This was my second time on this tour with ViraNatura — the Turkish Silk Road. A magnificent journey that makes me feel I could do it again and again, indefinitely.
Our route was much the same as the previous year, but longer — considerably longer. We set off from Nevşehir and drove all the way to the eastern reaches of Turkey, up to the Black Sea coast, and then down into the plains of Mesopotamia. Wonderful land, wonderful plants.
The season was running one to two weeks late. On the high plateaus, there were three to five metres of snow where we had been exploring vast fields of Muscari armeniacum the year before. Some of the plants we had seen last time were simply not there — but these lands always hold something precious, mostly bulbous species, whatever the season.
I am endlessly fascinated by the landscapes and plants we encounter on this route, and I think that will always be true. The entire trip was magnificent from start to finish, but this year it was the Munzur Valley near Tunceli that captured my heart. I was perhaps ten or twelve years old the first time I visited this valley, with my father — always chasing plants, and me always chasing after him. I still remember that trip clearly, and returning after all these years brought back the same pure joy. The valley draws you in completely. On the way we spotted a remarkable number of orchid species growing in close proximity: Dactylorhiza, Orchis, Ophrys and Cephalanthera. The undisputed star, however, was Tchihatchewia isatidea — a localised endemic and an extraordinary steppe plant. In the same area, we also caught sight of Paeonia mascula, a species I painted many years ago.
In many ways this year's Turkish Silk Road felt like a journey through my own past. On the very first day, we headed to Aksaray hoping to find Iris sprengeri — and we did. This beautiful endemic was in full flower on the slopes of Mount Hasan. It was the first time I had ever seen it in its natural habitat, and it was priceless. I illustrated I. sprengeri back in 2017 when I encountered it growing at Nezahat Gökyiğit Botanic Garden (NGBB), and that illustration has since been used many times to demonstrate watercolour technique step by step. It will also appear in my forthcoming book, Botanical Illustration from Life!
You can see the full illustration of I. sprengeri in my gallery, and if you'd like to follow updates on the book, there's more information to read here.
Another species we came across was Gundelia tournefortii. It didn't attract much attention from the group — the surrounding plants were simply overwhelming — but it caught mine. It holds a special place for me: it was the very first plant I ever painted for Curtis's Botanical Magazine, published in Volume 30, Part 2, July 2013.
And then of course there was Iris iberica subsp. elegantissima — a species whose sketches took me two years to complete, and whose painting I finally finished in 2018 for my book. Here we were meeting again, as we seem to do more and more often now.
It is almost impossible to say which year offered the richer botanical experience. The late season meant many species from last year were absent — but equally, many species that had been missing before were now showing themselves in their full glory. Fritillaria michailovskyi was one of them. We returned to the exact same site near Kars, as we had the year before, and while we timed it perfectly both times, this year was something else entirely. They were everywhere — absolutely everywhere. It was almost impossible to walk without stepping on a flower. I photographed and filmed all day and simply could not stop.
I felt exactly the same madness when we encountered Fritillaria alburyana on the Palandöken Mountains — one of my favourite Fritillaria species, though choosing a favourite is genuinely difficult. (I should also mention that the mere sight of Fritillaria persica had me sprinting up a mountainside like a marathon runner. I love them all.) The frenzy of photographs and videos continued as we also came across Fritillaria caucasica and Iris stenophylla nearby — until the most unfortunate moment of the whole tour: my phone died, and I lost every single photo and video from that day. A truly sad moment. But in my memory I can still see them perfectly — swaying in the strong wind and holding firm.
Another star of the tour was Iris peshmeniana. An entire hillside, covered in groups of this beautiful specimen, shining brilliant yellow in every direction. I think that really was paradise.
In two weeks we covered an astonishing stretch of Turkey, and the number of species we encountered was beyond counting. I could never do justice to each one of them in writing — and in any case, there are moments in life that words simply cannot reach. Perhaps one day we can go together.
