So "way further" may be a bit of an exaggeration, but an additional 10 minutes to the crag is quite difficult to motivate for when the heat has gone up by another 30 degrees and the humidity causes sweat to bead up on my brow when I reach for a beer. Really now, there's something quite amiss when I'm breaking a sweat trying to drink a beer that is supposed to cool me down. It is entirely possible that someone's doctoral thesis is contained in my sweat glands. I swear, the amount of liquid that my skin has secreted over the course of this trip likely rivals the Great Salt Lake in quantity and salinity.
I probably would not have left the campsite at all to climb except that the 5,412% increase in tourists meant that the camp complex was overrun with people and that doesn't fit in with my misanthropic tendencies. Luckily, it was possible to stop at the beach on the way to one of the crags, although that, too, became an open-air convection oven in mid-day. There was only one thing to do then: climb, or at least take some photos.
Teresa employs George to help hold her down to prevent her from flying too high up should Steve fall. George is, of course, sitting down on the job:
Will Carolyn or Simon make it to the top first? Place your bets now!:
Tia topping out on a lovely climb:
Her view at the top:
Faye channels a little Saturday Night Fever at the top of the same climb:
Diana taking a photo of Faye now doing her best muscle mania pose:
Aidan a little confused about his next move:
Thankfully, evenings were quite pleasant. And when the evenings are lovely and the moon is full it is prime time for...you guessed it...night climbing! Although the climbing once again happened after a celebratory evening and much ridiculous dancing at the one disco (now disturbingly full of people) in Olympos,
Simon keeps Teresa from falling off:
Chicken fight! Hannah on Simon strangles Aidan on Steve:
the important distinction is that George and I had no intention of climbing that particular night because it was way too far to go back to our new camp and we weren't really, shall I say, in planning mode. Then Diana produced a backpack stuffed with our shoes, harnesses, and a rope that she had packed unbeknown to us. How could we say no to that?
George can climb:
But has trouble staying vertical while being lowered...:
Diana lighting it up. This is what it looks like while climbing by headlamp:
My reaction after sending a 7a in the dark. I couldn't believe I had climbed it clean (let alone even gotten off the ground) given the circumstances:
Like moths to the flame, or perhaps because we're usually not content until we get thrown out of somewhere, we continued to go back to the disco until Aidan came up with the glorious idea of bouldering around the inside of the establishment.
Aidan demonstrates in his pajamas:
It was surprising none of us had thought of it before, really, since we all have become accustomed to looking at everything (and I do mean everything) for its climbing potential -- cars, trees, tables, camels, buildings, boats, and unsuspecting tourists are all fair game. We managed to make it a good third of the way around until security took notice.
Except for Nathan who was having trouble standing up:
All of us hopped off the walls good-naturedly rather than risk a sound beating, except for George. He completely confounded the bouncers by climbing straight up the wall and out of sight on top of the roof. I'm sure security sees a lot in Olympos, but I doubt they had ever faced a 60-year old human gecko.Barely two hours later it was time for me to get on BiRT for the last time. 
Diana and I had decided to take a bus to Istanbul from Antalya and BiRT was dropping us off on the way to Adana. Warm enough to roll up the tarp windows, cool enough to hang my head out the side, it was a beautiful morning ride.
Ben warily eyes the ocean and wonders if we are going to be swimming in BiRT:
I'm ready for the water in my orange floatie vest that Henry bought me:
It didn't seem like I was leaving the truck, though. Even after we had rolled up to the bus station, parked in our usual spot clearly marked as no parking, unloaded our gear, said our goodbyes, and were serenaded with a farewell song, I didn't feel a smidge of sentimentality.
Faye, Carolyn, and Mel do their best to keep a straight face while singing a ridiculously sappy goodbye song:
Not even as I waved back at the bodies and arms hanging out the windows as BiRT drove off, an unstoppable force rolling on to the next destination. I was already focusing on the particulars of sorting out a bus to Istanbul, thinking about what needed to be done. And then it happened. As I watched those crazy misfits still waving at me while BiRT become smaller and smaller until it looked like the coolest Hot Wheels toy on the planet, I'll be damned if some tears didn't well up in my eyes. It's tempting to chalk that lump in my throat up to seeing what had been my life for nearly 11 months and thousands of miles disappear into the distance, but it was more than that. What really got to me was watching those madly waving arms and bodies and thinking of all the extraordinary people who I've shared some amazing and outrageous experiences with. People I now count as lifelong friends. Without them, the trip would not have been nearly as wild and wonderful and wacky. Without them, it just wouldn't have been Hot Rock.
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