Day 14

Day 14 Tuesday 27th November    Platanissos (Balalan) to Trail near Ayia Trias

Spoiler alert  - there is a lot to say about today!

It would be a dis-service to our time as a guest of Komi Kepir not to say something about this surprising village. A thriving community of about 750 people prior to 1974, Komi Kepir was about two-thirds/ one-third Greek/ Turkish Cypriots. It lies between the Karpass range and the coast, but much nearer to the former. Although my family were from nearby villages, I never visited Komi Kepir before 1974, although its name was familiar.

In the aftermath of the island’s partition I assumed that Komi Kepir had gone the way of many of the villages in the Karpass peninsula – semi-deserted; in partial decay; little if any new building other than maybe a mosque; relying on a few crops and goats to survive. After all, this village was too far from Famagusta or the coastline to attract any tourist interest surely.

Asut’s guest house had been a pleasant early sign that this village is different. The tourist buses that arrive in the village centre daily are also another indication that Komi Kepir is alive and well. They come to sample local arts and crafts and try out local agro-products and sweets. The Ceme Alti restaurant, where the delightful Tanem played for us, doubled up by day as a street market selling locally made trinkets and food products.

So before we set off for the next leg of our trek I decide to rise at sunrise and sample village life. I see more than I expected – community parks; EU sponsored conservation projects; an ‘olive grove for peace’ park; a number of churches (in a variety of conditions); bus parks; and, thanks to my friend, a spanking community building. Contrary to the sleepy stereotype of much of the panhandle, life is evident even this early in the morning, and not just the ubiquitous 4 legged variety that roam at their leisure. Men and women on scooters are already buzzing to and from somewhere, while schoolchildren gather by the bus stop waiting for the school bus. There are also the routine signs that the new prosperity of Komi Kepir has not reached all corners of the village and its inhabitants. Another gorgeous sunrise bathes these scenes in warm early light and I feast my camera on the arena'.

Back at Asut’s guest house a commotion has broken out and Len is the cause. Somehow Len has locked himself out of his room and men from the observation post across the road have gathered debating how to get back in. The lock seems to be broken and resisting the best efforts of the growing number of men gathering round, gesticulating with their arms and bodies their preferred solution for breaking its stubborn resistance. Finally, after all attempts to regain entry are repelled, there is nothing for it but for the owner to order a direct assault. A window is smashed and a small boy pushed through to attack the enemy from the rear – a military tactic that, if executed well and with a bit of luck, rarely fails. VICTORY – the door succumbs to the pincer movement and Len is finally able to rescue his luggage held hostage inside.  He is particularly happy to be re-united with his tea pot and kettle.

We are changing base again and so, following this morning’s drama, we sheepishly say farewell to our hosts of the last 3 nights. Showing that they bear no grudges for the damage inflicted on their property, they provides us with sandwiches and fruit and cake for our day’s journey.

All of these distractions mean that we arrive at Balalan later than planned, setting out at 10am following our first-step routine. Immediately we cross the road I cycled down 5 years earlier and reunite with the Besparmak on the other side. We climb up a little and get a better view of the cami’s towering minaret rising imposingly above Balalan. The perfect weather provides a perfect backdrop.

We are back on high ground in the shrubs and vegetation where Tugberk is at home. The botanical lessons continue and Nick in particular is inquisitive. He is so hungry to learn that I wonder if he is searching out herbal remedies with which to experiment on his patients back home. Fatigue lies just below the surface but suppressed by the matchless weather, the distractions of classes and conversation, and the general serenity of the Karpass peninsula.

Our trusted friend the Besparmak takes us into the small hamlet of Koilanemos (Esenkoy) with little in the way of attributes to halt the erosion of time on life and infrastructure. From here we head towards the larger village of Ayios Andronikos (Yesilkoy)  which lies on the main road artery that takes you from Famagusta to Rizokarpasso (Dipkarpaz), the last and furthest village on the island.

We enter Ayios Andronikos through fields and then a few outlying buildings before hitting the main road. The Besparmak crosses the main road and continues, but we decide to take a short diversion into the village for refreshments and see a couple of local sites.

The first of these are the remains of Ayia Fotini church which is set back a little from the road. I first visited this church a few years ago on a tour to introduce the north to two English friends, Peter and Jayne. Back then it was an abandoned church in decline but not bad enough to stop us wandering through the single room, barrel vaulted structure to explore its decay from the inside. What we saw was tragic – the only structure to remain was a now rotten iconostasis, obviously without the icons it once housed. There was evidence that it had been used as a stable for farm animals. I remember that this walk-through left its mark on all of us so I wanted to return to see how it was holding up.

Not so good it would appear. The church was now in such bad condition that entry was barred and the bell tower so badly cracked in places  that it is in serious danger of collapse. Pigeons and vegetation now owned the church and they were enemies of its upkeep.

This church does not have the heritage of so many others in the north. It is young, built in the early 20th century and made of simple stone and plaster. Its downfall would not normally be a matter of concern if it were not for the circumstances which led to its demise. Its significance to the Greek community that once lived here and built it was that it marked the spot of something of more consequence – the chapel and grave of Ayia Fotini, the miraculous healer of the Karpass.

Ayia Fotou, or Fotini, lived an aesthetic life. Her grave and her relics were found in the 15th century below which a well of holy water was discovered that, during the summer, had therapeutic qualities it seems, especially for the eyes.

Maybe for this reason the grave of the saint is better preserved just a few feet away from the crumbling church dedicated to her. It can be accessed by some stone steps that lead below ground to a small cave network. A devout woman, when she reached marriageable age she left her home in Rizokarpasso to live and die in this cave network. Once discovered it was forgotten and lost again for 3 centuries until rediscovered, with her relics left intact. So as not to lose the grave again, the adjacent church was built and liturgies held in the tomb until partition. Today there are icons and candles and other religious paraphernalia in the tomb below which we explore. Greek former residents of Ayios Andronicos say that water has not been seen in the well since partition.

Next to the tomb and church stands a large scale statue of Ataturk on a horse that is rising high up on its hind-legs. Unlike its Christian neighbours it is in pristine condition. Opposite this we rest at a busy restaurant and enjoy a coffee and a snack while reflecting on the trilogy of exhibits across the road.

We return to the Besparmak and leave the main road to go on its way to the tip of the island. We are back in remote pastures once again. It is quiet with only the odd farm building or stable on our way. However, we are not alone. Coming towards us is a large herd of sheep, grazing while they walk. They are heading towards some mandra somewhere and there must be a shepherd close by. In the south shepherds and goat herds can be men of all ages and, now, nationalities. Here we see a variation on this theme. Behind the sheep 2 women approach us guiding their flock home. The scene was straight out of Anatolia from where many of the residents of the Karpass villages hail from, arriving post the partition.

The peninsula is so narrow now that we can see one or other of the coastlines very clearly and very nearby – we are getting there! Finally we come to a cross roads in the dirt track. Here Tugberk has arranged to have us picked up and taken to our next and last base, so at 15:15pm our walking for the day comes to an end.

It is so remote out here that our new base is not a modern guest house in a large village. Instead we arrive at a large farmhouse which has been converted into an agritourist  establishment called the Elaousa hotel and restaurant. It is basic and functional. It is also a long way from any village so this is where we will eat and sleep for our final days in the Karpass.

It has a real working agritourist feel to it. Inside its restaurant which serves as a kitchen and sitting room we find several ladies sitting around the large open log fire going about various duties. We are jealous as the evenings are cold and that fire looks especially inviting.

It is called the Eleousa Hotel because in its grounds are the remains of the Panayia Eleousa (our lady showing mercy) monastery and church - the lives of Turk and Greek in the north are inescapably intertwined despite the absence of Greek residents.  The monastery dates to the 15th century. The church still stands but little else does. You can enter the church but it is a disappointment inside – its 400 year old frescoes covered in whitewash.

However, tonight it offers a different treat. At the end of a glorious day comes a spectacular sunset behind the church and monastery. My day started with a photographic feast and it ends with quite a different one.

Day 14 stats: Distance 11.9  miles (19.2 Km), total miles 181.3  (291.9 Km)