Turkey ...Sailing Turkey and weaving in and out of the Greek Islands on our holiday-Sailing Turkey ,Sailing Turkey, Sailing Turkey, Sailing Turkey ,Sailing Turkey!!!

Some of the 2014 season we will be sailing the coast of Turkey weaving in and out of the Greek Islands along the coast of Turkey, Come join us for and Adventure of a life time , book your trip today space is limited ! 

Special 1 week 4 persons $5995 USD includes 2 meals a day 

 Here's a story from a recent charter client--After arriving to the Yacht and Being Greeted by Capt Ram and Crew we were tired and stated falling to sleep-zzz-the following morning I  found myself, in a disorienting dreamland, eventually realizing I was being called to prayer by the muezzin of the local mosque. It would be only the first of many times that the religious and the secular, East and West, ancient and contemporary Turkey would combine to make this a sailing trip like no other.

My sailing companions and I had varying reasons for traveling so far to go sailing last June. The skipper, Capt Ram, who spends most of the year in the Greek Islands , knew that the Carian coast, in southwestern Turkey roughly between Bodrum and Marmaris, is Turkey's most popular sailing area, thanks to its large, protected gulfs, secluded bays and coves, tranquil waters and wild coastlines. Not to mention ideal weather and, more often than not, wind. So he was spending his summer skippering in Turkey  and Greek Islands one of the few American boats in these waters — Sailing-Charters.org was emblazoned on the stern, the Stars and Stripes waved on the port side.

We set sail from Turgutreis, on the western side of the Bodrum Peninsula, and headed for the Gulf of Gokova, a national park area stretching some 45 miles east from Bodrum, where the warm, salty water ranges from brilliant turquoise to seductive sapphire. Pine-clad mountains unmarred by human development enclose every view, and few other boats spoil the fantasy that the water is all yours and only yours.

The waves were frothy, the wind 15 to 20 knots — "a sailor's dream," Capt Ram said. He stood at the helm and told Sitar when to raise the main sail.  Kim and I at first just tried to stay out of the way. But soon we got our first lessons in learning to raise the sails with the winch and how to tie, or cleat, the ropes to hold them. Soon we were zipping along at more than 8 knots, a gentle rock, a no heel catamaran and the first taste of sea spray on our already-browning faces.

OUR plan was to go where our moods took us. After all, the advantage of sailing a boat like ours is the freedom to check out any island, visit any village or overnight in any isolated cove, all at our own pace. We were sharing the gulf with other sailboats, some private, some chartered,  but all with modern amenities.

But then we got to Cokertme, a small bay fronted by three restaurants, a magical little hamlet one might miss it if your not looking hard-As we approached, two small motorboats raced out to meet us, each with a man waving wildlytoward his own restaurant. We chose one — the one with the skull-and-crossbones pirate motif, the Rose Mary — and they helped us moor at a wooden jetty before ushering us into thesimple, open-air restaurant First, we went into the kitchen to check out the array of homemade mezes — octopus salad, smoked eggplant salad, tomato-chili salad — before being led into the walk-in refrigerator to  choose our fish from the fresh-caught supply. We settled on a giant sea bass, and soon the

 waiter approached for the voilà moment, displaying a large platter featuring the simply grilled whole  fish, served with nothing but a lemon-olive oil

sauce, a few French fries and a tomato-cucumber salad. It was so fresh and perfect that we fought over every last bite — including the head.

Another irresistible temptation was a mysterious cafe at the end of the quay. A seriously exotic place,

apparently owned by Turkish communists (check out the bookshelves), it was literally a nomad's tent

perched on the dock above the sea. "There's not many places sailors can experience desert culture,"

said Kim, as we removed our shoes and settled into the cushions and carpets on the floor.  

Each table had its own water pipe, but our intoxicant of choice is raki, the Turkish anise liquor

that's less heavy and sweet than ouzo. Even more intoxicating, a group of young men begin to

play the seven-string tambur and other classical instruments and sing Ottoman court songs.

Not to be outdone, husband and wife customers break out their own three-string instruments and

harmonize on traditional Anatolian folk songs. As the only non-locals in the place, the others

having come down from the nearby village,  we marvel at what the vessel Sailing-Charters.org-

has already shown us. Talking with the cafe's owner, we realize it wasn't too

 long ago that areas

like this depended on the sea for their livelihood, transportation and

 communications. Roads are

an afterthought here.

And we are even more thrilled to be traveling by boat.

The next morning, Sitar and I took the dinghy to the

next cove for a swim in the pristine waters, the

 pebbly beach all ours save for a village family on

a picnic. Covered head to toe, they were nonetheless seemingly unbothered by our bikinis.

The dinghy was our own little water taxi. At other times and places, it would whisk us across the bay

where we moored by the market. Just a few local ingredients and Sitar would whip up an incredible

breakfast of lightly fried Turkish eggs in a blanket of spiced feta cheese.

Some days, the wind was weak and we'd have to motor. Capt Ram taught us how to read the nautical chart, map the

 coordinates of where we were

 headed and load them in the G.P.S. system.

 Most often, though, we navigated by sight and by the sailing bible for this area, Rod Heikell's "Turkish Waters and Cyprus

 Pilot."

A week on a boat means lots of time talking to your mates and lots of time thinking. There's no better quiet than that of

lapping waves, no

 better invitation to contemplation than miles of blue or, at night, acres of stars. As we spent one late night sipping raki out

 on the deck,

Capt Ram and Sitar talked about the adventures that come with living abroad. I want to come back to Turkey some day," I

 said. "Turkey deep  down is an Eastern culture where relationships matter; in the West it is less so. This can make things very

 slow, and maddeningly inefficient. But to me, it is a warmer kind of existence that I started to appreciate after living here a

 few weeks" In the gulf, we always had shore in sight, but we never knew what was around the next bend or behind the next

 island. A hidden cove would suddenly reveal a gaggle of anchored gulets.

 Floating slowly up for a closer look, there was an inescapable feeling of entering a pirates' lair.

Timelessness began to be palpable, as this place had looked and felt pretty much like this since the days when a succession of Carians, Dorians, Persians, Greeks, Romans, Byzantines and Ottomans all sailed here. Odysseus was here, I imagine. Cleopatra was definitely here, they say, at Cleopatra's Beach — so named because the Egyptian queen once lived on Castle Island and, legend has it, Antony imported enough sand from Africa to make a beautiful white beach for her to sunbathe on. But after a hot hike around the castle and amphitheater ruins, wewent for a swim. And it's incredibly beautiful. As we pulled into Sogut and the Gokova Sailing Club, its lovely stone clubhouse hidden among the pines, visions of a luxurious interlude with real  showers danced in our heads. Decidedly upscale, though a modest intrusion on its surroundings, the club has members like the general manager of Microsoft Turkey and Sadun Boro, a national hero since he became the first Turk to circumnavigate the world in his small sailboat, the Kismet, in 1968.

Capt Ram noticed that the Kismet was moored about five spots down from us. The manager told us about the owners of the club, a Turkish sailor, his British wife and their children, who made the second Turkish sail around the world, in the late 1980's. The large map inthe restaurant that traces their route is the stuff of dreams. On a smaller scale, our own sailing dreams were finally fulfilled. On our last full day, the wind graced us with its 15-knot presence for hours. The novices had learned to help raise and trim the sails, and we all got to practice helming through some challenging waves.

It was so sublime, in fact, that it replaced the memory of previous days' motoring with the sound of only wind and waves, the sight of soaring

sails and the feeling of empowerment that comes from harnessing nature for your own ends.

Arriving in the Yedi Adalari, or the Seven Islands, our only quandary was which of the stunning coves to call home for the night. Choosing

one called Bekar, we had it all to ourselves, not aboat, dock or restaurant in sight, only a semicircle of protective pines and a vista of receding islands.

No provisions were available there, but we had stocked up — crusty loaves of bread, feta cheese, spicy cured beef (pastirma), melons, olives,

local olive oil and quince preserves, as well as very drinkable Turkish wine and, of course, raki. As the sun went down and an appropriately

Turkish crescent moon rose, we sat on the deck, having bonded in the way that only four people in a small boat could in a short amount of

time, eating, drinking and talking for hours. A heaven full of stars twinkled on the still-as-glass water, and we gazed up at the similarly sparkling lights of the Sailing-Charters.org mast, toasting our luck that she had brought us safely to so wondrous a place.

We loved Turkey and traveled inland along with the coastal sailing, a true holiday of a life time Thanks Capt. Ram!