With Paul in Pirate Ports

#4

I promised to share why the section of coastline in the area I am in between Antalya to the northeast and Bodrum to the west, is famous. Besides being the most beautiful coastline of Turkey, there are two other reasons for its fame: shipwrecks and pirates. These represent two distinct hazards Paul faced when working his way along this same stretch of coastline by ship. This is the stretch that Mark Wilson and I explored this week.

“Shipwrecks, sure,” you say. “Right there in Acts 27. But pirates?” In 2 Cor. 11:26 Paul lists the hazards of travel he has endured. “In perils of waters,” he writes, then next, “in perils of robbers.”  I am thinking that in spite of the famous “victory” over piracy led by the great general Pompey in 67 B.C. with a fleet of 500 ships and which lasted three months, that lingering pockets of opportunist piracy could well have been a hazard that Paul encountered. The coastline, as some of the photos will show, is ideal pirate coastline filled with tiny, remote, hidden anchorages, islands, and reefs. The number of shipwrecks along this stretch of coast discovered over the past decades demonstrate the danger of sailing along this stretch, pirates or no pirates.

Mark and I left Finike at 6:30 Monday morning. Two hours later, as I was contemplating making a nice breakfast, we rounded Taslik Burnu, a small, but hazardous cape, and ran into strong, then fierce headwinds, and of course large and growing waves, which made breakfast impossible. In fact, Mark, in selfless research interests of understanding first century ship travel, and Paul’s stubborn refusal to give up no matter how he felt, got seasick, and eventually, about three hours later, lost the contents of his “breakfast” which consisted of exactly one Dramamine.Upon reaching Phaselis several hours later, he was back in his usual researcher mode. The photos of Phaselis, the ancient pre-Hellenistic Lycian city with remnants of the fortifications and harbor breakwater still visible, are Mark’s.

Mark left that evening for Antalya where he lives. I would have SailingActs to myself for the rest of the four-day voyage.  The next morning, Sept. 10, I awoke at 4:45, and by 5:00 a.m. in the darkness I pulled the anchor and headed out of the 2,500 year-old harbor. What happened later has me thinking about piracy ever since. I’ll explain.

The waves were very high, and the gentle north wind was building as I turned south, running with the wind. I noticed several ship lights about a mile east, heading north toward Antalya. Then, when it became light enough an hour later, I recognized that I was meeting a convoy of naval ships, and looking closely, I was pretty sure they were US ships. Single file they came, perhaps ½ mile between each, for the next several hours, an estimated 25 ships. What were they doing in Turkey?

As an American citizen in foreign waters, I am always aware that my US flag identifies me with a nation that some people love and respect, and others fear and hate. I thought about my relationship to the powerful fleet whose flag we shared.

At about 8:30 am, I was flying ahead of a stiff north wind, wing-on-wing, a delicate balancing act when the following seas are high, almost too much for someone sailing single-handed. I was grateful that I would not have to try to take the sails down until rounding the point another 10 miles distant.

It was then I noticed a Turkish coast guard cutter, about ½ mile distant, between SailingActs and the US fleet, keeping pace with my downwind progress.  Then, as I watched with some apprehension, it began closing in, until it was a mere 50 meters away.

Now remember, I am under full sail, rushing down wind. The waves are sometimes hitting 2 meters and I’m up well over 7 knots, just flying. They pull closer. I have the VHF at 16 but hear no message. They come closer, I’m still flying. When the Coast Guard boat is about 25 meters away I raise my arms in a universal gesture of “what do you want?” The captain hails me with a megaphone.

“Go to cchchchchhc channel chchhc.”

Again I raise my arms. What did they say?

“Channel  chch cchchayt,” the megaphone squawks over the wind.

I grab the mic. “Going to channel eight,” I say. Now the conversation is clearer.

“You must alter course,” the Coast Guard said. “Ahead is forbidden.”

“I am just headed for Finike,” I plead. “Would I be allowed to go there?”

“No. Not till 11:00.” It is now 9:30.

Now I am following the coast on my right. On my left is an island and the parade of naval power heading north. The only way to alter course, is to turn around and go straight back into the teeth of the wind and towering waves. I am not happy about this.

But now there are several crew watching from the deck of the Coast Guard boat. “Okay, I’m altering course,” I radio politely.

For those of you who have never sailed, and for those of you who have sailed under normal sailing conditions, what I am facing might not seem like a big deal, but I am by myself, full sails flying, and a very strong following wind, with the Coast Guard watching. Usually, at sea, if I do something stupid, its just me, and sometimes Janet who knows. Now I have an audience of professionals standing by. Probably preparing for a rescue, I think.

I make a tentative move of rounding up into the wind in order to quickly furl the headsail and lower the main, but am immediately back winded because no one is at the wheel to keep things under control. This is not good. I leap down below and radio again.

“Okay, you can see I’m trying, but I need some time here, I will have to ‘heave to’.”  (“Heave to” is a maneuver that stalls the boat, and keeps it drifting safely with no one at the wheel.) Which I eventually do, tame all the flapping, snapping sails, SailingActs gets under control, the Coast Guard leaves to protect the US navy from the imminent danger of another yacht , and I begin to motor slowly into the teeth of the wind, back to where I started.  Very slowly, just enough to keep the boat headed in the right direction, then I heave to and just wait. At precisely 11:00 I can see the Coast Guard cutter about ½ mile away, but he said 11:00. I look back over my shoulder, and sure enough they start my way, but then stop. I’m on my way once more.

I had time to think for the next eight hours as I sailed toward Kekova Roads where I wished to anchor for the night. We had sailed to Phaselis to check out the coast famous for shipwrecks and pirating. The Roman fleet had made this stretch of coast somewhat safer because of its presence. Safer for commerce that is, for it had routed the pirates primarily to ensure the uninterrupted flow of grain and other goods for the empire.  Now here I was over 2,000 years later, exploring that same coastline.

I thought about how the US naval squadron that morning serves the same function, and in exploring the pirates’ lairs, I realized that I was seen as the potential pirate this time. The Coast Guard was protecting the US fleet from me who were protecting, among other things, the flow of goods to and from America for me.

Like Paul, I can not only sail in the Mediterranean without having to worry about pirates, but can travel pretty much anywhere in safety because of the awesome military might of the US, of which I am a citizen.

What makes the presence of a foreign fleet legitimate? What right does the US navy have to commandeer space in international waters in order to protect its own interests? To keep unsuspecting local Turkish fishermen and international yachters from entering a particular space because they are there? What really is the difference between pirate power and the navies of Rome, Spain, Portugal, or the USA?

I did not come to a good conclusion by the time I rounded the cape of Taslik Burnu and ran straight into a fierce headwind that lasted until I reached the Kekova Roads anchorage area, exhausted, just as the sun went down.  Next week I’ll share some of the exciting discoveries I heard from the archeologists working at Andriaki harbor, port of Myra (Acts 27:5).

But back to Rome. The presence of Rome’s brutal and effective military power is apparent all through Acts, punishing Paul here, protecting him there.  The power of Rome was neither all good nor all bad for Paul, citizen of Roman Empire and Kingdom of God. Yet in spite of its blessings, Paul never confused Empire with Kingdom. He never expected or tried to persuade pagan Romans to act like he expected and tried to persuade Christian Romans to act.

Do we American Christians who are pacifists expect our government to protect our priveleged way of life? Comments welcome.