Pavlov gets new wings

Most people may not realize that boats actually fly through the water. Being a long time glider and general aviation pilot, I am acutely aware that boat sails are exactly like wings, they generate lift to enable a boat to sail to windward.

Here's a photo of a sister ship of a glider I used to own in the USA, a german ASW 19. I just loved the purity of function defining form, the sheer sensuousness of the lines, the delicate thin wings curving upwards as they responded to thermal lift.

ASW19's in cruise formation

A yacht's sails should have the same purity of form. Pavlov's sails are well used, yellowed with age and sea miles. They are the original sails and are over 20 years old. We thought it was time Pavlov was given the gift of new wings, so that she too could fly to windward.

We enlisted the help of UK sails to design a new wardrobe of sails for Pavlov. We wanted a new mainsail, a new yankee and a new furling staysail. Pavlov is a true cutter, which means that she was designed to fly two head-sails, a yankee and a staysail.

Pavlov's new tri-radial yankee

Here's a computer generated design of Pavlov's new yankee. This computer file will drive the cutters that cut the cruise laminate fabric to form the sail panels. This style of panels is called a tri-radial cut, the panels are lined up with the lines of force carried by the sail. The new staysail will be a smaller, cross cut design and mounted on a new furler. This will allow us to reef both the yankee and the staysail from the cockpit. Being able to put the sails away or to reef them down without a trip to the fore-deck, and to not have to deal with hanking on and storing heavy sails in high winds will be a huge advantage.

The new mainsail will be full-battened and have Rutgerson cars up the luff. These reduce the friction of the sail attachment slugs in the mast track. It will make it easier to drop the sail in a hurry and reduce the effort needed to raise the sail. We have also ordered a new lazy bag. This catches the sail when it falls so that it it neatly flaked on top of the boom.

All of these features will make sail handling easier and quicker. We both felt that these will make sailing the boat much safer. Being able to reef the main quickly, and to avoid having to go onto the fore-deck in high seas will make sailing in strong conditions much safer. As our experience grows, we're finding that Pavlov can handle stronger weather very well. Sailing from Serce to Fethiye in 25 knot winds demonstrated her good sea manners. For once, the wind was in the correct quarter, so we averaged about 7 knots home, even hitting 8 knots surfing down some of the swells. We did break a few battens from an involuntary gybe. We had a preventer rigged so the boom was fine, but the twisting off main broke 3 battens. Lucky we've a new sail ordered!

While all this work is going on, we've been making short forays into Turkey. The following photo's are from Serce, a very welcome hidden anchorage that provided a safe haven for an overnight stop as we travelled from Orhaniye to Fethiye. The winds were really up in the Rhodes channel, but after we sneaked into this little hidden bay, they dropped right off, and we found ourselves in a very tranquil anchorage, whilst outside the heavens howled.

Megs and Pav at Serce anchorage, a respite from the storms.

The anchorage was totally sheltered from quite heavy weather outside.

Looking out to the main bay.

Pavlov's mast intruding on the tranquil scene

When we settled back into Fethiye, we decided to break up boat maintenance tasks with local side trips. We made a trip to Kayakoy, a Greek village abandoned in 1923 after the Lausagne Treaty when Turkey deported many individuals of Greek descent back to Greece. The village was a sad and desolate place, just left abandoned. Megan is writing a more extensive piece on the history of this place.

Kayakoy ruins

Abandoned Greek Orthodox church

We also tried to take the dolmus (a local mini-bus) up to the ski-fields near Fethiye. We got to a village called Seki, but there was no available transport to the ski-fields themselves.

Snow capped mountains outside of Seki

Village square in Seki

So we spent a quiet few hours exploring the non-existent delights of Seki while waiting for the bus to take us back to Fethiye, a 2 hour trip. A circumcision ceremony watched over by a brooding Attaturk helped pass the time.

Circumcision ceremony

Quess who?

Ramshackle house in Seki

So in between the endless boat maintenance tasks (Its all about the boat, Steve....), we've been making short trips by local bus. To break up the patten, we decided to spread our wings a little. Pavlov should not get all the gifts, so we bought tickets to Rome, and will spend 10 days in the city in a week or so. Next blog should be rather italianate in flavour.

Tough life, isn't it!

Kayakoy- the ghost village near Fethiye

View of the village from the bottom of the hill

After our return from Orhaniye we decided to become tourists again. There is still so much to see
around Fethiye. One place I had wanted to visit is Kayakoy- village of stone. It is the village which
is the backdrop to the novel "Birds without Wings" by  Louis de Bernieres.

After WW1 Greece expected to receive territory as the result of the break up of the Ottoman Empire.
Britain had negotiated this agreement with the Greeks during the war, but once the war ended all such agreements were broken. The collapse of the Ottomans and the rise of Ataturk and the new nation of Turkey meant that Greek ambitions in the region were to be fought. A war between Greece and Turkey was fought and in 1923 at the Treaty of Lausanne a peace was brokered.


The relationship between the Greeks and the Turks has been stormy. Cyprus is a good example. The Greek /speaking or Greek orthodox people had lived in Asia Minor for generations. Greek speaking people had settled this coast in ancient times. So a Greek presence has existed here for thousands of years.
When you read information at the site of Kayakoy here and why it happened, it is hard to distill the truth. It is confronting to imagine the impact of agreements made by politicians on the ordinary people.

The impact of forced repatriation of Greek orthodox people back to Greece must have been

horrendous. The Greeks refer to this as the "Catastrophe". In Turkish literature and other sources it is recorded that the governments of Greece and Turkey agreed to this movement of people- moslems back to Turkey, Greek orthodox back to Greece.  Some documents even try to limit the numbers affected. One source says 180,000 Greeks and over 300,000 moslems. Another says 1.5million Greeks were forced to leave their homes in Turkey. It was suggested that the majority were forced to leave before the treaty was made. I found shards of china in homes. Were these the remains of a families dinner set lost in their forced removal?
 At Kayakoy a local historian has written on a notice that no physical force was used to force the people to leave yet Turkish people would not live there because they feared that the Greeks had
poisoned the wells. How does this make sense?  Was this more anti Greek propaganda or did the Greeks have good reason to want to make the perpetrators of their removal from their homes suffer?
Again trying to find the truth is difficult.

I have read about atrocities in the Greek -Turkish war on both sides.  It seems that the Turkish source would have you believe the action was not based on race but religion. What does this really mean?

In 1932 the Ataturk led government passed laws which restricted the professions or work that Greek citizens in Turkey could engage in. Some Greeks had been allowed to stay in Istanbul after 1923. They were barred from from a series of 30 trades and professions from tailor to carpenter to medicine, law and real estate.

In 1955 the Istanbul Pogrom occurred leading to many Greeks leaving Turkey. So surely the forced removal of Greeks from Turkey in 1923 was targeting them as Greek- as the evidence of anti Greek racism in latter years would attest.


Kayakoy is famous because a whole village was forced to leave Turkey and the buildings were just left to decay. 

You can see in the photos, houses , shops , streets, churches and chapels; a 
ghost town or as the name suggests, a village of stone.  I was amazed at how large it was; rows and rows of houses covering the whole hill side. 

My friend in Australia Sophie told me that her family had been forced to leave Turkey after WW1,  part of the"catastrophe". Her grandmother's experiences of this forced removal were horrific.  It is no wonder that forgiveness has been hard if not impossible for many Greeks.  In both countries different stories are told to explain or justify what happened in Turkey at this time

Now I have another research project: to find out what really happened in villages like Kayakoy and why it happened.

Ground Hog Day

Well, Ground Hog Day has come around again. That's the day when, once again, we try to leave Orhaniye.

Sure, you know, its ground hog day... again

First time we came to Orhaniye, on a charter boat 'Papalagi'  in 2011. We stayed just a few days longer than we planned. We loved the Bee festival, ate honey cakes and drank chai. Next time was a planned 2 day visit in Pavlov, 2012. We ended up staying for a month, and had lots of canvas and stainless steel work done on the boat, and the decks re-caulked.

View over Marmaris from the bus

This time, we planned to lift out at Marti Marina for 2 weeks (at an exorbitant price). We ended up staying on the hard for 2 months, major hull work and rudder repairs, engine overhauled, plumbing re-jigged. Finally back in the water, we thought we could get away back to Fethiye (where we have a contract at the marina for our berth).

Check the mosque poised on the cliff

We made our first attempt 2 days ago. We snuck out of Goekova Bay, only to get hammered by 40 knot winds and horizontal driving rain. Our forward progress dropped to 2 knots, so we decided to beat a hasty retreat, and headed back to Orhaniye.

Desperate for something to do, we jumped on a couple of busses up to Mulga, the administrative capital. It was a wet rainy sunday, but the bus ride through the mountain passes was spectacular.

A rather proud Attaturk adornment

We saw our first Turkish demonstration. About 30 placarded demonstrator were holding a peaceful but vociferous meeting. Totally outnumbered by the police, including a riot van, SWAT team, water cannon and crowd dispersing tank. Tight rein indeed.

Old Ottoman building sandwiched by modernity.

We wandered around till it was time to catch the bus home. We've just ridden out 2 more days of gale force winds. We'll try to depart again today, but I have the sneaking feeling that ... 

its still ground hog day!!

Mulga side street

I think I'll teach the theory of 'Eternal Recurrence'

Village life in winter

We've been living in the small village of Orhaniye, tucked into a deep sheltered bay of the southern Mediterranean coast.

The view up our street

We are making slow headway on the boat. We've decided to just seal up the hull for this season, we will come back next winter and haul the boat in Bozburun. We were able to get a quote for E 1400 to haul for 6 months. Its a primitive yard, the boat comes out on hydraulic skids, but it will allow us to peel off the gel coat and let the hull dry for 6 months. In the meantime, we will find an apartment in Bozburun, as well as spend 3 months or so back in Australia for Sophie's wedding.

Scraping off the old antifoul

So, we've stripped all the old coatings off, and can now evaluate the extent of the osmosis. The osmosis  is confined to the gel coat on the hull, it appears to be originating in tiny voids between the gel coat and the first layer of CSM. It means that the gel coat must come completely off to get a good repair.

Osmosis blisters in the hull

You can see the osmosis blisters in this photo, they only penetrate the gel coat. The rudder was a different story, it had no gel coat and the water had penetrated more deeply. We stripped the top 5mm layers of glass off, back to sound laminate. The core was wet, so we opened a window in the rudder, pulled out all the foam (it looked like aerosol foam). We'll let the rudder dry thoroughly, re-foam it and then lay up cloth to re-build the exterior. We'll do it all in epoxy, then barrier coat it so should have no more problems.

Pavlov naked!

Meanwhile, we've been immersed in Turkish village life. Expat's seem to form communities all over the world and Orhaniye is no different. We've found some wonderful friends in Kevin and Sarah, who run a yacht charter business, 'Perfect Sailing'.

Megan and Sara on the road to Datca

They drove us to a Christmas ex-pat market in the pretty village of Datca.

The inner harbour of Datca

The market was dominated by German cruisers, who had some pretty yummy wares to sell.

Expat market in Datca

German Kuchen for sale

Even Santa's presence was felt. Shame really!

We've also become more of an accepted part of the local village. We've been invited to two weddings, which are multi day affairs, with lots of live music and Turkish dancing. The whole village is fed, so it must be a huge expense. Frightening really, since Sophie (Megan's daughter) is getting married this year.

Village mosque

Small village hamlet

We enjoy wandering around the village, and will often have conversations with the local villagers. These two ladies allowed their photo's to be taken, but then turned their back at the last moment.

Shy locals?

There's been heavy rainfall this winter, with lots of local flooding and rock falls.

Fallen rock slide

Heavy rainfall

A flooded street

The village is mainly small holdings. Every house seems to have orange or mandarin trees, a few olives, chickens, goats, and a large vegetable patch. Self-sufficiency is an economic imperative.

Typical small holding

We live on these sweet mandarins!

The local topography is wild and mountainous. Not the worn ancient hills of Australia, but young, sharp and energetic. The beauty of the scenery is entrancing.

Wild cliffs and landscapes

Cliffs behind the village

With one boot in the bucket and hand to the wheel

I remember when my brother caught a fish near Terrigal lagoon in 1968. He was so happy. It was carried, still struggling for  breath,  back to our holiday house.

 I was a very tortured young child. I was so concerned about war and nuclear bombs. The idea of killing a fish was unthinkable. I cried to my father to take it back. Amazingly they did.  So up to this point my experience with catching fish has been negligible if not fraught with anxiety. You know the phrase "if fish could scream there would be no anglers", well I took this seriously, as I did most things.

 The idea of catching our own meals on our boat was greeted by me with mixed feelings. 

 After all- you have to kill it. Eating fish has never caused me much concern, but killing them....

Typical of most people who have never been part of the hunting world, the notion that these animals have to die is conveniently forgotten. 

We never have had much luck fishing. Steve and I tried once in our tinny on the Richmond river. We got bored pretty quickly. We even have trolled before, leaving a line to drag behind our boat suitably hooked and attached to an attractive plastic fish or insect. No luck.

Then the impossible happened. Steve has written about catching the fish, but not about what happened in the aftermath.

 Now ... I assumed there would be a lot of blood and scales, messy. I had said we needed to think about what we would do with "it"in the unlikely event that some poor fish actually did take the"bait". We couldn't do it in the deck: what about the teak? And where was the knife, and how were we going to secure the catch? I assumed it would still be still alive. 

Sailing to Orhayne past Bozburan we looked back to the line - stretching behind us tens of meters. 

Looks like we've got something, Steve commented, not particularly excited as we still thought it might be rubbish or a snag of line. I went into action, what are we going to put it in...as Steve reeled in the line I grabbed a bucket out of the locker. 

The struggling fish was finally in the bucket. In the melee that followed Steve announced, I don't know what to do!!! I casually stated this was my blog topic now... after all such an admission could not go uncommented on. 

As the auto- helm capably steered our course, Steve went below to check with our trusty iPad - what to do with fish. I kept my foot on the fish in the bucket as it tried to escape. Now auto -helm was being unreliable. As I waited for further instructions, I steered the boat -with one foot in the bucket ensuring that dinner did not escape. 

Well you know the rest. Dinner was great. Steve produced a beautiful meal of our tuna , cooked to perfection.

  In Australia I knew people who fished or hunted rabbits. In Turkey I have met people who hunt, not just for sport but to put food on the table. For many in Turkey, particularly in the villages, life is tough. Hunting is still, though controlled, a means to feed your family. Protein is scarce in their diet, which is rich in refined carbohydrates like bread or pastry. Our fish was caught to be eaten not just for sport. Our diet of protein has declined since coming here so the fish made a difference to us too. 

So maybe it is ok to fish as long as you eat what you catch and only fish for what you can eat.

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