I was on tenterhooks about this trip. We had booked it almost a year before to ensure getting a place, even although I was doubtful about my inclination to seasickness and my lack of any sort of thermostat as the barometer rose above 25degrees. I need not have worried as these paled into insignificance when three weeks before leaving I had an attack of extreme stiffness and pain around my hips, inner thighs and knees. I couldn’t bend down at all. Both the doctor and the physiotherapist boosted me enough to keep me going but it was touch and (excruciatingly) go and I did think I would spend most of the trip lying on my back, missing out on all the archaeological sites and trips.
A month beforehand, John had been knocked down in the street (see his blog) and that caused extra stress and worry as with a head wound he would not have been able to swim – though I expect he would have anyway, knowing his disregard for good advice re his wellbeing. Even with a good recovery, there were deadlines to meet before we left re his finishing his new book and a ground breaking new report called ‘The Future Quotient’. We arrived at Heathrow in a somewhat ragged state of mind. There was a long queue for Turkish Airways. I noticed two elderly ladies some way in front of us and wondered if they could they be part of our group? I didn’t have the energy to enquire but we were to regard Maureen and Janet with great affection by the end of our trip!
Arriving in Istanbul you need ten pounds in sterling to pay for a visa – no change given – then we followed our leader, archaeologist and Graeco Roman historian, Andrew Wilson, to ‘inland flights’. Looking out of the plane window, the sky was now dark velvet blue with a yellow band and a fiery horizon. When we got to Dalaman airport it was past 10.00pm but the air was still warm and heavy. We had an interminable wait for our minibus to Göcek. I was exhausted – as much by my stiffness as by the long drawn out day. When the minibus finally showed up I needed to grab my leg and lift it up the shallow step. Whatever could be wrong with me? However, I’d managed to get here and the general feeling of not knowing about anything ahead overcame otherwise dire thoughts. Curiosity kept me from despair.
We arrived at the boat about midnight and the cook had prepared a welcome supper. Ian and Ann from Australia, who had arrived much earlier, were already nursing glasses of wine, happily ensconced on deck at the beautiful wooden varnished table for twelve. I felt myself swaying from side to side with weariness and thought I might just keel over. John told me it was because I was on a boat in the water – on reflection, he was right and had meanwhile managed to find himself a bottle of wine.
Our cabin is all varnished wood – small but perfectly formed, with the most beautiful round, rough hewn marble basin. I manage to have a hot shower, take two painkillers and put the ‘seasick’ bands on my wrists, just as my head falls onto the pillow. I am happily in dreamland until the morning.
The highlights of breakfast are the best yoghourt ever, honey, cheeses, fruit. Then bread and butter with an array of delicious jams. My favourite is cherry. Whole sticky cherries which I pile onto my slice of bread. Heaven! I have always been quite greedy in the food department.
Our boat is berthed between two ‘gin palaces’ – modern, rather vulgar, white monstrosities . One of them has an impressive looking bar and two middle aged women are already making full use of it. Leopard skin is obviously in fashion. But leopards are lean machines. Enough said. We do not catch one another’s eye. We are a different species.
Göcek
Göcek – Boats galore …
Göcek – fruit and veg …
We have time to go and explore – buy a newspaper, postcards … the sun is bright and so warm, the sky deep blue against the pink of the bougainvillea . We pass a fruit and vegetable shop and I want to buy the tiny, purple sweet grapes and the ripe yellow figs and the green pistachio nuts. I buy the ripe and juicy figs. We make our way back to the boat past hibiscus bushes with red flowers that remind me of ‘Alice Through the Looking Glass’. I feel I have stepped through the mirror and the Lycian coast beckons. The stiffness continues but I am now optimistic.
Our boat – walking the gangplank …
Göcek – hibiscus in flower …
Lovely Maureen, flier of Tiger Moths, painter of watercolours with a wry sense of humour and a big heart …
Our boat sets off against a dry, limestone, mountainous landscape with small habitations scratched out of the scrubby green hillsides. It’s sort of ‘Good Samaritan’ country. Forgetting your bottle of water here would end in disaster – unless, of course, he turned up in time.
We’re on our way to the Island of Gemiler, once a thriving Byzantine holy island, now only ruins of churches remain; and a vaulted processional way, which is very impressive, despite its dilapidated state. We dock in the narrow straits between the island and mainland. A tiny boat starts to make its way towards us, somewhat like a ramona fish titivating a shark; we are being offered fresh pancakes from a mother and son team. John and I choose honey and lemon; the pancakes are cooked before our very eyes before being hauled up into our boat.
After lunch (on top of pancakes!) Taifur, our ever helpful steward, whizzes us over to the shore in the Zodiac dinghy. I’ll get the hang of climbing in and out of it in time but meanwhile, Andrew is there with a helping hand for all of us. I feel excited and unreal.
Leaving Göcek
Pancakes with lemon and honey …
Remains of vaulted processional way …
On the island of Gemiler – perfection!
Evening sun from the top of the island …
The path is steep and quite rough with loose boulders. We pass a vast empty cistern. If you fell in here you would need strong men and a rope to get you out – if you were still alive that is. So maybe not the best place for a romantic midnight stroll … a few minutes later we come upon some coffin shapes cut out of the living rock. The sun is blissfully warm and the air slightly muzzy and my senses somewhat drowned in the soothing sound of cicadas all around us.
On our way back to the boat …
Towards the end of a perfect day
Dinner time on the boat. A treat of freshly grilled fish and lots of vegetable dishes. I rather like the spinach cooked in yoghourt or curd cheese which is bursting with garlic. And the aubergines are perfect. I think the ones they grow here must be different from the ones we get at home. They just melt in your mouth and are smoky and unctuous.
Goodnight Gemiler …
We had our first swim today and in the water all my aches and pains vanished. Maybe I should turn into a sea otter. I forgot to put on my acupressure bands after swimming and felt ghastly when I woke next morning as the boat set off early at 5 am. The open sea was challenging enough to take a anti seasick pill but then I decided I should just get up and have a shower. I was covered in soap when the water ceased and I had to persuade John to find one of the crew, who disappeared into the bowels of the boat with a screwdriver and put everything to rights. Things got much better when I was up on deck and we found ourselves in a quiet cove where swimming was top of the bill. The group is settling in and we are getting to know one another’s foibles.
It’s very hot. Andrew says it’s going to hit 40 degrees. I say to John that if he finds a small putrid pool in the bathroom he will know I have melted!
A relaxing day sailing to Kas
The hornet that stung Ken …
We’re on our way to Kas, a small town which turns out to be unbelievably picturesque. I would like to stay here longer. Andrew takes us to see a tomb in the middle of which is a tree full of pomegranates. We then follow him along a dusty road, which has enticing glimpses of seaside restaurants down small alleyways. There’s an Ali Baba Car Hire shop which I thought should really be ‘Pots for Hire’ and there are a lot of scrawny cats on the lookout for a tasty morsel as we arrive at the impressive Roman amphitheatre.
Arrival at Kas
Harbour wall – Kas
Illustrated harbour wall …
On our way to the amphitheatre …
Maureen and Janet at the amphitheatre
A wealth of pomegranates …
Inviting table for two …
Andrew then informs us that there is also a special tomb to be investigated.. Unfortunately, this means climbing up to the top of the amphitheatre. The tomb is guarded by a toothless crone, who apparently used to be found there at all times with her fierce hound – who has since departed this life. She is wearing a grimy headscarf and sits bowed over, leering and muttering. She reminds me of Gagool in ‘King Solomon’s Mines’ (Rider Haggard), as the cave door comes smashing down to trap the poor victims with a background chorus of victorious cackling. The tomb is Doric and very smelly inside, used for various nefarious purposes. It has blackened, sooty walls re fires people have made and is not inviting.
Outside is a mass of empty drinks cans, paper bags, old bits of wool and matting, cigarette cartons and other discarded detritus. The crone crouches amongst it all, unseeing. We have left Maureen at the amphitheatre, being guardian of our bags, and looking stylish in her ubiquitous red panama hat. I have to say that for the most part there is very little rubbish when we visit sites that are outside of towns. This place was by far the worst.
On the way back we visit an orthodox church, now for some reason changed into a mosque and guarded by two sinuous, wraithlike cats who look at us with malice aforethought and weary, flyblown eyes.
Pathway to church/mosque
We finally retrace our steps to see another very splendid tomb in the middle of the prettiest street in the village and I am tempted by the shops. Andrew loves Kas and I can see why. I find the tiniest yellow post box and stuff in the cards I have written – which arrive about a month later in the UK. Perhaps it wasn’t a post box after all and a kindly person saved them but time has a very different dimension here. It’s very relaxing!
A house in Andrew’s favourite street – Kas
John at the shops – Kas
A tempting sight …
Sunlit …
Sunlit 2 …
and a dog …
Towards the end of the day …
Farewell Kas
At supper time we are served chicken with numerous colourful salads and potatoes, followed by water melon, grapes, bakhlava and Turkish coffee. I like the atmosphere of Kas. Let’s hope I get to come back one day. I sleep like a log and wake as stiff as a board!
There’s a powerful smell of the bilges this morning. It can’t be helped but best to get up on deck as soon as possible. There’s no hot water but that’s just as well as it is so hot that I sweat as I shower. I’m at the limit of my comfort zone! At breakfast a huge hornet pushily investigates the jams. Ken is ready with his antihistamine cream and has a small pocket fan to cool himself down – which works!
The honey is very dark in colour. It obviously comes from the resinous pine trees that crouch low to the rocky islet sides. Not too sweet – much in demand.
Time for another swim via the wobbly ladder. Norman and Jim help John sort out his brand new snorkelling equipment and he’s soon out there pursuing pipefish.. The sea is not brimming with marine life here but it’s amazingly clear and clean. The water is ‘Monet’ blue shading to sparkling turquoise with ‘La Grenouillère’ ripples – so warm and so easy to slip into.
Lunch is spaghetti and tomatoes with okra, peppers and a cornucopia of salads with a golden light beer. We sail by Kekova, now underwater and pass by the site of a famous Bronze Age wreck, the remains of which we will see in Bodrum Museum at the end of our trip.
Passing by the ancient site of Kekova …
The ship comes into Kaleköy, a small Turkish village overhung by the ruins of a crenellated castle high on top of the hill. This is the site of the ancient town of Simena. It’s a long climb up and we are accompanied by two old dogs – just for company, I think. Half way up and we have a great view of the sarcophagus which is now in the sea, near an island of flat stones which were once ancient baths.
Arrival at Kaleköy
Carpets for sale down by the harbour …
View of our ‘gulet’ from the castle walls …
Good companions …
King of the castle …
Castle walls and tombs …
We walk down into the valley and find dozens of tombs strewn over the hillside, all of them broken into long ago. We spend some time exploring before making our way back to the café where Andrew said they would serve us freshly squeezed orange juice – and he was right!
Ancient olive, ancient tomb …
Remains of looted tombs …
John amongst the tombs …
Tree and tomb – long term embrace …
Precarious both in life and death …
There is a feeling of heavy somnolence here in the shimmering heat of the day. It’s a cliché but the silence is golden. You could drink it and goodness knows what would happen – just like Alice in Wonderland. There were times of terror and bloodshed on this very spot, as civilisations were invaded and put to the sword. There is also a sense of waiting and mystery – of souls long gone who have left their mark – tombs which have secrets but no voice to relate them.
John takes more photos while I turn tail and hurry down the many steps to look at the shops before we have to return to the boat. I also walk down to see the sarcophagus which now lies in the sea. The path leads through peoples’ back gardens full of hibiscus, bougainvillea with ducks and cats with their kittens, and lurking curs. At the water’s edge there are casbah type restaurants with low sofas, floor cushions and lamps. And huge pots of flowers everywhere which are dazzling.
An enticing emporium …
On the way back to the boat
Harbour stores …
Ducks and drakes
Flowers opposite our jetty …
We are finally all gathered together on the jetty and Taifur arrives in the Zodiac (dinghy) with a flourish. This village is very poor but ablaze with colour and panache at every turn. Small boys swim amongst the boats, people have welcomed us. Life is so different here – it makes me wonder about my own and question what the good things in life really are. I am to think about this many times during our trip.
Supper time. I feel I shouldn’t drink too much alcohol as I’ve been both mentally and physically challenged by the heat today. Taifur suggests a shandy, which I haven’t had since I was a student. It turns out to be very uplifting – as sparkly and buoyant as the salty sea.
After supper, Ken challenges Ian to a game of cribbage. Ken is obviously an old pro. Ian will have to up his game. I haven’t ever learned to play cribbage but Janet gets out the cards to play Racing Demon. ‘ She always wins’, Maureen says rather mournfully, so I bow out and watch. Maureen turns out to be quite an amazing person. She doesn’t win at cards but she was once in charge of seven London hospitals at the same time and John finds out that she flew Tiger Moths during the war. She and Janet are also great water colourists and if they can’t make it to the top of every acropolis, they paint pictures of it instead. They are an impressive pair and Maureen’s sense of humour carries us along and is a joy.
In the night I am woken by the wind and then very heavy rain. I hear a noise in the bathroom and when I go to investigate I find the roof is leaking and a puddle getting bigger by the second. I fly upstairs in my white nightie looking like a banshee and find Taifur. He silently hands me a large bucket which goes into service. All good except that it isn’t in some of the other cabins. Maureen’s bed has been soaked and some of her watercolours damaged.
Next morning the sun is out and soon everything is dry again. Ishmael is the youngest of the crew and looks after our cabins. He has gorgeous dark lemur like eyes and a winning smile and seems to love us all! I want to put him in my pocket and take him home. Except I prefer being here with him on the boat. It’s interesting that I was so nervous of sailing and now I could go on for ever. The Mediterranean is quite calm here though and the boat very comfortable. And I have no responsibilities. It’s good to look at our captain, Taifun (pronounced Typhoon!), at the wheel. He is the image of self confidence, square and heavy in stature, and serious looking until his face lights up with a smile. As Andrew says, ‘He’s a good man’. He surely is!
Andrew with our captain, Taifun …
Andrew has a large chart which he spreads out over the table after breakfast to show us where we are and where we’re going. Next on the list is Myra and the Church of St. Nicholas.
Arrival re Myra
It is very hot. After negotiating the ladder to a smaller boat we arrive on shore. A minibus takes us to the site. This is an area called Demra, famed for its tomatoes and we see rows and rows of greenhouses, shimmering in the heat. At the entrance there are some roofed over stalls, selling clothes, jewellery and postcards. Felicity and I both buy white shirts, made from thin cotton lawn in the hopes of cooling down a little. I am given a lucky charm with mine. Let’s hope it works!
We are the first at the site (well done, Andrew, for chivvying us along because it’s awe inspiring) – and even more so to be without crowds of people wielding cameras – except for ourselves of course! This area has been flooded at various times and Andrew points out the layers of earth which show where the tsunami reached to – well above our heads!
Myra – morning glory on a glorious morning …
John is first at the site …
joined by Andrew …
Faces 1
Faces 2
Face 3 in the heat of the day
Transfixed …
Transfixed too …
In the amphitheatre
John and Norman exploring the amphitheatre
Reach for the sky
Farewell Myra
We just had time to sit down and drink a very astringent but refreshing pomegranate juice before being spirited away in the minibus to the church of St. Nicholas. Otherwise known as Nöel Baba Kilesi (Church of Father Christmas). It was built by St. Nicholas when he was bishop. This was in the nearby town and was overflowing with Russians who had come here to touch the sarcophagus. There was a serpentine queue for this but I found the rest of the church more interesting.
Part of the ceiling – church of St. Nicholas
Mosaic floor tiling – church of St. Nicholas
Remains of intricate stonework sculpture outside the church …
blurred vision!!!
Back to our boat …
Ship ahoy! Lunch ahead …
I was beginning to wilt in the heat and see everything with blurred vision so was incredibly happy to get back to the boat where lunch was waiting for us. And Taifur was at the ready with a cool shandy. It couldn’t have been better.
Lunchtime!
After lunch I lay and read, finishing Bill Bryson’s book ‘The Appalachian Trail’, lying full length under the shady blue awning on the cushions. Later on we went swimming – the water is incredibly buoyant – John even drinks it because of his love of salt as he pootles off looking for marine life via his snorkel. Deeply satisfactory! I am still struggling with my stiff and painful parts but all is lissom and light and pain free in the salty sea.
I did some washing and hung my nightdress up to dry on deck. I completely forgot about it until Ann came to tell me next morning that she had just saved it from a watery grave. The boat had started early and the wind was blowing quite hard. The nightdress meanwhile was dry and had the fresh smell of sea air when I put it on. Laundry as such is difficult to achieve, except that the sun and wind dry everything quickly. Dorothy tells me that Jim washes his shirts by ‘treading’ them in the shower – like grapes! At Kas I saw a small building on the quayside offering ‘Laundry’ but we were only there overnight. However, the crew always look shipshape in well pressed white shirts and shorts. The captain must have a special service – he did go off in the dinghy one night at dusk and return late. Could that have been to pick up laundry, I wonder?
Our next port of call is Kalkan. A sort of sister town to Kas. Until 1923 it was a Greek village. Tourism has meant that the bar has been lifted and the old cottages are restored and refurbished in a good authentic way. There are many shops and restaurants but this place hasn’t on the whole been spoilt by being ‘discovered’. It is only above the original village on the hillsides that there is a sprawl of new and not very pretty apartment blocks. It seems to be somewhat of an English enclave.
John was walking down the gangplank when his sunglasses slipped and fell into the water, having bounced once or twice on the gangplank and then the side of the dinghy. He decided to go in after them but in the end the water was too deep and the light was fading. These were special sunglasses that fitted onto his own glasses. People were very kind and an English lady in the tourist office directed us to an optician’s shop.
Meanwhile, we came upon Andrew drinking white wine at a small bar and he invited us to join him. The optician couldn’t have been more helpful. He had something that could work and asked us to give him half an hour to fit the new sunglasses. Perfect timing for a glass of wine with Andrew.
Next morning we all climbed into a minibus and set off inland. First to Letoön, with temples to Leto, Apollo and Artemis. John and Norman were fascinated by part of the site which was flooded – I think it is permanently like this – as the waters were full of large, black fish, terrapins and vast dragonflies hovered above the reedbeds. But the real highlight was the croaking of hundreds of frogs, which all leaped into the water as we approached.
Croaking of a hundred frogs …
The legend is that the goddess Leto fled here from Mount Olympus in order to protect her twin children, Apollo and Artemis from Hera, Zeus’s jealous wife. Shepherds tried to drive her away but she was defended by wolves and that is how Lycia was named – after ‘lykos’ meaning ‘wolf’. Leto then changed the shepherds into frogs. I remember Letoön more for its aquatic life although there is a fine amphitheatre and a hidden tomb – a favourite one for Andrew. It is one of the prettiest sites we visited – I could have sat watching the wildlife all day.
Andrew at the amphitheatre – Letoön
Andrew’s favourite tomb, Letoön
We continue on to Xanthos which has a Byzantine citadel on an impressive large and open site, high up, overlooking a river. The amphitheatre has been damaged by earthquake activity and in some parts the stone wiggles like a wave formation. A lot of slaughter went on here and the proud citizens of Xanthos committed mass suicide rather than submit to a conqueror. Today there’s a lot of archaeological digging in progress.
Tombs and earthquake stone waves at Xanthos
This man is ‘dusting’ the stones!
An erstwhile rather splendidly laid out shopping street
Midday and the hot sun burns down relentlessly. Just as well I brought my umbrella which has flipped into a beautiful sunshade!
At Xanthos …
The heat! The heat! Tomb of the Nereids – (dancing ladies)
Tomb of the Nereids – opposite side, with Andrew and John in attendance …
Leaving the archaeologists in charge …
Next on our list is Patara, which has an eleven mile stretch of white sands. Andrew is more interested in showing us Vespasian’s monumental Roman gate and the rather lovely amphitheatre, which has a romantic quality as the site has never been wholly excavated and the constantly shifting sands mean that the theatre continues to be half buried. There is lots of renovation going on here, sometimes maybe not for the best. It’s getting towards the end of the day and I am thinking about the boat – and dinner!
Vespasian’s gate – note the flora …
I’ve got used to not being able to bend down and found ingenious ways of dressing in the morning! But I am very slow compared to John who is always up on deck in a trice! Still. I am looked after very well by Ishmael and Taifur and could wish for nothing better.
Next day we travel inland from Kalkan to Pinara, an exquisite site in a valley full of pine trees. It is tranquil and beautiful with only a couple of goats wandering around who peer at us suspiciously. There is a real ‘sense of place’ here, with the elegant asphodel plants as guardians. We spend some time clambering up to look at ‘lost’ tombs and John goes off on his own to explore. On the way back we turn off the main path and make our way up by a small splashing river to vast, silent, rather extravagent looking tombs, which must surely remind everybody of the Indiana Jones films! It’s a difficult, boulder strewn, tortuous uphill trip through the woods to get there – perhaps that is why the photos are slightly blurry – my head was whirling and it was a welcome relief to be handed out cooling packs of orange juice by Andrew at the café afterwards. He is always solicitous of our comfort! But the tombs were well worth the climb. And Pinara was voted five stars by us all!
Tombs cut out of the rock face
Pinara: a sole asphodel – guardian of the site
View of amphitheatre – Pinara
Audience of one in favourite T-shirt …
Jim and an asphodel survey the amphitheatre, Pinara
An Indiana Jones moment … Pinara
Jim ventures in …
Respite at Pinara
Refreshment at the guardian’s small café fuelled us for Tlos, its baths and citadel and the unforgettable Tomb of Bellerophon – which John risked life and limb to see, while I sat in the local café, drinking fresh orange juice and chatting to a small boy who might yet become ruler of Turkey in the years to come. I bought a small carving done by his father of St. Nicholas for nine lire. It is made from a ‘black’ stone found in the hills here.
But before all of this, we were whisked up into the hills above for an extraordinary fish lunch in tree houses. Waterfalls streamed down the mountain side into pools and open wooden platforms, decked in carpets with low tables and cushions were dotted through the trees above the ground. A succession of wooden ladders led one up and we had a whole platform to ourselves. There was a selection of vegetable dishes to go with the fish, which came crisply grilled together with a long glass of sparkling beer. After the heat, the sound of splashing water, the cool air and protection of the tree branches just added to a perfect lunch date! I don’t know where all the water came from in this dry landscape but there were fountains and pools and rushing streams all around us. John took some good photos – see his blog.
The next port of call were the ruins of the baths at Tlos, which had a panoramic view over the valley floor. After our lunch I had found a young Turkish girl selling honey and bought a few jars, some of thyme, some of flower. I will have to wrap them up in my old swimming towel and make sure they are in the middle of my case. Got rather over excited and now not sure this was a sensible idea! Incidentally, the outcome happened to be successful – amazingly, the jars got to England in one piece!
Remains of bath house with panoramic views …
Another part of the bath house site …
On the way to the citadel we came upon a smallholding where red peppers were drying in the sun and hens were roosting in the hedge.
Sun dried chilli peppers …
A Turkish ‘little red rooster’ …
I don’t quite know how I opted out from climbing up to the citadel but I found myself at a table with Ann in the small café that welcomed travellers to the site. A boy of about ten years old, the son of the owner, engaged us in conversation. He knew some English, was a fast talker and I don’t doubt he will make a great success of his life unless he is tempted by the bad side. We ended up with a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice while John and the rest tackled the citadel on the skyline opposite. We could watch their progress from where we sat. Maybe I didn’t join them because we had been sitting on floor cushions at the restaurant and I found it impossible to get up without help afterwards, I was so stiff. I must be nicer to people on the street who hobble along painfully – it’s a bad feeling not to be able to do what you once did without thinking. Will I recover?
A future Prime Minister perhaps …
I feel sorry now that I missed the citadel but maybe it was as well. Afterwards, just four of the others went to Bellerophon’s tomb which is sited in a steep cliff face. Apparently, there was a ladder that hung out over the void in order to get to the tomb. Health and safety measures are not too much in evidence here – something I find quite a relief. We have too much of it in England. As long as the ladder was safe, then the responsibility to survive is yours. And, thankfully, they all did!
Meanwhile, I enjoyed looking at the rather good carvings which the owner of the café had made and am pleased I chose St. Nicholas. Perhaps he prevented the intrepid four from falling into the gorge below. I had a fleeting glimpse of the tomb as we passed by it downhill in the minibus. It looked impressive. So did the gorge!
Saint Nicholas carving …
This has been a long and glorious day. I feel unbelievably lucky to be here. Meanwhile, the gulet had left Kalkan without us and we caught up with it at Fethiye. I expect the crew enjoyed a bit of ‘time off’ from us today but we got a big welcome on our return and joy – the bar was open!
Tangerine moon
Fethiye is a large town compared with Kas and Kalkan. It is also a busy port. Its name was changed in 1923 in memory of a local pilot, Fethi Bey. There was earthquake damage here in 1957 and so the town is quite modern. A small museum near the waterfront is very well worth a visit and our steep climb up to the tombs was worth it also – made sweeter by refreshment at the local café afterwards. The Turks here are very welcoming and exceeding civil. It’s a joy to sit and chat, even without sharing a language. I really don’t want to go home now, which I find astonishing. I would be interested to find out where my ancestors came from, as I feel a sense of belonging, even though I can’t speak the language. I felt the same way when we came to Istanbul for the first time – a sort of homecoming. Of course, it could be because of our excellent guides, Peter and Jamal in Istanbul and Andrew with his love of Asia Minor which he is good at passing on!
Our ‘gulet’ moored at Fethiye
Boat variations – Fethiye
Small boats, Fethiye
Staue to the man Fethiye is named after …
Explanation …
By the waterfront, Fethiye
Climbing up to the tombs – Fethiye
Tomb at the top …
Yet another steep climb up to more tombs. Our ancestors must have been very fit, given that when they got up here they then carved the tombs out of the rock. It’s always rewarding to make it to the top – more so when we are welcomed on our descent by the local café owner, offering cool refreshment. Orange juice for me – the oranges squeezed before our very eyes by a charming girl. Then we made our own way back to the boat. John wanted to read and so I wandered off to look for a post office, which I was fortunate enough to find quite near at hand. And then I just meandered through the streets on my own, overjoyed to be here and free to explore.
Sun on bright water – fountain at Fethiye
Turks play backgammon in cafés everywhere. I saw four men engrossed in a game and stopped to watch. After a while, they looked up and I asked them if I could take a photo. Three of them looked as if they would say ‘No’ but the fourth (on the left in the photo) was a jolly type, who gave me a big smile and suggested I join them. No English spoken – just hand signals. I offered to buy them all a drink but tea was brought for me instead. This was a cultural exchange!
A game of backgammon and a glass of tea …
Suddenly, I saw Andrew approaching, looking around for his protégés – perhaps the boat was about to leave. I called out to show him where I was. There was a slight double take, he asked me if I was alright and I nodded reassuringly. But it was time to go, so I thanked all the men and bid them farewell. I have good memories of Fethiye and only hope they don’t have another earthquake in the near future. All these men were retired – one had been a surgeon – and they would all have remembered that last earthquake in 1957.
Café life with ducks and drakes
I wish I’d had time to go to the baths but Andrew – like a kind llama, had herded his little flock back onto the boat. Once again it was time to move on.
Sunset at Fethiye
I love being out here on the boat, watching the sun go down, hearing the muffled sounds of oars, distant conversations carried across the water and the possibility of a little nightcap administered by Taifur. How can I possibly adjust to living on land again?!
Splice the mainbrace – we’re off again …
John enveloped by the Turkish flag …
He looks very happy!
John and Ken
Stopping for a swim in a small cove …
We then got to stop at Cleopatra’s baths, which are now six feet deep in the sea, owing to earthquakes and rising sea levels. Andrew said it would be best if we swam to them as our boat couldn’t get too near the shoreline. Ken took the canoe and we all took to the water. The ruins were rather mossy and slimy but I managed to climb up from the waves after a few tries. Later on, Taifur arrived with the dinghy and I thought I’d take the easy option back to the boat but found that it’s incredibly difficult to climb into a dinghy from the water. Having tried to heave myself up a number of times, I imagined myself as a dolphin, threw myself out of the water and luckily landed right bang smack in the dinghy. Andrew said he would never forget this moment! It was good to get back and subside on the cushions – Taifur in attendance with a shandy … eat your heart out, Cleopatra!
On our way to Cleopatra’s baths …
Cleopatra’s ruins …
Our next adventure is extraordinary. We arrive at Lydae and there’s an uphill walk along a path strewn with boulders for about forty five minutes. Finally, we arrive at two ruined mausolea on top of a hill. On the other side the valley stretches down, hot and dry. There are some buildings at the bottom and Andrew says he knows the couple who live there but isn’t sure if anybody is at home. They have a small child, who now goes to school on the mainland. We can see the red flash of a Turkish flag, waving in the breeze and then Andrew notices a movement. ‘Let’s go’, he says, ‘I think someone may be there’.
It’s quite a trek. The heat is pitiless but then we come upon a semi-circular building, which turns out to be a well. John’s blog shows some wonderful pictures of it inside but I stumble on, encouraged by Andrew’s promise of a cup of tea.
What an astonishing place. Out in the middle of nowhere, no facilities, yet there is a feeling of peace – of two people who wanted to live a different existence. Only the wife is there. Her husband has gone to fetch their daughter from school, which is on the mainland. I think she lives with her grandparents during the week.
There’s a donkey, sheltering under a tree, beehives, and various wooden structures and suddenly, tea for all of us. I don’t know how Andrew knows this couple but we feel very honoured to be here. There are wooden spoons and small rugs for sale, made there by husband and wife. Every time I stirred porridge during these past winter months, I used one of their spoons and it gave me a happy memory of that day. As I stir, I imagine wishes could come true and one I have would be to go back there one day and take the spoon back to its birthplace.
Arrival at Lydae …
Donkey and flag …
Beehives …
Verandah …
That welcome cup of tea!
and farewell …
Ancient and modern …
As we made our rather weary way back to the boat, I noticed this ‘gin palace’ parked up in the most romantic of coves. The contrast between where we had been and what we had seen gave pause for thought. I thought we could do without the ‘gin palace’ but I do love our own most elegant ‘gulet’. To see these wooden ships plying up and down the coast is a great joy. I will relegate this last photo to ‘lap of luxury bling brochure land’!
And the next great treat which awaits us is Kaunos. Here, the shoreline stretches out flat as rivers flow into the sea. This landscape makes me think I could be somewhere in Latin America. Ian is lying out on one of the cushions at the front of the ship with his headphones on, playing an imaginary guitar. Janet, Maureen’s companion (and a Reverend) comes up to me and says ‘Bonkers’ – ‘completely Bonkers’ and with a rather judgemental shaking of the head makes off to find her walking shoes. Maureen will defuse the situation, I am sure. Ian, oblivious to the outside world, continues his role as rock star guitarist.
Arriving at the mouth of the river, Kaunos
Istuzu beach – a long sandbar where turtles lay their eggs …
It’s time to change boats so that we can go inland and soon we are all aboard a very particular river craft, of which there are many making their way up and down the inland waterways. Our boat has a very special feature – a throne! And our man in charge is called Vulcan …
Our riverboat – throne included!
A turtle …
and a blue crab …
The medley of river boats we pass is bizarrely attractive. This place is also a nature reserve to various birds and marine life as well as turtles. Our main aim was to see the ruins and rock tombs but further inland, there are also thermal springs and mud baths. I wish we had longer here.
Small river boat …
A river boat, sultan style …
Rowing boat and tombs
Ann, Diana, Norman, Ken and John …
The boat pulls in to the side and we continue our journey on foot. Norman, as ever, is up ahead, Ken not far behind and the rest of us follow in dribs and drabs, Jim and John with cameras at the ready. I keep thinking that when I look at my photos, I will hardly believe I was here! Andrew has really made this a fascinating trip and not only because of the archaeological sites. He is well organised yet flexible and makes sure we all feel included, yet at the same time gives us independence to explore. ‘He’s a good man’, a phrase he uses in describing Taifun (Typhoon), our impressive captain. I want to sail on forever with this crew!
An impressive outpost
Andrew in full flow – John at far left …
Sunspot
Digging up the past …
A handsome dog
A quiet moment (with the camera!)
A hound in matching surroundings … and it’s hot!
It’s a long way back to our riverboat from the site but a treat is in store. The local farmer has found an extra use for his tractor. He’s made a sort of charabanc, which is attached. It’s very ornamental and we enjoy the trip back down the hill, passing lots of wild flowers and fruit bushes on either side. When we get down to the water’s edge I can’t help but take a pretty photo of John amongst the oleanders, though, on reflection, he should have taken that photo of me! The boat is waiting and off we set again, through the reed beds towards our supper (I hope)! Nobody has fallen by the wayside. And I think we’ve done quite well amalgamating as a group – without really trying. We are quite tolerant and supportive of one another but I don’t know what we all really think – bar Janet’s Bonkers comments. It will be sad to disperse in a week’s time so I shan’t think that far ahead.
Our welcome charabanc
An oleander moment …
and the boat looks pretty too!
The river boat took us all the way back to the gulet and soon our captain was behind the wheel, spick and span in his freshly laundered ‘whites’. Here he is, looking in charge, as he always was!
Taifun, our captain
It was Dorothy’s birthday and the chef had devised a substitute cake – a huge watermelon had had pink caves gouged out of it from which were pouring delicious bunches of grapes. A bottle of wine made a good foil. Dorothy was given a very attractive blue bowl and was thrilled to have her birthday celebrated. She’s ploughing her way through ‘Wolf Hall’ at the moment. I confess I haven’t read it – at the moment I’m reading ‘The Thin Man’, a thriller by the American writer Dashiell Hammet and ‘London Under’ by Peter Ackroyd, which is fascinating. And I’ve got Michael Palin’s ‘Around the World in 80 Days’, for when the going gets tough!
Our anchorage for the night is very quiet – we can only see one other boat. On the shore there is a house – old but very large – surrounded by trees and with gardens sloping down to the shore with a jetty. Jim snorkels off to investigate but I just swim around the boat, looking for fish and notice some pretty marine vegetation. The house looks well managed and ‘moneyed’ but discreetly so. I notice one dim light on as night rolls across the ocean and envelops us and the silent darkness gives the house a rather spooky air. I expect a ‘guardian’ lives there and keeps an eye on comings and goings.
My backache continues but the ginger tablets that Ann gave me have kept it under control. The ginger is strong and even if they are only palliative or just a placebo, it’s a great help because I feel able to cope. And her kindness and concern helps too.
Cribbage continues during the evening – Ian is wily and getting better as he susses out Ken’s gameplan. I am reading ‘The Submission’ by Amy Waldman, which is fascinating. It’s a novel based on the idea of constructing a ‘space’ e.g. a building, a garden, in New York as a remembrance to 9/11. The judges have to decide on the winning entry without knowing the names of the contestants and the winner gives much pause for thought. A brilliant idea, well executed.
Andrew and John in pensive mood …
Ken – all in blue!
Next morning we cruise down the Loryma Peninsula, whose mountain tops are heaving with impressive fortresses and we finally make anchor in the ancient harbour. This consists of Taifur roaring off in the dingy with a rope, which he secures to a suitable rock on the shoreline, while Ishmael keeps hold of the other end on the boat. They are experts at this manoeuvre! The sea was quite rough today and I was pleased to arrive in a sheltered spot.
Rougher water …
Another place to explore, where we come upon more donkeys in seemingly inaccessible rocky outposts. The sense of history makes me aware I am walking where there are layers of different dimensions. They are hidden from me in my three dimensional 21st century world but the feeling is palpable. I could hold out my hand and be dragged through a time warp into another era. However, I need a hand up over some rough boulders and Andrew kindly obliges.
Safe harbour …
Complementary colours …
Explorateur 1
Explorateur having a rest …
Bubble wrap!
Andrew pointed out the plant above which grows everywhere. It was used as the equivalent of ‘bubble wrap’ to pack clay amphorae securely together in the holds of ships. I don’t remember the name of it but we noticed it again in the museum at Bodrum, doing its useful job.
We clambered up to the top but the donkeys had got there before us. They are much more sure footed than me and we found them eating dried thistles with evident enjoyment! Andrew was looking for some quotation carved aeons ago into a rock and Jim managed to find it by hanging upside down in a rather alarming fashion.
Contemplative …
I got here first …
Keep off! The thistles belong to us …
Time to clamber down and leave the donkeys to crunching their sunlit supper in peace.
Turquoise waters and a contemplative hat …
and back along the jetty …
Sunset from our cabin porthole
Our cook is amazing. He produces a cornucopia of tasty dishes from a tiny galley down below three times a day. Ian, who is a well known chef in Australia, went to investigate and told us there was only room for one person down there. Turkish food uses a lot of vegetables – and the best aubergines ever. I remember a dish called ‘The Imam Fainted’ (with delight!) which uses aubergines and I can see why he was so overcome. Okra is also prepared here in a very delicious way and at the front of the boat there is a barbecue for grilled fish, chicken and lamb.
Andrew tells us that there’s a problem with the dinghy’s motor and that we’ll have to make an unscheduled stop at Marmaris, which is retracing our journey a little way. But we have plenty of time in hand and while John reads on deck, I go for a wander, fending off carpet sellers but finding some small, Turkish bowls showing a traditional design of tulips in red, blue and white, which will make lovely presents.
Marmaris is a tourist resort and although it isn’t hugely busy at the end of September, it’s much more commercial than the other places we’ve visited. There are a few formidable looking walnut coloured German Hausfraus trawling the bazaar but the holiday season is definitely over. The carpet sellers will soon shut up shop and go home to Cappadocia to make more rugs for next year.
Our boat on arrival at Marmaris
Marmaris – waterfront
John engrossed in his book, Marmaris
The small, rather squat fortress was originally built by the Knights of St. John and taken over by the Ottomans. There is now a small museum – worth a visit. The problem of the dinghy is very soon sorted and we’re on our way to Knidos. We have a friend who is aboard a small yacht called ‘Beringo’ and she tells me by text message that they are also on their way to Knidos. Let’s hope we have a chance to meet up! I don’t know the origin of the name of the yacht but it rather reminds me of the pretty French word, ‘berlingot’, which can be a pyramid shaped carton but also a boiled fruit sweet. I remember as a child those flat, semi- transparent sweets of different jewel like colours, with a slight dip in the middle – perfect for putting clandestinely in your mouth in Maths and Latin lessons.
The wind is up – it’s still sunny but a change is in the air. We pass the hydrofoil that buzzes between the Greek islands and the Turkish mainland; it looks like some exotic, blue and yellow flying fish. In the distance we can see the Greek island of Kos on our left.
The hydrofoil passes by
Ken reading Simenon (en français)
Lion of Knidos, British Museum
There is a sheer cliff on our right as we navigate into the double harbour of Knidos which is on a narrow, isolated peninsula, best visited by boat. Andrew tells us that the settlement was built in 360BC. There used to be a stone lion on top of the cliff, looking out to sea. It is now in the British Museum, just to the left as you come in from the main entrance and is ponderously impressive. I expect it misses the view! Come to think of it, you might say it has a ‘faraway’ look in its eyes.
At Knidos
Flowers by the seashore, Knidos
John saw a snake here but I looked in vain …
Exquisite tracery and a lost gnome …
There’s much to explore here, a lot of it still unexcavated, which adds to its beauty. Andrew has written a Greek play that he wants us to act out in the amphitheatre – John, Felicity and I are the audience but we are also visited by others, intrigued as to what we are doing!
A single asphodel and John’s shadow …
Drama group arrive at the amphitheatre!
John captures high drama with Ian and Maureen …
Wow! Ian’s performance attracts the paparazzi!
The die is cast and the tragedy played out and we all repair happily to the café for an ice cold beer. There is also a rather special, tiny shop, where I buy a bracelet with stones and glass beads which echo the deep blues, indigos and clear turquoise colours of the sea.
Blue, turquoise and indigo …
Cat at Knidos
Ox head at Knidos
Time to go. Taifur arrives in the dinghy and ferries us back to the boat where Ishmael is on hand to help us up the wobbly ladder. I’ve got the hang of it now. Janet sometimes needs a bit of a shove from behind – but she’s a determined lady!
Ishmael awaits our return to the boat …
Noses …
We’re just negotiating our way out to the open sea when a yacht appears around the corner and it’s ‘Beringo’ – carrying our friend who we had hoped to meet up with at Knidos. We rush to the side of the boat and start waving and shouting like madmen – and we pass within yards of one another but can’t stop. Later on at home Kate tells me she was very seasick, so I felt fortunate that the gulet had kept me in good heart, despite my other problems. I continue to be as stiff as the proverbial board and although the ginger helps, there is definitely something wrong. But it hasn’t stopped me being totally entranced by the trip. And when I’m swimming I could be ten years old – completely flexible. A weird state of affairs …
We’re on the home run now, heading for Bodrum. It’s time to try out the sails and I managed to take a not very good photo of Ishmael aloft – however, here it is.
Ishmael setting up the sail …
Sail ahoy!!
blue waters …
A distant view of the island of Kos …
Most of the time on the boat we go barefoot and our walking shoes are kept in a cupboard on deck. Peoples’ feet are quite odd – partly because at home they are often tightly packed into elegant shoes or hefty boots, so you don’t see the lumpy bits. My feet are definitely not my best asset but they work pretty well. I was looking here at Taifur’s feet and I suddenly got goose bumps. His legs and feet are so reminiscent of those in Piero della Francesca’s paintings. Just look at the angels in ‘The Baptism of Christ’ for example. Taifur is an angel in disguise!!
Taifur’s famous feet à la Piero della Francesca
The gulet was scenting its home ground as we ploughed on through the lively waves … the captain lives in Bodrum and everybody got quite excited when we could make out the castle, which stands right by the shore.
Arriving at Bodrum
I don’t know how Taifun manages to moor us between two other boats – it’s always a tight fit and it always works against the odds! And now we are doing it for the last time.
Mooring needs skill!
Shoes on and we’re ready to explore the delights of Bodrum and its castle. Even though Bodrum is known for its rumbustious and lurid laser flashy nightlife, it’s very much worth a visit – just to go around the castle. When we arrived, there was an enormous cruise ship almost dwarfing its walls.
Later on, I noticed some visitors walking around with labels on which had numbers – e.g. 1452. Andrew explained that they were from the cruise ship and it was a way of checking that everybody had returned! So yes, there were lots of people but even so it was worth breaching the castle walls. The inside is magnificent with lots of interest and wonderful, open courtyards. And a great maritime museum, which is famous for collections retrieved from wrecks around the coast. Don’t miss it!
Fish market, Bodrum
Entrance to Bodrum castle
Ali Baba pot guarded by ox heads …
A shady looking character!
Sssssss …
View from the castle 1
View from the castle 2
Inscrutable …
Fashionista visitors …
The next few photos show some of the beautiful indoor courtyards, where you can sit and enjoy looking at the trees and plants and listen to the birdsong all around.
Scents of green citrus …
Amphorae
Amphorae with donkeys, potters and water carriers …
I spy pomegranates through green fanned leaves …
I’m watching you …
Cool spot in the heat of the day …
How do I look?!
Curiouser and curiouser …
John was all for making off by this time so that we could explore more of the town and Andrew had flagged up a visit to one of the seven wonders of the world. On the way out I was intrigued by a store of ancient lavatorial sculpture and descriptions of various denizens who inhabit the castle.
Varioous designs of a lavatorial nature …
Denizens of the castle 1
Denizens of the castle 2
Denizens of the castle 3
John makes off …
A moment of largesse on the waterfront before turning inland to explore the town.
A moment of largesse on the waterfront …
I always like being let loose in a new place – and Bodrum looked enticing with its outdoor markets and small alleyways behind the main street. I felt John would rather have gone back to the boat to read in comfort but he would get to see the seventh wonder of the world later on, so I encouraged him to explore.
‘When I am old and grey and full of sleep’ … an old chap dreams in the heat of the day …
A picturesque cottage hidden down a tiny alley way …
Cool blue …
Not even a miaow was forthcoming here … siesta time
Bollards and the butterfly bush …
We wandered slowly back boatwards. I recognised the butterfly bush I had at home but mine filled one pot and here there were swathes of it!
We passed a hibiscus in full bloom and I was thinking what a good job John Singer Sargent would have made of painting it in his illimitable free style with those glorious shades of colour. Then I took a photo of John taking a photo of motor bikes. It came out in what I think is John Singer Sargent style – I don’t know why – it just happened. No doubt John would say I’d moved the lens when taking it – and maybe I did!
Painterly hibiscus red, white and pink …
John with motor bikes – John Singer Sargent style? Maybe, maybe not …
And yet there’s definitely something of JSS to that photo – and it also seems to be of a bygone era – despite the motor bikes. We pressed on towards the waterfront again to be in time to catch the group going to the Mausoleum with Andrew. Every moment is precious now as the egg timer runs out.
Pink bicycle enveloped in a riot of gypsophila
Nearly there!
I think we all made it to the Mausoleum, except for Ian and Ann. There had been somewhat of a drama while we were away, as Ian had fainted and had to go to the local hospital to be checked out. They will be going back to Istanbul for a few days before leaving for Australia, which is good as he’ll be able to relax before that long flight.
Bodrum used to be called Halicarnassus and the king’s name was Mausolus. His wife built the Mausoleum in his honour around 350 BC. It was 120 feet long and 100 feet wide and Pliny describes it in detail. On arrival, there’s a slight Ozymandias moment. In the thirteenth century an earthquake felled it to the ground so not very much remains. The site has a ‘lost’ air about it but there is some wonderful bas-relief in a small glass walled building to one side.
Bas-reliefs in the grounds of the Mausoleum, Bodrum
John in study mode …
In profusion – above our heads!
I think this is a type of acacia tree – it’s really beautiful and sort of softens the blow of the missing Mausoleum! Andrew encourages us onwards and upwards to see the amphitheatre, which is now used for musical evenings. Unfortunately, it’s now right up against a very busy road, which we have to streak across. It’s impressive but we leave in a straggly line, the tone somewhat melancholy.
However, on the way down we buy some dry, salted almonds to take home. Turkish ones are the best. John set back to the boat but I leave the group to wander around a little and come upon a small jewellery shop. It’s run by a Turk who has married an English girl he met in Marmaris and he makes the necklaces and bracelets himself. I buy a pretty turquoise and crystal bracelet for my sister-in-law.
By the jewellery shop …
Next I make for the bazaar where I find lokhoum (Turkish Delight) – an authentic brand, I am told. The old man who has run his shop for fifty years also sends out for ‘real’ saffron and I find some olive oil soaps in painted tins. A goodly lot of small gifts. And a nice man to buy them from! I make my way slowly back to the boat, wondering how I will fit everything into my case. But I surely will.
On the waterfront …
The Three Graces
Home to the boat for the last time …
And it’s farewell all round. Ian seems to have recovered and we thank our cook for all the delicious meals he has prepared for us in the last two weeks. Andrew has a quiz for us on what we’ve seen and done – good thing it wasn’t an important exam but between us we’ve remembered a fair amount.
Bodrum’s night life is now in evidence – the only time we’ve been kept awake by thrumming music and high as kites holiday makers the whole two weeks. But next morning dawns clear and bright and calm again.
Cases are packed and taken down by Taifur and Ishmael to where the bus will meet us and take us out to the hubbub of Bodrum airport. Then we all line up and embrace Taifun, Taifur, Ishmael and our chef one by one. I do so like seeing men embrace one another! I love our crew – I hope things will go well for them all. They have been fabulous. I’m sad to leave and can’t help but shed a tear but so happy to have been part of this tremendously enjoyable voyage along the Lycian coast.
Bowing out in glorious technicolour! Au revoir …
END