The Pyramid of Cyprus – fact or fiction? We went to find out. But what we hadn’t expected to find were the unexploded bombs, the cannon and a major misunderstanding.

Have you ever heard of the Bosnian pyramid? A chap called Sam Osmanagić claims to have discovered the first pyramid in Europe – and the largest in the world. Scientists say that the triangular hills in Visoko, Bosnia, are natural formations. But beneath all that soil Osmanagić, has found tunnels, artefacts and what he believes is the man-made stone covering of the pyramid. The archaeological world calls it a hoax. But true or not, it’s a compelling idea.

Bosnian Pyramid (source)

Sam Osmanagić also claims that there is a pyramid in the north of Cyprus, built by a lost civilisation. Really? It’s an irresistible thought and I had to go and see it for myself.

It started with a pumpkin. We needed one for Halloween – and in the north of Cyprus you can buy monster-sized pumpkins. That was the excuse for going. I thought Matt and Goobie would laugh at me if I suggested adding a pyramid to our list of things to find. But Goobie was intrigued. He’s been studying the Ancient Egyptians at school this term.

We headed across the Green Line to the north part of Nicosia, then got on the main road leading to Morphou. Soon we found a greengrocers selling respectable-sized pumpkins – not the mutants I’d been after, but Goobie was happy with the pumpkin he chose.

We continued on and I realised I’d never been down this stretch of road before. We tend to visit Nicosia, Morphou and Famagusta but not the areas in between. As the plain gave way to dramatic hills, I was reminded of Jordan with its rocky, dusty peaks. Gorgeous.

A few kilometres from Morphou, we turned north off the main road in the direction of Mevlevi village (Greek name Kyra). What was once a Greek Cypriot village is now largely inhabited by displaced Turkish Cypriots from the south.

I checked Google maps and could see that we needed to take a track east before reaching the village. The track skirted the border of a military camp. We drove down it and there before us was our first view of the pyramid. It was a tad smaller than expected.

We followed another track right to the foot of the pyramid. We drove past a big sign in Turkish. My grown-up brain interrupted my excitement by suggesting that perhaps the sign had something to do with the military camp. Perhaps it was telling us not the enter. But we hadn’t come all this way to turn back now, so I told my grown-up brain to shut it as I eagerly jumped out of the car.

That said, we parked on the far side of the pyramid, unseen, in case my grown-up brain was right.

Carrying Herc, our lunch, a flask of tea and a picnic blanket, we found a route up the pyramid. As we climbed, Goobie and I looked for signs of the lost civilisation. Bits of pottery. Slabs. A sphinx …

I found a number of what could be called (optimistically) slabs. Chunks of flat rock. Could these have lined the outside of the pyramid?

I also saw some kind of ditch zigzagging up the side of the pyramid. A collection of stones could have been the remnants of a wall.

I followed the ditch and saw it led to a depression just below the peak. My imagination went wild. Could the depression be the caved-in entrance to the pyramid? Could the ditch be an ancient pathway leading to it?

As we neared the summit, things seemed quite pyramidal. I wondered whether there was an energy beam shooting out of the top, like they say the Bosnian pyramid has.

But then I looked down at rocky nubs sticking out of the sides and how misshapen the foot of the pyramid was on the north-east side.

It doesn’t look very man-made said my grown-up brain.

Erosion! shouted my imagination. If it was natural, why is it sitting on its own in the middle of a plain?

Mud deposits from ancient rivers? My grown-up brain is an arse.

But my imagination wasn’t giving up.

Maybe the mud covered a pre-existing pyramid . . .

And so my thoughts went round and round as we climbed further up.

The top was surprisingly flat. In the centre was a ring of stones. For ancient rituals? To channel energy beams?

I looked over the western side. A large metal cannon looked back at me.

Or it could have been a missile launcher.

I’m not sure we should be here . . . my grown-up brain started. But I hadn’t had a cup of tea yet and we were all starving. So we walked to the other side of the submit, where the cannon couldn’t see us, and sat down for our picnic.

The views were incredible. Below, goats clambered over rocky slopes and the yellow plain stretched into the distance where it met misty hills.

I didn’t feel any tingles from energy beams but there was a wonderfully refreshing breeze at the top of the pyramid. Beneath the noise of Goobie and Herc mucking around, it was peaceful.

As we started to look for a route back down, I spotted two humongous caves in the distance. Sam Osmanagić said that he’d been taken to see some tunnels when he visited. I was convinced these were the tunnels.

‘Let’s go and explore them!’ I squealed with excitement.

‘Mummy, I need a poo.’ Goobie replied.

Seriously, while I photograph my way around the island, Goobie poos his way around. His most notable poo to date was the one at the top of Buffavento Castle. But a Pyramid Poo would come close second.

‘You can’t poo on the pyramid!’ I said, aghast. Think of the energy beams, the mysticism, the ancient history. This was not the place for pooing.

He held it in until he reached the bottom and found a bush to go behind.

‘Look at my poo!!’ His bellow reverberated across the plain, the military camp and Mevlevi village.

We hopped in the Land Rover and headed to the caves, half a kilometre away. As we climbed the rocky slope towards the cave entrance, we passed this little sign.

Why is there a sign with a picture of a white tie and a black shirt? I wondered for about two seconds. There was an amazing cave ahead. I stepped over a rusty line of barbed wire on the ground and made my way in.

It was cavernous! Massive boulders lay across the entrance where they’d fallen from the roof above. Darkness invited me in.

Goobie and I were just about to start climbing over the boulders to get into the cave, when I heard Matt call out. ‘Ju!’

There was something about his voice that made me stop and walk back to where he was. He had his mobile in his hand.

‘I’ve just translated that sign. It says ‘No Entry. Unexploded bombs.’

For gods sake.

The thing was, the caves were so enticing that the threat of unexploded bombs didn’t deter me. After all, we’d already made it to the cave without being blown up, so we might as well have a look around before dodging bombs to get back to the car.

But Matt said I needed to be grown-up.

I told you, said my grown-up brain.

So we headed back to the car, eyes peeled for bombs that looked like white ties. The two caves unexplored. Gutted.

As we drove back past the pyramid towards the main road, we stopped to take a closer look at that big sign we’d passed when we’d first arrived. Matt now recognised some of the words. Its meaning was roughly ‘Military shooting range. Unexploded ammunition.’

Whoops. That would explain the cannon then.

Why hadn’t Sam Osmanagić mentioned this when he wrote about the pyramid in his book?

Epilogue

When we finally got home, I googled Sam’s photos of the Cyprus pyramid to compare his experience with ours. I made a shocking discovery.

I’d got the wrong pyramid.

His pyramid was in Kozan, a number of kilometres to the north. Somehow I’d totally misunderstood everything I’d read about his visit.

We’d spent the afternoon on top of a small hill in the middle of a military shooting range, surrounded by unexploded ammunition.

Bugger.