Passage Report No. 41
Goodbye Sigacik
A cruiser is by nature, a rolling wave. Winter passes, spring beckons. It is time to move on. Sahula has wintered in Sigacik for 6 months. Time to meld with the locals, make friends, explore the town, the region and learn some Turkish. It is an overseas "home." All ensure that is harder to leave.
Sahula's 12 month Transit Log requires renewal. Skipper buses to Cesme to confront the bureaucracy. The Cesme Marina office sells the log (97TL), the Harbour Master stamps. The Government health officers certifies i.e. assumes good health, customs and immigration stamp, the Harbour Master confirms. It is done (two hours). No agent needed. Skipper has a valid Turkish Log (12 months) and visa (three months).
It is after midnight emergency. Skipper phones Cuneyd (Marina manager), Richard (Silent Wish) has internal bleeding. Another example of Turkish hospitality (literally). The Marina provides a car to drive the patient to Seferihisar, then Izmir hospitals.
A photo is required by Marina management, of Skipper and Sahula, their first yacht. Farewell to the staff and workers. Skipper and daughters will visit in September.
Australian guests (Robyn and Jack) are aboard. Water in, gas refilled, fuel in, new propeller shaft working, Seferihisar bizarre -fruit, vegetables, cheese, "Tansar" supermarket - muesli, tins, dolmas (bus) to Sigacik, University Café - bread, baklava, eggs and farewells, Zod (dinghy) on deck, "plank" up. Sahula reaches for the open sea. A NW'ly fills the yankee, main and staysail on a "downhill" course to Samos Island in the Greek, Dodecanese group. A course to sea to avoid the calms in Kusadasi bay before the Samos Strait. Robyn, affected, rests below.
Posidonion Bay, church bells ringing, white village, crystal water - Sahula's first Greek anchorage. Allah's muezzerin is unheard across the strait. A morning pre-departure swim.
Yachts passing between Turkey and Greece do not book out of Turkey when going to Greece. They are therefore illegal on leaving Turkey. They book into and out of Greece (transit log and visa stamp) and return, as if never left, to Turkey. Skipper did this in Pythagoreon town on Samos. Greek officials (Port Police, customs, Immigration) signed and stamped the Greek transit log (6months) and passport (55 Euros).
Sahula anchored outside the ancient harbour. The whitewashed town gathered around the harbour and the hillside beyond. A medieval fort dominates the harbour. Tourists flooded the streets. The town is the ancient city of Samos. Polykrates (the tryant) created the "greatest engineering feats in the Greek world:" the harbour walls, Temple of Hera (destroyed), the through mountain tunnel bringing city water (exists).
Skipper's dawn walk explores the white lane maze and hills above. Colourful religious art - ceiling, framed, gold and silver icons evidence historic devotion in the city basilica..
Cruising is wind and whim. Sahula was bound to Arki Island but headwinds and short sea, turned her to Aganthosia Island. Sundowner's drinks are amongst dry, desolate hills, a remote anchorage, goat herd bells and crystal clear water.
Two yachts anchor close by. The "herd" factor - anchoring nearby when ample space exists - is human nature. It seems, illogically, more so in cruisers from crowded Europe.
The hill top Monastery of St John, Patmos dominates Skala harbour. Built as defence against roving pirates, villagers fled to behind its high walls. Workers whitewashed homes cluster around it.
Sahula is anchored (cost free) in the well protected, harbour away from the "cheek and jowl, stern to, busy harbourside. A nearby fuel station refills fuel containers.
Skipper walked uphill to the Monastery visiting the cave where St John received God's Revelations. A silver lined, roof fissure marks where God appeared. Some meditate transfixed by the closeness to truth or myth. Skipper lights a candle. Another monastery (Apocalypse) is built over the cave.
The St Johns Monastery museum and church, house ornate, paintings, books and Greek Orthodox religious icons. Vibrant colour, gold and silver, create religious mystery.
Both Monasteries house novices preparing for Christian Orthodox priesthood.
Ancient windmills (four) are being rebuilt on the Monastery ridge. Great sails drive the mechanism which traditionally crushed wheat into flour. Freedom wind upon windmill sails below the cloistered monasteries towering ramparts. Nature and religion lost.
Its electric - the freshwater pump stopped. Jack takes it apart. The Aries tiller pilot electrical plug is corroded - hand steering till Bodrum.
Few if any, ancient ruins adorn these islands. Villages where minor compared to those mainland land bound unless a centre for trade.
Sahula rests off Archelagos. A deserted island shared on with goats. Evening shouting, herdsmen racing, goat's bells urgently chiming - trapped - deported in boats to an uncertain fate.
Guests introduce the game, "Rummy" to Sahula.
Skipper hears nothing from Musketelle, a NZ yacht, hoping to rendezvous with Sahula.
Early morning sparkle, dolphin like, without a stitch, Skipper snorkels the shore.
Sahula anchors off, in Lakkia Harbour, Leros. An bland town of wide streets and formless buildings. Leros was hard fought for in WWII. Buildings were devastated and rebuilt without concern for their cultural identity.
Skipper and Robyn bus to Pendeli's Crusader Castle set high above the villages white, narrow streets. The Greek ness (mixed with Italianate houses) seems to have escaped the war time devastation. The castle houses an ornate Greek Orthodox Church and superb church museum.
A Cruising Association email recounts that Greek Port Police whether a yacht has booked out of Turkey. The emails run hot with concern. Skipper decides to be "legal" in Leros. First visit is to the elusive Port Police officer - in dark blue and gun belt: "Where are you?" - "In the harbour" - "Where is that?" Language intervenes: "Could you come back tomorrow?"
Sahula unrecorded, church bells tolling (Sunday), departs for Kalimnos. The bay is not in the Guide. Sahula is alone, anchored beneath towering rocky peaks. High on the slope the collapsed hillside evidences a vast subterranean cave.
"It is not a dolphin, it's a seal!" swimming behind a fishing boat.
The Greek Idyll ends in Kos marina. Sahula is jammed in a fender apart. "This is nothing, we do it with much larger yachts." One marina in two weeks is too many. Cost: 25 Euro ($54 Austn) - a night.
Washed, watered and bathed, crew visit the cities, many, richly endowed, ancient sites. A tourist "train" takes visitors to the Roman health villa. A reconstructed Roman house provides an insight to a high standing Roman's domestic life - marble and tiled art floors, painted art on walls, pools, courtyard and large rooms.
Sundowners with Yurgan and Arica (German cruisers - "Cape Reinga"). They recount cruising on the French Canals and invite Skipper to the home on the Rhine river.
EU fuel is cheaper than Turkey. 58 Euro for 40 litres.
Port Police, Customs and Immigration and hand in the Transit Log. Cost: 88 cents.
Fair winds to Bodrum, Turkey, change to rain squalls. Turk Red Flag replaces Greek Blue. Sahula anchors under Karaada Island.
Allah's muezzerin welcomes Sahula to Bodrum. Night clubs cut the evening air. Guests depart for Istanbul.
The Greek Dodecanese is a quieter place, Tourism is not overwhelming; locals are laid back, less money driven. It is a more European place, in people, religion and culture.
Greek literature refers to Turkey as "Asia Minor" - a place between Asia and Europe. The muzzeurin cuts the air five times a day. Noise accompanies life. Both are welcoming. Turkey is less expensive.
Sahula returns to Greece in September. She awaits other guests from Turkey and Australia.
A poem of Sahula's Dodecanese idyll:
THE AEGEAN ADVENTURERS by Robyn Adams
When you're sailing the Aegean 'mongst barren, windswept isles,
Many thoughts stray to ancient sailors whose ships plied these watery miles.
How easily they did navigate with cargoes of amphorae and painted tiles,
Whilst many a storm wrecked great galleons, blue skies more often smiled.
Perched high on nearly every hilltop stands a ruined lookout tower,
An indication that the peoples here once held such mighty power,
Now modern communications towers, like fingers pointing to damnation
Transmit messages around the world from this now bankrupt nation.
The red-hulled yacht Sahula made good speed across the water,
Her sails unfurled, her skipper pleased as he thought about his daughter.
A lawyer back in Aussie, she was due to join him soon,
And together they'd go sailing until full waxing of the moon.
The crew now on board Sahula, a couple from back home,
Had joined the yacht in Turkey, for they also liked to roam.
They sailed across to Samos, an island not far to the west,
Entering into Grecian waters, they were soon put to the test.
A strong north wind assailed Sahula as she bravely carried on,
Her sides awash with teaming foam, her stays stretched way beyond,
But all passed the test and got to rest in the lovely port of Pithagoria,
Where crews sat around the little town and ate at a trattoria.
High above this little bayside town an impressive ruin stands,
Here Hera, wife of Olympian Zeus, was said to have been born.
A temple dedicated to her name was built by many hands,
The sacred way is now defunct, headless marble statues lie forlorn.
The Gods of old Olympus still seem to be around,
Those mighty heroes whose names provoke stories most profound.
Artemis, the huntress, twin of Apollo God of Light,
Was foremost worshipped long ago to help prevent great plight.
Islands with inspiring names, like Patmos, Leros, Kos slip past,
Painted houses hug the hills, sparse vegetation sprouts at last,
Sea birds call, bright sun shines down on azure seas,
Dotted on hills, a glorious sight, stand ancient monastries.
Fish soon nibble at the compost that we toss overboard,
Coloured red, blue, yellow, brown, they make a puzzling hoard,
For as soon as fruit or vege peels hit the waters blue,
They come racing out of nowhere, vying for pieces to chew.
Several other yachts sail past each day, their courses set like ours,
To reach an idyllic anchorage, before the cocktail hour.
Flags from many nations grace the stern's halyard,
We greet each other often without a thought to guard.
Bodrum, on the Turkish coast, is the final destination,
For the crew will leave Sahula there, with the skipper's imagination,
For waters blue and adventure true, the Aegean has it all,
So if you're finding life a little dull, then listen to its call.
Robyn Adams - Crew , July 2010.
Next Report: Guests cruises
Best
David
Sv Sahula
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