In the end, our group numbered fourteen--six men and eight women. Thelevel of sailing experi ence ranged from rank novice to veteran ocean racer. Among us we had enough skill and know-how to sail a bareboat charter--withno professional crew--provided by The Moorings, based in Clear water, Florida.
On the eve of the cruise, we assembled in Marmaris, a bustling beachresort and sailing center on Turkey's southwestern coast. The next morningwe went to The Moorings' local base, a modern marina on the edge of town,and found our flotilla: a thirty eight-foot Beneteau, a forty-threefootBeneteau and a forty-four-foot Jeanneau, all French-built yachts designe'dand outfitted for cruising. I joined five others aboard the Beneteau 43.
The boat was relatively new, scrubbed to its bilges, completely equippedwith dishes, sheets ancd blankets, and handsomely appointed. But therewas no denying that it would be tight quarters for six of us. (The Moorings'brochure lists the boat as holding ten adults. Very good friends, I canonly assume.)
Our final stop before departure was the marina lounge. Frederic Bonin,the Frenchman who, with his wife Claire, directs The Moorings' operationin Turkey, briefed us on what to expect: "You can re ceive the weatherreport in English on the radio at 9 A.M., noon and 3 P.M.," he said cheerfully."Or I can give you the forecast for the next two weeks right now: sunshine,hlue slcies, quiet mornings, bree~y afternoons with the wincl out of thesouth west." (With the exception of one rainy morning and a few wind shifts,he was right.)
Frederic suggested good harbors, must-see archeological sites, the bestshopping and areas to avoid, either because the sailing was tricky or thesites tacky. He also told us what we needed to get started: an anchoragejust a short sail from Marmaris with a good heach and a better restaurant.With dusk approaching, we raised sail and set off.
Below Moullt~ills encircle Oludeniz's hc~cll front of the Gulf of Fethiye.Opposite p~uc l~stellorizoll Bay, Greece's southcoastal n mosl Acucan SpOl(top); p~lltillu ~ t~ throuuB l~ly~n River reeds near the ancient portcity of C~lunus.
DAY ONE: 1845 hours. Wind N.W. 9knots. See calm.
In thirtyfive years of sailing, I don't recall a sight more beautifulthan Marmaris Bay this evening. Steep, forested mountains plunging downto deep blue water, Venus rising in the evening sky, a gentle breeze atour backs. I carry a round of vodka tonics up on deck as the boat glidespast the huge rock that guards the narrow, fjordlike mouth of the bay.The lights of Marmaris twinkle behind us, then disap pear. Another chartersailboat passes us, heacling back into port, his cruise evidently over.Poor fellow.
Kumlu Buku, our first stop, lives up to Frederic's billing. A gorgeous,protected harbor with a huge rock sentinel at its mouth, it lies at thefoot of a rocky headland topped by the ruins of Amos, an an cient settlementthat dates to about 1000 13.C. The area recalls a milestone in the advancementof military technology: The Dorians swept down from northern Greece withtheir slashing iron swords, overcoming local tribes equipped with softerbronze weapons. So much for the Bronze Age.
We tie up at the quay in the southwest corner and dine at the KumluBuku Yacht Club, a delight ful outdoor bar and restaurant on thc gravellybeach. Its owner, Ahmet Ozkal, a Turk, also operates the restaurant Sharpsin Amsterdam, where he and his wife spend most of the year. About a decadeago, they built a vacation home here to get away from it all, and that'swhen the trouble started.
"Once we had the house, friends started to visit," Ozkal says, laughing."To entertain them, I opened a bar. Then, to feed them, a restaurant. Now,soon er or later, they all come."
And why shouldn't they? The yacht club has a sophisticated, laid-backambiance and attracts an international crowd, mostly off boats. Pavarotti'sgreatest hits play on the stereo in the thatched-roof bar. Dinner, servedbeneath umbrellas on an open patio fronting the beach, begins with thetraditional meze, an assortment of vegetable salads and wonderful appetizersthat is the staple of every Turkish meal. It is rollowed on this eveningby fresh swordfish broiled to moist perfection on a skewer, then a bakedcaramel cus tard. With lots of wine, the tab comes to about $22 per person.(Turkish de light number one: The cuisine is cre ative, light and var ied,with fresh fish ancl meats lightly grilled over wood or
DAY TWO: Wind S.E.-S.W. 6-10 knots.Sea gentle.
After a leisurely breakfast, we sail about twenty five miles east onthe predicted southwesterly toward Ekincik Bay, our anchorage for the night.The breeze builds nicely off our quarter, sending us surfing down the faceof gentle six-foot rollers. By 4 P.M., we have our anchor down and a sternline tied ashore, Mediterranean-style; plenty of time for a swim, somesnorkeling around the rocky shoreline and a nap.
Dinner is at My Marina, a spectacular, terraced, white stucco restaurantpasted up against the side of a sheer cliff overlooking the bay. The traditionalmeze leads to a memorable poached sea bass washed down with a good Turkishrose. (Turkish delight number two: Although it is a Muslim coun try, Turkeyproduces crisp, dry whites and roses, and some drinkable reds.)
For dessert, our Turkish hosts demonstrate a great sense of occasion.It is a birthday--the fiftieth--for the baby in our group; with a littleadvance warning, the lights of the restaurant darken and waiters paradefrom the kitchen bearing a whimsical, five-foot-high tiered creation thatthey place proudly at the end of our table.
Resembling a miniature Eiffel Tower lit by can-dles, it consists offruit and sweets on silver trays supported by overturned Tuborg glassesand deco-rated with tinfoil, green branches and orange-peel curlicues.The effect is a little comical but as festive as a Christmas tree, andit makes the moment for us.
DAY THREE: 0330 hours. Wind N. 15knots. Sea choppy.
Pandemonium! I awake below to hear foot steps and shouted commands ondeck; a ffashlight rakes the length of the boat. A stiff, unexpected northerlyhas come up in the middle of the night, causing us to drag our anchor andbump against a large, wooden-hulled gullet, one of the traditional sailingyachts that carry a dozen or more passen gers. Half the guests are at therail, and the gullet's captain, flashlight in hand, is peering anxiouslydown as our pitching boat threatens to slam up against his vessel's glossyvarnished hull. Happily, no damage is done, and- we up anchor and motoraway, finding a prote \cted cove a mile off.
Dawn brings blue sky and warm sun. Whatever provoked that middle-of-the-nightbluster--a cold front, Murphy's Law, the gods--it is gone. Groggy fromthe party the night before and the midnight anchor drill, we first motor,then sail, about thirty miles southeast to the Gulf of Fethiye. The largestinlet along Turkey's southern coast, it is dotted with pretty, forestedislands and ringed by 10,000-foot mountains, some still snowcapped in earlysummer. The sail ing is superb: brisk breezes over nearly flat water andunlimited safe, attractive anchor ages. It would be easy to spend fouror five days here, sailing, swimming, exploring.
We anchor for the night in Tomb Bay, named after the striking stonetombs carved into the steep cliffs. These are the final resting placesof Lycians, the fiercely independent people who occupied this wild, mountainouscoastline for several hundred years before Christ.
The residents we encounter ashore are friendly and helpful. For a fewdollars, they cheerfully replenish our supplies of fresh bread and coldbeer. (Turkish delight num ber three: Contrary to their fierce, dour stereotype,the Turks we meet are invariably open and accommodating. Many speak English or German, and those who don't are masters at sign language. Insteadof gruff ness, we find gentleness and quiet humor.)
DAY FOUR: Wind calm early, thenS.W. 12-18 knots. Rolling sea.
On one of our longest legs, we sail some forty miles southeast downthe rugged coastline known as the Seven Capes. The breeze builds all afternoonuntil we are surfing down~ind at a steady eight knots. I am at the wheelwhen suddenly from the bow comes a shout: "Dolphins!" Six of these beautifulswimmers accompany us for about twenty minutes, cavorting and crisscrossingbeneath our bow as it plunges through the whitecapped water.
We spend the night tied to the quay at Kalkan, a pretty resort villagewhere lovely terraced houses draped with bougainvillea and jasmine overlookthe harbor. After din ner, we stroll the twisting, narrow streets linedwith jewelry, leather and rug shops-- some junk, some not. (Turkish delightnumber four: Because of the favorable ex change rate of dollars to Turkishlire, the country is the last bargain in Europe.)
DAY FIVE: Sunny and hot. Calm wind.
Eight of us pile into taxis for the twenty-minute drive to Patara, theruins of a major Lycian city overlooking the Mediterranean. There the "culturevultures" climb to the high ground above the amphitheater and get a stunningview of the triple triumphal arch at the entrance to the city, a necropolisdotted with tombs, a huge granary and the remains of an ancient lighthouse.Patara is a vanishing jewel: Huge sand dunes are burying the ruins, andno systematic exca vation seems to be under way
In the afternoon, we sail to Kastellorizon, the easternmost island ofGreece, which lies just a couple of miles off the Turkish mainland. Indeference to the touchy rela tions between the two neighbors, we run downthe Turkish flag, stow our Turkish lire and run up the blue-and-white Greekflag.
Kastellorizon (literally "Red Castle," af ter the Knights of Saint Johncastle, which has long guarded the harbor mouth and now houses an exquisitemuseum) is a stunning, mountainous island with a sad and haunting air.Because of its strategic location, it has been invaded, conquered and foughtover for centuries. Perhaps the saddest chapter of its long history wasdur ing World War 11, when most of its popula- tion was forcibly movedto Palestine, Cyprus and Egypt by the British, who then bombed the islandand destroyed many of its buildings. Today only 200 souls live on the island,but an ambitious effort is under way to restore the harbor and town.
Despite its proximity to Turkey, Kastellorizon has a distinctly Greekflavor, with whitewashed buildings, and tables and chairs in front of thequayside restaurants. We dine at Lisardis, eating dolmas under vine trellisesand dancing to bouzouki music. The bill is $60 for two, with lots of Demesticaand Metaxa enlivening the party.
DAY SIX: Fair. Wind E. 12-20 knots.Sea choppy.
Perversely, the wind is out of the east this morning and the water isrough as several of US set out in two small hired boats for the Blue Cave,Kastellorizon's chief attraction. We jounce for half an hour around thenortheastern end of the is land to the mouth of the grotto, barely visible in the surf. The boatman explains that visitors usually don't comehere in weather like this. Then, without further ceremony, he guns theengine and shoots through the low entrance in the trough of a wave.
Inside, when we catch our breaths and raise our heads, it is indeedbeautiful--and peaceful. Nature has carved a gorgeous, high-ceilinged chamberdripping with sta lactites. The water is perfectly clear and blue, luminousin the morning light. It's lovely, but the boatman keeps shooting ner vousglances at the waves crashing against the mouth of the grotto. The wateris clearly getting rougher outside, and none of us wants to be trappeduntil the wind quits.
"Okay?" he asks. "Okay!" we reply in uni son. He motors to the entrance,pauses and then, with a roar from the engine, speeds out under the lowbridge. Outside, he tells us that there will be no one else in the grotto today. The water is too rough, he says. He gets no argument from us.
The strong easterly wind and heavy sea make for slow going this afternoon.We had planned to sail some forty-five miles east to Finike, where FredericBonin had led the shoppers among us to believe that irre sistible bargainslurked in the once-a-week market scheduled for the next day. But we coverless than half the distance in four hours of rough, upwind sailing anddecide to divert into Kekova Bay.
Many cruising sailors consider this to be the jewel of the southerncoast, combining beautiful scenery, superb anchorages and remarkably well-preservedruins above and below its perfectly clear waters. We take one look anddecide to stay a few days.
As we sail in toward the protected por tion of the bay, a fast motorboatapproach es. In it is Hassan, a smiling, accommodat ing waterborne entrepreneurwho seems determined to fulfill our every need: His restaurant is the choicefor dinner, he as sures us; his taxi can take the shoppers to Finike forthe market; he knows someone who will do our laundry; and if we are interested in Turkish rugs, well, surprisingly, Hassan is the man to see.Ilis motorboat speeds off, replaced moments later by an other, driven byIbrahim, who offers essen tially the same services. Clearly, free enterprise is flourishing in Kekova Bay. (To the frustration of Hassan and Ibrahim,we de cide to have dinner aboard.)
DAY EIGHT: Thunderstorms in A.M., sunnyP.M. Wind S.W. 10 knots.
After a rare morning rain, we book vvhat is supposed to be a glass-bottomedboat (courtesy of Hassan) to explore Kekova Bay's famous underwater ruins.The remains of an ancient city lie just beneath the water: streets, thefoundations and walls of buildings, arches and more, all submerged by alongago earthquake. We see this through a glass darkly, since the onlyglass in Hassan's boat turns out to be that in the bottom of two bucketshe pro vides to hold over the side in the water to improve the view. Frankly,a simple diving mask would have been better, but Turkish authorities havebanned diving here to re duce the theft of antiquities.
On one side of the bay is Kale, a modem vil lage on the site of theancient Lycian city of Simena. Its neat whitewashed houses and red tileroofs march up a steep hillside domin.lted by a medieval By~antine fortress.The climb is steep, but the view from the parapets is stunning.
Scattered across the hillside are the dis tinctive Lycian sarcophagi,most of them plundered long ago by graverobbers. The tombs are everywhere,even rising in stately fashion from the shallow waters just off the village.I take the dinghy and row around one, wondcrillg who this fcllow was andwl-y his tomb stands olr by i(sclr. ~pparellll5, for a Ly cian, where youen(led up said a lot about who you wcre alld what you'd accolllplishedin lire.
Dinner is at the Likya, an open-air restau rant on the watcrfront atKale. We fall into conversation with an amusing Turkish gentleman who tUrnsout to be the uncle of the restaurauteur. Todoy, it transpires, is hissixly second birlll(lay. With that, Mona Onstead produces ballouns andcandles left over from our earlier birthday ccle6ralion, and a party isborn. We toast our new friend again and again, dance to the Turkish top40 and join the ouner's children in batting the balloons across tlle tabletops.Thcse restivities carry on until well alter midnigllt, when we finallyretreat to the boats.
DAY ELEVEN: Warm, clear. Wind lightS.W.
Al'ter a long motor sail llle previous day, we orc up carly to climbthe steep slopes of Gemile Island, topped by extensive ruins of a Byzalltincmonastcry and scttlement. 'I'he remains of a mysterious arch-covered walkwaylead down to a small cove. What was it l'or? No one knows, but local legendhas it that the island was once rulcd by an alabaster queen--a woman withskin so fair lhat shc could not stand the sun--and that hcr subjects builtthe wallcway lo yer mit her to.descelld, ullsillged, to swim.
In the aflernooll~ the three skippers de cide to race lhe fiftecn mileslo an agrced upon anchorage in the Gulf of Fethiye, with lhe last boatresponsible for providing the wine at dinner that night. But the afternoonsouthwesterly is slow to 6uild, so the other lwo bo.lls losc l)alicncc.Illd bc~in lo molor. We manage to fill our spinnaker and sail most ofthc way, a moral victory at least.
DAY TWELVE: Hot, sunny. Wind S.W. 10 knots.
A broken throttle cable has rendered us poucrless, so we sail to thcnearest town, Gocek, drop anchor and call The Moorings for help. True toits promise to kecp you sail ing, The Moorings dispatches two mechanicsby car. Within a couple of hours, they are at work on the boat, and weexplore ashore. Gocek is a delight: dozens of good shops, including thebest rug stores we saw, hot showers by the quay and good restaurants. Wedine at Dolphin, run by two young British women. An exceptional meze includescalamari, stuffed peppers and yogurt with garlic. Then, big prawns perfectlygrilled on a skewer, accented with a walnut sauce. Tab: $40 for two, withwine.
DAY THIRTEEN: Sunny. Wind S. 12knots.
At anchor in Ekincik Bay, we follow an on Onstead traditiom an end-of-the-cruise"bilge party" in which the larders and wine lock ers of all three boalsare emptied for a party on the beach. These leftovers--excellent ratatouille,pasta salads, fresh fruit--are washed down with lots of wine.
DAY FOURTEEN: Hot. Wind S.W. 12-16knots.
We rise eorly on the last day and, for $10 apiece, board a small canopiedmotor boat for a forty-five-minute trip up the Dalyan river to tour theruins of Caunus.
A prosperous city, Caunus today consists of' a fine amphithealer, elaboratebaths, an acrop olis and what seems to have been a luxuriously appointedoutdoor swimming pool. Pliny wrote of the sybaritic lifestyle that prevailedhere, and judging by what's left, I believe it.
After a final, close-hauled sail, our last night out is spent in Ciftlik,a dramatic rock-rimmed bay not far from Marmaris, to where we must returnthe boats in the morning. Dinner at a beachfront restaurant is a doublecelebration: the conclusion of a terrific cruise and the wedding anniversaryof one of the couples. We linger over the last of the wine, reluctant tolet it go and dreading tomorrow's return to the real world. It has beena wonderful escape. x
Exploring the Turkish Coast More than a dozen full-service charteringorganizations are in operation along the Aegean and Mediterranean coasts.Of these The Moorings, with more than 650 bareboats and crewed yachts atthirty locations around the world, is the largest. The company's boatstend to be more expensive than others, but its reputation for service,reliability and speedy repair justifies the cost.
THE MOORINGS' TURKISH BOATS range from thirty-six to fifty feet. Clientsshould book their cruises at least ninety days before departure to assurea full choice of vessels.
THE CHARTERING SEASON RUNS from April through the end of October. Thechoicest months are May and September; August tends to be crowded and hot.
1994 MIDSEASON RATES for a two-week cruise on a Beneteau 43 (or Moorings/Kavos430) are as follows:
THE MOORINGS CAN ALSO PROVIDE a skipper and cook who sleep aboard andDCt as local guidcs and inter preters. The cost is $ 115 per week each,plus provisions or meals ashore. In addition, each fall The Moorings organizesfifteen-day cscorted sailing tours in Turkey. Up to seventy-five peoplecan be accommodated on either bareboat or crewed yachts; the itineraryincludes three days and nights in Istanbul and nine days of sailing, plustravel time. The 1994 prices for this "Journey to Byzantium," includingairfare from New York, hotel accommodations, most meals and land tours,are $3,699 for a bareboat (per person, double occupancy); $3,999 for askippered yacht; and $4,299 for a fully crewed yacht (with cook).
The Moorings: 19345 U.S. Highway 19 North, 4th floor, Clearwater, FL34624;
(800) 535-7289.
FOR LARGER AND MORE LUXURIOUS YACHTS (forty nine to 100 feet) with two-to fourman crews, The Moorings recommends the independent yacht brokerslisted below.
WEST COAST Interpac Yachts: Beverly Parsons, 1050 Anchorage Lane, SanDiego, CA92106; (619) 2220327.
EAST COAST Ann-Wallis White: P.O. Box 4100, Annapolis, MD 21403; (410)263-6366.
A COMPLETE LIST of yacht-chartering companies operat ing in Turkey canbe obtained from Turkish Tourism, 821 U.N. Plaza, NewYork, NY 10017; (212)687-2194.
BEFORE YOU DECIDE TO CRUISE the Turquoise Coast, it is important tobe aware of the consular information sheet issued by the U.S. State Departmentabout travel in Turkey. "While Turkish authorities are actively workingto prevent ter rorism, there have been terrorist attacks in Istanbul andother Turkish cities over the past two years," it warns. Bombings and kidnappings,some involving tourists, have taken place in Istanbul and throughout theeastern provinces. The State Department advises against travel to easternTurkey, "with the exception of the Mediterranean and Black Sea coasts."For information on current travel conditions, contact the U.S. Departmentof State at (202) 647-5225.
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