Boxes and Epirbs

Yesterday Sam trekked over to Oxford to collect the boxes which Ian brought back for us from Lagos, and to deliver even more stuff which Ian will take down to Kalessin.

The Lagos-bound box includes an Epirb (Emergency Position Indicating Radio Beacon) which has just cost us £500. Up to now these have been carried by ocean-crossers, but not necessarily by people doing more coastal sailing. If your boat sinks, they send out an electronic signal which transmits its location to Falmouth Coastguard, who then check with your named contacts to see if you are really at sea, and if you are, launch a rescue mission. This is either automatic (in the more expensive models), manual, or triggered when the Epirb hits the water.

New Epirb models are now just about affordable, and also can have built-in GPS which means Falmouth can pinpoint your position within about three minutes - the non-GPS ones take about 90 minutes. So they are worth having even for shorter passages. Possibly they could have saved the crew of Ouzo, a yacht which was probably swamped and sunk at night in the English Channel by a ferry. The main reason we got one is that Sam happened to be talking to a coastguard who urged us to get one... worth listening to the professionals.

The long-awaited boxes coming back from Portugal seem to have much less in them than I remembered. The electric hair clippers were one key item, and this morning Sam has gone from slightly shaggy to smooth and suave once again. Our Goretex sailing boots are also back here on the basis that we may not be using them in the Mediterranean but they might be useful in the UK - hope so!

This weekend I've been catching up with the movements of some of our companions from the long trek down. The ARC (Atlantic Rally for Cruisers) started yesterday and by 3pm Intemperance was lying second among the racing fleet - hooray! Chris and Sally on Moondance, by the magic of modern technology, are publishing occasional blog updates from mid-Atlantic - they must now be about 1000 miles from the Canaries and a third of the way across. And Khepri still seems to be in Madeira, but have published Saiorse's entertaining log.

Things are changing for me. On Wednesday I begin a three-month contract working for Intercontinental Hotels, unhandily placed in Windsor. I'll be living in my parents' flat in Hampstead during the week, reverse commuting to Windsor, and coming home at weekends. It's not spectacularly well paid, but a great chance to broaden my experience and CV and to see how living away from home pans out. I may be too exhausted even to think about sailing until March - we'll see...

2007 planning


This morning I received five Imray charts in the post from an Amazon seller - and a few days ago we got the pilot book for the Costas del Sol and Blanca. It's time to start some serious planning for 2007.

The problem is going to be time - with the boys at school, someone has to be here to look after them. In the school holidays, flight costs and marina prices go through the roof. But I just can't get my head around Sam sailing Kalessin without me and with someone else, or me without Sam for that matter. One way or another we hope to reach at least to the Balearics and perhaps as far as Malta.

Anyway Ben, Sam and I hope to spend at least a week out in Lagos in February to catch up with the various things which need to be done. (Guy is going skiing with his girlfriend). We'll also take some time to instruct each other on what is currently one-person territory - I'll be leading Sam through the mysteries of the chart plotter, radar and Navtex, while he teaches me all about the engine, electrics, bilge pumps, Lavac pump and goodness knows what else. Ooo-er.

We already have a box of crucial items to go out to Portugal - not just headlining and glue, but also vital domestic items such as Tesco microfibre cloths, Maldon Salt, a spare gasket for the pressure cooker and cheap silicone rubber eggcups.

Meanwhile we're worrying about anchors. There has been a huge anchor test in Yachting Monthly in which our lightweight Fortress has done superbly well but the bog-standard CQR, which we carry as our main anchor, has done very badly. We bought a slightly bigger Delta as a spare and I think we need to try and swap them over - naturally the Delta doesn't fit properly at the moment, so we may need to unbolt stuff from the foredeck. Alternatively perhaps we should buy a new Rocna anchor, which came out among the best - the only problem is that you have to wire the money to New Zealand, where they're made, and they post it to you...

Barbecue memories

One of the best nights on the trip was the barbecue at Alvor - which we sadly couldn't photograph because the little camera was out of action and I didn't want to fill the big camera full of sand. Luckily, I've just found this on Moondance's blog:


That's Ben rear right, looking after his fire!

Also this one:


Ben bodysurfing in Lagos. - sigh....

Catching up

We're gradually returning to something like normal here. You know the way, when you go on a two-week holiday, it seems as though you've been away for four months? Well, despite the fact that we have been away for four months, it does sometimes feel like two weeks. Really, very little has changed. I did encounter traffic gridlock in Diss* on Tuesday when we went to buy Ben some school shoes, but I see the traffic problems have made the front page lead of our weekly paper so clearly it's not normal.

*Diss: population 7,000. Main cause of traffic jams in normal times: ducks crossing main road.

Have gone through phase 1 of unpacking and clearing up, we're now going through phase 2 - bringing life back to normal by working out what's still missing! Grocery shopping is a real challenge, as I'm still thinking in terms of buying enough for storage on Kalessin and have problems with getting stuff for a full week. Also, I keep finding things we have run out of which I didn't know about, and then over-compensating - total crisis last weekend when we ran completely out of loo paper and had to borrow a roll from Alex - but we now have more than 20 rolls which should keep us going for a bit. In my mind I thought we had plenty, because I knew we had spare rolls on Kalessin - fat lot of use if they're 1,000 miles away and you need to wipe your bottom right now.

Yesterday Guy and I spent the day in Norwich. Most of my purchases were to replace items left on Kalessin - new butter dish, new weights and gasket for the old pressure cooker as the new one is still in Portugal, new comfy trousers as the old ones are... etc, new oven glove to take out to replace the one we burned through. Note, how can an oven glove cost twelve pounds? I finally found one for £1.99 in the Co-op. And as for food prices in the UK... well, best not to go there. On the other hand, clothes seem extraordinarily cheap - I bought a leather jacket for £35 from BHS. I don't believe leather jackets have ever been that cheap in my whole life.

As mentioned in the last post, we looked at a Folkboat (see drawing) last weekend as a possible restoration and sailing project for Sam and Ben. The boat looked good, although not entirely original, but eventually we decided against buying it because Sam is already so busy at work he doesn't think he could devote enough time to it. If we bought her she'd be sailed mainly in the winter, as Kalessin would be priority in the spring, summer and autumn, and there's also the perennial problem of the cheap yacht, that it costs far more to moor and maintain than it does to buy. We may still buy something for sailing in the UK, but not this year.

And we still have two dinghies (a Topper and a Miracle) which we haven't sailed for well over a year.

We also have to decide whether to restart things that we've cancelled. Yes to milk deliveries, as buying milk in supermarkets is a pain. No to a daily newspaper, we might just get a Guardian on Saturdays. Jury still out on organic veg boxes.

A few other little decisions still in the pipeline, like what I should do with the rest of my life. I can't work up much enthusiasm for internal comms at the moment, but there's the chance of some part-time work which might start in mid-November, with some people I know and like - but it might not start until January, or never, who knows.

I think both Sam and I are still clinging on to the feeling that the trip isn't over yet. We spend lots of time reading the sailing discussion groups on www.ybw.com, and tracking down and reading the blogs of those we met on route - especially Moondance (now in Gibraltar) and Birvidik (who have comforted us by saying they've had five solid days of rain in Lagos). I've also just received an update from Declan on Khepri - they have been in Porto Santo, Madeira for the past two weeks or so, and say "In the main the weather has been great, but we have had, gales with rain, thunder and lightning and torrential showers for the past couple of days - still in shorts though!"

I remember shorts... just. I did put on one of my beloved cashmere sweaters this morning though, and had to take it off again - too sticky and claustrophobic. So it can't be winter yet.

Back home

We're back at home in the UK - finally got here about 6pm yesterday. My blessed and beloved mother spent Monday here cleaning the house and getting food ready for us, so we were greeted by a clean, tidy house full of flowers - bliss.

The easyjet flight from Faro was slightly delayed but relatively painless. I discovered when we got back that if we had used our 49-cent Ryanair flights from Seville, a strike by Spanish baggage handlers meant we could only have taken hand luggage - a bit of a blow as we actually had five large bags which probably weighed over 80kg altogether! (easyjet didn't even charge us excess - thanks again).

Packing was a fairly vast challenge, but fortunately two days before we left we heard about a chap called Ian who is bringing a big van back to the UK in a few weeks, and then out to Portugal again. He now has two big boxes of our kit on board, and on his return journey he'll be able to take the Westerly headlining and somewhat toxic glue which might not have been popular on a flight to Faro! (Headlining is the stuff which covers the ceiling of the boat - Westerly used foam-backed stuff which decays horribly after 15 years or so, a perennial pain).

Portugal did its best to send us home knowing we were doing the right thing, with a couple of cool rainy days on Monday and Tuesday, and on Tuesday night wind, heavy rain and thunderstorms. We saw on 23 knots in the marina but I wouldn't have liked to be out sailing! The wind was southerly which means you get big waves breaking, and almost all the harbours in the Algarve are inaccessible under those conditions.

What next? Well, we've opened most of the post, and I have a mountain of washing to do :-)) Sam is already back to work today as he had to return the hire car to Norwich airport, and meet his partner Matthew who ironically flies out to Faro for a holiday tomorrow!

Ben is still sleeping at the moment (11am Thursday) but has to get his head around going back to school after the half-term break. Guy was pleased to see us (I think) and joined us for dinner last night, but went back to Alex and David's to sleep as he has no bed over here at the moment! And I need to get my head around work, or not, what I want to do next and why...

I think we'll keep the blog going for a while at least, and maybe update it again as we get plans under way in the winter, and during whatever we do next spring and summer. Malta is a possibility, or failing that Corsica or Sardinia. Lots to think about (pilot books to buy, plans to make....)

And finally... at the weekend we're planning to look at a Folkboat that's for sale down in Essex. Ben has always wanted one, and Sam wants a winter project with no Kalessin to work on. Folkboats are only 25 feet long but pretty tough - the one we're looking at crossed the Atlantic in 1973. It was built in Norway in 1962 and although it's said to be "fundamentally sound", if we buy it, it may take up quite a lot of time! Or we may just hate it. Watch this space.

Winding down in Lagos

We got back to Lagos a few days ago and we're starting to clean and tidy the boat before we leave it next week. Yesterday Sam did lots of work on the engine and we emptied and scrubbed out the big cockpit locker. It rained in the morning but cleared up by the end of the day. Today we cleaned the cushions in the main cabin and hoovered out all the disgusting crevices below, did a huge lot of washing, polished the metalwork and cleaned the safety lines. Then we went to the beach for a delightful swim, drank a jug of sangria in Linda's beach cafe, and came back to the boat for spaghetti with fresh cockles. It's a tough life here, but we're doing our best to cope.

Frustrated in Lagos

I have just paid for an internet connection from Lagos and spent quite a lot of time failing to get into Blogger to do this update (and the previous one). Then Ben told me he had a FREE connection and I've just published perfectly from his laptop. Grr.


Some of Ben's amazing mackerel - altogether he's caught almost 20











The fabulous beach at Vilamoura








Star Clipper leaving Portimao and passing the castle at Ferragudo









Geometry lessons on the beach at Ferragudo

Portimao

Sunday 8 October

We’re on our way back to Lagos having got as far as Faro, which is not only the home of the Algarve’s airport but is also, from a sailing point of view, surrounded by interesting, sheltered sandy creeks and lagoons. Unfortunately, either the creek we chose is the windiest spot in the Algarve, or we were unlucky with the weather, but we had a steady westerly force 4-5 blowing all afternoon and most of the night – enough to make the prospect of a one-mile dinghy ride into Faro rather unappealing. So we practised setting two anchors (most successfully, as we were very secure and swung only a little bit when the tide changed) – and made lemon scones (slightly less successful as I didn’t have any baking powder or self-raising flour, but interesting in a soggy kind of way). We have three anchors on board, one of which, the Fortress, had never been used, so it’s good to get them wet occasionally.

As we came out of the Faro entrance on Thursday morning we debated whether to press on to the Rio Guadiana and the Spanish border, only 25 miles away, or to head back. Having turned towards Lagos we realised we were retracing our steps for the first time since we left Suffolk Yacht Harbour, and also that we were travelling clockwise around a country for the first time since North Foreland in Kent. As a result I immediately got my east/west and port/starboard understanding, very shaky at the best of times, into a complete tangle.

After our windy night in Faro, and a forecast north-westerly force 4-5, we were expecting a wet and unpleasant sail. In fact as we left the pierheads the wind dropped and veered to the south-east and the sun came out – we only just had enough wind to sail slowly, and Ben caught a record eight mackerel!

On the way to and from Faro we stopped off at Vilamoura. We visited it by car many years ago and thought it was awful, but seen from the sea it is rather more attractive. Its selling point for us was its absolutely stunning beach – miles of clean sand and Ben-sized breakers, backed by low red sandstone cliffs and a nature reserve. Despite the beach, and the fact that its marina is the biggest in Portugal, Vilamoura is not really about sailing and going to the beach, but about golf and shopping. We missed out on the golf but indulged in considerable shopping – a T-shirt each, a pair of trousers and a necklace for me and, at Sam’s request and despite Ben’s vehement objections, I also bought a bikini. In Spain and Portugal all women on the beach wear bikinis, even if they are 92 years old and as wrinkled as a prune, so my slightly saggy 50-year-old figure is not a cause of embarrassment – except of course to Ben (and Guy when I told him).

Much to our surprise we liked Vilamoura. It’s quite upmarket and while you could hardly call it tasteful, everything is well done and there’s a vast choice of restaurants and activities. The odd thing is that it’s mainly devoted to motorboats and although there were quite a few sailing yachts, those with occupants were so scattered that none of them were even close enough to talk to – possibly the first time we’ve found that in a marina on the whole trip.

The marina of PortimĆ£o, where we are now, is really in Praia da Rocha, a modern beach resort which is not that attractive, but it does have a lovely view across the river to the traditional village of Ferragudo, with its fort, church and white houses straggling up the hillside. Yesterday we took the dinghy over to Ferragudo and spent the day in the recommended way, with lunch of fresh charcoal-grilled sardines (and lots of wine) at a quayside cafĆ© and the rest of the afternoon paddling on the beach. We’ve also met up with the crew of Mystical, Ed and Christine, whom we first came across in Vilagarcia – they are leaving their boat here in PortimĆ£o. It is delightfully peaceful here – rather to our surprise, as Praia da Rocha is said to be very noisy in season – but we’re a long way from shops and decent supermarkets which are in PortimĆ£o proper, and the boatyard is a mile away up the river, so all in all not as convenient as Lagos.

Thank you

Just a brief entry today, from the marina at Albufeira. We came here on holiday 15 years ago - we managed to find the hotel where we stayed, but don't recognise anything else about the place at all!

I just wanted to thank everyone who has commented on the blog or responded to our latest email - I never knew so many of you were reading it and I'm so touched that many of you have found it worth reading or even inspirational! Special thanks to David from Pin Mill whom I've never met but who took the trouble to post a really nice comment, congratulations to Andy on buying a boat and God bless all the rest of you.

The weather is lovely down here and the sailing is great. On Saturday night we got together with the crew of Khepri and Moondance for a fantastic beach barbecue in Alvor, which is a sandy creek just around the corner from Lagos. We sailed there extremely slowly and Ben caught six mackerel - it was a pity Declan's barbecue turned out to be fairly useless, but we managed to cook the fish before it gave out, and Ben then lit a superb fire which were able to use for the rest of the cooking. A wonderful, memorable (and warm) night and it's just a pity that most of the sand from the beach had to come back with us to Kalessin...

Now we're pootling down towards Faro in delightfully short hops (20 miles or less) - I think it has been worth all the effort to get here!

Are we there yet?


"What do you think - should we stay here for the winter or press on for another 200 miles up a boring muddy river to a place where we don't know if we have a berth?"

We've finally made it to the Algarve - around the corner of Cabo Sao Vicente and into Lagos. This was one of our two key options for leaving the boat over the winter, the other being Seville. After severe agonising we have decided that we will leave the boat here, the advantages being:
  • The marina is well known for being efficient and the staff almost all speak English
  • There is a good boatyard and excellent chandlery
  • The town is attractive and has good transport connections to Faro for the airport
  • Our experience so far leads us to believe that it will be easier to sort out any problems in Portugal than in Spain
  • We can take a bit of extra time to explore the Algarve before returning here, and won't have to struggle so much with tides which are an issue in some anchorages
  • We didn't have a confirmed place in Seville and might have had to return to a different marina anyway
The downside is:
  • We won't get to Seville this year (but we could go in the spring)
  • We won't get to use our amazing 50-cent Ryanair flights from Seville - instead we've booked new flights from Faro, on the same day
It's very odd here. The feeling is as though you spent days and days climbing a mountain, with ropes and oxygen and iceaxes, and when you finally make it to the top you find there's a motorway up the other side and all your friends have already arrived. The marina is full of people who have made the same trip as us, at various times, and at the top of the ramp is a Pizza Hut and a place serving full English breakfasts and fish and chips...

Underwater camera

Sadly, the little camera still isn't working, but we've retrieved the pictures. I'm having some problems uploading pictures on this connection, but here's a few for a start...

Junior crew of Khepri, Moondance and Kalessin on their way back from the playground in Viana do Castelo - note four wet bottoms...


The fabulous cloisters at Belem (in the Manueline style)


The royal palace at Sintra


The adventure begins - entrance to the secret tunnels at Quinta da Regaleira

Industrial Sines

After eight great but very expensive days in Cascais (36 euros a night, by far the most we have paid anywhere) we finally plucked up courage yesterday to head out into the Atlantic again. The forecast was for the swell to reduce and for a decent sailing wind. Both were accurate but initially I found I'd lost my sea legs, and felt quite sick and very miserable for the first few hours. Then things improved, and we had a really good sail - hours and hours of a steady westerly 10-12 knot breeze, just on the beam. So it was worth the effort. But coming into Sines yesterday evening was really quite unpleasant - the swell always gets bigger as you reach the shore, and we were looking for a crucial red buoy which didn't seem to be there.

Sines is an industrial town and huge port, with smoking chimneys and flare stacks visible from 20 miles away. The Rough Guide barely gives it a mention, but from a sailing point of view it's very well placed, as the only easy-access port between Lisbon and the Algarve. The pilot book points out accurately that once you're in the marina you can't see the chimneys, or indeed the docks, and apart from the sound of the surf on the nearby beach it's very peaceful. Our plan was to head on around Cabo Sao Vicente today, but it's over 70 miles which is a very long day, and when we got in last night after a mere 57 miles we felt we needed a day's rest before pressing on. It's costing us 29 euros for two nights, and the showers, which are brand new, are possibly the best we've had. Also, it has free, fast, wi-fi internet access. Hence the blog update.

Our last few days in Cascais were excellent. We had another trip into Lisbon, this time to Belem to see the church of the Mosteiro dos Jeronimos, the huge maritime museum, and the amazing Torre de Belem. We also ate the famous pasteis de Belem (delicious little custard tarts).

Sadly I can't publish the pictures yet... our little camera was left in a carrier bag on the chart table in an unexpected downpour of rain one evening, and sadly it no longer works. The memory card is fine but I don't have a card reader on this laptop, so to get the pictures Ben will have to put them on his PC, transfer them to a memory stick and then I can upload them. Watch this space. Our big SLR is fine, but the little camera, a Canon Ixus 30, has proved hugely convenient for taking wherever we go and taking decent shots. It might still dry out [crossed fingers...]

Hello Gordon

The edge of Hurricane Gordon passed us about four o'clock this morning. After horrendous forecasts, the worst winds we saw in Cascais marina were only 26 knots, although we did have buckets of rain. The swell is now building again and looks as though it will peak here tomorrow (Friday) at something just over four metres. So we'll be here for another day or two at least. I was most concerned about a Norwegian family with four small children who set off to Madeira on Tuesday. Wherever they were when the storm passed (and they would have cut across the corner of forecast area Josephine, due for Force 9-11 and 10-metre swell) they must have had a most unpleasant time. I guess we'll never know*.

Anyway I gather Gordon is now on his way to end the heatwave you guys have been having in the UK. It is quite nice here but I don't think it's quite as hot as you have been having.

Yesterday we went to Sintra which is an absolutely gorgeous hill town above Lisbon. On the recommendation of the Intemperances we went to Quinta da Regaleira, a romantic garden full of ruins constructed around 1910. It's all impeccably maintained and you can explore these amazing tunnels which all joint each other and various follies via spiral staircases, caves, waterfalls and grottoes. Harry Potter would be right at home.

* Edit: we heard later that they made it Ok but spent something like 36 hours hove to in horrendous conditions

Cascais

Cascais is an attractive resort about 15 miles out of Lisbon, with a big, new and expensive marina. We were reliably informed that the river Tejo in Lisbon is an “open sewer” and it’s hard to squeeze into any of the city marinas – none of which are actually in the city centre anyway. So most passing yachts end up here.

Our 170-mile trip from Leixoes was extremely bumpy. The forecast swell was three to four metres and it felt huge. In fact, it’s very like being on a roller-coaster and as I hate roller-coasters and close my eyes on the biggest swoops, I spent a fair amount of time with my eyes tight shut. Fortunately, although Kalessin’s motion was fairly awful, none of us were sick – both the wind and the waves were coming from behind us, thank goodness.

At about 4.30 in the morning we were motor-sailing somewhere off the Ilha da Berlenga and I was making some adjustments to the mainsail when there was a small bang and the sail suddenly shot out on to the starboard side. The mainsheet had been held in place at the stern with a wire strop which had corroded and broken in half. According to the crew below (Sam and Ben), I cried “Oh f***, oh Jesus Christ”. Whatever it was they were on deck in about 15 seconds. We got the boom in and the mainsail down and continued motoring with just the jib, which was much easier to manage in the conditions. The funny thing was that up until then I’d been really nervous, but having coped with an actual problem I felt much better for the rest of the trip.

We were very lucky with the weather, with excellent visibility, modest but adequate winds and beautiful blue skies almost all the way. In Lisbon for the first time it feels like we reaching Mediterranean climes – the gardens are full of palm trees, hibiscus and bougainvillea, and the sun is really hot for the first time since Vilagarcia. By the time we reached Cascais the swell was also less and it has continued to reduce since we got here.

On Sunday we explored Cascais, walking out to the Boca da Inferno, the Mouth of Hell (pictured) a cave which looks spectacular when the waves break into it. Yesterday we headed into Lisbon on the convenient and very cheap train and spent the day exploring. Ben was a bit low to start off with, which was hard work for all of us, but he cheered up when we watched a man making amazing constructions out of used drinks cans, and we acquired a small dish for a donation of €1. We spent most of the afternoon at the castle of Sao Jorge which is a splendid spot and has fabulous views out over Lisbon and the river.

Ben & Camilla recovering from a day in Lisbon at the excellent castle cafe

We arrived in Cascais to see Intemperance moored across the way from us. By Sunday Moon Dance was on the next pontoon and last night Ben was first back from the train station and was delighted to find Khepri right next to us. So there’s no getting away from all of these boats! We’ve also been hearing about Terry, a single-hander in a Twister who was next to us in Baiona and popped up suddenly to ask “Do you put mushrooms into chilli con carne?” Dreadful things do seem to happen to Terry – not just forgetting to put the beans into the chilli, he also anchored just off Gijon in a forbidden area and got towed in, and more recently lost reverse gear and crashed into a hand-built Norwegian yacht - and apparently he was very close to being smashed to bits on Cabo Mondego, just outside Figuera da Foz. Even at midnight I can’t imagine any conditions which would make me go close in to a rocky cape – Kalessin is always the yacht out two or three miles off!

We may be here for a while as we were planning to leave on Thursday, when strong southerly winds (on the nose) are forecast, and after that huge swell - more than five metres - apparently as a result of ex-hurricane Gordon. We'll see what develops, but there are much worse places to be.


Wednesday 13 September
Any port...

Leixoes Marina is right in the middle of one of Portugal’s largest commercial ports, which is not a very lovely place to be – although interesting if you like watching shipping. On the other hand, it’s conveniently placed about 35 miles south of Viana and well sheltered, with huge outer sea walls and inner harbour walls with a very narrow entrance. In spite of all this, we’re rocking gently in the swell which as far as I can work out is forecast to get worse tomorrow.

The next two possible stops south of here are both inaccessible in heavy swell (how heavy is “heavy”?). The third is almost 100 miles away, which we can’t do in daylight, but our friends in Moon Dance have told us they were strongly warned against night navigation on this coast unless very well offshore (how far is “very well”?), because of the risk of getting entangled in nets or pot lines. Our original plan was to head from here to Cascais (effectively the marina for Lisbon) but that’s 167 miles and not to be undertaken lightly. Aaaargh!

We came down here yesterday in more fog, although for much of the time we were in sunshine and sometimes we had visibility out to sea, but we couldn’t see the coast. Hooray for radar. There’s a northern Irish boat, Roamer, which doesn’t have radar and was highly embarrassed yesterday to have three or four other yachts calling on VHF to say they were looking out for it… fortunately the sea was very empty, except for 14 zillion pot markers, until five miles from Leixoes when huge ships appeared out of nowhere.

As we came into the main port approach channel a French yacht cut right across our bows without warning. A few minutes before, the same yacht had crossed a prohibited zone around a supertanker buoy. As we came through the port they overtook us again, charged into the marina, ignored the reception pontoon and headed straight for a vacant berth. Sam was delighted to see that one of the crew flung a mooring warp ashore but sadly it was of no help in securing the yacht, as it wasn’t tied on at the boat end. The yacht then hit the pontoon. Ho, ho.

Bridges of Porto, above

We’ve spent the day in Porto which is a very splendid city, although it’s a pity that it rained almost all day. We got the brand-new Metro into town, and wandered from the station, via the cathedral, down to the river, where we took a river cruise to admire the splendid six bridges. Then we found a nice restaurant for lunch and behold! there was the crew of Moon Dance again. We walked back via an English language bookshop (where we bought some very weird, but cheap, children’s books for Ben) and went home again. It doesn’t sound much but as Porto is built on the sides of a steep gorge it was all rather hard work. Fortunately, it has now stopped raining.

Viva Portugal

Ben with amazing white chocolate drink in Baiona - five seconds after this he spilled it all over the table...


After nearly three months we’ve entered our third foreign country – Portugal. We came to Viana do Castelo only because it seemed like a convenient hop in possible fog, but in fact it’s a lovely, historic town. We were greeted on the pontoon by a marinero who spoke perfect English and welcomed us to Portugal. Last night we ate out at a place recommended in the Rough Guide and not only was the menu in English, our waiter also spoke excellent English (and German to the table next door). Ben has announced that he likes Portugal.

Amazingly, Portuguese is the world’s fifth most-spoken language. I guess most of those people are in Brazil, but here they clearly find it beneficial to speak other languages, and if one of them is English that’s great, as spoken Portuguese is said to be almost incomprehensible (written Portuguese is quite like Spanish and even more like Gallego).

We kept fairly well offshore on the way here to avoid breaking waves and fog, but as we hoisted the Portuguese courtesy flag at the border we almost ran into a lobster pot marker and there were hundreds more markers – many extremely hard to see - all down the coast. We are fairly used to this in the UK and there were a fair number of pots in France too, but they are much rarer in Spain. We’re planning a long, overnight passage in the next few days and we’ll probably need to get well out beyond 50 metres depth to get away from them. The deepest we’ve ever seen one is 109 metres – it needs a lot of string to set your pots that deep!

Yesterday we climbed to the top of the hill to the Basilica of Santa Luzia, up what the Lonely Planet guide describes as fourteen zillion steps. (We didn’t count them). National Geographic once said it had some of the most beautiful views in the world but we could see only four or five miles at most. By the time we came down the top of the hill was wreathed in mist, and it was raining and distinctly chilly (by Spanish standards). Today, weather permitting (and the fog has closed in again), we head south to Leixoes.


Saturday 9 September

We’re in Baiona (Bayona) which will be our last port of call in northern Spain. Like La CoruƱa, Baiona is something of a crossroads and popular with British yachts. Within 30 seconds of our arrival, Ben had met up with eight-year-old Maddy from Moon Dance, who we met in La CoruƱa, and Donnache from Khepri, whom he spent several days with in Vilagarcia. He was absolutely thrilled.

Next to us was a big Swiss Ovni, a distinctive aluminium boat, called Anthea – we remembered seeing her two months ago in Lezardrieux and Trebeurden. We even wondered if Intemperance might still be here, but as she should have left two weeks ago we were quite glad not to find her here. We also chatted to the owner of Mingulay, who was on his way to Scotland from after keeping his boat for several years in the Algarve, but having encountered fog and even rain in the past few days has now decided to head south again.

Columbus left from here in 1492, so it’s obviously been a popular jumping-off point for a while!

Above - replica Pinto in Baiona - now you see it, now you don't

Fog has been the bane of our lives for the past couple of days. When the 35 degree temperatures ended last Tuesday the visibility closed in, and by the time we left Vilagarcia on Thursday we could see only a mile or so. We were heading for a small marina at the head of the ria, only 20 miles away, but the visibility got worse and worse. Thank goodness for the GPS chart plotter and radar, which between them tell us where we are and what other shipping is around. As we reached the entrance to San Vicente I told Sam and Ben on deck that we had to spot a crucial red buoy. I could see it quite clearly on both the chart and the radar, but we finally spotted it looming through the mist only about 100 metres away, and it was a big buoy probably three or four metres high.

San Vicente was delightful and incredibly peaceful after Vilagarcia, but Sam felt we should press on. Once more we left in adequate visibility and once more the fog closed in suddenly. The wind also came and went, changing direction through 180 degrees and strength from nothing to 15 knots. We anchored during a clear patch off the gorgeous Islas Cies, and I swam through the cold turquoise water to the white sand beach, but five minutes after I got back to the boat a squall hit us and we upped the anchor and left. By the time we reached Baiona the visibility was going again.

Thank goodness it now seems to have cleared and the sun is shining on bits of the ria that we haven’t seen before! We were planning a long, 70-mile run down to Leixoes in Portugal tomorrow, but because of doubts over the weather have decided to run only 35 miles to Viana do Castelo. It sounds like a good introduction to Portugal. On the other hand it’s frustrating to be leaving Spain just as we start to get to grips with the language. Sam managed to obtain a crucial circlip (a sort of horseshoe-shaped spring washer) for the loo pump today in a ferreteria (ironmongers) with a combination of drawings, English, Spanish and sign language. We’re told Portuguese is impossible to understand but more people speak English.

The autohelm which took almost two weeks to reach us

The longest stay

We are finally all set to leave Vilagarcia after a whopping eight nights here. Yesterday was a red-letter day - not only did the autopilot finally arrive from the UK, but Sam went by taxi to a VHF specialist, bought a new aerial and I winched him up the mast so he could fit it! Very hard work, as he weighs several times as much as Ben...

It has been staggeringly hot here, reaching a peak of 35 degrees on Tuesday, so in some ways we were quite glad not to be sailing. Now it´s very misty with almost no wind. We´ll take a couple of days to get to Baiona and then set off on the long hack down the Portuguese coast. Having lost time here we may end up in the Algarve rather than Seville - but we´ll see.

We were all set to be rather rude about the marina here, but Maria was so helpful over the VHF aerial we are changing our view. We are very glad to be out before club night at the weekend, though.

Pictures again


Glorious Santiago cathedral


Sam appreciating Santiago. Below: Ben appreciating a bath!




Ben with friend Donnache lurking in Ben´s cabin

Vilagarcia and Santiago

There’s still no sign of our autopilot – it now seems it´s held in a depot somewhere because the courier couldn´t understand the address, which said Viladarcia de Arousa instead of Vilagarcia. Sigh. We still hope to set off today, though. We went right off Vilagarcia on Saturday night, or in fact Sunday morning, when the extremely loud club music started at midnight and continued until after 8am, at which point a number of inebriated youths were seen heaving bottles, glasses and metal crowd barriers into the marina. This is supposed to be a safe place to leave your boat, and security is good, but incidents like that are a bit worrying. Thank goodness, last night was totally peaceful – I kept waking up and wondering where the music had gone!

As a counter to that Ben has made a friend – a 10-year-old from an Irish boat across the way, called (approximately) Donnache. They are here for a few days while their mother flew back to Ireland for a family wedding. Ben and Donnache spent most of Saturday and Sunday together which was a great treat for Ben, who really hasn’t talked to anyone except family for weeks.

This morning we have redesigned Ben’s school timetable, as he’s more or less finished what he was set in DT (design technology), RS (religious studies) and science, but is concerned that he’s falling behind in some other subjects, especially Maths and Latin. I’ve been trying to persuade him that he doesn’t have to worry too much about French, as six weeks in France was pretty good education in itself, but bless him he is still a bit bothered. It’s wonderful that he is so conscientious.

We have on board a handy book of swear words and insults in four languages, which includes “Por favor, deja de habla tan alto en ese idioma tan molesto” (Please stop talking loudly in that annoying language). Sometimes it’s really nice to hear people NOT talking Spanish.


Saturday 2 September
A pilgrimage to Santiago

We’re in Vilagarcia de Arosa for a few days. Vilagarcia is singularly lacking in charm but it has a well—organised, secure marina and is on the main railway line between La CoruƱa and Vigo – just 40 minutes to Santiago de Compostela. Son on Thursday we packed a few possessions and headed off for two days in Santiago, one of Spain’s most beautiful cities and final destination for the famous Santiago pilgrimage.

Santiago was absolutely gorgeous, everything the guidebooks say and more. The old centre is totally pedestrianised with a mixture of narrow streets and big open plazas, the biggest being the one in front of the totally outrageous cathedral. We visited the cathedral itself, its cloisters, treasury and crypt, the bishop’s palace, the museum of the pilgrimage, the museum of Galician life, some lovely gardens and a number of cafes and restaurants. It was extraordinary to be in a place away from the sea, and slightly disorienting.

We stayed in a pleasant little hotel with a room with a bath, and we all luxuriated in the first hot-water soak we’ve had for 11 weeks. Ben was slightly disappointed in fact - having begged for a bath he found it wasn’t quite as much fun as the sea. It was also strange to behave like rich tourists and eat out at every meal, even breakfast. Our cost of living when we cook for ourselves on the boat is much lower than eating at even the cheapest cafes.

When we got back to Vilagarcia they were setting up a pop concert which went on until about 1am. No peace then though, because the club music carried on until 5am. This morning it’s very peaceful. Bad news: there’s no sign of our autopilot which should have arrived yesterday. Good news: Ben has met an Irish 10-year-old with whom he’s had the longest conversation with anyone other than the family since we left home.



Tuesday 29 August
Sea life

Yesterday we sailed into the Ria de Arosa, the biggest and one of the most popular rias. We’re only about 15 miles from Portosin but it’s almost 40 miles by sea. We had a night at anchor in Muros, where the anchor dragged and we had to move over to the other side of the bay – fortunately the wind dropped completely overnight, allowing me to get a bit of sleep!

Out in the Atlantic between the rias we saw a large group of dolphins which followed the boat closely, jumping and criss-crossing under the bows and stern, for almost an hour. Unfortunately Ben was feeling a bit queasy and didn’t really appreciate them. He perked up a bit when we came into the flat waters of the Ria de Arosa and we started sailing in the modest wind, and he set a mackerel line as we have done numerous times without success. The wind dropped, we slowed right down, and he actually caught two mackerel – what an achievement! We’d been told a few days ago that sailing is usually too fast and you only get fish at less than two knots, and it seems to be true. Apparently even mackerel realise that their prey don’t whip past at five or six knots. Anyway we ate the mackerel for dinner, and very good they were too.

We’re in Pobra do CaramiƱal, yet another small Galician town, distinguished by a stout marina, pleasant tree-covered square in the town centre and a slightly better-than-average supermarket. Yesterday it was really hot for the first time for days, and we went for a swim off the beach almost as soon as we arrived. The night was warm and balmy and the morning brilliantly clear. Sadly it didn’t last, clouds and wind arrived again, although it’s still pretty warm.

We’ve reached the conclusion that too may more small Galician towns may start to drive us bonkers, lovely through the rias are. From here we will go just across the ria to Vilagarcia, where we hope to pick up our autopilot and spend a day or two in Santiago da Compostela. Then we’ll skip down to Baiona and head into Portugal, where we expect to make a few very long hops down to Lisbon and then to the Algarve.

Still in Portosin

We´re still in the Ria de Muros, in the marina at Portosin. Why? Well, it´s very comfortable here and they have wonderful armchairs in the clubhouse where you can curl up, watch the sunset, or read Yachting World... Ben thinks this is heaven. Plus good internet access, a lovely beach, and hills to climb when you get fed up with the sea (as I did yesterday). It´s tempting just to stay here but the Ria de Arousa is beckoning.

Latest pictures

Here is a selection from La CoruƱa onwards:


Strange sculpture in La CoruƱa


Sunrise over the mussel farm in Corme


Empty beach in CamariƱas...


...and two mad swimmers (the water was very cold)

Beyond the end of the earth

We have made it past Finisterre to the first of the Rias Bajas (low rias) – we are in the Ria de Muros in a marina at Portosin. It’s a great relief to have passed Finisterre which is notorious for gales and also for fog – probably not at the same time. In the event we had calm from 7.30, when we left CamariƱas, until about 11am, and then a good northerly breeze and brilliant sunshine for most of the rest of the day.

We got the cruising chute up for the second time. We experimented with a slightly different rig – not to get too technical, setting it like a foresail instead of flying it right at the front of the boat. This worked reasonably well, but in the course of our experiments we managed to get the spinnaker halyard wrapped several times very tightly around the foresail itself. Once we turned east into the ria, we couldn’t get out all the foresail – quite a good thing in the strengthening wind – and then, having hurtled up the ria at between 6 and 7 knots (at one point we hit 7.8 knots with Ben helming), we got to the shallow bit at the top end of the ria and realised we couldn’t put the foresail away either. The wind was too strong for us to tie it up with sail ties, it wouldn’t roll up because of the tangled spinnaker halyard, and it wouldn’t unroll so we could lower the whole thing. In the end we shot into the marina under a combination of tangled sail-power and engine going astern, tied up to a hammerhead pontoon, and Ben, bless him, went right to the top of the mast in the bosun’s chair to untangle the ropes. After that we squeezed Kalessin into a berth barely big enough for her and Ben had a cup of tea with Spanish brandy and lots of sugar (he said it tasted like hot brandy butter).

Our other technical problem is with our autopilot, which is now refusing to turn the boat to port, having made unpleasant noises for a few days. Sam has dismantled it and can see what the problem is (the little toothed belt comes off the drive) but not why it’s happening. We’ve spoken to Raymarine in the UK who were not very helpful (their stock response is “send it back to us for servicing”), and to Phil, our electronics engineer, who thoughtfully dismantled a slightly different Raymarine tiller pilot to see if he could identify the problem but couldn’t work out an answer either. We may have to buy a new autopilot which will cost us around £400. Our very good friends at Seamark Nunn in Felixstowe, where we buy all our boats (Kalessin used to belong to Mike Nunn, and we’ve also bought a Topper and our Honda outboard motor from them, not to mention thousands of pounds’ worth of other kit) can get us one in two days. Otherwise we have to find a Raymarine agent here with whom we can communicate to see if the problem is actually a £2 washer. Tiller pilots notoriously have quite a short life but they do save a great deal of hard work – after helming all the way for 45 miles yesterday, not to mention mast-climbing etc., we all slept extremely well.


Wednesday 23 August
Windy corner

Today is our third day in CamariƱas and we’re going off it a bit. There is a powerful smell of fish wafting across the town – we haven’t identified the source but it smells like a sardine-canning factory. The noise of the wind blowing across the boat is making everyone bad-tempered. The sun came out for a few brilliant hours this afternoon, but now it seems to be clouding over again. And Ben and I have had a row because it transpired that his journal was at least a week behind, although he told me it was up to date.

We were all set to leave this morning, making the most of the early-morning lull in the wind. Unfortunately there was no lull this morning – when we woke at 6am the wind was blowing at 15 to 18 knots in the marina, it was cold, cloudy and of course dark, and we went back to bed. Our next passage is almost 50 miles and we have to get around Cape Finisterre so we wanted good weather. Tomorrow looks quieter, but I’ve now read that thick fogs can form out of nowhere here, if there’s less wind fog is more likely to form, and I really don’t want to be sailing down the Costa da Morte in thick fog either. Oh b*m. I wish we had left on Monday. Or at 10am today.

We met a chap from Essex, who arrived here a year ago in a converted Scottish survey ship, towing a catamaran which had got into trouble out in Biscay. They weren’t even aiming for CamariƱas but came in here to get out of a gale. Now he and his partner have three boats, two horses, and an English ice-cream van. There’s no accounting for tastes.

Windy CamariƱas

Apologies to you all - the text below duplicates the email I´ve just sent round. I´m on a coin-in-the-slot internet connection with a limited number of coins so I´m running out of time!

Hope to have time to add some pictures on the next update...

We are currently about 20 miles north of Cabo Finisterre, or "the end of the earth" as it was christened when the Romans got here. It´s very windy around here - the wind routinely whips up to a Force 6 or so in the afternoon and any windy patches in the Atlantic just clip this corner of Spain. Fortunately the mornings are quieter. We´re in CamariƱas which is a small Spanish town with fairly average facilities - however I dragged Ben and Sam off on a walk this morning (along the memorably named Costa da Morte, or Coast of Death) and we found not only spectacular views but a stunningly beautiful, almost deserted beach. Sadly the water here is almost as cold as Herm in the Channel Islands! but Ben and I both swam briefly.

We spent almost a week in La CoruƱa which is a great city - see the blog for more. From here we head into the Rias Bajas which are said to offer some of the best cruising in Spain. We will continue to keep you up to date as we go.

Observation: Spanish keyboards are much easier to use than French ones except that you keep putting Ʊ into everything! This keyboard has a failed "e" though - you have to hit it hard...

La Coruna for real

We've finally made it to La Coruna - see below. Here we are at the Torre de Hercules, the world's oldest working lighthouse

Today’s big excitement has been going to the fuel berth, before our expected departure tomorrow. The fuel berth is still at the old marina around the corner, and you have to go alongside a wall where there isn’t much depth. It’s only about a mile around the corner and we arrived with a brisk westerly wind blowing us away from the pontoons. We were completely unable to see any pumps, so managed to tie up to a vacant pontoon while Sam went off to investigate. Just as well he did, as you have to head straight down a narrow gap between pontoons towards a stone wall, turn at the last moment and secure between the two flights of steps. The marinero was there to fling warps to us, thank goodness. It was a lot of hassle for just over 30 litres of diesel, but much too far to carry a can by arm - our big diesel can must weigh around 35kg when it’s full and I can barely lift it.

We’re negotiating with the boat across the way from us to buy a cruising chute – like a smaller, easier-to-handle spinnaker. We’ve never actually used our spinnaker, which was purchased for racing and used once by the previous owner. Sam, who knows slightly more about spinnakers than I do, feels it would need three or preferably four adults on board to fly it safely. We’ve rigged the ropes a couple of times but didn’t actually raise the sail – once because we arrived at our destination and once because we were 150 miles from anywhere in the middle of Biscay, and were nervous about what might happen if things went wrong. Sam asked the lady on board how long they had been in La CoruƱa and the answer was “since October”. I think they must like it here.

Friday 18 August
Thank you Imray

Now I know we’re real liveaboards. In GijĆ³n I ordered from Imray the latest edition of the pilot book for Atlantic Spain and Portugal – it was published just after we left. We have the previous edition, but things have changed so much in the past five years that the marina we’re in at the moment isn’t even mentioned in the old edition. I asked Imray to send it to the Marina here to await our arrival, and behold, it is here. Well worth the £48.50 investment (£37.50 for the book and £11 for postage – yes, those are pound signs and not euros). In the old days people used to pick up mail quite commonly, but in these days of blogs and email, getting something sent to you feels like a real adventure.

I have since discovered that you can buy the pilot book from the chandlery across town. Oh well. It’s probably even more expensive. (80 euros, in fact).

Yesterday we had an educational day, visiting the Torre de Hercules – the only lighthouse in the world which has operated non-stop since Roman times – and the Domus, a museum of the human body. Our trip to the Torre was made more dramatic by a lady who slipped and broke her ankle on the last steep spiral stair – we all had to wait until the medicos came and took her away. The view was great, although the huge swell crashing impressively on to the rocks and beaches was rather more daunting. The wind reached 21 knots in the shelter of the marina but apparently there was a 3-metre swell in the open sea, which is big enough to be dangerous (and also rock us at our sheltered mooring). Fortunately the wind has eased today and the swell should die down by tomorrow.

The Domus was really excellent, tying in very well with Ben’s science lessons. It had loads of interactive stuff including pumps squirting red liquid to simulate the heart, machines to measure your height, hand-span, strength, reach and length of femur, and a complete chart of the human genome. It was also very good for our Spanish as you could guess most of it but had to look up key words. Ben is impressed to find his Latin is proving very useful, which I’m sure his Latin teacher with be delighted to hear.

In the evening we went out with Paul and Val from Intemperance to sample some raciones – like tapas, only bigger helpings. Everybody has a bit of everything. It works well with five of you as you can order lots of different dishes and not end up with too much to eat.

Wednesday 16 August
La CoruƱa

Four months ago I started this blog with an entry called “La CoruƱa dreaming”. At the time I didn’t know much about La CoruƱa, except that it was on the north-west tip of Spain and we were quite likely to go there.

Now we’re here and I’ve discovered that, among other things, it’s actually called A CoruƱa (in the local language, Gallego). It’s a big, elegant port and we plan to spend several days here, relaxing, sightseeing and waiting for the forecast strong winds to pass over. Overnight and this morning we’ve had heavy, cold rain and it’s now moderately windy, but no gales yet. Yesterday we left Viveiro in drizzle and dark grey skies and I was very concerned that the winds might strengthen before we arrived in La CoruƱa. (Fortunately we had found a wireless internet connection on Monday and I kept Sam awake late checking every weather site I could think of). In fact there was almost no wind all day, the sea was relatively flat, hooray! and the sun came out for the last 15 miles or so. Sixty miles of motoring is distinctly boring, though.

We’re pretty much halfway through our four months away, so here are some facts and figures:

  • We’ve covered 1271 (nautical) miles over the ground so far in 243 hours under way, an average of 5.23 knots (nautical miles per hour).
  • Because the winds have been so light we’ve only been sailing (without engine) for around a quarter of the time, which is disappointing.
  • We’ve been to 35 different places, mostly marinas, for overnight stops, plus a few lunchtime anchorages.
  • We’ve been to dozens of different supermarchĆ©s, supermercados and other kinds of market, including fish markets, and loads of acastillages (chandleries) although none in Spain so far – it seems the few that exist tend to close during August!
  • We’ve seen craft fairs (Camaret and Viveiro), concerts and entertainments (notably in St Peter Port, Vannes and everywhere in Spain), and numerous museums and exhibitions plus a lighthouse in Calais.
  • We’ve eaten out in Calais, Boulogne, St Peter Port, Lezardrieux, Treguier, Brest, Camaret, Port la Foret, Lorient, Port Crouesty and Gijon, and we’ve had coffees, beers, ice-creams, chips and chi-chis in numerous other establishments.
  • We’ve paid a consistent 20 euros or so a night for marina berths, with the most expensive marina at Trebeurden which jacks its rates up to 30 euros a night in July and August and makes you pay extra for showers! The cheapest, apart from anchoring for free, was a mooring buoy in Sauzon, Belle-Ile, for 11 euros, Le Havre where we couldn’t pay because the marina office was closed, and Viveiro where the capitano winked and only charged us for one night instead of two. The cheapest proper marina rate was in Audierne (17 euros) where we were rafted three deep, couldn’t get to electricity or water and the loos were locked during the brief time we were there – it would have been nice otherwise!
  • Food is our other biggest cost with a supermarket trip every three or four days costing about 60 euros, plus bread from bakeries and fresh fruit and veg and occasional fish from markets. We tend to go for supermarkets where we can, because it’s much less exhausting.
  • On board we eat cereal or toast for breakfast (we brought some of our favourite coffee from the UK and ran out a couple of weeks ago), local bread, cheese, ham and salads for lunch, and lots of pasta, rice or potatoes with various vegetables for dinner, with sausages, pizza, chicken, occasional fish or steak and (once) rabbit. We’ve boiled whelks, collected and cooked samphire, and picked herbs where we can. Fruit is difficult, as anything not eaten straight away tends to get bruised and inedible.
  • We’re on our fourth gas bottle (for cooking) and we’ve probably used 150 litres of diesel (for motoring).
  • Ribadeo is the only place we’ve been with no other British boats close by, although there was one anchored out in the ria. In Spain there’s a very varied mixture of non-local yacht nationalities – French, Dutch, British (and Irish), Belgian, German, Danish, Swedish and Norwegian. We’ve seen one Maltese yacht which unfortunately was aground on a sill at the time (in Trebeurden), one Finn, one Italian, one Canadian and a few Swiss boats

Swell in Galicia

From Gijon we moved on to Ribadeo and then to Viveiro, where we are now. At Ribadeo we moved out of Asturias and into Galicia, where they have their own language (Gallego), their own culture, and lots of wind. At least, according to the forecast there are gales due this evening, although there's no sign of them at the moment.

The most challenging aspect of sailing here is the swell - huge waves which roll in from the Atlantic and don't necessarily bear any relationship to local wind. Out where it's more than 100 metres deep the swell is quite manageable - Kalessin just rides over it - but closer in, and especially close to headlands, the sea is confused and extremely uncomfortable.

Ribadeo is a pleasant new marina in an attractive ria (drowned river valley) but the marina was only just around the corner from the entrance and around high tide the swell rolled in all the time, especially to the visitors' berths. The problem is not so much the movement as the way it suddenly gets stopped by the mooring warps. The resulting jerk-jerk-swing-swing-jerk woke me at 4am feeling very uncomfortable.

Viveiro is an even newer marina - so new that the pontoons aren't even marked on any of my charts, only in the pilot book. However it's right down at the end of the ria, behind an enormous harbour breakwater and then up a dredged channel, and thank goodness the swell doesn't seem to get in here. We arrived last night and were so lazy we didn't even explore the town - we had dinner on board and then watched King Kong on DVD. Actually we only watched the first half because it is so extremely long.

The supermercado we didn't go to in Viveiro - great still!

Department of Amazing Coincidences: In Gijon we spent two evenings with a really nice couple, Paul and Val Shilling, who are sailing their Sigma 400 Intemperance down to the Canaries to join the Atlantic Race for Cruisers (ARC) in November. Can you believe it, they thought we were more experienced than them, in spite of the fact that the two of them are sailing a huge racing yacht and frequently undertake four- and five-day passages in weather when we would never venture outside a nice, safe marina. Anyway, just before we said goodbye I was telling them the story of Tiare, the yacht I've mentioned before, which Ben and Emma were sailing in Hawaii but sadly had to turn back because Emma was so sick. I know about it because Ben is the brother of my good friend Sally, whom I sing with. Anyway, turned out that Paul and Val already know about Tiare - which was surprising enough - but they actually knew about it because they met Sally at a funeral earlier this year. Val's sister also knows Sally very well!!! It's the old thing about it's only six steps between you and anyone else in the world - but it was an astonishing coincidence.

Ben's favourite aspect of Gijon was the beach, where he finally made good use of his bodyboard. Surfing beaches don't tend to be alongside sheltered harbours for yachts!

The excellent view from the ladies' showers in Gijon

We are here

we are in Gijon
We've now logged 1,108 miles since leaving Suffolk Yacht Harbour on 18 June.

Viva Espana

Above - Ben raises the Spanish courtesy flag 20 miles off Gijon

Well, we made it across the Bay of Biscay. We left Port Crouesty, just at the edge of the Morbihan near Vannes, at 9am on Saturday morning, and arrived in Gijon in northern Spain, after 280 miles, at 5pm on Monday. It's by far our longest-ever passage, with two nights at sea, and we were blessed with good weather, force 2-4 winds from the north-east and north-west, and no major technical problems. At times the winds were so light that we had to motor, which was not what we expected!

Our thanks to Simon Keeling, our weather-man, who provided us with a personalised forecast and explained that although there were very strong winds off Finisterre we wouldn't be affected by them. Hooray for modern communications. The winds are still there at the moment but it will be at least a week before we get to the Cape.

The Bay of Biscay is quite astonishingly empty. Frankly, if we had set the autopilot after Belle-Ile and gone below, and come on deck again 5 miles outside Gijon, we wouldn't have encountered any problems in avoiding shipping. We saw a few yachts and fishing boats on Saturday - one of which passed within a few hundred yards. On Sunday, we saw a ferry cross about two miles ahead of us at 9.30am and saw nothing else, apart from dolphins, a pod of pilot whales, and a few birds, until about 4pm on Monday.

Solitary ketch 20 miles south of Belle-Ile

My best moment came on the Sunday evening, when we were well past the halfway mark. We were goose-winging (one sail on each side) with the foresail held out with the spinnaker pole and a preventer rigged to stop the mainsail from swinging over (jibing). It's a classic rig for crossing oceans and Kalessin was loving it, although we had to steer by hand as the autohelm couldn't keep the speed up. We had dinner (French shepherd's pie) up on deck, we had Dire Straits on below at full volume, and the sun was shining.

The worst moment was when I woke on Sunday morning - it was cold, grey, and bumpy, I'd had about two hours' sleep, I felt sick, and wanted to go home. Oh well.

Gijon is a big, lively Spanish city and has been a bit of a culture shock for all of us especially as none of speak Spanish. Last night (Tuesday) Sam had a very low moment and seriously wanted to go home. He's feeling better now, I hope. We will press on to La Coruna and see how we feel there.

We have a few minor problems with the boat. We've sorted out one leak into the bilge, but there still seems to be quite a bit of water around. And our holding tank is frankly extremely smelly. I'm on a personal mission to pour water into it and pump through whever we're at sea, to try to clean it out completely, but we may need a rethink of our plumbing. Sam feels Deeply Guilty about the whole thing, so 'nuff said.

Wednesday 2 August
Vannes

Vannes is a medieval city at the head of the Golfe du Morbihan, an amazing inland sea full of rocks, and tides. Once when we had a little 16-foot gaff-rigged trailer-sailer we thought about bringing it here. I can’t remember why we didn’t – perhaps we thought our 4hp Mariner outboard wouldn’t make it against the tidal streams which can run at six or eight knots (7-9mph). Frankly I don’t think our 20hp Volvo would do much against these tides either, but in fact you can usually retreat to the side of the channel and find that the tide slows down, or is even going the other way.

We’re parked next to two sailing school boats who are taking on a load of teenagers today and heading out tomorrow. The skipper of the boat next to us speaks excellent English and had time to spare this afternoon, so he briefed us about some of the best moorings and anchorages out in the Morbihan. I think he must have been a schoolteacher in a previous life, but anyway we are well instructed and very grateful. Fortunately the teenagers are still over-awed and quiet, but we are benefiting from a harbour-side concert by a truly dreadful heavy metal band. I speak as a fully paid-up middle-aged person, of course, but I used to like Black Sabbath once.

Vannes is lovely, and once more I am astonished that on a boat you can drive straight into the middle of a busy city, park in a prime spot, and pay €20 to stay the night. We’re close to the medieval centre and had a good wander around this afternoon. The weather is still wet so half the holiday-makers in Brittany were also here. I wouldn’t be the least bit surprised to run into someone I know, especially as so many of the tourists are British.

Ben discovered a truly vile snack called chi-chis (above), which I think are extruded lengths of batter, deep fried and dipped in sugar. They look like giant chips and taste like the most disgusting doughnuts you can think of. Ben made some small English child’s day by giving him a chi-chi.

La Trinite-sur-Mer

We’re still in La TrinitĆ© after a couple of nights here – having experienced the worst weather we’ve had for quite some time. This must be what was forecast for Saturday! We had a good visit to the megaliths of Carnac on the local Petit Train, which takes you right along the line of several thousand standing stones. On a sunny morning in late July the stones don’t really have too much atmosphere. It would be better to come back on a gloomy day in winter, when you’re allowed to walk among the stones instead of staying behind the fence, and get some feeling of why they might be there. Broadly, no-one knows, although there are some wacky theories about them being used as astronomical graph paper. Ben reckons they were put up to celebrate people’s birthdays.

It poured with rain all yesterday afternoon, which put paid to the engineering work which Sam wanted to do (he needed to empty the cockpit locker and climb into it) and I didn’t get too much washing done either. The wind got gradually stronger and it was quite chilly – having said that we were all still in shorts, so it can’t have been too bad. We spent the afternoon reading and sleeping and by the evening were very grumpy and all wanted to go home. Ben, bless him, managed to set up his laptop as a DVD player in the forepeak so we could all three snuggle in there under our duvets, ignore the wind and rain outside, and watch Bill & Ted’s Bogus Adventure (the one with “How’s it hanging, Death?”). We felt better.

Today it’s very windy – a stall blew down in the market while we were there – so we’re in no hurry to get on. It’s very sheltered here and is probably much worse out at sea. However, the sun has come out again (so I got my washing done) and the wind is forecast to settle down a bit tomorrow. Sam is very chuffed because he has found the source of a leak which was filling the bilges – a bolt had punched a hole in one of the exhaust hoses. La TrinitĆ© is a good place for engineering works because it’s filled with specialist yacht suppliers, and he found a Volvo Penta dealer around the corner who has supplied the right kind of pipework to repair the hole. Below, a view of Sam at work in the locker...

I have more pictures but can't upload them from here (internet cafe) ... watch this space!

Sunday 30 July
Racing centre

From Lorient we headed down to Belle-Ile, which is famous for being beautiful and crowded. Instead of the main port of Le Palais (which is described in the pilot book as “like being inside a sardine tin”) we headed for Sauzon, a drying port with visitors’ moorings on the outside. Now Guy is no longer with us, we can pick up moorings without feeling too guilty. Sauzon was indeed very pretty, with wonderful clear light, and a completely flat-bottomed harbour which you can walk right across at low water (and Ben did).

Before dinner we entertained ourselves by constructing a wooden kit intended to show wave motion – when you wind a little handle, boats go up and down and a bird goes round and round (initially it flew backwards, but we managed to correct that). Barny and Mary, if you’re reading this, thank you very much – it provided us with a couple of happy hours.

On the Friday evening we picked up a slightly doubtful weather forecast, which was reinforced the next morning by another one predicting force 6 gusts – not much fun on a fairly exposed anchorage. We also saw a fairly spectacular sunset sky which, on checking in Alan Watts’ “Instant Weather Forecasting” we discovered meant strong winds within 12-15 hours. So early on Saturday, we rushed up to Port Haliguen marina at the very tip of the Quiberon peninsular. No sign of the force 6 there either, but the forecast for Sunday was even worse, with force 6 gusting 7 expected in the morning. The marina was packed with boats overnight, it poured with rain, and there was absolutely no wind at all.

Now we’re in La TrinitĆ© sur Mer, said to be one of France’s top race sailing centres. There are some spectacular racing multihulls moored just outside the marina – the sort of thing Ellen MacArthur sails around the world. This is also the home of Philippe Plisson, the photographer who takes amazing pictures of lighthouses with waves breaking over them, and there is a whole gallery full of his photos. La TrinitĆ© is full of beach-style cafes and kiss-me-quick hats, which is surprising as there’s no real beach here – the boats must be the attraction. Oh yes, and the wind is getting up – I thought it was supposed to die away?

Tomorrow we plan an educational visit to Carnac, the biggest prehistoric construction in the universe, which is a couple of miles away. With a bit of luck we’ll also be able to connect to the internet and upload this blog.

We’ll be spending a few days in and around the Gulf of Morbihan, the rocky inland sea just round the corner from here, and then we have to make a Big Decision – do we do the jump across Biscay to Spain, or do we press on down the coast of France? Crouesty, just across the Baie de Quiberon, looks like a good jumping-off point so when we get there we’ll need to collect weather info and screw up our courage. It’s about 250 miles from here to Gijon in northern Spain – the longest trip we’ve done in one go before is about 110 (from Holland to Harwich a couple of years ago). Mark can’t make it, alas, so it will be just Sam, me and Ben.

Thursday 27 July
Goodbye Guy

We’re in Lorient, where we have said goodbye to Guy. Today he and Sam caught the train (from Lorient station, which looks just Peterborough station where I have spent many happy hours) to Nantes, where Guy flew back to the UK. Ben and I have spent the day rearranging the boat so that Ben can now use the rear cabin, where Guy was sleeping, and as a result we now have an extraordinarily clean, tidy and usable main cabin. It won’t last. The boat seems very empty and quiet without Guy.

From Port la Foret we spent two days in the Ile de Groix, a rocky island about the size of Alderney. We were lucky to get into the harbour at Port Tudy – although we did hope that Monday lunchtime would be a good time to arrive – and on our first night were in the middle of a raft of five boats. On the second night we had our own finger pontoon which was much more comfortable. The harbour is full of yachts coming and going, fishing boats, RIBs (rigid inflatables, of which there are thousands around here) and vedettes in the outer port, so is not exactly peaceful, but there’s always something to watch. The island is lovely with brightly painted houses, tiny sandy coves and clear, blue water.

From there we made the short hop to the big port of Lorient. Guy was asleep for the crossing and it must be especially strange for him, going to sleep in a harbour on a resort island and waking in the very middle of a French city. Having a shower is particularly odd, as you grab your towel and shampoo and cross a busy main road full of commuter traffic to the shower block across the road, which appears to be one of the few old buildings left in the city. Good showers though, and a quiet and pleasant marina despite the passing traffic.

Lorient spends most of the year being dull and concrete but at the moment is getting ready for the Interceltique, the huge 10-day festival of Celtic culture which starts next week. The Rough Guide to France is very rude about Lorient, saying that the Port de Plaisance is the only bit of colour, and looking at Kalessin with our washing flying I think we were the most colourful thing here.

Yesterday we were approached by a teacher of English who asked if we would be willing to talk to three of his students, so spent a pleasant hour in a cafƩ chatting to them. It was nice to talk to someone apart from each other!

My mama tells me that I came to Le Pouldu, which is about 10 miles outside Lorient, when I was just three months old. I looked it up in the French pilot book, to see if we could have sailed there, and it says “Le Pouldu est une veritable aventure”. The entry is difficult, you can only get in an hour before high water if there is no wind and no waves, and it has moving banks of sand, strong currents at springs and not enough water at neaps, and to top it all no room to moor anyway. All in all, I’m quite glad we missed it.

Port la Foret

We've just discoved that the marina at le Foret Fouesnant, where we are at the moment, has wireless internet access. So I am sitting here in Kalessin's cockpit, under our canopy, looking out at the brilliant blue water in the marina, for the latest blog update. Which is nice.

This is an enormous purpose-built complex, where all the buildings and surrounding houses are all part of the marina. It's a bit soulless, but is also very sheltered, and has every possible facility on site including two large chandleries.

After some discussion it looks unlikely that Mark, my brother in law who hoped to do the Biscay crossing with us, will be able to join us. We're still hoping, but in the meantime we will pootle down towards La Rochelle from where we can make a shorter crossing to Santander (200 miles as opposed to around 300 from here to Gijon). It feels easier and more comfortable to stay in France, where we do at least understand the basics of the language and are getting to know the drill in the marinas, than to venture 300 miles across open sea to a country we don't know very well.

In the interests of doing this more successfully I have just invested 60 euros in the French edition of an English pilot book which covers the whole of this Atlantic coast much more effectively than the pilot book we already have. If I could have got the English language version I would have done, but sadly it looks as though I'd need to order it and then wait 10 days in the same place for it to arrive...

Guy heads home in just four days and I think his patience with us and the boat is running out. He is very cross with us all and spends a lot of time in his cabin growling. He is normally very dependent on the company of his peers so has done superbly to put up with us for all this time. Perhaps we have done superbly to put up with him too. We'll be taking him to Nantes airport from the station at Lorient but hope to spend a day or two n the Ile de Groix before we get to Lorient, which is another post WW2 bombing concrete city like Le Havre and Brest. Churchill has a lot to answser for.

Merry Christmas from just me

Video of photos made for Sam's funeral    Dear friends and family As I hope you all know, this year has been a difficult one for me. On ...