Sam, bless him, had only expected five or ten people to turn up and really hadn’t prepared himself to explain why he was doing what he was doing in front of so many people. He moved the audience with his story and had to field some difficult questions. Some were uncertain of the whole point of Sam’s quest, which, in simple terms, was to bring about awareness of the Chagossian’s plight and eventually help get some Chagossian’s back to their islands.
Under the 30-year rule documents from the FCO show us all the facts, and oh dear me, how those documents reveal Britain’s jaded and cynical viewpoint of the world. Those 1960s Sir Humphreys** describe the islanders as “mere Tarzans and Men Fridays” with “little aptitude for anything except growing coconuts”. They wrote that “there will be no indigenous population except seagulls”. The deportations would be “ordered and timed to attract the least attention”. They connived with the Americans to label the islanders as “migrant contract labourers” with no right of abode – even though their families had lived there for generations.
About The Chagossians Read Post »
I lowered myself down the companion-way and eased myself into what could only be described as a log cabin. Every bit of the boat was covered in reclaimed wood and other materials. The shelves came from his home in Devon and the stove had been chucked out as trash. The centre-piece, however, was the compression post (the post that follows the mast down into the boat). It was a piece of English oak that was to be used for a wooden boat reconstruction project that had fallen on hard times.
Marmaris Bay Cruisers Net Read Post »
By the end of the weekend the grand total raised was $1500, which went to the Turkish national charity, Ozel Olimyatlar, which helps young people with learning disabilities to take part in organised Olympic sports (see the yellow box for more information on the charity). Proof that whilst we swan around in our expensive yachts, living an enviable and carefree lifestyle, some of us can still show a bit of humility and compassion.
Winter Charity Pool Tournament Read Post »
So a chance meeting with one man and his boat changed everything. It changed our future plans as sailors. It created a crossroads at which we would normally have gone one way, but have chosen to go the other. You know what I mean: one of those rare occasions which you look back on as being a significant moment in your life.
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 »
… a small, straggly kitten appeared outside the Black Hole’s supermarket. The guys in the shop would should “Satilik, satilik!” (for sale) every time someone stopped to pet her. She was very difficult to ignore, not only because of the noise, but also because she was so pretty – and had green tattooed ears! One drunken early morning J and I persuaded her to walk back to the boat with us
Esper’s 3rd Permanent Crew Member Read Post »
If your marina is fortunate enough to have golf-carts and tricycles knocking about, why not help yourself to one for your return journey after a heavy night in the bar? In an early incident Liz and I ‘borrowed’ the shop’s tricycle, which has a large basket on the back for carrying provisions. After taking five minutes to get the thing going (Liz sitting in the basket was playing havoc with my balance) we eventually rode across the marina, down four steps onto the pontoon, along another 20 metres to the corner, and stacked the thing.
Being the diplomatic chap that I am I won’t talk about the crew but it is worth mentioning that the non-drinking, non-smoking skipper farts at you when you ask him a question. Don’t ask. The chief mechanic and the hostess have already handed in their notice. The entire crew are alcoholics due to their Groundhog Day existence.
