The last time I saw my father-in-law, he was still scratching his head, trying to figure out why on earth I would get up at 5:00 AM on a Sunday morning…
These words belong to my riding buddy Hakan. On Sunday, October 6, 2013, when he stepped out of his house in Maltepe, he felt the cold air deep in his bones. He pedaled for 45 minutes to Kadıköy to meet at Kabataş, then crossed with the 07:45 ferry. I left my home in Beşiktaş around 08:00. The weather was overcast but not as harsh as Hakan felt; the sun was warming through the clouds in places.
Route: Uluabat and the Famous Turkish sucuk Await
At 08:30 we met at the Kabataş Bursa Sea Bus (BUDO) pier. This line was a new experience for both of us. Our target was both historical and mouth-watering: Uluabat Village on the shore of Uluabat Lake.
“Society Is Not Ready Yet”
The Mudanya ferry was departing at 09:00. We easily printed our internet-booked tickets from the machines using the PNR code and passed through the turnstiles. For that time, the 18 TL ticket price had surprised us pleasantly compared to the high transportation costs we were used to.
The waiting lounge by the sea, with its glass walls, resembled a spacious tea garden. But instead of the strong tea we craved, we were stuck with vending machines. We sat at an empty table and waited for time to pass. Hakan couldn’t help but comment on the tracksuit I wore over my cycling bibs:
– Buddy, society just isn’t ready for me in spandex yet.
– Ha ha ha
– What’s wrong with it? I’m wearing them right now…
While our laughter filled the lounge, the place started getting crowded. We didn’t even notice how time passed with the lively group of university students at the next table speaking in a foreign language.
Floating Between the Waves and the Clouds
Our adventure officially began as the ferry glided toward Mudanya. The lower salon of the ferry was very well-maintained, with comfortable two- and four-seater seats that rivaled airplane comfort. We had our breakfast with pastries and 50-kuruş bag tea from the buffet. I thought “I wish I had filled my thermos with strong tea at home,” but on tours like this, “traveling light” is the most important thing. All I had with me was a first-aid kit, spare clothes, and one magnesium tablet.
The socket next to the seat came to my rescue; while charging my phone, I watched the storm’s effect on the sea outside. Despite the slight rocking, the 1 hour 50 minute journey passed pleasantly. Around 11:00 we were in Mudanya.
First Pedals in Mudanya and the Trilye Breeze
We arrived in Mudanya. A bright, late-summer sun greeted us; as soon as we got off the ferry, our spirits lifted. This is a historic place where the Mudanya Armistice, which effectively ended the War of Independence, was signed. We really wanted to visit the Museum-House and explore its streets, but our time was limited. Our return ferry was at 18:30 and a 120-kilometer route full of unknowns lay ahead. We wasted no time, jumped in the saddle, and headed out.
When I came to a fork in the road, I met a group of cyclists coming from the opposite direction wearing pistachio-green Bursa Metropolitan Municipality jerseys. After greeting them, I turned in the direction they came from, but after five minutes there was still no sign of Hakan. As the road deteriorated and became deserted, I got worried. When I opened the navigation, I saw the bitter truth: I had taken the wrong turn!
Hakan’s reproachful call didn’t take long:
– Buddy, where are you?
– I saw the cyclists at the fork and turned left, I went the wrong way.
– Why did you do that?
– I don’t know. I’m coming. See you.
“More power to your elbows, boys!”
After reuniting with Hakan, we turned our route toward endless olive groves. The cheerful shout of a villager hoeing in his garden — “Strength to your waists, guys!” — was like medicine for our fatigue.
– Strength to your waists, guys!
– Thanks, uncle…
– Take it easy for you too.
While passing through the square of Taşpınar village, I slow down. Kids are playing. They pause when they see me.
– Aaa, look at the tourist.
– Bro, are you a foreigner?
– :))
– No, I’m Turkish.
– Where are you going, bro?
– To Uluabat village.
– Oooouuu, that’s very far, go from down here, bro…
– Thanks.
Race Against Time: Meatballs and Strategy Change
Around 15:00, when we reached the main road, we faced the bitter reality: we were much slower than planned. While the Balıkesir-Bursa highway was buzzing with traffic, we were “flying” on the right side of the trucks toward Mudanya. My navigation device whispered that our real target, Uluabat, was still 10 kilometers away. That meant at least one hour round trip, and it was guaranteed we would miss the 18:30 ferry.
With cramps in my left leg, I immediately called Hakan:
– Buddy, if we continue, we’ll definitely miss the ferry.
– We’re almost there, just a little more!
– Yeah, but I’ve got a cramp in my left leg.
– Where are you?
– At Gölbaşı Köftecisi.
– Okay, order 1.5 portions for me too, I’m coming.
In that shop where no one was at the grill and things moved at a snail’s pace, our meatballs finally arrived. Ah, Köfteci Yusuf, you got us so used to that speed — I wish you had a branch here. Since I had only eaten one pastry since morning, the meatballs slid down my throat almost without chewing. Hakan arrived, quickly finished his meal, and with the bitterness of not reaching our real target (and those famous sausages), we turned back toward the return route. With the morale drop from failing to reach the goal, we headed back.
Bike Swap and “This is exactly what we want to see on the track!”
While riding on the emergency lane of the highway in the opposite direction, an horse-drawn carriage came straight toward us. As we passed side by side, the driver said something to Hakan but it couldn’t be heard over the traffic noise. We returned to the quiet village roads. My leg and back pain continued, so I fell behind. Hakan, being well-trained, kept motivating me.
– Pedal buddy, pedal…
– Come on, don’t stop, pedal!
On the return, as my back and leg pain increased, we made a radical decision: we would swap the bikes. I was riding a mountain bike with thick, knobby tires that were practically fighting the asphalt. Hakan’s hybrid, on the other hand, was just gliding along… That day I understood once again: the wrong equipment on the right road can turn into torture. My geared, thick-tired mountain bike could save lives off-road, but on asphalt it stuck to the road and drained my energy. The moment I switched to Hakan’s thin-tired city bike, I personally experienced how the reduced friction turned my effort into speed.
When we adjusted the saddle heights and hit the road, I said, “Why didn’t we do this earlier?” I was literally flying with Hakan’s bike! The climbs felt flat, the pedals spun freely. Hakan, left behind, was shouting:
– This is exactly what we want to see on the track!
Tension Rising: The Mystery of the White Pickup
We continued for a long time without much break. We frequently saw flocks of sheep and cattle on the road. At one point, large animals crossing the road blocked our way. They had almost taken over the road. We didn’t have time to wait. We found a small gap and passed very close to them. They got a bit agitated but luckily didn’t get scared and knock us over. As it approached 17:00 we still hadn’t reached Trilye. We rode as fast as we could, but as one road ended, another began, and the seemingly flat roads actually had hidden slopes that drained our energy. Desperation pushed us to the last thing a cyclist would think of: hitchhiking.
We thought if we jumped into the back of a truck or pickup heading toward Mudanya, it could get us there in time. A small open-bed pickup passed by — exactly what we needed. We shouted after it but it didn’t hear us. We got off the bikes and started walking. Hakan called the BUDO call center to learn about ticket change conditions. We learned we could change the printed tickets at the counter; we also checked the next departure times. Thinking there was still hope, we pushed the pedals. Meanwhile, the same white pickup passed by us again. It still didn’t hear our calls. It felt like a horror movie. We got off the bikes and started walking while constantly watching our backs. This time we weren’t going to miss the white pickup. Embarrassedly, we also made hitchhiking gestures to other trucks passing by. It’s a bad feeling for a cyclist, but we had no other choice to make it in time.
Racing Against the Clock: 6:00 PM
Around 18:00, our hope of catching the ferry was hanging by a thread. While descending at full speed, even my light braking on the curves for safety annoyed Hakan; we were counting seconds. Then that famous white pickup appeared for the third time behind us, as if mocking us, and sped past. We couldn’t tell if we were stuck in a “loop” or starring in a horror movie. We just couldn’t catch this pickup whose purpose we couldn’t understand.
When we reached Trilye at 18:30, we faced the bitter truth: hitchhiking had failed, the ferry was gone, and our tickets were wasted.
A Pitstop in Trilye: Village Coffee, Local Gossip, and a Swallowed Diamond
To warm up a bit and rest, we took shelter in a coffeehouse in the square. The news was on TV. Security camera footage from a jeweler in the Grand Bazaar was playing. A Ukrainian man, while supposedly examining a diamond, quickly swapped it with a fake one he had. Does an Anatolian guy fall for that? No! The shop owner realized what happened, closed the doors and called the police. When the man realized he was caught, he took the real diamond from his back pocket and swallowed it discreetly. They caught him, but the news ended there. What happened to that diamond, how it was returned to its owner — our curious questions in the coffeehouse caused smiles and laughter.
The news continued on TV. Thanks to Hakan’s friendly chat with the people in the coffeehouse, we learned there was a minibus going to Mudanya. We quickly got ready and hit the road. It was already dark, and the chill had reached the level where we needed to put on our windbreakers. However, our negotiation with the minibus driver was short:
– When is the next one to Mudanya?
– 19:30
– We also have bicycles.
– Let me see… Ooo, the bikes are very big.
– Unfortunately, there’s no space to put them.
When we looked inside the vehicle, we couldn’t really blame the driver; no luggage compartment, narrow spaces between seats… Helplessly, we got back on the pedals.
Pitch Black and Barking Sounds
Neither of our bikes had lights; our only chance was my headlamp. I gave the lamp to Hakan, who was riding in front, so he could see the road better. There was no full moon. The roads were unlit. The places we passed were so dark that without the headlamp we would have found the way by touch. The emptiness was broken only by the occasional passing vehicles and the barking of invisible dogs. With barking sounds coming from right beside us, we experienced small waves of excitement, and when the dogs left us alone, we took deep breaths of relief.
“And there it is… the ultimate setback!”
The inevitable pain from hours on the saddle had reached an unbearable level. My padded tights that promised 3 hours of comfort had long since finished their shift. When Hakan saw I was tired, he handed me the headlamp and wanted me to go in front. Right at that moment we took a short toilet break and Hakan gave the bad news:
– Buddy, your rear tire is flat.
– No way, I didn’t notice at all.
– This tire had burst before, I patched it.
– If we ride like this, the rims might bend.
– Haydaaa, look at the bad luck.
On one side, the approaching last ferry time; on the other, a flat tire… The adventure was increasing its dose every minute.
Final Act: Pump Work Against Time
It was 20:30 and only 45 minutes remained until the last ferry’s departure. We had a spare inner tube and repair kit with us, but stopping to change the tire meant visibly missing the last trip. Walking wasn’t even an option. We found the solution in the “pump-and-continue” strategy: we pumped as much air as possible into the flat tire, pushed the pedals hard, and when the tire deflated again, we pulled over and inflated it once more. With this stressful cycle, we reached the Mudanya pier breathless at exactly 21:05.
When we bought our tickets and threw ourselves onto the ferry, we let out a deep “thank God.” Since going up to the deck was prohibited during the journey, we left the bikes outside and entered carrying only the deflated wheel in our arms. In the middle of the ferry, under the curious gazes of the passengers, we squatted on the floor and changed the inner tube. When the operation was successfully completed, we collapsed into our seats accompanied by the entertaining news on TV. The fatigue was so heavy that both of us dozed off with short interruptions throughout the journey to Istanbul.
Midnight in Istanbul: One Last Adventure for the Road
Around 23:10 we rolled into Kabataş, Istanbul. At this hour of the night, it was almost impossible for Hakan to cross to the Anatolian side by bike. So we headed to my home in Beşiktaş. The adventure ended at home for me, but for Hakan the real test was just beginning:
My riding buddy, who had to start work the next day, needed to get to Maltepe. He was about to board the legendary 500T bus—notorious for being packed to the rafters—wearing nothing but his cycling spandex. Now, that is a true adventure.
Our target was Uluabat, we couldn’t reach it. We set out to buy sausages, we writhed with cramps in front of the meatball place. The ferry was missed, the tire burst, the dogs barked. We could only complete half of the 120-kilometer route. Still, would I want to erase that day? No.
Because the beauty of cycling tours is not only at the destination; it is hidden in those moments along the way. In the villager uncle who said “Strength to your waists, guys!”, in the news about the thief who swallowed the diamond, in Hakan’s final adventure boarding the 500T in his tights…
If we remember to bring the bicycle light, spare tire, and wake up a little earlier next time, those famous Kasap Halil sausages will be waiting for us. Promise.
