Kızkalesi

Stand at the waterline and look straight out. A castle sits on a small island a short swim offshore, its walls rising directly out of the sea with no beach and no landing stage beneath them. The water between you and it is shallow, warm and very clear, and it moves in slow bands of turquoise over pale sand. Gulls call from the towers. Waves slap against the base of the walls with a hollow sound you can hear from the shore.

The name in Turkish means maiden's castle. Several places in Turkey carry that name, so be clear about which one you are looking at. This is the sea castle on the Mediterranean coast east of Mersin, not the small tower in the Bosphorus at Istanbul. Here the fortress fills an entire island. Its walls follow the shape of the rock, with round and square towers spaced along them, and the sea comes right up to the stonework on every side.

Now turn and look along the shore. There is a second castle, on land, only a couple of hundred metres away. The two were built as a pair and worked as one system, guarding the harbour between them. Local accounts say a causeway or a chain once ran across the gap. Whether or not that is exact, the intention is obvious from where you stand. Nothing could enter this bay without passing between two sets of walls.

In antiquity this place was called Corycus, and it was a busy port. Ships loaded goods brought down from the inland plateau through the mountain passes behind the coast. One export made the name known far away. Roman writers praised the saffron grown in this district, gathered from crocus flowers on the rocky ground above the town. Saffron was expensive, light to carry and easy to sell. A small quantity paid for a long voyage.

The castles you see took their present form in the Middle Ages. Byzantine commanders fortified the site, and later the Armenian rulers of the Kingdom of Cilicia held it. That kingdom was formed by Armenians who moved south into these mountains and built a state along this coast. Crusader fleets called here. Later still, Turkish beyliks and then the Ottomans took control. The stonework shows this. Blocks of very different sizes and periods are set into the same walls.

There is a legend attached to the island, and everyone here knows it. Tradition says a ruler was warned by a fortune teller that his daughter would die from a snakebite. To protect her, he built a castle on an island where no snake could reach her. A basket of fruit was later carried out to her from the mainland. A snake was hidden inside it. The story exists in many versions along this coast, and it is folklore rather than record.

Getting out to the island is part of the experience. Strong swimmers cross from the beach, and small boats run the trip in summer for anyone else. Inside, the castle is roofless and open to the sky. Grass and thistles grow between fallen blocks. You can climb parts of the wall and walk sections of the circuit. From up there the mainland looks close and low, and the difference between a safe island and an ordinary beach becomes very clear.

The land castle repays a slower look. Its walls are built partly from reused ancient material, and you can spot the evidence without any training. Column shafts lie sideways in the masonry like logs. Carved blocks sit upside down. There are traces of chapels inside the enclosure, and gateways with worn thresholds. Medieval builders here were not being lazy. Cut stone was expensive, and a ruined Roman town next door was the cheapest quarry available.

Walk or drive a short way inland and you will find the ancient cemetery. Hundreds of tombs are cut into the flat limestone, along with stone sarcophagi standing among the scrub. Some carry carved reliefs of the people buried in them, shown in everyday clothing, occasionally with tools of their trade. Others have Greek inscriptions worn nearly smooth. It is a large, quiet, uncrowded site, and it gives a better sense of the population here than the castles do.

This coast has more limestone surprises nearby. Not far away are two enormous sinkholes, formed where cave roofs collapsed, known locally as Heaven and Hell. A long stairway leads down into the larger one, where a ruined chapel stands at the bottom. Another collapsed valley further along holds the remains of an ancient town on its rim. If you have half a day, these places connect naturally with the castles into one route.

The modern village is small and seasonal. In summer the beach fills with families from Mersin and Adana escaping the inland heat, and the tea gardens face the island so that everyone eats dinner looking at a fortress. In winter it is nearly empty, and the castle stands out there in grey weather with nobody watching it. Both versions are worth seeing. The second one shows you what the island looked like for most of its existence.

Before you leave, sit on the sand at the point where the water is closest to the island and stop talking for a minute. Watch the waves reach the base of those walls, again and again, exactly as they have done every day since the stones were laid. Nobody has lived out there for a very long time. The sea has not noticed. Feel the warm sand under your hands, then stand up and walk back along the shore.