The Journey Begins
When Tom and I first began talking about living aboard we discussed lots of options. We could stay on the Pacific coast and summer in Alaska and winter in Central America. Or, we could do the Great Loop and cruise up the eastern seaboard, through the Great Lakes and down the Mississippi. Perhaps we would explore the Carribean one day. My greatest concerns with all of these plans has always been my discomfort with the idea of crossing huge bodies of water - out of sight of land for extended periods of time, and cruising in the dark at night. That said, having decided to begin our liveaboard life in the Mediterranean, I figured if I could build some confidence over time, maybe try a short overnight passage between islands, then perhaps I would build the confidence to cross an ocean someday. That was my plan, anyway.
And yet, the best-laid plans don’t always work out the way you imagine. Last Wednesday we finalized a plan. We would have a Turkish captain come to the marina the next day to do sea trials and make any minors adjustments to the boat, with the intention of leaving Istanbul the following day, Friday morning. During the sea trial we would check all the systems on the boat: each engine & the generator, the radar, stabilizers, fresh water and grey/black water systems, the radio and AIS (automatic identification system), etc. We were SO excited. Thursday morning came around and everyone arrived. The first order of business was to discuss the planned route the following day to Athens so that we could begin the Turkish departure paperwork. This is where everything went haywire.
The captain felt, as there was bad weather coming in on Monday which would make for an uncomfortable cruise, that we should wait to depart until the following Thursday when the weather looked good for the duration of the 55-60 hour transit. There was indeed a large storm moving in on Monday, but it was Thursday and we felt we could get some distance under our keel, so to speak, in advance of Monday and the oncoming storm. Why not at least get closer to our destination while the good weather held, and wait out the storm somewhere closer. The conversation went back and forth between us and our translator (our captain, we had learned, did NOT in fact speak english).
From left to right: Hünkar - Captain, Kivanç - Yacht Designer, Murat - Factory Owner
Eventually it was agreed that to stay ahead of the storm and find safe harboring along the way we needed to leave that very night! So much for sea trials and checking all the systems. Instead, the factory owner had his workers check all the mechanical basics, the engine mounts and the bilges. By now it was 3pm, our fuel delivery was scheduled for 6pm, and we were leaving Turkey!
We slipped the dock lines at sundown, 6:00pm, Thursday and headed to the fuel dock. Once fully fueled we were driven to the Passport Police to get our documentation needed to leave the country. All of our vessel transit documents had been acquired, stamped and processed late that afternoon. We departed the fuel dock just after 7pm, Thursday, December 15, 2022, three crew members aboard.
As we left the Istanbul city lights behind us the seas were a bit choppy and the boat pitched up and down in the waves. It was difficult to walk around onboard so we abandoned dinner. After watching the captain at the helm for awhile, I settled onto the couch in the salon and relaxed. It felt freeing. It was like being liberated at last. The fresh air, night sky, movement of the boat, and the hum of the engines were all SO welcome.
Tom took the helm just an hour later and let the captain sleep for a few hours. Departing today had not been on his radar either! We crossed the Sea of Marmara through the night with winds on our beam and choppy seas. Our captain took the midnight-7am shift while we slept in the salon (far too rough to sleep in the master cabin), and he passed the helm back to us just before daybreak as we approached the Dardanelles Strait.
(Click image to enlarge)
The Dardanelles Strait connects various seas along the Eastern Mediterranean and specifically connects the Aegean Sea to the Sea of Marmara. You may recall the Sea of Marmara further connects to the Black Sea via the Bosporus. The Dardanelles Strait is the maritime connection from the Black Sea through to the Mediterranean, the Atlantic Ocean (via Gibraltar), or the Indian Ocean (via the Suez Canal), thus making it a crucial international waterway. The strait is 33 nM (38 miles) long but necks down to only 0.65-3.2 nM (0.75-4 miles) wide. Water flows in both directions along the strait, from the Sea of Marmara to the Aegean via a surface current and in the opposite direction via an undercurrent. The current reaches up to 3.5 – 4.0 knots (4.5mph) as you approach the Aegean entrance to the straits. It is a very busy channel with a lot of shipping traffic. There is a separation zone with eastbound ships staying on the south shore and westbound ships staying on the north shore. Yachts transiting the straits should keep outside the charted shipping lanes (which is, in any case, a wise move in view of the strong adverse currents).
Fortunately, we transited the Dardanelles on a sunny, calm day. Several pods of dolphins passed by along with dozens of seabirds. We also passed several stone forts that guarded the waterway in historic times. As we approached the mouth of the strait (around 3pm) the seas began churning with 1.5-2 meter seas and 20 knot winds on the beam with gusts up to 24 knots. Things began slamming around in drawers and cupboards but I managed to find ways to secure them and miraculously nothing broke. I did get thrown off the couch once but that was all it took for me to learn to “sleep” holding on!
By 10pm we were in international waters so we started emptying our grey and black water tanks which we’d had no time to do prior to leaving. Horrible sewage smell filled the salon and for the first time underway I became super nauseated. It turned out the bilge had filled with black water, that’s right - it was full of shit. No idea why. We tried to pump it out manually but couldn’t fully empty it. I stood on the back deck in the fresh air until I was soaked with seaspray and too cold to remain outside. We left the doors open as long as we could to dissipate the odor.
An hour later we swapped the Turkish flag for the Greek flag and hung our Q (Quarantine) flag. This is a solid yellow flag and indicates that you have just entered the country but have not yet checked in.
We tied up in Myrina, the main town in Lemnos (Limnos), Greece at 11:15pm Friday night after 29 hours at sea (somewhere in there we gained an hour as it was midnight for us). It was finally time for silence, gentle rocking and sleeping in my own bed.
Lemnos is an island in the middle of the Northern Aegean Sea. The hillsides afford pasture for sheep and goats and it is famous for Kalathaki Limnou which is a cheese made from both sheep and goat milks combined. Lemnos is also known for its delicious yogurt.
I awoke Saturday to partly sunny skies and a warm breeze. The harbor is sheltered and calm though outside are white caps and high winds. I watched a mob of deer came down the hillside alongside the quay while a herd of wild goats were grazing lower down. We made coffee and relaxed while we waited to get cleared into Greece. You are not permitted to leave your vessel until your passport is stamped and your vessel and transit log are processed. This took most of the day as it turned out. We submitted our paperwork at 9am and were officially in Greece at 2pm that afternoon. We used the downtime to track down the problem with the black water discharge and once allowed to go ashore, we walked to a hardware store for silicone to fix the leaky vent.
We’re at the white dot on the island in the middle of the Aegean Sea. This shows the predicted weather pattern - blue, green, yellow is good cruising, red is bad!
Repair complete and bilges hosed out, at 7:15pm that night, we again left the comfort of the dock and headed west to the north entrance to Evia Island just east of Athens. This looked to be the best protection from the coming northerly storm, but it meant crossing the remaining half of the north Aegean through the night. Again we had 20+knots and 1.5m seas - this time on the nose. Turns out this is more uncomfortable than the same wind speed on the beam. You can bet - I made note for future passage planning! Fortunately, an hour and a half later the winds were down to 15 knots and lessening. Good timing on our departure. A couple of hours more and we had a comfy 7 knots and calm seas the rest of the way.
We again took shifts at the helm and 12 hours later we were inside the islands and it was flat calm. I was ready for a shower and a hot cup of coffee. But Meraki had other plans. Somehow we were out of fresh water! We had filled our tanks in Istanbul on Thursday night (300 gallons) and apart from Tom taking one shower, we’d made 5 cups of coffee and rinsed a few dishes. Where was our fresh water? Yes, we had hosed out our bilges after repairing the leak in the black water discharge hose, but had we used the entire 300 gallons??? We again checked the bilges and sure enough, they were full of fresh water. More sleuthing and we found a disconnection between the fresh water line and the hot water tank. After some boat yoga i.e. crawling into tiny spaces with screwdrivers, the line was reconnected and we felt we were good to go. Now we just needed to refill our fresh water tank.
At 5pm Sunday we tied up temporarily to the quay in Chalcis on Evia Island, Greece. We filled our water tanks and bought greek pizza for dinner. The plan was to have a leisurely dinner while we waited for the sliding Evripos Bridge opening in order to cross through the narrow canal between mainland Greece and the island, and arrive at our marina for the night.
We knew that the bridge is only opened for a couple of hours between 11pm and 4am to minimize the disruption of vehicle traffic crossing the bridge. We had also read that the currents through the canal are messy and for this reason no scheduled operation can be implemented. Vessels would be informed daily of the estimated time of operation. Tom walked to the Port Authority to pay the transit fee and to find out the plan for that night. At 9pm they would radio us with our approximate transit time, then when our boat is called, we were to proceed through the channel. Just as we were ready to eat our dinner, the bay became super rough and we had to leave the quay in order to avoid damaging the boat. We ended up circling for an hour before getting our instructions. Our allotted transit time was around 11pm and we should be ready. We continue to circle just outside the channel for a couple more hours. Around 11:30pm we saw the bridge open and we waited. We then saw the bridge close. We had not been called. Come to find out our VHF radio is also not working properly! Apparently they had called us several times but receiving no response they had closed the bridge. We would now have to find a place to tie up and try again tomorrow night.
Chalcis Bridge
Exhausted and dejected we found an anchorage on the chart that was close by and motored into the small harbor of Nea Artaki. It was a dicey entrance at midnight in choppy seas. There was also really no available space for us. Our captain managed to squeeze us next to a sliver of dock at the bitter end of the pier, barely a couple of feet behind a smaller fishing boat and with our aft end sticking well out ahead of a large commercial vessel. This was not ideal but would have to do. I would find the harbormaster in the morning and check in. Time now to sleep.
Meraki barely holding on to the bitter end of the pier, not an inch to spare.
Somehow, on my maiden voyage aboard Meraki I ended up racing a storm while crossing the Aegean Sea in the dark of night! I guess living aboard means facing my fears head on.
Blog footnote:
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