Telltales 62: With major contributions from Maynard and Strat.

Black Sea: Trabzon (Turkey) – Batumi (Georgia) – Feodosia (Ukraine)

24 June 2005, Trabzon

Marit and Onur leave at 8 O’clock in the morning to fly back to Istanbul. Of course it is a difficult goodbye for Marit. I will be continuing sailing for the next 11 weeks without her, in a part of the world that she would have liked to see as well. But such are our choices. She will join friends in Greece in their summer house on the island of Kithira. And she will most likely go to Holland to visit family….or she might go working if something turns up. So, she leaves with a bag fully prepared.

And suddenly Roland is on his own. He disappears with his cabdriver (Ibrahim) off into Trabzon to arrange laundry, gas bottles and some more. Upon return on the boat the telephone is missing. There are still wet footprints on the steps of the saloon. Apparently a young swimmer found the open boat a too tempting invitation and took advantage. It is the first time in our 6 years cruising that we have something stolen. But not a good sign, after all we will travel to countries that have an even worse reputation. I clean the boat; do shopping, while Ibrahim has arranged a friend to baby-sit Sylphe, talking about service again. Turkey remains a great country.

At 7 in the evening I show up at the airport to pick up Maynard and Strat. But I only find Strat, Maynard has missed his connecting flight and is stuck in Istanbul. He will arrive later. Strat has lost his luggage. Not a good start. The luggage is found after a while in the domestic terminal. We return to Sylphe when we find out that Maynard will be on the midnight plane. We have a drink and a chance to meet and talk. Strat has flown from Canada via Frankfurt and Istanbul and is definitely jet-lagged. So, while waiting for Maynard he takes a siesta. At 1 in the morning we sit in the cockpit of Sylphe and see the plane landing and that is time enough to go with Ibrahim to the airport. The marina is physically located on the side of the runway. Maynard is found, but again NO LUGGAGE. And this luggage does not turn up within half an hour, so we will have to come back for that tomorrow.

We all return to the boat, and talk, drink and laugh. The local mosque reminds us that sunrise is imminent and after we said good morning to the sun we turn to bed.

The party is ready to start the Black Sea Voyage and its adventure.

25 June 2005, Trabzon sightseeing

Ibrahim shows up again at 7 in the morning to go and get the luggage with Roland. Strat is up early, a result of the jetlag. At midday, after an initial dive from the Maynard and Strat into the Black Sea (which is surprisingly less salty than the Med) Maynard and Strat drive off with Ibrahim for the Sumela monastery. Uniquely set against the rocks in the mountainsides. A brisk twenty minute walk up to the monastery makes Strat forget about jetlag and gets Maynard’s blood pumping again. (Lucky they were not passed by any of the Turkish women walking up with babies and in high-heels!)

Sumela Monastry, set in the cliffs

A pleasant lunch by the roaring mountain stream below and a quick visit to see the famous Medieval frescos in Aya Sofia rounded off the day. Enough for sightseeing, we have 5 more countries to come.

Roland, cooks dinner on board for a tired crew.

26 June 2005, Trabzon – Ardesen (49 NM)

We have seen enough of Trabzon town and the empty isolated port, so we decide to sail off. Once again (but now for the last time) Ibrahim takes Roland into town for the necessary paperwork to get Maynard and Strat registered on the Turkish Transit Log. However the harbormaster is not present, so we sail off without legally correct documents. The paperwork and the ex-soviet country bureaucracy are something Roland can really look forward to in the coming weeks.

Strat and Maynard get a warm welcome by the eternal swell and soon we rock from left to right in a nice 1,5m swell. Not too comfortable, but nothing will change that fact. With a following west wind we soon hoist the genoa and a little bit later the main. This stabilizes the boat, but the following waves make steering a fulltime job for the helmsman. We are doing 8 knots in a freshening breeze. The seemingly eternal dark clouds build up over land on this stretch of the coast and it clearly rains over land. Once again we are enchanted by the scenery of the dark clouds, the very green hills and the mountain ridges behind. Breathtakingly beautiful! We stay dry for most of the trip and only have a few rain drops and although the dark clouds behind us have no good intentions…they never reach us. A rather tired bird decides that the best place to rest was Maynard’s shoulder. He sat there for ten minutes before flying off again.

Maynard and his bird

Strat relaxing or recovering??

We maintain our good speed and reach Ardesen well ahead of schedule. We drop anchor in the middle of the huge (but otherwise deserted) harbor and take the dinghy ashore, only to find the fish restaurants (mentioned in the pilot books) already closed. A cabdriver takes us to another place which turns out to be land inward, but indeed only serves one dish: fish and only one choice: trout. So, I guess we will have that. Surprisingly to us it turns out to be a real treat! We top up our larder and beer stores in the shops close by the empty harbor.

27 June 2005, Ardesen – Hopa (24 NM)

Once again we manage to escape most of the rain but get a light shower ½ hour outside Hopa which we reach under power.  On re-reading the guides, we now discover that it rains over 250 days a year in Hopa. That accounts for the tea terraces that dot the verdant mountains. Strat experiences his first session at the helm as Roland and Maynard spend most of the trip trying to connect Maynard’s phone to the ship’s computer to re-establish internet.

Our first concern on arrival is to get the paperwork procedure for leaving Turkey started so that we are able to leave early the following day. We are quickly and efficiently dealt with by the harbormaster who tells us that we are the second yacht to visit this year. Next comes Customs, and we spend a fair amount of time standing around here while they try and figure out what forms they need as well as what department needs to deal with us. Next is Police and Immigration. This starts with a long but enjoyable wait as we chat and smoke with policemen and others who are waiting. This part of Turkey is the land of the Laz who are an ethnic group distinct from the Turks and who are more closely related to the Georgians. Big noses and quite often blue eyes and freckles and of course the Laz language are their distinguishing features. As a result of our wait there we learn quite a bit about the area. Ismail the policeman turns out to be a pretty nice guy, and not only does he come back to Sylphe for a visit but also earns a special Sylphe Black Sea Tour t-shirt (of which we brought 100, especially for these occasions). We have a jolly dinner later in an empty hotel.

Maynard, Strat and Ismail (immigration police)

 8 June 2005, Hopa (Turkey) – Batumi (Georgia)

The plan was that our passports would be stamped at 08:30 and then we could go. Roland was somewhat (understatement!!!) delayed by the fact that at the last moment the immigration officer noticed that his Turkish visa had expired 3 days previously. So while Roland talked (and paid) his way out this situation, Maynard had to sit on a low stool with a bunch of local fishermen and drink copious amounts of tea.

Eventually we cast off and set our course for our first “strange” country: Georgia. Not your most likely holiday destination and certainly not visited by many yachts. For entering the country we have to go to Poti, which is the only port allowed for foreign vessels entering the country. As there was little wind we were under power and expected the trip to take us about 6 hours.  2 hours later, barely 2 miles in Georgian waters, we saw a motor patrol boat quickly intercepting us from the direction of Batumi. We quickly dropped our Turkish flag and hoisted the appropriate Georgian one. As they approached we could make out a dozen or so people on deck and also one very large machine gun (not really inviting). Coming up quite close they sounded their siren and indicated that they wanted us to heave-to. As they spoke about 10 words of English between them it was obvious that communication was going to be a major problem but we did manage to establish with them that we were a Dutch yacht and that we were bound for the Port of Poti.

Georgian interception with machinegun

When they then indicated that they wished to board us, we made it quite clear that we were not prepared to allow this. They then said that they would escort us into Batumi, to which we also answered that we were uninclined to do. After trying unsuccessfully to phone the Poti harbormaster, with whom we had been in contact with several days before, it became apparent to us that it was obvious that we either had to head for Batumi or be boarded. So to avoid the physical damage likely to Sylphe by tying up to the patrol boat in the swell in the middle of the sea, we set course for Batumi, escorted by the Coast Guard at 20 meters distance. The fact that most of the crew were smiling, taking photos of us and occasionally shouting out “ Batumi Good!” reassured us somewhat.

We had to stop just outside the port, where yet another coast guard boat showed up. That makes an escort of two boats. And once again they wanted to board us. NEGATIVE, so we continued into port, where they wanted us to dock against the rather nasty looking quay. NEGATIVE. We were finally allowed to drop our anchor and go stern-in to the Patrol Boat at the quay.  The coast guard in the meantime had found a woman, (literally picked off the street) who spoke fair English to act as a translator. At this point we started to become a bit more concerned as the officers in charge seemed to be quite pissed off and were getting quite agitated. Roland and Maynard were escorted into the Coast Guard offices while Strat volunteered to stay on board and guard our gear.

It was a most interesting 2 hours of discussions, with the officials gradually softening. It turns out that we had entered a forbidden zone; not mentioned in any of our pilot books or charts and they would have had the authority to “shoot us out of the water” and that we could “have been fined $US 27,000”. They also made it quite clear that we were lucky to have done this in Georgia and not in Russia because: “Georgians are nice people and you would not be dying”. But things settled down, an official report was made, Roland made official apologies (in writing) and we were okay to leave again and continue to Poti. Thanking the commanding officer with the obligatory t-shirt,

But now our plans had changed. We did not want to go to Poti anymore. We wanted to stay over in Batumi since apparently it was so much nicer that Poti. Arggh, more problems, but they were dealt with efficiently, friendly and quickly. Immigration Police were then called and we were told that we could tie up in an unfinished marina within the main harbor. The Immigration Police arrived onboard and our passports were stamped in no time at all and we were free to explore Batumi. No visa required and no bribe needed.

Still we had enough of paperwork and bureaucracy for one day: Turkish delays, Georgian coast guard escorts and machine guns. Enough for the first day.

As we had little idea of what to expect it was decided that Strat and Maynard went out to find dinner while Roland stayed on board to keep an eye on the huge numbers of very curious Georgians who began appearing to have a look at us.

29 June 2005 Batumi (Georgia)

Batumi is an interesting port city with what appear to be two distinct pasts and a present. The first past seems to have been in the late 1880’s forward as a port city for export of oil for the fields in Azerbaijan. This produced wealth and some lovely Colonial architecture which is present in the city center.  Interspersed with the Colonial is the Russian period, which I viewed less fondly.  The present comprises the Colonial being refurbished slowly and the Russian high-rise residential being used for accommodation for the locals.

I rose at 7am to have a walking tour of the town.  My first impression is the contrast between Batumi and our last stop, Muslim Hopa. Batumi has a lovely water front promenade and park system which was being well used by walkers, joggers, bikers and even a few on rollerblades at 7am.  I was particularly pleased to see that the average age of these participants almost approached mine.  It was a surprise and interesting to see that the western interest in fitness was such a part of the local scene.

Carrying on towards the centre of town away from the beach I came to the Government Sector.  The buildings all had designations in the local language and alphabet and in English.  I was surprised to read that many of the buildings were ministries for the “Independent State of Ajara”.  I was unable to determine how this Independent State functions within Georgia.  However, clearly the State is quite independent because we were informed by the Coast Guard that “ Batumi Good, Poti Bad”.  We chose not to go to Poti so we will never know what Poti thinks of Batumi.

Just past the Government Sector was a very attractive, what I believe to be Greek Orthodox Church.  I could find no English description of the Church but understand from our town map that it is called the Mariam Church.  I entered the Church with some of the locals to see what happens inside my first Greek Orthodox Church.  Shorts seemed to be acceptable; I did take my hat off.  No one seemed to notice that I was uncertain of the protocol.  The Church reminded me of one that would be found in Europe with the exception that there were no pews.  Worshipers seemed to walk around to the various idols and holy paintings and have discussions directly with God rather than sitting in a pew and being assisted by a priest, as has been my experience with Churches with which I am more familiar.

From the Church I passed through busy market streets selling western items and groceries, bought some fresh bread and breakfast items and returned along past the waterfront restaurants to Sylphe.  My overall impressions were that Batumi is being refurbished after harsh economic times; the people are friendly and, are embracing things Western.

At ten in the morning Maynard and Roland disappear off into town to arrange diesel. Together with a local from the boat next door, they all get in a taxi, carrying a variety of gathered jerry cans. The old battered taxi takes them to a modern gas station where we filled 100 liters of diesel in 6 different jerry cans, both in shape and in size. All is stowed in the back of the taxi and the driver does not seem to mind about his smelling luggage. Back onboard we siphon and funnel the diesel in the respective tanks and we are filled up for the 350 mile trip to Ukraine, just in case there is no wind.

The three of us take another stroll through town and we taste some of the couleur locale. Not bad and certainly a lot better off than we all had expected. Pretty much on the road of modernization. The roads are in bad shape though. ATM’s are not easily found, but you can change your dollars in a booth every other 50 meters. They do appreciate their hard currency. We have a lovely and rather extensive lunch on the waterfront, when another rain front passes through, sending everybody on the terrace running for the tables under the big umbrellas.

Old grandeur with a new use….

Some last minute shopping, internet weather check and we are ready to cast off. Again immigration comes to the boat and stamps our passports. We are impressed with the easiness of this procedure: is it the independent state or complete Georgia?? We will never find out as we will head for Ukraine: 350 miles further North West across the Black Sea, giving Russia a wide berth (not only on advice of the Georgians). At 6 in the evening we let go of the mooring ropes and turn our bow to seaward for a three day/night trip…….

29 June 2005 Batumi (Georgia) – Feodosia (Ukraine) 350 NM

350 Miles, with an average speed of 6 knots would take us some 60 hours. Taking into account that it will not be all in a straight line, we counted on 72 hours at sea; 3 days and nights. For the Med this is a big distance and the longest sailing Maynard and Strat had ever done. It would be new for them.

The weather forecast on several internet sites predicted wind exactly from the North west direction in which we had to go, a mere 10 knots on our nose. Not the prettiest thing to look forward to, but since the weather would stay like that there was no use in waiting.

So, we set off at 6 PM, only to find out that the wind was south, so we hoisted sail and with a gentle 6,5 knots sailed off in the right direction and into the night. A nice bonus to start with. We took 3 hour watches, giving a 6 hour sleep period in between. As long as there was hardly any wind 1 person on watch would be enough, and 3 hours is just enough to stay awake and not doze off on your watch. We had diner (great maynard hotdog-specials) around 10 and by 11 Maynard took the first watch.

With a complete overcastted sky there was not a single star insight. The moon, already in its smallest shape possible, would not rise until 4 AM. A real pitch dark night. Difficult to keep your orientation and rather ghostly. Roland came on watch at 1 to 4 and Strat had the morning watch from 4 to 7. Since the wind had died, we motor sailed along, in the right direction and with a speed of 6,5 knots. No problem.

At sunrise Strat could see that we would be sailing into clear blue skies and leaving the clouds behind us. The sun heated us all up and we enjoyed coffee on a relatively flat and calm sea. Thank god, no 2 meter swell, as with no wind to stabilize the boat this would have been a nightmare. Around lunchtime the wind picked up and we killed the engine. Of course the wind was direct on our bowsprit, so we tacked northbound, slowly approaching the Russian territorial waters, which we definitely wanted to avoid. No matter what we tried, tacked or did, we never came on a course closer than 60 degrees off our intended direct line to Feodosia. No disaster, but rather frustrating as this only lengthens the voyage.

For the simple reason that we can not carry enough diesel to make 350 miles on engine we had to take advantage of those hours of the day, where there was wind. At 9 in the evening the wind died again, we started the engine and went again on a straight course to Feodosia.

The first 24 hours had brought us only 120 miles in the right direction, still not bad at all.

Sailing into the sunset

Nightfall came with dinner, this time full fledged and enjoyed by all. The stars above us were mind-boggling in number and clarity and we sat there an hour or so, just looking up, expressing a philosophical thought once in a while. Three grown-ups with a lot of questions.

The same watch system brought us through a windless night under engine, until the engine made a strange noise at 6 in the morning. The revs had dropped, the speed had dropped and Strat had heard a bang. Strat was clever enough to awake Roland and alert him to the abnormality. Although Roland initially thought that there was no problem and probably just a diesel flow hiccup. The engine would rev up normally again, but the speed lagged behind; either something in the prop or a gearbox problem. Since Sylphes prop is integrated in the keel/rudder the first is rather unlikely, so we went for the gearbox. And horror, no oil left in the gearbox, although the oil was changed and topped off only three weeks earlier.

New oil was added and we started the engine and engaged. After 5 minutes the same problem: revs okay, but speed lacking. Once again we checked the oil and found the level low again. Where had the oil gone??? No apparent leaks insight. With the engine switched off and no wind at all we floated around on a mirror like sea, trying to figure out what the problem could be. Maynard and Strat took advantage and went swimming in the middle of the Black Sea, at least 70 miles from the closest land, for sure a new record. After studying books, manuals and deliberations, we started the engine again and slowly moved at a lower rev. The engine sounded okay. We checked the oil 30 minutes later and it was still okay. So, on we went checking the oil level every hour, until we were certain not to be loosing any oil at this lower rev. On a complete windless sea, mirror flat and with a blazing sun above this was going to be a long day, trotting along with 6 knots.The later conclusion was thta the oil had left through the dipstick opening, tightening the dipstick solved the problem.

We went for every piece of shade that we could find. Down below in the boat the temperature reached 31 degrees. Siestas were taken, books were read and the day only slowly passed. No wind, no waves, no swell, no other boats, but plenty of dolphins. With the sun finally loosing its force we took a glass of Georgian wine (quite good red, served cold) and toasted to yet another day at sea. The boys had found their rhythm and sea legs.

Mother and baby dolpin surface at the same time

And so the third night started, after a period of more than 30 hours of no wind at all. On one hand frustrating, on the other hand we were happy that there was no swell and making progress in the right and straight direction.

We arrive in Feodosia on July 2nd around midday with more than 50 hours running under engine out of the 64 hours at sea. We are on to our last diesel. Port Control directs us to a mooring outside the harbour to await further instructions and we are looking forward to go ashore after three days at sea and exploring a new country and its people. BUT IT WAS NOT TO BE. These countries are not welcoming visitors in the way that we expect. A second country in a row makes it difficult. Very difficult............

We are denied access and are not allowed to check in to Ukraine for reasons of Feodosia being a commercial port. The Pilot Book says it is one of the few places on the Ukrainian coats where officials know how to deal with foreign private yachts and the procedures. So far for correctnes of information. This does not look promising. But we have no choice. We are told to continue to Yalta, another 65 miles, although we already have no diesel anymore, they offer no alternative. We turn to sea again and continue a little flabbergasted.

We sail along a beautifull diversified coastline. Barren hills (what a contrtast with Georgia and Turkey), flat area, mountainridges, etc. The militairy lookout posts on virtually every hilltop are still a clear sign of the militairy past and importance of this area. And still we wonder. We see modern parasailing on the beaches, in the evening we pass a village and there is a big firework display, which we admire form the sea. All in all, the impression of a normal country. And still we are not allowed in and spend some money and time in this country....... It is approaching midnight as we get to Yalta. We'll see and find out if things improve here..

Next week more 

Ahoy

Roland, Maynard and Strat

s/y SYLPHE

www.sail-in-style.com