Team DK is chilling on the island of Sardinia.
Because we have more internet access this summer/fall in the Med, we won't be "blogging" as much on this site, but instead we will keep uploading stories and images on our website.
We are trying not to be such writing slackers anymore and will do our best to keep it happening.
New story on Sicily just posted.
Enjoy and Happy Summer to all our people.
Sorry we haven't been blogging for a while, but sometimes we just get lazy writing like the best of 'em.
However, if you never check our website, you should, as we did just recently post a little story with photos about our time in the Greek Islands with our crazy Aussie mate, Hardy.
If you haven't been there before, here's the link:
www.svdreamkeeper.com
We are getting ready to shove off from Sicily in the wee hours of the morning and hoping to slide under a steaming volcano in the Aeolian Islands (just north of Sicily) by tomorrow night. We are gaining weight quickly eating too much gelato and pizza in these parts....time to keep moving...
Much love to you all from the salts
Ciao!
Gar took one look at me and knew I'd rather run. So we headed back in search of our friends Anne, Uwe, and Cara on the sailboat Magnum, hoping to share a lovely anchorage, swim and a beer. We met them right in front of the anchorage to turn in after a fantastic downwind sail. Anchoring in Turkey we have learned is an adventure as I mentioned before. This day was no different.
Once we were properly hooked and our stern was tied off to two rocks Gar went to help Magnum. I watched as the wind continued to pipe up, side-gusting the tight anchorage at times to 33 knots or more. Sometimes one of our stern lines would go slack and it seemed we were moving perilously close to the underwater boulder downwind of our keel. I mentioned it to Gar but I often have a poor sense of depth and distance. Finally, two hours later after numerous gusts, while he was climbing back onboard after trying to help Magnum anchor, he saw it too.
He scrambled up the ladder, yelling to me to start the engine and release the lines. "Get a knife, get a f-ing knife," he urgently yelled. We were within two inches of our keel hitting the boulder when he got on board. Time was running out. Ahh, this is one of those times we should have had our knife in the cockpit. I dug through drawers and came up empty handed for the reliable knifes we use especially for times like this. Instead I brought up our sharpest and best kitchen cleaver to do the job. Our twelve strand mega-braid line blew apart on the end from the pressure and the cut. We were free, DK pulled away from the rocks unscathed and we were a bit shaken. We thought our anchor was bomber, but the ferocious side gusts must have slowly dislodged us.
So, there were two laughs in one day. We were too worried about the gusts to think it was wise to stay unnecessarily in the anchorage and wanted a peaceful night so we sailed back into Marmaris Bay from where we had departed early the same morning. We had a full day adventure out from sunset to sunrise, wind-whipped, sun-baked, and exhausted from it all.
We spent two nights deeply dug into mud and sea grass while jet skis did donuts around us and we got boat projects done.
July 16th and he smiled. We were at last in Greece, Simi harbor. Check in was easy. There were tourists and mega yachts and fishing boats and sailboats and motor yachts from all over Europe anchored in the tiny harbor. We were reminded again of how much we love Greece. The little towns with quaint buildings tumbling down to the sea, the narrow cobblestone alleys, leading us to other gems, the old ladies selling herbs of chamomile, thyme, rosemary, and oregano on door stoops, and the views from the choras. We could see through the tourists and the commercialism of the height of summer and embrace our return to Greece.
Our two days in Simi we wandered around on foot and motor bike, sampling drinks at sunset, and mezzes for lunch, fish and calamari for dinner. Winding our way along the island roads we were often hit with sweltering hot gusts of air and scorched by the sun on our backs. We searched for swimming spots and found many stunning ones tucked along the undulating rocky coast. We talked to goats and soaked in the Aegean Sea.
For some reason, this sea reminds us of a lake. It is clear, deep blue and cold, less salty than the oceans we're used to and so refreshingly inviting. Without it the Mediterranean would be miserable in the summer. With it within reach almost at all times it feels like a delicious summer.
We are now at the island of Kos, anchored in Kamari Bay and awaiting the arrival of our friend, Hardy, from Sydney, Australia. He'll be with us on DK for a week. We're hoping for favorable winds, lots of buffoonery, good talks, laughs and random adventures.
I know I don't have much time because if a big gust comes we will be in the wrong place with severe consequences or Gar will have to gun DK forward and out of harm's way and we will have to repeat the process again. There are black sea urchins, and sharp limestone boulders and horns, lying below the surface like giant crocodile teeth, and standing like sentries along the shore like mini mountain peaks. I seem to choose the biggest ones and usually use all of our 30 foot line to wrap the the girth of the rocks before Gar can tighten the stern line and finish the process.
Someone once told me, "If you want to make God laugh, tell him your plans." I'm not a religious person but in this circumstance this quote seems entirely appropriate. You see, we never planed to coming to Turkey. Our plan was to leave Israel and check into Simi Greece, 4 days later. We had a surprisingly nice sail for three hundred and some miles. It wasn't DreamKeeper rebelling against our route with some broken part, or the fierce Meltemi winds driving us to the Turkish coast, but our own physiology that forced us to detour and make landfall at Finike, Turkey.
We have been lucky so far. We carry a first aid kit big enough to treat most diseases, viruses, infections, and small traumas. We are both trained in wilderness medicine. For four years we have responsibly re-upped on our 15 or so prescriptions and been lucky enough to dig into our kit only for simple things: band aids, bactroban, and advil. This time, our first aid kit was of no use. Twice in two and a half days Gar had intense pain in his upper abdomen that spread to his chest and severely reduced his breathing. Both times he called me into the cockpit gasping for breath and clutching his stomach and chest worried he might pass out. Gar never calls me for anything. This was intense. When it happened the second time and we were 18 miles past Finike, Turkey, we turned the boat around and ran for the marina.
I was scared, we both were. We were lucky to be so close to shore the second time and to be able to pull in. We have to give props to Osman, the marina manager and his team, who were great at expediting our paperwork, escorting us to the community hospital, and helping us in any way they could. By the following morning we were checked into Turkey and booked on a flight to Istanbul, headed to the American Hospital for tests and an appointment with the gastroenterologist.
The doctors and care at the American Hospital couldn't have been better. Within three hours Gar had seen two doctors, had blood work and results back, an EKG, Ultra Sound, and x-rays and was scheduled for an endoscopy the next morning. We can't imagine how long it would have taken or how expensive it would have been to get those tests done in the States. Thankfully all of Gar's tests came back normal and he hasn't had another incident since off shore Finike. Sometimes happy accidents really do happen.
For the last couple of months Gar and I have been struggling a bit. Our life is sometimes dreamy like most people imagine, yet sometimes the reality of it comes crashing in and it is like life anywhere else. The truth is, we were both fried on the boat, taking each other for granted, and kind of going through the motions of our life without the joy and passion we usually bring to it. It all shifted when the stability of our lives was challenged.
Turkey reinvigorated and revived us in a way we desperately needed and didn't realize we did. Everything shifted. Our senses were heightened and everything was good. We could see through the crowds of Turkish gulet boats and tourists and loved our little nooks of anchorage spots despite having two to five neighbors. The landscape welcomed us like a familiar friend, hills climbing out of the sea, layered in limestone rock and identifiable trees. The sea was invigoratingly chilly and friendly, reminding us of dips in Lake Tahoe. A giant green sea turtle visited me on my birthday.
We are reviling in summer. We splurged on ice creams from the ice cream boat. We're loving going on lazy swims in picturesque anchorages, suckling sweet peaches and painted apricots, having late dinners and early mornings and celebrating life and summer long days. We are lovingly embracing life again with our eyes and hearts wide open.
