Day 11 – When Doves Fly

One of the things from yesterday that went unmentioned, as we relaxed and became more ‘present’ & without wanting to sound poncy, was that we have been watching the birds more. Loads of doves. Not those massive lazy turd-machines we see in our back gardens, but some Formula 1 versions in a gaudy brown and black Benneton livery. Lithe, nimble, on it (“like a car bonnet”).

Those and the many, many house-martin type things zapping around – the bird equivalent of a Mk VI Spitfire. Way above the skill, awareness, agility & understanding of its ‘self’ of anything else in its class. Basically the ‘David Silva’ of bird-aero. Champion!

Whilst it may be the much under-rated, hard worker, with less of the grace but more of the Hurricane firepower, there’s a Dove nesting on a toilet window ledge between our balconies. I tried as best as I could to take a photo when ‘mum’ wasn’t there of the nest – two eggs! Looking good, and being cared for on her frequent returns.

We won’t be here to see any chicks fly the nest, and I hope they do, but I will enjoy the thought of their impending adventures!

Oh, we have downstairs neighbours! I think? Some folks arrived at around midnight, and looked very much like we did when we first came here – a bit bewildered and lost.

I decided it was time for bed (00:20) when the drum beaters from across the hillside seemed to think that Totos Africa was a good place to pick up their pace & volume.

So then to the alarm! Yes, I was so paranoid about getting up at the crack of 10am, I set an alarm! It scared the bejeezus out of me! But we got up, and, the big moment, knocked on Lurchios door, to see if he was actually going to spend any time with us.

The answer (20 minutes from setting off)? “I’ll let you know nearer the time”. As the key opened the door to leave, he announced his attendance.

We headed down to the bus stop to get the next Dolmus to Fethiye where the plan was to switcheroo onto a Saklikent-bound bus. 60Tl and about 25 minutes later we did indeed switcheroo.

We got decent seats on a funky little Dolmus, and meandered our way through the Turkish countryside, which of itself was good to see. As we approached Saklikent, it became self-evident why this is a National Park.

If the mountains around us were transposed into the Lake District, we would never stop banging on about them, they’re that tall, imposing and impressive! The peaks are way, way above the tree line. Reminded me of Mont Ventoux (which I once rode up and down, but enough of that bragging).

We arrived at Saklikent Gorge, and first impressions were it seemed a bit, well, touristy. Which it is, kind of.

But very quickly, we realised it’s just busy in a good way, so they need restaurants, parking, Toilet blocks, and all the facilities to support this level of popularity.

We headed straight to a cafe/restaurant where once again, the manager engaged with us, asked about what ever happened to Manchester United, and just how good was it to see Stonsey play into midfield. Nice guy.

Three (uç) sandwiches each freshly made to order, with soft drinks for 410TL – about £11. No one here, it turns out was taking the proverbial. Prices all really good.

Which included our next purchase! £15/head for what we’d really come for – rafting down the icy-cold, glacially blue river. £10 for 45 mins or £15 for 1:30h. No brainier! What I didn’t realise was that Lurchio & I were the only folk that day, and most other days to venture beyond the 45.

Jane, her decision affected by the yelps from others as they entered the ice-blue water, decided to sit and sunbathe around the swimming pool.

They take safety seriously, so Lurchio & I donned ill-fitting helmets and, once they strapped two together for me, life jackets. Then the big inflatable pile-cushion/rubber ring, and some oars.

Safety briefing over, we headed down to the river to be gracefully launched.

But before that. You’ve all seen those sad news articles haven’t you? Where there’s a photo of a crowd of holiday makers looking mournfully at a whale that’s been washed up, grounded & therefore stranded in shallow water?

So, Lurchio got in, flexing his anaemic, stick-like limbs & went bobbing off downstream.

My turn…immediately grounded, my guide tried to push me into the Thalweg (see Mr Geography Smith, I was listening!). He ended up red-faced and had to enlist his mate, who, when we all worked together, managed to tip me into the main river. As graceful as one of those videos of ships being launched side-on, rather than in their intended direction of travel.

After which, for the next 45 minutes or so, less about 5 minutes where I bottomed out again, we spent our time ambling down a (yes, icy cold) river that at its deepest was probably about 18”. It was really good fun. Even Lurchio cracked a smile!

We were syphoned off into a tributary, and then assisted to dry land, where for the rest, their rings, oars and selves were loaded into or onto a minivan. For Lurchio & I, we were offered fresh rings (why not) and oars, and asked to wait for 5 minutes.

In those 5 minutes, I was left with the impression that the elder chap was asking “who the **** allowed a 1:30?!”. After which there was further discussion, until eventually one young lad, now with a face like a slapped arse as it seemed he’d drawn the short straw, jumped on a ring, oar in hand and asked that we joined him.

We did. The next 45 minutes were a bit…different, to the first 45. I’ve never been, nor ever wanted to go white-water rafting. And whilst I’m being over-dramatic, the second half of our trip was much more “that way” than the first. Big boulders to be navigated, with the swirling dips after. Lurchio got stuck on the top of a rock at one point, not that we saw it, as my “momentum” seemed to whisk me ahead to the point where even our guide was only looking backwards for signs of the yellow-helmeted apparition.

We survived (we were never in danger) and in reality it was also great fun, and showed how little exhilaration we have experienced recently.

It took a while for the three of us to get picked up, but eventually the radically air-conditioned minivan arrived. Air conditioned because there was a hole in the roof, holes in the floor, and, as it seemingly was free of any exhaust system, had a good flow of “air” throughout.

We arrived back high on adrenaline and exhaust fumes and told Jane she’d made the right choice as she would have crapped herself. Never good when in a confined sea-going vessel, surrounded by others.

It was getting on, and we had noted that the Dolmus took more time than expected, so we headed back to our pal to buy cold drinks and water for the bus.

He thanked us, and before congratulating me on my Turkish, suggested that he felt it was time to give Oscar Bobb, McAtee and some of the youth team players a chance to make the first team. He seems to have seen more of the Academy than I, so I nodded in acknowledgement and bid him farewell. Oh, and he said Gvardiol was in the week before and was asking if the Turkish supermarket on Bury Old Road sold Ayran still. Wasn’t sure what to make of that.

The journey back to Fethiye was ace. We saw some wonderful things. A little lad with his Nan, who fell deeply asleep in a way only little folk can do, like a rag doll. Then, a moped passed us, both rider & pillion without helmets (not that uncommon) and both also about age 10. Then, as we approached the outskirts of Fethiye, Nan woke the little lad, as it was nearly their stop. He literally couldn’t keep his eyes open. It was a fabulous watch, only ended when little lad was carried off the bus, and another passenger had to help Nan offload her shopping.

After getting off in central Fethiye, we headed towards the Old Town, to find something for tea. On the way however, Jane fessed that she really, really needed a wee. My inbuilt satnav engaged and within seconds Jane was able to visit a loo. It just meant that we felt obliged to order a craft ale from the bar we were then sat in to ensure we met the ‘toilets for customers only’ criteria. And stroke cats.

From there, Lurchio announced he was about to die if he didn’t eat something, so we raced down to Genis, a restaurant on the harbour side, in a life-saving manner. What a drama!

Some seafood pasta, Italian style pizza & octopus starter later, I got distracted by a chap on a boat, with his apprentice/junior, welding up a new stainless guardrail on a fancy yacht. (TIG welding, I presume ?).

What a shambles! We watched him tack-weld in 3 sections, and then cut them out at least 5 times. My father-in-law would have something to say to him, for sure! Mainly, put the stuff together first, get a good fit, THEN tack-weld and neaten up. It got me so badly that I swore in his general direction and ended up offending the table across. Apology was offered.

From there, if you’re still reading, you’ll be delighted to know, we just headed back to the Dolmus, rode that home, and I’m now sat contemplating the last full day here tomorrow!

Where has the time gone?!

Right, I’ve about 20mins of faffing about to do to get this online, so see you tomorrow, you gorgeous people.

Chris

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