September 8-16, 2023

Where is the Güllük Korfezi?


Anchorages covered in this blog post:



#1 Ҫukurcuk Cove The gateway to the Güllük Korfezi.

#2 Paradise Bay 37°19.151'N,27° 27.989'E

We began our exploration of the Güllük Korfezi the next morning, setting out for an anchorage with the enticing name of Paradise Bay. Arriving a few hours later, we anchored in the pine-ringed cove that was every bit as picturesque as its name would imply.



Though Awildian was the only boat for awhile, the bay began to fill up with tourist-laden day boats as the day progressed, and as many of them were tying their sterns to shore, we decided that it would be neighborly for us to do the same.

We got out one of our spools of bright-orange, floating, polypropylene rope that we use for this purpose (once or twice a year), and loaded it into our dinghy. Since Awildian already had his anchor down, all we needed to do was take the rope to shore, tie it to a rock, tie the other end to a cleat on Awildian's stern, then take up the slack. Eric did the rock-tying honors this time, while I paid out rope from the spool.



Later, I put the kayak in the calm, but not particularly clear, water and paddled to shore. Along the way, when the water was shallow enough that I could see the bottom (less than six feet or so), I kept seeing these odd-looking creatures on the bottom. They were black, shaped like worms, but BIG (some of them were a foot or two long), and had tentacles around their mouth. I later learned from Google that they're "worm sea cucumbers" (Synaptula reciprocans), kind of like benthic vacuum cleaners.


Worm Sea Cucumber (Synaptula reciprocans)

I had a really nice walk on shore - among the pines!




I saw quite a few rocks that I'm almost positive were petrified wood, resembling the cross-section of trees that had lived and died millions of years ago.


Petrified wood?

I had fun imagining what the forest was like, when those trees were standing tall.



One of the fun things about walking around in foreign countries, is encountering signs that you can't read. As I was writing this blog, I finally got around to translating the signs in some of the photos. The results can be interesting.


"You can hug me"


"Green path"


"Forest is not a WC. Take your shit inside."

OK then.

Sadly, scattered among the trees and rocks and strewn along the shore was a shocking amount of trash.







We enjoyed a couple of days at Paradise Bay, and then we were ready to continue exploring.



This time I took our kayak to shore and untied the stern rope, while Eric spooled. As we were pulling Obama up, the chain rumbled as if it were running across something hard, and Obama suddenly snagged. Uh oh. Knowing that fish farms had been located in Paradise Bay at one time, I was worried that Obama may have been caught on some leftover equipment, but after Eric drove forward over the anchor, it started to come up again. Phew! We may have dodged a bullet: when Obama broke the surface, he was trailing some long pieces of old electrical wire. Something was definitely down there!

#2 Kaptan Han buoy 37° 20.441'N,27° 28.524'E

It was a short trip (less than two miles) to the buoys owned by the Kaptan Han restaurant and marina. We'd decided to go there because it would be a good spot to sit out some strong wind that was forecast, and because we had a hankering for a restaurant meal.



When we arrived, we scoped out the mooring ball situation: some big orange ones and some smaller orange ones. We decided to take one of the smaller orange ones, figuring that the big ones were for some of the large fish farm boats that shared the cove. As Eric slowly maneuvered Awildian toward the mooring ball, I was perched on the front of the trampoline with the boat hook, ready to grab the loop on the ball, when I spotted a dinghy coming toward us from the restaurant. He stopped at the mooring ball and said, in broken English, "This one is not for you." He pointed to one of the large orange balls. "This one is for you." Then he helped us tie to one of the appropriate orange balls, which was nice. He told us that the mooring was free, and we told him that we'd be in for dinner later.


It will be a short dinghy ride to dinner

During the afternoon, I spent some time looking at the weather forecast, to see when we might have a break in the meltemi, that would allow us to cross back to Greece, on our way back to Montenegro for the winter. I'd been pouring over Windy (the weather site we use) for a couple of weeks already, reading the tea leaves, trying to tease out a few days that might make a reasonable passage across the Aegean Sea.

We didn't want to end up too far south in Turkey, because we had to come back north, on our way to Montenegro, and we also now had to stop in Athens for a chat with a rigger about procuring the hardware to support a Code 0 sail that we hoped to buy for Awildian.

I was feeling slightly antsy, because we had a bit of a schedule (ugh! The "S" word!). We were planning to take a shortcut from the Aegean Sea to the Ionian Sea via the Corinth Canal. The Canal, which was still being repaired after having suffered a major landslide a year earlier, had opened on June 1, was scheduled to close on September 30, and would not reopen until the following Spring. If we didn't transit the Canal, we'd have to travel around the bottom of the Peloponnese Peninsula, a trip that would add many miles, and quite a few days, to our plans, as well as exposing us to some potentially rambunctious weather or unfavorable wind.

Things were looking like they might calm down in the Aegean later in the week, so I lined up an agent to clear us out of Turkey in Didim, and another to clear us into Greece at Athens, just in case. I researched how to pay for the Corinth Canal (it's easy, all online). I was all set, should the forecast continue to shape up. (Spoiler Alert: it didn't.)

At 7 pm, we took our dinghy to the restaurant, which consisted of a small kitchen building, and a large wooden dock, on which a couple dozen tables were arranged. An area of wooden steps, where dinghies could be tied, ran along one side. A man, who would also be our server, held the dinghy painter while we got out, and after we tied the dinghy, he led us to our table.

Seven o'clock still being early for dinner by European standards, most of the tables were empty, but one was occupied by a group of people that included a yippy lap dog. Forming a hopeful halo around the table (and the cause of the dog's yipping), were a dozen or so skinny, scrappy-looking cats, some of whom were munching on bits of fish that the humans had tossed from the table.



We enjoyed a really nice dinner, on the Kaptan Han restaurant dock, and we soon had our own hopeful dinner companion.



As this was only a couple of days before our anniversary, we decided that it would count as our anniversary celebration.


My dinner companion for nearly 40 years

The next morning, as the fish farm boats began moving out of the cove to begin their day's work, we went to untie our lines from the mooring. When I prepared to release the lines holding us to the buoy, I discovered that they had spent the night tying themselves around each other and the buoy, creating what our Australian friend, Annie, would characterize as a "dog's breakfast" - a real mess. While I was at the helm, Eric, who has a longer reach than I have, spent about ten minutes hanging off the front of the boat, successfully untangling everything so we could slip away to our next destination.