It Won’t Go: On Breaking Up After a Climbing Trip

I’d never wanted a vacation to be over before it started.

Maybe it was because I knew we’d be over when the trip ended. Maybe I was trying to delay the inevitable.

But we were 10 months in and things still weren’t working. 

We tried of course, but when it came down to it, you kept holding back. Something didn’t feel right, you said.

We decided it was time to move on. But not before some fun.

A two-week climbing trip in Turkey awaited. A nice way to end things after the shit that was Kraków. Let’s go out on an upswing, we thought.

Photo by the author

I knocked on your door in Budapest. 

We hadn’t seen each other since that fateful weekend. We were filled with trepidation.

I entered. You gave me a look. I threw myself into your arms. 

We moved to the bedroom and eliminated the distance between us. We fucked then held each other. Hours passed. Sometimes it was so easy.

They were good days. Then we left for Geyikbayiri.

Maybe this will work.

Budapest went well, maybe this will work. Maybe.

I repeated those words to myself like a prayer. I had a bad feeling but tried to be hopeful. My stomach began to knot up at Atatürk airport, not a good sign. 

We caught a flight to Antalya, then took a shuttle to our hostel. I’d tip the driver too much.

Photo by S

It was dark when we arrived. 

The air smelled sweet. Oranges and pomegranates wafted ripe around us. 

There was something else too, the citrus masked a pungent aroma. I breathed a sort of goat, orange, mountain air mélange. It reminded me of the farm. A memory of mixed associations: The smell of verdant life and an imminent season of change; Of the infinite cycle and of confinement. 

The bungalows where we’d stay were coupled off with fruit trees in little vistas of privacy. They were small cottages like gingerbread homes with a Turkish twist. Inside, an Ottoman gourd diffused light through shimmering gems of red, orange, and green. The lamp was too weak to read by.

That night we settled around the fireplace to shoot the shit with our new camp mates. She’d sync in with the rhythm of the place more easily than I would.

She was so god damned cool with everything. 

It was the lightest I’d ever seen her, just carefree and enjoying herself.

I wasn’t able to match the buoyancy.

Why? I didn’t quite understand.

How could she be so at ease when nothing (and everything) was on the line?, I questioned myself. I questioned her.

Photo by the author
Photo by S

We’d talk again about our thoughts on love — how we love.

She’d say, I’d rather give and receive love when it’s there. 

I admitted it sounds good in theory.

I’m not sure why it is like this for me, though. I do find the clarity of knowing things will end to be a relief. It makes it easier. 

Not that I’m happy about things ending, but it helps to have resolution.

I do wonder if I’m the one with the weird strategy, she offered.

She’d told me before that she always feels the emotional pains of a breakup months later. I wondered about the mechanics of regret and grieving.

Photo by the author

The trip would be a tug-of-war with myself.

I was frustrated as hell and felt uncomfortable with us. What we were. It was hard for me to love so freely knowing it was over. It felt pointless at times.

I wondered why I put myself in this mess.

Days passed. It wasn’t working. I needed to get away.

Away from the room, away from the camp, away from her.

We talked and I said I wanted to go for a hike the next day, to get some space to think. She misheard me and thought I was asking her to join.

The next morning, I left two hours before sunrise. Mostly, I stumbled around in the dark. My headlamp was too dim in the blackness, it made me near-sighted. I kept going off-route. 

Come on sun, rise and take me with you. I want to go fast. I want to go far. I want to explode.

In time the sun came. It shone out onto the kingdom in long streaks of color and flare. My feeble eyes tilted towards the sky. I could see a path forward. I ran.

I needed to feel the freedom of movement. 

Photo by the author
Photo by the author
Photo by S

We settled into an up-and-down rhythm.

We had a cadence of a few good days then a fight. I was mainly the instigator. She was always the more understanding one.

On one day the Slovakians went into town for a rest and to re-stock on cigarettes. Only the ear, nose, and throat doctor stayed behind.

We invited her to join us climbing, which made four. We paired off and I chose to climb with Doc. I wanted a day away from her. I felt tight and distracted. Not good for belaying.

I’d lead my hardest climbs to date.



On another day we’d hitchhike to town to buy food. We’d end up with bottles of wine from the driver’s private vineyard and Toblerone. S has her unique social charms, and conversational German. 

It was my first hitchhiking experience. We’d toast to our fortune later on.



On another day I’d surprise her by dressing up the bungalow with birthday decorations. I got her some small things and we enjoyed the morning sipping coffee and talking on the porch. I decided not to make a cake.



Yet another day I’d be cold and distant.

We’d talk through our frustrations and challenges which ironically brought us closer. When we were relaxed we found harmony in continuous laughter. At points we’d feel the closest we ever felt.

It was emotionally taxing.

Photo by the author

The days marched on.

Nearing the end we looked back and wondered where the time went.

I had been agonizing, which had made the days feel slow. Now our time was fleeting and it felt like everything was slipping through my hands.

We left camp and drove down the Turkish coast along the Mediterranean Sea, taking the D400 from Antalya to Çıralı. Three days left, just the two of us.

We each chose one activity: She wanted to go hiking, I wanted to see ruins, and we both wanted to climb.

Photo by S

We walked among the dead.

The mausoleum had fallen into the sea. The foundation was washing away and the walls now spilled into the sand. The cacophonous chambers were aired and quietly filling with empty water bottles.

I seek the ancient world because it reminds me that it was once the present. We will all topple some day.

Phaselis was a prosperous port city that passed hands from Greek to Roman to Persian and on and on, before eventually falling out of favor for larger ports nearby. The slow decline lasted until the 11th century when it stopped being of any importance. Quite a good run, though.

That night she’d tell me, When we were in the car, you were talking with Nico about something — I was only half-paying attention — I was looking at you in the sideview mirror and just felt this overwhelming sense rise up; This swell of love for you filled me.

We did love each other after all.

I pulled her close, held her. What am I supposed to do with that?, I thought.

Quite a good run, though.

Photo by the author

December first. Our last night.

We jumped into the Mediterranean naked.

We’d swam in the ocean — in December — and were all giggles and shivers over it.

Over it. That’s what we were. Tomorrow we’d both fly out from Antalya. You’d leave half an hour before me. We had separate flights because I had bought my ticket later. Because I wasn’t sure if I’d want to jet before the trip was done.

It had been hard. But I was glad I stayed.

A small part of me hoped that I’d run into you on the layover in Istanbul. That wouldn’t happen.

The ocean waves bristled with electricity, the shock absorbed us. We swam with the current then broke the circuit. The lights dimmed.

Photo by the author

We left on good terms.

We had a joke that these were the best breakups we’d ever had. Or maybe it was only me that said that.

Parting at the airport was confusing, difficult. We both admitted we felt closer, more open, more honest. We agreed not to talk for awhile.

Back home she’d show pictures of the trip to her grandmother.

I popped up on the screen here and there. She asked who I was. She said something about a complicated relationship.

Her grandmother said a few words and they both moved on. She told me she really liked her grandmother because she didn’t judge.

In Istanbul I was going through some old emails.

I can trace our time together in the flight details in my inbox. We covered a lot of miles.

In the end, no matter how far we went, we couldn’t bridge that final distance.

Photo by S

Climbing Hostel Review: The Flying Goat Camp & Hostel (Geyikbayırı, Turkey)

The Flying Goat Camp & Hostel is the new kid on the block in Geyikbayiri. They are distinct in the area for their smaller size and communal vibe.

Heading into their second year of operation, owner Fleur Derks wanted to emphasize a hostel aesthetic. The space features a community kitchen (the first camp to do so), they organize family dinners and movie night, and encourage communing in common spaces, like the upstairs “living room” that has a fireplace along with various boardgames.

I had chosen this camp because it looked relaxed, friendly, and picturesque. It lived up to expectations.

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Photo by friend of the author

The Vibe:

We arrived at night and quickly felt at home.

The place smelled sweet, citrus and pomegranates wafted in the air. A gentle breeze rolled through. The silhouette of mountains called forth the adventure to come.

We walked through the front gate, met Fleur and Mümin (5x Turkish national climbing champ), and were handed beers. After a tour we made the rounds of introductions. Everyone from the staff to the guests were friendly and welcoming.

As far as the people, there were climbers ranging from beginner to pro, professional guides to computer scientists, and if you were going solo, it was easy to find a partner or a group to tag along with.

For our stay, we rented a two-person bungalow, one of eight or so that are lain between fruit trees like gingerbread houses with a Turkish twist.

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Photo by the author

ottoman pumpkin lamp
Photo source: Flying Goat

turkish tyling at flying goat
Photo source: Flying Goat

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Photo by friend of the author

Small details stood out, like the Ottoman pumpkin lights in the cottages, traditional Turkish tiling in the showers, and ample coffee-making accoutrement (very important). After a long day of travel, we settled in for the night.

The next day, early morning light pierced through the window. We awoke to the picture-framed Geyik Sivrisi, a 1715m bald peak that shimmered in the rising sun. We took our time sitting on the deck of our bungalow sipping Turkish coffee and gawking at the surroundings. We couldn’t wait to get climbing.

sarkit sector over flying goat
Photo source: Flying Goat

The Climbing:

Geyikbayırı has over 1,300 routes ranging from 5a to 8c+. We excitedly reviewed the guide book for different sectors we wanted to climb. We started by walking across the street.

The Sarkit sector hovers over the camp and looks on with gaping caves and classic Mediterranean limestone tufas. It’s just 5 minutes from the hostel.

All the other sectors are within a 30 minute walk. Given the breadth of climbing and terrain, you can find crags to climb in the shade at all times of the day and even in the rain.

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Photo by friend of the author

Accommodation Details:

  • 8 bungalows (for 1-4 people each). Find pricing here
  • 9-person dorm
  • 2 tents for camping (if you need to rent) + camp space (if you have your own)
  • 4 toilets
  • 3 shower stalls (with plenty of hot water)
  • Big “deluxe” common kitchen with plenty of fridge space, dry good storage, pots, pans, utensils (etc.), and stovetop burners
  • 1 soon-to-be sauna
  • Laundry service
  • Bread delivery daily (which we took full advantage of)
  • Guidebooks available
  • And free çay (pronounced “chai”, aka tea)!

main building flying goat
Photo source: Flying Goat

flying goat dorm
Photo source: Flying Goat

Supplies:

You’ll want to stock up on food as Flying Goat does not have a restaurant on site.

You could eat out each day if really you wanted, there are restaurants in the area, including up the hill in Geyikbayırı and at other camps such as JoSiTo. But then you’d miss out on half the fun of staying there. So don’t do that.

Akdamlar is the closest town and features a daily market, a larger Sunday market, and grocery stores. Geyikbayırı only has smaller bodegas.

Your best bet is to pick up groceries on your way to camp (if you catch a shuttle from the airport, for example) or to hitchhike down to town.

How to Get There:

Antalya Airport is a 45 minute drive (38 km) to the camp (& hostel). You can find the location on Google Maps here.

Three transportation options:

  1. Shuttle pick-up at the airport: Flying Goat can organize a pick-up for € 40 (for up to 4 passengers, then € 10 for each additional person ). We did this, it was simple and easy.
  2. Public Transport (from Flying Goat’s website): “Getting to Geyikbayiri by bus takes around 2 to 3 hours and the fare is around € 5,-. Take any bus from the airport to the central bus station and from there take bus 516 or 521 to Geyikbayiri. Or check the app MOOVIT for alternative routes. Missed the last bus? Catch a cab or hitchhike the last kilometers up hill.”
  3. Rent a car at Antalya Airport. It’s quite cheap: We rented a Renault Clio for our last four days of the trip (to visit Olympos and Çıralı), which cost ~ € 50.

Conclusion:

If you find yourself climbing in Geyikbayırı (you should) and you’re looking for a social place to stay, go to Flying Goat.


Will you be climbing in Istanbul? Be sure to visit Ballikayalar, the best outdoor climbing near the city, or Boulder Istanbul, my favorite bouldering gym on the Asian side.