Summer 2022 - Turkey - Mersincik to Kairos Marina, Kormen, Datca and the Trip Home
18 August 2022
Donna Cariss
There was next to no wind when we departed from Mersincik next morning, having retrieved the kedge anchor and the 2 long lines, piling them in the cockpit for sorting out on our way. We were heading the seven miles across the bay to Kairos Marina, hoping it would have space for visitors, as the next anchorage was 24 miles away and more strong winds were forecast. Kairos marina was only built in 2017, the same year our pilot book was published, so details were scant, although it did say that swell can build up at the entrance, requiring you to enter the marina sideways. We tidied the ropes and had breakfast as we motored across the bay. The helicopters were out again, filling their buckets to fight the fire, or dampen the area around the fire. It didn't take long to reach the marina. Pete called up on VHF channel 74 and at the second time of asking, a lady responded, although it wasn't particularly clear what she said. We decided to go in and take a look. The marina is surrounded by very high, concrete walls, a great barrier against the wind and the swell, so we couldn't see much until we had rounded the end of the breakwater. There was a small ferry terminal on our left and the marina pontoons straight ahead. To our right, was a long wall with cleats and a couple of yachts tied alongside, so we found a space there and tied up, switched off and went to look for the marina office. We passed a nice looking restaurant and bar, Aurora and then the laundry, before arriving at the marina office, which was locked up and dark. Well, it was only around 9.30am, so perhaps it would open at 10 o'clock. We continued on, around the marina, stopping briefly to speak to a Dutch woman, then continuing on to the far side, where there was a supermarket and a row of small shops, cafes and bars. At the far end, opposite where we had moored up, was the ferry berth. We retraced our steps, stopping to buy cold drinks at the Migros supermarket and headed back to the office, where someone was just opening up. We were directed to a sofa and it was indicated that someone who spoke English would be with us soon. Kamil arrived and ushered us into the office, where we were offered Turkish coffee, which Pete accepted. He asked where we had moored up, as they hadn't seen us arrive that morning. He didn't know who the lady was that had answered our VHF call, so we assumed it must have been a fellow sailor. Kamil reviewed our papers and we asked him about the possibility of a 12 month berthing contract. He said there was no room but if we were definitely serious and planning to sign up today he would go and ask the marina owner. We said we were serious assuming the price was right. Five minutes later he was back, €3500 for cash, €3750 for card payment or bank transfer. We said we could bring the cash at the start of September if that would be of any use and off Kamil went to check again. Yes, that would be fine; our yacht would be in their possession, so there was no risk to them. We had a good chat, with Kamil enthusing about London and having seen Cats there twice. He gave us lots of information about the marina and the surrounding area, including the ferry to Bodrum and that we could get a bus transfer from Datca to Dalaman airport, given we had already booked our flights. Datca, although on the south coast of the peninsula, was only 15 minutes by taxi. He sent a photo of our contract and of himself to Pete, so we could contact him whenever we needed to. We were happy with our decision to stay. He said someone would come over to the boat within 15 minutes to show us to our berth and assist with the lines. It was already getting hot, as we waited in the cockpit and it was probably nearer half an hour before the little boat came over. We followed them and they pointed out the berth, the second one along the pontoon, between a catamaran and a large yacht, where we would be reversing into the wind; perfect. I was ready with boat hook, to pick up the lazy line but the guy on the boat said he would do it and to go aft and throw the lines to the man on the pontoon. We were secure in no time at all and just at a distance where I could step from the boat to the pontoon, as we still had no plank. In the prevailing winds (meltemi), we would be blown off the pontoon and the breeze would blow through the cockpit and into the saloon; just what we needed. So now we had the best part of a week to kill before our flight home on the 20th July, as we couldn't really leave the marina, having signed the contact but not paid. Still, we had chores to do; laundry, provisioning, filling up with water, fuelling the boat with what remained in the fuel cans, washing the boat, cleaning inside and catching up on writing the blog. Pete also decided that we should pack up the dinghy, which ruled us out of exploring the bay outside the marina, other than on foot. We also needed to email Hamil, at Oren marina, to let them know we were no longer coming for the 6 weeks we had booked, as we now had a year's contract elsewhere. We received a nice email back, saying they couldn't refund our deposit but that the credit would sit in our account and we could use it if we wished to visit another time. We will definitely be doing that when we return in September. Kairos marina is a friendly place and has most of what you need, day to day - restaurants, bars, cafes, a decent supermarket, an excellent laundry, where you just leave it and it comes back washed, dried and folded, in plastic bags at a cost of only £7.50, the Datca - Bodrum ferry and taxis to get to Datca and the surrounding area. The shower facilities are very good, with plenty of water pressure too. We made ample use of all the facilities and probably spent more than we should have done, eating and drinking out. The sunset view from Aurora was magnificent, looking out towards Kos and Bodrum and there was always live music while you ate dinner, as well as Mahmet, the little cat who liked to sit on a lady's knee. The yacht club had an excellent band on the Friday night and we were able to have a good dance, to English and Turkish pop music.
We had a day out in Datca, exploring the harbour and the town. It wasn't really a marina, just a very enclosed harbour, with a mixture of trip boats and yachts tied stern to the quayside. It was quite picturesque, with palm trees and an amphitheatre along one side and small bars and restaurants along the front. The bay was also full of boats at anchor, off the beach, including a massive super yacht. In the main square, I spotted a small office advertising airport transfers and although the lady didn't speak any English, we had transfers sorted in no time, using her translation app; 200 TL (£10) each, all the way from Datca to Dalaman. She said to return at 1830 on the 20th July and she would take us to the bus. We continued to explore the streets and found a number of telecoms shops, advertising Turkish data sims for tourists. We selected one to go in and find out the deal. The man was brought from the bookshop opposite to translate. This is where we will come in September to buy a sim and we must remember to take our passports, as all sim cards have to be formally registered in Turkey. Next stop was a surf shop, where we purchased some new smart casual shorts and a couple of long-sleeved cotton shirts for Pete, much cheaper than at home. He would be quite smartly dressed for dinner this evening, our second trip to Aurora. We had a light lunch on the front, with an excellent Wi-Fi connection and caught up on calls, emails and uploading photos to the blog gallery. The restaurant next door had a cockerel, which wondered around pecking the floor and crowing; very bizarre. It was just after 2pm and the restaurant owner was turning people away, so we asked if he was closing. He told us that all the restaurants along here were closing for the rest of the day because their neighbour, who has the supermarket behind, had been stabbed to death early that morning and his brother in law put in a coma, by two Kurdish tourists, who had objected to the price of his goods. This was a shocking thing to happen here, where violence is unheard of. We gave our condolences, paid and left. We returned to the taxi rank for a ride back to the marina, taking note of the rustic restaurant just outside the marina gates. We called to the Migros supermarket for an ice cream; Magnums work out about 75p each with the favourable exchange rate on the Turkish Lira!
The following day, we decided to take a walk along the 'beach' to see how far we could get towards the other side of the bay, now that we didn't have the dinghy and outboard available. The track took us past the rustic restaurant and then along the rocky shoreline, passed a camp site, which may have been abandoned, or at least not well looked after. The further we went, the more the track degraded and in places it was muddy, where the waves had crashed over the rocks. We met a number of tractors, carrying various loads and had to squeeze ourselves out of the way. Mopeds seemed another popular form of transport, on the bumpy, rutted track, carrying their loads precariously across the rear seat. After less than 30 minutes, we turned round. The sea wasn't particularly clean, or easily accessible and it was still a very long way round the bay and we were already hot and had run out of water. It was only natural to call in at the rustic restaurant, to sit in the garden and have some refreshments, amongst the free ranging hens. We decided to have lunch here. The young girl waiting tables didn't appear to speak English and sent over her father, who spoke a little English, to take our order. The food was ridiculously cheap and pretty tasty too. The place really filled up in the afternoon, mostly with locals, including some rather old ladies, who came to drink tea (25p per glass). While we were there, there was a lot of commotion by the fishing harbour; loud music playing and car horns honking. We thought it might be a wedding, so went to take a look. There was a teenage boy, all dressed up in white and gold, standing in the back of a truck and a large group of men dancing round in circles. We were off the mark with our wedding thoughts; the boy was celebrating his circumcision, we were advised by the locals. This led to a lengthy discussion about whether this was a healthy practise or not.
We visited the restaurant quite regularly, mostly to drink tea or beer but occasionally to eat. They had excellent, free Wi-Fi, so it was the best place for us to call home or upload to the blog. The young girl turned out to speak a little English and told us her name was Aylul and that it means September. Pete asked her if she was born in September but she said, 'No, in June'. Pete was puzzled by this, so I told him to count back 9 months. Whilst you were having your 40C heatwave in the UK, the temperature eased a little in Turkey. We were sitting on the little terrace at the rustic restaurant and it was only 29C. We were sheltered from the sun and there was a breeze off the sea and I had goose bumps. I guess I had started to acclimatise to the heat.
Our neighbours on both sides were helpful and friendly. The man on the yacht introduced himself and said he would keep an eye on the boat when we weren't there. He soon went home though, so we didn't see much of him. Camil (pronounced Jamile), on the catamaran, also introduced himself and invited us on board for a drink one night. His English was excellent and we sat on the bridge and chatted for a couple of hours. He also invited Pete to the marina WhatsApp group, so we could introduce ourselves to everyone. Unfortunately Pete posted that we were on pontoon A when we are on C, so nobody found us until the day we were leaving, when we were approached by a number of people who wanted to welcome us. Everyone was happy to keep an eye on the boat while we were away and said they looked forward to us returning, so we could join them at the 'Parish Council meeting' each night, at the little rustic restaurant with the cheap beer.
We tidied the boat and packed our bags and took the washing to the laundry, explaining that we would collect it in September. We were due to leave at 4pm but by 3pm we were ready and restless, so we headed round to the ferry dock to grab a taxi to Datca. Unusually, there wasn't a yellow taxi in sight, so we enquired at the little ticket office. One of the guys jumped on his moped and shot off down the side of the marina, returning 5 minutes later with a taxi, which must have been local or relaxing at another little bar just up the road. We were in Datca by just after 3.30pm, so had 3 hours to kill. We returned to the same restaurant as before, just for a drink, before heading towards the amphitheatre, where we could sit under the trees for a while, before returning to the restaurant to eat a light, early tea. Just after 6pm, we walked along the harbour side and into the square for our rendez-vous with the lady from the transfer office. She walked us across the square, where a minibus picked the three of us up and took us to the departure point in town, where we disembarked until it was time to leave. The lady waved us off like we were her best friends. We made a couple of stops, on the way out of Datca, to pick up additional people and then the bus was full. The first part of the journey was fine, travelling along the main road, towards Marmaris, passing places where we had anchored, just over a week ago but then we started to climb up into the hills and although the road surface was good, the roads were steep and winding and the going was slow and hindered by logging trucks creeping uphill. There were several hairy moments when our driver overtook lorries on bends. I tried to distract myself by looking out of the window at the view on our left. There were some spectacular anchorages and this was where we were planning to sail in September. We had been travelling more than an hour already and we hadn't even reached Marmaris, 68 km from Datca. We diverted onto a narrow gravel road, which would cut off the corner and avoid us going through Marmaris itself. It was a bit uncomfortable, as well as being a tight squeeze when vehicles came the other way. Eventually we regained the main road and I started to relax and compare the mosques in the towns and villages we were passing. They were all exactly the same in the smaller places, like they had been ordered from a catalogue and come flat-packed for easy construction. Our driver was constantly on his phone, reading and making text messages and at one point, we nearly hit a dog that was wandering into the road. It was making us nervous. It started to get dark and we had been on the bus for over 2 hours. We pulled into a fuel station, where the driver had a 10 minute break for a cigarette and everyone but us got off the bus to buy refreshments in the shop. From there, it wasn't too far to the airport and we eventually arrived at 9.40pm, after 2 hours and 40 minutes on the bus. We decided we wouldn't be doing that transfer again.
Dalaman is a large airport but it was easy enough to collect our boarding pass and go through security. From there, we headed straight for the airport lounge. It wasn't the greatest. Alcoholic drinks weren't included and the food consisted of salad or chicken nuggets and chips. I had the former and Peter the latter. I had a gin and tonic and Pete had a beer, at an extortionate price but it needed after our trip. Our flight was due to depart at 23:55, so at 23:15 we headed down to the gate, to be told there was an hour's delay, so we returned to the lounge, as there were people everywhere in the terminal, sleeping on the floor or on rows of seats. Taking a look at the departure board, it seemed that almost two thirds of flights were delayed. An hour later we returned to the gate, where I was selected to go through additional security checks and had my bags searched and everything swabbed for drugs and / or explosives. We were onto the plane quite quickly and pleased to find we had a row of 3 seats to ourselves. Then we had the news that there would be another 50 minute delay, due to air traffic control restrictions over Austria. French air traffic control were striking (again) and planes were diverting through Austrian airspace. Two hours after our scheduled departure time we took off. We tried to sleep but couldn't really get comfortable and suffered from nodding dog syndrome most of the way. 40 minutes before landing, we started to descend through the cloud. It was quite off-putting, as it seemed to glow around us. It was thick and low and we began to think we were going to land in fog but with about 200 metres to go, we broke through and could see the lights. We touched down and breathed a sigh of relief. It was 3.30am and we had been up nearly 24 hours. Tim picked us up and drove us home, where we fell into bed at 5.30am.
Now we look forward to our next trip but we will be flying to Bodrum, not Dalaman!