in Batumi in Georgia, my final destination of the bike ride.

The rain in Spain stays mainly on the plain, in Turkish: İspanya'da yağmur çoğunlukla ovada kalıyor

So I find this shoemaker, via Google Translate, he said something to the tune of "Brother, I could fix it, but there are professional shoemakers further in town". I had no idea what he was referring to or how to find these. A car turned into the small road I was on and stopped the driver and asked if he spoke English and whether he could help. He smiled and spoke to the shoemaker. He then said the shop the man was referring to was just a few minutes away, while he was going for breakfast to see a friend, he would ride me there. So I left my bike at the shoemaker, we rode a couple of blocks and in the midst of a street of car mechanics, we located the professional shoemaker. He looked at my shoes, tore of both soles by his hand and told me to come back in an hour.

I thanked the guy, we rode back to my bike, he was off his breakfast (he even invited me, which I thankfully refused) and found a very nice bakery to kill time. They had wonderful stuff, all kinds of simits, poğaças and Çöreks, with lots of customers, some staying for breakfast and tea - this seemed to be THE place in town. I again became friend with a four-legged pet, it was not so much it was after, more my food.

A new friend

After an hour, I rode back to the shoemaker, both pairs were impeccable - I was back in business - only that it was by now 11:30, oh well, better late than never, correct? Let us start the day.

Well, I had some dry spells that morning, let me put it this way, and it started coming down again (not as strong as the evening before) just when the road started inclining. The issue was that it was rather cold as well, if I recall, it was not even ten degrees. Still, I did not give up, I continued my ride despite the unfavorable conditions. I thought about the Hungarian truck driver, who had foresaid it would be rather cold...he turned out to be quite correct, darn.

The nickname of my friends in Austria is "Bolu" - and to my amusement, there is a province in Turkey called exactly that. And, the capital city of the province of Bolu is called Bolu - who would have thought?

At the provincial border to Bolu, a freak event took place. I stopped to take a picture of this historic encounter, Bolu entering Bolu and then checked my phone for messages. As I was standing there, I heard a loud crash about a hundred meters up the road - and I see a car crashing into the wall barrier on the side of the road and capsizing. I have no idea how that happened, maybe the car aquaplaned, maybe the driver fell asleep - it looked rather tragic.I quickly dialed the international (not US...) emergency number, 112, and they picked up, quickly handing over the phone to an English-speaking person. It was easy to explain where I was, D100 and exactly to the border of province Bolu. By that time, others had stopped too. Luckily, the driver was unhurt (he was traveling alone), he exited on the passenger door of the capsized car, refusing help to haul him down, he just jumped off. Police showed up quickly and mastered the situation - them even taking a picture of me. (In case you are wondering, I did not find it ethical to take a phote of the capsized car.)

Bolu in Bolu

Soon thereafter I reached a summit, but was insulted by the Turkish people.

I am not fat!

In my language this means "Bolu is fat". In reality, this was a sign showing that the elevation of this pass was 900 meters above sea level.

I then rode through the town of Bolu and ended my ride that day in Sahnalar. The only hotel I found was not the prettiest one, with a heating system that was not fully up for the task and had very thin walls to the neighbors. Despite these, I was quite tired and dozed off quickly.

It was a bit below 100 kilometers, about 94 km that I rode, with 1,350 meters of elevation. Here is the map for the day.