Eski Foca to Ayvalik: anchors and jellyfish

 

Setting off from Sarpdere

 



Our overnighter from Sarpdere to Eski Foca, our first night at sea for the season, was quite pleasant. We set off at sunset and had enough wind to get a couple of extra knots from the sails. It was quite a scenic trip with the lights glittering from the hills on the Greek island of Khios just a few miles across the strait.  The channel between Greece and Turkey is quite narrow and we had some hairy moments getting squeezed between a 200 metre cruise liner going one way and a 195 metre freighter going the other way with us in the middle.  At 2am.  Terry said they were lucky they didn't hit us or there would have been hell to pay .

 We arrived in the attractive harbour of Eski Foca and scouted around for an anchorage, but once again we were plagued with a failure to dig in. The bottom in most places seemed to be rocky with thick seagrass and we tried both styles of anchor (Manson and Danforth) without success. Finally we headed over to look more closely at the town dock (which appeared to be full) and a couple of blokes guided us into a berth which they said we could sit in until 4pm, when its usual occupant would return from a day sail. We have found the Turkish people to be unfailingly helpful and kind – they love to help you solve a problem! (Problem ? Problem yok!) Well at least we could fill up with water, buy some provisions and have a rest – we were flagging fast and I was just so thankful not to have to drop and pull in that *!# anchor one more time.

Eski (old) Foca  (that's 'foe-cha') was the home of the ancient Phocians who were famous seafarers referred to in Homer’s Iliad. It is a fishing town and a tourist resort for Turks from the big cities of Ismir and Istanbul – and everything is much cheaper than the resorts that target foreigners. There are some interesting ruins here, but unfortunately we were on a limited time schedule and didn’t have a chance to explore. After a good rest it was off with the lines and up with the anchor (pausing to disentangle it from someone’s mooring line) and off to Tatilkoyu a couple of miles to the north. We set anchor easily in lovely mud and enjoyed the sight of dozens of Hobie Cats, sailboards and sailing dinghies flitting around the huge bay. A comfortable night? Not really – the anchor dragged again with a wind change and we had to do it all again at 2am.

Anchors! They’re giving us hell at the moment, refusing to set, refusing to hold. We take our time and do it right, but I think the seabed must be a bit rocky and unfriendly in these parts. Wherever possible I dive in and check if it’s holding, but you can’t do that in low visibility or bad conditions. And now, as we tried to set off in the morning, the Danforth came up with about half an acre of mud, rock and seagrass attached, which no amount of dunking would dislodge. Bit by bit we cleared it with hands and boathooks. The wind was strong from the north, so it was a hard but uneventful beat up to Bademli Limani.

 

 



     Bademli Limani

This is a very sheltered little harbour, now pretty much silted up so that only small fishing boats have access. Fishing is its reason for being – there is not much here apart from working boats and tough old fishermen mending their nets – but it is a safe anchorage and quite scenic. I swam over to greet the only other cruisers there, and of course they were Aussies, David and Jenny from Sydney aboard Windjammer III. Terry and I managed to locate the only (fish) restaurant where we enjoyed an excellent meal overlooking the shoals and an abandoned yacht, transformed into a reflection pool in the moonlight. A wander around the dusty little village next day, then off early in the morning for the 20 mile hop to Ayvalik.

 

Passing the island of Alibey, entrance to Ayvalik 'lake'

When you enter the enclosed bay of Ayvalik through a narrow channel, the vivid blue of the Mediterranean slowly changes to jade green. The seagrass is lush, fish leap: the water in this bay, known as “the lake”, is biological, full of life. And then you pass a bubble of bright Med blue against the green. Then another … and another. Then one the size of a basketball! Brilliant blue jellyfish surround the boat, their bells hemispherical and glossy, frilly skirts hiding a spray of short tentacles. These are barrel jellies, Rhizostoma pulmo. They are prolific here in the sheltered bay and they really do look like fragments of Mediterranean blue that have strayed into foreign waters. They can grow to the size of a dustbin, apparently. Like slow-beating hearts they make their way purposefully in one direction or another, seeking richer blooms of plankton, perhaps. They are beautiful, like dancing glass, but we take a break from swimming of the boat.

Rhizostoma pulmo

We anchored first in the south easternmost bay, accessed through a very narrow channel, and spent two days dug in firmly for a change.  We dinghied ashore a couple of times, and even went to the far end of the bay to a wrecked twin engine plane that almost made it to the water to land but came up about 50' short.  Of course, there is a Geocache inside it and Terry just had to get it.

Once again, we were alongside Windjammer III with David and Jenny and had a pleasant drinks evening on board their very comfortable Hunter 46. 

The next two days forecast strong north-easterlies, the start of the dreaded Melteme again, so we will head into Ayvalik Setur Marina for fuel, food, water, waste pump-out, hot showers and a safe haven for a couple of days.  We will use the time to visit the ancient city of Pergamon and also the island of Alibey, which we passed on our way in to Ayvalik.

 

Marina bar, Ayvalik



The Bay of Teos (Terry)

We are sitting quietly in a bay to the south of Saperde in Turkey.  Last two nights we were in the Bay of Teos, quite exposed, but dug in nicely in the thick mud.

Common Sense all by herself in the middle of the bay

We anchored to the West of the bay of Teos, quite close to the ancient harbour wall (Antik Limani) then dinghied in to the closest resort café/restaurant and had a beer.  Then we went walking for miles to find the local Market but they had no nothing, no fresh vegetables, no fruit or anything.  Lots of Raki and lots of beer.  Trudged all the way back and dinghied over to the main beach side of this resort bay.  Trudged all the way up to their Market.  Same story, tomorrow, probably.

So we went down to the beach again to the Albatros restaurant.  Beer = ₺8 !!  Love Turkish, non-tourist prices.  Pizzas looked good.  Sorry, no pizzas.  Ok, fish and chips.  Patron wanders off and comes back with a pen and proceeds to cross out ¾ of the menu.  Sorry, none.  Tomorrow, maybe.  The tourist season is about to start, it hasn’t started yet so things aren’t up to full speed.  He recommended (because he had it) Chicken with Porcini mushrooms.  To smooth over what he thought might be a poor start, he provided a great mezze plate for free.  Nice bowl of crispy bread, too.  The chicken was wonderful, grilled on charcoal.  Chips were crunchy, salad and rice good, too.  Two Tuborgs, Carol’s red wine, two chicken dinners plus the mezze and bread came to ₺48, or $24.  We had to write him a page for his visitors’ book so Carol obliged.

Nice view from upstairs on the balcony overlooking the whole bay as the lights came on and the beach quietened down.

Next day we went back in to the ancient harbour and walked up to where it looked like you could get a Dolmus.  A Dolmus is a small Turkish local bus that does a pre-defined route, usually using a major town as a hub.  If you think it is sounding somewhat similar to the Greek Dolmades, you’d be correct.  Dolmades are vine leaves stuffed with rice and nuts.  Dolmus are white things stuffed with passengers – that’s where the slang comes from.

 One guy said “No English” but did agree that a Dolmus would come.  I thought he meant at 10:30 but I wasn’t sure.  Nothing happened for ½ hour so I went down to a small shop and the guy showed me on the clock 11:20.  Sure enough, along it came and off we went to Sigacik, where the Teos marina is (very expensive) and on to Seferihisar, quite a biggish town.  We wandered about a bit having a little look-see and seemed to be the only non-Turks there.  Found a busy Pide Restaurant and working on the principle that all those people can’t be collectively stupid, sat down also.  Well, what a find.  Quite simply, for $3.50 each we had the best Pides we have ever had.  Plus a drink each came to about $9 for lunch for the two of us

The young Pide chef guy (there was an older guy as well.)

Wandered through the supermarket to get some basics then hopped the bus back to Antik Teos, which was a short taxi-ride from Sigacik.

Ancient Teos had the largest temple to Dionysus in the old world.  Most of it, apart from two columns, is scattered all over the ground, thanks to the usual earthquakes. 

 Temple of Dionysus

The old Theatre is not much to look at, certainly not on the scale of Ephesus which is impossible to match, but the Bouleterion was remarkably well kept. 

 

Took the opportunity to grab a Geocache while we were there, then wandered back to the Ancient Harbour and then back to Common Sense.  Several families farm the area and their fields and orchards are interspersed with the ruins.  The road runs through their properties, too, so you look like you’re walking in their front or back yards but it’s just that they’ve built bits on each side of the road.  They are not fazed at all that you are wandering along and smile and wave. 

 

 

Olive Tree planted by Epicurus (ok, I made that bit up, but it's as old as him)

Not the world’s greatest set of ruins, but we know now where Epicurus was brought up and walked the streets he walked.  A quiet night on board with a Chicken Rogan Josh I whipped up and a pleasant night being rocked to sleep in a gentle swell awaiting forecast thunderstorms after midnight.  They never arrived.

We left the Bay at around 8:08 on a silky smooth sea and motored about 18 miles to Saperde, although we did manage to get all the sail out for the last hour.  Unfortunately, we arrived as the thunderstorms forecast for the previous night were finally heading to Teos but now were right where we were.  Several strikes on the hill above Saperde convinced me to do some laps way, way out in the bay over by the fish farms until the clouds moved on.  I don’t trust our lightning dissipater enough to give it a multi-million volt test.

Today we just couldn't get a hold anywhere, so in desperation I untied our ancient Danforth, put away the Manson Supreme and dropped the metal.  In she went.  We haven't moved since, so we'll get a good night's sleep.  The wind generator is doing what it should be doing, working ceaselessly for the first period in three years’ of ownership, thanks to Robert the Sparky in Piraeus’ efforts last year.  There are three of us in here and we are all quite settled in.  There must have been something of a settlement here because the Admiral swam ashore and has found piles of earthenware shards, handles and bits of amphorae, all over the beach and in the water.  Being a good citizen, she examined them and left them there.

Tomorrow we're going to put the motor on the dinghy and go in to the village here before heading out around 9pm for an overnighter up to a city about 60 miles away.  We've been doing small day sails for the last 6 weeks which is why we've only managed to get 422 miles from our start point in Finike.  We decided to harden up a bit and go overnight. 

 



Kusadasi and Ephesus

 

Kusadasi (Terry)

It was about time we treated ourselves to a stay in a civilised environment so we made our way along the coast into Setur’s Kusadasi Marina.

Kusadasi?  Never heard of it BUT it turns out it is the second-busiest port in Turkey, after Istanbul.  Why?  This is why :

 

The two "Celebrity" ships on the left are identical in measurement.  The next to the right is "Louis Cruises", after our cheeky nephew.

Ephesus is only about 15kms away and all these people are here for that.  You have not seen so many group banners held high with “Pink 4” and “Red 6” outside Paris.  Maybe Rome?

The marina is quite hi-spec, with cards for this and that but amazingly they do not have any facility for dealing with the Turkish Mavi card (waste water disposal).   The cruising guide is a little disparaging of the town but we found it quite pleasant, with some good restaurants, and a nice Doner place where we sat in the street on plastic stools with cars picking their way around us.
 

The hill lit up at night time

It is very touristy on the beachfront though and that was a bit irritating.  Nevertheless, we had a pleasant three days there, refilled our water tanks, put a massive charge into the batteries on a slow trickle and had a wonderful evening with a group of engaging Kiwis who were delivering a boat for another Kiwi, but had the privilege of delivering it in a roundabout way, via Turkey, Samos, Crete, The Peloponnese, and into the Gulf of Patra.  Young Ben, Gordo (the rigger), Nicky and Craig, were full of life and sparkle, up for adventure and excitement.  Craig had frequented the Fremantle waterfront in the America’s Cup challenge in Perth.  We hope we will run into Nicky and Craig down the track when they sort out the mix between work, cruising and retirement, and maybe we’ll run into Ben when he works out what boat to buy and where.

Ephesus (Carol)

You know how you know one fact, and you know another fact, but somehow you’d never really linked them together? Then when you finally do, a whole lot of things line up and make sense. Well this was probably obvious to everyone else, but I just realised that the people of ancient Ephesus were the Ephesians as in St Paul’s Epistle to the Ephesians, from the Bible. St Paul was actually here (not really a surprise – he was nearly everywhere we’ve travelled through the whole Mediterranean) preaching in the synagogue for three months to Jews and pagans in what was then the major Eastern city of the Roman Empire. Paul’s epistles were written to support and encourage his band of early Christian converts here in Ephesus, as were his other letters to the Corinthians, Romans etc. It becomes pretty clear touring around these parts that without the zeal and energy of Paul, Christianity would probably have remained a short-lived minor cult. The Virgin Mary is also supposed to have lived here, but I believe the source for that is a vision of a German nun, so we might put that one on hold awaiting further evidence.

Christianity seems to have been one of several forces that conspired towards the fall of this great city. Texts from the time lament the rise of this new cult as it was starting to impact on the lucrative sales of icons from the Temple of Artemis and other shrines. I suspect the financial rage of silversmiths had as much to do with the stoning of Christian martyrs as any religious objections. And then their harbour silted up – so often the end of great trading ports. The wonderful Celsus Library with its 15000 scroll books was wrecked and burned by the Goths in 265 AD, along with the Temple of Artemis, and that was pretty much the end of this outpost of the Empire in Asia.

 

Façade of the Library

Ephesus has the best preserved ancient ruins in the east – some say the best anywhere. The street layout is retained, along with the under-street water and sewerage systems (What have the Romans ever done for us?) so you can literally walk the streets, passing the temples, the library, the public baths and latrines, the brothel, the agora which would have been a busy market. The most visible and impressive structure is an enormous theatre, set into the hillside and with seating for 25000. Cultural events were held here, but the most popular attractions were apparently gladiatorial battles with various wild beasts. There are high walls around the seating area to protect the front rows from being attacked.

 

 

The theatre dominates the site

 A broad processional way, lined with pillars that would have had statues on top, runs down to the ancient harbour. Marc Antony and Cleopatra walked into the city along here, their path strewn with flowers.

 

The road to the harbor 

For a few lira more, you can go inside to check out the archaeological site of current activity, the houses of the wealthier Ephesians terraced into a hillside. These are in remarkable condition, with vivid frescoes and mosaics depicting scenes from myth and everyday life, bathrooms, kitchens, dining halls and bedrooms. You can also see the work of the archaeologists – the painstaking uncovering and piecing together of these precious artefacts over months and years.

Frescoes

 

World's hardest jigsaw puzzle

 

 

Neptune mosaic

 



Ephesus was wonderful. Even the crowds, with a little imagination, could be visualised milling about the streets and markets in their togas and sandals. The Ephesians must have felt proud of their bustling, prosperous city, trading with all corners of the known world, a centre of commerce and culture. They must have felt important. How could their sophisticated, civilised way of life fail to endure and progress?

Bodrum and Beyond

Well it looked like a perfect anchorage - good shelter, solid holding, right under a very atmospheric Crusader castle - what more could you want? We settled in and prepared the dinghy for the short trip in to a restaurant quay for dinner and a look at the town. We noticed that a French flagged cruiser nearby launched its dinghy at the same time, so we had an opportunity to try out our slogan for the year, "Follow the French!" especially where eating and drinking are concerned. We ended up at a pleasant waterfront tavern, but when the French crew decided to leave a little later, they found that their dinghy was sinking. Terry ferried them back to their boat, then ferried their little dinghy back as well. I guess that's another reason to follow the French - they might need rescuing!

 

St Peter's Castle

Anyway, we had a wander around the lively waterfront of Bodrum, enjoyed a meal then tootled back to Common Sense for a sleep. No such luck. The huge party catamaran docked next to the castle erupted into raucous life at midnight and didn't let up until 5am, blasting out techno dance music that reverberated through the hull and our heads relentlessly, making sleep impossible. The massive Halicarnassus nightclub (capacity 5000) sent back its own soundwaves from the other side of the bay. We got up and watched the laser light shows for a while and tried to remember if there had ever been a time in our lives when we would have enjoyed this.

As soon as we 'woke' the next morning we motored around to Gumbet, a bay further to the west, in hopes of a quieter second night. Gumbet is another "corner of a foreign field that is forever England" with its pubs, fish and chippies and Full English Breakfast signs everywhere. We didn't spend any time there, but caught the dolmus back into Bodrum proper to visit its most famous attraction, the Castle of St Peter, another fortification of the Knights of St John, now home to the marvellous Bodrum Museum of Underwater Archaeology.

This is really something. The castle itself is wonderful - one of those Lego castles with moats, turrets and even a real dungeon including some of the implements of restraint and torture. It has commanding views of the surrounding bays and the harbour. The different 'Langues' (language-based units) of the Knights of St John each had its own tower within the castle, and these now house armour, furniture and weaponry of the time. The stones of the English tower were engraved with the names and crests of residents - fine examples of medieval graffiti! Apparently the castle's formidable defences were never really tested: it was simply handed over as part of the package when the Knights' main stronghold on Rhodes was lost to Suleiman the Magnificent in 1522, and the Knights took possession of Malta as their new base.

 

The underwater archaeology exhibits cover a range of ancient shipwrecks from the surrounding coast. Most of them were located, researched and excavated under the direction of Peter Throckmorton, then George Bass, with lots of assistance from their students, local historians and enthusiastic local sponge divers and fishermen who had previously had little time for the vast hoards of pottery, marble and skeletal vessels that they often encountered on the sea floor. Apparently the locals contributed so many artefacts once the archaeologists had shown an interest that the then derelict castle was the only place with lockable rooms big enough to store it all - hence the birth of the museum.

I think the museum's design work must have been done by a theatrical designer. Far from dull, dusty cases of exhibits, these are showcased in dramatic and interesting ways. Shipwrecks are displayed as they were found, with blue-green lighting and sound effects simulating the deep ocean floor. The fine glassware from several wrecks is in a darkened room, with each piece backlit to show its delicate structure and colour. Getting around the museum's multiple towers and halls is quite a challenge (there are lots of steps and they are big steps - I thought Medieval people were meant to be short?) but it is well worth it. Even the gardens are great, with a fine collection of Mediterranean trees and interesting artefacts - amphorae, wells, grave markers - strategically placed.

 

Wreck with amphorae and copper ingots

Well that was the good part. Hot and exhausted after a long day and quite a drive/walk back to the dinghy, what's the last thing you want to see? Or rather, not see? That's right, your yacht isn't where you left it. Aaarggh! Common Sense was not bobbing quietly at anchor where she'd been that morning - she was tied up to one of the big tourist gulets further in. The wind had changed and picked up, and the good old Manson Supreme anchor that we celebrated in the last blog had dragged! The gulet guys, champions that they were, had rescued her from going aground or doing some damage to another boat. Now came the challenging part: getting the anchor up - and of course it had snagged the gulet's mooring line and had to be wrangled free. Anchor up and we had to manoeuvre in the tight spaces between the gulets and fishing boats near the shore - and of course we strayed a little too close and got stuck in the mud. None of the usual tricks worked so Terry used our dinghy and another gulet used theirs and eventually pushed us back to open water, though not without further dramas as I narrowly missed a few neighbouring craft. Phew! Well away from the scene we made another attempt to set the anchor, but it didn't hold. The conditions were windy and unpleasant and I think we'd lost confidence a bit. At this point we noticed two yachts tied up alongside a big concrete pier behind the gulet dock. This looked like an attractive possibility, so we eased in and tied up. Terry asked a Turkish woman in one of the yachts if it was OK to be there and where we should go to pay; she shrugged her shoulders and said, "No need to pay!" and indeed, on closer inspection it was clear that the pier was unfinished and wasn't even connected to the land. What a relief to be securely tied up and to know that we would still be there in the morning!

Next day was another dinghy trip + dolmus into town to do a bit of shopping and visit a hidden gem - the Bodrum Maritime Museum. This small museum is financed by the local Chamber of Commerce and is dedicated to Bodrum's relationship with the sea through sponge-diving, fishing and travel. The ground floor is filled with beautifully detailed models of the boats that have been part of the town's history, accompanied by pictures and stories of their captains and crew. There is a display dedicated to the writer Cevat Sakir Kabaagacli (referred to as 'the Fisherman' in English, for obvious reasons) who popularised the idea of coastal cruising by gulet for pleasure, now a huge tourism industry. The top floor is a glorious collection of seashells from all over the world, which I could have studied for hours while the Captain looked at the boats.

 

The best looking of the Kaptans

 



Back to Common Sense, dropping off a couple of bottles of raki to our saviours of the previous day on the gulet. There she was, resting quietly where we left her, thank goodness, and we were set for a good night's sleep ... but wait ...tonight was obviously Gumbet's night out. The doof doof music resounded from party boats and bars til the early hours, in the words of Rod Heikel's Cruising Guide "like a heart monitor in overdrive". That was enough. Great town, lots to see and do but we really needed some sleep so it was off with the lines and on to the next (quiet) destination...

Knidos

Knidos was an ancient town at the tip of the Datca peninsula. It was part of the Carian civilization,  a thoroughly civilized civilization which prospered through the export of fine wines. Active until the fall of the Byzantine empire, Knidos then fell into ruin, the whole huge site was virtually buried and the area deserted. In 1812, C T Newton of the delightfully named “Dilettante Society” led an expedition which excavated much of the site, uncovering several major temples, two theatres, an agora, extensive housing and a six kilometre long necropolis. He sent several major treasures, including a massive marble lion, a statue of the mother goddess Demeter and a solid gold vase back to the British Museum.

The small theatre, overlooking the anchorage

In 2014, Knidos was discovered by Carol and Terry Hogan aboard S/Y Common Sense, and they enjoyed a couple of days side-on to the quay in the harbour (you don’t appreciate how great this is unless you own an American boat designed to dock alongside!) and rambling through the ruins. The great thing about Knidos is that you are free to ramble. More and less accessible goat paths lead all through the complex and you are constantly making discoveries, even amongst the walls, where beautifully carved columns and blocks have been recycled, or the stones of the paths, where shards of terracotta pottery reveal cup handles, roof tiles, the conical bases of amphorae and occasional decorations and engravings. Only a handful of tourists were wandering through the ruins while we were there, so it was fun trying to mentally reconstruct the thriving metropolis that existed here a couple of thousand years ago.

  

Terry salvages the ancient Fender of Dionysis - sometimes the Sea Gods give you a freebie

 



It was very peaceful when we arrived at about 12:30 pm after a pleasant trip from Datcha – a couple of yachts at anchor and just us on the dock – but within a few hours the place was jumping. A dozen more yachts tied up, several gulets anchored,  and a whole charter fleet (under direction of our friends Mike and Debbie from Finike) came in as one fellow had been injured. We were all rafted up and several late boats were circling the anchorage looking for a spot. The restaurant did a roaring trade, despite tourist prices and we got ready for a noisy night. It didn’t happen, however; even the Polish charter with about a dozen huge loud blokes aboard ran out of steam early. Next day most of the boats set off in light southerlies (because most of them were heading south – wind on the nose is the default direction, as we all know.) We are cooking up some lamb fillets and fresh beetroot for dinner, then preparing the boat for an early departure and will make our way to Bodrum tomorrow morning, all being well.

Wild thyme in bloom amongst the ruins

 

The lighthouse on the tip of Datca Peninsula

 

Marmaris (Terry)

While at the first anchorage, in the 12-islands, I dived on the hull and discovered that one of the zincs I had put on in February was already gone, and the other was hanging by one bolt.  I tied the other side of it through with fishing line, hoping it would hold.  However, by the time we arrived in Tersane Creek, it, too, was gone.  Not sure what happened – I put them on while we were on the hard and they were at chest level, so it’s not like it was difficult to tighten them up, which I did, very very hard. All I can think of is that where I painted a thin stripe of nail polish from the head of the bolt to the tail of the bolt must have made the screw very slippery.  No idea.  Now, you are not permitted to dive in Turkey unless on a registered supervised expedition so I couldn’t hire a tank and replace them myself, and I couldn’t stay down under the keel long enough to screw new zincs on.

Anyway, I had 4 more on board so we went for a little wander over to the Netsel Marina main office area and asked a chappy in a boat sales yard if he knew any divers.  He rang a guy who came over in half an hour who said he’d do it for 50 Euros.  I didn’t like that price so we discussed something more reasonable and agreed on TL100.  We went to where his gear was in our dinghy and brought him out to Common Sense where he put two new zincs on the shaft.  As they say in Turkey, “Problem?  Problem Yok!”  (Problem? No!)

 Sailing into Marmaris

 

We wandered about the streets of Marmaris for a few days and though interesting it wasn’t a place to capture hearts.  Up until the 70s it was a fishing village.  After that, lots of money was poured in to turn it into a tourist mecca.  Miles of hotels and restaurants that are OK and not offensive by any means but a little artificial. We could do without the late night disco music, but many were obviously enjoying it, and the lights of Marmaris Harbour on a Saturday night are a sight worth seeing.

 

There was some wind in the marina and I was convinced we had dragged but couldn’t get agreement from the crew.  Something told me we had but we were not getting any closer to where we shouldn’t be so we left it at that.  On our final morning, I was more convinced we had moved.  When the anchor came up, the reason for the part-shift was apparent – we had snagged an old mooring and had the crappy but very large old rope wrapped around our anchor.  We had moved, but along this old line and we were stuck.  Holding the anchor on the windlass, the Admiral slipped into the dinghy with her best knife and I pulled the dinghy to the bow.  She proceeded to slice off the line, freeing us.  This then created another problem as we were then free to go in reverse to the shoreline.  I tied her to the port side and motored very slowly out to some clearer water out of the anchorage where we could retrieve crew, tidy up the dinghy, shut boarding gates etc and continue on our way.

Nice enough for a visit but I’m glad we didn’t waste any money on a marina stay (very expensive, anyway at €75 a night.)

Datca (Terry)

Here we were in yet another place we’d never heard of in our lives.  In fact, apart from Turks, I think not a lot of people know about this place.  We arrived in Datca about 7 days ago, on Market Day.  We anchored in the North Bay in crystal clear water in a depth of about 12’.  The anchor dug in well and we sat comfortably for 4 days, dinghying in to whichever side of the bay we wanted to go to.

 

 The restaurant strip on the Nth Harbour

 

 

Our favourite restaurant was on the main drag, Zekeriya Sofrasi.  The main guy is Ahmet Sakarya and the other main guy is Hussein but I couldn’t work out what the relationship was between the two.  Cousins?  They’re not brothers because I asked.

They have traditional Turkish dishes of things like chick peas with lamb cubes, or eggplant with mince mixed in.  Lamb soup with quartered potatoes, sliced carrot, broth and a lamb shank - $4!

The dishes are numerous and each costs 8TL.   We ate there many times in our 7 days.  It cracks a big mention in Lonely Planet and is well deserved.  They were genuinely worried when we said we had moved from the North Bay to the Harbour and were pleased to see us when the drama  had subsided.  Wonderful people.  We got so familiar with the place that I was getting my own drinks and organising my own glasses, reaching behind Ahmet to access the glasses case.

Ahmet and Carol outside Zekeriya

Last Sunday, we took a taxi up to the old town of Eski Datca (just means old Datca) to look for a geocache on the street that leads to the house of a famous Turkish Poet Can Yucel.  Couldn’t find it so we went back to the street corner where there were 3 restaurants and looked at the menu boards.  One, a small gardened restaurant, had Pasta with Eggplant Sauce.  This dish is a favourite of Inspector Montalbano of the Vigata Police force in the TV series so I just had to have it.  It was superb and cost me $5.50.

 

Eski Datca Garden

 

Pasta with eggplant sauce is right here!

 

While having lunch, Carol struck up a conversation with the three people at the neighbouring table.  They were Irish and two of them owned Villas in Eski Datca.  One was Joe Barlow, from County Down, a quiet man of considerable understated wit, and the other two were a mother and daughter combination of Mary Anderson and Pauline McKenna of Maghera in Co. Derry.  What a delight this chance meeting was to prove.  Mary (** y.o. yesterday, Friday 6^th June) doesn’t look a day over 60 and Pauline, her daughter, is a BC recoverer like Carol is.  We had a great chat in the restaurant.

 

 

 

Pauline and Mary

  Some weather headed our way on Tuesday and we had to decide where to run to.  This entire peninsula is open to the south-east.  Guess where the wind and swell was coming from?

We left our anchorage in the bay, as it was completely open and when the wind did arrive, there were waves breaking in it.  The South anchorage was no better and we went into the harbour.

The harbour master was adamant that if we wanted to stay we could, but he sure wasn’t recommending it one little bit.  He even said if it became untenable during the night or next day we were free to leave without paying harbour dues. 
Despite this, I chose the harbour wall anyway.  To our starboard, the Datca Belediyesi workers had removed dozens of large wooden squares that cover the new section of the wharf – they are sick of losing them in southerly gales and stack them off the harbour when one heads their way.

So began a night we won’t forget in a long time.  We spent Tuesday/Wednesday under siege in the harbour with savage cross-swells pounding hard into the wall, then bouncing off the harbour wall and back on to us (why did we end up the outside boat?)  All in all, it was most distressing.  At about 2am, some random Turkish guy, in his late 50s or so, appeared out of the gloom and said that we were too close to the wall and there was more wind to come.  He said we would be destroyed.  Excellent.  Just what I wanted to hear at 2am with the worst to come in 10 hours’ time.

 We corkscrewed and gybed, danced and bounced for hour after hour.  I slept in the cockpit in case I had to hit the engine in a hurry if our anchor gave way and we had to head for the high seas.  One of our neighbours a little up the pier, a little more sheltered than us, said that he looked at us at 2am and couldn’t believe that our anchor was holding given the amount of pitching we were doing.  But it did, a big wrap for Manson Supreme anchors.  It was also useful that the Admiral had managed to get about 50 metres of chain down when I was backing in (I know it is me that says “Now” but her speed on the paying-out is greatly appreciated as it means the anchor goes where I wanted it in the first place).

Morning came with a small lull but only for an hour or two as then the major part of the gale hit.  We had 38 knots over the deck at 11am and again at midday.  The sea was still raging and we were still corkscrewing wildly.  The owner of the Sunrise Bar, where we’ve had one or two cold Efes lately, came over and advised that we move even further from the dock so we went out another few feet.  It gave a little respite as we were only being bashed from two sides now instead of three.

That's our lifeline in the bottom left corner of the photo

As forecast, by 4pm it was all over.  The wind was now light and in the north, so it was across the land and you wouldn’t recognise the clear harbour water as the same boiling mass of a few hours before.

We finally winched back in and got off at about 4:30, about 22 hours after battening down for the night.

We wandered off to buy some stuff to replace a geocache that’s gone missing up the hill from here and then had a few beers with our new friends Eric, Jane and Jane’s brother Nigel on “Pisces”.   Eric and Jane’s daughter is an Aussie now, living in Buderim with her own daughter and husband.  They sat out the storm in the harbour as well, but were a few boats further inside the line of the breakwater than we were.

We then decided to treat ourselves to a dining extravaganza and went up the hill to the Culinarium Restaurant, a Lonely Planet recommendation. It is owned by a German lady and her husband, a Turkish man.  He lived in Germany for 30 years before they came back.  As a chef, he has “the touch”.  Everything we ate smacked of skill.  It was simply magnificent – home made Turkish ravioli with Porcini mushrooms, some of which were toasted on the top, were the closest I’ve had to a plate of truffle and cream pasta – cost, $12.50 Australian.  Carol had shrimp stuffed Zucchini flowers. She then had a sea bass in lemon sauce and I had a chicken breast with a mushroom cream sauce and lightly spiced Couscous.  Even my broccoli was superb!

The whole thing, which we thought was about to be a rare splurge, came to under $60 Australian dollars for two.  The restaurant sits high above the harbour and has all-round glass windows for a superb view.  Put it on your must-visit list when you are in Datca.

 

 

Culinarium view

 

Having a wander down the main drag on Wednesday after our storm, we ran into Joe, Mary and Pauline.  They asked us along to a Café for Friday night.

Our night in the Polka bar.

Friday night is expat night in the Polka Cafe.  Alex the Scot wanders along with his guitar and plays, accompanied by a young-ish Turkish girl who plays all sorts of things that tell you that this lady is one natural musician – flute, recorder, mandolin, violin.. what ever she picks up.  She is Turkish, played with an Irish Band in Istanbul and her favourite song in the whole world is…..Molly Malone!!  And she sings it beautifully.

 

Well, Alex let fly with song after song, and as there were bucketloads of Irish there, mostly Irish tunes.  He worked out that we were Australian and played a couple of Eric Bogles for us.  The craic was wonderful, as we all sang along with him to old favourites.  Early on, I let him know it was Mary’s birthday and instead of the usual Happy Birthday To You, he said he’d do something else.  When I sat back down he started up The Mountains Of Mourne instead so we all sang along and Mary herself misted up just a wee bit.

 

Pauline and her mum Mary to the left, Pamela (Jim's wife) alongside me, Carol and Joe (Jim's brother) and Jimmy took the pic

Saturday is Market Day in Datca, and it is one very large market indeed.  Just to give you an idea of what it costs to provision in this neck of the woods, we did a tally up.

 

Fresh Produce			Lira	$$ Aud
Lettuce	1		1	$0.50
Apples	3		3	$1.50
Capsicum	4		2	$1.00
Beetroot	3		1	$0.50
Cherries	0.68	kg	4	$2.00
Apricots	15		3	$1.50
Peaches	5		3	$1.50
Radishes	6		1	$0.50
Tomatoes	5		2.5	$1.25
Capsicum	4		2	$1.00
Eggplants	4		2	$1.00
			24.5	$12.25
Meat and special
Cheese, 2 year aged	0.50	kilo	14	$7.00
Kalamata	0.50	kilo	13	$6.50
Almonds, blanched, roasted	0.50	kilo	25	$12.50
Walnuts	0.26	kilo	13	$6.50
Mince	1.00	kg	28	$14.00
Lamb Fillets	6		15	$7.50
Chicken thighs	6		11	$5.50
			119	$59.50

 

 

Carol's favourite stall

 
 

 

My favourite stall

 

 

 

 

The tomato man's brother

 

 

 

Our tomato man

 Saturday was warm and pleasant and Carol went for a swim out the front to check on the anchor.  Luckily, nobody was over it, nor the one on either side, and we looked clear for take off on Sunday morning.

Another Australian boat turned up in the afternoon, and another Australian catamaran.  (Earlier that week, Gone With The Wind II owned by a Kalgoorlie chap and skippered by a Fremantle chap was in the bay).  To cap it all off, 4 more Australians got off a French-owned charter boat right the doorstep of our favourite drinking hole, the Sunset Bar - A couple from North Perth and a couple from  ?? I forget.

At a respectable 8am Sunday morning, the Dutch alongside us and then ourselves motored slowly out over our anchors and headed north-west, leaving beautiful Datca behind.