The Ship’s Log covers journeys undertaken by sail or canal boat, and includes general posts not covered by the Travel category.
We awoke to the sound of preparation for getting under way. The Skipper and First Mate were determined to take us for a “fantastic Turkish breakfast” across Marmaris Bay. We dropped anchor at “Orange”. Lesley opted to swim to shore whilst we motored in the orange blancmange. We bagged sun loungers in true Germanic style by leaving our towels out and sat at a table in the shade on the decking, facing out into the bay.
Fantastic Turkish Breakfast! Read Post »
After about ¾ mile we broke out and started some serious stuff with 3 sails out, proving that with a ketch rig you don’t need the mainsail if you want to cruise comfortably. Before long, however the Skipper decided it was time to turn right round a full 180 degrees and head due west towards Turunc, which is where we would be mooring up for the night.
Let’s Go Sailing and Discover Turunc Read Post »
Jamie put out a call and within minutes we had a response from fellow yachties (several actually), but the first proved to be the nearest and also have all the right equipment. We gulped a cup of coffee and waited patiently for “International Rescue”. More exchanges on the VHF followed and after about an hour a rib driven by a salty sea dog came hurtling towards us with two divers all togged up with tanks, flippers and wet suits to sort us out.
Getting Our Anchor Chain Fouled Read Post »
Despite being quite close in, we were suddenly surrounded by local boats (including those mini-gulets) passing us on both sides, jam-packed with tourists. This eventually quietened down and gave us time to relax a bit except when the ice cream man came motoring by with calls of “Isa creama, chocka lolly” which we ignored! After a swim & snorkel Mike turned on the hot shower on deck and managed to spray everything on board within range as he was facing the wrong way-got ticked off by the Skipper AND First Mate.
The Gearbox Actually Worked! Read Post »
We meandered up the cobbled pathway to the castle only to find it closed, but we did not need much persuasion from Jamie & Liz to climb up to the highest café in town for cold refreshments in the Panoramic Bar. We gazed at the beautiful scenery in the bay and were able to see Esper’s berth in the distance.
Where Have The Winds Gone? Read Post »
Gerald, a fellow yachtie who had previous knowledge & experience of matters mechanical, joined us and proved invaluable. A fan was set up to keep us cool and with plenty of cold drinks, twisting & turning, the gearbox eventually clicked into place. Hurrah- but will it work? Meantime-where is Millyu?
Getting That Damn Gearbox Back In Place Read Post »
After debriefing we were taken to the Marina swimming pool-memories of swimming up and down looking at the blue skies and hearing the slatting of the rigging in the masts. Was it really only a few hours ago that we were in England? A poolside lunch fortified us for the afternoon.
The Folks Are Back In Town Read Post »
till, we spotted a turtle whilst running goosewing (Esper was running goosewing, not the turtle), this time with the main, jib and mizzen, hitting up to 8kn speed over ground. By the time we’d reached Kadirga Br., the last corner before Marmaris, we were a sweating, sunburnt and tired mess. We’d travelled over 50 miles today and still managed to get to Marmaris in time to drop anchor, have a refreshing swim, shower, get ashore and have a silly evening with our friends Benn and Becks.
Getting To Marmaris Read Post »
Lessons learned? Rely on no one but yourself. Beware of Turks bearing gifts: they may say ‘yes, we can fix it’ to every problem posed but this is not always the case. We have now spent £££s on this transmission issue (I no longer call it a gear-box issue as there was nothing ever wrong with the gear box) and have wasted over a week at anchor waiting for various mechanics and boat yards to fix this problem. Still, you live and learn, innit?
Don’t Worry About The Half Metre Depth Read Post »
Icmeler, Bodrum, Turkey A day after we get our boat lifted out of the water: In the space of a few seconds the azure skies of Bodrum suddenly turned a dirty brown this morning. Looking up at the mountains behind
Watching Bodrum Go Up In Flames Read Post »
We completed a few tacks and successfully overtook another yacht attempting the same thing (10 points) but, after three or more hours we decided to whack the engine on and just get round that damn corner! Shame, as we were having a lot of fun tacking, something that Liz and I have got licked pretty well now (bear in mind we tack with up to four sails out).
Returning To Bodrum Area Read Post »
The MC incited the crowd into hysteria as the local youths prepared to exhibit their skill and bravery in front of friends and family. The object of the exercise was to get to the Turkish flag at the end of the pole first and proudly claim it as one’s own. Sounds simple, but when you’re wet, knackered and full of bravado whilst trying to run up a greased up pole it’s probably a bit daunting.
Our aim was to get to Datca today but with the wind on the nose we really couldn’t be arsed motoring 20 miles into it so we ducked into yet another Turkish resort, Kuruku Buku. I say ‘Turkish’ resort not because it’s a holiday resort in Turkey but because it is frequented by Turks, as opposed to foreign tourists. Sensibly the Turks tuck the drunken and obnoxious tourists away in places like Gumbet and keep places like Kuruku Buku to themselves.
Keep The Foreign Tourists OUT! Read Post »
Our time here was spent, once again, taking some snaps and reading. Just how we like it. In the evening we texted Christer of Lady Jessie only to find that he was in the next bay along, 500m round the corner! We arranged to hook up next morning.
The Haven of Kuyulu Buku Read Post »
n the morning we stowed and made a slow down-wind hop around the corner, which saw us in Keci Buku, a great little bay divided in half by a spit. We made our way down to the end, out of the way of idiots on jet skis and tourists limping along the sand bar. As we surveyed our potential anchorage we were angrily waved off by a German who was insistent we didn’t drop our anchor anywhere near his precious boat (it was a hand-painted, rusty heap of shite).
Sleeping Up On Deck It’s So Hot Read Post »
