Check out; Check in

The Datca peninsular

We were not in Greece for long. We launched Missy Bear on the afternoon of the same day we arrived by car ferry (Saturday). And had checked out of Kos six days later on the Thursday.

It’s always nice to climb the steps up into the boat on the hard, open the companionway doors, and step inside and find her the way you left her, clean and fresh. And it’s always a relief to reconnect the batteries, switch them on at the isolator, and find they have kept a good charge. And, then, when she is lowered from the travel hoist into the water, you open the engine sea cock, and then run up to turn the ignition, it’s lovely to hear the Yanmar chug into life again. It’s payback time for all those meticulous routines you put her through before the winter.

Commissioning was relaxed, and went well. Well, mostly…

One of the old lazy lines, securing the main halyard, had worn through over-winter. I was contemplating how to retrieve the line, as it wafted around in the breeze out of reach above my head.  I climbed up onto the boom; still out of reach. I got the boathook and tried to wrap the line, spaghetti-like, around the hook. But the plastic line it was too slippery. I was just about to tape a plastic whisk onto the end of the boat hook, to act as a trap for the line, when our neighbour Rob, leapt on board and said he would climb up instead. We wrapped the spinnaker halyard around him - and under his unmentionables - and I hauled him up the mast in no time. And the job was done. As were his unmentionables.

Rob retrieving the main halyard!

I’d also forgotten that I’d shortened the length of two sections of the stainless-steel sprayhood frame, so it would stow flat more easily. Now, when we pulled the canvas over the frame and zipped it together, the canvas did not fit well. All the angles were wrong and the canvas sagged.

We went back to first principles and dissembled the whole lot. In doing so, we found the two extra holes in the stainless-steel tubes, that the sprung metal nipples pop through, to extend the frame. Ahhh! We assembled again and all looked ship-shape.   

We’d collected the laundry, re-packed the car with those winter clothes we would need no longer, and then garaged it, and covered it.

Back on Missy Bear, we topped up with water, stowed the victuals from our supermarket trip, and we headed off early on a breathless Thursday morning. We were heading for a rendezvous with our checkout agent at the old harbour of Mandraki, on Kos. Later that afternoon, we had surrendered our Transit Log to customs, and stamped-out of Greece at passport control.

Missy Bear at Mandraki harbour (castle of the Knights of Rhodes in background)

The closest port of entry into Turkey would have been Bodrum, but we didn’t fancy the hustle and bustle, so we headed south for the smaller outpost of Datca. En-route, we did an overnight anchorage at ancient Knidos. Because we hadn’t yet cleared in, we couldn't legally get off the boat there. It is a beautiful dual-harbour surrounded by ancient Greek ruins, including a theatre overlooking the southern bay, where we swung about at anchor. We had our first swim of the season, as the water temperature was almost 20 degrees.

Knidos lies at the extreme western end of a very rugged, long and narrow peninsular, which runs east-west. Due to its strategic location, close to the commercial shipping routes and offshore islands, Knidos was an important trading town in antiquity. It was possibly established by Dorian colonisers from Sparta, who would have displaced the native Carians.

Under threat from the encroaching Persians, the Cnidians consulted the Oracle at Delphi about building a canal across the narrowest neck of the peninsular (far to the east at a deep fjord near modern Bencik). The Oracle said that it was a bad idea, and the Cnidians probably were relieved, because the rock there was extremely hard! Needless to say, the Persians came and they conquered.  

The next day, we motored and sailed half-way along the southern coast of the peninsular to Datca. As we rounded the final headland, the wind picked up and backed m, so we goose-winged up the coast in a brisk Force 4.

Goose-winged to Datca

We dropped the sails, and motored into the southern bay. As the wind freshened, we could see a lot of boats on the stone quay, but as we got closer, we realised that the boardwalk area we wanted to go stern-to at, had no timbers, just a rusting metal frame jutting out over the water. We later learned that the timbers would be re-placed in the next week or so when the winds had subsided.

So, we prepared lines and fenders and gently edged into the inner harbour. There were a couple of gaps, and some locals wave at us to come in between two large wooden gullets. The F4 crosswind caught us out a bit on the first attempt, and we could have done with more crew on board to help fend off. But on our second attempt, we bisected the space neatly with the captains of the neighbouring boats helping nurse us in. Very kind.

So, there we were, backed up right outside the cafes and restaurants on a sunny weekend. Ahmet, our agent, was there to greet us and soon he was off doing paperwork rounds at customs and coastguard no doubt. I’m not sure of the exact procedure, as one is required to employ an agent (at a not-so-modest fee, and in hard Euro currency! Cash) The whole process has been modernised since we were here in 2022, and it’s mostly electronic now. We no longer needed our thick paper booklet with forms in triplicate and sheets of carbon paper.

Tucked-in between two gullets at Datca

Ahmet came back to Missy Bear and escorted us, with our passports, to the tiny immigration building with one room, one table, one computer and a sole female immigration officer who had been persuaded to work on a Saturday. They even had a camera mounted on the wall behind her desk, so that we could pose for our mug-shots.

A few seconds later, and we heard the reassuring “ker-thunk” of the passport stamps...