A Modern Ruin

After the Turkish War of Independence in 1923 there was a mass exchange of populations between Turkey and Greece, supervised by The League of Nations.

As a result, all of the Orthodox Christians of Kayakoyu (Greek name Levissi) moved near Athens, and this hillside town has been deserted ever since.

The earthquake of 1957 devastated this ghost town and created a modern ruin.

Sometime in the 80's a property developer wanted to convert the whole town into a holiday village, but the Turkish authorities put a stop to that. Now it has been declared an open air museum, admission is charged and the proceeds apparently go to cementing good relations between Greece and Turkey.

The interior of this church was impressively spooky.

My plan was to explore the town for an hour and then follow The Lycian Way to a village by a lagoon called Oludeniz.
The walk was to take about 3 hours, but this time I was carrying my full pack and not just a daybag filled with cucumbers.
A local goat herder pointed out the way for me and once again I was looking for red and white markers as I strove uphill through the ruins. It was a scorcher so I was glad of my new hat, though it seemed to alarm Turkish people.

At the top of the hill looking back

The top of the hill was wooded and flat. The path was covered in a thick bed of pine needles and the shade from the sun was much appreciated. Then I emerged from the forest onto a dry, rock hillside overlooking a stunning bay. I had a rest.

The next hour of the walk was tough. The markers were further apart than I liked and I kept having to retrace my steps and scramble around looking for the correct path. Once, it took 20 minutes of trial and error before I was back on the Way. All of this in searing heat with a backpack.
The only other people I met on this hellish hillside were coming up! A Geordie couple in their 30's, both fashionably overweight and glowing scarlet.

"I can't believe you're heading UP this bastard."
A long pause for breath.
"Fuckers at our hotel told us it wasn't far. Are we near the top yet?" Pleading.
"About an hour. Max." Not what he'd wanted to hear.
"What's up there?"
"A nice view."
"Christ."
"Oh, and a shady forest and a ghost town. That'll be all downhill for you. You can get a taxi back from there, too"
Hope glimmered in his eyes.
"Taxi yes. Then I'm gonna have a fucking talk with our hotel."
I felt a reckoning was coming.

He told me they'd been walking for 4 hours already and that some of it was "bastard steep". I looked at the sun and wondered if I'd make it before dark. I started trying to hurry. Ridiculous idea that resulted in me careering down a scree and destroying my right shoe. I was quite sad about that, I'd had those shoes for nearly 5 years.

On and on, then I glimpsed the lagoon in the distance.

This spurred me on and I managed to get to the shore just before it got dark.

Oludeniz lagoon

Safe

I was so thankful to be off that hillside that I checked into the first place I found and ended up in a caravan.
I slept long and hard and was awoken in the morning by a thunderstorm. Rain was leaking into the caravan in a couple of places - one directly above my backpack.

Next morning

I had breakfast then caught a bus back to Fethiye again to go shoe shopping at the market.

A Brief Stop in Fethiye

Fethiye

Caught a bus to Fethiye. It's a fairly large and uninspiring town in a beautiful bay.

In 1957 the whole place was destroyed by an earthquake. However, very few inhabitants died due to the actions of the mayor who, acting on impulse or divine inspiration, had used the town's tannoy system to order everyone to leave their homes before the quake struck! I imagine the next election was a landslide.

Fethiye has been rebuilt and is completely geared towards tourism and is now home to over 700 British ex-pats.

Unlike Antalya nobody spoke to me in German. Everywhere there are cafes offering Full English Breakfasts and fish'n'chips ("with real tartar sauce"). 

There isn't a beach here, you have to go to Oludeniz for that, but there is a huge marina.

Fethiye Marina

And Boats. Lots of boats.

Count the masts

I walked round a noisy, enclosed market and bought a new hat. I'd looked like a "strange doctor" for long enough.
My new hat cost less than a coffee and is popular with geriatrics, farmers, cave dwellers and the benighted or forsaken, but not doctors. 

"Surely he can't be a doctor!"

I decided Fethiye wasn't for me and the next day I checked out of the hotel and caught a minibus to the ghost town and modern ruins of Kayakoyu.

A Walk 2

I was up and about early next morning, no blankets saw to that. Had breakfast with the family, then got blankets and apologies from the mother.

I had decided to walk a piece of The Lycian Way that goes from the village up onto a large headland at the east end of Patara beach. It hugs the coast and loops back overland to the village again.

The owner gave me some initial directions, 3 cucumbers, a tomato and an orange. This reminded me of my last trip along the Way with Serena, so I bought a bottle of water and set out, hoping it wouldn't rain. 

Leaving Gelemis village

A small road took me away from the village and up steeply until I hit the top of the headland. From there I could see the whole length of the beach and the ruins I'd visited the day before. But it was the ocean that held my attention. I don't think I've ever seen such beautiful water - not even in Thailand.

The Lycian Way marker overlooking Patara ruins and beach

Using the zoom lens I could see my wonderful columns!

Patara Ruins

The track meandered past small farms where people got on with their days oblivious to the beauty around them.

Just another day on the farm

It was hot and there wasn't a cloud in the sky. The headland was much bigger than I'd guessed, and around each corner more and more of it came into view.

I stopped for lunch after walking for about 3 hours. Never tasted better cucumbers.

Patara was out of sight behind me, but the views remained exhilarating. Now, I was discovering new islands around each bend of the track.

The sea had an almost hypnotic effect on me. I couldn't take my eyes off it. There was a yellowish band in it caused by heavy rain washing mud from the local river into the sea.

I checked my clock and realised I'd been walking for five hours and was still moving along the coast AWAY from Gelemis. I'd been enjoying the walk so much I hadn't realised the time. When would the path start looping back?

I passed more islands in perfect waters and then the track started a long, long ascent that took the wind out of me.

Finally I met a couple of Americans coming down towards me. They told me that a kilometer on from us there was a highway and a kebab shop. I nearly kissed the guy. They'd waited there for an hour hoping to catch a minibus but had had no luck. They'd decided to head back the way I'd come.

"But, it's taken me over 5 hours to get here, man. And it's nearly 5 o'clock now!"
"Yeah, but we don't want to walk down the highway - it's 6km to the Patara turnoff, then 3 to Gelemis."
"That sounds easier than what I've just done!"
"It'll be cool."
"OK, I'll try the highway and if I ever get back I'll send a chopper after you."
"Cool."

I made it to the highway kebab shop. I tore through a chicken shish and skulled half a litre of ice cold lager. It went straight to my head. I really fancied a lie down in a hammock.

Instead I walked 6km along the hard-shoulder of a hot, dusty highway. It took me an hour.

Just after I turned off onto the road to Gelemis I was picked up by a friendly villager and delivered to Rose Pensiyon.

The owner and his wife were waiting.
"Beautiful, yes?"
"Yes, but far."
"Oh yes, 24km."
15 miles. Christ...
"I'm going to have a shower and a rest."
"Very good. How were the cucmbers?"
"Incredible."

Owner and Wife

Last thing. I like the following photo but haven't come up with a caption for it. So, caption competition anyone?

The Rose of Patara

Took a minibus to Patara, the birthplace of St.Nicholas.

Patara is famous for its World Heritage ruins and for its long, beautiful beach - 18km, Turkey's biggest.
The Pataran oracle of Apollo was second only to Delphi, and Saints Paul & Luke changed ships here on their way to Phoenicia ( "to teach the epistles to the apostles!" )

With all this to attract punters it comes as a revalation that the only accommodation is in a tiny old village called Gelemis. Part of the reason is the Loggerhead turtle that uses the beach and surrounding dunes to lay eggs. The Turkish government has, perhaps surprisingly, banned development in the area

The minibus dropped me 3km from Gelemis. I had decided to walk there as part of my ongoing cold war with taxi drivers, but I needed a tea first. The tea caravan lady couldn't give me normal tea (she spoke no English so I don't know why) but lemon tea was available. It was bright, bright yellow and tasted very similar to Max Strength Lemsip. Not unpleasant as such, but not what I had in mind.

I was about halfway to Gelemis when a car pulled over. The driver and his wife owned the Rose Pensiyon and offered me a room. I accepted but refused a lift which dismayed them a little. Voltar told me that Turks think walking is a very unfortunate business.

When I finally got to the Rose Pensiyon I met the whole family - grandmother, grown-up son and daughter, her husband and their two kids.

Gardener

Wife and Mother

Then I was given tea, salad and a long chat about gardening by the owner.

Complimentary tea and garden produce

This was followed by a guided tour of his infeasibly large greenhouses. He seemed to be growing tomatoes and cucumbers on an industrial scale, but he assured me they were for personal use only.

He also had an orchard full of oranges, and a garden full of roses.

He was a generous obsessive, though, and would insist I took some of his produce everytime I went off for a walk somewhere. Lovely gesture, I thought.

That first afternoon there I went round the ruins, and once again I had the place to myself.

First came a Roman triumphal arch.



Next, another theatre

I found stones with engravings of gladiators

coming attractions?

Finally, the agora with its columnade. These were the first columns I had seen in a ruin...and I was much taken by them.

Columns!

A couple of barrister columns!

Some of the site is now a reedy wetland which gives great reflections and lots of frogs and mosquitoes.

After the ruins I continued to the beach.It was massive, empty and blowing a gale.

Took a couple of pictures, hid from the sandstorm in a closed down beach cafe for a bit to see if the wind would stop, then headed home.

Back at Rose I joined the family and hotel guests for dinner. The other guests were four elderly ladies speaking Dutch.

"You're speaking Dutch?"
"Ah yes, we are from Belgium."
"I lived in Holland for a while."
"But we are not Dutch, we are from Belgium."
Silence. We didn't speak until after the meal when everyone had relaxed again.

By 10pm the Golden Girls had crashed and I was invited to watch Galatasaray play Real Madrid. Drogba is the new god in Turkey and when he scored to put Gala 3-1 in the lead I became an instant Gala fan and the owner and his son looked like this...

Gala!

 I retired around midnight. It was cold that night and, due to a housekeeping mix up, I had no blankets in my room - just four towels. The Rose family had all gone to sleep so I decided not to bother them and wrapped myself up like a mummy. There was a mosquito in the room somewhere too.

A wise man once said "Anyone who thinks they are too small to matter has never spent a night with a mosquito."

An almost sleepless, seemingly eternal night ensued.

A Wedding, hey?

At breakfast this morning, chatting to Sal and Buddy

"I'm getting married, hey bro!"
"Excuse me?"
"I'm getting married to that Aussie girl, bro!"
"The one who checked in yesterday with her boyfriend?"
"Yeah, bro!"
"Does he know?"
"He's just travelling with her, hey, he's not her boyfriend, bro!"
"So, when did this happen?"
"Last night drinking, bro! She wants to live in Turkey and I can go to Australia, hey!"
"I thought you wanted to go to New Zealand, hey?" (It starts to rub off on you after a while...)
"I do, but Aussie is nice too, hey? Plenty of jobs there, hey?"
"Hotel work, bro?"
"No, bro. I want to do flooring, putting down floors in houses, bro, good money there, hey!"
"What about Buddy, hey?"
"Buddy'll take over running this place, hey bro!" Big smile.
"So, what's your bride's name, hey?"
"Umm...Emily, hey? Yeah, Emily, bro!"

Sal & Buddy on a mission

St George and The Red Fort

Today I left Asia for a daytrip to Europe, which is only 15 minutes from here by ferry.

Turks call the island Meis, but the Greeks call it Kastellorizo ("Red Fort"). It's the most easterly of the Dodecanese island chain.

The boat docked at the only town on the island. The population of the island is about 500 and most of them are elderly. There were about 10,000 people here until an earthquake, German and Italian bombardments during WWII and finally a huge fire drove most of the inhabitants to head for Melbourne.

I felt like we were arriving in a toy town when I first saw it.

Brightly painted ersatz houses that looked like a movie set rather than a real, lived in place. Or a Greek version of The Village from TV show "The Prisoner".

Both Greeks and Turks often place "evil eyes" on their doorsteps to keep away misfortune.

The island is basically a single, flat-topped hill sticking out of the sea. I decided to climb to the top of the hill hoping for good views. Also, I had read that the Monastery of St George was up there and I thought I'd have a look at that too.

Happily, the path up was paved and quickly became a wide, flagstoned staircase that hugged the cliff and looked down over the town.

The higher I got the better the views became...

The plateau at the top was hot, dry and stony - found some stuff I'm guessing was left over from the war

I followed the only path until I came to the small, walled St. George monastery.

Some workmen were reconstructing part of the outer wall when I arrived. An architect from Athens was overseeing the work.

I asked her if this St George was the same as the English one, but she didn't know. she told me I could look around inside so I entered the small chapel.

Dragons - must be the same St. George

  

In a corner hidden in a sort of fireplace was a smallish hole in the floor.

I asked the architect outside about it. She told me it was the crypt of St. Charabamleros and I was welcome to go down into it as long as I took all responsibility for any accidents that may occur. 

I agreed, put my torch between my teeth and wriggled down into the crypt.

The crypt consisted a single, tiny spartan cell - the low ceiling covered in charcoaled crucifixes.

It kind of freaked me out so I didn't hang around much down there.

I thanked the architect and left.
I'd forgotten to bring water or food with me (again!) so I hurried back down the steps to eat in town.

I had a Greek salad and shared my calamari with the some of the Greek Chapter of the Legion of Quayside Cats.

Buddy's Recurring Nightmare