As the alarm sounds we are both reluctant to move. A brief unzipping of the sleeping bag alerts us to the condition of the day - damn cold. Our concrete cell has lost all its heat (due in part to the 5'x3' opening in the wall).
The days riding does not (as we'd hoped) begin early. We don't even make it as far as the main road before a man off to our left heckles the familiar call of "çay". We stop for our Turkish Red bull (as it has become known) and answer the usual questions. Wave some goodbyes and hit the road.
For lunch we take a break from Stu's Super Food Diet and revert to my Athletes Nutrition Plan - white bread and some Nutella rip-off. We take a seat in the sun to devour the empty calories.
A smiling man on his moped stops for a chat. We are slowly getting better at answering the questions in questionable Turkish. The conversation is somehow steered towards food. He asks if we would like lunch. Our answer is of course "yes".
We meet some of his family. Two very cute grandchildren. A bunch of chickens. And a dog. We look at maps and talk about Turkey. We ogle his Russian motorcycle. Then we receive a feast to end all feasts - twas nearly the end of me too...such was my grotesque gorging. Stuffed peppers, rice, chicken, salad, potatoes, soup. All home cooked. Delicious! We snap some photos together and say our goodbyes. They all wave as we ride on down the way.
No more than five hundred meters up the road we are once more collared. Cay o'clock. We are not kept so long this time. Just a short and sweet interaction with a cheery bus driver.
With the last of the light we begin the twelve kilometre climb upto the town of Bolu. Stopping as soon as we find an appropriate camp spot.