How come I am laying on a camping mat on the floor, somewhere in Turkey, in a room together with four other people. Four different lifes and pasts but all the same insane idea, to cycle all the way to and into Istanbul by bike?

At this stage I struggle to remember when we set off on to this crazy adventure.
Was it in May, this same year? Time isn’t the same anymore. With one month we could fill up a year.

How come a little bike trip across the alps transformed into cycling to Istanbul?

Or maybe it was just a joke we both took a bit too serious. And we laugh about it sometimes, when we ask each other who’s idea it was to go on this trip. Partially blaming the other for it and partially excited and proud to have made it all the way here.
“It was your idea to cycle to Istanbul!” “Yes, but I never thought you would be up for it! I was only joking.”

And in a way it is true. It was a very random thought we just spoke out loud and then halfway seriously followed along a little too long. Never really thinking we would make it all the way. Until we are now barely 100km away from the gates of this big city. Only to realize, that we have no idea how to get in.

The joke is over.

Even the destination itself is crazy. Have you ever thought about how to cycle into Istanbul? A huge city, that gets entered by gazillions of cars and trucks through kilometres of suburbs and industrial areas. An immense airport, highways with twelve lanes.

Reaching Istanbul is one thing, and we almost did, but now we must get in as well.

It also seems we aren’t the only ones crazy enough to go on such a trip and be here.

The further we get, the more cyclists we meet. It almost becomes a normal thing to expect, you don’t even ask whether the other one goes to Istanbul or not. Because everyone does.

But even though we all do. Nobody knows how to get in.

A million theories and ways of trying to find the safest way. Reading about the experience of others who have made it. Reading messages from people who are already there. Checking the map for the “x” time, as if this time a magical small road all the way into the city centre would appear. One that is perfect, that everyone overlooked, even you, all the times you checked the map before.

What should I make of all those thoughts?

Be careful which road you set your foot on, because you have no idea where it might lead you. And even if you can just take one step at the time, if you take a lot of steps and you do regardless of any thing, each day for at least three months, you’ll get anywhere.

Even if we choose the slow way, pedalling through thousands of kilometres, I am still surprised to be here. And at times if feels like I am only starting to realize where I actually am?