2010.07.15-19 #6 TURKEY: FAR EAST (Mt Ararat)

#6 TURKEY
2010.07.15 - 19


The FAR-EAST: Near Armenia / Iran
[Dogubayazit (Mt Ararat)]


We left Van by dolmus (as usual). 

But what tickled us, is that part of the "baggage" was a pile of flat breads/pide obviously destined for somewhere en route!

The route to DOGUBAYAZIT took us along the south-westerly shores of Lake Van. This was one of our last views of the vast inland body of water.

Here we took the lefthand road - further East to Dogubayazit.

This man stood next to the road and simply waved  down the bus - the bus service is invaluable for people in the rural areas.

We travelled through many villages - some so small that they did not even appear on the map.

And through more beautiful countryside.

Here too, the army was present. Our bus driver patiently waits for his turn to show the necessary documents.

The mountains we crossed at ths point had a beautiful combination of black basalt rocks in weird formations, laced with bright yellow flowers.

Around one of the many turns in the road, a wonderful sight loomed in the distance - MOUNT ARARAT! 

To see it, you need to look in the middle of the picture, just above the horison of the lower mountains.

We were stopped again!

Dogubayazit is a small but busy town - Mt Ararat brings a lot of business. And even here, in the Far East, Internet cafes abound.

Dogubayazit's city centre.

The view from our room at Hotel Tahran - Mount Ararat above the developing skyline of Dogubayazit. 

Can you see the Black Swift frozen in flight? They are everpresent throughout all of Turkey.

We met up with Burhan Cevarun from Noah's Ark to discuss trekking on Mount Ararat. His arrangement were acceptable to us, so our tour started straight-away.

Burhan took us to visit ISAK PASHA PALACE (17th century).

As we've explained before, photos cannot do justice to the magnitude of such a palace. Here are some impressions. 

The entrance gate.

The second courtyard which houses a small mausoleum (left bottom of picture).

The view from one of the ancient toilets.

The toilet - the palace had running water which took away waste.

One of the lounges. The view is breathtaking and the fireplace must have been very welcome in the cold winters.

The entrance to the dining room.

The whole palace has been put under a type of canopy to preserve it for future generations.

But the dome still proudly holds its own (with the help of the grass growing on it).

The interior of the dome in the palace mosque.

The view from the terrace of the palace. Just look at the wooden beams which support the terrace.

Nearby, another mosque is visible as well as the old castle walls - can you see the brickwork agains the mountain side?

We drove further up the mountain side and looked down at Isak Pasha Palace - truly a fairy tale palace! Money to build it probably collected for "protection" of traders on the Silk Route.

On our way down we saw another mobile bee farm.

That evening we had supper with Burhan at a restaurant just off the promenade where the men congregate and drink tea. Mrad loves drinking tea too!

This research documented where Noah's Ark could have landed. 


Would we be the ones to discover Noah's Ark? Definitely NOT! We would just focus on our  climb.

At 8am the following morning we were ready to tackle MOUNT ARARAT. Greater Ararat!

The road to 2000m on Mount Ararat's side.

10am: Our reception committee and transport for our rucksacks and the provisions which Burhan took along for our trip.

We were ready for the uplanned challenge of climbing Mount Ararat.

11am: We had delicious Iranian tea at one of those tents down below.

Along the way, many children offered us handcrafts to buy.

Mrad filled our water bottle from a stream of melted snow.

Friendliness is a Turkish hallmark and even more so with the proud Kurdish peoples.

1pm: We arrived a Burhan's family summer tent at 3000m. We had managed to climb 200m/hour!

The black tent in which we lived next to the white tent in which the family lives during the summer months when they let their sheep graze on the sides of Mt Ararat.

We were welcomed with a glass of refreshing Turkish tea.

And we met Burhan's mother (Fatma) and his sisters: (fltr) Sahman (13), Esmer (15) and Ece (10). Fatma (58) had 10 children - nine survived (Burhan and 8 sisters).

His mother gave a a good lunch and let us rest. Table  is set on the higher level / a platform raised 10cm above the floor of the tent. This is also the surface on which we slept.

Fatma then proceeded to milk 120 sheep (as she does each day). 

How is the milking done?

The shepherd holds two sheep. Each woman puts her head against the sheep's but and milks the ewe.

Here Fatma lets a ram go through the pen. Can't milk him!

All the sheep have a fat tail/skirt which wobbles from side to side as they walk.

A view from above down to the family's black tent (in which the live, cook and eat) and the white tent in which they sleep.

Supper was cooked on this stove. 

After milking, the milk is strained, mixed with an enzyme which speeds up the cheese-making process by curdling the milk and then put into a fine muslin-type of bag to drain out the whey.

A few hours later, the solid cheese is removed from the net, cut into blocks, salted and stored in the blue drum for use in the future winter months.

Mount Ararat - the view from our resting place in the black tent.

A rare view of Mt Ararat / Greater Ararat without its typical cloud-shroud.

Dinner was served on the plastisized cloth on the floor. Help yourself to some kavucin (boiled spicy  bits of mutton), rice, salad and pide. 


The girls and their mother serve, but they always eat separately once the men and guests have eaten.

We spent the night on the floor in the black tent (the table cloth is cleared away) snuggled under Fatma's warm sheep wool filled duvets.

We were up early the next morning. Isn't this the most beautiful "bathroom" you've ever seen?

Our horse is loaded up with supplies for High Camp (4200m).

This was the terrain we had to negotiate - fortunately there were rough footpaths to follow. Can you see Burhan lead the way (in the middle of the picture?)

We met a group of climbers coming down from the summit. They'd been at their High Camp for 5 days and had not even attempted to summit due to "bad" weather. Burhan was surprised as that morning's weather had been good!?!? Their guide confided to Burhan that the group seemed to prefer drinking coffee to climbing. Strange!

We climbed above another family's summer tents.

Our first patch of ice (in the mist behind us!)

A field of purple flowers.

Mrad and Burhan waiting for Inge (the slow coach). The gradient was very steep.

We reached more ice patches higher up the mountain side. They would take another two months to melt away - the water gurgled beneath them.

The mist was rolling in and we needed to put on some of the warm clothing Burhan had lent us.

Pack animals ferry supplies up and down daily. The foals walk along and use rest stops to refill their tummies.

This foal nearly was supper for a wolf a few nights ago. But the wound is healing well.

At 4000m the altitude caught up with Mrad's middle ear leaving him with a loss of balance.

A horse solved Mrad's problem.

The path lead us to right next to a glacier.

Yet in crevices some flowers persist in blooming.

We finally reach High Camp at 4100m. This is how steep the incline is just before High Camp.

This is the tent which we pitched for our nght before our onslaught on the summit.

Nearby the camp, the mountain still spews rocks in this red gorge! The rumble sounded like thunder in the distance. Amazing!

Inside this tent, Burhan cooked our supper (and slept).

The view down into the valley from which we climbed this morning. It "only" took us 6 hours to climb 1200m!  Amazing!

Burhan's other group were 15 Iranians. Some of them came to look at the route to the summit and chatted to us. It turned out that 7 of them were Christians!

We looked down at Lesser Ararat which is directly next to Greater Ararat. Lesser Ararat might be lower, but Burhan said that it was much more difficult to climb as it consisted of loose volcanic material.

Look at the incline - no wonder we needed to rest after the climb to this point!!

Soon after, supper was served. Hot, spicy kavucin - delicious!

We slept like logs. Exhausted by the 1200m climb. (Actually - Mrad's only pretending - he took the photo!!)

We knew Burhan was going to wake us up at 00:00. Breakfast was at 01:00 and directly after the meal we were going to tackle the summit. 


Unfortunately, Mrad's altitude sickness didn't allow him to attempt the summit. He was very dizzy, had serious loss of balance and had a splitting headache. 


My camera did not allow me to take any night climb photos. With my left hand, I hung onto Burhan's hand and in my right hand my stick was working overtime to help me keep my balance. Every step was up, up and up again. 


In front of me, one of the Iranians toppled over in the dark, but willing hands (including mine) prevented him from falling.

This is the point (4700m) where I decided that this was high enough for me.


I was feeling slightly dizzy. I did not like climbing a snow wall. And seeing the Iranians with pick axes, headlights, ropes, etc suddenly made me think: "What on earth am I doing here?" It was 5am. I had climbed for 3 and a half hours. It was much colder than I had anticipated and the mist rolled over the us. 


Enough. 


Burhan was terribly disappointed about my decision to descend. 

The Iranian group slowly egded its way past me, singing a rhythmic tune as they trudged past.

On our way down we again passed the Iranian flag probably planted by some Iranian climber in the past.

This is Burhan giving the thumbs up = pick ax up(!) sign in the midst of the enveloping mist.

On the way down, I could actually see the texture of the pathway which we had climbed in the dark up the side to the summit. No wonder my legs took such a hammering.

This was the angle down.

And this was was the path we followed.

Another photo of the angle of the climb. 

I was amazed at how difficult it was to stand up straight and take such photos.

A photo of the way behind us towards the summit of Mt Ararat.

On this photo (if you knew where to look) I could actually see our tent at High Camp any meters below us.

Loose rocks, loose screed. 
Our path.

Mrad took this photo of me and Burhan 200m from High Camp as we were coming down.

Here we are even closer to High Camp - we had descended 600m.

Finally! Back at High Camp. Inge's "victory" salute to her waiting hero! 

A warm welcome!

We arrived safely at High Camp at 07:35. I had another breakfast with Mrad, toppled into bed and slept until 10am. 


After tea, we struck camp and started the descent. For me the descent entailed a further 1100m down. This made it a total of 1700m steeply downhill.

Mrad's dizziness had eased up enough for him to walk down.

The Iranian's camp was deserted, except for the three men who also couldn't go on.

Lower down the slope, a profusion of flowers welcomed us again.

We rested in a meadow of flowers.

I needed many rests because my legs were aching and I was exhausted. This was more exercise than I was used to!

To encourage me(?), a butterfly took fancy to me and hitched a ride with me for 100m.

Were we really up that high?

Below us, Burhan's family's tents beconned us - see the black tent, the small white tent and the sheep's kraal?

A group of hopeful climbers pass us on their way up.

And the summit of Mt Ararat was crystal clear. 

I had ascended 600m, then another 1100m. A total of l700m - my legs ached!

A warm welcome awaits us - a sheep is slaughtered for "sish kebab". Fatma and Burhan cut up the lamb.

The fire was stoked (with twigs). A rounded (rusted?) metal is balanced on stones over the fire in preparation for the "braai".

It is doused with salt water just before the meat is draped over the hot metal.

The meal was completed with pide (flat bread from the bread box) and salad.

Fatma and the girls had their meal aside from us (but this time in full view of us!).

The sheep kraal's manure  is "harvested" for fuel. This happens each evening. Tomorrow the manure would be used to bake flat bread.

Fatma mixed the flour, salt and yeast for tomorrow morning's pide baking. The dough rises all night, secure in an enormous plastic bowl with a lid, warmly tucked into a blanket and covereed with old jerseys.


At five Fatma started to bake the pide - she used the same rounded metal but fired it with sheep manure. 

She rolled fist sized balls from the soft dough, flattened them by hand and rolled them out with a rolling pin to dinner plate size.

Again the hot metal is doused with salt water (no other cleaning from last night's braai!). Then the miraculous part of the process - she spun the dough +-vertically between her two hands and extends its size to +-35m diameter.

With the final rotation, the thin dough was flung onto the hot metal.

The soft thin dough landed securely on the hot baking surface.

She turned it to bake both sides.

Once it had been turned and lightly cooked on the second side, she turfed it onto a cloth lying on the floor to receive all the pide. It was amazing to watch!

Sahma packed the 44 thin pide and the 10 thicker breads which her mother had baked into the "bread bin" (also used to mix the dough!). The family would eat the bread in the coming few days.

We said "Fare well!" to this special family (and to Anser, Burhan's nephew) who had shared their daily life so generously with us.

And we said a final "Good-bye" to Agri Dagi (Mt Ararat).

Down the last 1000m. 

Mrad was feeling better, but my stomach was misbehaving very badly. Fatma gave me a brew from yellow flowers - ghastly (and it made no difference). Then she heated a stone to burning point and had me place it on my lower back/bottom - ouch! And yet the problem persisted. 

Frequent visits to the "bathroom" made me appreciate the surroundings, but I had to be escorted each time as the family dogs are dangerous (they're meant to keep wolves abay)!

The journey down gave us one last opportunity to enjoy the countryside.

Our lift waited for us at 2000m.

We bounced down the mountainside. It seemed like a 4x4 track to us, but the driver calmly wended his way over the obstacles down into the valley below.

In the valley, the summer harvesting of grass was in full swing. If you look carefully, you will see a small boy sitting between a man's legs on the lefthandside of the tractor - they start working at a young age!

Burhan introduced us to his father. Fltr: Burhan, Anser (Burhan's nephew), Burhan's father, Mrad

That afternoon, we left for a hot water spring at DIYADIN about 60km away from Dogubayazit. 

This is a typical view of Dogubayazit's streets from the car.

The hot water spring's road sign.

The hot water spring is located near a river in a beatiful setting.

This is where the hot water gushes out of the mountain from where it is channelled to various locations for use.

This is one of the private "swimming pools" - not much to look at from the outside! 

The woman leaving used the facility just before us.

Then it was our turn to use the private pool. (Skinny dipping??) The water was very hot - maximum submersion: 3 minutes!

The water flows in at the one side (behind me), and is channelled out at the other side. Very effective. 

After the relaxing hot water soak, we drove back to Dogubayazit - these men were also going home after a day's work harvesting wheat. See the scythes?

It had rained in one of the villages through which we drove. Imagine how slowly we drove!

Even here the army/police were present.

The mountains were particularly beautiful.

That evening, we watched the sun set on Mt Ararat from our hotel room. 


It still all seemed like a dream - but my aching legs, "bad" stomach and wonderful photographs  were proof that our Mt Ararat expedition was real.

The next morning, Harun walked us to the dolmus stop - right to the last he honoured his every commitment to us. 

Harun Cevarun is a trustworthy person and a good guide.

_____________________


Hierdie tog teen Berg Ararat op was 'n ongelooflike ervaring. Die klim het nie net die geskiedenis lewendig gemaak nie (dink net watter ervaring Noag moes gehad het toe hy met sy uitgekiesde diere en familie daar bo-op die berg gestrand het!), maar dit het ons ook 'n ervaring van die medemenslikheid van die Kurdiese mense gegee. 


Die Kurde word as terroriste in die nuus uitgebeeld, maar hulle is net mense wat hulle eie beskerm, wil behou en koester. Hulle het ons met soveel liefde en respek hanteer dat die woorde: "Jy moet jou naaste liefhe^ soos jouself" vir ons 'n dieper dimensie laat sien het.  


Mag Fatma, haar man, Burhan en sy 7 sussies 'n lang en gese"ende lewe lei. En mag Burhan se besigheid (waarop die gesin reken vir oorlewing) van krag tot krag gaan. Ons het werklik vir hulle diepe respek gekry.


En - natuuuurlik - is ons BAIE LIEF VIR JULLE. 


M&I