After Hynek and I separated, everything that I hoped wouldn't happen happened: A broken clutch, no lights, a flat tire, and no tools to fix any of it. My spare was flat too, so I got a cab to buy a tube in the nearest village, where nobody spoke English, but at least they had a vaguely similar tube. It helped, but burst after 50km. Stuck on the highway, I got a ride from a guy on scooter (although they aren't allowed on the highway in Iran), and he told me that the only shop that was open was a bicycle shop. Miraculously, the bicycle tire lasted for just long enough to reach Saveh, where I got a hotel, and started looking for solutions.

 

 

That evening, there was only one shop open on the main street, and they glued the holes in my spare. They did a great job, because this one lasted me over 2000km. No chance reaching anyone, with no phone and no internet, so I just bought some very good ice-cream and chatted with a German couple who were making their way across Iran in the opposite direction.

 

 

Next morrning, I was determined to reach Tabriz, and on that day I started catching glimpses of what looked like Europe. There were trees and fields by the road, nice mountains with cool air, and a quality highway for 250km of the way. I lost a few parts on the way, including a tank of oil that still held 3 liters, but when the police stopped me (a few hundred meters later), it was just because they wanted to practice english. I found that I had a few missing screws, so one of the policemen went to town to buy me one, free of charge. Finding a place to sleep in Tabriz was a nightmare, because I still didn't have a clutch, no lights, and I was given wrong directions several times. Exhausted, I slept in a park by the road, enjoying the coolness of the night and trying to ignore the hundreds of people walking around.

 

 

The next day I reached the Turkish border, where Hynek left me the necessary papers to exit Iran. He also left behind some angry customs officers, so I had to explain that I couldn't give them more money, that I couldn't call him to come back, and that I was in a huge hurry and couldn't wait for a few days to make up my mind. Eventually, it only cost me 10$, and entering Turkey was an enormous relief. No haggling, no waiting for someone to decide, no convincing. I just went to the insurance company, bought a green card, and went on my way. I was greeted by mount Ararat, and eastern Turkey was full of clouds, green meadows, and people like in the balkans. Finally, I felt like I was getting closer to home. I got caught in a thurderstorm that baptised my bike, the first rain since leaving home, and slept in a very dodgy but friendly hotel in a town which looked like they were holding a celebration. Probably celebrating that I made it this far.

 

 

From then on, I felt at ease, so I didn't see any point in hurrying. I spent several hours figuring out how the clutch works, how to open it, and how to fix it. By lunchtime, it was as good as new (although I had to work with tools that weren't appropriate at all), and I got the hole that the broken clutch made in the cover soldered. Spent the afternoon in the very modern Erzurum turkish baths, got a room in Tercan when it looked like I'd get caught in the rain again (for the 5th time), and then I just relaxed. A local suggested that Amasya is a beautiful small city, so I planned my journey through there, missing Ankara completely.

 

 

Each day got me a little closer to home, but each day was a continuing test of will, man against machine. With a heavy backpack and a broken seat, it wasn't easy to convince myself to go for another hour, and on most days I knew I'd have to keep riding from 8 until 8, with at most 4 to 6 stops of no more than 15 minutes. In Turkey I found that although the bike has a very strong will, but I lasted longer: after waiting for the rain to stop, the motor started to lose its power (because of the cool moist air), and then I got another flat. Amasya was just 50km away, but after going to the 6th motorcycle parts shop I was starting to lose hope. Apparently, one can only buy my large 19/3.25 tube in Istanbul (700km away), or Samson if I'm lucky (200 km away). Luckily, someone in this town had one last 19/3.25 tube, so I changed it and made it to a small hotel in the center of Amasya. Exhausted and scared as hell from riding in the night on a very tricky highway, I put aside my incredibly smelly shoes and slept until noon.

 

 

I needed to buy several parts, from various screws to new lights and another tube, so after walking around Amasya and eating some more kebab, I started to browse the hardware shops. I made sure to have the bad tube with me, since noone seemed to understand my dictionnary's entry for tube or tire, and one friendly man who didn't speak a word of English walked me across town to a little shop with a very capable and well-supplied mechanic. He fixed my tire like a pro, with no tools and just using his bare hands, and looked at a few other things. Apparently, he fixes the police BMW motorbikes for the Amasya police force. He gave me a more-than-fair price, and he told me where the best Hammam in town is. So, after over a month on the road, I was clean, and I had a bike that could get me home. I also had a shisha in an old ottoman house with a balcony perching over the river in the center of old Amasya, and from then on there wasn't any problem that couldn't be easily resolved.

 

 

Except for a quiet day spent in Sofia, and a re-tightening of the clutch on a field in Bulgaria, the rest of the journey was quite uneventful. It was just a matter of convincing myself to keep going. I slept in Izmit, Sofia, Szeged, and arrived at 2pm on Sunday 15th to Brno. Now, the bike is ready to keep going, and I'm sure there's no road it won't handle.