Day 19..150miles 28th March
After a brief return match with the giant buffet, we beat our retreat hoping that the size and extent of the Parmakkule/Hieropolis site will allow us to avoid the phalanxes of coach and camera of our fellow travellers. Amazingly it does and as if by magic we find ourselves completely alone in an enormous, perfectly preserved amphitheatre. The city is largely Byzantine and the Christian tombs on the outlying parts of the city lie impressive yet broken with sheep quietly grazing where mourners once stood. The other feature at Parmakkule are the hot springs which have leached out calcium deposits that have formed a huge white series of pools running down the side of the mountain. The effect is as if a large Christmas cake has been deposited over an area a kilometre square and has slid quietly down the side of the face. Sadly this great site is a victim of its own success. A lack of water feeding the springs has slowed the flow starving this great white mass of its life blood. Could this be the swimming pools of the hundred or so hotels and pensions built in the last few years? We head on west over vast valleys in the Anatolian uplands until we come to Egirdir, standing on a lake surrounded by mountains, some still snow capped. We spend a blissful afternoon in the warm sunshine strolling – or in Jules’s case jogging – around this quiet but gem like spot. Our rooms in the Gol Pension look out over the lake and we sit on the terrace as the sun goes down feeling a little less stressed.
Day 20 57 miles 29th March
Today is a day of rest. So we go out to find a suitable place to walk and find Lake Kovada which is in a national park a few miles south of Egirdir. The good news is that we remember that a total solar eclipse of the sun will take place starting at12.45, the bad is that we forget to take a packed lunch. However in a tiny village shop we manage to get hold of a wholesome mixture peanuts and Efes beer so at least we were not to starve. At the end of the lake we sat and watched the sky darken. The birds started to roost and with shadows failing to lengthen, the light simply disappeared. We were completely alone in this eerie near darkness and then the world awoke, first quickly and then once dawn had been established, quite languidly.
We returned to the Pension in early afternoon to a brewing, clear sky storm. White caps flew over the once placid lake surface and as I sit here this evening, the sound is of the swell of an ocean against our puny peninsular. Tomorrow it is Konya, a deeply religious city of 760,000 souls which is home to the famous Sufi ceremony of the Whirling Dervishes.
Day 21 152 miles 30th March
We leave Egirdir on a blustery but beautiful morning and as we drive around the north then east, look back on this exquisite village caught between the aquamarine of the lake and the snow capped mountains above. Bringing us back to earth, Jules finds us a short cut which appears rational on the map, so we head into the mountains. You will see from the attached photo that we needed a bit of guidance. It is instructive to learn that it is not only the Brits who feel that by increasing vocal volume, enlightenment will follow. Amazingly, we eventually find ourselves back on a tarmac road and arrive in Konya without further problems. Now Konya is an unusual spot in that it is considered to be the most religious city in Turkey, evidenced by the total lack of advertising signs for and availability of any alcoholic beverage. So having found a very acceptable (i.e. provides booze with dinner) hotel next to the key city centre site – the Mevlana the holy tomb of the eponymous Sufi founder – we take in the Bazaar, Aladdin’s Mount and a number of carpet and curio shops. We even find Mohammed’s beard in a casket in Mevlana shrine/museum. Having discovered that there was to be a whirling dervish event at the city’s exhibition centre, in the evening, we set off to see this celebrated Sufi ceremony. Naturally assuming that we would be joined by a couple of hundred westerners off the coaches, we were amazed to find ourselves filing into the cultural centre with a huge group of local citizens. We were in a marbled, domed amphitheatre and were almost alone in not being able to understand a single word of the proceedings. It was magical - part cultural event, part ballet and part religious service – clearly deep in meaning for a large majority of the 3,000 attendees. The Dervishes performed with great dignity and beauty and though the religious ceremony has been banned since the 1920’s in Turkey, many if not most in the audience were in reality a congregation.
Day 22 143miles 31st March
It’s raining and rather chilly this morning and we drive north east across the flattest plain that you would ever wish to meet. Nothing for nearly 100 miles. Then slowly the scenery changes and as if God is rebalancing for short changing us on the natural beauty stakes, we arrive in the extraordinary geological world that is Cappodocia. This is a volcanic landscape that has been exploited by man at his burrowing best for thousands of years. Our hotel rooms in Goreme are caves. The weirdly shaped rocks above us could have been carved by sentient sculptors but it is just the wind, the rain and the ice. Deep inside the rock are churches, homes, storage chambers, refectories, mostly from the 11th and 12th centuries some with murals in original vibrant colour, those of the saints less many faces destroyed by local Muslims who eschewed the reproduction of nature and the human form. Tomorrow we plan to see the fabled underground cities and monasteries.
Day 23 133miles 1st April
Armed with what turns out to be the world’s most inaccurate map, we set out to tour the sites of Cappadocia. Our first stop turns out to be our first caravanserai – Agzikara Hani - which has all the attributes of a minor fort. It stands on the old road from Konya and served the caravan route across Anatolia during the Ottoman era. We then head towards the Ihlara valley, 60k south. On the way we find ourselves alone climbing up to an abandoned monastery at a place called Selime – it was huge and contained all that was needed to live including wine presses, storage jars, water cisterns and a beautiful church – sadly not much left of the religious art.
Ihlara Valley is both a historical site and a much visited beauty spot. From the top of the gorge, visitors walk down 360 steps to the valley floor and if a Saturday, share the first few hundred yards in either direction with scores of school children. Further on – and we were on a 3.5k dash to a pleasant little restaurant – the competition for path space was less intense. So walking fast along the steep sided valley bottom surrounded by cliffs – a mini grand canyon with a small fast flowing river beside us, we barged our way past a succession of small groups of walkers (all easy to overtake except the French group) until we found our little restaurant and shared lunch with three mallard ducks and a drake. On the return journey, climbed up to a ruined and despoiled church, carved into the cliff face, St George’s and despite the graffiti (some from 1898!) the quality of the interior was amazing. Finally back up the 360 steps, so feeling a bit pooped.
Then into an underground city at Kaymakli – it was home to 5,000 Christians between AD 300 and AD 1200 in times of peril. We went down five “stories” through narrow passages and our guide scooted around at high speed, hunched over to show how the Christians would have navigated around this weird underground maze. They had everything to allow them to live for up to six months in their troglodyte world. Not for me.
We plan a balloon trip with a wake up call at 5.30am, so an early night.
Day 24 30miles 2nd April
A very early awakening, but no balloon trip. It is raining. It is grey and dank and not at all what we expected, until a local carpet vendor tells us that it rains two days out of three in April in this area and reminds us that we are at 1,100 metres above sea level which explains why we are so cold. Not in the tourist publicity. We don the wet weather gear and rather regret that we did the underground city yesterday. We spend the morning driving and then walking through the valleys around Goreme, which share extraordinary geological features. Strange penis shaped rocks, huge boulders spread across the landscape like medieval pointed tents, formations that appear as wild animals – although some imagination required here other than in relation to a very fine camel – cliff faces dotted with rock hewn houses, some still providing accommodation to the current population. We round our journey off in a very damp Urgup, which is considered to be the main centre for tourism in the region and despite a perfectly reasonable lunch, are glad to be getting back to the quirky offbeat village that is Goreme and our cave rooms with their open fires.
Julian buys a carpet so it is time to leave Anatolia.
Day 25 278miles 3rd April
We roll out of Goreme and head south over the Anatolian plain. High, cloud topped volcanic mountains dot the landscape until we climb a pass to 1,600 metres and the temperature drops to 5c. Then we head down towards the Mediterranean coast and the temperature rises to 22c by lunchtime. We have a quick pit stop at truck service area and the food is the best that either of us has ever seen on any motorway system. It is heaving with truckers, burping and replete.
At last, we turn south and have rounded the Med – we are on the far side if you look at your map. We are soon in Iskenderun – the old Alexandretta, founded by Alexander the Great after the battle of Issus – just north of here - when his army routed that of Darius at the first and most decisive battle of his conquests. This city is one of the spiritual starting points of the Silk Road, because of its port. It has a relaxed, urbane air with a palm fringed boulevard running along the water front. I wander down through a park to the beach and dangle my fingers in the Med’s salt water – a last touch of Europe for a long time.