Boat Maintenance in Exotic Places!

A 6 o’clock start see us with no wind and I go back to bed… the joys of being married to an early riser! The day starts again at 9am… much more civilised!
The wind soon fills in and we rush along down wind with a large swell catapulting us down the coast. As we approach Patara beach the way suddenly looks a lot less inviting as the sea starts to change colour abruptly. Where once we were cruising through a deep blue sea now we are approaching a Jamaican pale blue ocean. Frantically we check the charts and pilot… nothing mentioned so we cautiously approach what looks like a rapidly shallowing spot. It was like sailing through a luminescent glacial lake but still 100 metres deep… most bizarre and rather off putting till we got used to the idea that this change of colour is due to the silty freshwater of the inland river welling up offshore. The water here is 16.3 degrees and most of the other boats we stay stay out of it but we are glad we venture through as we are rewarded by the sight of three large turtles calmly flapping their way towards the beach to lay their eggs that night. Way cool!
Kalkan turns out to larger than Murray remembers (where have we heard that before??!). House Greek style house and restaurants crowd down the steep slopes to harbour level. Beautifully restored and lovingly painted various colours and hues, it is charming place and its narrow cobbled streets are packed with more tourists than we have seen in a while. The harbour is packed with trip boats and gullets and the harbour master rubs his hand together when he sees us and demands we squeeze into the narrowest of gaps. Ever game Murray makes a run at it only to find the boat upwind has popped its anchor and a light gust closes the gap as we back up. What would have been a perfect mooring turn into a bit of a push and shove match but eventually we a snugged in for the night; fenders squealing and ropes squeaking. Good job we have loads of chain out and have acquired a new fender on route. (Cleaning the seas; one fender at a time!) We plan to head off on a day trip tomorrow in a rental car so after a yummy dinner of hot mezes we turn in for an early night.
There are loads of Kiwis down this neck of the woods and two boat loads down from us amuse us as we turn in for the night. Two dogs barking at everyone get the traditional Kiwi treatment of a shepherds whistle you can hear all the way from Molesworth station to the Rainy River musterers hut followed by a bellow of “Shut those dogs up!!” in broad half pissed antipodean. The dogs buggered of quick smart as did most of the Turks close at hand. Eat your heart out Papa Smurf… we were thinking of you buddy!!
As usual Murray is in a sweat with the thought of traversing Turkish roads but the fact that for once we are driving an actual rental car; not Costa’s brothers nieces runabout or Ali’s cousin souped up rice rocket, and not only that but a brand new one complete with plastic wrapping, barcodes and unsullied paintwork really puts him in a tizz and we leap frog round the first roundabout scattering pedestrians and Turkish drivers alike as he tries to cope with an engine that has only down 96 kms!
After this slightly erratic start we get into the flow and zip about in third gear (can’t hear the engine) up hill and down dale and navigate speed humped back streets to the slightly out of the way Letoon. This amazing spot is where Apollo and Artemis’s Mum, Leto, came to seek refuge and was turned away. Needless to say she was a little peeved and turned the villagers into frogs. They are still there by the hundred poor buggers! It is an idyllic spot and more of a wildlife refuge than a ruins experience. We spot large lizards, terrapins as well as various frogs and fish in the pools that once people bathed in to cure all kinds of ills.
On to Xanthos; around the corner and up the hill a little. These are the first of the major Lycian tombs we have visited and they are really spectacular. Some are carved into the hillsides while other sarcophagi have prominent positions over looking the plains out to sea. We spend a good hour rock hopping around the necropolis before heading over the rest of the town. Sad to think that twice in its history it has been the site of great resolve; holding out against would be invaders before the inhabitants finally killed themselves rather than be taken as slaves and captives.
From here we head inland to the Saklikent Gorge. So this is where all that funny coloured water at Patara came from. The little village at the gorge is a peaceful spot but well up with the play when it comes to catering for tourists. Each restaurant has built out over the tributaries to from welcoming dining platforms with the added bonus of being able to take a dip (Voluntarily or in some cases, depending on your ability to mount a hammock, not!!)
We have a leisurely lunch people watching and then splash our way up the gorge. Touts are everywhere and we avoid most of them until the way back where digustedly we fork over a few kurus to the little shit that grabbed my hand in a deep bit!
Still we have the standard photo to remember the experience by… beaten down in price somewhat and we head off across country to Tlos. By now we are a little ruined out for the day and a poor map and even poor signage leads to frayed nerves are we bump and grind over unmarked roads in an attempt to complete a circular route… best we go back on ourselves and we finally make it back onto the main highway. Patara gets a swerve when we find we have to pay to get to the beach, let alone sit on it, and we are all of a sudden keen to see the boat again and relinquish the keys to the car!
Poor Murray is an absolute wreck at the end of it and can barely enjoy his traditional Anatolian dish of calves liver before collapsing in bed.
The next morning we enjoy the “breakfast tv” of crossed anchors and chain wraps before heading off to Kekova. There is no wind today so we burn some diesel chugging along into Polemos Bay. It is not as picturesque as anticipated and slightly windy… where did that come from!?
Next day we move to Woodhouse Bay. Much more attractive and we have it all to ourselves. Murray tries out the outboard for the first time and the motor seizes!! Typical! In the mean time a lost German hiker on the lycian way has attracted my attention and I direct Murray to row over and pick her up. It is back to Polemos Bay to drop her off and then back to our tiny cove for the night. A strip down of the outboard reveals an imploded impellor… more boat maintenance in exotic places required!
We have a lovely night in our bay and with some regret we move round to Ucagiz Bay. Again this place has expanded considerable since Rod was here and we chose to anchor off in the bay rather than use the new concrete t-jetty.
We take a walk on the lycian way to Kale Koy. Suzanna the German hikers is right; the signage could be better! Kale Koy is a lovely place before the trip boats arrive. With no road in it has a peacefulness most villages can’t achieve and most of the houses have been converted to upmarket pensions and restaurants. Stolling around the castle gives you spectacular views of the Kekova and the ancient habour below. Snakes abound on the rough limestone and marble paths as do feral chickens with a penchant for croc clad feet; my toes like fat wiggling worms shrink back as they peck enthusiastically through the holes. We decide to bring the boat into one of the quays on the way back up from Finike. Ahh Finike, land of the liveaboard apparently and where we head to next in search of the elusive Yamaha impellor.

Oh dear I’ve inked myself!
We make Finike in good time and slot ourselves into the small boat section of the marina. Unfortunately impellors are out of season and only a four day request to Istanbul might reveal one. We content ourselves with wandering around the dirty streets of the town looking in the various brash dress shops and admiring the flintstone bedrock park furniture. The marina may be cheap but I am not sure I could cope with a winter here let alone a summer. We head north again to Kekova. A ropey start in strong winds (sorry about that but not harm done to your boat or ours!) we enjoy a great sail in steady F4’s back up to Gokkaya Limani. This really is a lovely spot and Kekova is growing on us. The restaurant and disco are long gone and we enjoy a really peaceful night at anchor under the gaze of sheer high cliffs and benevolent goats. I take Scooty Puff on a big adventure and circumnavigate the largest of the islands. The large cave at one end is cool and quiet and I pop out to surprise one in a long line of trip boats that continuous loop past it bellowing their commentaries in as many languages as you can think of. My sudden appearance causes somewhat of as stir and the skipper has some explaining to do as to why he can’t go inside as well! It has been a lovely day and we follow the example of other boats and rest up here till the last trip boats have gone home and the gullets come into anchor for the night before pulling up the anchor and tootling around the corner to

Kale Koy. The food at Hasan Roma proves to be lovely if a little hot in the Adana kebab stakes (I will pay for that tomorrow!!) but rather pricy; still the atmosphere and views are superb so we don’t quibble too much. The night brings a thunderstorm of epic proportions (Murray sleeps on oblivious) and I laugh as I watch the Sunsail flotilla crew nervously pacing the quays, replacing fenders and checking lines while the billies sleep on dreaming of calm blue oceans and tranquil tropical breezes.
As the outboard is still unusable the trip to the sunken city will have to be made by hand. Murray does a stella job of rowing the mile across but mutterings of “this better be worth it” turn out to be in vain and unfortunately there is nothing to rave about visible and only another mile row back ducking and weaving amongst the trip boats and over an enthusiastic coastguard doing 100 miles an hour through terrified swimmers… so much for that particular highlight.
Sweaty and hot we prepare to leave Kale Koy for Kas but not fast enough to avoid a good inking from the restaurant owner. What is it about Mediterranean men and squids?? They see one off the jetty and they can’t resist. The lure is fetched and in a matter of moments the squid is yanked from the water; slime and ink squirting for miles in all directions. Unfortunately Mae and I wear most of it and for good measure great globs shoot through the heads window and dribble Picasso-like down the walls and adorn the toilet lid. “Good shot” I shout to attract attention to the carnage but alas their dander is up and another squid leaves the water to projectile vomit all over me. Thankfully the rest of the squid pack flee to open water and I ruefully sluice down the deck while contemplating why you would ever want to cook with such stuff!