Today, from the moment that a bright red sun emerged from the blue sea, was obvious that a wonderful day was ahead. We were off the southern coast of Turkey; an area backed by mountains over ten thousand feet high. A hard land that had a hardy folk in antiquity and still carries the same name: Lycia. The first settlement was around 1400 B.C. by Cretans under Sarpedon, the youngest brother of legendary Minos; this is what Herodotus wrote. Also Homer referred to Lycians as allies to Trojans under another Sarpedon. They had their own language and used an alphabet of twenty-nine letters, nineteen of which were Greek. They always traced their ancestral line through their mothers and venerated their dead by placing them in rock-cut tombs with elaborate facades or in stone sarcophagi with lids like the hull of a boat. Their greatest period was the 2nd century B.C. and their fierce love of freedom helped them to preserve their own culture.
We anchored between the island of Kekova and the village of Kale Koy, ancient Simena. A most charming spot, with houses built on top of ancient walls, girls and elderly women selling scarves, a small theatre cut into the rock, sarcophagi among the few trees and the fortress above everything. Right across the channel the rocky slopes of the abandoned island stand above the dark waters. A highlight of the day was the tour of the sunken city on a glass-bottom boat. Kekova was destroyed by an earthquake in the 6th century A.D. although a good part of it is still visible. Looking at the ruined stone houses above and below the clear water, silent yet still there, one feels the magic of history.
