Travel: Karpaz Peninsula, North Cyprus

Published on Tuesday 5 April 2011 19:56

Orchid spotting might sound the least strenuous holiday activity imaginable, but believe me, you need back muscles of steel to bend down and appreciate these elusive masters of mimicry.

Crouching in a meadow on North Cyprus' bucolic Karpaz Peninsula, I was scrutinising an exquisite bee orchid - and my lower back was straining to within an inch of snapping. Mustafa, a local landowner, was watching me closely, a cigarette dangling from his mouth underneath a silvery moustache. Seeing my discomfort, he swooped down and to my horror plucked the orchid from right under my nose. I'd just read that they take up to 15 years to flower, but nevertheless I smiled graciously as he handed me the flower. Spotting a pink orchid nearby, he swiftly delivered the coup de grace to that one too. Beckoning me to stand up and take a closer look, he pointed to one of the blooms on its frilly flower spike.

"Adam," he boomed in a gravelly voice. "This means 'man' in English." And sure enough, I could see a smiling face with a shock of curly hair painted on the orchid's face.

"Bajaklar," he bellowed, showing me two petals that resembled legs. He then pointed to a smaller third leg in the middle and roared with laughter, sending ash blowing over the rapidly diminishing orchid meadow. It was the naked man orchid, Orchis Italica, which always raises a smile on this orchid- loving island.

With 37 orchid species endemic to Cyprus, it seems everybody is an expert. However, a nearby yellow variety had both Mustapha and my guide, Onur, flummoxed. After a couple of minutes of intense debate, Onur took out his iPhone to check the internet, while Mustafa phoned a friend to look in a book. Five minutes later they compared results and, hey presto, they were the same; it was a Roman orchid, Dactylorhiza Romana. They both looked deeply satisfied, and I too was beginning to feel the excitement of orchid hunting. It might be the sedatest form of safari, but spotting an unusual species of orchid has all the thrills of stumbling across a leopard on the Serengeti.

Second only to orchids in Turkish Cypriots' affections are tulips. Mustafa was eager to show me his prize tulip field, so we jumped into his Land Rover and trundled off down a dusty track lined by gnarled carob trees. As we approached the tulip meadow, I winced as Mustafa drove straight into it, flattening tulips left and right. His conservation methods might need brushing up, but he beamed with pride as he showed me the flowers. The first vermilion blooms were opening and in a week's time, he assured me, the whole field stretching as far as the eye could see would be blazing red.

The brief tulip season is a small part of a wildflower bonanza that begins with the first autumn rains, when delicate mountain crocuses appear, and lasts until June, when magenta oleanders electrify the parched landscape. In March, the island turns to shimmering gold as drifts of wild mustard and crown daisies grace the cornfields. The display is especially beautiful in the ancient Roman city of Salamis. Spread over a hill that gently slopes to the Mediterranean, the broken columns, azure sea and yellow daisies are as dazzling as a Van Gogh painting.

At Salamis I came face to face with the extraordinary giant fennel, or devil's weed as it is known in Turkish. It takes just a couple of weeks for this floral leviathan to send its yellow flower spike soaring up to ten feet into the sky, while its feathery tendrils envelop everything in its wake. It dies back just as quickly, but walking through the deserted colonnades of the ruined gymnasium, swallows swooping low through the columns, I had an eerie sensation that the city had just been destroyed by an army of marauding triffids.

Later on, I passed an elderly couple carrying staffs. They were searching for wild asparagus, a much-loved spring treat in Cyprus. When you order meze, you'll often encounter unfamiliar plants either lightly pickled or braised in olive oil and lemon juice. Thistle, mallow and campion are popularly cooked this way, while wild asparagus tips are often tossed into a lightly seasoned omelette.

The Kyrenia mountains are never far away in North Cyprus and their twisted limestone crags form a fairy-tale backdrop to the beach resorts. A line of fortresses dating back more than 1,000 years to the Byzantine era clings to the sheer cliffs. These mountains capture the lion's share of Cyprus' rainfall and the wildflower displays in and around the castles are especially vivid.

I arrived early at St Hilarion, a castle steeped in Crusader legend, and the spring flowers looked magical in the crisp morning sunshine. It was the mandrake flowering season and clumps of purple bells carpeted the ruined courtyards where Richard the Lionheart once sojourned. The heavy rainfall forms an unusual microclimate within Cyprus and the Kyrenia range is home to several plant species unique to these mountains. The mundanely named St Hilarion Cabbage is one of them - if you look closely, you can spot its delicate white blooms dangling from the castle's walls.

To the west of the island, the mountains form a line of gently undulating hills, home to citrus orchards and wheat fields. The ruins of Bronze Age settlements pepper these hills and the sunny, well-drained meadows are ideal orchid habitats.

At one such ruin, the Sanctuary of Pigadhes, I well and truly caught the orchid-hunting bug. Scarlet pimpernels and orange field marigolds covered the ruins, but every time I saw a flash of orchid pink in the undergrowth my heart raced. Bee orchids are especially common here, but despite probing every nook and cranny, none was in bloom. Moving on to a nearby pine grove we struck gold. In the mellow afternoon light, frogs croaking in a nearby stream, Onur discovered a woodcock orchid among clumps of wild thyme.

"They never grow alone," he told us and, sure enough, we soon spotted dozens. With a lip resembling a tawny moth against three delicate pink petals, the woodcock is one of the most beautiful of all Cyprus' orchids.

A network of well-maintained footpaths meanders through the Kyrenia mountains, using ancient goat tracks and pilgrim routes that link ruined monasteries. The most spectacular walks are around Besparmak ("Five-Fingered") Mountain, which rises like a clenched fist above the pine forests. On my last day in Cyprus I hiked along one of these trails. Every so often the pine trees thinned out to reveal cliffside meadows covered in lilac anemones nodding in the warm breeze. Across the Mediterranean I could just make out the mighty Taurus Mountains in Turkey, still topped with winter snow. North Cyprus' dazzling landscapes and springtime flower displays take your breath away.

THE FACTS North Cyprus specialist The Discovery Collection (tel: [phone], thediscoverycollection.com) offers a twin-centre break to Kyrenia and the Karpaz Peninsula. Prices start from 635pp for 14 nights, including flights, transfers, boutique accommodation on a bed and breakfast basis and the services of a representative.

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&#149 This article was first published in The Scotsman on 23 April 2011