Happy Thanksgiving

November 24, 2016
Happy Thanksgiving!

 

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If you have food in your fridge, clothes on your back, a roof over your head and a place to sleep you are richer than 75% of the world. If you have money in the bank, your wallet, and some spare change you are among the top 8% of the words’s wealthy. If you woke up this morning with more health than illness you are more blessed than the million people who will not survive this week. If you have never experienced the danger of battle, the agony of imprisonment or torture, or the horrible pangs of starvation you are luckier than 500 million people alive and suffering. If you can read this message you are more fortunate than 3 billion people in the world who cannot read it at all.

Aren’t we lucky?

Gary and Monika

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Kakheti Valley, Georgia 6 – 6/2014

November 18, 2016

We had been looking forward to Georgian wines since we had our last sip of Italian Nero d’Avila. To our disappointment, most of the stores in Georgia stocked plenty of beer, vodka and juices, but rarely more than a few wines. Much of the table wine we found in the country was either homemade or produced by wineries and sold in 5-liter plastic containers. It was invariably on the sweet side. This was not Napa Valley, where there is a winery every couple of miles advertising their wine-tasting rooms, tours and picknick facilities. If these exist at all in the Kakheti wine country valley, they are set up for tour buses, not individuals.

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The old wine cellar at the Numisi Winery still had the original amphorae buried in the floor where wine is traditionally aged in Georgia.

At length, we did find two wineries that were very interesting. The Numisi winery in Velistsikhe was located on a dirt side road with no signs outside of any kind. It had an interesting museum of antique wine making equipment. The old winery itself still had the huge amphorae called qvervri buried in the ground where wine was traditionally aged. For $10 each they offered a tour of the museum and a generous sample of their red, rosé and white wines, plus a dangerous chacha brandy, (grappa style), also called “vine vodka” or “grape vodka”, distilled from the seeds and stems. All was accompanied by fresh cheese and bread.

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Nunu, the owner of the Numisi Winery gave us the full tour on a personal level.

We learned that they are apparently known for their Saperavi wine made from an indigenous red grape. Saperavi is Georgia’s most widely planted red wine grape, and is often blended with other grape varieties. The owner, Nunu, a delightful lady herself, gave us the tour and let us peek into the cellar where 10–year old cognac was aging in barrels. Quite content that we had discovered Georgian wine, we camped right in front of the winery that night.

The second winery we visited with the help of the informative Tourist Information Office in Telavi was the Twins Old Cellar Winery. Obviously set up for tour buses, we would have never found it on our own. They had a fabulous museum and exhibits of how their traditional wines were made. Even then, their best dry red they called “The Black One” because of its incredibly dark color, was sold in beautiful ceramic 1-liter bottles, ($25) or a 5-liter plastic jugs, ($35), an unfortunate choice since this type of wine deteriorates quickly once exposed to air.

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These strange looking boards have flint or shale embedded in them. They were used to drag over a plowed field to break up dirt clots. We’ve seen similar version before in Spain and Turkey.

We were fortunate to see the next generation of giant amphorae being prepared and buried in the ground for the unique aging process. Once the special clay amphorae (urns) are fired and aged, they are treated with a lime type cement on the outside and then again heated with fire on the inside. A coat of liquid bees’ wax permanently seals the surface. Buried in the ground, the year’s vintage is sealed and stored for at least one year. These amphorae are cleaned and re-used for generations.

We were told that Russia has banned the importation of Georgian wines, mostly sweet, and wineries are now adapting to more modern vinting processes to produce the dry wines preferred by the European and US markets, but we found few examples that were both good and affordable.

Driving through the Kakheti Valley, we could have been in the Napa, Sonoma or any other valley in California, but clearly, the way to explore the wines of Georgia is with a private guide or by tour bus.

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Ikalto, Georgia 5 – 5/2014

November 15, 2016

Crawling up a 14% grade to the Ikalto Monastery we found a comfortable flat parking area overlooking the upper Kakheti valley, famous for its Georgian wines. Visiting the church and its grounds, it appeared that wine production had been important from a very early time.

After closer inspection we realized that these underground amphorae used to store wine.

After closer inspection we realized that these underground amphorae used to store wine.

The Ikalto monastery near Telavi was founded in the 6th century. It was known as one of the most important cultural-scholastic centers of Georgia. In the 12th century, the Academy of Ikalto trained its students in theology, rhetoric, astronomy, philosophy, geography, geometry, and chanting but also taught more practical skills like pottery making, metal work, pharmacology, viticulture and wine making. In 1616, Persian invaders set the Ikalto Academy on fire and it ceased to exit.

This little doll was waiting for her parents visiting the church. Monika exchanged a photo for a balloon.

This little doll was strolling in the Ikalto mission garden. Monika exchanged a photo for a balloon.

Today, there is an effort to save the ancient church and some stabilization and restoration have taken place but lacking funds still threaten the structure.

We took advantage of a sunny day and did a full maintenance service on The Turtle V, including changing the Amsoil dual by-pass oil filters. One of the unique features of The Turtle V is its built-in 12-gallon oil reservoir. Finding quality oil in developing countries can be a problem.

 

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Monika’s Birthday – October 15, 2016

November 10, 2016
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The sky opened up in time for a pretty sunset at the Point Arena lighthouse.

You may recall that Monika loves birthdays and wants to remember every one of them. She does some strange things like climbing Yosemite’s Half Dome, jumping out of an airplane at 18,000 feet, spending two weeks exploring Cuba or riding a camel in the Altai Gobi Desert in Mongolia. This year she took another adventure off her birthday–bucket list; to stay in a lighthouse. Well in this case not actually in the lighthouse but in the lighthouse keeper’s apartment. With a full kitchen and a cozy fireplace we thought we’d have some great dinners, climb the lighthouse by moonlight and go for a walk. Then the weather changed.

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Along the Point Arena-Stornetta hiking trail, we watched the angry waves crashing into the coast line.

The rain came sideways off the ocean, stinging our faces like little pieces of ice. Our North Face Gore-Tex jackets flapped frantically as another 60-mile-an-hour gust nearly pushed us off the trail we were walking alongside the cliffs of the Pacific Ocean. Twenty-foot monster waves rolled in and built over the submerged rocks, crested in plumes of spray, built again and crashed violently into the helpless escarpments just below us. The water rushed back out to sea, forcing itself into the next set of breakers. What were we doing here in this gale was a question that came to mind, but of course, it was Monika’s birthday.

The horizon of the angry Pacific was shrouded in dense fog. There is actually a huge reef just offshore only 6 feet under the water. Literally hundreds of ships had been trapped and demolished on these rocks. Any survivors, if they could even swim, had little chance of reaching the shore and scaling the vertical cliffs.

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Point Arena Lighthouse, CA

The Point Arena Lighthouse, originally built in 1870 out of necessity and rebuilt after the 1906 earthquake in San Francisco, happens to be the tallest on the West Coast of California that is still open to the public (115 ft/41 m). The view from the top was inspiring, even as we watched the storm moving in. The excellent museum next to the lighthouse documents some of the amazing history.

Our picturesque hike along the coast through the Point Arena-Stornetta Unit of the California Coastal National Monument was only 4.5 miles from the lighthouse to the town of Point Arena where we could take refuge out of the wind and rain for a cup of coffee. We could see that the torment was not letting up and the rain was increasing. Our Extreme Gore-Tex North Face jackets and pants were no match, but fortunately, even with the wind, it was a warm Pacific rain. Little creeks we had hopped across on our away to Point Arena were now flooded and muddy trails descending into the ravines were treacherous. By the time we got back to our warm cabin we were completely wet. A note stuck on the door explained that due to the power outage, the moonlight tour of the lighthouse had been canceled.

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No power? No problem. We enjoyed a romantic candle light dinner starting with fresh oysters.

The sky opened just in time for a beautiful sunset. We stood outside with the other guests and found out two of them were also celebrating their birthday! Must be a Libra thing. Still without power, we dined in romantic candlelight on fresh oysters for appetizers, followed by a delicious French cut rack of lamb, a baked potato and vegetables, accompanied with a good bottle of Zinfandel, and a sumptuous chocolate birthday cake, all the while sitting in front of a cozy warm fireplace. It was the perfect meal to end another memorable birthday!

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Sighnaghi, Georgia 4 – 6/2014

October 21, 2016

Escaping Tbilisi without a scratch on The Turtle V, we headed east towards Georgia’s famous wine region. We’re always interested in new foods in each country, so when we spotted some ladies selling fresh bread, we had to check it out.

What a welcome we received from this peanut vendor in Sighnaghi.

What a welcome we received from this peanut vendor in Sighnaghi.

The first one was a baker and she happily showed us, explaining in Russian, how she heated up her insulated round oven with wood and then scraped the coals to the middle and slapped the pieces of dough onto the side. Monika loves interacting with vendors and has a good feel for bargaining or when they mark up the price because we are foreigners. This lady enjoyed our curiosity and gave us her normal asking price. When you don’t speak the language, it’s always easiest to use a calculator.

After we scored our bread she sent us to her friend to buy cheese. There we tried each variety and chose a big chunk of the one we liked best. Now we were ready to find a quiet spot for the night. Turning right on the first dirt road, we came upon a wide valley and discovered the perfect place right next to a vineyard to stay put for a couple of days. We opened our first bottle of good Georgian wine to complement the freshly baked bread and homemade cheese and let the hassle of Tbilisi and the Chinese Embassy drop into the misadventure file.

After the hectic traffic in Tbilisi, we enjoyed a quiet camp in the countryside.

After the hectic traffic in Tbilisi, we enjoyed a quiet camp in the countryside.

Checking our paper map and reading in our Lonely Planet guidebook, we noticed a town called Sighnaghi that was located high above the lower end of the wine valley. It was also marked as a Historic City. Following a narrow tortuous road into the hills, we arrived in Sighnaghi and found a safe spot for the night in a large parking lot just at the beginning of the town.

While the area has been settled since Paleolithic times, it was in 1762 that King Heraclius II of Georgia sponsored the construction of the walled town to defend the area from marauding attacks by Dagestan tribesmen from the northern Caucasus. Sighnaghi is very picturesque with its pastel houses and narrow cobblestone streets overlooking the agricultural and wine region of the vast Alazani Valley with the Caucasus Mountains visible in the distance.

Driving through this old arch would have been a shortcut back to the main highway but after great discussion, Monika decided it was too narrow. I said, “Fold the mirrors in, we only need an inch on each side”

Driving through this old arch would have been a shortcut back to the main highway but after great discussion, Monika decided it was too narrow. I said, “Fold the mirrors in, we only need an inch on each side”

As soon as we parked, a couple of curious boys came around and started asking questions in English. Boys will be boys when they see a big fancy truck. Both seemed quite bright and to our amazement, English was their common language. One lived in Sighnaghi and the other was visiting with his family from Baku, the capital of Azerbaijan. In Soviet times, they would have spoken Russian.

In the morning we set out to explore this “City of Love” as it is known because it’s apparently a destination for Georgian honeymooners. People were busy going about their lives, and there was hardly a tourist in sight. We strolled up the cobble stone streets and smiled at some of the features that reminded us of Russia.

We enjoyed the charming narrow streets of Sighnaghi.

We enjoyed the charming narrow streets of Sighnaghi.

At a shady plaza street vendors were selling snacks and displaying their wares. Men were intensely involved with a game of backgammon. Everywhere we were greeted with welcoming smiles. Natural gas seemed to be widely available. Homes had Russian style gas meters connected to overhead gas lines. A station wagon had been converted to LPG. We chatted with friendly ladies sitting at their doorsteps busily knitting and displaying their felted handicrafts. Monika bought a pair of socks from an old lady but no one could convince her to buy a wooly sheepskin hat that had a very distinct smell of the animal it came from. Gary politely got out of buying a felt hat. One of the knitting ladies pointed to a trail leading along the old city fortifications. Climbing to the top of the tower the view of the wine country was beautiful. The wall itself gave us a feeling for the Great Wall of China but that is still many miles ahead.

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Georgia 3 – 6/2014

October 14, 2016

Certainly one of the more pleasant things about driving into Georgia was that it is a Christian nation. Not that we have anything against the Islamic faith. Some of our good friends are Muslim, but it was nice not to be woken up before sunrise by amplified loudspeakers throughout town calling us to prayer. In fact, driving by villages, there were often one or more church steeples, and as we noted before, the dress of mostly young women was as modern as San Francisco or London.

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The Svetitskhoveli Cathedral in Mtskheta is one of the most important Eastern Orthodox churches, a World Heritage Site.

We learned that Nino, later Sainte Nino, at the age of 14, experienced a vision of the Virgin Mary telling her that her destiny was to convert the Iverians to Christianity. Coming to Iveria, (Eastern Georgia), in the 320s, Nino won a royal convert when her prayers saved Queen Nana from a serious illness. Then, King Mirana was struck blind while hunting, only for his sight to be miraculously restored after he prayed to the Christian God. King Mirana made Christianity Iveria’s official religion in about 327. It was the second nation in Asia to become Christian after Armenia.

We stopped to visit a few religious sites, among them Musket and Bodbe. Being Sunday in Mtskheta, several wedding ceremonies in the Svetitskhoveli Cathedral were happening simultaneously and continuously, giving us an interesting experience of a Georgian Orthodox wedding.

This wedding party appeared in their Chokha, a traditional outfit from the 9th century. It was rarely seen under Soviet rule but now it's a strong show of Georgian national pride.

This wedding party appeared in their Chokha, a traditional outfit from the 9th century. It was rarely seen under Soviet rule but now it’s a strong show of Georgian national pride.

But now it was time to head to Tbilisi to collect our Chinese visa. Getting closer to the capitol also meant that the intensity of Georgian crazy drivers and road conditions multiplied. 

Humps, bumps and potholes were enough to keep our speed to a max 40-mph. Unmarked 5” speed bumps would suddenly appear for no apparent reason and had to be crossed at 2-mph in our truck to avoid breaking something or getting air. Since no one obeys any posted or unposted speed limit, the bumps were somewhat effective. They reminded us of crossing Brazil where the speed bumps are twice as high. If they tried that here, the BMWs would get high centered.

Should we mention parking? Joke! On a 4-lane road, the lane on the right is not a lane. If that fills up, you just double or triple-park wherever you please. Parking on both sides of a narrow side street quickly turns it into a zero-clearance alley unless you’re driving a mini car. Sidewalks were perfect parking areas as long as you could get half your vehicle off the road, and even that was not too important.

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This cafe was located at the Round Garden (Park) in Tbilisi near the UN Headquarters. We parked just around to corner while waiting for the Chinese Embassy to open. A keen eye can spot The Turtle V behind the tree in the distance.

Arriving in the capital city of Tbilisi, the drivers and traffic were nearly humorous. Interchanges were something like a scary ride at an amusement park that had somehow gone wrong. We ended up hiring a taxi to find the Chinese Embassy. It was closed for the three-day long Dragon Boat Festival. After a long two days and two nights parked half on the sidewalk of a side street near the Chinese Embassy, UN Headquarters and the Round Garden, we were informed that they do not issue visas to foreigners unless they are living or working in Georgia. We were shocked. Plan B??

We escaped the madding traffic of Tbilisi with only a couple U-turns and more grey hairs and found a quiet camp in a meadow overlooking a pleasant valley. It was time to take a deep breath.

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Georgia 2 – 6/2014

October 6, 2016

A day in our peaceful river camp gave us time to reflect on this new country. Thoma, the gentleman who had presented us with wine, cheese and bread the evening before, adamantly insisted we go and visit his mother in her house above the river the next morning, even though he would be out of town. Her nephew, Giorgi, spotted us walking up and invited us in for Chai. We knew from our experience in Russia that Chai, “tea”, is usually not just a cup of tea.

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Cousin Georgi waved his hands even more than Monika does. There was much toasting going on!

We were delighted to meet Thoma’s mother and she immediately set about cutting up vegetables as she continued to make homemade bread. Her last version was very special. She mixed handfuls of homemade cheese into the dough before baking it in her little electric oven.

Meanwhile, Giorgi entertained us with his homemade semi-sweet Georgian white wine, not our favorite, but who can refuse. We had great conversations. Mostly Giorgi was talking, waving his hands even more than Monika does. Mom understood what he was saying, chuckling all along. Though we understood only little, we could just laugh and agree.

The experience gave us an interesting perspective of how many people live in this ex-Soviet country who are not zooming around in their luxury BMW’s and Mercedes Benz’s. Their beds were a single metal frame and a thin mattress. A wood burning stove was their primary source of cooking and heat in the winter. They did have a television that was on continuously with political announcements and news. An open hat & coat rack and a little closet/cupboard shared a wall with their kitchen cabinet in this one room home. The kitchen sink consisted of two buckets of water but there was no running water in the house.

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From the Ubisi monastery’s potato patch, one could see The Turtle V parked down below. It was a great and quiet camping spot.

The shower in the adjacent storage room, (The water supply probably came from a tank on the roof.), was a pipe connected to a rusty wood-fired hot water heater that we were not sure worked any better than the aging washing machine. More laundry may have been done by hand. We didn’t dare to ask about the toilet but we figured it was just the common squat outhouse. They were proud to show us the new pump that drew water from the well and ran out of a spigot in the yard.

Despite these third world living conditions they were extraordinarily hospitable. Thoma’s Mom prepared a care package of a warm loaf of bread, a bag of walnuts and some fresh eggs (and this after her son had brought us a loaf of bread, a big hunk of cheese and a bottle of wine the evening before), and the cousin insisted we take a two liter plastic bottle of wine with us back to the truck. It would have been impolite to refuse any of this.

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Healthy looking cows were our only neighbors. No wonder, Thoma’s Mom’s cheese tasted so good.

Monika somehow had a feeling that this may happen so she brought some little gifts of safety pins, (which are always welcome), and soaps in a zip lock bag. She showed Mom how to use the zip lock and stuck in a few Laris (Georgian currency). Mom smiled gracefully, quickly closed the bag and tucked it away before Giorgi stepped back into the house.

At the camper, we inspected the loaf of commercial bread that we had purchased in the previous town. While beautiful we realized it was cheap, tasteless white bread. It was so bad, Monika quickly cut it into pieces and fed it to the local chickens and a pig, no doubt a “delicacy” for them. Nothing gets wasted.

Before leaving the next morning, we visited the 9th century Ubisi monastery the village is famous for. Monks were busy reciting their prayers. Monika wore the customary head covering and a skirt while she lit a candle.

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The 9th century Ubisi monastery was visited by many pilgrims.

Across the street from the monastery there was actually a recycle bin, a trashcan and an outhouse for the pilgrims who visit the monastery. The outhouse consisted only of a squat hole. Unfortunately, some people missed the hole and the water spigot was broken off.

Heading down the highway, it was interesting to see the old Soviet style houses that would be typical in this part of Georgia. Many fences were made of ex-landing platforms similar to the aluminum ones we carry on the back of the truck.

We couldn’t resist stopping at one of the roadside stands that sold a unique sweet bread called Nabizi. Worth a try for 1 Lari, ($.50), The “shingles” advertising Nabizi were actually made of clay.

The bad news was that we were still having trouble reading the pretty Georgian signs and despite the famous Georgian wine, grocery stores stocked mostly juices and beer, probably because most families made their own wine. The good news was that this was no longer a Moslem country so pork and sausages were readily available in meat markets.

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Georgia 1 – 6/2014

September 29, 2016
Only cows were our companions on this meadow next to the river.

Only cows were our companions in this meadow next to the river.

Georgia!! New country. New language. New alphabet. New customs. Crossing the border from Turkey was a breeze, no visas required, but we had been warned that Georgian drivers made those in Istanbul seem tame. It is really hard to describe them. Crazy, idiotic, suicidal and moronic are terms that fall short. In addition, a large percentage of the vehicles (30-40%) are high-powered luxury BMWs, Range Rovers, Mercedes, Audis and Peugeots that seem to be practicing for the Daytona 500. Many are right-hand drive, making us wonder if they were stolen in Japan or Great Britain and sold on the black market. If a luxury car goes missing in Switzerland, the running joke is you’ll find it in Georgia.

A local guy named Thoma waded across the stream with homemade bread, cheese and wine. Monika had already cozied up to a local dog. We may need to stay here another day.

A local guy named Thoma waded across the stream with homemade bread, cheese and wine. We may need to stay here another day.

To complicate matters, whether drivers are in beat-up Lada Nivas, delivery vans, BMWs or semi 18-wheelers, most drivers seem to be suffering from acute “rectalclaxonitis”. “Rectal” coming from that part of their body where their brains are located and “Claxon” from the Mexican word for horn. Any time there is a slight tightening of the anal sphincter, the horn sounds.

Thoma's dog adopted Monika immediately even though Thoma insisted he was crazy.

Thoma’s dog adopted Monika immediately even though Thoma insisted he was crazy.

The roads vary from sorta OK to narrow two-lane pocked with potholes and a “suicide lane” in the middle. To be realistic, the painted lines are just for decoration and have no relation to direction of traffic. There is always a “passing lane” in the middle regardless of road width or oncoming traffic. Approaching vehicles flash their lights to tell you that yes, they see you, and yes, they know there is no room to pass, and yes, they are going to pass anyway.

All this is made more exciting by the fact that the right-hand drive vehicles must pull out into oncoming traffic to see if there is any oncoming traffic. We kept a safe distance and a constant watch for the next idiot coming up behind us.

These kids were very curious about us and The Turtle V but very polite and rather shy.

These kids were very curious about us and The Turtle V but very polite and rather shy.

We were adjusting, and getting used to reading paper maps again. Despite having two of the most sophisticated GPS units available, the Navigattor and the Garmin neither of them had detailed information on Georgia. Road signs were interesting and we were relieved that most of them were also written in our alphabet.

After a few heart-thump incidences on our second day in Georgia, we came around a bend and Monika spotted a meadow by a river below which turned out to be a pleasant camp. We had no sooner unpacked our chairs and fired up the BBQ that a man named Thoma living above in the village waded across the stream with wine, cheese and bread. Maybe this was the hospitality Georgians are known for?

 

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The Black Sea, Turkey 20 – 6/2014

September 22, 2016

Escaping the dimly lit tunnels of Derinkuyu, we felt like moles coming out of our hole. We had to wonder how thousands of people could live in such conditions for months at a time.

Our travel clock was ticking a little faster now and we headed directly to Ankara, the capital of Turkey, to “try” to get our visa for Turkmenistan. More on that joke later. Georgia did not require a visa nor did Kyrgyzstan. We received our visa for Tajikistan in Istanbul and we had an email-visa for Azerbaijan. David Berghof at Stantours in Almaty, Kazakhstan, had arranged our paperwork and visa for Uzbekistan that gave us permission to “wild camp” for two out of every three nights. While we still did not have a visa for China, we did have an absolute etched-in-stone date when we had to meet our guide at the border.——tick, tick, tick, tick.

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This gentleman was the owner of a grocery store where Gary was able to use a propane exchange tank to fill our almost empty bottle.

Wishing we had another year or two to explore other parts of Turkey, we sped north on good highways toward the Black Sea. As excellent as the highways and freeways were, there is always construction. Outside of Samsun was unusually chaotic with lanes being closed and detours around work areas. Then it happened. Three lanes merged into one lane with very little warning. As a white van tried to merge in front of me from the right, I swerved to the left and my mirror caught the edge of a road construction sign. The sound was horrible and the damage was obvious. The mirror had exploded. I parked while Monika ran back to pick up some pieces but they were useless.

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This Turkish mechanic spontaneously took over Monika’s job of lowering the spare tire. No, we did not have a flat. Gary wanted to put the spare into rotation.

Driving the next 20,000 miles through insanely maddening traffic without a side mirror was out of the question, but like Mexico or Russia, Turkey is a land of can-do. We hadn’t driven 5 miles before we saw the sign for automotive repairs. There were dozens of garages specializing in various mechanical problems from transmissions to windshields. We found a small shop on one of the back lanes who not only had replacement mirrors, (apparently broken mirrors were a common problem), but in our case, he simply took the frame from our broken mirror, cut a duplicate and siliconed it in place. The remote electric controls were history but the mirror was still adjustable. If that was the worst incident on this whole trip we would be lucky.

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Boys are always fascinated with The Turtle V.

Harbors make great places to stop for the night. Local fishermen and kids hanging around fishing piers were friendly and curious. After a couple of peaceful nights overlooking the Black Sea we turned inland for one last side trip to visit the village of Uzungöl.

Located in a green valley between high rising mountains overlooking a pretty lake, it sounded like a nice place to spend a day or two. In the center of town was a beautiful mosque. Unfortunately, the tourist trade had discovered Uzungöl so there were several restaurants, hotels and tourist shops. We found safe camping in a large parking lot on the other side of the lake. The apparent peacefulness of the valley was broken periodically by the “call to prayer”. Though we had been accustomed to this in Istanbul, the religious leaders in Uzungöl didn’t want anybody to miss out. Loudspeakers on light posts and telephone poles throughout town echoed the muezzin’s voice across the lake. Apparently, it has become a popular place to visit for the more extreme Saudi Arabia Muslims, with the women dressed in their full body armor.

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The pretty valley of Uzungöl was our last stop in Turkey.

Thanks to our ongoing connection with Internet using our Vodafone EuroSim card, we were starting to get reports from other travelers, very few that there were. One particularly interesting blog was about “The Tunnel from Hell” or “The Tunnel of Death” in Tajikistan. Started in 2006 by the Russians but never finished, it is 5 kms., (3 mi.), of narrow 1 & 1/2 and 2-lane potholes, very few lights and almost no ventilation. Choking smoke from belching diesel trucks make visibility extremely limited. Locals have shared stories of people dying inside due to traffic jams when they were trapped as they succumbed to carbon monoxide. We will tell you more about that as we get closer. Sounds like a fun place huh?

Back on the main road we headed up the coast on the superhighway, hopping from harbor to harbor. The area is known for black tea and we could see the bushes growing on the sides of the mountains. With fuel being almost $7.00 a gallon in Turkey, we didn’t want to fill up until we reached Georgia, but we had to get a couple of gallons, so we pulled off onto a frontage road. A truck stop had a large paved parking area where I asked permission to do a quick spare tire to rear swap, getting our spare into circulation. Of course they said no problem and even helped me take the tire off and used air wrenches to tighten lug nuts.

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Yes, some Turks have blue eyes. Turkey has been a melting pot of European and Central Asian cultures for centuries.

Right across the street we happened to notice a little general-purpose store with exchange propane tanks. We weren’t out yet but since we knew we had the correct adapter for the Turkish exchange tanks, I walked over and asked if we could borrow a tank and just pay for the fuel. No problem. Ended up meeting the man’s family, taking pictures and even camping there for the night. Once again, the process of filling a propane tank took about three minutes. I will discuss this later in a special blog but the thing to bear in mind is that propane is not a gas, it’s a liquid. LPG stand for “liquid petroleum gas”.

Whenever we cross borders we always make sure that the truck is clean, and we are clean and neat. Just makes things go faster. After a quick stop at a roadside restaurant where there was a guy with a one-man carwash business, we crossed into Georgia and took a deep breath after an easy and friendly border crossing. Now where to camp the first night?

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Derinkuyu Underground City, Turkey 19 – 5/2014

September 15, 2016

Before we left the Cappadocia area there was one more place we had to visit. Over the years, we have seen some amazing underground construction. The famous Salt Cathedral of Zipaquirá in Columbia is a Roman Catholic church built within the tunnels of a salt mine 200 meters (660 ft.) underground. The Hole N” The Rock home in Moab, Utah is a 5,000 square foot home with 14 rooms. A cavernous bathroom is referred to as “a toilet in a tomb.” Albert Christiansen spent 12 years drilling and blasting out his hole in the rock, and even then it wasn’t finished when he died in 1957.

This large room might have been used for assemblies or church services.

This large room might have been used for assemblies or church services.

Given the engineering skills of the Swiss it’s not a big reach to grasp how they built the Forte Ospizio San Gottardo in 1894 at the summit of the Gotthard Pass, Switzerland. The Fort mounted two single 120mm gun turrets, both capable of reaching the Italian border. Completely underground and out of sight, the complex included dormitories, kitchens, ammunition depots, generators, repair shops, field hospitals, rooms for the sick, bakeries, etc. and provided space enough to accommodate 100 to 600 soldiers for a timespan of up to several months.

Now we stand in front of Derinkuyu, (“Deep Well”), Yeralti Sehri, (“Underground City”). Located in Cappadocia, Derinkuyu is a large multi-level underground city. It provided a refuge for the region’s Proto-Anatolian inhabitants through the ages. From Byzantine times through 1923, it was known by its Cappadocian Greek inhabitants as Malakopea. It served as a refuge from the raids of the Umayyad Arab and Abbasid armies. The city, and we can call it a city because it had the capacity for 20,000 people, contained living quarters, food stores, kitchens, stables, churches, wine and oil presses, ventilation shafts, wells, and a religious school. It has at least eight levels with a depth of 85 m, (280 ft.).

No elevators, only hand carved rock steps.

No elevators, only hand carved rock steps.

Now open to the public, as we walked through its tunnels, rooms and pillared caverns, it was hard to imagine that this was all dug by hand; no power tools, no electricity, no dynamite and maybe not even any wheelbarrows. The massive complex may have been excavated one bucket at a time.

The historical region of Cappadocia where Derinkuyu is situated contains over 200 underground cities, carved out of a unique geological formation called tufa. All are at least two levels deep. They are not generally occupied today. Derinkuyu is one of the best examples.

The oldest written source about underground cities is the writings of Xenophon around 370 BC. In his seven-book series, Anabasis, he writes that the people living in Anatolia had excavated their houses underground, living well in accommodations large enough for the family, domestic animals, and supplies of stored food. That’s 2,386 years ago! The city’s origins may even be earlier than that, possibly related to the ancient Persian Zoroastrian tradition. We need not go back any further than that to appreciate these amazing underground feats of labor and engineering.

PS. National Geographic reports that in December 2014 yet another underground city was discovered. This one is even larger than Derinkuyu  and contains over 50 miles of tunnels and 11 levels. It is located under the fortress of Nevşehir in the Cappadocia region and may be the largest in the world.

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