Twenty-Eight Klicks of Heaven

Twenty-Eight Klicks of Heaven

You know what gets my goat? I am in the middle of our vacation in Turkey and I have managed to get into my riding state of mind. Focus on 150 feet in front for road condition, check the bike mechanical stats regularly (very easy with two thumb clicks on the new BMW 1200GS), make sure I know where Bob is in relation to me, all the regular things. I leave all thoughts of impeachment, tariff wars and the state of wealth distribution at the breakfast table for Roger and Edwina to ponder. I am in the zone with the sun shining on southern Turkey. We drove from Gocek to Kekova, which is only about 170km, so a planned short day. One minute I am following the ex-Governor of the great state of Illinois and then the next minute I am in the midst of a herd of goats. That’s how life works most of the time, especially in this part of Turkey. At least I didn’t hit either of the two donkeys that leisurely crossed the road in front of me.

Last night we stayed in a Club-Med-like hotel called Rixos Premium Resort, just in case you had any doubt that it thought of itself as first class all the way. We all agreed the physical plant was great, but the “campus” was set across 100 acres of lawns, hedges and stone pathways that were only barely lighted. There were three restaurants which we were obliged to use since it operated on what used to be called a Modified American Plan where dinners and breakfast were included in the room price. The problem was that the restaurants, the spa and the pools were about a half mile from the rooms. It’s unusual in the developing world (and I realize Turkey would object to that designation) to see a hotel go long on capital assets and short on labor-based service, but that seems to be the program at Rixos.

We had laundry done at Rixos because we stayed two nights to enjoy Gocek Bay. They have figured out how to charge developed world prices for their laundry service, which, strangely enough, they chose to denominate in U.S. Dollars, perhaps the only thing we have found in the past ten days in Turkey that is not priced in Turkish Lira. My first rate Manhattan cleaners would be embarrassed to charge $173 for what we had laundered. Next time maybe we’ll just bring disposable underwear.

After riding through town, we went along about 80 km of a mix of Hills and distant ocean views. It was warm, but not hot. It was sunny, but not blazing. The morning light was occasionally in our eyes depending on how the road turned, but there was scant traffic and today, no police to roust us. We were enjoying the gentle countryside and blue sky and then we turned off the main road onto a small paved, but lightly maintained road with scruffy grass growing alongside. This led us to a small parking lot with a ticket office and a bar/gift shop that served the rare tourists that found their way to Xanthos, the ancient capital city of the Lycian Kingdom. Make no mistake, this wide-spot in the dusty road is an important archeological site, so much so that it has obtained UNESCO World Heritage Site status, which is no mean feat. It was noteworthy for having twice succumbed to marauders and ending the siege by mass suicide rather than being taken prisoners. This mimicking of the Zealots’ creed (think Masada in Israel) was done in 400BC when the Phoenicians (they were from modern-day Lebanon) came calling and then again in 100BC (I guess other indigenous Lycians moved in after the Phoenicians got bored) when the Holy Roman Empire sent Brutus to mess with the Xanthians. The Lycians must have been a fiercely independent bunch to off themselves twice rather than negotiate a peace. It is said that Brutus even offered to pay them not to kill themselves and even that failed to move the needle.

From Xanthos we headed towards the coast. Note that we has “turned the corner” East at this point, so the water was not the Aegean any more, we were mainlining it on the Mediterranean Sea itself at this point. Kaz had warned me that once we came up over a rise with the sea falling off in all directions, I should strap in for some good coastline riding, which he called better than the Pacific Coast Highway in California. He was not exaggerating. What lay before us was twenty-eight klicks of heaven. Whoever built this road should have a statue erected for them. It is riding perfection. It sweeps gently back and forth, hugging the jagged coastline. The road is a wide two-lane road with extra-wide shoulders paved exactly like the road surface. That makes it a 3-4-lane road masquerading as a two-lane road with very forgiving sides that allow for lots of gawking. There is, indeed, lots to see with beautiful rocky hillsides and azure blue ocean. Every once in a while there is a runoff ravine which creates an inside hairpin turn with a lovely multi-hued blue grotto beneath. This seems to go on forever and makes the entire trip to Turkey worthwhile. I honestly stack that twenty-eight kilometer piece of road (especially riding Eastward on the ocean side of the road) as a global top ten ride spot. Boom!

Shortly thereafter, we again turned off the main road and headed down to the town of Ucagiz, where we parked the bikes and vans and boarded a private launch (a mini gulet of sorts) for a fifteen minute boat ride to the town of Kekova. This town, though on the mainland, negotiated with the government in the 1960’s to NOT build a road to it. That left it only accessible by sea and has made it one of the most delightful little sea resort towns. I am writing this story under an umbrella on the dock of the small pensione we are staying in. It is a delightful, but bare-bones place that has already fed us a pleasant and relaxing outdoor lunch and will do likewise for dinner a bit later…perhaps after another swim and then a nap. Life is very tough today for the AFMC travel crew. Bob is already asking about when we are walking up to the small castle at the top of the hill. That’s Bob, always restless. I just hope he noticed and savored the twenty-eight klicks of heaven this morning.