We arrived at the otogar (bus stop) a short and scenic one and a half hour ride south from Antalya still amused by the irony of our driver being pulled over by a policeman right after passing a child riding on the back of his father’s truck (apparently ensuring nothing precious fell off!) The mountains we were travelling through had stopped moving and were now all around us as we perched on a small cliff looking down over the valley of Olympos. The home/store/bus station, while quaint, was well stocked and offered homemade traditional gozleme. The wife prepared the stuffed pancakes over the fireplace, while the daughter served at the counter and the husband delivered trays of cay (tea) to the chatty regulars. Later we would find out the husband was also our transfer driver, a fish pick-up and delivery service and a frequent horn tooter (a way of warning oncoming cars and pedestrians?) on the winding trip down into the valley.
During our time at the bus stop, which was almost as long as the trip from Antalya, Josh made a few friends. A happy chicken plucked about his feet just long enough for him to steal a quick pat, then two cats thought the seat Josh was sitting on looked comfortable. They wound up either side of him. It wasn’t long before one realised that Joshua’s lap looked more cushy and curled up on his chest ready for a good pat. Josh was right in his element! The store-owners’ daughter spied Josh and his animal entourage and spent some time hanging out of a window to secure a good view. The kids took turns smiling at each other until the girl’s father decided it might be time to take us down. Reluctantly Josh gave up his throne in the animal kingdom and grabbed our heaviest bag to load into the dolmus, demonstrating strength to match his compassion. His friend appeared suitably impressed. After a quick wave goodbye we were on our way.
Crossing a riverbed (the main access road) in the bouncy dolmus was a little surreal, as was our first glimpse of a treehouse, charrred and abandoned. Olympos became more and more mysterious the deeper we ventured into it on foot. Running along the pension-lined track, which was more puddle than track (and therefore expertly negotiated by Joshua the nimble,) was a gushing river backed by an amazing cliff face. Despite a number of adventurous rock-climbers hanging off its face its dominance was clear. This was a place owned by nature, not man.
Further along the track we came across our first ancient ruins, almost by accident. Small trails, barely visable through the rain-mist, lead us to more and more. With every turn we found new remnants of a time long gone. And due to our rainy, off-season timing, the place was all ours. Our attempts to visualise the structures limited only our own imaginations. And oh, how the rain brought the place to life!
Emerging from the forest we were suddenly in a different place. Before us - the expanse of the Mediterranean, beside us - brown water blending into the blue sea, bearing down on us - the pointy escarpment and below us - a crunching pebble beach. We couldn’t tell if the mist was from the sky or the waves. And we didn’t care...this place was simply inspired.
Plodding down the beach we came across a pack of dogs playfully mauling one another next to a sign stuck in the sand that said “Restaurant.” Upon closer inspection this place could only be described as heaven. It is most befitting that our first experience of apple tea should take place here. Cold hands wrapped around a hot sweet drink and the freshest salad to be found in Turkey. I smoothed down my salty wet hair and watched the dogs continue their game while Josh swung in the hammock.
Having the place to yourself had its benefits and its drawbacks. Due to low interest we were told that there would be no group visiting the chimera that night. But we persevered and asked our host to see what he could do for us. He must have called a few other pensions and found two other interested people because within 20 minutes of our request, we were on the bus flying around bends and twists until we reached the foot of the track.
“900metres up that way,” the driver pointed “I’ll meet you back here in about an hour.”
On our approach to the top, the eternal flames of the chimera could be seen flickering, gases fizzing and bubbling. They looked like campfires, some blazing, some just a few small blue flames sprouting from a crack in the surface. Downwind you could smell the gas and it occurred to me that without the incentive to leave for fear of gas-poisoning, one could stay up here forever. You knew you were witnessing something very special, and free from tourist-trappings most other places suffered from, this experience was not watered down. We climbed a mountain, saw an amazing natural wonder and were free to digest it and interpret it at our own risk and in our own time.
Five of us made our way up, and down, the mountain in the dark that night. None of us knowing what to expect. Despite the feeling of invincibility that came with being around such a timeless place, it was fair to say we were pleasantly surprised when all five of us made it back down in one piece!
0 comments:
Post a Comment