Playing Tourist In Lisbon

Now don’t misunderstand me, I know that we’re probably the ultimate tourists – what day is it, where are we?  For your information, it’s Monday 31 Aug 09 and we’re in Oeiras, just outside Lisboa (Lisbon for the uneducated).  I know this with certainty because the GPS tells me where I am and, if prompted, when I am as well.

This is our 3^rd day here, having arrived on Saturday.  On Saturday, after taking a deep breath and settling in, J and I went for a walk looking for a supermarket that the marina office said was 10 minutes walk away.  After walking round the hinterland for about 1½ hours and failing to find so much as a corner shop, we gave up and came back to the boat, tired and brassed off.  There’s nothing wrong with the town, it’s just that it doesn’t seem to have a centre where you can get your life support sorted.

One of the beautiful buildings in Cascais

Anyhow, we had a couple of beers and felt much better and then set off for Cascais, a seaside town next to Estoril for supper and a walkabout.  On the way to the train station, what did we find – you guessed it, the supermarket in a little shopping centre offering all sorts of stuff including a paper shop selling today’s English papers.  Immediate improvement in morale.

Cascais was lovely, all bars and restaurants offering a wide selection of styles of food.  We wandered round and having walked the length of the quayside to the marina we wound up having a really great meal in an Italian place near the centre.  The place is holding a fiesta this week, so there was live music and fireworks later in the evening.

The Irish Bar in Cascais

Cascais is also hosting the world Laser SB3 championships this week; great if you’re into that but of little interest to those of us who prefer to sail without getting our bottoms wet.

One of the more impressive buildings in Lisbon - note the paving mentioned in a previous blog.

On Sunday we caught the train into Lisboa to ‘do’ the place in the accepted tourist manner.  In many ways, our expedition bears out the old military principle of ‘time spent in reconnaissance is seldom wasted’ in that we hadn’t done any preparation and didn’t know what we wanted to see…..  Having arrived in the town centre, we quickly realised that thing to do was to take an open topped bus tour.  Once we’d found the right bus stop, we caught a tour which took us round the city.  Without wishing to upset anyone, we were underwhelmed by the place.  There didn’t seem to be much left of the older parts of the city and the newer bits were mostly pretty soulless and uninspiring ‘though there were one or two impressive pieces of architecture, both ancient and modern.  Added to our overall disappointment with the city, the sun was very hot and every time we came to a halt we felt as though we were being quietly cooked!  At the end of the tour, we had a drink in the centre of town and decided to beat a retreat back to Cascais which we knew was quite pleasant.  

The modern railway station in Lisbon, of which the city is hugely proud.

Today, (Monday) we have come to the conclusion that the water pump is terminally ill.  It doesn’t seem to make much difference what we do to it, it will pump for a bit and then refuse to play.  The marina reception have now managed to contact a chap to come and fix it for us; he’ll be here sometime this afternoon, so we will not leave until tomorrow now.  I’d have preferred a place to go and buy a new pump but that doesn’t seem to be the way things work in this place.

Ah well, now there’s time for another beer to ward off the down time blues…

Duncan & David enjoying coffee & brandy after our meal in Cascais.

Our companion David, is very long-suffering of the constant delays & seems fairly relaxed about when he eventually reaches his home near Malaga tho’ he has said he’d like to make it there before the end of September!  We need to press on anyway as we have to be in Barcelona by mid-October at the very latest, when the first lot of guests are due in the shape of the Stunning Ruins.  (For further information, continue to watch for updates on our blog.) 

 One of the most trying things for David to put up with is our capacity to sleep.  I have always been fairly fond of my bed but since adopting our new life as water gypsies, we are both capable of sleeping 10+ hours a day given half a chance & by the time we surface David has often been up & about for a couple of hours or more!  This sleepiness could be due to all the fresh air, distances walked and lack of any real stress but just possibly it could also be linked to the quantity of alcohol we seem to be consuming these days!  If other things irk David, he keeps it to himself and really seems to put up with us with remarkable fortitude.  For our part, his excellent company, help & assistance have been invaluable and we’re just very thankful that he hasn’t jumped ship yet!

Next Steps in Portugese

Nazare was an entertaining place to stay.  The port and marina are about a 25 minute walk away from the main town, which is a somewhat downmarket tourist destination.  To be fair, the marina is a match; that is somewhat downmarket too! 

The main entertainment in the marina is the English harbour master, Mike. I’d say that he’s just the wrong side of 70 and is full of advice and helpful comments.  We came alongside initially, made a competent job of it and were promptly asked how Rampage handled in reverse and then told to tuck ourselves into a berth at the top end of one of the pontoons.  That entailed reversing the boat about 75 metres with the wind doing its best to disrupt things.  Mike then proceed to offer helpful advice on how to tie Rampage up.  Ah well, at least we got a berth to ourselves only a short walk from the marina offices.

Nazare also demonstrated the Portuguese bureaucracy at its best.  Two examples; to book in the boat I had to visit the marina reception and the Guard National Republica and a chap from the immigration police came and visited the boat.  When J wanted to do a wash using the machine in the marina offices, she first had to visit the marina manager, who solemnly filled out a form, which she then took to another office which took her money off her and gave her a token (from a locked safe!)  She then completed the process by going back to the marina manager to produce the token and collect some washing powder.  Small wonder it cost €6.50 for a load, considering the employment generated by the process.

We had decided to make an overnight move to Lisbon as the trip would take about 14 hours.  We had planned to set off at about 5pm but things were knocked a little askew by the water pump.  The pump had been running by itself at odd times, probably as a result of some dirt in the mechanism.  To sort the problem out, I took the pump out and stripped it down.  Result; pump reassembled minus the dirt found in it but now it wouldn’t draw water up from the tanks.  Much head scratching, 3 strips and reassemblies and I eventually tested the pump to see if it was properly sealed; result, slight leakage of air, which indicated why the thing wasn’t able to lift water less than a metre from the tanks.  The bodge job conducted in the pump entailed araldite and the permanent joining of two bits meant to come apart.  It fixed the problem but I feel a new pump coming on.

All this was done against the clock, as we’d booked out of the marina and couldn’t face booking in again.  We eventually left about 1½ hours late with much advice from the harbour master on the best route to take.

(N.B. Those readers who are not of a nautical turn of mind will guess that the skipper wrote this blog as it now becomes mildly technical and very unJuliaish!)

The harbour itself was very well designed and absorbed all of the fairly significant Atlantic swell which we met on leaving the breakwater.  The swell was about 3 – 4 metres with a northerly force 4 blowing, so we got the sails up and headed south to our first turning point.  As darkness fell, the watch keeping system was started with David taking first turn, then me and finally J.

We kept shortening sail as the wind increased, eventually down to 2 reefs and on a broad reach just off the wind.  The first turn was made during my first watch.  The ideal course would have been due south but the sea and wind meant that we couldn’t come that far round, as keeping the boat under control with the wind dead astern would have been too difficult.  Instead, I headed south south west, as close to the wind as comfortable.  I had decided to gybe the boat on to a south south east course after about an hour and so on either side of our ideal course until we rounded the next headland into the Lisbon area.

The wind was such that we were doing 8 knots much of the time, a good speed for Rampage, so losing ground tacking didn’t worry me too much.  The more southerly course also meant that we were following the swell rather than crossing it, so the motion of the boat was much easier than before.  I handed over to J once we’d brought the boat onto the opposite tack; she woke me about an hour later to reverse the tack and the next thing I remember was David marking the chart with our progress 3 hours later!  He’d put a waypoint into the chart plotter and was tacking a mile either side of the resulting course.  Much neater than my hour or so but more work, as we seemed to need to gybe about once every 45 minutes.

The normal way to gybe a boat is to pull the mainsail into the centre of the boat, the helmsman then turns the back of the boat through the wind whilst the crew pulls the genoa (foresail) through to the opposite side of the boat.  The helm then steadies the boat on the new course, the crew trims the sails and re-rigs the preventer (a line to stop the boom making an unexpected trip across the boat – this can lead to holes in the skipper’s heads).  It is possible to do it yourself if you’re on a night watch.  Instead of the helmsman doing the work, the autopilot is told to move 60 degrees across the wind.  This happens in reasonably slow time, giving the person on watch time to bring the genoa across to the new tack.  Just means you have to it all yourself.  It certainly stops you getting bored at night.  J had never done this particular trick before, so I coached her through it for the first time.  Inevitably, by the time we came to do it, the wind died as we finished the turn….  Motor on and resume our course, putting the genoa away as we did so.

I then went to be bed and David took over from J later on.  I woke at about 10am to find David grinning from ear to ear.  He had hoped to get alongside in the marina without either of us waking up!  He’d got to within ½ mile before being joined by myself and J.

This port is not called Oeros but Oeiras and is quite the poshest marina we’ve visited so far.  All fairly new and up market but a good base for exploring Lisbon and surrounding are, which we intend to do over the next couple of days.  Watch this space for our opinions about the place, if we can ever find internet access that doesn’t cost an arm, a leg and half our bank balance…

PS – Sorry, no suitable pics for this entry.

First Steps in Portugese

Fishing boats at Sao Jacinto

… We had a fairly gentle day on the Monday after our return from UK in order to recover from the excesses of the weekend.  J & I walked across town to a supermarket and struggled back in the heat, weighed down with provisions for the next few days.

 

Rampage at anchor in Sao Jacinto

On Tuesday we set off at a civilized hour (9.30ish) and managed to sail nearly all the way to Aviero, the wind only dropping just as we arrived.

Waterfront at Aviero

Reed’s Almanack told us that the city of Aviero was worth visiting – the Venice of Portugal with its many canals.  Accordingly we took the ferry from our anchorage in the little village of Sao Jacinto, across the estuary & caught the bus to the city.  We had a delicious meal of fresh sardines at a little restaurant but on the whole came to the conclusion that the worthies of Venice have no cause to lose sleep over their city’s potential rival! 

 

Gondolas Aviero style

One of the interesting things we have observed in Portugal is their fondness for facing the outside of their buildings with coloured tiles.  Some also have a religious scene depicted in tile work, usually above the doorway.  In addition, quite a few of the pavements are covered in mosaic tiles, usually a pale creamy colour with symbols and pictures picked out in black stone.  Julia was particularly pleased to see pairs of seahorses decorating one of the bridges in Aviero.

 

Skipper hard at work deciding where to eat....

We left Aviero at about 8.30pm to catch the ebbing tide out of the estuary and so to sea.  All went to plan except that there was still a current running into the estuary but nothing we couldn’t cope with.  The mainsail had been hoisted on leaving the anchorage as there seemed to be a bit of wind – not a bit of it.  As soon as we cleared the breakwater, what little puff there was disappeared and we wound up motoring the whole night long.

About 4 hours into the trip, the fog closed in round the boat and we were reduced to a radar watch.  It felt like the boat was in its own little bubble, as we couldn’t see much beyond our own lights for several hours.  At about 1am, the dolphins came to visit the boat.  At first, it was a touch worrying, as they disturbed the surface of the water without you being able to figure out what they were.  But fairly quickly, you could make out their phosphorescent wakes as they played their usual tricks of swimming alongside and under the boat.  The phosphorescence meant that you could see their tracks through the water, all sweeping curves and sudden turns.  Magic.

 

Dolphins off the port bow!

The fog lifted later in the day and by 0830, the land was in sight and the last headland before Nazare loomed up.  Just as the fog was going, the dolphins came back to play again.  There was a pod of about a dozen who came helter skelter out from the coast to join the boat; you could see them coming from about ½ a mile away as they came on an interception course to meet the boat.  They then merrily swam round the boat before forming up on the bow, forever changing position in the formation, breaking away and then coming back to join the fun again.  They stayed for about 20 minutes before dashing off to join another group who had found a shoal of fish which they had bunched up in a ball for feeding.

... and off the starboard as well.

As we watched, more dolphins came from the surrounding area, swimming in to join the others in feeding from the shoal.  Seabirds wheeled overhead, hoping for the leftovers from feast going on below.  You know, I’ve often wondered about dolphins and just how intelligent they might be.  The more I see of them in the open sea, the more convinced I become of one fact; you don’t find dolphins, they find you.  If you’re not a threat to them they’ll come and visit you, playing the bow wave of the boat for as long as it takes their fancy.  Once they’re bored or there’s something else better to do, then they’re off about their own business.  I always feel privileged after they’ve been to visit and this time I got some photos to share the moment!

 

After that burst of philosophy, the marina of Nazare was a return to normality.  The marina is small and tucked into the southern end of a little fishing port which is sheltered by a small headland.  The town seems to be fairly ancient and we will explore it either today or tomorrow before we set out for Lisbon; David and Julia seem to be set on staying at a port called Oeros, which, given the way pronunciation seems to work round here, drops the leading O – hmmm!   (The skipper fails to mention that he was somewhat disappointed, whilst we were up in the Spanish Rias, not to have stayed in a little place intriguingly called Portosin! – Julia)  Seeing as Oeros, (or could it be Oreos?) is more than 70 miles from here, we’ll probably leave mid afternoon tomorrow (Friday 28^th) and make an overnight passage so as to arrive in daylight hours on Saturday.

A Farewell to Spain

I don’t know if any of you have ever tried to wake Julia up before she thinks that she ought to be stirring but, take it from me, it’s not a thing to be undertaken lightly.  This is even more the case when the evening before has been a fine one with a good quantity of high quality alcohol involved.  Suffice it to say that it almost qualifies as a blood sport.

Anyhow, the passage planning process had deduced that in order to arrive at Pavoa de Varzim, our first Portuguese port, in daylight and have a margin in hand to carry on to the next port, should there be no room, we would need to leave Bayona at about 0700 on 18^th August.  This meant aiming to get up with the proverbial lark so as to get the boat ready to sail as dawn was breaking – not a popular move but at least Julia knew why we’d need to leave so early and accepted it…..

I’d managed to wake up before the alarm went so that I could wake Julia gently rather than the fairly loud and aggressive alarm on my phone.  Up we got and, on autopilot, moved on to getting sails ready, the motor started and the anchor winch prepared to lift the hook.  Time passed quickly and there was no noticeable improvement in J’s humour; unusual, as things do usually tend to improve.  Eventually, I foolishly asked what was wrong.  The drift of the complaint was that she thought we were getting up to leave as it got light, not whilst it was still dark.  It took some fast talking to convince her that we were not up earlier than agreed but on time; the aim was nothing to do with the light as we left but rather the light as we arrived, which meant we had to leave in the dark.

This explanation eventually sufficed to mollify Julia’s irritation and we left Bayona in a lovely dawn light, using the motor, as what little wind there was, was from the wrong direction.  Motoring is not the best mode of travel for a yacht; it is noisy, there’s a smell of diesel engine fumes and it costs money whereas the wind is free.  However, beggars can’t be choosers and we had to be in our next port by the end of the day in order to be ready to catch our flight back to UK for our niece, Jude’s, wedding.  So motor it was, until the midday wind arrived – only about an hour and a half late.  We then sailed on down towards Povoa de Varzim, a small port about 30 miles inside Portugal.

We arrived off the port by about 1600, although we did have a bit of fun deciding whereabouts the port was in relation to the rest of the town.  Eventually we got the right bit and headed in towards the harbour entrance under sail, intending to drop sails and start the motor as we got a bit closer.  In we sailed and switched on the motor power, pushed the starter and …. nothing happened.  The power to the motor had decided to take a short holiday.

I handed over the helm to David and dived below, trying to think how to solve this one.  David tacked the boat and then hove to, so that we effectively came to a stop in the water, facing away from land.  This gave me time to think and prod wires in a slightly less panic-stricken fashion.  Having changed a fuse and prodded the odd thing or two, we tried the engine again and it caught on the first attempt.  Now under power, the sails were brought in and we turned to shore and the port entrance again.

No further excitements were encountered and we were safely alongside by 1830.  The marina was pleasant enough, not too far from the centre of town and cheap – we ended up staying for a week for less than the cost of 4 days in Falmouth. 

The following day was spent on a mammoth wash, shopping and a recce to investigate the metro to the airport.  This didn’t prove too difficult, although the timings were less than perfect.  Our flight was at 0850 which when combined with metro timings meant getting the first available train which left at 0550; in turn this meant leaving the boat at 0520.  Not Julia’s favourite time of day (see above) so the fact that it all went well was a nice surprise for us all.

Indeed the entire trip to the UK went smoothly.  The wedding was excellent in every respect, venue, food, wine, band – the lot!  The bride looked stunning and her mother and bridesmaids looked lovely too.  An excellent time was had by all & for J & me it was great to be able to catch up with all the extended Thomas clan as well as our own offspring & their partners.  (I’m amazed the skipper and his sons remember anything of the day at all.  A half bottle of Glenfiddich thinly disguised as a bottle of Ribena helped to turn our group into the rowdiest & most badly behaved group of guests – and that was before we even reached the reception! – Julia)  Next day, after a swim in the hotel pool we joined Ian & Barbara (J’s brother & wife – parents of the bride) for a barbecue lunch with other friends and family.  Both looked considerably more relaxed, the festivities now having passed off so well after months of hard work and angst.  

J’s sister Liz dropped us off with friends near Bristol & we had a splendid reunion with Pete & Tig that evening helping to test the obligatory bottle of port we’d had the foresight to provide. Next day, (Sunday 23^rd) we flew back to Porto and made our way back to the marina at Povoa de Varzim.  We found David, predictably, in the bar and felt morally bound to join him for a few nightcaps in view of the excellent way he had looked after Rampage in our absence.  I seem to recall getting into a long and involved discussion with the barman about the relative merits of various spirits around the world before weaving our way back along the (remarkably narrow) pontoon…

The Next Bit of the Rias of Northern Spain

The trip to Santa Uxia de Riberia on the Ria Arosa was entertaining, as we left under motor in no wind but soon caught a breeze as we head south towards our next stop.  The wind brought with it the fog for which this coast is notorious and visibility dropped in seconds from a couple of miles to no more than 150 metres or so.  It was at this point that you suddenly become reliant on your electronics; the chart plotter shows you where you are and the radar tells about other vessels in the area.

The Skipper & wife relaxing heavily!

 

Chart of Muros to Ria Arosa

 

It was just as well that everything was working as planned, as the fog was such that you really couldn’t see anything beyond the immediate vicinity of the boat.  The route we were on was one to avoid a series of islands and reef round the mouths of the Rias and if we hadn’t got the satnav system we would have had to head out to sea until the fog cleared; dead reckoning would have seen us sitting on the rocks.  As it was, we were fixated on the lcd screens showing the radar echoes and our progress on the chart until the fog cleared as we completed our transit round the last of the reefs.

 

Our chosen anchorage in the Ria Arosa was at Santa Uxia de Ribeira, a busy little town tucked in on the eastern side of a small peninsula jutting out from the north of the Ria.  As we approached, there was a mass of yachts sailing down towards the town, aiming for the turning point in a race.  We were grateful that our planned anchorage worked out, as the thought of trying to get further up the Ria in the midst of a fiercely contested race was a touch intimidating.

 

Wall to wall yachts

 

View from the boat at Ria Arosa

The anchorage was not the best one; it was pleasant enough, looking out over a small village and well protected from the weather.  However, it seemed to be a fairway to and from the nearby town for all and sundry.  Boats large and small continued to pass us until darkness and started again in the early morning.  At least it was free!

 

David discovring that there were no fish at Ria Arosa

We took our time the following morning getting things in shape before we moved off, once again on the motor as, guess what?  No wind!  We were heading for the town of Bueu (no I don’t know how to pronounce it either) on the Ria de Vigo.  It was only 20 off miles away but we don’t much like using the motor, so a short trip was better than a long one with no wind.  We did get a little wind round about midday and entered the Ria de Vigo and came across the most crowded waters we’d encountered since leaving the Solent in April.  David, who has managed to avoid the south coast of England, had never seen so many sailing boats in one place before.  We made the majority of the crossing of the Ria on the starboard tack (wind coming over the right hand side of the boat).  Those of you familiar with the rules for the prevention of collision at sea will know that this means that other boats on the port tack have to give way to you.  You then engage in a game of chicken with the other yachts in your vicinity, hoping that the other skipper knows he has to alter course whilst keeping an eye out for those who either don’t know the rules or who don’t want to play by them.  Great fun, like playing dodgems with 7 – 8 tonnes boats!

 

Chart of Ria de Arosa to Bueu

We anchored off Bueu (still can’t pronounce it) in the early afternoon and went ashore to stretch our legs.  We had run out of food on board, so we had decided to have supper ashore.  As it was early, we had a couple of beers in one bar before moving on to have a fish paella in another little place.  We then walked on through town to a little bar on the outskirts where David and I drank brandy whilst Julia had a glass of wine.  The walk back to town sobered us up a little before we took the tender back out to the boat.

 

The following morning, as did a big shop in the town before setting off on our last trip to a Ria.  We were aiming for the most southerly of the Rias before Portugal; the town of Bayona.  Again, this was a short trip but we managed to make most of it under sail, as we didn’t set off until midday, when the seas breeze starts up in this part of the world.

 

Chart of Bueu to Bayona

Again, the water was fairly crowded with yachts and the rules of the road were being fairly well strained at times.  We had a good run down into Bayona.  The entrance to the Ria is easy enough but can only be done through a channel right down on the southern side of the bay: there’s a series of islands and reef across the rest of the entrance which precludes  its use by a boat drawing much over 50cm.  We rounded the promontory with a castle on it and were into the outer harbour, where we dropped anchor in the company of a lot of German boats, all being very correct and flying anchor balls.  We decided that we wouldn’t let the side down and dug out our anchor ball from the locker, figured out how to put it together and hoisted it up the mast!  We even lit the anchor light that night, again for the first time since setting out down the Rias. 

 

Bayona Castle

The anchorage was very picturesque, surrounded by hills running down into the sea.  The reefs in the mouth of the Ria made for calm seas but this was offset by the large number of boats, large and small which spent much of the night going back and forth round the anchorage.  We didn’t bother going ashore, as we had an early start planned for the next morning.

 

Bayona Sunset

The Rias of Northern Spain

We spent four days in Coruṅa mainly because we needed to get hold of a new anchor winch.  The old one needed a new motor and Duncan decided that even if we managed to buy one, the winch itself was not really man enough for the job and could let us down at some point – not a happy thought.  Accordingly on Monday, he and I tramped across town to a chandler’s that we’d been told of.  They were most helpful and although they didn’t have exactly what we required they were happy to phone round their suppliers until they found the correct specification.  We were offered a cash price and as anchor winches don’t come cheap, we agreed and then had an entertaining time drawing sufficient funds from ATMs around town in order to pay for it the following evening.  (I was contacted by the fraud department of my bank very worried about the unusual activity on my account!)  On Tuesday evening the chandlery contacted the marina with a message that the winch had arrived and was ready for collection so we stumped back across town to collect it and Duncan and David spent a happy evening installing it.

 

Widow Twanky's Washing

Whilst waiting in La Coruṅa, an enormous wash-a-thon was conducted and on Sunday morning our boat definitely won the prize for being the most impressively decked out with washing – see photo!  The volume of washing was even larger than expected for four people spending five days at sea, because Duncan’s clothes locker was found to have been leaking so his entire underwear & sock supply had to be washed.  In fact we sort of knew about this before leaving Falmouth & Polly had kindly washed all his T-shirts whilst we were there, but we’d stupidly not really addressed the problem.  This time however, much time was spent identifying where water was getting in to various parts of the boat and trying to resolve these issues.  In addition, various other repairs were done, emails sent and general admin sorted before we set off on the next part of our journey. 

 

David - a very brave man to sail with such utter nutters

David walked miles all round the city and up to the Torre de Hercules but failed to find a tobacconist to sell his particular brand of cigars.  Duncan and I tracked down a supermarket and even better, a produce market where we had a happy morning buying meat, fruit and veg.  Neither of us speaks any Spanish worth mentioning but we had a lot of laughs with the stall holders trying to make ourselves understood.  My impression of a pig snorting caused particular hilarity but did at least confirm to us that the interesting-looking chopped, marinated meat was indeed pork as we hoped.

 

Jeremy was due to leave us at Coruṅa and spent a good deal of time trawling the net looking for possibly ways back to UK.  In the end he bought himself a week’s bus travel and set off on Wednesday morning to explore this part of Northern Spain before he flies home from Bilbao next week.  Duncan, David and I bid farewell to the sights of La Coruṅa and all the amenities of its very smart new marina and set off west around the coast.

 

Our original intention was to go all the way to Cape Finisterre on Wednesday evening but by 4.30pm the wind was dying so, rather than use a lot of fuel carrying on by motor and probably arrive after some time after dark, we decided to head for the nearest safe anchorage listed in Reeds almanac which was the Ria de Corme y Lage.  The village of Corme where we anchored was not particularly inspiring although the countryside around was lovely, so we cooked supper on board and contented ourselves with admiring the view from the boat.  Next day we carried on round the “shoulder” of Spain to Cape Finisterre – the western-most tip of Spain and supposedly the furthest point of the ancient world.  (Did they not know about the British Isles for heavens sake??)  There were lots of little boats moored in the harbour at Finisterre but we found somewhere to drop anchor, put the dingy into the water and set off to explore the little town.  Once again the town itself was largely modern and unremarkable but we sat and enjoyed a beer looking out over the harbour and enjoying the wonderful warmth.  The restaurant we selected promised paella as an option on the Menu de Dias but sadly, when we tried to order, the paella was off so we were forced to make do with spicy meats instead.  Nevertheless it was a pleasant evening and on Friday morning we sallied forth in the dinghy again to visit the little supermarket where we were able to restock the fridge before carrying on again. 

 

As I write this on Friday, we progress south along the coast.  There is not a breath of wind and the sea is as smooth as the proverbial silk.  It seems a shame to have to motor so we will not try to go far today but will explore another of the Rias or inlets along this part of the Spanish coast…

 

…We spent Friday night at Ensenada de San Francisco in the Ria de Muros.  Once again the scenery was lovely and the temperature hotter than ever.  We only motored for about three hours so we dropped anchor in early afternoon.  David tried to fish without success and Duncan started work on the bimini as it was obvious that we were likely to need this now.  Later they both went for a siesta & I continued to tidy up loose threads etc on the bimini.  It is no work of art but that evening we were able to sit & eat supper beneath it.  It does not offer a vast amount of shade but is better than nothing and, as previously mentioned, can act as a prototype for us to refine & improve upon.

 

After our evening meal, we took the dingy ashore & walked along the headland to a lighthouse I’d noted as we came into the Ria.  It was a lovely walk.  The heat had gone out of the day but it was still pleasantly warm; it was very still and peaceful with just the sounds of cicadas and distant noises from a beach by the town.  There were beautiful views across the Ria with the lights from little towns and villages across the water starting to come on and the hills behind fading into the mist.  As we reached the lighthouse the sun had just gone down but the sky to the west was lots of shades of pink. 

 

By the time we returned to the little beach where we’d left the tender, the stars were coming out and the bats were starting to flit in the trees.  We sat and enjoyed a nightcap and watched the lights along the shore.

 

We set off on Saturday to get to the next Ria: Ria de Arosa.  For about three or four hours we were in fairly dense sea fog and reliant on the radar and electronic instruments to help us find our way. 

 

To be continued when we’re not sitting in a bar without the Ship’s Log to remind us of just where we’ve been for the past few days…  Go figure, it’s great not being at work anymore!!!!!!

Anchor Winches

It’s a fine thing is an anchor winch.  You just push a button and down goes the anchor, push another one and up it comes.  There’s a need to keep the engine running whilst you’re using it, otherwise the battery goes flat quite quickly but otherwise it means that anyone can do the job of setting or raising the anchor, which is certainly not the case without a winch.  Getting the picture yet?  Rampage must have an anchor winch if Julia and I are to be able to manage her on our own.

 

Well, on our arrival in Coruna, there was an option to stop short of the marina and drop anchor, tucked up inside the main breakwater.  This was attractive, as it meant not having to try and figure out which set of lights marked the entrance to the place and then trying to find a vacant berth to moor to – all in the dark, as it doesn’t get light here until about 0645.

 

There were already a few yachts at anchor, so I brought Rampage up into the wind and slowed down whilst David and Julia got the anchor ready to drop.  I brought the boat to a stop and expected to hear the rumble of the chain being dropped from forward: nothing happened except some muffled cursing.  Getting Jeremy to take the wheel, I went forward to find the winch was refusing to play.  Nothing we did to it would make it function beyond making a dull clunking noise, so we abandoned the effort and made our way into the marina. 

 

Entering strange marinas is always a bit fraught, as you never know just what you’ll find, despite the chartlets in the Almanac and so on.  In the event, once we’d identified the entrance through the wave breaks, it was easy to see the pontoons and come alongside.

 

My first concern once we’d woken up after a good rest was to sort out the winch, as there is no way the progress south could continue without one.  Unless planned, anchoring is something that tends to be done in a bit of a rush and a broken or unreliable winch can’t be part of the picture.  Having freed the jammed chain, I took the covers of the winch and removed a couple of gears so that the motor could turn if it felt like it – that seemed to do the job, so I put everything back together again and it worked.  Forward and reverse, no hesitation.  I was getting ready to give myself a pat on the back when a small voice inside said ‘will it work under load?’ 

 

Easy to test – just try pulling the anchor back onto its housing on the rollers.  No sooner said than tested – result, winch back into sulk mode with no response to button pressing.  Stripping down the thing for the second time, the motor had decided it was terminally ill and that was that. 

 

I’d been slightly concerned about the winch, as it didn’t have a proper freefall mechanism (to allow you to drop the chain quickly) and it is underpowered for the boat (with only a 600 watt motor).  However, if I could get a new motor, that’d be the cheapest solution to the problem.  Saturdays are not good days for starting this sort of hunt in Spain, so we put things to bed and left it until Monday.

 

The boat next door to us once we’d moved into the marina was owned by an Australian making his way back towards home via the Panama Canal.  He had watched me stripping the winch and expressed his sympathy, modified by his envy of an electric winch as opposed to a hand one.  He told us about an excellent chandlers’ on the other side of town which had two advantages: it seemed to stock just about everything under the sun and there was a lady there who spoke good English.

 

On Monday, Julia and set off to see what could be done.  The walk through town was pleasant, in fine sunny weather and we eventually found the chandlers’.  It was just as described by our Aussie neighbour, a temple to chaos and things nautical and Marianne spoke excellent English as promised.  Whilst they didn’t have a new motor, they did have a couple of winches that I could look at.  Unfortunately, neither were suitable, being of the vertical capstan type rather than the horizontal that is fitted to Rampage.

 

After much perusing of catalogues, we found one that suited the space in Rampage’s chain locker and the phoning round to get hold of one started.  In the end, they found one that could be delivered by the evening of the following day.  An order was placed and a deposit paid and Julia and left to stroll back to the boat.  We got back to the boat to discover that David had occupied his time by removing the dead winch in preparation for the new one.

 

The following evening, a marina chap appeared by the boat to tell us that the chandlers had called and the winch was ready for collection.  Julia and I set off to pick it up; we arrived at the shop, were shown our new winch and, before we could ask for it, a taxi had been called to take us back to the marina.

 

It took David and I the best part of 2 ½ hours to fit the winch.  The first entertainment was discovered when we found the new winch uses 3 wires to power it: a common return combined with up and down power cables.  This explained what the third wire in the locker was for, as the old winch used only 2 cables.  Luckily, with the third wire already installed, it was simply a case of removing the old relay box from behind the electrics panel and installing the new one, which thankfully could be used with the old winch control handset.  That took me about an hour of cursing and skinned knuckles fitting it into a space that was just the right size. 

 

Meanwhile, David had been drilling holes in the chain locker mounting plate for the new winch, which had to be located slightly off centre to match the chain path from the bow roller.  None of the old winch mounting holes could be used, so the battery powered drill was hard put to keep pace with all the hole cutting required: 4 mounting holes plus a much larger hole for the chain to pass through into the locker.

 

By the time I’d finished installing the relay box, David had finished the mechanical bits up forward and we were ready to finish the wiring.  Inevitably, the ‘up’ button dropped the chain and the ‘down’ raised it, but that involved just switching a couple of wires on terminals. 

 

The first proper test came on Wednesday evening when we dropped anchor without a hitch at Comre, a little inlet about 40 miles down the coast from La Coruna.  When we raised the anchor the following morning, however, we found a design fault with a rubber mat provided for the winch to sit on: the mouldings for the chain path into the locker were simply too small and the chain was continually fouling on it.  Simple solution – cut away the offending rubber and there was no fouling.

 

Julia is now coming to grips with the new winch and I’m very pleased to have a reliable easy to use bit of kit which matches the boat.

The Dreadful Bay of Biscay

I don’t know about you, but for many years the Bay of Biscay has conjured up the image of desperate sailors battling against wind and waves as the Atlantic Ocean dumped its fury on the shores of France.  It is therefore not too surprising that I was a touch apprehensive about setting off for the crossing to La Coruna.

 

David, Julia and I spent a lot of time pouring over weather forecasts, reading up the best routes to take and generally thinking the trip through, trying to account for every eventuality so as to minimise the risks involved.

 

In the end the passage plan was pretty simple: leave Falmouth and clear the Lizard, then head south west until we were about 007^o 30’ W and then head south, making a little ground to the west so as to make La Coruna which is at about 008 ^o 30’ W.  The route would minimise the chance of encountering the really bad seas that can happen on the edge of the continental shelf as the sea bed rises from 4500 meters to less than 150 metres in about ½ a mile.  It would also give us sea room if the weather did get particularly bad – often the best thing to do in a storm is to rig a storm sail, fix the helm and shut the hatches until it’s blown over.

 

The route worked out at a little over 450 nautical miles (Look from now on, I’ll just call them miles but remember that a nautical mile is a bit longer 1 nautical mile = 1.14 land miles).  ‘Rampage’, on a good day, will make about 110 – 120 miles so we were looking at at least 4 days to make the trip.  Add on a fudge factor for lack of wind etc and we reckoned it would be 5 – 6 days before we got to Spain.

 

The next thing to think about was the wind.  The Met Office and its equivalent in France issue forecasts for the following 5 days but the details are sketchy and deal with fairly large areas of sea.  For extra detail, there are a number of other websites which provide raw wind predictions up to 7 days in advance.  The information is presented as a graphic file which shows the predicted wind in 50 km square boxes at 3 hour intervals.  As a passage planning tool, this is really useful information, as you can plot where you hope to be and see what the wind will be doing when you get there.  Don’t forget, ‘Rampage’ is a sailing yacht and depends on the wind for motive power, so we really need the wind blowing in the right direction at a comfortable speed.

 

It is never possible on a long passage to get the right wind throughout the trip, there will inevitably be times when the wind is against you and times when it just isn’t there at all.  The best you can hope for is that the wind is doing what you want it to do for most of the time.  David and I poured over the forecasts, looked at our planned route and finally came to the conclusion that we should leave in the evening of Monday 3 August; this would minimise our chances of being hit by a strong south westerly wind (just the wrong direction for us), give us a kick from the tide in the Channel and should see us in the middle of the Bay in time to pick up some northerly winds to push us towards Spain.

 

Whilst this was going, Julia had got Polly to take her shopping for food for the trip.  A full fridge is a happy fridge and ours was certainly full by Monday afternoon, with food enough for 4 people for 7 days.

 

Tommy had passed the word round the Gig Rowing world that we needed another crew member and Jeremy Cash was foolish enough to stick his head above the parapet and ask to join us.  He came on board mid afternoon on Monday accompanied by his bosun’s tool kit; not too sure if this was a vote of confidence or not!

 

Having refuelled in Milford Haven and not done too much motoring to get round Lands End, we only needed a small amount of fuel to top off the tank but it was worthwhile for the peace of mind it gave us.  Rampage was then berthed alongside the old quay wall until Tommy could escape from work to wave us off.

 

All too soon it was 6 pm and time to shove off if we were to catch the tide down the Channel.  The wind should have been from the south west but, true to form, it was actually from the west, making it very difficult to make progress to the west.  In addition, it was somewhat stronger than expected, so we had to tack to the south east to start with, to make enough ground to miss the Lizard.  The motion of the boat was fairly uncomfortable and we made slow progress as darkness fell.

 

After supper, the watch keeping regime started with one person on watch in the cockpit and the others below.  Watches were set at two hours at a time, which meant 2 hours on duty followed by 6 hours off; not a bad regime.  The duty bod has to keep a lookout for other vessels, keep an eye on the instruments, keep the log and make sure that any wind changes are matched by trimming the sails and course.  Simple really, as most of the time the autopilot does the difficult job of keeping the boat on course – until the battery runs down that is…

 

There’s something very satisfying keeping watch at night, even in bad weather.  Once away from towns, the light houses and other lights stand out well, letting you keep track of your progress.  Ships appear as patterns of light well before you can make out their shapes and, with a clear sky, there are the stars to watch.  Looking through binoculars, the faint lights of a ship become real as the shape fills in and you can make out what sort of vessel she is.  Sometimes dolphins and porpoises come and check out the boat; it’s lovely to think that they’ve come to visit you and never the other way round!

 

Monday night and Tuesday were not very comfortable; the sea was fairly rough and the wind was in just the wrong direction, so we seemed to be being thrown about a good deal and not making much progress.  Nevertheless, people were getting their sea legs and beginning to feel much better.  And we were getting somewhere; the marks on the chart showing our progress down past the Isles of Scilly and moving more southerly towards our destination.

 

J all wrapped up for a night watch

Come Wednesday, the weather had improved beyond recognition; a lovely warm sunny day and moonlit night.  The only downside was the fact that the wind had completely disappeared, so we had to turn on the artificial wind (otherwise known as the engine).

 

Thursday was not much different, with only light winds round the middle of the afternoon.  In an effort to make the most of what little wind there was, Jeremy had assembled the boat hook and various bits of line to make a pole to push out the foresail so as to catch the wind.  Then I had a brain wave and got the stainless steel tube that is part of the sun shade and we used that as a pole.  It worked great until the wind died again and we took it down and realised that the sharp edges on the ends of the tube were cutting through the rope.

 

Mk1 Pole, using canvas bag

 

Mk2 Pole using awning kit

Wednesday, Thursday and Friday were warm and sunny with little or no wind; most of the time was spent motoring to make the passage.  There is a compromise to be made here: we needed to complete the trip in a reasonable time, as otherwise people would start to get the coastguard wound up about overdue yachts but at the same time we had only a finite supply of diesel oil for the motor.  The watching of the fuel gauge and working out the best engine speed for ground made good became a major topic of conversation; one moment opinion would be that we could motor all the way to La Coruna and still have something in the tank; the next opinion would shift to the gloomy conclusion that we’d run out short of the Spanish coast and be condemned to complete the journey at the whim of the weather.

 

The pole returned to haunt us the following day, with much thought being devoted to the topic as we continued to motor south west towards our destination.  In the end I drilled a hole in the end of the pole to take a shackle so that the rope didn’t need to pass through it – job done.  Now all we needed was the wind.  The forecasts in UK before we set out had reckoned that the winds would be from the north and building towards through the day.  The winds didn’t wish to oblige us however, as we had little or no wind for the daylight hours of Friday.

 

However, by the evening, the wind was doing just what it had promised and a little more: wind direction had changed to north easterly and was building up to a force 5.  With a swell of about 2 metres running with the wind, we were really moving over the ground.  By now we were about 60 miles short of La Coruna and looking likely to arrive there by mid morning.  The wind, however, had different ideas, as it increased in strength and moved round to the east, moving us over the ground at about 7 knots and in just the right direction!  At last the weather doing what it was meant to do, just when it would have been OK to go slowly so as to arrive in daylight, we were being dumped off a strange port in the dark!

 

We came into sight of the Spanish coast at about 10pm, with the lights of the coastal towns and the lighthouses being visible about 35 miles offshore.  The main lighthouse was identified and minor adjustments to our course made by the duty bod.  By 4am, the cockpit was crowded as all 4 crew members joined in the entertaining sport of spotting the leading lights and channel marker buoys against the backdrop of a significant city’s lights.  Frankly, it was all a little too exciting and resembled a Monty Python sketch at times, as people failed to see what was glaringly obvious to someone else.  The whole business wasn’t helped by the fact that half way into our final approach, a large freighter appeared behind us, going a good deal faster than us and heading for the same part of the port.  Now, I know that sail has precedence and that the overtaking vessel is meant to avoid the one being overtaken but reality does intrude into the equation: this guy was much bigger than us and there was no guarantee he’d actually seen us.  So, down came the sails, on went the motor and we moved smartly off to one side to let him through before he made matchwood of ‘Rampage’.

 

This also solved the navigational dispute, as we simply followed the merchant man into the harbour, peeling off towards the marina as it appeared!  We then had to dodge a contingent of anchored yachts before we finally spotted the entrance to the marina.  Abandoning any thoughts of fancy approaches and finding ourselves a berth close to the shore facilities, I took the easy option and parked ‘Rampage’ on the first berth we came to – about 500 metres from shore.

 

We were alongside by 0545.  We had a beer to celebrate our arrival after 5 days at sea and then to bed! 

12 Hour Positions Showing Course

Praa Sands Raft Race & Shelter Box

On Sunday 2 August, Polly picked up David, Julia and I and took us to Praa Sands, a beach about 30 minutes drive away, to watch a raft race being held there.  The charity that Tommy works for as Information Officer, Shelter Box, had entered a raft made up entirely of things to be found in one of their disaster relief boxes.

The weather was great with sun and a gentle on shore breeze.  When we got to the beach, it seemed a little empty apart from the Shelter Box team who had a tent up and their raft completed.  They’d got a patch just by the car park steps so seemed to be getting plenty of attention as people came down to watch the fun.

By about 1230, there were loads of rafts about the place, all jostling for position for a quick get away when the start was sounded.  Some were clearly there for the craic – great looking rafts, loads of tipsy pirate helpers and no sense of what might make a raft actually work….  Other teams were clearly there to win, sleek looking rafts with lots of people to paddle them.

Once the starting signal was given, everypne ran down into the water with their rafts and the Shelter Box team discovered their design flaw: whilst their raft was buoyant and stable, it was very difficult to get on to….  Tommy had an especially hard job. or so it seemed to us, safely dry in shore.

The winners were out and round the buoy in what seemed to be next to no time but the Shelter Box team finished in style, being one of the few rafts not to tip up coming into the surf.

An enjoyable day out, watching other folks do the wet bit for a change….

 Link to Shelter Box website: http://www.shelterbox.org/index.asp