Fri 12 Sep 2025
Having decided that, since I wasn’t really enjoying myself, and that I was going to get to milder climes as quickly as possible, I decided to try to make it to the border and get across in one day. As this meant a 360km ride plus the two borders, I was on the road as soon as it was light.
Fortunately the road was quite good and traffic light, so I made the crossing, with a stop for breakfast in a petrol station by 1100.
The Iraqi side was relatively straightforward. After a passport and document chceck, I was directed to a window where I submitted my passport and Carte Grise along with my CdP. I was asked for IRD 43,000, but only had 38,000. There was a bank around the corner, so off I went in search of the missing 5,000 (about € 3). The bank only took USD, of which, fortunately, I had a few. At first the teller said he wanted $15; he was having difficulty understanding that I only wanted 5,000 dinar, or was it dollars I wanted. After a few Pythonesque minutes, we agreed on $ 3; however I only had a $5 bill, on two $ 1s. He only had a single $1 bill, so in the end I got my 5,000 for $4.
Back at the window, I was given a piece of paper and directed to another window across the road. Here, I handed over my IRD 43,000 and was sent back whence I had come. My documents were returned and I was sent off to passport control. The good news, though, was that my CdP had been stamped, as promised, over the Kuwaiti exit stamp, and the appropriate sections removed.
Outside the passport office, I parked in the queue with a host of other vehicles. Inside, my psport was checked, and then I joined a queue for the stamp. The next stop was a physical customs check, but there seemed to be a holdup, because nothing was moving. Finally, there was some action, I was able to skip the queue a bit and was basically waved through, having handed over a piece of paper I had collected somewhere.
Movement was short lived. Having traversed no-mans-land, I came to another, much longer, queue. Thinking, “Sod this,” I bypassed the queue and got to the front where there was a closed gate. Inside there was a lot of shouting, a lot of tooing and froing, but not much forward movement.
It was here that I got “talking” to a guy whose brother was in Ireland. He called said brother, and guess where he was! Of course! He had a barber shop on the Falls Road, and offered me a free shave if I came to visit.
Eventually the gate opened, we moved forward about 100 metres, and everyone debussed, or debiked in my case. At the passport check, there was a melee until someone came and took a crowd of us to another spot where access to the window was more controlled and orderly. Passport stamped it was out to wait for the customs inspection.
This was perfunctory, and then I was asked for my passenger list. I was escorted back to the first passport window, got the form, got it stamped and was sent on my way, to customs (?).
At this window, insurance was the main issue. At no point during this whole process was I asked for the CdP, or my visa. However, after some 3½ hours, I was through.
The hotel I checked into – Deadman’s Cizre Hotel I renamed it – looked the part, and it cost the part too, but it was the only one available online, so I had had no choice. Looks can be deceiving; nothing worked as it should! To get WiFi on each appliance required a trip to reception; to get the aircon in my room required another trip to reception – the only adjustment I could make involved the On/Off switch; there was no hot water, unless you let it run for 10 minutes.
Then I had dinner, for which I had to wait for 30 minutes in a practically empty restaurant. In fact, I had got up and was leaving the restaurant when it finally came. I’d have done better to have left; the smoked salmon was scorched and pretty much tasteless, having sat under a hot lamp for too long while the waiters ignored it.
When I got back to my room, I discovered why all the waiters were otherwise engaged; here was a large function taking place in the courtyard and the oompah-type music was deafening, even with the window closed.
At reception, they assured me, it would stop at midnight! 🤣 After explaining as calmly as I could that I would be up at 0400, and leaving at 0500, I was offered a change of room.
Having lugged all my bags to my new room, I collapsed, exhausted, into bed, happy that this 17-hour day was finally at an end. But I was now 360km closer to home! 😁
Sat 13 Sep 2025
I started out a bit late today, having thought I deserved a rest after yesterday’s marathon. There wasn’t much to see on the road, and it was quite empty. I’m often asked what I think about when riding and the answer is nothing and everything.
Solo biking is actually quite a meditative activity. You are focused on riding, but not in an exclusive way. Your mind is clear, and you register everything that is relevant to your survival, in other words anything and everything that moves within your field of vision and any noise that suggests a hazard; mostly things a registered and dismissed, but sometimes they require a little more attention. You also pick up every irregularity on the road; potholes are a special hazard, but the surface can make a ride a joy, or a pain. This focus clears your mind of all the other thoughts that normally clutter it. It really is a case of being in the present moment, and time and kilometres fly by rapidly.
Now unless you’re a veritable sadhu, this state can only be maintained for so long, so finally I stopped for a coffee. I had identified the café in Kizlitepe beforehand and it was not a disappointment.
That night I stayed in a hotel that was quite isolated, and I took the opportunity to plot my route for the next days and to book hotels. This was quite a novelty for me, as I rarely plan more than a day or two ahead, but by the end of the evening I had a schedule taking me to Athens. All I had to do now was find some food, and fortunately, next door there was a Pony Club which also had a restaurant. So, that was that sorted.
Sun 14 Sep 2025
Yesterday I passed though a toll gate that was not manned and had no mechanism for paying at the gate. There was a sign saying something about subscribing to the HGS, I was mindful of my experience in Slovenia, where I got an on the spot fine of € 300 for not having a vignette, even though it was the middle of the night, snowing heavily and all the signboards advising that one was necessary were partially or fully covered in snow. “Sorry, no excuses accepted,” was the response to my explanations and pleas.
Not wishing to repeat the experience, today I pulled into the first service station to get some info on how I acquired membership. As I did so, three cops on two motorbikes were coming out, and in response to my questions, directed me to their office.
Here I was warmly welcomed, given a cup of tea, and given the full info on how the system works. The Hizli Geçiş Sistemi or Fast track System – HGS for short – is digital. You are required to subscribe at a post office and then you get billed as you use it; you either pay by debit card or go to a bank and pay directly. The cameras take a photo of your rear number plate, so there is no escape for bikes. You get a 15 day grace period to eithr register for the first time or pay any tolls incurred.
If you try to leave the country on a foreign vehicle, they check the system and you have to settle any debts before you can leave. As this can only be done at a bank, it could well result in a delay in departure – a bit tough if you are getting a ferry! To avoid this, individuals can access a web page where, on entering a registration number, you see and amounts owing; it works for other traffic fines, such as speeding, as well.
So with the good wishes of my new mates, I set off again, content that I wouldn’t be receiving any penalties for using the highway. The road was good, the bike was running like a well-oiled clock, and my new screen was doing a sterling job of keeping the wind noise down.
Taking in the scenery I thought how different it was, both to the countries further south and to northern Europe. It was vast. He views stretched for miles to the low hills on either side. However unlike the desert expanses, which are featureless, and where you can see all the way to the horizon, these vistas were full of features: small hills; buildings; vehicles; crops; the occasional animal, trees and bushes. The contrast with Europe was simply due to the scale; the features were similar, but Europe is shrunken, condensed.
The other notable thing was the architecture, or rather lack of it. Buildings, be then industrial or residential, single or multi-occupancy are all boxes, put together in different ways. There are no curves, no arches, and very little in the way of decoration. The only exceptions, which provide a welcome change are the mosques, with their highly coloured domes and tall minarets.
After all this contemplation, I arrived early at my hotel, the Osmaniye Hanedan. There was no lift, so I had to lug my bags up to the 2nd floor. I took a wander into town, which had nothing to recommend it, not even an open café. I had also realised that it was Sunday, so there would be no post office open to register with HGS.
What I did discover, however, is that Osmaniye is the origin of the “Osmaniye Yer Fistiği”. This is the first peanut from Turkey, and the first product from the region to be granted “Protected Designation of Origin” (PDO) status by the EU, in view of its special properties.
In case you weren’t aware, peanuts are used to make vegetable oil, mayonnaise, margarine, sauces, cakes and various confectionary, as well as peanut butter (of course). Powdered peanuts are used to make glue and to extinguish fires.
You can find all you need to know concerning the Osmaniye peanut here. I can attest, as a lover of salted peanuts, that these are indeed amongst the best I have had.
Dinner was a very good mutton kebab, taken on a pavement “restaurant”.
Belfast-2-Belfast-By-Bike 