Leg 3, Day 2 - In the Footsteps of the Woosle

What can I say about today's walk? It was challenging? unexpected? never willingly to be repeated? It was certainly "an experience" - a succession of them to be frank - and there were "lessons to be learned". Yet there were moments of pure delight.

I lie here in a timber-lined cabin, a mug of tea to hand, a hat and a pair of shorts drying in front of a fan heater, and my foot enjoying a makeshift plastic hot-water bottle. The feet deserve some pampering after what they have been through; more than four hours of the most arduous tramping while clothed on sodden socks. I arrived at the end of today's journey in the village of Yaylasi Kuzdere. It was in total darkness (a part of the " national" power cut). Walking almost blindly into the village I became aware of an unfamiliar sound; the squeaking of some nocturnal animal perhaps? Maybe I was being followed by a Woosle! Then I realised the squeak was in time with my step. Yes, boots full of melted snow have voice of their own.

Before setting off this morning I was a little concerned about in the weather - rain was forecast. Sofia of the Çinaralti Pansiyon in Beyçik pointed out that there was snow on Tahtali Dag and called her son who had been working in the area. Actually he had spent two days repainting the red and white stripe signs on rocks and trees that confirm the Lycian Way route so it was interesting to speak to him. In very good English he explained to me some of the dangers of walking in snow. His main point was that one should not walk on virgin snow that might conceal a precipice. My concern was that I might not be able to see the route markings, get lost and have difficulty finding safe routes off the mountain. Both these hazards are real but it was the second that proved the most challenging. I decided to walk, with proviso that if I encountered snow on the path then I would return to Beyçik.

The walk started with a steady climb to the top of the village, then on a broad farm track with wild boulder-strewn meadows on either side. I waved to a woman tending goats, wearing the ubiquitous baggy pants and headscarf, and she waved back.

As I climbed, Tahtali came into view, well dressed with snow and swirls of white mist around the peak. Though there had not as yet been any rain I did wonder whether at that altitude some snow might be falling. I told myself that less snow would fall on the saddle of the pass, being much lower.

I reached a belt of woodland just as a light drizzle started to fall and the walk continued on a broad track between pines. As an example of the elusive nature of the trail at a certain point I stopped to study a butterfly,
; medium/small and deep yellow like old butter. When I looked up, by chance I noticed the sign of red diagonal cross. This is used to indicate that a wrong track has been taken. I back-tracked just a few yards and saw the way marking indicating that one should take the narrow scrape of a path that went up the bank on one side of the road. In the face of such surprises I have equipped myself with a GPS app on my tablet, which works offline showing on a map (also downloaded) exactly where I am in relation to the path. From time to time, when in doubt I have used it to check  to confirm I am following the right track.

Sometime later I emerged from the trees and the track led through another stretch of rough pasture. Beyond this the hillside gave way once again to trees but just before the trees I saw a little shack with an open veranda. The Lycian Way path passed right by it with a rustic timber ladder to help visitors over a surrounding wire fence. It was a Tea House! Sadly it was not attended but there was much there for the passing hiker to take advantage of. I took the opportunity of the shelter to change some clothes. The tee shirt and shirt that in had started with were soaked with sweat, as was the inside of my rain jacket, its "breathable" fabric having failed a fairly fundamental test. So I put on a fresh tee-shirt and hung my shirt to dry off (it didn't so I swapped my rain jacket for a fleece).

Oh the luxury of clean dry clothes! Their were to be several incidents of trying to maintain sartorial hygeine and comfort throughout the day, resulting in 95% of my clothing being soaking wet, dirty, or both by the end of it.

As the track took me ever higher I was well aware of my physical limitations. In places just a few minutes of steep walking would bring alarming aching from my legs. Stopping for a break I would be aware that my heart rate was pushing 130. (4 beats per breath in or out, one second per inhalation or exhalation) it would only take a minute or two to return to something more comfortable, but the demands I was making on my heart and lungs were to be a concern throughout the day. Walking across snow of uneven depth or up and down slopes is physically very demanding. There were to be times when I would push myself repeatedly to overcome my body's objections. I'm glad I did as without perseverance I would have ended up in a dire situation. Imagination of impending disaster is a great motivator!

So we come to the bit about the snow. It began to appear in the form of rather shallow drifts, dirty with fallen debris from the pines. As I continued snow gradually appeared covering more ground, initially none on the path, but increasingly it began to encroach. There was never a moment when a huge snowdrift blocked my way, Had that been the case I would have bitten the bullet and turned back. Also I'm was uncertain how near I was to the crown of the pass, and I had assumed that the snow covering would be lighter on the other side as cloud was moving from West to East.

Eventually I began to lose the path. Quick reference to my tablet helped me regain it without any problem and I'm also noticed the tracks of someone who had recently made the crossing from East to West, the footprints pointing in the opposite direction. I began to rely on these footprints as a confirmation that I was still on track though light snow was now falling and I realised there might be a problem if these footprints became invisible! There came a worrying moment when I checked the GPS and saw that I was some way away from the true Lycian way as shown on the map. Perhaps this person had not come from Yaylasi Kuzdere but somewhere to the north!

I decided to head back to a point nearer the true Way. But it dawned on me that if I did that I would not necessarily be able to find way points. I had not seen any for some time and assumed that snow was indeed concealing them. This concern was added to when, checking the tablet, the section of the map I was on did not materialise! This may have been because drops of water and ice from my cap and hood kept dripping onto the screen, my damp shirt was now put in service as a screen wiper. So I reverted to plan A and followed my whoever-he-might-be's tracks down. I guessed he must have come from somewhere safe.

Another curiosity was that the number of footprints seemed to multiply. Others may have used  the same route but left it at points I hadn't noticed - whatever the reason I avoided falling into a Woosle Complex (Piglet and Pooh thought they might be on the trail of a Woosle when footprints in snow appeared and seemed to multiply on their second circuit of the Hundered Acre Wood). At least I was sure which footprints were mine!

For the most part my gear spared me getting too wet and thus cold, but while trekking across deep snow some was getting into the tops of my boots. It was melting and working its way down, using my socks as a conduit, eventually leaving my toes squelching around. A part from the discomfort I was worried that it might prompt them to develop blisters.. Or worse. By the look of my feet now they don't seem tom have suffered too badly!

So it transpired that the mystery footprints did indeed lead to a point where there was a signpost, and soon after way marks could be seen. I took this moment to take a break, remove wet socks from my boots and wring them out, dry my feet and put on a fresh couple of pairs. These however did not survive the journey dry as the snow influx problem persisted. If only I had thought to tie my bootlaces around the bottom ends of my trousers! I blame the altitude (1815 metres) for occasional lapses of common sense, I'm pretty sure that my breathing rate increased while at that level.

So the lessons to be learnt are.. Don't go up the mountain when it's snowing. Don't assume that technology is any substitute for caution in the face of powerful natural forces. And sometimes a Woosle can get you out of trouble.

And the experience gave me a whole new perspective on Turkey; it's even wilder than I thought!

The moments of pure joy can't be put into words as easily - perhaps the pictures will help.