Published in Bombardier Experience Magazine, December 2012

The most beautiful and pure blue in the world is here.

Cevat Sakir Kabaagacli, Turkish novelist Hassan is a man of few words. So when he begins shouting in Turkish early one morning and pointing to a spot off the stern, I spring to my feet and crowd the rail. The bonito are jumping: Dozens of rainbow bodies shimmer in the sun, then plunge back into the chalky blue water off Turkey’s Aegean coast. Hassan, a deckhand who moonlights as the ship’s cook, reaches for a fishing rod, while the captain veers starboard to cut off the fleeing school. I cup my hands over my eyes and scan the water. Nothing. Then, with a wild burst, Hassan’s reel clicks to life. The struggle that ensues is brief. “Dinner,” he says two minutes later in accented English, dropping the foot--?long fish in a bucket before descending merrily to the galley.

We’re a two--?days’ sail out of the seaside city of Bodrum aboard the 115--?foot--?long Casa Dell’Arte II, a traditional Turkish gulet that I’ve chartered for the week with captain and crew. Handsome two--?masted schooners, built of mahogany and decked in teak, gulets have sailed the country’s Aegean and Mediterranean coasts for hundreds of years. Long favored by fishermen and sponge divers, these boats are also the vessel of choice for Turkey’s fabled Blue Cruise: a weeklong voyage along some of the most secluded and storied stretches of the coast.

“The Blue Cruise is a process,” writes Turkish novelist Azra Erhat, who in 1962 penned the seminal travelogue about the experience, Mavi Yoculuk – Turkish for Blue Cruise. “It not only shows us the heavenly corners of the world. It shows us how to merge with the world.” For generations of adventure--?seeking Turks, the voyage has represented an almost spiritual rite of passage – a way to connect with sea and sky, the distant past and ageless rhythm of seafaring life. Now growing numbers of international travelers like me are climbing aboard, eager for a glimpse of an ancient coast and time--?honored way of sailing.

“A gulet is different than a yacht or a sailboat,” explains Adlen Adali, a silver--?haired native of Crete whom everyone on board the boat simply calls Captain. With a quiet, brooding aspect befitting a sea captain, Adali’s azure eyes brighten when talk turns to his ship. “The wood is so warm and alive. And she moves so lightly through the water,” he says, turning the wheel a few degrees to trace the contour of the coast. The sleek hull of the gulet, its twin masts and raised bow indeed make for ideal sailing. At the moment, however, winds are light and we’re motoring along at a brisk nine knots, powered by the ship’s dual Cummins 455 horsepower engines. Low, dry hills covered with pines and olive trees sweep by. Our route in the days ahead will bring us deeper and deeper into the waters of Gokova Bay, along shores settled by ancient Greeks and Persians, through seas immortalized by Herodotus and into harbors besieged by everyone from Alexander the Great to the Crusaders. Squinting through the day’s glare, Adali points to an island rising in the distance where Antony is said to have rendezvoused with Cleopatra some two millennia ago.

For all the rich history of the seas here, the Blue Cruise itself is a recent innovation. In 1924, Turkish literary lion and iconoclast Cevat Sakir Kabaagacli was exiled to this distant coast by the government for his incendiary political writings. Confined to house arrest in a crumbling, 15th--?century castle, he managed to slip away regularly, hitching rides to sea aboard the gulets of local sponge divers. When literary friends came to visit, Kabaagacli dragged them along, setting out for weeks at a time into the blue waters with little more than bread, cheese, tobacco and copious amounts of raki, Turkey’s anise--?flavored national spirit.

Today’s cruises are a bit better outfitted than the originals. Still handmade right in Bodrum, contemporary gulets boast hardwood--?paneled cabins with ensuite baths, spacious decks for sunbathing and the amenities of a boutique hotel. Luxe versions have been chartered by a laundry list of Oscar winners, rock stars and Istanbul elite. The Casa Dell’Arte II, no slouch herself, accommodates 10 in five enormous staterooms. There’s a formal dining room below deck, an outdoor saloon in back and a sundeck up front, not to mention a jet ski and a ski boat on board. While Captain Adali steers our course, I decamp to the shady aft deck with a frosty Efes, Turkey’s ubiquitous pilsner. At this time of day, it’s little mystery why the voyage is called a Blue Cruise. The sea shimmering below is pure indigo, glowing dark and rich in the afternoon sun.

The metallic clang of the anchor dropping announces our first stop of the day. We’ve turned into the narrow neck of English Harbor, one of countless coves that lace this section of coast. During World War II, this inlet, barely visible from sea, sheltered British warships from enemies. Today, its mirror--?calm waters make the perfect spot to stop for lunch. Ahead, three gulets are already floating in the turquoise shallows, their passengers clustered at tables on deck. Sounds of laughter and clinking glasses carry over the water.

With the anchor secured, Hassan trundles up from the galley with a parade of Turkish mezes: tomato, cucumber and walnut salad; yogurt with roasted eggplant; grape leaves stuffed with spiced meat, plates of fresh cheeses. “Turkey has more than 600 mezes,” says Serkan Ozel, the ship’s first mate, who also doubles as server. “You could spend a year here and never eat the same one.” He retreats below and returns with a plate of borek, fried pastry filled with cheese and dill, and a bottle of red wine from central Turkey. Ozel has a head full of windblown curls and is built like a Greek wrestler. Over lunch, he explains that he’s one exam away from his captain’s license and hopes to pilot in these same seas. “It’s like nowhere else in the Mediterranean,” he says. “There’s just one hidden cove after another. There could be hundreds of boats along the coast and it feels like you have the sea to yourself.”

In the early days of blue cruising, exiled author Kabaagacli nearly did have the sea, and the sleepy village of Bodrum, to himself. “Back then, Bodrum was still an unknown fishing village. There were camels in the street,” explains Oguz Alpozen, the city’s de facto historian, whom I met up with before setting sail. He served for 27 years as museum director of Bodrum’s historic castle: the very same castle where decades before a young Kabaagacli had been imprisoned. “The amazing thing is he was able to turn his prison into a paradise,” Alpozen says. “He grew to love Bodrum.”

After his three--?year confinement was up, Kabaagacli opted to stick around for another quarter--?century: sailing, cultivating lush gardens and writing about his adventures in a string of classic novels. He adopted the sobriquet Fisherman of Halicarnassus, a reference to Bodrum’s ancient Greek name, and regularly hosted an inner circle of Turkish writers and intelligentsia.

Buoyed by literary tributes, Bodrum shed its reputation as a somnolent backwater. Archaelogists descended on the village to excavate its ancient ruins, including the spectacular 2,300--?year--?old tomb of King Mausolus, considered one of the original Seven Wonders of the World. Later came royalty of a different kind: Atlantic Records fabled founder, Ahmet Ertegun, bought a lavish beach property here in the ‘80s, vaulting Bodrum to the forefront of the international celebrity scene. Jet--? setting Istanbullus made the city a requisite summer stop, thronging the marina with yachts and keeping the party going until dawn at seaside discos.

These days, Bodrum’s cobblestone streets and whitewashed inns are thronged during the summer months with lobster--?red package tourists from Russia and Britain. Neighboring coves are studded with exclusive resorts, including the seven--? star Rixos Premium, catering to more discriminating clientele. And the once quiet harbor is now a veritable thicket of masts, with hundreds of gulets – from posh to plain – vying for passengers. “Bodrum has changed,” concedes Alpozen, who remembers getting around by donkey when he first arrived 50 years ago. “but the water is still so clear, so crystal. That hasn’t changed.”

Back on the gulet, mid--?day heat makes the water hard to resist. I toe my way out to the tip of the prow and look into the turquoise glimmering ten feet below. Bodies hurtle by me as the crew dive off, breaking the silence of the afternoon with their splashes. The water, when I muster the nerve to jump in, is bracing. I grab a mask and fins, hoping to spot ruins in the shallows but find only a few curious fish. After a while, Ozel waves me back in from the ship’s boarding stairs. He helps me up and hands over a towel. “The wind is picking up,” he says. “Captain says it’s time to sail.”

With surprising grace, Ozel clambers up the mizzenmast, tiptoes out onto the boom and unzips the sail. Then he joins burly Hassan on deck and they put their backs into the halyard, hoisting furiously. Captain Adali cocks an eye at the unfurling sail, turns the wheel sharply and tacks into the breeze. In short time, the gulet is skimming across the water. Without the low rumble of the engine, there is no sound but waves, wind and the soft crash of the boat through the water. I think of Kabaagacli cruising all those years ago. “The sea was burning blue,” he wrote famously, “a blue and green so deep and sweet it could enchant not only people but walls and stones.”

The sun is sinking red in the western sky by the time we drop anchor for the night off an archipelago called Seven Islands. The aft--?deck table is laid with linen and formal place settings for dinner, but we’re all barefoot, still in sun--?bleached shirts and swimming shorts. “The best thing about sailing is you never have to get dressed up,” says Ozel, who has emerged from below deck with the morning’s bonito, now fileted, grilled and plated with parsley and, as is Turkish custom, a hunk of red onion. Out comes a bottle of raki, which pours clear but turns cloudy with water and is deceptively potent. More mezes – and more raki – follow, each round preceded by a hearty “Serefe,” Turkish for cheers.

By the time plates are cleared, the moon has risen in the east, casting a glimmering trail across the water. Spent from a day of sea and sun, I say goodnight to the crew and head below deck. Another perk of gulet sailing: an extravagance of space unheard of on sailboats. I pass through the roomy saloon, down a long hallway paneled in mahogany and into my stateroom, which is less a cabin than a hotel suite, with a king bed calling my name. Lulled by the soft pitch of the sea, I’m asleep in minutes.

Several days and a few hundred nautical miles later, the twin towers of Bodrum’s iconic castle rise up once more on the horizon. The town that captivated Sakir Cevat Kabaagacli nearly a century ago spreads above the bay – row upon row of whitewashed, flat--?roofed homes marching up the hillside. Captain Adali slows the ship as we glide into the marina, past sailboats and luxury yachts packed side by side in their slips. At one point, we cruise by a tiny gulet on its way out for the day, barnacles clinging to its weathered hull and back deck barely big enough for a card table. I’m reminded of Kabaagacli’s most famous lines: “Don’t think you’ll leave Bodrum as you arrived./ Others thought so but left their souls behind.”

Gulet Cruising in Bodrum, Turkey Stay:

Located in pine--?forested Zeytinlikahve Cove, outside the madding crowds of Bodrum, the 362--?room Rixos Premium is regarded as the finest resort on a coastline dotted with exclusive accommodation. Rooms are appointed in a contemporary Turkish style emphasizing silks, ceramic tiles and dark, hardwood furniture. Apart from a guests--?only white sand beach, the resort also features private cabanas on its own tiny island just meters off--?shore. Perched over the sea, the airy cabanas can be rented by the day and come with drink service and even have LCD TVs.

Seven onsite restaurants at Rixos offer cuisine ranging from local comfort food (mezes, pizza--?like pides and manti, a Turkish variant of ravioli) to sophisticated Mediterranean dining and contemporary Asian fusion. Guests can also experience a traditional Turkish bath at the spa, sip strong tea and smoke Turkey’s iconic nargileh water pipes at the outdoor garden café or sample Bodrum’s vibrant nightlife at bars and clubs spread through the expansive resort.

For a more intimate experience, the hotel also offers private villas. These two--?story manses with private pools are set on a lush hillside overlooking the Aegean. Decorated in lavish Ottoman style, with fine carpets, marble accents and crystal chandeliers, the villas feature dedicated butler service, as well as maids’ and cooks’ quarters. www.rixos.com/rixos--?premium--?bodrum

Dine: Blessed with fresh ingredients from land and sea, Bodrum boasts plenty of traditional fish--?and--?meze restaurants, as well as edgy kitchens serving sophisticated updates on the classics. At the elegant, open--?air Macakizi Restaurant (part of the hotel of the same name) emphasis is on exquisite seafood that blends Turkish and Mediterranean flavors. Sharing a plate of grilled octopus or tuna carpaccio under a canopy of olive trees at the ocean’s edge makes for one of the more memorable meals anywhere on the coast. www.macakizi.com

The consummate Bodrum dining experience requires a visit to Meyhane Street, an outdoor arcade in the city lined with dozens of Turkish--?style tavernas and fresh fish markets. Diners first choose a fish from the markets, which is then delivered to their taverna of choice. While the catch of the day grills, waiters make the rounds with trays of mezes – appetizers ranging from stuffed zucchini blossoms to smoked eggplant puree. Roving Turkish minstrels and lots of free--?flowing raki, Turkey’s anise--?flavored national spirit, complete the vibrant and surprisingly non--?touristy scene.

Do: Multiple operators in Bodrum charter luxury gulets for Blue Cruises lasting from a week to a month or longer. Several of the finest yachts in local waters belong to Casa Dell’Arte, a seafront boutique hotel with a small but enviable fleet. Their 27--? and 35--?meter gulets accommodate up to 10 passengers and have enormous teak decks, formal saloons and mahogany--?paneled staterooms with ensuite baths. Charters are piloted by the hotel’s experienced captain and serviced by an onboard chef and waiter, as well as the deck crew. www.casadellartebodrum.com