The Lycian Way with Baby and Tent – Week 4: Arrival after 500 Kilometers
Five Days That Contain Everything
The last five days on the Lycian Way reflected our whole journey: mountains, sea, solitude, challenges, uncertainty, connection, and joy. In the end, after 500 kilometers and 16,000 meters of elevation gain, we finally arrived.
Without Water to Göynük
After a fresh, short night in Yayla Kuzdere at 900 meters, we set off at dawn. The lady who ran the guesthouse waved to us from her window. The path was not particularly spectacular but offered beautiful views, leading us to Gedelme for breakfast. Strengthened, we continued toward the so-called Doğa Camp, meeting several larger tour groups along the way.
At Doğa Camp, we had the typical Turkish vegetarian meal we had already eaten the day before for both lunch and dinner: green beans in tomato sauce with rice or bread. Still, it was wonderful – in the mountains, everything tastes good. We ate next to a rifle, after Cleo had just “spoken” with the cook’s son on the phone. A little later, three Australian hikers arrived at the camp. They wanted to stay overnight but were turned away – unlike in a mountain hut in the Alps – because it was fully booked.
The next stage was around 20 kilometers long, with 1,200 meters of descent and 400 meters of ascent, so we worried a bit about their safety. We planned to hike about half or two-thirds of the stage and camp wild near a spring. And so, we descended into the canyon. In some places we crossed the riverbed, Ivo’s sandals glistening, while Marie had to take off her shoes.
We met two large hiking groups from Russia – now we understood why Doğa Camp was full. On the ascent, several people asked us, visibly thirsty, where the next water was. Ivo happily explained, but slowly it dawned on us: A) daylight was running out, and B) they had probably not found any water. What about our spring? It wasn’t even shown on OsmAnd Maps.
The sunset over the sea was beautifully red, but our suspicion proved true – the spring seemed to have dried up long ago. So, we put on our headlamps and continued down into the canyon until we finally found water again. Strangely, after 30 kilometers and several without water, we not only found it but also a self-service ice cream stand, toilets, zipline facilities, and rafting gear in the well-known outdoor paradise of Göynük Canyon – completely deserted.
After Ivo took good care of us and politely declined the night guard’s offer to camp for 10 dollars, we found a beautiful, flat tent spot under pine trees.
Rest Days in Göynük – and a Shock
The next day, the weather was supposed to change. To avoid the rain, we decided to take a half rest day in Göynük. Since we had already walked farther than planned, only five kilometers separated us from the town. We treated ourselves to a big kahvaltı (Turkish breakfast). Göynük isn’t a big place – or perhaps we stood out too much with our baby and backpacks – because our guesthouse owner found us right in the restaurant and brought us home.
We were relieved to see the Australians again and talked about the past three weeks of adventure. That day we did our laundry and went shopping.
We finally wanted to eat Mantı – Turkish ravioli filled with lentils. Ivo turned on his charm and got help from the guesthouse owner, and we enjoyed them with authentic yoghurt, garlic, chili, and mint sauce. Afterwards, there was an invitation for rakı, and Ivo’s five-star Google review was secured.
The next morning, the weather looked better, and we planned to continue. We packed our backpacks, grabbed a börek to go, and left town as it slowly woke up.
But we didn’t get far. After 40 minutes – while drinking fresh pomegranate juice – the sky opened its gates. It rained, and we debated what to do. The next stages offered no shelter, thunderstorms were forecast for the afternoon, and we would have to cross a mountain pass. Remembering our intention to make conservative decisions, we turned back to the pension.
After a short nap for Marie came the next shock: her body was covered in red spots that turned into about 500 itchy welts. This lovely five-star pension had bedbugs. Luckily, Cleo stayed untouched, and so did Ivo – since we usually sleep in triple rooms so everyone has a bit more space (Cleo sometimes takes up two-thirds of a large bed).
While Marie tried not to scratch too much, we washed everything and disinfected what we could with heat, putting unwashed items into dark bags in the sun. And yes – the thunderstorm had vanished. The rest of the day was bright and sunny. Perhaps it was even better that we were in town, dealing with bedbugs, rather than on a mountaintop.
In the evening, Ivo cooked Mantı again, and the next morning was déjà vu: börek to go once more – but this time without rain. A small truck delivering bread to restaurants stopped next to us and handed us two still-warm sesame rolls. We ate them on the go, passing the first of two dead ten-centimeter scorpions we’d see, on our way toward the canyon.
Through Göynük Canyon and Over the Last Pass
We climbed through Göynük Canyon – 1,500 meters of elevation gain. At first, the path was scattered with horse droppings, and Ivo wondered if several horses had passed. Marie assumed it was a regular horseback route for tourists – until, to our surprise, a skinny pony stood all alone in the middle of nowhere, without halter or saddle. Since it looked so thin, Ivo fed it our oats (as he once did with Bruno on Corsica).
After a beautiful autumn-like climb, a wonderful pass awaited us. We climbed over rocks, ate our remaining sweets from Göynük, and enjoyed lunch at the top. The next kilometers were lonely – no places to stop, but the first distant views of Antalya.
Not wanting to sleep too high up so Cleo wouldn’t get cold at night, we descended again to a stream crossing and a small dam at around 400 meters. After 30 kilometers, we pitched our tent in a pine forest and cooked pasta with pesto. The night was chilly again, as the weather had cooled after the previous rain. So far, it had rained five times in October – not once in September, as if the weather goddess had her own monthly calendar.
Now the final stage of the Lycian Way lay ahead. Since it climbed again, we had our remaining oats for breakfast and ascended with magnificent views toward our last pass at 1,400 meters – though it felt much lower than the one the day before.
At the top, we rested once more on golden grass meadows and ate yellow mashed potatoes – though without salt. Ivo had the idea to mix it with helva (Turkish sesame sweet). Conclusion: we learned that helva goes with everything – and, in the worst case, can even be eaten pure, just like olive oil. The flaxseeds from Bolzano had indeed survived our entire trip; maybe we’d even eat them with helva too.
After the last climb came the final descent – and the last ruins. We passed so many that we lost count. There, we got our first high five from a Siberian who was visiting the ruins (and us) together with his Turkmen friend.
We walked the final kilometers to Geyikbayırı – one of Turkey’s best climbing areas – and the end of the Lycian Way.
Arrival and Looking Back
We arrived in Geyikbayırı, but everyone seemed to be out climbing. Since we looked a bit starved, we were given two burritos and visited an excellent chef our friend Remo had raved about. Unfortunately, he only cooked by reservation, and the season hadn’t started yet. Still, he offered us coffee, and we had a lovely conversation before walking the last 700 meters of the trail. Something remained to be enjoyed when we return – a culinary reason to come back.
And then, the journey was truly complete. At the end of the Lycian Way stood a sign: Start – 509 km – Turkey’s first long-distance trail. For us, it marked the end.
The adventure, however, continued – after not even a minute of holding up a hand (not a thumb) to hitchhike.
Conclusion
We did it! Long-distance hiking with a baby is possible – and a wonderful experience for all three of us. Through Cleo, we felt an extra dose of hospitality and love, discovering Turkey’s incredibly baby-friendly side.
We tried to decide which days were the most beautiful – but couldn’t. Every day was different, every day was wonderful, and we wouldn’t want to miss a single one.
The trail taught us many things. In difficult moments, we reminded ourselves that we were in the middle of an adventure – and that these very challenges are what make it one. A mindset that’s just as useful in everyday life. Because: life is an adventure!
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