First things first — this small town in Turkey is pronounced Pah-mook-ah-lay. It’s easy to remember if you’ve seen season 1 of Downton Abbey, as the first two syllables in Pamukkale are identical to those of Mr. Pamuk, the young man who met an untimely demise immediately following (during?) his tryst with Lady Mary. And Mr. Pamuk was conveniently Turkish, so this mnemonic device works out all around.

I take a train from Selcuk to Denizli, then catch a mini-bus to nearby Pamukkale. Since it’s off season, I easily find a single room in town at the Artemis Yoruk Hotel for around $30 a night.

I grab a chicken pita next to this mosque, below-left. While we’re on the subject of food, I enjoy a fabulous dinner later that night at Kaya Restaurant — a stuffed eggplant appetizer and a stir-fry chicken dish with veggies and rice. It’s all quite reasonably priced.

I spend the entire afternoon just a few blocks from town at Hierapolis / Pamukkale, an UNESCO World Heritage Site.

Pamukkale means “cotton castle” in Turkish, referring to the white terraces of carbonate minerals left by the flowing water of natural hot springs. Hierapolis is the ancient Greco-Roman and Byzantine city that was built on top of Pamukkale, the ruins of which still exist today.

Doesn’t that hill in the distance look like it’s covered in snow? There’s actually hot water flowing down that entire area, and I’m about to walk up there — barefoot.

I’m charmed by this colorful lake at the base of Pamukkale. There are dozens of ducks (and swans in the distance) which flock when a woman tosses bread into the water.

I hike up the hill for a few minutes to the entrance of Pamukkale. There’s a nominal fee to enter the gate.

In an effort to protect this area, shoes are not permitted.

I’ve read some blogs on-line which suggest wearing socks to protect your feet from rougher patches of minerals, but I had no trouble going barefoot.

The water at the bottom is tepid, but grows warmer as you climb higher towards the hot springs.

Don’t these look downright Gothic?

As I climb higher, I get a better view of the terraces I’ve passed. The aqua water looks so pretty from above — you can’t see this from the lake where I started hiking.

At the very top (near a parking lot where you can take a taxi or bus if you’d like to avoid the climb), hot water rushes down this trench below. Visitors can relax and soak their legs for as long as they want; it’s like being in a jacuzzi.

A few more images from the top, near the entrance to Hierapolis:

If you think Pamukkale is cool so far, this will blow your mind — Cleopatra’s Pool at the top is a natural hot spring where visitors can swim… while their feet brush ancient columns and ruins left over from the heyday of Hierapolis.

It’s blissfuly empty at this time of year. I pay the off-season price (which I think is 50% cheaper than the normal cost), use their changing rooms, and secure my stuff in a locker.

The only downside is that I don’t notice a place to rent a scuba mask, and the best part is seeing the upturned columns underwater. Luckily a fellow swimmer lets me borrow his mask for a few laps around the ruins.

SO NEAT. And did I mention the water is hot? It’s like being in a giant heated pool.

I took a very short video of these ruins:

There is transportation available back to town, but it’s nearly sunset and I want more photos, so I walk down barefoot.

I don’t have much to add, so I’ll stop the commentary and let the photos do the talking. Enjoy!

I am thrilled I stopped at Pamukkale for one night. It was easy to do, as it’s conveniently located between Ephesus and some of the popular towns along the Mediterranean / Aegean. I’d read reviews on-line written by people who were disappointed with this area, but perhaps they visited during a more popular time of year and the crowds (and prices) turned them off. I can understand Cleopatra’s pool being a let-down if it’s overflowing with people.

So while the air temperature in Turkey is fairly cool in December, it’s worth it to enjoy these attractions unspoiled by hundreds of tourists.