Part 1: Navpaktos to Preveza


Key:
1=Navpaktos
2=Rion Bridge
3=Ormos Oxia
4=Kandilas/Mytikas
5=Preveza

Oct. 1-2, 2023
Navpaktos, Greece
38º23.496'N,21º49.932'E

We left Itéa after one night, continuing toward Preveza, where we would clear out of Greece, and which would be a good staging point to take advantage of a future weather window for our eventual overnight hop to Tivat. We motored 42 miles to Navpaktos, a neat little town built inside an old Venetian fortress. Even its small boat harbor is enclosed within the thick stone walls.


Navpaktos and its walls

We opted to anchor just outside of the walls, but we took our dinghy inside, and after tying it up, walked along the narrow, cobblestoned streets looking for a little restaurant named Mexican Bulldog, that people on Navily and NoForeignLand had raved about.

We found it, and scored a table upstairs on a little balcony overlooking the street. The food was really good - different kinds of marinated meats, grilled with veggies and put into a wrap or bowl. We enjoyed our dinner while watching the goings-on in the busy street below. After dinner, we wandered around the town for awhile. It's a charming place.



We left Navpaktos after we finished our morning coffee. As soon as our anchor was up, I called the nearby Rion Bridge on VHF 14 to request passage through one of the three navigable lanes beneath the bridge. The bridge control operator asked for Awildian's mast height (23 meters), and based on that assigned us the north lane or, as he described it, "one pylon to starboard, three to port."



The Rion Bridge spans the narrow gap between the towns of Rion (or Rio), on the south shore, and Antirrion (Antirrio), on the north shore.



Two ferries that predate the building of the bridge still ply the water between the two towns, leaving on the hour and half hour. As we made our way to the bridge, and then under it, we watched out for the ferries as they crossed. It's like playing a slow-motion, real-life version of Pong.





Oct. 2-3, 2023
Ormos Oxia, Greece
38º20.190'N,21º07.228'E

We motored west along the Gulf of Patras (the same body of water that's called the Gulf of Corinth to the east of the Rion Bridge), until we reached the Ionian Sea. There we turned right (north) and headed for our next destination, an anchorage called Ormos Oxia, a small bay with a pretty sand beach that fronts the wetlands of the Achelous River.

Almost as soon as Obama was dug into the sandy bottom, I launched our kayak and paddled to shore, where I had a marvelous time walking along the sandy spit that separated the beach from the wetlands.








This translates to "keep the space clean"

Meanwhile, Eric took the opportunity to play his bass out loud while I wasn't around.


Leaving the anchorage the next morning, we discovered that the Achelous deposited sand much farther beyond the river's mouth, than our navigational charts would imply. Using the water color as our guide, we diverted farther and farther and farther away from land, before turning the corner and heading north, to make sure that we kept a good bit of water under Awildian's hulls.

Oct. 3-4, 2023
Kandilas/Mytikas, Greece
38º40.56'N,20º55.95'E

Our next overnight stop was an anchorage called Kandilas, near the town of Mytikas. Though we'd chosen this anchorage because it was in the right place for us, it also turned out to be very scenic - steep, granite mountains rising up just beyond the beach (like anchoring in Yosemite);



a tiny old church perched on the rocky shore;



herds of goats wandering the dry hillsides, their bells tinkling softly in the breeze - though there was also a fish farm in one end of the cove, for balance.




Oct. 4-9, 2023
Preveza anchorage, Greece
38º58.05'N,20º45.54'E


The anchorage at Preveza


A lone Greek fisherman

We like Preveza, and we had a great time, meeting new friends, enjoying time with current friends, stocking up on supplies, and looking for upcoming weather windows that we might take to Montenegro.

We met new friends when, one day, we decided to visit the people on the pretty, dark blue boat Elysia, that was flying an OCC burgee and was anchored at the edge of the anchorage. Jim & Mandy (from Scotland, with that lovely accent!) invited us aboard for coffee, and during our chat we learned that we have friends in common - fellow Scots Stuart and Anne from sv Time Bandit, whom we met in the South Pacific!

We had some nice meals with our friends from Porto Montenegro, Seb & Suzanne from sv Racoon 2, who have an annual contract in the Preveza Marina. We also ran into Dani & Renan, a young Israeli couple whom we also knew from Porto Montenegro. They were getting their boat, Romema, ready to be hauled out, so they could return to Israel. (Sadly, the war between Israel and Hamas began only days later, potentially putting a damper on their plans.)

Part 2: Preveza to Kerasiá


Key:
5=Preveza
6=Two Rocks Bay
7=Kerasiá



Oct. 9-10, 2023
Two Rocks Bay, Greece
39º12.641'N,20º29.508'E

While we were chatting with Dani & Renan, they'd suggested an anchorage a few hours north of Preveza, that we might like. Named Two Rocks Bay, it was absolutely gorgeous, with clear, turquoise water populated with colorful fish, surrounded by rocky cliffs topped by fragrant pines and a small tavern.


The "two rocks" of Two Rocks Bay

We wished we could stay longer than the one night we'd be able to, and we made a mental (and physical) note to try to stop in again when we weren't in as much of a hurry.




Oct. 10-12, 2023
Kerasiá, Greece (Corfu Island)
39º45.203'N,19º56.532'E

We left Two Rocks Bay in the morning, heading for the northeast coast of Corfu Island, planning to anchor there for a couple of days until we left for Tivat. We had a lovely motorsail, in the sunny weather, north along the mainland and into the Corfu Strait. Dolphins swam up ahead of us for awhile, and we were treated to a flock of flamingoes(!) flying overhead, their pink feathers glowing in the sunshine. The Strait was very busy with ferries going in all directions, but with our eyes and our AIS, we were able to stay well out of their way.

When we arrived at the anchorage we'd chosen, an indentation in the shoreline called Kaminakia, we had to skirt around a rocky shoal marked with a tower and a cardinal mark, before heading in toward the shore. The water stayed deep for a long way in, and when it was finally shallow enough for us to anchor, all I could see were weeds; none of the numerous sand patches that Navily users had reported. In fact, I saw no sand patches that were a comfortable distance from the rocky shore. Frown. This is always so annoying, especially after a long day of traveling.

After about fifteen minutes of "sniffing around" the anchorage, looking for (but not finding) suitable places to drop Obama, we decided to cut bait and head back down the island, checking out the anchorages that we'd passed on our way to Kaminakia. The first couple we deemed unsuitable as they were deep and choked with weeds, as was another one called Kerasiá. But what Kerasiá had, that the others didn't, was a small taverna on shore. And what this taverna had done was to install three mooring balls which, according to Navily, were free if the boaters visited the taverna. One was free, so we took it.

Later that day, Elysia came into the anchorage and dropped her anchor well out in the deep water (she's a big boat, with a deep draft). We coordinated with Jim & Mandy, and enjoyed dinner together in the taverna that night.



The next day, I put our kayak in the water and went exploring.



I had a nice time paddling along the shore, and then a really nice time walking in the woods.



I saw quite a few birds, including a coal tit (Periparus iter), a new bird for me.

On the way back, I stopped to say hello to the crew of the boat Bajan Blue, that was tied to one of the other mooring balls. From Australia, Donna, Keith, and their daughter, Alice, were also planning to spend the winter in the Bay of Kotor (Porto Novi Marina) and, like us, they were planning to leave the next morning. They joined us for sundowners aboard Awildian for our last night in Greece.




Oct. 12-13, 2023
Kerasiá, Greece (Corfu Island)
39º45.203'N,19º56.532'E
to
Porto Montenegro Marina, Tivat, Montenegro
42º26.154'N,18º41.540

Part 3: Kerasiá, Greece to Tivat, Montenegro


Key:
7=Kerasiá
8=Tivat

We left Kerasiá just after sunup on October 12, and started heading north, for a trip of about 24 hours. Not much wind was forecast, but what was there was, was from the south, which was convenient. During the day, the sun shone in a cloudless sky, turning the water a brilliant cerulean blue.


A passage sunset

At night, the stars were bright in the sky, and reflecting on the dark, silky water, where millions of bioluminescent critters created sparkling constellations of their own. Eric even had the treat of seeing several dolphins swimming and leaping in cascades of glittering bioluminescent light.

It was thrilling to turn the corner into the magnificent Bay of Kotor. Even after living for almost a year surrounded by this spectacular scenery, we never get tired of it. And now, it also feels like home.

It wasn't the distance that made this journey notable - we've done plenty of much longer, open-ocean passages - but rather the feeling that we needed to thread several needles of time (Schengen requirements and the schedule of the Corinth Canal, to name two) and weather (making sure that we didn't encounter autumn storms, the meltemi, or strong, contrary winds) making them all mesh in such a way that allowed us to get from Turkey to Porto Montenegro in a safe, legal, comfortable, and timely way.

And we'd done it! We'd threaded those needles. Three weeks and more than 700 miles after we left the Javelin anchorage in Turkey, to begin our journey back to Porto Montenegro, we were finally there. On the morning of October 13, we tucked Awildian into his winter berth (I05/07) at PM Marina, turned off the Things, and after a brief moment of disorientation at the sudden silence and the lack of motion, we basked in feelings of relief and accomplishment, ready to enjoy life as temporary residents of Montenegro for the next seven months.


Robert & Robyn enjoying being back home in Porto Montenegro

Late September, 2023


The area covered in this blog

Key:
1=Athens area marinas and anchorages
2=Paralia Sofikou
3=Galatas
4=Korfos
5=Kalamaki
6=Itéa


Sept. 24-25, 2023
Edem (near Alimos Marina)
37º55.047'N,23º41.809'E

& Paralia Sofikou, Greece
37º50.024'N,23º07.849'E

We'd read that Flisvos Marina near Athens would provide a berth for boats that were visiting the Customs and Immigration authorities, but when we arrived, they said that they had no space.

No worries, we saw on Navily that there was an anchorage about 2km from Flisvos, so we took Awildian there and dropped the anchor. We called the Port Authority and asked if captains could come in with their dinghy to clear into Greece. We were given the green light, so we dropped the dinghy and I stayed with Awildian while Eric buzzed in. He had to do some fancy talking with the two marineros who came out to meet him, but he eventually was able to tie up our dinghy and walk to the nearby Port Authority building to begin the clearing-in process. Thus began a multi-day, multi-location, multi-taxi-ride extravaganza that eventually resulted in our being completely checked into Greece. Let's just say that Athens is not the easiest place to clear in.

Later that day, we learned that good friends on two other boats from Porto Montenegro (Mads, Alisha, and Victoria on sv Seaesta Blue; and Sarah, Peter, and a visiting friend, on sv Flying Fish) were also in the area, so we arranged to meet up in a pretty little anchorage called Paralia Sofikou about 25 miles from Flisvos Marina. When we arrived at the anchorage - after carefully crossing the busy shipping lanes, dodging fast ferries, and winding our way through a sprawling anchorage of (mostly) stationary cargo and tanker ships - Mads jumped into his dinghy and helped tie Awildian's stern to shore after we dropped anchor. Soon after, our friends on Flying Fish arrived, and Mads helped them, too.


Catching up with good friends

We had a fun dinner at the little taverna on shore. It was fun to catch up, before we all went our separate ways the next morning. Both Seaesta Blue and Flying Fish are now in the Caribbean, having crossed the Atlantic in early 2025.


Sept. 25-27, 2023
Alimos Marina, Athens, Greece
37º54.74'N,23º42.37'E

After saying goodbye to our friends, we wove our way back through the crowded ship anchorage and across the busy shipping lanes, to a berth we'd reserved (on a day-to-day basis) in Alimos Marina near Athens. We spent the next two days finishing our clearing-in process, which required multiple taxi trips to Athens' main port in Piraeus. We also located and coordinated with the rigger on shore who'd said that if we were in Alimos he'd come and measure Awildian for the hardware to support a new Code 0 headsail that we were hoping to buy. He did come, but it turned out that Awildian sported a different brand of hardware than he carried, so he couldn't work with us.


Some fun tracks in the sidewalk in Alimos

Sept. 27-28, 2023
Galatas (near Poros), Greece
37º30.182'N,23º26.475'E

We anchored in our favorite spot, near the small town of Galatas, just across the channel from the town of Poros. Galatas is a working-person's town, whereas Poros is the tourist town. For instance, Eric and I have both gotten haircuts in Galatas, and we do our grocery shopping there. The anchorage is uncrowded, and usually quiet - except when passing ferries create rolling wakes.

We'd learned that other good friends of ours from Porto Montenegro, Lyn & Shawn on sv Yaama, were anchored in one of the other anchorages near Poros. So of course we went to visit them and shared a nice meal on shore. It was good to catch up with them, too! The next morning, after most of the charter boats had left for their next destinations, we sidled over to the Poros Town Quay, tied up alongside, called the local fuel tanker truck, and filled Awildian's diesel tanks before the next onslaught of charter boats arrived.


Sept. 28-29, 2023
Korfos, Greece
37º45.773'N,23º07.548'E


On our way to Korfos

On our way toward the Corinth Canal, we made sure to stop in at Korfos, where a few months earlier the pharmacist, Anna, and a restaurant owner, Iannis, had been really helpful when Eric's back had packed up while we were anchored off the little town. They'd arranged a taxi to take him to the hospital (in Corinth), and Anna came out to Awildian in our dinghy for three consecutive days to give Eric injections of anti-inflammatories, after his hospital visit. We wanted to say hello to Anna and Iannis, to show them how much better Eric was doing now. We caught up with Anna but didn't see Iannis this time.


Catching up with Anna

Sept. 29-30, 2023
Kalamaki, Greece
37º55.27'N,23º00.81'E

Kalamaki is a handy anchorage near the eastern terminus of the Corinth Canal. Wide open, with lots of sand to anchor in, and sheltered from northern and western wind, this is a great spot to hang out until your appointment to transit the Canal. Which is what we did, spending one night here.


Sept. 30, 2023
Corinth Canal!
Eastern terminus: 37º55.00'N, 23º00.57'E
Western terminus: 37º57.12'N, 22º57.60'E

\
The Corinth Canal

Though open every day in previous years, this year the Corinth Canal was only slated to be open from June 1 through September, so that it could be closed for awhile to allow repair work to continue on a huge landslide. During our cruising season, we'd kept those dates in mind: arriving at the Canal after September 30 would mean that instead of cutting through the middle of the Peloponnese Peninsula, we'd instead have to return to Montenegro around the bottom of the Peloponnese Peninsula, adding several hundred miles and many days to our trip.


The SHORT way (red) and the LONG way (yellow) to Montenegro

Earlier in September, we'd learned that the Canal had extended its opening time until the end of October, which took some of the pressure off of us. A couple of weeks earlier, using their convenient online system, we'd booked and paid for a Canal transit on September 27. Later we'd learned that as long as you've paid for your boat transit, the authorities really don't care when you do it, so it was no problem when we went through a couple of days late.

The Corinth Canal is 4 miles long, 80.7 feet wide, and 26 feet deep. The sheer rock walls lining it are 300 feet high, and are nearly vertical. When we steered Awildian - who is about 25 feet wide - through the Canal, it really felt like we were traveling down a narrow slot. At each end of the Canal, submersible bridges allow cars to cross or boats to pass, depending on whether they are floating or sunk; several other road bridges cross the canal at the top of the rock walls.

Some photos from our transit of the Corinth Canal:

Awildian entering the Canal


Road traffic waiting for the submerged bridge to come back up




Not much room on the sides...












Hand steering


Slips


The construction company getting artistic


Ongoing repairs


More ongoing repairs


The navigator LOL


The rainbow at the end of the Canal

The idea of digging a canal through the isthmus of Corinth first came up in the 7th Century BC, but it wasn't until the late 19th Century (largely due to the invention of dynamite) that the Canal was finally constructed, opening on July 7, 1893. Between these dates many attempts to build a canal were started and all were abandoned.

Before the Canal was built, ships wanting to travel between the Gulf of Corinth and the Saronic Gulf were off-loaded, their contents making the trip across the isthmus on pack animals. The ships themselves were dragged from one gulf to the other by slaves along a greased road, and refloated on the other side.

You can find interesting and entertaining details of the Canal's history here:
Wikipedia Corinth Canal
and here:
Corinth Canal website


Itéa West anchorage
38º26.172'N,22º25.022'E

After our transit of the Corinth Canal, we continued west for another 30 miles in the Gulf of Corinth, to the town of Itéa, where we dropped anchor in a muddy-bottomed anchorage to the west of town, near a creatively-camouflaged bauxite mine.


We could still tell what it was, but it did blend in well with the trees and hillside...

Here, we spent a quiet and relaxing afternoon, and a restful night.

Our full route
1 = Goldensands Beach
2 = Rochari Bay
3 = Anavissou Bay


September 22, 2023
Goldensands Beach, Turkey 38º15.88'N,26º14.83'E to
Rochari Bay, Tinos I., Greece 37º38.98'N,25º03.54'E
67nm

We left Goldensands Beach this morning as soon as it was light enough to see where we were going. The forecast was for wind from the NW at 7-12 knots. Maybe we could SAIL! No, we could not, though we put our jib out when the wind was more than 5 knots and 40 degrees apparent. That didn't do much, but it made us feel like we were getting something for free. I'll take a calm day for crossing the Aegean Sea any day! Today's weather was absolutely gorgeous, and we even had a rare sighting of dolphins!

We aimed for Ormos Panormou (Panormou Cove) about 67nm away, on the east side of Tinos Island, as our overnight anchorage. Rod Heikell (the author of the Greek Waters Pilot cruising guide) and several Navily commenters had gushed about this being a nice anchorage with good holding in several places, though with some scattered moorings that we'd have to watch out for.

Well. When we arrived, late in the afternoon, we discovered that superyachts were already anchored in those several places, taking up most of the space. We widened our search to include an area outside of the mooring field, but it was too deep to anchor in, so we continued sniffing around the large cove, looking for a suitable place to drop Obama.

We'd been underway for eleven hours by now, and we really wanted to find a place to stop for the night, before it got too dark to see the bottom. Finding no good options in Ormos Panormou, we entered small Rochari Bay, hoping to find a spot to drop. The wind was calm, and was forecast to remain so during the night, as the meltemi was still taking a break, so we weren't worried about being caught on a lee shore. There was no anchor symbol in our pilot guide, on Navily, or on our navigation charts, no indication of Rochari Bay being an anchorage, but we figured that if we found a large enough patch of sand among the weeds, that was a comfortable distance from the rocky shoreline, we would anchor there. A pretty, sandy beach lay at the head of the bay, so there should be a sandy bottom somewhere under the water.

Eric slowly guided Awildian deeper into the bay, while I stood on the bow looking into the water, to see what was on the bottom. At first all I saw were rocks and weeds, but eventually I began to see patches of sand. Small at first, but then larger...I dropped Obama onto a large sand patch in 18 feet of clear water, several hundred meters off the beach. Obama dug in and held well.


X marks the spot where we anchored

Rochari Bay is a lovely spot: beyond its white sand beach lay the village of Rocharis, with a smattering of typically-Greek, boxy, white houses, some with blue doors and blue shutters. About halfway to our next destination of Athens, and with the calm forecast, it was the perfect place for us to spend the night.


The quaint village of Rocharis


September 23, 2023
Rochari Bay, Tinos I., Greece 37º38.98'N,25º03.54'E to Anavissou Bay, Greece 37º43.34'N,23º56.31'E
60nm


Time to go

After a good night's sleep, we left Rochari Bay as soon as it was light enough to see (notice a trend here?), and spent the day motoring the rest of the way across the super-calm Aegean Sea, over the top of Kea Island, around the bottom of the Attica Peninsula, past Poseidon's Temple and one of our favorite anchorages at Sounion, and up the west coast of the peninsula to Anavissou Bay.

Arriving in Anavissou Bay, we motored slowly around, looking down into the murky water for a promising, weed-free patch of sand or mud to drop our anchor in. Having been forewarned by Navily and the Greek Waters Pilot guide, both of which had mentioned "a pile of rocks" and "an obstruction" "in the middle of the bay," (helpful, but not particularly specific, advice), we watched our depth carefully. None of the satellite photos - nor the navigational chart - showed the actual position of this obstruction. At one point during our sniffing around, the depth suddenly went from 6 meters to 2 meters and back to 6 meters, within a distance of only a couple of meters. What the heck? Was that the "obstruction"?

The first time we anchored, Obama had a hard time grabbing, which usually means a rocky bottom. So we hauled him up and tried again. This time, he held well, and after reversing Awildian to set and test the anchor's hold, Eric turned off the Things, and we enjoyed the silence.

A little while later, while walking around Awildian's decks, and looking around, as I like to do, I happened to look down into the water off the starboard transom, and saw...BIG blocks of rocks, stretching off in both directions. Lots of them, not very far beneath the surface, and not very far behind us. Yikes! That would have been ugly to hit! I got our handheld depth sounder and learned that the tops of the rocks were actually about 9 or 12 feet down. Awildian, with his 4.5 foot draft wouldn't have hit them, but boats with deeper keels might. And what might the depths be, in other places where the rocks were stacked?

Later, I did more research on this "obstruction" and found a satellite image that clearly showed a ROCK WALL extending right across the middle of the bay! You can see it in the photo below, as the light-colored connected lines that cross the bay where the water color gets lighter near the beach. Why wasn't this wall on our navigational charts?! I uploaded the image to Navily, where it's now in the gallery for this anchorage, so everyone can clearly see where the wall is. And avoid it.


The rock wall at Anavissou Bay

We enjoyed the rest of the day, feeling happy and relieved that we had once again managed to cross the Aegean Sea while the meltemi slept.

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.

Since the meltemi showed no signs of letting up for at least a week, so that we could cross the Aegean Sea to Greece, we had no reason to hang out in the Güllük Korfezi anymore. Having explored all the anchorages of the Korfezi that we'd intended to, we decided to move on, to see some of the more "touristy" places to the south of us, that many of our friends have been cruising in and telling us about, at Bodrum and beyond. We'd have plenty of time to head back north again, if it looked like the meltemi was going to take a break. Or so we thought.


South from Didim


September 16, 2023

Today we left the Güllük Korfezi, bound for places farther south.

We chose an anchorage that looked like it would provide good shelter from the strong northwest wind, which was blowing at a consistent 15 to 20 knots. As we headed out into the windy, choppy Aegean Sea, we were very glad to be going south, rather than north! Even so, we hugged the Turkish coast as much as possible, to minimize our exposure to the wind and waves.

After a four-hour trip, we arrived at our chosen anchorage. In the Navily app it's called Karaincir; in the Pilot Guide it's called Aspat Koyu. Whatever its name, it's a wide bay with a sandy bottom - lots of room to anchor, and good holding - near the town of Akyarlar. It was nice to be able to see the bottom through the water again, after the murky water of the Güllük Korfezi. We dropped Obama in about 30 feet of clear water, with 150 of chain to help him dig in and hold well in the strong wind.


Modern Turkish homes

On shore, the beaches were packed with umbrellas, lounge chairs, and people. Motor boats towed "hot dog" floaties behind them, loaded with thrill-seekers; they criss-crossed the anchorage in their attempts to dislodge the riders who were hanging on for dear life. It was a busy, vibrant scene.

Scanning the crowded shore, we didn't see an obvious place where we could bring the dinghy (plus, because of the choppy waves, it would be a wet ride to shore), so we enjoyed our time on Awildian, which we were happy to do. Over the next two days, we took care of small chores; read; worked on a jigsaw puzzle; perused the weather forecasts, looking for a break in the meltemi; played cards; called our friends, Alison and Randall (on sv Tregoning) to wish Alison a happy birthday. Basically just living our lives in a beautiful place.


Our neighbor, Aegean Clipper, at sunrise


September 18, 2023

"I AM SO DONE WITH ALL THIS WIND!!!" So began today's journal entry. The meltemi had been blowing for weeks, and it had gotten old. Really old. I was fed up with the constant whooshing, the choppy waves, the salt on every outside surface of the boat, the continual glances at the boats anchored near us (especially the ones upwind of us) to make sure they weren't dragging. I longed for the peace and quiet of a calm day.

Ready for a change of scenery, we pulled up our anchor and moved to a bay a few miles farther east, toward Bodrum. We were hoping to find a nice little town there, with a quay where we could easily tie up our dinghy, and maybe enjoy a meal at a restaurant. It didn't seem like too much to ask, with three different anchorages located in the bay.

But finding the right place to anchor turned out to be a bit like the situation of the chairs in "Goldilocks and the Three Bears:" it was hard to find one that fit "just right." The easternmost anchorage, Regia Mare Beach, looked promising for a restaurant dinner, but it was crowded with local boats, all on moorings; no one was anchored, probably because the water was so deep. A couple of moorings were available, but since we didn't know their provenance, weight limit, or structural integrity, we passed them up.

The westernmost anchorage, Bağla, was also full of local boats on moorings, in deep water, so we passed it by.

In the end, we opted for the middle anchorage, inexplicably called "Javelin" on the Navily app (more recently renamed Kargi Koyu). After cruising along the shore, keeping outside of the marked swimming areas,
hoping to find a reasonable spot to drop Obama, we discovered that the only suitable place was near the only other anchored boat in the entire bay. We felt bad for anchoring nearby, but there was a good reason why we were both there.


Some of the swimming areas where we couldn't anchor

In the afternoon, Eric was watching the windsurfers scooting around the bay, enjoying the big wind. One of them seemed like a beginner: he fell off the board a lot, and had a hard time getting back up and going again. The whole time, he was getting blown farther and farther away from the beach. He had passed us awhile back, and was farther out to sea now. Eric could tell that this guy was getting tired. Eventually, he struggled back up onto his board one last time, and waved toward shore, hoping to attract the attention of the windsurfing concession, so they would send the boat to tow him in. He waved, and waved, and waved. No one came, and he was getting blown farther out.

Eric decided to go get him, so we lowered our dinghy and went to see if he wanted a lift to shore. Not surprisingly, he did. He spoke English, which was helpful, as our Turkish wasn't all that great. He hopped in, and we towed the windsurfer sail and board alongside as we made our way toward shore. He was very appreciative, and asked if we wanted to join him for a coffee or a beer, but we said, "No thanks, just pay it forward. You can help someone sometime." Our usual response.

Later, I had a look at the weather forecast, which I do several times every day, when they've been updated. Well, well, well...this was new: According to this most recent update, it now looked like the meltemi might ease up in a couple of days - but not in the part of the Aegean Sea where we were; only farther north, near Ҫeşme. If we could get to Ҫeşme within two days, we could clear out of Turkey there, and comfortably cross the Aegean Sea to Greece. IF the forecast proved accurate, that is.

The downside was that Ҫeşme was more than a hundred miles away, to windward; to get there, we'd have to bash into the current meltemi the entire way. Not a happy prospect, but with the meltemi looking to quickly ramp up again after this short break, and us needing to get to the Corinth Canal before it closed for the year on October 1, we knew that this might be our only option.

Sigh.

We made plans to leave the following morning.


The big mosque and neighboring homes

Hello!

I've created an animated travel map - with pictures! - summarizing our explorations of the Güllük Korfezi.

You can see the animation here: Awildian's Travels in the Güllük Korfezi

If you move your cursor near the top of the frame in the animation, you can explore each of the places we stopped, one picture at a time.

Be sure to turn the sound on (lower right corner).

Enjoy!