I awoke in the beach hippie village of Olympus along the southern coast of Turkey on the Mediterranean. This area is known for their tree house living.
I did not stay in a tree house. My lodging was on the ground but no less rustic in nature. In the morning I caught a shuttle out of the valley and back to the main road that was to take me the last 4 hours to the town of Fethiye. My plan was to briefly explore Fethiye then catch minibus to Faralya. Hike Lycian Way to Kabak (8km) with hike to Butterfly valley and maybe camping in Kabak.
Throughout this trip I was thinking of how the books you read during travels tend to influence your trip. I try to read books that represent the area I will be visiting, but I did not find too many books I was interested in about Turkey. I chose to read a book called Confessions of an Economic Hit Man. It is a story of a businessman that is sent in to bring struggling countries into the grasp of the United States. If a country like Saudi Arabia was found to have a resource that benefitted us (Oil), we would offer to loan them money to develop their infrastructure (roads, technology, buildings, power). The money would never actually leave the US, but rather be transferred to a company like Halliburton. The contracts would be fulfilled, but the country would not be able to pay off this massive debt. In addition, some of the money may indeed end up in the coffers of the ruling family for that country, but not trickle down. Now the US had these countries by the balls. This guy would negotiate these contracts. If he failed, as was the case with Saddam Hussein (refused our “help”) then we would send in the next level of negotiators, the CIA. This level involved attempted coups and replacement of the current government for a more willing partner. If that failed then a war soon followed. This book talked about 5 or 6 countries he swindled in this way and his attempts at retribution in later years.
These thoughts did not really apply specifically to my travels in Turkey, but it did cause me to appreciate some of the simpler things about the country and left me wanting to shake the people of Istanbul, saying, “You don’t need to be like us! You don’t need every modern convenience, thereby causing your country to be a slave to another, or you to be a slave to your job to afford the new iPhone 5!”
Back to the hero of our story. I was dropped off along the Highway waiting for some sort of bus that I could flag down heading west.
I met some guys from Alaska that were looking for a ride east. They had been waiting for over an hour. Just then a bus was seen going thier way and they jumped aboard, and about 30 seconds later I jumped in front of a van heading west.
The drive reminded me of the drive down the coast of California around Big Sur. We wrapped in and out of the hills, following a pretty level contour line. Just like yesterday, much to my delight, we stopped at every town to look for passengers.
When I got to the town of Kas to switch vans, I headed down to the waterfront to see if there was anything of value. There is supposed to be some good kayaking trips here where you are able to float over some Roman ruins, but I had a schedule to keep.
When we got to Fethiye my brain was throbbing. In all the vans, cabs, etc blast Turkish music, wish is like the worst version of house music, a never end string of beats with yelling thrown in.
I eventually found a street corner where a van was to pick people up to take them to the town of Faralya where I would start my hike.
Standing on this dusty street corner I envisioned how cool it would be if I was a spy gathering information and influencing political revolutions. As every other person who walked by asked if I was an American and in the military I realized my life as a spy would probably be short lived.
Below is a map of the area
I was in the town of Fethiye, which is just off the left side of the map. The van I eventually caught was taking me through the summer beach town of Oludeniz and then to drop me off at Faralya where I would hike to the beach retreat of Kabak.
The hike I was to do was part of a trail called the Lycian Way. It takes its name from the ancient civilization which once ruled the area. It is a long-distance footpath around part of the coast of ancient Lycia. It is approximately 510 km long.
Oludeniz was a beach town full of tons of bars, all with English names and Americanized themes. It appears to be a travel destination in the summer for Europeans. It was dead since it was only March, but I bet it is something to see in a couple months.
We continued on towards Faralya along a very treacherous road. I am used to this type of fear with all my bus travel in South and Central America. I m constantly thinking how I could survive the roll. Could I wedge myself below a seat so that I avoid banging into everything?
It was me, the driver, and 2 small farm women. We arrived at another town that looked like Faralya but he did not stop. I kept looking for signs of the hiking trail, but could not see anything. The driver knew I wanted to get out at Faralya, did he pass it? We went for another 30 minutes and he turned around the van and the woman climbed out and left. He motioned for me to leave. I got out of the car and this is what I saw.
I had no idea where I was and he just took off. I figured I would just hang out a bit and if nothing revealed any clues I would just sleep on the side of the road for the night and go from there. I saw a beach at the bottom of a valley and decided to explore. I eventually wandered through a back yard of some shack and saw this
It looked like the markers I remember from the research I had done on the Lycian Way. I decided to follow it and hope it lead me to the town of Kabak. It headed straight down the valley. As it turns out the driver had driven me all the way to Kabak. So the 8km hike was out, but with the sun setting I never would have been able to finish the hike if he had dropped me in the correct spot (the trail was a mess of boulders and I would have killed myself without light). I had to stop and appreciate how things seem to come together. Too often we complain about the troubles in our lives and travels, but I have to say I have been pretty fortunate through the years.
I arrived at a few Pensions (hostels) but they were closed until the busy season. I eventually made it all the way down to the beach and found a place called Shanti Garden Yoga Center Retreat.
The proprietor shown above was living there year round and said I could stay for $20 with dinner and breakfast included. Sounded good to me. Here was my place of residence
I stripped off my clothes and found a garden hose shower. It was cold out and the cold hose really tested my metal. I always do the same damn thing when taking a cold shower in some foreign place. I lather myself up with soap and then realize, “Great now I am pot committed” I have to get completely wet if I am gunna get this soap off instead of just strategically washing my body in a sort of dancing motion of wet and dry.
I grabbed a beer from the caretaker and went exploring. It was a really amazing place. Part of me wanted to return when it was crowded, but then again I really don’t get along with hippies too well. I find their lack of any sort of motivation frustrating, while still respecting their creative spirit.
I sat by the beach for an hour just watching the waves and satisfied in where I ended up for the night
If I came back I would try and stay at Shanti or this place below called Sea Valley.
I came back to my room, waiting for dinner, only to find the dogs had expected my arrival
I looked up while sitting on my porch and looked into the face of the devil himself
For the rest of the night I was followed by this guy
Around 8 I headed to the main cabin for dinner.
Nothing fancy, the caretaker was cooking for himself, so he just added a few more vegetables and we sat on some couches and talked in broken English. A nice guy. I tried to check my Yahoo account from his computer, but it said there was no longer an account by that name. It was a weird feeling. I felt like I had been wiped off the grid. Not necessary a bad thing. I could just live here for a few years. No, once the hippies arrived I would have to go or suffer through this
I was asleep my midnight as I had to climb out of the valley early and find my way on to the next adventure.
Until Tomorrow
Darren
