DIRT TRACKS TO ISTANBUL (ENG) Bulgaria, Greece, Turkey 2018 || DR650 Enduro Motorcycle Adventure

There’s a GERMAN version too! DIRT TRACKS TO ISTANBUL (GER) Bulgarien, T... End of summer 2018 I departed on my longest solo motorcycle trip so far: The goal was to reach Istanbul on as little asphalt as possible and to sleep outside as much as I could.. It was certainly not all comfy and nice the whole time and good preparation really paid off! As did the new drone in my opinion:) This is a link to my exact route: https://drive.google.com/open?id=1vsK... Facebook: atasteoffreedomworld atasteoffreedom You know I am living on this stretch of land we call Eurasia since I can think. It is the biggest land mass our planet has to offer but I have hardly visited any of it. While the size of our globe truly humbles me, it surely can’t be a solution to scroll over mountain ridges on Google Earth or watch the occasional Planet Earth documentary from the comfort of our homes. We sometimes need to get out there, need to smell the cold wind, hear the waves breaking and feel the ground crumble under our feet. And while we are probably never going to see every corner of this magnificent home we call earth, no one can tell me that we are not allowed to try. After riding almost 700 kilometres on the first day, which allowed me to cross the whole of Hungary, I was finally back in Romania. I woke up in a small valley, which the three of us discovered on a motorcycle trip back in 2016. This was the starting point of my trail, which lead southeast and stretched 1700 kilometres. I wanted dirt and let’s just say Romania granted my wishes. It was time to get used to the loaded bike in the mud and brush off the first day’s many miles. Following the spur of the Transylvanian Mountains I reached Orsova and the Serbian border marked by the Danube River. At the Derdap National Park ranger’s hut I was offered a comfy couch and a place at the dinner table where we feasted on wild boar chops and greaves. Since the terrain started to level out I was able to reach the Bulgarian border in a couple of hours the next day. I continued through the country’s forgotten north-western province and some truly deserted regions. Occasionally though one could make out agricultural activity. It also quickly became clear to me that this year’s heavy rainfalls had vastly increased the population of biting insects. Already the hot and humid climate was starting to challenge the 160 kg bushpig and subsequently me. Thorough and attentive preparation for wild camping turned from a luxury off the saddle into a vital necessity. I began following the Trans Euro Trail, TET, which has started to establish itself, and decided to take a detour to Belogradchik. Luckily a friendly local recommended a stunning mountain bike trail, which allowed me to reconnect to the TET. My throttle cable got stuck somewhere inside its housing. Some jerking let it move freely again and seemed to solve the problem for now. I reached the centre of Bulgaria’s capital Sofia and found a much needed bed in a youth hostel for the night. The lifestyle that comes with such places didn’t fall short. Physically I felt worn down and the shape I was in at the beginning was a ghost from the past. Unfortunately I also had tenacious digestive problems that had probably come from bad water. Of course I checked out the city a bit and my first impression was actually quite positive, it was nice to be among peers again. But to be honest in the state I was in fresh food alone was inducing exhilaration. When I left the hostel I ripped off my valve in the rear tyre basically after 50 metres. I was able to find a new tube and I followed the tyre shop’s owner home. In a generous act of hospitality he offered me an air-conditioned room and took me out for dinner with his family. The next day though I left for the mountains again, this time heading east into the wild Stara Planina. At sundown I met a French group of travellers and their camper van and we decided to spend my 8th night together on a saddle above 1,000 metres. I headed further into the Balkan Mountains. I found a beach which over the summer months seems to turn into some kind of informal camp ground. Freethinkers and Bulgarian people, that long for a coast as it used to be everywhere around here only 20 years ago, stayed here and enjoyed the ocean breeze. Very rarely was I able to relax so fast and the ordeals of the past days slowly passed out of mind. Bulgarians would say: Ailag! But I had to continue onwards. I had a goal. I wanted to reach an Asian country on my motorcycle for the first time. Even though the Turkish border is only marked by a small mountain ridge, the cultural differences were quite noticeable. Also the 100 Euro cash in border insurance for my motorcycle that were laid claim for, didn’t leave the best first impression. Close to the border people from Istanbul let me sleep on their country estate though.