Greetings from windy Porto Santo

Porto Santo,. As I’m sure you all know, is the Northernmost island of the Madeira archipelago, about 20 miles north of Madeira itself. The anchorage is secure, but the boat was rolling a lot in the swell, so we came in to the marina to get a good night’s kip. The wind is blowing force 5 to 6 and is due to stay until Monday, so we will as well. It’s about 30 miles to the first anchorage in Madeira, where we’ll head to once we leave here.

We arrived Porto Santo on Thursday evening (20th) after an 81 hour sail from Portimao in the Algarve. The trip, at 450 nautical miles, was our longest yet, but aside from the occasional pod of dolphins that paused to say hello, it was uneventful. It was non stop sailing from the time we left, we only had the engine on for about 10 hours, and half of that was in neutral – just to recharge the batteries because of a power hungry autohelm. The last five hours of the trip was under engine too, to make sure we arrived before dark.

For the first couple of nights under way we were either trying to get to sleep when we were off watch, or trying to stay awake when we were on. But by the third day we were getting into the rhythm, appetites started to return, and we were pretty well adjusted. Also, on the first night we were crossing the entrance to the Cape St Vincent Traffic Separation Zone (that’s the area of sea designated for big ships coming in and out of the Med), which was fairly busy so we had to stay alert. After that we only saw two or three ships a day, so by the third night we were relaxed enough to take catnaps while on watch, happy that the instruments (radar & AIS) would alert us to any danger if we overslept.

The weather was also good for the trip. The first night the wind got up to about force 5 or 6, and I was cursing myself for not reefing before it got dark. The swell was up to about 3 metres, but the waves weren’t breaking so there was no danger. It did make for something of a bumpy ride, and no help for the off-watch trying to sleep below. The next evening I made no such oversight, and put a reef in the mainsail just before dark. Typically, the wind never got above force 3 after that. We didn’t mind, after the excitement of the first 36 hours banging along at seven to eight knots, it was a relief to do some easy sailing at five or six knots.

So what else can I tell you about Porto Santo. I’ve already said it’s about 450 miles from Portugal, it’s also about 350 miles from the Moroccan coast, Agadir being almost directly East, and about 250 miles North of the Canary islands. My ladybird history of the place - it was discovered uninhabited by accident in the late fourteenth century when a Portuguese ship got knocked off course during a storm and took shelter in the lee of the Island. The Portuguese came back to take over the place, and while they were at it took Madeira too. About 7 miles long by 4 miles wide, 5% the size of Madeira, population about 3,500, only one town in the island, but has an airport and a daily ferry service to Funchal in Madeira. The early settlers here found it was good for growing sugar cane, and a sugar merchant who came to live here (and married the governor’s daughter), went by the name of Christopher Columbus. That was before he came to the conclusion that he could get to India by sailing West. His house is still standing (or has been restored) and is now a museum. We were there today.

One other feature of the place is the harbour wall. Apparently it’s tradition for boats passing through to leave their graffiti on the wall. In true parochial Paddy fashion I went looking for the Irish boats. I found seven in all, but the first two I recognised, Jilliana of Galway, the Pender’s boat, listed Dave Gerrard (my VHF instructor) on their crew list, and then I found Yacht Pala, belonging to my pals Johnny and Emer (on this mailing list). For the record, the other five are Joyster of Galway, Saoirse, Murphy’s Law, and two Belfast boats, Breakaway and Bláth na Mara. Catherine, being the Artist on board, will be making our contribution, but that will have to wait until Monday when the hardware shop opens (not having any green or orange paint on board).

As for our plans, well as always they may change at a moments notice, (a few of you are expecting us to be in Morocco, we were going but had a change of heart when we realized that our time there would coincide with Ramadan, so we’ll leave our Moroccan cruising for another time). However, for now we intend to spend a week or so between here and Madeira (or correctly Madeira Grande), then head South 160 miles to the uninhabited Salvage Islands just for a couple of days, and then a further 100 miles to the Canary islands. Once we get to the Canaries we’re thinking that we’ll spend some time there, island hopping as the mood and wind takes us. We’ve been told that once there an Atlantic crossing is hard to resist, as so many boats are passing through the Canaries en-route to the Caribbean, but while I’d be tempted, the practicalities of getting back terrify me, so we’ll see!

We’ll also be home for a few weeks from the end of October, we have flights already booked from Tenerife, so we’re hoping to have the boat all tucked up in a marina there for the duration.

May 2009

So, I've been getting some stick for not having posted anything in a while, so here is our latest ...

For the last 10 days we have been in El Rompido in Andalusia in the Bay of Cadiz. This is a pretty little place, picture left, protected by a 10km long sandspit, known as El Gato, that runs West to East parallel to the coast. It's about thirty Km from the Portuguese border.

Coming from the West, as we did - from Tavira in Portugal to be precise, we had to go around the spit, as the entrance is on the Eastern end. The wind, which was a gentle breeze on our backs all the way suddenly decided to get up just as we arrived. That not only made it a bit hairy coming in over the shallow bit at the entrance, but made the trip back up the Ria Piedras inside the spit with 30 knots on the nose a little uncomfortable. The entire 10 km back is filled with small boat moorings. At a guess I'd say there were between 3 and 5 thousand. The fuel pontoon and the small marina mark the end of the moorings. Beyond the marina there is a massive anchorage lagoon.

[ The picture on the left shows one of the millions of fiddler crabs that come out of the mud at low water. They are called "Fiddler" because their single oversized claw, that gives the appearance that they are playing the violin. Rojo, one of the marina's Marinieros tells me that you can make €30 a kilo by collecting their claws. Apparently you break off the claw, throw the crab back, and then he grows it again.]

The Marina is part of a El Rompida's golf hotel, and is probably the best we have visited to date, considering showers, 24 hour security, friendly Marinieros, etc. Also, as high season doesn't start here until 1st June, they are still on Winter prices, which are half the Summer rate, only €15 a night.

Of course, being penny pinching live-aboards, we only come into the marina to treat ourselves on Saturdays. The rest of the time we've been anchored in the lagoon, which we've had to ourselves except for a few small angling boats who stop for a few hours in the daytime. We have been here since Wednesday week, and today being Sunday we've just spent our second night in the Marina. We're going back on the anchor today, but because the river runs so fast we are waiting for the turn of the tide to get out at slack water.

Being anchored presents its problems though, as it is nearly as expensive to bring the dinghy into the marina for an hour's shopping as to park the boat there overnight and access all the facilities. Because the river banks are shallow, and the riverbed is half a metre of mud, getting ashore anywhere near low water can be messy, at least on the town side. So we stock up at the weekends and if we need to get ashore for anything it is easy enough around high water.

We did park the dinghy in the marina and pay the €6 one day. That time we took the bikes and cycled the 8 Kilometres to the larger town of Cartaya, to take advantage of its supermarkets. After a light lunch in a café in the town square, over looked by the storks nesting in the surrounding rooftops, we found a Lidl and a Carrefour on the town perimeter. This itself was an achievement, as asking and receiving directions in a language you can't understand ain't easy. Unfortunately neither shop had any fresh milk, the only thing that we really needed. They all go for UHT milk here, which we don't find very appetising on our muesli.

Back at El Rompido's sandspit, El Gato is only a few hundred metres wide, and the interior, if it can be called that, has been preserved as a nature reserve. The sand turns to mud below the high water line on the riverbanks, and between traffic and pollution is not the most enticing swimming location. But El Gato's southern shore is a beautiful sandy beach for the whole ten kilometres, and perhaps more to the west beyond where it merges with the mainland. It is only a few hundred metres across, and for access to the beaches and to preserve the delicate eco-culture there are a number of boardwalks traversing the spit. There is a ferry service that runs constantly from El Rompido, but of course we just launch the dinghy and come and go as we please. We've been for quite a few swims, the water is pleasantly warm once you get over the initial shock.

As I mentioned, we came here from Tavira in Portugal, where we'd spent an extended long weekend with Maura and Paul on "Noble Warrior", another Irish boat. Tavira is a very beautiful largish town a few kilometres from the anchorage. The anchorage itself is small and shallow, and is protected by Tavira island, apparently the largest in the algarve. We also went swimming off the beautiful sandy beaches off its southern shore.

Tomorrow we are heading back to the river Guadiana, which marks the Spanish/Portuguese border, where we have already spent the month of April this year, and a couple of weeks last September. More on that another time.

I've got to sign off now, we're moving the boat soon & I've a bit of work to do sorting stuff out, filling tanks, etc.

I'll try not to leave it so long before the next update.

Audio links

Some of the yarns on this site are recorded & you can play them through the following links; (You might have to copy & paste),

Stuck in the mud:
www.rte.ie/radio1/seascapes/rams/2007/4auguste.smil

Climbing the mast
www.rte.ie/radio1/seascapes/rams/2008/7january4.smil

Lifting out
www.rte.ie/radio1/seascapes/rams/2008/17march3.smil

One for Ireland
www.rte.ie/radio1/seascapes/rams/2008/4aug4.smil

Gijon, Spain
www.rte.ie/radio1/seascapes/rams/2008/1sep5.smil

Leaving France
dynamic.rte.ie/quickaxs/209-pategan-2008-10-28.smil

Some retirement

“What did you do before you retired, Pat?” Rory from “Whale Song” asked. “I'm not retired”, I shot back, “I'm a full time sailor”. He chuckled back, “Good answer”.

But I wasn't joking, at fifty two I'm not even thinking of retirement, I've got stuff to do. Aside from that, my meagre savings and pension fund were inadequate to provide for my old age before the markets went pear shaped, so retiring now is out of the question.

And yet, everyone thinks I'm retired, “living a life of leisure”, “swanning around on my yacht”. How can I blame them when even a fellow traveller like Rory makes that assumption.

Indeed my life these past few weeks would further enforce the view. I have managed to make small progress on the Winter To Do list, on top of the routine chores of cooking, cleaning and shopping. But in honesty the progress is slight, and Catherine both leads the domestic front and takes the lion's share of the work.

Still I must admit in the last twenty days, since our return from Ireland, I have taken my foot off the pedal for a much needed rest. Cruising down here, port hopping about thirty miles at a time, did fulfill our objective of cruising Brittany, the North of Spain, and Portugal. Doing it all in three months, although not exactly whistlestop, was still quite a rush. Added to that was a continual pressure to meet natural milestones as Autumn approached; to get through the North of Spain and around Finisterre before the August fogs took hold; Then get around Cape St Vincent and into the Algarve before Catherine left to catch her prebooked flight to a wedding in Boston.

My pal Erland came to crew while Catherine was away, and we took Aragorn to her winter berth in Portimao. Still, there was no time to relax. I had a week after he went home to sort out the boat, trussing it up so that I could be confident it would be secure when unattended. Half an hour's work you say, but you'd be wrong. Dinghies had to be deflated, and they and their outboards had to be stowed, no mean feat on a liveaboard, where every cubic inch of stowage has already been accounted for. All that done then Aragorn had to be cleaned top to bottom, inside and out. This in addition to the mundane stuff of keeping body and soul, shopping, cooking, laundry. Plus, a couple of train trips to Lagos and Olhao to arrange liftouts etc.

Two weeks back in Ireland, but no let up. Year end accounts had to be got in; there were a few chores to do; promises to keep; catching up with friends and family; tying up some business loose ends; preparing and delivering a talk on our experiences so far in Pool Beg; and finally catching the Irish leg of the Boston wedding before returning to Portugal.

It has all been great! We've thoroughly enjoyed it. It's been exhilerating. And it's been exhausting. So no I have no compunction about taking it easy for a few weeks. I'm doing no more than the essential, plus whatever else takes my fancy. I've earned it. Next week we have two batches of visitors, which by itself will crank up the pace of activity. After that I just might attack the To Do list with new zest, but that's definately a maybe.

It is true that we have yet to find a method to generate funds out of our enterprise, so perhaps this too suggests we are retired, but let me just say one thing; if this is retirement, then it is no place for the old!

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 26^th 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 28^th 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 1^st 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 5^th, 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!

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 18^th 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.