When I woke up Thursday morning, my tires were dispelled quickly by a feeling of dread that overcame my mind. My watch read 5:35, and in that instant, I realized I had overslept, missed the bus, and had no easy way of getting to Antiochia that morning.
After some quick mental math I realized there were only 4 ways to get to Antiochia. By car, sea, or foot. My first option was to take a cab. However, due to the early nature of our work days I could not find a cab that would be able to pick me up within the hour. All taxis required at least an hour or more advance, and forking over a thousand lira. No taxi service was available to call until 6 am, and the Turkish taxi app showed no taxis available in Gazipasa until 10 am at the earliest. With the urgent goal of making it to the site before chai, this was no longer a viable option.
My second and most unreliable option was by sea. I overheard a local say that the fastest way to Antiochia was by boat. And being the trusting fool I am, I looked up renting a kayak or small vessel to follow the coast towards Antiochia. While I could rent a kayak or watercraft, the rental did not open until mid-morning, and my dead reckoning is not what it used to be. Trying to board a fishing vessel heading south east was another option, but there are too many unknown variables to consider such a journey. With these constraints in mind, the sea was closed to me.
This left my final two options, and the way I took to Antiochia, hitchhiking and running. Unfortunately for me, metric to customary conversion are not my strong suit. Foolishly assuming that the 23 km route was only 9 miles, instead of the 14.5 it is, I settled on running with an attempt to hitchhike along the road.
Dumping my dig bag onto my bed I stripped everything that wasn’t absolutely necessary out, keeping only my notebook, passport, phone, wallet, trowel, and water. Still, with 4 liters of water on my back it weighed around 15 lbs. After trying to call a cab one last time at 6, I hitched my backpack high on my back and set off at a gentle 8 min/mile pace through Gazipasa. Almost immediately I realized that this was going to be the longest run I have done in over 2 years(My previous long runs in this time have been about 8 miles at the high end). But unfettered I hedged my bet on a generous Turk offering me a ride.
For the first 5 miles I kept a steady pace, stopping every mile for a few minutes to walk and drink some water, drenching my clothes to keep my body cool. Many cars passed me heading Southeast, but none stopped for my outstretched thumbs up. After a few curious looks from drivers in the early morning, I noticed many drivers or passengers would give me a thumbs up back and a flash a grin. Quite confused, I tried to look up if there was a different symbol for hitchhiking in Turkey, or if it was simply not as common. But my search yielded no results that were useful to my questions, so I continued on my run.
Shortly after mile 5 I stopped at a local bodega, picking up breakfast and a red bull to power the remaining 4 ( or so I thought) miles of my run. Several locals drinking chai came up to me, asking why a sweaty, shirtless American was running along the side of the road at 6:40 in the morning? Armed with my limited Turkish of hello and thank you, I resorted to translating most of our conversation. After explaining my predicament and reason for being in Turkey, they informed me that Antiochia was quite a ways away, but I could not tell if they meant longer than 4 miles or if they were still talking about how foolish I was to run along the highway (Most of the translations I got back from answering their questions where “can you not drive?” “it is forbidden” and “why run?”). Despite the language barrier, we were able to communicate how long I was staying in Turkey and they responded excitedly that I was here for longer than a week (“A month is a good time to stay here”). After a parting goodbye and eating my breakfast, I set out again at 6:50.
The next miles went by quickly as I ran through the mountain valleys, passing greenhouses, dirt tracks, goat herds, and banana farms. The sun began to rise over the mountains casting a dappled glow on the world around me. Seeing the rays burn through a bank of mist in the valley below almost single handedly made the journey worth it. However, here is where I realized that my journey was much longer than I had anticipated. Checking google maps at mile 8 had me groaning under the length that lay between me and Antiochia. However salvation came in the form of a father/son pair that stopped 50 metered behinds to adjust their barrels in the back of their pickup.
Armed with my google translate phrases I ran up to their truck and asked the son if I could get a ride to Antiochia. After a couple of grunts from fixing the barrels and the word “American?” He motioned for me to get in and said “Not far”. After getting in his dad said something I can only guess was “Who the fuck is this guy?” and the son responded “…..American….Antiochia ad Cragum…..” A minute later we’re speeding down the highway towards Antiochia, saving me several miles of running and giving me a breather to recharge before the final climb. After thanking them profusely in broken Turkish I was at the base of Antiochia ad Cragum. 2 miles and 1000 feet of elevation lay between me and the dig site, it was 7:20.
The final climb started slow and methodical, jogging up the mountain took nearly all of my remaining energy and I slowed frequently to a light pace to drink more red bulls I had picked up or to finish my ekmek. After reaching the graveyards that dot the mountainside I knew I was close to Antiochia and I could feel my energy return. My feet sped over packed earth and my dog bag felt a little lighter as I crested the summit and descended along the path. Feeling like the main character in a movie I ran through the promenade and columns towards our dig and made it to work by 7:45. 75 minutes late and 105 minutes after I had left the technical school.
This run, while a product of my own mistakes, was a unique and interesting way to view the country, a perspective I doubt I will get again, as I do not plan on missing that bus anymore. Turkish people were super welcoming and helpful, despite their confusion about everything going on with me at the moment. 10/10 would hitchhike in Gazipasa again.