Wandering the Lycian Way: Cirali, Kas and Patara

When we started dreaming about Turkey, our lofty ambition was to trek the Lycian Way, a 30 day, 509 km trail through the mountains along the western Mediterranean coast. As our departure neared and Tom failed to grow a longer pair of legs or the strength to carry his own fully equipped backpack we realized that we would need to scale back our plans. Fortunately Turkey is well set up for people doing day hikes in this historic area so we have been basing ourselves for a few nights at a time in apartments in incredible settings.

After an uncertain wait for an indeterminate amount of time for a bus, we arrived in Çirali, or rather at the stop at the main highway turnoff. Rather than risk another long hot wait for a dolmus we decided to walk the 7 km down the quiet scenic road to town.

The kids were hot, hungry and tired but happy once they got to our bungalow, with orange trees in the garden that our host entreated us to pick whenever we wanted. So to accompany the day's lunch of bread, cheese and olives, (as well as every meal and snack after that) we had fresh juice from just picked oranges.

Çirali is a tiny village, whose inhabitants are trekkers, farmers, and chickens wandering around citrus groves and greenhouses, all in a breath-taking mountain setting.

Paul and I woke early and walked to the beach to watch the sunrise our first two days. 

The walk to and from our bungalow was lovely, and the white and blue of the nearby mosque set against the blue sky and towering mountains made for a stunning scene

(yes we did take this picture!).

Our first day hike was to the flames of Chimaera,

named after the mythic Greek monster. Gas of a still unknown composition seeps from the earth in scattered crevices, spontaneously combusting upon contact with the air. Though fairly small now, in past times the flames were vigorous enough to guide mariners sailing far down below at night.

Our second day we visited the ruins of Olympus, a few km away from our bungalow.  Our host had lent us bikes which were pretty derelict but good for riding from one end of the road to the other. 

We rode them as far as we could and then abandoned them when we had to cross a stream.

After a hike across the pebbly beach

we arrived at the ruins. 

While wandering around them we met a charming American backpacker named Melissa who inspired us with her stories of solo hiking for three weeks through central-west Turkey, and gave us great advice on our travels to come as she had spent a lot of time in New Zealand and Australia. We were glad to have her over for dinner that evening, 

the peaceful solitude she experienced during her treks a distant memory as the kids talked nonstop in their excitement. I was glad that they were polite (relatively) as at other times we wonder if being away from the moderating influences of their grandparents and teachers has turned them into wild savages with no manners - and language not fit for a family blog, or even for a Judd Apatow movie in Tom's case.

Along with the spectacular views 

we have really enjoyed the amazing scents accompanying us on many of our hikes. Impossible to identify all of them but they include orange and lemon blossoms from the citrus groves, rosemary, lavender, thyme and sage from herbs growing wild along the paths, the salt in the sea air, honey from the myriad boxes of bees scattered everywhere and countless flowers including one that smelled exactly like passion fruit. 

Next stop Kas, a busier coastal town with a thriving tourism industry, where we had yet another sweet apartment with incredible views of the sunset from the balcony. 

Our day hikes were over to pebbly beaches for swimming, up to abandoned ruins, 

via a quiet Turkish town where village life apart from tourism was in evidence, and climbs to soaring summits

with an accompanying steep descent down zigzagging switchbacks. We enjoyed walking down all the stairs connecting the streets

and shopping at the market for provisions,

that night we had chicken, potatoes, olives, tomatoes, cucumber and cheese for dinner.

Waiting for our bus to Patara we sipped our kahves and enjoyed the now common sight of residents passing the time amiably chatting, playing games and generally seeming to enjoy life. We took this picture mainly to capture the men playing backgammon behind us.

We had decided to stop for a night in Patara to break up our journey, and because it was reputed to have a nice beach. After a quick swim at the pool at our pansiyon

we hiked to the beach, which turned out to be a 20 km marvel with zero development, virtually no other people, surrounded by massive dunes. 

Capping it all off was a final walk through an odd combo of desert scrub and wetlands arriving at ancient ruins. The kids' mood and dialogue was a perfect example of how our hikes often are. The kids start out each hike with enthusiasm, as their energy wanes and hunger levels rise the complaints start, mild at first - Jacob "my eyes are itchy from all the pollen", Kyra "when am I going to see my friends again", Tom "where are we going to be for Christmas and why can't Santa give us more presents"

and then escalate to grumbles and woeful wails - Jacob "I hate flowers" Kyra "why oh why can't we get a puppy" and Tom "Hiking is so boring I want to go back to  Toronto right now" (accompanied with a collapse on the ground). Paul and I keep everyone going with games, stories, movie reviews (we discuss the plots of movies we've seen), but when the kids tire of the distractions we plead, castigate, then progress to entirely unhelpful yelling (ok that's mostly me). At that point the mood can only be broken by an impromptu picnic or arrival at some destination that excites the kids. Once they reach the beach, ruins or water their joy is boundless and they race ahead, cares (along with the parents who caused them) forgotten.

As is readily apparent to you dear reader, this blog is written and curated by Sarah with loving care.  However, Sarah has allotted me this space at the end (if you even read this far) to inform you about the departure of our treasured companion, our University of Michigan (mini) Football.  I lobbied hard to have Football join us on this adventure along with our perennial favourite, Frisbee (175g).  We had some great times with Football: he went long in Gulhane Park by Topkapi Place in Istanbul where Ottoman Sultans had ruled for centuries; he spiralled through the surreal landscape of Cappadocia; 

and he even soared down Roman main streets that have stood since Hadrian ruled from Britain to Asia Minor. 

However, the ruins of Patara proved too enticing for Football.  As the site of one of the greatest Lycian cities -- one that had prospered even in the time of Alexander the Great (330 BC) -- Football got himself lost somewhere between the world's oldest lighthouse and the Lycian Assembly (which had served as an inspiration to the framers of the US Constitution).  We know that Football will be happy there and that Frisbee will help fill the void.  But he will be missed.

(Picture of Paul racing across the dunes searching (in vain) for the football)

Antalya we love ya

We disembarked from our bus at the otogar on the outskirts of Antalya, sleepy and disoriented. We knew our reserved apartment was near Konyaalti Beach, but Konyaalti beach is 7 km long so that didn't narrow it down much. Without speaking Turkish (although we have learned to count up to 999 -dokuz yuz doksen dokuz) it was difficult to ascertain the correct local bus, so we set out on foot and found a promising bus stop where we waited and hoped for the best. After countless buses (50? 100?) and no divine inspiration  as to the correct one, we finally hopped on one  that said Konyaalti on it and figured it would at least take us to the approximate location. We rode west through the city with the morning commuters, with Paul checking the map on his phone periodically, and got off once the bus started to turn back east. After a Turkish breakfast (olives, tomatoes, cucumbers, cheese, salami and bread) at the büfe on the corner we started to walk, and walk, and walk. Everyone was cranky when we finally arrived at the apartment after 45 minutes of trudging with the backpacks, but our moods lifted once we went inside and saw the lovely rooms,

then skyrocketed when we went downstairs and saw the indoor pool (glassed in with full daylight shining indoors), gym, sauna

and even our own hammam.

It was within our budget too - only $50 a night, priced low because summer hasn't officially arrived (hurray for travelling in the shoulder season) and also because it was about 10 km from the centre and admittedly in a rather soul-less location - blocks of similar looking apartment complexes

aimed primarily at foreign tourists who come to stay for weeks or months at a time. Despite those drawbacks we loved it, because the two bedroom apartment itself was so insane, we only had to walk  two blocks for delicious bakeries for our baklava and other treats, a lovely deli for Turkish ravioli, cheese and olives, and countless mini market stores for bread, fruit, Turkish yogurt and vegetables. 

 The beach was close too

and while the western location was a disadvantage for access to the historic centre, it was ideally situated for our hikes in the national park west of Antalya.

Our love-confusion relationship with the buses continued for the rest of our time in Antalya.

Our first two days in Antalya we took three wrong buses. All were going in the correct direction, and all had been recommended to us as the right bus by locals (including tourism office staff). But each ejected us at stops that were a 2-3 km walk from our actual destination. The pricing was another enigma - sometimes a long bus ride would cost as little as 4 liras ($2) in total for our entire family, another time a much shorter one at a seemingly off peak time would cost 10. For a bus ride between towns the same journey would cost 40 lira one way and then 20 lira the way back. We stopped trying to figure it out, trying to use our turkish numbers to understand and then count out the fare but sometimes the driver would just pluck the money out of Paul's wallet with a smile to reassure us it was no problem. Our second day we eventually found our way downtown through a combination of buses and explored a bit, enjoying the parks, scenic viewpoints,

historic centre and the beautiful marina.

Though the kids would have been content to just stay at the apartment the whole time, alternating between swimming, sauna, gym, playground, kittens and the odd walk to the beach, Paul and I wanted to venture out to do some of the Lycian way hikes. One day we caught a dolmus to the highway turnoff to Goynük Valley, and the 2k walk to the park entrance was beautiful,

with the river at our side, wisteria draped over the pansiyons with their groves of orange and lemon trees, complete with chickens and peacocks traipsing around.

Once we got to the park it was a fairly steep uphill walk,

the kids were enticed by the rock pools at the start of the walk but we pressed on until we reached the summit, where there was an even more beautiful pool we all swam in.

Paul went off on the rocks to do a little exploration and when he returned he said we had to come with him to the higher pool and see the canyon at the top of the river. We trekked over the rocks and through the water in our bathing suits, leaving our clothes, shoes and phones (i.e. cameras) behind and came to the most beautiful looking canyon entrance

(since we had no cameras I couldn't take a picture so have found one of the canyon online - that's  exactly how it looked). The water was freezing but the path was too compelling to ignore, so Tom got on Paul's back and the five of us immersed ourselves and swam into the canyon. The current got strong so Paul turned back with Tom but the rest of us continued on, swimming in the icy water with the canyon walls rising steeply above us. Just when we were about ready to turn back I spotted a sunbeam shining onto the water at the next bend, so we pushed ahead and came around the bend to a shallows. I know paradise is an overused word (e.g. we had used it carelessly to describe our apartment when we first saw it) but this really was - there were sandbanks for us to emerge onto and sit and gaze at the curved rock walls with bright sunlight shining through and green foliage overhanging the canyon. We were completely alone and it felt so magical. That swim and its conclusion in the sunny embankment was one of the most amazing travel experiences of my life. The walk back from the summit was entertaining as well, first with an encounter with a bulldozer clearing a path (or perhaps a pad for a restaurant - Turkish cafes regularly pop up in the middle of nowhere) high above the river. I had just admonished Tom for throwing a pebble over the side, telling him it could hit someone hiking below. We then saw the bulldozer scoop up a massive boulder from the path, move its bucket over the edge, and then unceremoniously dumped the boulder down into the canyon, where it thunderously crashed moments later.

We finished off the day's adventures getting a lift back to the bus stop with four young Turkish guys, who insisted on piling the five of us plus them into their tiny car so the kids wouldn't have to walk.

Another lovely hike started with a ferry ride to Kemer, a small but popular coastal town, 

 

followed by another clueless wait for a bus that did eventually come,

and then a hike up and down the mountains, ending up in a small beach at the ruins of Phaselis. Though the ruins were extensive they were off the beaten path 

so we were able to wander amongst the ruins without hordes of other people.

 

The day before we left Antalya we slept in and decided to enjoy our apartment, reading, writing and figuring out various online tools for our photos and journals, until we went completely stir crazy and bolted from the apartment for a walk around town. We walked along the coast

and reached Konyaalti Park, a huge park whose every square inch of the park had some kind of activity. There were playgrounds, skateboard and scooter runs, fitness parcours, and then an entire cafe section, filled with locals puffing on nargiles, eating, drinking çay and kahve, and playing board games and cards. Paul and I left the kids at the playground to go sit amongst the melée of people and enjoy a Turkish coffee on our own (the kids ended up joining us after a treasured fifteen minutes of peace!). While we noticed the lack of greenery and tranquility of the Toronto parks, I loved the way small private enterprise and public space intermingled to create a vibrant community. 

Our final morning in Antalya we packed up as quickly as we could and headed downstairs to the swim area. As we sat in the sauna, after having laid on the marble in our hammam, ready for our final dip in the pool, the kids and I felt unable to leave. The siren song of our luxury surroundings was powerful, but Paul reminded us there was still much to see and we didn't come to Turkey just to hang out in a condo with a pool. Now having arrived in çirali, sitting writing the blog on the balcony of our bungalow, surrounded by mountains and the beach, it's clear he was right.

Jacob takes to the skies, Sarah flees the underworld

It's hard to believe less than three weeks have gone by since we left Toronto. It's been terrific so far and we are still feeling enthusiastic 

despite two flights and two overnight buses, although that enthusiasm may wane if we end up doing another all-nighter. Paul spent the last one white-knuckled after he woke at 3 am feeling the bus was discomfitingly vertical as it zoomed down switchbacks through the mountains, pausing only for a stop at a security checkpoint when machine-gun toting jandarma boarded to make sure the passed out passengers weren't posing any threat. I was grateful I slept the whole time.

That was the bus ride we took to leave Goreme, reluctantly, after seven days of hiking with Kate and Wim and the kids. It's difficult to choose which photos to post, because there were so many breath-taking vistas: the views from the ridge tops,

 the many winding paths,  

the expansive plateaus,

the cool walk through the Ilhara Valley gorge

and the paths through the fairy chimneys and other fascinating rock formations.

The kids loved the cave houses, both the official ones (such as the vast Selime monastery and the open air museum in Goreme)

and those that just dotted the landscape and provided opportunities for exploration on most hikes we did.

They also adored clambering up the rocks,

and were all around great hikers, even the little ones

though the dads helped out when the going got tough...

Kate took a turn with Theo on her shoulders too, and I was on duty when we did the rope rappel down the sandy slopes.

If we wanted a view we didn't even have to leave the amazing cave house Kate had found us online,

we just climbed the staircase to the terrace and there it was, all laid out for us. 

It wasn't always easy herding nine people but we managed to mostly stick together,

and found frequent picnic breaks to be a big help in keeping everyone going.

We had terrific food as Kate and I took turns making dinner from primarily local ingredients. Mornings we would have amazing breakfasts of fresh bread, oranges, and delicious Turkish yogurt with dried apricots, honeycomb and walnuts. We enjoyed shopping at the markets in Goreme and Avenos and paying super low prices for some local delicacies - Kate picked up a kilo of unbelievably good olives for around 8 lira (about 4 Cdn) and the kids loved their 50 cent churros, dripping with honey.

Our only mis-step was buying a 3 pound block of delicious looking cheese that turned out to be butter - discovered only upon tasting back at the house. We were forced to eat lavish amounts of butter on our bread (we bought at least four loaves a day, fresh baked for around 40 cents a loaf), fluffy butter biscuits with our lentil soup one evening, and buttery mulberry cookies. The mulberry cookies we had for dessert after a meal of Turkish lamb chops and a few pounds of roasted potatoes (which were good but possibly not worth carrying for 8 km on our hike home from one market - I couldn't resist buying them but realized the ones at the corner shop near our house would probably have been almost as good!). 

We had fun hosting guests for drinks one evening: another Canadian family - Michelle, Steve, Therese, Lea and Amelie. We met them in town and after hearing that they were completing a ten month journey around the world we asked them over to tell us about their adventures and experiences - they gave us some great tips for travel in Turkey as they had done much of the coastal route we are planning on following. The kids were happy to have even more friends to play with that evening.

Our final day in Goreme held the most extreme experiences. In the morning Jacob and Kate went for a hot air balloon (side story - it was arranged by the nicest man in Goreme, who had helped Kate recover her wallet by mobilizing the entire village to be on alert for it, sending Wim off with one of his mountain bikes - no charge - to the tiny juice stand where she had inadvertently left it behind, and in general doing anything and everything he could to help) at sunrise over the village. Kate and Jacob left at 5:45 for their shuttle to the take-off site, and back at the cave house the rest of us got up on the terrace (wrapped in blankets because it was freezing!) to watch the amazing sight of balloons rising all over the town, first in the fading remnants of the night,

then in the pink of the pre-dawn sky,

 

and finally with the full break of day.

of course capping the viewing off with a cup of coffee to stay awake for the rest of the morning. 

Jacob and Kate loved every minute of their experience, both on the ground

and up in the air.

Later in the day we went in the complete opposite direction, visiting the underground city of Kaymakli, a rabbit's warren of hundreds of tunnels, historically used as a refuge for the Cappadoccian inhabitants fleeing persecution from the Ottomans. It was hard to imagine that people would live down here for days at a time, and using tunnels to travel fairly large distances. I was enjoying the visit until we journeyed downward through one particularly tight tunnel. I thought it was so cute the way Tom fit just perfectly in and so snapped a photo of him and the girls.

I looked at the photo immediately after to see whether it turned out and something about seeing photographic proof of how small it was and realizing I was inside that made me feel a rising claustrophobia. Coupled with the fact that a) we were continuing to angle deeper underground b) there was a large tour group in front of us blocking our way, and c) that there was no way of going back but only forward, was enough to make me feel the beginnings of a panic attack, not good in such a space! Fortunately we emerged out of the tunnel into a holding area that was actually at the lowest point, where I was able to barge (politely-ish) through the crowd and make a beeline up, up and out to the fresh air, taking my slightly less nervous nephew Theo with me while the rest of our group enjoyed exploring for awhile longer. Moral of the story, don't go tour an underground city that goes four stories down via narrow tunnels if you have any claustrophobia! Other than the underground city I would happily recommend every hike and experience we had in Goreme (though Tom might say he doesn't want to walk 10+ km every day).