August 2023



Where is Ayvalik?


Ayvalik Area

Pumping out and sticker shock at Ayvalik Marina
We were in the Ayvalik area long enough to need two Turkish-government-mandated fifteen-day pumpouts. Fortunately, we knew that the Ayvalik Marina has a blackwater pumpout station. How convenient! The first time we stopped in, their pumps were broken, so we got what they called a "technical pumpout." This means that we paid the pumpout fee (about $15 USD), the marina registered us as having been pumped out (satisfying the letter of the requirement, but clearly not the intent), and sent us on our way with full blackwater tanks. As we were on our way out into the Aegean, to dump our tanks several miles offshore, Eric opined, "Everyone wins in this scenario except for the environment."


The location of Ayvalik Marina

The second time we went to the marina, two weeks later, the pumps were working, so we actually had our tanks emptied. While we were in the office, enjoying the air conditioning as the marina staff completed our pumpout paperwork, we asked her, "If we wanted to stay one night in the marina, how much would it cost for our boat?"

She typed Awildian's dimensions into her computer. "8422 Turkish lira," she said, which corresponded to $312 USD. For one night! We knew that marinas in the Med were expensive in the summertime (which is why we always anchor out), but this took our breath away. Then she said, "But we have no room at the moment. We're full."

Mistaking our shock for disappointment, she quickly added, "But if you need a space, contact me and I will find a berth for your boat."

Gümüs Cove


The location of Gümüs Cove

On another occasion when a strong NE wind was forecast to blow for a few days, we decided to go outside of Ayvalik Bay and anchor behind one of the nearby islands. We chose Gümüs Cove (also known as Poroselene Bay) because it would provide good shelter from the NE, was reported to have good sand to anchor in, and sports a beautiful white sand beach. What's not to like? Also, the water was clear there, which would be a nice change from the water in Ayvalik's shallow bay, which tends to be murky and not especially conducive to running our watermaker.


Awildian at Gümüs Cove. Definitely not crowded.

The anchorage lived up to our expectations. I would have said "it surpassed our expectations," but we discovered that the cell signal here was spotty and weak, so we couldn't reliably use the internet. That was fine for the time that we planned to be there, but it meant that we'd have to find a different anchorage when we needed a good connection.


Some non-electronic entertainment

One day we went for a walk on shore, exploring the pretty beach (and scooping up a handful of sand for our collection), and then venturing inland to cross the narrow isthmus between Gümüs Cove and the bay to the east (Patrica Bay).



Patrica Bay was taking the bulk of the wind, kicking up sharp chop. Apparently it had proven too much for one monohull, which was now hard aground in the shallows, tilted at a rakish angle, being pounded by the waves and pushed farther toward shore, its tattered jib flapping in the strong breeze. Whether it had dragged its anchor or encountered difficulties while underway, we didn't know, but the result was the same.


Someone having a bad day

A man was on board, another swimming nearby with a mask and snorkel and carrying a rope, looking for something to tie it to on the monohull. Close by, a small power boat held station, bucking in the choppy waves, apparently waiting to pull the monohull when the rope was secured. When the snorkeler stood up beside the boat, the water only came up to his waist. Ooh, not good.

When the rope was tied to the monohull, the driver of the motorboat put his boat into hard reverse, the engines kicking up froth, but he was unable to budge the monohull from its perch. Bugger. The snorkeler untied the rope, waved apologetically at the man on the mono, and swam back to the motorboat. Sadly, the tides here are so small that the usual tactic of waiting for high tide wouldn't help this situation. We continued our walk, leaving the man sitting on his tilted deck.

Yellice Adasi (Yellice island)


The location of Yellice Island

For a change of scenery (and hopefully better cell service), we left Gümüs Cove a few days later and anchored in a pretty little cove on Yellice Island, not that far away. When we arrived, only one boat was anchored, so we considered the available space and gave them plenty of room when we dropped Obama. It was the biggest distance between us and other boats that we had all day.


Uncrowded in the morning

Not long after we set our anchor, the parade of boats began. Little boats and big boats, motor boats and sailboats, all crammed full of energetic Turkish tourists. The boat skippers didn't mind being close to us and to each other. We, on the other hand, were a little leery. At its fullest, fifteen boats were crammed into the little cove, anchored to our left and right, behind us, and between us and the beach. When one boat would leave another would arrive. This was a bit intimidating for us, but I will say that none of them bumped Awildian or interfered with his anchor.


Busy in the afternoon

As the afternoon waned, boats stopped arriving, and by six o'clock, only three boats remained - Awildian, the original boat, and one other. We three enjoyed a quiet and peaceful night at anchor in the uncrowded cove.

Incidentally, the cell service was better than at Gümüs Cove, but not great.

Pinar Adasi (Pinar Island)


The location of Pinar Island

On another occasion when the wind was going to kick up from the NE, and we wanted to get out of the bay and make some water, we headed for an anchorage that I'd been pining for, tucked between two forested islands (haha see what I did there). It was called Ortunc Köyü, and it always seemed to have a few boats anchored there.

We motored out the Ayvalik Channel and headed for the anchorage. When we got close, I stood on the trampoline, looking down into the water to find some sand patches for anchoring. But all I could see, everywhere I looked, were acres and acres of lush, dark green weeds, without even a tiny sand patch to drop Obama in. Bummer.

Some boaters will anchor in weeds, but we won't if we can help it. For one thing, weeds are a notoriously difficult substrate to anchor in - the thick growth keeps the anchor from reaching the bottom, or tangles around it, or makes it slide instead of biting in - not good at all for holding. Nor is it good for the weeds. Weed beds are thriving ecosystems, with all sorts of critters living among the fronds. All good reasons to keep looking for a sand patch.

Which is what we did, motoring slowly, "sniffing" for sand patches along the shoreline of Pinar Adasi. Eventually we did find a good-sized patch of sand, into which we dropped Obama, who held right away.

We spent a few days anchored at Pinar Adasi, sheltered from the NE wind by the bulk of the island, and with the Aegean Sea behind us.



I enjoyed kayaking along the shoreline, which had some really colorful and interesting rock formations,




That white stuff isn't bird poop. It's actually some kind of white mineral that is embedded in the red rock.

and occasionally scrambling up the crumbly hillside to sit with some pine trees, and some cool-looking thorny shrubs whose branches look like stick drawings of organic chemistry molecules.



From sunset until late morning, we were alone, but every afternoon, tourist-laden gullets (large Turkish tourist boats) would motor over from Cunda or Ayvalik, their approach announced in advance by the loud music emanating from their speakers and the loud voices emanating from their passengers.

Click on the link below for a short video of one of the Turkish party boats.

Having a great time on a Turkish party boat

They came near where we were anchored, then turned, dropped their anchor and backed up toward the shore. One of the crew - usually a young man - would dive into the water and swim to shore, dragging a thick rope that was attached to the stern of the boat. He'd tie the rope to a large boulder, then swim back. The skipper pulled tight on the anchor, then turned off the engines and the music. Immediately, people began jumping off the boat as if it were on fire, splashing around in the water or swimming to the beach.


After tying to shore

After a couple of hours, the skipper started the engines and cranked on the loud music. The passengers climbed aboard the boat, the young crewman swam to the boulder, untied the rope, and swam back to the boat. The skipper pulled up the anchor and the gullet chugged away, its passengers dancing to the beat and whooping it up. And another gullet would take its place.

It was a lot of fun for Eric and me to experience this exuberant example of Turkish culture.


Another quiet evening

Eventually it was Wednesday again, and we moved Awildian into the bay, to an anchorage near the town of Cunda. Come Thursday morning, we'd be at the ferry dock, ready to go to the Ayvalik Bazaar. Hopefully for real, this time...