Shakedown sail - Finike to Marmaris

 At approximately 7.30pm on Sunday 7th May, Sulyman the Magnificent sealed the last zipper on our shade and summer enclosure. We clapped, and grinned at each other. At last we could leave Finike. At least til we return in June...

For those not familiar, a shakedown sail or cruise is the one where you venture out to test your boat repairs/additions so that you can make final tweaks. We had always planned to head to Marmaris, approximately 112nm from Finike, as soon as we could to get some assistance with rigging, sails and other work not achievable, or too expensive, in Finike. Marmaris is one of THE places to go in the Med to fix, modify, purchase anything for boats (as long as you don't want to import anything, in which case, give up). But first, we had to get there. We had one working sail, a dodgy engine, or propeller (not sure), and a loo and a bilge pump that were causing us some angst to put it mildly, but in Mike's infamous words, what could possibly go wrong. 

We left on Monday 8th, on time (!!) heading for Kekova, the area we had stayed at before 19nm's away. We had given ourselves a week to reach Marmaris so we could explore a few new areas, and take shelter from strong winds later in the week. To head from east along this coastline means mostly motoring because there's no wind or right on the nose winds. As we had unpleasant weather ahead, we had to use the 'iron sail' most of the trip to keep on track, but it was pleasant enough to be out, and inititally, the prop seemed to be working ok.

Kirrikie in Kekova, UK flag on the back, Turkish flag starboard, and Aussie flag on the portside. Sunshades on the side and back can be rolled up.

(Note: we have a Gori folding prop, which can be the bees knees but also a bit tricky. Don't ask me to explain it properly, but it can be put into 'overdrive' so that it pushes the boat further for less fuel, but ours was playing up. Mike has dived on it cleaned it, manipulated it and replaced anodes, and it seemed to be ok when we left....)

Info on our propeller

The area around Kekova has been described as the Turkish Whitsundays, and it is. Except with castles, ruins, small restaurants and the pushy we'll-pretend-you're-not-there tourist gullets. The sun was shining, and it was a beautiful day to be gliding past Simena Kalesi, or castle, before entering the inlet to the sheltered bay near Kaleucagiz, our first stop. As is our norm, we bickered about where to put the anchor, which is pathetic as there was plenty of room with no boats close to the end of the bay.  

Simena Kalesi. No sign of any dragons..

We might have been a little tense, as during the day the bloody bilge pump kept going off. The problem was, once the float was activated it wouldn't re-set, so this required us pulling apart the seat near the table, lifting the small floorboard, grabbing the float tool nearby - a pair of metal tongs - and folding myself in half to reach down and give the bloody thing a good talking to while tapping the float so it bobbed up. It got quite repetitive after a while. The other issue was that it was fresh water in the bilge. Where was it coming from?? It has been a problem for a while, which we were expecting to fix in Marmaris, but now it was a more serious issue as the pump was going off more reguarly. To make it even worse, we couldn't get water from the starboard water tank - had we just lost 300l (50% of our water supply)?

Well, this is fun...

Where did I put that thingy?

Water tanks under our bed

  So here we were in paradise, pulling the boat apart including our bed, following all the hoses, checking for leaks. Opening up the inspection hatch on the starboard water tank expecting to see dregs at the bottom we discovered it was completely full. 

  What The?? The impossible was happening, we were generating our own water, which was draining into the bilge... I would have preferred it to be wine filling the fridge. Mystery unsolved, bed and boat put back into place, bilge pump temporarily asleep, we escaped and headed off to the nearby village for a drink. Or two. 

  We headed into one of the few places we could leave a dinghy, in front of Hassan's restaurant. Tucked into small bays along the coastline are family run restaurants that help with mooring and docking, with the understanding that you will have a meal in their restaurant. Hassan the Gallant, waved us in, and helped haul me out of the dinghy. I think Mike had ordered his drink before placing a foot on solid ground. We blew the budget on a excellent meal of meze, calamari, sea bream and prawns, chatted to Bjorn who we knew from Finike, solved all the problems of the world except ours, before exploring the tiny village and returning to Kirrikie for a great nights sleep.

Punctuated by jumping up to swear and attack the bilge...

Bjorn advising...

The next day we headed to the town of Kas (pronounced Kash), a small distance of 16nm, where we ignored the beckoning marina, motored around the corner and put the anchor down in the early afternoon at Bilal's Beach.  It. Was. Stunning. It was the first time we really couldn't believe "we are HERE"!  There were nearby small restaurants and accommodation that were still gearing up for 'the season', lots of cleaning, welding, drilling going on - and hell to health and safety - but none of that took away the magic we felt that afternoon. We went ashore to explore, thinking we would investigate some tombs in the cliffs above us, but a) Mike was in thongs, the footwear type, b) I am heat and slope advserse unless I have my walking poles with me and c) there were cool drinks to be had in the bar.  So we piked out.

On our way back we headed over to SV Ula for a very welcome cuppa and chat with Dee and Kev, other ex-Finikieans, with the luxury of no fixed plans and plenty of time. And working water-maker and loos. Perfect.

The thing about Kas that amazes me is that it is one of the places where the Greek/Turkish border is very close to mainland Turkey. Part of our route planning was to ensure we went the correct side of rocks to avoid crossing into Greek Territory. The Greek island of Kastellorizo, where we shall be meeting up with my sister and brother-in-law in a few weeks, is closer to Kas than Rottnest Island is to Perth. Mind blowing.

While we were tempted to stay longer, we pointed Kirrikie back out to sea again on Wednesday morning, to make the longer journey of 53nms to Fethiye. It was indeed a longer day, our 3rd with the engine on, and while I appreciated this meant hot water showers, I was a little grumbly about not putting the sail up. We tried several times, in conditions which were not favourable, only succeeding at the end of the day for about 20 minutes before we rounded the headland and headed for the anchorage of Fethiye South Bay. Very well protected, this was to be our sanctuary for 3 days, while outside strong winds from the west howled, preventing us from moving further.

I'm gonna be straight up - I loved Fethiye. A very pretty town/city much larger than I expected, quite touristy, but in my mind just lovely. I had recently finished reading 'Birds without Wings' by Louis de Bernieres (thank you Betty x) which is set in this area of Turkey, covering the collapse of the Ottoman empire, including the battles at Gallipoli. I can't recommend it highy enough. Many towns or cities are referred to by the name they were before the country was, as described elsewhere, torn apart by "the twin scourges of religion and nationalism". The author often referred to a city called Telmessos, which is now known as Fethiye. As legend tells it, Telmessos is the son (or sons, just to throw in a dollop of legendary confusion) of the God Apollo. Telmessos means land of lights. Sadly this name was replaced in the 10th century by the greek Makri or Mekri, which became Megri until 1934, when it was renamed Fethiye in honour of one of the first Turkish pilots, Captain Fethi Bey, who died in 1914 when his plane crashed during at attempt to fly from Istanbul to Cairo. 

Fethiye has also experienced a few disastrous earthquakes, in 1957 when 90% of the city was destroyed, and two more in 1969 and 2011. Poor Turkey. 

We filled our days exploring the town, watching the antics of other boats and the massive pirate-themed gullets, relaxing just bit and taking advantage of the facilities of the nearby marina. Bluntly, if the shower doors ain't locked, I'm gunna use 'em. And the toilets, because it had become clear to us that our loo with the blackwater tank just wasn't working properly. Now, you can get help from marine electricians, riggers, carpenters, engineers, sailmakers, upholsterers, refridgerator and airconditioning experts, stainless steel workers.... anything but a marine plumber. No money in the world is worth taking that one on. So we, or in reality Mike, were alone with this one. Unfortunately for you, more on that to come later.

While floating around near Fethiye Mike had a brainwave. After pulling apart the back half of the boat, he finally found a slow but persistent leak coming from a fitting to the water heater. Ahhh-Ha!! he shouted. This leak wound it's way under the engine to a small hose not in the boat schematics, that led to the bilge. Our freshwater leak. Or at least, part of of it. We added that to the growing list of items that we needed to fix when we got to Marmaris. Since we had moved onto the boat there seemed to a never ending issue with pumps and leaks.

Finally, on Sunday morning, the weather outside improved as predicted, we up anchored - crossing our fingers that we hadn't become snagged on the long anchor chain of a gullet, like two boats we had seen do, and made the slow journey to Marmaris, 49nm away. And it was slow. We had to be at Marmaris to move into the Setur Marina next day, so no pottering or sailing for fun. The goring prop was playing up badly, clanking and shuddering underfoot, refusing to change out of overdrive, while at the same time reaching a maximum of 1100rpms and but only a speed of 3.4 knots, often dropping to less than 2knots, so basically not making any headway against building winds and waves. We decided we could try tacking across the open water closer to Marmaris, away from an island and military zone. Up went our one sail, with some brute force at the front from Mike as it wouldn't come all the way out without help - another problem on the list. As I tried to helm as close as I could to the wind in 22 knots without going too far away from where we were trying to be, I had to admit this was my come-uppance for wanting to sail. Tack back. The the wind started to change direction and die away, and it became a challenge between me and the dwindling wind to try to inch forward, with the help of our lagging engine. There were no other places to shelter in the conditions we had, we had to get to Marmaris. We finally reached the smaller bay between towering hills that was the beginning of the final approach to Marmaris. Time to put the sail away, motor on, we're almost there. 

And bingo, a howling 34 knots on the nose, trying to push us backwards. We struggled on, finally getting up to 3 knots again, just enough to make slow progress. Marmaris is set in a huge picturesque round bay, and once we passed through the small entrance, all became peaceful and welcoming. At 7.50pm we let down our anchor close to the marina, sighed with relief, and reached for the beer and gin.

We had a great week, but now we looked forward to a week of fixing things with the help of some professionals. Phew!

The lights of Kas

The Ancient Ruins of Tlos, and discovering Narnia

 Now, where were we?

Oh yes, driving back from Marmaris to Finike...   you may need a bigger cuppa for this one.

Having a four hour drive in front of him, it did take me a little bit of cajoling to get Mike to agree to take short diversion on our way home to visit an ancient site. 

'It's only 13ks off the main road" says I. "So that's 26ks all up. It's nothing.."  (Plus the hour or so to look around, although I didn't bring that up. I'm not that stupid). 

Now, to be fair, I have the advantage of having visited Turkey before, 12 years ago with Jess, and already knew that Turkey is a country with unbelievable ancient sites linking the present day country to many long gone civilizations (e.g. Hittites, Ancient Romans and Greeks....). Mike just thought I was dragging him to a boring bunch of rocks. 

Finally he agreed, turned off the Fethiye-Antalya highway, and tried not to harumph as we drove through green rural scenery gazing at snowy mountains on a bumpy country road. 

And then, at the end of a winding road we spied the impressive remains of what looked like a castle on a steep and rocky hill.

"Holy guacamole!!" shouted Mike as he leapt out of the car.

"Welcome to Turkey"  I said expansively, as if I had created all this for his benefit.

The castle turned out to be The Acropolis, or rulers palace and fortress. But it didn't stop there. The site also contains the remains of a stadium, baths, necropolis, temple and a roman theatre. 

Now, I'm not going to pretend to be an overnight authority, and nothing I write can adequately describe Tlos, so here are the basics - evidence shows that the foundations for Tlos began approximately 4000 years ago, and Tlos, first called Tlawa by the Hittites, became the oldest and largest Lycian city. After several civilisations lived in Tlos, the remains suffered serious earthquake damage in 141 AD, and then again in 240 AD.  

Click here for information about Tlos   

(Apologies to my librarian friends, this is from Wikipedia...)

We first wandered up the hill, taking our time explore the ruins and take in the view. A single Turkish flag fluttered at half mast in the cold wind at the very top of the ruins. It was a very poignant sight. The day was the 7th February 2023, one day after the 2 catastrophic earthquakes in South East Turkey. In fact, while we stood still and considered the fall of this ancient site due to earthquakes, tremors continued to devastate cities and towns elsewhere in Turkey, as they still do. 

PS - there are no photos of the theatre because

a) it was undergoing renovations to repair collapsing walls

b) camera malfunction

c) camera operators malfunctioning, or

d) all of the above.

So after wandering around in awe and contemplating our insignifant place in history, we headed off. Not before Mike had made friends with a local dog, who followed him everywhere and looked completely bereft when he realised Mike was heading for the car. 

I decided to give Mike a break, so I turned off the GPS and told him, when we get back to the main road, just follow the signs to Antalya. He agreed with me, it's one road which we'd already driven, how hard could it be? So I stopped looking at where we were going and paid absolutely no attention to the road, but to the scenery...

After a while I thought, gee that man looks cold, poor guy, as I gazed out the window. Hold up, it's cold because... that's snow outside! What?? There was thin, but definitely white stuff on the ground next to the road. I'd heard that there had been more snow on the mountains near Finike, so we both presumed that it had snowed more than we'd been aware of. 

As it continued we decided, well there was a section 2 days before that had been covered in thick fog, so this must why we didn't recognise any of the landscape. And it was white now.

The snow got thicker and thicker. We got out a couple of times just to revel in the novelty. So exciting - confusing, but fanastic. I was kept busy looking for Mr. Tumnus, after all we had somehow tumbled into Narnia, without a wardrobe. And surely there would be Turkish Delight somewhere too? (You cannot imagine my "delight" when I found out as an adult that this was a real thing).

If you look at the mountains in the distance in this photo, you see a lake we passed and this was the way we were headed...

Eventually it became clear to us that we were also continously, gradually climbing. The wide vistas were not narrowing and descending as we expected. I'd better check our location...

Yup, we were on the wrong road. Heading into The Mountains. We'd forgotten about a small link road between the main highway and the road to Tlos, so we'd turned right to Antalya, as I'd told Mike, instead of left and left again. So, a different road to Antalya. We'd long finished our emergency donuts and it was after 3pm. It would be dark not long after 6pm. Quick, do a U-ey.  

Mike headed up the way we came as I checked the GPS. It said that the way we had already been going was better. Quick, do another U-ey.

So back we went. Admiring the view, but aware that we didn't have chains, and it certainly looked like we were going to cross mountains. The road had recently been graded, but we agreed the moment the road deteriorated, we were turning around again. After about 30 minutes I managed to contact Tarik, the man who had lent us the car.

"Hello Tarik, it's Mandy. We took the wrong road, we're following the GPS route, but we will be back a little later than we thou-.."

"Merhaba - No, No, No.! You must not go that way. I can see you on the GPS tracker, you cannot go over the mountains. You must turn around."

Tarik hadn't even finished speaking and we had that car turned around again pronto. After all, it was still a wide road with, as you can guess, no other vehicles in sight.

Poor Mike, that quick only 26ks (and an hour or so) turned into a marathon effort. The last bit of the road was the winding twisty ocean road, and we'd be doing it in the dark. I'd already got to the jumpy, we're going to die on the next corner stage, so we gave up and stopped off at Kas to rest up. 

Then he had to get me up and on the road by 8am the next morning - another marathon effort - so we could get the car back on time, but we got to enjoy the blue ocean in the morning sun for the first time.