Confined spaces do not often make for harmonious family vacations — unless, apparently, they are the close quarters of a gulet, a traditional Turkish wooden yacht, and you are sailing along the Turquoise Coast. I recently spent a week doing just this, with my aunt, uncle, cousins and husband, on the Zephyria II. We sailed from Gocek to Bodrum, a trip commonly referred to as “the Blue Voyage.” Some people come to Turkey because it’s the land of Homer, others for the Greek, Roman and Byzantine ruins. I came for the water — the pellucid Mediterranean, alternating between shades of blue and green. I’m not sure why it isn’t declared a wonder of the world.
Being on the gulet, to quote the writer John Flinn, is like the life of a dog: “You swim, you eat, you get taken for walks.” With every need taken care of by the capable crew, I dare you to try being anxious or stressed. The only big decisions of the day are when to take a swim and how many salted almonds to snack on between meals.
Topographically, this part of the Mediterranean is a close cousin of the Amalfi Coast, but there is more of an undiscovered, rustic feel in Turkey, as very few of its coastal towns are anywhere near as built up as Positano. For vast stretches there are no signs of civilization at all, save the odd Turkish flag planted on a hillock, a family of goats skipping along the rock ledges, or clusters of stone ruins.
On the gulet, meals are the big event. In between sumptuous feasts of Turkish meze, the days are filled with activities like swimming in a semi-submerged ancient Roman bath where Cleopatra is rumored to have taken a dip. One evening, Ismael, our sturdy captain, sailed us to a tranquil anchorage behind Gemiler Island. We hiked to the top, stopping along the way to see the ruins of Byzantine-era churches. The sun set in shades of lavender.
The next morning we arrived at Butterfly Valley. There weren’t any butterflies, which evidently avoid the tourist season, but there were towering cliffs on either side of a secluded slice of beach. We dove in from the ladder of the boat and frog-kicked to shore. By the third day, I had only started to get slightly inured to my physical surroundings. “Oh, another beautiful cove,” I thought, looking up from my Kindle. Another morning, we landed at Ekincik Bay, which is known as “hidden paradise” — words that could have described just about any place we’d been over the previous few days.
About mid-week, we arrived in Dalyan, a town known for its blue crabs and arresting stone tombs carved into the side of a cliff. All nine of us loaded onto a riverboat that took us through the Dalyan Delta. On our temporary floating home, we motored through the wetlands, later ordering a freshly baked crab from another boat. Some visitors come to Dalyan for 10 to 15 days of mud baths. Asked about the mud’s benefits, our tour guide replied, “Your skin will look like a baby’s bottom.” Though I was advised that a single bath would not accomplish this goal, I nonetheless slathered myself in the mud, withstanding the unpleasant smell of sulfur in pursuit of soft, perfect skin. (I’m not sure it did much.) Afterward, we swam in a vast, emerald-colored freshwater lake called Koycegiz, and I forgot about everything.
In Datca, a town situated on a serpentine peninsula south of Bodrum, the call to prayer was drowned out by booming techno music emanating from a nearby beach populated with scantily clad Turkish vacationers. We saw our final batch of ruins in Knidos — the remnants of an ancient Doric port — then set off for Mersincik Bay, another breathtaking cove with crystal clear water. On our last day, we went to Black Island, directly across from Bodrum, and swam in hot springs. Cleopatra is purported to have spent three years there, hiding from the Romans and taking mineral baths every day.
That night, we dropped anchor about four miles from Bodrum. As we fell asleep on the rear deck, under the moon and stars, the bass of discotheques thumped gently in the distance. Unlike the water of the Turquoise Coast, Bodrum, we learned the following day, is better viewed from afar. Though you can get all your Gucci knockoffs there, we were quickly reminded of what had become our maxim: life is at its best on the gulet.