A Horse in Ölüdeniz
My mum’s side of the family has a deep history with horses—back in New Zealand, of course.
They’ve owned horses, competed in show jumping and dressage, managed the local pony club, and even started a national email newsletter dedicated to horses. My grandad ran it for years before my mum took over. Naturally, I grew up around horses and still enjoy riding when I get the chance. But enough backstory.
In March this year, I found myself in southern Türkiye, in a small city called Fethiye. A lovely place on the Mediterranean coast, it’s a popular tourist spot for its beaches and the paragliding off Babadağ mountain. I spent over two weeks there—not just because of its beauty—and made sure to fill my days with interesting adventures.
ATVs might be thrilling, but they’re not my thing. Paragliding, while incredible, didn’t appeal (at the time)—I prefer to experience the scenery at a slower pace. A horse trek, though? That felt right. Peaceful, scenic, and perfectly my speed.
Finding a horse trek, however, turned out to be a challenge in the off-season. A Saturday morning call to a tour operator eventually gave me the number of a man who “runs the horses.”
At 10:30 a.m., I rang him. After a brief moment of language confusion, I explained I was interested in a horse trek. He told me he had a group going out just before lunch. I could join them if I arrived in time—or come later and ride with the guide alone. He sent me a meeting location and even offered to pick me up from my hotel. I declined, opting to make my own way there.
By 11:00 a.m., I was heading out of my hotel, ready to catch the dolmuş (minibus). A unique aspect of public transport in smaller Turkish regions is the ability to flag the bus down from anywhere along its route—very convenient.
From Fethiye I took another bus to Ölüdeniz, a small town nestled in the hills near Babadağ mountain. On arriving, I walked to the location the “man of horses” had sent me.
At 12:20 p.m., I texted him, and he came to pick me up and drive me to the farm.
On the way, I felt a small pang of uncertainty—going with strangers to a remote farm is a little risky—but I reassured myself it would be fine.
When we arrived, he explained that the group had already left, so I’d need to wait until they returned if I didn’t mind. And I certainly didn’t, especially with the company of the farm’s friendly dogs, the family, and the workers.
Horse on the farm. Ölüdeniz, Türkiye.
My dog Companion. Ölüdeniz, Türkiye.
It was lunchtime, so they invited me to join them. I remember the meal being delicious, though the details are foggy—there was definitely bread, a flavorful rice mix, and perhaps a stew. We ate with our hands, using the bread to scoop up the food, and washed it down with Ayran, a slightly sour yogurt drink. The workers chatted away as we ate, occasionally translating bits of conversation for me.
When the group returned, the horses had a short rest, and the necessary ones were resaddled. Our small trio—me, an 8-year-old boy (the man of horses’ son), and the guide on foot—set off.
Before we started, the guide, with the boy’s help, explained the Turkish commands the horse would understand. (Seeing as we were in Türkiye the horse spoke Turkish not English)
We began the trek and wandered up into the hills, transitioning from backroads to forest trails. The guide would occasionally stop to take photos of me on the horse with my phone.
At one point, we passed a flock of sheep grazing in the forest, their shepherd close behind. Eventually, we reached the top of the trail. Babadağ mountain, Fethiye, and Ölüdeniz stretched out below us, with barely a cloud in the sky. It was stunning. The only thing missing was a view of the sea, which the mountains blocked.
Near the end, though, chaos struck. A group of bikers came speeding past, startling the horses. The guide quickly calmed the boy’s horse, but mine panicked. For a moment, it felt like disaster was imminent. With some firm commands and a steady hand on the reins, I managed to calm my horse before it bolted.
After some time taking photos and resting, we began our descent on a different path. As the guide moved ahead with the boy, I let Kleo take a turn leading our horse. Conversations with the boy and attempts to practice with the guide made for a relaxed, enjoyable ride.
The rest of the journey back was peaceful.
Back at the farm, I chatted with the man of horses’ wife. She shared that they had only recently bought the farm—a dream of her husband’s—and planned to fix it up for events and riders. I might have to return someday to see how it turns out.
Eventually, it was time to leave. I caught a ride back to the main road, waited for the bus, and made my way to Fethiye.
It had been a wonderful day on horseback in Ölüdeniz.
Your horse-riding writer,
Cohen