Day 34 - Finike to Karaoz

Twenty eight kilometres of road and beach walking.  The novelty of walking on the beach gets me through the first few kilometres, then the beach just starts getting hot and tiring.  So onto the road, for a walk beside motorway, motorway, motorway, seaside town, tomato growing hothouses, hothouses and more hothouses.  It just goes on and on.  If someone was to make a film about walking this section, it would be called "the fast and the featureless".  This certainly gives me a new appreciation for how physically challenging the long road stretches on the Camino must be.

Seaside resort town catering specifically to the zombie market.  

On one of the beach stretches I notice four bikini clad women in the distance, but as I get closer they all do a rapid change into full dresses and head-scarves.  I feel that my modesty has been appropriately protected, and I do get a cheery wave as I walk past.  There can't be too many people walking this beach with a full backpack.  Which reminds me to mention that I've had Turkish drivers stopping all day to offer me a lift.  One of the locals even mimed to me that I shouldn't be walking in the sun.

At 4pm I start the last section of road.  Eight kilometres through a forest above a picturesque set of coves; but by this time I'm "over it", so it's rather wasted on me.  The only really good news for the day - Fiona has bused ahead and found us a nice (and cheap) cabin beside the sea to sleep in.

Today's tortoise count : 1

In tropical climes there are certain times of day
When all the citizens retire to tear their clothes off and perspire.
It's one of the rules that the greatest fools obey,
Because the sun is much too sultry
And one must avoid its ultry-violet ray.
The natives grieve when the white men leave their huts,
Because they're obviously, definitely nuts! 
Mad dogs and Englishmen go out in the midday sun,
The Japanese don´t care to, the Chinese wouldn´t dare to,
Hindus and Argentines sleep firmly from twelve to one
But Englishmen detest-a siesta.
In the Philippines they have lovely screens to protect you from the glare.
In the Malay States, there are hats like plates which the Britishers won't wear.
At twelve noon the natives swoon and no further work is done,
But mad dogs and Englishmen go out in the midday sun. 
It's such a surprise for the Eastern eyes to see,
that though the English are effete, they're quite impervious to heat,
When the white man rides every native hides in glee,
Because the simple creatures hope he will impale his solar topee on a tree.
It seems such a shame when the English claim the earth,
They give rise to such hilarity and mirth.
Ha ha ha ha hoo hoo hoo hoo hee hee hee hee ......
Mad dogs and Englishmen go out in the midday sun.
The toughest Burmese bandit can never understand it.
In Rangoon the heat of noon is just what the natives shun,
They put their Scotch or Rye down, and lie down.
In a jungle town where the sun beats down to the rage of man and beast
The English garb of the English sahib merely gets a bit more creased.
In Bangkok at twelve o'clock they foam at the mouth and run,
But mad dogs and Englishmen go out in the midday sun. 
Mad dogs and Englishmen go out in the midday sun.
The smallest Malay rabbit deplores this foolish habit.
In Hong Kong they strike a gong and fire off a noonday gun,
To reprimand each inmate who's in late.
In the mangrove swamps where the python romps
there is peace from twelve till two.
Even caribous lie around and snooze, for there's nothing else to do.
In Bengal to move at all is seldom ever done,
But mad dogs and Englishmen go out in the midday sun.
Noel Coward - Mad dogs and Englishmen