Köprülü Canyon

Start with the sound. Under the trees there is a constant low noise from the river below — water moving fast over stones, never pausing. Above it, in summer, cicadas keep up a dry electric buzz that rises and falls. The air smells of resin from cypress and pine, and of cold water. Stand in the shade near the edge of the gorge and you will feel the temperature drop several degrees. This river runs cold even while the coast behind you is baking.

The river is the Köprüçay. It comes down from the Taurus Mountains and has cut a deep, narrow channel through pale limestone. Look over the edge. The walls fall away steeply, and the water at the bottom is a strong blue-green, almost artificial in colour. That colour comes from very fine mineral particles carried in the meltwater. The canyon runs for many kilometres through the mountains. Only a small part of it is easy to reach, which is why the rest stays quiet.

The oldest thing here is the bridge. A single stone arch springs from one rock wall to the other, high above the water, and it is Roman work. It is not a ruin. Cars and minibuses still cross it. Walk to one end and look at how the arch is put together. It holds itself up by shape alone. Each stone presses against its neighbours, and the whole load travels around the curve and down into the bedrock on both sides.

Greeks and Romans knew this river by another name — the Eurymedon. It appears in one of the better-known episodes of Greek history. In the fifth century BC an Athenian-led fleet defeated a Persian force at the mouth of this river, down on the coast far below where you stand. The fighting happened on water and then on land, on the same day. The river you are watching is that same river, running through a completely different landscape up here in the mountains.

Most people come here to get into that water. Rafting is the main activity on the Köprüçay, and the standard trip is not extreme. There are lively sections and long calm stretches, and guides usually let people swim in the quiet parts. The cold is the real shock. The river is fed largely by springs and snowmelt, so it stays cold through August. People shriek when they go in. Then they get used to it. Then they do not want to climb out.

Look at the trees on the slopes. Many of them are Mediterranean cypress growing wild rather than planted — tall, dark, narrow shapes standing among bare rock. The national park protects one of the larger natural cypress forests in the country. Wild cypress looks different from the tidy cemetery trees you may know from photographs. The branches are rougher and less regular. Some lean out over the gorge at angles that seem impossible for a tree of that size.

Now look up. High above the canyon, on a plateau in the mountains, lie the ruins of a city called Selge. Ancient writers described it as a mountain town, hard to reach, defended as much by its landscape as by its walls. The people there grew olives and vines at an altitude where that is genuinely difficult. They also collected a fragrant resin from local trees. That resin was carried down to the coast and sold as incense and as medicine.

The road up is narrow and slow, and it is worth the time. Selge has a theatre cut into the hillside, with rows of seating still stacked against the slope, facing mountains instead of a sea. Around the site the rock has eroded into standing pillars and fins, pale and shaped by wind. Goats climb over the ancient stones as if they were a hillside. A few families live in the village beside the ruins, and children may appear beside your car selling bunches of dried herbs.

That village keeps the older pattern of life in these mountains. Houses are built from stone with timber floors. Animals live below and people live above. Winter is genuinely cold at this altitude, and snow closes the road at times. It is a useful thing to remember while you are floating down a warm-looking river in swimming shorts. This is a mountain region, not a coastal one, and the water reaching you started as snow on a ridge somewhere above.

There is a second old bridge further upstream, on a side stream, in a much quieter spot. It is smaller, also arched, also still standing over fast water. If the main bridge is crowded with photographers, ask about that one. The walk to it passes through pine and carries the same cold-water smell. Old bridges in this region were never decorative. They were the only way to move goods and animals across gorges that cannot be crossed on foot.

Watch the water for movement. Trout live in the river, and the restaurants along the road are honest about where the fish come from. Dippers work the rapids — small dark birds that walk underwater against the current to feed on the bottom. Overhead you may see large birds circling without flapping. The canyon walls heat up in the sun, warm air rises off them, and the birds ride that lift for as long as they want.

Before you leave, find a spot away from the road where you can see the river without hearing an engine. Watch one patch of white water for a while. That sound has been continuous for far longer than anything built here — longer than the bridge, longer than the city on the plateau above. The stone arch is a recent guest by comparison. Take one breath of the cold air coming off the water, then turn and walk back.