Chapter 2 - Rain, Ruins, and the Road to
TrabzonThe morning began with a promise—a dry tent and the soft hush of
dawn. But by 7 a.m., the rain returned, tapping gently on the canvas
like a persistent reminder. I emerged reluctantly, greeted the drizzle,
and packed my gear with practised hands. Over coffee, I exchanged
stories with the walking traveller. His pace was slower, his path less
defined, but his presence was grounding, and soon enough, I was off,
heading towards Trabzon.
Not long after setting off, I spotted the Chilean cyclist and his German
companion, camped by the roadside. Their gear lay scattered, and
the Chilean was visibly unwell—food poisoning, perhaps from the
same water that had felled me days earlier. We shared concern, a few
words, and then I pedalled on.
Rize offered a brief reprieve, cash from an ATM. The sunshine broke
through the clouds, revealing a brilliant blue sky that coaxed a smile
from me. The road ahead rolled like a ribbon along the coast—not my
favourite kind of road, too wide, too fast but it carried me forward.
As I rolled into the town of Of, I realised my trusty power bank had
finally given up the ghost. A quick replacement, and I was back on
the saddle, chasing the promise of a warm shower and clean clothes
in Trabzon. With the sun shining and my spirits high, I pressed on.
After about 100 kilometres, I reached the city. Navigating its bustling
streets was a challenge, but eventually, I found my hotel. The shower
was bliss, the laundry a small triumph, and slipping into fresh clothes
felt like a rebirth.