Chapter One: GÜLE GÜLE or BACK TO THE MAINLAND
We’d regularly consulted the forecast for the 210NM passage to Finike in Turkey, and finally found a weather window for the 40 or so hours this would take us starting 3rd May, so we prepared Cordelia for departure. At 9.00am Ingrid took our passports and boat registration papers to reception to have them processed. In the meantime we carried on getting ship-shaped. Peter climbed the mast for a bit of cleaning (not needed, rain had washed off the sand and dirt) and inspection (all good). He was right at the top when Suleiman, the head marinero, came with the boat papers and needed his signature, but luckily he accepted Ingrid’s instead. We were just getting ready for our last shower when Suleiman turned up again, informing us that our passports were to be picked up from Customs and then we would have to leave immediately. After some negotiation we were allowed to have our showers first and hand our gate passes to reception afterwards, before we were escorted back to Cordelia. A marinero untied the lines, and at 12.00pm we were on our way.
Half an hour later Ingrid had stowed away the fenders and lines, and as the wind was favourable we set sails. What a feeling! The wind disappeared after a couple of hours’ champagne sailing, so Arthur, the engine, was called into action, but we left the mainsail up. The sea got calmer, the sun was out, it was warm and there was hardly any traffic about. We had a late lunch at 3.00pm and enjoyed our time in the cockpit. We had both taken a couple of seasickness tablets each as a precaution and felt fine, so when it was time for a top up we decided against it and opted for mini pizzas instead.
Night time arrived at 8.00pm, but we had a nearly full moon shining very brightly and it never got properly dark. When Ingrid started her watch at 9.00pm the sea resembled an oil slick. About an hour later she heard a splash and soon there was another one. She found an explanation for the disturbance when she made out a dolphin swimming past right next to where she sat. What a start to the sailing season!
At midnight she handed over to Peter with not a lot to report other than a handful of boats in the distance that would pass us in a few hours within 3NM. Ingrid went to sleep in our bed that Peter had kindly warmed up during his rest. It was getting damp outside and her toes were cold, so it was great to lie down somewhere cosy. We kept motoring along, she slept well, and took over again at 3.00am. It was quite wet in the cockpit by now and a touch colder, so Peter was happy to retire.
The first rays of light appeared at around 5.00am, we had motorsailed all night and had made good progress. Peter was in charge again at 6.00am, and Ingrid had some more sleep and tried to warm up her feet. At around 8.00am she got up, still with cold feet. We had breakfast, then just before we settled into our respective positions for the day Peter spotted a ship right in front of us. It wasn’t on AIS, so we’d had no alarm. Then again, it was huge and not easy to miss. Peter turned on the radar to check on its direction, and there it was! It passed us at a distance of ½ NM, after which we could finally relax again.
Our journey continued, we used the engine to charge up the batteries, and the little wind we’d had on the nose switched and chased us along. Then a cargo ship caught up with us. We’d seen it on AIS where it showed a passing distance anywhere between 2NM and ramming. It seemed intend on ramming the closer it came, so we altered course by 10º and let him pass behind us, the closest point of approach now being 1.8NM.
After all this excitement Ingrid thought she’d put the kettle on at 3.00pm for a calming cup of tea. At around 2.30pm, however, Peter pointed out that the sky ahead looked dark and that he could see a wind line full of white horses. Minutes later we were in it! The wind was right on the nose and gusted to 45 knots. There was still no let up after twenty minutes, so we dowsed the mainsail and continued under engine alone, pounding into the waves until the wind abated and changed direction two hours later. We then unfurled part of the genoa, using it for stability and to help Arthur, which worked well.
Ingrid finally made those cups of tea at around 6.00pm. Just as we were ready to drink it, the rain started. It also brought along more wind, so we reefed the genoa some more. The sea built up, too, and Cordelia’s starboard quarter was under attack from the waves. Our autopilot George, however, coped well, and steered us towards our destination. All this time Peter sat out at the stern, ready to take over or to release the genoa. When we took our final turn we decided to furl it away completely and motor for the last couple of hours. It was dark when we reached the protection of the land, but we managed to avoid the unlit fish farms, and, after a record time of 34 ½ hours, by 10.30pm we had dropped the hook and were safely anchored off Finike Marina. After a cup of tea it was nearly midnight and we were looking forward to some sleep.
The anchorage turned out to be rather rolly. The sinks were gurgling, so Peter closed the seacocks, and he also went on deck to quieten the halyards. We must have been tired, as despite all the commotion we slept relatively well. It was only in the morning when Peter checked the anchor alarm that we noticed the wind had turned around a lot during the night and Cordelia had been swinging in a big arc.
When we got up it was still gusting over 35 knots, so we took it easy and cleaned up a bit before Ingrid called Setur Marina and booked us a mooring. 15 minutes later we were at the entrance and met by a marinero in a RIB who showed us to the arrival’s berth and would pass us the slime line. It was still blowing 25 knots in the marina when Peter reversed into our slot. By the time Ingrid was handed the line, Cordelia’s back had taken a liking to the neighbouring boat. Peter fended her off when she decided that she also wanted to kiss the boat on her other side. Cordelia was going sideways! While Ingrid pushed off the bow and Peter looked after the stern, help arrived from our boating neighbours, and we finally got her moored up properly at the quarantine pontoon. Our agent Samet who Peter had contacted before we left Karpaz Gate Marina, arrived soon afterwards to take our papers to the relevant authorities.
We celebrated our arrival with coffee and a biscuit down below, as it was overcast, windy and raining outside. Cordelia was dry and light, and we were rather cosy. Ingrid had a doze after our lunch, and just after she’d woken up and Peter had made a cup of tea for us we received a call from Samet summoning us to the police station. There our photo was taken and we got our passports back, complete with entry stamp. Our tea was still warm enough to drink when we got back onboard. Not too long after we’d finished it, Samet came and returned our boat papers. We paid him the quoted €150.00, then he was off, and we were legal.
Chapter Two: WHAT A WASTE
In Turkey one is obliged to have a holding tank for black (or rather brown) water which must be pumped out at a dedicated station at least every fortnight. This is monitored through the so-called “Blue Card” programme. We registered for it at the Setur Marina in Finike, and all we had to do was to show this piece of paper at the pump-out station and they would update it. It did mean that we had to plan our route accordingly, but as this scheme greatly reduced the amount of sewage going into the ocean, we didn’t mind.
Cordelia has two heads (= toilets), only one has a holding tank. We had de-commissioned it during the winter as we had benefited from the marina facilities, and hadn’t put it back into action until we arrived in Turkey. During our crossing we’d used the other loo, which, on the last “go”, was unable to pump out properly, with the lever stuck and refusing to push. When we left Finike this was top priority on our fixing list, and Peter sprang into action.
He dismantled the hose, wiped up the contents that had escaped and used the broom handle as a poostick to dislodge the crystals. Everything got put back together again, but unfortunately the pump still wouldn’t do its job. Peter had worked on all of this while we were motoring to our destination, and Ingrid had done the cleaning up. We’d both come away with a few bruises as one does when working in confined spaces and the boat is moving. We’d had enough of it for the day and decided to carry on the next morning.
After breakfast we dug out Buddy, our tender, from its winter quarters in the locker, prepared him on the foredeck and soon he was happily back in the water. Then Peter tackled the unenviable task of mending the toilet. He rowed Buddy to the seacock outlet and used a stick and a rod to poke them into the hole to release any solids. This proved to be of little use, so next the pump itself was the centre of attention. For some reason the hose needed to come off on both ends again, shedding its unpleasant substance all over the floor and into the shower drain. Peter, however, could now see where the culprit had solidified and poked the seacock from the inside. He managed to clear the blockage, soaked the seacock with AguaFuerte (a drain-cleaning acid), reassembled the bits into their respective places, washed his hands and feet and left the room in an unpleasant state. He did close the door and the one to our cabin to save the saloon from the correlating vapour which meant we could have our lunch sandwiches in breathable air.
A little later and Ingrid switched into cleaning mode. She started by sponging up the brown remnants, wiped the surfaces with Cif, rinsed with the shower and pumped it through the drainage, then repeated the last process with cleaning vinegar instead of Cif and dry-wiped instead of showered. Then she went around with anti-bacterial cleaning wipes, after which she put the shine back with window cleaner. The bowl got a good scrub, too, then the job was done, and we could clear away the tools. We now had a squeaky-clean, nice smelling and most importantly fully functioning heads, ready to use again. Time we started to enjoy our 90 day visa in Turkey!
Chapter Three: FAMILIAR GROUND
With the formalities completed and Cordelia stocked with food and drink we left Finike and headed for the Kekova region.
We had sailed there eight years ago on a Neilson flotilla holiday and were eager to explore it in more detail. We anchored off Uçağiz, rowed ashore and walked along the Lycean Way into the village.
We saw it had expanded and now featured another good-sized supermarket, additional quays and a whole armada of gulets.
We found our road out of the village and followed it past a gulet boatyard and a cemetery.
There we turned right and walked up the path to the Simena Castle.
Near the top it was lined with sarcophagi before we reached a couple of houses and the entrance to the ruins.
We paid our dues, then made our way up the steps to a little peak with a Turkish flag on it. The views were fantastic and many a photo was taken.
We checked out the ramparts, outlines of living quarters, a well, and a mini-amphitheatre with seven tiers of seats.
We also entered the mosque situated a little further down, then sat outside it on a bench for a rest.
Afterwards we made our way down to the quay through Kaleköy village, running the gauntlet through touters advertising ice-cream, dresses, bracelets and herbs – all handmade, according to them. We saw the sarcophagus in the sea, then dodged the traders by leaving the village on a different path.
We found our track back up, then down, then along back to Buddy and finally Cordelia.
One evening we went along memory lane and treated ourselves to dinner at Hassan’s Restaurant.
Upon finding out we’d come all the way from England to eat once more at his establishment he proudly showed us his picture in a German guidebook of Turkey declaring his restaurant as the best in the Mediterranean. The food was indeed very tasty, and when we left we were gifted with a bag full of tomatoes, peppers, garlic and lemon. Aaahh, memories!
After comparing the new with the old holiday pictures we later discovered that we hadn’t actually been to Hassan’s before, but ate next door at Ibrahim’s! Isn’t nostalgia a wonderfully deceptive feeling?
With Uçağiz having developed into the cosmopolitan centre of the area we even found a barber shop. This consisted of one small room that contained one soft waiting chair covered in rugs, one treatment chair, a fridge and a bed. It was open but when we entered there was nobody there. The barber had gone next door to the carpet trader, but his opposite neighbour went to fetch him. When he arrived he wore a white barber’s garb and seemed pleased to see us. Peter was soon shown to the treatment area, and Ingrid took the comfy seat right next to it and observed.
Peter’s hair was cut with scissors in combination with a comb, and the clippers only came out to trim around the neck area. Next the barber attended to the moustache and eyebrows and made them look very neat. Then he took a look at Peter’s ears and nostrils, and suggested they were in need of improvement, too. Peter nodded in agreement and next thing he knew was that wax was heated up and spread liberally around his lobes and onto two cotton buds that got stuck up his nose. When the barber was satisfied that the wax had reasonably set around any excess hair he pulled off the wax and buds with a sharp whack that would bring tears to the eyes of a lesser man. Next he sprayed some antiseptic into the wounds to freshen Peter up (it worked!), then had another go at the ears, this time the inside. He applied the same cotton bud tactics as before with pretty much the same result.
He left Peter looking even more handsome than ever (Peter, not the barber), with short hair on top, moustache and eyebrows, and no hair up the nose and in the ears. The fun was definitely value for money and well worth the experience, although it’s doubted very much that Peter was keen on repeating it any time soon. In fact, he seemed rather relieved when we left the shop.
Chapter Four: PIRATES, SMUGGLERS AND FRIENDS
After having enjoyed the pleasures of civilisation we upped anchor and motored passed Kaleköy to the anchorage at Gökkaya.
For a brief moment we were joined by quite a large dolphin, always a welcome sight! We dropped the hook in clear water and could see it on all its way down. The noise of the chain following it had just stopped when we heard a familiar voice. It was Ant from “Impavidus” who we’d been following on YouTube. We introduced ourselves and ran into them (not literally!) quite frequently during the summer. We always enjoyed their company.
We used Buddy for a little island-hopping. First stop was “Pirates Cave”, a rather big cavern reachable only by sea and luckily without pirates.
We could hear and smell bats, and there was a camera mounted on the rock for monitoring any monk seals that may want to use the cave as a resting place. We assumed they were not tired that day as we did not see any signs of them.
On the adjacent island we found the ruins of a church, so we walked around for a bit before we motored to “Smuggler’s Inn”. It was closed as the smugglers had abandoned it in order to vote at the national election.
Before we headed back we visited the island opposite our bay. There must have been a big building (restaurant?) there once with a nice quay for tour boats to moor up to. All there was left now was concrete, parts of a tiled floor, a patio area (we imagined), a roofless cistern with steps leading down to a slimy brine, and toilet cubicles without the ceramics. We weren’t impressed, but locals and gulets still went there for picnics.
We crossed back over to our bay and found Sinan and Alejandro on “Kalipso” who we’d overwintered with at Karpaz Gate Marina. We had a nice chat with them over a cup of tea and exchanged plans and sailing destinations.
We also explored on foot and went in search of the ruins of a Roman castle. It was quite rugged underfoot, so the going was tough in our trainers. When we came to a clearing we could see the castle, our goal for the day.
We left the main path, turned left onto a field and picked up an ascending path near a copse. This we followed up past the cairns to the ruin. At the top we had a fantastic view down to the bays, took a few pictures, and walked back.
We came across half a dozen wells plus one big one, rejoined the main path and made it back to the terraces that led down to the water where Buddy was waiting.
Chapter Five: EXCURSIONS AND EXERTIONS
Time for some culture! We moved Cordelia to Andriake Beach on a windless and quiet day and even spotted a turtle along the way. We motored to shore where the river Demre came out to meet the sea and from there Peter took to the oars and rowed us to “Kaptan Restaurant” where we locked up Buddy.
We followed the long road along the river, past a little woodland and across a dual carriage way into “car city”. This was a remarkable place. It was full of garages and mechanics, with everybody being busy mending, improving, servicing or cleaning cars and scooters. There must have been about a hundred buildings there, all devoted to the car industry, and it resembled a scene out of the cartoon film “Cars”. We walked through it with wonder, then back to the dual carriage way where we took a left turn which led past some plastic greenhouses into town.
At Myra we wandered through the pedestrian zone to the church of St Nicholas, but as they wanted an extortionate amount (in our opinion) to get in we gave it a miss and carried on to the archaeological site.
The entrance fee there included an audio guide and was more appropriate, so we paid and entered. We were amazed! To the left and mostly above us were rock tombs. These were caves hewn into the mountain which were then closed up with decorations so they looked like house fronts.
To their right was a huge amphitheatre that could give the Colosseum a run for its money.
We could also still see remnants of the stage with masks and inscriptions carved into the stone, the front seats and entrance gates, and pondered who and how many had walked up and down those stairs in ancient times.
We hung around for a while, then made our way to the museum. This was situated in the renovated granary building in the old harbour town. The entrance fee was affordable and included walking along the ruins of the town houses, baths and churches to the structures of the ancient harbour. There were more buildings further along but they were fenced off and inaccessible.
The museum itself was under-lit, and its eight halls contained mainly ceramics (amphorae, oil lamps, figurines), a few coins dating back to 600BC, jewellery (earrings, brooches, rings), glass products, tools (needles, loom weights) and replica boats.
We walked back along the path to the exit and rejoined the road that took us to Buddy. We had walked nearly 10 miles and needed a little rest before we sailed for about 30 minutes doing 2 knots and motored the rest back to Gőkkaya.
Wind was forecast, so we sought shelter at Pölemos Bükü.
Three other boats were already there, one of them was just raising its anchor. We waited until they were done by which time the wind started to blow from the forecast direction. We dropped the hook, put on the snubber and saw the next boat departing. We settled in, Peter set the anchor alarm, we monitored the wind speed (gusts of around 35 knots) when the last remaining boat started fiddling with a makeshift snubber. They left it for a while but obviously were not satisfied with the result as they took themselves off, too.
We weren’t worried, though, as we’d had more wind in Greece and our 25kg Mantus had held perfectly. Here we were sitting in 4.5m with 30m of chain out and the anchor dug into mud. We had no intention of moving anywhere! Later on a fishing boat dropped anchor next to us, and another sailing boat turned up rushing to the jetty of the restaurant. No idea why the hurry as there was only one other boat moored there – maybe their dinner was getting cold?
Eight years ago we were at the same restaurant and had eaten lamb (or goat?) cooked for a day in the ground, and were entertained by a drum and reed instrument which had arrived on a boat along with their players. Let’s just say the music was for an acquired taste. We’d also walked across the isthmus to a sunken city and an array of sarcophagi, so this time we could stay on board with no pressure to go anywhere.
The wind blew all night with only a short lull in-between to gather more strength. We’d folded away the bimini, tied on the chain in case the windlass or snubber gave in, and set up the anchor alarm. With all precautions taken we slept well under the summer covers. Came morning, the wind steadily increased and by the afternoon we saw gusts of 43 knots. These came up quickly out of the blue and were vicious, though were forecast to calm down by 10.00pm. We sat in the cockpit and used the time for resting, reading and not much else. We’d been eating down below up to now as the mossies had been rather active. With all the wind today, they’d been blown away, but we reckoned so would our plates, so we adjourned when the time came.
The wind continued for the next couple of days, but we were able to go for a swim, write, edit photos, change the Jabsco pump in the forward heads, organise tools, clean Cordelia’s waterline, and Peter even baked some lovely fluffy bread rolls. “Impavidus” had also turned up, complete with its own entourage of three other yachts.
Chapter Six: CASH AND CARRY
We saw “Impavidus” prepare for departure along with their fleet at 9.00am. We were reasoning they might use the last spaces in the next anchorage, so followed their example and by 9.20am we were motoring out of the bay. We set the mainsail inside and added the headsail outside, then stopped the engine.
It was overcast with spots of rain and only light winds. The wind did, however, come from a sailable angle without flogging the canvas, and during the first hour of our passage we managed a remarkable 2 knot average. We kept up with the catamaran “White Cat” who used their gennaker, the rest of the fleet was roaring ahead motorsailing. We were in no hurry, just trimmed the sails, had patience and allowed the wind to do its job. It did pick up to 16 knots from astern, so we goose-winged and at times reached a speed of 5 knots. We had a lovely smooth journey, dropped the sails in the wind shadow in Kaş Bay, and motored the last bit to our anchorage at Bayindir Limani. There was plenty of space, and at 2.00pm we dropped the hook in 11 meters.
The kettle went on at 3.00pm for a cup of tea, the sun made an appearance, we sat under the bimini and watched other boats make a mess of anchoring. The “Impavidus” fleet had gone near Kaş Marina, so hadn’t taken up any spaces where we were, and all was well.
Half way along today’s trip Cordelia had reappeared on AIS, and after seven months of being invisible we could now be followed again. Another sign of civilisation was the “thump-thump” from one of Kaş’ discos that we could hear from about 4.00pm onwards. It was only outdone by the call to prayer of the imam, but this was all part of the Turkish experience.
Ingrid had booked us a berth in Kaş Marina and not only did we use the time there to fill up with fuel and water, pump out the holding tank, do our laundry, wash the sand and saltwater off Cordelia and replenish our food and liquids, we also walked into town to see what we could still recognise from our last visit. As it turned out there wasn’t much. Kaş was now overrun with tourists and had become a major dive centre. Shops had sprung up everywhere, filled with souvenir hunters and Jacques Cousteau wannabes. The harbour where we had squeezed in a whole flotilla eight years ago was heaving with gulets and excursion boats, and we couldn’t walk past without being approached to join their tour. Smiley’s, where we’d once eaten and looked at their underground cistern, was stuffed with hungry holiday-makers, so we forewent the drinks we had planned to consume there. The traffic also seemed to have increased manifold and the roads were blocked. We were glad Kaş was doing well, but even more glad to return to our anchorage at Bayindir Limani.
A short Buddy-ride from there was a designated diving area where the local entrepreneurs had put in some underwater features. Ingrid donned all the necessary snorkelling paraphernalia, including the newly acquired weight belt, and scouted the seabed, and Peter rowed along in Buddy. Quite early on she spotted some amphorae which weren’t too deep down, but she was close to the perimeters of the fenced-off area before she saw the statue of a prancing horse. She’d imagined something bigger, but then it was a long way down! We followed an underwater avenue lined by large columns hoping to find something spectacular at the end of it, but if there was it must have been too far down for Ingrid to see. So we went closer to shore and outside the area, only to find the usual detritus of lines, tyres and hawsers amongst the rock with a few fish every so often. No point in putting a rod out there!
We left Bayindir Limani and headed towards Kalkan. We motored for the first 20 minutes, then found a little bit of wind. It wasn’t enough to sail, but we unfurled the genoa nevertheless and gained another knot. After a good hour the wind died, so away went the genoa. Then we hit the wind line and out it came again. We motored up the coast, furled and unfurled, passed between gaps in the islands and dropped our anchor at Yeşilkőy Limani just after 12.00pm. On shore above us a herd of goats walked past. We could hear their bells and the goatherd’s shouts and whistles. Down in the anchorage gulets, trip boats and yachts came and left.
Then the wind built up to around 20 knots and we experienced some unpleasant swell. During the night the wind turned 180º. We now had the swell smacking Cordelia’s behind and the halyards started clanging. By 3.00am the wind changed its mind yet again and we were now side-on to the swell. Instead of the predicted 4 knots of gusts it was blowing around 30 knots. We had about 35m of chain out in 12m of depth, and the Mantus had set well in sand when we’d anchored. During the night we had swung around a lot and we were now listening out for the anchor alarm to inform us whether we were dragging. In addition, we both got up, checked our track on the iPad, Peter poked his head out and Ingrid looked through the portholes. After what seemed like ages the conditions improved and we caught a bit more sleep.
Chapter Seven: SANTA CLAUS ISLAND
We were awake again before 6.00am. Ingrid started to prepare breakfast, we ran out of gas, Peter went on deck to change over the bottles and noticed a boat leaving. We decided to postpone breakfast, and at 6.30am weighed anchor and followed suit. By now, of course, there was no wind, so we motored up North. We passed Patara, birth place of St Nicholas, spotted a couple of ruins, and continued along the long sandy beach of the turtle sanctuary.
When we had some wind we unfurled the genoa, but either it was not windy enough or it was gusting heavily along the Yedi Burunlar (= Seven Capes), so we gave in and just motored. Once we’d passed the last of the capes, also dubbed the Turkish Cape Horn, we could see across to our goal of the day. We bagged a 15 minute sail on the genoa before we had to put it away when we were heeling in 28 knots of wind, and motored the remaining distance. We rounded Gemiler Island and to our surprise found no-one at the mooring site, so we carried on to Gemiler Bükü. A catamaran was leaving from there, and we took its place and dropped the anchor at 11.20am.
We’d just prepared ourselves for a read and a doze on deck when around 1.00pm all hell broke loose. Gulets, party boats, ringos, a jetski and even pirate ships descended and moored stern-to opposite us. At one stage three pirate ships were at the scene simultaneously. We fully expected them to fling their grappling irons and fight each other with swords and musket pistols. However, instead of bombarding one another with cannon balls, they attacked each other with club music which made an even worse sound (“boom-boom”). As it was, their loud engines, loudspeaker announcements and even louder music spoilt any idea of relaxing, so all we could do was to sit under the bimini and hide from the sunshine and occasional drops of rain and wait for the evening and their departure. By 4.30pm they were gone and shortly later the overnighters arrived and took their places.
With the anchorage getting busier and boats mooring next to us too close for comfort, we decided to change to a stern-to mooring. Ingrid fixed the lines while Peter attended to the anchor and played out the chain. She found a convenient hole in the rocks to attach the first line, swam back to get the second and fixed it to a rock, adjusted the first one and swam back to Cordelia. Peter had set the anchor and was letting out more chain, so we shortened the lines accordingly. Then Ingrid swam back to shore again to spread out the first line, giving it a better angle. Next she got her mask and followed the chain to the anchor. It was all in sand and had dug in nicely. Peter took in the chain until only the last few meters of it touched the seabed. We were settled like pros now, and nobody would be bothering us any more.
One morning before the start of the pirate pandemonium we motored Buddy over to Gemiler Island.
There wasn’t anybody at the entrance gate to collect the fee, so we carried on up the hill without paying. There were ruins all over the place! Two of the five churches were clearly marked as such, one from the 5th, the other from the 7th century. The latter was right on the top and featured a fenced-off mosaic. There was also a “tunnel”, a man-made passageway that led down from near the church. Legend had it that it was constructed for an albino queen so she could walk down to the beach for a swim and still be protected from the sunlight. Most of its stone roof had collapsed, but it was nevertheless rather impressive.
We made it to the lighthouse, then descended past more ruins and a cemetery. St Nicholas was allegedly buried here (don’t tell the kids he’s dead!) before they took him to Myra, then Bari in Italy, but as there was no gravestone with his name written on it (or any other gravestones to that matter) we couldn’t be sure. We took advantage of the viewpoints and looked out to sea, over to Karacaören and across to Cordelia, and took many a photo.
We agreed we’d spent too much time onboard and decided to stretch our legs, so Peter rowed us ashore and we started on a hike just after 8.00am. We walked along the pebbly beach to the road and followed it upwards. Peter consulted the app MapOut and found the turn-off to our left into the wilderness.
The path was nicely angled, well maintained and led through lovely smelling pinewood. We had a slight descent to where the path split – one way to the beach at the isthmus, another to Afkule and yet another was sign-posted Iblis Burnu Circle. The latter was the one for us. Soon after the crossroads our path narrowed with the vegetation about to take it over at places. It was still pleasant going, but it was getting hot and we also had to gain height. The views were worth the effort, but Ingrid started to slack. We contemplated turning back but we were close to our highest point, Ingrid was determined, so after a little rest we carried on.
Soon we came to a flat area with waterholes, and not long afterwards the path started to point downhill. Then, if anything, the path became even narrower and was interspersed with scree and rocks. A sheer drop down to the sea made us tread carefully and hold on tight to branches. In some stages the path had actually collapsed, and we had to make detours over rocks and climb over and duck under trees, dependent on what the situation demanded.
One passage was particularly tricky. A landslide had taken the path with it all the way down to the sea and had only left loose stones in its place. One slip and we’d be gone! Peter improvised and hammered steps into the slope with a lookalike fence post. We held on to grass clumps with our hands, placed our feet with trepidation to test the stability of Peter’s ingenuity, held our breath and tiptoed across. We made it!
After that everything seemed a doddle and we arrived safely back at the crossroads. The last ascent had Ingrid huffing and puffing again, but luckily it was not too long and from thereon it was downhill all the way. Back on the beach we gathered Buddy and took him back to the mother-ship. Just before we arrived at Cordelia we spotted a couple of wild pigs with their piglets on the shore. Unfortunately they scampered when they heard us approach and we couldn’t take a photo, but it was nevertheless a lovely surprise. We were worn out after our 5.2 miles, 400 meters of ascent, 4 ½ hours excursion, and were glad to get back onboard. We were confident we had done the area justice and prepared to move on.