Cirali: Cool Bars & Hot Rocks

The Mediterranean coast of Turkey stretches for a total of 994 miles, most of it with stunning scenery, and as we drive to our next destination it’s plain to see why its alternative name is the Turquoise Coast; the colours of the sea are so extreme as to be almost unreal. 

Our final day in Kas is spent at Kaputas, a cove beach much loved by Turkish weekenders just a few kilometres up the coast from the town. Despite being right on the D400 main road, the beach sits way below the highway down a steep cliff, and is a picturesque cove where the waves crash in over a high shelf – the sort of place which tempts us to forget our age and muck about in the water like overgrown kids.

Once again the coastal drive eastwards from Kas is ridiculously beautiful and scenic, the road itself exciting. Starting our search for a longer term base for the next few weeks, we call in at Finike, where the authentic Turkish feel of the town impresses us (and so does the breakfast!), but the beach is fairly scrubby. We move on and keep our options open.

Leaving the D400 and dropping down from the Taurus Mountains we pass through lush green valleys on the narrow lane which becomes almost a dirt track as we pull into our next destination, Cirali, so different from our previous locations on this trip. 

Cirali may be a draw for holiday makers, but its low key beach-bum vibe puts us in mind of trips to other parts of Asia: this is more like Sri Lanka or Malaysian islands than a typical Mediterranean resort. Full of lush greenery, palms rustling in the sea breeze, timber shacks housing chilled eateries, subdued lighting to protect the turtle beaches, and narrow sandy tracks for village roads, you could be forgiven for mistaking Cirali for a tropical island village. Everything is single storey; there are as many camp sites as lodges. Hotels are groups of bungalows in lush gardens rather than a single building. We are immediately sold. 

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Walking along the dimly lit sandy track from our digs to and from the village for our evening meals has an atmosphere all of its own; both evocative and romantic.

Cirali has a beach stretching 2.5 kilometres, at one end of which are the remains of the ancient city of Olympos. Unlike the other ancient cities visited on this trip, Olympos sits not high on a hill, but nestled down in the green valley either side of the river. Thus, exploring it is almost a game of mystery; archways, structures and sarcophagi hide behind trees and amongst the undergrowth waiting to be discovered.

At the other, eastern, end of the beach is Chimera, known locally as Yanartas, an intriguing and even more mysterious place. A waymarked 1-kilometre climb up the steep mountainside brings us to the strange sight of the burning rocks of Chimera, where orange flames lick the rocks from around two dozen vents on the hillside. The scientific explanation is a specific mix of gases which exists beneath the rock surface, which immediately ignites on contact with the open air, resulting in these strange mystical fires bursting into life before our eyes. There is an aroma akin to Bunsen burner in the air.

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Part of the intrigue here is that these fires have been burning for at least 2,500 years, having been mentioned in the writings of both Ctesias and Pliny The Elder, and holding a place in Greek mythology. The myth goes that the Chimera (or Chimaera) was a fire breathing beast with lion’s head, goat’s body, and a snake (with head) for a tail, which was slain on this mountain and buried by its conqueror Bellerophon, riding Pegasus the winged horse, in a mighty battle, leaving the beast to breathe fire in anger from beneath the Earth’s surface. That’s a far better explanation than a mix of gases, if you ask us! 

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We climb twice up to the Chimera, once in daylight and then once at dusk, to see the fires burning orange as darkness falls, the latter being even more of an eerie sensation as the strange flares come and go in the dark. One enterprising young man has brought sausages and beer, and cooks his tea over the natural flame.

Walking a tricky part of the Lycian Way, we pass a hiker in a bizarre outfit of a rubber balaclava-like hood, speedo swimming trunks, hiking boots and socks, and nothing else, looking like some weird refugee from an old Monty Python sketch.

Some 23 kilometres from Cirali is the town of Tekirova, which is a bit like stepping out of Turkey and into Russia. Such is the town’s popularity with Russian tourists that even shop fascias are in their language.

Just outside and above Tekirova is the Olympos Teleferik, a large scale cable car, in fact one of the largest aerial tramway systems in the world, rising from the base station at 726m to the top of Mount Olympos at 2,365m above sea level. It is steep in more ways than one: in a country where everything is cheap, we are suddenly being asked for £61.50 for two of us to ride a cable car! 

Once there though, we feel we have to do it, so we shell out, a bit reluctantly, and climb steadily way up into the sky. The views are absolutely incredible – or at least they are when we get brief glimpses through the thick cloud; the rest of the time we are effectively staring into a fog. We eagerly anticipate the journey back down and nab the best places at the front of the car, only to find the entire descent is a complete white-out of clouds which only clear in the last few yards before “landing”. It was an experience, but it won’t rate as the best £60 we’ve ever spent!

And so our time in Cirali comes to a close, and we now enter the extra time in Turkey brought on by our change of return date. Another adventure begins.

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