After the comfort of a hostel in Istanbul it was inevitable that rain would greet our return to the road. Deciding that it would be foolish to brave the manic motorways of Istanbul more than once, we elected to take the Bosphorus ferry to Asia. The quiet lanes climbing away from the ferry terminal were a pleasant contrast to the ceaseless bustle of the city - I don't think any inclement weather could surpress our elation at being back on the bikes once more and progressing towards Beijing. In the Turkish countryside, wayward animals had become far more of a worry than cars - aside from over-protective dogs frequently yapping at our heals, chickens often decided to cross the road right in front of us (as to why we are unsure) and Chris even managed to barge into a cow (the cow lost, by the way).

What our daily distance update on the website failed to convey was the true nature of the Black Sea coast. One hundred kilometers a day along here is by no means equivalent to cruising through northern France or even climbing in the Alps. The coastal road undulates quite severely between craggy headlands and river valleys. Relentlessly. Turkish roads are not built with the same meticulous engineering as French ones, in fact, given the lack of activity we have observed at Turkish roadworks, we are unsure how they are built at all. They cross the terrain fairly directly with little regard to the gradient beneath or to the comfort of those travelling along them. We are frequently reduced to sweating our way up a hill at little more than walking pace and, when it takes nearly two hours to cover the first 20km, you know it's going to be a long day. Difficult this terrain may be, but it is never dull. The lush green vegetation and deserted beaches provide great scenery.

Çay houses have provided us with frequent breaks from the saddle. These tend to be fairly plain, smokey buildings, with warm fire at their heart, cable television in the corner (showing drama starring heroic mustachioed Turks) and, of course, Ataturk on the wall. Quite how the economics of one of these establishments works is beyond me - their sole product is tea, which is sold for 10p a cup, their sole clientele are a handful of local men. Not that we are complaining though, as rarely can we cycle through a town without being waved over and offered a çay. In Zonguldak, amidst a crowd of local shopkeepers and children, banana crate seats were assembled on which for us to enjoy our teas outside on the pavement. It was only after much handshaking, many photos and our fill of Turkish food that the children quite literally pushed us off down the road. All along the coast we have experienced similar friendliness; never do you feel unwelcome.

The weather changed quite dramatically as we travelled and the last few days have been quite sweltering. Yesterday, for instance, we cycled along in little more than a Lady Margaret zephyr and shorts and devoured over 5 liters of water each! A relief from the heat came when, on George's birthday, we were flagged down by the local police force. They had decided to escape the office and enjoy the afternoon with a bit of target practice beside the sea. The Chief of Police introduced himself and, having established that none of us had ever fired a handgun before, did the sensible thing and asked us if we wanted a go. Never would we pass up an opportunity to pack heat on a Turkish beach. George and Chris fired straight into the target while Dave, somewhat wide of the mark, did the obligatory set of pushups as a forfeit. We now feel that we should carry a 9mm as a more effective dog deterent and are dissappointed we passed up the opportunity to buy one on the Istanbul subway!

With much of Turkey still ahead of us, we plan to push on along the coast and hope to arrive near Ordu in time to view the solar eclipse, before departing the warmth of the coast for the chillier heights of Erzurum.