Circumnavigation the Black Sea Aboard Teka III: Kayra 2004

The Black Sea, home to legendary Jason and the Argonauts, Russia’s Black Sea Fleet, the Danube River, Genovese forts and Greek ruins, is only recently opening up to cruisers. KAYRA 2004 took us along for the ride!

TURKEY

BOOM! At precisely 1000 the morning of July 3, 2004, Commodore Teoman Arsay fired the cannon aboard Command Ship, MAT. We were OFF! With equal amounts of excitement and anxiety, we, aboard 37 vessels, were about to explore over 2,000 nautical miles in 64 days and dock in 34 ports in 6 countries around the Black Sea, beginning and ending in Istanbul, Turkey. Our boats ranged in size from 28’ to 63’ and flew 12 country flags. Most were mono-hulls, two were catamarans, with five powerboats, our 52’ Passagemaker, a 53’ Carver, 43’ Grand Banks, 46’ Turkish trawler and a Nordhaven 46’. The people represented 16 countries and spoke English, French, German, Turkish, and Hebrew. We had one dog and four cats; four children under 9, and guests arriving for a few days or a few weeks.

Under the leadership of our Commodore, Teoman (Teo) Arsay, we became an extended family during the summer of 2004. Teo was born in Istanbul (1934), started sailing in his teens, and has been Commodore of several Eastern Med Rallies (EMYR) and all the KAYRA, beginning in 1997. This is the fifth one. He says it takes a year to put one of these together, working with contact persons in all the countries involved. Keeping your sense of humor is a must for a Commodore’s job. Trying to “herd cats” is another way to look at the task. Add cultural differences and several languages, it is a monumental task, but he claims, a worthy one. It also helps he speaks Turkish, English, French, German, and a bit of Russian. When asked how he sees himself addressing daily problems and personalities, he says with a smile, “We are all friends.”

We had decided while crossing the Atlantic in 2001 that once in Turkey we would participate in the Black Sea Rally. All boats showed up at Atakoy Marina the last week of June to prepare; pay our fees ($435 per person plus per boat), and submit our passports for visas. For Georgia we paid $85 each, Russia, $100 each, and Ukraine, $119 each. No need for Romanian or Bulgarian visas for Americans.

Two days prior to departing we “dressed” our boats with flags. We made quite a line of flags representing the countries visited since leaving Seattle in May 1998 (about 30,000 miles under the keel). We tied #29 to the aft deck. (the shortest boat is #1, the longest #37).

Also during that week President Bush and his entourage came to Istanbul for the NATO Conference, almost locking down the whole city. Our marina is in a direct line between airport and downtown, so the road outside was designated off-limits for people other than those traveling in motorcade. The President fooled almost everyone. He landed on Air Force One, took the limo to the other side of the airport, climbed on board Marine One and flew right over the masts in the marina. I waved.

On our last evening, we attended a large outdoors banquet, complete with full moon, music, speeches, and fireworks. This was really it! We were ready to go!

Istanbul is separated into two parts, the European side and the Asian side, by the Bosphorus Strait, a fast running 25 nautical mile stretch of water jammed packed with activity. Ferries, large and small, fishing boats of all sizes, privately owned vessels, and commercial vessels plowing along in north or south-bound shipping lanes, all tended to stir up the water while we headed against the current towards the Black Sea. Add to that mix a sailing regatta on the day we traveled, and we really had to be on our toes. Normally sailing is not allowed in the Bosphorus, and understandably so. That day was an exception. As this extensive set of sailboats zig-zagged back and forth, narrowly missing each other and sometimes us, we held our breaths and searched for eddies to assist us against the current.

What made it all so wonderful was marveling at the famous skyline where the Golden Horn meets the Bosphorus. There, the Topkapi Palace, Hagia Sophia, and Blue Mosque stood proud and tall, along with many other minarets and domes of importance to Turkish people. Minarets mean the Muslim call to prayer five times a day—a distinctive sound that floats across the air; the call being picked up by others along the way, not only in Istanbul, but all across Turkey. We would see many minarets and hear their calls daily on our journey to the border with Georgia, almost 700 miles away.

At the top of the Bosphorus we turned east to begin our counter-clockwise circumnavigation of this magnificent inland sea--connected to the Aegean and Mediterranean Sea by the Bosphorus, Sea of Marmara and Dardenelles. East to west it is 630 nautical miles and north to south, 330. At its waist, Ukraine to Turkey, it measures only 144. It is deep, up to 7,260’ in places, except where the five rivers flow into it in the Ukraine. The Danube is the largest river. When all the fresh water from these rivers meets and mixes with the salt water, the oxygen is too much to decompose naturally. Therefore a layer of hydrogen sulfide develops. Below the 600’ level, so much hydrogen sulfide is produced, there is virtually no life.

This phenomenon cannot be seen. What we could see fascinated us. In places, the Black Sea was actually green! In the Bahamas, green means lean! But the depth sounder reported 110’ below the keel. At times there were two distinct colors to the water: green, then very dark black. The demarcation line showed up way ahead, looking quite black. Turning around, green water sparkled. We think it is the result of lime in the mountains making its way to the sea and creating this dramatic effect.

The north coast of Turkey has mostly fishing ports, not marinas, and at each, we anchored or med-moored (dropped our anchors, reversing and tying stern-to at the concrete wall). Soon, folk dancing, performed by local groups, had us all clapping, and even trying some Turkish dancing with them after their performance. Some evenings we had only cocktails and snacks at the welcoming ceremony; other times, a buffet dinner. Chicken, meatballs, grilled meats, Turkish torellini, sardines, and quiche were complimented by tomato and cucumber salad with yoghurt, chickpea soup, a traditional barley based dish, and copious amounts of bread. At one buffet by the seaside the table decoration was a watermelon carved to represent a turkey. Boiled eggs became the turkey’s eggs. We ate a lot of delicious watermelon for dessert along the way.

Welcoming ceremonies always included speeches by local dignitaries and giving of gifts—them to us in form of brochures or items from that region, and us to them with a KAYRA plaque. Everywhere we went, children were not afraid to try out their English on us. Some of the favorite questions were, “Where are you from?” “What is your name?” and even, “How old are you?” When adults would see us interacting with the children, that broke the ice. Just by smiling and being friendly we tried to communicate. They were all very curious and I would be too. Where are all these people from, how did they get here, where are they going, and why?

One of my favorite interactions occurred at the Eregli Navy Club where we were hosted one evening. Denis presented a KAYRA plaque to one of the Navy Officers, after which he made an impromptu speech comparing Eregli with Seattle, our home port, and the importance to the community of the Navy, pointing to the presence of Navy vessels in the harbor. During the evening we chatted with an officer and as we talked, an older man came up, stopped, looked admiringly at him, but said nothing to us. The man introduced him as “my love father—my father-in-law.”

We had some interesting and yes, embarrassing, moments along the coast. At Kefken, one cruiser dropped his anchor, started reversing towards the wall, only to learn the anchor had tangled with the chain of a large fishing vessel tied to another dock. They were going nowhere fast. Well, as quick as a wink, a local smaller fishing boat came out to help. One boy, about 12, stripped to his shorts, dove in and quickly separated the two tangled pieces and came up, spitting water, smiling broadly, but would take no money for helping. Over the journey we found med-mooring had some surprises when retrieving anchors—grocery-shopping carts, old tires, large hawser ropes, and other junk came up with the hook, as well as sometimes catching on our neighbor’s anchor.

At Cide, we anchored in a 30 knot winds coming over the hill and into the cove. Many boats already there had set their anchors 180 degrees from the now busy wind. They had to scurry up topside and get the anchors re-set. The wind started one boat zooming across the anchorage. No dinghy on board meant the crew were ashore. Whistles and horns alerted everyone to fend off the runaway boat as it passed. Men from two anchored boats jumped into dinghies to try and corral the loose vessel. Just in the nick of time the missing dinghy came charging across the harbor; people literally jumped on board and started the engine before the boat reached the breakwater. When they pulled the anchor up, it had a huge grassy mustache!

Our “Michelin Man” will not be forgotten. Thirty knot winds and 5-6’ seas two days in a row were too much for one sailboat. The mainsail blew out. When the captain went forward to try and disentangle the sail and lines lying across the deck, he got himself tangled up as well and somehow pulled on the lifejacket too. Voila! It immediately inflated and all he could say to his wife was, “I can’t move!”

Not too long into the trip several people decided an informal net each morning would assist everyone with up to date weather. We also announced birthdays. During the two month trip, 16 people celebrated starting another year. What a way to remember it! Dolphins visited us at least twice. They are indeed ambassadors of the sea, coming over to visit and performing if they so desired. They are indeed hard to photograph, but so easy on the eye for the mind to capture.

Speaking of photographs, a Cessna-type aircraft flew over the fleet the second day out to take individual photos from the air. At another time we lined up with all our flags flying (normally we only put them up in port) for a parade into a small cove where video people were awaiting our arrival. That felt like the Rose Bowl Parade, but with flags not flowers and on water, not a main street. We were celebrities everywhere we went, making the print media and television. At Samsun one of the two Abyssinian cats on one sailboat posed, then slowly sauntered down the gangplank from boat to shore with all the style of a movie star, when he saw the cameras rolling. Another boater reported that her son checked the Internet one day, only to realize the woman he saw in the pink dress dancing at a KAYRA function was his Mother.

We stopped at many ports, but Sinop Harbor turned out to be interesting. First, it is hard to enter as part of the old town wall is still underwater in the entrance. It has to be negotiated around or you have a permanent mark on your hull from a close encounter. The Commodore confessed he has three such marks. The locals have no problem with this hazard to navigation, and even when they put a marker near it, the next storm blows it away. So they give up and just let the prudent sailor beware.

Once inside we made quite the spectacle, rafted 6 deep from the wall, all flying flags. After returning from dinner that evening, we were pleased to see many townspeople wandering around investigating the boats. About 10 p.m. fireworks began and went on for quite a while, to entertain us and them. It sounded like terrorist gunfire to my sister in Florida when I held up the phone for her to listen as well.

Not only did we enjoy our ports of call with welcoming speeches, folk dances and special cocktail evening functions, we had the chance to explore inland places as well by bus. Two Ottoman towns, Safranbolu and Amasya, showed us how the houses were built and towns laid out. Streets were narrow, houses made of wood with small windows for earthquake protection, and built so no one house blocked another person’s view. In the kitchen of one Safranbolu house, set up as if people still lived there 300 years later, a pole stood in place from floor to ceiling. It had a purpose. If you could place your hands around the pole and easily twist it, everything was good. If the pole did not move, it meant the house had a settling problem. That seemed like an unusual engineering feature.

In Amasya, we saw pages from one of the five original Korans in their mosque library, as well as five well preserved mummies in the museum, listened to a Turkish music concert in the old asylum, and were bused to the old castle ruins atop the hill to survey rock tombs of the Pontic Kings across the river from that great vantage point.

On an inland trip to Ankara we spent time at the Museum of Anatolian Civilization with two college professors who walked us through history in such a way it really came to life. From Ankara we went to Hattusha to see where the Hittite peoples lived building temples and walls as early as 14th century B.C.

Three trips into the mountains gave us the chance to stretch our visual horizons vertically instead of horizontally as always the case at sea. Sumela Monastery, a now abandoned Greek Orthodox Church carved into the hillside showed us how the monks lived and worshiped in Byzantine times. We could appreciate their lofty life after we trudged about an hour up a steep switch-backed trail to reach the outer walls.

Going to Ayder and Kumbet we passed waterfalls, wild flowers, trout farms, roads with washout damage, and swinging bridges over fast running rivers that really looked unsafe, but used by many feet still today. In Ayder we met our first Turkish bagpipe. It looked like a small Turkish carpet sewn up with a mouthpiece at one end and piccolo at the other. It could make some grand music too! Scrambling up some of the lower waterfalls at Erfelek gave us a chance to meet nature face to face and try our footing on some slippery rocks with a Turkish “Robin Hood” as our guide.

Hopa, our last port in Turkey, has the honor of being at the same latitude and longtitude—41 degrees 25 minutes North and 41 degrees 25 minutes East. Sadly here we bade farewell to Turkey. Her people are among the friendliest in the world. These, along the north coast, have not been too ruined by tourists and are very happy to meet you and spend just a few minutes sharing time and space. The Polis, Jandarma (a paramilitary police force keeping the peace), Ambulans crew, and Sahil Guvenlik (Turkish Coast Guard) looked after our safety on land and at sea.

GEORGIA

Once we turned in our Turkish Transit Logs and had our passports stamped, we pointed our bows to the next country, Georgia, changing flags at Latitude 41.31.3. Batumi was the first stop. We had a grand welcome after tying up. The Prime Minister of Batumi officially greeted us, then teen-aged folk dancers put on quite a performance, from lovely ballet movements to fiery sword fights, which left flint flying as the guys jumped and turned and clashed their weapons. After a brief visit to some sights in town and a cocktail party at the Turkish Consulate’s home that evening, we returned to the pier area and mingled with the people. Batumi is the only place we had items stolen from the boats during our short stay, including a dinghy and motor cut loose from the davit and taken quietly away in the night.

At our next port, Poti, we boarded an overnight train for a trip to the country’s capital, Tbilisi. Compartments were comfortable enough, with one exception, poor ventilation. Windows in the sleeping rooms did not open and only every other one in the passageway did. No air-conditioning either. Toilet facilities at the end of our car left much to be desired, very smelly, with a non-functioning toilet seat. The trip was slow as we stopped often during the night, either to let another faster train pass, or take on more cars.

We arrived in Tbilisi after ten hours and were met by guides and buses to be whisked away for a hearty breakfast. The return train trip did not leave until 11 p.m., so we had all day to sightsee. A 4th century Persian fort, 11th century sulphur baths, cathedrals from 4th and 6th centuries, plus two prominent statues were the highlights of our day tour. King Vakhtang on his horse looks out over the town he founded, and across the river towards Mother Georgia, a sword in her right hand for Georgia’s enemies, and a goblet of wine in the other for friends.

Back again at Poti we took another land trip, this time to Kutaisi, dating back to Greek myths, about 3500 years ago. As we passed a river on its way to sea, the guide said this was probably where Jason chased the Golden Fleece and fell in love with a Georgian princess, Medea. In Kutaisi we had time to see two very old cathedrals dating back to 1003 and 1106. A communion was being held in the sanctuary of Bagrati, which had no roof; and a wedding took place in Gelati Monastery. We quietly stood in the church and watched the priest, bride, groom, and their witnesses silently perform all the choreographed movements that went along with the Russian Orthodox Church wedding. Several women in our group went through the reception line after the service, and others joined the happy couple for pictures on the church steps outside.

Overall, Georgia felt very poor, the least well-off of the six countries we visited. In town there were refugees living in a once luxury hotel in Soviet days, spilling out onto the balconies with their belongings; beggars (young and old); many men in Army uniforms, but few had guns; and men with their tools waiting by the roadside for work. From the train we saw many empty factory buildings and unused farming fields. What crops we saw were in dire need of fertilizer. We asked the guide on the way to Kutaisi if fertilizer was not available or just too expensive. Too expensive. Georgians are proud of their heritage and hard-won independence, and hopeful the future will be better.

RUSSIAN FEDERATION

Up to now we had only done day trips between ports. From now on, overnighters would occur. Our first one took us 128 nautical miles north and west to Sochi. To avoid patrolling military boats we had to stay more than fifteen miles offshore. Unrest between Russia and Georgia was the problem.

We arrived about 7:30 a.m. trying to avoid a storm closing in on us. Before we could tie our boat up, officials were breathing down on us from the wall wanting to have our passports and boat papers. We wanted to get settled first, yet this one woman Immigration Officer insisted she could board us “if we just held on to her hand” as she stepped on the end of the wiggly ladder. She managed somehow without getting hurt. Once everyone secured, the storm hit, the surge knocking many back and forth, causing damage as boats tossed together. Fortunately the Commodore received permission for some to use the ferry dock and that took the pressure off the main wall. Some anchored out; others moved, and then moved again as the fuel truck came with their delivery. It was like a three ring circus.

Weather abated early that evening so we could enjoy our festivities at the Yacht Club, a bus ride away. In the morning we went into the hills to a tea garden for a brunch, only to have the harbormaster make a phone call asking us to return to our ships—thunderstorm approaching. We did have time to enjoy some tea, bread, jam and sweets, plus be entertained by a four person orchestra. Nicholas and his tiny and tinier accordions kept us laughing.

UKRAINE

We re-supplied, completed the formalities to leave and the last boat started towards Yalta about 7 p.m. for a two night-one day passage. At first the wind blew 20 out of the west, creating seas of 6 feet or more. The Black Sea had the same phenomenon as the Med—short, nasty, choppy seas, without much wind to speak of, and without much fetch either. The wind and waves mellowed for the last half of the journey.

At the commercial quay in Yalta, again the officials were waiting and insisting on paperwork. A pattern of bureaucracy in motion became the game in these former Soviet countries. In fact, the paperwork there and again at exit formalities in Izmail, was very extensive and time consuming. In Yalta I almost created an international incident, or you would think so. I threw my bucket of laundry water overboard. One of the harbor officials happened to be at the stern of our boat, saw me do it, and commenced to yell at me, loudly. He was mad! In fact, he seemed ready to fine me on the spot! The Commodore stood there with him and came to my rescue, by saying calmly, “You did not tell us this was wrong.” He immediately pulled out his portable VHF and made an announcement, “All KAYRA yachts, this is the Commodore speaking. Do not do laundry in the port, or shampoo or shower with water going overboard!” Fortunately, I did not have to pay a fine, or go to jail, just suffer the embarrassment.

That evening we presented plaques at a restaurant before meandering down the beachfront promenade with all the locals and tourists vacationing there. At 2 a.m. I woke with a start thinking a giant squall approached. Lots of light and noise outside the boat. Once I could analyze the situation, I realized a gigantic fireworks display over the harbor created all the noise and light. It played for a half hour and had some pretty spectacular bursts. Rightly so too, as we learned the next morning it celebrated the Ukrainian President’s birthday. He also was visiting Yalta.

Our bus trip the next day took us to two very special places, the most famous, Livadia Palace, where Churchill, Stalin and Roosevelt worked out the new map of Europe after World War II. The Palace is still used today for European leaders’ conferences. Outside the Voronstov Palace on the southern steps were some marvelous marble lions looking so much alive, with the exception of my favorite, one who had his eyes closed and dreaming a special dream.

There were eight ports visited in the Ukraine, four of which had names difficult to wrap the tongue around—Chornomorskoye, a place much smaller than its name; Yevpatoriya, where we met two young ladies who had been recent exchange students in Washington State near our home port of Seattle; Nicholayev, Balaklava and Sevastopol. The last two were famous for the Russian Black Sea Fleet and closed for many years—Balaklava for its submarines and Sevastopol for the super ships. Only the sub pens remain today in Balaklava, and some navy ships in Sevastopol, but the 1999 KAYRA happened to be there at the right time to witness the Black Sea Fleet Review in July, complete with firing of live ammunition. Nicholayev, a large ship building city that was closed for a long time as well, is reached by a 45 mile trip up the Bug River. We tried to stay in a line and maintain 6 knots of speed, but the wind, current, channel switching kept jamming boats up, like 5 o’clock traffic. Instead of horns honking, voices over the VHF called out, “Can you move over?” “Speed up?” “Slow down.” At Cape Tendrov, the military swam out, actually boarded a vessel, wanting to know what we were all about.

In Sevastopol we tromped around some Greek ruins dating back to 400 B.C., witnessed another wedding at a restored church nearby, marveled at the panoramic creation depicting scenes from the Crimean War, and clapped soundly at the energetic and talented dance performance by members of the Theater of Dance. “Carmen” will never be the same again!

Odessa, the city of sunshine, is laid out so nicely with statues, parks, shaded walkways, and the famous Odessa Opera Theatre. Unfortunately it still had not finished its facelift, so we were not able to see inside. The outside looked quite grand. We saw students, in groups of four, guarding the Tomb of the Unknown Sailor overlooking the water, and listened the lovely music made just for us by members of the Odessa Philharmonic Society before leaving Katherine the Great’s mighty seaport city.

Another overnight trip of 139 nautical miles took us down to the Danube River where we met our pilot boat and started up to Izmail, our last stop in the Ukraine. It was a hot, slow journey against a 1+ knot current, but we enjoyed waving at the boys jumping from trees into the water and cooling off, fishermen on both the Romanian side and Ukranian shore, campers, and other boats that passed going the other way.

In Izmail many country flags flew from the upper floor of the harbor building. The American flag was missing and the Commodore explained that they probably didn’t have many US boats come to town. We supplied them with one, which they promptly put in place. That night at the welcoming cocktail party, the Mayor asked if I had another one for his office. I had several smaller ones, so accommodated him. The next morning when Immigration boarded and returned our passports, they also asked for an American flag for their office. We left our mark on Izmail.

ROMANIA

Tulcea became our home to tour the Delta aboard one of their tour boats. Bird life, wetlands, other tour boats, people camping along the shore, men fly-fishing and just generally relaxing as someone else did the driving was a treat that day. We left through the Sulina Canal and back out to sea for our real test of endurance.

Weather reports said gale or near gale between Sulina and Mangalia at the southern end of Romania. Indications were that the further out you went the more wind you would have; yet if you stayed close in, the fishing boats and nets would be a real hassle. At night? First we headed out, then when the seas became really rough and the wind continued to feed on itself, we turned towards shore. Five miles off shore, winds crept up to 35 or 40, and seas on the beam were over 10’. The waves had a nasty curl to them too. Our objective in turning to shore was to turn again and be downwind to surf the waves. It worked, but we were uncomfortable and concerned about the smaller sailboats whose crews had to be outside in the elements while we were warm in our pilothouse. Many boats took on water in the cockpit, even the Commodore’s 63’ ship with a high semi enclosed steering station. We were all very happy to tie up at the dock after our 146 nautical mile “dark and stormy night.”

From Mangalia a three day, two night tour into Transylvania by bus showed us highlights of the countryside, two castles—Peles, home to King Carol I, and Dracula’s Place. The real Dracula lived in the mid -1400’s in Transylvania, but he did not suck blood as depicted in stories and movies. He impaled his enemies with a vicious vengence. Bucharest, with its beautiful buildings, is called “Paris of the Balkans.” Our guide made history under the Communist dictator, Ceausescus, come alive as she described conditions the people lived under and what led to the 1989 Revolution, which most of us knew little about. Back to the ships and on to our last country.

BULGARIA

Heavy rain, thunder and lightning, plus 20 knots from the northwest accompanied us on our 49 mile trip to Golden Sands Resort. Rain and wind hindered our docking as well. Two days of bus tours showed us Varna, where we witnessed our last KAYRA wedding. This one had men in tails and top hats; women in Queen Mother hats. As he wedding guests left the church we overheard many European languages. Our second tour day took us to Arbanassi, a 16th century town with special church and unique houses, plus the capital of Second Bulgarian Empire, Veliko Turnovo. There a church on the ruins of the old citadel had wall paintings done by the Communists about 40 years ago. They were so stark and depressing, no one in our group could warm up to them.

BACK TO TURKEY

After a stop at Nessebar in Bulgaria, we pointed the bows south to Turkey. An overnight stop at Igneada let us enjoy the Commodore’s special fish dinner, and we in turn attempted to “roast” him. The skit had been developed, yet the microphone malfunctioned, so we were not as successful as we would have otherwise.

On to the Bosphorus and this time to feel the force of the current in our favor. Sometimes the knot log climbed up to 10 or 11 knots. It felt as if we flew. Rounding the corner at the bottom and returning to the marina gave us a feeling of “well done!” Our log showed total mileage of 2,042 nautical miles in which we saw a lot, met interesting people, heard languages we had not heard before, were well taken care of, and made good friends with the others in our KAYRA family.