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The Yedigöller plateau in Turkey with clouds forming shadows across the landscape.
The Yedigöller plateau, in the heart of Anatolia’s Aladağlar mountains. Photograph: Ed Douglas
The Yedigöller plateau, in the heart of Anatolia’s Aladağlar mountains. Photograph: Ed Douglas

Country diary: Looking out to where farming began 8,000 years ago

This article is more than 1 month old

Aladağlar, Turkey: It was from the plains beyond that the Anatolians brought their practices to Europe – their descendants built monuments near to my home

Ihsan Macar sold his flock of sheep a decade ago but keeps a simple hut high on the Yedigöller plateau, in the heart of Anatolia’s Aladağlar mountains. Though his animals no longer graze these sparse grasslands, he likes to spend a few weeks here each summer. It keeps him rooted in the pattern of his life.

Yedigöller translates as “seven lakes”, but you’d be hard-pressed to find seven these days. Looking down from the wind-scoured slopes of Emler Tepe, I could see that several were now dry or marshy ground. In recent years, winter snows that nourished Ihsan’s summer grazing have weakened. Most of the Aladağlar’s rain falls on the eastern side of the range, where there are forests of pine and cedar, aspen, juniper and oak. Here on the west side, the landscape is austere and treeless.

Low rainfall and millennia of heavy grazing have favoured plants with extreme strategies for survival on this hostile terrain. One thorny wild almond that pierced my boot might have been arrested for carrying an offensive weapon. Yet even in late September there were bursts of colour among the dusty rocks: purple autumn crocuses, the dried white heads of campion and white horehound, and a few maiden pinks hanging on.

Karayalak Valley, the ‘black gorge’, in the Aladağlar mountains. Photograph: Cenk Ertekin/Alamy

Turning west, I looked down the Karayalak, the “black gorge”, towards the plains beyond. Farming began out there in the distant haze about 8,000 years ago, and Anatolians brought it west to Europe. Their descendants introduced sheep to Britain and built monuments near my home, like the limestone henge at Arbor Low, as harmonious a spot as you’ll find in the Peak District.

Choughs, though, are a rarity in Derbyshire, whereas a raucous flock of them was now tumbling into view over the Yedigöller. From the gorge I also heard the rising, fretful and unfamiliar call of a Caspian snowcock. Then Ihsan’s young cousin, Furkan, appeared, riding a handsome pony laden with our gear towards the hut. So I followed this modern Anatolian, trusting that he would put a brew on.

Country diary is on Twitter/X at @gdncountrydiary

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