26th Post - Silly problems

Back in Britain for a bit

Sorry for the lack of communication. We have hit a bit of a snag in the form of a large lump in Dee’s neck.

Dee spent 10 days in Madeira hospital having a CT scan, biopsy, blood tests and being pumped full of antibiotics. All the tests were negative so he was discharged. However the lump didn’t go away.

We then sailed to Canaries, left Sula there, and flew back to the UK. The NHS are providing first rate care and are progressing through a lengthy series of tests. It looks as though it’s T- cell Lymphoma that should respond to treatment. However some doubt still remains. Hopefully all will be revealed and treatment started on the 15th of December when Dee next sees his consultant.

Dee isn’t in any pain and doesn’t feel ill or have any other symptoms. Just a huge itch to get back sailing as soon as possible.

Thanks so much to the many friends and relatives that have provided practical help and support.

Please check out the ‘Post script’ column for the latest news.

25th post - Gibraltar to the Canaries

Sorry for the long delay in updating the Blog.
The best excuse I can come up with is that we have been rather busy. But I would say that wouldn’t I?

We arrived in Gibraltar on the 28th June, having booked a place at Marina BayMarina. It’s bang next door to the airport runway and as one might expect is incredibly noisy, especially when military aircraft are taking off or landing. If on deck we had to put fingers in our ears, it was so painfully loud.

Gibraltar airport and Marina Bay
(La Linea (Spain) in the background)

The next bit is for techies so feel free to skip it if so inclined.

After much waiting around, and visiting various offices in and around the airport, our Hydrovane self steering gear, that had been sitting in a warehouse for a week, was finally delivered to us. I then set to work fitting it to the transom. I’ve thought it for a long time but now I’m certain. There really is no such thing as an easy job aboard a yacht.

However, the instruction book was very good and I ploughed on. I came to an abrupt halt however when trying to fit the lower mounting bracket. In the end I had to Email the manufacturers and discovered that I had been supplied with the wrong part.

They sent me a new one without delay, but it was lost in customs or somewhere.
It never arrived, so I had to manufacture a sleeve out of a couple of beer cans.
This fix lasted for 500 miles to Porto Santo.

My next task was to go through a by now familiar pantomime with customs and the shipping agents to get hold of an Echo tech water maker we had ordered on the internet from Trinidad.

Once again the instructions were very good, and I soon had it fitted under the pilot berth. It will make 42 litres of drinking water an hour from seawater. The down side is that it uses a lot of battery power, so the sun must shine all day to recharge the battery from our solar panel or else we must run the engine.

To add insult to injury our fridge then packed up. A pipe had chafed through (because I hadn’t secured it properly). The gas man, once we had persuaded him to come, told me to fix the leak with several coats of Araldite. That done he came back and re filled the coolant gas. Then gave me a whacking great bill for the repair. It must have been very expensive araldite.

Welcome back to the non techies.

We had a day off work and completed an excellent walk to the summit of the rock via a path known as the Mediterranean steps. Near the summit we came across the obligatory Barbary Macaques, they were quite charming as a matter of fact.

What was not so charming was the huge amount of military detritus, littering a vast expanse of the countryside. I’m amazed that with the departure of most of the military, and the importance of tourism to the island, greater effort has not been made to clear up this expanse of disused rubbish. Now where in Wales can I tell a similar tale?

Barbary Macaques

On my birthday we visited a local bar with a live band, including a superb solo flautist. It really was an excellent performance. Pippa had come across the musician busking in the street a few days before and had asked where she might hear more of his music.

The Football world cup was in progress while we were in Gibraltar. Giant TV screens proclaimed the fact on every corner, otherwise we might not have known. We thought it might be fun to go and support Spain in the final from a waterfront bar. And it was. Rather sadly though, we got a bit mixed up with their shirt colours. I had wrongly assumed that Spain would be wearing their national colours of yellow and Red, but this was not the case and we spent most of the match cheering for the wrong side. We might have been lynched!

On the 17th July we sailed a short distance down the coast to the true entrance to the Mediterranean at Tarifa. We met with strong winds and a counter current but by late afternoon were anchored just outside the small harbour. Later in the evening
all the other yachts started to leave. We thought it odd until one kind skipper called out “ The Levante is coming”. We were in for a strong blow from the East and needed to sail to the other side of the peninsular. We were just safely re anchored as the wind started to howl.

Next day it was still blowing strongly (force 6) but it was in the right direction, so after lunch we set sail for the 500 mile passage to Porto Santo. Our newly fitted Hydrovane steering gear steered better than we could for the next six days.

On the 19th we had a confused sea and a strong quarter wind for a full 24 hours. We fully reefed the main and most of the jib and we were still occasionally sailing at hull speed, much too fast for comfort, with spray flying everywhere and much too bouncy for us cruising sailors. We tried without the main but rolled horribly. Fortunately it abated the next day and we had a quiet time for the rest of the passage.


23rd July. Arrived in Porto Santo at midnight. We anchored off the beach,
and slept the sleep of the just until nearly lunch time the next day.

On the 25th we moved into the marina. I inspected my repair of the Hydrovane and discovered that the lower support bracket was broken. It must have cracked while I was trying to fit it in Gibraltar. The gods must have been on my side, otherwise I might have lost the lot overboard. The Hydrovane people were also on my side. To their great credit they accepted full responsibility for the problem and have supplied me with new parts free of charge.

Our anchorage in Baia de Abra - Madeira

29th sailed for Madeira.
After the short passage we anchored in Baia de Abra a lovely landfall. The bay is well protected from the prevailing swell if not from all the wind. Its large cliffs & incredible rock strata are a sight to behold.

Baia de Abra - Madeira

Next day we had our first proper walk since May and enjoyed it enormously.
We found a coast path that led to near the end of the peninsular. The almost tame lizards came begging food and would crawl over our hands and feet if we let them.

Too much human contact?

After a couple of days swimming from the boat and a black lava beach, strong winds returned, and before much longer we couldn’t get ashore. We planned to move to the marina next day but we were on a lee shore, and I considered it unwise to leave a safe if uncomfortable anchorage and put Sula at risk.

Baia de Abra - Madeira

On the 3rd of August the wind abated long enough for us to move to the excellent marina at Quinta do Lorde.

A Lavada walk made a fine introduction to the delights of inland Madeira. We would call them leats. Some are very old, but most are from the 1950s or even later. They cunningly contour round the countryside distributing water throughout the land.

A Lavada
With thanks to the Madeira tourist office.

There were a few flies in the Madeiran ointment however. The first was a car rally that closed off some villages and roads and stopped some buses running. Sadly for us they were exactly the ones we wanted to use. Our plans for our next walk were abandoned and substituted with another Lavada walk.

The next problem was a real tragedy for those affected. A forest fire was started when a controlled burning got out of control. It burnt for a couple of weeks and caused considerable damage. We couldn’t really complain if it also kept us from our chosen walks.

Madeira (It’s mist not smoke)
With thanks to the Madeira tourist office.

A word of thanks here will not be out of place. My PA (Boss) from work who still organizes me when she can, sent us a host of useful information about Madeira, an island she loves and knows well. Thanks Katrina.

The third problem was my neck. I woke up one fine morning with a hugely swollen neck. Pippa agreed that I ought to see a doctor. In fact I saw three doctors within 24 hours. The third said “It’s much too big, we must know what it is” She immediately admitted me to the hospital.

A blood test was taken and I was put on intravenous drips. Various tubes led from a drip trolley to a needle in the back of my hand. I started to think of the trolley as my dog. It followed me everywhere and kept getting its lead caught in all sorts of obstructions.

Me and my dog.

The nurses were superb. I was in a private room and was being well looked after. The problem was that I wasn’t being told what was going on. I was expecting a CT scan and a biopsy. But no one could tell me when. I asked to see a doctor. “He will come” When, I enquired? “I do not know, perhaps tomorrow”. It wasn’t long before I was referring to him as Godot.

After a week of this I was getting cross. But then a lovely lady porter came to guide me to the Radiology unit for my scan. She was terrified of loosing me and kept fussing around. There was nothing for it but to take her hand while pretending to be a small boy. This made her smile and calm down a bit.

After lunch the same day I was taken to the gynaecological department for my biopsy. My protestations about being of the male gender went unheeded. The doctor later explained that it just happened to have the best provision for the test.
She was in fact superb. She spoke good English, though she denied it. But most importantly she answered all my many questions.


She said it was most probably a virulent infection but that I needed the tests to make sure it was ‘nothing worse’. She guardedly admitted that her euphemism meant cancer. Though she hurriedly added that this was most unlikely, but they must make completely sure.

Then once again nothing for three days. I asked when Godot would come and lo and behold he came after lunch. He breezed in, said “The CT scan & biopsy were both negative. “You can go home” and breezed out. I had to get a nurse to disconnect me from my dog. “Oh you are going now”? Yes, I explained, I have a bus to catch.

I was put on oral antibiotics and had to have two check ups. A third was proposed, but I explained that I was sailing for the Canaries. He prescribed yet more antibiotics and said I should see my doctor in the UK. This is just what I will do. But more of that anon.

Sula at the Ilha Desertas

On the 1st September we sailed just a few miles to Ilha Desertas. It’s a spectacular and intriguing island with 400ft cliffs. It's also a nature reserve notable for its Monk Seals. Its uninhabited except for two resident wardens.
We were the only yacht there and were made warmly welcome. One of the wardens showed us around the lower slopes close to the landing point. In response to our request to climb to the top of the island, he explained that it was difficult and that the path was closed.

Ilha Deserta Grande

However, after assuring him that we were experienced hill walkers, he agreed to speak to his boss who just happened to be visiting. In the morning she explained that the path was dangerous and closed to tourists. Long faces from the two of us, but we just said Oh, that's a shame, but never mind.

Then she showed her true colours. "But if I don't see you and if you are very careful, then why not?" We promised to be most careful, and to turn back if we found it too difficult. Then set off on an excellent walk to the summit of the island. It wasn't difficult at all, although there were one or two places you wouldn't want to slip.

Summit of Ilha Desertas

Encouraged by our friendly warden, we sailed off to the Ilhas Selvagens - Grande and Pequena. A group of very remote islands surrounded by rocks, reefs, and breaking seas, 150 miles to the south west.

Selvagem Grande is about 2.5 km square and is known for its Madeiran Petrels (Known locally as Freira) & its Cory’s Shearwaters. The weather was set fair and we encountered no difficulties. We were made most welcome by the warden.

Cory’s Shearwaters

The shearwaters put on a fabulous display in the evening. Thousands of them forming rafts half a mile off shore, waiting for dusk before returning to feed their young. Then accompanied by a cacophony of noise as they called to their chicks, vast clouds of birds descended on the island.

The warden told us that when the young Shearwaters fledge, they fly of out to sea on their own and don't visit land again for nine years. (yes, nine years). They are so at home at sea that they only need land to lay their eggs and raise their chicks.

A Cory’s Shearwater
Yes it is Steve! It’s not a Manx, even if it does look a bit like one.

On September the 6th we sailed for Selvagem Pequena, its only 0.25 km square, but home to 250 000 White faced storm Petrels. No photo I’m afraid, they spend all day in holes dug in the sand. Though we did see some at dusk.

Once again we were made most welcome and given a conducted tour of the island. We loved the remoteness, rugged coastline and simplicity of the island. We were even invited into the wardens’ shack for coffee. I think they enjoy entertaining their rare visitors.

The friendly Selvagens Pequena wardens
(shack in background)

Selvagen Pequena
I know the photo’s out of place, but I wanted to break up the text.

24th Post - Leaving the Mediterranean

Pippa and I sailed from Finike on the 1st April 2010, revisiting some favorite old haunts as well as many new anchorages and harbours as we sailed west.

A quiet anchorage at sunset

Detail from a wall in Chania

A note on Greek spelling may not go amiss at this point. We have frequently found that our pilot book will use one spelling, our map another, and local signposts yet another. Please forgive me if you prefer a different spelling to the one I have chosen Our journey started with a cracking sail towards the Greek island of Rhodes. We were on a beam reach, with Sula often reaching at her hull speed (Max possible speed) of seven knots. However, later in the day, as we neared land, they turned to head winds, so instead, we found an anchorage on the southern tip of the island. We sailed next day for Nisos Karpathos. The light early morning wind soon increased to force 4, but we were sailing nicely often reaching a good six knots. Our chosen anchorage was near the southern tip of the island. In the last couple of miles as we approached the anchorage the wind suddenly turned nasty. It veered to dead ahead and increased alarmingly. We couldn’t even motor against it. Things were becoming a little dangerous as we approached the land. So there was nothing to be done but turn round and go to Pigadhia, ten miles back the way we had come. A long hard day. We eventually reached Crete on the 7th April. Anchoring in Ormos Erimoupolis on the extreme east end of the island. Next day we sailed to Sitia to clear customs. We considered we deserved a rest, so had a siesta after lunch and then decided to stay on for a couple of days to enjoy this thoroughly pleasant town.

A car parked on the jetty at Soudhas

Seen on a marina notice board in Greece

We then sailed on to Spinalonga lagoon, a fine, well sheltered, inland sea of only 3 to 5 metres depth throughout. It even had a small mountain that needed climbing. We discovered a fine ridge that became more interesting as one gained height, until both hands and feet were required as walking became scrambling. Oh, if it could only have gone on for a bit longer.

Our serendipitous climb

Our next port of call and our next mountain was at Ayios Nikolaos. As we approached we had seen a fine view of some interesting looking mountains. The next day we hired a car drove to Avrakondes and climbed the 2,148 meter Spathi Madharas, the birth place of Zeus. While trying to continue our westward quest, bad weather forced us to return to Spinalonga where we sheltered for a few days. We found it quite hard to leave this delightful safe haven. Our next port was the Venetian harbor at Iraklion, a nice enough place amongst the hurly burly of the city. Then it was off to Rethimno. We spurned the marina and anchored off the beach in the inner harbour. We felt quite smug about this. It was a lovely, though very small anchorage, room only for Sula and an easy row ashore.

However, strong winds kept us in harbour for three more days, so we relented and found a berth in the small marina. As soon as the weather improved we sailed for Ormos Soudhas. This was to be our main base for visiting Crete and we stayed free of charge in the fishing harbour for the next three weeks. Our first climb in the White Mountains was Mt. Psari which beat us down with a very long walk in the afternoon sun. In the end I could no longer bear the heat and we dejectedly retired. The 7th and 8th of May were rare social events for us. My sister Celia had arranged a walking holiday to coincide with our visit. So we joined her for dinner on the Friday evening. We swam in a pool for the first time in ages and spent a most pleasant evening in her company. On the Saturday we were delighted to discover that Tony and Annie from the yacht Sunburnt, whom we had met in Finike, had anchored in the harbour. We soon made contact and had a very pleasant meal aboard Sula, swapping stories and initiating dreams of sailing in the Great Barrier Reef.

High in the White Mountains

For our climb on Melindaou, we planned an early start. Set the alarm incorrectly and got up and dressed before realising we were two hours too early. Never the less we set off and started our walk at dawn. We got most of the hard work done before the sun came up from behind the mountain. Then it was a very pleasant ridge walk over two more summits. A grand day out. Celia’s walking holiday having finished, so we joined up for a visit to Chania on Tuesday 11th and next day a gentle sail to a deserted islet and delightful anchorage at the entrance of Soudha bay. As she is the first to admit, indeed to insist, Celia is not by any means a sailor, but she seemed to enjoy the day.

Our desert island

(note the low tech, yellow shower facility)

Celia returned home on the Tuesday and the same day Pippa returned to the UK for a few days to attend the wedding of her friends Hannah and Johannes. Pippa returned on the 18th May and we sailed on the 20th for Malta. We had strong winds, light winds, no wind, a hail storm, sunny weather, too much motoring, and fabulous sailing, during the six days it took to get to Malta.

Arriving at 1am on Thursday, 27th May, Grand Harbour was truly spectacular. We picked up a mooring for the remainder of the night in Sliema Creek.

Malta

We explored Valetta the following afternoon. I had told Pippa a little of my misspent youth, regarding a visit on a Navy ship to the port. I won’t bore you with that story. Enough to say we found the famous Strait Street or, as we knew it, The Gut. It is now a mere relic of those bygone days. The faded facades are all that remain of a street full of bars and houses of ill repute, (though of high reputation). I always found it amusing, that the Navy in their wisdom published orders of places that were out of bounds to sailors going ashore in foreign ports. We studied them carefully and made notes of the best places to go.

A Dyhso or Maltise taxi

(correct spelling unknown to author) The Gut

One Matelot's local Malta. A special island

On Saturday we sailed to Gozo and anchored in Dwejra a spectacular cliff-lined cove behind the island known as Fungus Rock. Sailing for Sicily the following day it wasn’t long before we met strong headwinds. But we were getting used to it by then. We considered turning back, but instead altered course to go anti clockwise round Sicily, (the long way round), but hopefully with better prospects for a fair wind.

We anchored overnight off the ports of Xifoni, near Augusta and Reggio Di Calabria, on our way to the Strait of Messina. We saluted Scilla and Charybdis, though thankfully, they were in benign mood.

Do bow sprits come any bigger?

A fishing boat in the Mesina straits. The skipper cons the boat from the crows nest, while men with harpoons use the walkway to harpoon Sword fish. Sailing westwards once again, we soon encountered cirrus clouds followed by a mackerel sky and a forbidding prospect ahead. Once again, we altered course, this time to a safe anchorage on the island of Vulcano, arriving in the wee small hours of the morning. We avoided Palermo and instead visited the very pleasant Castellammare del Golfo on the north western extremity of Sicily. Sometimes when arriving in such charming places one has to pinch oneself to become truly aware that we are in a foreign country and a long way from home. However on a street in Castellammare we witnessed three ladies representing three generations, arms linked, chattering happily as they strolled along the pavement without a care in the world. I love the Italian language! We managed a few buongiornos and grazies; people do really say,' Bellissimo, belissimo...' and 'ciao!' No doubt about it we were in Italy. We enjoyed exploring the small town and treated ourselves to a rare meal ashore. Rare not because we are mean or impoverished, but because we have, with one or two notable exceptions, consistently found that buying fresh local produce and a bottle of local wine and eating on board, is not only far better value, it is more often than not a much better meal. One notable exception was a small fish restaurant we visited in Soudha. I asked to see the menu before we sat down, but our restaurateur demurred. “No Menu, but come and look”. He took us into his kitchen, opened the cool room door and showed us a selection of fish and crustations. “How much do you want to pay?” “I will make you a good meal, Shrimp Omelet, Fish, Salad. 10 Euros” And he did, we had an excellent meal. We thought it was over and anyway could eat no more, when we were served “Oranges from my wife’s tree” Huge sweet delicious Creatan oranges. Wow! On Saturday the 5th we made a deliberately late start for our passage to Sardinia, so as not to arrive in the dark. As we neared the coast on the following Monday a Coast Guard vessel hove into view. He took a keen interest in us, though we did our best to appear not too disreputable. As we gently sailed along he came very close astern, he learnt where we had come from and where bound. Then, asking for our papers, a crew member held out a large fishing net to collect them. It was all highly amusing to both parties. They then left us to continue our journey to Porto Malfatano.

“Papers please”

After four days amongst the pleasant islands off the south west corner of Sardinia, we sailed on an overnight passage for Mallorca. The very strong following wind moderated by morning and became a head wind. Arriving in the early morning of Saturday 12th we picked up a mooring in Porto Petro. Amongst the jobs to do ashore was to visit an Internet café to pick up Emails. I had just found a seat, ordered a beer, set up the laptop and was about to answer a fairly urgent Email when, to my horror, a bunch of very noisy local youths came in. They turned the huge wall mounted TV on full volume. They then cheered, shouted and let of a hand held fog horn while they watched the football. The waitress explained to me that the Football World Cup had started. We spent the next four days visiting the delightful calas of Mallorca before sailing on Monday the 14th for Ibiza. We arrived at Calla St Vincent the following day, but it was too crowded, so we moved to Cala Boix for a much needed rest. We had a lucky break as we approached an anchorage the following day. We don’t have a fuel gauge aboard Sula; I rely instead on counting the engine hours and calculating the amount of fuel left in the tank. Well today, for the first time, I got it wrong. We motored past some ominous rocks and a large headland as we approached Calla Castella. Then, just before we anchored, the engine stopped! We had run out of fuel! Fortunately I was able to coast into position and Pippa let go the hook in exactly the right spot. Phew! On Thursday 17th, after calling in at the very helpful Botafoch Marina in the town of Ibiza for fuel, water and provisions, we sailed a few miles south and anchored off the island of Espalmador. We then indulged in a good swim, and an equally good lunch. A fair wind and a good weather forecast having at last arrived we then sailed to the Spanish mainland near Cartagena. We will now hop down the coast, mainly day sailing to Gibraltar, where we have booked a berth in the Marina, from the 1st of July. We plan a short refit at Gibraltar, where we will fit Hydrovane self steering gear, An Echo Tec watermaker, and purchase a flexible water tank to replace our rather old fibre glass one.

23rd Post Farewell Finike

On the Chimaera trail

Tomorrow morning we are leaving Finike and heading off in the direction of Rhodes
to continue our odyssey.

I came across the following lines by T.S. Eliot, recently and thought them apt.

We shall not cease from exploration
And the end of all our exploring
Will be to arrive where we started
And know the place for the first time.

Pippa and I have not been completely idle over the last few months. One of our walks took us along part of the Lycian Way to see the site of the Chimaera.
The ever burning flames on the side of a hill can be seen from the sea. No wonder people once thought that dragons inhabited land.

The Chimaera was described by Homer as a fire breathing monster, part lion part goat and part snake. Bellerophon slew the beast by attaching a lump of lead to the point of his spear and thrusting it between the Chimaera's jaws. The creature's fiery breath melted the lead, which trickled down its throat, burning its insides and instantly killing it. Hmmm lovely.

The Chimaera’s lair

Our walk finished at an excellent fish restaurant, in time for a superb lunch of Meze salad & fresh baked flat bread followed by grilled trout.
A second walk was rather more strenuous and a little frustrating, in that we climbed the wrong mountain! Tony and Annie, an Australian couple living aboard their yacht, invited us round for a sundowner or two one evening and as will happen, a plan was hatched

Kara Dag. (Tony’s mountain).

On the appointed day we hired a car and set of for a mountain Tony and Annie had seen from a previous walk, though unfortunately, Annie was unable to join us on this occasion.
Our map was of no use once we had left the main road, but we followed a track until we got to the snow line. We couldn’t see our goal from there so followed a likely looking ridge. After what seemed like hours of up hill slog (It really is difficult to get any level of mountain fitness, living aboard a boat) we found ourselves on a subsidiary summit. We had neither the energy nor the time to continue to the true summit. Another time we would ……………….. But of course there’s not likely to be another time. Never mind, we had a good day out and got some much needed exercise.

Tahtali Dagi.

Tahtali Dagi can be seen from Finike Marina and had winked at us once too often.
We had been a little snooty about it because it has a cable car going to the summit. However it proved to be a fine mountain. Pippa and I set off in our hire car at five in the morning and started walking shortly after six. It was a shrewd move to avoid an ascent during the heat of the day.

Looking for a quiet spot for lunch.

A steep two hour walk led to a coll on the Lycian way. From there we just headed up. The snow proved to be very hard. While trying to kick steps I found that my boot just bounced off. We had not brought crampons, so it was a matter of taking detours to avoid the steep sections of snow. A couple of steep traverses couldn’t be avoided, so my ice axe was employed cutting steps. A technique rarely used in these high tech days. Another two hours of pleasant climbing led to the summit.

The cable car building

An exuberant group were having a snowball fight when we arrived. Everyone was in high spirits and we enjoyed the unusual summit experience. A few people were interested in our climb and one young lady asked most politely if she could take our photo. We were little celebrities for a few minutes.

A different world a short distance from the summit.

The snow had softened by the time we began our descent and in places I was able
to glissade down long stretches of snow ribbons. We arrived back at the car at four o’clock feeling rather tired but very happy. This was to be our last Turkish mountain and it was good to finish on such a high note.

Anemone hortensis

So now it’s time to go. Our stay in Finike has been most pleasant. We have overwintered in a safe and comfortable marina with excellent facilities.

The marina even provides a club room with a bar & library. It’s made full use of by the yachting community, with something happening most days. Events include entertaining and informative topic evenings presented by our fellow yotties.
whose subjects ranged from ‘The most useless thing on my boat’ to ‘DIY computer repairs’. We have had film and quiz nights. A music club was started to cater for a few budding guitarists (including Pippa). There have been regular, organised visits to concerts in Antalya.

Most valuable of all has been the opportunity to meet other like minded Mediterranean and world cruisers and to swap stories, compare notes and to receive advice and encouragement.

The weather has been mostly good.

We will take away many good memories of the place.
Here are a few of them:-

Finike is a proper Turkish town, and despite the international marina, is anything but a tourist resort. The streets are kept clean and tidy, and it’s lovely to see traditionally dressed ladies gardening the roadside verges.

Thanks to Miggy and Neal for the last three pictures

We have enjoyed the very Turkishness of the place. We really are in Asia Minor, the place where East meets West. There is a healthy diversity of dress code with many women choosing to wear the traditional colourful baggy cotton trousers and headscarves. Others, mostly younger women, prefer to wear western style clothes.
On one of our walks we stopped for our lunch and noticed a man, presumably a goat herd watching us. I held up a piece of bread and invited him to join us. He shared our food, and afterwards I asked if I could take his photograph. He said, ‘ yes,’ and immediately jumped up, removed his jacket, combed his hair, and stood to attention. Obviously photography is a serious business for him.

On another walk, we came across an old man riding a donkey while leading another laden with provisions, making his way up a dirt track to a ramshackle hamlet in a high pasture. Later we came across a well dressed man with his son going in the same direction. As he walked he was talking on his mobile phone.

We stopped in a remote village to ask directions. The Imam who spoke to us asked if we were hungry and would like to come into his house for food. But it was getting dark, we were tired, and we needed to get the car back to the hire shop. We were worried that our refusal might offend, but he cheerfully accepted our explanation. But what a missed opportunity.

We have been met with smiles and friendliness at every turn. “Come to my shop for cay (chai)”. Ok, he wants to sell us something, but it’s done in such a nice way.

Walking past the school or a play park, children will often call out in good English “Hellooo, what is your name” . When prompted they will introduce themselves.
“My name is ….A” Then indicating another child will say “and my name is….B”.

I did eventually pluck up the courage to visit the Turkish bath or Hammam as it is known. Well, I had to, didn’t I? It was interesting enough, but being washed by a man in a loin cloth is not really my thing.

The Saturday market

Well, that’s our experience of one small part of Turkey.

The latest version of our plans is to sail from here tomorrow (Thursday April 1st), for Crete, then on to Malta, Southern Sicily, Sardinia, The Balearics, and Gibraltar, that’s only 1800 miles, so shouldn’t take too long.

In July, we would like to visit Madeira before moving on to the Canaries.
Then where do you think we should go after that?