Sat Nav

With a long journey across Europe pending I decided to invest in satellite navigation technology to assist with directions to some of the more difficult to reach destinations. I bought a model that contains all of Europe, as we were driving to Croatia as our final destination. It also had the new fangled lane management which comes into play on motorways.



Having tried the piece of equipment before the journey I was satisfied that it would be invaluable. So before the journey began I loaded all of our final destinations most of which had GPS locations that helped no end when trying to find addresses.


Confident this was all we needed our journey began from home to Dover. It was giving clear directions and should we veer from the route the woman’s voice told us she was recalculating. Happily we drove along, taking our normal route to the M11, via Newmarket and the A11 when suddenly along the M11 we realised that the sat nav had stopped working. All the usual touching, shaking, pulling wires etc, did not make any difference and the sat nav remained silent. This was a disaster!!! ………… ah I know, I will find out if there is a branch of Halfords in Dover and see if we can change it there. So I telephoned the King’s Lynn branch where I bought the machine, and they were very helpful and gave me details of the Dover branch.


Using my IPhone map we found Halfords and again a very helpful young man realised that my sat nav needed resetting. After a quick reset we were back in action breathing a sigh of relief that the journey ahead did not appear so daunting after all.


Disembarking the Ferry the next day in Dunkerque, sat nav came into its own and directed me exactly as I had anticipated towards Brussels. This was when the lane management aspect of it played its part extremely well. For anyone who has ever driven around the ring road of Brussels in heavy rain, will know what a daunting prospect this might be.

Heading towards Luxemburg a fuel up was required but leaving the garage, I missed the turning back to the motorway and sat nav came to the rescue – recalculating! A few turns and I was back on the motorway heading in the anticipated direction toward our first stop in Pirmasens in Germany. No problem, straight to the hotel. Our first days serious travelling was over just as Germany beat Argentina in the World Cup and we were greeted by vuvuzelas and fireworks.

Day two started a little bit shaky as we headed out of Pirmasens, where the road layout had changed and our little nav would not stop recalculating. Some old fashioned map reading had to take over to get us back to some semblance of the right road, heading towards St Johann in Austria. The rest of the journey was straightforward and we arrived in St Johann with not so much as a recalculating to blight our journey.

Day three was not quite so successful as we were supposed to take the road for Kitzbhul but the road was closed so we had to find another way – which was in the opposite direction! Frustrated at being told to go round in a couple of circles in an attempt to get beyond the closed road I pulled into a car park and checked the map. It was torrential rain so not easy to see where we were going and at one point started to go up a one way street! After consulting with the map I decided on my route, and off we set once again. Following the road number we headed east out of St Johann and for miles and miles the sat nav was trying to get me to turn round and go back – but despite her continual request and her continual recalculating I doggedly carried on.

On this journey we had to go through a long tunnel through the mountains, and near this tunnel, sat nav gave me directions then told me to “board the train”. Low and behold, around the next corner was a mountain train. We stopped at the check point and waited until boarding. As we moved off sat nav told me to board the train! Now I was impressed. Out the other side was not so straightforward as we were directed towards Italy and not the direction I had anticipated. When this happens you have the psychological belief that you are going miles out of your way, but sat nav gives you an estimated arrival time, which seemed to appear realistic as we entered Italy and were told to take the slip road.

Taking this slip road led us up through a pass, Passo di Predil, and past a beautiful lake. Gradually the time and distance was getting shorter as I drove through some beautiful mountainside roads and villages eventually arriving at Kobarid. But again sat nav wanted me to turn left when there was no left turn, so I carried on a little unsure and turned left at the next opportunity. I pulled into a super market and jumped out of the car, point to the name of the camp site on my reservation email, to a bemused Slovenian getting into his car. He shrugged his shoulders and shouted to someone else, who beckoned me, so I followed him a short distance to an amazing bridge (Napoleon Bridge) over the most amazing river (Soca), and he pointed left and was on his way with a little horn beeping. A few meters up this road was our camp site. Once again sat nav and a little map reading had got us to our next destination without too much effort.

After a few days in this location it was time to go again. Selecting the next destination, Croatia, it was off we go. Straightforward and simple journey, we reached the port in Croatia to get to the Island of Cres and funnily enough the sat nav was leading us across the sea. We loaded onto the ferry and disembarked the other side and continued our journey arriving at our next camp site with not so much as one recalculating.

After a few days, it was time to embark on our final part of the journey.  Back to the ferry and then head to St Johann again.  I had decided on the route I wanted to take, which was up through Slovenia to Austria towards Salzburg, and then leave the motorway towards Seefeld and on towards St Johann, thinking this would be the quickest route (and I am sure it would have been), but Sat Nav had different ideas, and took me towards Italy again.  I was hoping to turn round but the road was such there was no way to turn back so it became pointless trying.  The scenary was magnificent so that made up for it.  So our journey took us through Croatia, towards Italy and then heading north towards Austria, before a short journey through Slovenia again.  We headed through mountains to both sides and I was feeling slightly daunted by the prospect of driving through a mountain pass, but it was great fun.  After what was a very long journey we finally reached Kitzhbul and headed into St Johann where we stayed the night.

Next day it was time to head to Germany and our last night away.  It was a bit traumatic to get out of St Johann onto the desired road, which leads us to the Germany autobann, but eventually after a bit of a detour we got there, and this must have been the most boring journey of all which took us nearly two hours longer due to the amount of road works.  But our final destination was Koblenz, a beautiful hotel in beautiful surroundings, and a fantastic restaurant.  The evening complete with a walk past the deer park and then onto some wild boar enclosures up to the edge of the forest.  The wild boar were amusing, and came running to the fence, expecting to be fed I think.  But I would not want to mix with them - they looked pretty serious!!

Time to leave, and heading through Koblenz onto the autobann, towards Belgium, a nothing country.  Nothing special or interesting, just wind turbines here and there and a boringly flat landscape.  Sat nav played up as the journey to the port got closer and at one point sent me of the motorway and had I have kept following the instructions I would have been there all day going round in circles.  I made the executive decision to ignore and got totally fed up with her recalculating.  Soon the port signs and we were nearly to France!  It is always a comfort when you see the signs for the place you want to be - Dunkerque car ferry!!!!

We arrive at our destination with a couple of hours to spare but there is absolutely nothing to do at the port, apart from walk around a bit and admire the defence systems to keep immigrant and others out of the port!  The ferry was packed and nearly uncomfortable, nothing to do except go out on a very cold and windy deck, have a bit of food or look around the very small duty free shop, so we plumped for some food and then deck.  Arriving in Dover two hours later, we headed home to the sound of the Sat Nav recalculating so it got switched off at this point.

All in all, it was a very useful piece of kit but it is still wise to have your map handy and some idea of where you are going before hand, so that you avoid being taken to some obsure place that you really don't want to be at!

England to Croatia

My next adventure is pending. The preparations are underway. In a few days time we (my husband and I) will embark on our next adventure - to travel from England to Croatia by car. Some might think why not get on a plane, it is so much easier. Well that's as maybe.

We leave home on the Friday night (2nd July) and stop over in Dover for an early start on Saturday morning.  We embark the ferry for Dunkerque in France from Dover. We then drive through France (avoiding tolls), Belgium, Luxembourg before we spend our first night in Pirmasens in Germany.

We depart from Pirmasens en route for St Johann in Austria, a lovely little skiing town and to a hotel we have stayed in before, Hotel Fischer and reacquaint with Michel and his family. this will normally involved consuming more than enough alcohol! Hopefully, after a welcoming evening, we will be enjoying our breakfast the following morning on the mountainside, as promised in the hotel bumf. Plans are we spend 2 days here and take in some hiking where we have skied in the past

After this well earned break, we will depart for Slovenia where we will be staying at a camp site, Kamp Koren in Kobarid, a few miles inside the Slovenian / Italian border. This might be interesting depending on how our England team perform against Slovenia on Wednesday (23rd June). We are ready to support Slovenia!! Here we will be camping, being in touch with nature (haha) and hope to do some active things like white water rafting, canoeing, canyoning, hiking. There is also a WW1 museum as this was the front line, and there is a historic WW1 walk. Not a lot else except fast flowing river, mountains, wildlife, a couple of bars and restaurants....... perfect!

5 days later we drive on to Croatia and the island of Cres to our next camp site, Camping Slatina. Nothing much planned for here, as some relaxing in the sun will be in order. Maybe a bike ride to explore a bit and a wander in to the small town of Martinescia nearby

After 4 days here, we begin our journey home. A drive from our campsite, to catch the ferry back to the mainland, a route past Ljubljana up towards Austria and back to our hotel in St Johann. After an overnight stop, on we go into Germany, past Munich, Stuttgart and onto Koblenz, were we stop again. Last leg of the journey takes us into Belgium and France and back to Dunkerque were we catch our ferry to Dover.

A boring drive back to home territory ready to begin the working week, with thoughts of our previous two weeks.

Turkeys Lost Treasures

Turkey is a country steeped in history with many historical, cultural and archaeological sites. These sites have influences from several different origins that have come to Turkey in waves over centuries, some of whom settled with the locals. The Anatolian hinterland will show you glimpses of other ancient civilizations: the Hattis, the Hurris, Assyrians, the Hittites, the Phrygians, the Urartians, the Lydians and the Lycians. From these civilizations come many familiar legends: women warriors known as Amazons, the wealth of the Lydian King Croesus, King Midas with the golden touch, and the Knot of Gordian that young Alexander was able to undo with the strike of his sword. Other influences come from the Romans with their aqueducts, Sinan and their bridges, and Ottoman architecture dotted around the countryside and still in use to this day.

Many historical edifices are proudly displayed at the main archaeological and to name a few of the more well known sites; Troy, Pergamon, Ephesus, Priene, Didyma, Aphrodisias, Heraclia, Olympus, Patara, Xantos, Halicarnassus, Perge, and Aspendos. Many more coastal villages and towns are blessed with their very own Anatolian ruins on the outskirts.


The richness of the countryside and the number of historical and archaeological sites creates rather a challenge for Turkey in protecting its heritage. A great deal of work has been done to safeguard these sites and strict regulations prevent the export of antiquities………………. Or does it????


During the 1800s and 1900s, a number of historical artefacts were smuggled out of Anatolia to foreign countries and are now exhibited in leading museums or have been auctioned. Many of these were major historical works which have been located and are now based in leading museums in a number of countries, including US, UK, Russia, France, Italy, and Denmark.


Gila Benmayor wrote in 2005, assuming that everyone knew that Turkey is full of historic and cultural treasures, how disconcerted he was that so many treasures have been smuggled or stolen over the years and are situated in other countries, citing Pergamon Museum and the Pushkin Museum as two examples.


Turkey’s Cultural and Tourism Ministry’s General Directorate on Cultural Assets and Museums is working in cooperation with the Foreign Ministry to track down artefacts that have been or are being seized through customs checks, those exhibited in museums or offered for sale in auctions. Ertuğrul Günay, the Cultural and Tourism minister was said to have been tracking down the historical artefacts smuggled from Anatolia to foreign countries. He has been following auctions and asked for support from the Foreign Ministry and other relevant institutions. Measures are being taken to request their return, but this is the tip of the iceberg and not as easy as it seems. Günay was particularly upset to see several smuggled artefacts being display in the British Museum.


Turkey has been attempting to secure the return of the Troy Treasures from Russia for 17 years. These are located in the Pushkin State Museum of Fine Arts. Russia have so far refused to return two silver crosses and gold bracelets from the Byzantine era, that were seized in Russia two years ago and have demanded that these items should be handed to their current “owners”.

Another example is the Pergamon Museum in Berlin, Germany. There are several artefacts from Pergamon; The Boğazköy Sphinx is one such piece, taken to Germany in 1970 to be cleaned and it was never returned. The Zeus Altar dating from around 180-160 BC is probably the most well known artefact to have found its way to another country. It was smuggled in the 19th Century; no mean feat in itself considering the size and weight of the object, along with artefacts from Priene and Miletus. This altar takes up a whole room. This giant structure, constructed in Pergamon as an altar to Zeus, is the centre piece of the museum. In recent years the marble frieze was restored to the tune of £3 million. Other artefacts from Turkey can be found in the Archaologische Staatssammling Museum in Munich.


Some artefacts smuggled from Turkey has been offered for sale in auctions and the Turkish authorities has attempted to stop these sales and failed to stop an auction of several artefacts held at Sotheby’s in New York last year.

Stolen items were restituted to the Turkish embassy in London in May 2008, after tiles and decorated doors worth around $200,000 were recovered by Scotland Yard. The doors were stolen in June 2002 from the Amaysa Mehmet Pasha Mosque, and later were put up for auction at Sotheby’s Islamic sale in 2005, but being identified as stolen, they were withdrawn from sale. A set of two tile panels in December 2002 also turned up at Sotheby’s to go into their London Islamic sale in 2007. Again they were identified as stolen and withdrawn from sale. A third set of items, some 18th century tiles depicting the holy site of Kaa’ba in Mecca had been stolen from the Cezri Kasim Pasha Mosque in Eyup in August 2003, were acquired by a British dealer. He checked their provenance and found that they were stolen.


The people of Bodrum went to the European Court of Human Rights, in an attempt to get artefacts stolen from Halicarnassus. You will find King Mausolos’s mausoleum of Halicarnassus, one of the Seven Wonders of the World, housed in the British Museum and it has been on display for some 150 years. Unfortunately the British museum is not so willing to enter into negotiations for the restitution of these artefacts. A petition was said to have been filed to the British authorities for the return of the mausoleum but a Bodrum based NGO found that no official petition existed. Negotiations were begun in 2006 but I have found nothing to suggest that this has been successful or indeed that the negotiations are still on going.

Again the British Museum is also housing the Knidos Lion and statue of Demeter and its restitution is being sought by officials from Datça. The Ministry of Culture and Tourism have been petitioned by the Mayor of Datça for the return of these treasures. Marble replicas of theses sculptures have been made and exhibited at the city park, so that the public are kept aware to their existence.

Even today, artefacts and being stolen and recently in a BBC report a journalist visited the ancient Greek and Roman ruins of Perge. The journalist interviewed the “security” guard only to be told that his cousin who lived a short distance away was responsible for some of the missing artefacts. With a stark warning that the cousin was a convicted murderer, the journalist continued on to interview him. Dressed in a suit, he explained that yes, he thought it was wrong to loot the sites but he needed the money. He usually sold the items on the black market, with no idea where they would end up. The last item, a large statue, which he had found he had turned over to the authorities, only to be reward with 300 Turkish Lira. Just enough to have a night out with his friends.


The most important artefacts have or are disappearing and it is feared they will lose their historical value and meaning. Turkish investigative journalist, Özgen Acar, has spent 30 years trailing art smugglers. His findings have helped bring prestigious foreign museums to court and treasures have been restituted back to Turkey. He has received many threats and even had a kidnap attempt, been thrown out of New York galleries and taken to court in Turkey.


So how can this smuggling effectively be stopped? In the opinion for Özgen Acar it is all about changing the attitude of the buyer. Court cases won by Turkey have discouraged Museums and collectors from buying smuggled works. Turkey should have agreements with leading museums not to buy stolen works but instead house special exhibitions. Turkey has sent at least 35 exhibitions abroad over the last 15 years or so. Exposing the smuggling mafia (Özgen Acar description!) with their international connections and put them out of business. One such case was Edip Telli who had to quite smuggling and in London his brother was imprisoned for heroin smuggling.



We can only hope that over the coming years, eventually exposing the smuggling rings is successful and satisfactory agreements can be reached for either exhibitions or restitution of the artefacts back to Turkey, and that they are securly exhibited in their home land.



References:
http://www.allaboutturkey.com/
http://www.aviewoncities.com/
http://www.elginism.com/, Should stolen treasure be returned to Turkey? (February 2005)
Today’s Zaman, How smuggled Turkish artefacts fill foreign museums (January 2009)
Today’s Zaman, Smuggled Turkish Artefacts adorn world (January 2009)
The Art Newspaper, Stolen mosque artefacts returned to Turkey (May 2008)
http://www.cleveleys.co.uk/wonders/maussoleum.htm - more about the Halicarnassus Mausoleum
http://www.unesco.org/ “We have to change the buyers attitude” Date unknown, Özgen Acar

A walk to Ortahisar

You would assume a walk to a nearby town would be a straightforward event. I am not sure what it is about us, but we tend to attract people that may be others would not, or who they would ignore.


We were camping in Kaya Camp a few kilometres up the hill from Göreme, towards the small town of Ortahisar which again was a few kilometres away. The campsite manager told us what a nice little town it was and worth a visit. So early one morning we set off to walk the 5 km. We made our way up the road, a slight hill, until we reached the main road from Ürgüp to Nevşehir. Crossing was quite a perilous affair and started to walk down the road into the town of Ortahisar.


Not really knowing where we were going, we just strolled along chatting and not really taking much notice of our surroundings. We were in mid conversation when we were suddenly aware of a funny little yellow beach buggy type vehicle which had drawn up beside us. The man at the steering wheel shouted out to us, first in Italian, then French, then German and finally he decided we must be English.


Not really sure whether to approach him or not, he called out to us again,
”Are you going into town? Do you want a lift? I am going that way”
We approached him with certain trepidation, as you do!
And I asked,
“What is the fare?”
as we have got enough experience to know that most things that are offered in Turkey come with a twist.
“There is no fare, I am going into town, you are welcome to have a lift, please jump in” he replied


So looking at each other, we made a silent agreement to jump into this rather strange looking bright yellow jeep. We had shook hands with the driver, an American man in his 50’s. He gave us a brief history of his life in Turkey; he had been there for 30 years and had begun his Turkish life in Istanbul, before moving to Ortasihar.

“What are you doing, where are you going?” he asked.
We quickly explained that my husband wanted a shave and I needed another memory card for my camera. It was soon arranged that he would sort out the barber and the memory card.


It was a rather bumpy uncomfortable ride into town, but it saved us our legs and quite a bit of time. He drew up outside the barber shop and we entered. He spoke to the barber and we sat and waited for the last customer to be completed. He was at the point of having his ear hairs waxed and burnt and then what looked like some sort of Chinese torture inflicted. His arms were being wrenched behind him.


It was my husband turn and the American organised the works; shave, haircut, massage, and the Chinese torture. During the hour and 20 minutes we sat there the America chatted with me in English, the barber in Turkish and a Turkish friend of his in German. It was quite an experience really and clearly not usual for tourists to be customers.


I guessed that it was also rather unusual for a female to be in a male orientated environment of a barbers shop and the young apprentice could not stop looking at me, every opportunity, in the mirrors or more directly.


Our American unauthorised taxi then drove us all of 100m to the next stop, the shop to buy my memory card. Having done that, he said,
“I will take you to see Crazy Ali, the poet”
This is when we started to get a bit worried and wondered what was in store, but the short 50m drive saw us pull up outside an old curiosity shop and this was the home of Crazy Ali the poet. There was a rather nice little terrace outside the shop under the shade of grape vines growing above and various antiques, books, postcards and other smaller gift items.

I went into the shop and there were some really nice antiques and some home made jewellery, and I bought a necklace. Crazy Ali was not really so crazy and spoke to me in perfect English and told me how he had come to be in the shop. A banker in Istanbul, he became sick and tired of the rat race and just packed it all in 6 years previous and moved to Ortasihar. He was an older man of maybe 60ish and wore a fisherman’s style cap, and you could see he was most probably a handsome man in his early years. His voice was soft and gentle and he asked if I would like to hear some of his poetry. So not wishing to be rude, I said yes and he recited three poems to me in quite an eccentric fashion. His style would make many people smile, but I enjoyed listening to him and watching his animations. Before I left, he wrote something on a card for me, about being friends which I thought was very nice of him.


I went outside to where my husband was sitting with the American and Crazy Ali came out with me. Sitting along side the American was a young man, of about 30, who was strikingly handsome, a big powerful man. He was introduced as Hasan a friend of the American. He spoke good English too, so we chatted for a while, before the American asked:
“How would you like a romantic trip to the panoramic view point by pony and trap?”
Ah here is the catch! I looked at my husband and of course it is difficult to say no, so we enquired about it with I would imagine puzzled looks on our faces.
“Ah Hasan has a pony and trap and he will take you tonight, for 20ytl” Uhmmm……… Hasan did not look like the sort of man you said no to, so we agreed that he could pick us up from the camp site at 7:00pm that night. I had visions of a nice little trap like with ones I had seen in Göreme.


We shook hands on “the deal” and said our goodbyes to the American and thanked him for his kindness. We said we would take a walk round and visit the castle. We wandered around back streets, and made our way to the castle which towered above the town.


Ortasihar is a quiet and pretty little town, nestling in a dip in the landscape surrounded by derelict rock cut cave houses, and the lemon mafiosi where lemons are stored in the rock caves. There is not the hustle and bustle of tourists in this town like neighbouring Göreme and has none of the commercialism. We were told that not many tourists visited the town and that everyone knew everyone else, which did not surprise us one bit. It is a typical little town, charming to a point, where the local men sit on benches or sit outside shops and drink tea, watching the world go by. They watched as we walked by, but never make us feel uncomfortable and no one hassled us. Everyone was friendly and offered the occasional “Merhaba” as was wandered around. Many of the shops were workshops of carpentry and some iron work etc.

The centre piece of Ortasihar is the 86 metre rock castle that once housed the entire population of the town. It can be explored but on closer inspection, did not look such a safe prospect, so we plumped for taking lunch at the bottom of the rock, in total tranquillity. We ate Pide and drank tea and soaked up the lovely warm sun with glorious unbroken views across the valley beyond. We were brought a glass of Ayran, which I hate, but managed to drink most of it out of courtesy.

 With lunch over, we wandered off again (yes we did a lot of wandering that day!) climbed a few steps to the bottom of the castle rock. The views in this direction across Ortasihar town were of rock houses mixed with more typical Turkish houses and in some instances the rock houses were part of the more modern structure. Meandering through tiny streets, we eventually made our way back into the square were Crazy Ali’s shop is and carried on up the street towards Göreme. We were walking past a shop and someone called to us, and it was Hasan.
“Do you want tea?” We declined thanking him and promised to see him later.


When we arrived back at the camp site, we asked the manager if he knew of the American. He did! But it was clear he would not be welcome at the camp site, so we decided not to tell him about Hasan either and that evening, wait for him a little further up the road from the campsite.


It was soon time to meet Hasan and we waited a little way up the road where the Rose Valley and Red Valley walks begin. Soon we heard the clip clop of horse hooves and saw the pony and trap with Hasan in the driving seat heading towards us. Well when it came closer we could see it was not a trap at all, it was a small cart, the sort the famers use to transport their fruit and vegetables. We laughed at the prospect of riding in the cart, but what the hell… nothing lost, nothing gained.


Hasan pulled the cart in and turned in the direction down towards the Rose and Red Valley and in we climbed. We adjusted ourselves and off we went. The pony looked in reasonable health; something I am always concerned about, the welfare of the animals, but she did have a small raw place on her hind where the strapping rubbed. So we were off, down the Rose and Red valley route, past lemon houses to our right, with vineyards and orchards to our left, trotting through the rocks synonymous with the whole area. Red rocks (laver) at the bottom, with a layer of white ash at the top. You could smell rotting lemons that had been left out in the sun.


The pony trotted along the rutted path and it was quite tricky in places to avoid the big ruts. I had visions of the cart tipping over, but Hasan was skilled and steered the pony in the right direction. We reached the road and turned left up towards the panoramic view point which was a steady climb for the pony. We passed fields of grapes, watermelon and pumpkins, littered with a few fruit trees.


During our journey he talked about himself and what he did and we told him what we did. He was a very nice young man and we had certainly misjudged him earlier. We had discovered that the American man was the one who was rather strange, had a drink problem and a reputation in the town. We never did get to know his name and it transpired that he was half American and half Russian, and quite an intriguing fellow.


We reached the view point and there were already several people looking for the best spots to watch the sun set over Cappadocia, with Göreme to the left of our view and Üçhisar on the right. We climbed up higher to where there a group of young men sitting on the edge of a steep drop overlooking the rocky landscape. Some of the rock looks like meringue and were shaped by the weather thousands of years ago after volcanoes erupted. As the sun was setting, Hasan suggested we go up higher which we did. We watched the valley change colour with the dying sun, strips of yellow, red and white according to the rock type. The green of the orchards and vegetation in the bottom of the fertile valley grew darker.

Within about 10 minutes or so, the sun had set, and we began to make our way back, past the few stalls looking for customers. We climbed back in our cart and headed back, and this time I took the reins. The pony responded to me and she knew that someone unfamiliar had her reins. We headed off along the road and then back down the valley path with the offer of more from Hasan; a trip to his fruit garden, to go into Ortahisar for a drink, but we had had a good day and needed our dinner, so we declined and thanked him.


We got out of the cart and watched him go on his way in the near darkness to his fruit gardens below our campsite. The end of a quite incredible but enjoyable day.

Pamukkale / Hierapolis

I watched a series on English TV in 2006, a geological programme about geological faults. The programme was based in the Middle East and because of the number of geological faults in Turkey, two of the programmes focused on the faults that run through Istanbul and caused the major earthquake in Izmit and the other was about the earthquake and how Pamukkale was formed.

It is one of the natural wonders of Turkey and in the guides books as one of the top 10 places to visit in Turkey. It is astonishly beautiful and was made a UNESCO world herritage site in 1988 to protect it from the public. Before it was protected, hotels were built on the site, which have since been demolished. These buildings destroyed some of Hieroplolis and water from the springs was used to fill swimming pools. It is disgusting to think that people had so little reguard for such a beautiful natural site, that they walked with their shoes on in the travertines and even bathed using soap and shampoos. Even more tragic was the fact that locals disreguarded the site and rode motor bikes up and down the slopes causing destruction as they went.

The programme I watched told us about the tectonic movements that took place in the fault depression of the Menderes river basin which caused frequent earthquakes. This also gave rise to the emergence of a number of very hot springs, and it is the water from one of these springs, with its large mineral content of chalk that created Pamukkale.

We can read about Pamukkale and how it was formed on various websites and in guide books, but it is a truely natural phenomenon. After watching that programme, I decided that I would like to visit there if possible, and when I went to Oludeniz in 2006, did not realise it was within reach of the town. So in 2007, on our return to Oludeniz, I decided I would visit.

My husband did not want to come, so as I scouted around the agents, one agent tried to put me off. Why would an agent try and do that? It is not what it seems, he told me, without elaborating any further. So me being me, decided I would go and hence he lost my business.

I wont go into too much detail about the 3½ hour trip, in a dolmus, but after a night of little sleep (pool party and arguments keeping me awake into the early hours) and an early start of 5:30am, I soon had my eyes shut. We stopped for breakfast higher up into the mountains, and all I heard was "wow the scenery, isn't it magnificent" yep, and I was alseep!

After the journey into the mountains, through low cloud and past opium poppy fields you travel through the outskirts of Denizli city and as you approach Pamukkale, you begin to see something that resembles a limestone cliff. I could not see much of what the guide was pointing out, but I am thinking "is this it?" We pulled up into the most chaotic bus park I have seen outside Istanbul - because in England we have nice white orderly lines for the buses to park within, not "lets see if we can sqeeze into this gap!!! Ooooooops, there goes another wing mirror"!!!

As I was alone on this trip, I decided to make the absolute best of it. We walked with the guide and the first part of Hieropolis you reach is the South City Gate and he explained everything as we went along. As you pass through the gate a path leads up across the scrub towards the Theatre. I was determined to explore a little even in the heat; I was prepared carrying enough water and wearing suitable footwear.

As we walked along the path, at first sight, you don't really see that much, and I was beginning to wonder why had I bothered. But as we approached the site you began to see the travertines. We carried on to the meeting point which was a building at the source of the hot springs and we was given our instructions about time and place etc to meet. Off I went, armed with a disposable camera as my video camera had gone wrong which I discovered five minutes earlier!

I walked around the building that housed the shop, toilets, cafe etc and the pools, and up a path towards the ruins of Hierapolis. It was amazing, suddenly I was complete alone, not another person in sight. I expected the place to be full of other tours, judging by the number of coaches. As I reached the Roman Theatre there were a few other people around. I entered the theatre and wow! Now this is when I feel I DONT have a head for heights, the seating was so steep down to the arena. There is no way I would walk down those steps. I stayed for a few moments and took a few pictures and then went on my way.

I carried on up the path and suddenly from nowhere came a women selling post cards and table cloths! I had no money with me.

I looked around the site and looking up towards the Martyrion of St Philip ruins, I thought I would walk to that but the woman seemed to know my intention, and she said "snakes, snakes". Urgh, snakes? No way! I then decided I wanted to walk towards the Roman Baths across the open land . I began my walk across deserted scrub land taking a well trodden path towards the ruins in the distance. And no, I did not see a snake, if I had this story would now be finished!!!

As I walked, I wound my way across the path, the grass was tinder dry. I came across the occasional caper bush. Again I was the only person, I searched the view and could see no-one. I was begining to wonder if I had done the right thing, but I soon came across another path which headed towards my destination. At this point I reached the city wall and stood to admire the stone work. I took a photo of how square the corner was, and how large the stones were just to show my builder husband; I would never have liked to guess how much it weighed, or how they were lifted into position.

I passed a Turkish women picking capers and she did her best to avoid me. I would have spoken to her but it was obvious she wanted to keep away. I picked a couple of capers and sqeezed them just to see what they were like inside, and they seemed to be nothing. Not like the caper I know, so I assumed the whole thing went into the pickle or brine.

Within a few minutes I was walking into the ancient Colannaded Street, through the triple arch admiring the architecture, looking towards the North City gate, at how straight the street is, taking a few photos (actually 27 photos!) I must admit I am not sure what all the ruins where, arches, and pillars, and what looked like a font. I then walked further towards the Basilica or baths, and then what appears to be some stone gates, the entrance to the Necropolis I think. There were signs around telling the tourist what was what, but these were well faded and difficult to read.

I walked back past the Tomb of Falvius Zeuxis and towards the travertines, although you can only see a small part of them at this point. There has been some boardwalks layed for visitors to tread which I followed, parallel to the main road. Below me a few meters was a couple of pools and some gardens which I carried on through, stopping to listen to a frog croaking, hidden in some of the pipes in one of the pools and unbelievably a fish. Now how did that get there? Whilst I was peering into the pipe to find the frog, I noticed a group of young women sitting under a tree, and my path was to pass them.

As I approached the group, I realised they were young girls, maybe in their late teens dressed in Muslim clothes, pretty scarves and long clothes and as I approached, they called to me.
"Hello, where are you from?"
"Hello" I said, "I am from England"
and at this point I felt quite self conscious in my strappy top and shorts. The girls were very sweet, and one replied,
"What is it like in England?" and of course I replied with our stock answer
"cold and wet" with a smile, which is true for this summer. And they all giggled as if I had made a funny joke!

One girl then asked me if I would like to join them and share their lunch. At this point I really felt so very humble, that they were prepared to share their lunch with a complete stranger. I accepted some cherries and some peaches, but I had to go because I only had a short time to see the travatines and to be back at our meeting point.

I said goodbye to the girls and thanked them for their hospitality, something I will never forget, and made my way around the boardwalk and came to the first of the travertines, brown and empty of water. I carried on in the hope that things would improve, and still I was alone. I was suprised at this, only passing a few people on my walk. As I walked around a corner, still on the boardwalk, there they were, the travertines, and there were people walking in the few at the top.

I reached the travertines that had water in them, and stood and pondered for a moment, do I join the tourists walking in the pools or do I go back to the springs for a swim? I decided to walk in the pools, which I felt was quite strange, as it was so obvious that they were fake. The water is pumped in at certain times of day. I somehow expected it to be uplifting but I am sad to say it was not. It is in a way obscene, with many people paddling around for the sake of it. Just to say that you have been in the pools at Pamukkale.

I soon left, after being shouted at by some German man, who thought I had taken something of his. I don't understand German, so I more or less ignored him, but he was angry about something.

As I walked back towards the hot springs, there was an amazing arch way on my left, built over what would have been the main ancient thorough fare. Again I took a photo of this arch, built from huge stone blocks, bearing in mind that the calculations were done by pure maths, no calculators, just maths with pen and paper. Whilst I stood there, a Russian girl with her boyfriend was trying to climb on top of the arch, so that he could take her photo. Because I stood watching, I maybe had a look of distain on my face, she tried to climb down in her flip flops and short dress. In the end, he lifted her down.

I walked back to the pools, our meeting point, an expensive cafe with a "tourist" shop with over priced goods. We could go into the pools but again quite expensive. So I walked around, and took some photo's, and one thing I have noticed about Turkey, every where you go, touristy, there is the photographer with his zoom lense camera taking pictures as if it were going out of fashion.

Once thing I found very peculiar, the majority of the visitors were Russian. At one point on my walk, the Roman theatre filled up with Russian people on coach tours, and all I could see back towards the coach park, were troups of people, looking like worker ants, coming towards the Theatre. I was suprised there were not more English, but the guide told me that most of the tours come from Antalya and the All Inclusive Hotels, which the Russians go to.

As we walked back to the bus, I noticed something I had not seen on the way in; the drainage system. A very well preserved drain leading towards the road, and which must have gone on towards the edge of the plateau. The guide book does not give the drains a mention, but they are a magnificent feat of engineering, as is most, NO, all of Hieropolis.

The TV programme I watched showed the best part of the travertines and many people walking and bathing in them. I am not too sure when that programme was filmed but that is certainly not the case today.

My overall opinion was that it is well worth a visit and if you can be your own guide then that is even better, as you don't have a time constraint. I would have liked to spend some time, just taking in the history and imagining who lived there, sitting on a stone somewhere, in the shade.

I hope this magnificent natural phenomenan is preserved for ever, but I suspect that over time this will not be the case, and I am so glad that I have visited it when I had the opportunity.

A Day in Kabak Valley

Kabak valley is one of the most beautiful valleys, at the Aegean Coast of Turkey, embedded between the sea and the Torus Dağlar range and untouched by tourism. A jewel in a crown of wonderful scenery and peacefulness. Just 10 miles (around 15km) from the tourist resorts of Ölüdeniz, and Hisarönü it makes you wonder why you are the only people wandering down the Lycian Path which meanders down the valley side towards the beach.

The Lycian Path is an ancient long distance trekking route from Fethiye to Antalya and I am a little puzzled at why it takes this detour. Then on hindsight, maybe someone discovered the beauty of this coast and decided this is where the path would go.

Kabak is an unspoilt village, with the number of houses being counted on one hand, and is the last place to be reached by car or Dolmuş from Ölüdeniz. As you reach the end of the road, there is a restaurant at the top of the Lycian path, called The Olive Tree. It is the sort of place that you hope no one else finds, except you also want the businesses to flourish. Turkish law protects the valley, and a big hotel project, thankfully, was stopped several years ago.

The journey to Kabak from Ölüdeniz is, (how do I explain), a somewhat "hairy" journey in a dolmuş. Especially for those of you with a fear of heights. Leaving Ölüdeniz, you follow the mountain road, twisting past the Lykia World holiday resort, all inclusive tourist prison and negotiate what can only be explained as big hole in the road. In fact the road was a big hole, with the bus negotiating it by driving into the forest on a path made by the regular vehicles travelling this route.

As we wound our way along the road, going up and up, we looked back at Ölüdeniz and what a magnificent view we had. We could now clearly see the Blue Lagoon, the bays, small islands, St Nicholas Island and Gemeler Beach. We were the only English people on the dolmuş, and unsure of where we were going, sat more or less in silence and looked out of the window in awe of the astounding views, as we made our way towards Butterfly Valley.

The man in front of us pointed out the valley, which incidentally needs no pointing out and I was actually quite glad we were on the mountainside of the road. Safari trucks had stopped on the edge to look down into the valley, at a guess some 600m shear drop. So far I have been calling this a road, but it was becoming what we would refer to in England as a track, and stopping to let the last passenger off, we carried on upwards until the road flattened out.

Finally the bus stopped and turned around, I paid the 5YTL fair and the driver pointing to us the route to the beach. The route to Kabak beach? We had a climb down of some 600m or so, which the driver said "20 minutes". I knew the valley was pretty isolated but it was quite a surprise to find such beauty.

We stood for a few minutes just looking at the views, the mountains rising all around this magnificent valley, full of olive groves, citrus trees and we could see beehives too. We stood at the sign, the Lycian Way, so another pleasant surprise, with a wonderfully marked trail, two painted lines, one red and one white, with every corner and turn marked with a downward pointing red line. We are used to well marked paths in the UK, but I must say this one out does most I have walked.

Now and again I stopped to take the obligatory photos, and short video clip of the path. Just a short walk down the hillside, nestles a restaurant and small bungalows dotted amongst the olive and citrus trees, one of the most tranquil settings I have encountered. A small swimming pool below us seemed to be beckoning us to it. I spotted a tortoise by the side of the trail, by the wall of the restaurant. The path took us right through the grounds and someone was sitting on the terrace, and we exchanged "merhaba" and a wave. We thought we were walking through someone's property, but then spotted the red and white marks again.

The sun was high in the sky by now and the heat was nearly more than we could stand, if the truth is known, and soon the 20 minutes passed. Then 30 minutes as we followed the trail - how much longer I was beginning to think, not really equipped for the trek. After about 35 minutes we saw a sign for a campsite, which we could not see, and the sign said "beach 300m". Now that made us laugh as the sign at the top of the trail also said "300m". We eventually passed by a couple of tents and a small restaurant, which looked closed. There was absolutely no one about.
Suddenly the path changed, marking going from red and white to orange on one stone and white on another - now which way?? We could not see the sea yet, so were unsure were we where and just followed the orange trail, passing through a farmyard. There was a woman sitting on the edge of a field of sweet corn, traditionally dressed, long clothes and scarf, and as we approached she turned away from us. It amazes me in this heat, around 30 deg C, how they can bear all those clothes, but I expect they are as used the heat as we are to the cold.

Ahhhh the beach - with a clamber over some broken steps, we had made it and there was no one!! We were alone. So where shall we go, no shade except for a few big rocks, so we put down our bags beside the rocks. We spent the day on the beach, only being joined by a few people. At one point there was a film crew, filming what appeared to be the "perfect family" slim mother with three athletic children running in the out of the sea and Dad watching over them.
Our picnic of cheese, bread, cherries, crisps had deteriorated to such an extent in the heat that is was hard to eat, melted cheese, and cooked cherries!

It was not long before we were alone again, the only ones on the beach, as the film crew packed up and left. Peace and quiet, wonderful scenery that I don't have the words to describe, mountains rising around, olive trees, cypress trees, shaped by the prevailing wind; lying on the beach listening to the sound of the crashing waves and the crickets non-stop lulled me to sleep. On a cooler day it would have been nice to explore, and had we been better equipped, but we will just have to go back another time!

We decided to pack up at 4:00 leaving ourselves 1½ hours to climb back to the top. It was hard to say the least, what with the heat and the exertion we had to stop a few times to cool off and we made the mistake of not taking enough water with us. As we climbed up, we came to the restaurant on the hillside we heard voices. We climbed the few steps and were greeted by two German women, one a traveller and one partner to one of the owners. We had time, so we stopped for a drink and chat on the terrace. I would pay for the views we had sitting on the terrace. It is one of those memories you will always have. The German owner, told us all about the place. Full Moon Camp, they have small bungalows for rent with a restaurant and bar, at an unbelievable €15 bed, breakfast and dinner per night. How an earth they can provide all this for €15 escapes me. They are self-sufficient and grow all their own food so this is probably how.
Well it was time to leave and carry on for another 10 minutes to the top, and wait for the dolmuş. At the place where the bus stops, was an old Turkish man sitting under a tree with a few jars of honey and olive oil. He called us and we worked out a price for a jar of honey. I managed to understand some of his Turkish, and he told us he owned the place we had just stopped at, with his three sons. There he was sitting all day, under a tree selling a few jars of honey to a very sparse flow of tourists. I took his picture and he had a wonderful smile.
In no time our dolmus arrive, the same driver as before. Three people came from the Olive Tree restaurant and we set off for the return journey. The driver kindly offered to stop at Butterfly Valley, so we could take photos. He laughed at the motorcyclists who had stopped at the top and we assumed he was laughing, because he could have so easily knocked the motorbikes over the edge!

We then pulled up outside a mosque, and I thought he was stopping to pray, but no, as he walked down the road a few meters, he was unzipping his flies!! He was stopping to answer a call of nature, and at the time I did not realise there were toilets at the mosques. I thought he was going in the bushes!!

We eventually arrived back in Ölüdeniz and I must say that the day out was one of the best we had all holiday. In the future I would certainly consider staying at the Full Moon camp for a few nights of total peace and tranquillity. And the opportunity to explore, find the waterfall and the fresh water pools. The chance to swim in the sea to find the small caves, and possibly see a Caretta turtle, is a good enough reason to go back.

Kaçkar Dağlari, North Eastern Anatolia

Kaçkar Dağlari, North Eastern Anatolia
A hiking trip

I never thought I would be standing at the top of a mountain, beside a muleteer and his mule, laden with the baggage we could not carry, but I was lucky enough to have this experience in August 2007.

How did I get to this point?

Day 1 – Our Arrival
It has long been an ambition of mine to hike in the Black Sea Mountains. The description and the photos I have seen of Trabzon and the tea plantations compelled me. And of course, since I have been a member of the TC forum, I now realise what a mountainous country Turkey is, and so undiscovered.

After a conversation with a Turkish friend about the mountains, I was posed with
“Why don’t you come hiking with us?”
and after the conversation,
“are you serious, do you really mean that”?
I put the details of the expedition to my husband who answered with a resounding “Yes” and the plan was put into place.

We arrived at Ankara airport, about 4:00am on Monday 20th August, 29 hours later than scheduled due to a catalogue of British Airways problems, not able to spend our first day as planned, shopping for food and checking equipment. Our friends had to organise the food out, as we could not bring food from the UK.

We were collected from the airport at about 05:00am and began an incredible journey by car, from Ankara, across Turkey, to Samsun and via the Black Sea Coast to Hopa. The sun was just beginning to rise, rising above the horizon as we travelled, gradually lighting up the landscape. Having not slept all night, we were both shattered. The heat of the sun, and with drone of the car, I struggled to stay awake so as not to miss anything, but my husband succumbed to tiredness and was soon asleep.

We drove along the coast, but I struggle to remember much, as we drove through towns, with the Black Sea to our left and an ever-changing landscape to our right. My eyes were constantly closing, fighting with tiredness.

We stopped for lunch in Giresun, at our friends relatives, and were treated to a fabulous Oxtail stew, something we used to eat in the UK, but so now. After a break, we continued our journey towards the Kaçkar Dağlari, our destination. We were quite unaware how long a journey we still had to make – it does not look that far on a map! Because of the delayed flight, we had to make the journey in one day, which really should have taken two.

We steadily made progress along the coast of the Black Sea, through tunnels, and we were intrigued by what the women were doing on the side of the road. They had sheets laid out on the road side and what looked like earth on them. We later discovered that these were hazelnuts being sorted and bagged. All along the road side were fruit and nut sellers.

Before long we had reached Trabzon, so not much further to go – or so I thought! We headed on towards the Georgian border, and then to Artvin, where we had arranged to leave the car and transfer to a taxi. We arrived there around 7:00pm after 14 hours on the road, with still maybe another 5 hours as we drove into the mountains. We loaded all our bags and food into the taxi and set off. It was soon dark, so I have no idea where we were going, but I do remember a diversion because of the damns that are being constructed.

The taxi wound its way into the mountains, higher and higher and I am quite pleased I could not see the drop from the road. We stopped a couple of times for a break and an Efes, eventually finding our way to Yusufeli. By this time it was around midnight, and the Taxi driver was unsure where we were, and we pulled up at someone’s’ home (a polythene constructed hut) and woke the occupier to ask directions. He came to the door, sleepily and warily, waved his hand in the direction we should be heading. That was either left or right, having come from the right, we had to head left.

A steep climb back to the road, and the load in the car made it impossible for the taxi to move, so out we got and pushed the taxi onto the road, at past midnight!! I call this a road, but really it was a track.

Fortunately we were heading in the right direction, the only direction and shortly we came across our pension – Pansiyon Karahan at about 1:00am – 20 hours after leaving Ankara. The taxi dropped us off and left for his return journey – a crazy idea!

The pension was some 100 meters up the mountain and to get out bags up there was a pulley system. We loaded our stuff onto the little platform and up it went. We wearily clambered up the path, were greeted by the owners, showed our rooms and “hit the sack”. I was so tired that I struggled to sleep, but managed a few hours.

Day 2 – The Hike
It did not seem so long before there was a knock on the door and it was breakfast time. At breakfast we met another member of our hiking group, who had arrived the day before.

Sitting on the terrace, with cypress clad mountains around us and the sound of a tirade of the Çoruh River’s water rushing to reach the sea, at a tremendous speed, breakfast was laid on the table and the wasps were keen to get to the honey. I can honestly say, I have never eaten breakfast in such beautiful surroundings.

I must say that I felt quite ill from tiredness having not slept or eaten properly for nearly 3 days and I tried to eat some breakfast. I was conscious that we had a long hike that day, and needed all the food I could manage. Some grapes that we had left from the journey saved the day. I was also feeling a bit worried about the amount of stuff we had to carry. I knew I could carry around 12kg, 15kg at a push, and looking at the pile of equipment and food, I was glad when a mule and muleteer was organised.

With everything organised, we began our hike, turning right up the mountain road, stopping occasionally to take photo’s and admire the view, or to discuss why there was a pile of bricks on the side of the road. We were so lucky with the weather, it being a beautiful sunny day, and a bit cooler than it would be on the coast.

I am not sure from here how to describe the hike, as it was a case of hiking up the mountain road, admiring the views, taking a rest and drink now and again, and picking wild fruit from the mountain side. And of course taking photos. Ahead of us was the magnificent view of the Altiparmak ridge, which is like a serious of fingers protruding into the skyline encased in blue sky.

I love the mountains so I am generally lost in the beauty, the magnificence and the peacefulness, which reaches into my soul, but fully aware of the danger and the control nature has over us mortals. The Kaçkar Mountains, located between North Eastern Anatolia and the Black Sea plateau make a formidable barrier and is a popular trekking area. The highest summit reaches 3972m, but we were heading for the peaks that reached around 3300m. I have read that the mountains were formed in the last Ice Age and we saw some of the glaciers left.

Our muleteer with the mule came past us at some point, and there we are dressed for hiking, with big walking boots, and there he is in a jacket, trousers and what appeared to be a pair of black plastic shoes. This man’s life was the mountains, and he had that rugged weather beaten look. It was hard to guess his age, but I would say he was in his 60’s but was strong and nimble like a much younger man. He told us he was Georgian by descent, there were many Georgians living in this area, being only a few kilometres away.

We made out way towards our destination for lunch, a small house nestling on the mountain side. These mountains were much greener than I expected and were carpeted with cypress trees, which again I did not expect. I thought it would be more barren than this. There were a number of streams and water falls cascading down the mountain side, often being fed into pipes and troughs. Again I was amazed that the water was pure enough to drink. While we ate our lunch, we basked in the hot sun, shaded from any wind. I laid back and could have gone to sleep, but no, it was time to move again.

As we climbed up and up, we were caught up again by the muleteer and we had a choice – carry on with the muleteer to our evening camp or leave our back packs for him to take, and go to the lake. Of course we decided on the later and made our way to the lake, Karagöl, which involved what can only be described as a grade 3 scramble! It was cold at the lake, and much to cold for a swim, however inviting it looked and with the sun going down, we needed to get to our camp.

We finally arrived at our camp at Satie meadow, around 7:30 pm, 10 hours after we set out that morning, weary and ready for food. We had a pleasant surprise to find that our tents had been put up too! What a man our muleteer was. After our Turkish dinner, we sat and drank tea, and looked at the stars; it was such a clear night. My husband saw some shooting stars, every time I turned a different direction; consequently I missed every single one. We climbed into our sleeping bags, I wondered about the bears, what would happen if they came in the night, but I was soon asleep. I was woken by a noise and it was the mule running around his stake and rolling in the grass. I think I did hear a bear growling too..................................................


Day 2 – The Hike
Before long it was daybreak, the sun rising above the meadow and the warmth creeping into our tent; it was time for breakfast. I was amazed the next morning, I could walk, I was not stiff nor did I have aching legs and after breakfast and the dismantling of the tents we set of for another days hike. This time we were walking along a bear path, through the forest and the views again across the valley were awesome. We came across abandoned houses and then to my delight, I found bear droppings on our track and had to take photo much to everyone’s amusement.

We came to an abandoned village and stopped for a rest, taking on water and eating some unripe apples. The houses were padlocked and looked quite new in fact. I wonder where these people would have gone. How could they have sustained themselves, so far from any towns? At this point we were joined by another hiking group, but these were with an organised tour and not independent like us. We passed the time of day, and chatted for a few minutes. They were walking the same route as us.

As we were walking along the mountain road, a Dolmuş appeared like an apparition. Driving along these precarious roads, no four wheel drive vehicles, like people in the UK feel it is necessary to drive, just to take children to school. Then we came to a water fall, cascading down onto our path and we decided to climb up to the top, (not up the waterfall!) and take a dip in the cold clean water pool. It was a perilous climb up and down and involved hanging onto branches of bushes and weeds; the water was like ice, but it was well worth it and a lot of fun.

We wound our way down the mountain road, searching for what ever shade we could, as it was a hot day, and carrying 12kg /15kg added to that. Coming to a fast flowing river, we had to cross and that gave us a problem. There appeared to be no other way to cross apart from wading through knee deep water, or climbing over some boulders. My husband tried the latter and fell – yep, he did hurt himself, but we had to get across. Some workmen, who were clearing the river, used their digger to lift our backs packs across and we waded through to the other side.

I think at this point, we may have taken the wrong route and across the river we followed, we saw the other group. We exchanged some communication - nothing I understood but I guessed we were being told which way we should have come. We stopped for some lunch at a bridge crossing the river, and after a short sleep in the sun (me that is!!) we were on our way again. Our task master cracking the whip J J and his wife hiking like a mountain goat – a joke that endured the trip!

What seemed like hours later we crossed a glacier and climbed a steep track, and wow, there was our camp for the night, the other party already in situ, with the kettle on and tea brewing. We were so grateful for the hospitality of the group, they had their own chef and he was cooking something wonderful, but sadly we were assigned to our tents L. It was a freezing cold night outside, wind howling, we sustained ourselves on mostly soup and I must admit to being asleep by 8:00pm, after another 10 hours hiking day.


Day 3 – The Hike
Waking early next morning, stepping out side the tent, we were greeted with one of the most amazing views! My photo of this is on the site. It was incredible how far we had trekked in two days. We ate breakfast and packed up early, leaving the camp by 07:30am, there was a big climb ahead of us, to cross the pass before the weather broke. The sun rising above the mountains warmed everyone, but it was quite apparent that cloud had started to bubble up on the ridge.

The path was steep and hard work, the hardest so far, and I was feeling the shortness of breath, living at sea level, we were hiking at around 3000m. I am sure this had a bearing on breathing, as I am generally fit from running. But again, it was beautiful and we stopped to admire the views, and Liber Lake. We had now walked above the tree line, the flora had changed from grassland to scrub and the terrain was rockier but small rocks.

The cloud was building and becoming grey, a few spots of rain could be felt and it was getting colder. We reached the pass just as it started to rain, which was the intention and out came the wet gear, all of us ending up looking like something from an alien world, as we scrambled down the mountainside. Incredibly, we met several young Israeli hikers with enormous back packs, climbing up the path we were descending. I did not envy them as the route was difficult. At one point the mule even slipped and the muleteer hung onto him for all he was worth.

The visibility was only 100m or so, thick rain clouds engulfed us which was contrary to the previous two days hiking in beautiful sun with clear blue skies above us, allowing the incredible views. Sadly the views had gone, and we could only follow the path. But is some ways, this too was beautiful.

We encountered a herd of curious cows with calves, and at one point we had to move off the path to allow the calf to rejoin its mother. It would not walk past us, but then I don’t think I would have walked past us either, without some suspicion.

Suddenly buildings appeared and children were playing in the rain, laughing at us. We stopped to exchange a few words, and they thought my attempt to say hello was hilarious – but at least I tried. Strangely they had mobile phones, with no signal, but insisted on taking pictures of us. But when I tried to take their picture, the girls ran off. It was strange, how they were so curious about us, and after my photography attempt they warily returned to be with their younger siblings.

We walked into a village and were ushered into hut, which we assumed was like the village social club, with roaring wood burning stove. I must say that this was one of the highlights of the trip.

Already in that hut was another group or two; I could not work it out, or what nationality they were. I guessed some where Turkish and some Israeli hikers. Villagers were in and out of the hut with tea, yoghurt and wood for the fire. I think they were a little intrigued by the English people and soon there were several children playing outside. One little boy was learning to whistle through his fingers and he soon became a source of amusement for my husband who remembered the whistle we had.

The little boys soon realised we were there for their entertainment, and most probably ignored by their families most of the time. So this new attention was greatly received. They hung around for the rest of the day, until they must have been called in by their mothers.

Soon everyone left the hut and we were left to our own devices. With a huge pile of wood to keep the fire going, we began to arrange the tables and cook our dinner. I young man, who seemed to be jack of all trades, entered with some more wood. Soon he returned with a dish of potato and onions, which was delicious. Someone else had been with fresh yoghurt and endless tea. We all tucked into our dinner with hardly a word spoken. Then it was time for washing up, which was an outside tap and concrete sink beside someone’s house.

The roof of the hut was nothing more than sheets of plastic tarpaulin and soon had pools of water hovering ominously above our heads. There was torrential rain outside and howling wind. It was not long either when the water started to run through the walls and the floor, so we quickly rearranged the room and settled down for the night.

That evening we were able to sleep in the hut and our friends erected their tent inside and we slept on the benches. Thank goodness for that, the weather was atrocious, howling wind and driving rain. I suppose some would call us fair weather campers. And sure as “eggs is eggs”, the water came through with a hefty gust of wind and soaked my husband and rudely awoke me! Next thing I remember was the calling of the Mosque at about 5:30 am, and we started to stir.

Day 4 – Rest Day and Travelling
Breakfast was soon assembled; we were getting used to the format by now, and were greeted by the villagers and more tea. The boys appeared outside, playing and trying to attract our attention, and the village puppy, that insisted on biting everyone that passed it. He was such a playful thing and took delight in his new found friends, nipping ankles and bottoms at will. It was so relaxing to rest here. Everyone in the village had their role, from small children with their mothers, hitting the bottoms of the cows as they were herded back to the mountains. The older men seemed to be in charge of hospitality, with the older women most probably prepared any food require. The young boys did what young boys do; play football, whistle, throw an old tennis ball, and just generally mess around.

We packed up all our belongings and restored the tables and chairs inside the hut to their original position. We sat out side, watching the boys play and trying to stop the naughty village puppy from biting! The puppy was a delight – he wanted to play just like a child, I don’t think he was used to all the attention and was revelling in it.

Before long, the Dolmuş arrived, with the front panel lifted to stop the engine from over heating. One thing we did not know, due to the cloud, was how far up the mountain we still was or how steep and precarious the journey down was. We loaded out bags and jumped on the bus, a young boy hung to the side and the boys we played with were waving to us, as we began the next leg of our journey to Çamlıhemşın and the Otel Doğa.

We loaded ourselves onto the bus, and off we went. A most precarious journey one could describe, but a wonderful one at that. I keep saying about the scenery, but unless you see it for yourself it is very difficult to describe to give it the emphasis on it beauty that it deserves. And besides, it would make this essay even longer. It is suffice to say, would mountain side, cascading water falls, awe inspiring beauty!

After some time we reached Ayder, the modern beginning for the seasoned hike, with a few shops, cafes and a completing different atmosphere to the village we had just left high above us. In the Rough Guide is tells you that this is the highest permanently inhabited settlement in the Hemşin valley. It is no longer a genuine yayla (village), but revels in commercialism that comes with the hiking tourists. Despite this slightly negative side it was a welcome site, to see the Efes signs hanging from the cafes. But our journey was not over yet, and we reached our destination, Çamlıhemşın and the Otel Doğa, in a short time with the Dolmuş driver taking us to the “doorstep” for a small fee. The Otel Doğa is described in the Rough Guide as “rambling and somewhat institutional”, well rambling I can confirm, with something like gords growing all over the bank of the river and washing hanging trying to dry in the spray. But institutional, not really, but I considered it to be friendly and welcoming and we were able to make the terrace over looking the river “ours”!

Unloading our bags we were greeted by the Turkish owner, proficient in French and English. Tea arrived and we rested for a short time and then shown our rooms. Basic in UK terms, but all the more welcoming, with shower and bed! What more could a weary travelled want. The water of a fast flowing rive, similar to the Çoruh River, was rushing past us at an alarming rate, which was just a few steps from our rooms. We soon found our way to the rivers edge and the little sandy beaches. Out comes the medieval fishing rod (a stick with a bit of line and hook) and an attempt to catch dinner was now being undertaken. The fishing being rather unsuccessful, a trip to the local fish farm was the order of the day.

We spent the evening on our self-styled outdoor eating area, and soon ate our dinner including a bottle of raki, and time for bed and the beginning of a long journey home.

Day 5 – Travelling, the long journey to Ankara
We woke quite early next morning, to the sound of the river and set about getting our breakfast ready. It seemed rather subdued that morning, as we really would have liked a few more days hiking and the days had gone so quickly. But soon we were laughing, and reminiscing so soon. After a short clamber over the rocks of the river and a little exploring and one pair of wet shorts later (yes I nearly fell into the river!), we made our way back to the Otel. The time had come to load the car, and begin the journey. Five adults and five back packs etc packed into a car, as we would say, “no room to swing a cat”. A quick stop in Çamlıhemşın we were again on our way. In the rough guide it tells you about the two dozen or so graceful bridges. We call them hump back bridges in the UK, but they are built spectacularly and are a regional speciality, many dating back to the 18th Centuary being attributed to Armenian craftsmen.

We followed a tributory coming from Ayder and finishing in the mouth of Fırtına Çayi in the Black Sea, all along the river were white water rafting signs. How I would have loved to raft down this river, although it did not seem to be full flowing, but then I guess it would in the spring after the snow melts in the mountains. Reaching the road adjacent to the Black Sea, we made steady progress to our lunch time stop at Trabzon.

Before we reached Trabzon, we stopped at a small beach, with a very steep road leading to it, a mosque situated at the top. We got out of the car at the topof the hill, and made our way down on foot, and to my delight, there were wild fig trees growing. We started picking the ripe figs and with the hazlenuts we had bought, sat at the beach and had a feast! We sat and quietly took in the views and the peavefulness. On the way up we noticed the remains of a Goergian church. The houses in this area were of very fine architecture and I guess they were old Georgian style houses. They were in very bad repair and some were three or four stories high, and uninhabited. If anyone knows where I am taking about, I would love to hear as we are unsure where we stopped, but it was a little east of Trabzon.

I am not sure what it is when in Turkey, you seem to get a tremendous thirst for Efes! So having reached Trabzon, a port of call was lunch and then a beer in the Efes bar, over looking the main street. I am intrigued by the number of Dolmuş baying for position in the street, horns honking continuously. I was also quite surprised at how modern the town was. I had seen photos which does not do the town justice. A flying visit and we are on our way again, dropping one of our passengers off to catch his plane back to Istanbul.

On our way again, we took the old road as opposed to the new tunnels and once again the views were breath taking. Mountains rising high above us to the left and the Black Sea coasts meandering along with us to the right. It was difficult to keep my eyes open, with the motion of the car and the heat. My husband was asleep most of the journey!

By evening we reached Giresun and were invited to a beach barbeque. And a feast was once again laid on. Again the hospitality was much more than could be expected and we enjoyed our beach barbeque. We checked into a hotel and a good nights sleep ready for what tomorrow may bring.

After breakfast, we took a trip to the castle with the magnificent views over Giresun and the mountains beyond, then to the boat yard. There we hired a boat complete with sailor to take us to Giresun Adası, the only major Island in the Black Sea and located about one nautical mile from the coast. This island has plenty of mystery and history in equal measures. From pre-Christian times to Jason and the Argonauts to fertility rituals still taking place on May 20th each year. We landed on a concrete landing as was greeted by the present day owner of the island. He lead us up the steps and we walked around the island, coming across derelict walls, wine barrels (empty sadly!) which were part of a monastery at some point, old signs, and old bench which no one would dare to be seated. Then coming out of the wooded island onto the rocky promontory, there is the huge Hamza Stone, which seems to be balancing precariously. It is also said to bring youth to the old and fertility to the childless if you touch it.

After a brief swim in the sea we were soon on our way again, collecting our bags from the hotel, we carried on with our journey, along the Black Sea coast, turning off at Samsun, and heading inland towards Ankara. With night falling it seemed like an endless journey, sleep was difficult to keep at bay. Finally we saw the lights of Ankara in the distance, and our journey was over.

How do I finish this except to say, I want to do it all again!