My winter coat

As the waters get colder and the days shorter, I was thinking of Paul Kelly's song "My winter coat", and how our experience has changed as we've moved from the hot long days of summer into a different kind of experience in winter.

Sliding downhill, wing on wing

At first, the weather in Fethiye was very mild, with light winds. It allowed us to experiment with new headsail combinations on Pavlov. Here's a picture of us sailing with twin headsails out, a technique we'll use later, sliding downhill in the tradewinds. 

Calm winter sunshine

The mild days are clear and tranquil, here's Pavlov sitting at the jetty in Orhaniye, with the Inox guy (Ergun Toraman) making alterations to the solar panel arch. 

Sailing from Fethiye to Orhaniye, the winds were light so we had our first attempt at trolling behind the boat. Around Bozburun, we thought we'd snagged something on the line, probably debris. Turned out to be a very nice small tuna-like species. The Turks call this fish a Palamat. I'll leave Megan to detail our adventures in fish-filleting at sea via Internet instructions, but it was a beautiful eating fish, worthy of sashimi.

Pavlov's first fish... a small but delicious tuna.

But the weather can have a sinister side as well. The wind can come up abruptly, surprisingly so and menacing. We've had 40 knot gales battering the boat against the jetty, a truly frightening experience. Best be on your toes in winter. This photo is from a delivery of a 43' Jeanneau from Orhaniye to Marmaris for some friends of ours, Kevin and Sara from 'Perfect Sailing'.

A wet delivery to Marmaris

This changeability is in such contrast to summer, which is mercilessly consistent. Summer is relentless sunshine, dehydrating heat and cloudless, parched skies.Summer is also tourists: its like all of Europe flocks to the Mediterranean coast seeking fun, clear water and respite from the heat.

Summer in Turkey is also all about the relentless pursuit of money. The touts in the street will pursue you with astonishing vigour to sample their carpets/tee-shirts/food/lamp-shades/ etc etc. The place is geared around fleecing tourists of their money. There are tourist prices and 'turkish prices'. Interestingly, in Fethiye, the local council will not approve building works or renovations during summer, to avoid a negative impact on tourism.

Summer crowds at Ephesus

All that falls away in winter, the streets are empty, the villages seem to quieten and turn in on themselves. Storekeepers drop the blustery arrogance, and seem genuinely pleased to see you, offering 'turkish prices' without any struggle. People smile at you on the street, offer a friendly 'Guniden' or 'Merebah, Hozgeldeniz'. There is time for gentler pursuits, the men are often seen fishing in the middle of the day, women spend more time at the weekly markets catching up and gossiping. The pace of life slows, time opens up, things breath more easily.

The empty boardwalk in Fethiye... Winter time.

We love Turkey in winter, it's as if we can see her true colours. Colour returns to the hills, the landscape is no longer bleached under the sun but can reveal its finer textures. The people allow their true humanity and gentleness to surface. The drive for the dollar submerges under the vicissitudes of winter weather. The tourists leave, the 'grockle' recedes, the tide washes out; leaving the naked shoreline and the flotsam of real life.

Our little village street in Orhaniye