Bursa: Of a Hike, and Thoughts Thereon
Trip Start Feb 08, 2008
154Trip End Sep 11, 2009
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From the previous Sunday's hike, in which I fell into a family picnic, I had seen the other side of the gorge and wanted to explore up into that far side. Which I did. Nothing much to say about it. (Although I can stretch it). It was just a lot of uphill hiking. And not always on determinable paths. The ground cover is light and sparse enough that it is often hard to determine a path from a merely clear, but leafed over, area. So I just keep going, hitting the path, loosing it, hitting it, and so on.
But there is a path
Well, I am reluctant to share my cynicism with her. Or any one, for that matter. (On second thought, I'll provide a toxic dose of it in my next dated report). But surely the Turks could, if anything, give lessons in environmental degradation. I began my hike on this Sunday in a park of sorts where families were engaged in picnics. It overlooked the rocky--and now dry--creekbed that issued from the gorge. Waterworks perhaps above probably diverted the little late season water. In any case, the creek bed was a veritable trash bin. The Turkish mentality, I am sorry to say, is anything but, "pack it out." It is more like, "flick it, toss it, leave it." And thus, as I went ever higher up into the woods my way was confirmed often as not by sundry leavings--a plastic something--than actual path indications. Of course these indicators diminished the higher I went. But even the end of my hike at a certain prominence was marked by three 12-guage shotgun shells
Which reminds me. The woods were remarkably quiet, except for insects. I have been told there are wild pigs therein, and perhaps bear. But I heard or saw nary a thing. Except for a couple of, I must say, pretty big scat leavings. Wild pig rootings can be seen everywhere. But I heard absolutely no sounds in the large quantities of dry leaves. And, the really large wild pigs I had seen in Australia ran away from human contact, so I wasn't very concerned.
The only other thing almost worthy of remarking upon for this hike was that in the early stages, as I was trying to find my way in to a bona fide trail, I crossed into a fenced area (and fashioned a dog-dealing hiking stick), and then encountered two bee keepers. They signaled me to come ahead. The one fellow, though he had a head and upper body protection, seemed to have three visible stings on his lower lip. He seemed pretty stoic about it. I was invited to tea, but declined (thus loosing a good picture, I thought), and went on upward with their permission.
Later, coming down by a roadway from the bee keepers' place I came to a school of some sorts, from which was issuing some horrid Turkish music which I could hear for "miles" up in the gorge, and absolutely dominated the local residential area
Nevertheless, I was able to catch a city bus from there and get somewhat close to my home. There a bath. And by the time I got to a local restaurant for something to eat, it was well after 10:00pm. Yes, they said they had food, but no fish--even though it was named as a Balik (Fish) Restaurant. I, again too tired to struggle with the language, settled for an orange Fanta and a chicken shish. I tried to sleep while waiting for the small salad and two sticks of chicken--which seemed to take 30 minutes. At about 25 minutes I tried to walk out, but the guy said, "Geliyor, geliyor," it's coming, it's coming. I think they actually went down the street for it.
I bought a beer on the way home, anyway. Drank most of it in bed, then was out of it. Thus of my ". . . having a great time in Turkey."