The St Paul Trail is a curious one, with two beginnings and one end. It was opened in 2004, but is still evolving, with new sections and other variants that we did waymarked as late as 2010. The trail is almost 500km long and would take several weeks to walk from end to end. Coming from the Antipodes for only 8 weeks, with a desire to sample as much of Turkey's diversity as we could, this was not an option for the fair Nello and myself. Using Kate's guide book as our reference, we chose to do a series of day-walks in the central part of the trail near where the two starting trails merge into one. We based ourselves first at the mountain village of Sütçüler and then at the lakeside town of Eğirdir. With its canyons and lakes, I supect this region best encapsulates the landscapes of ancient Pisidia.

So join us as we follow the footsteps of St Paul in this beautiful part of Turkey - at the end of our walking, I'm sure we will want to sit down, though I doubt it will be in a synagogue.

Getting there

After a morning enjoying the charms of Kaleiçi, the old centre of Antalya, and its magnificent setting with rugged mountains, still streaked with snow, rising out of the deep blue of the Mediterranean, we were picked up by Devrim from Mithra Tours and headed off to Sütçüler, across the fertile coastal plain and on into increasingly rugged mountains. This small town lies perched on a steep slope looking across to rocky pine-clad mountains cut deeply by gorges. From our room in the Hotel Karacan, our base for the next four nights, I am looking out onto one of the best "views from my hotel window" that I have seen. Tomorrow, our exploration of this marvellous landscape begins.

Farewells made, we found ourselves standing alone in front of the tiny mosque of Gümü at the start of our walk back to Sütçüler.

The countryside near Gümü

The road dropped down into some more open grassland and began to descend steeply on a rutted surface. Feeling more confident with our directions again, we left this unpleasant walking surface to take a shortcut, directly down a goat track in the pasture that took us to a fast flowing canal. We followed the canal, picking up the waymarks again as we did to join the main gravel road. We had now dropped well below the heights of Sütçüler and found ourselves deep in the Değirmen Valley beneath it. Ibrahim’s trail markers then directed us off the road and onto a small scrub-lined footpath alongside the babbling waters of a stream that flowed out of the mouth of the Yesildere Canyon.

Soon we were following it beneath a shady canopy of trees until it brought us to a beautiful clear green waterhole, fed by a small waterfall – a beautiful spot to stop for a while and cool ourselves down with a swim. Cool was an understatement – the waters were icy, but so refreshing.

View of the mouth of the canyon and upper Değirmen Valley

Our second walk in this region was a shorter one, but cranked up considerably in degree of difficulty – we were going to descend into the Yazili Canyon. It was another glorious blue-sky day, as we set off with Huseyn, our cook / philosopher / humourist, after another of his filling breakfasts. After a short car trip, he dropped us at the junction of a road leading to Çuruk. We headed off along the gravel road, beneath the shade of tall pines, with views opening out to the north of the winding depths of the Değirmen Canyon and back over its opening to Sütçüler. It was a pleasant stroll and soon we were picking up the red and white waymarks of the St Paul Trail.

Pine-clad lower slopes of the canyon

Below us the clear green waters of the Göksu River rushed downwards in a series of rapids and cascades towards the mouth of the canyon. After a quick visit to the river, we climbed back up to the road and followed it southwards. It was in fact part of The King's Road, built in the 5th century BC between Ephesus and Babylon. The rock face on the edge of the road was carved with the occasional Greek inscription and even an inspirational poem by the 1st century AD philosopher, Epictetus (see box). History is never far away in this part of the world.

We continued down the road to reach a narrow point of the gorge, where a small bridge took us across the river. A little further on, we reached a picnic area on the west bank. Our walk was over, as this was the pick-up point for our return to our hotel in Sütçüler. Still, there was plenty of time for lunch beneath the shady plane trees and a swim in a fast-flowing reach of the river. The water was as icy as yesterday, but it was also as refreshing. Sitting in the warm Pisidian sunshine, watching the metallic blue dragonflies flitting above the water's surface and the occasional freshwater crab scurrying beneath it – what a great way to finish our descent into Yazili Canyon. 

View back across the pines to the eastern walls of Yazili Canyon

As in many riverine locations in this area, there was a small fish farm at the picnic area full of plump trout. Several of them decided to accompany us home to Sütçüler and join us for dinner, beautifully cooked by Ibrahim .... delicious!!!

The ancient city of Adada was founded prior to the 2nd century BC and for many years was an independent city. It flourished under Roman rule in the first few centuries and was abandoned sometime between the 9th and 13th centuries. Its structures decayed and remained hidden until 1841, when the ruins were rediscovered. As a major city between Perga and Antioch, St Paul probably passed through it and the modern St Paul Trail certainly does. Today, our walk would take us from Sütçüler to the ruins of ancient Adada.

The clear blue morning skies were becoming the norm as, for the first time, we set off on foot from our hotel in Sütçüler. Our guide notes said that we would follow the asphalt road out of town for 500m before turning off it. It turned out to be almost 2km of steady climbing – fortunately the waypoint on my GPS gave us confidence that we were on the track, but for anyone without a GPS, I am sure that the worry-meter would be reaching dangerous levels over the last section along the main road. Some changes are needed to the guide notes here.

The route that we were taking was a new one that had only been way-marked in 2010. The St Paul Trail is a new trail and, to some extent, is still evolving. After a few kilometres of asphalt and dirt road, we were starting to wonder whether it was evolving in the right direction, but then we turned off the road and followed a grassy track down through forest and across flower-filled meadows. Stopping a couple of times to refresh ourselves with cold clear water from the springs bubbling out of the hillside behind us, we began to appreciate its virtues. Soon we crossed the stony bed of a dry creek, that directed our gaze up to the snowy heights of distant Sarp Dağ. After the creek, the track led us up to another asphalt road, which we followed briefly before continuing our northward push on a small road leading up to the hamlet of Poslar.

High behind the hamlet lay a steep pass, with a couple of abandoned traditional houses. The road changed to a track, which led us up and behind them to reach the pass, opening up views down to our second valley of the morning, narrower and backed by pine covered hills. The route down into the valley started out as a pathless traverse of rocky, scrub covered grasslands, marked only by red-white waymarks on the rocks – fine, apart from the fact the dense spring grass cover was attempting to hide them from us. It was a case of spot the marker, walk to it, stop to find the next one, walk to it, stop etc etc …. a slow process.

For a while, a clear path emerged which led us down alongside a barbed-wire fence, but then we had to leave it to cross a stream and the game of find the way-mark was repeated. A wheat field planted across the route did not help, but we eventually picked our way through the grassy maze to join the track that led up to our third pass of the day. The midday sun was hot and so was the climb, so we declared it lunchtime when we crested the pass and found some shade and a bit of breeze from where to admire the views of the broad valley and distant village of Sağrak beyond.

Looking down on the third valley south of Sağrak

Lunch over, we started the descent into our third valley, firstly on a well-marked track, but soon the way-marks obliged us to drop down through the open meadows for another game of “find the route” in the long grass. We succeeded with the help of my GPS which guided us to a waypoint marking the merging of this new variant with the old route to Adada. We were now following the low-walled course of the old Roman road, passing massive old pines scattered in the fields. The road headed towards a rocky amphitheatre cut deeply into the rugged hills ahead and soon we were winding our way up into it through a low juniper scrub.

Climbing up and onto a rocky ledge, we looked ahead to realise that we had just stepped back on to the old Roman road, this time marked by a long line of massive flat rocks, sometimes even, sometimes slipping away, but curving gently around and up the slope into the heart of the amphitheatre. The road turned to the left to a reveal a narrow dry and rocky gully, almost hidden beneath the scrubby junipers and oaks.

The agora of Adada

The road stopped and we continued up the creek bed, following a line of small brown-stone cairns. A broken rounded column in a jumble of rock told us that we were near and then ahead, we saw a stone wall with archway half-hidden in the scrub. We had arrived at Adada, where little remains of its past glories.

Tortoises behaving badly

Passing remnants of the city wall, we reached the agora, a paved central square once surrounded by shops, but now left with a jumble of broken columns and rows of stone seats from where people once watched performances in the square. The only performance that we saw was a fairly risqué display by two tortoises. Did you know that they make a noise like a cat mewing when they mate?

   
Triskeles - the three-legged symbol of Adada

The next morning was a time for farewells, as we were leaving Sütçüler for a new base on the shores of Lake Eğirdir. So after goodbyes to Ibrahim and family, Huseyn, our cook / translator / philosopher and quick-wit, the group of English walkers and Karl from Bavaria, who was exploring the St Paul Trail on his own, we were on our way. Thanks to all of you for your good company and humour.

Ibrahim dropped us at the junction of the access road leading up to Kasnak Forest before taking our bags on to our accommodation in Eğirdir. The guide-notes that we had been given said that we would then walk there along a new section of the St Paul Trail, waymarked less than a year ago. However, there were no distances or times provided, so this was taken on faith and, as later turned out, proved not possible.

We set out under the usual blue morning skies, walking up a gravel road amongst the pine trees, before leaving it to climb steeply up a wooded gully, cutting out a long corner and gaining a lot of elevation at the same time. We picked up the road again and began a long traverse through the beautiful Kasnak Forest, a mixture of deciduous broad-leaf and evergreen coniferous trees. Out to the east, we could look out across the mixed green mosaic of the forest to distant mountains beyond.

The route led us into the Forestry Park, home to some brilliant wildflowers that lined the roads beneath the canopy of oak, elm, ash, cedar, juniper and many other tree species. Just after the entry to the Park, we reached a fork in the St Paul Trail. The left headed up onto the Davraz Plateau, while the right continued deeper into the forest - we turned right. We stopped briefly to admire a 370 year-old, 33.5m tall specimen of volcanic oak before pushing on along a road that meandered and undulated through this very pleasant forest. Our surrounds were filled with birdsong and wildflowers, and home to squirrels, the odd ones which scurried across the road ahead or into the rocky outcrops.

Some of the deciduous trees were only just bursting back into life. Sunlight poured through their open canopy and the bright green of their new foliage contrasted with the dull greens and greys of the different conifers. The only negative aspect of walking this sun-dappled route was the tiny black flies who took it upon themselves to accompany us - dancing black spots before our eyes – at least they didn’t bite. Passing a clearing in the forest, the route suddenly left the road to follow a tenuous series of half-hidden waymarks on the forest floor, which slowed us down as we hunted out the scraps of red and white paint.

Lunch over, we scrambled down the slope to pick up a faint and very rocky goat track that traversed gently downwards around the slope to emerge in the cow pastures. Here a freshly graded dirt road led us alongside the pastures, before taking a long and sweeping upward climb into dense pine forests.

Countryside north of Kasnak

We soon realised that the grading had also removed many waymarkers and, missing a turn-off, found ourselves at the top off the pass overlooking a deep valley, walled in by the scree-covered eastern flank of Davraz Dağ. There being no detailed map and limited guidelines, it was time to put the GPS to the work for which it was designed – getting us back on track.

The setting here was superb, a grassy meadow beneath steep scree-covered rock walls, goats bleating and a scattering of goat-herds shelters. Even better, a spring of cold refreshing mountain water! It was the first water source on the track in 6 hours – we drank heartily and filled our bottles. Despite the beauty of their surrounds, the life of a Turkish goat-herd seems a hard one.

We had pretty much recovered from the long walk of yesterday after a comfortable night in Ali’s Pension, on the tip of Yesilada, a causeway-linked island jutting out into beautiful Lake Eğirdir. Still, with tired feet, we decided to just do a morning walk and take advantage of this wonderful setting for some relaxation in the afternoon. We were off to climb Sivri Dağ – the 1733m mountain which dominates the skyline behind Eğirdir.

The silhouette of Sivri Dağ from Yeşilada Island on Lake Eğirdir

The thunderstorms that had threatened us yesterday dropped some rain overnight, but the morning was clear and fresh for our short walk. Our host dropped us off at the village of Akpinar, high above the lake, but way below the peak of Sivri Dağ and we set off. Above us to the north the rocky pyramid beckoned. The climb started straight away, at first up a gravel road, then veering off to a side road which slowly degenerated from road to tractor-track to footpath to goat track as it took us up though the lush green meadows above the village. The delicately sweet scent of red clover and distant bleating of goats accompanied us as we passed the shelters of summer goat-herders.

A red sign caught our attention – military zone entrance forbidden – but we had been told about this. Apparently we were on the edge of a large Turkish Army training area, but the route up to Sivri Dağ was supposedly shared territory. A little higher up the slope, just as we were passing the first crumbling ruins of Prostanna, a 2nd century BC stronghold, we met a couple of Turkish soldiers sitting on a rock. “Welcome” said the first. "Don't worry, our guns aren't loaded" said the second, with a mischievous smile.

Having been reassured by the two soldiers that there was no problem in continuing our walk, we climbed up through the scattered jumbles of rock that is all that remains of Prostanna to the ridgeline leading to the base of the summit climb. A plastic sniper's dummy leaned nonchalantly against a 2,000 year-old rock wall - I'm sure I saw it wink!

Soon we were pushing slowly up the steep and rocky ascent, past the 200, 300, 400 and 500m range markers, prompting a few nervous looks behind. The views above the distant firing platform were opening up to reveal the snow-capped heights of Davraz Dağ, at 2635m the second-highest peak in this region. The views also opened up over a column of Turkish soldiers marching rapidly in single file up the track behind us. We sat on a rock and waited for them to pass – lots of “merheba”, “hello” and “welcome” put us at ease again. As we were to find out later from their commanding officer, they were a platoon of mountain commandos here for a sniper training course and this climb was part of that course.

The fair Nello and I fell in behind the last of the platoon, but were soon left in their wake as they pushed up the increasingly steep and rocky track towards a large Turkish flag that marked the summit of Sivri Dağ. We crested the summit to one of the strangest experiences I have had while walking – a hearty round of applause from the Turkish commandos. This was followed by a rousing antiphonal chant of their oath in front of the red flag of Turkey, its crescent moon and star fluttering in the wind– quite moving, even for an old pacifist like myself. We felt that we were amongst friends and it was sad to see them go - a win for the PR department of the Turkish army.

Still, some time alone on this rugged peak with its 360° panoramic views of distant mountains and beautiful Lake Eğirdir was appreciated.

We followed the same route down - past the plastic dummies hiding in different places and the signs marking 200, 300, 400, 500m. Despite the exceptional friendliness of the soldiers it was still a little disconcerting walking through a sniper training ground. We reached Akpinar in time for lunch – pancakes and Turkish coffee under a gazebo on the edge of the escarpment, overlooking the mountain we had just climbed and the green waters of Lake Eğirdir fading into the distance. It was the perfect spot to end our adventures on the St Paul Trail.