Sunday, August 10, 2008

Update 11th August 2008

First - some general stuff.
A few people have said they are having difficulty posting comments. I don't know what's causing this, but you can always email me directly - pategan@netnicity.com

We'll be home in October, for a couple of weeks, Catherine will be back late September, me early October.

10th August 08
Arrived Baiona, (or Bayona, depending on which map you read), today. We have been here in the Ria de Vigo since yesterday. This is the last, or southernmost of the Spanish Rias, and most likely our last stop before Portugal.

We anchored last night off the beach in Cangas, but the forecast is not good, so we decided to get into a marina. No room at the inn in the marina at Cangas, so we came over here. At €33 a night it is a fair bit more expensive than what we have been getting used to since leaving Algorta, (usually about €20), but anchoring is free. We will stay here until Tuesday & have another look at the forecast. It looks like it doesn't improve until Friday, so we might anchor out from Tuesday, depending on how sheltered the bay is.

Baiona has it's claim to fame as the first port of call of Columbus after returning from the new world, and they have a full size replica of the Pinta here, Catherine says that was the smallest of the three ships he had, and boy it's small. Not a lot bigger than Aragorn, made of wood, shaped more like a concrete block than a boat, and when you think that the guys who went in her had no weather forecasts, no GPS, VHF, AIS, Radar, or any of the other toys and electronic whizzkiddery that we have, they had some bottle.

So what have we been at. We left Gijon Sat 26th July, with our engine fixed and our budget bruised, and motored Sixty miles to Ribadeo. Sixty miles is a long leg for us, but we'd been a week in Gijon, and we wanted to make up some time. We entered the small Ria into Ribadeo under its massive bridge, gave the marina a miss and anchored just beyond it in shallow water. En route the loudhailer had fallen off, so I had to go up the mast to fix it once we had the anchor down. I'm not finding going up the mast such a terrifying ordeal any more.

Anchoring is much easier than going into a marina, you just drop the anchor, make sure it's dug in, and relax. Leaving is even easier, you just haul in your anchor & go. Entering and leaving a marina is a much more strenuous and stressful affair, you have to put out your fenders and set up your ropes to tie on. Since you usually don't know which side of the boat will be at the pontoon you have to do both sides of the boat, so your work is doubled. Then there's squeezing the boat in between all the other boats, without bumping them, and then of course you are living in very close quarters with your neighbours. Getting out you have to do it all in reverse. Still, for all of that, marinas have their benefits. Aragorn's shower is a bit cramped, usually the marina has something better, there's the convenience of being able to step off your boat and walk to the shops/cafes/whatever, there's shorepower to charge the batteries, fresh water to top up the tanks.

However, I digress. Sunday morning we left Ribadeo and pressed on to Cariña, again a long hop of about 45 miles. Like Ribadeo, this was another beautiful harbour and anchorage that we had to pass on the opportunity to go ashore, it was late, we needed to eat, rest, and get going early again Monday. With luck we would make the 60 miles to La Coruña, and be back on our schedule.

There was a bit of wind as we put up the sail on the morning of Monday 28th July, it was blowing about twenty knots (force 5) in the anchorage. After a brief discussion about whether this was just the effect of the wind being funnelled by the mountains, we decided we had yet to experience a harbour that was windier than the open sea, and we put two reefs in the main. We weren't wrong, coming up towards the headland we had to round the wind got up, 25 knots – force 6, and not long after we passed the headland it got up to 28 knots, a force 7, almost a full gale. We were glad of our reefs!

Worse, the wind was blowing from the Southwest, the very direction we wanted to go. La Coruña was clearly a non runner at this point, however we were now half way to Cedeira, an anchorage on the way, and we'd heard good things about it. So we pointed Aragorn into the wind at Cedeira and pounded through the waves and weather under engine.

Once into the protection of the bay at Cedeira, the wind virtually disappeared. As we anchored we received an enthusiastic greeting from an English boat beside us. We'd caught up on Paul and Lorraine in Moon Monkey, an English boat heading in our direction, who'd left us in Gijon a week before.

We closed the day's log reading 8,952 miles. It had been 7,950 when we left Dun Laoghaire on the 1st June, we had travelled over 1,000 miles. Another milestone, although I later realised that the log was under-reading since La Rochelle.

The shorter journey meant we were in port early, and for the first time since leaving Gijon on Saturday morning we went ashore. We had a beer in a local bar with free Wi-Fi, to check our email.

We got up late on Tuesday morning, conscious that we now only had a thirty mile trip to La Coruña. Moon Monkey had already left when we peeped out into the cockpit. It was a fine day with only a light wind from the Southwest, but we were able to sail. However as Southwest was the direction we wanted to go, and as Aragorn is not at her best tacking into the wind, we eventually had to turn on the engine to make progress. We had spent so long trying to sail that we were quite late arriving in La Coruña, and Paul and Lorraine were beginning to worry when we finally showed up.

We spent four nights in the marina in La Coruña, partially because the weather wasn't favourable and the next part of our journey was along one of the worlds most dangerous coasts. However we had always planned a few days in this great city. One of the days we spotted an Irish flag on another boat, Khamsin-B I think she was called, it turned out to be the East Coast Garda sailing club's boat. We had a few beers with the crew.

We left La Coruña on Saturday, and headed for Camariñas, last stop before Finisterre. This coast is called locally “El Costa Muerta” - “The coast of death”, we would be travelling it for the next two legs of our journey. This is the Northwest corner of Europe, the meeting point of the Bay of Biscay and the Atlantic Ocean, two super-powers of the worlds waters. It was a grey morning, but the forecast was for light winds. We motored the entire fifty miles in manageable swell without incident.

Sunday the third of August we covered another forty miles, around Cape Finisterre, one of the world's most notorious headlands. Again the weather was kind to us. We motored all the way to Finesterre. Along the way we could hear the radio chat of some of the boats about an hour ahead of us, they were sailing past Finisterre. This was a surprise, we had hardly a breath of wind. But sure enough, as we reached this famous headland, as if someone had turned on a switch, the wind got up and we were sailing.

We turned in to Ria Muros, the first of the Ria Baixas, and anchored off the beach in Esteiro. We only spent one night in this Ria, mainly because we had a detailed chart of the next one, Ria de Arousa, which is also the biggest. Here we anchored off the beach in Ribeira on Monday. Then Tuesday the 5th, we went into the marina for diesel. I noticed something funny about the diesel pump, and when we checked, my tank had gained about thirty litres, but the pump was showing seventy. An argument and standoff ensued. I couldn't follow the Spanish being spoken on a succession of telephone calls, but I was informed the police were being called. Eventually the situation was resolved with a one litre plastic bottle registering less than half full after receiving a litre from the pump.

By the time all that was sorted, the afternoon wind had gotten up, and I bounced Aragorn of the end of a pontoon trying to get out of the tight fuel berth. A lot of stress and effort for the sake of thirty litres of diesel.

All in we spent three nights anchored off Ribeira, then on Thursday we went further up the Ria, and stopped for a night in the marina at Rianxo. There I was able to bring my laptop into the bar and access the internet. I had to buy a beer though, but at one euro a pint I wasn't complaining. Friday we had lunch in a restaurant before leaving Rianxo, then we sailed down to Ila de Arousa and anchored between the rocks and the fishing boats. We had been told that there was a mussel festival there, but it turned out that it started Saturday.

And then, Saturday morning we got here to Ria de Vigo ....

Which brings us back to doh!

Friday, July 25, 2008

What's next - 25th July 2008

So, engine fixed, we hope, certainly seems to be & money's paid, guys seem to be reasonably professional, even if they did cost the earth. We've lost a lot of time though, between the delays in la Rochelle & here in Gijon for technical reasons, not to mention my afternoon spent in the internet cafe updating the blog etc. We'll head either this evening or the morning.

We want to get to La Coruna quickly & around Finisterre before the Summer starts to weaken. Once around there I hope to take a couple weeks' holiday in the Rias before heading to the Algarve.

Hoping nothing else breaks down.

I left a lot of our most recent pics in the camera, I will add them later.

Please please please add your comments! It'd be nice to know someone's reading this stuff, or
am I just spouting into an empty internet that no one's reading.

Gijon



The City of Gijon is the capital and main port of the province of Asturia. We arrived on the morning of Friday, the 18th July, after spending five nights on the anchor we were going to treat ourselves to a weekend in a marina. Then there was that reverse gear problem.

The marina staff were friendly and helpful, and had a mechanic down to me in the afternoon. Given that it was Friday in the height of the holiday season, I was impressed. However, having tried all the simple things it was clear that the gear box would have to come out, and that would have to wait until Monday. The news got worse on Monday, the clutch would have to be replaced, it would take until Friday for the part to arrive, and the price was one I couldn't help feeling was a tourist rate. There was nothing for it, I just hope these guys have the technical competence.

Still, like La Rochelle, Gijon is an interesting place. Our ability to explore was slightly limited by our lack of Spanish, but we spent some time listening to our Spanish tapes.

Gijon is also the capital of the Asturian cider pouring tradition. As best I understand it from my observations, you stand up and pour from the bottle, held in your right hand as high as you can stretch, into the glass in your left hand, held as low as you can stretch, all the while fixing your gaze into infinity in just about any direction except that of the bottle or glass.

You must only pour a small amount into the tumbler sized glass, about a wineglass measure, the glass must be tilted at about forty five degrees, making an even smaller target, and the practice appears to be that you flick out any dregs left in the glass before you pour. The pouring seems to be always done by the same person in a group, and while we have seen plenty of women do it proficiently, they only seem to pour when there are no men present.

We were first introduced to this process by Jorge, back in El Molina de Berange, near Algorta. Needless to say Jorge assumed the pouring role, and impressed us with his skill. He promised us that we would see much more in Gijon, he wasn't wrong.

On Saturday night, returning to the boat after a fine meal of squid, hake, langustines and cider; poured by the waiter traditional fashion, and by ourselves conventionally; we stopped in a busy Cideria near the harbour. “When in Rome ... ” I muttered as I positioned myself at the edge of the footpath, and poured half of the 70 cl bottle onto my sleeve or into the drain in the process of getting a little into our two glasses. I glanced around hoping no one had noticed, but my look was met by a young man nearby, there was no condescension or disdain in his expression, just pity!

The cider itself is much different to ciders I have tasted before. It has a bitter taste, about as much alcohol as a strong beer, and very drinkable.

Well, today, Thursday the part arrived. The mechanic will be back tomorrow to reinstall the gearbox, and with luck we'll be on our way to anchor in Puerta de San Esteban in the afternoon.

Copyright © Pat Egan, 2008, All rights reserved.

Algorta - Gijon


We left Algorta Monday 14th July. At 8 a.m. In the morning I took the dinghy ashore to pick up Aisling and Jorge, who were accompanying us for the day. A quick safety briefing on lifejackets and essential equipment, and by 9 a.m. we were on our way. Just a short 20 mile hop to Santoña, almost a fifth of which was exiting the massive natural harbour that is navigable all the way up the river to Bilbao.

The bay at Santoña is beautiful, and from a cruiser's perspective, an excellent anchorage. It is surrounded on all sides by land, offering protection no matter which way the wind turns. The only problem being finding a spot that has deep enough water. We had lunch on board and the girls lay on deck in the sun while Jorge tried to show me how to use my fishing gear. I confess, I have yet to catch a fish.

Aisling and Jorge had a bus to catch back to Algorta, after leaving them off we stopped in a shop. “No hablo Espagnol” I explained to the lady as I pointed to the bread. We paid, and then to impress her; “Eskerigasko” the closest I could manage to the Basque for “thank you”. From the tone of her reply together with the occasional Spanish word I knew, I understood I was getting a gentle scolding along the lines of “you say you don't speak Spanish, but then you talk to me in Basque and this is not the Basque country, the Spanish word is 'gratius'”. The Basque country was behind us.

On Tuesday morning we set off for Santander, another thirty miles westward. We had no plans to visit the city, so we just got ourselves sufficiently into the natural harbour to be sheltered from the swell, and dropped the anchor in hard sand off Playa de la Magdelena. We went ashore just for a few groceries.

Wednesday we were on our way once more, destination San Vincente de la Barquera. We were about an hour underway when we received a text from David and Inger in “Luna”, an English boat that we had met in La Rochelle. They had also arrived in Santander on Tuesday, having come directly across Biscay. We had just missed them. In San Vincente we stopped in a café that had free internet access, and we took the chance to check our email. The menu of the day, a 3 course meal including wine was offered for €11, we ate. But we dallied too long, when we went back to the dinghy the tide had gone out & we had to wade through the mud to relaunch.

Thursday we anchored in the harbour mouth at the beautiful fishing village of Tazones, just 11 miles short of Gijon. If you're ever thinking about going there by boat, watch out for the lobster pots in the harbour entrance which are marked not with buoys, but with a barely visible piece of floating rope, ready to grab your propellor.

Friday we arrived in Gijon. After five nights at anchor, a marina offers a nights sleep without having to get up and check our position, plus shore side showers much more capacious than Aragorns cramped one, plus shops, bars, etc. Luxury!

Reverse gear has been playing up, and as we docked in the marina it gave up completely. Fortunately an alert Frenchman in a neighbouring boat spotted our difficulty and saved my blushes by grabbing our bow as we came in. Friday evening is not a great time to need a boat mechanic, but the marina got one for me. Still, it'll be Monday before we're going again, longer if we need parts. No harm, we'd planned on stopping here for a few days. Just so long as the repair bill doesn't break us.

Copyright © Pat Egan, 2008, All rights reserved.

Algorta & Bilbao

The Basque flag has a name : Il Coriña, so we are told by my brother's fianceé's mother, and she should know, she lives here.

We had bought both Spanish and Basque flags in la Rochelle and after a short discussion approaching Spain we decided to follow protocol and fly the Spanish above the Basque. If the reception was frosty, we could change it. However, “frosty” just didn't come into the mindset of the people we met. Our welcome was enthusiastic and warm.

Before we left Ireland Maria, my brother's fianceé, had told us that her mother lived in Algorta. But at that time hadn't decided on our strategy for crossing Biscay, nor where in Spain we would be stopping. When it came to it, we had a good two day weather forecast, and Bilbao, or Algorta at the estuary of the river Nervion, just made sense.

We arrived on the evening of Thursday 10th July, and sent a quick email home to check we were in the right place. Friday we went exploring on our bikes, and didn't get very far before discovering the massive Puenta Bizkaia, or Bizkaia Bridge. This structure was influenced in its design by the Eiffel tower when it was built in the 1890s. It was designed to carry people across the river without obstructing the passage of tall ships up the river to Bilbao. Standing 63 metres high and spanning 160 metres, it carries several cars, motor bikes and pedestrians across the river on a kind of a giant cable car called a “gondola”. There is also a walkway across the top, we took the lift up and the views of the estuary and surrounding towns were magnificent.

On Saturday Asun, a friend from her student days in Ireland 15 years ago, made the two hour trip up from Pamplona with her husband José Louis, and young son, Adrian. It was a bit windy to take them sailing, so we contented ourselves with lunch onboard and a walk to the Bizkaia bridge. As they had never been to Algorta before, we played hosts, relaying the bridge's story we had only learned ourselves the day before.

No sooner had Asun left when Maria's daughter and son-in-law, Aisling and Jorge, and her mother Florrie, arrived. Aisling and Jorge happened to be in the area on holiday from Madrid. Pretty soon we were ensconced in a nearby tavern, and joined by an ever-growing group of In-Laws to be. You've been “Kidnapped by the Fernandez family” Aisling told us. Later she and Jorge took us to a traditional Basque restaurant, “El Molina de Berange”, and treated us to a sumptuous meal.

Sunday we took the commuter train into Bilbao to see the Guggenheim museum. A remarkable building with it's different shapes and curves, but for me it took second place to the bridge. Then in the evening Maria's friend Begoña collected us and took us to her house where again we dined like monarchs on home cooked traditional Basque fare.

We spent that last night in Algorta anchored in the harbour, our marina budget having been clobbered by our extended stay in La Rochelle. Aisling and Jorge had bravely volunteered to crew for us on the next leg to Santoña, so we picked them up off the quay first thing Monday morning, and left Algorta and a very full weekend behind us.


Copyright © Pat Egan, 2008, All rights reserved.

Biscay

It was the 9th of July. Our fridge had been replaced, and we were keen to make progress. We cancelled our planned trip to Royan, opting instead to try and make up some lost time by heading straight for Spain.

The book says that Biscay rarely lives up to it's fearsome reputation in the Summer months, and the weather forecast was for calm. It wasn't comforting. Twenty years ago my sister and her husband were capsized and lost their mast in a Biscay storm. Aside from the natural dangers, the French military have a firing range, thirty miles out to sea for the southern half of the French coast. I hid my anxiety from Catherine as best I could

We filled up with diesel in Minimes on the way out of La Rochelle. My plan had been to deflate the dinghy and stow it, but we'd run out of time the night before, Port Rot had simply left us with too much to do. Instead I thought we could do it while we were waiting for the fuel berth to open. No such luck. We got there at 7:45, 15 minutes before opening time and there was already a queue. We attempted to bring it aboard while underway, but it's a 3.8 metre dinghy, and we just tired ourselves out.

Never mind, we've towed it this far, we can tow it to Spain. Accepting defeat I went below to make a reviving cuppa. Meanwhile a large motorboat nearby took Catherine's interest in the cockpit. She watched with some envy as a large mechanical davit craned its much more substantial dinghy, a RIB, into the water. She turned the binoculars to see the name, “D – U something” she said, then “- A – N – E - S, Duanes” she said as the RIB came straight towards us. “I think we're going to have visitors”. Cuppa was postponed.

Now anyone who imports a boat and registers it on the Irish Ships' Register is most likely going to encounter Irish Customs. As we bought Aragorn, and our first boat in the UK, we found it particularly useful to contact Customs beforehand. Ronnie Lyons, whom we dealt with was very helpful, giving us good advice about how to ensure we got all the correct paperwork for VAT etc. He also giving us information on the other, sometimes dangerous, work that the customs office perform.

With the background of this positive experience, a visit from the Duaneries was an exciting distraction and we welcomed the two men and one woman from French Customs aboard with smiles and bienvenues. I think our relaxed attitude unsettled them a little at first, but they quickly relaxed as our sincerity won through. That aside, I was a bit unnerved by the pistols they all wore on their belts and the remaining Customs man keeping careful watch over us in the RIB twenty yards off our beam. A further twenty yards out the Duane's mothership also matched our pace, I wondered what firepower they had pointing at us. Paperwork all checked and in order, they accepted our word that we had neither drugs nor guns aboard, they had a token glance in a few of Aragorn's lockers and were gone.

The rest of our trip across Biscay was a uneventful, in calm seas and light winds it took us thirty two hours to motor sail to Spain. However we had extracted a trophy from our Biscay crossing, as before Les Duanes left we got them all to sign our visitors book.


Copyright © Pat Egan, 2008, All rights reserved.

Wok Lid Technology

“What do you do for Internet access?”. It was Julian from “Electra of Plymouth” who had asked the question as we sat in the capacious cockpit of his Moody 40. It was in Concarneau, our first stop in France, and I started by explaining that Aragorn was still piled high with stuff, waiting to find room in a locker, and that I'd have to have that lot sorted before I could put my theoretical plan into action.

It was an idea I'd taken from someone's casual comment about “Matador” an English boat, currently in the Eastern Med, who were using a common kitchen colander to enhance their Internet access.

Long before we'd left Ireland Catherine had decided that there was neither room to cook with, nor to stow my wok in the galley. However, believing I had figured out what Stuart and Steph were doing with the colander, I had made room to stow the wok's lid in Aragorn's workshop. It would not be until we reached La Rochelle that I would be able to buy the remaining two components to test my plan.

The two items were an external USB WiFi antenna, and a USB extension cable, total cost €34. I then mounted the antenna in the centre of the wok lid and pointed it in different directions until I picked up an unsecured WiFi network. Hey presto! We were on-line, downloading email, weather forecasts, and chatting to the folks back home over Skype for two cents a minute. All from the comfort of our own boat in La Rochelle's Vieux Port.

The principal is the same as in your TV satellite dish, the semi-spherical shape of the wok lid reflects the radio waves towards the antenna. Of course ideally it should be parabolic in shape, like a satellite dish, rather than the semi-sphere of the wok lid, but wok lid was what I had, and it gives my signal a decent boost.

A side effect of this is the intrigue it causes amongst neighbouring boats, and the MacIvor status it earns me, at least until they know me better!

At the time of Julian'/s question, all of this still remained to be proven, nevertheless, I explained my plan. Julian listened attentively to my theory, and then asked my opinion on the device he was using. He showed me his directional WiFi antenna, basically a commercially produced version of what I'd described, except of course it had the proper shape and material. “Bought this on Ebay for a hundred quid, it's not bad”, he admitted as I expressed surprise that it was even available.

“Not bad” indeed, I have since come across the professionally made item on other boats, and they have three times the range or more of my version. A hundred quid of Aragorn's kit budget has been earmarked, but in the meantime I'll keep going with my Wok Lid technology.

To see how Stuart & Steph are getting on see their web site on www.yachtmatador.co.uk.

Copyright © Pat Egan, 2008, All rights reserved.