Our visitor Ger, had gone home the previous day. Catherine had gone to the airport with her for the bus ride. We were expecting more visitors, Stuart and Ann, on Friday night, and we were hoping to do some long sailing passages with them.
We had intended to stock up in the Supermarket, but they close for the Sabbath in this part of the world, so we spent the day getting the boat ship shape, and remained in Santa Cruz's Marina Tenerife until Monday to stock up.
Monday evening we left the marina to anchor for the night off Playa de Teresitas, the beach off the pretty village of San Andrés, just north of Santa Cruz, so that we'd get an early start on Tuesday. Teresitas is unusual in the Canaries because it has golden sand imported from the Sahara, rather than the normal black volcanic sand that appears naturally. The anchorage is protected from the North, but it is wide open to any other direction. However, it was a calm night, the little wind there was was off the land, and there was not much swell.
Our destination on Tuesday was Baia de Abona, a more sheltered bay about twenty miles to the South, protected to the Northwest by the village of El Porris, and to the Southeast by the Punta de Abona with it's conspicuous lighthouse.
We spent three nights here, mainly because we developed a problem with the heads that we had to fix. However, this didn't prevent us from having a long swim every morning. We used our snorkels, but the sandy bottom did not give us a lot to look at. Still I was reassured to see my anchor solidly dug in, and there were plenty of fish to entertain us in the crystal clear water.
Finally, by Thursday evening we had the problem fixed, and on Friday morning we weighed anchor. I have always been intrigued by this phrase, but I came a lot closer to understanding it over the following week, as the electric motor on the windlass, which lifts the anchor, failed. Our anchor weighs twenty five kilos, and the chain weighs another two or three per metre, so lifting it manually was going to be hard work. Fortunately for the next week I'd have a 6 foot 3 Scotsman on board to share the grunt-work!
We met up in Marina del Sur in Las Galletas, a new marina on the Southwest tip of Tenerife. Las Galletas itself is an unattractive modern tourist town, but the harbour and marina are attractive and colourful. However the pontoons are fingerless, and this means we had to berth “stern-to” in Mediterranean fashion, not something I am practiced at, so coming in was quite stressful, although thankfully without incident.
Our original plan had been to do three long over night passages, visiting the Canaries' two westernmost islands, El Hierro and la Palma, but the forecast was for light winds all week, so rather than spending the week motoring, we opted instead to a circumnavigation of the island of La Gomera twenty miles West of Tenerife. La Gomera is a roughly circular shaped island, about 12 nautical miles in diameter, and therefore, about forty in circumference.
Saturday, 3rd October, we left Las Galletas and had a comfortable sail, the highlight of which was spotting a group of pilot whales about half way across. Although we'd sailed the whole way from Ireland, and spent quite a bit of time cruising here and there, these were our first whales.
We anchored that night in Baia de Abalo, just north of La Gomera's capital San Sebastion, a snug little bay on the East coast of the island. Ashore, there were several camper vans and cars, and a small shop. On Sunday morning we went swimming, and I went ashore, but there was little evidence of activity, and walking barefoot on the sharp volcanic stoney beach was not too enticing so I returned to the water promptly.
Stuart and I humped up the anchor and we set sail for Baia de Hermigua on the North of the island. Here the bay was rather more open, and there was some swell, but it was manageably comfortable. There was a bar and some buildings overlooking the bay, and the pilot book promised a town just one mile inland, we decided to pump up the dinghy and explore before dinner.
I should have remembered that swell and the steep shores of the Canary islands are a mix that are not entirely suitable for landings on beaches. As we approached the shore under oars, a moments lapse of concentration and a wave turned us sideways and deposited us on the beach with an inch of seawater in the dinghy, and leaving the four of us more than a little splashed. Before we had a chance to get out, a second wave broke over us, filled the dinghy, and left us all thoroughly soaked.
Catherine and I rowed back to get dry clothes, with just two up the dinghy rode the waves, somewhat precariously, but we made the round trip to Aragorn and back without a further ducking. However, later on, having sampled the beer in the town, with four on board the dinghy returning to Aragorn, it didn't manage the surf so nimbly, and we took another drenching as the waves broke over the bow of the dinghy and it was full of sea water by the time we got past the surf. Another change of clothes required before dinner. It would have all been in the spirit of fun, except Stuart's camera sustained what appeared to be terminal damage in the drenchings.
Not surprisingly, the next morning there wasn't the same enthusiasm for a swim, so once again Stuart and I lugged up the anchor the old fashioned way and we sailed for Puerto Vueltas in Valle Gran Rey on the West coast.
I have already said that the forecast was for light winds, however, in the Canary Islands, because of the effect the land has on the wind, there is often a stiff breeze near the shore even on calm days. This particular Monday morning it was blowing from the West, the direction we wanted to go. I figured that if we sailed Northwest until we cleared the island we could then sail South. Unfortunately, the wind was following the coast rather than simply blowing from the West, my tactic simply made our journey ten miles longer, and when we turned the wind stayed on the nose so we had to motor anyway.
It was evening when we reached the crowded anchorage of Puerto Vueltas, and we managed to anchor in a spot squeezed between the harbour, the rocks, and other boats, with a kedge (a second anchor off the stern) preventing us from swinging into anything hard. No sooner were we done but harbour security were telling us we were blocking the ferry and had to move, but that we could tie up to the harbour wall for free. Neither statement was true, as another boat soon afterwards occupied our spot unmolested, and we were billed the next morning at marina rates for our night on the wall. Still the convenience of being able to come and go ashore without risk of a soaking, especially after the previous evening, was worth it. Except that Stuart and I now had to go man-hauling up the two anchors that we'd just put down.
Just as we had finished tying to the wall a Clubsail training boat came in and berthed in front of us. As the crew were tying up I heard the unmistakable sound of Cork accents, and sure enough, we met Grace, Gary and John, who were taking a sailing course. Then, just as we were getting ready to go look for a restaurant for dinner, I hear Stuart say “Pat, you're not going to believe this”, and I look out to see another sailing boat arrive flying the Wexford yacht club's ensign. Of the three lads on board, two were German, and although they told me their names twice, I could not get them. The Irishman on board was Ian, and I asked them to take my bast wishes back to my pals Dermot Greer and Jackie Connick in their club.
Tuesday morning, having spent the night tied to the wall we thankfully had no anchor hauling to do. We left at 12:45, bound for San Sebastion, the capital, on the East coast, and the completion of our circumnavigation. The wind was blowing once again along the coast, but today, mercifully, it was blowing from the North, i.e., behind us. Better, as we rounded onto the South coast it backed westerly, staying behind us, and as we turned North for the final leg it again backed and followed us all the way. Our speed varied with that of the wind ranging from a pedestrian four knots up to a screaming eight and a half, but we covered the thirteen miles in two and a half hours.
Once in the marina, I did what most sailors would do, and had a good nose around the boats. It must be quite a haunt for the Irish, because I counted no less than six other Irish boats, that's the most I have seen in the one place since leaving Dun Laoghaire. These included Jilliana of Galway, whose graffiti we had already spotted back in Porto Santo, however there was no one on board that I could see while we were there. I got back to the boat to find Catherine had lost one of her pink flip flops overboard.
Early on in the week, I had suggested without much enthusiasm that we could spend two nights in San Sebastion and rent a car to explore the island by road. Stuart had jumped at the idea, and now I was glad that he did. The interior of La Gomera is a lush green rain forest. Having circumnavigated the island, and seen nothing but harsh volcanic rock with little or no vegetation, this was a sight to behold. We also saw up close where the hills had been carved into terraces by generations of farmers creating small patches of green in the steep barren hills of rock.
Stuart and Ann's flight home was on Friday early afternoon, so we planned to be back in Tenerife on Thursday. For some reason, I had gotten the idea that the distance back was only about twelve miles, where as in fact it is twice that. As a result, I was quite laid back about time of departure, and we ate lunch before we left. When we eventually did leave we were under some pressure to arrive in Las Galletas by dark, but we made it alright, despite stopping en route to watch the pilot whales again.
Saturday, 10th October, visitors safely back in Scotland, and faced with the prospect of having to manually haul anchor without a big lug of a Scot to share the work, I decided to have a go at fixing the windlass motor. I worked up quite a sweat as I struggled with my head and one shoulder squeezed into the chain locker to detach the motor, eventually I got Catherine to have a go. When neither of us had any success I rang Clubsail (them what had the sail training boat in Puerto Vueltas, according to the pilot book they have a good reputation for yacht repairs, plus our new Cork friends were full of their praises). So I booked their engineer for Monday morning and spent the weekend writing up my blog!
Monday morning came and went with no sign of the Clubsail guy and no one answering the phone I had booked him on. Some enquiries led me to the mechanic in the local boatyard, and he's working on it now (Tuesday). Here's hoping it will be sorted soon. I'll let you know.
