Terror was the impulse on seeing the size of Jaws, as Chief Brody realised he needed a bigger boat. I too had a piercing realisation after my first half an hour of sweat pores in spate and brain beating vertical gain; I needed a smaller pack!

Turkey's Lycian Way is an extraordinary trail packed with wildlife, cultural insight, historical citadels and fantastic beauty. Lycian Way is the way for adventure; you just don't know what's going to happen next, well not if you're as unprepared as I was. A combination of overconfidence, underestimation and preparations that never occurred ensured my Lycian encounter was one to remember.

Fateful logistics started me on one of the trail's toughest sections; from Kas at sea level to the ancient Lycian City of Phellos (876m). The hair-pinned ascent brought on rapid dehydration, undernourishment and disorientation. I was in at the deep end wearing lead boots, feeling like a fish in a puddle doing spastic gymnastics.

On route for Phellos the trail visits a traditional Turkish village, Çukurbag, where I have my first interaction with Turkish culture's renowned hospitality. On seeing my saturated state, a frail old bee-keeper instantly chaperoned me into his withering shack. Gallons of water and what in Western countries would be considered a tray of raw ingredients, were proudly presented. As grateful as I was of the replenishing offer, being a conditioned "this isn't processed" Westerner; the honey, goat's cheese, pittas and salty yoghurt drink were all absolutely impalatable. The taste was immensely rich and pure, like all my life I'd been viewing the world on a weak signal, then somebody tuned me in to clarity. Then panic charges my inundated mind as the frail man is now armed with a shotgun! Curse my Western paranoia, a wild dog is hassling the stock. Your greatest alibi in these circumstances is the grateful line, "Oh I'm so full!" On leaving Çukurbag, the muezzin (call to pray) howling from the ubiquitous village mosque emulated a ceremonial call to let the adventures begin.

Heading for Phellos somehow I managed to lose the Lycian Way and found myself on a dead-end goat's trail somewhere on the mountain! I made the foolish decision to bash my way direct to the top through the thorny thatched hillside: bugs and bouldering inclusive. Damn those adrenalined impulses. Funny how rational judgement can elude the trekker when alone. As a mole burrows for home, I forced a line through what is best described as organic barbed wire, to the magnificent ruins of Phellos. Exhausted and panic stricken, my arms and karimat resembling the fringes of a biker's leathers. Every creepy species in Asia Minor was either on me or in my pack. (Bonus points to the girlfriend for ensuring that haircut!) The heel was flapping from my left boot and the camera's light meter was acting up. Like a well-filled kebab, I was falling apart.

I rested on a beautifully inscribed tomb, although I'd perhaps be more appropriately placed inside it. Phellos is quite amazing and so few have set foot here of late. (However, I was a bit disheartened to learn that Charles Fellows of the British Empire had been and nicked all the best stuff for the British Museum back in 1840!) no he didn't, just discovered it Cracked and weathered tombs alongside powerful yet crumbling monuments stand sentinel over the rolling expanse of the Taurus. I was flooding with relief at being back on the trail. Obviously an extra 3km were added after lunch by following another decaying goat trail instead of the trek. (Oh, come on, I was using tiny computer print out maps and the text is written from West to East. As I was heading West all towards were aways, ups were downs and behinds infronts. Reading up from the bottom of the page was all part of the fun.)

The afternoon brought on glorious views across Lycia's knotted mass of high and rugged mountains which project into the turquoise sea. Encounters with goats, donkeys, tortoise, buzzards, snakes and an enthusiastic sheep dog who 'saw me off' for a good half a kilometre kept my cardiac bpm at a pace not dissimilar to Hardcore Garage. Its all wonderful stuff, the tortoises in particular are a real treat from nature. At no point on the trail or whilst in Turkey was I ever actually in any real danger, however I must just clarify the familiar term 'sheepdog' . My initial reaction was 'ah poochy' there's a sheepdog. Wrong! In Turkey the sheepdogs are something like a hybrid between a St Bernard and a Lion! Massive build, huge salivating nashers and totally dedicated to the sheep. Do not come between one and the flock. If you do get a bit close and start doing the Chameleon to your undergarments, then lobbing stones at the beast is a good deterrent. Alternatively, go with a guide and avoid all of the above. (take this out? Do you really need to recommend a guide?)

More events had occurred in the first day on the trail than in a month of UK sedation. My judgement was blurred by an anxious drive for safety and companionship. (The weather at the time I was on the trail was not idyllic. Clocking just how dehydrated and fatigued I had become was not high on the mental agenda.) a bit convoluted That said, water is plentiful along the Lycian Way many cisterns made by monks or shepherds and natural springs provide good, if somewhat limey, water. If you're from the south this won't phase you!

My destination for the end of the day, the village of Gökçeören, was nowhere in sight. The sun was getting low and I was still high on the plateaux . Combined with the limey stomach cramps, a day without conversation, and the spooky silence of the mountains in May; I was feeling weird!
My legs had the agility of sandbags and the earie echoes of 'you're going to have to camp alone, there be dragons' became increasingly realistic. I couldn't deny it for another step. 11hrs of unbroken hiking must cease, the village was miles away; I had to set up camp.

This is where the Lycian Way comes into its own. Behold! The most excellent site with spring water, wooden platform, enough firewood for a small tribe and gapeworthy vistas at no extra charge. Despite the rumours of bears, wolfs, wild dogs & demons, all I could hear was peace. I slept like the dead.

I woke to another cloudless day of searing sunshine, the temperature was well over 20 degrees by 8am. The trail took an easy jaunt down into a pine-clad valley via high pastures exploding in bloom with a riot of colour. Then the trail takes on 'wobbly stones' to cross rivers and eventually finds the next village. Although rigor mortis had my anatomy by the balls, I had a buzz going down at the prospect of conversation.
"Merhaba!" (Hello) A poor and tattered shepherd who gave me a warm handshake and a smile that spoke a thousand words greeted me. He lived on the trail high on the plateaux. He wore no shoes and there wasn't much left of his brown and cracked teeth. The Turkish villagers scrape a meagre living from these harsh lands, but I'll never forget his smile. I wanted to talk to him, speaking no Turkish made this tricky. Not for the first time in Turkey I felt fantastically stupid as our interaction nose-dived within seconds. Exchanging blank stares and shoulder shrugs was an all to familiar scenario. I wanted to balance the Trangia on my nose and juggle with the meths in an attempt to communicate something to these heavenly people.
As beautiful as the morning's river crossings were, accompanied by a chorus from the local frogs, and as eye opening as every step of the Lycian Way is, my moral was slipping and so was the pace. The heat was premature in Turkey this year, May should still be trekkable. Not this year, trekking alone with temperatures in the sun at 35 degrees, at 800m elevation over 35km, in part sun. 35lbs of disorganised logistics clung to my shoulders like a pregnant orang-utan. To feel the monkey's grip released and the soothing shade of a sheltering pine was all that mattered. A day and a half from Kas and I collapsed, I was finished. My heart said 'go home, go back to Alison'; my head said 'shut it softy!' Lying dazed by the dirt track, I had a timeless lapse.

I hear a faint indecipherable whirring. Looking back down the trek I see a dusty trail kicking up from the mid-day heat. I think I'm tripping, a mirage of hope and fatigue. Like the sighting of a plane for the stranded in 'Alive', a rush of elation floods through me: it's a fucking motorbike!
"Merhaba" said the easy riders as they naturally enquire of my well being. Despite the bike already hosting pillion, I'm assured there's room for me and the orang-utan. We are quickly ushered on board. Turkey's first long distance trail by motorbike. Now that I can live with, Chief Brody armed with torpedoes!
A windswept conversation on route for Gokceoren remedies my lonesome insanity. The passenger is a student and speaks good English. "Are you afraid of terrorists?" is the opening question from Ahmet. The Turkish are well aware of what the rest of the world thinks of their country. We cackle over the ridiculous point of view most Westerners have about Turkey. Not wanting to over state this point, in the first rural village I walked through on the trail, 7 out of the 9 people in their fields that I walked past responded quite voluntarily with a smile, a wave and a loud Merhaba! Know many villages in the UK where tourists get that sort of reaction? Ahmet was typical of the unfailingly friendly Turks. Before I knew it I was the guest of honour in his father's house and a magnificent spread lay before us all (most of the family turned up to see the tourist!).

That was the happy conclusion to my first couple of days on the superb Lycian Way. Although the trek is 480km in length, you of course don't have to walk the whole thing. Flexibility is one of the LW's great strengths. (Need to say here that it starts easy and gets harder west to east, so it's got something for everyone) Most sections of the trail start and finish at villages or towns, many of which have the standard backpacker accommodation, the pansiyon. As there are regular Dolmuses (local minibus) connecting them, skipping sections of the trail or just going for a day hike are valid possibilities. However anybody wishing to walk the entire route (or try to walk 2 days distance in one!) will on occasion have to camp under the stars. I would recommend bringing camping equipment as the variety of locations is second to none; secluded beaches, high pastures, mountain plateaux.. The trail covers an area of South Western Turkey that boasts arguably the most beautiful stretch of coastline in the entire Mediterranean.
It's a unique trail and not so much a rival of its European counterparts, more something completely different. Scenically it's certainly completely different from any trail in Europe and the waymarking is well up to scratch. For me it is the historical and cultural combined with trekking that makes the Lycian Way blow the competition away.

WHEN TO GO: Western sections, Sept - Oct, Feb - May, Eastern (harder) sections: Aug - Oct, April - June.
CONTACT Web site of the trail: http://www.lycianway.com
EXODUS are running walks over part of the route in 2001; phone for a brochure.
Bougainville, near the Post Office in Kas are the local stockists for tyhe book and maps etc. Bougainville@superonline.com or (90) 242 836 3737.
GUIDE If you want a guide to a section of the route, e-mail kateclow@ixir.com.

BACK TO PRESS ARCHIVE