Datca Peninsula Covers the period April 28 to May -- May 24, 2002 We are now into the East Mediterranean Yacht Rally (EMYR), but I have to get caught up to the point where we joined it in Bodrum. My last log had us in Fethiye, and paragliding off a mile high mountain. We found the anchorage we were in very secure, and, if in the Fethiye area again, we would use it. We enjoyed the company of the fisherman and his wife the last night there, and had another feast of crab given to us next day before our departure. At the anchorage was a pleasant park where we could get fresh water, and we had a lovely view across Fethiye harbour and of the Crusader castle and rock tombs above and behind the town. We dinghied into the marina to get groceries, attempt to send E-mail, and take in a movie. So far I have not found Turkish Internet cafes to be very reliable, as they are slow and prone to crashing. The town itself is pleasant and not overly touristy, catering more to Turkish holidaymakers than European. We may return to explore the area more next year. We did not go to Marmaris, another good cruising area and marina, but went southwesterly across the bay to an anchorage at Kizilkuyruk Koyu, after finding our originally planned anchorage at Kucuk Kuyruk was a bit congested. We did not go ashore, but anchored in 21 feet of water near the shore. One of the problems with many of these anchorages is that they have deep water until close to shore, often necessitating taking a line ashore. This technique is quite common here in the Med, and seems to work well, as the boat does not swing and require the anchor to rotate and hopefully grab in the opposite direction to which it was originally set, and has two secure points instead of just the anchor. We left again at 0540, before sunrise, in order to get as much distance before the Meltemi blew contrary winds at us. As it was, we still motorsailed to Bozuk Buku, where we went bow to at the rickety dock of the Ali Baba Restaurant in the first cove, being waved over by the local tout. At least it had a “lazy line” that we used to secure our stern rather than having to use our own stern anchor. We wanted to anchor in the cove, but to do so only 50 feet off the restaurant dock felt wrong, and we knew that a beer at the restaurant would be all that would be necessary, even if we didn’t go for a meal. The cove was overlooked by the ruins of a fantastic 3rd century BC citadel from the Hellenistic period, dominating the entrance and providing a spectacular view into the buku (cove) and along the coastline. The walls were intact, with bastions jutting out for defensive purposes. The size of the building blocks was amazing. They measured about 2.0 x 1.5 x 1.5 metres, and the walls were double thicknesses of these blocks with smaller rocks sandwiched in the middle for a wall width of over two metres thick and still over 15 metres high, in an oblong configuration over 500 metres long, dominating the craggy cliffs. Judy walked the first two thirds of one side before returning to Veleda, whereas I went the entire circumference along the top of the walls and battlemenmts. There were no structures contained within the citadel, but it was readily obvious how such a fortification could protect the ancient town of Loryma, the ruins scattered around the cove. Off at 0545 again. We basically went from the tip of one peninsula across a large open bay to the tip of the next. However, to do so we had to follow the coastline north around Nisos Simi and Nisos Nimos, Greek islands located in the bay, then west to Knidos at the end of the Datca Peninsula. It is unfortunate for Turkey that all the offshore islands (the Dodecanese) on their coast, even inside their large open bays as this one, belong to Greece, as they are closer to the Turkish mainland. They were controlled by the Ottoman Empire (Turks) from 1522 until its demise and their acquisition by Italy in 1912. After the Italian surrender in 1943, the area became a battleground for British and German forces, and the Dodecanese were awarded to Greece in 1947. I guess it is an unfortunate circumstance for Turkey being on the losing side in WW I and trying to remain neutral in WW II. We had a couple of hours sailing in the six hour trip, to anchor in the remains of the commercial harbour, Buyuk Limani, of the ancient ruins of Knidos (36 41.1 N, 027 22.5 E), founded by the Dorian Greeks in the 7th century BC at the end of the Datca Yarimadasi (peninsula). This peninsula marks the southwest tip of Turkey, with the commercial harbour entered off Mediterranean coast on the south, and the military trireme harbour around on the Aegean coast on the west side. It was a large harbour with a wooden dock in front of the restaurant and two gulets anchored with lines ashore on the south side just inside the breakwater. We anchored in what we thought was good holding in the northern part, a couple of hundred yards from the restaurant. We enjoyed the walk ashore through the ruins from the Dorian grandeur through the Roman and Byzantine eras. The Arab invasions marked the end of this prosperous trading centre. I have an interesting picture of a column remnant with a Byzantine cross, lying on a marble floor etched with Arab script graffiti. Remains of several temples and churches as well as a Greek/Roman theatre, agora, and the terraces of the ancient homes provided an energetic afternoon’s outing. In the walls of a Byzantine church we saw debris and columns from Greek temples used in its construction. There were still traces of aqueducts and sewers evident, as well as the remains of temples to Apollo, Dionysus, and Aphrodite. Inside the Temple of Aphrodite once stood the famous masterpiece “Aphrodite of Knidos”, by the sculptor Praxiteles (4th century BC), the first statue of a nude woman in Greek sculpture. The original was destroyed but two copies remain, in the Louvre and the Vatican. The famous Greek mathematician, physicist, and philosopher Euxodos was from Knidos. However, that night, the wind shifted and started blowing 25 to 30 knots and we dragged at 2359. We were the only boat lying only to an anchor. The two gulets were anchored, but with lines ashore. There were four yachts on the restaurant dock. Manoeuvering inside a strange harbour in 30 knot winds, the shore line not visible beneath the shadows of the surrounding hills on this moonless night, made for an unsettling experience. A dinghy from one of the gulets was returning to its boat when we called to them and indicated we were going to try to go bows on to the restaurant dock, and could they take our line to the dock as we approached. The dock was upwind, and as I approached, we lowered our stern anchor, streaming it out as we slowly headed towards the dock. The dinghy had our line, but did not have it over to the dock. We were being blown over to the next boat and risked hitting it. Our bow was swinging with the wind, and I was going so slowly I had no steerage way. I pulled on our anchor line, pulling us back from the dock, just clearing the bow of one of the yachts, and trying to stay away from its anchor. (Most yachts go stern to when doing Mediterranean mooring, using their bow anchors to hold them off. However, because of our dinghytow system on the stern we go bows to, using a stern anchor to hold us off.) I also had to worry about catching the line of our stern anchor in the propeller, so I could not use the engine and had to just pull on the anchor line to clear the other vessel’s bow, and we swung away down wind, our anchor still out. Once our anchor line was away from the prop, I was able to use engine power to try to turn us into the wind again to approach the dock a second time. We did not have a large enough turning circle with our stern anchor still out. I asked the dinghy to nudge our bow upwind towards the dock and secure a line somehow to it. Once the line was secured we could finish the mooring procedure ourselves. They got a line on for me, and took a second line as well. Whew! Now, as long as their knots held, the line didn’t fray, or the end of the dock where we were tied did not give way in the heavy winds, we were OK. It was about an hour from the time we first started to drag until we were bows on to the dock, all in pitch black night and 30 knots of wind blowing us away from the dock. Exhausting! Next morning, the wind was still up, and we were afraid it might be one of those situations where the Meltemi will blow for several days, rather than being just a daily late morning and afternoon wind. Of course our next leg took us right into it! However we left anyways, hoping that we could get around the tip of the peninsula, and then heading northeast take advantage of it and actually sail up Gokova Korfezi and the north side of the Datca Peninsla. Pounding unto it, we attempted to motor sail, but as the pitching of the boat was so heavy, the exhaust water stopped because of some air blockage in the line, and we had to shut down the engine. After removing the hoses, I established we had a free flow from the strainer to the pump, so it wasn’t a water intake problem. I then blew through past the pump, expelling air through the system, hoping that would clear any blockage. It worked and the engine started up and the water flow was fine again. We are still concerned, as when motor sailing in heavy waves, we have not infrequently had the water flow disrupted, especially when we are heeled over to starboard. By the time it was fixed, we were around the peninsula and heading ENE with a west wind gently moving us along. It is so much nicer when going with the wind rather than pounding into it. For the first time since leaving Kemer, we were heading in an easterly direction, and able to use any Meltemi that might blow up. By 1440 we were at anchor in Yedi Adlari (the Seven Islands), up the end of East Creek (36 52.1 N, 028 03.4 E), a lovely secluded cove ending in a small creek. We were the only boat, and enjoyed the isolation, thinking the scenery was similar to the woodlands of Northern Ontario. Even the pine trees had a tendency to lean to the east, having been blown so much by the prevailing Meltemi, reminiscent of Tom Thompson paintings of Northern Ontario and Lake Huron. However, no loons, no cormorants, and very few sea gulls were in evidence. After a quiet night we motored up to Castle Island (36 59.6 N, 028 12.4 E), also known as Cleopatra’s Island, as she had supposedly shipped sand to it from Egypt to make the beach and the island an idyllic retreat for her and Marc Antony. There were ruins from ancient Caria to the last Byzantine occupation to be found there. The anchorage is wide but well sheltered, popular with day tripping gulets, and is very crowded in the summer. There is a 7,000,000 TL charge for landing, allowing us to explore the ruins and to swim at Cleopatra’s beach. They were so protective of the sand that we were not allowed to put towels on the beach, or lie on it. Small boats or dinghies were not allowed into the cove. Showers were to be taken (no soap or shampoo please) after bathing so the sand would wash off and stay in the beach area. Wooden reclining chairs were provided behind the low wall above the beach for sunbathing. Frankly, I think it was overrated, but it is good for the tourist industry. I enjoyed seeing the ruins and the small Greek/Roman theatre on the island, and we had a chance to get rid of some garbage before leaving at 1330 for our overnight anchorage at English Harbour. Again we had a secluded cove to ourselves, in what is known as English Harbour (36 55.4 N 028 09.4 E), part of the larger Degirmen Buku. It has the name English Harbour, as the Special Boat Squadron used this sheltered, hidden cove as a base in 1944/45 for their launches and MTB’s. We could see signs of second growth logging on the hillsides, and had an enjoyable dinghy tour around the larger bay, past a villa protected by the military, and a mermaid statue similar to that in Copenhagen, perched off a point. We did not see any evidence of the SBS presence 57 years ago. As it was only May 5, we had time to enter another harbour before joining the EMYR in Bodrum on the 6th, and so anchored across the Gokova Korfezi in Cokertme bay (37 00.2 N, 027 47.2 E), with a line ashore in the west cove of the bay. When we dinghied over to the small town, we noticed a Canadian flag flying from a catamaran, and of course had to go over to say “Hi”. It turned out to be Maureen and Arthur Gray and their visiting son on board “Northern Flyer”. They are semi-retired Canadians who have kept their boat in Turkey for several years and fly back and forth annually to sail these waters. We enjoyed fresh strawberries they were trying to use up and coffee and tea as we chatted. A nice family. We had that western cove to ourselves, as the few gulets and a charter fleet anchored in the northern cove around a headland out of sight. At the end of the cove sandwiched between the hills was an olive grove with hundreds of trees in cleanly spaced lines. It was being visited by a flock of about 30 goats, shaggy mature ones with interesting twisted horns, and their kids, nimbly clambering down the rocky hillside, followed by a woman goatherd wrapped in traditional Turkish scarf, multicoloured shirt, and baggy pants. It could have been a scene from 2000 years ago. The line ashore proved satisfactory, and we’ll probably use it more frequently here in the Med. We enjoyed a short swim. The weather is hot and sunny, but the Med here was not very warm yet. We have had no rain since leaving Kemer over two weeks ago. Leaving next day at 0620 just after sunrise we motored the 20 miles to Bodrum Karada Marina (37 02.0 N, 027 25.4 E) where we were to join the East Med Yacht Rally (EMYR), and rendezvous with David Mulholland who was flying in from Canada. The EMYR will form my next sequence of Logs #25 as I describe this fascinating rally that will take us to Turkey, Northern Cyprus, Syria, Lebanon, Israel and Egypt.
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