0500
Wake up to the anchor dragging. That disturbing slapping noise is very definitely the sound of Esper’s hull gently smashing the rocky shore we anchored too close to last night. My gut knots with panic-stricken terror and I try to get out of bed, only to find that the cabin is knee deep in water.

0530
Wake up again, this time realising that I hadn’t woken up at 0500 and that, just like Alice, it had all been a dream.

0545
If there’s a mosque near by the Wailey Wailey man penetrates my disturbed sleep, his call to prayer adding to the horror of Esper’s anchor-dragging nightmare. Evil bearded clerics point and guffaw at my lame anchoring efforts; Esper drags so much she floats into the town bazaar where market traders beckon us into their carpet emporiums, offering us apple tea and hubbly bubblies whilst showing us magic carpets and other theurgic modes of transport that don’t require anchors.

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The first job we had to attend to was the leaking deck fittings. This meant ripping down the headboards, unbolting the deck fittings and caking ourselves in Sikaflex (this is a marine rubber sealant that takes three weeks to remove from your fingernails). John’s tips and encouragement meant we could tick that job off the list in no time.

As we get to know Turkey a bit better so we are able to make some judgements on places we have visited as yotties. One thing that really sticks out when comparing this area to anywhere north of here is just how busy it can get. It’s one thing I’m not really able to get my head around as we’re used to anchorages with one or two other boats as neighbours, not entire flotillas of gullets and party boats!

Dave the Egret joined us for a 24 hour leg somewhere in the middle of the Atlantic. Obviously tired from flying he decided to take passage on Ocean Indies and earned his keep by staying on anchor watch for the entire time he was aboard. When he parted he left behind a little present for us on the deck.