Road Bike Cycling in Northern Cyprus : Ride Twenty One Lefkosa Nicosia, Kyrenia Girne

Ride date 28 04 2014

I woke up, fell asleep, then overslept. As soon as I left the apartment I knew 100% I was capable of a very long ride today. It's funny how I am so confident in my abilities on a bicycle. Others often worry because they care and because they don't know how I operate out there. I am calm, rational and in control on a bike. I am a very experienced road cyclist and know my limits. I have the equipment I need and nothing else. I adapt, persevere, challenge myself, ride safely, and above I enjoy every minute on each ride. I know what I am doing. Others don't get that. That is why they worry and fuss. This I do not like, because it is counter productive, serves no practical purpose for me and affects my own confidence. That is why I ignore the 'what ifs' . Those that imagine the dangers attract dangers. I know I am safe out there, so I am safe. Fear is a destructive and contagious thing, and those afflicted with it infect others. The way to live life is to follow the advice of Nike and Just do it. Which is what I do each time I ride alone.

My plan today was to ride in excess of a hundred miles taking in Nicosia, Kyrenia and include the two Mountain crossings necessary to get me there and back to Iskele. I pre hydrated with a litre of water and a high five isotonic tablet. Breakfast was two Bananas and some green tea. I made sure Celeste was up for a good session, inflated her to 120psi, and checked everything was tight and fitting properly. Kick off was later than I would have liked but on this occasion it wasn't the 'ladies' fault.

Some may wonder about the sanity of a guy who is clearly in a relationship with his bicycle. To me we are a team, niether one of us functions on maximum without the other. Out there on our own we depend on each other, achieve great things together, laugh, sweat, scream, yell, and trust each other. When we ride we are in the moment, there is no past or future, just the now. We are totally alive!
That is what a relationship should be.

I set off from Iskele and followed a familiar route along the Mesaoria plain. My first target for today was to get around the Capital city of Cyprus, Nicosia/Lefkosa.

The road to Nicossia from Iskele is familier to me. It runs directly across the Mesaoria plain with the mountain range on my right as I ride. I made one stop and was delighted to meet an old friend from my Trans American cycle ride recently. Arizona tea with honey had re entered my life!

Here the traffic is calm. Approaching a city as a road cyclist presents several challenges. All cities are the same in this regard. Classic approach signs are a marked increase in driver stress, aggression, and careless driving. The road surface deteriorates rapidly, shoulders where most needed, vanish, and navigation becomes difficult as sadly, as with much in modern life, it's all about driver convenience. This is not the case outside of the big Cities here in Northern Cyprus where 90% of the roads are a dream for a road cyclist.

These City approach warning signs trigger a change in how I ride. I am on hyper alert, but totally calm. I ride knowing I am safe, untouchable, and claim my space on the road as if I were in a car. I use a 360 degree vision device I have installed, called ears. The shoulder surface disintegrated into rubble as soon as the traffic defaulted to moron mode. Most passed within centimetres of my right arm. The worst culprits, as in all cities, are heavy goods lorries and taxi drivers, the so called 'professional drivers'. I made a mental note to ban these particular species of sub humanoids from all roads when I am prime minister, along with all city road planners!

Clearly today Cyclops (The God of all things Cycling) had decided to test me under pressure. Little did he know that I've cycled through Montpellier in August!

I dashed from one crater to the next, towards the front line trench ahead. The sound of battle all around me became dull and distant as I fought for survival through the onslaught of crossfire driving. A green 'enemy' tank like truck grazed my shoulder. Blocking his way forward I delivered a return salvo of internationally recognised hand gestures. I rushed ahead to higher ground at the lights. Again he came at me, I took another chance to progress him along the evolutionary scale. Riding fast and assertively in primary position he held back. When I deemed it safe for him to pass, I allowed him. He passed wider and slower. I gave him a thumbs up, he returned the gesture. Clearly my road skills awareness lesson had worked. He surrendered as we laughed in the heat of battle, even mortal enemies can connect here in Northern Cyprus when life is to short!

I made it to the 1974 war memorial in Nicosia. No way was it even worth contemplating riding into the city centre. It had no upside and lots of downside for Celeste and I. From here you can see the huge Turkish flag on the mountain 'wall' to the north of Nicosia, or Lefkosa to give it it's local name.

I took time out to recover from my dash into town across 'no man's land' and contemplated erecting a memorial here for all those cyclists who never made it.

Let me emphasise here that riding around Nicosia was a decision I took in full knowledge of the likely road conditions. It is a big City and not ideal for road cycling. The rest of Northern Cyprus, outside of the Cities most definitely is!

I turned right and rode north towards the looming mountains. The next target, Kyrenia (Girne) lay on the other side. The traffic calmed a little as I peddled away from Nicosia. The road here is a straight line highway from the 'cyclists memorial' to the mountain.

At the foot of the mountain I looked up. Holy mother of Christ!

I did what I always do when faced with such a challenge. Eat. I sat outside the supermarket (in towns they are supermarkets, outside towns they are mere 'markets') and ate a bar of galaxy chocolate, drank a tin of monster energy and decided although I could not yet see it from there, the climb would be easy.

I took just ten minutes to down the 'evil foul disgusting' Chocolate bar forced upon me by Cyclops and start the climb.

Almost instantly the road made a sharp right turn a revealed the full nature of the climb. Cyclops my old mate, you are a star I thought. This was going to be easier than I thought. It's still a challenging climb, but nothing like the gradiants on mount Olympus or at Kantara. This climb was built for cars. Cars, unlike goat herders, are lazy, this is why this climb was easier than it looked from a far.

Approaching the top I was faced with a decision. Yikes, not one of those! Here I could turn left and ride 5km up, and I mean UP, to the castle at St.Hilarion, or continue down into Girne (Kyrenia).

Having left late this morning, and being aware of the lengthy ride back I consulted my navigation god. Garmin informed me that if I wanted to get back before sunset I.had better leave the castle climb for another day and leg it down that hill PDQ (pretty dam quick).

Decisions like this are often not understood by non cyclists. Why not 'just' ride up to a beautiful castle?
'Just' is an easy word to say. In a car we don't need to think. You don't need to listen to your body, pace yourself or operate within your physical or mental limits. Taking this decision was the right thing for me at that moment. The castle has been there for thousands of years, it will be there when I come back.

Riding into Kyrenia was a lot more fun than riding around Nicosia earlier. It's still a big town, but it's got a better 'vibe' in my opinion. The usual issues with cycling in a busy town apply, but it's all worth it when you head as I did directly down to the old Castle and port.

Here I pulled up outside a restaurant where Popeye was having lunch with Olive oil. Complete with white beard and Captains sailors hat he sat smoking his pipe and pondering his next Atlantic crossing, while Olive oil eyed up the big bloke on a bike asking if he could take their photograph. Olive oil, referred me to her Captain, who sucked on his pipe debating the question at length in his mind. After an authoritative pause the Captains permission was refused. Olive oil averted her eyes from my thighs and concentrated once again on her Kalimari. I shipped anchor and moored up at the old Castle. Here at the entrance men played games under Olive trees on there smart phones while life in the old port went about it's daily business.

I spent some time here soaking up the place once again, nothing had changed in the few days since my last ride here, strange that!

The Belly's, English tourists, had just arrived on holiday here. The boat trip excursion seller would have been better advised to think more about the safety of his sea faring vessel than extracting the cash from Mr bellys' wallet. Clearly Mr & Mrs Belly had read the tourist manual. Haggling was what they wanted, not a sailing boat trip out on the ocean waves with Popeye. The excursion seller, although Turkish, spoke better English than the Bellys, smoked a lot less during the battle and eventually lost the deal because the bellys' arms were shorter than their waistlines and couldn't reach out far enough to hand him the cash. Time for Celeste and I to move on from the bemused stares of British tourists on their 'turf' and get back where we belonged, on the open road.

God Garmin got us out of town in a flash. Here the road side is adorned with houses, Casinos, markets, kebab houses and bars.

As we rode these gradually diluted allowing the stunning backdrop of the mountains we had just crossed to dominate the skyline again. I had to question what man was thinking when he decided Casinos were more fun than the Mountains.

Onwards we travelled, both strong and just happy to be alive, out here and part of this beautiful place. Here again the road rolls gently along the coast. I rode with the Mountains to my right now and the Northern coast of the island to my left. It was hot and the sun was directly above me. I was grateful I had decided to carry sunblock with me and covered the back of my legs and neck with it. Stopping for water at a market I sat down and filled up my bottles next to a group of loud, tattoo covered English holiday makers from the North East of our green and sceptic isle. Now, no offence, I know Geordie's are some of the nicest people around but give the locals some chance eh? Continuing to shout slowly at a Cypriot market owner for 'Acuawldbyalikeyabugger' doesn't help our glorious nations image abroad. As they started their second pack of cigarettes that hour I moved on, happy in my decision to pretend I was Italian or French or German, anything but English at that moment.

I rode past some of the new resorts being build on this side of the coast. Some look nice, some don't. Some are finished some probably never will be. I saw a new resort of what had to be well over 200 flats being built by just two old fellas working with trowels and hammers at the speed of light. I suspected this was a job for life Cyprus style.

It was time for Ice cream. I saw a nice pool from afar and headed there to the cafe and devoured a strawberry cornetto and a coke. Here I met two Brits smoking and drinking themselves into an early hospital admission while trying to 'learn the internet'. Friendly enough, we discussed my cycling trips and their sixty a day habit which they could stop whenever they wanted to. I made friends with the little black dog there. Initially he had decided to attack Celeste, like most dogs, scared of anything unfamiliar. However once he discovered I had familiar ice cream he became much more welcoming.

This resort looked nice, but it is nothing compared to the Caesar resort I am based at in Iskele which is far better and has more facilities, especially for families and sports enthusiasts. It does however come with emergency access to these on the street corners for chain smoking drivers and knackered cyclists!

It was time for this cowboy to saddle up and ride on out to the big country again!

TURN YOUR VOLUME DOWN FOR THIS VIDEO!

The wind here was from the North, a cross wind and thankfully not that bad to ride with. The miles passed by quicker the less I looked at my Odometer on the Garmin and soon my shadow became longer on the road in front of me as sun started to set behind me. I still had about thirty miles to ride and a Mountain to ride over to get back. I rode past the easy crossing, got back to Kaplica and decided I had many miles more in my legs so I continued on down to the lower end of the Mountains and took the climb there.

Here the next 'casualty' of the trip occurred. My trusty saddle bag of many years finally gave up the will to live, detached itself form Celeste and tore my shorts on my inner thigh. Emergency repairs were effected and the bag relocated to Celestes' top tube temporarily.

Here the final climb on this route is easily manageable for a reasonably fit rider. The road surface is again superb with a good shoulder and no traffic. The road winds gradually to the pass at the top, without the need for the tight switchbacks on climbs like Kantara.

At the top of the pass I knew it was job done. The wind would be behind me on the Way back along the coast and it was going to be mostly downhill from here on in. Downhill is right. I let go of Celestes brakes and hit 51 mph on the descent! This is what life is about on two wheels!

At the bottom I ran out of land and turned right along the coast road with a cool powerful tailwind to blow me home. This was my reward for being nice to Cyclops today.

As I passed the power station I saw the odometer pass 100 miles with the sun setting behind the Mountains on the the Horizon I had just ridden over for the second time today. Life was good.

I was almost home, but I wanted to shoot into Bogaz and watch the sun set from the old fishing port there. I rode past the familiar restaurants and and spent ten minutes watching the sunset with Celeste. The waves were lapping on the harbour wall and the smell of fish and diesel fuel from the fishing boats wafted across the harbour.