The day was raıny almost ın ıts entirety. We opted for a hılly rıde on small roads rather than a flat rıde on a small really busy road. It was a good decısıon. We met an ıncredıble famıly on the way that at our lowest poınt of the day brought us ınto theır small restaurant/Home and fed us and gave us a rıdıculous amount of tea. They really touched our hearts, even more so when they refused our money. We made our way towards Izmir, a cıty of fıve mıllıon not ıncludıng the suburbs, wıthout a map but with a plan to meet Mehmet, a friend Tobias had told us to contact. Thıs experıence ranks among the hıghest of crazy thıngs we have done on thıs trıp. No map and an endless stretch of busy roads and suddenly spıt out ınto the calm of the seasıde and 1tl glasses of pomegranate juıce and twenty or so new frıends.

Camp ın another Olıve grove

The famıly that warmed our hearts and fed our bellıes

The mosque ın the Konak center of Izmir

Gettıng ready to get back on the bıkes after a dınner of Köfte wıth the Izmir bicycle commuity

A pretty annoyıng day that made us feel ready to be fınished with the bıcycles. We had one really nıce stretch of road through some vıllages and hılls and then the rest led us ın the wrong dırectıon through an agrıcultural flat valley that left us tıred and unsure of where we were actually headıng and what our plan really was for the next fıve days.

Camp ın between an olıve grove and a tangerıne grove whıch meant our bags left full of tangerınes!!

The beautıful stretch of road wıth last sun we have seen ın quıte some tıme

Women harvestıng leeks

Our Campsite at Notion

The first flat tire of our entire trip!! And What company to change it in!

Staring out to sea at Notion (no-T-own)

Approaching the beach at Pamulcak with caution!

Subset over the Greek Island Samos, at our campsite on the Pamulcak beach

We spent two nights on the Pamulcak Beach hanging out by the fire with Idel, the gracious owner of the beach cafe we camped next to!

Our Beach Home

Our Beach Friends

From one Ionian Ruin to another, unexpectedly!

The whole of the Western Turkish Coast is covered with ripe Mandarin Oranges at this time of the year! Heaven!!

We are always on the search for the best bread. The mans was pretty good. But not the best- None the less, his oven is very impressive!

From arid and grassy

to lush and productive.....in one morning!

Sunset over the Aegean at the ruined Ionian City, Notion

Melon Bowl Muesli!!!

Where one finds Fishnets, one finds Cats!! Lots of them!

Jowita riding through Sagacik after Turkish tea

Ionian Teos, our personal Ancient City for the night

Our home, tucked into a collasped section of the Roman barrel vaults at the top of the Teos Theatro

Our Personal Ancient Amptheater

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After a rough night, a beautiful view is a welcome sight

The morning found us drier than we had expected and, as we packed up our home, we were granted our first face to face encounter with police at any of our campsites. Yes, we were breaking the law, supposedly, and the farmer we could hear chopping willow saplings across the railroad tracks suspected we were illegal immigrants with knives headed for the EU and a better life, supposedly. We made merry with the border patrol and continued to pack our home with more excitement than contempt, for now we add another story to our collection, if only we could have snapped a photo.

We crossed the border smoothly only to have to fight hard against strong winds. Wind makes us want to cry, and this wind was close to being the worst yet. The dry and, nearly, treeless landscape hurled the strong winds from, seemingly, every direction. Add this to an incline and you get a frustrated and tired couple. Eventually, the beauty of the landscape tipped the scale and we were back at peace with mother nature. In the end it was a really beautiful ride and led us to a beautiful campsite next to some unidentified ruins with a view of the lake in the distance.

The little amount of Greece we saw was dotted with little shrines like this one

damn wind

Speaking Russian to a Greek man with water

Home

The last apple we had picked was way back on the road from Ljubljana to Postojna, Slovenia. We have been blessed with fresh fruit from the source at no cost for the whole of our journey thus far. Apples had been with us for the entire first month and ended as we dropped over the Karst to the Slovene coast. The Mediterreanan climate brought new opportunities for fresh fruit; we gathered massive pomegrates, Japanese apples (we think these are more commonly called persimmon but like the Slavic name Japinski Japko), occasional figs, grapes, and some kiwi. Suddenly, just by crossing a small mountain range, we had entered apple paradise. Our little apple orchard proved just a beginning to our feeding frenzy for the day. We continued down the road, passing through a valley lit with the colors of our continuos autumn, one more mountain ridge, and into a region where the apples grew bigger, sweeter, and more plentiful. This area was bumping with the apple export and the piles of apples lined the energetic streets.

and this where we got married!

Raj o smaku jablkowym

Ever since the rainy day along the river bank in Albania, the sky had been threatening us with dark clouds that felt as though they would bust open at any minute. While this exuded a certain anxiety, it also produced a remarkable drama over the landscape that kept us in awe.

We made it past Bitola to within 10km of the Greek border when the sun was forcing us to stop. After spending the day admiring the landscape and all of its camping potential, we crossed another mountain pass and found our selves in a large flat valley blanketed by commercial agriculture devoid of the day’s scenery and beautiful campsites. None-the-less, we found a scrubby corner near some abandoned railroad tracks and a harvested field to call home. It was pretty low class, but it seemed safe and our best option. We could spot the approaching rain storms dropping over the distant mountain range and prepared our site for a rainy night.

The rains subsided and it was time to pack up our home on the river bank and push our bikes through the sticky red mud back to SH3 towards Macedonia. As with most of our other border crossings, the checkpoints sat on top of a high ridge making for a long cold climb up the bunker speckled mountain side. These small stoic fortifications sunk into the earth reveling only the timid opening where at some point some timid man probably stood guard waiting for Milosevich himself to march down the road.

Take notice of the bunkers behind us

Przekraczamy granice Macedoni

We crossed the border and headed towards Lake Ohrid to look for a campsite. The sun was set when we found the abandoned apple orchard we would call home for the night.

Chad prepared the camp for a day of rain. The tarp, that many people thought was an excessive addition to our packing list, made its value as strong as gold as the vestibule to our tent grew from its normal state of eight square feet to nearly eighty, complete with a campfire and a view of the rising river.

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