Soon after midnight I awoke to the sound of wind in the rig, and waves lapping against the hull. Going up to the cockpit to take a look around, I was astonished to find that our line ashore was slack, and we were swinging freely to the anchor. I pulled in the line to find the bowline still there: either the rock had come away, or there was an exit to the 'hole' in the rock somewhere under the pebbles and sand. We were swinging just over a boat's length from the face of the rocks to the south of the beach, but having 60 metres of chain out we might in theory get close to either side of the bay.
We were in over 6 metres of water, and although there were boulders on the bottom, I knew it was steep-to from my swim ashore. I set Navmon up on the PC on anchor watch with a tight circle so that I could monitor what was happening to the anchor, and settled down to see what happened. If the anchor started to drag, we would only have seconds to react, so had cleared away the steering wheel cover and instruments ready with radar on standby.
The wind was blowing into the bay, ENE at about 20 knots, and presumably up the gully behind the beach. I stayed on watch until about 0430, when fatigue overcame me and Mo came up to relieve me. Mo was reasonably happy until daylight came, when she could see our predicament more clearly. With the wind slowly increasing, she decided it was time I was up too!
By this time we were experiencing gusts to around 28 knots, but the wind direction was steady from the NE. Fuga was fore-reaching on the anchor, first to one side, then coming up and setting off on the other tack. As the gusts increased into the low 30's, we tried to motor to keep her head to wind and the load off the anchor. In these gusts it was practically impossible to get any response from the rudder with the engine at full throttle, and Mo reckoned it was just as well to simply try to steer her into the wind. We could now see the breaking seas piled up across the entrance, and we took the decision to tough it out where we were rather than risk trying to recover the anchor and break out of the bay. The Grib file, although wrong on the wind strength, had been pretty good with its timing so far.
At some point, the mainsail, which we had not lashed down, started to break out of its lazydrop sailbag. The head blew up the track, and the leach unzipped the bag half way along its length. Recovering the head, entailing climbing up on the mast, and securing it while the boat heeled at crazy angles, first one side and then the other, was hard work and Mo rightly insisted I was harnessed on.
The expected rain started at 0735, but it never materialised in the quantities predicted. We expected the wind to shift to the SSW and moderate soon after the rain arrived, and at around 1035 we had a lull, almost long enough to induce euphoria in the crew. We had a bacon and egg sandwich. The wind returned briefly, but finally dropped out, and the sea within the bay began to calm down.
We got under way at around 1200. The Rocna had been well dug in, in heavy sand. It had never shifted at all. The seas in Fethiye Korfezi were around 2 metres, and running across the entrance to the bay were breaking in the relatively shallow water. We wondered why another British yacht that we encountered was setting out under those conditions. Needs must, we supposed.
We made for Wall Bay in Skopea Limani. When we arrived there was another British yacht anchored, and we ignored the waved invitations to attract us on to the restaurant pontoon. We had not yet anchored when the solo skipper of the British yacht popped up and asked if we could help. It was not clear what his plan was, but he was concerned about the security of his anchored boat. Earlier in the morning, when the wind shifted to the west, he had left the anchorage in a hurry. He had been anchored off the east side of Ruin Bay, near Cleopatra's Bath ruins, and had left his lines attached to trees. He had been unhappy to set out under the potentially gusty conditions in his lightweight Avon dinghy. He got into his dinghy with yards of rope, and we took him in tow although he declined to come on board. I think he had his weight forward in the dinghy as he shouted to us to slow down. The bow must have gone under, because the dinghy capsized, and he grabbed for a line. He then sat on the stern and directed us. We anchored off while he recovered his ropes with the Avon still tethered to Fuga, then returned him to his yacht. Once we were alone, Mo and I had both observed that he was the gentleman who we had first encountered with a fishing net around his keel and propeller, a year ago at this time. We had sent him to British Tiger to finish the job, and Bill had not been best pleased to be hailed late that evening.
We had an early supper, and went to bed.
The sound of rain awoke us sometime after midnight, and we got up to deploy the canvas cover to prevent too much water coming in through the saloon windows. A little while later, there were some thunder and lightning flashes, accompanied with some gusts of wind. These must have dislodged the Rocna, which we had thought was dug in as we anchored, because there was that noise of rock against boat, and the shore lines were slack. That's the second time in three days that the rudder has touched after surviving intact all season. Pulling up on the Rocna resulted in that sad jumping motion as it tripped along the bottom 45 metres away.
Mo got up to help, as we launched the dinghy and deployed the kedge yet again. By the time this operation was completed, the rain and wind had died away, but we were able to return to bed with a clear conscience. We had disturbed a cockerel at the restaurant and he joined the owls to sing us back to sleep.
It seemed pleasant enough in the morning. After a late breakfast I recovered the lines so that we could swing freely in the little wind that there was, and then must have lost a while as I updated the forecast, and pulled down e-mails, so it was already nearly 1300 hrs when we finally left the anchorage. We motored out of Skopea Limani and into Fethiye bay, where we put the sails up. The wind, forecast as either westerly, or maybe fleetingly south easterly, were actually from the NE, and for a while we enjoyed a good sail despite the lingering southerly swell. However the looming clouds told a different tale. Some light rainfall was expected, but what transpired was a lot heavier than we had experienced during 'the' storm over the night of the 10th/11th. It was miserable! Lightning flashed, thunder, and heavy rain! For a while the wind disappeared, but shortly after rounding Doekuekbasi Br (the south eastern point at the entrance to Fethiye bay) we had a spell of F6 and found ourselves doing over 7 knots. I flunked the inside passage past Karacaoren Adari: the reef looked menacing and I saw no point. I had hoped to anchor at Karacaoren, but found the anchorage obstructed with fishing floats. The chart also shows two obstructed areas. There were two buoys, presumably laid by the restaurant to encourage custom, but in line with our policy of not frequenting these places we declined to pick one of them up. We were wet and hungry and fairly miserable. We then went over to Gemiler Buku. We tried to anchor there, but would have had to move as we had not chosen the right spot. I was trying to get in under the southern bank to avoid the swell, but this had placed me too shallow and too close to the fishing boats. A local boat passed by and encouraged us to move. We then tried Gemiler Adasi, but the depths were considerable, and it did not seem that good an anchorage. So we reverted to the spot where we anchored with Bill and Angie last year, trying one or two of the other small bays as we were not happy. By this time we were both very hungry, very fed up, wet and tired, and darkness was approaching. We could not persuade the Rocna to take on the rocky bottom. In the end we went into a narrow bay close to where we anchored last year. Again the Rocna did not take, we had too little scope because of the restricted area, but there it stayed. I christened the new wet suit and swam a line to each side of the cove which meant that we were fairly effectively trussed up under the lee of the low cliff behind. We ate lunch at 1800 hrs. Mo cooked a casserole for about 2030 (because the meat had been defrosted), ate it, and took herself to bed. She was distinctly "off sailing", she said. I could not blame her!
We did enjoy a peaceful night, so that when we came too we were able to get ourselves organised quite quickly. I swam ashore and recovered the lines off each quarter, and we set off under engine. We had breakfast as we went. Initially there was very little wind from the north, but after a while a breeze filled in from the NW/WNW and we were able to trim the sails. It later freshened to F4/5+, and we took in one reef. As usual it was more effective to gybe down wind than try to sail the direct course. By 1300 we were running into Yali Limani and making for Kalkan harbour. We anchored and tied up stern-to on the outside mole. After lunch we relaxed to recover from the stresses of the previous few days.
We were tied up next to a British Westerly, and its owner appeared to check it. He lives in Kalkan, and lets out villas in the summer. He explained that all the gulets currently lifted out around the harbour occupy the north west and north east sides of the harbour during the summer. There is very little room left for visitors, and no easy anchorages nearby. There was water available at the quayside, but electricity had either never been installed, or had since been removed. Bare wires stuck up out of the broken trunking in the surface of the quay.
We did some tidying up. We had gear out in various places after the previous few days: wet weather gear and boots that had seen their first outing, possibly in two years, ropes, the contents of the bosuns locker, and so on. Then we took on water, and had to sponge half a bucket of water out of the bilges from the leak in the water tank due to my inattention. After that we walked up to see a bit of the village and to buy some bread. For Mo it was the first time she had been off the boat at all since Marmaris, and it was a tough walk up the hill to the shops. We ambled back down a different way, enjoying the place. Many of the buildings, rebuilt after the 1953 earthquake, were of Greek origin, and the mosque looks a bit like a Greek church, with its rounded roof, but with a minaret on top!
We set out for Kas, but as there was no wind at all we were obliged to motor the whole way. We anchored in Bayindir Koyu, a large bay opposite Kas, entirely sheltered. The depths were considerable, but we were able to find a spot in which to anchor. Nearby a gulet was anchored entertaining passengers, but left as evening approached. Above us there were tombs cut into the orange-stoned cliffs. We were joined by Summer Wind, a large Halberg Rassy. Mo read while I 'nerded', and we had another fairly early night.
We put the dinghy in the water and crossed the bay to Kas. We had a look around the town. A couple of dogs took a fancy to Mo, and followed us around. We bought some fruit, and a loaf of bread. The harbour wall is decorated with murals, and nearby we found a lonely sarcophagus that appeared to have been transplanted to provide atmosphere.
We returned to Fuga, recovered the dinghy, and set off. We had a quiet sail with the wind behind us until we entered Kekova Roads at the western end, and made our way to the anchorage at the head of the bay.
One snag to the anchorage we found was that the sun rose behind the hill to our south, so that we were in shade for a long while. We got under way, and motored up to Kale Koy. There was not a lot of room to anchor, with rocks all around us, and much encouragement from the restaurants to come onto their quays. We decided to beat a retreat, and went into Ucagiz Limani, where we anchored in the eastern arm behind the castle and had lunch. We then took the dinghy back to Kale Koy and walked up to the castle, surprised to find the attendant available to take 8 YTL each from us for a ticket. On the way down we diverted, and went to look at some sarcophogii that we had seen from the castle walls.
During the manoevres at Kale Koy I had forgotten my fishing line, so this must have snagged on the bottom. A lot of line wrapped itself around the propeller, so I had the pleasure of taking this off. We decided to move to the western end of the bay as there was the possibility of a better phone signal there: I was expecting a call from the doctor later in the evening. We anchored amongst a considerable number of gulets, laid up for the winter, as well as two Dutch yachts (we met them later in Finike)! There was plenty of room for everybody.
We went ashore at Ucagiz, and went for a walk along a track along the north shore towards the east. I had fancied having a look at the ruins of Teimiussa, but we concluded the best access might be along the foreshore, through the grounds of a pension. As Mo put it, we had seen sarcophogi the day before, so why bother?. On our return we visited Hasan for a drink, and picked up a loaf of bread at the shop. Most of the tourist establishments appeared to have closed for the winter.
We then set off for the anchorage behind Asirli island. Mo threw a bit of a wobbly, as there was an error in our charts of approximately one tenth of a nautical mile, to the east and south. As the channel is strewn with rocks, it was a bit unsettling to see Fuga's track proceed over the land! We anchored in the middle where we had plenty of space. Gulets were laid up along the shore to the west and north, and off the island. After lunch we took the dinghy and circumnavigated Asirli, finding the cave on the south west side, and went inside for a look. It did not come up to the caves outside Bonafacio in Corsica. We went up the creek, and walked ashore to look at the site of some terracing, where evidently there was once a building: the squattoise toilet was all that remained.
It had been very peaceful behind the island, although the anchor chain occasionally graunched on a rock. We set off around 1100, hoping that a useful breeze would materialise. While we were under the lee of Kekova island it appeared to head us, but soon vanished altogether and we were obliged to motor. When we arrived at Finike we went and re-fuelled. There was a mini tanker on hand as the regular fuelling berth had closed for the season. Fortunately we had just enough cash. We were then led somewhat haphazardly to our berth by a marineiro: he was a bit over helpful but not, and having followed his line down the wrong side of the trot, I was left to turn too fast to starboard, and nearly scraped Horizon III with the Rocna. It would not have been a great way to renew our acquaintance (from Limnos and Netsel last year). We checked in then went ashore to find some fresh supplies. The town appeared to be a bit scruffy: mostly poured concrete and dilapidated older houses. The shops seemed to be predominantly hardware, gas, barbers and mobile phone shops. By chance we found a small market up the hill, and bought some nice vegetables that will keep us going for a few days.
When we got back, our newly arrived Dutch neighbours (from Ucagiz) were full of tales of woe about the effect of a recent storm at Alanya. A British boat had actually returned to Finike from there, they had just heard. I fired off an e-mail to Taralee, but Mo thinks they have left. We will have to see when we get there!
We took on some water. Mo fancies sluicing out the holding tank en route, and feels the need for plenty of it. As we left Finike people were washing and hanging their sails out to dry, there being absolutely no wind. We tried fishing, and put on a lure that we think was inherited from Mike. We were astonished to get a 'bite', and when we pulled it in it was a small swordfish. Mo was still busy trying to extract the landing net, however, when he managed to wriggle free. He had only been caught by the tip of his sword, rather than his mouth. Then as we approached Taslik Burnu, to go between the offlying islands and the headland, we encountered a quite strong headwind gusting through the gap. It was a case of taking in a reef, and motor-tacking through the passage. Once around the headland the wind freed off somewhat and abated. This was fortunate, as our second bite of the day occurred, and we had to slow off. This time it was a small tuna. We anchored in 7 metres off the beach in Cavus Limani.
Friday is designated R&R day, in preparation for our journey across Antalya bay to Alanya. Mo was soon up and at it at the cooker, making soup. She then deemed it time I had a haircut, after which I was required to jump in the water to rinse off. Having got used to the 22 C, I washed around the boot top and one arm under, hopefully reducing the amount we have to scrape off in the spring. Much of the rest of the day passed with eating, Soduko, reading and nerding.
Someone put the fire out as the sun went down behind the mountains, and we made sure that the deckwork was done in the daylight. We finally left the anchorage after another fine meal around 2000 hrs - one meal too many perhaps. There was a light westerly wind blowing as we made sail in the bay, then had to gybe out to avoid a fishing boat displaying bright white lights only. Mo came on watch around midnight, after I had spent the intervening hours alternately motoring and trying to sail when the wind would puff a bit. Of course, as soon as she was on watch the wind came in, but not the promised 3 to 4 from the north/north west, but a very healthy 5 that gradually grew into a 6. Consequently I had to get up and help put the second reef in (we always carry one reef at night) and reduce the jib. Later it became even more lively, and I went up on watch and let Mo rest: it was impossible to sleep below. With 30/31 knots apparent in the gustier moments, on a beam reach, we were on course making 6-nearly 7 knots as we surged over the seas. Occasionally Fuga would pop her head down in one, and spray would fly back over the cockpit. As daylight began to brighten the sky, the wind began to ease and veer eastwards, so that we finally had to motor the last 10 miles.