1959 meters above sea level, it is the second-largest lake in the Eastern Anatolia Region after Lake Van, and the tenth-largest in Türkiye, with an area of 123 km².

The nature and beauty surrounding Lake Çıldır draw tourists from far and wide all year round.

The lake attracts thousands of visitors during each season, but it is especially enchanting in winter.

An icy wonderland

Lake Çıldır is almost totally covered by ice in the winter months. It usually starts to freeze at the beginning of winter as the temperature drops to minus 10 degrees during the night. The lake can stay frozen for up to eight months.

One of the things that makes Lake Çıldır unique is that the livelihood of local fishermen and many tourism activities don’t start until the lake is frozen.

Lake Çıldır is famous for several different fish species which can be tried at the local fish restaurant, Gunayin Yeri.

The troika experience

Once the ice sheet above the lake thickens to over 25 centimetres, Lake Çıldır becomes a stage for sleigh rides, providing tourists with an unforgettable experience.

A unique way to enjoy the lake is to take a tour on a troika, a traditional Russian sleigh pulled by horses.

Cycling on ice

When the ice is not thick enough for the sleighs, visitors can rent bicycles and enjoy the natural wonder as they cycle on the lake.

Getting there

Türkiye’s” Doğu Ekspresi” (Eastern Express), takes travellers on a magical journey from Ankara to Kars.  The route is one of the world’s most amazing scenic train journeys.

The journey takes 26 hours and the popularity of the express is incredible given that it was about to close a few years back.

Where to stay

Accommodation in Lake Çıldır is very limited however you can stay at the Lake Çıldır Lodge or stay in Kars and visit Lake Çıldır on a day trip. 

Sources: Anadolu Agency, Turkey From the Inside, Go Turkey Tourism, Always on the Way

The post Frozen Lake Çıldır – a winter destination for the adventurous appeared first on Fethiye Times.

Written for Fethiye Times and with photographs by By Mike Vickers

This was a biggie for Jan and me and our friend Michelle. Some considerable months in the planning by Jan and after much liaising with Yeşim at Amber Travel in Kaş, we three found ourselves at Fethiye Otogar clambering aboard the 10 pm Kamil Koç coach on an overnight 700km red-eye to Ankara. Sounds awful, but don’t let that put you off. The coach was modern, comfortable and, most importantly at this time of year, cosy and warm. The complimentary water and snacks were also most welcome. We hit the first snow up at the Karabel summit on the main road to Antalya and I have to say it more or less stayed with us until we descended from the Karabel on our way home a week later.

You’ve got to like white if you want to take this trip at this time of year!

The coach stopped a number of times for ciggies and comfort breaks and for the most part of the journey the roads were smooth, fast and empty dual carriageways. Finally, we reached Ankara, a vibrant, bustling feel-good city peppered with ultra-modern high-rise skyscrapers, some entirely encased in black glass, many illuminated by futuristic lights. Very Blade Runner. The enormous Otogar was already busy, despite the pre-dawn chill, and we took an enthusiastic taxi ride to the Gar train station where we deposited our bags in a left luggage locker. Now unencumbered, we searched for breakfast in Gençlik Park opposite the station.

The ponds in the park were either drained down or frozen over, but in its lonely emptiness, we found a little cafeteria that had a welcoming soba. We also found it full of jovial park workers cheerfully sipping tea and bracing themselves for a busy day’s work chiselling frozen pigeons off the benches. We all hit it off immediately with much friendly handshaking. Jan’s growing expertise in Turkish impressed them no end. Not for the first time this trip.

We had planned to visit various places in Ankara but the weather deteriorated into snow, dampening both spirits and clothes, so we returned to the Gar. This original 1930s very classy Art deco building is connected by a footbridge to the modern YHT (High-Speed Train) station, an impressively spacious curving structure and a pleasant place to await the start of your journey. Several pigeons now live inside its capacious interior, having discovered it’s considerably warmer than the park opposite.
Finally, as 5 pm approached and passengers gathered in the old station, the Turistik Doğu Ekspresi arrived and we all embarked to the sounds of a jazz band playing on the platform for a birthday group. In such a setting, it was a lovely whiff of nostalgia.

And so we set off, trundling eastward through the Ankaran suburbs and out into the snow-covered countryside as dusk fell, destination Kars, a mere 31 hours away. The train was busy, but certainly not full, with several empty sleeper cabins in our carriage alone. This was fortunate as Michelle discovered a man eating his McDonald’s supper in her cabin, but this was soon sorted with the help of fellow passengers Yusuf and his wife Ayşegül, who liaised with the steward, another Yusef, and the Mac-munching man happily moved to another cabin.

The Turistik Doğu Ekspresi now runs daily and entirely comprises sleeper carriages, each divided into cabins equipped with two bunk beds, a washbasin, a fridge and a storage cupboard. During the day, the bunks fold up to reveal a pair of seats. In addition to the sleepers, there was one buffet car, two storage carriages and a generator car at the tail end to supply power for the entire train.

As night fell, we made our way to the buffet car for a rather uninspiring and parsimonious evening meal, but any disappointment was tempered by the exuberant birthday group who, having enjoyed the jazz band send-off, were giving their all dancing amongst the tables. With many cabins up and down the train decked out with colourful fairy lights, this was definitely a party train.

Ever slept on a train? It’s – well, interesting. The beds were comfy enough, but it’s noisy in a diddly-da, clatter-over-the-points, rumbling-through-a-tunnel sort of way and you can always tell when you’re going around a bend because it feels like someone’s trying to push you out of bed! That said, it’s perfectly agreeable once you acclimatize and is an essential part of the experience.

The following morning, we awoke to find ourselves approaching Iliç. This was the first of three scheduled stops, each of about three hours in duration, allowing passengers the chance to go on an optional excursion. Iliç is on the banks of the Euphrates and a minibus took us to Kemaliye, a small but interesting traditional town deep inside the Euphrates gorge surrounded on all sides by towering icy cliffs. Just outside town, where the road spans the river on a chunky girder bridge, lies the entrance tunnel to the notorious Taş Yolu, the infamous Stone Road of Kemaliye. Started in 1877, only finished in 2002 and with 38 wing mirror-scraping tunnels, this is 7km of hand-hewn, cliff-clinging, vertigo-inducing terror and of one of the most dangerous roads in the world.

Yeah, not that brave – we gave it a miss…

Back on the train again, we rumbled for the next 100km alongside the infant Euphrates in a succession of spectacular gorges. At this point, there’s no indication that this modest stream flows on for another 2000km to become one of the mightiest rivers in history. There were no roads in these gorges, just our single-track railway plunging in and out of tunnels (we were told there are 220 between Ankara and Kars), winding its way always eastward.

The next stop, a few hours later, was Erzincan, notable for one thing only – we lost the train! A couple of minibuses carried some intrepid passengers into town but to be honest there did not appear to be much to lure us away from the station, so we took a stroll along the platform to stretch our legs. Suddenly, to our astonishment, there was a blast on the hooter, the train lurched into motion and trundled off into the distance, eventually disappearing around a bend.

There was one of those tumbleweed moments, you know, when the silence is only broken by the low moan of wind and menacing croak of a hungry crow. Everything we possessed was on the train – money, passports, coats, woolly socks, emergency biscuits, the whole nine yards. The stop was scheduled for three hours and we knew the minibuses would eventually reappear, but come on – three hours stuck in Erzincan station? 

With nothing else to do – and no money even for a çay – we sat in the waiting room and, well, waited. Another train breezed in, deposited passengers who actually wanted to be in Erzincan, and then departed. It was at this point I saw our train reversing back into another platform. We all participated in a communal sigh of relief, but to reach our train now meant walking across the tracks. Officials in the UK shout at you very loudly if you even think about crossing the tracks at a station, so what would the reaction be here? Well, guess what – this is Turkey. Other passengers returned and positively launched themselves across the tracks like lemmings, so we just joined in with the crowd. Never has a tiny cramped sleeper cabin been so welcoming. On reflection, it’s now obvious our train was only moved to allow the local train access to the station.

We pushed on. The light faded again and by the time we reached Erzurum it was fully dark. This is a big city with a long and distinguished history – and it was absolutely perishing! The station is another Art deco classic and beautifully illuminated but it was too cold to spend admiring its clean lines. Buses were laid on to take us passengers for an evening meal and whistle-stop tour of the city centre. Ours had leather seats. In this weather? If your bottom wasn’t cold beforehand, it most certainly was afterwards!

Erzurum is noted for its cağ kebap, a horizontally stacked and marinated lamb kebab offered on the skewer, and accompanied by the very amiable Yusuf and Ayşegül, we were taken to one of the numerous restaurants specializing in this local delicacy. The food was tasty and most welcome, but there was no time to linger. We were whisked away to the city centre for a peep at its historic buildings. The floodlit panorama was impressive, with the ancient citadel opposite the 13th century Çifte Minareli Medrese, a beautiful twin tower monument from the Seljuk era.

The only thing not impressive was the temperature. It was very, very cold. Frozen snow crunched underfoot. Thankfully, we had now dressed appropriately and with proper boots and two pairs of socks, my feet were toasty. My legs were also thankful for a pair of long johns under my jeans. Classy.

A short walk on icy pavements brought us to the Erzurum Evleri. Created from a combination of several historic houses, the fascinating interior was an intriguing rabbit warren of original and authentic Ottoman rooms leading eventually to a restaurant. Traditional folk dancing was already in progress and Ayşegül was off like a shot to join in with cheerful enthusiasm. Yusuf had to drag her away when it came time to depart and rejoin the train, our thawed fundaments once again instantly chilled by the frigid leather seats in the coach.

Once back on the train, we dozed for a few hours before being roused by Yusef the steward calling our imminent arrival in Kars. Any doubt we’d reached our destination was dispelled when he promptly whipped the still-warm sheets off our beds! The train finally pulled in at 2am. We three shared a taxi with Yusef and Ayşegül – there was much giggling and sitting on laps in the back seat – before we skidded to a halt on the treacherous ice-covered road outside the Güngören Otel. Yusef and Ayşegül waved goodbye and headed off to their own accommodation leaving us to hurry into the warmth.

At last, after an overnight 700km journey sat upright and unable to sleep on a coach, followed by a fascinating and eventful 31-hour 1300km railway journey, a warm, spacious and non-moving bed beckoned.

We had finally arrived in Kars.

A note on excursions

These are all optional. If you wish, you can remain on the train during these stops. Prices are as follows (correct as of January 2020):

Iliç excursion to Kemaliye: 40 lira per person.

Erzincan excursion: No idea. Our money departed with the train!

Erzurum excursion: 60 lira per person, including cağ kebap dinner, guided tour of the historic town centre (in Turkish only) and visit to Erzurum Evleri, but not including any drinks.

The post All aboard the Turistik Doğu Ekspresi to Kars appeared first on Fethiye Times.

Please click on the link below if you missed Part One.

All aboard the Turistik Doğu Ekspresi to Kars

Written for Fethiye Times and with photographs by Mike Vickers and Jan Jones

Kars. The colder the weather, the warmer the people

Blimey, our room at the Güngören was hot! This was due to a radiator the size of a tennis court with the control valve apparently welded fully open. I couldn’t move it, however much I tried. As a result, we found the room stifling, although I’ve little doubt any Turkish guests would consider it barely warm. The only option was to open the window to allow in a breath of fresh air, but was this wise, Captain Mainwaring? This was Kars. In January. The outside temperature was an earlobe-numbing -17C. Our window looked out past yard-long, glistening, fang-like icicles. Pigeons puffed up to the size of beach balls were huddled on our balcony railing.

So, on our first night, unable to turn off the radiator and in an attempt to avert heat exhaustion, we actually cracked open the window, probably the first people ever to do so in January! The inflated pigeons perked up. Their cousins in Ankara station had texted them about the benefits of indoor living. Maybe this was their chance. Thankfully, the tiniest gap was amply sufficient to lower the temperature to a bearable level for a good night’s sleep.

Unlike Fethiye, where enquiries about gas central heating are, let’s face it, something of a rarity, Kars is fortunate enough to have its own natural gas mains supply via a spur leading in from the nearby South Caucasus Pipeline. This means boilers, steaming vents, proper radiators and radiant gas heaters in all their different forms. In other words, if you’re indoors, you’re warm. If you do venture outdoors, just make sure you’re wearing double the number of clothes you would normally wear, such as two pairs of socks, two pairs of trousers, two t-shirts, two pairs of gloves, you know the sort of thing. Even slim people end up looking distinctly spherical. Still, at least if you fall over on the ice you just bounce straight back up again.

I mention all this because it’s really rather important to factor in the temperature, whatever you’re doing. Go outside in the wrong clothing and you could be in a lot of trouble very quickly. Naturally, the good people of Kars are entirely acclimatized. Cars in Kars do not slow down for ice. No need – everyone drives on super grippy snow tyres. Pedestrians do not tip-toe over icy pavements. No need – everyone has proper boots.

So, after a typical buffet tourist hotel breakfast, we ventured out to take in the lie of the land. Locals strode about nonchalantly texting while we warily negotiated surfaces that would have challenged any bobsleigh team. My word was it cold. I mean, properly cold. If you’re youngish, think winter 1982. If you’re of a more mature disposition, like me, 1963 comes to mind.

Modern Kars is laid out on the usual grid system, but the old town is much more interesting, with strong Armenian and Russian influences – unsurprising as the city only finally became Turkish in 1920. The castle dominates the city up on its crag, but the path was just a little too icy. We posed for photos outside the striking Church of the Apostles, built in 930 on a tetraconch layout, but I can imagine many of you glazing over at this point. What little interest I personally had in tetraconchal architecture had by now been replaced by an overwhelming compulsion for hot chocolate and something warm to eat.

We finally fetched up at Sütlü Çardak, a bright and bustling restaurant deploying a winning combination of gas and electric heaters to produce a snug atmosphere. Lunch was excellent and the place hummed with youthful cool. It pains me to point out we didn’t qualify on either point, but no matter.

I swear I saw Torvill and Dean bolero their way gracefully into a Migros as we slithered back to the hotel.

Amber Travel had arranged a local guide for us and that evening, the very amiable Celil picked us up and took us to a dark and cosy traditional restaurant in town. Sorry, but none of us can remember its name – we were concentrating so hard on safely negotiating those Cresta Run pavements! This place specialized in live music and piti, a local delicacy of mutton and chickpeas on sauce-soaked flatbread, a real stick-to-your-ribs meal ideal for keeping those internal furnaces well stoked. Drinks flowed. I’m prepared to admit I may have engaged in some rakı-induced folk dancing at some stage of the evening.

The following day (window open again last night, optimistic pigeons edging ever closer, icicles another inch longer), Celil picked us up from the hotel in his minibus and we set off for the ruined city of Ani. The landscape outside Kars is essentially steppe, empty and undulating, with only the occasional deeply hibernating village to interrupt the desolate snowy grip of winter. It was extraordinarily beautiful.

The roads were, in general, very good indeed and kept clear by regular ploughing. There were virtually no trees and certainly no hedges of any kind, the long narrow fields defined only by lines of black stones poking up through the snow. We paused at a high point and there, above the distant clouds, rose the misty conical shadow of Mount Ararat, over 200km to the south. Now that was a moment to remember.

The sun came out as we eventually reached Ani, its massive walls springing suddenly from the frigid emptiness. Ani was once the capital of ancient Armenia but the city never really recovered from a devastating earthquake in the 14th century and was finally fully abandoned by the early 18th century. The site is enormous, but apart from sections of the city walls and some scattered monumental buildings, is now mostly a wilderness of rubble. As we walked around amongst the piles of stones, I saw some tracks in the snow.

‘What are these, Celil?’

‘The small ones are fox.’

‘And the big ones?’

‘Wolf.’

A sobering moment. I would not want to be stranded in Ani at night.

Celil proved a fount of knowledge. There isn’t much about Ani he doesn’t know. We took a circuitous route that took in ancient churches and the magnificent 11th-century cathedral, the largest remaining standing structure on the site. As we approached, a guide already inside was entertaining his customers by singing opera. He had a very fine voice, but it was a surreal moment as the music floated out of the ruins – he was singing what we all know as Just One Cornetto.

One major feature of Ani is the deep gorge of the Arpaçay River which defended much of the city. We were now at the very edge of eastern Turkey – the far bank is actually Armenia. There was once a bridge carrying the Silk Road across, but now only the ruined brick towers remain. It was so quiet there in the pale sunshine we could hear the river far below chuckling over pebbles. The border is currently closed and there are military bases and watchtowers on both sides.

The visit to Ani was tremendous. The place is hauntingly impressive, its setting magnificent, with a backdrop of snowy peaks, yet we saw something just as wonderful on the journey back to Kars. Without warning, Celil pulled over on the deserted road and pointed. Perhaps a hundred yards away, trotting through the snow, were grey wolves, two on the right side of the road, one on the left. I thought about those tracks back in the ruins.

As we are citizens of Fethiye, we could not possibly visit Kars without visiting the Fethiye Camii, a former 19th-century Russian Orthodox Church now converted into a mosque.  It’s lost its onion dome and tower, but gained two minarets. On the way back to the hotel, as we waited at the lights, Robin Cousins glided past before elegantly triple-salchowing his way into a nearby pharmacy.

We took our evening meal at Sütlü Çardak, knowing the place positively bristled with world-class heaters. The moment we finished eating, they pounced! Five students at the next table had politely waited but were now eager to know why we were in Kars. They expressed genuine astonishment on discovering we actually wanted to come to Kars. All were learning English and just could not pass up the chance of finding themselves sitting next to three English people, something of a rarity it seemed. They were studying the professions and all were delightful, charming, confident and lovely youngsters. It struck me at that moment – the colder the weather, the warmer the people.

Our third and final day in Kars was again spent with Celil, who arrived after breakfast in his trusty minibus to take us to Lake Çıldır. This visit was the original reason why we decided to come to Kars – Jan had always wanted to take a troika ride on a frozen lake and at last here was her chance. Çıldır lies at about the same height as the summit of Babadağ and so at this time of year was well and truly frozen, its ice crust at least two feet thick. Now, I know this sounds obvious, but the surface of a frozen lake is just about as flat as you can get and therefore offered absolutely no protection at all from the frigid wind whipping across the ice. I thought it was cold in Kars, but this was something else. No wonder the water was solid! An hour out there and I would be, too.

Fortunately, there was a hut out on the lake serving piping hot tea and mulled wine to counter the biting cold. Customers and troika drivers stood around a brazier warming themselves. A fire? On ice? Yes, the fire was on stilts to prevent the dangers of melting.

Our horse was called Champion and the only way his handler could stop him bolting straight back to his cosy stable was to stuff his face into a nosebag full of oats! Clever horse. Worked that one to his advantage, don’t you think? We three squeezed onto this tiny wooden sled while Celil sagely retired to the warmth of a nearby fish restaurant and off we went, trotting over the snow-covered ice. This was no marathon, thankfully, but a five-minute scamper that left us rosy-cheeked and cold-bottomed from the bare wooden seats – but it was truly, truly wonderful. On our return, Michelle joined Celil in the warm while Jan and I trotted back out to watch some ice fishing with two Turkish ladies, one of whom, astonishingly, was not wearing gloves.

This guy wasn’t daft. This was ice fishing purely for the tourists. Two holes had been punched through the ice about 25 yards apart with the net strung between them. Our fisherman used a shovel to break the layer of ice that was readily skimming over the holes and pulled in his net. The gloveless Turkish lady helped. Her hands must have been perishing. Five or six fish were entangled in the mesh as the net emerged. The fisherman extricated one – which our companion promptly kissed – before returning the net down beneath the ice again – still loaded up with some pretty cheesed-off-looking fish. This meant the next group of tourists were guaranteed to see some caught in the net, a win-win situation for everyone. Except for the fish.

We joined Michelle and Celil in the fish restaurant. I had meatballs.

After lunch, Celil drove us further along the lake shore for quite a distance. Çıldır’s a big lake. We passed through some fairly remote villages, all hunkered down for the winter. Life was obviously very hard here. Many of the homes were simple black stone structures with turf roofs. These half-buried houses only had tiny roof windows, but each sported a flue that shimmered with heat from a soba. I thought of Ankara and its funky new skyscrapers. The contrast was humbling.

The wind got up on our way home, blowing sheets of powdery snow across the deserted roads. With an hour or so to spare, Celil gave us a short tour of the old town behind the castle. We British were responsible for many of the fortifications up there, in contrast to some ornate Russian riverside palaces, some of which have been converted into boutique hotels.

For our final evening meal, we chose the Kars Kazevi goose restaurant. Kaz, or goose, is a local delicacy and we each had a delicious bowl of shredded goose meat on a bed of rice. We slipped and slithered our way back to the hotel on slick pavements – Eddie the Eagle skied past testing his new salopettes and matching bobble hat – and Celil gave us a lift to the station to catch our train at 10 pm, seeing us off with a cheery wave. With a blast of the hooter, the train pulled out of Kars.

Once again, we were on the Turistik Doğu Ekspresi, this time heading west for Ankara.

A note on excursions

Prices (correct as of January 2020) are as follows:

Ani admission: 12 lira per person

Lake Çıldır troika ride: 15 lira per person

Lake Çıldır ice fishing: 35 lira per person

A special thank you

Celil Ersözoğlu was engaged by Amber Travel to act as our guide. We very much enjoyed our time with him. Not only is he an experienced and very knowledgeable English-speaking professional guide, but also easy-going, entertaining and cheerful company, with a ready smile and chuckle. If you ever find yourself in need of a guide in Kars, Celil can be contacted on 0532 226 3966 or at celilani@hotmail.com

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