Picking up where we left off, Kindra and I hiked out of the mountains and into Finike, an actually not touristy Turkish coastal town. There we stuffed ourselves on cheap restaurant food and met a fabulously hilarious and amicable British writer by the name of Alan, who was also hiking the Lycian Way. We laughed and joked together about Kate Clow's sometimes erratic and downright ridiculous trail planning, often exclaiming 'F U Kate!' in playful jest of the many challenging sections we had completed. Alan is currently trekking from Israel to England (he skipped the war torn bits), and our brief crossing was comical and refreshing.
With a day of rest and Turkish kebab under our belts, we skipped a long day's section along monotonous beach via minibus, and camped at the Iconic Lycian lighthouse look out on the southeastern point of our trek, enjoying a classic view that we had anticipated for weeks. Feeling strong, we cranked out two solid days along Jurassic Park esque coastline. Night one was in Adrasan, where, surprise!, we befriended a middle aged Turkish couple camping on the beach who treated us to beer, fish, and a bonfire! By the end of the night, in their tipsy stupor they were declaring us their children and making us promise we would visit them in Istanbul. Having developed our Turkishness BSing ability by this point, with six months of working for a shady Turkish company and dealing with Turkish Realtors in Izmir, we happily gave our empty promises. All in all, it was a hilarious experience, and one for the memory books.
We took another day off in the widely recommended, Hawaii-esque town of Cirali. With its natural beauty and Indiana Jones style ruins, I could understand why Cirali was a hit for many, but the slew of tourists crowding the beach left us a bit jaded and ready to move on. Next up: a treacherous three day ascent to the summit of Mt. Olympos, ~7700 feet above the sea, with a steep, long trail challenging our supply laden packs. Our first two days were exhausting but exhilarating, every step higher brought wider panoramic views and various spreads of foliage. I had my first 'attempt to convert me to Islam' from an Imam in the sleepy mountain village of Beycik. We arrived at a mosque (every town has at least one, even if the population is under 100), exhausted and looking for the water. The imam led us to their spring at the mosque, kindly said we could camp there, and then took the lead in a bizarre conversation about how Muslims are so much better than Christians and how I should convert, in a pretty rude fashion. I was about to tell him to quit it when he got distracted by his children, we took the opportunity to take off and eventually find a far better camp spot on the roof of an abandoned building (with a stunning view to boot!). The next day we continued toward our summit, unaware of what a truly remarkable experience it was going to be...
More to come!
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