Leg 2, Day 2; All Creatures Great and Small

The day began with the Great Turkish breakfast. Today's speciality; the hard boiled eggs were halved and garnished with some brightly coloured peppers.

From the roof terrace of the Meltem I gazed up to the ridge to which I had climbed and tried to identify any part of the path I had used to ascend and descend two days ago (to no avail on account of the thick vegetation).

After breakfast I packed as quickly as I could and let Adnan know I was ready to go. His four year-old son Amur came along for the ride, rolling on the back seat, pretending to sleep but jumping up and bleating and he-hawing when he spotted goats or a donkey. I was dropped at the roadside near the ruins of Apollonia, near Kilicli (near Bogaszic, my failed destination from Monday).

The path weaves between the ruins, tombs and upright limestone rocks. Like many archaeological sites here it is a mysterious place. A deep knowledge of the culture of the times must be needed to superimpose on the scattered fragments of architecture an impression of how the city must have looked and functioned. I attempt this leap of the imagination but am aware that it based on a superficial knowledge. I envy those who have greater knowledge and others with the skills to be able to construct and re-present the past in an accessible way, but I accept my own limitations. It is enough then to bask in the enthusiasm such experts radiate. In the absence of this I find there is nevertheless much to contemplate and enjoy in an ancient site, where the signs of human occupation are scattered and the natural world has had the opportunity to reabsorb the remains.

The trail from Apollonia was easy to follow and the day was bright, with warm sun but a cooling breeze, except in sheltered spots where the high humidity asserted itself and then sweat would break on my brow. I have got into the habit of doffing my hat whenever a tree produces shade over the path. The effect of cooling my head is dramatic and when I replace the hat though the brim is soggy at least it is full of cooler air.

I began to notice wildlife; I almost set foot on top of a lone kaplumba (tortoise), a fellow traveller on the Lycian Way. A Big Blue lizard obligingly kept still on a rock while I took his photo. Later a squirrel (senjap) appeared on a wall some way ahead. I was able to get a zoom shot of him or her (appearing to be somewhere between red and grey I hope one day to be able to identify her or him). They are much more timid than those in Hyde Park who pester visitors for treats!

It was obvious that this trail had been walked by someone with creativity and time to arrange occasional way-mark "cairns" with an artists eye. I made my own contribution by furnishing one little manikin with a hiking staff. Like a little stony Yoda, I thought.

The path was varied, with some rough stony stretches, some boulder-hopping, some red earth trails through shrubbery. Eventually the inlet of Aperlae came into sight. And almost immediately the remains of the great port and city that was once here. First were tombs - just a few, in scattered parts - most conspicuously the lids of tombs, like upturned boats or stone baths. Then there were masses of stones that were once the city walls, some still forming an age-defying boundary, though now with little to contain or defend. Within the walls were recognisable buildings with some walls still largely intact, doorways, the springing point of barrel-vaulting remaining but the roofs gone. And a lot more tombs..

I'm not an expert on tombs and I am told that the Lycian style of tomb is not unknown elsewhere. My guess is that it may have been mimicked by other cultures but here it is ubiquitous. The landscape seems, in places, peppered with tombs as if they have sprung up like mushrooms. They are set on rectangular bases (in which the grave goods were often secreted) surmounted by a rectangular box; I'm guessing the sides are square. There is rarely any inscription or carving on the panels, if anything a simple frame. The box is covered with an elaborate lid, the sides forming a a curved arch. On each side of this roof-like lid two blocks project, sometimes carved into heads of lions or bulls. One theory is that these are instrumental in handling and locating the lid in position, but if the were not thought significant surely they would have green chipped away and ground smooth, since the lid was presumed to be there in perpetuity?

Whatever the reason I feel that their presence enhances the completed tomb, giving reference points to its proportions and helping to describe its curvature. The simplicity of the tomb, though perhaps the result of a couple of centuries of erosion, gives them, I think, a modern feel. I can imagine the form being seized upon and replicated on a larger scale as an iconic building, or miniaturised as a trinket box.

Passing out of Aperlae's boundaries I arrived at the Purple House and enjoyed a refreshing glass of lemonade there. It is situated on an isthmus of land between the bay, in whose depths lies the harbour of Aperlae, submerged in an earthquake and another inlet with a jetty, boathouse and cafe. The Purple House and its smallholding takes its name form the trade in purple dye, derived from the murex shell, thought to have been the mainstay of the economy of Aperlae. Though it strikes the visitor as a hippie commune with its random assortment of huts hammocks, sailcloth awnings, windchimes, dreamcatchers and bells, its current owner Rusza tells me it was his grandfather's home (and his grandfather's grandfather's!). He spent some time in "the city" in his youth but has returned and finds a strong attachment, respect for the history and growing affection for this special and remote spot (and no doubt for its strategic location as a tourist trap!)

The next section of the walk winds inland, over a ridge, across a series of "ovas" (level clearings without rocks, formed in natural basins I think) and then picks its way around the rocks of the shore; it is a tiring way of making progress but the fine views of the islands of Simena and the fortress-topped Kale are a pleasant distraction. The former fishing-  now tour-boat harbour of Ucagiz (Ooh-chay-iz) soon came into view and my day's walk came to an end with me finding lodgings in the Likya Cennet hotel.
I attach one or two photos of the backstreets of Ucaygiz.