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My wife Chris and I were recently lured to Turkiye on a bargain price escorted tour. We had no intention of going away in November. However, the exotic sounding places and the almost unbelievable price persuaded us to go for it. Everyone assumed we were aiming for a dose of winter sun, but we actually packed our woollies and rainproofs as we were heading for mountains and a potentially cold, high plateau. The first day was spent on an over commercialised coastal strip near Antalya, and I was pretty disappointed. However I hoped that things would look up once we left the coast behind and travelled through the scenic Taurus Mountains and on to the geological and historical wonders of Cappadocia on the Anatolian plateau beyond. Unfortunately, during the night before we were due to set off, there was a tremendous thunder storm with torrential rain. I feared that our trip would be called off because of floods, landslides or worse. My sleep was fitful as I witnessed the eerie Muslim call to prayer at 6am and then the dawn.

Yet, when we went to breakfast, everything and everybody seemed normal. There was no gloom and doom talk of cancellation. The trip to the interior was still on. Obviously the Turkish road network and infrastructure was more robust than I had feared. We packed our cases and set off at the ungodly hour of 7.30am. You don’t get much rest on an escorted tour! As soon as the coach slid into the traffic quite a few of our 40 strong group fell asleep. Abdullah, the guide, decided to save his talk on the Turkish education and health systems until later.

Those of us still awake endured another tedious dose of Antalya’s traffic congestion. Finally, the traffic thinned and we started to climb into the foothills of the mountains. The Taurus Mountains form the impressive backdrop to many a holiday shot of the Antalya coast. Now we were actually going to travel through them! We started to see some spectacular, jagged rock formations and then distant peaks, as we slowly climbed. The weather at first was fine and calm but then the rain returned. Before we knew it, we were in the middle of another thunder storm!

Then, about an hour out of the city, we pulled over to the side of the road and stopped. After an urgent conflab with the driver ( Ahmed), Abdullah solemnly announced that we had broken down. There was a crack in a radiator pipe, the water was draining away, and we were overheating. They phoned the office and organised a replacement coach to come and rescue us but it would take at least an hour. We were stuck near the start of a very long journey of 330 miles. It was our lowest point.

Luckily the storm soon passed and the rain stopped. Most people got out for a leg stretch and breath of air. Being mostly British, the Dunkirk spirit quickly set in. As Turkiye had been neutral in the Second World War, I had to explain to Abdullah what the Dunkirk spirit was. Everyone started to talk, laugh and joke. We were determined to make the best of the situation. One lady trecked a 100 metres down the mountain road and had a wee on a bank behind a tree, guarded by her husband. Needless to say the coach for our “bargain” holiday didn’t have a toilet. She came back with her shoes caked in mud.

A police car arrived and put on its flashing lights to warn traffic of our predicament. Everyone helped to unload the broken down coach. The barriers between us had melted away and we now all worked together as a team. At last the replacement coach arrived. We loaded up, boarded and were off. For 2 seconds we lurched forward and then we stalled! It wasn’t Ahmed’s normal coach! But we soon got cracking, driving through a fairly narrow pass between the peaks. At the summit we entered a very long tunnel through the mountain in front of us. It had only been open a few months. Apparently, the tunnel miraculously shrunk a meandering journey of 1 hour to a mere 5 minutes. Before we knew it we were on the other side and descending. After a quick comfort stop at a services that looked like a large yurt, we drove through more fantastic mountain scenery complimented by colourful autumn trees. We went past a huge lake that looked like the sea. Abdullah told us it was the 3rd biggest in the whole of Turkiye. We then had a lunch stop on the outskirts of Konya, a large city. It wasn’t exactly idyllic. We had a view of a busy ring road and an industrial estate. Our trip into the old centre of Konya was postponed until the return journey in order to make up for lost time. We drove on across a flat featureless plateau, north-east towards Cappadocia.

The highlights were a huge sugar beet factory and a prison! I also spotted a small herd of cows looked after by a bored looking cowherd and a flock of sheep, tended by a big dog and a teenage boy. The sheep had a donkey quietly grazing in the middle of them. That’s something you would never see in the English Lakes or Dales. It was a long day and a long drive. I was beginning to think it was another mostly wasted 24 hours.

Then, completely unexpectedly, one of my personal highlights of the whole trip suddenly appeared in front of us. I thought it was just another toilet stop, but then I found we were walking round the walls of a large, fortress-like, 13th century Caravanserai or desert inn. Without warning, we had been plunged into the medieval world of the legendary Silk Road when constant lines ( or caravans) of camels plodded patiently from China to eastern Europe, their precious cargoes balanced on their humps. Loaded camels could only comfortably travel about 20 miles a day, so every 20 miles, the Seljuk Turks built a rest station or caravanserai. This was much more exotic and fascinating than the caravan parks I had experienced in Britain. We were visiting Sultan Han, the largest surviving caravanserai in Turkiye. It is in the town of Sultanhani. Opposite, across a square, was a large silver coloured mosque with a dome and 2 minarets. Surveying the scene around me, I realised I was now a very long way from home. I felt the hairs coming up on the back of my neck. At one point Sultan Han had been dropping to bits and in danger of being demolished. However, then, thank goodness, the Turks realised its historical value and had it fully restored and opened up as a museum. I’m not sure whether this was because Turkiye suddenly came to appreciate its rich heritage or whether it spotted the opportunity to earn lots of money from tourists. Maybe it was a bit of both reasons. Anyway, from my point of view, as a history buff, Sultan Han was (is) absolutely wonderful!

It was built in 1229 AD because it was bang on the trade route from/to Persia. We entered through a 13 metre high marble gate, with a pointed arch. It is decorated with corbels and geometric patterns in the stone. Very fancy it is. All cameras were out at this point. We walked into a large courtyard, lined with arcades on both sides. These contained the stables and accommodation for the merchants and their animals. In summer, the camels usually slept outside. All food, fodder and lodgings was free, paid for by religious endowments. The Seljuk Turks prided themselves on their hospitality, a tradition that still continues in much of Turkiye today. The lodging rooms are now being restored. As well as sleeping quarters upstairs we saw: kitchens, lounges, a library, quarters for a harem ( for wives, concubines and female servants), a posh room for the Sultan just in case he dropped in and even a perfume room — to “soothe the soul.” In the middle of the courtyard is a small mosque or prayer room which has 2 floors. It’s called a Mescit or kiosk, and is the oldest in Turkiye. The caravanserai also had a refectory and a hamam ( steam bath.) ( By the way, “kiosk” is one of only 2 Turkish words to be adopted into English. The other is “yoghurt.”)

After the guide’s introductory talk we were let loose to explore. It was fascinating. We ducked into the various restored rooms, some of which still had craftsmen working on them. Then we walked through a second ornate, stone gateway into the winter quarters, another courtyard but this time covered with a roof. It has a vaulted ceiling, and lines of stone pillars separated by pointed arches. In the centre is a dome-capped tower. It was like walking into a medieval cathedral. To cap it all, the pillars supported a fantastic display of colourful 18th and 19th century Turkish rugs and carpets. And there was hardly anyone there! What an experience it was.

All too soon we had to move on. Chris and I had been so consumed by it all that we didn’t even have time to grab a cup of coffee. We re-boarded the coach and carried on our seemingly endless journey into Cappadocia. Darkness fell but we ploughed on regardless until finally we turned off the main road and there was our hotel, a grand, palace- like structure with floodlit statues of an angel and a unicorn standing in front of it. You couldn’t make it up.

That night we had a splendid mezze style dinner at the hotel and settled into our rooms which had rounded ceilings and fancy stone niches. It was like sleeping in a compact, ornate cave. Perhaps that was appropriate in this famous land of rock houses and churches and fantastical geological formations. All that was before us, but for now it was time to reflect on an epic day of emotional ups and downs and some indelible memories. At last we drifted off into sleep, dreaming of the wonders of Cappadocia still to come.( we hoped.)