Week 1 - Brad
This year’s annual winter sun trip saw us heading for the limestone of southern Turkey, with Bal, Dane and Sam travelling ahead, and Myself and Kloe arriving in Antalya the following afternoon. After the car-gate debacle the previous day, when even Bal may have lost his cool, we headed straight for Avis. Day one, I’m told, involved several 7a’s, but corroborate this with the boys’ logbooks as I’m not convinced. After a rush hour drive out of the city, and a big shop en route, we were soon heading into the foothills of the Taurus Mountains, bound for Geyikbayiri and our camp for the week: The warm and welcoming JoSiTo.
Wednesday morning saw big storms rolling in, so after a spam breakfast (not all ‘salami’ is created equal), some foraging, and a good lounge around, we headed to the crag with eyes a few dry 5’s in Left Cave. The best thing about JoSiTo, aside from the food and general hospitality, is how close you are to the climbing. The nearest crags are the Upper and Lower Tiers, the latter just spitting distance from our veranda. The valley showcases a lifetime of climbing, most of which sits within a three-kilometre radius of the main accommodation camps. The principal crag is home to some five hundred routes, and impressive features can be seen everywhere you look - there are pockets, tufas, roofs and caves, and even the odd bit of slab. Most lines are 25- 30m, with some as long as 60m. There is a good range of grades throughout Geyikbayiri, although don’t expect many 4s. There’s substantial bolting of a high spec, and it never feels run out. You’ll find everything from sport to multi-pitch big walls, with Sivridağ towering over the village. Some of the climbing, however, as we were soon to find out, is a complete and utter sandbag.
Cue Thursday, Kloe’s birthday, and a return to the Lower Tier. The hunt for ego-boasting grades, that we definitely wouldn’t have to dog, was to continue in Left Cave, and then Heart. Still ‘warming up’, we approached the crag with a tentative nature. Working as a team, we hung draws, shared routes, and aided only ever so slightly. Stiff, awkward and whip-worthy was the general order of the day. Maybe we weren’t the sport climbers we thought we were. That said, this ‘original’ area was, and I quote, ‘not for chickens’. While the climbing hadn’t done much for our egos, these words of encouragement from the OG Tobias certainly did. Tucking our tails just a little, we headed back to camp to await the arrival of Gus & Malc.
The sixteenth saw us all venture to Kebap on the Upper tier. A short walk out of camp and over the main road brings you to this crag. With fairer grading, we’d finally found the spot to push ourselves and soon found our groove on Cekomastic Silikon and Tosun Pasa. Everyone was leading strong, and we were only a day late for Birthday Girl. All was well except our fingertips. Although with the aid of tape and ‘accessories’, and forever the optimists, Sam and I believed we were well on the way to being 8a climbers. Whip the shirt off, whack on a knee pad, and surely, we’d be flashing like Ondra before the week was out.
Saturday ushered in a little rain, so a shorter day was in store. Myself and Kloe headed to Antalya for a weekly market, Lara Bazaar, that apparently is not always a weekly occurrence. Go figure. After a mooch around Kaleiçi, and lunch from the grill, we made for the best Baklava in town; this can be found at Şerbetçi if you’re wondering. Old Town has quaint architecture and old cobbled streets but is rather touristy by the Yivli Mosque. Well preserved and predating the Ottoman era, we found it charming but a strange juxtaposition against knock-off football shirts. As it happened, neither of us were in the market for one, so we headed back up the hill and out of town. Dane had chosen today for a rest day, and the others had returned by the time we were back to avoid the worst of the weather. After tea and treats from the bazaar, myself, Bal and Sam opted to see if the routes closest to our new cabin were dry. They weren’t, but since when has that stopped the CMC from gearing up? We managed to get one route in before teatime, aptly named ‘Meze’, and nobody had to pull on any draws to finish it, OR stand in any slings.
Sunday saw the return of a good forecast, one set to last for days, and possibly the remainder of the trip. With that in mind, we took a short hike up the hill and through the forest to Trebenna, a large crag over the river and just west of camp. Bal and the team had recced this sector the previous day as it offered good shade and plenty of routes. Along the way, we picked up a handy young Czech, Vojtěch, who was delighted to find some more top-level climbers he could partner with, and put up a top rope for. The crag offered interesting climbing with big caves and columns dominating the area. We worked our way from right to left along the crag and found some of the JoSiTo staff taking on some 8a roof climbing and settled down to watch. Kloe got the knuckle, and with the day dwindling Bal had a crack at Choreographie Violente before we headed back to the ranch. Kloe and I said our goodbyes and headed for our hotel in Old Town. We didn’t quite know it, but we’d soon be back.
Opting for a mix of sightseeing and climbing for our last day, and yearning for the countryside we’d left, Kloe and I headed to Akyarlar. This stunning crag sits on a beach south of Antalya, about thirty minutes out of the city and overlooks the Mediterranean Sea. After bushwhacking and barbed-wire fence hopping, we found the steep approach to the beach and were looking out over crystal-clear waters whilst flaking our ropes. The limestone is less harsh here, having been softened by the sea, and combined with a little choss, it was reminiscent of Swanage on a fine day. Whilst it may not be the biggest crag, it’s shaded in the afternoon and offers a great place for relaxed climbing and a nice swim, and we had the place to ourselves.
After a week staring at the greater Taurus mountains, we decided it was best to top it off with a road trip over the horizon to see what was beyond Geyikbayiri. Setting off again in the early afternoon we followed the road all the way up past JoSiTo. The switchbacks got tighter and steeper, and densely wooded valley gave way to alpine forest. Driving till the tarmac ran out we reached the Feslikan Plateau. Now some 2000m above sea level, we got out of the car to cooler air and eerie silence, punctured only by the afternoon call to prayer ricocheting off the mountains. The Yörük people, who call these hills there home, are semi-nomadic and move with the seasons. After exploring a little and soaking in this distinct landscape, our stomachs, and the two-wheel drive Hyundai, both got the better of us. Following the road back down we stopped at the only obvious restaurant, signalled by half a cow, or sheep, hanging in the window. With a little help from Google translate, and lots of smiles and gestures, half a kilo of lamb, salad and yoghurt was served. We even got a lesson in brining olives and brewing up sweet Turkish tea. Sad to be leaving but with a supper reservation looming, we said our goodbyes. Down the hill and once again back at JoSiTo, the beers went clink and we got to share our stories and final evening with everyone, including Jamie and Amyce, before our journey home.
Sport climbing in Turkey, as it turns out, is a rich experience. The climbing is both challenging and engaging, and in a setting that is forever interesting. The climbers that have established the region care about both the rock and quality of the routes, and maintain them to the highest standard. Everyone, it seemed to me, was incredibly welcoming. Especially the locals and climbers you find up the mountain, who are happy to cook a stranger a meal and serve it with a warm smile.
Week 2 – Dane
The Brad-and-Kloe-shaped hole in our group was filled at once by Jamie and Amyce, who arrived for the final week of the holiday. As if dogging routes and eating spammy sausage for lunch every day weren’t enough to be getting on with, Kloe also left me with a mission. A couple of days earlier, she had developed a girl-crush on a Chicago-based climber named Aili. Aili was working her 8a project, ‘Ikarus’, and simultaneously working on some deep emotions within Kloe. The icing on the swooning cake came when Aili fist-bumped Kloe after an ascent of a tricky 5b, ‘Lila Lunabar’, in the same cave system, followed by a casual ‘good job’. My task was simple: get Aili’s Instagram for Kloe. Sigh.
On the 19th, the new-look group headed for Sincap, a rocky outcrop just up the hill, hidden amongst camps, coffee shops and outdoor pools. We circumnavigated all of them until we were told off for trespassing on a private camp, and were hastily pointed towards the crag we were actually looking for (if only we had a mountain leader with some navigation skills –oops!). Sincap is a short crag, with nothing taller than 15 metres, and after the first climb of the day, an 8-metre 6a called ‘Dicke Nudel’, I’ll admit to a worry that we were wasting a day, given the areas we’d explored the week before. I was wrong. The rock was good and the climbing better than it had any right to be. Bal and I got our ‘daily dogged’ out of the way on a 6c called ‘Fanta 4’ before retreating to more humble grades, while the rest of the group picked off a fine selection of routes and came close to finishing the entire crag, bar a few of the harder lines.
The main complaint of the day came from Malc, and concerned the length of my legs when bridging, which apparently lowers the grade a touch. The next day was the hottest of the trip so far, so we went looking for shade and returned to the Upper Tier, to an area called Koridor. It is exactly that: a narrow, rocky corridor tucked behind the south-facing main face, reached by a little via ferrata ladder that proved the crux of the day for the vertically challenged (Amyce). The atmosphere is quite unlike anything we’d climbed in so far, almost Jurassic Park, with the bright red, twisting bark of Eastern strawberry trees and Mediterranean scrub spilling out between sections of compact red limestone.
The group bagged a bunch of great routes. Jamie and Amyce added to the irrepertoire of leads. Gus got up some pretty tough climbs despite barely being able to walk on his injured knee. Malc made a brilliant 5c just a touch spicier by wandering onto a 6a+, and Bal and I led a good selection of sixth-grade climbs, one of which Bal got through by the skin of his teeth, I’m still not quite sure how he held on to that one. The 22nd brought another rest day for me, a chance to recover some of the skin sacrificed to the sharp Turkish limestone. The rest of the group went to the sun-drenched, south-facing Lower Tier, the nearest crag to the chalet, to shake off the cobwebs of beer and wine from the night before. A ‘scantily clad’ (Malc’s words, not mine) Sam began the day dogging another fine 5c, ‘Kara Kemer’, a thuggy, steep diagonal line in the Left Cave, and returned to it once more in the afternoon for the clean lead.
Amyce tried ‘California Dreaming’, a 5b, but backed off the bouldery start and left it to remain a dream after all, ticking off a couple of fourth-grade climbs instead. By her own admission, she cried twice that day and used Sam’s ‘panic draw’ twice, which only confirmed what Tobias had told us a week earlier: ‘it’s not for chickens’. Many of the routes here are reportedly ‘old-school’ in their grading…we were undeniably new-school if that’s the case. The group returned to the chalet, noticeably sun-drained, to find me rather more comfortable in my hammock, reading a book and occasionally throwing lumps of dodgy salami at the local cats. That was the last day for Malc and Gus. We had another lovely dinner at the camp, then a few beers back at the chalet, and said our goodbyes there and then, since nobody was getting up at 04:30 to do it again before their flight. The 23rd brought more warm weather, the need for another shaded crag, and my birthday. We chose the Kulluins, an east-facing cave system that gets shade from mid-morning through the afternoon.
After the other crags, it has a more imposing feel: steep cave walls streaked with darkened tufas and stalactites hanging from the archway, and a view out through the valley to the sea. It made for brilliant, silhouetted photos from our resident photographer, Amyce, and they are my favourites of the trip. Bal and I kicked off at Kulluin 1 with a great little 5c, ‘Gin and Tonic’, which earned its two stars on UKC with thought-provoking climbing at the grade and a steeper, awkward finish to clip the chains. Sam, Amyce and Jamie started ticking routes around the corner at Kulluin 2,a small, pleasant selection of fifth-grade lines, until a Turkish sports club arrived and swarmed the crag: about 25 of them, flags strung between the cliffs, nearly all dressed head to toe in Decathlon, with some questionable belaying on top of questionable crag etiquette, one guy even began rummaging around in my bag for something before realising it wasn’t his.
A strange experience to say the least given the calm before their arrival. We regrouped in the Kulluin 1 cave for the rest of the day, where I was accused of chatting up some Russian girls while trying to get some beta for a route (honest!). The group cycled through the other two 5c climbs in the area, ‘Tapu Kadastro’ and ‘Part Time Hippy’, with Amyce occasionally stepping out to take photographs. To finish the day, I gave myself a birthday present: a flash of ‘Asat’, a 6b, courtesy of the Russians’ beta. It is steep and pumpy, gaining exposure across the cave’s stalactites early on before the more technical moves that join the finish of ‘Tapu Kadastro’. Bal followed, not without a few grunts through the pumpy section himself.
The final climbing day arrived much too quickly. After a swift planning session over a couple of beers the evening before, we had settled on the Upper Tier again: first a newly developed area called Belen, then, later in the afternoon, a three-star 5c classic called ‘Barbarossa’, which UKC reviewers had rated ‘Mega’ and ‘Unique’ and described as a ‘Curious climbing/rebirthing ceremony experience’. Bal and I started with ‘Kaleidoscope’, a technical 6a slab, a style not especially common at Geyikbayiri and a pleasant way into the day. I was brought tumbling back to earth (literally)on my second climb, the 6a+ ‘Free Spirit’, when I misread the route, ran out of handholds and took a whip from above the last bolt. Meanwhile Sam, Jamie and Amyce were fighting battles of their own on ‘Fank You’, a 5c that looks a touch thin at the start before easing off higher up. Jamie was the only one to come away with a clean lead, which I put down entirely to my expert beta-spraying from the belay.
The other two had to pull on draws in the early moves, suffering without Daddy’s help. The afternoon brought a short walk around the corner to the route of the day. From the ground, Barbarossa has the air of something that was there long before anybody thought to climb it: a huge gouge in the face of the limestone that disappears into the dark, and above is a smaller scoop through which you will eventually (hopefully) emerge. It was my suggestion, so naturally the job of heading up first to put the draws in was mine too, shortly after a friendly Czech climber warned me about a hornets’ nest on the left: ‘Stay to the right!’.
The climbing is pleasant enough, a jug-fest that steepens a little with every move towards the cave entrance, where it steepens in earnest. Then the real character of the route shows itself, and the movement becomes less like climbing and more like caving. You bridge the steep entrance, shuffle awkwardly on your back, and emerge head-first from a different hole (the ‘rebirthing ceremony’ UKC talks about), before taking hold of a jug (or, for style points if you’re me, an added heel hook) to clip the chains. Clipping the anchor, it turned out, was the crux of the whole route.
Sam went next (topless, of course) and got a clean lead, though there was some distinctly unclean language at the crux/anchor. Amyce seconded (not topless, of course). Then it was Jamie’s turn. He didn’t look like he fancied leading it, but with a calm push from our spiritual lead, the Balai Lama, he led it cleanly too and enjoyed it so much that he has declared he will quit running and become a real climber again. (I think that’s what he said, anyway.)I was sceptical when Turkey was announced as the Winter Sun trip for 2026. With so much quality climbing closer to home in Europe, going further afield to an area that had been described to me as ‘up and coming’ felt like a risk.
Having spent two weeks there, I cannot recommend it enough. The rock and the routes are superb, the camp owners were welcoming, professional and more helpful than they needed to be, and the area attracts a friendly crowd of climbers. Even the Russians were friendly! All the food served at camp was at a much higher quality than I’d have expected; however, their pizzas – whilst still pretty darn good –still fall short of the Pilgrim’s Pizza experience the current Chairman gave us in Dartmoor. You can’t have it all, I guess. Once again, thank you to Bal, AKA the Balai Lama, for keeping a cool head while organising multiple groups of people across different weeks, for generally being a top bloke and beer getter, and for occasionally acting as my barometer for how hard a climb was going to be (if Bal is grunting, we’re all going to be grunting). Finally, thank you to everyone who came and made the trip a special one; I look forward to the next one.