TURKISH DELIGHT
It’s the end of a chapter in more ways than one for Fiona and Frank as they finish their tour of Turkey and bid farewell to their beloved boat, Zaffina
PART 5
Our globe-trotting Azimut owners wave a tearful goodbye to their trusty boat
They say that the day you buy your boat and the day you sell it are the two happiest days of your boating life. Well let me tell you, that is a load of old balderdash; it simply means you’ve bought the wrong boat. And here’s how I know… After our early season meander through the Cyclades, we’ve returned to Kos, where we’re lying on a beach close to the marina. I’d rather be on one of the unspoilt beaches in the west of the island, but this one is convenient, even if the music is too loud, the sunbeds too close and too many men are wearing hideously brief bathing attire. On the plus side, the sun is hot, the water clear and the cocktails delicious; there are worse places to be!
Frank’s phone rings and from his half of the conversation, I deduce that it is a marine agent. With changes on the horizon at home, we reluctantly decided a couple of months ago to put our lovely Azimut on the market, and clearly there is some new interest in her. We have had one or two ridiculous offers from people hoping to pick up a bargain, and one or two more serious viewings, but so far nothing acceptable has transpired.
MEMORIES FOR SALE
As a result of that phone call, we find ourselves, two days later, making the short hop from Kos Town to Bodrum. The journey takes less than an hour, but the paperwork that accompanies it is tedious and long-winded. We launch the tender and go ashore to show ourselves and our passports to the customs officers and then return to Zaffina
to await the completion of the paperwork, but as we near the bathing platform, the swell causes the Azimut to bear downwards as our tender is raised up. One of the metal struts of the tender cradle punctures the inflatable tubing. We disembark as quickly as possible and hook the mini-rib onto the crane, pulling it on board as it deflates. This isn’t going to be a good look for any potential purchaser!
We move Zaffina into port, and before Frank has even returned from the marina office two burly Turks are on the pontoon, asking for “The Captain”. They have come to negotiate on behalf of a client, and hope that a deal can be finalised – subject to inspections and sea trials – this afternoon. Things are moving too quickly for my liking, and I am extremely cool towards the agents, but rather than taking offence, one of them senses that I clearly love our boat and offers his sympathy.
The deal is, in principal, agreed within a couple of hours. The purchaser is the husband of a Turkish pop star who recently announced to the media that he had bought his wife an Azimut 62E, but before the deal was completed his surveyor discovered that the boat had several defects. In order to save face, he’s desperate for another 62 and Zaffina perfectly fits the bill.
We move into a hotel for a few days whilst our boat is lifted and inspected. We walk past her as she sits in a sling, and notice that large red circles have been drawn on the hull; although Zaff
has regularly been maintained and checked, the fear of osmosis looms large and Frank tracks down the surveyor for reassurance. There is no problem, he tells us, she is in remarkably good condition for a boat of her age, but he asks if we ever had a collision. Six years ago, in Mallorca, a ferry trying to get onto the fuel berth squashed Zaffina; the company admitted liability and paid for the repairs but obviously evidence of the altercation is still apparent to the trained eye. Fortunately, he reassures us that it won’t make any difference to the sale.
With Zaffina back in the water, the agents and surveyor come back for sea trials, along with the new skipper. The latter has a
higher opinion of himself than we do, an assessment that is confirmed when he asks me how to turn the engines on! Although the language barrier means that we cannot eavesdrop on their conversations, it is clear that they are happy with Zaffina’s performance, and they’re obviously content to overlook the fact that the tender now resembles a deflated balloon.
Now comes the worst task of all; it is time to clear out our beautiful boat and remove all those items that have made her so personal to us. Every cupboard holds a stack of memories, and when our agent, Charlie, delivers a load of boxes in readiness to pack up our goods and send them home, we are reminded of the amazing adventures we have had over the past eight years. The galley is especially poignant, as I made a point of buying small bowls as souvenirs of our travels and as I encase them in bubble wrap, I am transported back to France, Spain, Italy, Tunisia, Sardinia, Croatia and Greece. Charlie is the happy recipient of towels and bedding, kitchen utensils and glasses, and best of all, as far as he is concerned, numerous bottles of wine! He also takes all the charts and pilot books that we accumulated, which he has promised to deliver to a charity specialising in marine education. Other boxes of books, clothes and goods are delivered to the agents, who have agreed to take what they can’t use to local charity shops.
FOND FAREWELL
As we clear, the skipper and various workmen come on board to start making changes for the new owners. They are busy taking measurements in our cabin whilst I fill boxes in the saloon, comparing this sad task with the excitement of clearing our last boat and eagerly transferring everything to the recently purchased Zaffina.
Frank reserves a table at Kocadon, our favourite Bodrum restaurant, for dinner, and I am getting ready to go out when I realise that one of my rings is missing. I am convinced that it was in a small box by our bed, but although I search high and low, there is no sign of it. We walk back to the hotel, on the off chance that the ring was somehow left there, but I know the search is futile and the only explanation I can think of is that someone who came on board during the flurry of activity today helped themselves to my jewellery. My spirits are already low at the thought of saying goodbye to Zaff, and this pushes them down still further, but Frank does his best to cheer me with the promise of a good bottle of red wine to accompany our dinner.
The restaurant is about half a mile away and we sit in a picturesque courtyard at a table gently lit by candlelight. It would be hard to find a more romantic setting, and Frank gazes lovingly across the table, but when he looks into my eyes and asks me to remove my left earring, I fear he has taken leave of his senses. However, I do as he asks, and there, hanging from the end of my earring, is my little diamond ring! Somehow it had caught there earlier in the day, and managed to cling on despite the fact that we have climbed on and off Zaff several times, walked up and down the pontoon, been all the way to the hotel and back and then walked to the restaurant whilst it was attached! Our mood is lifted and we laugh together over that exceptionally good bottle of wine, whilst I offer a silent apology to those innocent workmen, for mentally accusing them of larceny!
Our conversation throughout the evening is dominated by memories of the wonderful odyssey that is now drawing swiftly to a close. We compare favourite ports and anchorages, remember the great times and the not so good ones – which fortunately were few and far between – and relive the amazing journey that took us from Chichester around almost the entire coast of mainland Europe, over to North Africa and finally to Turkey.
We would like to have the opportunity to spend more time exploring this coastline, but there has recently been some terrorist activity in Istanbul, and already there are concerns that the tourist resorts could be potential targets in the future, so perhaps our timing is fortunate. (A week after this, there is an attempted coup in Turkey, and we are relieved to be out of the country).
We expect to have another night or two on Zaffina, but in the morning the agents, with whom we are now quite friendly, come back on board. The final i’s are dotted and t’s are crossed, and signatures are signed on all of the relevant forms, and our beautiful boat is no longer ours. She will be taken to a new, permanent berth in Pal Marina, which is one of the best we have ever been in, and there she will be renamed. The new owners send a message to say we will always be welcome on board, but we know that this is a final goodbye, and the chances of ever seeing Zaffina again are minimal. We are booked on the 5pm ferry back to Kos, our suitcases are packed and we are ready to leave. Disembarking is as painful as I imagined it would be. Our final task is to take down the Jersey ensign that has been our constant companion and the source of increasing interest the further we ventured from our home island.
Often in life, an era draws to a close without you being aware of the door closing, but in this instance we are all too conscious of the significance of the day; for the first time in over 40 years Frank is not a boat owner, and although we know there will be other adventures on the water in the future, nothing will compare to the experience that we shared on and with Zaffina.
The sun is still high in the sky as the ferry leaves Bodrum and the sea is calm. Conditions would be perfect for a quick trip to a secluded anchorage and a night on the hook… but that is in the past. We are sitting in the open air on the upper deck of the
Maria Star and I strain my eyes for one last glimpse of Zaffina.
As we turn, I see her, the beautiful boat that gave us so much pleasure for so long and, oblivious to the inquisitive stares from other passengers, tears stream down my face.
You see, if you have the right boat, the day you sell her isn’t a happy day at all.