Clear turquoise water, pastel pink sunrises, ancient Roman ruins and the call to prayer in the early morning. These are just a few of the memories that my friend Gisela and I have of our paddle along the Turquoise Coast of Turkey.

The Turquoise Coast along the SW corner of Turkey stretches from Bodrum in the north to Antalya in the south. The Greek island of Rhodes is only 20 miles off the coast of Marmaris, Turkey where we began our trip; many smaller Greek islands are even closer. This beautiful area of the Mediterranean is very popular for vacationers who charter crewed, traditional Turkish wooden yachts known as gulets. For our vacation, Gisela and I wanted calm seas, gentle winds, coastal ruins and islands to paddle around. I used the internet to order charts of the area from Blue Water Charts in Florida, read descriptions of Blue Voyage itineraries along the Turkish coast and faxed questions back and forth to Nazmi and Jane. Gisela and I decided to paddle the Datça Korfezi (bay) just south of the Datça peninsula. We agreed upon two weeks at the end of June before the temperatures climbed too high and after the spring winds died down.

I carried kayak gear and my part of the Klepper, a folding kayak with a canvas skin stretched around a wooden frame, for three weeks throughout Croatia, Bosnia, and parts of Greece before meeting Gisela in Istanbul. We spent a few days in Istanbul sightseeing and buying rugs and some other reminders of Turkey and then we flew to Dalaman with our gear -- all 120 kilos of it. Everywhere we went people shook their heads at our mountain of duffels and backpacks with boat parts, gear and clothes. The Senkayas say they will always remember us as the two American women who arrived on their boat with 250 pounds of luggage and no tiaras. This was their first experience with kayakers and it became as much of an adventure for them as for us.

The captain met us at the airport and drove us to Marmaris, the port town where he berths his gulet. The captain, Gisela and I, and all the gear packed his little station wagon to the limit but that didn’t stop him from pulling over at a roadside stand to pick up four big watermelons when I told him in Turkish that "I would like watermelon." "Karpuz istiyorum" for those of you who think this might come in handy some time. Actually, about the only things I can say in Turkish are "Hello," "Please and thank you," " I would like watermelon," and "I would like chocolate ice cream." It all came in handy at one time or another.

Gisela and I only paddle the Klepper together about once every two years and assembling it rarely goes smoothly. So before we left California we decided we needed a refresher on assembly. One afternoon we laid all the parts out on my front lawn and then we stared at the piles for a while, trying to remember what to do. The practice was a good idea because we had to take the kayak apart twice to insert forgotten parts. After we finally managed to attach every part to some adjoining part, we sat in the Klepper, drank Turkish çay (tea) and read guide books of Istanbul and the Turquoise coast. What a sight we were for the neighbors!

That first afternoon in Marmaris we settled into our cabins on the boat and then unpacked the Klepper on the wharf.  As we separated all the wooden parts into bow and stern piles and laid out the skin, quite a number of onlookers assembled, wondering what in the world we were building. The Senkaya crew was fascinated and wanted to help so with many hands and a little instruction, we all worked together to assemble the kayak. It went together perfectly the first time and we even came away with fingernails intact, which was definitely a first for us. The final touch was to add a Turkish flag to the US and German flags that were already flying on our little kayak flag mast on the stern.

That evening we anchored off Paradise Island on the far side of Marmaris Bay and got acquainted with our gulet-mates for the next week: Nazmi and Jane and their two young daughters; Ilker, their friend and architect who was building their new house and who planned to stay just a few days; and the crew of three: Hassan, Vulcan and Senar. I brought out my chart and the captain, Gisela and I made a tentative plan for our trip. We explained how fast we could paddle and described the coastal features that would give us the most enjoyable paddling days. The captain told us about the area and described points of interest and ruins on the chart. Based upon the captain’s knowledge of the coast and our descriptions of kayaking, he laid out an itinerary just for us. Kayakers are rare along the coast of Turkey so this was a new experience for the three of us. We saw three or four people on sit-on-tops near coastal resorts during our time in Turkey but we never saw another touring kayak.

The next morning we did a checkout paddle in Marmaris Bay for a few hours. The bay was calm but we had to watch out for gulet traffic and sightseeing boats. We paddled across the bay a few kilometers and beached the kayak to make a few adjustments to the rudder. Then we paddled back to the Senkaya and loaded the kayak back on board the gulet so that we could cruise north to our paddling destination. I should clarify what I mean by ‘we loaded the kayak back on board the gulet.’ Actually, the crew lowered the kayak into the water each morning, we climbed into the kayak and the crew handed us cold water and fruit and then we paddled away. In the afternoon when we returned, the crew met us at the water line, we climbed out of the kayak and the crew lifted it back up onto deck and secured it for us. What a treat it was for us to not have to struggle with 100 pounds of kayak every time we had to take it out of the water. This had been the norm for us on our other trips to Germany and Great Britain.

For communication when we were in the kayak away from the Senkaya, we used walkie-talkies provided by the captain. Gisela and I had discussed bringing a cell phone with us for emergencies but we didn’t have access to one that would work outside the US. We thought about radios but the 2-meter radios I have aren’t marine frequency radios. We almost brought a GPS so that we could relay to the captain where we were in case of an emergency but decided against that too. In the end, our low-tech approach of no fancy electronics and the use of the walkie-talkies was perfect.

We reached our first destination of Bozukkale, Broken Castle, late that afternoon. This was an old walled fort from about 400 AD that guarded a small peninsula and bay. Ruins such as these are so common that there are no explanatory markers and no barriers to prevent access to them. We just climbed around on the old walls and imagined all the ships of the past that had cruised past this fort and anchored in this small bay. After we returned to the gulet, some small dinghies rowed up to the Senkaya to sell various items. It was a reunion for the cook as many of his relatives lived in this small village. Sometimes the captain bought fresh fish from these vendors and sometimes ice cream vendors came by. The foreknowledge of these ice cream vendors is what prompted me to learn the all important phrase, "Çikolatala dondurmas istiyorum." This night young women were selling scarves and beaded jewelry so we bargained for some treasures. Gisela wanted a natural sponge so the captain bargained with a local fisherman for one. After a heated exchange and numerous slights to each other’s honor, Gisela had a sponge and the captain and the sponge-man parted with hugs and Mediterranean kisses on each cheek.

The next morning we cruised a short distance and the crew lowered the kayak into the water for us. We paddled a couple of hours, met for lunch and then paddled again after lunch to Bozburun, a town where the local men make their living building Blue Voyage gulets. It was fascinating to see these very large wooden yachts being built by hand on the shore of the village. From a towering assortment of wooden ribs emerge these beautiful yachts. Nazmi and Jane built the Senkaya here and Jane told us what it was like to watch their boat slowly take shape during the months of work and of the ceremony when the boat was first launched into the water. We walked around the village and bought nazar bunçugs for each other. Nazar bunçugs are small ornaments with a special blue eye that are popular with Turks to ward off the evil eye; ours were small, stained glass fish. You must never buy one for yourself; you always buy one for another person and give it as a gift so Gisela and I exchanged nazar bunçugs.

Our days began to follow a pattern: we awoke to cloudless skies, the crew served us early morning çay and then we’d eat a leisurely breakfast. We would paddle in the morning, meet the Senkaya for lunch somewhere along the coast and sometimes paddle again in the afternoon. Air temperatures were always in the upper 80’s and water temperatures were in the 70’s. A quiet swim at midnight under a moonless sky with the Big Dipper reflected back into the water wasn’t uncommon.

Most evenings we anchored out, away from towns or villages. Occasionally another gulet would anchor in the area but many nights we were completely alone with the lapping water and the stars. Sometimes we would go days without seeing townsfolk. Some evenings we would tie up at a small village wharf and we would walk around and see village life firsthand. There was usually a mosque, a few stores and a cafe with the men of the town drinking tea and conducting business. If a village was close to our anchorage we awoke to the morning call to prayer, a particularly haunting Eastern sound to my Western ear.

On the fourth morning of the trip I watched the sun rise and then decided to paddle before breakfast. Everyone except Hassan was still asleep so after Hassan brought me some çay I asked him to put the little sit-on-top kayak in the water for me -- the same one that gave me the initial idea for this trip -- and I paddled for an hour on glassy water. I saw stately egrets and herons along the shore, ducks with ducklings paddling back and forth across the inlet and fish catching insects that swarmed just above the water. There were a few other gulets anchored out and as I paddled I saw the yachts begin to stir with life. We waved günaydin (good morning) to each other as I passed each one. When I saw activity on the Senkaya I paddled back and cooled off with a swim before breakfast. An hour or so later Gisela and I were back on the water in the Klepper. We spent a lazy morning paddling twice around a steep sided, rocky island known locally as Tooth Island -- once wasn’t enough to see all that we wanted to see of its strange rock formations and the clear, deep water beside it. Eventually we headed around a spit of land and into another inlet to look for the Senkaya and lunch. We saw a gulet that we thought was our yacht but we weren’t ready to quit paddling so we lingered in the water and explored the coastline a little longer. As the wind started to pick up, we decided to paddle over to our mothership. But as we got closer, we had our doubts that this was the Senkaya -- this boat had a painted mast and we remembered that the Senkaya had a varnished mast. Sure enough, as we paddled close enough to read the name of the yacht, we saw that this wasn’t our refuge. We had to do some vigorous paddling into the wind to finally find our home yacht. After that we learned to look for the gulet flying the US and Scottish flags high in the rigging in honor of the US guests and Jane, the Scottish wife of Nazmi.

Each morning after breakfast the captain would call out "Chart time, chart time", and Gisela and I would spend some time studying the chart with Nazmi and discussing the options for our paddle. Early in the trip, wind and swells were not a factor so we just discussed landmarks and meeting places. Usually we would paddle away around 9 am and the Senkaya would raise its anchor an hour or so later and cruise slowly past us somewhere along the coast. As the week progressed, Nazmi became more comfortable with the idea of us being out of sight in the kayak for hours at a time and he cruised further each day before we met for lunch. We usually had one or two contacts via the walkie-talkies while we were paddling, just to check that everything was OK with us. We looked forward to hearing the muffled "Kayak-Senkaya. Kayak-Senkaya. Everything is OK?" from Nazmi come over the walkie-talkie. I would dig the radio out of my life jacket and tell him that we were fine and try to describe where we were. He was always ready to send the dinghy if we tired but the paddling was easy and unhurried. We had planned to paddle five to six hours each day but the allure of the warm water for swimming and snorkeling and the draw of the Senkaya for afternoon reading, relaxing and napping were sometimes too great and we didn’t always make it back into the kayak after lunch.

One morning as we were paddling we came upon an island with a very old monastery on it. We beached the kayak and picked our way through an old grove of olive trees with trunks that were as big as redwoods. The island was uninhabited and we had the entire site to ourselves. We climbed over and around the ruins of the original walls that surrounded the monastery and came upon a small chapel. In the courtyard outside the chapel we walked on an intricate mosaic that had been made out of gray and white stones washed smooth by the sea. The chapel was empty except for two donkeys staying cool inside in the shade. As we sat in the shade eating some fruit, our thoughts were of the monks who chose this site as their home and place of meditation. It was very peaceful sitting in this very old setting, just as it must have been for the monks. A slight breeze cooled us as we watched the occasional gulet cruise slowly by through the still, turquoise water. Almost every day we had the opportunity to climb around on ‘old rocks’ as I fondly refer to them; many times we reached these forgotten places in the kayak. I am fascinated by the continuum of life in this part of the world. Stone paths are as slippery as glass as civilization after civilization has taken their successive place in these ancient sites. It always gives me pause to wonder about the lives of the people in whose same steps I walk today.

Another day we cruised to the town of Datça. When we disembarked, the captain was in high spirits and bought everyone  ice cream. He then rented a minivan with a driver who took us on a spine jarring ride to the western tip of the Datça peninsula to Cnidos. Cnidos was inhabited as far back as the first millennium BC. The current site dates from about 360 BC and was used to defend this important peninsula and ensure the safety of the Aegean traders of the area. The site is extensive and we spent a few hours hiking with Ilker around the remains of temples, tombs, a small amphitheater and the marketplace. That afternoon we returned to the Senkaya and the crew put up the two jibs, the mainsail and the mizzen and we sailed the entire afternoon to our next destination. We drank champagne with Nazmi and Jane to celebrate the good wind, good friends and our good fortune.

This is the third overseas paddle that Gisela and I have done in her Klepper. Our paddling is almost always leisurely and in the many hours that we have spent together in the Klepper or resting along some foreign shoreline, we have gotten to know each other well, have shared confidences and forged a true friendship with each other. The Klepper allows us to see the world in a way that is very special to us and has become our women’s-only retreat.

In all, we were on the Senkaya nine days and paddled seven. Some days the water was like glass and we could see the rocky bluffs reflected perfectly in the water or we could look down on the sea floor and see sponges, sea urchins and starfish 30-50 feet below us. We’d see schools of fish around the boat and dolphins further out from the coast. The water was deep turquoise and was a striking contrast to our bright red Klepper. Deep in the Datça Korfezi the bay is often lined with sandy beaches and trees all the way down to the water’s edge. In contrast, the outer coast is rugged with steep rocky sides, trees scrubby and stunted from strong winds and little rain, and offers almost no respite from wind and waves. Occasionally, along the outer coast we might find a niche in the rock wall that we could slip into for a rest if a local fisherman didn’t already occupy it. Fishermen in their small dinghies and captains in their large crewed gulets were very considerate of us and were always interested in the kayak. Everywhere we went people waved and smiled and we never worried about our safety.

As we became more confident with the Klepper we opted for more open sea and less secluded bays. One morning Nazmi was reluctant to put the kayak into the water because the wind was strong and there were already lots of whitecaps. We considered the conditions and decided we were strong enough to kayak. He asked us not to paddle all around the perimeter of the next two bays but to cut across them because he knew the wind would be much stronger around the big landmass at the end of the second bay by the time we got there. We had considerable wind and swells that broke over the foredeck and almost deluged the cockpit. This was definitely not the leisurely paddling of previous days but we had an exciting time. The Klepper flexed and moved with the waves, quite unlike our hard-shell kayaks at home, but we found that we handled it very well in the open sea. On one part of the paddle we decided to venture between two islands that were quite close together. The wind picked up as it funneled through the passage and the swells grew much higher and closer together as the water got quite shallow very quickly. We took a deep breath, picked up our pace and told each other to keep our paddles in the water. We surfed across wave tops as we’d never done before. One doesn’t think of a Klepper as a surfing machine but that day it performed wonderfully. After we made it through the channel into a secluded bay we caught our breath and watched the Senkaya slowly cruise around the outside of the islands to join us in the bay. When the captain radioed to us to ask if we were OK, I think my answer was a little breathless. Partly because the conditions had been challenging but partly because we had neglected to put our life jackets on that morning. All the other days had been so calm and warm that the jackets became comfortable resting places for our feet. This morning as I worked to keep the Klepper upright I looked aghast down at my life jacket cushioning my feet. I can only imagine Gisela’s thoughts when she realized hers wasn’t on either. They would have served us much better on our backs than under our feet!

Towards the end of the trip, Gisela and I convinced Nazmi, Ilker and the crew that they should try kayaking for themselves so we put them into the Klepper, two by two. I think they had the impression that this kayaking stuff must be pretty easy if two women could take off for hours at a time and not come back very tired. We explained the basics of the forward stroke and the sweep stroke and reminded them that they had to coordinate their paddling. Inevitably we watched them edge away with paddles clacking and tangled together and saw them return hot and tired. I think they had new respect for the two American women with 250 pounds of luggage. One day late in the afternoon, I decided I wanted to paddle some more and asked Ilker if he would like to join me. We were in a small bay and it looked like an easy paddle out of this bay and into the next one to our anchorage for the night. He was anxious to try paddling again and agreed to go with me. Once we got out of the bay the wind picked up and we had to concentrate on our paddling to reach the Senkaya. After a while Ilker started to tire but I needed to keep the Klepper moving because the waves were hitting us broadside. I urged Ilker on and after about an hour of strenuous paddling we finally saw the Senkaya ahead of us. We were both tired but pleased that we had gone out again that afternoon. For our efforts, Nazmi rewarded us with 'Turkish champagne', raki. Ilker had such a good time on board with the Senkaya family and with us that he stayed all nine days, not just the few that he had originally planned.

Paddling the turquoise waters of Turkey was a remarkable experience in itself, but living aboard the Senkaya made the trip a truly memorable one. This 25-meter yacht can sleep 16 and we had the boat almost to ourselves. Because the captain had his family and his friend Ilker with him, it was like a family vacation for all of us. The Turks are very generous hosts and we experienced their hospitality firsthand. We ate all our meals together, which the boat’s wonderful cook, Senar, prepared for us. Everything was local, fresh and very Turkish. Lots of yogurt, olives, fresh vegetables and fruit, eggplant, lamb and even goat after a special ritual occasion that the Senkayas shared with us. And of course all the watermelon we bought on our way into Marmaris that first day. I had had fresh octopus on my previous trip on the Senkaya and asked if we could have octopus again. Each time we anchored the crew kept a look out for octopus on the sandy bottom. One day we finally spotted one and Hassan dove into the water with a spear gun. The octopus moved very fast along the bottom but eventually Hassan won and we ate octopus that evening. Delicious! In addition to breakfast, lunch and dinner, we had tea with cookies and cake every day around 4 pm. Each evening everyone, guests and crew together, played backgammon, cards or a Turkish tile game called O-K. Nazmi and the crew play these games every evening and are masters of them. I think they thought Gisela and I were mentally challenged because we were miserable at these games. We found out later that many times the crew would hold a winning hand for a few rounds in hopes that one of us might win a round. It rarely happened but that might have been the influence of the raki, the Turkish national drink. And even though we each had a private air-conditioned cabin with a private bath, after a full day I would bid "Iyi geceler" to those still awake and choose the perfect spot on deck to sleep under the stars until sunrise and the next day of paddling the Turquoise Coast.

Information on the Senkaya gulet can be viewed at http://www.senkaya-tourism-turkey.com

Questions or comments? Email Beth

© Beth Gardner   2002