Ahh. We’re back from three days on the Lycian way and I don’t even know where to start writing. The Lycian Way, a 500-kilometer-long trail around the region of ancient Lycia in southwestern Turkey, is said to be one of the most spectacular walks in the world. We packed our small backpacks with just enough clothes for three days, and set out to explore a small part of it. The camping equipment we stocked on in Munich wasn’t necessary for this trek, since throughout almost all its length this trail passes through villages which offer food and accommodation. So we were literally treading lightly.
A minibus brought us to a village called Kabak, and from there we walked to Alinca. We didn’t have a map, but fortunately this trail is well-marked. Unfortunately we were quite absent-minded and if it wasn’t for a group of Turkish students, by the evening we would have found ourselves back in Kabak. When we met, we were walking in the same direction; we asked “Alinca?” and they nodded, so we walked together for a while. After a few minutes they approached us and asked in perfect English whether we’re going *to* Alinca or *from* it. They were walking from it. We were supposed to be walking to it. Oh well. Back we went, and at the place where the trail splits we found a big drawing on a flat stone right on the path explaining clearly where each trail leads. The one we took goes back to Kabak. So much for dreaming on the trail.
As we approached Alinca we met a goat shepherd on the trail. He was very friendly (I think the only English word he knew was “yes,” but that is enough for quite a lot of conversation), and he invited us to his home for tea. We sat outside in his garden, naive creatures that we are, waiting for the tea and thinking about how fortunate we are to make friends with a villager like that. He served the tea and we were wondering whether it would be polite to offer to pay for it, and whether he might be offended. We decided it would be wrong not to ask at all, so we did, and he was not offended at all, in fact he asked for more or less what a cup of tea costs in Tel Aviv. Not bad for Alinca, Turkey. So much for dreaming on the trail, again.
Alinca is just a collection of houses on a hillside, barely a village; one enterprising villager named Bayram built a few wooden cabins to rent to trekkers, and that’s where we planned to stay. We met this Bayram, saw the cabins, and realized that he must already be tired of this job. He wasn’t particularly nice, and neither were his cabins. However, when walking here, just a few steps before the village, another trail split from the main one, leading into the woods, and we noticed a sign posted on the junction, pointing to another lodge on that trail. We decided to try to follow it and see what happens.
The trail looked old and unmaintained, in sharp contrast to the new, polished signs that kept us following it. Eventually they led us back into Alinca’s main road from the other side. I guess they just didn’t want us to pass through Bayram. We walked past a house which was having a second floor being added and some woodwork being erected outside. A woman called to us; we asked whether she knew where the Alamut pension was. She said that we were looking at it.
We were, in fact, the first guests at this new pension, which was not even built yet. The signs were posted two days earlier. We were the first to follow them. A young pair from Istanbul decided to leave for the countryside and open a pension, so they got this small house and were now adding a second floor and wooden cabins outside for guests. For now, they gave us one of the rooms in their home. They were super-nice, and went out of their way to make us feel welcome. The wife speaks some English, and the husband’s sister was also visiting at the time, and she’s a flight attendant in Turkish Airlines, so she speaks very well. We had a wonderful time with them, and we felt really lucky to have had this surprise experience. They cooked a great dinner for us, and breakfast too, and after breakfast we had to say goodbye and leave.
The first half of the second day we spent walking to Kabak by the other road, the one we mistakenly took the first day. Kabak has a beautiful beach with a number of camps with wooden houses behind it, kind of a hippie paradise, looking similar to some places in Sinai, except less commercialized and touristic — at least for now. After lunch we left for Faralya.
Faralya village is situated above the Butterfly Valley. The valley is named after a specific type of butterfly that is endemic to it; we’ve seen many butterflies on our way, but this one we only saw painted on the walls of our guesthouse, the George House. This place is apparently popular with organized groups of middle-aged German tourists, because that’s who we found when we arrived there. Besides them there was also a middle-aged Dutch couple, who we became friends with. The valley is actually a deep canyon, and Faralya sits 350 meters above it on very steep cliffs. The canyon opens to the sea directly westward, which makes for spectacular sunsets. Dinner is served immediately after sunset and is great as usual. In the morning, breakfast and on to the last day of the trek.
The way on the third day went mostly through flower fields. The spring is in full bloom here. The amount of flowers is unbelievable. Miles and miles, like carpets. But the real treat was the view that opened to us on the final section of the trail. The village below is Ölüdeniz, once a hippie hideout until it was discovered a decade ago by the tourist agencies and now it’s full of resorts and devoid of character or interest. The view, however, is breathtaking. This the resorts cannot take away.
April 20, 2011