The Last Miles of the Lycian Way

80 miles into our hiking journey along the Lycian way, and with just 20 miles left to go, we decided to make it the easiest stretch by far. Less than 7 miles per day, 2ish hotels, and the easiest terrain/elevation so far. Ending off “strong” unfortunately did not make the cut - so focus on the part where we hiked 100+ miles.

It started on a quiet beach in Karaöz.

After weeks of moving from town to village to forest and back along the Lycian Way, we found ourselves in a place that felt forgotten. The beach stretched out in front of us, the water impossibly clear. And while there were houses that stacked into the mountains, we probably saw enough people to count on both of our hands. It felt less like a destination and more of an abandoned paradise. It was undeniably the most beautiful stretch of the whole coast.

We weren’t racing toward anything, just enjoying the day ‘off’ before our hike. Almost like a little weekend beach-trip to break away from our work the past few days: being-unemployed-not-being-at-a-beach. We spent time sitting by the water, enjoying the comfort of a small family-run pension, and letting ourselves appreciate that fact our hiking journey along the Mediterranean coast was somewhere in sight.

At breakfast the next morning, we met two couples also traveling through the region (seemingly half of the tourists in the city). One couple from Belgium, another from Canada. We quickly fell into the kind of conversation that only travelers seem to have, where complete strangers become friends through a shared obsession with food.

The Canadian couple talked about the research they do before visiting a country. Not museums. Not landmarks. Food. The husband described a dessert he’d eaten in Istanbul with such enthusiasm that he practically folded over in his chair reliving the memory. Some meals stay with you long after you’ve forgotten where you slept.

Amanda and I completely understood. In fact, it made us nearly shed a tear to meet someone who valued food in the same way we did. It was either that, or the yummy homemade jams the hosts made us. Either way, it was food that made us emotional.

That morning, we set off on our hike. For the better part of the first 2 miles, not a drop of sweat rolled off our bodies - which we had fruit juices and a costal breeze to thank.

But nearly half of our elevation in the last 20 miles was in this one stretch - and our motivation to persevere partially came a family’s small gesture.

While sweating our way uphill toward a lighthouse, we heard a little girl, in the most adorable giggly voice blurted out “HEELLLO” followed by laughter erupting from the girls family. Not speaking much English, and us not speaking much Turkish, we stopped to talk. After exchanging broken communication of our journey, soft smiles, sweet laughters, the mother insistently gave us chocolate wafers for our journey.

It was such a small thing.

But standing there on a hot trail, exhausted and smiling, a small local connection, warmth from a stranger, it felt like one of the kindest gestures imaginable.

I’d love to say that act of kindness motivated us through the rest of the hike and we powered through like champs. But excuse my French - that shit was difficult. Doing nearly half of our final elevation in one stretch made us SWEAT. But we stayed focused.

Along the way, we found a stray puppy that shared in our exhaustion. We named him PB. Which, after several handfuls of water and a peanut butter-filled lavash, he collapsed happily into some shade the dirt and fell asleep knowing he earned his reward. And hopefully, we gave him the same feeling that we got from the sweet family.

Our final hiking days carried that same mixture of beauty, challenge, and small moments that made the Lycian Way so memorable.

There were steep climbs that looked intimidating from below but felt surprisingly manageable once we settled into a rhythm. There were long conversations about our families, our future, and the kind of life we hope to build together. There were fresh pomegranate juices that somehow tasted exactly right at exactly the right moment.

And there was Litost.

After days of hiking, arriving at this little glamping pension near Adrasan felt like stumbling into an oasis built specifically for tired walkers. The host greeted us with a huge smile, showed us our tiny cabin, and welcomed us into a courtyard filled with hammocks, couches, and beautiful plants & trees. Even going so far as giving us a discount because we were hikers.

That evening we showered, called our parents, worked on videos and blogs, and enjoyed one of the most satisfying meals of the entire trip. Homemade pizzas, desserts gifted by our host, strong coffee, and the simple luxury of sleeping in a real bed.

Thirty-three dollars never felt so well spent.

The final day of hiking arrived faster than either of us expected.

We climbed steadily out of Adrasan, surprised by how strong we felt. After more than one hundred miles of hiking along the Lycian Way, my body wasn’t begging me to stop. If anything, I felt like I could keep going. That realization filled me with pride - especially considering my first hikes with Amanda in Arizona (which were relatively much easier) resulted in me dying, panting, whining (this is a moment of vulnerability; never bring this up to me, it’s embarrassing). I guess I never had pomegranate juice to keep me going.

Before long, the trail carried us through the ancient city of Olympos. Stone ruins emerged from the trees. Ancient walls appeared between patches of green. And just like that, the hiking chapter was over.

One hundred miles. Done.

In Cirali, our destination, we reunited with a familiar face from our farm: Estelle. We spent an evening catching up on everything that had happened since we left. We shared fruit beside the historic Cirali river, talked about travel, family, culture, and future plans, and watched stars appear overhead one by one.

Our Lycian way journey coming to an end was surreal in many ways; it marked what felt like the third chapter of our time in Turkey. From our time in Istanbul, our time on the farm, and now the Lycian way.

And now, we had two more chapters left to look forward to: some rest days in Antalya, and a trip to Cappadocia

Our time in Antalya was so playful and romantic - romanticizing of our future plans and wandering through the city without a schedule.

We treated ourselves to coffee, painted, spent hours researching Turkish textiles and imagining our future home filled with Turkish towels, bedding, and pillow covers. We ate some of the best food of the trip, including unforgettable falafel wraps and the best lahmacun, a Turkish flatbread, either of us had tasted.

We spent an evening listening to a live Turkish band in Old Town. We shared so many heart felt memories together.

We met an artist, a Kurdish textile owner, who shared passionate stories of his family in the east, his views on politics, and of himself. After some conversation, admiring the beautiful textiles he had and sharing about our lives, we purchased a few of his pieces. His authenticity was touching. Even when purchasing, he gave us a discount on the piece we loved the most - telling me my eyes were deeply warm and resembled that of Kurdish people, gifting Amanda a pashmina scarf as a token of thanks, and touching his heart as we left his store.

Another evening, while walking to watch the sunset, Amanda noticed a street artist who looked defeated as everyone walked past him - no acknowledgment.

We doubled back. His artwork was painted on rocks, each one taking days to complete. We bought one, and the change in his expression was immediate. Watching his mood lift became the highlight of both our nights, so much so it even made Amanda cry.

These moments are ones we still carry with us. But, remember how I said we painted? I’m downplaying how defining that was in our time in Antalya. What started as a casual date activity somehow turned into an obsession. We spent more than ten hours over three days painting together.

We returned again and again, working on small sculptures while drinking coffee and laughing our way through games of Azul, which Amanda introduced me to. The end result was a medium-ugly goth Avocado named Ava and a beautiful romantic masterpiece. Without hurting my feelings too much, guess who painted which one:

Be nice!

Those afternoons became some of my favorite memories from the entire month.

Nothing remarkable was happening. We weren’t hiking mountains. We weren’t visiting ancient ruins. We were just sitting together, amateur painters, focused at times, laughing at others, playing games, drinking coffee, and enjoying each other’s company.

By our final evening, we somehow managed to fit all of our new purchases into our backpacks. The process felt less like packing and more like a magic trick. Really, all of the stuff we had at the beginning of our trip, two sleeping bags, a tent, three new towels, ceramics, and more textiles all fit in our bags. Don’t ask me how, they just did.

Now, with our stuffed backpacks, which are on the verge of feeling like they’re about to pop like a balloon, we are heading on an 8 hour bus journey to Cappadocia Turkey.