I had arrived in Bodrum the night before and Jamie decided that we had to get out to sea as soon as possible. I agreed, albeit in a kind of travel stupor… I was slightly dazed from the usual heinous 84 hour journey by way of the now predictably useless Turkish Airlines. Without fail every journey with this absurd carrier consisted of two anxieties: will the luggage get there or not? Will the plane get there or not? Add to the this the delight of being frisked within a cat’s whisker of one’s underwear every time one moves from one section of the airport to another and you have a pretty good idea of what it is like to travel in the air, Turkish style…
Despite all this we set off full of great expectations at our first night together… alone… at anchor… with no-one else there to help… with just us to make a decision on whether it would be safe or not… gulp. The journey over to the Orak Ada anchorage was fast and furious. We had a good NW5 and great seas. It quickly became apparent that my pathetic attempts at winching would never get us anywhere (mental note: do some muscle building exercise). So, I steered most of the way and Jamie trimmed the sails. It really worked. We were a great partnership. Jamie truly comes into his own when he’s skippering a yacht. Quiet and confident and a good teacher: a good skipper.
The only thing he wasn’t so good at was anchoring. And I was useless. Having found the perfect spot (east of Kara Ada, a tiny island called Orak Ada just off the mainland with only one house on it) we started the manoeuvres. We didn’t quite get it right. So we tried it again. Then we tried it again. Then I nearly crashed the boat into the rocks. Then the good spirited calm skipper turned into a pissed off pilot. Then we tried it again. And again. Eventually we thought we had it right and after a few attempts at tying a rope to a rock from the stern we decided that would have to do… We climbed the rocks and took some pics of our idyllic spot, then had some food and went to sleep. Or rather I went to sleep and Jamie was awake for most of the night worrying that we would drift into rocks.
The next day revealed that we had drifted (according to Jamie, but I was unable to see what he could see, so just sagely agreed). After another trip to the island by tender, which involved me losing my footing and falling half out of it head first into very cold water (the less said about that the better, ahem), we set sail for home. It was a fantastic sail back. Hard. Against the wind. But exhilarating. When we got back I felt very, very proud.
Now, if I could just learn to sail it would make life much easier for both of us!
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