Chapter One: UNDERWAY
Apart from a little swell our anchorage at Kuruca Bükü had been perfect – no disco, no ringos, gulets anchored some distance away, no mossies, but good holding, shopping and windsurfing. We needed another stamp on our “Blue Card” which forced us to exchange this little paradise for a pump out station, so we upped anchor and motored out of the place where we’d spent nearly a week.
We carried on under engine and delved further into this fjord-like bay which was surprisingly busy with gulets crossing from one side to the other, speed boats chasing each other and superyachts moored stern-to along both sides of the coast. It was especially crowded near a 5* hotel, but got quieter closer to our destination. We motored slowly past Marti Marina to check the location of the pump out facilities, and found a space for anchoring a little further on. Hook down at 1.30pm, anchor ball up and lunch on the table. We researched the weather, wind and journey ahead, had a swim, smelled the pine trees, looked at hoards of people walking along the sandbank, saw the ruins of a Byzantine castle on top of an island and watched more boats turn up.
Early next morning we motored over to the fuel and pump out station. It was due to open at 9.00am, so we waited by anchoring just outside. By 10.00am we could finally see the one catamaran that had moored on the starboard side of the pontoon start its engine and they soon were away. We promptly took their place, were helped in alongside by a friendly marinero, and the business was soon done which left us unencumbered for another fortnight.
The first hour or so of our new-found freedom started by motoring, then the wind made an appearance. It came from South-East, so we had a good angle for a sail. Full canvas was hoisted and although it was a slow ride we made decent progress.
A windshift to North-West took us nicely to Kuruca Bükü, then it turned South-West and we had to add a few tacks. Our arrival time was pushed back further and further, but, as it was such a lovely experience, we decided to stick with it until 4.00pm before we would review our progress.
Just before 4.00pm the wind shifted yet again and allowed us to pass the rocks and islands outside Datça Limani in a little curve. All there was left to do was to tack out to the rhumb-line for a home run. So far the wind had been good to us with a nice Force 4 in the last sector. Now it picked up and by the time we came to the lighthouse on the rock outside Datça it was blowing a Force 6, and Cordelia was racing along at over 7 knots on full sails. We only had another mile to the anchorage, so we took down the sails and motored for the last bit. We found a protected space and dropped the anchor at 5.30pm.
With dogs barking in town we got up at 6.00am. We had breakfast, prepared Cordelia and left at 7.30am. It was blowing a nice North-Westerly Force 4 in the anchorage and we hoped to set sail as soon as we were in open water. When we unfurled the genoa we had just rounded the corner and with the change in our course the wind did, too. It came from the South and lost all its strength.
We kept on motoring, altered the course again when we’d passed the lighthouse at Ince Burnu and headed towards ancient Knidos. The promontory off Knidos featured a lighthouse on top of a rocky cliff and looked quite spectacular.
We rounded the cape of Deveboynu Burnu, entering the Gulf of Gökova Körfezi, crossed a bay in hazy, near foggy conditions, and arrived at Mersinçik Bükü. At 12.45pm we dropped the anchor in hard sand and found ourselves flanked by wood covered hills and rocky mountains with an oasis for a building, olive trees, reeds and a little orchard in the middle.
We had a swim and checked on the anchor which needed digging in some more. Once this was accomplished we enjoyed a late lunch and a rest. With no internet we listened to music and studied Rod Heikell’s guidebook for suitable future anchorages. A breeze had found its way into the bay which was pleasant for us but twirled Cordelia around. We both had another swim and Peter took another look at the anchor. All was good, so we spent more time in the cockpit and relished the scent of the trees and the peacefulness around us.
Chapter Two: OH, BOTHER!
We were ready to weigh anchor when Peter decided he wanted to check the engine. To our dismay he discovered the sump full of water which had overspilled into the bilges. Our plans for the day quickly changed as Peter traced the flooding back to the engine raw water pump which was happily dripping away at the shaft. Four filled buckets and fifty minutes later the water was mopped up from the engine and battery compartment, and we were away.
The internet kicked back in just outside the bay and Peter established that our best option would be to call in at the new Kairos Marina and see if we could source a replacement for the faulty part from one of the Volvo Penta dealers in either Marmaris, Bodrum or Ören. So Ingrid booked us a berth and at 11.30am we were guided alongside the quay by two helpful marineros in a RIB. We checked in and were charged a whopping TL3,022.00 (= approximately £96) for the privilege of one day. By now we had heard back from one of the dealers, informing us that the pump was nowhere in stock in Turkey, but they could ship one in from Belgium in two to three weeks for around €830.00.
On the way back to Cordelia we checked in at the on-site chandlery on the off-chance that they might be able to help with the part. They didn’t have a replacement either, but a mechanic could have a look to see whether it could be repaired. We got talking to the friendly chap in the chandlery and when we happened to mention the price of our berth he insisted it was wrong. So while Peter went off with the mechanic, the chap took Ingrid back to reception in his car and spoke to the dizzy girl there. He showed her how to work a calculator and the price was revised to TL1,680.00 (= approximately £53). Well, that was good news! It took the receptionist a good while to process the refund with the help of some online tutelage, but eventually Ingrid got confirmation that she’d managed it.
In the meantime the mechanic had assessed the damage and in the end we were quoted for an “as good as new” repair, inclusive of some welding to the shaft where he’d found corrosion. With any luck we’d have a non-leaking working pump by next day afternoon or the day after, so the chap from the chandlery told us. As it turned out this chap happened to be the marina manager, and as our pump had already been dismantled and taken away we were held to ransom anyway. We could only hope he was right, but started to feel carefully optimistic. We even got a reply from the Bodrum dealer that they had the pump, which provided us with another option, but first we’d have to see what the repair was like.
The next day Ingrid attended to the business of cleaning the engine sump and bilges. The floorboards all came up, sand and dust was removed and the contents was rearranged. Next, Cordelia and Buddy got a hose-down and brush. It had become quite windy by then and over a cup of coffee in the cockpit we discussed our options.
After lunch from the on-site Migros supermarket we went out to explore the nearby surroundings. We found the local beach, the campsite, the ferry terminal, the harbour, a couple of eateries and some nice-looking houses. We had a refreshing drink back on board, then wandered off along the quay to the green lighthouse at the marina entrance. The sea outside looked rather rough, so on the way back we stopped at reception and paid for another night. By 5.30pm we’d given up on the idea of getting our water pump back, so settled in for the night.
We did some admin jobs the next morning while we waited for an update on the pump. Peter had found a walk we could do from the marina and went in search of the footpath. He found it and also encountered the mechanic who informed him our part was on its way back from Marmaris.
The wind was picking up and we agreed we’d have to sit out the Meltemi, so Ingrid trundled off to the reception to pay for another three nights. Peter stayed on board, looked after Cordelia and hoped the mechanic would turn up. Ingrid was back and in the cockpit and Peter got ready to go off to shower when at 5.15pm the mechanic arrived with the pump. He showed it to Peter with all the replaced old bits in a little container, and Peter liked what he saw. The pump was soon back in its place, primed with water, and worked very smoothly when we started the engine. Water spurted out at the back rather than leak into the sump, and so we paid the €400.00 for the repair and €25.00 for a new impeller, and everybody was happy. The payment was made at the reception with the marina manager who was thus far the only person we’d ever met who made us feel happy when we handed over money.
At 7.00am on the next day we went out for the walk. We turned right once out of the marina and followed a wide unattended road up to about 200m height, passing farmhouses with their barking dogs. The sun hadn’t quite reached all of the bends and corners, and the wind was blowing gently. The road was nicely angled which resulted in a pleasant plod along the countryside with its views of the marina and across the bay towards Bodrum. Eventually we descended and found a trail that would take us back to the marina.
The turn-off was marked with a wooden X, but we thought we might as well give it a go since we were there. It started pleasantly enough with a good path through the forest. Then we encountered various tricky locations where the path was either very narrow, faint, slippery or/and steep, especially when there was a sheer drop down.
We braved them by scrambling along, using roots and branches as handholds. One passage resembled a short version of the Hinterstoisser Traverse on the Eiger, although admittedly it was a bit wider and had something like a rocky rail to hang onto (to clarify, we’d actually never been on the Eiger, but had read about it and had seen it on the television which definitely qualifies us to comment in this way). It was not for the faint-hearted, yet despite all of these perils we reached the beach on the bottom safely, and after 7.2 miles, 370 m up and down, and 3½ hours we made it back to the marina.
Later in the afternoon Peter ran the engine to check on the pump. This time water came out on both ends – it was leaking again! It stopped, though, when the engine was off, so Peter hoped it was still in its “bedding in” phase and would sort itself out. We certainly didn’t fancy another prolonged stay. Then Peter saw the mechanic walk past. Whilst he put on his shoes and searched for the phone the lad came back the other way. Ingrid motioned for him to come over and Peter took him down below. When Ingrid started the engine and put it into forward they could clearly make out the drips. The lad called his boss and promised to come back the next day.
He turned up at 11.45am, dismantled the pump and took off with it. Later we learnt from the marina manager that the lad’s boss would come in the next day to check it over. So another day passed with more admin in preparation for our entry to Greece (would we ever get there at this rate?) and a plan for a cycle ride.
It was 9.00am by the time we got the bikes out. They were ready to go as Peter had checked them the previous day, so we changed into something more comfortable and got ready for some fun. It started innocently enough and we took it easy. Soon, though, the road was seriously ascending and we had to put more effort into it. We paused to catch our breath, then continued all the way to the col. Having reached the top it was mostly downhill from thereon. We reached the outskirts of Datça, then made it into town using backstreets, dirt roads and cobbled alleys, and got to the harbour.
We saw where we’d anchored about a week go and carried on along the esplanade, found a bench in the shade overlooking the anchorage and nibbled on a biscuit we’d brought along.
On our way back Peter spotted a café that advertised frappé. As the price was reasonable we stopped and indulged ourselves.
Suitably refreshed we cycled on to the geothermal lake on the other side of the beach. Peter had read that its fresh water contained lots of minerals that were good for your health. This must have been true seeing the rosy cheeked kids, women in head scarfs and shoals of fish frolicking in it. It was also free to enter which did surprise us as anywhere else they would surely have built an exclusive spa hotel complex around it with a matching price tag. It looked very picturesque but as we hadn’t brought any adequate swimming attire we didn’t use it. Datça itself seemed a nice place, certainly on the seafront, and we were glad to have had the opportunity to see it from the land, too.
Leaving it was difficult. Not for sentimental reasons, mind, but for the way they built the roads: no matter how steep a hill, the road goes up in a straight line right to the top. We reverted to pushing at the steepest parts but finally the road did even out, and we could get back into our saddles. From then on it wasn’t too long before we re-entered the marina. We refreshed with a cup of tea and saw the mechanic who made us understand he’d be with us in an hour. We used the time to have a look around the chandlery, put some gear away and waited for the lad.
He came at 5.50pm, installed the pump and watched for leaks when the engine was running in gear. Finally he confirmed all was “good” and used Google Translate to ask Peter “Do you think I deserve a tip?” We thought he did and Peter asked him what he’d be happy with. We gave him €20.00 and he departed with a big grin.
After having spent six nights in Kairos Marina (there are worse places) we stocked up with goods from the Migros and the chandlery and finally slipped our mooring at 11.00am. It was swelly outside the marina when Ingrid put the lines inside the cockpit. The fenders had to wait as Peter was keen on setting sails. The breeze from the West lasted until we were on course and fenders and lines were stowed. Then it deserted us and we motored along the coast till just before 2.00pm when the wind reappeared, this time from astern. This made for a lovely wing-on-wing journey all the way to our anchorage at Gerence Burnu. The anchor was set by 3.30pm and we were in the water about a minute later.
Peter checked the engine compartment (about a teaspoon full of water) while Ingrid cleaned Cordelia’s waterline. Apart from us there were five boats in the anchorage, all moored stern-to, with us being the only swingers in 9.5m. One of them was a gulet, but even they were quiet. The wind was still blowing, which was cooling and filled the air with the smell of the surrounding pine trees, the sea was calm, and we were looking forward to a good night’s sleep.
Chapter Three: HEATING UP
Peter rowed us ashore early in the morning. We picked up a trail which led through pine forest and undergrowth. We passed several anchorages and reached a lovely beach.
We contoured around it to a camping and BBQ spot, and followed the red and white marks that were now painted alongside a dirt track. This was wider than the path we’d been on and carried on at a pleasant gradient up and down through the wilderness to Büyük Çatı. We found it to be an extremely pretty inlet with fishing boats moored up at the very end of it. There was also a well with a pump but Peter couldn’t retrieve any water from it.
We made it one bay further to Küçük Çatı, then decided to head back. It was getting warm by then, and the cicadas had all woken up and let us know it. On the way out we had also seen a big wild donkey. The birds twittered, a cockerel was crowing non-stop in the distance, and the flies were buzzing. As this was a proper jungle the latter were of the flesh eating variety and had taken a liking to humans. They hunted us all the way back and even out to Cordelia, and were quite a nuisance.
We cooled off with a swim and found our anchor nicely dug in. Ingrid took the ice-scraper and had a go at the growth on Cordelia’s rudder area. It was difficult without weights and she was exhausted after ½ hour. She knew it needed doing though, when she saw a shrimp sucking up the detritus she had scrubbed off.
We moved on the next day and had a wonderful sail to Gökağac. It got windy, so we rigged our windsurfing gear and Ingrid went for a trial run on the iSonic 111 and the 6.8m2 sail. It felt very heavy so Peter put on more downhaul and outhaul. Now it was twitchy and had lost all its power, so more adjustments were needed. Ingrid had another few runs but couldn’t get going properly. After a cup of tea she had another try. The anemometer showed anything from 15 knots to 28 knots and it certainly felt windy enough from the cockpit. However, on the water it was a different matter and she was bobbing along with very little planing. She’d had enough of it but Peter was keen to find out what it was like. He got lucky and found a few gusts, but when he came back after a couple of there and backs he confirmed her opinion of the place for windsurfing – “rubbish”!
After breakfast we put away the windsurfing gear that had dried on deck and secured Buddy on the foredeck. At 9.00am we weighed anchor and motored along the inside passage of the “Seven Islands” (Yedi Adaları). We looked into the East Creek and North Cove and couldn’t help comparing them with the Norfolk Broads or maybe more accurately with the Amazon. We were surrounded by a jungle of pine trees and other green wooden things and half expected to hear howler monkeys. As it were, it was the cicadas that were the loudest, followed by the seagulls and a cockerel somewhere in the distance.
We carried on up the coast, dropped in at Kargili Köyü and peeked into the entrance of English Harbour. Not being able to anchor in the lovely little bay we had taken a liking to on the way in due to restrictions near the presidential summer residence, we motored through the gap at Kara Adaları and crossed over to Akbük Limani. Halfway across we picked up some wind, so we ended our journey under the genoa and sailed into our anchorage where we were greeted by a waft of hot air.
We dropped the hook, put up the anchor ball, installed the boom tent, and Peter jumped into the water to cool off and check on the anchor. Ingrid prepared her outfit to follow suit when the orange RIB of the Coast Guard approached us. With Jack, the red (now more pink) ensign dangling from Cordelia’s stern, we couldn’t hide our origins and were promptly asked for our boat documents by a polite young official. Ingrid handed him our transit log, “Blue Card” and registration papers which he and his colleague inspected. They seemed satisfied, made her sign a document (presumably saying they’d inspected us), declared everything was good, wished us a nice day and departed. Ingrid finally had her swim, found a cold spot and returned on board refreshed.
As soon as the weather allowed Ingrid slept on deck where she could look at the stars, breathe fresh air and wake up with the sunrise. This night, however, it was still dark when she awoke hot and sweaty. Gusts of the hot katabatic wind were taking her breath away and turned Cordelia around in circles. It was stifling! She hauled up the bathing ladder and lashed the wheel, and Peter who was also awake attended to Buddy and Jack. We went below, closed all the hatches and watched YouTube while it was blowing anything between 4 knots and 40 knots outside. It showed 32ºC in the saloon but it still felt cooler than on deck. We looked at options where to spend a better night the next day, but as the wind was supposed to calm down by then we agreed to stay put. Eventually, the wind settled into a more predictable pattern, and we both went to bed, Peter in the cabin and Ingrid in the saloon, both with fans on, neither of us needing any covers.
It took us all morning to recover but after lunch we tackled the issue with the stackpack lines. Every time we moved them out of the way they reset all twisted, which was not only annoying but also made them more difficult to handle. We had loosened them to erect the boom tent for extra shade, and Peter used the opportunity to replace the port top line with a shock cord. When the wind picked up in the afternoon we folded the tent away. Then Peter pulled on the new stackpack line which promptly resulted in the shock cord’s breakage. It was now swinging in the breeze a long way up. Peter pulled it through when Ingrid was making tea. What she had predicted when first introduced to the idea of replacing the line had materialised – Peter had to climb up the mast. He did so after we’d drunk our tea and Ingrid had dug out the old halyard from the original pack. When the ground work was done Peter was up the mast like a squirrel up a tree, and after a little fidgeting the halyard was in place. When he came back down he was soaked. We were both sweating profusely and cooled off in the water, then prepared for another hot and windy night and went to bed.
The night proved to be windless and cool, and we both slept well with Ingrid back on deck and Peter in the cabin. At 8.00am we were underway and motored across the Gökova Körfezi Bay to the island of Sehir Adaları. Peter put the rod out on the journey over as we’d seen movement in the calm water, but, alas, no fish took the lure.
We dropped the anchor at 9.15am, prepared Buddy and motored to just outside the ticket office. You had to pay entrance to the island, but it included all the sights, sunbeds and beach facilities. We followed the decked footpath to Cleopatra’s Beach with its sand allegedly brought over from Africa for her pleasure. Whether it had been imported or not, she chose a mighty fine place for a paddle in the sea!
We walked on from there to the amphitheatre where we witnessed an impromptu rendition by American and German tourists, much to our amusement.
From there it wasn’t far to the Apollo Sanctuary which could only be admired from outside its fallen down walls. In contrast, the ruins of the church and basilica further down could be trampled on without anyone batting an eyelid.
We made it back onboard for a much needed drink and cup of coffee. The gulets were now arriving in force, and when we saw a mini cruise-ship heading our way we upped anchor at 11.00am and left for Söğüt. Peter had already seen a dozen boats there on AIS, and when we arrived it was packed. The yacht club took up most of the Western side, the rest was full of mooring buoys with ships attached. The 10m contour was taken by anchored boats which extended their range out to 25m, and the stern-to places were busy, too. We didn’t fancy squeezing in and dropping our anchor in these depths, so reverted to Plan B and turned Cordelia’s nose back to Akbük Limani. We set sails just outside Söğüt, and once we’d found the wind were making speed up to 7.2 knots. The anchor went back down just a short distance from where we’d left in the morning. We put Cordelia to bed and prepared for another possible “heatwave” scenario.
The night was peaceful and we both slept well, then we prepared to leave. After lunch we motored out of the calm bay, but were met outside by swell, waves and whitecaps in 20 knots of wind. Tacking close-hauled to our intended destination would have made for a tough afternoon, so we turned round and headed back. Then Ingrid spotted a fish jumping. By the time she saw the next one Peter had readied the rod and we were heading back out. We set the genoa with one reef and sailed halfway across to the other side in great conditions for this angle (90º to true wind). Just after 2.00pm we turned back and a good hour later we were anchored up again at our spot. There was still no fish on the end of the line, but we’d had a fantastic just-for-fun daysail.
Chapter Four: WIND AND WINDSURFING
We got more katabatic wind during the night, and although this time it was bearable we opted for departure and upped anchor at around 8.30am.
We motored towards the end of our bay when Peter shouted “Kalipso”, i.e. the name of Sinan’s boat. We decided on a fly-past and shouted his name. Low and behold, he came on deck with his visiting daughter, we exchanged greetings, he updated us on Alejandro’s whereabouts, and then we were off.
There was hardly any wind with little swell on the nose and we motored all the way to Ören. The lure had been out all this time but hadn’t caught anything, and now Peter put the rod away and Ingrid prepared Cordelia for mooring alongside. We called the marina as the fuel pontoon was inside their entrance, and after a while were given permission to proceed. We filled up with diesel and pumped out, then continued to the anchorage just outside. It was deep but we found a spot in 15m in mud where we could drop the anchor.
After a cup of coffee we launched Buddy and Peter rowed us to the beach. We got rid of our rubbish, then made it to the Sok and Migros supermarkets and stocked up. We returned heavily laden, ate some of our purchase for lunch, and decided to head back across the bay to Gökağaç. Ören had looked nice enough with cafés, bistros and restaurants along the beach front and with decent prices. No wonder it was full of Turkish sun worshippers! We, however, weren’t sure how much swell would come in overnight, so at 2.30pm we weighed anchor and set sails soon afterwards. We had a splendid ride under full canvas and enjoyed every minute. Just outside our destination we lost the wind, so we finished under engine until we dropped anchor at 4.45pm.
The air was cooler on this side of the bay and sleeping was much easier. It was hazy when we left this lovely anchorage at 8.45am. There was no wind and the sea was like a millpond, so we motored and Peter put out the fishing gear. It was an uneventful journey without catching anything. We thought there must have been some current though, as we found ourselves adjusting our course from time to time to keep in a straight line. About 1½ hours away from our destination the wind increased to Force 5-6 and the waves built up. As they were both on the nose, Cordelia found herself pounding for the rest of the way until we reached flatter sea at Yaliçiftlik (Barbaros Bay) just before 2.00pm. Just after we’d anchored the wind shifted, so we had to reset the hook. Other boats came in and (mainly) went, the wind was hot and smelled of pine trees, we had a swim, Ingrid had a doze, we watched the dinghies race at Club Med and pondered on the small numbers of guests at the holiday resort and on the gulets.
We were up at the usual time and weighed anchor just before 8.00am. We motored round the corner and between the “Dark Island” and the mainland towards Bodrum. We saw empty unfinished housing blocks and finished and habitable white square apartment buildings. This type of architecture spread from the sea up to the hills and continued well past Ortakent.
It was a windless and quiet morning, but the traffic increased once we were past the island, and we dodged gulets, motorboats, ferries and the odd yacht. We made it safely to our anchorage at Akyar Köyü and dropped the hook at 9.50am. Boats were constantly coming and going, jetskis and ringos swerved around us, then the wind picked up to 35 knots and the windsurfers added to this scene. We had a swim, lunch, snooze and observed what was going on around and sometimes very close to us. We resolved to give it all a rest today and rig some gear the next morning before the wind had built up.
We prepared the iSonic 111 and the 6.8m2 sail and just after 2.00pm Ingrid ventured out onto the water. She had some good runs but had to avoid incoming boats, ringos and speedboats as well as the wind shadows behind the anchored boats. She stopped for a cold drink when her mouth got dry, then continued when the wind filled in some more.
This second session proved even better than the first, but she soon got tired and handed over to Peter. He was back after his second run, having been completely overpowered in the now over 30 knots of gusts. When Ingrid made tea he went out again, but with more or less the same result. We drank our tea by which time the wind had settled into the 25 knot zone, so Peter had another go and finally enjoyed himself. When he was exercised enough we stowed the gear on deck.
We repeated the experience the next day. Peter had one run by which time the wind had increased to around 30 knots which left him totally overpowered. We de-rigged and set up the JP 101 and 5.5m2 which was much better. Peter had few good blasts, though mainly in one direction. Ingrid was still tired from yesterday’s session, so she didn’t last too long but put in a decent effort.
The following day was a near match to the previous one, albeit with the 5.0m2 sail instead of the 5.5m2. Ingrid went off and once she’d adjusted the set-up to her liking had a few satisfying runs, then told Peter to get ready. He, however, showed no interest and sent her out so he could take some photos. Ingrid knew after the first run it was a mistake.
She was totally overpowered in the gusts but as she wasn’t close enough to hold on to Cordelia on the way back in she had to go out again. The conditions got worse by the second. Big gusts (up to 38 knots!) alternated with lulls, her back was jerking, she kept falling in, had trouble water starting and drifted out to sea. Eventually she could crank up far enough to make it sufficiently close to land for a direct ride back. She managed to hold on in the gusts and to bob through the lulls, and finally returned to Cordelia. She was exhausted and had stubbed her toe on who knows what, so a cup of tea was well in order.
It was still windy the next afternoon. Peter was in two minds whether he should go windsurfing as the wind was up and down. Ingrid, however, was in one mind and didn’t want to repeat the escapades of the previous day. We had a cup of tea which was interspersed with 37 knots gusts, which helped Peter to make his unanimous decision – there must be other places with more consistent wind.
We’d put the gear away and were eating when a sailboat anchored right next to us (of all the empty spaces around us!). Two adolescent boys launched their tender, stalled the engine and quickly drifted out to sea. The current and wind wouldn’t let them row back, and Peter was asked for help by the skipper who’d remained on board. By the time we’d launched Buddy and put the outboard on they had managed to restart theirs. They made it back, only for their mother-ship to start dragging. Their anchor came up with a bucket-full of weed. They re-anchored, but this time they got too close to our neighbouring catamaran, so they had to try again. On the next attempt they seemed to be okay, but Peter reckoned they were in the same weedy patch. We couldn’t be sure whether they were dragging but as they were at a reasonable distance from us we left them to it. They were gone in the morning and we soon followed suit.
Chapter Five: LAST DAYS
Inside the bay we’d had a South-Westerly Force 4, but outside we soon met with a North-Westerly Force 5, i.e. the wind was on the nose (no surprise there, then). We motored up along the coast and followed its twists and turns. The motorboats were out in force, and between them and the ferries they created quite a wake. Our poor lure bobbed up and down but was unable to catch anything other than a little weed. We finally got a bit of an angle to sail close-hauled on the genoa for about an hour, but then the wind hid in the shadow of one of the many islands and later disappeared altogether. We motored to our intended destination of Bahçe Köyü which was positively crowded, so continued to Farmess Bay where we found a sandy spot to drop the anchor.
We were near the mosque and the sailing/windsurfing club and watched the dinghies racing. Yalikavak Bay somehow reminded us in character of Salcombe Bay, with houses reaching up into the surrounding barren hills, only here the buildings were mainly white and cubic in style compared to the colourful cottages and green environment we were used to seeing in England. The café on the beach played Turkish boom-boom music which was a bit too loud for our liking, but the town had a nice vibe despite of it.
After a fitful night due to the night club opposite our bay and the deep roar of the powerful motorboat engines we were on our way again. We left at 8.00am for Sapli and motored up along the coast before we crossed Güllük Körfezi Bay. Along the way we found some wind and after a couple of unsuccessful attempts we managed to sail for a good hour. At one stage we even had to put a reef in the genoa. We lost the wind near what we called “Treasure Island” because of the three pirate ships heading for it. After more motoring we found a spot to drop the hook near the islet that was connected to the mainland by a causeway, and yes, many people waded along it.
The forecast predicted wind and when it shifted we had a nice view across the bay towards (a different) Akbük Limani rather than at the regimented rows of holiday homes and hotels on our side.
We put up with the ringo boat and jetski running circles around Cordelia and hunkered down. The wind was gusting and blowing anything from 4 knots to 40 knots. We didn’t want to expose ourselves to its caprice, so forewent windsurfing and any excursions in Buddy were limited to trips to the Migros and Bim supermarkets near the beach on the other side of the dual carriageway.
We entertained ourselves instead by sitting under the bimini, watching the world (well, the causeway paddlers) go by, listening to audiobooks and taking the occasional dip. Tom Cunliffe (= British sailing guru and raconteur) amused us with his monthly Zoom rambles, and YouTube provided an array of videos. We also did some boat maintenance and admin, and Peter used WhatsApp to contact the agent at Didim where we headed for next to check out of Turkey.
When we left our picturesque anchorage, for once there was no wind, which found us motoring all the way. We dropped the hook outside the marina, launched Buddy, prepared our paperwork and embarked on our way to the agent. Attila of Didim Yachts was situated inside the marina. We found his office, presented our documents of which copies were taken and exchanged money (one way only, €160.00 from us to him). We were due to hear from him again at 5.00pm to deal with Customs whose offices were right next to where we’d anchored.
We popped into Migros on our way back and filled the rest of our time to the rendezvous with a doze, tea, watching boats and pondering why the swimmers had abandoned their safe zones in preference to an area full of moving and anchored boats, exceeding even the breakwater (it just didn’t make any sense to us).
Just before 5.00pm we motored Buddy to the customs dock, had a phone call from the agent confirming this was what we were supposed to do, and after a bit of a wait and walkabout with no-one turning up we made our own way to the customs building. The “Departures” was locked, so we entered at “Arrivals” where the port police reunited us with the agent and concluded the formalities. With our passports stamped and our transit log updated we were now legally authorised to leave Turkey. Back on Cordelia we had a last dip in the clear Turkish sea before we finished our stay in this truly delightful country.
