Kekova Island: Human and Geological Timescales of the Sea

Ancient Lycia in southwestern Türkiye is where the rugged, mountainous Teke Peninsula – formed by the southern end of the Taurus Mountains – descends sharply into the Mediterranean Sea. High limestone ridges up to 3,000 m in elevation contrast with deep gorges and remote coastal plains. It is a striking palette of rocky headlands and secluded coves, sandy beaches and pine forests descending steep slopes to the shoreline. Strabo, the ancient Greek geographer who wrote at the turn of the common era, aptly described the Lycian coast as “rugged and difficult, but with exceedingly good, often well-sheltered harbours” (Geography, 14.3.2).

Sailing along this coastline and in need of shelter were the (later) Saints Paul, Luke, Helen and Nicholas; Byzantine Empress Zoe; the medieval Muslim traveller Ibn Battuta; and numerous Crusaders and pilgrims from western Europe and Constantinople on their way to – and if lucky – from the “Holy Land” in the east. And for millennia, numerous unnamed and perhaps anonymous traders, fisherfolk, naval officers, and pirates have sailed here and sought shelter, their ships providing a lifeline for a region that did not see coastal roads built until the 1960s.

Long and narrow Kekova Bay must have been one of the well-sheltered harbours Strabo was referencing, formed by parallel coastal peninsulas and islands, of which the largest, Kekova Adası (Kekova Island), serves as a natural breakwater. The Irish hydrographer Francis Beaufort, sailing east along this coast in 1811-12 from the present-day Greek island of Kastellorizo, ancient Megiste (called Meis in Turkish), anchored his ship HMS Frederickstein behind Kekova Island. He wrote in his account of the voyage, Karamania, Or, A Brief Description of the South Coast of Asia Minor and of the Remains of Antiquity With Plans, Views…, that the sheltered waters here were “one of those spacious estuaries” (p. 17).

Kekova Island on the central Lycian coast, as shown in “South coast of Asia Minor, commonly called Karamania” (F. Beaufort, Karamania, 1817, public domain, Wikimedia Commons).

Picturesque yet imposing, Kekova Island and its surrounding waters, visited by our gulet, present an ideal way to understand the power of the sea through human and geological timescales – what it can give, what it can take away, and how people have interpreted these fluctuations.

Sailing along the central Lycian coast

The stretch of coast that Strabo and Beaufort compliment is subject most of the summer to prevailing winds, mainly north-northwesterlies, collectively referred to as the Etesians (‘yearly’ in ancient Greek) or Meltemi. Lasting from June to September, with an increase in July and August, these dry winds start off light in the morning, and almost as a rule, pick up in the mid-afternoon (15-25 knots), causing short, choppy waves. The Etesians/Meltemi can often be countered by local winds that run parallel to the coastline at dawn and dusk. Near-shore currents flowing from east to west can compete with the lighter winds. For a sailing ship to make passage along the Lycian coast, waiting in protected waters for the right conditions is a necessity.

Kekova Bay can be calm in these conditions due in large part to the region’s topography: the extensions of the Taurus Mountains as they meet the sea are long ridges running north-east to south-west. The highest of these is Kekova Island, referred to in antiquity as Dolichiste, creating a natural breakwater as the southern border of the bay: 7 km long, 1.8 km wide, and 190 metres in elevation.

Kekova Island on the right with the bay’s main entrance channels centre left.

Piri Reis, the Ottoman Turkish cartographer and admiral, in his nautical atlas Kitab-ı Bahriye (‘Book of the Sea’) from 1521/26, clearly depicts the major navigational features of the coastline from Kastellorizo to ancient Andriake. Then, like today, to reach the shelter of Kekova Bay, the main passage when navigating from the west is formed by the island and its near twin, the peninsula behind which lies ancient Aperlae. Within the passage are two small low-lying islands, Kara Ada and Topak Adası, calling for a navigator to carefully choose a northern or southern channel, each about 275 metres wide. If sailing into the bay from the east, the navigation route passes by Andriake, the port of ancient Myra (modern Demre), then through the ca. 750-metre wide passage between the northeastern tip of Kekova Island and the mainland.

Kekova Bay, Kekova Island, and Teimiussa/Üçaǧız, as depicted in Piri Reis’ nautical atlas Kitab-ı Bahriye, 1521/26 (public domain, Wikimedia Commons).

Settlements on Kekova

The Greek metropolitan and scholar, Meletios Mitrou (1661–1714) wrote in his work, Geography Old and New (Ch. 2), that Kekova was settled by colonists from nearby ancient Myra to the east. The name might have derived from the Greek word kakkavos, meaning ‘partridge’, which were said to inhabit the area. The antiquity of the settlements around the edges of Kekova Bay attest to repeated visits by ships over the centuries. Nestled in the innermost inlet of the bay is Teimiussa (modern Üçağız), with Simena (modern Kaleköy) situated on the eastern peninsula of the inlet. First settled in the Dynastic or Classical Period (6^th-5^th centuries BCE), these are now charmingly sleepy and still-occupied seaside villages.

Looking north-east in Kekova Bay, with Simena to the left and Batık Kent on the island to the right.

To the south of Simena, across a channel no wider than 1 km, are the unoccupied remains of the two ancient settlements on Dolichiste/Kekova Island. Directly across from Simena, along the steep shoreline of the interior, northern coast of the island, just above the waterline, is an agglomeration of ruined buildings now called Batık Kent (‘Sunken City’). It extends for 700 metres along the shore, where one- to two-storey buildings once rose up the mountainside in places up to nine terraces high. Here are fragments of stone walls, doorways, and carved in the limestone cliff face, distinctive square holes that would have held the ends of roof beams, staircases to now-disappeared upper storeys, and channels to collect rainwater in cisterns or to drain sewage to the sea.

In addition to houses, there are the remains of two churches and three sites possibly used to salt fish. Due to the density of structures, Beaufort, during his visit in the early 19^th century, noted that “all communication [within this settlement] must have been carried out by water” (Karamania, p. 19). Indeed, in the bright turquoise waters just below the shoreline are the dark forms of blocks outlining more walls which must have included docks and jetties. There are two small landing places discernible, with a small harbour at the west end of this settlement.

One kilometre to the west of Batık Kent, and closer to the Kekova Bay channel entrance, is Xera or Tersane Koyu (‘Shipyard Bay’), 150 m long and 60 m wide. Along the shoreline here are stone-built remains of a church with the apse still intact, at least five cisterns, a watch tower, bollards and mooring rings, and vats for salting fish. During Beaufort’s visit, he noted that Greek sailors still visited the church – perhaps dedicated to Saint Stephen – which dates from the 5^th century CE.

Tersane Koyu, Shipyard Bay.

Unlike its ancient neighbours Teimiussa and Simena, the occupation on Kekova Island began a little later, in the Hellenistic Period (4^th century BCE), first evidenced through the construction of watch towers, with a majority of the domestic structures dating to the Late Roman and Early Byzantine Periods (4^th-6^th centuries CE). The relationship between all three settlements must have been one of interdependence – the steep topography and lack of water on the island limited occupation and likely prohibited agriculture, although fish salting, and therefore fishing, might have been a primary livelihood. The agricultural hinterland of Teimiussa produced grains and olive oil; its natural springs also served as a fresh water source when rains failed to fill cisterns.

Shipwrecks

Sailing along the Lycian coast in antiquity was not without peril: winds change direction and force and weather worsens. Saint Helen, mother of Emperor Constantine, on her return voyage from Jerusalem with parts of the True Cross, faced a sudden storm here in 327 CE; as thanks for being saved from wrecking, she is said to have founded the first church on the island of Megiste/Kastellorizo.

Even in the safe anchorage of Kekova Bay, ships can founder, run aground, or take on water and sink. Not only do the rocky cliffs of the surrounding coastline present a hazard, but so do shallows and reefs like those near Kara Ada and Topak Adası. There are at least seven known shipwrecks around the island that witnessed such unfortunate events.

Although the wooden hulls are now mostly eaten away by marine organisms, these shipwrecks can be identified by the discrete groupings of artefacts visible on the seabed. These largely consist of stone and iron anchors and at least 46 different types of ceramic containers – amphorae – which once carried wine, olive oil, salted fish sauce and possibly even grain; other cargoes consisted of roof tiles. Some of these finds have been raised and are housed in the Museum of Underwater Archaeology in the Bodrum Castle.

The shipwrecks are distributed along the northern side of Kekova Island and at its south-eastern end, around a small island called Tek Adası. The ships’ cargoes reveal just how extensive this small island’s international connections really were: goods originated from the Italic peninsula, the Aegean, mainland Greece, Marmara and the Black Sea, Cyprus, North Africa (present-day Tunisia and Egypt), the Syro-Palestinian coast, and more local products from Cilicia on the southeastern Turkish Mediterranean coast.

Interestingly, the shipwrecks provide a broader chronological perspective on the use of the waters around Kekova Island than the visible remains of the settlements on land. The earliest shipwreck, with a cargo from Cyprus, indicates that navigators met an unfortunate fate here in the 8^th century BCE; the most recent shipwreck, whose cargo was likely removed as it sank, dates to the 14^th century CE.

Sinking into the sea

The remains noticeable under water along the shores of Kekova Island were commented upon by Beaufort and must have been certainly seen by others before him. Similar submerged settlement remains are also found at Teimiussa, Andriake, and Aperlae. Most famously perhaps are those at Simena, where a lone Lycian tomb now picturesquely sits in the middle of the harbour, depicted in the 1803 lithograph, Principle Entrance of the Harbour of Cacamo, by Luigi Mayer.

The “sinking” of these settlements is now understood not to be a result of sea levels rising on any great scale (although the Mediterranean is generally ‘rising’ at a level of millimetres per year), but due to geological processes. The orientation of the Kekova region’s topography – ridges running north-east to south-west – signals the direction of tectonic faults where major plates converge.

Ancient Lycian rock-cut tomb facade mimicking a wooden house.

Texts such as those written by Roman historians Tacitus (XIV.27) and Dio Cassius (LXIII.17) and the Byzantine chronicler John Malalas (XVIII.40) record earthquakes striking the region between 141-4 CE, again in 240 CE and 529-30 CE; two earthquakes struck in the late 7^th and 8^th centuries, with another earthquake impacting eastern Lycia in the first half of the 9^th century. Additionally, a series of major earthquakes struck closer to nearby Rhodes in 1481-2 CE. These have all contributed to significant shifts in the tectonic plates. Interestingly, it is the archaeological remains of the Lycian coast that can provide proxies for us to date when these changes happened, and to measure specifically their impact. Since the late 6^th to early 7^th centuries CE, the buildings at nearby Aperlae have undergone 7 metres of horizontal displacement and over 6 metres of vertical displacement. At Kekova Island, the settlement remains now under water reveal almost 3 metres of vertical displacement.

The tectonic episodes that led to the “sinking” of these cities and their abandonment in the Early Byzantine Period probably also caused small tidal waves; these dramatic events were compounded by a series of plagues that struck Anatolia between 541-745 CE and caused widespread depopulation. Simultaneously, geo-political changes were impacting the eastern Mediterranean. No longer the Mare Nostrum of the Romans or even the Byzantine emperors’ seas, Umayyad fleets under the command of Caliph Mu'awiya I first made their appearance off the Lycian coast in 672–3 CE, on their way to the First Arab Siege of Constantinople (674-8 CE). Formerly safe sea lanes were under threat from foreign navies and pirates. It could have been a combination of these factors that led to the settlement on Kekova Island being deserted.

The submerged and shoreline remains of Batık Kent on Kekova Island.

Historically, however, the list of tragedies to which the region was subjected were seen in a much different light by some, especially after the Crusades begun in 1096 CE and following the arrival in the Aegean of the Black Death in 1347 CE. Chroniclers and travellers who witnessed or had knowledge of these events seem to have formed localised myths.

Partially submerged stone walls, doorways, and foundations of the ancient Lycian city Dolichiste.

Specific to the Lycian coast is the morality tale “The Bane of Satalyia/Cathaly”, with the most complete version included in The Travels of Sir John Mandeville (1357-71). Mandeville, a 14^th-century English knight, claimed to have travelled through the eastern Mediterranean, Middle East as far as India and China. His story is about a curse upon the Anatalya-Lycian region when one tampers with the dead in their tombs (and in some cases, commits necrophilia). In his retelling, the heads of the dead are recovered for their power, so that when gazed upon in castles and by those on-board ships – there is a whiff of the myth of Medusa here – cause a laundry list of tragedies. Not only was immediate death of the viewer a primary result, but one look could cause ships to wreck; tidal waves, whirlpools, and waterspouts to form at random; and most prescient of all – cities to sink into the sea.

The Lycian tomb in the harbour of Simena, looking across to Kekova Island.

You can discover the sunken cities of this fascinating coastline on  Cruising the Lycian Shore or Cruising Western Lycia  or on our hiking and walking cruises Walking and Cruising Western Lycia or Walking and Cruising the Lycian Shore.