Imported Apple tea and tales of Turkish ruins

We continued our Lycian trek and visited the necropolis at Myra to see the rock tombs that had remnants of red, yellow and green paint on them when Charles Fellows did his explorations here in 1840. Gorgeous now, they must have looked stunning in full and brilliant colour. Myra used to be a small trading port, catering to sea-going traffic around the Mediterranean, and after St Paul was arrested in Jerusalem and sent to Rome for judgement, the boat carrying him there stopped on Anatolian shores here at Myra, in 61AD. Not far from his home town of Tarsus, just down the coast. This was the last time Paul was to see Anatolia, as he was killed in Rome in 67AD. Myra, today, is called Demre and there are well-preserved Lycian ruins all over town. It is also famous as the place where St Nicholas spread Christianity. A basilica church, a low-set many-domed Greek Orthodox, built in his honour by the people of Myra after his death is currently being renovated,

The road carved into the limestone mountains south of Kalkan and on to Kaş is stunning: one of the most scenic we have taken in Turkey. The limestone cliffs occasionally drop down to secluded coves and bays chewed into the coast, where a handful of sun seekers always find a route down, no matter how difficult the beaches are to access. The herby smell of what the French call garrigue, low shrubs that cover the limestone hills like a thick tufted aromatic carpet, is earthy, and reminds us of the smell of the Pyrennees. And Kaş, when we arrive, is stunning: the sea water, amethyst to turquoise, the olive trees lining the shore, sun-bleached to silver. The campsite is the best we have had in Turkey and very highly commendable: the amenities new, functional and spotless, the bar operational, the view to die for. Dive teams in the water below us are in full gear and training, and a lone swimmer from afar trains back and forth between the buoys for over an hour in the blue water, along wit

We followed a lady with her cow up a crumbly hill to find the ruins of Xanthos where the proud and independent Lycians once had their capital. We have been reading the tales of their city kingdoms since Dalyan. Their ancient ruins, rock tombs and sarcophagi dot many of these south western Mediterranean hill towns. Xanthos, itself, was once the heart of their kingdom and in recognition of that has been inscribed as a UNESCO site: tho, like a few other sites here in the south, it could benefit from better signage. Like many coastal kingdoms Xanthos was eventually taken over by the Romans, but our interest was in the Lycian remnants, before then: of which there are few.Most were carted off by Charles Fellows, commissioned by the British Museum to bring back his discoveries after digs at Xanthos in 1838. Entire monuments were lifted and taken to Britain along with some of the finest tomb art. Much of what remains are copies of what has been lost. The Lycians

Ölüdeniz is famous for its blue lagoon, which, when the sun shines, is amazingly blue. The lagoon was formed by a sandbar developing between the still water and the ocean, leaving the back water still. Or dead, as its name literally means "dead sea".  Our campsite was on a reedy part of the lagoon, still and gloomy looking under stormy skies, which harked back to the days of malaria-ridden mosquitos, so we were not drawn to stay too long thereabouts. Like Göcek, Ölüdeniz is a purpose built town of small apartments, hotels, restaurants, tour operator shops, paragliding kiosks, and market stalls filled with tourist tat. While Göcek is developing as a sailing hub, Ölüdeniz, with its high surrounding mountains is the heart of paragliding territory in this part of the world, so draws its fair share of extreme sport enthusiasts, it seems.  They haven't quite solved their power problems in Ölüdeniz as yet, as while we were there the power went out, and noisy gene

Enroute to Fethiye next morning we called into Göcek for coffee and found a millionaire’s yachting paradise. The older, more traditional Göcek village, is a few kilometres back up in the hills. Nothing much was happening there, and the villagers needed employment. Big business and government moved in attempting to encourage tourists to come to the area back in the 1960s and 70s. They built lower Göcek. Which is a purpose-built town in a stunning location surrounded by the turquoise islands, waters and the many inlets of the Turkish Riviera. But, again, it is more English than Turkish. There are no little back streets where old men player dice and cards, numbers and backgammon. It is all terribly glitzy and yacht-oriented. Marine and chandlery shops abound, as do luxury boutiques, modern apartments and loggia-type restaurants: we even saw one that had pool tables, in shade, by the sea. A boating heaven for a boater holiday in all likelihood.  On we drove to Fethiye, one of the large

Today we visited Iztuzu Beach. Travelling from Dalyan we pulled over for the view and found bee hives all over the mountain. At one spot beekeepers were removing the honey in full protective gear; hollyhocks were growing wild all over the rocks, and the mountains were so thick with rocks it looked as though another civilisation might once have taken root here: but no, this is still the old Lycian kingdom. Iztuzu beach is the home of loggerhead turtles. In the seventies an English woman, June Haimoff, living in a hut on the beach, began a campaign to protect the turtles at Iztuzu from developers. At this time of the year the turtles are out in the shallow waters, close by, breeding. Come May they will come ashore and lay their eggs, sometimes as many as a 100, in a shallow depression in the sand and in 60 days the little ones will hatch, and head straight for the water. Last year there were 500 nests along this beach. In the seventies when 'Kapatan Ju

Lycian tombs in all their beauty Our day started with a full shampoo and shower for our motorhome, which is still behaving itself; while we attacked an early morning Turkish Kahve, which is as thick as mud and has half a cup of grounds in the cup when you are finished. A tractor was also getting the full spa treatment at our little Oto Yikama probably because these are often used as the main vehicle for many a dad, mum and kids: to market, to school, then on into the fields: terribly versatile. We drove on to Dalaman with many a pullover on any available belvedere for views down to the beautiful blue patches of the Mediterranean. We are now in the south of Turkey and the days are getting warmer: tho’ not uncomfortably so, as yet. At Dalaman, we eventually hunted down a train station that was built there by mistake. It is probably the only train station on earth that has no rail line to it, so no train has ever visited. A shipping delivery error was the cause. Abbas Pasha