Bear Trakker: Day 25: Canakkale to Ayvalik

Waking early with the sunrise after a shitty (pardon the pun) nights sleep, the frequent bathroom breaks continued as we slowly packed up camp and had breakfast whilst the temperature climbed rapidly. Once we had finished the fruit and veg that we had purchased the night before and the tent was closed up, we departed to tour some of the monuments and memorials to the Gallipoli campaign.

Heading toward Anzac Cove (Anzak Koyu) which was not too distant, we started to pass by numerous cemeteries containing many thousands of those that fell during the eight month long battle. Stopping at 'Shrapnel Valley' cemetery, a few hundred metres short of 'Hell's Spit' which forms the southern boundary of Anzac Cove, we walked amongst the graves. The sombreness of the situation etched into both our consciousnesses as we marvelled at the the quantity and impact of the loss of life, reading the inscriptions left by the families of the fallen.

That so many men, and so many boys, lost their lives in this cause amidst so much hardship really bit deep into my thinking. Having read a substantial amount of the history of WW1 and Gallipoli in particular, it was still a very powerful feeling to sit quietly and imagine the scenes of the day. Hardship hardly goes any way to describing how things must have been, even without the fighting.

Beyond the 'Shrapnel Valley' cemetery was a track leading toward 'Plugges Plateau' which overlooked Anzac Cove. This site was captured early in the campaign and named after a New Zealand infantry officer. The crest is about 100m above the beaches, and it formed part of a strategic inner defensive line for the landing site. Beneath it, on the seaward slope, was located the headquarters of the Australian and New Zealand Armed Corps (ANZAC). Here too was a cemetery, with the graves of twelve Australian, eight New Zealand and one unidentified soldier.

Anzac Cove from Plugges Plateau; so much irony in the beauty of it today.

Heading down from Plugges Plateau, we continued by car to Anzac Cove itself where a memorial site is located. A site of a reasonable amount of controversy between the modern Australian and Turkish governments since it was officially recognised as by the Turkish Government as 'Anzac Cove', there have been concerns about the roadwork, treatment of unmarked and discovered graves and rowdy Australian tourists on 'pilgrimages'.

I am glad that I was able to visit without hordes of Australians 'on tour'. That people can wear t-shirts and jerseys with slogans like 'ANZAC Tour 2010: Sydney to Gallipoli' tends to indicate a failure to understand the place, as does the footage of drunken Aussies belting out 'Aussie, Aussie, Aussie...'.

The serenity surrounding us at the cemeteries and other memorial monuments only served to heighten the sense of 'why?'. This place should not only be important for Australians, British, New Zealand, French, Turkish and German people, it should be a place of recognition for all people about how war is such a terrible waste of humanity.

Gerle learned a lot more about Gallipoli, ANZAC and WW1 here than she had previously been exposed to, and the innocence of her questions about the battle and war really highlighted just how stupid the world can be at times. Lest we forget; I will be continuing the ANZAC traditions and my donations to help ensure that this is the case.

Simple. Not much needs to be said.

A monument on the harbour front at Eceabat.

By mid afternoon we had finished looking through various monuments to Gallipoli. I could have spent longer here, particularly looking through the various museums, but we needed to continue toward Ayvalik which was our next destination. I expect that I will return at least once to Gallipoli at some point in the future... I'm not a pilgrim, but it is a very important place in Australian history.

Driving back to Eceabat, we were lucky in arriving just in time for a return ferry to Canakkale. We were one of the last vehicles on, and the voyage seemed to go a lot faster than the original one across. Very hot and thirsty from our time on foot walking around the beachside scrub, we were glad to catch the breeze from the ferry movement in the shade of a mid deck whilst downing some cold drinks.

Back on the ferry, heading toward Canakkale.

Once in Canakkale, we didn't stop driving having tired of the tourist nature of the place in the hour prior to our departure yesterday. Instead, we dialled in the town of Ayvalik into the GPS, and were on our way. It was only about 150 km to where we were going at this point, but with roadworks for almost the entire way it ended up taking about three and a half hours to get there.

We weren't actually staying in the town of Ayvalik itself, but we were planning to stay at either a camping resort or wild camp on the peninsula sticking out into the Aegean slightly north of Ayvalik. On first arrival, it seemed that the peninsula would be swarming with Turkish tourists, but as we headed further out the land was actually entirely covered with forest and with only limited beach access from private driveways. Luckily, the camping place that we had seen online did exist and was quite reasonable; finding beachside wild camping may have been impossible.

Through the owner was somewhat smug and quirky, we did agree to stay and after parking the car headed for a swim. The sun was still fairly high in the sky, but it was late enough that the temperature had gone down a few degrees and the strength of the sun had lessened such that sun cream was not needed. The beach was not sandy either, but a few metres in from the shore and there were not too many rocks and a muddy type of sand which was not uncomfortable underfoot.

The water here was a bit cooler than we had been swimming in since arriving on holiday, perhaps there had been some rougher seas in recent days. After a lot of coaxing, Gerle was out in the water deep enough to have a paddle about. The cold must have been distracting though, as the swimming lessons of the past few weeks were soon forgotten.

About us were young kids playing in the sand / mud on the beach, middle aged kids jumping off a pier and older kids and adults swimming out to a pontoon some 300m from the shore. All was good. After the swim, some time snoozing on the chairs under the umbrellas was a great way to dry off and warm up, before showering and changing ready for dinner.

Little kids digging for China.

Older kids jumping off the pier.

Snoozing under the umbrellas whilst we dried off.

After chaining for dinner, we headed to the campground restaurant that was literally on the water. The peninsula is somewhat sheltered by surrounding shallow water and islands, and there seemed only about 1m elevation difference between the high tide mark and restaurant floor level build out into the sea. Given the great weather of the day, it wasn't a problem for us.

I had a few beers just watching the comings and goings on the water whilst waiting for Gerle. She wasn't taking long, but there were not many showers to cater for all the residents. We had also organised to have some clothes washed, and after some record breaking pantomiming were pleased when a man with a British accent was summoned to ensure that our communications were deciphered correctly. One load of clothes, one load of towels. The only thing we didn't understand was the price, which came as a rude shock the following day...

Being on the ocean, fresh fish was the plan for dinner and we were happy that there was a variety of whole fish to be chosen from. Not knowing the species, we chose based on weight (indicated on the menu) and then just shared the two of them between us. With fresh salad, bread, cold beers and local wine to accompany the fish, the meal was as fantastic as the scenery. With not too much to do after dark, and with a big day of site-seeing planned for the following day, we headed to bed not long after dinner.