Snow on the Lycian Way, or Mediterranean holidays

Instructor's report on the hike along the Western Lycian Way in January 2019.
Before this hike, I couldn’t decide for a long time whether to lead the route myself or pass it on to another instructor. As a result, the journey turned out to be not the easiest, but I regretted everything, but not my decision to go to the Lycian Way again in winter. The weather was not kind to us, the unexpectedly heavy backpack put pressure on our shoulders, but it was incredibly pleasant, after a month spent at the computer, to walk the route again and feel alive and purposeful.

January 4

This time I flew to Antalya on a risky morning flight right on the day of departure. The risk is that if my luggage were lost during the transfer, the start would have to be delayed by at least a couple of hours. Fortunately, there were no losses, at least at this stage:)

The card I bought two years ago for travel on the local tram turned out to be working, but there was not enough money on it. I found a machine, topped up the card and at the same time filmed this whole process for the instruction "How to buy tram tickets at Antalya Airport"

Most of the group arrived yesterday. We met on the roof of our favorite hotel in the center of Antalya. By the way, it was thanks to the wonderful roof (and the views from it) that this modest little hotel received such a high title.

The guys said that it had been raining all evening the night before. Now it was clear and cool. On the opposite shore of the bay the peaks of the mountains were white. I wanted to show the others the top of Tahtala (one of the main “targets” of the East Lycian Way), but it was time to run to the bus station. Time was running out.

At 11 am we left Antalya towards Fethiye. We drove along a “short” road through the mountains. In fact, in terms of mileage, this route is not much shorter than the route along the coast, but in terms of time, the gain is quite noticeable.

At one o'clock in the afternoon the bus made a lunch stop on the plateau (altitude 1296 m). I immediately warned the group that there would be no time for a lunch snack today and it was better to take advantage of the opportunity. Everyone went to eat, and I finished chewing the airplane sandwiches and taking pictures of some very snow-covered slides around. In my previous visits here, there was much less snow, however...

In Fethiye, I quickly bought more food (bread, ketchup, garlic and of course cucumbers), we jumped into a taxi and at 16:20 we started from the arch symbolizing the beginning of the Lycian Trail.

At home it was already getting dark at this time (let me remind you, this is January 4), but here the daylight hours were somehow shifted and there was no smell of sunset yet. To be honest, when leaving Antalya I was worried that we would start in the dark and miss the stunning views of Oludeniz.

The movement along the path quickly warmed everyone up, people began to undress (everyone started in jackets), and meanwhile photographers endlessly photographed the Oludeniz lagoon.

As the sun approached the horizon, the air quickly became colder. If for the first hour I calmly walked in just a shirt and trousers rolled up to the knee, then after 18:00 I had to put on a windbreaker.

We arrived at the parking lot at 18:40, already by the light of our headlamps. We set up tents, collected firewood... and began to prepare for the rain. The forecast promised that in a couple of hours we would be covered by a thunderstorm front.

And so it happened. Towards the end of dinner it started to rain. We hid firewood under the awning, which was stitched together by the fire and spread across the tents. True, I didn’t go to bed and spent another hour sorting food under the sounds of a thunderstorm.

January 5

The alarm clock woke me up at 6 am and the first thing I did was turn on the Internet and check the weather forecast. The temperature in the forecast coincided with what my thermometer said (+6), but the situation with precipitation was less clear. Okay, we'll figure it out later.

During the morning the rain started and stopped five times. We slowly cooked breakfast (on a wood chipper under the awning), collected our things, and periodically hid under the awning. Gradually it dawned and it became clear that during the night the slopes of Babadag above our heads had been covered with snow. At some point we were also lightly sprinkled with quite heavy hail.

As a result, we left as early as 10. For some reason, the neighboring village looked much sadder than our camp. I felt a little sorry for the peasants who were forced to get wet there. The sea is knee-deep for us, of course:)

While we were descending to Faralya, the weather improved a little. The sun came out, free lemons and oranges appeared on the trees, and the mood improved radically.

We found a terrace just below Faralya and hid our backpacks there (under the awning) so we could take a radial route to the Butterfly Valley beach.

Descent to the Valley of Butterflies is a relatively extreme entertainment. There are 3 sections where you need to climb down the rock holding onto a rope.

Having correctly assessed their strength, Natasha and her son decided not to continue the descent, but returned to their backpacks.

It took us about 50 minutes to get to the beach. It was sunny, warm and somehow magically relaxed there. Korney went for a swim, and we just sat and marveled in the sun.

A boat arrived and with a desperate maneuver landed two locals on the rocks. Then I remembered that I needed to test the new radios and said hi to Natasha. Surprisingly, the connection was normal.

We returned to our backpacks in the hope of having a hearty lunch and drying out the tents at the same time. Everything turned out great with the food, but the weather let us down - the sun hid and we had to curb our drying appetites.

After lunch there was a short but difficult climb, which forced us to make a mini-break literally 15 minutes after the start.

While eating, I scared the group that we still had 3-4 hours to go before our overnight stay. But after soberly assessing the next weather forecast, I decided to replay everything. We finally settled in for the night at 5:50 p.m., just an hour after leaving lunch.

We set up camp near a suspiciously warm spring (usually dry in the summer). The parking spot was not ideal, but there was a dry tree nearby and we managed to prepare firewood before the thundercloud promised by the forecast arrived.

January 6

During the night, the rain thoroughly soaked everything around (I even started digging a drainage ditch from under the awning). But in this way he used up his strength and did not disturb us in the morning.

We had to make up for yesterday's gap of a couple of hours, so we tried to get ready a little more cheerfully than yesterday.

The first couple of hours we walked through the forest along the sea, periodically jumping out onto rocky beaches or, on the contrary, getting bogged down in the thorny jungle.

But the real beauty began at lunch. We stood on a high cliff with a gorgeous view of the mountains and the sea.

And most importantly, there was a lot of sun. We gutted our “suitcases” and hung out absolutely all their contents to dry: tents, sleeping bags, clothes, food and the backpacks themselves.

In the village of Kabak we had two important things to do. No, alcohol has nothing to do with it:) It was necessary to swim and stock up on fresh water. To save time, we split up: Korney and Natasha and Dima went swimming, and I, Yura and Anton went to look for water.

The fact is that for our next overnight stay (in Paradise Bay) it is better to come with “full tanks”. There is a pump (hand pump), but brackish water often flows from it.

This is a fairly common "prank" in the coastal area. So in the lower part of the Kabak, where we were looking for water, at first we only came across salty water. And only in Sultan Kemp (and this is already 400 meters from the beach) we managed to find a fresh tap.

On the beach, we distributed the extracted water into backpacks and hand-held eggplants. Very heavy, we moved towards the treasured Paradise Bay (Cennet Koyu).

A couple of climbs on this trail forced us to show miracles of intelligence (it is inconvenient to climb rocks with a bucket of water in your hand). But the views here are simply magical.

We took pictures at every cape, against the backdrop of every bay and rock.

We arrived at Paradise Bay already in the deep twilight with our flashlights on. It turned out that the “salt” pump on the beach was completely dismantled for the winter. But the stream at the bottom of the valley came to life. You cannot drink raw water from it, but for technical needs it is better suited than sea water.

That evening, Orthodox Christmas was celebrated on the mainland. And we celebrated the lack of rain and the abundance of dry firewood. They sat by the fire for a very long time, drank tea and couldn’t believe their luck. Korney eventually hung a camping hammock on the pine trees and decided to sleep in the open air.

January 7

In the morning the weather was a little worse. The bay was covered with a cloud, and a light rain began to fall. So weak that Korney didn’t even bother hiding from the hammock into the tent.

No one was particularly surprised when obstacles began already at the tenth meter of the route. We jumped over the stream, crawled onto the rock and off we went:)

We only glanced at the paradise beach and moved on.

There was something intensely rumbled over the sea, and out of habit I thought it was a thunderstorm. But it thundered somehow too often and too evenly. We assumed that there were military exercises going on at sea, especially since several ships actually hovered suspiciously in an open area beyond the distant cape.

Quite quickly we reached a Greek village abandoned 100 years ago. Now these are ruins not much different from the ancient ones. And for us, cultural tourists, that’s all we need - take a photo and move on.

Behind the village a steep and long climb began - it was necessary to immediately, head-on, gain 300 meters of altitude. And then, approximately in the middle of this rise, it suddenly turns out that we have losses...

Pasha carried a wet awning from one of the tents on the external sling of his backpack. And then this tent disappeared. While Pasha ran downstairs with a walkie-talkie in search of the loss, we began to serve a forced lunch. It was necessary to somehow eat away the bitterness of the loss and think about what to do if the tent was not found.

After some time, Pasha returned, but the tent was gone:( Although the tent was inexpensive (Terra Incognita Alfa 2), it’s still a shame, especially since it’s January.

We ate and, slightly saddened, crawled on. It was good that at least the sun came out - it distracted me from thoughts about the improvement of the next night.

Having risen to the plateau, we looked into an ancient storage tank with a dome and walked towards the nearest village. It was necessary to replenish water supplies. After all, after yesterday’s Kabak we still didn’t have normal sources.

In the village we lay down near the mosque (there is always water there) and while we were packing, it started to rain.

We quickly ran to the village store and had a second lunch there. We ordered tea, bought all sorts of nonsense (ice cream, bread, nut butter, juice, some snacks) and feasted there until the rain stopped.

Then we quickly took off to the hill where the ancient Lycian city of Sidima is located.

I usually stop for the night below the ruins and show them to the group the next day. But this time, after some extra rest, it seemed appropriate to stretch out a little further to make tomorrow a little easier.

The ancient sarcophagi against the backdrop of the sunset sky looked amazing and I didn’t regret my decision at all.

Even when it began to rain at the end of the excursion, it became more of an exercise in speed (who will reach the backpacks first - the rain or you) rather than a test.

We walked for another 30 minutes in the rain and began setting up camp on abandoned terraces. The mood, to be honest, was so-so - twilight, wet, dirty and cold. And the air temperature gave rise to some concerns. Over the course of a whole day of climbing, you rose from sea level to 700 meters and, apparently, there could have been frosts at night.

Actually, there is nothing terrible in the frosts, we would not have frozen, but many would probably have slept poorly, which would have affected the driving performance of the group the next day. I already began to doubt whether it was worth staying in the first village with a store? We would invite ourselves to someone’s house, warm ourselves by the potbelly stove...

When the weather is nasty and stupid things creep into your head, the best way to distract yourself is to get to work. So we went to plow. We practiced setting up tents in the rain. The lost tent from Terra was replaced with a group tent, we collected firewood, and went to fetch water.

I planned to collect water in a small village near Sidima. But the water supply did not work there (it was winter after all) and we had to draw water from a deep ancient well. It turned out very soulful and very warming - the leaky bucket quickly lost water and it was necessary to lift it from the well quickly.

While we were fussing about getting water and setting up the camp, we warmed up, dried out and forgot about the earlier evening spleen. It was warm by the fire, and the rain had long stopped.

When I went to bed, the temperature in the tent had already dropped to +2. The moisture on the awning turned into ice...

January 8

This morning I woke up with a strange feeling. In my miracle tent it was not cold, as I thought in the evening, but on the contrary - warm, cramped and humid. Crap! It's snow! We were covered in snow.

As best I could, I shook the snow off the sagging awning of the tent from the inside, slightly extended the central rod to tighten the awning itself, and quickly got dressed. I immediately put on membrane socks and waterproof pants (more for warmth) - in short, I packed like a storm (again, for warmth).

Our terrace was covered with a 10-centimeter layer of wet snow. Tents and trees bent under the weight of the snowdrifts and crunched alarmingly loudly at the slightest breath of wind.

I was glad that I had prepared and dried the wood for the wood chipper in the evening and now I can quickly prepare my morning coffee! I only drink coffee when hiking - hot, sweet (with condensed milk) from a huge mug. Let it be instant crap, let it smell like smoke, not coffee. But when the hot drink gets inside (probably straight into the soul), you realize that you go hiking not only for the sake of the scenery:)

While we were having breakfast, there was a rumble somewhere behind the hill. More exercises? No, it's definitely a thunderstorm now.

To our sincere surprise, the weather did not deteriorate, the storm somehow dissipated and we set off under the bright sun.

In order not to meander through the enchanted forest, I led the group onto the road and we walked a little faster. Powerful snow caps fell from the trees and we had to constantly be on alert.

Dima (the youngest participant in our hike) apparently did not quite share the adults’ enthusiasm for the wonderful surprise of the weather. He was far behind and in order to distract him from obvious thoughts about escaping (to McDonald's, for example), I started a game of "three-liter jar."

We walked on untrodden, loose snow for at least 2 hours. Let me remind you that most of the participants had sneakers on their feet and they were naturally wet. Korney and Yura, who were walking in light trekking boots, however, also got wet. My membrane socks behaved surprisingly pleasantly - they didn’t squelch and my toes didn’t freeze. This is not my first experiment with hiking in the snow in running shoes and membrane socks. And I come to the conclusion that during short-term collisions with snow in more or less positive temperatures, this combination is completely functional.

When we passed a farm near the village of Bel, Turkish children ran out onto the road and started a snowball fight. I wonder how often they have snow here?

That day we spent a particularly long time looking for a suitable place for lunch. You remember that lunch is the time of the Big Drying and for it you need a large, dry and sunny meadow. And here the snow is melting everywhere, and snowdrifts are flying from the trees...

Nevertheless, we found a more or less decent lawn and performed the ritual of completely repacking our backpacks. I love hiking - they stimulate hard work:)

As soon as we crossed to the southern “sea” side of the mountain, the snow suddenly stopped and a normal Mediterranean winter began - a lot of sun, greenery and an endless sea to the horizon.

True, the wind from the sea was not so warm, but there was no precipitation and the shoes quickly dried out right on our feet.

It turned out that a guesthouse/camping site was being built at the traditional site in Gavuragili. We strangled the toad, paid the guards, and they not only allowed us to stay on their territory, but also organized a hot shower and charging of electronics.

And since electricity was no longer in short supply, in the evening we organized a self-organized viewing of photo and video materials from past hikes. The word most often heard was Nepal, but we also talked a little about Greenland and Iceland.

January 9

There was not a drop of rain all night, but the cold wind was so piercing that Korney left his hammock in the middle of the night and hid in the tent.

I also caught the breath of the North and thought that the bivisac model I had was too ventilated and therefore not suitable for Iceland.

On the road leading to Patara beach we met the first living tourists of this trip. A Scandinavian gentleman (check out the size of the backpack) traveled with two children and also sincerely enjoyed the diversity of the Turkish winter.

By the way, did you notice the dog in the photos? She followed us to the camping construction site and now diligently protected the group from excess food:)

This time I decided not to climb with backpacks through the fortress walls and we looked at the Pydney Fortress in radial format.

We didn’t linger too long on Patara beach - we took a routine photo with palm trees and sandy chaos and turned to the dolmus stop.

We did the right thing by turning - the minibus was just leaving and we almost missed it.

Dolmus brought us to the valley of greenhouses and tomatoes and dropped us off in Kinika. There we left our backpacks at the bus station and lightly went to see the ruins of Xanthus (aka Xanthos - the capital of the Lycian Union).

The good weather melted our hearts so much that we even bought entrance tickets to these wonderful ruins.

After the spiritual food, I really wanted something more mundane and we unanimously decided to have shawarma for lunch.

Thanks to timely feeding, we were not only able to wait for the bus to Kas, but also behave more or less decently in the supermarket there. In total we bought three bags of food. And if the hungry had come there, they would have bought twice as much. When a tourist descends from the mountains, his appetite can only be appeased, but not controlled in any way:)

No one enjoyed trudging with a mountain of food to the parking lot. And it was already late. Therefore, I left the guys on the embankment, and I ran around the marina and found a yacht and a captain willing to take us to the desired bay.

It would seem like little things, but the feeling of a holiday did not leave us all day - bright sun, a lot of food and now this boat is at sunset. Bliss!

For dinner we had a magical dish - baked potatoes with sausage wedges (no one took lard!) and Chinese garlic. We ate, drank fresh milk and knew that in a couple of hours it would start to rain. The forecast was disappointing...

January 10

Yes, it rained half the night. And in the morning, the bastard, it poured. I no longer had a group tent (I went to a tent, remember) and had to light the wood chips right in my tent.

This is a very rewarding experience, but too tiring for a perpetually crooked back. So as soon as the rain stopped, I went outside and lit a big fire to make tea.

This section of the Lycian Way is characterized by red clay soil. Due to the constant rains, it became terribly muddy, and until we reached the rocks, we were dragging a kilogram of mud on each shoe.

On the rocks we were traditionally greeted by Greek mobile operators, and I, no less traditionally, told a story about Syrian refugees.

There are beautiful bays here, but the paths are not very comfortable - the thorns scratch your feet and prevent you from walking at normal speed.

We stopped for lunch at Ufak-dere Bay. There is a guesthouse there and we usually order tea from them and use the tables and other facilities. But this time the watchman turned out to be a stern fool and did not even want to let him under the canopy.

A rain cloud was approaching from the sea and I had to restrain myself - not to send this grumbler into space, but to persuade him to briefly stay under a canopy for eating.

While we were having dinner, it was time to look at the forecast and make sure that the next night should also be wet. Thus was born the plan not to reach the planned bay today, but to spend the night a little earlier - under the awnings of an abandoned restaurant.

There was no water there, but for the sake of a dry night’s sleep I had to drive the extra kilometer to the tap.

We lived under the awnings with the second (and last) tourist we met on this hike. He had been walking for two weeks and came here on foot from Antalya itself.

At first the evening was suspiciously dry, but after lights out a heavy downpour began and I fell asleep with a satisfied smile from ear to ear.

January 11

Conditionally the last day of the hike. I felt the end was near, and to be honest, I already wanted peace. Apparently some kind of satiety has set in...

It was easy to walk, but somehow sleepy and lazy. And yet we diligently climbed to the next plateau and went along the radial path to the ruins of Apollonia.

This town is much smaller than Xanth or Patara, but it has intimate comfort and pristine wildness. I especially like its sarcophagi and tiny amphitheater.

We descended to the sea automatically. We habitually rearranged our feet, habitually stumbled on the ubiquitous stones, joyfully threw off our backpacks at rest stops.

At one of the stops we took time for an ethnographic visit to old abandoned houses.

This is probably the first trip along the Western Lycian Way from which I did not bring photographs of the Purple House with the bay in the background. Marvelous. I was probably in a hurry.

With the last rays of the sun we reached the pier of the old pirate Ramazan. I have known this cheerful grandfather for a long time, and he not only ordered a boat for us to Uchayz for tomorrow, but also invited us to spend the night under his canopy.

Yes! In addition to the fact that it is dry under the canopy, there is a normal kitchen with a gas stove. Finally, there is no need to burn anything.

January 12

The boat arrived on time. The captain demanded that we take off our shoes before he let us on board. Well, at least he let me keep my pants:) They weren’t very clean, to put it mildly.

The sunken city was in the shadows and no one took a good look at it. But the Kale fortress on the opposite side of the strait did well.

In general, it was a pleasure to sail. Let's run, my dears:)

In Uchayz we ordered a taxi to Mira and got a little sad on the embankment. The difficult journey was finally over. But the adventures have also come to an end, the inevitable everyday life will soon come and we will cease to be heroes worthy of an epic like this.

In Demre we quickly checked in at the ruins of Myra and the new St. Nicholas Square, bought some food and jumped on a minibus to Antalya.

Literally 6 hours later I was already sitting on the plane home. Thus ended my fourth winter trip to Turkey. Thank you for reading!

Kirill Yasko, February 13, 2019.