Turkey. Magical feeling of a ferry tale land. Arrival to the Muezzin’s exotic calls for prayer from the mosque in tranquil Bozburun. Little laid back village. Chooks, goats and sheep grazing through locals’ backyards. Charters coming and floating through. Us connecting with local kids at the playground. Islam the relaxed way? No need to cover up by the looks and feels of it. Postcards of naked breasts and exposed… No headscarf anywhere. No people going for prayer. Only the occasional talk of Ramadan. A slightly different world. Locals – amazingly friendly, incredibly welcoming. Custom officials going out of their way to make our check in easier. Kids are napping, so our (required) agent drives the officials over on his motor bike. Total can-do attitude. Very refreshing after another few weeks in Greece where things are generally stalled. Staying longer than expected – as usual when we like a place. Getting stuck on a fellow Aussie boat for sun-downers which spontaneously turn into a full-on enjoyable, slightly nostalgic, fabulous dinner to be remembered. Fair winds Skylark as you sail on to Greece!
Next morning we too sail onto a beautiful anchorage 30 miles to the east. Long-lined in twilight, followed by wholesome dinner aboard. Too tired to get the dinghy down, so leave it for the next morning to explore the Byzantine rouines from xx BC ashore. Nothing but the donkey, goats, cows and cicadas from the surrounding forests and mountains singing us a lullaby.
Next morning beach discovery. Not a human soul in sight. Only remainders of dwellings a couple of thousand years old. Amazing meditation/ past life regression on what looks like the sacrifice stone of the old monastery. Feeling I was sacrificed peacefully here many moons ago. Connection. Peace. A union with death which is just another reminder for constant change. Prana in movement.
Just before mid-day an armada of tourist gullets attacks. We are speechlessly observing the hundreds of sun-seekers who are unloaded into the water like cattle on their last walk to the butcher’s… Incredible. Once we’ve found our speech again, we flee as fast as we can, giving Happy Dancer a little scrub on the way back to the boat. We do need that next round of anti-foul badly but Tunisia doesn’t seem to be happening this year after the current disturbing events. Time to sail on.
After a stunning goose-wing down-wind sail – 12 knots of wind, 6.5 knots of boat speed (Happy Dancer, we LOVE you!), arrival at Ekincik marina. Described as a marina in ‘?’ in the piltot book, all expectations are exceeded by their professionalism, cute set up, convenience, decor, size, cleanliness, organisation, lushness, greenliness, closeness to beaches… everything. Yes, we do have to endure quite a few clueless charter boats moored here for a day or two, but hey, as long as they don’t come too close to our hull, they always make for good entertainment. Ever watched anyone who’s NEVER been on a boat trying to moor a 52 ft Cat in a tight Mediterranean Marina? Sorry if I sound sarcastic or evil… all for learning on the go, but not at the price of other people’s boats or safety!