Recently, we have been enjoying something of an Indian Summer; the Turks call it a Pastrami Summer (Pastırma Yazı) because, in the ancient Anatolian city of Kayseri, they reckon it is the ideal weather for hanging out their famous pastrami to dry.In Bodrum, the last of the tourists have gone, the oppressive heat has faded but the sun still shines warm and inviting.
On such a glorious Pastrami day a couple of Sundays ago, I had an early morning call from my friend Ursula. "We planned to go for Brunch today" she said, "But do you feel like going on an organised walk instead?". In fact I'd already read about this walk – it was arranged by the Heroditus Third Age Academy (a local variant on the University of the Third Age organisation). The blurb said we would be going to visit an ancient (3,000 year old) Lelegian city called Theangela, a few kilometres outside Bodrum. "Some gentle hill walking, wear sensible walking shoes, bring water, camera and binoculars", it said.
Well, with the new diet scheduled to start the next day I thought a bit of "gentle hill walking" would be just the thing to set the tone – give my body the right signal that things were about to change – so I agreed to meet Ursula within the 
hour.
We reached the rendezvous, and a multi-national party of some 28 of us, most of us on the wrong side of 55, plus dogs, drove in convoy to the start of the walk. Heads turned in stirred curiosity as we drove through several traditional villages on the way: could there be a wedding or circumcision party they'd missed out on – for round here, streams of cars generally means one or the other.
After passing through stunning Autumnal scenery for some kilom
etres we parked in a convenient lay-by close to the start of the walk. We listened as someone apparently more accustomed to walking than us, gave us a briefing on how to breath whilst climbing up hill: "slowly in to a count of 8, hold for 4, out to a count of 8". This was beginning to sound like something more than "gentle hills".
Off we set, having been exhorted to take it gently. Of course, the experienced walkers at the front set off at a lick, and those of us behind tried to keep up.... just to show we could, which we couldn't. However, it didn't matter because the pine forest setting was magnificent. The first rains of autumn had washed the earth clean and revealed, as if it were a restored Renaissance masterpiece, nat
ure's canvas of forest greens and warm wholesome browns.
Here and there, the orangey-red mountain strawberries, like carefully crafted marzipan fruit, vied for attention with the exquisitely perfect purple-tinged white winter crocuses that stood proud along the track and on the forest floor.
Various varieties of wild mushrooms were spotted, including some wonderfully sculpted specimens, looking as though they had been created by the props department for a Harry Potter film. Heated debates ensued between the various experts as to which ones could be safely consumed and which would see you off before you had got to 3 of your breathing cycle. As for me, I stayed out of it. I put my trust in the local supermarket when it comes to mushrooms – they may not taste wonderful but at least you live to see the next day.
So onwards and upwards!
Selçuk, the founder of Heroditus 3rd Age Academy, kept us going by assuring us that we were "nearly there"..... and then again 15 breathy minutes later, that it was "just round the next bend". I was reminded of my father on family outing
s when I was a child whose standard answer to the whining "Is it much further" from the back seat was "It's just over that next hill".... it never was!
But eventually we reached the grassy summit and were surprised to find a quite substantial house up there, complete with an ex-taxi parked outside. No sign of of the driver so no chance of a lift back down the mountain I guess!
The only signs of Theangela was a mass of fallen debris in amongst which could be seen the odd recognisable bit of ancient wall. One of our archaeological experts had her book which indicated that Theangela marked the outermost limit of King Mausolus's satrapy. It seems he found a city of this size, right on the edge of his domain, too big to handle so he cut it in half by a great big wa
ll. Well, there was a bit of wall, no one could deny that - but even our guides had serious doubts that we had found Theangela.
King Mausolos got fame by giving his name to something called the Mausoleum of Halicarnasus – one of the Seven Wonders of the Ancient World - which these days is to be found just down the road from Migros supermarket in Bodrum.
So we sat up on this peak for a bit, admiring the fabulous views and sharing mandarins 
and a packet of biscuits which someone had thoughtfully brought along. One packet between 28 (plus dogs) on top of a mountain - loaves and fishes came to mind, but no one seemed up to the task.
Then we retraced our steps back down, taking care not to lose any stragglers who were distracted by the prospect of 
wild mushroom risotto for supper.
And yes, it is true, going down is much harder on the knees than going up. At the bottom, a vendor of tempting Turkish sweets and pastries had pushed his cart out to this remote spot, sensing a sales opportunity. "How did you know we were here?" someone asked. "I was tipped off" he smiled. A sticky pastry would have been the perfect end to a superb day, but I remembered I was signalling to my body that change was afoot..... and resisted.
