Black Hole

Joining the frenzy

It's mad, it's bad, it's dangerous. It's also one of my best experiences so far: riding into Istanbul at rush hour. I've tackled several big cities since I set off, and if I've learnt one thing it's this: you never know what you gonna get. Barcelona was hectic with its string of junctions, but the good thing is that there aren't any confusing suburbs to contend with if you're coming from the south. Marseille was a joy, cruising through bustling immigrant neighbourhoods all the way down to the yacht jungle that is the Vieux Port. Tirana cost me a year of my life: I'm still coughing up the soot that thousands of miserable Mercedes Benzes sent flying around. And Athens, one that I hadn't been looking forward to, turned out to be a breeze: a single straight road that shuttled me right into the heart of the city—Omonia Square and Syntagma Square.

Gavin on his recumbent

But Istanbul... The place has something of a reputation among cycle tourists. I remember reading about a chap who was a bit too hesitant at the busiest junctions and ended up waiting for gaps in the traffic that never materialised. Determined not to let that happen to me I decided to take a breather and brace myself for the plunge. Suddenly, something big pulled up next to me, blocking the sun like an ocean liner. Another cyclist! But not a regular one. The bloke smiling at me from under a bright red cap was riding a recumbent. This in itself is quite unusual, but what made it positively stupefying was the fact that it was packed like a camel. I counted no less than six panniers, and the entire thing seemed to be held together by a web of straps, hooks and drying clothes. Gavin, however, is no flying (or riding) circus. This Englishman left southern France in May, cycled to the UK to say goodbye to his folks and then headed southeast, covering seven thousand kilometres in three months. Examining the monster he was sitting on I could hardly believe it. 'There's food for four days,' he told me, 'and I can carry a week's supply of water if necessary.' To my relief he admitted he isn't lugging around his entire household. 'In Slovenia I got rid of a machete and a wok.'

Together we formed a solid block that made the fifty-kilometre descent into madness a little less insane. We dodged swerving lorries, navigated extensive stretches without a hard shoulder and marveled at the immensity of it all. Gavin likened it to a black hole, and that's exactly what it is. Anything coming too close to this sprawling city will be sucked up without mercy. Maybe that's why road rules don't seem to apply here: motorists just have no volition of their own.

With people cheering us on from open car windows and the sun setting over the chaos, we made it to Bakırköy in one piece, just in time for the last ferry to the Asian side. First occurrence on the new continent: a cracked spoke. It didn't even bother me. It had been a glorious day, and the best part of it was that there had been someone to share it with.