Buses from heaven

Like a small meteoroid orbiting the Earth we were being inexorably drawn towards the behemoth of a metropolis that is modern day Istanbul.  Unlike the meteoroid however our main mode of travel through Turkey has been the intercity bus. If heaven had an intercity bus service, and I’m sure being a fairly well populated place, it does, then I’d put a fair wedge of money on it being operated by the Turks.

Having had a variety of bus experiences over my travels there’s always a degree of trepidation when first encountering a country’s bus service, but from our first journey and each after we’ve been pleasantly surprised.  Not only are all the buses large intercity cruisers, but each seat has it’s own airplane style entertainment screen, it’s all in Turkish, but with most action movies it’s pretty easy to work out what’s going on, and most importantly, the good guys and the bad guys.  In some countries these features may be standard, but what sets the Turkish buses apart is the chap, normally resplendently dressed with sharp shirt and bow tie who provides complimentary cay, coffee, softies, water and cakes during the journey.

Safranbolu at dusk

It was on such a bus we left Goreme and Cappadocia behind, headed in the direction of Istanbul, but diverted from the direct route for three nights to the historical town of Safranbolu, near the Black Sea Coast.

Safranbolu (or ‘The Bowlo’ as I liked to refer to it, much to the amusement of only myself) is famed for its Ottoman era housing and back in the day, at the height of the Ottoman Empire, was reknowned for the quality of its craftsman and the herb it’s named after, saffron.  These days following the intervention of UNESCO the Ottoman era housing within the old city is slowly being restored and like most foreigners this is where we stayed.

Checking into our accommodation we were recommended a homely place to eat.  I was aware that we were now entering the low season, but walking around the old town at night there was barely another soul on the street.  The restaurant was easy to find as it was the one place where there were fellow humans. The restaurant itself was actually a converted house with two Turkish Mutti’s waiting in the kitchen for the husband to call through the order of one of the five items on the menu.  The food was delicious and it was great to have that home cooked taste to the meal.

Outside of the attractiveness of the old city there’s not a huge list of must see sights on offer.  I’d read through this blog that it was possible however to hike from the old city 7 km along a gorge to the Incekaya Aqueduct an ancient piece of Byzantine civil engineering, an irresistible combination. 

Scouting the net there wasn’t much on offer in terms of directions, and asking at the hostel only gave me the route for driving, the owner unable to understand why anyone would hike it. Trying Tourist Information the chap confidently pointed at the first bridge out of town over the gorge, indicated finding our way down into it and then, voila, simply hiking up it. 

Setting off we soon encountered the bridge spanning the gorge below.  After a bit of searching we found a way down to the dry creek bed within the gorge.  As I’ve previously noted rubbish collection isn’t a Turkish strong suit and a gorge represents God’s gift of a ready made landfill.  As we hiked amongst all sorts of debris including children's plastic toys the route just didn’t feel right.  Rounding a bend our way was completely blocked as the concrete bridge over the gorge had cracked and fallen into the gorge.  Backtracking and scrambling up we found ourselves not too far advanced and in the rear of a person’s property. 

At this point we decided the Tourist Information guy had no idea and proceeded along the parallel road for a couple of kilometers.  From what we’d read we were seeking wooden stairs down into the gorge that would take us to the ancient Aqueduct.  Crossing back over the gorge, now filled with a flowing creek, we continued merrily along, constantly wondering where these wooden stairs were.  Eventually the road petered out and we came across a group of guys with a car.  Asking for directions they also couldn’t understand why you would hike and indicated it was still quite some way to the concrete water bridge.

Incekaya Aqueduct

Obviously it was a busy day for them as we all then piled into their little van, two of us and four of them as they drove us to the Incekaya Aqueduct.  It turns out they were a group of civil engineers designing a new road and we were very grateful for their assistance.

Our Turkish guides

After revealing in the Incekaya Aqueduct and walking back and forth we decided to determine where we missed the decent into the gorge by following it back from the Aqueduct.  

Walking along we were soon joined by another group of Turks, three University friends and their Mother.  In exchange for them being able to practice their English they offered to show us the way, so guided by our new found friends we hiked our way back in the fading autumn light, reflecting on the generosity and friendliness of our chance encounters with locals on our hike.