Category: Family

A very busy Saint & his Guardians of the Big Blue Wobbly

mkwilson5 Comments

Hello, welcome, come aboard. You recall from our last post that we had loaded up Longo with enough food to last another day or two, and we had motored on down to one of my favourite places in world. From a sailing point of view, the weather hasn’t been particularly kind to us, but what we’ve lacked in wind we’ve picked up in mild days filled with sun. Those that have sailed the Turkish Coast will know of Gemiler Adasi or Camel Island and its rich history and unique anchorage opportunities. Warning: There are secrets herein that are not for kidlets.

Gemiler Adasi is a small bat shaped island (at least on the map) just a few short hours from Fethiye. Ian and I have now been here three times, once on our own and then twice to show off the island to family and friends. This time we were showing Ned this wonderful place and we were met by SV Soultrain and of course SV Chill came along.

1. Hard not to love a place with sunsets like this!
2. Me and Ian on our first visit almost 18 months ago.
3. Ian with Charlie and Megan on our second trip last year
4. Ian and Ned this trip. They each speared a fish. We didn’t eat the lion fish (the red one which has nasty spines) but we did fry Ned’s catch and it was a delicious morsel.
5. Ray and Ali still look like they are loving their new floating life
6. Amanda and Trevor from SV Soultrain and Karon from SV Sea Dreamer.

Anchoring at Gemiler Adasi is very special. All boats Med moor (also known as lines ashore) to the island or the main land, which is just 200 metres across the channel. Med mooring means in addition to dropping the anchor you tie back two lines to rocks or bollards on the shore. The benefits of this configuration is that it offers stability from the swell and wind, and it keeps the boats neatly out of channels and thoroughfares. More importantly you have your very own little Med pool between your lines, where you can swim, snorkel and float about. Of course many folk will happily swim, kayak, SUP and dinghy right through your little haven, lifting your lines as they go. It’s a great way to meet people. Many sailors hate Med mooring, as it’s a bit of a nuisance to set up. Someone has to go to shore with extra-long lines and tie them to something solid enough to take on the job of holding your boat steady in a strong wind. On Longo this job is mine. Some brave souls dive off the back of their boats with lines over their shoulder and swim ashore. Others use SUPs. After watching many professional gulets, we have opted for me taking the dinghy to shore, complete with all the lines. I then secure the lines using chains to a rock, bollard of on rare occasions a tree stump (never a living tree) and then driving the dinghy back to Longo trailing the lines in the water. This often requires me to scramble over slippery and ragged rocks. I feel quite the adventure girl, with my handy multi-tool, flinging chains and ropes around. Meanwhile Ian drops the anchor on Longo and reverses back to meet me. This works for us as it gives me plenty of time to find a good solid spot to tie to without Longo hanging on the chain at the mercy of the wind. This is especially important as you are often in close proximity to other boats also tied back. This process also keeps the floating lines under control and away from Longo’s prop and as Grand Petit Bateau (GPB, Our tender) has a depth sounder so I can give Ian depth details via our walkie talkies, reducing the risks of Longo’s keel getting a good polish. It’s taken me a long time to get my technique down but the last couple of times have gone well. Let’s hope I’ve not now jinxed myself. During our most recent trip to Gemiler Adasi it was even easier as Ned came along with me. Having our Monkey Boy’s hands were very welcome especially when it means I don’t have to get wet getting in and out of GPB.

Back to why Med mooring at Gemiler Adasi is so special, other than having Ned along helping, of course! Gemiler Adasi has substantial ruins right down to the water’s edge and is the only place we’ve been where it is acceptable to tie back to those ruins. The same ruins where square riggers docked on their way to the crusades. Where we were positioned there were underwater ruins less than ten feet from the transom (back of the boat) with fish swimming among them and Ned spent an afternoon trying to spear a squid just off the side of the boat.

Our visit was very peaceful compared to the height of the season (June, July, August) where boats fill both sides of the channel and obnoxious pirate Gulets thread their noisy way between playing very bad 80’s or Turkish music (which is also probably 80’s music). To top this there is a jet boat that weaves among the anchoring boats pulling donuts of inebriated thrill seekers behind. There’s also the Pappa and Mumma in their little traditional boat offering to help with your lines for a small fee; they also sell homemade bread. The tourists are vomited out of these boats to swim and explore the island for an hour or two, then they are summoned back onboard by an almighty horn, and thus they leave us in solitude until the next boat arrives. Many hate this aspect of the island. I did the first time we were there. Now I see it as part of the atmosphere of the region. Of course, I’d still hate it if it wasn’t for the fact that the Gulets and other day boats all leave by mid-afternoon, and we are left we the solitude of an amazing location with stunning sunsets and sunrises.

All of this is marvellous and worth the visit but for me it’s the ruins on the island and their rich history that makes this place so special. I suppose given my previous posts that won’t surprise most of you. If nothing else gives away why these ruins are so special its English nickname will. You see this island is known as St Nick’s island. And yes, it’s that “Saint Nicholas”!

The island has ruins dating back to 4th – 6th CE and include five Greek churches and a 350 metre covered processional walkway. The walkway was built because the monks weren’t keen on getting cold and wet on their way to and from church. There are also over forty ecclesiastical buildings and fifty odd tombs, littered throughout the island.

1. See below for why this beautiful chursh hewn from the stony island is so important!
2. An example of the pirate boats that bring their slaves (I mean tourists) to the island
3. Ian and Ned can’t resist a chance to get up close and personal with history
4. The ruins and historical aretfacts are so plentiful that many are left to the elements.
5. A section of the covered walkway. The walkway is decorated with a simple fish pattern or perhaps it is the ubiquitous Evil Eye you see everywhere in Türkiye and Greece (however that might be a bit pagan for the ol’ monks)
6. Another of the churches. This one has an painted icon still visible on the wall. It has been defaced but otherwise it is quite clear

There are records indicating that the island was used as a stopover for pilgrims on their way to the Holy Lands. I’ve just finished reading an excellent book, called the Order about the Knights of St John of Rhodes (Hospitallers). The Knights were pushed back to Malta where they successfully defended the island from the Ottoman hordes in 1565. This book suggests that the siege of Malta began as retaliation for the knights capturing the Suleiman the Magnificient*, the Ottoman ruler’s flag ship called the Sultana. This great sea battle was said to have occurred just of the coast of this little island and the reason the knights were successful was because they hid their fleet in the very same channel that our little boat was moored. The knights waited for the Ottoman fleet to pass by and attacked the smaller weaker boats at the back of the fleet leaving the Sultana’s flank unprotected and given her size she was unable to manoeuvre to protect herself with the enormous canons that she carried. Consequently, the Knight’s were able to take the Sulatan and her booty for their own.

If tales of knights, sea battles and such is not enough, I can take you back even further into history, to explain the origins of the English nickname for the island.

If I had been asked before coming to Tϋrkiye where St Nick came from I would have said one of the Nordic countries. The image in my head of old St Nick, is the one with the long beard and robes decked out with furs and a long wooden walking stick. Kind of like, Gandalf on a winter’s day. I didn’t realise how wrong I could be. St Nicholas and was of Greek decent, likely of dark or olive complexion but he probably had an impressive white beard when he died. He was born in the maritime city of Patara in Anatolia (part of the modern day Antalya Province, not far from the lovely town of Kas, Tϋrkiye). He is believed to have lived between 270CE and 343CE. Making him 73 years of age when he died which is very old for the time period. St Nick is also known as St Nick Of Myra (in Tϋrkiye) and St Nick of Bari of Italy (where most of his bones are located**) and more delightfully as Nicholas the Wonderworker!

Ol’ St Nick was a busy man. He is the patron saint of merchants, archers, repentant thieves, children, brewers, pawnbrokers, toymakers, unmarried people, students and, in one academic source, prostitutes. Second most importantly (after children not the prostitutes) he is also the patron saint of sailors. So if you are an unmarried cabin boy, with a profitable brewery on the side, who likes to whittle toys of other kidlets when not learning more about the economic benefits of expanding into money lending and pimping, then St Nick is your go to Saint for all your spiritual needs. Am I going on the naughty list for this?

Of course, you don’t become a Saint without delivering on the miracles and St Nick is said to have done his bit, though some of his “miracles” are less miraculous and more virtuous deeds. My favourite two stories are:

  1. There is painted and written evidence to suggest that St Nick saved three young girls from prostitution. Their father was so poor that he was unable to provide dowries and no alternative than to “sell” his daughters to pay his debts. St Nick felt that this was unacceptable. However, the proud father would not accept charity openly, so the crafty Saint crept up to the families house in the dead of night and threw through a window in a bag of coins sufficient to pay a dowry for the first daughter.  Once she was married off, he did this twice more for her little sisters. The father of the girls caught St Nick in the act of providing the third bag of coins. And there you have it! The basis for the tradition of some crazy old mystical dude coming into your home in the dead of the night and giving your children presents.
  2. While the story of the three girls is delightful and it answers a question, I didn’t know I wanted to ask. The next story is just outright bizarrely cool. There is a tradition of painting St Nick standing over three small children who are standing in a cauldron over a hearty fire. The kidlets are looking up at St Nick with love and adoration. That’s because St Nick saved these kidlet’s from a fate worse than a fate worse than death! The story goes that St Nick happened upon a butcher who had few wares to sell due to a famine. He “obtained” three kidlets that he decided to pickle and cook, and then sell as bacon. St Nick was not impressed and apparently brought the kidlets back to life despite them having already been pickled and spirited them away before the butcher was aware of what was happening. Lover of kidlets and good quality ethically sourced bacon. My kind of Saint!

St Nick is one of the most revered and renowned Saints in Christendom. There is a great deal of evidence to show that St Nick’s relics (I.e. his bones) are the most well documented and are scattered across Europe. According to carbon dating those in Bari and the UK (I think) are most likely to be the actual bones of the Saint himself. More often than not Saintly relics have been shown to be medieval fakes.

I guess you’re wondering what all this talk of St Nick has to do with Gemiler Adasi. Or maybe you’ve already figured out and I don’t need to say he was said to have lived on the island. In addition, according to writings at the time, this was where he was also originally burried. There is a church hewn from solid stone on the highest point of the island (the big one in the first picutre above). To protect St NIck’s bones from desecration by the invaders, they were moved to Myra (now known as Demre), on the mainland south of Gemiler Island. In 1087 they were moved again to Bari in Italy where many of them still remian in the Basilica of San Nicola (this move was without the permission of the appropriate ecclesiastical bureaucrat responsible for them); subsequent to this some of the relics were taken to Venice during the first crusades.

1. This painting is closer to what St Nicholas actually looked like, given his heritage than how we are used to seeing him.
2. This beautiful painting is Russian.
3. St Nick saving the pickled kidlets (I wonder if when they say “pickled” they mean in brine or that the toddlers were stonkered? If it was the second then St Nick may actually have evented the only hangover cure that may have actually worked!)
4. These three lovelies must have been very grateful to Saint Nik that their father was able to pay a dowry to their husband rather than the ladies being paid to service men.

There are paths all across the island you can follow that take you to most of the interesting places and there isn’t much you aren’t allowed to see or touch (except some fine mosaic floors in St Nick’s church at the top of the island and few places deemed unsafe).  Gemiler Adasi in Spring is stunning, there are poppies and other wildflowers blooming everywhere throughout the ruins. There’s even a stray cat that lives on the island and plenty of bird song that livens the morning air. I’d like to think that at some point in my three visits I’ve touch a stone wall or walked a path that St Nick might have once touched or walked.

In future I would advocate leaving out Ol’ St Nick a nice strong Turkish coffee or maybe the ubiquitous chai and a slice of Turkish Delight or perhaps Baclava. 

To put the cherry on top of our time at Gemiler Adasi, during our trip back to Fethiye, we were treated to the longest and most spectactular visit from St Nick, Patron Saint of Sailors, Guardians of the Big Blue Wobbly, aka dolphins, that we have ever seen. Two of these beautiful creatures joined our boat shortly after we hit the open sea and they stayed with us for a staggering half hour or so. During that time they cruised along our bow, darting off ahead to do back flips and skip along the swell. They were clearly playing and showing off. After every feat they would return to the boat and roll on their sides to look up at; you could all but hear the “did ya see that!” Finally they darted off. probably to hunt out a nearby school of fish.. Even their departure was impressive in its synchronicity and speed (probably twice as fast as our boat speed).

It’s a rare ocassion when we have time to take photos of dolphins. We’ve leared to run to the bow as fast as we can without grabbing phones or camera because you just never know how long they will stay (making sure the boat is safe and Britney Steers is on, first of course). I revert into a gibbering squeally mess. I talk to dolphins like they are cute babies, kittens or puppies. These are incredibly smart creatues* who likely look up at me and laugh at the blubbering idiot. I don’t care!
*If you doubt the smarts of dolphins I recommend you read “Hitchiker’s Guide to Galaxy” by Douglas Adams.

I normally leave you with fair winds and a dearth of sea monsters but today I think I will add the blessing of Saint Nicholas, the Patron Saint of sailors and children (for I like to think that we should all be young at heart).

*Suleiman’s full title: Suleiman the Magnificent, Sultan of the Ottomans, Commander of the Faithful, Shadow of God on Earth, Protector of the Holy Cities of Mecca, Medina and Jerusalem, Lord of Lords of the World East and West. I suspect his mother called him Sully when he was good and just Suleiman the Wicked when he was a naughty boy.

** the location of St Nick’s bones this has been confirmed through historical records.

Life is always better with family and friends!

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Hello, welcome, come aboard. What a month or so we’ve had! When we left you with our last post we were on our way to Fethiye where we would rendezvous with Ray and Ali of SV Chill and then we would all go ontonto Göcek, where we would pick up Ned.

Our trip across the Big Blue Wobbly from Northern Cyprus to Tϋrkiye was uneventful except for a swell coming out of the marina, that while not huge, made us sit up and remember we’re sailors. Or, perhaps that was the 14 knots of wind on the beam that had us scrambling to put up our sails; and then as Ian likes to say “toot, toot! We were a sailboat”. It didn’t last and soon we were back to motoring. A highlight for me was a midnight visit from a dolphin.

Normally dolphins announce themselves by joining the boat either from the stern or beam (side) and then while we point and  scream like little kiddies they dash to the bow of the boat and we rush to follow and watch the dolphins play. We have a strict rule on our boat, however, that you can’t go forward at night unless both of us are on deck and the person going forward has donned at least their life jacket and if the weather warrants hooked onto the life line. As Ian was asleep and there’s no way to tell how long the dolphins will stay, I didn’t want to wake him. So I called out to the dolphin that I couldn’t come out to watch them play (yes I really called out as loudly as I could over the sound of the engine but not so loudly to wake Ian). Unbelievably the dolphin sat off the beam of the boat where I could see her for several minutes broaching every few seconds so I could watch. I called out a heartfelt thank you and the dolphin disappeared into the night.

We planned to check into Tϋrkiye at Finike; where we had wintered in 2022/2023. Tϋrkiye insists you use an agent to complete the bureaucratic processes (visits to port police, customs and the harbour master – for passport stamps, boat clearance ect) and we had a trusted agent there that we had used before. However, the weather along the coast of Tϋrkiye was brisk and we weren’t convinced of the holding (how well the anchor will bite into the bottom) in Finike would be good enough for an overnight stay. Consequently, we went to plan B. Like most sailors we usually prepare to Plan E and will then discover Plan F along the way as the weather conditions change unexpectedly. Plan B had us stopping in a lovely little bay just short of Finike for the night. I hoisted the Quarantine flag to indicate we were a boat in transit, with no plans to go to shore and then we settled in for the night. Next morning’s assessment had us changing to Plan C  which meant we would skip Finike altogether and ‘transit’ along the coast for about 100nm to Fethiye to check-in.

This was to be another overnighter however, again, weather prevented a direct sail to our destination. I can’t say I was heart broken when we stopped into a favourite anchorage called Powerline Bay for a nap. Our “Q” flag was still flying as we sat at anchor for a couple of days before a night time sail up to Fethiye. The Coast Guard (CG) popped into say hi and check our papers while we were at anchor. They were unconcerned about us having not checked in. We, also, had another late night caller during a sail up to Fethiye. This time at 3 am and again I was on watch. Unlike the dolphin’s gentle approach the CG rib which did not appear on radar or AIS, let me know they were coming alongside by flashing the brightest white light into the cockpit of the boat I have ever experienced! I honestly felt we were being visited by aliens coming to beam us up for a serious probing. My squeal of alarm woke Ian who had been asleep and he, conducted his captainly duties by going out (with no lifejacket!) to greet our visitors. The CG asked Ian a couple of questions, mainly about how many people were on board and, believe it or not he asked us what we were doing! Ian has more restraint than I do and didn’t respond with “Sailing, dumbass”. Thankfully he didn’t ask for our papers as the idea of handing our documents over to another boat at night in a following swell had me worried.

Check-in to Fethiye was uneventful. Though it was a stark reminder of how the Turkish economy is suffering at the moment. The cost of our agent fees had almost doubled from when we checked out last year.

We hung out in Fethiye for a few days while we waited for Ray and Ali to find a weather window for their first solo sail on SV Chill. While bumming around we met Trevor and Amanda on SV Soultrain, surrogate Aussies originally hailing from New Zealand. Meeting and making new friends is one of the best things about our life. We have yet to meet anyone living on a boat in the Med who isn’t grateful for our lifestyle and happy to share a story, beer and a meal.

Not long after Ali and Ray arrived safe and sound and tried their hand at anchoring for the first time, doing an admirable job (we know ‘cause they didn’t float away). We’ve spent a bit of time in Fethiye so Ray and Ali could attend to some important boat jobs like arranging for their new arch to be installed. This arch will mean they can instal some much needed solar panels and accommodate a proper sized dinghy and motor. Their current dinghy reminds me of the toy dinghy we bought for Charlie on his visit last year. SV Chill’s dinghy is bigger but since Ray lost one of the two oars and their motor is prone to breaking down, it definitely doesn’t go any faster than Charlie Love’s little boat, which we never put into the water preferring to use it as a bath on board Longo. Our aptly named “Grand Petit Bateau” (GPB) has been doing double duty while Ray and Ali have been sourcing their own grown up boat and an arch to carry it.

Soon it was time to zip across Fethiye Bay to Kapi Koyu where we took lines ashore in the shade of a beautiful pine forest right next to a Roman Wall that ends at the water’s edge. Kapi Koyu is just a short walk from the ruins of ancient Hamam (bath house). Happily, SV Chill came along as well and SV Soultrain was already enjoying the Spring air. We all enjoyed the lovely clear water and the stunning pine forest while I not-so patiently tapped my foot waiting for our next and most important visitor.

Finally the day came and Ian hoped in GPB and drove the eight minutes around the headland into the next bay where he collected Ned from the wooden jetty there. Ned had caught a taxi from the local airport after his rather long flights from Canberra. It’s been over 12 months since we had last seen our youngest son, so you can imagine our excitement at his arrival. Unfortunately his lovely Bride-to-Be, Georgia Girl, couldn’t come along this trip so we are waiting for the time when we get to share this adventure with her as well.

We made sure Ned had a spectacular sunrise on his first full day with us!

Having visitors, especially our kids come and stay with us is the absolute highlight of our adventures. Being able to share this wonderful life means so much to us! Choosing to share this part of the Turkish Coast with Ned, just as we did this time last year with our friends Charlie and Megs, will give you an idea about just how much we love this region.

After a lovely afternoon and evening catching up on the gossip from home and an early night for Ned, we woke to a lovely day and decided to go exploring. Kapi Koyu and the surrounding bays and coves are a popular destination for boats of all varieties with day-trippers, charter boats and live-aboards, like us, all vying for space. It’s hard to describe the dichotomy of tranquil landscapes featuring pine trees and wizened olive groves, craggy cliffs and of course the crystal clear turquoise water this region is famous for with the sound of windlasses working over time (the motor that drops and lowers anchors) the rev of dinghies shooting past and the cacophony of competing music. Still that is what the bays sound like during the height of the season (June, July, August). Being here earlier in the year means that there is less of the noise and more of the … “ah the serenity”.

1. Our neighbours for a short while. Ali and I had visions of dainty ladies in long line 30’s style gowns carrying delicate parasols and dapper gentlemen in cool white linen. Perhaps one such fellow with a distinctive and enviable moustache tapped his cane as he went about finding the dasterdly villian.
2 and 3. The water looked lovely and while everyone else went in for a swim, I took in Ian and Ray’s wetsuits and dismissed the Canberran and our English Rose and decided that I would not be joining the fishes in the last photo.

A highlight of this area is the Hamam ruins that are just a ten minute walk from where we had anchored. Early one morning we formed an excursion party (SV Longo Maï, SV Chill and SV Soultrain) and strolled around the Roman Wall and over the hill to see what all the fuss was about. The ruins are impressive as they lie in the clear water close enough to land that you can step across and view the baths from above. I guess some would call these ruins “just more old rocks” or “another ruin” but what makes them so special is the legend that accompanies them. You see these ruins are said to be the remains of the Hamam that Marc Antony built for Cleopatra as a love gift. The area is known for its hot springs and these baths utilised these springs and cool clear water of bay as the foundation for a luxurious spa that Cleopatra undoubtedly expected. I’d like to think that it was here that she also had her milk baths (we saw donkeys most days), perhaps followed by a rub down with oil from the local olive trees. I’ve tried to do a more in depth dive into the history of the place however other than there being mention of a major port town at the end of the larger bay, there is very little else to be said. Sceptics might suggest this legend is a very clever marketing ploy by the local tour guides.

However, what is known is that in 41BCE, Mark Anonty summoned Cleopatra to Tarsus near modern day Mersin, some 830km south of Cleopatra’s Hamam. While the bath by land is further away from Alexandria, it is only 353 nautical miles across the Big Blue Wobbly, just two and a half days sails for our Longo (doing 6.5 nm). So who knows? Their romance is legendary and I say why not! I don’t believe our ancient forebearers treated distance with the same petulance that we have now that we can travel faster than a fast thing with Ever Ready Batteries.

The walk to the Hamam was lovely in Spring. This baths themselves are completely surrounded by water however it was only a small step for Ian and Ned before they were exploring the finer details of the building! While it appears to be accepted that folk will climb all over this ruin, the CG are very strict on how close you can anchor your boat, over the last few visits to this beautiful spot we have watched many sailors happily moor up very close to the ruins, probably pleased with their luck, only to be fined a few hours later.

After a couple of lovely days at Kapi Koyu, we upped anchor (I love using such maritime sayings makes me feel very sailor-girl!) and headed back to Fethiye to visit the markets and do some much needed provisioning. I’m not suggesting Ned eats like a power lifter prepping for his next comp but Ned is a power lifter and had just deadlifted his PB of 310kg. So we had to be back in Fethiye in time for the local markets. Imagine the 2 x football field sized covered area packed with seasonal fruit and vegetables. At the moment there’s load of pomegranates, morel mushrooms, curly chillis and there’s even a goats cheese that has been made inside a goat hide for 2 years. No I did not taste this, but Ray did and he tells us it was very “goatee” in flavour! And of course there are olives and olive products galore. Alongside this market there is another football field of tacky tourist stalls selling “fake, original bags and shoes”, reasonably cheap summer clothing, and other such paraphernalia. Then further afield there are stalls of beautiful hand made crocheted bags, and beaded jewellery. It is a sight to behold. Ian strives to get me through all the shiny bibs and bobs as quickly as my over-sized feet will take me. It’s a moment of pride for me to get into the fresh food market without having succumbed to cheery hails and rosy cheeks of the glitzy stall owners.

Once we finished up with our provisions, we took the next weather window and went to one of my favourite places in Tϋrkiye, Gemiler Adasi, but that’s a story for our next post. In the meantime fair winds and a dearth of sea monsters.