About this Blog

........................ To navigate the site.

...... .............Use the Blog Archive (below right)

...or.click the appropriate link at the bottom of the page.

...........................

......................

Monday 22 December 2008

Friday 12 December 2008

Kalamata

We had to wait over a week at Argostoli for fair weather to take us to the Southern Peloponnisos.
While waiting we thought we might hire a car for a day’s sightseeing.

I called at the local hire shop to enquire about prices, and although it was shut, a young man was sitting outside smoking. He said he was the assistant, and volunteered that a small car for a day would cost us 30 Euros. We returned early the following morning to be told that the price would be 50 Euros. The boss looked very grave as we explained we were expecting to pay only 30. He got on his mobile phone and shouted a bit, then turning to us, explained that he couldn’t work the computer, so please would we wait a minute. In due course the assistant turned up, all was sweetness and light, the boss remembered how to work the computer, and we got our car at the lower price.

We drove to Fiscardho in Cephalonia’s far north and looked across the strait to Ithaca, the island home of Odysseus. A beautiful looking place, and one I would love to visit.



Lunch time aboard Sula

On the afternoon of November 25th we set of on our final passage of this year. It was very misty with little or no wind, and most frustratingly, the sea was still quite lumpy, which made an uncomfortable motion. We passed Zakinthos in the dark, and entered the channel between the island of Sapienza and Methoni in the early morning. We escaped the swell, the sun shone, and the scenery was lovely. We thoroughly enjoyed ourselves. We even managed to do some sailing.

We arrived at the magnificent fortified harbour of Koroni just before sunset and anchored for the night just off the town. It occurred to us that Koroni is within easy sailing distance from Kalamata, so is a place we could re visit at our leisure during a settled period in the winter.

We sailed the fifteen miles to Kalamata in bright sunshine over a slight sea. We were on a fine reach, with one reef in the main and a few rolls in the jib. We hove to (stopped) for lunch and admired the spectacular Taygetos Mountains below Kalamata, the highest of which is 2,400 metres high. That clinched it. Unless Kalamata proved completely unsuitable, we would base ourselves there for the winter.


The Taygetos Mountains
.
Entering the harbour as the sun set on Thursday 27th November, we were met by helpful staff who seemed taken aback by our arrival: curious this, since we had radioed ahead to ask for a berth. But then we are in Greece. After helping us to moor, we were told the office was now shut, but that we should report there in the morning. In response to our asking at what time he said “Oh, any time, perhaps after your breakfast”.

It turns out that Kalamata marina can supply all our simple needs at about half the cost we were expecting. We have a berth with free water and electricity on tap. The shore side showers have a powerful supply of piping hot water. Good local shops are on our doorstep, and the natives and other yachtsmen and women seem friendly. We were soon invited to the regular Sunday lunch time barbeque, in the company of French, German, Dutch, Catalan and English sailors.
.
The Marina breakwater

.
The only fly in the ointment is that once or twice a year the harbour is subjected to a heavy swell, driven by strong south easterly winds, far out in the Ionian Sea. So although we may be experiencing only moderate force four or five winds. (Landlubbers may care to follow this link for an explanation of the Beaufort scale) All the boats in the marina are bobbing around like dickens. Spray and the occasional deluge of water come crashing over the breakwater and life becomes a trifle difficult. We have been here a fortnight now and have experienced this phenomena twice. Everyone says “it’s most unusual, it only happened once last year”. Hmmm we shall see.

Pippa and I have discovered the remarkable truth, that sitting on a boat for months on end is not the best preparation for climbing mountains. We have made three excursions into the beautiful Taygetos Mountains so far, and each time have returned happy but exhausted. We will persevere, things can only improve.

Pippa in the mountains again


Yesterday we took our folding bikes and cycled (or pushed them) for seven kilometres to find an ancient paved track heading into the hills. Leaving the bikes, we then walked for another three kilometres to a small hill at 1,300 metres above sea level, called Al Lias. We were rewarded with spectacular views of the Taygetos mountain range. This was supposed to be a light training walk, but we were very tired by the time we got back to Sula. However we soon cheered up when we realised we had climbed to nearly the height of Ben Nevis.

Yet more mountains

Sunday 23 November 2008

Argostoli - Greece

We left Mao on 6th November for a Passage to Cagliari, Sardinia.
I would have liked to say we sailed to Sardinia, but there was little or no wind and we were forced to sit and wait, or get the motor on. We chose the latter.
Arriving late in the afternoon of Saturday 8th we were helped with berthing by three men and three dogs. All very friendly, and the men with a good sense of humour. The mountains of southern Sardinia looked lovely, but we were on a mission to continue our easterly progress while the weather remained fair. A return when we have more time to spare would be lovely.

On the morning of Sunday the 9th we sailed / motored in light airs for Sicily.
The following day, in the middle of the night, I became aware that the odd looking lights to starboard, possibly another cruise ship or an oil rig, was on a steady bearing. (That means, if one of us doesn’t do something about it, a collision is inevitable). I monitored the situation for the remainder of my watch and illuminated the sails with a powerful search light to announce my presence. Hours later, it dawned on me that although still almost 60 miles away, I had made landfall. I was looking at the lights of Tripani on the West coast of Sicily.





On passage (a few days later) past Mt Etna.


Palermo was entered in the early afternoon of the 11th. It’s a large busy port, with all manner of craft plying to and fro. A cruise ship (safely tied up in it’s berth), ferries, yachts, sliding seat rowing boats dashing hither and thither, and a squadron of kayaks splashing about. With a splendid back drop of mountains, and huge cranes towering in the wings, our first impressions were very favourable. However, reality soon raised its ugly head. First we were shocked at being asked for 30 Euros per night berthing fee. Then wishing to get our money’s worth, and looking forward to a hot shower, we were told “showers kaput” Apparently the man had not been to fill the water tank.

Being in the docks, we were of course on the less salubrious side of town, and I was glad we had elected to go shopping together. I feel that a middle aged couple are less likely to be mugged or inadvertently cause offence than a single man or woman.

Walking into the town, we cautiously moved across the street to avoid some very dirty and wild looking men, presumably drunk or on drugs or possibly both. Then turning a corner we came across a bunch of about half a dozen children playing football in the street. Their mothers were sitting on a bench, interrupting their conversation to chastise one or other of them at intervals. We stopped to ask for directions to the supermarket and one, rather reluctantly it seemed, responded by indicating the way. A moment later we were confused and astonished to be accosted by one of the children and then by a man supervising their game. They berated us and were clearly irate, but we had no idea of what we had done to offend them. Concluding that we may have inadvertently strayed onto their football pitch (the pavement) we beat a hasty retreat. After doing our shopping we found a different route back to the boat.

We dined aboard Café Sula that evening and enjoyed some excellent Sicilian wine to go with our equally good local spiced sausage, fresh assorted salad and ciabbata.



Full moon over the Aeolion Islands.


It had for some time been in our minds to visit the Aeolion Islands. The weather was settled so we grasped the opportunity. We were particularly keen to sail round Stromboli. The volcano is still active, and continues to erupt in a quiet and dignified manner. Apparently the glow of the eruption, with molten lava flowing into the sea, is a stunning spectacle; especially when viewed from a boat a respectful distance off shore.

However it was not to be. We were intending to anchor off the island of Alcudi so as to get to Stromboli the next day, but on arrival found that a heavy swell made the anchorage un tenable. Our only option was to forgo the experience and divert to the island of Vulcano, where we arrived at 3 AM.

We anchored in a well sheltered bay and awoke next day to an incredibly peaceful setting. We had the place to ourselves. The sea was calm and a gentle breeze blew from the land. It was warm, but not hot. Ashore, the modest hill that is home to Gran Crater winked at us. We dug out our walking boots, packed a lunch box and went for a ramble. At the craters edge we found clouds of sulphurous gas blocking our path, so an alternative route was found. At the summit we surveyed the fine view across our anchorage and on to the other Islands, we sat and enjoyed our lunch and simply felt it good to be alive.


Gran Crater Volcano

The wind shifted to the west in the early hours of Friday the 14th making our idyl rather uncomfortable, so we hauled up the anchor and set sail.

You probably know that this part of the world, what with Homer and Odysseus, is rather steeped in ancient history. Our next challenge was to risk the wrath of Scilla with her twelve feet and snapping jaws atop six long necks, and Charybdis the great whirlpool, which swallowed ships straying too close. We were to sail through the straits of Messina.
As it happened Scilla was away for the day and Charybdis was in a good mood. The Straits were no worse for us than the Swellies in the Menai straits of Anglesey, or Jack Sound at neaps. Though it doesn’t take too much imagination to understand the terror the place set in the hearts of ancient seafarers.

We arrived at Reggio Calabria, our only Italian port, on Friday afternoon and left at lunch time the following day. It’s a grotty harbour, the ‘fresh’ water undrinkable, no services to speak of and 25 Euros harbour dues to boot. The town itself is quite pleasant, though quite a long walk from the docks. We put our ‘grannies’ shopping trolley, purchased in Mao, to good use and brought plenty of food and liquid refreshment for the next leg of our own odyssey.

Fluky winds, a lumpy sea and 360º lightning storms, mostly but not always on the horizon, characterises our 250 mile passage to Greece. The second day was the low point, and remarkable for the fact that for the first time in nearly five months cruising, it was the first time we had to wear our oil skins all day long.

We were delighted to arrive in Cephalonia on the evening of the 17th. It was too dark to risk entering the concrete skeleton of the abandoned marina project. So we anchored off in 3 metres of calm clear water. We had arrived in Greece and were as pleased as punch.

Agostoli ‘Marina’

We inspected the ‘Marina’ next day. EU money had been spent in its construction, however the project had failed for various reasons and the builder had gone bust. Enterprising locals and impecunious foreign cruising sailors now use it free of charge. Though it has no ‘facilities’ It’s adequate for a limited visit, and only a ten minute walk across a causeway to the small and friendly town of Argostoli.

We had a mishap next day. We had motored across to the Coast Guard / Port authority offices on the quay, to complete the Greek entry formalities. Passports, Ships papers, Insurance, etc. We had to wait until 5PM for the Captain to come back from his lunch! Business was conducted efficiently, in a friendly atmosphere complete with a television blaring away in one corner of his office.

Howeve,r as we left, we discovered that a vicious wind had picked up and poor old Sula, parked in a corner of the quay behind two Coast Guard cutters, was taking a pounding.
Our only hope was to let go our warps and with a hard shove off, gun the engine to get through the wind and away. Unfortunately it didn’t work and one of our shrouds (wires that hold up the mast) became entangled in cutter’s anchor support. With the help of one of her crew we got it off and returned to our ‘marina’ to lick our wounds.

The following day we visited the Coast Guard again (by foot), and were ensured that they could fix the minor damage we had caused. My apology was accepted with a smile and the assurance “ It’s OK, the wind got up, what else could you do”

Saturday 1 November 2008

Mao - Menorca

The Islas Baleares have been delightful, much better than I ever imagined. We have found peaceful calas to anchor overnight, and generally we have had them to ourselves. Skinny dipping from the boat has been a regular pastime, we have discovered snorkelling. The weather has for the most part been stunning, otherwise quite acceptable, certainly never worse than a bad summer’s day at home. No, that’s doing it an injustice. It has never been that bad. The natives have been friendly and helpful and the towns and harbours have provided all we need and sometimes much more.

The 13th October saw us anchored off Isla Espalmador, a small island between Formentera and Ibiza. We had often been told just how clear and blue was the water of the Mediterranean, and what fun it was to don mask and snorkel and swim amongst the fish around ones boat. But still I had no idea. You could hardly get us out of the water. We were enthralled.
.
Mooring Mediterranean style.
Complete with DIY passerelle.
.
  • On the 14th we called in to Porto Ibiza and successfully completed our first Mediterranean mooring, No problem, I don’t see what all the fuss is about. We stayed just for three or four hours and so avoided any charge. But that was quite long enough for us to top up with water and fuel, take the rubbish ashore and find a supermarket. Then it was just an hours sail / motor to Cala Llonga for the night.

    The next day we sailed along the South East coast of Ibiza and anchored for lunch and a swim at Cala Boix. I was doing something or other at the chart table when I looked up and saw a motor boat circling us. I noted it was wearing a British flag. Remarking sarcastically to Pippa that with all the Cala to choose he was probably going to anchor right beside us. She responded by crying “ It’s the Meophams!!” Sure enough Mark and Helen, tipped off by Llangwm’s Jolly boat Janet had found us. What are the chances of that? It was lovely to meet them, especially in such a situation. They stayed alongside for a beer and a chat before recommending a more sheltered anchorage at the nearby Islote Tagomago. And so it proved to be, we anchored as close as we could and took a line ashore to hold us into what little swell there was. Having explored the island we returned on board in time for another swim as the sun set.
.
Cala Covas Menorca.
Typical of the many Calas we visited.
.
Clot d’es Llamp was our last anchorage in Ibiza. It is a beautiful place with quite fantastic rock formations. We explored some sea caves and of course swam in the crystal water. Unfortunately by the time I thought to take some photos the light had gone and the moment missed.

We made passage to Mallorca on the 17th and anchored in Cala Figuera, just before dark. Figuera is a fine but small Cala and we went to bed after congratulating ourselves on our ever improving prowess in the technique of twin anchoring in tight places. In the very early hours I awoke to find the wind had got up and we had dragged our main anchor.
It was very dark, but not so dark as be unable to see the sheer cliffs, just yards away, that had the stern anchor also dragged would by now be denting our hull. We cleared out and anchored for the remainder of the night in the adjacent and much bigger Cala Portals.

The Real Club Nuatico de Palma was rather a culture shock. Our mouths were agape as we motored slowly past super yacht after super yacht of every shape and design. We were shepherded in to our berth by a young yard hand in a rib. I would never have found it without his guidance. When we took stock of our position in the harbour we noted with astonishment that we had been given a prime berth close to a row of tall yachts that must have cost millions of pounds each. We were right in front of the clubhouse of Palma’s most prodigious yacht club. Apparently this is a privilege extended to visiting foreign yachts. Despite the rather high cost of 20 Euros, we elected to stay for two nights. The facilities were incredible and we were invited to make full use of them, There were not one but two swimming pools, one outdoors and one indoors! Needless to say we got our money’s worth.
.
Cala Covas again

We arrived at Ensenada de La Rapita at sunset on the 20th and anchored close to an awful looking hotel. As with so much in these parts, otherwise lovely stretches of coastline are blighted by concrete monstrosities.

On the 21st we arrived at Porto Petro – Cala dels Mats, what a difference. Some form of planning constraints have been exercised here, with discrete villas set amongst the trees, lovely. Quite unexpectedly I found a Wi Fi signal and got on line from the boat. What a bonus.

Porto Christo. On the 22nd was a fine anchorage beneath a cliff covered with hanging gardens. The town was a rather boring sea side tourist town and it rained. Ho hum.

Strengthening headwinds stopped us from reaching our intended harbour of Porto Cala Ratjada so we abandoned that plan and altered course for Puerto de Costa de Los Pinos It proved a lovely sheltered anchorage not far from a 4* hotel. Once ashore we immediately discovered we had found a millionaires row. Many many big expensive houses with long drives and elaborate security gates and fences. A small shop with friendly staff provided them and us with little things we needed.

We awoke early on the 24th to find the strong winds had abated and now provided us with perfect weather for our passage to Menorca. We had a lovely sail, the best for ages and made good time, arriving in the late afternoon.

Cala Covas is home to over 100 prehistoric burial caves. We had a lovely couple of days here. We scrambled up some of the cliffs to inspect the caves, though all the relics have been removed to the museum in Mao and most of the caves are sealed with ugly metal sheets or bars. We had a lovely time swimming in the warm water and exploring our surroundings. I stumbled across a solitary Tortoise sunbathing on a limestone ledge.
.

Note the absence of a hole in its shell

for attaching string.

Our last Cala on the 26th was Cala Biniparraitx . The two anchor technique was employed again. We anchored normally and then rowed a kedge anchor out astern and pulled it in tight to stop our swing. Again we swam and explored ashore. What a lovely place to just relax and enjoy life.

Bad weather was forecast so next day we sought shelter in Mao otherwise known as Puerto de Mahon the capital of Menorca.

The wind has been blowing from the South West, sometimes up to force 8 for the last four days, with sunshine interspersed with heavy rain. We are well sheltered here tied bow to on the Public Quay, so it is nothing more than a minor inconvenience.

After five days here we feel we know Mao quite well. On one of my excursions into town I came across a bike shop. The manager said he had a second hand folding bike in his garage at home and would sell it to me for 60 Euros. We picked the bike up on the Tuesday after a short delay because the manager insisted that it needed a service including two new tyres. All at no extra cost. He even threw in a plastic coated wire security lock. What about that for a good deal? Pippa is delighted, the bike is just the thing.

Tuesday 14 October 2008

Ibiza

Leaving Cadiz early on Tuesday 30th we had light headwinds at first, but they increased steadily and started to head us, so we diverted to Barbate. We stayed for two days in this fine town and excellent marina. In the late afternoon of Wednesday Pippa went exploring along the splendid beach below a line of fine sandstone cliffs. Returning to the car park she discovered that her folding bike was missing. A man high up a steep slope below the cliffs indicated that he had her bike and that she should climb up to him to retrieve it!!! Though furious, she had the good sense to see the danger of doing so. She screamed at him to bring the bike down otherwise she was going for the police. The police were very good, although rather bureaucratic and of course the bike was lost.
It will have to be replaced, our bikes, as well as being great fun, have enabled us to explore much further afield than we otherwise could.

We left Barbate on Thursday 2nd. As we neared the Straits of Gibraltar, an island on the horizon that had no right to be there, turned out to be Morocco. What a lovely sight: blue mysterious mountains, clouds forming a scarf below their summits. We could see Africa! This grand view and the lovely adjacent coastline of Spain continued until we arrived at Gibraltar. But this is where the romance ended.


Giralta harbour and airport !

The two marinas were full, so following the advice of marina staff and in accordance with information in our almanac, we anchored between the airport runway and the harbour wall of La Linea, behind a line of yellow buoys.

At 2 AM the following morning we were rudely awoken by police in a Rib, banging on our hull, shining bright torches and informing us that we must move. They could give no sensible reason why we should not use this recognised anchorage and were not at all sympathetic to our plight, but when I refused to move on the grounds that it would be unsafe for me to do so in an unknown harbour in the dark, they grudgingly agreed that I could remain until first light. We did move at about 10 AM, just as a second police launch began taking an interest in us. We went to the fuelling berth to top up our tanks and found it austere. Large signs saying not to berth here overnight and no entry to the town from this jetty. We had been looking forward to climbing the rock and hoping to see the migrating eagles Steve Sutcliffe had told us about, but it was not to be. We left at lunch time and set sail in a fresh following wing across the Alboran sea.

The good downwind sailing, jib poled out and a cruising chute set, trade wind fashion, lasted until midnight. Then the wind just died. I got the head sails down, the main sail up and started motor sailing. Within minutes a light wind sprung up and I realised that we could after all sail. The jib was set, the engine stopped and we were close hauled but sailing. Then it got stronger and I had to reef first the jib then the main. We could no longer sail our course, the wind was smack on the nose! I’ve not seen it since and have no wish to see it again, but the wind changed from an easterly force four to a westerly force four in a little over an hour!

We set course for Motril. What a contrast to Gib. The marina was full but the Guardia Civil directed us to a stone wall in the main industrial harbour. There was lots of bureaucracy, with visits from immigration and the port police but without exception they were friendly welcoming and helpful.


Do you need an anchor?

I know where they have some to spare.

After lunch on Sunday 5th we headed for Cartagena, and enjoyed the sailing along this lovely unspoiled coastline. Arriving in the early evening of Monday 6th we anchored for the night just outside this very pleasant harbour and town. Blagging a day visit (no charge) in the very posh super marina, we refuelled, watered and provisioned and left, just behind a visiting cruise liner!!!

Our Navtex indicated we had plenty of time to get to Ibiza before strong northerly winds hit the Baleares. So off we set. In the evening I called up a radio ham on our SSB radio who provides all sorts of information to yachtsmen in the Med. He advised that the strong winds were already arriving, so once again we altered course, this time to Tomas Maestre Harbour. Arriving at midnight to find that substantial changes were being made to the harbour, caused me a few headaches. I was on course to my chosen anchorage when I was stopped by a line of steelwork in the middle of the harbour! I tried a couple of other places and eventually found room to anchor.

In the morning of Wednesday 8th we went through a short canal and under a lifting bridge into Mar Menor, an expanse of inland sea measuring twelve miles by six. We shunned the marina, preferring to anchor in the bay of Isla Perdisura. On landing ashore we discovered tat it was not quite as attractive as it had looked. It was completely deserted and covered with old mine workings and half demolished buildings, all quite spooky.



Isla Perdisuera


That evening the wind got up so we moved to the lee side in search of a place to anchor, all we found was an uncharted sand bank that almost had us aground and a hard shale bottom that wouldn’t hold our anchor. By this time the daylight was going fast, so we moved into the lee of a neighbouring island, Isla Mayor O del Baron. With only minor adjustments to our position to get maximum shelter as the wind shifted, there we stayed for the next three days. The wind howled and the heavens opened, lightning flashed all around and we pitched and rolled. But we were not at sea, we were safe, if not all that sound, at anchor.

Mar Menor

Sunday 28 September 2008

Cadiz

There has been a cost attached to the beautiful September weather the UK has been experiencing and Pippa and I have had to pay the price! The high pressure over Britain has allowed a stream of lows to pass over Sula! But I won’t whinge too much, I know I won’t get any sympathy. The result is we have done more motoring than sailing because of constant head winds. We have however been largely spared the cold and wet, one would associate with such weather at home. In fact it’s often been very hot.

Keeping cool



We arrived at the port of Leixoes just to the north of Porto on the 14th September and stayed for two days. We did our duty and went sightseeing in Porto. Taking a bus into the city, we thought our driver was a bit of a boy racer, but soon noticed that all the buses did the same. They only have two speeds, Stop and Full speed, However no harm was done except to our nerves. Though we did go back by Metro.

Porto. Splendid, but on close inspection contains much poverty and dingy houses.


The highlight of the day was our non-conducted tour of a Port wine distillery.
We arrived at an open door with a sign that indicated a museum of port wine in a leafy grove by the river. In we went and looked around, and very interesting it was too. Stairs led off up to more displays until near the top we found a ‘Private’ notice. We retraced our steps until we found more stairs going down into the cellars. Down we went, marvelling at so much port maturing in barrels. Still more steps to a lower level and more port.
We were wondering how much deeper we could go and also why we were the only ones in the building. Turning a corner we bumped into a guided party coming the other way. The guide was quite taken aback by our presence and after a bit of blinking and strange looks, asked if she could help us. “No thank you” we replied “we’re fine”. She got on her radio and called the security guard.

The guard was most helpful; he had a good sense of humour and accepted our explanation. He explained that unguided tours were not allowed, and showing us to the door, offered us the choice of a complimentary drink in the bar or the opportunity for a conducted tour. What a lovely man.


Replica port wine barges in the Rio Douro


Cascais on the Reo Tejo, down stream of Lisboa (Lisbon) was our next port of call. We caught a train into town and did the tourist thing, including having an excellent barbequed sardine lunch and visiting the fascinating Maritime museum which houses amongst many splendid boats a Royal Barge that was rowed by eighty oarsmen!

The 20th saw us in Sines. Having anchored for the night deep inside the harbour, we awoke to thick, impenetrable fog. We waited and waited, drank far too much tea and coffee and eventually convinced ourselves that it was clearing. No sooner had we got the anchor up and committed ourselves to leaving, than the fog closed in again. We left harbour guided by our ever faithful GPS and went to great pains to ensure we remained well clear of the shipping lanes. Another night of motoring in very light headwinds took us past Cabo de Sao Vincente where we turned left along Portugal’s south coast. At least I think we did, couldn’t see much.

We spent the nights of 21st & 22nd in Baleeira and Alvor respectively. We rolled and rolled all night at anchor in the inexorable Atlantic swell. No matter how deep we tucked ourselves into harbour it sought us out. The saving grace was that we had a fabulous sail to Alvor, down wind all the way with the spinnaker up and for a brief moment, eight knots on the GPS clock. A bit too fast for ones nerves, but it didn’t last long.

On the 23rd we sailed into a lovely estuary inside Cabo de Santa Maria near Faro and spent a peaceful night at anchor. It was reminiscent of our own Afon Cleddau, strong tides, peace and quiet and the dawn chorus at breakfast time.
An early start on the 24th saw us into Tavira by mid day. It was to be a rather frustrating day. We anchored for lunch, but the echo sounder warned us that we had to move, we had swung into shallow water. We tried here, over there, just behind that boat, right over the other side. It all looked good but the deep water channel was very narrow, all the best spots were taken by moorings. We went back to our lunchtime spot, and carried out a thorough echo sounder survey. Two anchors were laid, one upstream the other down stream. Both taken to the bow to restrict our swing. The sounder was watched carefully as the tide turned. Geronimo!! We were OK.

We spent the 25th with Alan and Liz, friends of ours from Llangwm. Liz picked us up in a hire car and drove us to her welcoming Casa in the countryside. They fed and watered us in grand fashion; we explored their neighbourhood and swam in the pool if we got too hot. A most relaxing and enjoyable twenty four hours. The interior of the Algarve is certainly a most attractive part of Portugal.

We are now in the fine ancient city of Cadiz. It’s warm, wet and windy. (South East force 5 to 6.) Our next port is to the South East. We know about headwinds so, despite the marina fees, we are staying put for the present.

We arrived at 5AM yesterday morning (27th) in the rain. The approach was easy enough but things became more testing as we neared the marina. We had to cross the main big ship bay to find the entrance. It was inky black, we couldn’t see a thing. I motored closer and closer to where it must surely be, closing in on a continuous line of green marks. (Keep left). I was about a boat length off before I saw the narrow gap. No red mark in sight, I entered between two greens a boats length apart.

We had just safely tied up at our allotted berth when I looked round and saw for the first time this enormous cruise liner turning into her berth, just yards from where I had been a few minutes earlier!


The liner leaving harbour later that day. She is just yards off the marina entrance!
The photo is taken from our cockpit.

Friday 12 September 2008

Baiona

Islas Cies

Since I last updated the Blog we have been working our way along the North West coast of Spain, round the corner and on towards Portugal. Day sailing, we have been able to visit many of the lovely Rias. We have sought out secluded anchorages and have indeed found several. In the Spanish way of doing things though, many an otherwise idyllic anchorage has been spoiled (for us) by concrete urbanisation and or extensive fish farms.
For the record this is where we have been:-

26th August Ria de Cedeira, a delightful fishing port.

27th – 30th Ria de Ares. A lovely haven of peace and shelter, sandwiched between the heavily industrial Ria of El Ferrol and the major city of La Coruna.

31st & 1st La Coruna. We anchored in 18 metres of water: that’s quite deep for an anchorage. I’m glad we carry lots of chain! A charming city, lovely buildings. We sat and drank cold orange juice in a street Café overlooking the splendid town hall & plaza.

2nd -5th Stormbound in Laxe. A small fishing port, but for us a safe haven. Our Nav Text (Long wave radio, text weather reporting device), gave us two days notice of a force nine gale from the South West. Having put down a second anchor with 60 metres of wharp, to supplement our main anchor with 30 metres of chain (and another 30 metres in reserve), we stayed put in this North facing corner of the Ria. Four other yachts left to seek shelter elsewhere, I did wonder what they knew that I didn’t, but decided to have the courage of my convictions. In the end we had a very noisy and windy night, but nothing worse. We were a bit on edge and didn’t get much sleep, continuously checking for chafe on the warp and any sign of the anchors dragging. Pippa met someone from another yacht a few days later who said he recorded gusts of 50 knots (storm force ten) in a nearby Ria, and that a lifeboat came to the assistance of two catamarans that got there anchor chains entangled.

6th Ria de Camarinas. Pretty and friendly Ria with perfect shelter. The entrance was a little hairy though. A huge swell was running into the Ria, much bigger than anything we have seen so far on this trip. In one trough we completely lost sight of a lighthouse over 100 metres above sea level!

7th & 8th Ria de Muros. To get here we have passed Cape Torinana, the most westerly part of mainland Europe and perhaps even more of a landmark, Cape Finisterre.

Cape Finisterre
9th Ria de Pontevedra. The swell made our planned anchorage a bit too bouncy for comfort, and the huge new marina didn’t seem very attractive so we opted for the old marina in the small fishing port. Having parted with nearly 20 Euros for the privilege we spent a bouncy evening and night in a rather smelly harbour with fishing boats playing boy racer and making bigger waves than the ones we had come in to avoid. Ho hum.

10th Technically in Ria de Vigo, a very commercial and built up Ria, however we anchored off the beautiful Islas Cies in the entrance to the Ria. We have spent the best part of two days walking and exploring the hills of this gem of an island. It’s a nature reserve with an abundance of sea birds. Our quest to climb a small mountain right on the north tip was foiled not by regulations and keep out notices, but by a lethal band of Gorse & Brambles.

11th & 12th. We are now in Baiona and at the southern limit of the Spanish Rias. We entered the bay in another huge swell, breaking on the outlying rocks. Quite spectacular.
We were met a mile off by the marina rib, they guided us in the last leg, although we were at that stage well past any difficulties. Having spent last night at anchor, we came into the Marina this morning. It seems to be a lovely place. I had to go up the mast this morning to see to the top of our Genoa furling gear, the problem was a missing pair of screws. Easy to replace but it took me a little longer to devise a way of making sure they didn’t come loose again. Tonight we will celebrate our last evening in Spain by going out for dinner, a belated birthday treat for Pippa.

We have enjoyed the Rias although we are probably ten or fifteen years too late to see them at their best. A bit too busy and over developed for my taste.

Monday 25 August 2008

Ria Vivero - Spain

We are now safely across the Bay of Biscay. The three week wait in the Golfe de Morbihan paid off. We were able to choose our time, and wait for the right weather forecast. An ebbing tide hastened us on our way and spat us out to sea at a good Ten knots, but of course we were getting used to these ferocious tides by now. We had very light winds at first and had to resort to the tin sail. But at about midnight a steady North Westerly piped up, the engine was turned off and we were sailing at a steady five knots. There was a two metre Atlantic swell but no big waves, so although it was a little bouncy we were able to steer our course at a quite respectable speed.


During the afternoon of the second day, we crossed the continental shelf where the depth plummets from 150 metres to 4,500 metres into the Biscay Abyssal Plain. One has to wonder at such a time, what mysterious sea creatures lurk in these depths, and what do they have for dinner! It obviously wasn’t Dee today as the photo shows. I just couldn’t resist dipping a toe into such deep water! We did indeed see some sea creatures but they were most benign. The first visitors were a pair of Pilot Whales. We saw them some distance off. They zoomed in to inspect us, stayed a few minutes swimming side by side in perfect unison. A lovely sight. Our next visitors only an hour or so later were a pair of Minkie Whales. We were alerted to their presence by the sound of them blowing. It quite made us jump! They provided us with a marvellous display as they swam alongside Sula, blowing each time they came to the surface. Just as suddenly as they arrived, they departed. They quite made our day. It’s the first close encounter Pippa or I have had with a whale.

The wind that had been so helpful thus far petered out on our third night at sea. The engine had to be called into service again. In the early hours a light wind did pick up, but it was from the South West, right on the nose, so we continued to motor sail. That is until at about 2AM we ran out of fuel. Bugger! We had some spare fuel in cans but had thought there was plenty in the main tank. Perhaps we need a fuel gauge! We sailed slowly on the best course we could make until dawn. Then hove to, refilled the tank, bled the fuel system and re started the engine. Eventually the wind veered to the West and we were able to sail into, not Corunna as planned, but into the delightful Ria of Vivero, just east of Pta de la Estaca de Bares, the most Northerly point of Spain. We even had a small pod of Harbour Porpoises to lead us into our anchorage.

I will end on a sad note. On Saturday evening when we were about 80 miles from land we picked up this little hitch hiker. He landed on board, persisted in his endeavours to go below deck, despite our encouragement and offers of food and water for him in a quiet corner of the cockpit. We didn’t see him again and presumed that he had jumped ship on approaching land. However his corpse was discovered this morning in the sail locker.
What I want to know is. What is a little land bird doing 80 miles from shore? (One wonders if the whales thought the same of us.) I would also like to know what sort of bird it was. A glass of cheap red wine goes to the first Emailed answer to my question.







Wednesday 13 August 2008

Still waiting


We are still in the Golfe du Morbihan. The High Pressure we were hoping was on its way didn’t come to much. South Westerly winds are dominating the Bay of Biscay. That’s no use to us whatsoever.

One hundred miles, or one day out from here, the continental shelf ends: the depth of water plunges from 200 metres to 2000 metres deep in only 10 to 20 miles. The disturbance to any swell from the Atlantic Ocean, coupled with a summer gale in this region kicks up notoriously rough sailing conditions. We have to bide our time, and that’s just what we are doing.

Yesterday we tried to anchor at Lamor Baden but the anchor just wouldn’t bite. An earlier reconnaissance had indicated that a caffeled up mooring was not in regular use, so we decided to make use of it. We rowed ashore, assembled our fold up bikes and cycled the seven miles into Auray and the medieval port of Saint -Goustan. All very picturesque and well worth the effort but we were glad that we had cycled rather than motor sailed all the way up river, a lunch stop was quite sufficient. At Pippa’s behest we took the scenic route back. We visited a few harbours, cycled along many a path quaintly marked ‘Velo Interdit’ and passed some lovely countryside and equally lovely houses. Much later we arrived back at our point of departure, and I happened to notice a small blue yacht circling ours. We had outstayed our welcome! They didn’t make a fuss, but wanted their mooring back without delay. We obliged.

This morning we motored in a fresh breeze the two miles to the marina at Port du Crouesty, at the entrance to the Golfe. Our intention of re provisioning, re fuelling and picking up a favourable forecast didn’t happen. The marina was packed and we were forced to become the fifth yacht in a raft on a pontoon. We couldn’t get a line ashore and caused the raft to bend horribly in the increasing headwind. I knew we couldn’t stay but we had nowhere to go.

A berth did become vacant, but the approach was too tight for an old lady such as Sula. She just wouldn’t turn into the wind in the space allowed. The consequences of messing it up would cause damage to other yachts as well as our own. I declined the offer. My stress levels were high, but I just wasn’t prepared to return to sea in the now force seven winds.

Eventually I did find a suitable berth. The Capitaine du Port assured me “Eh bien ,if you can find a place, you can ‘av it!” It was relatively sheltered, but most attractively of all it was surrounded by several Ribs; If you don’t know, Ribs are rubber boats with an engine on the back. Just the things to bump into if bump you must! As it happened we completed the manoeuvre without any bumping, and as I write this missive, we are snugly tied up to a finger pontoon, we are washed, fed, watered and ready for bed. Good night.

Wednesday 6 August 2008

Golfe du Morbihan

.
We have had quite a busy schedule up to now as you will see from the list below. But now we have slowed down a little. We have spent the past week in the Golfe du Morbihan, and have enjoyed it immensely. Our time here has not been without it’s excitement. It’s been spring tides this past week and in places the tide gets up to 9.1 knots!!

Most of the best anchorages in the Golfe have been filled with moorings, and at this time of year they are mostly occupied, so anchoring can be problematical. We were therefore very pleased to find a spot to anchor a little up stream of Ile de Conleau. A strenuous row ashore was followed by a delightful cycle along the bank of the river which led into the heart of Vannes. We explored the wonderful old walled part of the city and enjoyed the architecture and open markets.

Our third night at this anchorage was less than ideal. At 2 a.m. Pippa called me with the news that we were aground! Nothing was to be done, we were stuck hard in the mud with over an hour to go before low tide. We spent a most uncomfortable time until dawn, heeled at over 45% before the tide returned to release us from the mud’s embrace. The strong South West wind of the last few days had moderated and backed to the North West, blowing us out of the deep water channel. The good news was that it all happened in the dark of night so we were spared the embarrassment of witnesses.


Strong tides
.
On Monday 5th we went out of the Golfe to Port du Crouesty on a shopping trip, and to fill our water tanks at the marina. We had a moderate head wind but the tide was strongly in our favour. We beat our way through the maze of islands in glorious sunshine in company of several yachts, a hand full of power boats, and the occasional Vedette (small ferry). You know how things creep up on you? We found ourselves tacking back and forth to avoid rocks and other craft, rather like the start line of a local yacht race. Things were indeed getting a little exciting. The water was heaping up in a tide race, and it was getting increasingly difficult to remain in control. A glance at the GPS showed that we were doing eleven knots!! Nine of which were due to the current. It occurred to me that perhaps it wasn’t the most seaman like thing to be doing. A prang here would mean the loss of the boat. Pippa started the engine, the Jib was rolled away and we regained full control, although without loosing any speed. The remainder of the passage was less eventful.


Boats, Rocks & 9 knot tides

The last Weather forecast I got from the interned showed that high pressure was building in the Atlantic. I will check again this afternoon, when we go ashore and cycle to Arzon. We have discovered a free community internet connection there. A sign on the door says “ when we are closed you may access the internet using Wi Fi from the car park.” If the high pressure is indeed continuing to build we will be setting off to cross Biscay by the weekend. We are planning to make landfall at Corunna. An expected passage time of about three days.


Traditional Breton dancing

This is where we have been so far.

July 2008

4th Neyland marina. Pembrokeshire
5th At anchor, Mill bay. River Cleddau
6th At anchor, Dale.
7th On passage to Newlyn. Cornwall
8th At anchor, Newlyn.
9th Rafted, Penzance harbour.
10th Alongside wall, St Michael’s Mount.
11th At anchor, Helford river.
12th At anchor, Ruan Creek, River Fal.
13th At anchor, Voose, Helford river.
14th On passage to Roscoff.
15th Alongside wall, Roscoff.
16th At anchor, Aber Benoit.
17th At anchor, de Roscanvel,Rade de Brest.
18th Marina, Moulin Blanc, Brest.
19th At anchor, River Aulne, Landevennec.
20th Alongside wall, Port Launay, River Aulne.
21st At anchor, Anse de Penhir near Camaret.
22nd At anchor, Audierne, South Brittany.
23rd At anchor, Benodet River Odet
24th At anchor Near Quimper, River Odet
25th At anchor, Benodet, River Odet.
26th At anchor for lunch, Ile de Penfret, Glenan Isles.
26th At anchor, Port Manec’h
27th At anchor, Sauzon, Belle Ile.
28th At anchor, Port St Jean, Bell Ile.
29th Marina, Port Crouesty,
30th At anchor, Anse de Penhap Ile Aux Moinesn, Golfed u Morbihan
31st At anchor, Anse de Penhap, Ile Aux Moinesn,

August

1st At anchor, River Marle. Near Vanne Golfe du Morbihan.
2nd At anchor, River Marle
3rd At anchor, River Marle
4th At anchor Ile Longue
5th At anchor Ile Longue
6th Visitors mooring Anse de Kerners.

Marinas & harbour berths 5 nights
At anchor 27 nights
Alongside wall (no charge) 2 nights
On passage 2 nights

Tuesday 29 July 2008

Email problems

We are having problems with our Outlook Email service. I have lost our Email address book. We have been receiving Emails but I have not been able to send anything out.
Please note that I can still send & receive Emails on line via Google mail. However we had planned to download all our Emails to Outlook, read them, write replies and send them all at the same time from an internet Café.
If you know of someone who has unexpectedly not heard from us, It may be because we have lost their address. Please get them to send an Email to us at demengel@googlemail.com

In the mean time I’m trying to get the Outlook problem fixed. So please be patient, it’s not always easy for us to get on line.

We plan to enter the Golfed u Morbihan tomorrow Wednesday 30th July.

Best regards

Dee

Thursday 24 July 2008

Audierne

We have spent a few days exploring the Rade de Brest and its tributaries.
The little we saw of the town itself was of no great interest or beauty, we were however very grateful for the help we got from a computer geek in an internet café (our first experience of this wonder of the modern age).


The Rade is of course jammed pack full of the French Navy and their war ships. Vast areas of it are marked on our charts, “Entry Prohibited”. We felt quite at home: it reminded us of the British Army in Castlemartin, Pembrokeshire!
Our favourite bit was without doubt the days we spent on the L’Aulne River. The only fly in this particular ointment was on passing a beautiful Monastery near Landevennec we turned a bend in the river hoping to find a quiet anchorage for the night, and discovered this!!!





After passing the Pont de Terenez, things improved no end, with mile after mile of wooded river valley reminiscent of the upper reaches of our own Afon Cleddau. The wind was mostly favourable and we were able to sail almost as far as the lock at Port Launay. We had a look at Châteaulin, but it was a bit busy for us, so we returned for a quiet night alongside a flower covered wall in the non tidal canal. We supped in the cockpit (and great shame on us finished the last of our Tesco's Australian wine) with a beautiful viaduct in the background.



Monday 21st saw us at anchor in the spectacular Anse de Pen-Hir and a four a.m. start next morning for the Raz de Sein. Despite the dire warnings of the severity of this passage, we had little or no wind and a favourable spring tide. So a quick and quiet passage leaves us at anchor bobbing in a mildly uncomfortable swell at Saint-Evette.

We plan to row ashore this afternoon and get some mild aerobic exercise, by cycling to the nearby town of Audierne.

Saturday 19 July 2008

Brest


A big thank you to Katrina for organising my perfect retirement party. Thanks also to all my friends and work colleagues who came along and said such nice things. The present of the Sextant, that you all contributed to, is just what I wanted. It will give me many hours of harmless pleasure and will remind me of how lucky I am to have worked with, played with, or just known, such fine people. (It’s just a shame I didn’t get the Sex toy I asked for).


Saturday brought Pippa and me down to earth. Strong winds and heavy rain: we weren’t going far. We eventually gave up trying to find space on board for all the paraphernalia we had loaded on to our poor old boat. In the end we just crammed things in and hoped for the best. Despite the very strong South East winds we just had to get out of Neyland Marina. Leaving the berth was almost an epic. I tried several times to use subtlety and gentle technique to no avail. Sula just wouldn’t turn her head through the wind. Nor would she countenance the ignominy of reversing out. In desperation before I lost all control, full steam astern, then tiller over and full steam ahead and hope for the best did the trick. Our first cruise as livaboards was a gentle mile to Mill Bay, just up the river from work and a perfect anchorage in such conditions.

Sunday saw us beating down river to Dale with welcome sunshine, good wind and a fair tide. The highlight was without doubt hailing a halloo to a boatload of ex work mates, Steve, Robin et all, the best qualified sailing crew in Pembrokeshire, who can tell a tale or two about ebbing tides and mud flats.

We finally set off after lunch on Monday and experienced exhilarating, frustrating, and exasperating sailing in equal measure on route to Newlyn (near Penzance in Cornwall).
The wind would get up, at one time requiring two reefs and a pocket handkerchief jib, before dying away to a light breeze, but with a large and confused sea. The last leg past Longships light and Lands End saw us on a beam reach doing nine knots over the ground.
(We had quite a bit of help from the tide)

The highlight of our stay in Penwith was alongside the wall in the drying harbour of
St Michaels Mount. We were too late to pay an arm and a leg to the NationalTrust and visit the grounds of the Medieval Monastery. Instead we walked around the Island below the Mean High Water mark and were rewarded by spectacular views of the Mount.

Our crossing to France on Monday 14th was a lot easier than Milford to Cornwall. We couldn’t lay a course to L’ Aber Wrach so changed course to Roscoff, and sailed at a good speed to arrive first thing in the morning. A bit too early, as it was still quite dark and misty. Oh what a lovely aid to navigation is GPS!

L’ Aber Benoit was our next destination, a lovely harbour and surrounding countryside. Though a lot busier than the last time I visited about ten years ago. We got our fold up bikes out and went for an explore. It was quite nice to get some aerobic exercise for a change.

We are now in Brest having arrived just in time to see (from a distance) the grand parade of sail that marked the end of the Brest festival of sail. We couldn’t count them all but we are reliably informed that there were three thousand sailing boats in all (Yes I did say 3,000).

We are going to rest up here for two or three days before heading of to southern Brittany.

Tuesday 27 May 2008

Nearly Ready

Sula at her home mooring in Llangwm















Pippa and Dee have spent the past six months getting Sula ready for her sail to the Med.
This paragraph is technical stuff for sailing geeks.
We discovered that the mast was badly corroded and needed complete replacement. Having sorted that out, we fitted self tailing winches all round, new main sheet blocks and Boom Vang, and Slab reefing to replace the old roller reefing. Other mods are the fitting of. A bimini, Solar panel, Cabin heater (Its cold in the Med in winter), New cooker, Power monitor, Laptop navigation, Nav text, and Ham radio.There will of course always be other jobs to do, but we are satisfied that we are nearly ready to set off on our adventure.

The outline plan

While setting out our plans you should bear in mind that especially where boats are concerned, plans will and do change.

We plan to sail from Neyland Marina on Saturday 5th July 2008. (The day after Dee’s retirement). We won’t go far until we are sure we haven’t forgotten anything, probably just to Skomer and Ramsey islands. Then we will head off in the direction of Cornwall (probably Falmouth) and meet up with Helen & Jane. We will miss Deryck & Mac because they will be climbing in the Dolomites.

A visit to the Scilly Isles is a distinct possibility if the wind is in the right direction, then it’s off to North Brittany, perhaps L’Aber Vrac’h, before working our way down the coast to the Golfe du Morbihan.

Some time in mid August, when we will get a favourable five day weather forecast we will cross the Bay of Biscay to the Spanish Rias. Then during September work our way down the coast of Portugal and enter the Med in early October.

Next it will be a visit to the Baleriacs and Sicily, where we might just possibly meet up with Dee’s sister Celia.

Before the Mediterranean winter sets in we hope to be in Turkey, probably Marmaris, but that’s a long way of yet and as I say, “things will and do change”.