One on the next plateau, at Çatak, the other on the highest one, at Çamlik Yayla.’ His name was Gunner Osman. After dinner he offered me tea steeped over coals. I told him I was going to climb to Çamlik Yayla in the morning. ‘Leave early,’ he said, ‘the road is very steep. There’s nobody up there yet. I’ll be up too in a couple of days.’ We said good-bye and parted. In the morning I awoke to the chirping of the birds as the sun’s rays were beginning to caress the valley. I opened the door of my tent. There stood a small jug of milk, still steaming, a thoughtful breakfast offering from the yayla dwellers.

SIPPING THE WATER OF LIFE
I found Çatak Yayla on a broad clearing where the forest ended. The yayla dwellers who had come up that morning were busy repairing their houses. Here the valley divided in two. I took the path to Çamlik Yayla, climbing for hours among the rocks alongside yellow Pontic rhododendrons. As I climbed, Mt Marsis loomed into view in all its splendor.