Aw Didims

We spent two nights in Datca. We’re worth it, apparently. The reality was that we needed a bit of down time and R&R after the Livianda crew left, well our livers did really.

We had a couple of peaceful days wandering around the town and doing some boat stuff. Datca really is a nice town, and the people are nice.

A friend in deed

We were about to leave for our next trip and I woke early and emerged into the cockpit. One of our near neighbours was setting off as well. However as can happen his anchor chain was fouled by an anchor chain from a crossing Gullet. Next thing he was in the water with his speedos and mask and snorkel. I watched with huge anticipation. Was he going to free dive down 20 metres and manually uncross 50kgs of anchor and chain?

After ten minutes he was becoming dispirited and his poor wife (I assume) on the wheel was getting a little fraught, if not distressed.

My next door neighbour had emerged from below before I did and had been watching. He was a mature chap on a very well specified yacht of about 50ft that I did not recognises as a mass production marque. It was well kitted out in a very seaman-like way and the master was clearly a pro.

He went forward and lowered himself over the side into his tender, motored out to the stricken vessel, tied up and went aboard. Simultaneously another dinghy turned up with a volunteer helper.

The new commander of the situation took very effective charge. He issued instructions to the captain of the Gullet to loosen his chain. They raised the anchor of the captive yacht with the chain across it. The guy in the dinghy then passed a hook device under the Gullet chain, they dropped the yacht anchor, tripped the hook device and they were free.

When he returned I congratulated him on his public spiritedness. He replied that the skipper did not know what to do in the situation, but everyone had to learn and he would know the next time.

When it came our turn to leave, he came on deck to watch and I was pleased to have such helpful, and non-judgemental potential assistance available to help in a minor crisis. Nice town, nice people.

It happens!

During the night there had been some disturbance with quite a lot of shouting going on. Not drunken or belligerent shouting but purposeful communication sort of shouting. As we motored out of Datca the subject of the disturbance became clear. A yacht was anchored in the fairway minus it’s mast. Well most of it anyway.

It became apparent that this boat had been brought in and anchored up as a rescue mission. The shrouds and sails were entirely absent as was the mast which had broken a couple of metres above the deck. The only way I can see that this could have happened was that a shroud had failed under sail, the mast broken and the whole lot ended up in the briny. It would then have had to be cut away, and at night.

So. pleased I have just had my rigging replaced, and also that I have added a cordless angle grinder to the tool kit!

The skipper was just sitting in the cockpit reading, probably the bus timetables.

Datca to Knidos

Our next target was Knidos at the tip of the Datca peninsula. We were against the wind all the way but had a really good sail making good progress most of the way. We anchored up at Knidos in a good piece of sand and enjoyed the ancient historical surroundings. Since we were last here the site has been worked on some more and is now completely fenced off. Diggers are doing stuff and while I agree that the current presentation of a pile of stones laid out on the ground is not adequate to inspire or tell the story of this fascinating site, I hope they don’t go for a full scale Disney reconstruction.

Knidos

I set about thinking about the problem of our main sail. The problem seemed to be that on a close hauled point of sail it was too loose and backwinded by a well set foresail, such that we were getting almost no drive from it. It seemed that we needed to be able to tighten the main sheet down to flatten the sail but that the front end of the Bimini got in the way.

Boom on Bimini - not good

   

I wondered about lowering the front end of the Bimini by moving the connectors of the front element of the stainless tell structure downwards. This would involve drilling out the rivets holding the connector in place, drilling some new holes 10cms lower and re-riveting the connection. I had actually got as far as getting out the drill when I realised this would not work as the spray hood, which we mostly sail with down, has to fit under the front end of the Bimini and lowering it would make this impossible. Eeee Aaaaw.

So the next day while sailing I tried tightening up the out haul to it’s maximum to see if flattening the sail in that direction would help. Our main is loose footed, i.e., not attached to the boom, so the out haul can readily modify the shape of the sail.

Outhaul Line  - Outer Braid destroyed

But I could not pull the out haul out any further. At first I thought that the bowline loop attaching the out haul to the clew was too big and preventing the out haul being tensioned, but on further examination it became clear that the outer braid of the out haul line had disintegrated and was jamming on the block inside the boom. Completely out of vision!

So I removed the damaged piece of line, tied the clew to the line with a much smaller knot and the mainsail can now be set much better for a close hauled sail. It is not perfect but a definite result. Bring on those Jeanneau.

Nisyros - bit of an explosion

We had a peaceful night at Knidos and set off the next morning heading North towards Bodrum. As we rounded the cape there is a good view of the Greek island of Nisyros which is a dormant volcano. You can see the bit that is now missing from when it erupted. Must have been a big bang.

Knidos to Bodrum

Sometimes this passage up the way past Kos can be a bit of a trial as the prevailing wind is N and the journey is N. However we were lucky in that there was a bit of W is the wind and we sailed almost the entire passage.

It was this stretch of coast where there was a famous incident involving a Sunsail boat many years ago. The hapless skipper had persuaded Sunsail to give him a Spinnaker to play with and on a brisk rum down from Bodrum decided to “get it up”. He and his wife attempted this with the engine running and at some point during the procedure the Spinnaker sheet went over the side, wrapped round the prop, was pulled out of his teeth in which he was holding it at the time (why) and they were instantly disabled.

They drifted onto the coast of Kos, which as a Turkish flagged boat you are not meant to do, and caused a bit of a stir. This was the last year Sunsail gave out Spinnakers, irrespective of how many yacht-master qualifications the captain claimed to possess.

Rub a dub - Stainless Sparkling***

We anchored in a bay some miles West of Bodrum known as Aspat Koyu. Somewhat unremarkable with a few holiday clubs ashore. Not too noisy but excellent sandy holding and a good anchorage. The isthmus of the promontory is a bit low so the Meltemi does come across it but the anchor has excellent purchase.

Our next target was Yalikavac. Many years ago this was the home of the Sunsail Farmess beach sailing club. We had several memorable holidays there when the kids were small. One of the great benefits of the model that Sunsail had was that the kids went off to various age group determined clubs during the daytime and were delivered back to their parents in the evening, fed watered and tired.

This was also the site where I went missing on a windsurfer causing a S&R incident I had ended up in the village of Yalikavac and had to walk back in bare feet over several miles of unmade road. The soles were like pounds of raw mince at the end as I stood bleeding on the marble floor in the foyer.

Bodrum to Yalikavac

At that time Yalikavac was completely undeveloped and consisted of a boatyard and dusty village. Turkey fell out with Sunsail over work permit issues and all the clubs closed. We were concerned that this would have a huge impact on the local economy as they were a big employer and consumer of local goods. We need not have worried. In the interim Yalikavac has become one of the Med’s biggest and best super-yacht centres with a very posh marina and all facilities for servicing super-yachts.

It is also nice to see squadrons of Turkish kids learning windsurfing and dinghy sailing with a safety boat in attendance, rather than just foreigners as in our day.

20 years ago the surrounding hills in the bay were desolate and when the sun went down there was instantly pitch darkness, The entire bay is now covered with new build holiday homes and luxury villas and at night the illumination is stupendous. Good luck at night finding the flashing Westerly Cardinal marking the reef against this background.

Electric flying surfboard - I want one!

Several years later we had re-visited Yalikavac on a Flotilla holiday as a lunch stop. We were sailing in company with associates (Spinnaker team).

We decided to meet at Yalikavac for lunch. The other boat had arrived first and dropped anchor in a bay on the N shore of the gulf. Unusually the wind was in the SE and he was just about protected by the bay.

He called for us to drop anchor and moor up alongside with some form of admonishment like “Sure it’ll be all right, ya wimp” (add your own Antipodean accent).

Lunch was had and the wind shifted more to the S, and before we knew it there was a stiff breeze, waves developing and we were anchored in convoy on a lee shore.

Super yachts in Yalikavac

We decided to leave pronto, and weighed the anchor. As we were doing this I glanced back and noticed that the the other boat was also moving, but towards the shore. I guess we had tripped their anchor. I shouted warnings. Suddenly the crew realised their perilous position and leapt into apparent random activity.

The next thing I knew was that they had started the engine and were motoring at high speed past us, with the anchor still down, they then pirouetted around the front of us as we took a sudden lurch. They then sailed in a circle right round us. Their anchor chain was wrapped round our keel!

The activity on deck continued for some time as a strategy developed. This strategy was exposed when they tied a fender to the anchor chain and dumped the whole lot over the side, and left us to our fate.

So we were immobilised trussed up like a Christmas turkey and drifting onto the shore with increasing wind and waves. T’riffic.

However Poseidon was watching and chose to intervene, not to rescue us from our dilemma but to punish the perpetrators. In their moment of triumph, as they made their escape they ran over the fender buoying the anchor and wrapped the rope round their prop!! Fortuitously they drifted into a pontoon.

Meanwhile, their anchor chain, now no longer under tension as they motored against it, fell off our keel. However by this time we were aground.

I was in the process of wondering what to do, and not coming to any purposeful conclusion, when I spotted an elderly Turkish chap rowing out to us from the shore through the breaking surf. By now there was a fair 20kn wind.

He came alongside and explained he wanted a very long line to take to his fixed mooring buoy. Our middle son, then about 12, went with him. They rowed about about 100 metres to a large metal buoy and fixed the line.

We put the line on the electric windlass and started trying to winch ourselves off the mud. Slowly, slowly the nose of the boat turned as the waves broke on the beam. Much shouting and running about. A few minor twangs in the winching line, and then I could see fibres of the rope start to separate and suddenly the rope parted with enormous force released. Bang. Fortunately no-one was injured.

This still seemed the best strategy however as we had nearly broken ourselves loose. We went through the whole procedure again, son and man deployed again, moored a further line to the buoy and winched ourselves round with the windlass. The drama was further enhanced by the windlass trip switch activating multiple times during the process and every-time I ran downstairs to reset it I passed our youngest sitting amidships muttering “we’re all going to die” repeatedly.

Amazingly with great jubilation we suddenly broke free. I tried as best I could to give our great thanks to our hero. I hope they got through over the howl of the wind and the language gap. What a gent.

Scene of the crime

By now our ex-companions boat was getting a good doing from the waves smashing it onto the pontoon. There were several helpers there and they had rigged a wooden fender board to try to reduce damage, but both the boat and the pontoon were getting a real biffing as the wind was a good 5-6 and the waves a couple of metres.

 

But we were free. Just as we were making our exit, the VHF crackled into life hailing us. The Sunsail lead skipper and engineer had been made aware that two of their little ducklings were in peril and had arrived on scene in a car.

Now this skipper was a bright young product of public school, slightly full of himself and definitely a bit imperious. He was determined to take charge of the situation.

He told us of his location on another pontoon in the bay and instructed us that we had to come and take him and his colleague off the pontoon in order that he could rescue the other boat.

I tried to explain that we were undamaged, uninjured, all our equipment was intact and we were free to continue our voyage. M was adamant that we should just flee while we all had the chance, and all more or less intact, other than our self esteem.

He was not having it and formally pulled rank as the Flotilla Skipper and instructed me I had to return and follow his commands. I was then less experienced than now, and I think now I would have probably taken the view that further messing about on a lee shore might put my crew at risk and tell him to stick it. However I did as I was bidden. I reversed onto the pontoon he was on, with a strong wind on the nose and breaking waves, and managed to pluck him and the engineer off before we fell off sideways.

He then instructed my crew to don life jackets, go below and took over the boat. We drove over to where the other boat was being demolished by the waves.

We managed to get ropes on the bow and stern of the other boat and pulled it off sideways. We then towed it across the bay and anchored up. The engineer dived down and cut the rope off the prop. All that remained to be done was retrieve the ground tackle, which the Sunsail team did the following day. Ah well, sailing is indeed a steep learning curve and much is learned from these close encounters. We certainly had plenty to discuss in the de brief over a few shamefaced beers later that evening.

Sunrise - Another day in Paradise

Yalikavac to Didim

Enough of historical adventures. Our next destination was Didim. Not a big distance, some 20 miles but we were against the prevailing wind. A big tack and some wind shift to the West took us there without difficulty. The wind picked up to 15-20 kts in the afternoon and we shortened sail and were still bowling along at a good rate of knots.

There is big marina at Didim but we decided to anchor up in the bay of Altinkum just next to it. I am not sure if you are now supposed to do this, as we were the only pleasure craft there. The bay is the base for the local fishing fleet, which continues to try to harvest every last living thing out of the Mediterranean waters. Indeed I have seen them hanging around fish farms, presumably rounding up those brave souls with the temerity to escape.

The holding was good in 7 metres of water, with a clear, sandy bottom.

We went ashore for a stroll along the prom and a beer in a restaurant. It is a very pleasant, unpretentious holiday town, clean and friendly.

The people and the restaurateurs pay good attention to social distancing, mask wearing, temperature taking and hand sanitising, and the general feeling is of good order and polite behaviour.

Altinkum

When we returned to the boat I thought we were in trouble. All the bars and restaurants in the bay had opened up and each was playing it’s own music at full volume. A mix of doof doof, Turkish traditional, Turkish modern, electronic, and a bit of jazz. And we were at the sonic epicentre of what turned out to be white noise at 150 decibels. The cacophony was quite disturbing. But suddenly at midnight it all stopped, and the last song of a jazz guitar came pleasantly to it’s conclusion. There must be some well enforced local regulations. There is much to be said for a rules based order of things. Politicians take note.

Fishing fleet at Altinkum

There are few foreign tourists about. In the morning we saw the fleet of tripper boats settling off, each with only a small handful of clients. These boats offer a full days sailing and lunch for the equivalent of £10. They cannot continue to run for long unless business improves.

A school of swimmers

Officially tonking

I woke up in the morning to the sound of conversation, large numbers of voices, male and female, in Turkish. As we were anchored about a mile from shore this was a bit of a surprise so I popped up my head to see what was going on hoping we had not drifted ashore?

No, we were surrounded by a few dozen locals out for a swim. Swimming in Turkey seems to be a hugely social event. Where you see Turkish people having a Gullet stopover, they all jump into the water and just float, and converse, often for hours. Turkish ladies in particular converse almost continuously, often with flowery swim hats on, and seem to be able to speak in sentences that last about five minutes without drawing breath. It is quite a recognisable lyrical and musical sound that results and becomes quite familiar.

These swimmers round our boat had come from shore about a mile away and consisted of all ages and sizes. They were not strong swimmers however and went very slowly in a group. There were a variety of strokes, doggy paddle being most common, a somewhat exaggerated slow crawl with the head out of the water and body vertical, popular is the slow double action back crawl, a bit like an upturned turtle.

The day before two girls had swum out to the same distance off shore and then drifted almost out of vision down wind of us. Again they were clearly not strong swimmers and I nearly got in the dinghy to go and offer assistance, but with the help of the binos I could see they were making a land fall and seemed to be managing continued conversation. It is probably a good thing but they seem entirely fearless of the sea and it’s perils.

After a peaceful night we contemplated a journey further North to Kusadasi from where we could visit Ephesus. However the promised south west wind did not materialise and we didn’t fancy beating against the northwester that transpired, So Genoa up and we run with it to Paradise Bay , proper name Kaziki Limani. Past fish farms and huge unfinished holiday resorts we were not hopeful that the unspoiled bay described by Rod Heikel in our ancient pilot book, would have been spared.

Thankfully it has, bar a bit of aberrant plastic on the beach, and we spent the day reading, enjoying swimming in the emerald water and watching the occasional kingfisher whistling about. Paradise indeed.