Lycian Way, Day One, mighty fine indeed

You know the Camino de Santiago, you’ve read about the Appalachian Trail, and you saw that movie about the Pacific Crest Trail, but have you heard of the Lycian Way? The 540 kilometer hike that winds along the Meditteranean Coast of Turkey between Fethiye and Antalya? If not, don’t feel bad, neither have most of the Turks who live on it. The bushy mustache in the tourist information office perked up when we mentioned it…or at least, he did once we showed him the map, with its thin red line of trail.

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“Yes yes, is very nice. You can walk.” His beefy finger moved down the page from name to name, reading each in turn. “Goynuk to Kemer is one day. Kemer to Tekirova also one day. Tekirova to Olympus, Olympus to Adrasan, one day each.” We eyed the calendar, then bussed to Kemer to begin. But the Kemerians seemed unsure what we were asking.

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“Yes yes, you can walk. Is very nice. This way 7 kilometer,” the restaurant mustache proclaimed, finger pointing west. “This way 10 kilometer, this way 15” as his kebabby digit indicted the north and south in turn. A closer reading of the oddly convoluted directions in our thin guide book, a 15 year old first edition, showed that the Lycian Way doesn’t go through Kemer at all, but winds around it like you’d avoid a wet pile of recent roadkill. Or in this case, Russians. (I kid! You know I love you, Ruskies!) So after one viral day in Kemer, a pseudo-town flush with hotels and souvenir shops but deprived of personality, we bussed to Tekirova and convinced the mustache there to serve us breakfast in the sun.

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That’s where we met Max. With his cranium like a tank, masses of muscle, and enlightened grin. Who would not want a stray pit bull to follow them into the woods? We kept expecting him to turn back, but after three hours over dry mountains and through odoriferous pine forest, he was still there, laughing at our jokes and sampling every creek, though his steps had begun to lag. (Did you know “odoriferous” specifically connotes good smells?)

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Then we met other humans, a terse cluster of Germanic youth who eyed our beast warily. We exchanged trail greetings and forecasts, small talk in a world that cares nothing for your job and will never ask. As they headed north and we continued south, Max faced a decision. He stood, looking anxiously back and forth between people returning to his home and us, tromping steadily into the unknown.

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“You can go, Max” we assured him. “It’s okay. You can go home.” We waved him that way, and he took a few steps that way when we rounded the corner and out of sight. I thought we’d seen the last of him, until his clicking claws and grinning tongue caught up to us. Yes! Good boy!

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Sunlight, light wind, perfect walking temperature, brother, beautiful scenery, Turkish adventure, AND a fine canine companion? This day was turning out mighty fine.

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A few switchbacks later we stepped onto the warm sand of our own private beach, and Max weent mad. Romping in the creek, lunging on the sand, then stretching out full length to let the damp coolness sooth his belly, below that Buddha smile. A mighty fine day indeed. This Lycian Way thing was a piece of cake…surely nothing could go wrong…

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