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

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.

Leg 2 Day 1; All Things Bright and Beautiful

Its Wednesday morning ( so technically day 3, but I writing retrospectively so the title stands) and I have just had my Turkish breakfast on a balcony overlooking the harbour of Ucagiz (Oo-chay-iz)  I particularly enjoyed the marmalade. Here, jam is more like preserved fruit in syrup. The "marmalade" was a dish of little scrolls of peel in orange syrup - very tasty and a textural treat too.

Sorry not to have updated the blog sooner. "Slow" Wi-Fi is partly to blame. Also a certain despondency on my part after a difficult day on Monday.

It started with a disappointment; I was unable to get a boat to from Kaß (Cash) to Limani Agizi (ah-easy), the beach resort across the bay - too early in the season. Instead I took the two-hour walk. This turned out to be very rewarding; only a few minutes out from the town I was trekking across a field of pasture, "improved" by stacking the ubiquitous limestone boulders into cairns. Interesting wild flowers and wildlife began to appear and air brought wave upon wave of scents; flowers, herbs, woodsmoke. The final descent to Limani Agizi along rock ledges beside a cliff required hands as well as feet and a rope had been thoughtfully provided to assist. One of the risks in such terrain is the weight of a backpack (mine is only 7 kilos) that can upset one's normal balance.

I enjoyed a refreshing lemonade under a veranda at the beach and set off again, heading for a village called Bogaszic (Boa-si) After a good start and after about half an hour walking up a sheltered valley in the shade of tall shubbery I reached a point where the path arrived at goat-pens. I circumscribed these but could not see any way-markings. Up to this point he path had been very clear, though way-marks (a pair of bars, one red, on white that appear form time to time, painted on rocks, trees etc.) had not been in evidence.
What I should have done at this point was back track until I found markings and look for a path off to one side. Instead I followed a tractor track; the guide book referred to one and I was hoping this was it.

The track was broad and wound up through tall such and rocky land to a ridge then levelled off, becoming less stony.
But after about an hour with no sightings of way-marks and little resemblance to the guide book description I realised I was off course; rather than following the coast the track was heading inland. After close study of a 1:150,000 map I identified the track. It looped around to head West eventually joining roads that returned to Kaß. I felt I was past a point of no return - at this point I had insufficient daylight to reach Bogaszic even if I backtracked to Limani and found the trail again. I resigned myself to returning to Kaß, albeit by a long detour.

The tractor route , however was not without interest. It climbed through rocky scrub forested hillsides, along a shallow ridge and the rocky terrain gradually grew "tame" with fields and almond orchards to either side. I spotted a number of unfamiliar plants, Pyramid orchids, a dead nettle with interesting "bleached" and pink-fringed leaves.

I also had an interesting wildlife encounter; I was approaching a large circular cistern and noted it had a ramp at one side, presumably to  allow livestock to drink. I heard a splash and assuming this to be frog moved closer to see if I could see it swimming, or if there were others. I then saw something amazing; a long (75cm) black snake was "swimming" at high speed, its head held high above the water, around the edge of the cistern. Unable to find a way out it continued around the side opposite where I was standing for some distance. Eventually it arrived at and slithered up the ramp. While it paused I walked quickly around the edge of the pool hoping to get a closest look, maybe a photo, but by the time I arrived it had slithered into long grass and out of sight. I am still curious as to whether it was a snake or an eel. I know that eels are capable of crossing land but think it unlikely in a dry, barren landscape. So now I want to know what kind of snakes are around - this one was totally black.

By about 5pm I finally limped into Kaß and was welcomed into the Meltem pension like a prodigal returned. Though I had missed a stretch of the Lycian Way I had walked a good 15 km and feel it must qualify as an honest attempt. I hope my sponsors will agree..

I'll catch up with yesterday's walk in the next post.
I must be on my Way!

Don't forget to visit RobinThomson/virginmoneygiving.com to make your donation to Water Aid!

Another Bite at the Cherry

Late on Friday evening I discovered that my flight to Turkey was for 6.30 the following morning, not Sunday, and my casual preparations went into ovrdrive. So far I haven't discovered that I've left behind anything vital but it's early days. My flight was uneventful and I used it to catch up on sleep. Arriving at Dalaman I frigged about for a bit mithering over a 40 lira taxi fare to Fethiye, then met a couple of Scots ladies, expats waiting for the husband of one to get through passport control. They offered me a lift to Fethiye!

From there it was a 2 and a half hour coach ride to Kaş, my destination. On the way I saw much that reminded me what a great place this was to be; the dramatic landscape, the sweet scent of pines, and cistus ladanifer (which, from a past encounter on Crete I have decided is addictive), the sight of a flying stork, and, in an agricultural district a moped apparently being ridden by a huge mass of blue plastic boxes. There were glimses of parts that I had walked through last year with Nancie Crick; we passed through Kinik, the scene of a chaotically busy market on our visit;above Kalkan I was able to pick out, like a scratch across the hillside, the hairpin path I had taken up to the Summer pastures (yaylas) of Bezirgan. Then there was the coastal stretch between Kalkan and Kaş; turquoise waters lapping the luminous limestone rocks, islands floating on a hazy Mediterranean.

It didn't take me long to find a friendly "pansyon" and it was a joy to shower and change before enjoying çay (amber sweet tea served without milk in a small tulip-shaped glass).  I ventured into town for a meal and ended the day back kn the roof terrace of the Melmet writing a WaterAid fundraising e-mail.

Breakfast the next day featured the following; bread, honey, a boiled egg, olives, loquats (small apricot-like fruit - many gardens in Kaş have a tree full of them), orange slices, strawberry and bananas in yogourt, tomatoes, two kinds of cheese. I'm not worrying about my seven a day!
I spent the day visiting the "small but perfectly formed" amphitheatre (in ancient times a harbour, Phellos, and a town, Antiphellos existed here), then strolled in luminous air and 23° warmth, shopping (for dried fruit), visiting the imposing "lion" tomb, and enjoying lunch next tk ghe harbour. This early in the season therexare few tourists so I was sharing the streets mainly  with Turks, making the most of the gentle heat and relative calm before the annual invasion.

I fancied a haircut and braved a barber shop. I got the "full monty". A shave with classic lather and a cut-throat razor preceded a meticulous trimming of not only my head but nostrils ears, and eyebrows!

At one point my barber produced what looked like an over-sized cotton bud, rather greasy and charred. He was looking at my ears as he dipped this in some clear spirit and lit it like a tiny firebrand. I was preparing to use a gesture if protest and/or appeal when he flicked some of the spirit into my ear and flashed over it with the fiery wand. And the same thevither side. I've no idea what it was supposed to achieve but it was quite painless and seemed to keep him happy.

This was followed by facial and cranial massage, then shoulders, arms and hands were thoroughly kneaded, finally each knuckle of my fingers being pulled until they clicked (again surprisingly without pain).

After a brief return to the pansyon I felt like more exercise so decided to walk up to see the rock tombs. This is my third visit to Kaş and I have yet to see them... and that is still the case. I missed them but I did find the start end of the Lycian Way route down from Çukurbaği.

Last year I failed to complete the descent from this plateau; just after stepping down from the rim I began to lose sight of the confirming route marked stones. Eventually I abandoned my attempt to descend as it was becoming clear that going "off piste" would probably be fatal.

Now I had another chance. I ambled up the path for a while, admiring the increasingly panoramic views back down over Kaş. After a while a group of about 25 students passed me on their way down. After talking to their leader I decided that if mere teenagers could do that then I could make the ascent. Which I proceded to do, accepting that I would have to come down the same way, there being no public transport to convey me back to Kaş from the top, as I discovered last year.

The ascent was arduous but gratifying. There was lots of interest to look at in the way up; flowers and plants, spectacular views and encounters with sone impressively horned goats. And the descent was easier and quicker. I only suffered one *unscheduled recumbence! (Ed. slipped and landed on his bum)