Saturay October 26
Cycle: 70.24km//4hr49min//14.54km/hr
Every day should start like today: a 15km descent flying down to the plain below, right past Dalaman, and into.. oh, road construction. The first part was pure joy, earned from our hard work the evening before. Around Ortica, we had to make a decision, continue on the busy, high traffic, under construction D-400, i.e. beeline our way to the Bozburun peninsula, OR, head off on a little white road towards Dalyan, hoping that one of the river boats would take us across. This would allow us to ride through a range of hills, drop down to sea level and the coast, and then climb again into Marmaris (all hugging the coast). This route, on paper, promised little traffic and great scenery. Naturally, we chose Option 2.
Dalyan was another tourist hot spot. Interestingly, not super developed in a glam way, rather, a little shoddy and run down. Nicely aged in my opinion. No matter for the tourist, the natural setting is beautiful: a river flood plain, beautiful Lake Köyceğiz, loggerhead sea turtles nesting along the protected Iztuzu (Turtle) Beach. And, if that isn't your thing, impressive Lycians ruins, or mud baths and hot springs might be. Along the river in town, at least 50 boats were lined up, waiting to take your money. We were glad that we could play the I cant hear you game. From the edge of the wharves, we got a decent view of the Lycian tombs carved into the cliffs overlooking Dalyan. After poking around a bit, we decided to get some provisions and ride to a boat crossing about 2km north of Dalyan, one very obviously not used by tourists. For a mere 10L we were taxied across to the other side of the Dalyan river. In the bargain, two pieces of bread each from the driver. (The driver needed his hands to put the bikes on the boat). We watched as they awkwardly backed our bikes down the ramp and onto the boat, and answered their curious questions about how much they weight, and how much they cost, and how far we're biking. All in all, good fun.
 |
| Lycian tombs standing guard over the Dalyan River. |
 |
| I'm guessing the rock is pretty soft, otherwise, I don't know how they did it! |
 |
| River boats lining the docks in Dalyan, ready to take you upstream or downstream, for a price. |
 |
| We found the locals crossing point, and had a private crossing (all 20m) with the bikes. No problem! |
 |
| A boat trip along the river would be fun. Next time. |
We rode around part of Lake Koycegiz, the first fresh water lake of this size we've seen. Its surrounded by beautiful pristine marshland, which thankfully lacks the water bottles we've seen elsewhere, and is scented by the ever bossy carob trees! We reached the critical junction that would take us up and over the mountain range, through to Buyukkaraaguc, and eventually to Marmaris. Madalene sat down on a pile of wood next to the juction in the road, and declared that she did not feel like cycling today. Yes people, this happens! What to do? Sit and loiter eating sandwich's and Tutku's. What do we hear, but a massive rustling in the tall grasses across the road. What could that possible be, I can't see anything there. I go over to investigate, and what do I find, but Jenn's power animal: a tortoise. Then, another one! Tortoise heaven.
 |
| Lake Koycegiz. Stunning. And, well taken care of from we could see. |
 |
| For such a small thing, they sure do make a lot of noise when they're crawling through grasses. |
 |
| This one has some war wounds. |
 |
| My, what big and perfectly circular nostrils you have. |
 |
| No, dont go away. I want to be friends! |
 |
| Hi again! Eye see you. |
After playing glamour shots with the tortoises, I decide that I can go on, and we head down our road over the hills and to the coast. These roads were lined with bee hive boxes. No need for a guard rail. Lined! Every once in a while, we would pass beekeepers in make shift tents erected next to a line of hives. I'm thinking it is honey harvest season. I also think that I must be sugary sweet because I was stung TWICE!! The first time was during a very fast descent, nearly causing my demise (again). The second was not so bad since I was now a little more tentative to go too fast in case of stinging. Nearing our final descent, the heather bushes crowded towards the road, in full bloom with purple flowers, their gentle scent enveloping us.
 |
| Bee boxes lining the road. |
 |
| Suddenly, heather was everywhere, its soft fragrance a nice change from the rather sickening carob |
 |
| Jenn descending into the valley. Down Down Down. |
We descended into valley that opened up into a striking flat landscape with uninterrupted grass and the odd sprinkling off large trees. This description might seem normal, but there was something completely off. Where were the farms? The chaotic farmyards, the crumbling stone walls, the misaligned fields? The roadside cay stand!!! There was no signs of life. Eerie. To boot, we pass a large billboard informing us in several languages (including English) that cameras and photography are forbidden. By who, and why? Hmm, Weird. Finally, we pass a couple of farmhouses, a relief, and pedal on. Two km later we approach a new sign, this one in deep rusted red with a soldier holding a gun, and again in a few languages: "Forbidden Zone". What? Now what?!? We've just ridden through incredibly challenging terrain, this road is on two maps, and represents the only way to Marmaris (that doesn't included back tracked 30km's of hill climbs). What do we do? We ride on. Past a second sign, and then a third. Finally, we come to a river crossing covering the road with 4 inches of flowing water. It was getting harder to ignore that: we shouldn't be here feeling. Considering our options by the side of the river, we hear footsteps and the chanting of soldiers drilling. Oh crap. Still, we decide to ride through the water, hopeful that maybe, just maybe, our road slips past the soldiers and base that lie on the other side. We get to the other side, and round a bend in the road: the end. Big metals gates topped with barbed wire and a booth guarding any ins and outs. We quickly turn back and flee, cycling past all 3 forbidden zone signs as fast as we can. We stop at the farm we saw on the way in to discuss the situation. Just as we kickstand our bikes, a young girl comes running up, talking very quickly in Turkish. One way or another, we understand that there is no way through to Marmaris, no alternate route around, no camping allowed here, and no dolmus (bus) to get us out of this situation. We will have to ride all the way back to Dalyan. Dejected, we roll away to find water and a suitable wild camp site. We find both nearby. Bonus is the little river that we were able to bath in. We leave the climb out for tomorrow. Sigh. The valley is really pretty though! Too bad the military owns it. Honorable mention goes to the hot red pepper powder from Kat that has found its way onto everything we eat. I foolishly thought she gave us too much.
 |
| A babbling brook soothes some of our worries. |
 |
| And provides a much needed places to wash off after a hard day of cycling. |
