Hot pool horrors
After the rigours of Pergamon we are ready for some bay R and R and head off down the coast towards Bademli Limani. It turns out to be one of those wafty downhill runs followed by an exciting zoom into the anchorage. The first bays is quite bouncy so we head on through a tight gap and narrow winding passage into a bay opposite some hot pools on the beach. A beautiful spot with crystal clear water and bounded on either side by upmarket abandoned hotels. A real opportunity for someone with a bit of cash. One looked like it had made it to opening and no further while the other one never reached final fit out. Very odd; now they are just grazing areas for the odd tortoise and the swimming pools are appreciated by the local birds.
After a rippleless sleep the morning sees Murray a little worse for wear after a disagreement with an unwashed vege and he retires for the day apart from the odd trip to the loo and cooling dip over the side!
In the night we did hear the sound of Velcro and in the morning discover the humid weather has set off one of the lifejackets… luckily the forepeak floor hasn’t been screwed down… most awkward to get out!
We explore the hotels further and tootle over to the famed hot pools… absolutely disgusting!! Apparently the last yachtie to report in caught some fungal disease from them. We think they got off lightly; the place reeks of excrement and the pool are the horrible colour of a slightly dodgy septic tank! We return to the good ship Key West and motor over to the village and peruse the small inaptly named “Lucky” yacht washed up on the rocks. Never ceases to amaze us that in the Med no one takes the time to recover even the easily salvageable bits when a boat gets sunk. Poor Lucky is lolling about with a full set of sails still in the sail bags and full accompaniment of electronics etc. Further up the bay in the shallows another boat has met its end and sits serenely in the shallows like a once prized garden ornament in front of the local fish restaurant. The village is very pretty if a wee way to walk and we stock up with water and ekmek for the days ahead.
The two Foças
It’s a lovely morning so we shift round to the other bays for a look and lunchtime swim. The water is almost tropical here… in colour anyway… it’s still less than 20 degrees and somewhat takes your breath away on entry!
It is an exciting downhill run again to the next stop although as the wind builds it becomes clear it’s not a good option so we head off down the gulf to Candarli. No as we expected but good enough for an overnight stop.
Today we want to stop in the ancient harbour of Pergamon… hummm… not to be. First the wind is blowing in and second the seafloor seems to have risen since last surveyed! We spend an anxious few minutes trying to reverse off the silted passage in and finally break free just before the wind really picks up. On to Yenifoca.
It seems to be becoming a reoccurring theme that things are not as described in the pilot and Yenifoca turns out to be a rather loud and packed place. Again Ok for a nights stop (the soothing jazz played at the local club is a pleasant change for Turkish pop!) and the village is very interesting (Loads of old Genoese stone houses and friendly locals) but not the quiet place it once was!
On to Eskifoca. Yes… the two are related… yeni=new and eski=old.
We get in some good sailing again with a following wind and a swim stop in a bay outside sees us all fired up for the town quay. Shame the visitors berths seem to have been commandeered by local as good places to leave their yachts while they go home to Ismir! Luckily a new marina seems to be being built on the other side of the bay and we rather cheekily join another British boat on one of the half finished pontoons.
Eskifoca turns out to be a fabulous little place. Very touristy, (local tourists – we haven’t spoken to another English person since Cannakale!) but full of charm and character. As no one seems to mind us where we are we spend another day exploring the place and eating some of the best meze and main dishes we have had in Turkey. Eskifoca like Yenifoca is full of Genoese stone house, winding streets and even has a small walled castle decorating its waterfront. The whole village has a slightly bohemian feel to it and again we can’t get over how friendly everyone is and genuinely interested in the world at large and where we all fit into it.
What a neat place and another one to visit if you happen to be in the neighbourhood!
A wee note here: our computer, unlike a Turkish one obviously, is not to happy about speeling in Turkish so bear with us if some of the names have changed for ease of writting or you notice that is not how you would have spalt something.
The land that cruisers forgot…
It’s lonely out here on our wee boat… we haven’t seen many yachts at all and precious few cruisers. It is great to see the Turks have taken to sailing (well motoring) and we wave to them all as the chug past, sails carefully stowed to prevent damage in the wind but we are a little bemused by the lack of liveaboards. Are we going the right way or is there something we don’t know??
From Eskifoca we head south again and when spying our port of call filled with fishing boats we change course and zip down to Karaada Island. By the time we get there it is blowing 30 knts into the bay but we hammer in and park up by ourselves in the best spot in the bay. Typically this signals our desire to be parked next to and a large American/Turkish (!) yacht moors off our stern. Still it is a great spot once the wind dies at sunset and we enjoy our peaceful nights sleep.
We are only going across the gulf today (5 miles) so we have a leisurely start… enjoying the procession of thundering trip boats, blue gullet cruises and dive boats galloping about the place. One gullet arrives with a family of real Americans on board. Loud enough to drown out all the trip boats in the bay… Americans; you’ve got to love them; they sure know how to have fun!! You’ll come back you hear!
The trip across is not dramatic and the bay is party central. As usual we weave in and out and manage to park just where we want to… well kind of!
We retaliate for all the hip hop Turkish music by plating a selection of Irish and Jazz late into the evening… interesting lots of people re-anchor away from us… or is it they are just restless?? It seems all night people are coming and going and anchoring and then re-anchoring an hour later three feet from where they were… most bizarre and not great for a peaceful nights sleep as every now and then it appears that a gullets passerelle is about to poke one of our windows out or cleave off our mast as they randomly manoeuvre about!
Not so friendly and then super friendly!
We have been reading about this cool harbour just around the corner, so time our run to get a space on the quay. This involves getting up late and arriving about 11am when everyone is just going out. We time it perfectly but instead of a rousing welcome we receive stern faces and get waved off each free space… it is now a harbour of private mooring and visitors are not welcome! Great, it is back out to sea to battle big waves and gusty conditions to head around to Cesme Marina. After dodging through the “don’t go there on a windy day” gap at the headland we are pleasantly surprised to find the marina unfinished and the burly young boatman pleased to see us. Dismissing the pontoons as a little unsafe in these conditions he parks us on the quay side. Best possie in the place even if there is no water or power.
Cesme has a similar feel to Eskifoca and we enjoy a night ashore strolling the streets gauping at the tourists!
We have an abruptly early morning wakeup call from the “shouting towers” as we have started to call the mosques minarets. We are directly under one it turns out and he must have his watch set to a different time zone as he insists on lagging behind the other two by about 30 seconds… just enough to prevent you from ignoring it all!
Later in the morning we have a rather daredevil time getting water from the far end of the marina… early baths narrowly avoided and four letter exclamations heard all round the marina as limbs are stretched breaking point when a rope jams at an inopportune moment. A controlled crash landing follows and more yoga required to extricate the boat but worth it for full tanks!
It’s a windy old day and we scream along at 6+ knots all day but find shelter in bays somewhat lacking! More cursing and swearing… can’t tell me that a bay people are kite surfing in is good protection in the meltemi! Finally we end up in a small bay with a strange closed community at the end and ping to a halt on the end of 30 metres. A French man swims across to compliment our anchoring technique and can’t believe we managed to hit the only 2 foot wide piece of sand in that area of the bay. All that training in the Cyclades is finally paying off!
Having been blown to bits the day before we opt to spend another gusty day in the bay… starts to blow 30 knots so the anchor angel goes down for good measure all in 5 ½ metres of water… does help you sleep better though!
Fish farms and frantic fits…
Stinking fish farms… quite literally at times!! We have bashed our way up to a supposed beautiful spot only to find it full of fish farms and a shanty town of huts and quays… we attempt a rather over ambitious long lining experiment at the head of the bay only to discover the steep sides funnel the wind down at just the wrong angle and end up in foul tempers and back out on the street so to speak! After a cool down moment in a back eddy we then have to slog back to an anchorage we passed earlier and dismissed as too windy… boo hiss… another 2 hours of hobby horsing up and down in impossibly large waves to get into a bay.
It turns out to be rather nice but full of bees, hornets, other sundry flying objects and the beach is littered with fish farm debris and oddly a rather up market bean bag. Too many hornets to allow a quiet sit down though so we stick to the boat.
Charmingly it is called Kirkdillim – Forty slices… that night we rechristen it forty slices of wind as the katabatic and meltemi breezes compete to cut us into forty pieces while blowing us in forty different directions! Undeterred and considering this a fluke (not mentioned in the pilot book of course) we stay another day… after a stressful day and sleepless night we find it is always useful to relax and ponder our navels, play cards and Sudoku (Thanks Jez, we are completely hooked now and Murray’s cursing over the evils is offensive to anyone that parks close by!)
Of course we underestimated the sea God(s) and sure enough the night brings the same change of pace and we career all over the bay, hanging on for grim death in the snuggler as we list, weave and bob about all night… so long little haven, don’t think we will be back!
Sigacik and sunken ships
We are going to town today… the boat holds 140 litres of water and we must be getting low. It’s a breezy old day so we finally put the third reef in and beat our way up the gulf to the walled town of Sigacik and its marina. We see a few yachts but still no one heading our direction… what’s up we wonder?! Well let’s just say the sight of a large sunken boat in the entrance to the marina and a procession of buoys closing the last little gap pretty much answers that question. Murray is ropeable and appears intent on parking opposite the coastguards quay only to discover that someone has thoughtfully removed the planking top… oh well back out into the bouncy bay to anchor… No wonder no one is sailing here! Still it’s a nice village and we scooty ashore in our togs (yep a wee bit bouncy for dry bums!) and cause a stir changing in front of the restaurants for dinner and drinks! We ask about the boat and the cause of its demise but no one appears interested and in fact deny all knowledge of it; even the man in the restaurant that over looks it… must be a good story to it!
When will we be in the land of the cruiser??
Teos anyone?
We have become rather lazy of late and opt to sail around the point to Ancient Teos rather than walk the four kilometres. Good job really, there wasn’t much to see and holiday villages hedge in the site on all sides. We take a dip in the rather disturbingly cold water and continue on our way south past the army’s tank shooting range and hillsides covered in white ticky tacky boxes arranged in perfect grids. At last we reach Kormen Limani with its volcanic outcrops and hot pools.
After a small disagreement with a German boat we anchor opposite the outer hot pools and over an unmarked wreck. Good job we didn’t hook that or Grumpy Smurf and Boddington on the German boat might have warranted more than just foul looks. For those that are wondering Boddington was a very nice spaniel Murray once had and if you want to know the significance of the reference I am afraid you will have to contact Graham Petterson…
We have a swim over to the pools once the trip boats leave. It is a beautiful experience and nothing like the last pools! The natural rock shelf, overhung by the sulphur speckled cliff has been enhanced and raised and the pool is heated gently from the caverns behind while fresh seawater sloshes in and out gently. Can’t enjoy it too long though as Grumpy Smurf is approaching and I am not to sure I want to share the occasion with a skinny little German man looking like an extra from Waking Ned Devine.
The trip boats are great entertainment. Not only do they compete for the largest sound system down here but also for the most daring stunts. Today effort included a 2 metre jump down into a small dingy while backing into the rocks, followed by a floor show and well executed hip shimmies carried up while dancing up and down and around the length of the dingy, all the while lying out the long lines. Other boats are even more reckless with people jumping off the bowsprit whilst travelling at ridiculous speeds, sweeping down the side of the boat and attempting to get back on the swim ladder at the back… usually best carried out in a 2 metre chop as far as we can tell!
We have a very peaceful night, a slow start and drift down to Cam Limani. Amazingly just as we are discussing the lack of sea life a large swordfish leaps out of the water and puts on an excellent show; life can be so strange at times!
What a difference Cam Limani is… this must be where they coined the phrase “a sea of humanity”! The beach and first 20 metres of the sea is heaving with people. Turks just love the sea and spend hours lying on the beach, floating in the water and generally getting the most out of it but sadly a decent swim coach is needed as we fear for their safety constantly when we watch them dog paddle about; arm bands, pool noodles and life jacket flapping. A decent Labrador would show most of them up and the odd one would even be passed by a pug dog!
At this point I must confess I am developing a small phobia of pedaloes. The Pedalo People must be the most irritating thing I have encountered so far. Not content to use you as a racing mark they also insist of coming as close as possible to perve while constantly shouting out inane comments. Occasionally they misjudge the whole thing and ram us in the gusty conditions. I have taken to going below and ignoring them but Murray thinks a better tactic would be for me to conduct a Pedalo Experiement. It goes like this; they come close, they shout and heckle and I respond by waving. Having lured them close enough for full impact I whip my top off and see how many of the little buggers drown as they fall over the side to hide their stiffies! Maybe one day when I have had a few more beers…
Cam limani turns out to really come alive at night and rather stupidly we move to the end of the beach that looks like it only operates during the day. Well 5000 megawatts of lighting certainly turn night into day and the sleepy little ice cream and cay shop becomes a raging disco that carries on till 4am. (Yes, I know the exact time and I am pretty sure I could now sing you most of the current hits!) On to Kusadasi… we heard it is very loud… Yay?!!
Where have all the tourists gone??
Kusadasi turns out to be rather quiet in actual fact. The marina is full to overflowing and we raft off a catamaran till a space appears. The town itself is rather nice with an eclectic mix of Turkish and English tourists. But something isn’t right and there just doesn’t seem to be enough custom to go round. The Barlar Street is empty and forlorn Turks dance in the doors of nightclubs to try and attract custom… the credit crunch has certainly taken its toll here and the Irish bars lie silent as the streets of Amargh after the bombing.
Businesses are definitely hurting here and we hear talk of carpet shops closing after 60 years of retail, (not the one you went to Graham, of course) restaurants shutting their doors and the hassling is frenetic in parts that don’t get a lot of passing trade. Interestingly we find out that you can report being harassed by shop keepers and if it is bad enough the authorities will come and close them down for a week as punishment. They then install a camera to watch their activities more closely. We observe a woman giving a shop tout an earful; he looks petrified and we wonder if the camera is watching…
We have come to Kusadasi to see Ephesus and other sights and so we hitch a lift in a dolmus to the ancient city. It is a long, hot and sweaty walk to the main gate on the dusty horse and cart road and then on up the incredible marble streets, past the huge theatre, the magnificent library, the curiously named house of pleasure to the top gate. But what a sight from there; looking back down over the throng of people to the ancient harbour in the distance you really get the perspective of what it must have been like with 250,000 people living in such a crowded space.
We listen in on various commentaries by guides and compare them to our audio guide… some of the differences are startling, it would appear that there is still some debate over the exact form and function of just about everything we look at.
One guide explains the sewerage system; yes we can certainly see his point about the smell!! Imagine 250,000 bums on toilet seats and the resulting mess it makes in the harbour as it drains thickly into the sea. 1000 years it took for the harbour to silt up… can’t all have been poo… could it?!
To our amusement we strike up a conversation with an English couple… they don’t talk about the ruins at all but rather tell us of the dead man found in their hotel pool yesterday… apparently it took half an hour before someone spotted him; odd what people find interesting.
It is a thoroughly enjoyable day despite our intense thirst and sun weary eyes and we dolmus through Selcuk to visit the museum before returning to the marina for a beery night in the Orient Bar with the local liveaboards.
Maintenance day…
There trouble in the toilet and there is only one way to fix it… money! We have invested in a new pump head and we are going to use it! There are a few other things that have been getting a bit worse for wear and now is the day to see to it. It’s great… we potter about the place tittervating and tinkering before heading off to Ladies Beach for a pucker curry. Shah Jan was an excellent choice… from Bradford the couple that run it were a mine of information and the food was first rate. I get chatted up by the waiter, always nice, only to find out he thinks I look like his girlfriends mother. Gee thanks… back to the boat for a jolly good sulk, I think!
Murry-o Andretti
We have hired a car for today… I know what you are thinking but Turkey has better stats for road crashes than Greece so we should cope!
It turns out to be a hugely long day involving 6 hours of tense driving interspersed with assorted former wonders of the world.
Aphodisias isn’t really mentioned in the guide books but is well worth the trip. A new museum has been constructed and the marble friezes are awesome. The whole place is slowly being excavated from under 4 metres of accumulated dust and soil by the University of New York. What a mammoth task but a rewarding one I imagine!
One of the British workers excitedly shows a group of visitors the best bits of the sculptures, lovingly running his hands over the contours of Aphrodite body as he points out the most important aspects of symbolism portrayed. The interpretation is wonderful and we spend far too long poking about every section of the huge treed site and have to rush off to Pammukale at high speed.
And Pammakale… well, what a contrast! Overpriced (20TL each entrance fee for something that was recently free to all), over-engineered, and overrated I would say. Certainly a “natural” wonder of the world, if that’s what you could call something that is manipulated within an inch of its life. The walk up from the town is smoking hot and concrete pools have been constructed diverting water from the main travertines. Visitors lie striking suitably sexy poses for overwrought photographers in the artificial environment, while signs and whistle toting security guards prevent you from approaching the real thing. It was all a bit of a let down and we slope along through the antique pool (46TL a swim) past the museum (6TL) and wander aimlessly along the ridge viewing the dried out travertines that maybe someday will see a modicum water once more. I convince Murray to pose in a pool but our hearts aren’t really in it and we return to our car and hoon off back down the road.
As we have completely misjudged how long everything is going to take, (this happens when you are used to travelling at walking pace!) we have to make tracks and quickly. Murray lives up to the challenge and the wee car we have hired (someone’s private car with tinted windows and racey features that attract every Turkish bogan around – we know it isn’t a Eurocar as he has left his driver licence in it inadvertently!) screams and shakes as we tear down unfamiliar roads at 120km/hr to make it back by the allotted time. The owner is pleased to see us. He checks for his drivers licence and I drag and still shaking Murray back to the boat for a well deserved beer!
You’re going the wrong way…
We have had enough of town and proceed directly out of port across the bay to the channel at the back of Samos. We have worked out why there are now liveaboards where we are going… they all trip across to Greece and rarely bother with the Turkish coastline, so much so none can provide us with any decent tips for bays to use along the way. Oh well back to making it up ourselves.
It is a windy old day followed by a bouncy motor though the channel and a rush down to Port St Paul. Apparently he stopped here on the way up to being heckled in Ephesus but we find it way to swirly to stop the night and slip into the next one down St Nicolaos… not great holding but at least the wind is consistently from one direction. Wild horses stroll along the beach and the peninsula is a National Park which is really fantastic. It is a pretty place but the water is an astonishing 14 degrees again. No chance of snorkelling for long enough to find the hat and glasses Murray lost over the side the night before!
We arise early and enough a sleigh ride down the coast in large seas and high winds to Buyukturnali. We see lots of boats but again they are going in the opposite direction… we call out “You’re going the wrong way!” but no one takes any notice. As we round up into the final port of call we hear an emergency on the radio taking place off the bottom of Samos. The radio operator gets more and more frantic, but the boat stops responding till eventually they give up. The Turkish Coastguard passes by at high speed (ignoring us for once!) so we can only hope they managed to pull off the required rescue.
The bay we are in is unusual… a holiday village at one end and giant billboards standing guard around the rim declaring that you too can buy a piece of this paradise; doesn’t appear to be much development going on though. It’s still quite windy and we are looking forward to getting around the corner into some quieter stuff.
Who says skippers don’t do toilets!
Houston we have a problem!! The holding tank appears to be reluctant to empty and Scooty while investigating too closely ends up with an earful from the over flow… oooohhh this is going to be messy! Luckily it is a reasonably calm morning and we motor out to clear the sucker. After several attempts there is an excited squeak of “close the valve… for gods sake close the valve!!” and all is well in the world… Murray doesn’t wear too much poo and we have discovered a new use for the dingy pump! Turns out this is a four ply issue and we spend the next few days (some not so easy in rough conditions) using our patented poo pump till the offending material is finally gone.
Alls good in Altikum
Altikum unsurprisingly is larger and louder than anticipated but a convivial place and we meet up with some other Kiwis and have a great time. Brenda and David from Blenheim have a lovely Moody 46, “Bandit” and we spend time swapping notes and telling tall tales of fun in the sun. It’s nice to have people be able to let us know a bit about the way we are going even if their experiences with Turks haven’t been as favourable as ours. Even the discos from decibel hell can’t persuade us to not stay a second night.
We are heading up one of the gulfs now and even though there are a great many fish farms it is nice to be able to get out of the wind for a change. The water is vaguely green and extremely warm and we potter about the place. The wind picks up in the afternoon and we abandon an attempt to get on the quay in Iassos… we’ll come back tomorrow when there is no wind. Ahhh the joys of cruising… only easy stuff please!
After the rigours of Pergamon we are ready for some bay R and R and head off down the coast towards Bademli Limani. It turns out to be one of those wafty downhill runs followed by an exciting zoom into the anchorage. The first bays is quite bouncy so we head on through a tight gap and narrow winding passage into a bay opposite some hot pools on the beach. A beautiful spot with crystal clear water and bounded on either side by upmarket abandoned hotels. A real opportunity for someone with a bit of cash. One looked like it had made it to opening and no further while the other one never reached final fit out. Very odd; now they are just grazing areas for the odd tortoise and the swimming pools are appreciated by the local birds.
After a rippleless sleep the morning sees Murray a little worse for wear after a disagreement with an unwashed vege and he retires for the day apart from the odd trip to the loo and cooling dip over the side!
In the night we did hear the sound of Velcro and in the morning discover the humid weather has set off one of the lifejackets… luckily the forepeak floor hasn’t been screwed down… most awkward to get out!
We explore the hotels further and tootle over to the famed hot pools… absolutely disgusting!! Apparently the last yachtie to report in caught some fungal disease from them. We think they got off lightly; the place reeks of excrement and the pool are the horrible colour of a slightly dodgy septic tank! We return to the good ship Key West and motor over to the village and peruse the small inaptly named “Lucky” yacht washed up on the rocks. Never ceases to amaze us that in the Med no one takes the time to recover even the easily salvageable bits when a boat gets sunk. Poor Lucky is lolling about with a full set of sails still in the sail bags and full accompaniment of electronics etc. Further up the bay in the shallows another boat has met its end and sits serenely in the shallows like a once prized garden ornament in front of the local fish restaurant. The village is very pretty if a wee way to walk and we stock up with water and ekmek for the days ahead.
The two FoçasIt’s a lovely morning so we shift round to the other bays for a look and lunchtime swim. The water is almost tropical here… in colour anyway… it’s still less than 20 degrees and somewhat takes your breath away on entry!
It is an exciting downhill run again to the next stop although as the wind builds it becomes clear it’s not a good option so we head off down the gulf to Candarli. No as we expected but good enough for an overnight stop.
Today we want to stop in the ancient harbour of Pergamon… hummm… not to be. First the wind is blowing in and second the seafloor seems to have risen since last surveyed! We spend an anxious few minutes trying to reverse off the silted passage in and finally break free just before the wind really picks up. On to Yenifoca.
It seems to be becoming a reoccurring theme that things are not as described in the pilot and Yenifoca turns out to be a rather loud and packed place. Again Ok for a nights stop (the soothing jazz played at the local club is a pleasant change for Turkish pop!) and the village is very interesting (Loads of old Genoese stone houses and friendly locals) but not the quiet place it once was!
On to Eskifoca. Yes… the two are related… yeni=new and eski=old.
We get in some good sailing again with a following wind and a swim stop in a bay outside sees us all fired up for the town quay. Shame the visitors berths seem to have been commandeered by local as good places to leave their yachts while they go home to Ismir! Luckily a new marina seems to be being built on the other side of the bay and we rather cheekily join another British boat on one of the half finished pontoons.
Eskifoca turns out to be a fabulous little place. Very touristy, (local tourists – we haven’t spoken to another English person since Cannakale!) but full of charm and character. As no one seems to mind us where we are we spend another day exploring the place and eating some of the best meze and main dishes we have had in Turkey. Eskifoca like Yenifoca is full of Genoese stone house, winding streets and even has a small walled castle decorating its waterfront. The whole village has a slightly bohemian feel to it and again we can’t get over how friendly everyone is and genuinely interested in the world at large and where we all fit into it.
What a neat place and another one to visit if you happen to be in the neighbourhood!
A wee note here: our computer, unlike a Turkish one obviously, is not to happy about speeling in Turkish so bear with us if some of the names have changed for ease of writting or you notice that is not how you would have spalt something.
The land that cruisers forgot…
It’s lonely out here on our wee boat… we haven’t seen many yachts at all and precious few cruisers. It is great to see the Turks have taken to sailing (well motoring) and we wave to them all as the chug past, sails carefully stowed to prevent damage in the wind but we are a little bemused by the lack of liveaboards. Are we going the right way or is there something we don’t know??
From Eskifoca we head south again and when spying our port of call filled with fishing boats we change course and zip down to Karaada Island. By the time we get there it is blowing 30 knts into the bay but we hammer in and park up by ourselves in the best spot in the bay. Typically this signals our desire to be parked next to and a large American/Turkish (!) yacht moors off our stern. Still it is a great spot once the wind dies at sunset and we enjoy our peaceful nights sleep.
We are only going across the gulf today (5 miles) so we have a leisurely start… enjoying the procession of thundering trip boats, blue gullet cruises and dive boats galloping about the place. One gullet arrives with a family of real Americans on board. Loud enough to drown out all the trip boats in the bay… Americans; you’ve got to love them; they sure know how to have fun!! You’ll come back you hear!
The trip across is not dramatic and the bay is party central. As usual we weave in and out and manage to park just where we want to… well kind of!
We retaliate for all the hip hop Turkish music by plating a selection of Irish and Jazz late into the evening… interesting lots of people re-anchor away from us… or is it they are just restless?? It seems all night people are coming and going and anchoring and then re-anchoring an hour later three feet from where they were… most bizarre and not great for a peaceful nights sleep as every now and then it appears that a gullets passerelle is about to poke one of our windows out or cleave off our mast as they randomly manoeuvre about!
Not so friendly and then super friendly!
We have been reading about this cool harbour just around the corner, so time our run to get a space on the quay. This involves getting up late and arriving about 11am when everyone is just going out. We time it perfectly but instead of a rousing welcome we receive stern faces and get waved off each free space… it is now a harbour of private mooring and visitors are not welcome! Great, it is back out to sea to battle big waves and gusty conditions to head around to Cesme Marina. After dodging through the “don’t go there on a windy day” gap at the headland we are pleasantly surprised to find the marina unfinished and the burly young boatman pleased to see us. Dismissing the pontoons as a little unsafe in these conditions he parks us on the quay side. Best possie in the place even if there is no water or power.
Cesme has a similar feel to Eskifoca and we enjoy a night ashore strolling the streets gauping at the tourists!
We have an abruptly early morning wakeup call from the “shouting towers” as we have started to call the mosques minarets. We are directly under one it turns out and he must have his watch set to a different time zone as he insists on lagging behind the other two by about 30 seconds… just enough to prevent you from ignoring it all!
Later in the morning we have a rather daredevil time getting water from the far end of the marina… early baths narrowly avoided and four letter exclamations heard all round the marina as limbs are stretched breaking point when a rope jams at an inopportune moment. A controlled crash landing follows and more yoga required to extricate the boat but worth it for full tanks!
It’s a windy old day and we scream along at 6+ knots all day but find shelter in bays somewhat lacking! More cursing and swearing… can’t tell me that a bay people are kite surfing in is good protection in the meltemi! Finally we end up in a small bay with a strange closed community at the end and ping to a halt on the end of 30 metres. A French man swims across to compliment our anchoring technique and can’t believe we managed to hit the only 2 foot wide piece of sand in that area of the bay. All that training in the Cyclades is finally paying off!
Having been blown to bits the day before we opt to spend another gusty day in the bay… starts to blow 30 knots so the anchor angel goes down for good measure all in 5 ½ metres of water… does help you sleep better though!
Fish farms and frantic fits…
Stinking fish farms… quite literally at times!! We have bashed our way up to a supposed beautiful spot only to find it full of fish farms and a shanty town of huts and quays… we attempt a rather over ambitious long lining experiment at the head of the bay only to discover the steep sides funnel the wind down at just the wrong angle and end up in foul tempers and back out on the street so to speak! After a cool down moment in a back eddy we then have to slog back to an anchorage we passed earlier and dismissed as too windy… boo hiss… another 2 hours of hobby horsing up and down in impossibly large waves to get into a bay.
It turns out to be rather nice but full of bees, hornets, other sundry flying objects and the beach is littered with fish farm debris and oddly a rather up market bean bag. Too many hornets to allow a quiet sit down though so we stick to the boat.
Charmingly it is called Kirkdillim – Forty slices… that night we rechristen it forty slices of wind as the katabatic and meltemi breezes compete to cut us into forty pieces while blowing us in forty different directions! Undeterred and considering this a fluke (not mentioned in the pilot book of course) we stay another day… after a stressful day and sleepless night we find it is always useful to relax and ponder our navels, play cards and Sudoku (Thanks Jez, we are completely hooked now and Murray’s cursing over the evils is offensive to anyone that parks close by!)
Of course we underestimated the sea God(s) and sure enough the night brings the same change of pace and we career all over the bay, hanging on for grim death in the snuggler as we list, weave and bob about all night… so long little haven, don’t think we will be back!
Sigacik and sunken ships
We are going to town today… the boat holds 140 litres of water and we must be getting low. It’s a breezy old day so we finally put the third reef in and beat our way up the gulf to the walled town of Sigacik and its marina. We see a few yachts but still no one heading our direction… what’s up we wonder?! Well let’s just say the sight of a large sunken boat in the entrance to the marina and a procession of buoys closing the last little gap pretty much answers that question. Murray is ropeable and appears intent on parking opposite the coastguards quay only to discover that someone has thoughtfully removed the planking top… oh well back out into the bouncy bay to anchor… No wonder no one is sailing here! Still it’s a nice village and we scooty ashore in our togs (yep a wee bit bouncy for dry bums!) and cause a stir changing in front of the restaurants for dinner and drinks! We ask about the boat and the cause of its demise but no one appears interested and in fact deny all knowledge of it; even the man in the restaurant that over looks it… must be a good story to it!
When will we be in the land of the cruiser??
Teos anyone?
We have become rather lazy of late and opt to sail around the point to Ancient Teos rather than walk the four kilometres. Good job really, there wasn’t much to see and holiday villages hedge in the site on all sides. We take a dip in the rather disturbingly cold water and continue on our way south past the army’s tank shooting range and hillsides covered in white ticky tacky boxes arranged in perfect grids. At last we reach Kormen Limani with its volcanic outcrops and hot pools.
After a small disagreement with a German boat we anchor opposite the outer hot pools and over an unmarked wreck. Good job we didn’t hook that or Grumpy Smurf and Boddington on the German boat might have warranted more than just foul looks. For those that are wondering Boddington was a very nice spaniel Murray once had and if you want to know the significance of the reference I am afraid you will have to contact Graham Petterson…
We have a swim over to the pools once the trip boats leave. It is a beautiful experience and nothing like the last pools! The natural rock shelf, overhung by the sulphur speckled cliff has been enhanced and raised and the pool is heated gently from the caverns behind while fresh seawater sloshes in and out gently. Can’t enjoy it too long though as Grumpy Smurf is approaching and I am not to sure I want to share the occasion with a skinny little German man looking like an extra from Waking Ned Devine.
The trip boats are great entertainment. Not only do they compete for the largest sound system down here but also for the most daring stunts. Today effort included a 2 metre jump down into a small dingy while backing into the rocks, followed by a floor show and well executed hip shimmies carried up while dancing up and down and around the length of the dingy, all the while lying out the long lines. Other boats are even more reckless with people jumping off the bowsprit whilst travelling at ridiculous speeds, sweeping down the side of the boat and attempting to get back on the swim ladder at the back… usually best carried out in a 2 metre chop as far as we can tell!
We have a very peaceful night, a slow start and drift down to Cam Limani. Amazingly just as we are discussing the lack of sea life a large swordfish leaps out of the water and puts on an excellent show; life can be so strange at times!
What a difference Cam Limani is… this must be where they coined the phrase “a sea of humanity”! The beach and first 20 metres of the sea is heaving with people. Turks just love the sea and spend hours lying on the beach, floating in the water and generally getting the most out of it but sadly a decent swim coach is needed as we fear for their safety constantly when we watch them dog paddle about; arm bands, pool noodles and life jacket flapping. A decent Labrador would show most of them up and the odd one would even be passed by a pug dog!
At this point I must confess I am developing a small phobia of pedaloes. The Pedalo People must be the most irritating thing I have encountered so far. Not content to use you as a racing mark they also insist of coming as close as possible to perve while constantly shouting out inane comments. Occasionally they misjudge the whole thing and ram us in the gusty conditions. I have taken to going below and ignoring them but Murray thinks a better tactic would be for me to conduct a Pedalo Experiement. It goes like this; they come close, they shout and heckle and I respond by waving. Having lured them close enough for full impact I whip my top off and see how many of the little buggers drown as they fall over the side to hide their stiffies! Maybe one day when I have had a few more beers…
Cam limani turns out to really come alive at night and rather stupidly we move to the end of the beach that looks like it only operates during the day. Well 5000 megawatts of lighting certainly turn night into day and the sleepy little ice cream and cay shop becomes a raging disco that carries on till 4am. (Yes, I know the exact time and I am pretty sure I could now sing you most of the current hits!) On to Kusadasi… we heard it is very loud… Yay?!!
Where have all the tourists gone??Kusadasi turns out to be rather quiet in actual fact. The marina is full to overflowing and we raft off a catamaran till a space appears. The town itself is rather nice with an eclectic mix of Turkish and English tourists. But something isn’t right and there just doesn’t seem to be enough custom to go round. The Barlar Street is empty and forlorn Turks dance in the doors of nightclubs to try and attract custom… the credit crunch has certainly taken its toll here and the Irish bars lie silent as the streets of Amargh after the bombing.
Businesses are definitely hurting here and we hear talk of carpet shops closing after 60 years of retail, (not the one you went to Graham, of course) restaurants shutting their doors and the hassling is frenetic in parts that don’t get a lot of passing trade. Interestingly we find out that you can report being harassed by shop keepers and if it is bad enough the authorities will come and close them down for a week as punishment. They then install a camera to watch their activities more closely. We observe a woman giving a shop tout an earful; he looks petrified and we wonder if the camera is watching…
We have come to Kusadasi to see Ephesus and other sights and so we hitch a lift in a dolmus to the ancient city. It is a long, hot and sweaty walk to the main gate on the dusty horse and cart road and then on up the incredible marble streets, past the huge theatre, the magnificent library, the curiously named house of pleasure to the top gate. But what a sight from there; looking back down over the throng of people to the ancient harbour in the distance you really get the perspective of what it must have been like with 250,000 people living in such a crowded space.
We listen in on various commentaries by guides and compare them to our audio guide… some of the differences are startling, it would appear that there is still some debate over the exact form and function of just about everything we look at.
One guide explains the sewerage system; yes we can certainly see his point about the smell!! Imagine 250,000 bums on toilet seats and the resulting mess it makes in the harbour as it drains thickly into the sea. 1000 years it took for the harbour to silt up… can’t all have been poo… could it?!
To our amusement we strike up a conversation with an English couple… they don’t talk about the ruins at all but rather tell us of the dead man found in their hotel pool yesterday… apparently it took half an hour before someone spotted him; odd what people find interesting.
It is a thoroughly enjoyable day despite our intense thirst and sun weary eyes and we dolmus through Selcuk to visit the museum before returning to the marina for a beery night in the Orient Bar with the local liveaboards.
Maintenance day…
There trouble in the toilet and there is only one way to fix it… money! We have invested in a new pump head and we are going to use it! There are a few other things that have been getting a bit worse for wear and now is the day to see to it. It’s great… we potter about the place tittervating and tinkering before heading off to Ladies Beach for a pucker curry. Shah Jan was an excellent choice… from Bradford the couple that run it were a mine of information and the food was first rate. I get chatted up by the waiter, always nice, only to find out he thinks I look like his girlfriends mother. Gee thanks… back to the boat for a jolly good sulk, I think!
Murry-o Andretti
We have hired a car for today… I know what you are thinking but Turkey has better stats for road crashes than Greece so we should cope!
It turns out to be a hugely long day involving 6 hours of tense driving interspersed with assorted former wonders of the world.
Aphodisias isn’t really mentioned in the guide books but is well worth the trip. A new museum has been constructed and the marble friezes are awesome. The whole place is slowly being excavated from under 4 metres of accumulated dust and soil by the University of New York. What a mammoth task but a rewarding one I imagine!
One of the British workers excitedly shows a group of visitors the best bits of the sculptures, lovingly running his hands over the contours of Aphrodite body as he points out the most important aspects of symbolism portrayed. The interpretation is wonderful and we spend far too long poking about every section of the huge treed site and have to rush off to Pammukale at high speed.
And Pammakale… well, what a contrast! Overpriced (20TL each entrance fee for something that was recently free to all), over-engineered, and overrated I would say. Certainly a “natural” wonder of the world, if that’s what you could call something that is manipulated within an inch of its life. The walk up from the town is smoking hot and concrete pools have been constructed diverting water from the main travertines. Visitors lie striking suitably sexy poses for overwrought photographers in the artificial environment, while signs and whistle toting security guards prevent you from approaching the real thing. It was all a bit of a let down and we slope along through the antique pool (46TL a swim) past the museum (6TL) and wander aimlessly along the ridge viewing the dried out travertines that maybe someday will see a modicum water once more. I convince Murray to pose in a pool but our hearts aren’t really in it and we return to our car and hoon off back down the road.
As we have completely misjudged how long everything is going to take, (this happens when you are used to travelling at walking pace!) we have to make tracks and quickly. Murray lives up to the challenge and the wee car we have hired (someone’s private car with tinted windows and racey features that attract every Turkish bogan around – we know it isn’t a Eurocar as he has left his driver licence in it inadvertently!) screams and shakes as we tear down unfamiliar roads at 120km/hr to make it back by the allotted time. The owner is pleased to see us. He checks for his drivers licence and I drag and still shaking Murray back to the boat for a well deserved beer!
You’re going the wrong way…
We have had enough of town and proceed directly out of port across the bay to the channel at the back of Samos. We have worked out why there are now liveaboards where we are going… they all trip across to Greece and rarely bother with the Turkish coastline, so much so none can provide us with any decent tips for bays to use along the way. Oh well back to making it up ourselves.
It is a windy old day followed by a bouncy motor though the channel and a rush down to Port St Paul. Apparently he stopped here on the way up to being heckled in Ephesus but we find it way to swirly to stop the night and slip into the next one down St Nicolaos… not great holding but at least the wind is consistently from one direction. Wild horses stroll along the beach and the peninsula is a National Park which is really fantastic. It is a pretty place but the water is an astonishing 14 degrees again. No chance of snorkelling for long enough to find the hat and glasses Murray lost over the side the night before!
We arise early and enough a sleigh ride down the coast in large seas and high winds to Buyukturnali. We see lots of boats but again they are going in the opposite direction… we call out “You’re going the wrong way!” but no one takes any notice. As we round up into the final port of call we hear an emergency on the radio taking place off the bottom of Samos. The radio operator gets more and more frantic, but the boat stops responding till eventually they give up. The Turkish Coastguard passes by at high speed (ignoring us for once!) so we can only hope they managed to pull off the required rescue.
The bay we are in is unusual… a holiday village at one end and giant billboards standing guard around the rim declaring that you too can buy a piece of this paradise; doesn’t appear to be much development going on though. It’s still quite windy and we are looking forward to getting around the corner into some quieter stuff.
Who says skippers don’t do toilets!
Houston we have a problem!! The holding tank appears to be reluctant to empty and Scooty while investigating too closely ends up with an earful from the over flow… oooohhh this is going to be messy! Luckily it is a reasonably calm morning and we motor out to clear the sucker. After several attempts there is an excited squeak of “close the valve… for gods sake close the valve!!” and all is well in the world… Murray doesn’t wear too much poo and we have discovered a new use for the dingy pump! Turns out this is a four ply issue and we spend the next few days (some not so easy in rough conditions) using our patented poo pump till the offending material is finally gone.
Alls good in Altikum
Altikum unsurprisingly is larger and louder than anticipated but a convivial place and we meet up with some other Kiwis and have a great time. Brenda and David from Blenheim have a lovely Moody 46, “Bandit” and we spend time swapping notes and telling tall tales of fun in the sun. It’s nice to have people be able to let us know a bit about the way we are going even if their experiences with Turks haven’t been as favourable as ours. Even the discos from decibel hell can’t persuade us to not stay a second night.
We are heading up one of the gulfs now and even though there are a great many fish farms it is nice to be able to get out of the wind for a change. The water is vaguely green and extremely warm and we potter about the place. The wind picks up in the afternoon and we abandon an attempt to get on the quay in Iassos… we’ll come back tomorrow when there is no wind. Ahhh the joys of cruising… only easy stuff please!
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