Leg 2, Day 3; Wise and Wonderful?

Leaving Cayagiz I passed a pool where turtles were basking in the sun but was soon on dry stone road climbing out of the village, often accompanied by goats. After a short while I met Jan, from the Czhec Repubilc. He was standing in front of a spring with a high wall, he had two back packs and strip of newspaper under the bridge of his sunglasses to protect his nose. His wife Elena was having a shower behind the wall I later discovered. They had been on the Lycian Way from Fethiya for18 days camping nearly every night.

I walked on ahead :-) and soon saw the boatyard that serves Cayagiz. The sight of boats shored up on props and the smell of varnish and anti-fouling paint took me back to my days at Crinan boatyard in Scotland. (There were a few days when it had been almost as hot as this and I would sunbathe while having my sandwich on a little hill above the yard! and others when the milk I took in for my tea froze in its carton.. but that's another story.) Jan and Elena soon caught up with me; it was to be hare and tortoise story with them for the rest of the day.

The Lycian Way path branched away from the road and crossed a stony plain with red earth and rare way-marks and cairns. The plain gradually became more rocky and scrub increased in frequency and size as did the gradient, climbing a hill and then descending to a sheltered bay where an lone yacht was anchored. Rounding this bay the path climbed again and finally descended at a sheltered inlet, which at first I took to be a lake, so calm was the water. Beside the inlet was a cafe shack manned by a trio of young Turks. The aroma of their roast chicken lunch filled the air. I asked for an orange (portacal) juice and very shortly Jan and Elena arrived and together we relaxed and chatted. They work together as architects and decided to do the walk because "things were quiet".

The path form here on followed the shore, dodging boulders and reeds, eventually striking inland and climbing around a hilside. Shortly after a point where I stopped for a breather the path came to a level patch, with several "closed" paths leading off (these were either marked with a red "X" or have branches pulled across them. I took a path that seemed well established, though there were no confirming way-marks and was pleased to see that it was descending suggesting that I was further along the way than I had thought. I had been anxious for most ofmthendya about being able to complete this section. Once again the danger was in not being able to complete and being in the middle of a wilderness after dark and unable to see the path. It's not the sort of landscape where sleeping rough would be at all comfortable!

After descending for some time I realised that something was wrong and retraced my steps, uphill until I reached the level patch again. I had waste a valuable half an hour. I spooted some way-marks and left the plain, descending for some time until the surroundings became eerily familiar - I was heading back the way I had come! This was confirmed when Jan and Elena came into view. Together we returned to the high level patch and I immediately saw the correct "exit". It was so clear I felt like an idiot.

Form there on the way was reasonably clear but I had lost valuable time. See a small settlement, Kapatali, we asked a farmer to confirm that we were in the right track. He had no English but was able to communicate that he thought we would have to stop before reaching Ucagiz (Ooh-chay-iz). Jan and Elena were happy to carry on saying they would camp whenever the path became indistinct. I later learned that they had reached Ucagiz the day that I left.

I asked the farmer if he would take me to Ucagiz by road. I was tired and did not want to risk getting caught out by failing light. For a reasonable contribution to petrol costs he delivered me to the campsite at Ucagiz and I was cheered by the sight of a "portable" bonfire (a concept I hope to implement on my return to London)! I had "booked" and tent and sleeping bag (actually it turned out to be a pillow and about six heavy wool blankets piled into the tiniest pup-tent imaginable so I was quite cosy, if a little cramped!). Surprisingly it turned out that the Hussein I has spoken to to make the booking had not worked at the campsite for two years but there was no problem. An elderly lady seemed to be doing every thing - arranging tents and bedding, making "chat" tending the bonfire - but the owner Bar is appeared later and I spent the evening chatting, with him and two young students, Omar and Osman. I slept well but woke early and form the warmth of my blanket pile enjoyed the Variety of environmental sound - (see "Night Calls" following this post).

A bientot,

Robin