Looking back on it all, all the days seem blur in to one. Basically I spent my time swimming, drinking, reading, eating, snorkeling, fishing, and then repeating the cycle with a great bunch of people.
I guess there was one particular moment of note though. After mooring in a bay for our final night on the water with about 20 other boats we found ourselves taking a water taxi to a bar.
Firstly, I should explain that this is not the kind of terrain that one would expect a bar to exist in, a rocky but calm bay on the Mediterranean coast of Turkey only accessible via boat, and utterly devoid of people. In fact it seems like this is the last place someone would put a bar. I guess no one told the owners of Smugglers Inn.
On arrival the said owners of Smugglers Inn 'treated' the crowds of people to a selection of pop music from various times in the last thirty years. You know the kind of music that everybody knows the words to and screams at the top of their lungs and dances like flocks of headless chickens to? So um yeah that's basically what we did for a few hours. Eventually in the early hours of the morning, sweating and laughing, we caught the water taxi back to our boat.
But our hardy drinking souls had not quite finished yet, no not when there were still cold beers on the boat to drink and pop songs still fresh in our minds. During this final beer someone had a fantastic idea (well all ideas at this stage of a big night out are fantastic), Lets streak! This so-called 'fantastic idea' was later attributed to me, however to this day I disagree to it being my idea personally, in my opinion it was more of a group decision arrived at collectively after some rigorous democratic debate.
Either way there were ten very drunk and very naked people in the Mediterranean that night. However there was one problem, the definition of streaking implies that one first get naked and then run around stupidly in front of people who are not, as we were, in a state of undress. Where the hell were we going to find such people in the dead of the night? let alone somewhere to simply 'run around stupidly' while swimming in the middle of the bloody Mediterranean?
The answer was quickly discovered after some more 'rigorous democratic debate'. 'Hey look a boat' someone shouted, 'lets go' added another. So there we were, drunk, naked as the day we were born, and about to climb aboard another boat with the intention to 'run around stupidly'. Climbing aboard presented no real problem, they had conveniently left a ladder down so that we could do so. The problem was that unlike the pirates of time gone by, we were neither stealthy, ruthless, or indeed cunning. Between us our pirate skills amounted to drunkenness, loudness and an exceptionally high quality of stereotypical pirate-like quotes.
'Hand over ye booze and women ye scurvy scoundrel, or I`ll keel haul ye and throw ye bloody remains to the sharks, ARRRRGHH'
Hence with only one of us on board the ladder was withdrawn and one unlucky soul was made to unceremoniously walk the plank. We returned defeated but defiant to our own boat and slept soundly, the subject of our dreams being similar to your average Wilbur Smith novel.
Finally, a collective sigh was uttered as peace reigned again over the Mediterranian, ...
Boat trip photos here:
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