September 19, 2023

We pulled up Obama early the next morning, as soon as it was light enough for us to see where we were going.

Though the morning was forecast to have the lightest wind of the day, it was already honking by the time we rounded the bottom of the peninsula and began heading north. The seas were uncomfortable: one meter steep, choppy waves that Awildian pounded into, again and again. It was a wet slog; water sprayed over both decks - lower and upper - ran in rivers along the deck and down the transom steps like waterfalls. Blech. Fortunately, Awildian has plenty of space so Eric and I were able to stay dry while we were underway.

The forecast still looked good for us to make a dash across the Aegean Sea to Greece three days later. That meant we'd need to clear out of Turkey two days later, at Ҫeşme, which was almost a hundred miles to windward. We could easily make it there in two days - at least that's what we told ourselves when we decided to stop for the day at one of the anchorages just north of Didim, after five hours of slogging.

The forecast for the next day showed less wind, and slightly smaller waves, so we figured we could make up some time then.

We hate having a schedule.


September 20, 2023

The next morning, the wind and sea-state, though not particularly comfortable, were, on average, less jarring than they had been the previous day. We were even treated to some short stretches of gloriously sunny skies and relatively calm seas as we made our way north toward the Samos Strait. We'd set the goal of reaching the anchorage at Goldensands Beach today, just around the corner from Ҫeşme, about 80 miles away. But we left ourselves the option to bail out earlier if either of us wanted to.

Late in the afternoon, the wind began coming more from the west, which would make Goldensands Beach a poor choice of anchorage. We consulted Navily to see what our options were. Several sheltered anchorages were conveniently spread along our route, so we picked one and headed for it.

The anchorage, about ten miles from Goldensands Beach, was called Mersin. It was a lovely spot, with clear water and great holding in sandy mud. Birds sang from trees and bushes beyond the sandy shore, and if I hadn't been so tired, I would've gone kayaking. But Eric and I were both wiped out after another long day of slogging upwind, so we just had dinner, listened to an hour of our audiobook, and went to bed.


September 21, 2003

The next morning was beautiful and calm (yay, calm!). We pulled up our anchor and headed for Ҫeşme Marina. This time, the marinero guided us to the Customs dock instead of to a berth. Once there, Eric hopped off Awildian and went to find our agent, Buse, at Pianura Marine, to sort out our departure from Turkey.

Since our clearance into Turkey had taken several hours, I expected our exit clearance would be similar. I was excited at the prospect of being able to rinse Awildian's salty, dusty decks with fresh water (we hadn't experienced rain in months), and I was already getting the hose out of the storage locker as Eric stepped onto the dock with our passports.

Just as I was about to attach the hose to the water spigot on the dock, Eric called. I needed to go with him and Buse to the passport control office. I left the hose and met them on their way to the ferry terminal, where I smiled at the Immigration officer as he compared my face to my passport photo. That done, Buse said she would take our documents to Customs and expected to be done in about 20 minutes. Yeah right, she'd said that last time, too, and it had been several hours.

Eric and I walked back to Awildian. A few minutes later, I was rinsing the top deck, creating dark red, muddy rivers and sludgy puddles on the lower deck. Just as I was climbing down from the top deck, to rinse off the lower deck, Buse returned with a stern-faced man in a uniform. I figured he must be the Customs dude. Why would he be coming to our boat?

It turned out that yes he was the Customs dude, and he was there to watch us leave. Okay, I said, I'll be done in just a minute, and I turned to rinse off the lower deck, the deck that we walk around on, which was currently a quagmire of red mud.

"No," Buse said. "You must leave now."

"Now?!" I asked. "But I have to rinse this off..."

A glance at the look on the Customs dude's face told me that I should comply. We don't mess around with Customs and Immigration officials; they can truly ruin your day if they want to. When an official who has the power to impound your boat and throw you in jail tells you he's there to watch you leave now, you leave now.

I was spitting mad, muttering under my breath, as I disconnected the hose, coiled it, and threw it into the storage locker, all the while leaving a maze of red, muddy footprints all over Awildian's deck.

I was still grumbling when we left the dock a few minutes later, and drove Awildian slowly around the point to beautiful Goldensands Beach, where (grumble grumble), using buckets of seawater, then rinsing with some of our watermaker water, I was able to wash away most of the muddy footprints and puddles.

Goldensands Beach was an appropriate place to anchor overnight before our dash across the Aegean Sea to Greece, not just because it was a convenient jumping-off point, but also as the first and last anchorage we stayed in, in Turkey, it would bookend our stay in Turkey. To commemorate our final night in Turkey, we enjoyed a dinner of manti, a delicious, Turkish meat-filled pasta.