UNCLE OSMAN’S MOUNTAIN CABIN
By sundown I had managed to climb in close to seven hours a path the locals take in four. In the end I reached the Mese Yayla, a handful of charming wooden houses built on a sloping clearing in the forest. This is the first ‘yayla’ on the path that starts from Çaglayan Valley, the one the Findikli people come to first with the arrival of spring. When the pastures turn green they climb up to the higher plateaux once every two months, coming down again in autumn to spend winter in their villages. The plateau dwellers watched closely as I pitched my tent. A hoary elder motioned with his hand, ‘Come’. I went over to him. From a pot boiling on his wood-burning stove he poured milk onto a plate, set a large sheep’s trotter in it and gave it a stir. Pulling a stone plate from the hearth ashes, he deftly removed a steaming corn bread, which he cut in two and set on the table. The house was redolent with the pleasant scent of the chestnut wood panelling that covered its walls. A large black jug suspended on a chain over the great hearth, expertly built of granite slabs, was boiling away. Catching me eyeing the house, he declared proudly, ‘I built it. I have two more houses.