A Winter Ascent of Mount Nemrut
December 2013: I traveled to central Turkey with one goal in mind—climbing Mount Nemrut in winter. Known for its towering ancient statues and massive stone heads, Nemrut is one of Turkey’s most famous archaeological sites, typically swarmed by tour buses in warmer months. But in winter, heavy snow cuts off access, leaving the mountain abandoned.
I knew that if I could reach a nearby village, I could get a walking map and make the climb alone—having the entire summit and its eerie, weathered statues all to myself. That was the challenge I set out to accomplish.
About Mount Nemrut
The Legacy of Mount Nemrut
Rising 7,000 feet above the Anatolian landscape, Mount Nemrut is not just a mountain—it is a monument to one man’s obsession with his own legacy. In 62 B.C., Greek King Antiochus I of Commagene transformed its summit into a grand religious sanctuary, dedicated not just to the gods, but to himself.
Antiochus sought to be worshipped for eternity, ensuring that his tomb was placed in a high and holy place, remote from the world yet close to the heavens. To achieve this, an artificial peak was constructed, covering his burial site, and around it, colossal sandstone statues were erected—depicting himself, eagles, lions, and the gods of Greece and Persia.
Though time and earthquakes have toppled these massive figures, their fragmented remains still sit on the mountain, staring silently into the Anatolian sky—a lasting tribute to a king who sought immortality.
Location of Mount Nemrut
The Long Journey to Nemrut
Getting to Mount Nemrut from Erbil, Iraq, was an adventure in itself. I spent the entire day navigating public transportation across the border into Turkey. By nightfall, my bus driver dropped me off on the side of a major road—far from any town, in the freezing cold—with no onward transport to Kahta, the closest village to Nemrut.
At that moment, I had serious doubts about making it to Kahta in one day. Cars sped past, but none stopped. Realizing my best chance was to find a taxi, I walked toward the outskirts of a small town. My patience paid off—after half an hour of waiting, a lone taxi appeared. I frantically waved it down, and to my relief, the driver agreed to take me to Kahta for a fair price.
A few hours later, just before 11 PM, I arrived at a family-run guesthouse. Thankfully, I had sent a message ahead, so the owner was expecting me. I had made it. Now, after a long day of travel, I could finally rest—knowing that by morning, I would begin my ascent to the summit of Nemrut.
Top of Nemrut
Climbing Mount Nemrut in Winter
The next morning, I spoke with the guesthouse owner, asking for directions to the top of Nemrut. As expected, the road was closed, buried under deep snow. He pointed to the distant peak and warned that my biggest challenge would be wading through the snow, estimating that the climb would take a few hours.
I packed all my cold-weather gear, some food and water, and set off. The landscape was completely deserted—no villages, no people, just the crisp morning air and an untouched white expanse ahead.
A Fortunate Encounter
As I climbed higher, I crossed paths with a local villager carrying a rifle over his shoulder. He was heading into the mountains to hunt, and when I told him my destination, he said he was going the same way—almost to the peak. He offered to let me follow him, which was a stroke of luck that likely saved me from getting lost.
The only other signs of life were wolf tracks in the fresh snow, leading toward the summit. The man explained that wolves were common in these mountains, a reminder of just how wild and isolated this region was.
After guiding me most of the way, the hunter stopped and pointed toward the summit. From there, I could continue on my own. We parted ways, and I pressed forward, sinking waist-deep in snow in some sections as I made my final push to the top.
Alone with the Gods
At the summit, I found what I had come for—the giant sandstone statues of King Antiochus, their frozen faces staring outward as they had for over 2,000 years. Snowdrifts buried much of the site, leaving only the heads and small portions of the surrounding ruins exposed.
I stood there, completely alone—just me, the mountain, and these ancient sentinels of history. The sheer isolation made it even more surreal. With no footprints in the snow except for my own, it felt as if I had stepped back in time, witnessing Mount Nemrut as it had been for millennia.
This was exactly what I had hoped for—a moment of pure solitude in one of history’s most hauntingly beautiful places.
View from Nemrut
King Antiochus Statue
King Antiochus Statue
King Antiochus Statue
I set my camera up on self timer to take this selfie next to the King Antiochus Statue
The Journey Back: From Nemrut to Diyarbakır
Getting back to the guesthouse was straightforward—I simply followed my own tracks in the snow, retracing my steps down the mountain. By the time I arrived in the afternoon, I was exhausted but exhilarated, having achieved what I set out to do.
Without lingering too long, I hired a taxi to take me to the nearest sizable town, where I managed to catch a shared taxi for the long journey to Diyarbakır—the largest Kurdish city in Turkey.
Diyarbakır is a place heavy with history and tension. It sits at the heart of Turkey’s Kurdish conflict, a region long viewed as a sensitive area by the Turkish government due to the ongoing insurgency led by Kurdish separatists. For decades, Diyarbakır has been a flashpoint of unrest, and even as a traveler, I could feel the weight of its complicated past and uncertain future.
Friendly Kurdish kids at a kebob ship I ate at in Diyarbakır
A Night in Diyarbakır
I spent one night in Diyarbakır, a city that felt like a world apart from the rest of Turkey. Heavily militarized, it was patrolled by Turkish soldiers—a stark reminder of the ongoing tensions between the government and Kurdish separatists.
Despite the political climate, the locals were incredibly welcoming. Diyarbakır sees few foreign visitors, and my presence drew curious stares, but the attention was entirely friendly. Strangers greeted me warmly, eager to chat or offer help.
I stayed in a small guesthouse, soaking in the city’s unique atmosphere before catching a flight the next day to Istanbul—leaving behind the Kurdish heartland and returning to Turkey’s bustling metropolis.