Sarıbelen to Pinarbaşı trailhead | 21.1km
It was so peaceful in the shepherd's grove campsite that I slept in, only to be awoken in by Fatma. She had arrived to graze her sheep; obviously her mother meant that it was her day for herding so I'd probably see her in the grove... and nothing more surreptitious! After a cursory 'merhaba' she shoved off up the hill to observe the foreigner packing his rucksack from a safe distance.
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| Baa humbug |
After a quick breakfast, and loaded up on stream water infused with sterilising pills, I made a late start on the long undulating trail to Gökceören. There was little in the way of shade and plenty of wells on the way and, despite the climbs, the going wasn't particularly tough.
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| Easy going :) |
Along the way we passed a large well kept, rubble cleared plain with a cow grazing and a decent sized stone hut. An elderly red haired villager was washing pots outside and she offered tea. Parched, I gratefully received. Her daughter was also there and they had a large area with a covered table surrounded by benches, set out for tourists with Lycian Way memorabilia, books, photo albums and empty parcel boxes sent from abroad. It turns out this is the hut of Dağ (Mountain) Hüseyin, who features in Lycian Way pioneer Kate Clow's original exploratory trip and book, but today he was out tending the elder goats. The 150 or so young goats were let out of their pen while we were there and they excitedly bounced over each other into the pasture bleating with happiness - a wonderful sight. It turns out that the daughter's husband and eldest son were killed in a car accident some ten years previous and the ladies now offered home-made food and drinks to passing tourists to bring some extra income to the family - her two other children were at school in Sarıbelen. A fresh glass of goat's milk ayran with mint was 2.5 liras, a huge breakfast platter for two with tea and water was 30 liras. Delicious and well worth the money and I added a generous tip as a gesture of support to the fatherless family.
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| Dağ Hüseyin's pad |
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| Valley view |
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| Ample camping spots with nearby well water |
As I came down the hill into Gökceören I bumped into a couple of local farmers and asked them where I could find some bread. They said there wasn't any to be found. At that moment an old, battered Tofas station wagon ripped up in a cloud of dust. A ratty looking bloke jumped out with a guide book in hand and jogged over. One of the farmers chuckled and said I could probably buy some lavaş flat bread from Hüseyin 'Para'* Yilmaz, motioning in the direction of the new arrival... (*para = money)
The ratty looking bloke pawed at my arm for my attention and waved a highlighted section of the guidebook in my face. 'Me Hüseyin Yilmaz' pointing to his underlined name. 'Famous pansiyon'. 'You Swiss man?' I explained no, I wasn't but the two Swiss people he meant were probably the two I had passed picnicking in the shade higher up the hill. 'They telephone me. Taxi to famous pansiyon' he explained. Seizing the opportunity he spurted, 'You need taxi to famous pansiyon?' I explained that no I didn't as I was walking all the way and he left as quickly as he'd arrived once he had understood my disinterest in his offer, Tofas wheels churning up the gravel and throwing up a big cloud of dust.
The markings for the official Lycian Way route seemed to have been diverted at this point, away from the straight road and instead now go around a bend, past a mosque and village water fountain, onto a small trail before joining back onto the official route. I soon realised this had been engineered to push tourists past the 'famous pansiyon', which looked to be famous for it's lack of character and unwholly expense... I stopped for a can of coke... FIVE LIRAS! I was livid at the extortion and told him so. A couple of American trekkers were already sat there having tea and while we were chatting about their long slow two month long Lycian Way holiday 'Para' Yilmaz kept butting in to further underline his fame and his wonderful b&b. I got righteously pissed off with him so turned and explained that he and his pansiyon were indeed famed, we'd heard of him from many people we'd met over the last 24 hours but his fame extended only to his ridiculously expensive prices that had gifted him the 'para' moniker among his peers. Initially taken aback he then indignantly puffed out his chest in pride at his fame and opened a door so I could see his downstairs 'show' room. Clean but basic and tackily decorated. He refused to answer me when pressed on the cost but we met the Swiss couple again later and they told me they paid 220 liras for a night plus the taxi shuttle from the trail to the pansiyon... An extortionate price fro what was on offer... 'Para' Yilmaz indeed!
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| For shitty home-made signs call Hüseyin 'Para' Yilmaz |
After leaving Gökceören I started down a long forest trail in a valley along the side of a small river. A good part of the initial section of the very mature forest had been logged and a worker was sat by the road so I had a chat with him about what was going on. He explained it was government land and they were cutting down the old trees to plant new ones and 'make it better'. When pressed further he admitted they were logging the mature forest for cash and would plant fast growing lumber pine in its place. We exchanged scathing comments about the Turkish government and said goodbyes. I'm yet to meet an AKP supporter on this trip. Plenty of MHP, some HDP and a decent anount of CHP, but no admission of AKP support so far... Where are they all I wonder?
I caught up twith the American couple who looked to be suffering under the weight of their packs and on the poorly marked sections with only Clow's book to go by, but explained they were 'going real slow' and taking lots of breaks so speed was of no issue.
Toward the end of the valley I pitched camped on some flat stepped grassland next to the stream, in a large clearing by another deserted shepherd's house. A great spot but very damp the next morning. A German couple we kept bumping into were camped over the river on the next ridge.
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| Day 9 campsite. German Morten's fekking huge tent and my tiny lightweight bivy. I've no need to compensate! |
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