Goodbye Turkey

 

Dear Friends and Family,

We departed Bozuk Buku under calm conditions on a Tuesday morning, motoring  westbound and striving to get “around the corner” of the Loryma Peninsula before the winds piped up. Happily, this turned out to be the only time we had to motor between anchorages. Once we’d cleared this SW point, we turned north, passing the ancient Gulf of Simi to our east, with the Greek island of Simi itself visible just a few miles to our west, rising out of the Aegean Sea. Twelve miles later we were anchor-down in little Dirsek Bay, an idyllic spot surrounded by dry rocky hills peppered with scrub and a few small trees, looking like something out of the Old West.  There are no roads, and only one small restaurant and quay, with a horse tied to a nearby tree adding to the “wild west” flavor.

(Sidebar: During our time here, we noticed that each day, the horse was tied to a different tree.  We guessed that this re-location was done for grazing purposes rather than to give the animal a change of scenery.)

With very deep water in the center of the bay, the yachts anchor a short distance from shore and tie a stern line to a rock or tree to prevent their swinging into each other. Once Ken had SD tethered to his satisfaction, he had a swim in the pristine water to check the anchor. For Katie, the water was still a bit too chilly to do more than stand thigh-deep on the boarding ladder and watch the little fish potter around, inspecting our boat.

Photo: From high on one of the rocky hills surrounding Dirsek’s bay,  we can see our SD anchored in the clear turquoise water.

Early the next morning, Katie’s dozing was interrupted by a soft persistent clunking sound, which at first seemed to be coming from Ken’s bunk, where he was using the computer. When queried, he replied, “Nope – that’s a bell on a goat”.  Well, this was new, so we both hustled up to the cockpit, from where we could see that indeed, there was a goat with a bell on the near shore, accompanied by about 20 other bell-less companions, all browsing in the scrub.  We enjoyed the show while our coffee perked, but the entertainment was cut short when a man walking his dog on the beach prompted a general stampede.  Katie was disappointed at the exodus, but Ken saw it differently, remarking, “At least that added a little excitement, because it was getting kind of boring”.

A different kind of excitement occurred each afternoon when the ice cream boat made its rounds.This little open boat, carrying an ice cream freezer, was crewed by two smiling young locals. At around 3 pm they’d zip around from yacht to yacht, holding a waterproof menu and calling, “iiiiiiice cream!”.  The crew of the good ship Sand Dollar were faithful repeat customers!

We spent three days at Dirsek, and on our final morning we hiked to the top of the nearest hill and were rewarded with a spectacular view. The same dry, rocky, “wild west” hills stretched east as far as the eye could see, and to our west, Simi sat in the sparkling blue Aegean.  Not a single tourist venue in sight; this was what we signed up for!

Back at sea level, the wind came up by 1130, and we sailed away on a sweet eight-mile down-wind run, ENE to a larger bay and the village of Selimiye.  We sniffed around for a bit, but depths in the bay were consistently more than 60 feet, too deep for us to anchor safely, so we opted for our first “Med-moor”.  Nosing SD up to a restaurant’s quay, we tossed bow lines to staff on the dock, who secured the lines to metal dock rings. We were handed a mooring line which was already tailed to an underwater “laid mooring”, and secured it to SD’s stern. With fenders in place over the side to protect our hull from our neighbors’, Ken fine-tuned the lay of all the lines until SD was parked neatly and securely in her berth, and the dock was an easy step-off from the bow.

We berthed at “Aurora” restaurant, a totally charming little open-air establishment decorated with local crafts and art-work.  The tables in the shady patio pavilion were moved out onto the wide dock for evening dining, which began at 7 pm. It was all a far cry from the ubiquitous plastic chairs and tables and box-of-Kleenex napkins of SE Asia. Here in Turkey, all the chairs and tables are made of wood, even in the budget “locals” cafes. At Aurora, which admittedly caters to tourists, there were linen tablecloths, comfy chair cushions, heavy cutlery, and candles on the tables – all this and bay-side dining on the dock – it was SO Mediterranean!

As in many Turkish restaurants, Aurora has no menu. Selections for mezes (“starters”) and mains are attractively displayed  in a glass front deli-style case in front of the tiny kitchen. The proprietress walks you back to the case, describes each item, and then comes the hard part – you have to choose something. (Decisions, decisions; so much tempting food, so little time!)

We settled on fresh sardines with a tomato/olive oil drizzle, which were fantastic, and bore no resemblance to the canned supermarket fish. We also chose a seaweed salad, some chopped fresh leeks, and another salad, this one with white beans, fresh corn kernels, chopped onion and tomato, olive oil and spices.  Accompanied by oven-fresh village bread, it was all incredible, as was our shared main course of spicy chicken sizzled in a wok. It’s a rare indulgence for us to dine in a restaurant, as it’s just not in our budget, but patronage is expected when a yacht is berthed at the restaurant’s quay, so we treated ourselves, which wasn’t much of a hardship!

 

Treated ourselves to a carafe of chilled rose’ on a rare dinner ashore. Cheers!

Happiness is a good, long belly-rub to get one’s hind leg kicking!

The following morning as we busied ourselves washing the boat, the floors, and a couple of buckets of laundry, a guy came by on a motorbike and passed us a big round of the local flatbread called “pide”, still warm from the oven. “Compliments of the restaurant”, he said; “No money”. We wasted no time in digging out some of the local honey to enjoy with this taste treat. If we stay here more than a couple of days, we’ll each weigh 500 pounds!

Photo: Gulets on the quay at Selimye.

However, a pressing project was waiting.  Katie had managed to break the pump on the toilet a week prior by dropping a locker lid on it. Ken had ordered a new pump, which had arrived at West Marine, so we took a bus to Marmaris to pick it up.  As long as we were in the big city, we multi-tasked by picking up six bottles of our favorite wine, too.

The following day was toilet-repair day, which was just about as much fun as it sounds, and required a repeat washing of the cabin floor.

After three days at Aurora’s dock, enjoying the luxury of spotless showers, unlimited fresh water, and warm daily bread, we decided it was time to leave.  Not to leave quaint little Selimiye, but to vacate the quay. Although the restaurant doesn’t charge a berthing fee, the village does: 20 TL daily, or about $10, which is collected by a fedora-wearing guy on a motorbike. We intended to leave before his usual rounds to avoid the fee, but on this day we spied him approaching early, starting his collections at the far end of the quay.  We both dropped what we were doing, cast off our dock lines, and started the engine.  Fedora guy heard our engine fire up and made a bee-line for us, but we’d already reversed out of our berth, leaving him standing on the dock with a look of frustration on his face as he watched us motor away, taking our 20 TL with us.

We found a cove at the edge of the village where we anchored about 150 yards from shore, right in front of a mosque with the most powerful loud-speakers we’ve ever heard. At least they seemed that way when the muezzin began his 5 am wailing.  They must have bought them from the Rolling Stones.

Photo:  Mama and Papa and their smiling son sold produce and honey from their farm at this little roadside stand in Selimiye. We stocked up!

We spent another four days in Selimiye, relaxing, taking turns rowing ashore on water runs, strolling on the quay to buy wicked-good home-made ice cream, and exploring the town. We changed our headsail, and Ken made one more solo bus run to Marmaris to pick up an engine hose, and then it was time to move on.

On the first day of summer, we weighed anchor and sailed off, tacking our way close-hauled up to Hisaronu Bay, then turning NE, beam-reaching until the wind died off and began to back toward our port quarter. As we were now sailing down-wind in light air, Ken hoisted the spinnaker, and we glided gently along at two-three knots.

We sailed into Keci Buku and anchored in a small cove near the entrance, off a little islet topped with the ruins of an ancient fortress.  The slopes of the surrounding hills are covered with pine trees, and the marina and the main channel for the bay are visible, but far enough away that our spot is quiet and serene.

Ken tied a stern line to a rock ashore, and with SD in this orientation, she didn’t swing on her anchor, and the evening sun was always behind us. We could thus enjoy our sun-downers on the bow, a favorite spot for watching the comings and goings of the neighborhood. One evening we were surprised to see about two dozen black rabbits on the little islet.  They hopped down from the ruins to a small meadow on the shore, apparently oblivious to a handful of people who stood watching from the beach a few yards away. Soon, however, a dinghy with two people and a dog approached, prompting Ken to remark, “This ought to be good”.

Sure enough, as soon as the dinghy hit the beach, the dog was off like a shot, but so were the rabbits, scattering up the hill like a bunch of leaves blown by a leaf blower. The dog spent a few minutes trotting in circles in the now-empty meadow, nose to the ground, in hopes of rousting a straggler, but to no avail.

View from SD of the islet near our anchorage in a little cove in Keci Buku. Crumbling ruins at the top tend to blend in with the surrounding rock. Rabbits galore! Notice the “super moon” visible in background.

 

This is how “the other half” lives!

 

A study in contrasts: our neighbor in the Keci Buku anchorage on his self-built functional little craft.

During our nine days in Keci Buku we swam, took walks ashore and through the nearby farming village, and hit the Saturday markets for excellent fresh local peaches, lemons, and other goodies.  We crashed the marina’s pool for a swim, walking past some old ruins, probably Byzantine, which were left in place when the marina was constructed around them.  Vessels in our cove came and went, and ran the gamut from a huge luxury power cruiser to a tiny sailboat, obviously home-made and crewed by the owner and his wife. There were also intermittent yachts and gulets, and occasionally a tour-boat would anchor for half an hour, discharging hordes of Speedo- and bikini-clad swimmers into the bay for “swim call”.

We weighed anchor on June 30, Mom’s 90th birthday, for a blustery sail to Kuruca Buku on the Datca Peninsula. We tacked our way westward, hard on the wind, sailing 19 miles to cover the 12-mile distance.  We were anchor-down at 1330, but it took three tries to get it set, as the bottom was full of weed.  By nightfall the meltemi was blowing like stink.  This seasonal wind from the north continued all the following day, with wind speeds averaging 30 knots, and higher in the gusts. We stayed home!

Kuruca Buku

By  the next day it was over, so in light winds we dinghied ashore and walked a few yards across a sandy isthmus to the next bay, where sits a pretty vacation community called Holiday Village. A cluster of two-story white stucco townhouses with red tile roofs line the shore, all with colorful bursts of hibiscus, lantana, and bougainvillea, and with tall pines shading manicured lawns that stretch to a wide paved esplanade running the length of the beach.

Through gin-clear water we can see sand and the dark patches of weed, twenty feet down.

 

Beyond the townhouses is a big quiet campground under the pines, and the warm piney fragrance and the crunch of pine needles underfoot reminded us of our own camping and back-packing days. 

One of our two onboard computers went belly-up recently, leaving us with only one to run our navigation program.  As a precaution, we spent a day planning our route from here all the way to the marina in Greece where we’ll store SD for the winter.  We then printed paper charts, which we’ll use from now on to save wear on our one remaining machine.

View over the neighboring bay from a shady park bench. Greek Island Simi in the background.

Leaving Kuruca Buku after eight days, we had a marvelous close-hauled sail to Datca. (Rhymes with “gotcha”.)  We anchored in the smaller of Datca’s two bays, among about six other yachts, with gulets and tour boats passing close by (sometimes within a few yards!) enroute to and from the quay.  The roped-off swim area a few yards away was full of vacationers, laughing and calling back and forth, with a few brave souls actually swimming through the crowded anchorage.

We went ashore the next morning for a stroll through town and across to the other bay, which looked temptingly more low-key, occupied by only two yachts.  We agreed that we liked the quieter bay better, and returned to SD to weigh anchor. The anchor windlass chose this moment to self-destruct, and no amount of coaxing could resuscitate it, so Ken hauled up anchor and chain hand over hand. We moved to the other bay, and as soon as we’d anchored, Ken crawled into the chain locker, which was no small feat, considering that his shoulders are wider than the opening.  He quickly identified the cause of the windlass malfunction, which turned out to be the deck switch, where a small wire had corroded and come adrift from its contact.  Luckily, SD’s captain had the foresight to have stocked a spare, and once he’d installed it we were rewarded with the familiar whine of a happy windlass.

Ken dove on the anchor to check its set, and although it seemed to be holding, he didn’t like the looks of it.  He decided to set a second hook, so he rowed our Fortress anchor out in the dinghy, setting it at about 45 degrees from the main anchor. The bottom must be like concrete, because the second anchor also didn’t dig in as deeply as he would have liked. However, with the engine running in reverse at full power, we didn’t move, so we’re stuck pretty good.

Older photo of Datca Town; much more developed now.

We made some forays ashore to explore, buy some (more!) wine and other groceries, and sample some local food at a quaint non-touristy café. We came close to buying a computer to replace our dead one, but in the end, the Turkish keyboard was a show-stopper. On day two, Ken decided to do some preventive maintenance on the engine, which turned out to be a fortuitous move, as he discovered that the sea-water cooling pump was leaking. So another repair project got underway, accompanied by the usual chaos of parts, rags, and tools littering the cabin. Ken replaced the worn seals with spares he had on hand, and the repair was a success.

By the end of our second day, the meltemi had cranked up again, and by day three it was really honking, so we stayed aboard. Our anchors are still holding and our anchor watch alarm has been blessedly silent, so we haven’t budged.  We plan to check out of Turkey and sail to Greece in two days, on July 15, as the winds are forecast to abate a little, and our mandatory Greek insurance takes effect that day.  Without this insurance (with one copy required in Greek), we would not be permitted to sail in Greek waters.  (I tried to read it, but it was all Greek to me.)  Our destination on the Greek island of Simi is only a few miles away, but we’re pretty excited about embarking on a new set of adventures in a whole new country!

Love, K and K

Note: We’ve added a new YOTREPS gadget to our blog which will take you directly to our current position.

You can reach us at SandDollar_N4KS@yahoo.com