Leg 3, Day 7 - Bays and Headlands, Crazy Horses and Allez la France!

The day's walk began with a ride to the other side of Tekirova. This would have been a tedious walk, only of interest to students of tourist economy and small town development. I was offered the share of a lift with the Morrison/Steinberg family; Mum and Dad with children Nick (13-14) and Ella (12-13), from South Africa who had been staying in that same Paradise Garden camp as I had. All but Mum were going to be walking the same route as me; to Çirali using a section of the Lycian way that hugs the coastline. The weather was fair and the path would be exposed so sunblock and  hats were essentials.

For at least two thirds of the 14km walk the path is on a rubble tractor track; picking footsteps was not problem here but made up for with the last section on a narrow G2 path over rocky headlands. The story for the whole walk was of climbing to overcome a succession of headlands, dropping down to the bays in between and occasionally actually walking across the sand.

The tractor track seemed a long steady climb initially. The surface was fairly smooth so the only challenges were the gradient and the heat from overhead sun. As it progressed the track took a series of slow bends, and climbed more steeply, with occasional dips.

I kept pace with Dad and the kids for a while. Dad was giving an impromptu lecture on Dark Matter. I think Ella may have requested this perhaps to assist with some homework. I asked if she knew about the Red Shift and Dad began to answer this but didn't get further than the Doppler effect, distracted by some point of interest on the route. I decided that I needed to get ahead as I like to set my own pace and they seemed to be a little slower than I would have liked. Also I had learned all I needed about Dark Matter (actually a bit less than I knew before).

The climb continued, with major turns at a section of abandoned quarry. Having by-passed a small cove called Chrome Bay the path finally be descends to broad Maden Beach. Just before the track drops to the beach there is a collection of mine working buildings. Ores of Chrome were mined here until they began to run out in about 1960. Now only unroofed buildings with odd functional features - ramps, portholes and chimneys - remain.

The beach is of a dark grey granular sand. The Family arrived just after me and are keen to have dip. "You have the beach to my ourselves" I said,  but almost immediately I was proven wrong. A succession of about six off-road vehicles, flashy 4x4's, some deluxe, some "rugged" with minimal wheel arches, arrived and drove straight onto the beach, throttles roaring. The drivers were all Turkish men in their thirties and some were accompanied by wives or girlfriends and one or two children.

I said it was a little early in the day for me for a dip and continued my walk across the beach. Almost immediately Imam aware of a commotion. One "rugged" Jeep had attempted to ford a stream that runs into the beach (I had just picked my way across further towards the shore where it had dwindled to a trickle). The Jeep had tilted to one side, the bonnet tilted slightly down, and the driver was revving the engine madly so that white water was spewing from the higher of the two rear wheels.

In a spirit of Gonzo journalism I whipped out my camera and tried to record the action. It looked possible that the Jeep might completely overturn and the driver and passenger would have to jump for their lives! The driver of one of the stationery cars acted quickly taking a cable from a winch on the front of his car, passing it to the passenger who had jumped out and waded to collect it. Pretty soon the half submerged Jeep had been winched to safety. It was really quite impressive, though surely embarrassing to have got into such a mess. Thinking back now I am wondering whether it had all been a planned and rehearsed - but an odd thing to do to entertain the wives, girlfriends and kids who were in the other cars. They now set about arranging a picnic while the "boys" drove their cars to the other end of the beach and made circles in the sand swerving their cars around in an exhibition of power* and skill* (*please substitute your own adjectives).

Regaining the tractor track was a bit of a scramble as I didn't find a prepared path to climb back up to it. The alternative would have been to walk the course of the track in a big loop behind the beach and I thought I would save some time. I continued alone for a while, the track rising again to get over another headland. When it next dropped it followed a meandering path through an area of low grass and occasional shrubs. I spotted few unusual flowering plants and took photos.

The next section of track rose steadily in a series of long ramps, hairpinning up the side of a valley that formed the flank of mine large headland. At the summit I decided to stop for a long break (many short ones were needed on the way up recover my breath and let my pulse subside). The long-sleeved fine cotton vest I had been wearing was soaking wet - the amount I had been sweating had defeated its "wicking" properties. I put on the short sleeves shirt I had had on top (despite this also being damp) and put on a fleece jacket, as this spot had both shade and a steady breeze blowing. South African family soon arrived and joined me. They had a full lunch; sandwiches, cheese, tomatoes, fruit. I had three pieces of bread pocketed from breakfast and a large bottle of water.. and a Snickers bar.

A few other walkers, mainly German, passed in the opposite direction and they seemed as tired and overheated as I had been. I enjoyed telling them that there was a long downhill section to come and seeing the relief on their faces!

I continued walking, closely followed by the others, and soon we had descended to another sizeable beach. In the middle of this beach a group of walkers, who turned out to be French, were just rousing themselves form a stop, possibly a lunch. They were heading for Çirali so we all converged on the track, which had suddenly become a narrow G2 path. From here almost until arriving at irali we walked in single file. The French were a group of mixed age and agility so the pace of progress came down to that of the slowest, but that said, they were not unbearably slow and, this late in the day it was nice to slow down a bit.

In enjoyed next hanging some remarks with the French in their own language. I opened with "Qui est c'qui porte la Chemise Jaune au jour d'hui?" That seemed to go down OK. At one point In was behind a guy and the woman in front of him was incessantly talking to him, turning back to see his reaction. This began to bother me as it was clear that this was slowing her down and we were lagging behind. I was also worried that she would miss her footing and stumble, and I was not up for carrying a casualty back to civilisation. Eventually though I had an opportunity to pass them and made better progress for a while, also passing their fellows who were waiting for them!

The path began tom descend through line forest and suddenly we had sight of a broad plain with quite a number of identical red-roofed  bungalows in rows - holiday cabins! This was the Çirali plain. The mood of the French was transformed - the word "douche" seemed to be very much in use!

Down at the level of the plain I picked up the road that parallels the long straight shore (one used by turtles to lay eggs incidentally). It was about another hour and a quarter before I was at the other end of the beach. After briefly my judging base with the Pansiyon where the family Morrison-Steinberg were staying, leaving a message of goodwill, I headed for the rock that marks the end of the beach and the beginning of the Olympos gorge.

I had one last hurdle to deal with,  a stream runs across Cirali beach (foreshadowing the river than runs out of the Olympos Gorge) and it is only by wading this that one can proceed to Olympos. It is like a mythic challenge; one of the trials of Hercules. Actually it is nothing of the sort - it just involves taking your boots off, getting your feet wet, and drying them before you continue in the other side. I was soon in familiar territory, walking up alongside the river through the ruins of the ancient city, finally entering the tourist town stringing the road and finding the Varuna Pansiyon, where I stayed for a couple of nights, just under one year ago.