Islands dappled in snow

 

The lights of Bostancı, Maltepe, Kartal and Pendik ahead. The misty lines of the islands and Yalova's Samanlı Mountains further away behind us. The snow covers the archipelago with a grey-white scarf. All is transformed. Even the Islands are…

The ageing city lines steamer that must have ferried many a hopeless lover on the tired waters of the Marmara approaches the quay slowly. Marble-blue seagulls squawk, swimming in its smoky wake. We three or four passengers disembark. The fine-lined steamer station building, reminiscent of a Persian miniature as well as the streets reaching up to the heights, hundred-year-old pines and dimly-lit houses are all covered with silver-white snow. We're on Büyükada. It is just past midday. We set off from the 23rd of April Avenue towards the Dil Cape. The Armenian Catholic Surp Astvadzazin Church and then the Agopyan mansion. We start climbing. The pines, their branches covered in snow, whisper in the quiet sadness just like us. Our journey will take us through the Princes' Islands; Büyükada (Prinkipo), Heybeli (Chalki), Burgaz (Pyrgos or Antigoni), Kınalı (Proti), Kaşık (Pitta), Sedef (Trebinthos), Sivri (Oxia), Yassı (Plati) and Tavşan (Neandros) on this winter's day, all under a blanket of snow. Büyükada is our first stop. Once known as Prinkipo, which means “Prince” in Greek, Büyükada is the largest of the archipelago. Two hills top and tail the island on the South (Yücetepe) and the North (İsa Tepe). These two hills are home to the Haghia Yiorgi and Christos churches and monasteries.

 

Soon we're on Heybeli Island. The falling snow has gathered pace. Heybeli appears to be in an uneasy sleep, its streets trembling with a hidden fever under snow. Istanbul's second largest island, Heybeli used to be home to copper mines in Byzantine times.

 

We're on board again. Destination Kınalı Island. Named after the coppery shrubs that had covered the hills until the latest fire, this is one of the smallest of the islands. A deserted seafront, fishing boats pulled up and covered with tarpaulin and tired horses looking as though they had been left here to fend for themselves. Under the deepening mottled snow, lit by an unknown source, a lonely man with a cigarette in his mouth. A long-forgotten song of sadness, piping up from who knows where: “Lay me on your breast, let me sleep with you...”

 

We depart from snow-covered Kınalı under the phosphorescent purple clouds letting in the occasional ray of daylight.

 

Keep in mind….

 

• Whether you visit in summer or winter, make sure you visit the Dil (tongue) Peninsula.  This is a wonderful place to sit among the pine trees, look at the sea, and ruminate on the brevity of human lives.  This is the place to feel the emotion of Osman Nihat Akın's unforgettable song, a melody that sent the hearts of unrequited lovers in Istanbul aquiver for years, for the lyricist writes, 'Alas, I am again on the island this year without you / I wander the peninsula alone / My tears flow unstanched.'

• Follow the path up the hill as it winds through chaste trees, amaranths, holly oaks, and jonquils until you reach the Aya Yorgi Monastery perched on the very peak.  Sit down on one of the huge granite rocks that dot the landscape and listen to the whispers whistling through the pinetrees.  This is the lament of the fisherman Aleksi Yorgo who, in the 1920s, fell hopelessly in love with the island's most beautiful girl, Evdoksia.  If you are fortunate, the retired sexton, a man said to be a distant relative of the Byzantine lord, Cantacuzinos, may even tell you of this love.  They say that the spirit of the retired sexton sometimes wanders about this place in the evening hours. Maybe you will see him and get to hear his telling of the story.

Oleanders and purple flowers;  those color lives of ours aren't there anymore.
Even the sea is deserted in the winter.

Island homes in line with closed doors to winter.

Locals carry on their daily routine all seasons.

 

Those carry lovers for a romantic ride, loaded with junk for a little cost.
Both horses and the owners are uneased.

Left all alone until the next summer.

 

No one out there to meet the romantic moonlight.