Ride Fourteen - part of the Mesaoria Plain

After a rough nights sleep I was in defiant mood, todays ride would be good, good things would occur no matter what,because I would get off my arse and make them happen. Simples. I was in two minds as to riding across the mountains again or sticking to the plain and putting in some miles on the flat for a change. I decided to check out the villages around here and ride a figure eight loop of about forty eight miles.

Here the rain in Spain definately doesn't fall mainly on the plain! But the wind does blow with a thigh sapping consistancy. One of the benefits of riding a figure eight loop is that occassionally the wind gets behind you and that's a lot of fun here.

I don't trust car drivers. My distrust of this species was immediatly justified withing two minutes of starting the ride. Some numpty on the resort road came at me on the wrong side of the road, not even looking, and came within inches of wiping me out, much to the amusement of his passenger. Wakey wakey please pe
ople in tin cans, a cyclist has rights too and more importantly a life!!

I decided this was a good thing to have happened. near misses are few and far between out here and getting this out of the way so early in the ride mean't it wouldn't happen again because Cyclops was clearly on my side out there.

I headed up to Iskele town and turned left to cycle along the plain with the mountains on my right I couldn't help but keep stopping to absorb the view. I knew the view from the top of these mountains well, but they are equallly beautiful from down here on the plain, well almost!

I had plotted a random route in my Garmin and it took me back through some of the villages I had ridden through earlier this trip, as well as many new ones. Turning left off the main road saw me almost causing my own pile up as I came face to face with the inevitable herd of goats out on their morning constituitional.

I said good morning to the goat herder who smiled nicely and said something under his breath. I would not have blamed him if it were along the lines of  'bloody cyclists'! These goats were different. Mostly the goats here are timid and very jumpy. It doesnt take much to scare them. But this lot were different. Much more inquisitive and confident. I like confident. Even the little baby goats and their mothers came up to my handlebars to say hello to Celeste and me. I made a mental note to have a shower after each ride from now on, clearly I smelled of goat food.

The little villages here are almost empty of people. But the school playgrounds are full of kids. As I rode past groups of kids abandoned their playground games and swarmed across to the school yard wall to wave me on my way. How wonderful to be a child in Cyprus I thought. Little did i know what I was about to see.

I started seeing brown road signs of a deeply disturbing nature. Mass graves. These were clearly the atrocity sites I had missed on my previous rides around this area. I decided to go and have a look and pay my respects.

What happened in these villages in 1974 beggars belief. It is on a par with the terrors of WW2. I did not take any side here,I made no political comment. I simply  stood in bewilderment at what human beings are capable of doing to each other. No reasons justify what happened here.

 The school room and the childrens desks where they were massacred is a very haunting place to visit. The mass graves are marked with monuments and there are information plaques in Turkish and English depicting what happened here.



 I was reminded of my walk through Bergen Belsen camp in Germany. Although the scale of the killing was totally different I felt the same sickness well up inside my belly here as I did walking through that horrible place on the Luneburger Heide. People of the world, nothing is worth this. As I left a coach load of visitors arrived, many in tears. I wondered what terrors they may be re-living as I peddalled away from these dark places.

I decided to smile and enjoy the rest of my ride, I think that is what life is for, and those who rest here cannot do that, so I felt I should do it for them in my own small way.

I continued, out onto the main road for a short section, then  through more small villages, past the usual markets, building site chaos interspersed with well kept gardens, farm buildings and old ruins for a by gone age.

An all to familier sound blasted through my righ ear as I passed the mosque. Yep, time to pray again. The call to prayer was being broascast over the mega PA system again. Just as I finished videoing it I was reminded this was indeed the 21st centuary and not the 2nd as the all to familier sound of a text message coming in on a mobile phone was broadcast out via the mosque PA system. Only in Cyprus!

I rode past trees full of the little fruits I have been eating all week here. I first tasted them on the beach in Limmassol with Renata last week. Now I know where they come from. They are little yellow fruits that taste gorgeous, with big seeds in them. I have no idea what they are called but recommend them to any cyclists riding here.

Inevitably the tail winds became cross winds and finally killer headwinds as I was reaching the final leg of my loop. The road back to Iskele was a battle against the wind. Let no man ever tell me again there be no wind here, for verily they hast no friggin' idea!

Celeste was in her element on this ride. She's a flirty little ride at the best of times but today she was rolling with total confidence in herself, we were one, man and machine, a team, the only way, both of us secure in ourselves and totally there for each other, the way it has to be on a bike.

48.3 miles
Top speed 53mph!! Can't be right!??