Turquise Turkey treasures: from Fethiye to Kas

Encounters with some incredible beautiful colours of life on the Lykken way

indulging in wild carobs, forging new friendships that transcended language barriers, marveling at hatching sea turtles, engaging in discussions on Quantum Theory with a Danish author, embracing the role of the melon girl, experiencing the thrill of almost losing and then miraculously finding my towel and bikini while nearly succumbing to the scorching August sun (thank goodness for fresh figs/Indian figs), climbing waterfalls, enjoying Backgammon nights, and pampering my skin with mud in the precious shadow of beaches on the verge of being privatized by hotels. Looking back on this journey, it all feels a bit surreal. Let’s immortalize it in ink to prevent these memories from fading. There are too many beautiful colors in all of this to be lost.

It all began in Istanbul with a night bus ride to Fethiye—a journey that felt endless with its bumpy roads and frequent stops, including police checkpoints with blinding lights. It ended abruptly at 5 am, leaving me half-asleep at a deserted bus stop in the darkness. In my backpack, I carried a tent, my laptop (just in case work from my student research assistant job came in), and far too many clothes and belongings. While others meticulously planned every kilo for their backpacking trips, my approach was the opposite—an anti-plan. I brought a bit of everything, unsure of what exactly awaited me in Fethiye. However, among the plethora of items, there was a book given to me by my partner at the time. He had intended to hike the Lycian Way but Covid thwarted his plans. So, I brought along the book, just in case. Its appearance had a mystical allure, resembling a relic from another era—a spellbook or a secret map for a treasure hunt. It reminded me of the novel “Treasure Island” by Robert Louis Stevenson that we read in school.

Sometimes, all you need to do is trust the process. So there I was, deciding to try something new and, for once in my life, follow in someone else’s footsteps. This was possibly the closest I had ever come to adhering to someone’s words so closely. It mostly worked, albeit with several hours of suffering from being lost and disoriented due to some flaky, perishable waymarks. Since the book was a few years old, likely not the newest edition, some of those tree markings had faded away, leaving me to navigate crucial crossings on my own or risk being lost for another 30 minutes.

While it’s a really good book and I would still highly recommend taking it along for the walk (despite being tempted to leave that one essential piece back in Istanbul), I do have some advice in case there’s a new edition planned or if the author is unable to return. I’d be willing to co-author or provide my inputs.

Okay, back to Fethiye. From Fethiye, there was supposed to be a bus going to the next spot. The book suggested that the first stage of the path wasn’t the most pleasant and better to be skipped. Generally, probably a good idea, just maybe not at 5 am. At the bus stop, it wasn’t just me who wasn’t thrilled about the prospect of waiting several hours for the buses to start. There was this military guy. I can’t recall how our conversation started, but bumping into this Turkish soldier led to us walking together for 4 hours, having a great breakfast picnic, and spending the entire rest of the day communicating via translation apps and our very limited Turkish and English skills. I still wonder about the connection we had, which transcended language barriers. It was like a childlike way of seeing the world—a connection based on diving as deep as possible, running as fast as possible, climbing as high as possible. He’s a good person, definitely worth overcoming some fears and trusting my instincts. When his friends joined him in a car, they gave me a lift to the final destination where I had my hostel booked.

On the way to the hostel, we stopped at this Instagram-famous spot on top of Butterfly Beach, where tourist pirate ships would stop playing the soundtrack of Pirates of the Caribbean. People were queuing to get their picture at this weird, dangerous spot. Instagram definitely has Turkey in its grip. My picture of the spot (shown below) and my cramping left hand show that I’m not made for those kinds of pictures…

A restlessness spell cast by the book I carried took over the next day, luring me into the spell of the Lycian Way. So there I was, with my too-heavy backpack, and Southern Turkey’s August heat at its peak. It was the one month the book advised against the walk. Anyway, a German saying goes: “Feier die Feste wie sie fallen…” (Celebrate the parties as they fall). Starting the trail, the first track was up, up, up. Up this great mountain formation along some crazy beautiful oak forests with incredible views. When it got dark, I started looking for places to wild camp. But since water scarcity was real and the first night alone out in the tent still a bit spooky, I accepted to stay at a garden turned into a campsite. Not knowing that this would basically be my last night on my own. While enjoying a delicious home-cooked dinner of peppers and zucchini in a harissa sauce and gazing at the stars, I met a Danish author. Another person as naive as me, thinking to walk the walk in August. Having the same direction, we decided the next morning to walk a bit together. A good deal this was considering the tough conditions of finding the path. At times, it seemed more like a subtle treasure hunt (the opposite of the Santiago de Compostela Camino that’s signs are literally screaming at you wherever you go). Sometimes way descriptions in the book were no more.

On our way, we crossed ancient Roman sites, wild fig trees, more crazy blue beaches, beautiful forests. We camped wild in the forest, at beaches (Patara,…), but also some few nights stayed at homestays and played Backgammon all evening. Good times these were. Very pure. Walking, fresh air, sun (maybe at times a bit too much sun) and fresh fruits (a lot of those, maybe I overdid it sometimes on the melons. This is why my friend started to call me the melon girl). At one point, we rented a motor scooter to get to the beach but also to transport our melons. Also, found some beautiful frogs in a little water shed in one of the Roman sites.

Not all was gold, however. We came across ghost towns of plastic tunnels where the main part of Turkish winter tomatoes and other vegetables are planted. While those towns were empty due to the summer season, some other towns a bit beyond the plastic city were deserted because people left for jobs in the cities. Behind, they left behind calm, picturesque towns where wild grapes had taken over. Also, the amount of plastic waste blocking the rivers was scary. Some dogs joined us along the way and were very persistent in following us around.

Close to Kas, super exhausted in the midday heat and with a not-so-nice path next to the street, we hitchhiked with a pickup that took us to the next town and saved our tired legs some extra miles.

In Kas, I was tempted to do a diving certificate, but somehow the time was not ready yet for this. In Kas, Alex, my partner at the time, joined me. We stayed there a bit before going back to Fethiye where we met up with some friends. From there, we started some new adventures.

Some forces took us back south of Fethiye, but this time along the beautiful coastal road instead of the ugly bus road I took before. In a coastal pine forest, we came across a ghost town left behind some hundred years ago. The town was just on top of a very beautiful crystal-clear little beach access. However, one should not underestimate the amount of water needed in this summer heat. We stayed longer than expected, which ruined the planning. We ran out of water and had very limited food. And then on the way back to the tourist town, we got horribly lost. There was no GPS, paths were bad, and there were thorns and bushes everywhere. Not the easiest conditions. Three hours and quite a few scratches later, we made it back to the tourist town. After downing 1.5L of cold water in one go, life slowly returned to us. We must have looked like two outcast, covered in bloody scratches and with our last energy longing for the juice of life—water. After those days in the wild, the shock of being in such an ugly tourist town hit even harder. What parallel worlds. And lots of questions about why people would choose these ugly hotel bunkers and get roasted while drinking in the peak heat.

There was this beach that was hidden beyond car access and beyond beauty called Cennet Koyu. It was just the weekend after a techno rave had taken place there. There were still heaps of plastic waste waiting to be picked up. It was a strange choice of location for a rave, likely without much consideration for the hatching turtles and other wildlife that inhabit the area. Upon hiking back to Kabak Koyu, we witnessed the actual hatching of some turtles. This was an incredible experience. Unfortunately, one out of three did not survive. But those little creatures, absolutely stunning. After those days in paradise, life in Istanbul called us back. But I will carry those colours there forever in me <3