Lycian Way, Turkey. Karaoz to Adrasan. Turkish custom is to enter a dwelling without wearing shoes. Having left our stinky boots on the rack downstairs our landlady Birsen has supplied Pam with slippers and when I arise the next morning for our early breakfast she does her best to get my gargantuan feet into some…
Lycian Way, Turkey. Finike to Karaoz. Beholden to no one and nothing other than each other and the next red and white marker of the Lycian Way, we spend several days resting in Finike after our mountain adventures. Pam does a couple of day runs into Finike for supplies while I knock out as many…
Lycian Way, Turkey. Demre – Finike Day One. A conscience comes with wearisome burdens. Despite her vigorous claims to the contrary I clearly see the spark of regret that we did not complete our intended route down the hills to Myra in the back of Pam’s eyes. M’Lady doth protest too much. My suspicions are…
Lycian Way, Turkey. Cayagiz to Myra / Demre. Pam wakes early and has already filled her head with schemes for the coming day by the time I awaken. ‘We are returning to Cayagiz to walk the long steep goat track route back to the Myra ruins and Demre’ she tells me with great delight as…
Lycian Way, Turkey. Ucagiz to Cayagiz. Our little hiking trio separates after an early breakfast spent gazing out across the morning mirror of the bay. Matthias has only one more day before his return to Germany and plans to make the twenty plus kilometers to Demre before catching a bus to Antalya for his flight…
Lycian Way, Turkey. Bogazcik to Ucagiz. I do my best to entertain Mrs Ali in reward for our delicious meals by striking a ‘strong man’ pose just before we set off. Laughing at my ridiculousness she gestures to Pam obviously saying the equivalent of ‘he is so strong now, yet last night he needed a…
Lycian Way, Turkey. Ufakdere – Bogazcik. Our phantom tent companion joins us in quiet contemplation of the dawn splendour lifting within this salt water haven. Synchronized spooning during the night has not lulled me in the customary fashion and we both rise with the sun. Waving goodbye to our hosts who are returning to work…
Lycian Way, Turkey. Kas – Liman Agizi – Ufakdere. Days in Kas (pronounced closer to ‘Karsh’) drift by as we blog on and wander the town like lazy tourists. Only our obviously over washed and over worn fading all-black clothes distinguish us from the more gaily coloured regular tourists as we wander hilly streets full…
Lycian Way, Turkey. Campsite pre Cukurbag to Kas. Spider spun glistening sunlit gossamer guy lines festoon the narrow path ahead like diaphanous streamers welcoming our approach. I have not shaved since Cricklade, UK. Cutting a swathe through our early morning hero’s parade my silver fox face fungus is rapidly thickening with sticky extra hairs. Not…
Lycian Way, Turkey. Gokceoren to Campsite pre Cukurbag Turkish breakfasts are typically raw sliced tomato, raw sliced cucumber, two types of cheese, a boiled egg, fresh bread and honey. Next to the dining table where we sit is another small square table piled almost 40-50cm deep in huge fresh cooked circles of flat Yufka (bread).…
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