Day 12

Day 12 Sunday 25th November     Abandoned Mine to Kantara Castle

After a good sleep, having dried out all our gear and with the sun once again in command of the skies, we look forward to the day and hopefully some great views on the way.

Our walk starts at 8:50am. We take what is our customary daily first step photo to mark the start of the walk – one leg extended as if taking a step, marking the number of days with our hands and fingers.

We start our walk by admiring the view from the ruins of the abandoned mine. The early morning sunlight gives a warm feeling to the landscape and to our spirits.  The path up the hill is broad and firm, and as we climb we can look back and see the long Karpass ridge roll its way back like a multi-humped sea serpent. With pride we admire this view knowing that we have vanquished it despite malevolent gods throwing thunderbolts at us.

The track winds and bends as it rises. Around one bend, below us in the brush we come across the first of many gunmen that we share the Besparmak with that day. It is a Sunday in November and the draw of kini is something which crosses the religious divide between the two communities on the island - it is too easy to ignore the cultural similarities. He is alone, watching his dogs sniffing out game lower down the slopes.

Further up we pass another religious ruin hiding in the woods  below us – this has become such a common scene that we spend no time educating ourselves.

At the end of the climb the path levels out once again but remains broad and firm. As it passes through a section of woods  we come across a large hunting party with their guns walking on our path. Most have their guns cocked as per best practice, but a couple do not. These stop to chat with Tugberk and I fidget about, keeping out of the direct fire line of the shotguns. Around us lies the detritus of their morning shoot – gun shells and general rubbish. I wander how our environmental guerrilla of a guide feels about this incendiary behaviour. Over the days of  our walk on the Karpass range, Tugberk stops often and asks us to gather around him as he points out a particular botanical curiosity in the flora, plants and trees. He fields any questions we have; he is truly an authority on this subject.

Unusually Tugberk is slowing down and falling behind. He has an inflamed joint in his little toe and this is now very painful. He stops to cut a hole in his boot to relieve the pain. Nick’s medical knowledge is now called on and he offers expert advice on how to deal with blisters – and there I was thinking that you just threw on fresh blister plasters each morning and walked through the pain.

Despite Nick’s medical attentions Tugberk eventually concedes defeat and says that he cannot proceed any further. It seems that although Tugberk is a walking guide, his normal tours of duty involve less demanding daily itineraries and include many stops where he passes on his botanical knowledge to his guests. He has not experienced the kind of prolonged quick marching that is our routine and his feet are vulnerable to any mis-fitting footwear.

He calls his friend to pick him up at a road we will pass a little further ahead. We express our sympathy and disappointment for him – I do not show him my family of blisters which have been my companions for over a week now.

We stop to rest and have a bite to eat at the pick-up point. The hunting party we saw earlier are there having their post-hunt banquet. As is traditional we are invited to join. Tugberk, on our behalf, kindly rejects the approaches.

Tugberk gives us instructions on the route to follow. It is pretty straightforward – follow the large and abundant Besparmak signage until you come to a crusader castle perched on a crag. Nathanial, father of the E4, could learn a lot from Tugberk, the architect of the Besparmak, about signage. The green and white B markers, resembling a kind of target, are loud and frequent and found on rocks and trees, so less vulnerable to vandals.

This is just a wonderful walk – we don’t want it to end. The Karpass is still high enough to get spectacular views left and right, in front and behind. The perfect weather just enhances this visual feast. Other than the Akamas nature reserve in the west, the Karpass panhandle is the remotest part of the island and we enjoy its natural beauty seemingly untouched by man, impervious to the demands of modernisation.

We turn onto a short strip of road and run straight into a cycle race, riders hurtling downhill. They round a corner at  maximum speed not expecting 3 mad moufflon ambling in the opposite direction. The survivors of Zeus’ thunderbolts are nonchalant in the face of death from mere 2 wheeled chariots.

By early afternoon we reach the third member of the Crusader trilogy – Kantara castle. Like its siblings it was founded during the Byzantine period of rule, although its architecture owes more to the island’s Frankish crusader occupants. Perched on their respective peaks, both Kantara and St. Hilarion – the king of the crusader castles on this archipelago – can be seen from Buffavento and so were used to pass signals to warn each other of pirate raids from the north. Unfortunately, while looking north, they were vulnerable to invaders from the south – a strategic oversight that both Richard the Lionheart and the Ottoman’s exploited.

St Hilarion is by far the most awesome of the three fortifications, but Kantara is the one that is most special for me. As a child and teenager, when spending long summers with my relatives in the Famagusta area, a family outing to Kantara was considered a highlight. We would overload cars with food, people, BBQs, blankets, fold up chairs and yiayia and bapou and set out for the cooler mountain air. Under the castle we would unpack in woods and spend the day cooking, eating, drinking, sleeping, playing games, exploring, singing and laughing. The men would engage in heated and deep debate on all matters of the day just as if they were in the kaffeneion. The cars were old and slow and we would sing songs in the car to pass the time there and back. Magical times – and not once did I set inside the castle ruins.

Today there are picnickers scattered in the woods – families with members of all ages enjoying a day out. They say that time has stood still in the Karpass since 1974 – I could see myself as a young boy once again in these groups  of families.

Here ends our day’s walk at 14:15pm. Tugberk arrives to pick us up, his foot the better for some treatment and better fitting footwear. We mark the end of our walk in our traditional manner – embraced, with both feet on the ground to signify no more steps today, making out the number of days we have completed so far with our fingers and hands.

I am genuinely disappointed that we have ended here – this has been a deeply satisfying day. We have been spoilt by the weather, the terrain and the spectacle. I feel profoundly at ease and contented.

Back at Komi Kepir we enjoy another dinner at Tanem’s home but she is not there to serve and entertain us – her mother explains that she has homework that evening.

Day 12 stats: Distance 14.2 miles (22.9 Km), total miles 155.2  (249.8 Km)