Journal

One of the loveliest sites I have come across, Knidos straddles a twin harbour. British archaeologist Charles Newton noted in his diary in 1858, when he was excavating at Knidos:

“If Halicarnassus could boast of its Mausoleum, and Rhodes of its bronze Colossus, the little state of Cnidus could point with just pride to its statue of Aphrodite, the masterpiece of Praxiteles, in exchange for which Nicomedes, king of Bithynia (north of the Aegean Region), offered to redeem the whole public debt of the city…” 

The story of the extraordinary statue of Aphrodite and how it came to be made by Praxiteles is well worth digging into. Would love to have seen it in its heyday. Considered profoundly shocking at the time, the revolutionary nude statue has occasioned much subsequent comment.

A fascinating site to walk around. As we walked east to see a further set of ruins, though still within the old city walls, I came across the desiccated body of a baby sea turtle. I imagine it must have been dropped there by a predator like a gull. In any event, I didn’t feel comfortable until I had taken it back to the sea shore and ‘released’ it into the water.

Later, as we were walking back along the jetty, having drunk a modicum of Ifes beer and raki, and also having eaten some delicious battered calamari, we were reminded of the out-of-sight, out-of-mind sources of what we eat.

I knelt down to show Elaine a strange sea caterpillar, perhaps seven inches long, crawling over rocks in the water by the jetty. Then a bearded fisherman hove in view – and spotted the octopus I was also tracking. He promptly snagged it with a fishing hook and line, battering (in a different sense) it to death on the concrete surface of the jetty. Amazing what a will to live such creatures have.

Back, once again, to dinner on the deck – and then to sleep, moored in the harbour.

Cruised along the Loryma Peninsula to Loryma harbour, where we weighed anchor and made our way up the Hellenistic fortress that overlooks the anchorage. It is believed to have been built by the Rhodians after they resisted the siege led by Demetrius Poliorcetes, son of Alexander the Great’s successor, Antigonus the One Eyed.

The idea: to stop the harbour being used again to launch an attack from the mainland. Indeed, it is extraordinary to think that this harbour hosted some 400 ships bound to attack Rhodes. The siege failed, however, and the Rhodians, having sold the left-over siege engines, decided to build the Colossus.

Interesting, though, that the giant statue of Helios would stand for only 56 years before an earthquake snapped it off at the knees.

 

 

A delightful cruise along the coast towards Caunos (or Kaunos), watching the sun rise – and managing to fall back to sleep on my glasses, an accentuated form of metal fatigue. Will have to replace them when I get home – and, in the meantime, will have to do without sunshades.

Kept an eye out for turtles, given that this is a breeding epicentre for them – but we did see them earlier in the journey, happily.

Snorkelling, I have also seen significantly more aquatic life this time than last, including a curtains of different types of fish, a ray, pipefish and an amazing scene involving an octopus that seemed to turned itself into something like a mobile blancmange, its colour whey-white and all its tentacles formed into something like a saucer.

Three fish in dramatic green and black colours had been dancing together above something like a small threshing floor on the seabed. Two on the outside fanned their fins, while the one in the middle simply hung motionless in the water, all three aligned and pointing in the same direction. As the octopus insinuated itself towards them, another fish, of a different species, darted in and out towards the octopus, as if accenting its presence. Sadly, had to leave before the drama fully played itself out.

Now back to Caunos. Switching to a smaller boat, we headed into the estuary, through the marshlands that once helped give local residents their unusual hue. Mosquitoes here carried malaria and those who lived in Caunos were well known for their green coloration, apparently.

By contrast, we loved this place – and I would have loved to have had time to climb up to the citadel. The view from up there must be utterly spectacular.

 

Morning  sail to Agalimani, one of my favourite places on the journey. En route, the Turkish flag at the stern gently embraces my neck as I ponder the passing wavescape and as the wind changes back and forth.

(But makes me think of the garrotting once practised in the palaces and prisons of  Turkish palaces and prisons alike, with silken cords sometimes used for those of royal blood.)

We walk up through pine forest, with me herding and supporting one or two older members of the group, encouraging them to persevere – because of what waits at the end. The ruins of the ancient settlement of Lydae.

I love cisterns and, though not wildly sophisticated, the one shown here is one of my favourites of all time.

The sage tea, too, was delicious – and the puppy, like pretty much like most animals we had come across, made a bee-line for Mary.

Though we bought some honey from the couple who run the end-of-the-world homestead that was our ultimate destination, I didn’t see the beehives this time, nor the baited dishes full of dead hornets – a predator on honeybees.

An odd combination of the primeval and the bang up-to-date, with modernity signalled by things including a rusty satellite dish corralled within a wooden fence and a photovoltaic array tucked away behind the farmhouse.

 

We headed to Fethiye, ancient site of Temessos, walking up to the Tomb of Amyntas in rain. If memory serves, the boat went around on its own, because of rougher weather.

I lagged behind to take photos of the statue to Captain Fethi Bey, after whom the place is named, at least in its modern incarnation. This year sees the centenary of his ‘martyrdom‘.

Fascinating visit to food market, stocking up in dried and crystallised fruit. Another slight panic when my haversack seemed to have disappeared again, but it turned out that Elaine had simply slipped it behind the bathroom door to save space.