Akyaka, a hidden gem on the Turkish coast, remains a sanctuary of old-world charm, untouched by the glitz and glamour of modern tourism. But is it a blessing or a curse that this beach resort has resisted change?
I vividly recall my most cherished memory of Akyaka. As the sun set, casting its fiery hues on the mountains, the beach transformed. The once-bustling scene gave way to a serene atmosphere, with waiters scurrying to set up tables and lamps for the evening. A trio of local women, their hair a blend of pepper and smoke, sat knitting with their toes in the sand. It was a stark contrast to the influencer-filled beaches elsewhere in Turkey, and I knew I'd found my haven.
Akyaka, nestled on the eastern edge of the azure Gökova Bay, has been a familiar sight for me since my holiday rep days three decades ago. Remarkably, it hasn't changed much since. While other Turkish villages and resorts have undergone drastic transformations, Akyaka maintains its laid-back, slightly chaotic, and undeniably authentic character.
This preservation is partly due to its designation as one of Turkey's 'slow towns,' an initiative that champions local traditions and quality of life over tourist-driven excesses. The town's unique vibe also owes much to the late Turkish poet and architect Nail Çakirhan, who retired here in 1971. His house, a fusion of Ottoman design and local materials, inspired others to follow suit, revitalizing local crafts, especially carpentry. By the 1990s, Çakirhan's architectural influence was evident in most new properties, resulting in elegant streets lined with wooden balconies adorned with bougainvillea.
My recent visit with my husband, Mark, reaffirmed my love for Akyaka. The absence of all-inclusive resorts and sprawling hotels ensures it remains a haven for Turkish tourists. They flock to the beach for its kitesurfing, the forest for hiking, and the riverfront for its fish restaurants. We stayed at the İskelem Otel, a charming spot just outside town, where we were warmly welcomed by Müjgan, the receptionist. The hotel's jetty, transformed from sunloungers by day to candlelit tables by night, became our favorite spot for dinner.
The food in Akyaka is a delight, from the tangy sea bream and spiced Adana kebabs to the sticky baklava. Breakfast is a feast, with crispy börek, fresh tomatoes, and honey. Mark and I indulge, knowing that a vigorous paddleboarding session awaits.
For Mark, Akyaka's allure is amplified by its reputation as a leading watersports destination in the Mediterranean. The thermic winds that sweep across the gulf from May to November make it ideal for kitesurfing and wing-foiling. Akçapinar Beach, just a short drive away, is a testament to this, with its colorful kites and tiny figures gliding through the air.
Beyond the town, there's much to discover. Göcek, with its gulets and sailing culture, Lake Köyceğiz, ideal for tranquil forest walks, and the bustling Muğla market on Thursdays, offering a genuine local experience. These experiences are a far cry from the tourist traps found elsewhere in Turkey.
Turkey is evolving, with its once-affordable destinations now catering to the super-rich and health tourists. But Akyaka stands as a testament to the country's authentic side, offering reasonable prices and a truly local experience. It's not about cocktail bars or Michelin-star restaurants; it's about Turkish coffee, simit, and the local newspaper. It's backgammon on the jetty and cold Efes as the sun sets over the iridescent bay.
Akyaka captivates me so much that I question the need to explore elsewhere in Turkey. Perhaps I'll even pick up knitting! Rooms at the İskelem reflect this charm, with rates starting at £105-£260 B&B. In town, the Yücelen offers traditional Ottoman design from £95 B&B. But here's the twist: is Akyaka's resistance to change a boon or a hindrance to its future?
