...we thought we were getting ripped off by a small Turkish boy

Saklikent Gorge is this awesome, natural maze of marble (or something else...who am I kidding) about an hour by a dodgy mini-van from Fethiye on the south-west coast of Turkey. Phill and I had a few days to kill before a three-night cruise to Olympos, and our trusty Lonely Planet suggested the Gorge as one of those time-killing activities that we get so good at while travelling.

We followed the high walkway, stapled into the stone, above the gushing river - which, lo and behold,  was actually just a creek that decided to sneak into the gorge and take all its credit. We crossed the creek, fully clothed in our modesty, and clothes, and were able to walk for kilometres through Saklikent Gorge itself.

There were some tough bits which involved shimmying up and down rocks and waterfalls, wading through waist-high puddles (at what depth is a puddle a lake?), and avoiding cavernous openings that could break your leg or eventually fossilize you.

Grace and determination: essential
components for looking this good

 

The Turkish families out for activities were very friendly and helpful with tips of how to slide down waterfalls (with no grace), how to get up waterfalls (with a bit of groping) and where in aforementioned puddle were no deathly sharp rocks (they were everywhere). But then, who wouldn't want to help out this guy:

Very exfoliating, but not enough to get
rid of the beard

As we made our way back out of the gorge, a small boy started following us, then ducked just in front of us in order to point to where we should put our feet. I started laughing, but then felt a little offended...I consider myself quite nimble, and even after gaining eight months of travelling fat, I was sure I could walk out of the gorge unaided.

He was very nimble...

Then I figured that he was being a sneaky little bugger and would demand (via hand movements) that we pay him a couple of Lira for his tour guide skills. I was having none of that. But then, distracted by a shiny butterfly or fat American or an ice cream stand, he just ran ahead of us and we lost him in the hordes of people unable to cross the icy creek.

Small Turkish boy realises he won't get a Lira outta us!

Kate and Phill: 1...small Turkish boy: 0. Sucker.

 

When: August, 2010

Where: Saklikent Gorge, Fethiye, Turkey.

I said I'd start a blog...

Do you ever have a bit of a moment, a flashback, an awesome memory that is so out of context to what you're doing right now but it managed to sneak in there anyway?

Going for a bit of a stroll and you remember that time when you got a fine for jay-walking in Kuala Lumpur and managed to bargain the fine down to whatever you had in your wallet because you left for Beijing the next day?

Or you're chopping up onions for dinner and you remember that time when an Italian mother at the hostel in Copenhagan asked how you made your spag bol, and was very impressed when you let her taste a bit?

Or you're walking to the bus in the rain and you remember that time when you thought it'd be a good idea to climb Mount Warning even though it'd been raining for three days and you had the Big Day Out to rock at the next day?

Or you're contemplating the fruit at Nester's and remember that time when your Pop would use a ridiculously large knife to slice right through a watermelon from Farmer Charlie's and you'd eat in on the grass in his backyard, all sunburned and windswept from a morning at the beach.

Yeah, memories like that.

I'm going to start to write mine down, because, just quietly, I've got some pearlers. And the number of times I hit my head - whether it be through extreme sports or clumsiness (but mostly extreme sports...) - these memories need a more permanent home.

I'll often have photos to back up my memory, and you will often find yourselves sneaking in there with cameo roles, and hopefully you'll think 'yeah, I remember that time'. And hopefully you won't think 'yeah, I remember that time. Now would you shut up about it, I'm trying to sleep'.