13/1/25
It rained on and off throughout the night. Our fears of a storm were in no way realised fortunately. We woke to a perfectly dry tent, the wind had blown it dry, and a dry floor, the stones having made for great drainage. Before it was even light the beach was coming alive with fishermen and their boats going out to sea.
It was pain in the arse to pack the tent down, the wind was blowing it around. We’d put the second groundsheet down to protect the tent and air mats from the rocks. On the other side of the beach was an old seaplane. It was like an attraction now. But we searched online for its call sign. It had crashed into the lake in the Summer last year, while helping to fight forest fires. No one had been injured but the plane was totalled. It looked ancient anyway.
We were hopeful that either the cafe on the beach or the little pansyion (hostel) would be open for coffee, but alas not. Kapikiri was ripe for exploring. We went past the famous shrine to Endymion, a shepherd that the god of the Moon, Selene, fell in love with. We reluctantly missed out on going deeper into the ruins, the bikes made it a bit of a hassle and we weren’t Quinn. Speaking of whom, he posted on his Polarsteps about his visit. He left his bike somewhere, walked 2km down the coast to some ruins and then swam out to an island with a monastery on it. By himself. Safe to say, we are in awe of Quinn. But also slightly worried about him!
We cycled back along the very wet road to the town of Bafa. We were into the wind and slightly uphill, but we knew it would be to our benefit soon. We still hadn’t found that coffee and decided to stop at the next town after getting some miles in. It was nice that along the roads were many cafes and restaurants. Not service stations, just friendly, family run establishments. As we entered Pinarcik we stopped at the first place we saw.
It was a huge marquee type building and the owner guided us to sit next to the wood burner. He thought we would be freezing cold as we were in shorts and t-shirt. It was the best Turkish coffee we’d had so far. On the far wall were lots of memorabilia, weapons and pots etc. Turkish movie posters hung all around us. The owner was Kurdish. He wrote a message on google translate explaining there were 20 million Kurds in Turkey. Hilariously the word for Kurd is Kürd and without the umlaut it translates as wolf! We had to translate why we were laughing at what he’d said!
We hadn’t eaten yet, so when we were back on the road we stopped at a little abandoned house to eat some bread, halva and banana. The house would have made an ideal camping spot we thought.
The road followed the edge of the lake and didn’t really have any hills to speak of. But the weather started to change from its sunnier disposition to being drizzly and cloudy. We stopped and put the indispensable shoe covers on along with our jackets.
The road seemed to be busier. Huge trucks passed us, usually giving us room, but there were some weasels who blew the surface water up our backs as they passed. After what felt like miles we approached a big climb to leave the lake edge and as we did the rain stopped. Climbing made us warm. The gradients on these large main roads are unheard of in the UK. As we reached the top, the heavens opened. We looked for shelter and took refuge under the BP garage.
The toilets were high tech. Automatic doors and self covering toilet seats. We hadn’t seen anything like that in Turkey as yet. The rain was a little demoralising, but it was heavy and soon stopped. We had a steep and curvy descent down to the seabed. Well it wasn’t seabed anymore but it would have been. It was an incredible geographical feature. The main road, D525, went dead straight for miles. We decided against that and took the detour west and closer to the relatively new coast.
Our route didn’t start off flat at all. It as also still dual carriageway, just with a much poorer road surface. We hoped it was still the right choice. After passing a few villages the road narrowed and then went steeply upward. This part had never been underwater. It must have been a coastal road. At the top was a village. A couple of women sat by the road with small stalls of olives and oil. We took off our waterproofs and continued down the cobbled streets, seeking any flatness we could find.
Out of the village we headed back down. The road wasn’t cobbled but tarmac with large stones making for a bumpy but tolerable ride. After a short while we reached the turning for the ancient city of Milletos. Another once was a port city. There was also a beautiful mosque there as well as a huge amphitheater. The city looked extensive but we didn’t pay to go in and explore further.
The road was dead straight and flat for about 10 miles crossing the saturated and sometimes flooded farmland. They had definitely had a lot of rain here recently. We could see the mountains at the other end, appearing much closer than the garmin knew them to be. Our bums were hurting now. This wasn’t even a long day, but it was the longest day we’d done in a while.
At the other end, under the mountains was the village of Tuzburgazi. We stopped at one of the village stores that looked the most inviting. The owner was certainly that. He let us try his homegrown olives to entice us in for a sale. It worked. We also bought plenty of Ekmek and some tomato paste. Also some fresh halva. There were no fruits and vegetables here. One day without wouldn’t hurt.
We headed off course to Doğanbey. There weren’t any hills to speak off as the road followed the edge of the mountains. It was olive tree land again. As we approached the village a pack of dogs appeared. They were angry to see us and fortunately we could get away down the hill. As we entered the village we saw a big picnic ground, this would be a good place to camp. But we had our sights on a little rocky prominence a few kilometres on.
It was a nice road with interesting cliffs and caves. Somehow the Sun was now shining vigorously. It was hot. This was a welcome change. At the top of a steep little hill was the place we’d seen marked as a hiking area on google. The track was rocky and anti-car but there was a camper with Austrian plates parked at the top. We found the only patch a tent could fit, parked up the bikes and went towards the water.
The Austrians were down there enjoying the view but also the birds. This area is apparently a wonderful place for ornithology. We got to chatting with them. Easily, as their English was very good. They told us the water in the pool was warm as it was a hot spring, so we had a little wash. It was a little warmer than usual but also a little salty having mixed with the sea.
We went back up top to have dinner. As we were eating the Austrians came up to talk some more. We discussed our journeys and plans. They had a dog with them and had driven from Austria for a total of 6 weeks in Turkey. They told us they wouldn’t be stopping here as it is a Milli Park (National park) and you can’t stay overnight. Not long after the Jandarma (rural police) pulled up at the top of the track. A man walked down purposefully and queried what they were doing. But not us. We didn’t know what to make of this.
The Austrians would be heading back to the picnic place we’d seen. Apparently the locals had told them it was okay to stop there. We decided to do the same and they fancied the company. We couldn’t be dealing with being moved on. We packed up our dinner, didn’t bother changing and cycled back. It was still warm but the Sun had gone now.
We sat outside on one of the many picnic tables to eat together. Malena and Dominic owned a farm and liked to travel in the winter season when they weren’t needed there. We talked about many things, from dogs to politics. We looked to see what rain we could expect and it looked like only a little. Perfect.
A snazzy little Swiss camper van with a satellite dish also appeared but they barely left their secure pod and we never talked to them. There were some random flashes of lights from the village. Probably some kind of prayer related thing. Once it got to around 9pm we decided to pitch our tent. As we were doing so the Jandarma drove past, lights flashing as usual, and didn’t do anything. Tacit approval. The area was brightly lit by annoying lanterns but we got to sleep easily enough.
Surly They Won't Make It 