We were happily anchored in the end of the bay by Kaş marina, Turkey while we waited for our friends Michele and Canan to sail down and meet us from Fethiye in their week hire charter boat. We’d made plans to buddy boat with them from Kaş to Kekova. Once they returned to Fethiye, we’d stay there until the end of September and then continue a little further south east to Finike. This was to be our home marina for the following 13 months, and by all accounts would be a great, sheltered marina for winter.
Our plans changed at the last minute though because Windy.com predicted strong winds a couple of days before our friends were due to arrive.
Experience told us it wasn’t the place to stay
In calm weather the bay we were anchored in was fine, protected with good holding. But we’d stayed in that bay four years earlier when Baz decided to test our new Mantus anchor for staying power in stupid winds of 45 knots. That would have been fine in most other anchorages, but because of the lay of the land, the wind funnels around the mountains that surround the bay.
The result was every couple of minutes the wind would smack A B Sea on the side, sending her heeling and spinning, only to do the same thing in the opposite direction a couple of minutes later.
It was a horrible experience and I hated every moment of it.
Partly because we were both real sailing newbies and didn’t know what to expect from the boat in that sort of wind. Partly because it was night and everything’s worse at night isn’t it? And partly because we didn’t know how good the anchor would hold, nor how bad the wind would get.
Every fibre of my being wanted to be anywhere but on A B Sea that night. But I’d decided to stay on board with Baz because I didn’t want to leave him alone in case of an emergency and he needed all hands on deck.
I remember sitting rigid at the saloon table, trying to read an e-book on my computer. I kept looking over at Baz who spent most of the evening standing on the top step of the companionway, watching the weather. I also kept willing him to say “Okay, let’s get the marineros.” That was our back up plan. If things got too bad, we’d call the marina marineros and they’d help us tie up to a marina berth.
But Baz isn’t open to telepathy lol.
We seemed to endure that pounding for bloody hours. Fourteen to be exact. With the potential for another ten to twenty two hours, and who knew how bad the wind would get. It felt like A B Sea was practically on her side as it was. I was definitely nearly on my knees, ready to beg Baz to make the call. But I wouldn’t say anything. This was his experiment and he wouldn’t budge until he’d gathered enough information.
At just after 23:00 hrs Barry picked up the VHF radio and called the marineros. I nearly wept with relief. My jaw relaxed and I realised I’d been clenching my teeth together for hours.
The marineros turned up pretty quick smart and one leapt, gazelle-like, onto A B Sea. Within several minutes, we were tied up side-to near the fuel dock, as the marineros said it was too dangerous to try to bring us into a pontoon berth.
I was so relieved to be out of that horrible experience. And I certainly didn’t want to relive it this time. So when Baz suggested we leave for Kekova the following morning, I was very happy to do so.
A bouncy but enjoyable trip
We left at eight the next morning. The trip to Kekova was relatively uneventful, although there was a fair bit of swell coming into the neck of the bay from the previous days wind.
The wind was with us for part of the way and we were able to get the headsail out, achieving a respectable 7.2 knots of SOG (speed over ground). At one point I was delighted to see 7.8 knots on the chart plotter! I do like it when the numbers go higher speed-wise!
Kekova is so pretty. It doesn’t matter which way you look, there is a delightful view, and we capture much of the scenery in this week’s video.
Heading on through the channel markers into the very inside of the Kekova area, we turned ‘left’ past Üçağız (pronounced Ooch-ah-iz) town harbour and continued to the end of the western bay. There we dropped anchor in four metres and let out forty metres of chain, giving us a very nice scope of 10:1. We were in thick mud too, so it wouldn’t matter how strong the wind blew, A B Sea wouldn’t budge.
Baz got the office together up on deck and before we stopped to write that week’s blogs, I made us a tasty lunch.
If you’d like to see what I’ve just written about, then check out this week’s video here.
Next week, we explore the most eastern bay in Kekova: Gokkaya Bay, (that a lot of us call Smuggler’s Cove) the sea cave there and also the eclectic Smuggler’s Bar.
Until then, I wish you health, wealth, courage and a healthy dose of wisdom, as you take the actions to bring your dreams to life.
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