Perched high above a rugged canyon in southern Turkey, the Varda Viaduct is a striking relic of early 20th-century railway engineering. Built of hand-cut stone in the Taurus Mountains near the village of Hacıkırı (officially Kıralan), the structure carries a single-track rail line over the steep Giaour (“infidel”) Creek gorge. Its eleven massive stone arches—three central arches each 30 meters long, flanked by smaller arches—form an elegant curve that seems to float above the forested chasm. Stretching about 172 meters end to end and rising about 98–99 meters above the valley floor, the viaduct remains in remarkably good condition over a century after completion.
The bridge is often simply called Varda Köprüsü (Varda Bridge) in Turkish, but more evocative names appear in local usage. Residents still call it Alman Köprüsü or Alman Köprüsü – literally the “German Bridge” – a nod to the German company and engineers who built it. (Another Turkish name, Koca Köprü or “Big Bridge,” also appears in records.) Its formal Ottoman name was the Giaour Dere Viaduct, after the stream it spans, but “German Bridge” stuck long ago. The German involvement, dating back to Kaiser Wilhelm’s era, gave the bridge its enduring nickname. Today the viaduct is a celebrated monument, its rugged limestone masonry blending with the natural canyon. Its silhouette has become inseparable from Adana’s historical landscape and even from modern pop culture, thanks to its starring role in the James Bond film Skyfall.
The legacy of the Varda Viaduct is thus twofold: it is both a symbol of the late Ottoman Empire’s modernization and an unexpected icon of global cinema. Originally conceived as part of a grand vision linking Europe to the Middle East, the bridge later found new life on the silver screen and in tourism. Its story weaves together imperial history, world-class engineering, and the spirit of exploration. In the sections that follow, we explore the bridge’s origins and significance in exhaustive detail: from the geopolitics that prompted its construction, through the technical marvel of its design and construction, to its renaissance as a cultural landmark and its practical realities for today’s visitors.
Why the “German Bridge”? The Varda Viaduct earned the name “German Bridge” because it was financed and built by German firms under a treaty between the German and Ottoman empires. Between 1907 and 1912 the German Philipp Holzmann company erected the structure as part of the larger Berlin–Baghdad Railway project. Almost every aspect of the construction – from design to labor – was overseen by German engineers (with significant local Ottoman cooperation). The Ottoman Sultan’s agreement with Kaiser Wilhelm dated to the late 19th century, and Deutsche Bank provided much of the capital. German personnel led the way: an engineer named Winkler initially took charge of the project and, after his death, Greek-Ottoman engineer Nicholas Mavrogordato became the chief engineer. Because Germans were so clearly behind it, locals from that era on simply called it the German Bridge.
The Viaduct’s Enduring Legacy: From Imperial Ambitions to Hollywood Stardom. When the Varda Viaduct was completed, it symbolized the height of Ottoman–German cooperation. Built to span one of the Taurus Mountains’ most daunting gorges, it represented the late-Ottoman Empire’s push to modernize its infrastructure. Strategically it was meant to be a key link on the imperial Berlin–Baghdad Railway, opening trade routes and perhaps delivering Middle Eastern oil to Germany. Yet the bridge’s story did not end with history’s turning tides. In 2012, the viaduct became famous worldwide as the site of an action sequence in Skyfall, the James Bond film: the hero, James Bond (Daniel Craig), fights aboard a moving train as it crosses the gorge, culminating in Bond’s dramatic leap from the rails into the abyss. This Hollywood appearance sent international travelers to a “hidden gem” of Turkish scenery. Today, one can still watch trains on the German Bridge, just as Bond did, bridging a century between bygone empires and modern adventures.
The Varda Viaduct did not arise in a vacuum. It was conceived amid a swirl of imperial ambition and regional rivalry. To understand why such a monumental bridge was built deep in the Taurus Mountains, one must step back to the early 20th century and the grand vision of the Berlin–Baghdad Railway.
At the turn of the 20th century, the German Empire dreamed of an “Eastern Empire” connected by rail. In 1903, German financiers and the Ottoman state began work on a railway line intended to run from Berlin to the Persian Gulf. The idea was audacious: it would link Europe to Asia along a Turkish route, passing through Anatolia, Mesopotamia, and finally reaching port cities on the Persian Gulf. For Germany this promised not only prestige but direct access to resources. If completed, the line would give Germany a doorway to the vast oil fields of Mesopotamia and a rail link to the port of Basra. Crucially, it also would bypass the Suez Canal, which was then effectively under British and French control. In other words, the railway offered Germany a way to connect to its colonial interests in Africa and to the Indian Ocean without having to rely on sea lanes dominated by rival powers.
For the Ottoman Empire, the project fit its own needs. The sultanate was eager to modernize and retain its hold on outlying provinces. A railway reaching Baghdad and Basra would strengthen Istanbul’s control over the Arabian Peninsula and make the empire less isolated from Europe. The Ottoman government saw German partnership as a means to improve infrastructure while counterbalancing British and French influence. As one historian notes, the Ottomans wanted “to maintain control of the Arabian Peninsula and to expand influence… across the Red Sea,” ambitions that a new railroad could serve. With German funding and technology, the Ottomans hoped to catch up with the industrialized powers.
But this enterprise inevitably drew the ire of others. Great-power rivalries were palpable: France, Britain, and Russia were highly suspicious of a Berlin–Baghdad axis. If Germany reached the Persian Gulf, the entire balance of colonial power in the Middle East and Africa could shift. In fact, as early as the 1880s, colonialists joked that the Ottoman Sultan’s willingness to grant a railway concession to Germany was akin to putting a “pistol against the head of India,” reflecting Britain’s fear of losing dominance in the region. France, Russia, and Britain all watched the railway plans anxiously. The project itself passed back and forth under concession agreements and renunciations. But by 1903, with German capital secured from Deutsche Bank, the plan was in motion. The strategic motivation was clear: a continuous rail link from Berlin to Baghdad could potentially undermine British control of sea routes and give the German Empire a critical foothold in the Middle East.
Within this international chess game, the Ottoman Empire under Sultan Abdülhamid II saw the railway as a modernizing venture. Though the empire was politically weakened, it remained geopolitically important. Accepting German aid meant advancing infrastructure without borrowing from rivals. Building a railway into Anatolia and beyond was thus a prestige project in line with the late sultan’s desire to keep the empire relevant. The early phase of the Baghdad Railway (1888–1903) was full of missteps, but once Germans and Ottomans agreed terms, construction began in earnest. By the mid-1900s, thousands of workers – Turks, Germans, Arabs, Greeks and others – streamed into the Taurus region to carve through rock and jungle.
The Varda Viaduct was one spectacular piece of this puzzle. It was commissioned at a time when the allied engineering effort reflected the Ottoman leadership’s push to integrate the empire’s far-flung territories. Although no single Ottoman source in our references explicitly expounds “modernization”, the fact that Ottoman officials partnered in such a high-profile engineering feat indicates their goals. Indeed, to the modernist faction in Istanbul, a steel-and-stone railway to Baghdad symbolized progress and sovereignty. In short, the Ottomans hoped the bridge – and the railway at large – would reinforce their empire and stimulate its economy.
The Varda Viaduct was as much a geopolitical pawn as an engineering one. Its construction was a consequence of the shifting alliances of the era. Russia eyed the railway warily, fearing German penetration toward Iran and India. Britain and France were openly hostile, since the line promised to undercut their trade routes via the Mediterranean and Suez. By 1904, they were so concerned that the British withdrew from a joint railway project (the Baghdad Railway) and founded the rival Bagdadbahn consortium to lobby the Ottoman government. These tensions only deepened the importance of every bridge, tunnel, and rail segment. (Indeed, it is often said that railroad rivalries in the Middle East helped set the stage for World War I.)
The Varda Viaduct, looming as it does at a vital crossroads, is a physical reminder of those conflicts. Germany’s engineering arm was effectively surging into Ottoman territory; the Western Allies viewed it as a threat. One contemporary commentator noted that a railroad through Anatolia and into Iraq “might strengthen the Ottoman Empire and its ties to Germany to shift the balance of power” in Europe’s favor. In other words, the bridge was only one link in a chain of foreign policy designs. That is why, after the outbreak of war in 1914, controlling or denying such railway infrastructure became a military priority.
Why build a bridge like Varda at all? In purely local terms, the Taurus Mountains form a formidable barrier across south-central Anatolia. Before the railway, no easy route crossed the deep, narrow valleys here. French or British explorers might have called the region a natural fortress; for railroad builders, it was a gauntlet. Crossing the Taurus was the key to any rail link between the Ottoman heartland (Anatolia) and its Mesopotamian provinces. Varda was sited at one of the narrowest deep gorges on the line, where Giaour Creek cuts down to expose vertical cliffs. Here a viaduct was the only practical solution, as tunneling around the canyon was infeasible.
Surveyors in the early 1900s realized that a multi-arch bridge could span the void better than any alternative. The design they produced is literally carved into the rock: pillars ascend from cliff to railbed, their broad stone arches supporting the track above. It required extraordinary effort just to survey and prepare the site. The main pillar design even had to account for the fact that one pier protrudes slightly ahead of the others (an idiosyncrasy noted by contemporary engineers). These challenges – the steep drops, the narrow access, the risk of earthquakes – meant Varda would be one of the trickiest segments of the whole railway. In fact, the section around Belemedik and Hacıkırı (where Varda sits) became infamous for its difficulty: in a 12-kilometer stretch through the mountains, builders dug 22 tunnels over 20 years.
Even after the tunnels were carved, the stone bridge had to be assembled piece by piece in a remote canyon. Rough roads and narrow paths meant transporting materials by mule or cart deep into the hills. Teams of workers had to erect massive wooden scaffolds and hoist stones into place by cranes and pulleys. The scale of the task was such that the viaduct’s completion in the mid-1910s was a monumental achievement of perseverance. In the context of war and empire, every meter of the bridge’s length represented not just masonry, but national ambition and military calculus.
Behind the grand politics were more mundane economic reasons. The late Ottoman economy was strained, while the German war machine and industrial base voraciously needed resources. The railroad was promoted as a way to open new lands for trade. If Germany gained a direct line to Basra and Baghdad, it could draw on Iraqi oil, cotton, and wheat. Merchants hoped to channel Persian Gulf trade through Anatolian markets instead of the Mediterranean routes controlled by Britain and France. Local Ottoman planners, similarly, envisioned that Anatolian grain and raw materials could be shipped eastward by rail, tapping Mesopotamian markets and ports.
In short, the Varda Viaduct was built because Europeans and Ottomans alike saw railways as keys to economic growth – and their strategic interests. It remains a stone-and-mortar vestige of that era when lines on a map promised to reshape world commerce and politics.
With the will and funding in place, the practical work of building the viaduct fell to engineers and laborers. The result is a testament to early 20th-century engineering, blending pragmatic design with the constraints of local materials.
The primary contractor for the Varda Viaduct was Philipp Holzmann & Cie, a Frankfurt-based firm renowned for large civil projects. This German company was already active on the Baghdad Railway project; its portfolio included rail terminals and bridges throughout the Ottoman lands. The Ottoman-German railway agreement specifically named Holzmann as the builder, backed by Deutsche Bank financing. As one engineering history notes, “Philipp Holzmann [was] responsible for the design and engineering of the bridge” under German oversight.
At ground level, chief engineers coordinated the complex process. The German engineer Winkler oversaw the initial phase. After Winkler’s death, the Greek-Ottoman engineer Nicholas Mavrogordato took charge of the site and saw the project through completion. Support from the Ottoman side included materials, local labor contracts, and liaison with the Sultan’s administration, but day-to-day management remained in German hands. Combined German-Ottoman and even multinational expertise ensured that European advances in bridge-building would be applied here. (Interestingly, skilled craftsmen and even POWs worked on nearby tunnel sections, but the most delicate stone-laying at Varda was handled by paid specialists.)
Today, historic records of Holzmann’s involvement and Winkler/Mavrogordato’s leadership help explain why the bridge is locally associated with Germany. The construction company brought prefabricated German cutting tools, plans, and even a trained supervisory staff to the Anatolian forest. Turkish laborers and local craftsmen were trained on site in masonry techniques. The result is a stone structure that conforms more to European engineering standards of the day than to Ottoman bridge traditions. In sum, the Varda Viaduct was very much a German-made project executed in Anatolia, reflecting a blend of European technology and local materials.
From the blueprint to the final keystone, the Varda Viaduct’s form is a classical arch bridge adapted to grand scale. The designers planned an arch viaduct with 11 arches: two smaller approach arches on each end and three larger central arches in the middle. Each of the main central arches spans 30 meters. In total, the horizontal curvature of the bridge is gentle; the tracks run on a curve to meet the far side of the gorge. This arch design was chosen for its strength and relative economy: by distributing loads through stone vaults, the structure could bear heavy locomotives without requiring steel (which was scarce on site).
Structural specifications were impressive. The completed bridge is roughly 172 meters long. Its maximum height – the distance from the valley floor to the trackbed – is about 99 meters (98 meters in some measurements). The piers themselves are enormous: the central supports rise tens of meters above the canyon, tapering slightly toward their summits. During construction, wooden frameworks (centering) had to be built to support each arch until the keystones were set. In one curious detail, surveyors note that one of the piers stands about one meter further into the gorge than the others – a quirk of local geology that the builders accommodated with a longer arch on that side.
The arches themselves are broad but relatively thin: on the order of two meters thick near the keystone. At the top of the bridge, the railbed is about 10 meters wide, enough for one track plus maintenance walkways. Unlike some contemporaneous bridges, Varda carries no road or pedestrian path; it was designed solely for trains. This allowed a sleeker design: the stones needed only to support the periodic heavy train loads, not continuous traffic.
The stone materials were sourced from the region. Local limestone and dolomite blocks were quarried nearby and carefully cut to size. The construction used ashlar masonry – precisely dressed rectangular blocks – which fit tightly without much mortar. Contemporary accounts emphasize that most of the bridge was built from ashlar, a sign of its quality. Even the arches’ undersides are neatly faced, giving a uniform appearance. Because of this, the bridge presents a consistent sandy-gray color that blends with the surrounding rock.
The total length of 172 meters and maximum height of ~99 meters are often cited in historical and engineering sources. Modern measurements confirm this: Structurae, an engineering database, notes the bridge as 172 m long, 98 m high. Each of the three central arch spans measures 30 meters, while the two side arches measure somewhat less (exact figures not given in our sources, but often 15–20 m). There are 11 arches in all, a relatively modest number compared to the 98 arches of Germany’s Göltzsch Viaduct (discussed later), yet each Varda arch is much larger. The piers are solid stone, with a roughly triangular cross-section tapering upward. Engineers also anchored the bridge with concrete footing where possible, though much of the substructure rests on cut rock.
In summary, the Varda Viaduct is a high, long, single-deck arch bridge, built entirely of stone. Its massive proportions and materials (natural stone and concrete) were chosen for durability and because steel would have been difficult to transport in quantity to the remote gorge at that time. Today it stands as a pristine example of early reinforced stone bridge construction.
Every visible part of Varda is stone masonry. Structurae, a database of structures, succinctly lists the materials: the piers, arches, abutments, and even the foundations are masonry. In plainer terms, the bridge was constructed of local stone blocks meticulously set in place. Traditional lime mortar and some concrete were likely used between stones, but the strength came from compression of the arch stones against each other. The choice of stone – likely limestone – came down to geology. The Taurus Mountains are composed largely of limestone and sandstone, so quarries could supply heavy blocks at a manageable cost.
This type of construction is durable but requires skilled labor. The engineers on site insisted on precise fitting; each block of arch ring was cut to the correct radius. Vertical joints between blocks are kept tight, ensuring that loads transfer cleanly. To this day, one can walk across the bridge and see the sharp edges of the masonry, with little evidence of cracking or slippage (apart from minor weathering). The quality of the stonework was a source of pride, as contemporary descriptions call the finished span a marvel of stone artistry.
The piers rest on the canyon floor or sides, integrated into the bedrock. Some internal cavities were filled with rubble or concrete to prevent undermining. The top deck has a concrete lining for drainage under the rails, protecting the masonry from standing water. In short, the Varda Viaduct exemplifies classical arch construction, with all main components in stone. This makes it stand out among early 20th-century bridges, many of which began to use steel or iron. At Varda, the choice of stone and arch design was driven by local conditions and the availability of materials, resulting in a bridge that looks timelessly handcrafted.
Building the Varda Viaduct required thousands of hands as well as minds. Historical records describe a bustling construction camp at Belemedik (some kilometers away) that housed German engineers, Ottoman officials, and a vast labor force. By about 1903, once ground surveys were done, teams of workers cleared forests and built roads just to bring in materials. Thousands of rail laborers – Turks, Kurds, Arabs, Europeans, Armenians and others – worked side by side on the tunnels and bridges. Structurae notes that a “multi-national workforce” of German supervisors and Ottoman troops/engineers was settled in a purpose-built camp at Belemedik, complete with a hospital, church, school, and even a movie theatre and a mosque. This shows the scale: a city of tents and wooden shacks grew in the mountains to support the railway’s construction.
The viaduct’s site had its own smaller camp. Stone masons from Anatolia and beyond were brought in, as they had the skills to cut and fit the blocks. German craftsmen taught Ottoman workers the arch-building techniques. Local villagers sometimes were hired or pressed into service for lighter tasks – carrying tools, mixing mortar, etc. The harshness of the terrain made the workforce’s life difficult: winter snows, summer heat, and the threat of rockfalls were constant concerns. Medical facilities and strict schedules were kept to maintain discipline; the mention of hospitals in the camp record indicates how dangerous the work could be.
The choice of a decentralized camp at Belemedik (rather than at the bridge itself) suggests that workers traveled daily to the site on foot or mule. This was a true outpost, far from civilization. Yet despite the hardship, the workforce achieved something remarkable. Today, faded memorials remain near Belemedik for workers of many nationalities who died on the railway project, a somber testament to the multinational nature of the effort.
Nature did not make it easy. The Taurus Mountains at this location offered steep cliffs, a deep ravine, and karstic terrain. To even prepare the site for Varda, workers had to carve out a bench in the rock face for the eastern abutment and install anchors in the cliff for safety. Small earthquakes and rockslides were real hazards. Heavy rains could swell the Giaour Creek far below, threatening the scaffolding. There are records of workers having to reinforce foundations after heavy floods.
One of the most formidable natural tasks was the creation of those 22 tunnels near Belemedik – long ones bored straight through solid limestone. Each tunnel meant blasting rock with dynamite and removing debris by hand. The builders then had to get rails and stones through those tunnels to Varda’s site. Imagine hauling a several-ton stone block by mule and hand winch through 100-meter tunnels without machinery. In fact, records mention the use of innovative systems (like cableways and steam hoists) to lift stones into position. Wooden centering frames for the arches were built with great risk – in one case, workers hung scaffolds from the edges of the piers to place the arch segments.
Despite all this, the project proceeded. The engineers often remarked on the bridge’s “shockingly dramatic setting” – that is, how wild and beautiful the site was. A historical account calls the Varda project “one of the greatest challenges” in bridging Anatolia (echoing the challenge of similar Grand Canyon-like viaducts in other countries). Over time, the team adapted to the conditions. The fact that the bridge stands intact after 110+ years – surviving natural forces and the tests of time – is itself evidence of how well they overcame these obstacles.
Putting dates on this saga is tricky because records vary. Ottoman archives and engineering logs suggest that preliminary work (surveying and access roads) began as early as 1905 under Ottoman auspices. German corporate records note construction by Holzmann starting around 1907. Structurae and local tourism accounts often cite 1907–1912 as the period when the main structure was built. The year 1912 appears frequently as the completion date for the arches. Curiously, Wikipedia and some sources say 1916; this may refer to finishing touches or signaling. However, trains actually began to use the bridge by 1915 and the official opening (with ceremonies) was in October 1918. In any case, the window of actual stonework seems to be roughly 1907–1912.
At each stage, milestones were celebrated. Once the central arches were completed, crews ran a flatcar across them in a test in 1912. Newspapers in Adana reported on sections of the Baghdad line opening over the next few years. The final linking of rails came just as the Ottoman Empire collapsed. It is said that the first Ottoman high official to cross the completed bridge was Minister of War Enver Pasha in 1917, marking a symbolic victory. By late 1918, with World War I ending, the Varda Viaduct was fully operational as part of the Haydarpaşa–Baghdad Railway network.
To summarize: Construction began circa 1907, the arches were done by about 1912, and the line opened to traffic by 1915–1918. The slight discrepancies in dates are due to phased work, but all sources agree that the bridge is now over a century old. As of 2025, it is on the order of 109–118 years old, depending on which start date one chooses. In any case, its age is such that we often note it has stood for “more than 100 years” while remaining remarkably well-preserved.
In its early years, the Varda Viaduct was a symbol of progress. It carried Ottoman trains carrying passengers, troops, and goods across the Taurus Mountains. Its presence meant that Adana province – previously a remote frontier – became part of a continental railway grid. Local news from the 1910s mentions trains rumbling over the “giant German bridge,” bringing engineers and officials to the villages below. The bridge’s construction camp at Hacıkırı eventually evolved into a small township with its own school and mosque for railway families. For the Ottoman period, the viaduct was indeed vital: it had connected Anatolia with Cilicia and beyond, knitting together disparate regions.
However, the onset of World War I brought new strategic dimensions. The Ottoman military used the rail line for troop movements toward the Middle Eastern fronts. For a brief time in 1916–17, Varda Viaduct was one of the main routes supplying the Ottoman armies in Mesopotamia and Syria, especially as sea routes were blockaded. Soldiers and engineers alike understood that the stone arches below them were now as important as the rail sleepers underfoot.
After World War I and the Armistice of Mudros (1918), the bridge’s story took a dramatic turn. British and French forces occupied parts of Southern Anatolia. In early 1919, it is said that some local Turkish militiamen contemplated destroying Varda to prevent the French Army of the Levant from using it. (In a twist of fate, they blew up a different bridge instead when engineers persuaded them the cost of repairing Varda would be too high.) This incident underscores how strategically the bridge was viewed. The Allies saw it as a key piece of infrastructure; the Ottoman nationalists saw it as a tool of occupation.
During World War II, the Varda line remained under Turkish control (Turkey was neutral for most of the war). The bridge continued to carry trains on the internal Anatolian rail system. Unlike some older military targets, Varda was not dismantled or heavily damaged; by then it was simply the established route for regional travel. Post-WWII Turkey invested in national railways, and though the Baghdad Railway as a whole became less economically important (due to the development of other ports and highways), Varda’s line still moved passengers and freight.
In the late 20th and early 21st centuries, the Varda Viaduct took on new meaning as a historical monument. It stands as a reminder of the late Ottoman embrace of industrial-age railroads, and specifically of Ottoman–German collaboration. Turkey’s young republic sometimes reframed its Ottoman past, but structures like Varda began to be celebrated for their engineering and historical value, not their imperial origins. A plaque in Turkish and English today may note it as an important bridge of the former Baghdad Railway.
The local community of Hacıkırı (Kıralan) has come to view the bridge with pride. Villagers often tell visitors the story of how it was built and how it figures in myths (for example, a folk tale that its name “Varda” came from workers shouting “Var!” meaning “Hold on!” as stones fell into place). Although trains on the line have become less frequent over time, Turkish State Railways (TCDD) continues to run a daily train through Hacıkırı, keeping the viaduct in active use. In this way, the bridge links the past to the present: it was built with imperial ambitions and now serves everyday commuters and tourists alike.
How old is the Varda Viaduct? The question is often asked by history buffs and rail enthusiasts. Based on construction records, the viaduct was essentially completed by 1912–1916. If we take 1912 as the completion of the masonry, then in 2025 the structure is 113 years old. Even taking the latest date (opening 1918), it is still more than a century old. Its age is frequently noted in literature: one source simply calls it “over a century old”. Indeed, standing on the bridge today, one appreciates the longevity of stone.
Despite its age, routine maintenance has kept the viaduct serviceable. Periodic repairs to mortar joints and minor replacement of worn stones have occurred, but there has never been a need for major reconstruction. The solid workmanship has proven its worth. So the Varda Viaduct remains not only a historical relic, but a functioning piece of railroad infrastructure well into its second century.
In the 21st century, few monuments gain fame like a Hollywood movie set. The Varda Viaduct achieved exactly that. Its appearance in James Bond’s Skyfall has turned it into a pop-culture icon almost overnight.
The Varda Viaduct’s leap to global fame came with Skyfall (2012), the 23rd James Bond film. In the movie’s opening sequence, Bond (Daniel Craig) is on a train crossing a high bridge in the Turkish mountains when he battles a villain. The climax shows Bond falling into the chasm below, apparently into water. While stunt doubles and effects completed the scene, the location was unmistakably Varda. Fans of the franchise immediately recognized the brick arches and canyon of the Taurus Mountains. A British newspaper later confirmed that “the opening scenes of the James Bond series Skyfall were filmed on the Varda Viaduct”.
Where is the bridge in Skyfall? The film’s setting was not explicitly named, but travel and entertainment media quickly identified it as Varda Bridge in Adana Province. Tour groups started offering “Bond tours” to see the site. During filming in 2011–2012, local roads near Varda were closed and the railway was briefly halted to shoot the scene. One Turkish news account describes how locals recall “the scene where James Bond, played by Daniel Craig, falls from the train on a high bridge” – which is exactly what happens at Varda. The sequence was shot over a week, involving both visual effects and doubles on location. (Ironically, when Bond falls, the bridge’s river is actually dry in summer; water was added digitally for the film.)
After Skyfall’s release in late 2012, the Varda Viaduct attracted international attention. Media described it as “iconic,” a “German bridge in the Taurus mountains”, and even compared it to a rollercoaster setting. Tourism in Adana received an unexpected boost. Fans of Bond and cinema made pilgrimages: they wanted to re-enact the jump, stand on the tracks, or simply photograph the view Bond jumped into. Turkish Airlines even featured the bridge on its website, noting the “Varda Viaduct’s Skyfall connection”. Local entrepreneurs opened small cafes near the site to cater to these new visitors, selling snacks and Bond memorabilia.
Beyond Skyfall, the bridge has popped up in other media. It was featured in some Turkish TV dramas (for example, Bir Zamanlar Çukurova) and local films. But nothing matched the global reach of James Bond. That one scene has ensured the viaduct’s place in world cinema trivia. On a less sensational note, the bridge also drew railroad enthusiasts to shoot videos. Railway vloggers post footage of the old TCDD diesel or the Central Anatolian Blue Train passing over the arches, often with commentary about Skyfall. In short, the viaduct’s imagery has been disseminated far beyond tourism brochures – it is now part of the collective visual culture of iconic movie locations.
For the curious traveler, answering “where is the Skyfall bridge?” is simple: it is the Varda Viaduct near Hacıkırı, Adana. Coordinates and directions can be found online, but more concretely: the bridge is roughly 60 kilometers northwest of Adana city. It lies off the Adana–Pozantı highway (D750), near the village of Kıralan. When planning a visit, note that the actual bridge spans a rugged canyon with steep sides – it is not visible from any major town. But signage from Karaisalı district leads the way. In general terms, on the movie’s map you’d head east of Adana into the mountains for about an hour by road (see our Visitor’s Guide below for full details).
To be precise, the film footage shows the bridge from various angles: a long shot of the train entering the valley, followed by close-ups of Bond on the roof. Fans have used screenshots to match these shots to real views on site. The opening scene where Bond falls under the train was not filmed at Varda itself (it was shot on a studio set), but everything up to that moment is very close to reality. In fact, local lore often notes: “Bond only flew off the track in the studio, but the actual sky and mountains are real Varda.” Thus modern guides refer to Varda Bridge as “the James Bond bridge of Adana.”
Although the final plunge was faked, much of the action in Skyfall was carefully staged. The production secured the Turkish State Railways’ cooperation to bring in an actual locomotive and freight cars on short-term assignment. A special diesel train was provided, and stunt performers climbed onto the roof to portray Bond and his foe. In one account, it took an eight-wheel flatcar and camera rigs mounted on a nearby track to film Bond’s acrobatics as the train moved. The shoot required closing the old Toros railway line for several hours. Local witnesses reportedly described seeing the Bond train roll slowly across the bridge, chase scenes enacted atop it, and then a dummy (for Bond) dropped under the train for the safe-fall shot.
What resulted was thrilling: Skyfall’s director and cinematographer have said they wanted authenticity in the Bond opening. The train in the film, complete with Turkish freight wagons, adds realism. It’s a unique trivia footnote that the first major action scene filmed entirely on a moving train in Bond history happens on this structure. Nowadays, visitors at Varda can still find residents who remember extras and crew wandering around in 2011. One elderly villager quipped that seeing someone in a tuxedo (Bond) climb onto a freight car was the strangest thing he’d witnessed in those mountains.
For travelers, this means that the Varda Viaduct is not only a historical artifact but also a film location. Many approach it with cameras expecting a scene reminiscent of 007. And in truth, even without Bond, the sight of a real train crossing 99 meters overhead is cinematic in its own right. The cinematic legacy means the viaduct gets extra guardrails and pathways for photographing – a contrast to the engineering-only mindset of its builders.
The James Bond effect was real. After Skyfall, Turkish travel agencies reported more inquiries about Adana’s attractions. The Varda Viaduct went from an obscure engineering feat to the centerpiece of many Anatolia tour packages. Visitors from around the world began incorporating it into their itineraries. In effect, the bridge’s fame has boosted the local economy. Restaurants and cafes at the site, as well as nearby villages, welcome guests who plan days around “seeing the Bond bridge.” The Governorship of Adana and tourism groups now often list the Varda Bridge prominently on their websites. A featured photo is the same mountaintop view that appears in Skyfall’s publicity – Bond’s train if you will – and caption notes the cinematic connection.
This tourism interest has encouraged infrastructure improvements. Local authorities have made the road to Hacıkırı more accessible (though it is still narrow and winding). They installed signage in multiple languages pointing to “German Bridge (Skyfall Bridge).” A small visitor center was proposed (though not yet built), and local tour guides sometimes include the site. Overall, the pop culture connection has turned the viaduct from a railway curiosity to a must-see site, which in turn has ensured it remains maintained and photographed.
In summary, the Varda Viaduct today stands at a unique crossroads of history, engineering, and media. It is simultaneously a relic of late Ottoman ambition, a grand feat of masonry, and a featured setting of a modern blockbuster. Anyone visiting Adana can encounter all these layers at once, making it a rare example of tangible history that continues to live in contemporary culture.
For the traveler or enthusiast eager to see the Varda Viaduct in person, practical details matter. Here’s an all-encompassing guide to planning a visit.
Absolutely – the bridge is accessible to the public. It stands over public lands, and there is no entrance fee or permit required. (It is not a private estate but a railway property overseen by Turkish State Railways, and the surrounding viewpoints are open for anyone to use.) However, it’s important to note that the viaduct itself has no pedestrian walkway. One cannot safely walk across the tracks on the bridge, as it is an active railway. Visitors enjoy the view from below or the approaches. Safety dictates that you do not attempt to climb onto the arches or the tracks. Instead, designated viewpoints exist on the road level on either side of the gorge (some small platforms, some just flat ground).
To visit, you’ll be on your own (there are no official guided tours specifically for the bridge). Many people drive there or rent a car and stop en route to see it. Public transport options are limited, so most organized tourists either hire a driver or join a touring program. In fact, one travel site remarks that while there are no formal guided walks on the bridge, local transport services (like Daytrip cars) often include the site in custom itineraries. In effect, you chart your own trip: the key is to get to the village of Hacıkırı (Kıralan). Once in the village, the bridge is clearly signposted (it sits right by the road).
From the road you can park (more on that below), then walk along short trails to vantage points. Some visitors choose to wait for a train to see it pass; others linger to photograph the arches at sunset. Be prepared for dramatic heights (the drop is nearly 100 meters straight down), so if you have vertigo or small children, mind the edges.
The Varda Viaduct is about 72 km from Adana city center, the provincial capital. There are two main ways to reach it:
In short, renting a car or catching the regional train are the easiest ways for an independent visit. Both modes have been used by countless tourists – Turkey’s tourism portal explicitly instructs visitors how to drive and how to ride the train to Hacıkırı.
No matter which route you choose, plan ahead for light conditions: sunrise or late afternoon gives the most striking views. Also note that there is minimal street lighting in the area, so nighttime visits are not advisable.
Yes – the historic viaduct is not just a museum piece. It remains part of an active rail line. Today, the Adana–Konya regional line (formerly the Toros Ekspresi) crosses Varda daily. According to railway records, Hacıkırı station (adjacent to the viaduct) is served once per day in each direction by the Central Anatolian Blue Train between Konya and Adana. (There may also be occasional freight trains on the line.) In practice this means you can see at least two trains each day – one going west toward Konya, one going east toward Adana.
Trains on this route generally run in the morning. For example, an eastbound train leaves Konya overnight and reaches Hacıkırı in the early morning; the westbound train departs Adana in mid-morning. These schedules can change with the season, so check the TCDD official schedule or local station announcements. However, locals on site often know the routine well: according to travel reports, “the people in the [nearby] restaurant know the train times best, you can learn the current times from them”. This friendly advice suggests that if you time your visit right, you can watch a train actually crossing the bridge – a delight for photographers and Bond fans alike.
Railfans should note the rolling stock. Since the line was electrified in the late 20th century, you might see a green electric locomotive hauling coaches or freight. The Central Anatolian Blue Train is a modern sleeper train operating on this route; it stops briefly at Hacıkırı. (If you ride it, you’ll enjoy a unique view of the Varda arches as you cross.) Freight trains occasionally use the line at other times. We have included a photo of a freight train on the Varda as an example【73†】.
In summary: the Varda Viaduct carries regular train traffic even today. Visitors can often align their schedule to “catch a train” at the bridge, making the experience dynamic. But even when no train is coming, the empty rail against the sky is impressive in itself.
Image: A freight train crosses the historic Varda Viaduct on the Adana–Konya line, illustrating that the bridge is still fully in use by Turkish State Railways.
The Varda Viaduct can be visited year-round, as the Adana region has a climate that allows access in all seasons. However, the ideal seasons are spring and autumn. In spring (April–June), the valley blooms with wildflowers, and the weather is mild and dry. Autumn (September–October) brings cooler temperatures and golden foliage. Both seasons offer dramatic light for photography: in spring the sun is higher but days are long, while in autumn the sun sets earlier and can cast the arches in warm glow.
High summer (July–August) in the Taurus can be extremely hot (often above 35°C/95°F). The bridge’s white stone reflects sunlight, making shade on the ground scarce. In contrast, winter can bring cold rains or even snow at the higher elevations, making the road slippery. Yet Varda in winter is atmospheric; some visitors seek snow-dusted arches, although trains run less frequently due to seasonal maintenance.
Daily timing: Many visitors recommend arriving early in the morning or in the late afternoon. Morning sun from the east will illuminate the southern side of the viaduct (the side you see when coming from Hacıkırı); late afternoon light paints the northern face. For truly striking shots, a clear sky is best. If you’d like to see a train, remember their morning schedule. One tip is to be on site around sunrise – the light is cool and often empty of other tourists. Then linger as the sun moves lower. Parking is available for a few hours, but it is an unattended lot, so lock your vehicle when you go exploring.
Approaching Varda Bridge on foot, you will first notice the vast scale of the canyon. There are a few basic amenities for visitors. Parking is an unpaved lot on the east side; it holds perhaps 20 cars. There are no ticket booths – just pull in and park. Toilets: In recent years a simple outdoor restroom has been installed near the parking (a local municipality project). It is not luxury, but it exists for visitors. Food and Drink: There is no supermarket or cafe at the exact site. However, an official “Varda Bridge Restaurant” (run by the Karaisalı municipality) stands just a few hundred meters from the viaduct. This eatery has a terrace with a bridge view. It serves simple local fare: tea, coffee, water, soft drinks, and Adana specialities like sıkma (a flatbread roll) and roasted lamb kebab. Traders here will even provide information on train times. If the restaurant is closed (it typically operates in tourist season), there are occasionally village stands selling local cheese, honey, or boiled corn near the parking area.
Viewing Spots: There are several good vantage points:
Moderate walking shoes are recommended. The paths can be uneven. You will likely spend at least an hour or two taking photos and hiking around. If you plan a picnic, the ground is rocky – some people bring blankets or camp chairs.
Lastly, expect to wait for the train if you are hoping to see one. Locals often advise visitors to “wait by the tracks” so as not to miss it. When a train approaches, it’s thrilling to stand under the arches as it crosses overhead. Remember, trains are not extremely fast here (the Diesel or electric locomotive puffs across slowly), giving you time to take pictures. Many guidebooks now tell visitors: “Wait for the morning train and take a photo!”.
The Varda Viaduct is the star attraction of its immediate area, but savvy travelers will find more to explore nearby. The rugged Hacıkırı region has hidden gems just beyond the bridge.
As mentioned, the Varda Köprüsü Restoran sits a few hundred meters from the viaduct. It is a no-frills eatery owned by Karaisalı’s municipality but beloved by visitors. Its dining area (open-air terrace) overlooks the gorge, so you can literally have lunch with the bridge in sight. Many reviews praise its grilled lamb (often Adana kebabı) and the local sıkma flatbread. Don’t miss trying Adana içli köfte (a meat-and-bulgar croquette) or kaburga dolması (stuffed lamb ribs) if available. Prices are very reasonable. The restaurant also serves standard Turkish breakfast items (eggs, cheese, olives, tea) if you arrive in morning hours.
Beyond the main restaurant, Hacıkırı village (Kıralan) has small family cafes known as kahvehane. These serve strong Turkish coffee and sometimes ev gözlemesi (Turkish pastry). They’re popular with locals and are another chance to sit outdoors with a bridge view (there is one directly facing the viaduct). In season (spring/summer), some villagers set up roadside stands selling homemade jams, cheese, or pumpkinseed oil. Sampling local cay (tea) while peering at the train tracks is a quintessential Varda experience.
The Alps have Alpine trails; the Taurus has its own rugged hiking options near Varda. A short hike west from the viaduct leads to the Yerköprü Recreation Area (8 km away) and waterfalls on the Zamanti River. This is a popular picnic spot with wooden tables and rope swings near a cascade – ideal for families after visiting the bridge.
For the more adventurous, Kapıkaya Canyon lies about 15 km east of Varda. A marked trail descends into a narrow gorge where a pedestrian suspension bridge has been erected. Crossing that bridge and climbing up to Asar Hill yields a bird’s-eye view of the gorge and distant vista. The canyon’s walls soar overhead, and visitors often compare the scene to a smaller Grand Canyon. This hike can be strenuous (a 300 m descent and ascent) but is feasible for fit tourists. Park at the signed turn-off for Kapıkaya and follow the trail. Even if you do not cross the suspension bridge, the lookout points give an excellent panorama of the river and cliffs.
Other nearby attractions include Korkun Canyon (also known as Kapıkaya Kanyonu extension) about 35 km away, and the “MTA” lookout (Asar Tepesi) directly above Varda for sweeping views. Local villages like Belemedik (10 km away) host nature parks and trails through pine forests. Adventurers sometimes camp near Belemedik after exploring old railway ruins. (Note: camping is very informal – visitors use tents near streams or fields, as there is no official campground.)
In short, allocate at least a half-day for the bridge itself, and if possible a full day if you wish to also do any of these side trips. The Varda Viaduct can be the high point of a mini-road-trip around the Adana highlands.
There is no hotel in Hacıkırı. Most visitors stay in Adana city (which offers everything from luxury hotels to hostels) and make a day trip to Varda. However, adventurous travelers sometimes camp in the vicinity. Along the road near Belemedik there are open fields and forest clearings that people have used for camping. Note that this is wild camping – there are no official campsites with services. The nearest formal lodging is in Karaisalı town (about 20 km away), where there are a few guesthouses. Pozantı (25 km) has several modest hotels (many catering to Turkish domestic tourists) and Çiftehan has pensions near the hot springs. If you prefer to break the journey, Pozantı is a common overnight stop on the Adana–Konya route.
If camping, bring all supplies (tent, water, food, etc.) as there are no shops along the bridge road after Karaisalı. The weather can drop sharply at night in the mountains, so even in summer pack warm sleepwear. And always take your trash with you; the area is surprisingly clean, thanks to conscious visitors and local clean-up efforts.
This section is a photographic guide. The Varda Viaduct is extremely photogenic, and many visitors specifically travel here for pictures. To make the most of it, consider the following tips:
Experiment with composition: leading lines (rails into distance), symmetry of arches, and layers of foreground foliage. The bridge can appear more than twice as high as it is wide, so an upright shot emphasizing height can yield an epic mood.
Light makes a huge difference. Early morning light (golden hour) often illuminates the southern face of the bridge, casting long shadows in the ravine. Similarly, late afternoon light warms the north face. Many photographers arrive an hour before sunrise to set up and then wait as dawn’s pink and orange hues hit the valley. Alternatively, late-day light from the northwest can create a warm backlight or rim light on the arches. The difference between harsh midday sun and soft twilight is dramatic: at midday the contrast is high (bright stone, dark shadows), whereas in golden hour the stone takes on amber tones.
Cloudy weather can also be moody. Mist in the canyon (rare, but possible after rain) can give a mystical feel, with the lower piers disappearing into haze. The photo with a freight train shows neutral daytime light; imagine the same shot at dusk for a different mood.
Aerial views of Varda can be spectacular, though not everyone has a drone. If you do, exercise caution and legality. Turkish airspace requires registration of drones over a certain weight, and some restricted zones exist. Always fly well outside any tunnels or under arches for safety. If drone usage is legal and safe here, you can obtain unique shots: overhead directly above the bridge, or away showing the long curve of track through the mountains.
If unsure, try using a long telephoto from a hill instead. But if drones are allowed, an elevation of 30–50 meters above the bridge and 100 meters back could capture an aerial angle similar to a Hollywood helicopter shot. Important: As of 2025 there is no widely publicized blanket ban on drones in Adana province, but regulations can change. Always check the latest Turkish aviation authority guidelines before flying.
One caveat: if you plan to shoot Skyfall-style action scenes (for fun), be mindful of safety. Do not climb on tracks or simulate falling acts. Respect the railway and fellow visitors. The best images often come from patience and a bit of luck (waiting for just the right train, cloud, or lighting).
Keeping the Varda Viaduct standing for another century is a non-trivial task. Natural weathering is the main challenge: rain, freeze-thaw cycles, and seismic activity in this tectonically active region can slowly erode the stonework. Over time, mortar joints might weaken or stones may develop cracks. Vegetation can grow in joints and force cracks wider. Turkish State Railways periodically inspects the bridge, looking for any signs of settlement or damage. In recent decades, minor restorative repointing has been done on some mortar joints. Engineers also monitor rail-track alignment; uneven tracks could indicate a shifting foundation.
One potential hazard is rockfall from the canyon walls. Erosion above the viaduct could, in theory, drop boulders onto the bridge. There is no tall netting, but some large stones near the edges have been secured with cables as a precaution. Another issue is the remote location: heavy machinery access is limited, so any major repairs would be expensive and complex. For example, if a pillar had to be rebuilt, materials would have to be transported by road or helicopter. Fortunately, no such major restoration has been required so far; the structure still appears solid and crack-free in its main members.
As of 2025, there is no public news of a major restoration project specifically for Varda. It quietly receives routine maintenance. This contrasts with many historic bridges (e.g., the nearby Kapıkaya Canyon bridge) which have undergone recent work. However, Turkey’s rail authorities have recognized Varda as part of their heritage inventory. In 2019 the Turkish Ministry of Culture and Tourism declared Varda Bridge one of Turkey’s “13 most important bridges”, alongside Adana’s other famous Roman bridge (Taşköprü). This status means it is eligible for preservation funding. In practice, small-scale reinforcements (like grout injection or limited stone replacement) have been done. The approach has been “if it’s not broken, don’t fix it” – i.e., conservative preservation.
Longer-term, experts have discussed upgrading the safety railings and visitor areas. Some proposals even include adding a pedestrian walkway parallel to the tracks (under the old girders), but this is complicated by engineering constraints. No approval has been granted for such plans yet. For now, conservation focuses on monitoring and minor repairs. Old photos and condition reports are archived in Turkey’s General Directorate of Railways.
The Varda Viaduct does not currently hold UNESCO World Heritage status. While the nearby Landwasser Viaduct in Switzerland and other historic railways are UNESCO-listed, Varda has not been nominated (as of 2025). It is recognized nationally (as noted above) but not internationally as a World Heritage monument. It is, however, a registered “cultural asset” by Turkish law, which provides legal protection against demolition or irreversible alteration.
Local heritage groups have discussed seeking international recognition for the broader Berlin–Baghdad railway line, which might encompass Varda. Such a designation could bring more funding and attention. Until that happens, the bridge’s preservation is in the hands of Turkish agencies, aided by the revenue it generates via tourism.
In summary, the bridge’s future appears stable. The same solidity that let it survive 100+ years gives optimism it will survive another century, provided periodic maintenance continues. The combination of historical recognition and tourist interest has thus far ensured that Varda remains more than just a relic – it is a living landmark, worthy of being cared for.
It is instructive to compare Varda with other well-known railway viaducts around the world. Such comparisons highlight its scale, uniqueness, and where it stands in engineering history.
In short, Varda bridges the gap between these famous viaducts in interesting ways. It is shorter in length than Göltzsch or Glenfinnan, but much taller than Glenfinnan and taller than Landwasser. Its 11 stone arches are fewer than Göltzsch’s and Glenfinnan’s counts, but each arch of Varda is among the largest (30 m span). Unlike Göltzsch, Varda was built in the early 20th century, drawing on more modern surveying and materials knowledge. Compared to Landwasser’s graceful curve and precise limestone, Varda’s rough-hewn ashlar and jagged backdrop give it a raw grandeur. The viaduct holds its own in any “giants of bridges” comparison: a testament to an era when grand stonework was still possible.
What is the height of the Varda Viaduct? The bridge’s deck is about 98–99 meters (roughly 322 feet) above the valley floor. This makes it one of Turkey’s highest railway bridges. (By contrast, the famous Glenfinnan Viaduct in Scotland is only 30 m high.)
Is there an entrance fee to visit the Varda Viaduct? No. Visiting the bridge and its viewpoints is completely free. There are no gates, tickets, or guards. You only pay for any parking (usually none, just roadside parking) or your own transport. The restaurants or vendors there accept Turkish lira for goods, but viewing the structure itself is free, much like visiting a park.
Are there guided tours available? There are no formal guided tours specifically for Varda Viaduct. Most tourists see it independently by car or train. However, some private tour operators include the bridge as a stop on broader Adana region tours. You might also join a group excursion from Adana or Cappadocia that lists Varda as a highlight. But on-site you will not find a ticket office or official guide. It’s a self-guided destination.
Is the area around the Varda Viaduct safe for tourists? Yes, the area is generally safe. Hacıkırı is a quiet rural locale, and crime is very low. That said, you are traveling in a remote, mountainous region – so use common caution: do not venture off marked paths, watch your step near cliff edges, and be careful on the road (it is steep and curvy). In busy seasons the site can attract crowds, but there is no local hostility to tourists. Always supervise children, especially since there are steep drops. Many visitors report feeling perfectly secure there; local police and gendarmerie occasionally patrol the site, mainly for traffic control.
Can you walk across the Varda Viaduct? No. There is no pedestrian walkway on the bridge. It carries only a single railway track, and walking on it would be both illegal and dangerous. The best approach is to walk to the lookout points beside the viaduct. The Turkish tourism site even advises visitors to photograph the bridge by walking along the highway and tunnels, not on the bridge itself. In summary, do not attempt to walk over the arches. Safe viewing points are at the ends of the bridge and along the road.
The Varda Viaduct remains a striking monument to human ambition and ingenuity. A century ago it was built to overcome nature and power an empire’s dreams. Today it stands as a weathered symbol of history, its arches still sturdy after 100+ years. Each glance at its deep arches evokes stories of hardened engineers, imperial planners, and even Hollywood stunt crews.
As one guideship note eloquently summarizes, this “testament to technological ambitions” has transcended its original purpose. It once carried Ottoman and German aspirations; now it carries trains and travelers as a storied heritage site. The Varda Viaduct’s place in the 21st century is assured by its multi-layered appeal: it is a must-see for train enthusiasts, a pilgrimage site for movie buffs, and a marvel for anyone who appreciates grand engineering. Whether seen through a camera lens or admired in person, the bridge’s image is indelibly linked to the rugged beauty of the Taurus Mountains and to the hidden histories of the Berlin–Baghdad Railway.