The Lycian Way: hitting the trail in southern Turkey

‘Your baby will soon have seen more of Turkey than I have in my entire life,’ says a man, as we travel with our backpacks to the starting point of the Lycian Way in Fethiye, packed into a crowded taxi.

‘What, you have a baby with you?’ asks another with an incredulous yet friendly expression. We heard this sentence so many times on our travels! Or simply ‘bebek’, Turkish for baby. We generally heard one or the other as soon as we came within earshot with our parasols. But hey – we were on a 500 kilometre long-distance hiking trail with our seven-month-old daughter Cleo.

Seven kilos and rising

The three of us wanted to experience an adventure and, for reasons of sustainability, to travel by land, i.e. without flying. Our plan: to draw out the summer and experience a lot of nature. Marie has many long-distance hikes under her belt, including the Pacific Crest Trail and the GR20, while I grew up in the mountains and am a passionate long-distance runner. We’d been hiking in the Alps a few times with Cleo. But 500 kilometres in one go? That's a different matter entirely. But we still wanted to give it a go.

In the run-up to the trip, we tested our equipment in Ticino, scoured through hiking guides, attended a travel medical consultation, renewed our vaccinations and expanded our first-aid kit. We agreed on a few rules right from the start: We only keep walking if the three of us are OK. We trust our intuition and make conservative decisions.

Because we had to carry all our luggage, we kept making cuts to keep it to a minimum. For Cleo, three baby grows, two pairs of trousers, two jumpers, a hat, two blankies, a rattle, a teething ring, and enough nappies and wet wipes for five days ended up in the backpack, as well as a woollen romper and a snow suit. The latter because we just couldn’t find a baby sleeping bag safe for outdoor use. Altogether we racked up 17 kilos including water in the big backpack and 12 kilos in the small backpack. The person with the small backpack also carried Cleo (around 7 kilos) in her baby carrier – the only factor that could potentially increase in weight while out on the trails.

The journey to Fethiye was a project in itself: a 24-hour ferry ride from Ancona to Patras, continuing on to Athens, then 24 hours of island hopping to Rhodes, before finishing with a short ferry ride to the Turkish coast. On 15 September we were finally at the starting point of the Lycian Way. We would now find out if our preparation would stand the test of reality.

Our planning was based on pleasant temperatures in mid-September – with our baby in tow, we wanted to avoid extreme heat. Upon climbing the first few kilometres loaded with parasol, baby carrier and two backpacks, at an incline of 35 degrees through rugged rocks looming above the turquoise sea, it was clear that one thing that could not be planned for was the weather. Fortunately, Cleo was not bothered by the heat and she slept or gazed contentedly from the carrier.

Staying with (unfamiliar) friends

The first night on the trail we spent in the tent, under fragrant orange and mandarin trees with an unusual background noise: a dog barking and chickens clucking. We actually wanted to stay in a guesthouse, but the landlord was afraid that Cleo might cry and disturb the other guests. In the end, this was the only exception to the otherwise overwhelming hospitality and love for children that we experienced.

We quickly found our rhythm. The day usually started with a few kilometres’ walk in the cool morning air, followed by breakfast – either Turkish kahvaltı or muesli from the backpack. After another stage, we took a long break over lunchtime to avoid the heat. From 4 pm, we continued walking until we found a suitable place to stay. We generally covered 25 to 32 kilometres – but sometimes we made no progress at all, when we took rest days or something got in the way.

Of course, things did go wrong. On one occasion Marie was stung on the foot by an Asian hornet; at times I struggled with foot pain and also spent a day in bed with fever. The most challenging time was one night in the hospital when Cleo coughed so hard that we really got worried. But here, too, the Turkish willingness to help kept us going: the guesthouse owner drove us to the clinic and interpreted for us.

Generally speaking, the welcoming culture of the people we met was really heartwarming. People offered to hold Cleo while we ate. Men and women joked and sang with her. When a downpour threatened, we were allowed to sleep in the town hall of a small mountain village and drank tea with the fire brigade.

Walking through a picture postcard setting

In terms of landscape, the Lycian Way is idyllic: rugged rocks, long secluded mountain stages with sea views and quiet bays in between – often seemingly made for camping. Between Anatolian cedars and black pines lies a fragrant carpet of resin, oregano, thyme and rock roses. The coast is rich in history. In Myra, Patara and Olympos, ancient ruins impress visitors amid wild nature; in Kekova, the sunken city, sarcophagi rest half in the water. The flames of Chimaera have been burning directly from the rock for thousands of years, due to naturally escaping gases that immediately catch fire when they come into contact with air. On Tahtalı Dağı, we roamed through the highlands with a view of the Taurus Mountains, with snow still visible in the distance.

On the way we came across figs, grapes and pomegranates. Although Turkish cuisine is rich in meat, delicious vegetarian dishes can be found everywhere. We stopped at a goat herder’s house, ate figs and Turkish rice pudding, drank Ayran and looked at faded photos of him with hikers who had previously walked the Lycian Way. A little later, his son-in-law went out with his rifle to hunt jackals.

About a month later, we reached the end of the road near Antalya – thankfully and having grown even closer together as a family of three. Long-distance hiking with a baby is possible, but is not without its challenges. It takes preparation, flexibility and steady nerves. Cleo coped really well with everything! We had the impression that she enjoyed it more than being at home: a lot of quality time with the two of us, maximum closeness in the carrier, lots of lovely interested people and a lot to marvel at. In difficult moments, we just kept telling ourselves: we are experiencing an adventure right now – and challenges are part of it. This is a mindset that also serves us well in everyday life, because life is an adventure.

Did Cleo really see more of Turkey than the man we met at the beginning of our travels? It doesn’t matter. What is most important is that she experienced humanity – open arms, joy and empathy in every encounter. That’s what counts.