Guillaume Funck's Alps-Pakistan diaries, Part 3
16-04-2026
#Team
Hello everyone,
My second ferry arrived around 3:30 p.m. in Çeşme, on the Turkish coast; it was three hours late. The weather was still pretty lousy, with heavy downpours, and the crossing from Chios was a bit rough. After some hesitation in the pouring rain, I decided to set off as soon as there was a lull. Despite two and a half days of rest, my quadriceps still feel completely stiff. The start is a bit tough. After about sixty kilometers, night falls and a strong gust of wind blows right past me. I take shelter in front of a store while waiting for it to pass. I don’t know what to do. Book a fourth night in a hotel in a row? Even though I always go for the cheapest option, it’s starting to get expensive. And besides, I’m sick of hotels… I’ll get bored. I’m pretty convinced that to have great adventures and meet people, you have to put yourself in vulnerable situations. Alright, I’ll keep going. If I want to sleep outside tonight, this isn’t the town where I’ll find a spot. I’m actually finding some enjoyment in the situation. It’s dark, it’s raining a little, but I feel good out here in the countryside. I’ll find something eventually.
As I passed through a hamlet, I saw a guy about my age in a sort of tent/porch with a stove. I walked over. He saw me, and I started explaining to him in a mix of English and gestures that I was looking for a sheltered place to sleep. He motioned for me to come in. “Çay,” he says, heading toward the teapot. I start telling him about my journey using Google Translate. He can’t believe it and calls his cousins, who show up right away. They’re all busy making sure I have everything I need—it’s so kind of them. They make me a little meal while we keep chatting through the translator. I’d heard that Turks were really welcoming, but I didn’t expect to experience it right from my first hours in the country. They can’t really let me sleep there since it’s the family home, so they take me to the mosque where I can set up under the covered courtyard. It’s perfect.
The next evening, I met up with Gaspard, a French guy who contacted me on Instagram and is heading to Kyrgyzstan. He’d found a Warmshower host for the night, and after the cold showers I’d had that day, it was a welcome change. We were heading in the same direction, so we decided to continue the journey together. Even though I’m happy traveling solo, it’s still nice to have company. We chat, have a good laugh, and we’re even on the same pace. It also lets us lean on each other, share the mental load of making decisions and planning the route… The weather improves over the next few days, and we make good progress. The Turks are really super friendly and super curious. At every stop, it’s the same story. We stop for a çay or a coffee. Someone approaches us, and we explain our trip using the translation feature on our phone. Then it seems like the whole café starts listening in on the conversation and chiming in. And we chat, and we chat.
We pass through Pamukkale, where prices are once again a bit high for our taste. We find another hot spring nearby (Karahayit) which, even if it’s not as impressive, has the merit of being free. We don’t quite dare to strip down to our underwear in front of the Turks, but we soak our legs for a long time. What a pleasure after a beautiful day of cycling. We sleep under covered porches, in abandoned houses.
One day, we’re delighted to discover that there’s quite a bit of wind and that it’s pushing us along. Awesome! We’re going 35 km/h without much effort—what a treat! We let ourselves get a little carried away by the speed at times, and we take turns leading at over 40 km/h. We end up pretty tired after 200 km, and it’s starting to get dark. We struggle to find a place to sleep. The only halfway decent place we find is a small house in the middle of the fields. It isn’t abandoned, but it doesn’t seem to be lived in either. It’s surrounded by a fence with a gate held shut only by a knotted string. We hesitate a bit. I don’t like going into people’s homes without their knowledge. It stresses me out. Gas is pretty eager, and we’re really too lazy to look for anything else. Alright, let’s check it out. We step into the yard. A light comes on and an alarm goes off. Shit. We head to the covered porch and the alarm stops. We’re not exactly at ease, so we keep our lights off. We cook by the light of the nearly full moon.
Then, at one point, headlights veer off the road in the distance and get closer. Shit, shit, shit. The car parks right in front of the gate. Five people get out. We head toward them, determined to make it clear to them quickly that we aren’t thieves. I greet them with the friendliest “Hello” I can manage, but the initial reaction is hostile. They’re yelling in Turkish. One of the guys has a kitchen knife. A second car pulls up. There must be six men and one woman. We explain that we’re from France and are cycling all the way to Pakistan, that we were exhausted and just took the first place we found. “Tourists.” The tension eases. We ask them where to put our tent They talk and talk. Finally, they tell us we can stay there and even bring us a bag of food, which we try to refuse—but to no avail. The woman worries that we’re cold. We explain that we’re well-equipped and thank them profusely, then they leave us. And we start cooking again. Five minutes later, the man and woman who seem to be the owners come back to open the house for us and insist that we sleep inside. I’m embarrassed by the situation but so grateful. What a story! Clearly, nothing can dampen their kindness. We’re impressed.
The next day, the wind was even stronger. What luck! Plus it's right where Turkey is, which is very flat. We repeat 200km without difficulty, except for the freezing rain during the last hour and a half. Several cars stop to tell us to get in. We decline these tempting offers. But we crack an Airbnb in the evening. The advantage of being 2 people is also that it divides the price of the room in 2. One last day of cycling and we are in Göreme in Capadocia where we plan to take a day of rest. Along the way we meet Mohamed, a Libyan who lives in Amsterdam and who goes to Australia. He is super nice and joins us. Troglodyte houses line the road. It's crazy, it's like a fairy tale. In addition, we can explore them freely. We found one a little away from the town where we stayed for the night. It's pretty crazy to think that people have actually lived there for millennia. During the evening, we are joined by Maurice, another Frenchman who is going to Kyrgyzstan. Each of us left alone but now we're forming a little group for this day of rest and it's really nice!
Cheers,
Guilaume
Other news
My second ferry arrived around 3:30 p.m. in Çeşme, on the Turkish coast; it was three hours late. The weather was still pretty lousy, with heavy downpours, and the crossing from Chios was a bit rough. After some hesitation in the pouring rain, I decided to set off as soon as there was a lull. Despite two and a half days of rest, my quadriceps still feel completely stiff. The start is a bit tough. After about sixty kilometers, night falls and a strong gust of wind blows right past me. I take shelter in front of a store while waiting for it to pass. I don’t know what to do. Book a fourth night in a hotel in a row? Even though I always go for the cheapest option, it’s starting to get expensive. And besides, I’m sick of hotels… I’ll get bored. I’m pretty convinced that to have great adventures and meet people, you have to put yourself in vulnerable situations. Alright, I’ll keep going. If I want to sleep outside tonight, this isn’t the town where I’ll find a spot. I’m actually finding some enjoyment in the situation. It’s dark, it’s raining a little, but I feel good out here in the countryside. I’ll find something eventually.
As I passed through a hamlet, I saw a guy about my age in a sort of tent/porch with a stove. I walked over. He saw me, and I started explaining to him in a mix of English and gestures that I was looking for a sheltered place to sleep. He motioned for me to come in. “Çay,” he says, heading toward the teapot. I start telling him about my journey using Google Translate. He can’t believe it and calls his cousins, who show up right away. They’re all busy making sure I have everything I need—it’s so kind of them. They make me a little meal while we keep chatting through the translator. I’d heard that Turks were really welcoming, but I didn’t expect to experience it right from my first hours in the country. They can’t really let me sleep there since it’s the family home, so they take me to the mosque where I can set up under the covered courtyard. It’s perfect.
The next evening, I met up with Gaspard, a French guy who contacted me on Instagram and is heading to Kyrgyzstan. He’d found a Warmshower host for the night, and after the cold showers I’d had that day, it was a welcome change. We were heading in the same direction, so we decided to continue the journey together. Even though I’m happy traveling solo, it’s still nice to have company. We chat, have a good laugh, and we’re even on the same pace. It also lets us lean on each other, share the mental load of making decisions and planning the route… The weather improves over the next few days, and we make good progress. The Turks are really super friendly and super curious. At every stop, it’s the same story. We stop for a çay or a coffee. Someone approaches us, and we explain our trip using the translation feature on our phone. Then it seems like the whole café starts listening in on the conversation and chiming in. And we chat, and we chat.
We pass through Pamukkale, where prices are once again a bit high for our taste. We find another hot spring nearby (Karahayit) which, even if it’s not as impressive, has the merit of being free. We don’t quite dare to strip down to our underwear in front of the Turks, but we soak our legs for a long time. What a pleasure after a beautiful day of cycling. We sleep under covered porches, in abandoned houses.
One day, we’re delighted to discover that there’s quite a bit of wind and that it’s pushing us along. Awesome! We’re going 35 km/h without much effort—what a treat! We let ourselves get a little carried away by the speed at times, and we take turns leading at over 40 km/h. We end up pretty tired after 200 km, and it’s starting to get dark. We struggle to find a place to sleep. The only halfway decent place we find is a small house in the middle of the fields. It isn’t abandoned, but it doesn’t seem to be lived in either. It’s surrounded by a fence with a gate held shut only by a knotted string. We hesitate a bit. I don’t like going into people’s homes without their knowledge. It stresses me out. Gas is pretty eager, and we’re really too lazy to look for anything else. Alright, let’s check it out. We step into the yard. A light comes on and an alarm goes off. Shit. We head to the covered porch and the alarm stops. We’re not exactly at ease, so we keep our lights off. We cook by the light of the nearly full moon.
Then, at one point, headlights veer off the road in the distance and get closer. Shit, shit, shit. The car parks right in front of the gate. Five people get out. We head toward them, determined to make it clear to them quickly that we aren’t thieves. I greet them with the friendliest “Hello” I can manage, but the initial reaction is hostile. They’re yelling in Turkish. One of the guys has a kitchen knife. A second car pulls up. There must be six men and one woman. We explain that we’re from France and are cycling all the way to Pakistan, that we were exhausted and just took the first place we found. “Tourists.” The tension eases. We ask them where to put our tent They talk and talk. Finally, they tell us we can stay there and even bring us a bag of food, which we try to refuse—but to no avail. The woman worries that we’re cold. We explain that we’re well-equipped and thank them profusely, then they leave us. And we start cooking again. Five minutes later, the man and woman who seem to be the owners come back to open the house for us and insist that we sleep inside. I’m embarrassed by the situation but so grateful. What a story! Clearly, nothing can dampen their kindness. We’re impressed.
The next day, the wind was even stronger. What luck! Plus it's right where Turkey is, which is very flat. We repeat 200km without difficulty, except for the freezing rain during the last hour and a half. Several cars stop to tell us to get in. We decline these tempting offers. But we crack an Airbnb in the evening. The advantage of being 2 people is also that it divides the price of the room in 2. One last day of cycling and we are in Göreme in Capadocia where we plan to take a day of rest. Along the way we meet Mohamed, a Libyan who lives in Amsterdam and who goes to Australia. He is super nice and joins us. Troglodyte houses line the road. It's crazy, it's like a fairy tale. In addition, we can explore them freely. We found one a little away from the town where we stayed for the night. It's pretty crazy to think that people have actually lived there for millennia. During the evening, we are joined by Maurice, another Frenchman who is going to Kyrgyzstan. Each of us left alone but now we're forming a little group for this day of rest and it's really nice!
Cheers,
Guilaume