Bryan riding in style.
Some of our tractor bed buddies who got a kick out of me trying to take pictures of everything tractoring down the rocky road to town.
The woman on the left of the driver was the mother who so graciously let us into her home and rescued us from our misery. 
The view from the tractor of Karacaoren Lake So, after we put bake on our wet coats and boots, we followed the gesturing mother back down the road in - to see at the end two tractors, a motorcycle, and at least a dozen people. We climbed into the trailer behind one tractor (Turk Fiat!) with several older men of the village, who had looks on their faces like we were the funkiest thing they'd seen in a while. With great smiles, we set off down the muddy road in the luxury of the rumbling tractor with no idea where we were going or what was really going on. It was great! We crawled on slowly for a while until we came to what we figured was the rest of the village - where we stopped, and after several minutes of good hearted yelling back and forth, even more people piled into the bed behind the tractor - one woman settling herself onto one of our packs and grabbing onto the back of my jacket, cackling, smiling, and talking to me non-stop. I couldn't understand a word - which didn't seem to bother her or slow her down in the least.
We drove all 10 k down to the town this way, with a gorgeous view of the mountains and a lake the whole way until our driver finally pulled into town around noon. After being delivered in style, we asked if there was a bus that day to any of the nearby larger towns. He thought there was a bus to Isparta at 2, leaving from the fish house. So - not having any idea where the fish house was - we wandered off into the huge metropolis of Çandır (maybe pop. 3,000?).
We found the fish house a little way out of town. It turned out to be a fish farm, with a restaurant and things everywhere. We finally found someone to ask about the bus. He told us there was no bus that day, to anywhere, they all left early the next morning. Right then, however, a man came to the doorway behind us and said he was going to Egirdir, the smaller of the nearby large towns, and that he could take us. He said he was leaving "5... 6... 7... 8...." from the fish house.
Hannah sitting outside the fish farm restaurant on some magnificent pleather furniture.
We ended up sitting in the restaurant drinking tea and playing cribbage for the next 6 hours. At 7, the man (he turned out to be a restaurant owner in Egirdir, who just happened to be in town getting supplies for his restaurant with two open seats in his truck - sweet!) walked in and after packing the back of his truck with crates of fish and bags of cabbage - we set off. It was maybe the most uncomfortable hour long drive we'd ever had. He took the hairpin mountain road turns at maximum speed, wheels churning precariously close to where the dirt road dropped off into blackness.
Well chilled near the middle-end of our journey
At one point the tops off one of the crates of fish almost blew off. The first time we told him, he stopped his truck and fixed it, giving us a second to open the doors and escape for a moment the stifling Death-Valley-esque heat of the truck. The second time the lid just blew off and he didnt' bother to stop - so the open box of fish bounced all the rest of the way without a care. When we arrived at town, he dropped us off at the bus station where we picked the fish off our bags before hauling them out of the bed of the truck. Despite its uncomfort, however, we were still really grateful for the ride!
We walked straight into the bus office, and managed to get on a bus leaving for Istanbul in 20 minutes. After a bit of a mix up at the Isparta bus station, we managed to get back to Istanbul with all our bags almost exactly 24 hours after we began our trek bail out.
We drove all 10 k down to the town this way, with a gorgeous view of the mountains and a lake the whole way until our driver finally pulled into town around noon. After being delivered in style, we asked if there was a bus that day to any of the nearby larger towns. He thought there was a bus to Isparta at 2, leaving from the fish house. So - not having any idea where the fish house was - we wandered off into the huge metropolis of Çandır (maybe pop. 3,000?).
We found the fish house a little way out of town. It turned out to be a fish farm, with a restaurant and things everywhere. We finally found someone to ask about the bus. He told us there was no bus that day, to anywhere, they all left early the next morning. Right then, however, a man came to the doorway behind us and said he was going to Egirdir, the smaller of the nearby large towns, and that he could take us. He said he was leaving "5... 6... 7... 8...." from the fish house.
Hannah sitting outside the fish farm restaurant on some magnificent pleather furniture.We ended up sitting in the restaurant drinking tea and playing cribbage for the next 6 hours. At 7, the man (he turned out to be a restaurant owner in Egirdir, who just happened to be in town getting supplies for his restaurant with two open seats in his truck - sweet!) walked in and after packing the back of his truck with crates of fish and bags of cabbage - we set off. It was maybe the most uncomfortable hour long drive we'd ever had. He took the hairpin mountain road turns at maximum speed, wheels churning precariously close to where the dirt road dropped off into blackness.
Well chilled near the middle-end of our journeyAt one point the tops off one of the crates of fish almost blew off. The first time we told him, he stopped his truck and fixed it, giving us a second to open the doors and escape for a moment the stifling Death-Valley-esque heat of the truck. The second time the lid just blew off and he didnt' bother to stop - so the open box of fish bounced all the rest of the way without a care. When we arrived at town, he dropped us off at the bus station where we picked the fish off our bags before hauling them out of the bed of the truck. Despite its uncomfort, however, we were still really grateful for the ride!
We walked straight into the bus office, and managed to get on a bus leaving for Istanbul in 20 minutes. After a bit of a mix up at the Isparta bus station, we managed to get back to Istanbul with all our bags almost exactly 24 hours after we began our trek bail out.
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