Crossing Into Asia by Bicycle
*Written by Andrew’s uncle, Bryan, derived from a detailed phone conversation.
For most travelers, crossing from Europe into Asia takes about fifteen minutes. For Andrew, getting there took weeks.
After riding through Poland, Hungary, Croatia, Serbia, Bulgaria, and western Turkey, he finally reached Istanbul — the city that literally sits across two continents. (Talking to Andrew on this trip, I'll be honest, is a bit of a geography and history lesson. I'm learning things I definitely should remember.)
After a tough stretch physically and mentally, Istanbul became a natural stopping point. "I think it served as a nice close to the Europe chapter," he said.
The actual crossing was simpler than you might expect. Bikes aren't allowed on Istanbul's major bridges, so Andrew loaded his fully packed touring bike onto a small public ferry and crossed the Bosphorus Strait. Fifteen minutes later he rolled into Asia. He said the change in feel was immediate — the atmosphere shifted as soon as he was on the other side.
He rode north along the Bosphorus through quieter neighborhoods — wealthy areas with gardens, parks, turquoise water, and cafes lining the water. "It was incredibly serene," he said. Eventually the road curved toward the Black Sea, and the next stretch of the trip began.
The Black Sea coast caught him off guard with dramatic cliffs, cold water, dense forests, tiny fishing villages, almost no development. "It kind of looked like the edge of the world," he said. The riding itself was still demanding — rough roads, relentless climbing, long days in the saddle — but mentally he was in a good place. I think that's just how it works: when the body feels strong, the mind tends to follow. And apparently the reverse is true out there too.
He described feeling calm, grounded, almost peaceful. His formula had become quite simple: keep moving east, eat enough, sleep, stay safe and repeat. If he met good people along the way, that was a bonus. Nothing was excessively intentional… a proper flow and a lot of trust that things will just work out, no matter what.
That simplicity, he said, has turned out to be one of the most unexpectedly rewarding parts of the whole thing. Back home there are notifications, calendars, obligations, constant background noise. Out there, almost all of it disappears and replaced by time to actually think — about where he is, what he's doing, what actually matters in the moment.
And the occasional complete mechanical disaster, of course. But we'll save that for another post.
