We were exploring the Kaleburnu area of the Karpaz Peninsula. I knew the Elisis Kastros tomb was somewhere nearby but there were no signs. Then, as we drove west beyond Kaleburnu towards Avtepe, I gazed up at a tall hill to my left with a dramatic cliff face along its front. And I saw this:

Who needs signposts and maps when a good set of eyes will do? We drove on, hoping to find a road that would take us up the hill. Nothing. Matt turned the car around and we headed back the way we’d come towards Kuruova and Kaleburnu, the road skirting the bottom of the hill we wanted to climb. At the eastern end of the hill we saw a track leading towards it. Nestled in a bush was a pathetically small sign with ‘tomb’ on it – facing the opposite way to the direction we’d originally come from (a theme of our holiday). But the track took us past the hill towards the sea and there were no more signs.

What I hadn’t told Matt, for fear of spooking him, was that I’d caught sight of a farm track leading up the hill towards the tomb. But the track was at such an impossibly steep angle right on the edge of the hill that I’d assumed there was no way this track could be meant for tourists.

I’d assumed wrong.

You get to the Terror Track by driving along the edge of a farmer’s field. You would never in a million years know that this is the route to a tourist destination. Matt surprised me by agreeing to give the Terror Track a go. Usually, I enjoy taking photos of the ridiculous places we attempt to drive the Land Rover through. I usually enjoy taking pictures of Matt while he’s driving through them, the ‘for godsakes‘ expression on his face. There are no photos of us going up the Terror Track because I was paralysed with terror. 

The problem with the track wasn’t just that it was steep but also that the surface was covered with loose stones and there were deep ruts from tractor wheels in it. Then the track turned at a 45-degree angle and disappeared around the corner – and Matt declared he was going no further. He was worried about getting stuck and being unable to turn the car around. As it was, turning round on this 45-degree bend was pretty hair-raising – it looked like he was reversing over the cliff. My nerve broke and I got me and Goobie out of the car and followed the Land Rover back down the hill.

We couldn’t talk about that track for two days. It gave us the chills just thinking about it. However, on our last night on the Karpaz Peninsula, I tentatively suggested that we have another go at reaching the Elisis Kastros tomb, but this time on foot. We agreed to try on our way home the next day.

We parked behind a bush in the farmer’s field at the bottom of the Terror Track and walked up. It wasn’t half as scary on foot and we reached the 45-degree bend in 10 minutes. We turned the corner and carried on up. We could have got the Land River up here but it would have got scarier before it got better.

Soon the track started to level off and we were treated to some great views across the valley. The sun was shining and the birds were singing – we were pleased that we’d come on foot.

It was around about this point that I noticed gunshots in the distance. Hunters enjoying a day of killing. I also began noticing bullet shells all around us . But thank goodness they weren’t hunting nearby today, right?

We could now see the Elisis Kastros tomb’s distinctive spiral staircase looming ahead of us and we pressed on. Finally, we reached a bench and a tourist information sign about the tomb; the first indication that this was a place for visitors. The sign was riddled with bullet holes.

From here a narrow footpath led past a broken fence towards the cliff face and the spiral staircase. It looked like nobody had been here for a long time – apart from the hunters. Bullet shells everywhere. The path was overgrown and many of the wooden steps had broken. It was a steep climb up but eventually we reached the bottom of the spiral staircase.

However, on the way up, I saw something that made me forget about heights. A recent landslide just metres from where I was climbing. I thought back to the lack of signs leading to this place, the broken fence we’d walked past, the overgrown path. Could this whole place be condemned and we’d missed the ‘Danger! Do Not Enter’ sign? But I carried on, reassuring myself that the tomb had stood for thousands of years and we’d have to be spectacularly unlucky for it to collapse on our heads today.

At the top I ran into the tomb, glad to be off the staircase. That’s when I realised I’d forgotten to bring the torch. Matt had a torch app on his phone which shone weakly into the darkness, but it was all we had.

The Elisis Kastros tomb was built in the 5th-6th century B.C.E. Archaeologists think that the tomb was unfinished and never used for burials. I couldn’t find out much more about it aside from stories that it may have been used by robbers as a hideaway. It was an impressive size, 26 metres deep – bigger than the Kastros Hill tomb but of a similar design. On either side of the central corridor was a network of small chambers. Unlike the Kastros Hill tomb, very little natural light penetrated the depths of this tomb.

We reached the far end and saw the well that gave the tomb its name ‘Execution Cave.’ Apparently criminals used to be thrown down this well. Thankfully today it is covered with a secure metal grate.

I looked back the way we’d come, the entrance a small rectangle of light in the distance. And then I got, well, generally . . . wobbly. I was struck by the sheer remoteness of this place, high up in a cliff face at the top of a hill. And we were 26 metres inside that hill, with thousands of tons of rock above us and only one way out.

I headed towards the entrance in a bit of a panic and, as I got closer, the daylight illuminated the massive cracks in the rock above our heads. They were particularly large near the entrance (perhaps because I could see them more clearly?) and I thought about the landslide just metres away. Was this next? My imagination treated me to a technicolor movie of the entrance collapsing and us being entombed and dying slowly inside. Until I told my imagination to SHUT IT!

Nonetheless, I was done and I beat a hasty retreat onto the spiral staircase while I waited for Goobie and Matt. The view was phenomenal .

We walked back down the spiral staircase, down the path with the broken steps and sat down for a snack on the bench at the bottom. It was only once I was out of the tomb that I felt really chuffed that we’d managed to visit it. 

We walked back along the track to the Land Rover and now I no longer had to worry about landslides and heights, I noticed the sounds of shooting again. Except now they were a lot louder. I know sound can be deceptive, but it sounded as though the hunters were just around the corner. I was worried about being caught in the crossfire and kept shouting out ‘WE ARE HERE!!’ My friend narrowly missed being shot once while she was walking her dog and she watched how the hunters were shooting over each other’s heads. So I don’t think I was worrying unnecessarily. 

We continued back to the Land Rover, me shouting intermittently and looking for places to dive for cover. Just as we got to the Land Rover, a shot rang out from the other side of the hedge.

‘OI!!!!!!’ I screamed. ‘THERE ARE PEOPLE HERE!!’ 

I never saw a hunter. Perhaps they were the other side of the valley and some trick of the wind made them sound closer. But having walked through all their bullet shells, I don’t think so.

It was quite an adventure visiting the Elisis Kastros Ancient Cave Tomb. It was a classic example of a visit that I will enjoy reliving in memory more than I enjoyed the actual day. Because memory strips away the fear. And in memory you know that it was all okay in the end. We weren’t shot, entombed or fell from a great height. Thank god for that!