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Friday 24 September 2010

25th post - Gibraltar to the Canaries

Sorry for the long delay in updating the Blog.
The best excuse I can come up with is that we have been rather busy. But I would say that wouldn’t I?

We arrived in Gibraltar on the 28th June, having booked a place at Marina BayMarina. It’s bang next door to the airport runway and as one might expect is incredibly noisy, especially when military aircraft are taking off or landing. If on deck we had to put fingers in our ears, it was so painfully loud.






Gibraltar airport and Marina Bay
(La Linea (Spain) in the background)




The next bit is for techies so feel free to skip it if so inclined.

After much waiting around, and visiting various offices in and around the airport, our Hydrovane self steering gear, that had been sitting in a warehouse for a week, was finally delivered to us. I then set to work fitting it to the transom. I’ve thought it for a long time but now I’m certain. There really is no such thing as an easy job aboard a yacht.

However, the instruction book was very good and I ploughed on. I came to an abrupt halt however when trying to fit the lower mounting bracket. In the end I had to Email the manufacturers and discovered that I had been supplied with the wrong part.

They sent me a new one without delay, but it was lost in customs or somewhere.
It never arrived, so I had to manufacture a sleeve out of a couple of beer cans.
This fix lasted for 500 miles to Porto Santo.

My next task was to go through a by now familiar pantomime with customs and the shipping agents to get hold of an Echo tech water maker we had ordered on the internet from Trinidad.

Once again the instructions were very good, and I soon had it fitted under the pilot berth. It will make 42 litres of drinking water an hour from seawater. The down side is that it uses a lot of battery power, so the sun must shine all day to recharge the battery from our solar panel or else we must run the engine.

To add insult to injury our fridge then packed up. A pipe had chafed through (because I hadn’t secured it properly). The gas man, once we had persuaded him to come, told me to fix the leak with several coats of Araldite. That done he came back and re filled the coolant gas. Then gave me a whacking great bill for the repair. It must have been very expensive araldite.

Welcome back to the non techies.

We had a day off work and completed an excellent walk to the summit of the rock via a path known as the Mediterranean steps. Near the summit we came across the obligatory Barbary Macaques, they were quite charming as a matter of fact.

What was not so charming was the huge amount of military detritus, littering a vast expanse of the countryside. I’m amazed that with the departure of most of the military, and the importance of tourism to the island, greater effort has not been made to clear up this expanse of disused rubbish. Now where in Wales can I tell a similar tale?






Barbary Macaques




On my birthday we visited a local bar with a live band, including a superb solo flautist. It really was an excellent performance. Pippa had come across the musician busking in the street a few days before and had asked where she might hear more of his music.

The Football world cup was in progress while we were in Gibraltar. Giant TV screens proclaimed the fact on every corner, otherwise we might not have known. We thought it might be fun to go and support Spain in the final from a waterfront bar. And it was. Rather sadly though, we got a bit mixed up with their shirt colours. I had wrongly assumed that Spain would be wearing their national colours of yellow and Red, but this was not the case and we spent most of the match cheering for the wrong side. We might have been lynched!

On the 17th July we sailed a short distance down the coast to the true entrance to the Mediterranean at Tarifa. We met with strong winds and a counter current but by late afternoon were anchored just outside the small harbour. Later in the evening
all the other yachts started to leave. We thought it odd until one kind skipper called out “ The Levante is coming”. We were in for a strong blow from the East and needed to sail to the other side of the peninsular. We were just safely re anchored as the wind started to howl.

Next day it was still blowing strongly (force 6) but it was in the right direction, so after lunch we set sail for the 500 mile passage to Porto Santo. Our newly fitted Hydrovane steering gear steered better than we could for the next six days.

On the 19th we had a confused sea and a strong quarter wind for a full 24 hours. We fully reefed the main and most of the jib and we were still occasionally sailing at hull speed, much too fast for comfort, with spray flying everywhere and much too bouncy for us cruising sailors. We tried without the main but rolled horribly. Fortunately it abated the next day and we had a quiet time for the rest of the passage.


23rd July. Arrived in Porto Santo at midnight. We anchored off the beach,
and slept the sleep of the just until nearly lunch time the next day.

On the 25th we moved into the marina. I inspected my repair of the Hydrovane and discovered that the lower support bracket was broken. It must have cracked while I was trying to fit it in Gibraltar. The gods must have been on my side, otherwise I might have lost the lot overboard. The Hydrovane people were also on my side. To their great credit they accepted full responsibility for the problem and have supplied me with new parts free of charge.



Our anchorage in Baia de Abra - Madeira




29th sailed for Madeira.
After the short passage we anchored in Baia de Abra a lovely landfall. The bay is well protected from the prevailing swell if not from all the wind. Its large cliffs & incredible rock strata are a sight to behold.





Baia de Abra - Madeira




Next day we had our first proper walk since May and enjoyed it enormously.
We found a coast path that led to near the end of the peninsular. The almost tame lizards came begging food and would crawl over our hands and feet if we let them.


Too much human contact?


After a couple of days swimming from the boat and a black lava beach, strong winds returned, and before much longer we couldn’t get ashore. We planned to move to the marina next day but we were on a lee shore, and I considered it unwise to leave a safe if uncomfortable anchorage and put Sula at risk.


Baia de Abra - Madeira





On the 3rd of August the wind abated long enough for us to move to the excellent marina at Quinta do Lorde.

A Lavada walk made a fine introduction to the delights of inland Madeira. We would call them leats. Some are very old, but most are from the 1950s or even later. They cunningly contour round the countryside distributing water throughout the land.




A Lavada
With thanks to the Madeira tourist office.

There were a few flies in the Madeiran ointment however. The first was a car rally that closed off some villages and roads and stopped some buses running. Sadly for us they were exactly the ones we wanted to use. Our plans for our next walk were abandoned and substituted with another Lavada walk.

The next problem was a real tragedy for those affected. A forest fire was started when a controlled burning got out of control. It burnt for a couple of weeks and caused considerable damage. We couldn’t really complain if it also kept us from our chosen walks.



Madeira (It’s mist not smoke)
With thanks to the Madeira tourist office.


A word of thanks here will not be out of place. My PA (Boss) from work who still organizes me when she can, sent us a host of useful information about Madeira, an island she loves and knows well. Thanks Katrina.

The third problem was my neck. I woke up one fine morning with a hugely swollen neck. Pippa agreed that I ought to see a doctor. In fact I saw three doctors within 24 hours. The third said “It’s much too big, we must know what it is” She immediately admitted me to the hospital.

A blood test was taken and I was put on intravenous drips. Various tubes led from a drip trolley to a needle in the back of my hand. I started to think of the trolley as my dog. It followed me everywhere and kept getting its lead caught in all sorts of obstructions.




Me and my dog.


The nurses were superb. I was in a private room and was being well looked after. The problem was that I wasn’t being told what was going on. I was expecting a CT scan and a biopsy. But no one could tell me when. I asked to see a doctor. “He will come” When, I enquired? “I do not know, perhaps tomorrow”. It wasn’t long before I was referring to him as Godot.

After a week of this I was getting cross. But then a lovely lady porter came to guide me to the Radiology unit for my scan. She was terrified of loosing me and kept fussing around. There was nothing for it but to take her hand while pretending to be a small boy. This made her smile and calm down a bit.

After lunch the same day I was taken to the gynaecological department for my biopsy. My protestations about being of the male gender went unheeded. The doctor later explained that it just happened to have the best provision for the test.
She was in fact superb. She spoke good English, though she denied it. But most importantly she answered all my many questions.


She said it was most probably a virulent infection but that I needed the tests to make sure it was ‘nothing worse’. She guardedly admitted that her euphemism meant cancer. Though she hurriedly added that this was most unlikely, but they must make completely sure.

Then once again nothing for three days. I asked when Godot would come and lo and behold he came after lunch. He breezed in, said “The CT scan & biopsy were both negative. “You can go home” and breezed out. I had to get a nurse to disconnect me from my dog. “Oh you are going now”? Yes, I explained, I have a bus to catch.

I was put on oral antibiotics and had to have two check ups. A third was proposed, but I explained that I was sailing for the Canaries. He prescribed yet more antibiotics and said I should see my doctor in the UK. This is just what I will do. But more of that anon.


Sula at the Ilha Desertas



On the 1st September we sailed just a few miles to Ilha Desertas. It’s a spectacular and intriguing island with 400ft cliffs. It's also a nature reserve notable for its Monk Seals. Its uninhabited except for two resident wardens.
We were the only yacht there and were made warmly welcome. One of the wardens showed us around the lower slopes close to the landing point. In response to our request to climb to the top of the island, he explained that it was difficult and that the path was closed.


Ilha Deserta Grande




However, after assuring him that we were experienced hill walkers, he agreed to speak to his boss who just happened to be visiting. In the morning she explained that the path was dangerous and closed to tourists. Long faces from the two of us, but we just said Oh, that's a shame, but never mind.

Then she showed her true colours. "But if I don't see you and if you are very careful, then why not?" We promised to be most careful, and to turn back if we found it too difficult. Then set off on an excellent walk to the summit of the island. It wasn't difficult at all, although there were one or two places you wouldn't want to slip.

Summit of Ilha Desertas



Encouraged by our friendly warden, we sailed off to the Ilhas Selvagens - Grande and Pequena. A group of very remote islands surrounded by rocks, reefs, and breaking seas, 150 miles to the south west.

Selvagem Grande is about 2.5 km square and is known for its Madeiran Petrels (Known locally as Freira) & its Cory’s Shearwaters. The weather was set fair and we encountered no difficulties. We were made most welcome by the warden.


Cory’s Shearwaters



The shearwaters put on a fabulous display in the evening. Thousands of them forming rafts half a mile off shore, waiting for dusk before returning to feed their young. Then accompanied by a cacophony of noise as they called to their chicks, vast clouds of birds descended on the island.

The warden told us that when the young Shearwaters fledge, they fly of out to sea on their own and don't visit land again for nine years. (yes, nine years). They are so at home at sea that they only need land to lay their eggs and raise their chicks.



A Cory’s Shearwater
Yes it is Steve! It’s not a Manx, even if it does look a bit like one.


On September the 6th we sailed for Selvagem Pequena, its only 0.25 km square, but home to 250 000 White faced storm Petrels. No photo I’m afraid, they spend all day in holes dug in the sand. Though we did see some at dusk.

Once again we were made most welcome and given a conducted tour of the island. We loved the remoteness, rugged coastline and simplicity of the island. We were even invited into the wardens’ shack for coffee. I think they enjoy entertaining their rare visitors.


The friendly Selvagens Pequena wardens
(shack in background)





Selvagen Pequena
I know the photo’s out of place, but I wanted to break up the text.