More Gadding About

 The predicted high winds materialised, if that can happen, and we spent the day well sheltered in Datca South Harbour. The usual activities were undertaken.

The following day was Lindsay and Linda’s ruby wedding anniversary. Who would think such a thing could occur to those so young at heart and in appearance.

They had booked in to a restaurant at Selimiye, some 20 miles down the Gulf of Doris. It was still predicted to be blowing it’s tripe out (ancient Caledonian term) the next day but Lindsay had the stars of love in his eyes and was grimly determined to express his devotion. We tried to have an early night but sleep was hard to come by the howling in the spreaders.

The next morning Lindsay stopped by early and declared his revised plan to leave the trip for 24 hours. Good decision making.

Livianda looking good

So the following day we set off down the gulf to Selimiye. Lindsay had phoned ahead to ensure that the restaurant had reserved places for us on the pontoon. We both stopped in different bays for a swimming stop and by the time we reached our destination it was about 18.00 hours.

The restaurant had reneged on its promise to reserve us slots so it was up to us to berth.

We tried to get onto the pontoon that was reputedly the town quay, but were shooed away by a local guy who then helped local boats into the last two slots. We then toured the area for an anchorage but it was either deep, 20-25 metres, or there were boats tied to moorings that would be in our way if we swung to the scope that would be needed.

After 40 minutes of going around and trying to anchor, a bloke on a local boat moored ashore started yelling at us and doing the anchor pointing dance. He was rewarded with the T1 salute (medical term) but this decided me that we had had enough. By this time it was 19.00 hrs and dusk was approaching fast. The decision to be made was where else we could anchor.
The “perfect bay” we had anchored in before was about 7 miles away, and we would be marginal in terms of getting there before dark. However the decision was made, we yelled our apologies and farewell to Livianda (who had managed to find a deep anchorage they were content with) and we set off.

It rapidly became clear we were going to miss the sunset by some measure but I knew the bay and that the holding was good in sand.

However my ancient Raymarine chart plotter did not show this bay in fine detail, so I resorted to the Navionics plotter on my phone to bring us in avoiding obstructions, and dropped the anchor in 12m. It held well first time, and we had a peaceful night in splendid isolation under the stars.

Collision avoidance masterclass

The next day Liviandaa joined us again. Family celebrations had taken place as intended and all was well. The more junior members of the crew were due to depart that evening from Orhaniye, some 6 miles across the gulf so we all motored there, moored up at a restaurant jetty, and in due course said our farewells to Claire and Donald. This had been Donald's first sailing trip and although not perhaps a total convert, nothing too bad had happened to scare him off, so hopefully they will both join Livianda again.

Orhaniye is a very picturesque long bay with high mountains and pine covered slopes running steeply down to the water’s edge, almost like a fjord. There is a long, tall island in the middle of the bay with ancient fortifications on it. All a bit game of thrones. To cap it all there is a long sandbar extending out into the bay, where tourists walk calf deep out into the middle of the briny.

All in all a very attractive setting, so we spent a further night in Orhaniye.

I completely understand that from the point of view of the reader, this gadding about having fun must all be getting a bit tedious. We are having a great time but that is not (I think) what the blog is about. So I will try to bring in a few more practical aspects of sailing in this region.

So today it is Entomology

Turkey is blessed with a wide range of insects.

There are a profusion of dragonflies, we have been lucky to recruit a friendly boat spider who makes an appearance in the cockpit every now and again but I cannot work out where he hangs out between times.

There is the usual problem with wasps, indeed Linda stood on one and paid the price.

There are also large numbers of oriental hornets. I had not come across these before, and having read up about them I would be pleased not to see them again. They are just about the top predators of the insect world. They measure about 2.5cms, fly silently and can arrive in large numbers quite suddenly. They have a very painful sting and can deliver large quantities of venom.

Most worryingly they are very aggressive and can attack spontaneously or with minimal provocation. Apparently just getting in their way or waving a hand, causing an air disturbance can provoke an attack. Once they attack the pheromones released can induce the colony to attack.The advice is, that if stung, not to scream as the fear pheromones released can recruit the attackers buddies.

We came across a squadron guarding the amphitheatre at Knidos. Theyare bright red, huge and looked fairly terrifying so we beat a hasty retreat while whistling a happy tune, to subdue the fear pheromones. I keep my Epipen to hand.

And then there are the biting black flies. How I got to my time of life without knowing that flies could bite, I do not know. These little blighters have invaded the cockpit on a few occasions. They are smart, very smart. And for little guys they administer a surprisingly painful nip. Usually on the ankle. There is no possibility of getting them with an ordinary flyswat. They fly complex defensive patterns and seem to fly off the back of the boat, then before you know it they have come up behind you and bitten you on the ankle...Again.

Sort of cattle prod for flies

They often choose to attack when you are coming in to berth. They seem to have an intuition that when you are trying to do something you are at your most vulnerable.

Now as a motor biker I am very aware of the relative lack of insect life compared to when I was a youngster, and the last thing I would want to do is contribute to the decline of a species. But this is not tolerable. So we have resorted to employing an electric tennis raquet fly swat. It vaporises some small chaps, but these black flies are really tough. When zapped they are sometimes just stunned, and recover after a few minutes to resume their activities. Unless thrown overboard in the comatose state. 

So the new sport of cockpit fly tennis has been invented.