Back to the Future

Time and tide, and the Greek immigration authorities wait for no man, so we had to check out of Greece by Saturday as our extension visa was expiring. However, there is a very important festival in Samos on Monday. This festival celebrates the Greek naval victory over the Turkish (Ottoman) invasion fleet in Pythagoria.

Samos harbour at night

So we had to stay, albeit illegally. We checked out on Saturday, got all the paperwork done, and laid low for the next couple of days. The celebration was brilliant. A small fleet (representing the Greek naval forces) of fishing boats circled the harbour, mock bombing this small floating barge representing the Turkish forces.

The defending fleet

The attack begins

All the Turkish cruising boats hid their national flag for this night.

The Turkish invader is sunk!

And then the fireworks began. It really was an impressive show, and we had ring-side seats. We were on Jonny and Marion's boat sharing some libations with friends, it was a marvellous experience.

The fireworks begin

Lots of zazzle

Lighting up the night sky

Oooohh, Arrrhhh

Next morning, we could delay no longer, so it was up anchor, and off to Turkey. Samos is the closest Greek island to Turkey, the passage between the two is only 1 n.mile wide. We had a great sail over to Kusadasi, our port of entry for Turkey.

Jonny and Marion up in lights!

We booked into Setur Marina in Kusadasi, there are no anchorages in the bay. Kusadasi is like Blackpool in the UK. It is filled with cruise ships (they can accommodate up to eight, according to Heikel), tourists and carpet sellers. We met up with our German friends, Marco and Petra, who also sailed over from Samos.

Marco & Petra

Kusadasi was a nice enough marina, but it was expensive for us at Euro 55 per night. If you've been reading this blog, you'll know our feelings about 'Grockle', and Kusadasi abounded in grockle. So after celebrating Megan's birthday with a meal out and some appropriate baubling (vb. The act of adorning one's female partner with precious minerals so as to appease the gods of spite and fate) - (The actual 'bauble' was an unusual pair of green amber earrings - good gold star earners!), we decided to leave the security of the marina, and head out for some more interesting anchorages on the coast.

The fjord at Tekedagi

We stopped first at Sigacik, and after some windy nights at the end of the bay, we anchored sucessfully in Teos bay. The ruins were indifferent here, but the town was interesting. It was a walled town, very attractive with a good fruit and vegetable market. However, the anchorage was very windy and exposed, so we headed north to Tekedagi. This was an idyllic place, a very deep and narrow fjord-like channel that provided wonderful protection. We failed several times to get a good anchor set, due to the extreme depth and rocky bottom. Then we found a mooring ball, that provided a wonderfully secure anchorage.

The view to the end of the fjord.

There were a few shacks floating on the edge of the fjord, that served as make-shift homes for the crews servicing the mother-ships that roamed around the fish farms out to see. The water was deep, cold but crystal clear. We could hear bird-song each morning. It was a wonderful, refreshing and rejuvenating anchorage.

A floating fisherman shack

We were overjoyed to see a familiar boat hull poking her nose into 'our' fjord. Naussika, the Sirius 38 belonging to Marco and Petra, had turned up. Great minds think alike, so we shared some wonderful days together in the fjord.

Another view of the fjord.

All good things must end, and so it was with our time in paradise. We moved up the coast to another anchorage. It was also beautiful, and we rubbed shoulders with some incredibly wealthy Turk power brokers. However this anchorage was fraught. Petra and Marko dragged in the night and had their mooring lines broken. They also awoke to find a very large power boat dragging down on them. The wind was getting stronger, and there was a gale warning for the area.

Megan at Alicarti

So we upped anchor, (after a chilly morning dive to unwrap the anchor chain from a finger of rock that it had bow-tied itself around), and motored through 25 knot winds and rain, past looming fish farms, up to Alicarti. We were hearing lots of thunder and lightning, and Megan was worrying about being struck. I said, you only have to worry when the flash and the bang happen instantaneously. Well, not five minutes after than, that's what happened. We were startled, but then started hearing a strange noise. I asked Megan to check the engine, it sounded like it was shredding itself. Then Megan noticed that the anchor chain was spewing all over the deck,

Alicarte windmills, just for show.

The lightning had struck the boat (or very nearby) and fried the receiver for the electronic chain counter, which was now commanding 'chain down'. After switching the infernal machine off, we had an uneventful passage into Alicarte, a port town of Cesme. This area is so windy, that they chose the area adjacent to the marina for the world sail-boarding championship, which was running as we entered the harbour.  They must have been concerned about sailing yachts mowing down competitors (or hindering the progress of the race), so we had a low level helicopter escort (low as in less than mast height, only about 20 meters away from the boat) all the way to the marina.

Marco and Petra at the windmill

We had arrived, back from the wilderness, to our next brush with civilization. What would it hold?

Megan in the market street.