After an arduous day, whose conclusion was better than I could have hoped for - warm and dry accommodation, hot water and laundry facilities - and a savoury and filling supper, I slept like the metaphorical log. I think I was aware of the sound of cockerels at six, and at seven (by my watch) there was a knock at the door; my breakfast was ready.
As I stepped out of my cabin I saw a welcome transformation in the weather; the peak of Tahtali Dag shone crisply in the sun, the air was fresh and the sun warmed my body, thankfully as I was wearing just a few remnants of my meagre wardrobe. I made my way across the paved yard to the polythene gazebo where I'm had had my supper. The temperature was about 20 degrees higher than last night thanks to a wood burning stove that sat in the middle of the space with a horizontal extension to the chimney that arched over the table. The worst-affected clothes from Tuesday had been washed and the last few hung to dry beside the stove.
Nowhere in the UK, that I am aware of, offers for breakfast the selection of vegetables that are the tradition in Turkey; tomatoes, sweet baby cucumber and olives (two kinds)kinds. These sat beside white feta cheese, warm fluffy bread, an assortment of preserves (all home made, Madame smiles proudly) and a bowl of walnuts. Apart from the cheese, bread, and honey everything was home-grown. Then the obligatory boiled egg was delivered.
About an hour later I had eaten, showered and was on the road. My objective was another upland village, Gönük Yaylasi (the Yayla part meaning upland pasture used for summer grazing. Some houses in these villages will only be occupied in the summer months. Another village, Gedelme was en route, nine kilometres away, GönukmYayla being another 11.
The first section of the walk was easy going and delightful. After an initial climb it levelled out following the contour of the hillside, a wide forest track in the intermittent shade of tall pines. A few new flowers appeared; a wild white lupin, white stock, and from time to time I spotted single grape hyacinths. These were of a type where the tone of the purple bells graduates down the stem and there is a delicate white lip to the mouths of those ready for pollination.
There were few surprises on this path, but there was a lot of surface water and the occasional stream spilling across the path. One curious thing was a succession of barriers across the path, which I guessed, from occasional cloven hoof-prints were to control wandering cattle. Soon the little town of Gedelme came within sight, with a typical, pretty small-town mosque and a few shops and restaurants. I settled myself for an almost gratuitous lunch (after my "breakfast of champions") and to avail myself of their wi fi.
I struck out again after a good hour knowing that the next stretch involved much more climbing, inevitably slower progress and a greater distance to cover. The first part involved a relentless climb and I regretted having a full stomach. This slowed me down generally, it upped my pulse, so I took frequent recovery breaks.
After about an hour and to my surprise I emerged on a fairly busy (one car every 2-3 minutes) road, by a hairpin bend at the nose of a ridge. The Lycian way exited just after rounding the curve of this bend and began to descend. Fairly soon I'm had my first glimpse of the conical hill Asar Tepe. Göynük Yayla was around the other side of this feature, which I think is a plug of harder rock that has resisted erosion. To pass around it was necessary to descend and cross a valley where a number of watercourses converge.
The descent was through rocky slopes peppered with pines. It was well marked and interesting country. I spotted a few unfamiliar birds; one that likes to perch on small rocks and wag its tail, a stonechat perhaps, and Blackcaps that flitted between the pines. The track became a bulldozed but soggy wide track but suddenly cut off to one side as a narrow (G2) track that wove between deciduous saplings, re-emerged on the muddy track and crossed it, and continued down slopes with boulders and intermittent scrub.
Eventually I was on a wide forest path again, apparently constructed for vehicle use but so badly eroded in places by gushing streams that it was with care and trepidation that I, a lithe and manoeverable pedestrian, passed these stretches.
Another hazard was fallen trees. The soil beneath them must be weakened, perhaps by the creation of the road and recent rains and wind presumably have taken their toll.
Finally another steady climb brought me up to the yaylas of Göynük, arriving at the tarmac-surfaced road, on the opposite side of which stood another classic village mosque, whitewashed, its blue-tipped conical minaret pointing to heaven. I stopped to check my location and as a car approached, on a whim I thumbed a lift (to be compensated with bir-on (20) Turkish lira; about £6) to the Gul Montana Hotel, from where I write this, and about which I will write tomorrow.
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