TURKISH DELIGHT
Frank and Fiona Walker leave Greece behind and start the next stage of their cruise through the sparkling blue waters of Turkey
Frank and Fiona Walker cruise their Azimut 62 into Turkish waters
Today is the day we will finally accomplish what we set out to do seven years ago: sail the Med from west to east. Turkey comes closer and closer on the horizon as we leave Kos behind and head towards the country where Europe and Asia converge. Having spent almost three summers in Greece, a place we have come to love for the warmth of the people as well as the weather, the beauty and variety of the surroundings and the sublime anchorages, (but not the dreaded Meltemi wind), we have mixed emotions about moving on. The overriding feeling though, is one of excitement at the thought of a new culture, a new language and a new cruising ground.
The wind is rising by the time we approach the coast, and we’re hoping to go into Turgutreis Marina, but a swift phone call dashes our hopes; it is full, and we’ll have to carry on to Palmarina, a little further to the north. We haven’t even heard of Palmarina and it doesn’t seem to be in the pilot book, but when we arrive, we realise why. This is a brand spanking new marina, and a clear example of “if you build it, they will come”, as it’s full of equally spanking new boats, many of them superyachts with a multi-million price tag in any currency, and among such massive company, our lovely Zaffina looks pretty insignificant!
There’s a rare treat for me as we come into port. I am standing on the bow, ready to take the lazy line from the marina staff in their dinghy. To my surprise, one of the Marineros asks permission to come on board, and then nimbly climbs up onto the bow, rope in hand, and deals with the line whilst I return to the cockpit to throw our stern lines to another staff member waiting on the quay. We are made fast in record time, and better still, I haven’t had the unpleasant task of pulling heavy, waterlogged and barnacle-encrusted rope from the depths.
NEW PALS
Unlike other countries, where Frank has dealt with all the formalities of our arrival, in Turkey we are obliged to appoint an agent to liaise with customs. Charlie is our man, and once he hears that we have arrived, he turns up to introduce himself and take our papers to the authorities. He tells us that Pal is the newest and smartest marina in Turkey, but not – surprisingly – the most expensive. Better still, he has managed to negotiate a reduced rate for us, and having seen the quality of the shops on the marina, I am delighted, as the balance saved will soon be used as my personal contribution to the Turkish economy!
Although Pal is a great place to be, particularly when the wind comes up with a vengeance the following day, it doesn’t feel like the real Turkey, and we are keen to get out and explore. The mornings are invariably calmer than the afternoons, so two days later we drop the ropes and bid farewell to Pal as we look forward to a gentle run down to Bodrum.
Wrong again. As soon as we come out of port, we realise that we had been even more sheltered than we realised, and ahead of us the sea is a mass of white. It’s a toss up as to whether we continue on our charted course, or turn straight around and go back into the marina, but we are aware that rough seas and rogue winds are often very isolated in this part of the world, so we decide to plough on in the hope that once we turn the corner things will improve. On the flydeck, we are doused with regular showers of cold water as we face into the waves, and when our course turns us between two small islets, we are side on to the swell and endure a rock ‘n’ roll of a ride. The best thing we can say about it is that the conditions are relatively short-lived, and sure enough, once we turn on the western tip of the peninsular, things improve dramatically. Passing Turgutreis, we see a tripper boat coming out of the port and heading straight into the rough seas; we offer up a prayer of thanks that we are not on board!
Under a cloudless blue sky, we graze along the Turkish coast for the remainder of the morning, noting places that offer good shelter from the prevalent winds and earmarking sites used by the many Gulets that ply these waters. We ease around a headland and in front of us is a picturesque bay with the clearest blue waters. Without any discussion, we both conclude that this is the place where we want to stop, and within minutes, our anchor is down and we are ready to plunge into the water to cool off. It is a popular site with both day trip boats and privately owned ones, with the former using this is as a brief swim stop before moving elsewhere for lunch and further sightseeing.
Our thrusters, which have proved an absolute nightmare this year, have again given up on us, and although we would like to drop back and tie to a tree on the shore once the day boats have departed, there is not enough room to do so without the
manoeuvrability that the thrusters afford, and so we remain swinging on the anchor for the night.
Bodrum beckons. It is just across the bay from the anchorage we are in, which is known as The Aquarium, and although we know that we’ll explore the town more fully once we have guests staying on board, we can’t resist the temptation to pay a short visit. We anchor off, behind the ancient castle that dominates the harbour entrance, and take the dinghy ashore. This is the home of the Gulet, and hundreds of these beautiful, traditional craft fill the marina. Some are better maintained than others, and as we walk, we contemplate which one we would charter, should the mood take us! Elegant and luxurious though they are (well, some of them) we can’t imagine having more fun than we do on our own Azimut…although the idea of having a crew waiting on us hand and foot for a week or two is very appealing!
RATHER BE AT SEA
We debate staying in Bodrum for lunch, but it’s too hot and we’d prefer to be at sea, so we set sail into a new cruising ground, east of the town and into the Gulf of Gokova. This is the Turkey we have been looking for! We pass several sensational anchorages, many without a building in sight, others with a hotel on the shoreline. At Kargicik Buku the temptation to stop and simply enjoy our surroundings proves too much, and down goes the anchor. I swim ashore and tie us to a couple of handy rocks, and there we remain for the rest of the day. We intend to stay in situ for the night, but the wind keeps changing direction, and what was a beautifully sheltered spot is suddenly not quite so calm. No worries, we’re confident that conditions will eventually improve again, and so we sit down to eat our supper. But at the exact moment I put the plates on the table, Frank suddenly realises that we’re no longer as secure as we should be and instead of a relaxing dinner, we’re at action stations! The anchor is dragging, so I swim ashore to release the ropes, and as the second one is dropped Zaffina is blown around and away from me. My swim back, through choppy water, is long and tiring and it is a relief to climb back on board. By now, darkness is falling, and although Frank suggests that we just anchor off in a more sheltered position, I argue that if we tie on again, this time on the opposite side of the bay, we will be far more secure. And so I swim again, this time through pitch-black water, with my fertile imagination conjuring up images of fearsome sea creatures swimming below me. Dinner, when we get back to it, is stone cold, but at least we are firmly re-anchored for the night!
Çökertme, or Coke-time as we rename it, is just a short hop along the coast, and is our next destination. The bay has a narrow entrance, opening into a wide anchorage with a choice of sites to tie on. There are a number of small restaurants along the shoreline, with pontoons extending out from the land. If you tie up here, you are expected to eat at the same restaurant, and we want to have a look at them all before we make our choice, so we opt instead to tie on the west side of the bay, with a line to rocks.
There are a number of boats already here, and more come in during the course of the day, but it never feels crowded and we are pleased with our relatively secluded position; better still, it provides good shelter, although for a while a Katabatic wind gusts down from the steep slopes behind us and races across the water, stirring up a carpet of ruffled peaks along the way. We take the dinghy ashore and wander along the waterfront, checking out all of the restaurants, before deciding to dine at Captain Ibrahim’s. The pilot book has suggested that we will enjoy an entertaining evening, with shisha pipes, raki, music and dancing, so we are looking forward to the prospect of something a little different from the sedate restaurants we usually opt for. We make our booking and, as they offer a free taxi service, arrange to be collected from Zaffina at 8pm, so we don’t have to worry about making our way back after a heavy evening. At 8.30 Frank is on the phone to ask where they are, and at 9pm someone eventually collects us. There is no shisha pipe, no music and no amusement. The food is fine but not exceptional, and our much anticipated evening of entertainment falls completely flat. Perhaps Captain Ibrahim pushed the boat out when he realised that his guest of a few years ago was compiling a pilot book for the region!
TRASH TALK
We are pottering around on Zaffina the following morning, attending to those numerous minor chores that are never finished, when a small boat approaches. I wonder whether we are about to be offered bread or other provisions, as we often bought our breakfast from the bakery boat in Croatia, but this one is offering to remove things rather than supply them: it is a rubbish boat! The laws about dumping anything in the water here in Turkey are very strict, so we are pleased to be offered this service, although on this occasion we don’t need it. We have been warned that not only must you avoid dropping any foodstuffs overboard, but also you are not permitted to allow any detergent or washing products to go into the water, and you certainly can’t empty your black tank, even well away from the land. In fact, we have been issued with a “blue card”, which will be used to record how often we use the pump-system provided in most ports, and the volume of the contents of our tank. This leads to much smutty banter when we return to Palmarina a few days later to pick up guests and perform our first pump out in Turkey, but fortunately the attendant doesn’t speak any English and isn’t party to our bawdy humour!
We only have another six weeks remaining of this season, but we have four different groups of guests joining us during this time, each for a week of cruising. Our peaceful meandering is about to come to an end. Much as I enjoy entertaining friends and family, I know I will miss the idle days with just Frank and myself on board, and so we savour together our last few days of solitude before the influx.