Day 156


After two days and a Sabbath I still hadn’t replaced my broken phone, camera, or Nalgene bottle. I did, however, find glasses goofy enough that they were cheap, and a sponge, and I had time to repair my boat, paddle float, vhf, and winged paddle. I was ready to leave.  I also charged my batteries and checked all my gear for the upcoming crossing to Cyprus, I was in the resor town of Alanya.

A Canadian couple living on a boat near mine invited me over for fruit smoothies every morning and a Dutch couple let me use their computer to stay in touch with my family and plan my next few days.  They all came to see me off,  take pictures, and wish me luck.

A peninsula protrudes from the center of Alanya.  It meets the sea with sharp red cliffs mounted by ancient fortifications and a long ruined Roman city.

Triple masted hotel party boats swarmed the scenic headland blasting pop music interrupted by announcements in a spread of languages.  

One of the boats was heading straight at me, hugging the cliffs almost as closely as I was. I could cut out and around, but with all the traffic, I felt safer where only I could go,  even if the hotel sea monster was trying to cut into my space.

The giant stopped and tourists began throwing pieces of bread over the gunwales from the deck and upper two stories.

A crewman minion saw me about to squeeze between the stationary boat and the cliffs.   There was enough room for me to proceed safely,  but he yelled at me not to anyways. The minions may control the beaches, but here at sea I have the right of way. 

Halfway up the cliff face aligned with the gulet’s upper stories a van-sized cave mouth caught my attention.  Above precipice stood a young shirtless man in a red bathing suit.  I paddled past and wondered what the minions were up to.

I turned the corner of the peninsula and squeezed between a smaller gulet and the wall, and then past another large one.  Towards the end of the lineup, now on the opposite side of the peninsula, a man in red shorts dived off of a moving gulet.  I watched, wondering if I was about to participate in a rescue, but with trained monkey agility he scaled the rock face and vanished.

I closed in to get a closer look.  Three small holes above four meters of rocks pierced into the earth.  Maybe a fellow on his belly could squeeze through.

I explored a large colorful cave.  I wound between shallow rocks and others that cut above the surface and sported bright orange and red growths.  Under the surface lichen shouted out with more fantastic contrasting colors.

The walls were covered with yellow and green oozing goo turned to stone over millenia.
Water dripped from the ceiling and I lay my head onto my back deck and gazed.  The cavern did not smell fresh like running water as they often do,  but rather like Harvey T’s gerbil home.  Something was chirping or squeaking in the darkness above and I looked for bats.   I didn’t see any, but there was another chamber that had a ground floor; maybe they were in there.

I passed crenulations and a large intact red stone tower before I cut out to sea to avoid downtown Alanya.

I’m running out of Chia seeds and what I have left is reserved for my Turkey / Cyprus crossing.  Paddling on low grade fuel is less fun.

I left the last of the hotel fortresses of evil and motorboat turtle-slaying oil-leaking sea beasts behind.  The beaches were public and the mountains free.  Some folk invited me to stop for beer, I rolled in gratitude and moved on.

I looked up at the cliffs and admired the wild beauty of the place when something just ahead of me in the water caught my attention.   A turtle surfaced and I was on a collision course.  I didn’t want to startle it with and abrupt stroke, and I didn’t want to hit.  So I froze and glode.  I hoped it would see me.  Maybe at the last moment it did and dived, or maybe I did hit it.  I’m not sure, but I hope and believe it was okay.

I explored one last radon red rock cave with two entrances separated by a pillar.  The setting sun illuminated the native stone and the colorful water stones that grew in the corners.

My upcoming 37.5 mile crossing will be three halves of what I did today.  I hope I’m up for it. I hope the weather is good.  As with my other long crossings,  it’ll be where the distance is shortest and the bottleneck can make for rough conditions.

Many years ago someone half built a marina in Gazipasa.  The outer sea walls were solid, but inside there were no pontoons or sidewalks beyond the concrete edges of the harbor, just dirt, weeds, and a handful* of half finished buildings.

Folk passed me making camp on the dock and to the friendly ones I told my story.  I could answer some of the frequent  questions across the language barrier,  but mostly communication was an uphill battle.

I’m approaching Eastern Turkey, past the edge of the earth.

*Titan hands.

Nautical miles paddled: 25
Current location: North corner of Gazipasa marina

Day 155


I slept on a bunk in the back room of a watersports center, my host was in his own a few feet over.  I woke and felt good, like I could do anything.  Icarus, however could not.  A close examination revealed that the hull-tearing reefs from a couple days earlier had worked their anger out on her underbelly.

After repairs I asked my host where I could buy a loaf of bread for my day.  He insisted on giving me the loaf he had planned on having for breakfast.  He wouldn’t hear of letting me go to the market for just one loaf.

I examined the paddle float I keep under my seat.  Both chambers were leaking.  I placed it in my front compartment and hoped I’d remember to patch it before I needed it.  I didn’t bother to replace it with my backup, after all, a real kayaker need only re-enter and roll.

I also keep a sponge in my cockpit.  I bought it in Symi to replace my old one that had begun to break up.  It was more efficient, and used to be alive.  I really liked that sponge.

I loaded both of my Nalgenes with chia maca gogo juice and clipped them in by the caps.  My Nalgenes are some of the most utilitarian gear I have.  They store my food and give me energy while I paddle. They also provide extra flotation in a tight spot. I love my Nalgenes.

I also keep a quick bag grab with more emergency gear in there.  Everything is tied in, except for the sponge because I use it often and the string gets in the way.  I used to tie it in, but hardly bother anymore.

Feeling good, I paddled hard, tirelessly, and fast.  I don’t remember the last time I felt so good at a strong pace.  Hills and cliffs replaced the beach and broke up the line of horrendous hotels.  Caves bore into the cliffs and I paddled into a couple with chambers large enough for several boat lengths.  I found colors.  Green and yellow stones, purple red and black, rainbows had been sealed into the earth underneath these hills.

I needed to poop.  It wasn’t desperate, but I didn’t want it to become desperate.  I passed a hotel marina with a swimming area, a section to moor boats, and a two story dock that was just right for parking a kayak at.

At the lower level a uniformed crewman was trying to get an outboard motor started on his dinghy.  From the upper level a young shirtless man in a red bathing suit called down to me.

“What do you need?” he asked in an intrusive tone.

“Do you work here?” I don’t like it when authority figures try to push me around without identifying the source of their authority.

“No.” He told me.

I addressed the crewman but he didn’t speak English.  Still, most people here seem to understand the word toilet, so I tried a few times.

Red Bathing Suit was trying to get my attention.

“My friend,” he began.

A lot of Turkish people address me as their friend.  In fact, I never had so many friends that don’t know my name.  But they all seem to think that we’re such good friends that they can sell me something I don’t need, or tell what to do.  They expect me to listen because we’re such good friends.

“My friend, you can’t be here.  It’s too dangerous.”  There were no swimmers near me.

“Toilet please?” I called up.

“My friend, I am sorry, but this is a hotel.  You can not use the toilet.  You must go.”

“I’m kayaking from Sp…”

He cut me off, “Yes, I understand, but you must leave.”

I backed away from the dock.  Opposite the way I came in was another opening in the sea wall.  It was in the direction I needed to go, so I headed for it.

“My friend,” he called down, “please do not go that way.  That is the woman’s beach.  Please go out the other way.”

“No problem.” I called up cheerfully, and continued in the direction I was going.

He wasn’t my friend.  Friends let friends use their toilets.  It’s a minimum qualification, more important than not sleeping with you friend’s significant other and more practical than a Facebook status.  Red Bathingsuit Jerk was my enemy.  More than being the way I wanted to go, it was an opportunity to stick it to the man.

And paddling in front of the women’s beach was not without reward.  I was afforded a scintillating view of shiny thin naked metal sheets.  Two stories of them separated me from the beach.

I was a kilometer off the shore when my bowels and a turdle reminded me that there was work to be done.  I’d never made a large poop at sea before, but the water was calm so it seemed like an opportunity not to be wasted.  Was everything tied in?  Sure, everything is always tied in.

My paddle float was not available to save me from bailing so I capsized and wet exit.

Without letting go of my boat I floated in the cool relaxing water.  Suddenly a log was floating near my face, crap.  Out at sea logs can be dangerous.  They can reek havoc on a boat’s hull, and if they get caught in a propellor – that’s the shit hitting the fan.

I blew on it, and tried to splash it away, but it got closer. Without letting go of my boat, I kicked hard to flee in terror, but it was gaining on me.

I had no choice but to commit the great sin.  I released my deck lines and sprinted to the bow in sheer terror.  I escaped.

I pulled my boat away from the danger zone, inserted myself upside down and rolled up.  I set up my storm paddle as an outrigger for extra support and began to pump out my cockpit.  One of my Nalgenes, without the cap, floated a few feet away from my boat.

With the storm paddle serving as an outrigger, Ikarus was a barge.  I had to rescue Nalgene, at any cost.  I pulled the paddle out from the deckline and shoved it under my bungees, and Nalgene was drifting farther away.  I performed a sculling draw with vigor, but with my water loaded cockpit I was still too slow.  I tried reaching out with my paddle to draw it in.  Maybe I managed to pull it a little closer, but not soon enough.  The last of the air escaped through the open mouth and Nalgene slipped under.  I capsized and tried to reach for it, but it was too far and sinking fast.
I had only one choice left.  I ejected from my boat, throwing caution and my paddle to the waves, and dove.  I reached for it while kicking profusely.  I had to save it.  I was so close.  A single millimeter was the difference between life and eternal loneliness at the bottom of the sea.
My life jacket snapped me back to the surface.  All I had to do was take it off to save a friend. 

Nalgene was out of sight.  I recovered my boat and paddle, rolled up, and pumped out the twice flooded cockpit.

Sponge was gone.  Some time during the commotion I saw it floating next to my boat, but it never occurred to me that it might not be tied in.

The bungy on my front deck had come untied.  I was not about to swim to the front to fix it.  It’s a simple system.  A blue bungy is tied to a black bungy at both ends.  Now, at one of the ends it had come untied.  A free blue end was next to a free black end, and they were next to a blue and black not.

I moved my storm paddle to my back bungies, a less secure position.
I found a watersports worker in the water repairing some buoy lines.  I was unable to communicate across the language barrier that I wanted him to tie to blue and black bungys.  I also failed to get through to three swimming bikini models.  An older Russian man didn’t speak English either, but he looked at my front deck and knew exactly what to do.  I was grateful and returned my storm paddle to its place.  If I had lost it …

I paddled through extraordinarily colorful gasoline smelling water.  The hotel swimmers didn’t notice.  The lifeguards watched to make sure I didn’t get too close to their hotels.

I explored one last sea cae before finding Alanya’s marina.  I practiced some rolls and then pulled in. 

At first the receptionist wanted to charge me to store a five meter boat, but I persuaded her, with some effort, to come and see it first.  Then she understood, and I was invited to enjoy the marina’s considerable hospitality as a guest.

That night, while charging, my phone quietly fell into the eternal sleep. 

Nautical miles paddled: 24
Current location: 36.559196, 31.949309

Day 154


Another day like the last, more unhappy turtles.

I passed a river with cool slightly stinky dark water running into the sea.  I rolled and reveled in the chill.  It’s getting so hot that just rolling in regular water doesn’t always cool me off any more.  Sometimes I just sit upside down and reach down deep to let my heat disperse with the sea.

Early in the afternoon a sharp headwind picked up.  I pulled over to a water sports center and was welcomed off the water on my first try.

After I was situated to wait out the wind I went back out to practice rolling on the rough water.  I kept getting pushed into a buoy rope that separated the water sports from the swimmers.  I lost my glasses.  I used to tie my glasses on in two places, but that was when I was surfing on big wave s every chance I got.  Over the winter, when I was barely rolling, I fell out of the habit of losing my glasses.

I wandered onto the hotel’s section of the beach and a security guard quickly and brusquely turned me back.

Nautical miles paddled:  13

Current location: Errr… yep.  This was easier when I had a chart and/or a computer.

Day 153:


Another day of gaudy beach hotels, speedboats, jet skis, and all the ostentatiousness money can buy.

I passed two large turtles and mourned for what my race had done to their home.

Sometimes there was a break in the temple to cheap thrills and greed and I passed dunes that argued for solace and peace. Along those dunes the water was shallow and reefs scraped at the bottom of my kayak. I could identify the worrisome sections from a short distance away, and should have chosen to turn hard and give them a wide berth. Instead I tried to pick my way through the treacherous hull skinning water. I realized that the only way to go was back, but thought just maybe I could go forward. I hate going back.

And I did get through, though I would definitely need to remember to examine my hull at the end of the day. It was probably fine.

One of the folks in charge of the previous day’s water sports center told me he was a professor of physical education at Ankara University. He presented me with a slip of paper that I should show at the university’s campground, so that they would feed and shelter me.

I found the campground. It was in fact a budget hotel for students. I showed the slip to the reception and they offered to let me stay for 100 lira a night. No, I could not use their internet if I was not a guest.

I made friends with a university worker picking up garbage around the beach chairs. He told me I could sleep on one of the chairs for the night, which was nice. They were both cushioned and off of the sand.

In the middle of the night someone pointed a flashlight in my eyes and spoke forcefully “Yadda wing wooba gump!”

“Hi, I’m Dov. I kayaked here from Spain. I have permission to sleep here.

“Slump gerfp.”” He answered and left me to fall right back to sleep.

Nautical miles paddled: 15
Current location: 36.813408,31.311561

Day 152


I paddled across the city’s bay and from a distance gazed at the man made sore, bleeding urban misery beneath snowcapped mountains singing the angel’s song.   I wondered what it’ll take to save us from ourselves.

I met up with some cliffs and paddled into a U-tunnel,  in one end and out the other. The cliffs were not sharp or jagged as the Antalya region mountains I was leaving behind, these looked more like ice-cream frozen in the process of dripping and drooping.   One wall looked as though a hundred giant old-man noses protruded from it.

After that I saw the waterfall.  For all that Icarus likes to sink,  more water came over those cliffs in one second than through Icarus’ hull 42 years.  Half way down the torrent, rocks protruded from the cliff into the falling river and the water exploded off of them in a white eruption more spectacular than any fireworks display,  and it never stops. I paddled through the cloud that formed at  the bottom and was blinded and drenched by the water vapor eruption.  

I passed some five yachts moored in the bay next to the fall.  Hotels were followed by more hotels.  A speed boat wizzed in front of me and left a trail of black goo.

At the end of my day, after a few failed attempts, I found some friendly watersports people who were all to happy to host me.  Just as I was getting comfortable next to a banana boat for the evening, one of my hosts invited me to sleep on a real bed in his home.

Five of us piled into a small car and we headed out of the parking lot.  A tall thin blond was walking up ahead and my host honked the car horn several times and lowered the windows so that she could hear his cat call.  The process repeated itself whenever we passed a woman he found attractive.  We also stopped whenever he saw someone he knew, which was frequent in the small village behind the line of  hotels.

We dropped off the other passengers one at a time and then found our way to his home.  The small room had four mattresses on the floor, he took one and I another.  He apologized to me for having an empty fridge, but was there anything he could get for me? 

The bed was soft and the room was comfortably warm.  In the morning we managed to to return to the water sports center with only half as many cat calls.  Maybe pretty women sleep late.

Nautical miles paddled: ~20
Current location: Some hotel beach

Day 151


In the morning the strong south winds continued.

By 11:00 the sea was calmer and I launched. I passed a forest with a highway running through it, some beaches with old boats pulled up on them, and a marina under construction. The marina was in a natural harbor laying between an island and a gently curving shoreline. Some ten yachts of varying sizes sat moored and a jet ski zoomed between them. Swimmers laughed.
After three hours I arrived in Antalya’s marina. Someone at the Finike marina had called ahead and told them to expect me.

I was welcomed like a king. I should feel free to use all of the marina’s facilities including their pool. Could they treat me to dinner at the marina’s restaurant? I could stay as long as I want and I should eat my meals at their expense in the cafeteria which has a large salad bar.

It was nice to feel welcome.

I walked for an hour and a half along a dirty highway without sidewalks and then through bleak commercial district streets to the Samsung store, where they could not fix my phone or sell me a waterproof camera. Antalya is a city of one million. There aren’t enough trees and too many cars. I made it back just in time to buy some ice cream for my sabbath dinner and begin sweet rest.

Nautical miles paddled: 9
Current location: 36.833182,30.607277

Day 150


My hosts fed me lots of olives, cheese, bread,and vegetables after I cooked my meal last night. So this morning I filled up one of my Nalgenes with the leftovers, whole grain bulgur, lentils, and tahini, and the other with my gogo juice.

I set out on glassy water.

I was in front of another hotel beach when the gust came head on. Only, unlike other gusts, this one didn’t end. I found myself fighting into a force six headwind one inch at a time. I needed to get of the water.

I passed a harbor and turned into the protected waters. Three high seawalls guarded a beach-swimming area, a moored motor yacht, and a gullet. Behind the beach was a super luxury hotel (36.704399,30.574817). I don’t know what its name was, but I wish I did. I climbed a ladder up onto the pier on the inside of the seawall, pulled my boat out, and changed into land clothing. The next step was to find the reception and get permission to leave my boat there overnight. On the way I stopped in a restroom and cleaned up.

When I came out a security guard stopped me.

“Room number?” he asked and presented a pen and paper to write it down.

“I’m on my way to the reception to work that out.” I told him.

He didn’t understand.

We both repeated our thoughts several times before he took out a phone and handed it to me.
The women on the other end, after talking to me and suggesting that I could get a room, then spoke to the guard. Presumably to ask him to show me the way to the reception. As it happened there was an open gate that led outside the hotel area next to us. The guard began telling me to go out the gate and around.

If I went out that gate I would never be allowed back in, and separated from my boat until I could outsmart the elite security force that still didn’t know about my kayak.

With some persuasion, I took the guard to see my kayak. And with a greater effort managed to convince him I paddled from Spain. He was impressed, and asked me to wait there for his boss.
I waited. The wind roared outside, but in the artificial shelter everything was peaceful. The boss came and introduced himself as the security chef. He probably meant chief, but I’m in no forgiving mood.

I got into his go cart and we went to see my kayak.

He told me I had to leave.

“I want to see the reception and get permission to stay.”

“You must go.”

“I kayaked here from Spain. The sea is dangerous now. I won’t go until I see the reception and talk to them.”

“You’re talking to me. I tell you what you need to know. You must go. I am the security chef. “
“Yes, you are the security chef. You don’t understand what I’m telling you. I want to talk to the reception where they can give me permission to leave my boat here.”

“The hotel is full.”

“I don’t want to stay here. I want to talk to the reception.”

His chest was puffed up and he was moving into my personal space. He touched my chest the next time he told me I had to go.

In my calm-steel voice “Don’t touch me.”

He backed up a couple of steps.

I tried to get him to walk up to the top of the sea wall to see how wild the sea was, but he wouldn’t.

After repeating most of the previous conversation several times, he made a phone call, coached a fellow from customer relations on what to tell me, and then handed me the phone.

“Hi,” I said. “I just want to explain my situation. If, after hearing me, you still want me to leave then I’ll go.”

“Yes, I understand what you are saying, but we have no rooms in the hotel. You have to go. “

I might have yelled, “How can you understand what I’m saying if I haven’t said it yet?!”

Twenty minutes later I was suiting up to launch. Paddling out of the harbor a lifeguard called to me that I wasn’t allowed to kayak in the harbor. It was for “swimmers only.”

Once his message was delivered he looked out over the crashing sea. Nervously he told me to be careful.

After a few hundred meters I found a water sports shack in front of a water park. I introduced myself and they warmly welcomed me to stay for the night.

A security guard came down from the water park. His uniform looked the same as the others. He offered to help me carry my boat, and walked us out a gate and shut me out, away from the hospitality of the kind water sports people.

“Secure area.” He said to me.

I was on a small dirt road between the water park and a hotel. The road lead to yet another water sports shack at the end of a sea wall. I made friends and finally found kindness.

Please, if you have a flaming bag of poo, send it to the hotel at the above coordinates.

In the evening the water calmed down some and I cooled off with some rolls. At one point I saw a piece of garbage sinking near my boat in the murky water. Out of habit, I tried to grab it but it was too late. Meh, it was only a vague suspicion that made me reach for it, it’s not like it was my chart or anything.*

*It was my chart.

Nautical miles paddled: 6
Current location: 36.704399,30.574817

Day 149


I slept on one of the cushioned beach chairs belonging to the restaurant owner that I befriended last night. In the morning he brought me vegetables, dry bulgur, and small packets of spreads for slices of bread.

The sea was glassy calm. On the northeast corner of the bay I found a cave that was bigger on the inside than it looked from without. I continued along the mountain wilderness coast.

Gaia was the all mother, the first. She gave birth to Uranus, the sky god, and then they lay down together. Uranus and Gaia parented the Titans, and that messy story I’ve already told. But Gaia’s troubles were not over.

Her (grand)children were imprisoned in Tartarus deep beneath the earth. Uranus was castrated and lame.

She went to Tartarus. How it happened, I can not say. Perhaps she hoped the act would free her offspring. Perhaps she was drawn to the dark power, so different from her own. Maybe the saga of her life had driven her mad, but whatever her motives were, she lay with him.

The dark seed grew. Gaia begot Typhon. Legend has it that Typhon was so vast that if he were to stretch he would cover the entire earth with the dragons, vipers, man flesh, and fire that was his body. Typhon begot many monsters, and all are said to be descended from him, but his final crowning achievement was his daughter Chimera. She was a fire breathing lion; a goat head protruded from her back and a venomous snake from her tail. She laired in the fire pits of the mountains above me, where to this day nighttime visitors can see the rocks burn.

The sky above me was clear, but the tallest of those mountains was covered in dark clouds. Thunder boomed.

Two fishing boats were coming from behind me chugging along at around six knots. If I could catch their wake – use the force of the water displacing their boat from behind – I would fly.
I angled in towards the closer of the two and managed to drop right into the climbing foam just behind the propeller. The boat stopped. The fisherman at the rudder wanted to know how he could help me. I told him to just go, but he didn’t speak a word of English or understand my hand waiving. He offered repeatedly to throw me a rope.

The other fishing boat pulled over to translate. The fisherman only spoke five words of English, but one of them was “sport.” And so we were on our way.

As long as I could keep up, I would be in the wake and go fast. If I fell behind there would be no second chance.

Keeping up was hard. I had to keep the first wake wave behind me. I could not slow down, rest, or snack. Without breaking into a sprint, except when I dropped back some, I paddled as fast as I knew how.

Sweat poured down my brow; I could not roll to cool off. I was shooting past the wilderness at great cost. The fisherman gave me a thumbs up after half an hour. I didn’t know how much longer I could keep it up, but I intended to remain with the fisherman until he arrived at his destination.

My boat shifted left and right in the wake. I turned hard to keep from being thrown out. I struggled through for over an hour. Without realizing that I slowed, the first wake wave slipped under me.

I tried to hold onto the second, but the pulling force of the wake was diminished and I soon lost the second wave as well. I called goodbye to the fisherman. After a couple hundred meters he stopped and began releasing his nets. I hadn’t made it all the way, but I was close. I shaved about an hour off my day, and felt like I needed to rest two.

Except that the storm over the mountains seemed to be getting bigger and louder. After some brief spelunking and a set of pine crowned cliffs I found a resort beach. Hotels and beach chairs lined the shore. Motorboats zoomed along blasting discotec and trailing water skiers or paragliders. Jet skis roared and swimmers ignored the Chimera storm that threatened to overrun and electrocute us all at any moment.

A covered dock jutted out from the beach and a platform above was covered with water sports equipment.

A man called out to me hello and asked where I was from.

“Hi, I’m American, but I kayaked here from Spain.” I told him.

“Wow! How many days?” he asked.

“About 149.”

“What do you eat?”

I started to take out my chia maca gogo juice when I realized I had leverage. “I’d love to show you, may I leave my boat here until the weather passes,maybe for the night?”

“I’m sorry,” he told me, “but this a private club. You can use the beach over there.”

Of course. Well, what I eat while I paddle is none of your business.

I decided not to use the beach. I was heading to the Kemer marina where I would undoubtedly find a hot shower and friendly sailors.

I stuck close to the beach and hoped the higher ground would protect me from lightning. I didn’t run over any of the occasional swimmers who were mostly fat and slow.

Lifeguards would yell at me to get out of the swimming area. I ignored them. Even the hotels with wide swaths of beach were behind me in a few moments. They called to other lifeguards and a manager. But I left the angry soulless minions of sea fencing jet skiing super wealth behind me and once again found myself paddling along wilderness.

The Chimera storm remained in the mountains behind me.

I rested in a sea cavern with my head on my back deck and studied the ceiling. A boom box motor boat roared in and I left.

At the marina I was told I couldn’t stay.

“Do you understand what I’m telling you? I kayaked 2,000 kilometers to get here!” Usually when people are mean to me it’s because they don’t understand or believe me.

The man at the desk said “Yes, I understand, and I’m telling you no.”

I moved on.

I passed more hotel beaches and tried another water sports center where the Ukrainian proprietors fell in love with me and treated me like a king for the night.

Nautical miles paddled: 23
Current location: 36.614322,30.558804

Day 148


The first 13 miles were a cut to the next headland.  A headwind shifted to a beam wind.  The coast,  a couple miles away, was lined by a sandy beach and beyond, the town of kumulca.

After the headland,  everything changed.   I had a fantastic tailwind.   The coast, which I closely followed, was thick with fragrant pine forests on steep red mountains and wild low cliffs. Off my starboard, opposite the wilderness,  islands climbed out of the sea.  One was bright red, another hundred foot high gray stone was cut right down the middle in two.  Each side was of the towering two halves was at least 20 acres.

I passed a beach where a handful of tourists were unloading from a tour boat for an afternoon of R&R in paradise.

I turned into a large bay, briefly fought into the strong wind, and arrived at a beach.  I didn’t get any hand rolls, but reverse sweep, crook of elbow, shotgun, and butterfly rolls all went fine and entertained a small crowd.  One man spoke to me in Turkish while I was rolling.  I couldn’t figure out what he was saying, though his tone did not seem friendly.

I took out next to a beach shower, grabbed shampoo from my hatch, and was pleased to so quickly resolve one of my needs.

For internet I’d need a wifi connection.

The first bar said I could not use theirs. The second didn’t have one. The third said no problem, and offered me free dinner.


Nautical miles paddled: 22

Current location: 36.296951,30.471085