What goes down must go up.

We were due to meet up with old sailing friends from 15 years ago, Lindsay and Linda McKerrow, with Daughter Claire and partner Donald from Inverness and Edinburgh. They are also inveterate Mediterranean boat owners and know their way around this neck of the woods very well.

They had told me they had a Bavaria 46 and had sent me the name which I had committed to memory as starting with an L and having a V and an N in it.

We were in email contact and knew they had arrived and told them we were at Tomb bay. However we found out there was a large flotilla coming in that night and I thought it might be a bit crowded so I sent a message saying we would rendezvous at Kappi Creek. The discussion was fragmented by the wifi signal we had, but I assumed my message had got through.
They were coming from Fethiye some 15 miles away to meet us. We set off to what we thought was an appropriate time to Kappi Creek.

A short time out we spotted a Bavaria 46 with a small group of people aboard heading towards Tomb Bay, the spot we had just come from. M got out the binos and identified the boat name on the stern as Levante. Obviously they had set off a bit early and had decided to catch us at Tomb Bay, or they had not got my message.

We tacked around and went after them, when we got close enough we were waving and shouting. I even resorted to blowing our big whistle to attract their attention. However they studiously ignored us and proceeded to berth up on the restaurant pontoon.

We did the same and started berthing up beside them. They had aged well from a slight distance, indeed they seemed younger than when we last saw them. Linda had also become blonde and Lindsay had certainly muscled up a bit. This might all be a bit dispiriting given my state of decrepitude.

The Turkish crew of the Bavaria were somewhat bemused by our effusive welcome. They were even more bemused by our sudden and embarrassed departure when we realised this was the wrong boat!

We motored over to Kappi Creek. When we got in it was very full. The guys from the restaurant were out in skiffs trying to organise as many boats in as they could. When we had been here before there had been a couple of low draft catamarans moored on the inside of the pontoon about 15m from the partially sunken wall of an ancient harbour.

The marineros indicated they wanted us in this berth. I was somewhat dubious as we had swum there and it was very shallow with rocks and stonework in abundance. I presumed they had done this before, the weather was settled so I thought we would have a gentle nose round to see if it was feasible. It wasn’t until we were round the back end of the pontoon and were fully committed that it became clear that the plan today was to stack half a dozen boats stern to, on the inside of the pontoon, using mooring lines tied to the sunken wall!!

This suddenly became a high risk manoeuvre but there was no way of getting back out. In the end it was performed with great panash, even if I say so myself.

Livianda (not Levante) arrived short time later with the McKerrows on board, and a pleasant evening took place. We agreed to set off West the next day and aimed to meet in Ciftlik, just West of the Gulf of Marmaris, some 35nm.

The Meltemi, results in the reversal of the aphorism that what goes up must come down, in that if you have a nice easy sail downwind at some point you are probably going to have to sail back the way up into the wind.

Sunken wall mooring point

So having had a cracking couple of days going East downwind it, was now time to go back the way.

The problem was in the leaving. The restaurant marineros had stacked a further 5 boats after us and we could go nowhere until they did. We were imprisoned.

The other boats were crewed by a motley assortment with various levels of competence. The first boat in the stack was manned by a group of young male Turks who got up late and had a leisurely breakfast. They then had a nap, and then a leisurely lunch. No amount of M doing “angry walking” up and down the pontoon made the slightest bit of difference.

The next boat down did not even seem to have recognised the problem and one crew member declared he was sure there was enough room for us to get out!

Eventually about 1p.m. they decided to leave and release the rest of the captives. Off they went without too much planning apparent, and promptly ran aground. The marineros towed them off.

Wher's the dinghy going?

They other boats left in sequence without event. Apart from the boat immediately next to us, which was crewed by a group of elderly British gents. They had only recently surfaced after their evening carousing, and still seemed a bit neuro-cognitively compromised. They nearly left minus a crew member who had gone missing. It took a while to find him.

They then managed to release their dinghy painter rather than their mooring line. The dinghy promptly floated onto the beach. Fortunately the marineros reassured them they would fetch the dinghy and they were extricated from their berth, and we were then able to follow them and were free.

We now were too late to make it all the way to Ciftlik in daylight unless we motored, but we decided to sail, and ended up in Ekincik, as an anchorage we knew quite well. We had a boisterous upwind sail into an increasing breeze that reached 20-25kts by late afternoon. By this time we had a reef in the main sail and were bowling along into 1-2m waves but it was great fun. We anchored in Ekincik and slept soundly.

Taking anchor transits

This is why anchors drag

The next day the agreed target with Livianda was Serce Limani, at the end of the Marmaris peninsula, some 32 nm distant.

The hairdryer effect

Once again we were heading into a building westerly breeze. after a couple of hours the wind indicator was reading a steady 20 knots. A reef in the main sail made everything much more comfortable with a minor reduction in boat speed. Another couple of hours showed the steady wind speed up to 25 knots and the seas were building. We put a reef of about 3 turns in the Genoa which again made things quieter but reduced our boat speed quite considerably.
A boat appeared behind us with all sail up and making ground. A quick check through the binos and it was a Bavaria 46. Surely Livianda was not going to have the pleasure of overtaking us.

Bowling along

However to unfurl the Genoa would have been acknowledging competition and I was not going to formalise a contest. It would have been unseemly and unseaman-like, (and we might still have lost anyway). Just at the point when I would have been able to put the sails away, and still be slightly ahead, the Bavaria tacked and headed back out to sea. It was not Livianda after all, another misidentification!
We went ashore to Captain Nemo's restaurant in Serce Limani and another good night was had.
The following day was another 30nm beat to Palamut towards the end of the Datca peninsula. There were light winds in the morning but we were keen not to motor so a long lazy tack was taken, halfway to Rhodes, and we arrived at Palamut early evening after a very pleasant day of sailing.

Palamut proved to be a small one-street village centred around the Turkish holiday season, with helpful marineros on the quay. Unfortunately, we are getting perilously close to the end of our gas supply. ‘No problem! We will ask the gas man to come !!’

Best seat in the house

A moped soon purred along the pontoon, looking somewhat triumphant at coming to our rescue. Unfortunately our Greek cylinders had a completely different cylinder and valve set up. Alas, not compatible. Cups of tea are now on strict rations, until we can find another source.
In all a very satisfying 3 days upwind. Summertime took it well in her stride. She hardly slammed at all and took the oncoming waves well, providing hand steering was taking place. If the autopilot was relied upon she would be knocked off a bit and boat speed suffered. I would be more confident now in our ability to make good distance up wind if we decide to go North next season.