A 350 mile beat!

A last minute run ashore so Gail could buy herself some wellies – it’s raining, and we slipped the pontoon, and out of the river. Sails up, a broad reach sent us romping, away from the leaden skies, towards Camaret, and France.



A cracking sail. Darkness fell, and the miles slipped by. Plenty of shipping kept the watch alert. Finally the lights of Brittany’s rocky shore loomed into view, and the first light of dawn, the wind dropped, engine on, and the fog descended as the tide lifted us, and sped us, into the Channel du Four. Thankfully it lifted to a heavy mist, as we slipped past the mighty navigation marks to the Rade de Brest, and into Camaret.

Camaret is a delight – when the sun shines – it didn’t! Worse, we needed as much diesel as we could carry for the Biscay crossing, and there was none, we had to sail to Brest for that, but left the next day for Spain.



The Raz de Sien was quiet, and we motor-sailed through, the mighty La Vielle Phare {Lighthouse) close to port, and Ar Men Phare way off to the West, and on, searching for wind. Predictwind had suggested the best route was to head SWfor 75 miles, then SE, until we picked-up favourable westerlies. We headed SW into headwinds. We headed SE, into headwinds. Every way we turned, light headwinds kicked-up a sloppy chop on-top of the gentle rolling Atlantic swell. It was tough going, and we had no option but to motor-sail.
A 350 mile beat is a long arduous battle! Watches rolled by, day’s rolled into night’s. Finally, on the fourth day we sighted the cliffs of Galicia, and slipped into A Coruna, in the rain and fog – with no wind!

Four days later there is still plenty of rain, poor visibility, fog, but no wind to speak of.

To get us off the boat we spent yesterday in Santigo di Compostela. The Spanish trains are clean and punctual. Your ticket buys a numbered seat. The half-hour run was comfortable, and for the most part, the rain spared us.



The old town surrounding the Cathedral is a twisted maze of narrow streets of great granite buildings echoing a distant past. The ‘Catedral’ was big, quite grand, and full of backpackers. On their rucksacks, they each proudly displayed the scallop shell - the sign that they had just walked the Comino Way, a pilgrimage of almost 100 miles.