Istanbul marks the first big milestone of the trip; we have ridden 2400 miles in 6 weeks, crossing the Alps and getting a bit chilly in the process. Nonetheless it feels as if we have only just got up to full fitness and it is only in the last few days when getting up and cycling 100km has become routine. This is a little unfortunate because we are now destined to at least a fortnight stuck in a noisy city whilst we fill in forms and sit in embassies trying to get visas for Iran, Turkmenistan and Uzbekistan.

I think we were all glad to see the back of Greece. It is unfair to form an opinion of a county just from a few chance encounters, but that is all we have to go on for now and the gruff, unhelpful old man who owned the guest house we stayed in is not the best ambassador for his country. In general we have found that the further you are off the tourist trail the more friendly people are. Passing from Croatia into Bosnia we had been taken aback by the warmth of the people. We must have become accustomed to shouts of encouragement and acts of random generosity because when we left Macedonia and it stopped happening everything seemed a little bit dull. Or perhaps it was the persistent rain and the driving headwinds eking away at team morale. Whatever it was, crossing into Turkey the atmosphere became more positive even if the weather didn't. At the border post we met a couple of English guys who had driven from Slough in 3 days. There was a brief moment when I imagined how nice it would have been to speed through Europe in an air condition BMW instead of sweating over passes and shivering in a damp tent, but when I asked them what they had thought of Albania this was quickly put to rest: "Dunno mate, we were only there for half an hour."

The ride from the border along the coast was hardly scenic and so for 3 days we got our heads down and slowly pushed back the miles against the wind and the rain. The coastal road is downright ugly, divided up nominally on the map into separate towns but in actual fact one long suburban sprawl. It has some great service stations though, perhaps even rivalling Kosovo's, and we spent many a rest stop using their facilities and sampling traditional Turkish cuisine from the cafeterias.

I think all of us knew that the ride into Istanbul was going to be unpleasant but nothing could have prepared us for the 6 lane highway brimming with buses and peppered with potholes. There were some pretty near misses as we attempted to cross slip roads and avoid both trucks and chasing dogs. When we eventually got deposited on a quiet cobbled street next to the blue mosque there was a collective sigh of relief that we had arrived safely and that for the next few days we could forget about hills, joint pain, weather and bottom brackets and enjoy the simple pleasures of a comfy bed, cheap kebabs and avoiding carpet salesmen.