6-Day Black Sea Highlands Caravan Route

The next morning, the road carries you east, winding past Aybastı until the earth suddenly reshapes itself into soft curves. Perşembe Plateau is famous for these meanders, streams that twist and bend across the meadows as though someone traced them with a paintbrush. From above, they resemble calligraphy written in water; up close, they are mirrors of the sky and clouds.

In July, the plateau comes alive in a burst of celebration. Wrestling matches, horse races, and folk dances turn the grassland into an open-air arena, where the smell of grilled corn mingles with the sound of fiddles. Outside festival days, the rhythm is slower: you follow a path to Çiseli Waterfall, cool mist clinging to your face, or climb to Karga Tepesi for a sweeping view of valleys tumbling into one another. By evening, mist curls across the meadows and your caravan feels cocooned in white. You step outside to eat your dinner, listening only to the hush of water winding endlessly through the plateau.

If the Black Sea has a roof, it might just be Bektaş. The caravan winds up through three possible routes, each one greener and more tangled with streams than the other, until you emerge onto a plateau that seems to float in the sky. Bektaş is both a place and a feeling: at once a natural amphitheatre of meadows and a cultural gathering ground where traditions refuse to fade.

Arrive in July, and the plateau transforms into a carnival. The Yayla Şenlikleri spill music and colour into every corner; villagers wear bright dresses, children weave through the crowd, and drums lead entire groups into dizzying horon circles. Outside the festivities, Bektaş is quiet, cows graze lazily, and the clinking of their bells echoes through the fog. You park your caravan at the meadow’s edge, make a pot of tea, and sit to watch clouds slide across the valleys below. As night falls, the world feels far away, and you are left dining above the clouds themselves.

By the fourth day, you find yourself descending into Çaykara, where the mountains of the Soğanlı and Kaçkar ranges fold into one another. The road twists, trees grow taller, and then suddenly a lake appears. Uzungöl’s story is written in stone and water. 

You spend the morning walking its shores, past the wooden houses of Uzungöl Village, their weathered beams blending seamlessly with the forest. Later, trails lure you higher: perhaps to Demirkapı or Şekersu Plateau, perhaps further still to Yedigöller, a hidden world of alpine lakes where reflections stretch deeper than the sky. In summer, birdwatchers and trekkers fill the paths; in winter, snow silences everything. At dusk, prepare dinner beside your caravan while the lake mirrors pine and mountain. Eating by the water, you understand why travellers speak of Uzungöl as if it were a living soul.

The caravan climbs again, this time into the heart of Rize’s Çamlıhemşin, where the sound of the Fırtına River runs beside you like a constant companion. Soon waterfalls announce your arrival: Gürgendibi first, then Gelintülü, tumbling from cliffs in veils of spray. And then Ayder appears, a plateau-turned-village set at 1,218 metres, cradled by pine forests and embraced by mist.

Here, life is both lively and serene. Families rent bungalows, people sell jars of Ayder honey, golden and thick, and trekkers set out for the Kaçkar summits. But what defines Ayder most are its thermal springs, steaming pools that have drawn visitors for centuries, a warmth against the cool mountain air. You park your caravan at the plateau’s edge, wander into the woods where the fog hangs like curtains, and return at nightfall to the hum of cicadas and the glow of firelight. Supper is simple: bread, cheese, and honey, eaten while the river roars below. And as you taste the honey, sharp and sweet, you feel you are tasting Ayder itself.

On your final day, the road carries you into Artvin, where the Sahara Karagöl National Park waits just 17 kilometres from Şavşat. Broad alpine meadows stretch endlessly, dotted with cold springs. Sahara Plateau is generous in its simplicity: nothing demands of you here except to slow down, to walk, to breathe.

In July, the Pancarcı Festival transforms the meadows into a living stage of music, dance, and horse races. But even without the festival, the plateau hums with quiet life. Park your caravan on the grass and spend the day walking from stream to meadow, dipping your hands into icy waters. When the sun begins to slip, cook your final meal beside the camper. The sky glows amber and the stillness settles around you. In this silence your journey closes, reminding you that caravan travel is about learning to live with the rhythm of the land.