natural wonders – Sailing Longo Maï

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

May 3, 2024 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 4^th – 6^th 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:

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.
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.

Dardanelles Dash

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Hello, welcome, come aboard. We’ve been at this grand tour for a year now. It’s been a whirlwind of adventures, fun, family milestones and new friendships. If, as they say “life is what happens when you’re not looking” then I’d love see what we’re missing. I have three other blogs half done but I am putting them aside to tell you of our most recent sailing adventures through the Dardanelles Strait on our way to Istanbul . (Sorry folks, I’ve written an essay: I’d call it a leisurely Sunday morning read over a long coffee and maybe a croissant.)

This place is the heart of history: ancient and modern. All of it incredibly interesting and relevant. When we were planning our life on a boat and talking about the places we would go, the Dardanelles held a dual fascination. Especially for Ian as it’s the heart of the ANZAC tradition and a sailing challenge in terms of prevailing winds and currents.

Here too, near the Aegean entrance to the Dardanelles, lays the ancient city of Troy, as immortalised in history, myth and legend. I’ll try to get to some historical aspects in future blogs, but we’re finding the depth and breadth of Turkish history a little overwhelming. As an example, recently archaeologists discovered a temple and ancient city at Gobekli dated at 10000 years BCE, that’s 6000 years before Stonehenge! This discovery is challenging our understanding of human development in terms of societal structure and technology.

This blog, however, is all about the sailing. Honestly, we mostly motored for this passage as sailing is prohibited within the Dardanelles and the winds were against us but let’s not quibble over the semantics.

Those on FB will know that on 19 June 23, we tackled the Dardanelles Strait. The Dardanelles are a narrow, natural strait once known as Hellespont and now officially called the Çanakkale Boğazı in Türkiye. The Dardanelles together with the Bosphorus Straits, are called the Turkish Straits. This is where “East meets West” in the city of Istanbul and the waterways are gateway to the countries of the Black Sea.

The Dardanelles is a naturally zig zag 61km waterway. The narrowest section is just 1.2 km wide is just 55metres deep though in other stretches the depth plunges to 338 metres. The Straits have two opposing currents: a surface current flowing in from the Black Sea (via the Sea of Marmara) towards the Aegean Sea (against us) and a heavier saline undercurrent flowing from the Aegean Sea into the Sea of Marmara. The current speed can reach up to 3.5 knots. Making it a significant maritime challenge especially for smaller sailing vessels with cruising speeds around the 7 knots (like us). We now have some inkling of how Sisyphus* felt. This, combined with an all or nothing prevailing head wind makes weather planning crucial to ensure you have the right conditions for your run up the Dardanelles. (*the poor sod charged with pushing a boulder up hill everyday for eternity. Every night the boulder would roll back down)

To further the complicate the already tricky cruising conditions, the Dardanelles (together with Bosphorus Straits) are the only sea route between the Mediterranean and the Black Sea. They are critical for the transportation of goods to and from Bulgaria, Romania, Moldova, Ukraine, Russia and Georgia. Consequently these waterways are among the busiest in the world.

Not the best shot I know, but that grey blobs are individual ship markers (triangles) on our chart plotter. These blips do not include the local fisherman or the coastguard boats, who don’t electronically transmit their location. The black blob almost centre with the yellow arrow is Longo Maï! The red crosses are our planned course.

As our friends and sailing companions for this trip, Janine and Craig on SV Inelsamo told us the Dardanelles are “considered one of the most hazardous, crowded, difficult and potentially dangerous waterways in the world.” So not your average Sunday cruise around the bay!

A quick pitstop to introduce Janine & Craig and their lovely yacht, Inelsamo. As sailing buddies go we couldn’t have asked for better than these Aussies. They have loads of sailing experience, stories galore and Janine makes a mean Spaghetti Bolognaise. They have generous hearts and are willing to share their advice, time and adventures with us. Just as well since we often have very little idea of what we’re doing.

1. The very lovely SV Inelsamo.
2. The crews of Inelsamo and Longo Maï

We began our day well before sunrise at the Bozcaada Island municipal dock. It’s that lovely time of the day when the sun’s blush races ahead to soften the pre-dawn darkness. In the distance we could see the cargo ships lining up to take their position in the conga line that would wind through the Straits shipping lane throughout the day.

The trip from Bozcaada to the mouth of the Dardanelles is about two hours. There was only the tiniest ripple of imperfection on the water and barely a breath of air, so the sailing was easy. This gave us time for a much needed coffee, so I left Ian and Brittany (our autopilot, because Brittany Steers) on watch and headed down to the galley. Thankfully I was back on deck as the sun rose over the Eastern shore. I have 40 or so photos of this sunrise but will only inflict the very best one on you. Poor Ian, he had to listen to me prattle on about this sunrise while trying to enjoy his coffee and man the helm.

The historical significance of this region hit home, shortly after as the first and largest monument in the region appeared on our horizon. The Çanakkale Martyr’s Monument memoralises the service of the 253,000 Turkish soldiers who participated in the battle for Gallipoli. Being reminded of the noble husbands, loyal fathers and frightened sons (no doubt there were some daring daughters as well) that lost their lives on the Gallipoli battlefields was an arresting pause in our otherwise exuberant excitement for the day’s adventure.

Shortly after passing the monument we entered the Straits and began to experience, for the first time, the current that we would compete against for most of the day. Our speed slowed as our boat’s engine pushed against the water escaping the Marmara Sea through the funnel that is the Dardanelles. In the photo of our chart plotter you can see our SOG (speed over ground) is 6.2 knots, as I mentioned we average 7 knots when motoring. Through the narrowest section we could only manage 3.5 knots thankfully this lasted only a few minutes.

There are two options for tackling this challenging current. The first is to stick to the 10 metre depth line where the current is weaker. This option means following the natural contours of the straits. The second option is to set a straight line path which includes some deep water stretches. The first option means a longer distance is travelled but the current’s effect on SOG is less. The second option means at times there is more drag from the current but overall distance is less. The different routes affect diesel consumption, time taken and… this is the point where my eyes glaze over because… well… math! To test the theory Inelsamo took the shallow water option, Longo took the straight line approach. Not that anyone was competing or anything but we’ll never know who was more efficient, as our boats have unique characteristics. However, from my perspective, the important distinction was that we were much closer to the action of the shipping lanes. While Craig and Janine were treated to a closer view of the beautiful landscape. Both worthy and made for great conversation over dinner.

The ships and boats operating within the straits are highly regulated with designated shipping lanes defined electronically. While smaller vessels, such as Longo, are confined to the edges, supposedly well clear of the monster ships. Imagine a big blue wet wobbly highway but there are no visible lane markers except those on your map. We heard constant radio chatter between ships (with varying accents) and, the Turkish pilot boats and the coastguard. Much of this was about the activities of the dozens of pilot boats zooming around the ships delivering and retrieving pilots. Watching the transfer of a pilot from a small boat to a ladder hung over the side of a huge ship makes those scenes in action movies where the hero jumps between moving cars quite humdrum in comparison.

The only time small boats are permitted in the central shipping lanes is when crossing “the road”. This maneavure takes precision timing to find a gap in the traffic big enough to accommodate our slower speed and the affect of current on the boat. We crossed over towards the end of our passage to reach our anchorage. So I now know how a slightly arthritic and near sighted echidna feels as it tries to cross the Bruce Highway on the first Saturday of Easter holidays!

Along the way we saw a dolphin pod playing, plenty of local fishing boats that make our Longo look massive, whirlpools big enough that we felt their affect on the boat’s performance, and ferries making the dash across the strait between traffic. Thankfully, we didn’t sight the illusive Porphyrios.

Another brief interlude to introduce Porphyrios. Porphyrios was a large whale that harassed and sank ships in the waters near Constantinople (as Istanbul was then known) in the sixth century. Active for well over 50 years, this mega-ton murder fish was more than a bit of a bother for Byzantine seafarers. He was such a nuisance that Emperor Justinian I (r. 527– 565) declared Porphyrios’s demise a State Matter, but it seems no one could catch or kill this elusive beast. Eventually, Porphyrios beached himself near the mouth of the Black Sea chasing a dolphin snack and the locals took the opportunity to have a mammoth cookout on the beach! True story! (So orca’s chomping on boats rudders is definitely not a new thing)

We did see a hooligan ship captain overtake another ship on a narrow curving section of the strait. Overtaking is prohibited and the captain being overtaken made his displeasure quite “vocally” over the radio. It was the gutsiest, and stupidest, move we’ve ever seen. The slightest misjudgment would have risked a collision in a narrow waterway with no room for evasive manoeuvres. The overtaking boat was going so fast it created quite an impressive bow wave, which one brave dare-devil dolphin used to perform impressive leaps into the air. Unfortunately this all happened close enough to us that we changed our course to avoid being the “bug on the windscreen” and so I was too busy to take photos or video!

We were also challenged when the wake of another ship passing over shallower water resulted in steep white capped waves. As we were travelling parallel to the ship these waves were coming at us from the aft portside (back left hand side). Initially we were just going to ride this out without altering course as we had for other ship wakes. However, Ian looked back to see Inelsamo (a 52’ boat) turn into the waves. After watching Inelsamo launch its bow skyward before burying its nose into the next wave, we thought discretion is definitely the better part of valour and turned to meet the waves head on as well instead of risking swamping our cockpit.

Another treat this journey had in store for us was our first bridge underpass. The “1915 Çanakkale Bridge” is named in honour of the Turkish naval victory against the British, French and allied navies during WWI. It is the longest suspension bridge in the world with a total length of 4.61 kms and a main span of 2.02 kms. Though, for us, it wasn’t its length and engineering magnificence that mattered but its height! After all, our boat is 18 metres high (from the water line to mast pinnacle) and the consequence of touching the mast on a bridge would be catastrophic. We needn’t have worried so much since the bridge is 334 metres above the waterline! So it was never a real issue, but still, I felt a tingle of nervous anticipation as we glided into its shadow.

**Under we go!**
1. Knowing we were a bit thrilled by all this nonsense, Inelsamo followed behind to get photos of our first bridge “crossing”.
2. Looking up the mast at the road above.

After completing our run through the Dardanelles we were expecting a pleasant few hours of easy cruising along the coast of the Sea of Marmara before anchoring for the night. However, the weather gods are pranksters and darkened our horizon with a fast moving storm. Sailors mostly love the wind, we adore the sun, don’t mind rain but we are not terribly keen on lightening. This is understandable given the rather large conductive pole sticking out of our boats while sitting in a big puddle of water! The danger is real but the odds are reasonably low especially if you act appropriately. So after a quick assessment of the radar and a brief discussion between boats about the storm’s likely path, we decided to act “appropriately” and employ the usual tactical defensive action: avoidance. They don’t say “any port in a storm” for nothin’. So we headed into the nearest anchorage for a spell to give the storm time to pass ahead. As I performed my crew duties which invoke working the windlass*, counting chain length and generally keeping watch, while sitting on the deck as far away from all the shiny metal as I could possibly get, I was treated to a front row seat to the weather. Thankfully, the storm was more wet bluster than fireworks (I didn’t see any lightening) and after a short while we upped anchor and continued to our night anchorage. (*anchor lowering do-dah)

After such a long day (12 hours or so underway) we popped over to Inelsamo for a dinner of Janine’s delicious spaghetti and a few wines before dinghying home for a good long sleep. The next day was just as long as we motored along the Sea of Marmara, with even more dolphin, ship and storm watching. We also had some adventures in Grand Petit Bateau, our dinghy, but as there was no damage, no injuries and importantly no video, that story will become a myth that you might be able to persuade Ian to tell you over a G+T sometime.

The last leg of this amazing trip saw us cruising past some of the largest and busiest dockyards in the world including weaving our way through hundreds of anchored cargo ships waiting their turn to dock. At one time we saw 284 targets being tracked on our navigation system. Some ships appeared very tired and used, and at times it felt like a ships’ graveyard. Finally, we crossed the Bosphorus Strait shipping lanes and tied up at the marina that is our home while we explore beautiful and exotic Istanbul. I’II write reams about Istanbul in the days to come.

**The view on the way into Istanbul**
1. Initially we thought this floating junk was abandoned. As we were just heading down to radio the officials to alert them of the potential dangers a weathered hand appeared above the deck to straighten the tarp. A ship-shape boat is after all next to godliness.
2. If you look close enough you’ll see a sailboat much the same size as Longo “hiding” in plain sight in front of the behemoth docks and ship.
3. Our first glimpse of old Istanbul (not Constantinople).

We’ll be returning to the Sea of Marmara and the Dardanelles in a week or so. This time however the current and winds (hopefully) will be with us, so we will take the opportunity to stop along the way and explore the history more. Those posts will be all about the history.

Until next time fair winds and a dearth of sea monsters on your journey ahead. (Odd how appropriate this blessing has become.)

Jobs Done: Time for Feasts and Skydiving Spelunkers!

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It’s that time of the season when everyone is working on their plans for Summer season. Boat jobs and projects are being finalised with a feverish anticipation of fair winds and warm waters. Ian, with a little help from me, has achieved so much this Winter that our boat now feels even more like home. A big part of this is the new canvas work which converts our cockpit into a cosy sunroom in Winter and a welcome shady respite from the sun in Summer.

Another major upgrade is our new tender (or dinghy). This is an essential bit of kit that impacts everything from mundane tasks, like provisioning to exploring adventures. Our old tender, which I affectionally named Baby Boat, was a little under-powered with only a 5hp engine. It was just too slow and not suitable for more than short trips to shore. It was also a bit too small, having just enough room for us and few shopping bags. Now that we haven’t yet sunk our boat and have somewhat proven our sailing skills we have plenty of friends and family planning visits. And, Baby Boat definitely isn’t up to the job.

Ian was able to source a new tender in Istanbul and could have it delivered but we had to wait 3 months. We couldn’t find the engine we wanted anywhere in Turkey. We talked to Customs about importing it but their advice was ‘get in your boat take it to Greece, bring it back and don’t say anything’. Which is exactly what we did. We had one delivered from Athens to the tiny Greek Island of Kostellorizo where we picked it up.

Ian having dinner with the best view in the house
That’s our Longo Maï on the left!

Our new tender is bigger (Highfields 310) and has a whopping 20hp outboard. We thought 10hp would be OK but 15hp would be better and only a few more kg. But then, the 20hp weighed the same as the 15hp and no one has ever complained about having too much power. From my perspective the best thing about the outboard is the electric start. I had an annoying habit of letting go of the string thingy on Baby Boat’s outboard which would result in bruises in lady places. Anyway, we’ve been running the new engine in at ½ throttle. Even then it’s still quite quick and I got little bit of a fright thinking about how fast our new toy will be able to go at full speed. For ‘safety’ Ian added foot holds to the floor for those “just in case” moments when the wind in our hair becomes a battering ram trying to push us out of the boat! They’ve since been tested and Ian has confirmed it’s possible to get air in the dinghy (he hasn’t had the prop out of the water, yet!).

Given the engine size and how far we can now travel from Longo Maï we decided to register our dinghy. This is just in case the pesky Coast Guard pulls us up as the dinghy is, in all fairness, well beyond the limits of the definition of a ‘tender’. When registering or naming tenders, it’s not uncommon for them to be called something simple like “tender to Longo Maï” however Ian left naming ours up to me. Consequently our new tender is Internationally registered as “Grand Petit Bateau” (or Big Baby Boat). Photos to follow in upcoming posts.

Now that all these jobs have been done the only job remaining is the last minute ‘minor’ task of upgrading to lithium batteries. So Ian is now looking towards next Winter’s project list while we’re also preparing for our first visitors, Megs and Charlie, who arrive on 15 April. We’ll be sailing up to Bodrum to collect them and then spending a couple of weeks cruising along the coast to Göcek. We can’t wait to share this wonderful adventure with them.

Since we can’t start our journey up to Bodrum until we visit our dentist next week we are filling in our days as best we can. Ian has taken to improving his cooking skills with a monstrous roast lamb feast for twelve. He then doubled down on this with a smoked brisket extravaganza. Both were cooked using ‘old school’ charcoal inside a 44gal drum heater. Some said it couldn’t be done; well, Ian learned from the masters. For years good friends of ours, Charlie and Rowie, slaved for hours making delicious smoked meals all the while thinking Ian was just drinking all their booze. Turns out he could multi-task.

The roast lamb baked for seven hours and then seared over hot coals

To loose the calories our most recent walking adventure was to find the elusive Finike Suluin Mağarasi (which translates to Finike Water Cave). The cave is a 25 minute walk from the marina and as with many noteworthy places in Tϋrkiye, there is no infrastructure protecting the site. The only protection is an one understated sign in Turkish on the side of the road, and an imposing overgrown hill with a non-existent path through the rocks, brambles and swarms of bees leading to the site.

I sent Ian in to reconnoitre the site and he came back to collect me once he confirmed the cave existed and that a bungersome* like me would be able to survive the journey.

The cave is impressive, with a large turquoise pool at the bottom and sunshine reflecting off the walls. It’s possible to venture all the way down to the pool. There are bats nesting in the walls above and their chittering is reminiscent of cicadas in Summer. Between this noise and the twittering of the little birds in the area I found the cave quite calming.

A BBC report from 2010 and many of the tourist blogs list the Suluin Mağarasi as the deepest diving cave in Asia. However, it doesn’t appear on any English lists of caves I could find.

The cave is more than 122 metres deep and while the surface is fresh water, divers encounter saltwater at 15 metres. This is unsurprising given the ocean is just across the road. The water is very acidic and often there is a smell of hydrogen sulphide (rotten eggs smell). It’s probably not advisable to drink or swim here especially given the cauldron of bats residing above for thousands of years. Despite the threat of bat guano, in 1995 an American diving excursion formally recorded the depth of the cave. Unfortunately, two German divers died during this expedition. Dripstones were also identified underwater which indicates the cave was once dry for some depth. Bones and ceramic shards were another find during the dive.

An archaeological survey of the cave site was undertaken by a local university in 2010. It discovered the remains of stone buildings near the entrance of the cave which date back to the Holocene period (circa 9701 BCE). They also found late Neolithic-early Chalcolithic Age ceramic shards (7000 – 5000 BCE), and flint and obsidian arrowheads. Carbon dating of bone needles showed it was occupied in 6000BCE (Neolithic).

Images from Taşkiran, H, Suluin Cave – A Cave Settlement in the Western Taurus, 01 Jun 2020

When researching the cave, I had to use Google Translate and of all the mistranslation I saw my favourite references how the American dive team did not skydive into the cave. Ian says it probably meant they did not use air for the dive but instead used Nitrox (a mixture of Nitrogen and Oxygen used for deeper dives).

Fair winds and a dearth of sea monsters for the week ahead.

* I just love old fashioned words, often you can tell their meaning without thought or reference to a dictionary. I could have called myself clumsy, a stumblebum or a clodhopper but bungersome says it all really.

Thanks to: BBC (http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/science/nature/8650104.stm), Wikipedia (Vikipedi), Hurriyet Turkey (https://www.hurriyet.com.tr/yerel-haberler/antalya/suluin-magarasi-concorde-sigacak-kadar-ucsuz-b-40518502) and Taşkiran, H, Suluin Cave – A Cave Settlement in the Western Taurus, 01 Jun 2020 (https://aktuelarkeoloji.com.tr/kategori/guncel-kazilar/suluin-magarasi)

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