Three Men in a Boat

A last “sherbet” in the Lounge, a farewell kiss from Michelle the landlady, and it was back to the boat for a dawn departure. Dawn in Gibraltar is always at 0830! We were ready and waiting. The marina staff removed the boom that each night, closed the marina entrance, and we slipped out.

Blue sky, a gentle 6kts on the nose gradually building, we crossed the bay – a beautiful start. By Tarifa we were banging into 22kts, a lumpy sea, and 4kts of foul tide! Progress was painfully slow. 18 miles and 4½ hrs later we finally rounded Tarifa Light.

The sun was shining, Cape Trafalgar slipped passed, and we made for the Algarve coast of Portugal, slipping in to Lagos with time for a brief run ashore.

Watching the weather plays a key part in the leg north ‘up’ the west side of Europe. Both the prevailing wind, and the prevailing currents are against you, and gales are frequent, but it was looking good for a dawn departure. 0630 saw us slipping quietly out of the harbour, turning west, and motoring for Ponta de Sagres, and Cabo Sao Vincente.



Rounding Cape St Vincent the weather always changes. We left the balmy comfort of the Mediterranean -style climate of the Algarve, an swopped it for that of the North Atlantic Ocean. Within twenty minutes the flat blue sea became a boiling turmoil of grey sea, the spray flying. Double reefed mainsail and staysail replaced full main and genoa. Foul weather gear replaced t-shirt and shorts. 30+kts blasted out of the east. On course, sailing at 8kts, we revelled in the conditions.

Progress was good. We gel as a team. Competition in the galley hots up.



As the High pressure system built the wind remained light. We pressed on hoping to make Lisbon, or perhaps even Nazare. Still the weather held. Finally we hove-to, drop sails, and slipped into Povoa de Varzim, a fishing port with white sand beaches stretching north and south as far as the eye can see.



Concrete apartment blocks surround the old town and stretch, like the sand, in both directions. In the harbour, a warm and friendly welcome, cheap berthing, and good facilities with high-tec security meant finger-print recognition at the marina, onto the pontoons, and even into the heads!! As for the welcome that awaits others, I wasn’t so sure! On the beach, in a square, surrounded by bars, cafes, and a pizza hut stood a ghoulish stage…...



The sun is shining, the breeze a little cooler. We pass Portugals only offshore ‘windfarm’, it’s single turbine turning slowly in the wind.



As the Rio Minho slips past abeam, down comes the red & green ensign of Portugal. Up goes the red and yellow of spain. Baiona, Finnistere, and Biscay are only days away.

Cruising along the Costa Del Sol

Above us, the snow-capped Sierra Nevada Mountains glistened in the first light of dawn. Alongside, our only companions, the dolphins raced, jumped, and played in the glassy sea.



The run along the Costa Del Sol from Gibraltar to Almerimar, past Marbella, Torremolinos and Malaga, was like crossing a millpond. The Mediterranean was living up to its reputation for wind – all, or nothing. Arriving in Almerimar was like arriving at a sailing club rally. Portsmouth boats, all old friends, lined the quay - Dragonsong, Mayra, Leslie Frank, and ……………….



Avocette’s lift-out was accompanied by much shouting, and animated discussion by the many Marinieros, but the care and attention was excellent, and soon Avocette was settled on the hard. They pressure-washed, scrubbed, and polished, and all for a fraction of the cost in the UK. Antifouled, and another coat of polish (by me this time) and four days later were back in the water. There’s a lot to be said for hot sunny days!



Almerimar doesn’t have an “Old Town”. The marina is big and surrounded by bars and shops, but many of its modern buildings lay empty, victims of the financial crash.

Surrounding the town, and stretching as far as the eye can see, the land is covered in plastic sheet. The Dutch saw the potential. They taught the Spanish how to use hydroponics - plastic tunnels, all climate controlled, and that now grow much of Spain’s vegetables - the same vegetables we see on our supermarket shelves at home.



Seventy-five miles south of the Costa Del Sol is the north coast of Africa, and the authorities are constantly on the alert. Drug smuggling is quite rightly, taken very seriously. The Guardia Civil intercepted this Grandbanks Trawler Yacht. When it tried to out-run the patrol boat a hail of 12mm cannon brought his clandestine run to a dramatic halt. This smugglers drug run had cost him his life!



One of the great joys of cruising is exploring the countryside, unearthing the real country, meeting local people, and enjoying their customs, food and culture. Using the excuse to return Jim to Almerimar I hired a car and we drove up into the mountains, along the coast, and into the old towns. Spanish roads are a joy. Wide empty motorways speed you through the dramatic scenery, winding narrow lanes creep up the hills into old towns, or to cliff-tops and craggy rocks and quiet harbours.

Ticking Off the Day's

Ticking off the day’s to my flight back to Gibraltar, I watched the wind. For ten days it had been a gentle westerly, perfect for sailing into the Med, and along the beautiful Costa Del Sol, to Almerimar. Back on the boat, it’s 22’C sitting in the sun. Just a pair of shorts and a cold beer, the tan is returning – but the wind had seen me coming.

When the Levanter blows it comes from the east, it’s unforgiving, 30kts, 40kts, then 50kts, day after day. It’s still shorts weather, but I’m stuck here again! Never mind there’s a boat to polish, and shopping to be done.
Better top-up whist I’m here……



That’s per litre, and some places are even cheaper!!

PIRACY? Industrial espionage? Or has the Victory Class gone into property development?



Finally the wind drops. It’s time to go.