The Summertime that nearly wasn't

Summertime Blog 2020

The summertime that nearly wasn’t.

It is often said that we are living in strange times, and clearly we are living in turbulent times, both in terms of world health, politics and any number of facets of life you care to mention.

In this context the writing of a rather facile travel blog documenting our somewhat pointless and privileged meanderings in a boat seems a bit superfluous.

However we are doing it primarily so we can remember what we did when our dotage arrives, which may not be too long. To our surprise the blog has been somewhat successful. It has not reached viral status. I think you have to be in your 20’s and be somewhat videogenic and gorgeous to have a following that allows blogging to become a career. I certainly don’t fall into that category though M might still have aspirations in that direction. However to our great delight and surprise we have been awarded the Hanson Cup by the Cruising Association, which as far as I can make out is their premier award for a log and account of a sailing journey. Well done us!

We had been due to return to Summertime in April this year with an outline plan to set off West, probably via Crete, to Italy and possibly France and Spain via the various islands in the middle. This plan got a smart smack on the head with the arrival of the Pandemic, and indeed we thought for a long time that our sailing for this year was doomed. However as things quietened down it seemed possible there might be a hiatus of opportunity between the primary wave of the virus and the seemingly inevitable recrudescence, when we might slip through the various impediments to travel and return to the boat for a bit of nautical self isolation.

There are probably those who will disapprove of international flying during the crisis, and I would not argue too much with that. However we have been pretty much in splendid isolation since March and am certain we are not infective. However I suppose we could become victims and need treatment, but the back of the fag packet calculation ( do they still have fag packets?) of prevalence and risk was in favour of going for it. So as a present to myself, and to ward off the gloom of lockdown, I had booked us on a flight from Gatwick to Dalaman on the 25^th August, which just happened to be my birthday.

So off we went with a pile of boat related equipment including a solar panel, a mattress memory foam topper, replacement water heater element, cordless angle grinder (for dividing an immovable anchor chain, you would not believe the excessive eventuality planning that has taken place) and countless other essential items all wrapped up in a tarpaulin parcelled up immaculately with string (M was in charge of this since she attained a Brownie badge for making a parcel ).

M with her parcel

Our usual journey to the airport was compromised by the reduced bus schedule, so we ended up renting a car and staying in an airport hotel, which was all surprisingly cost effective. Reduced demand due to the pandemic has resulted in more competition, in land transport as well as air. My concern is that these enterprises seem to be genuinely on their knees and many may not survive.

Empty Gatwick. Wierd

The flight was fine. I had adopted my normal strategy of taking seats at the rear. Data shows this is the most survivable position in the event of a crash, but this benefit is further enhanced in that all the other potentially virus riven passengers are breathing forwards, away from you. I managed to avoid conversing with the young Russian mum with two kids sitting across the aisle but she got us in the end and the last hour and a half was interesting!

We spent an anxious 20 minutes waiting for the parcel to arrive on the luggage belt after everyone else had gone before finally finding it sitting on its own in an empty airport. The handlers had sensibly not entrusted it to mechanical conveyance and parked it by hand, Good thinking.

 The transfer to the Marina was courtesy of Marmaris Transfers booked on line. It turned out the driver was a previous acquaintance in his familiar black pimped VW van, resplendent with coloured led strips, plush upholstery and cushions, fridge, Wi-Fi and tele, providing a looped video of fish and varied marine life. More suited to a 16 year girls birthday party than a couple of tired old farts, but welcome all the same.

We arrived at the marina about midnight. Security was expecting us (well done the marina) and we were delivered to Juliet pontoon where we believed Summertime was moored, and there she was resplendent in the moonlight. 

But how to get aboard. The marina guys quite sensibly moored the boats some way off the pontoon, and there was no gangplank. So a bit of a hop skip and a jump was required, and I was aboard. Unfortunately there was no gangplank aboard either – it had gone the way of many things that sit about in boat yards.

We crashed out with a wee libation and woke the next morning to 36 degrees.

One of the main agendas for returning to Summertime was to see the work done in our absence and settle up. The boat is now 16 years old so we were having the standing rigging replaced. Necessary, but at eye watering expense.

I had intended returning a week before launch to do the hull work, antifouling, inspect the rudder bush and do a bit of minor gel coat repairs. Stuff I have done before and within our capabilities as folk with not-a-lot-else-to-do. However the global emergency had compromised this and we had arranged for one of the maintenance companies in the yard to do this. My Scottish eyes were weeping buckets.

However all seemed to be in good order with the work done and I was generally pleased.

Prior to setting off for Turkey I had enquired several times about the bill and payment and received obfuscation in reply. I imagined this was because the Boss wanted to make sure I was happy with the work and/or the size of the bill was going to astound me. When I came to settle up however, the Boss finally revealed the subplot, that we were going to be offered a reduction for paying in cash. Exactly how this worked I am not sure, nor do I need to know. But he wanted cash – a large wad of it - in Euros.

I explained I did not have the large number of thousands on me and he suggested a trip to town to visit the bank.

So the next day M and I boarded the Dolmus local bus and off we went to town. We tracked down a Turkish version of our own bank, and after the temperature taking and spraying down ceremony we entered the air conditioned office. 

The very helpful young lady explained that as non-Turkish citizens they could not sell us Euros. So it was either ATMs or the row of money changers on the high street. We visited about half a dozen different ATMs and using an equal number of different cards we finally got out the required amount of cash, with transaction fees of 8-10%!

Then it dawned on me that it was actually quite likely that the survival of the somewhat grubby looking row of money changing shops probably meant they were slightly less involved in banditry than the main international banks with their plush offices and air conditioning.

However the deed was done.

Our other main reason for visiting town was to sort out our comms. In the UK I had heard that Vodafone recognise Turkey as an EU country with regards to roaming payments and you could use their data and minutes as if you were in the UK. I had therefore got us both sorted out with PAYG SIMs and big happy bundles of 30 GB each in order to enjoy internet use, and in particular access to weather forecasting etc.

However it did not work. On further reading it would seem the deal only applies if you have a top spec monthly payment package, although in my own defence that really is not clear from the blurb.

Anyway we bought a Turkish SIM from the Vodafone shop and all was well.

The next day I finally sorted out paying the yard. I did the calculation for the deal I thought we were having and counted out the large bundle of fifties. “Oh no, it it only the labour costs that have a reduction, the materials are full cost”!

So my foray into the cash economy resulted in a saving of about 4.5%. And I had just paid 8-10% to the banking bandits for the privelige of access to my own money!! Just as well I had not worked in the world of commerce, it would have been a short career.

We searched the huge yard and hard standing area for our missing gangplank. It was very distinctive with a piece of carpet screwed to either end and a series of cross struts underneath to give structural support, so was quite unique and easily identifiable. But no luck, it had vanished. Either someone had an eye for a good bit of design or, more likely, when the yard guys put the boat back in the water it was just left behind as a bit of detritus.

We also had an articulated metal passarelle in the aft locker that had been there since we got the boat and never used. This had been set up with a fixing point on the top of the cockpit seat and was basically far too high for most pontoons and harbour quay walls. We had toyed with the idea of jettisoning it as something we would not use, preferring the wooden gangplank.

So I drilled a large hole in the top of the sugar-scoop and fitted a fixing point there. The folding passarelle fits there very nicely and is actually much easier to use than the old plank. So everyone is a winner, the new owner of our old plank and us in having a better arrangement and the benefit of more storage in the aft locker. I am not sure whether the learning point is “never to throw away something that might be useful”, or “don’t overload your boat with excessive stuff”.

Our new passarelle

It took a while to go through inspecting everything and it was not until we had been aboard for a day that I got round to testing all the electrical systems. I then discovered that the masthead mooring light was not working and also the wind instruments, both wind speed and direction indicator were not sending signals to the instrument on the steering binnacle.

During the replacing of the standing rigging the mast was taken down and all the electrical cables cut. These were then repaired after the mast was replaced. This seemed the most likely source of the problem. I had a quick look at the new connections that had been made but I had no idea which was which as nothing was labelled. It was information provided on a need to know basis.

So I returned to the office to discuss. The guys responded promptly and a team of three arrived. The team comprises the guy how knows stuff, the guy who speaks some English and a third guy who’s function is mysterious, mostly moral support and encouragement.

They rapidly sorted a duff connection for the masthead light and climbed the mast to take a photo of the light working for proof, but could not find a solution for the wind instruments. 

Fortunately the Raymarine office is handily right next door to our guys’, so discussions took place and a rapid response team of another three guys in Raymarine livery tea-shirts arrived. 

Dead wind instrument

They decided that the problem must lie inside the binnacle and they need to take it apart. The problem with this is the binnacle has at some point in the past been damaged and had been repaired a bit like a jigsaw puzzle held together with Sikaflex so there was a distinct possibility of the whole thing disintegrating if they tried to take it apart. 

Binnacle repair

So my position was that I could sail quite happily without wind instruments but if the binnacle disintegrated I could lose the chart plotter, depth gauge and autopilot, which are much more mission critical. However the Raymarine head honcho could smell a potential sale in the wind and instructions were issued and off they went with screw drivers and box cutters. I watched with great trepidation but they actually managed to dismantle it without causing any new damage. The conclusion was that they needed to take the instrument back to the office for testing and off they went.

Several hours passed and no news emerged so eventually I visited the office. The entire staff wer present and engaged in a coffee and Marlboro event, with my instrument sitting forlornly of the managers desk. 

I enquired what the testing had shown. I was told it might be broken, probably, but they would need to return to test the entire system from the masthead down and that the cables in the mast were not compatible with the instrument and might all need replaced. And this further investigatory work might start – tomorrow.

I went off for a walk. My analysis of the situation was that these instruments and their cables had worked perfectly for 16 years and were therefore unlikely to be incompatible. There was clearly power getting to the instrument on the binnacle as the light worked, just not the LED display or direction arrow. It was possible that the masthead anemometer and wind-ex transducers had been damaged during the dismasting, but it was much more likely that the cable they shared that was divided and repaired was the problem. Instrument data transmission on boats is an entire science that only those with a particular interest know much about, and the instrument companies like to keep it that way. Raymarine have a bespoke system called Seatalk which is actually just a version of a US standard system called NMEA 0183 which has been used for many years. I returned to the boat and tested the Seatalk cable that went into the wind instrument and there was no voltage in any of the wires, ergo that is the problem.

I concluded that I was probably being set up for an attempt to persuade me that my whole system was obsolete and should be replaced. A discussion between the juxtaposed offices may have revealed the size of the wad of cash I had just parted company with and the vultures were circling.

So I needed to demonstrate that I was not quite dead meat yet and I returned to the office. I adopted my most assertive posture and explained that my wife was throwing a wobbly and we needed to leave in order to prevent marital breakdown and could they please return and put it all back together again to save my hide.

This approach obviously chimed with the assembled male group and the empathy flowed. Within ten minutes the team of three came back to the boat and with great aplomb, and a lot of silicone, reconstructed the three dimensional jigsaw that was my steering binnacle. No charge, perhaps I misjudged, or perhaps they just recognised a desperate man with a harridan wife.

Rustic wind instrument

The last outstanding technical issue was the outboard. This is a little Honda 2.3hp air cooled engine which over the last three years has been totally reliable. It had been stored in the aft heads over the last year and I was really not expecting any problems with it. But she would not start. I could not believe this, and tried all known techniques until I realised I had taken a bit of skin off my finger from the pull cord. 

Sore finger!

 At that point I resorted to just cursing at it in the manner of Basil Fawlty but that did not work either. I suspect it is the petrol that has gone off over the last year stored in high temperatures. Again it is not mission critical and I resolved to put it in the “sort-it-out-later” pile.

So three days after arrival we were ready to leave. This now seems to be pretty standard time it takes to get provisioned and sort through all the boat systems after a lay up.

We were heading West to meet up with Liviada who were somewhere near Bodrum. The winds were due to be West and North West and increasing during the day. We set off early to take advantage of the lighter morning winds.

We motored out of Marmaris bay for an hour or so and then the breeze arrived as predicted on the nose. We got the sails up and off we went. The breeze slowly built and we were soon beating up wind with reefs in the main and Genoa, cracking along at 6-8 knots.

We were joined by bottle nosed Dolphins for a bit just to complete a fantastic day’s sailing. We moored up in the familiar bay of Loryma with its ancient fortifications. We were back.