I Must Go Down To The Sea Again......

I must go down to the sea again
To the lonely sea and sky.
I left my vest and socks there.
I wonder if they're dry?
Spike Milligan




Visit ten countries this year. It seemed to be an achievable target when I resolved to do it on New Years’ Eve. After all, 5 days later I was due in Austria for the first ski trip, then Italy for the second, and I was taking my father and brother to Malta at the beginning of March. A yacht delivery from London to the south of France would take in Spain, Portugal, and Gibraltar. Add an invite to visit friends in San Francisco to watch the America’s Cup, and ten countries –no problem.

Then life took a couple of unexpected turns - no Italy, no delivery. No sailing either. Poor Avocette was in for a lean time too, as my wrist meant I couldn’t climb on board, and sorting Dad’s estate took a lot of time.

Slowly I have got back into sailing. A wrist operation failed to “mend it” so now I’m just making do and finding other ways of achieving tasks. Avocette is starting to look good, but is yet to break free of the Solent.

The best form of defence being attack, I leapt at the chance to deliver another boat from Marmaris, in Turkey, to Greece. Dragon Song is a boat I know well. Owned by friends Jim & Trish, I had re-wired the switch panel in 2003 prior to sailing her down to Gibraltar in the Autumn that year.



If you can’t see it – you won’t hit it, was the “advice” I was given on arrival, and in Turkey, it’s pretty much true too. Mountains tumble into sea…and keep-on going down. 40m, 50m, even 60m of chain and the anchor is only 20m in front of the boat, so it’s over the stern and a swim ashore to attach a stern-line, or two, to the rocks. This is mooring Med Style.



The sun is warm first thing. By breakfast temperatures are in the top 20’s and rising. The wind does the same, so it’s early starts. As the temperature rises, so does the wind, to 35⁰C and 25-30kts. Sun overhead, wind on the nose! Great sailing, dramatic scenery, no shipping, topped-off with a cooling dip in crystal clear water, then, at the end of the day…. a well-chilled beer and a BBQ.



We left from Marmaris, and have explored the myriad of coves and bays. Greek Islands rise ruggedly just a few miles off-shore, as close as the Isle of Wight is to Portsmouth.

The ruins of ancient Knidos tumble into the sea a stone’s throw away. It’s amphitheatres, surrounded by the walls and columns of once proud houses, clearly visible on the hillside around the twin harbours. The triremes, like their owners now long gone, replaced by Gulets and visiting yachts.

Next it's Bodrum, to clear-out of Turkey, then Greece………..

A Winters Break

Leaving Avocette swinging gently on her home mooring, I headed off to the airport. As the aircraft was a small Dash-8, I was travelling light, and had left my own skis at home. A short flight was followed by an even shorter transfer up into the mountains.

The small mining town of Schladming, in Austria, home to the Alpine World Ski Championships 2013, was also to be home to us for the first week of January. Christmas had seen big dumps of snow, but the New Year had brought a thaw.



The snow at the top was OK, a bit Spring like - sugary, and I was trying some short skis that turned very quickly. Great fun, a few tumbles - time for a gluhwein.

Now the snow was receding up the mountain - fast! The melt-waters had turned the mountain stream into a maelstrom of raging white water. What we needed a big dump........Hmm!!



I'm very impressed with the Austrian Hospitals! EHIC checked and accepted, an x-ray followed by a CT Scan, and my skiing was over for the week - torn ligaments in my wrist.

Frustratingly,as we drove back to the airport to go home it was snowing hard. Fresh powder everywhere! But it was all too late.



Five weeks later, the cast is cut off, the physio begins, and Avocette needs a scrub, an anti-foul, and polish......... Any volunteers?

Job Done

Slipping out of the Ria Arousa the forecast 4-5m swell lifted us, and the NW wind pushed us. Heading south we passed the River Minho, and crossed the border from Spain into Portugal. Stars littered the night sky, the sun lit the day, onwards we rolled south. Passing Lisbon the wind died. The engine sprung to our assistance, pushing us onwards, soon the Light of Cape St. Vincent led us round the corner, and onto the Algarve, and so we tied up in Lagos, our journey done, and Wandering Dream nudged onto her new berth.

With VAT at 23% there's more than a little unrest in the country, and everyone's on strike. No planes home then! Better have another beer.........

Fresh Fish & Tapas

Rounding the rocky island that guards the entrance to the Ria Arousa, the warm air falling from the mountains, we dipped and dived through the fishing boats, and wound our way up to the town of Vilagarcia and its friendly welcome.

Smiling faces greeted us, and with the beer came the tapas - and only a euro a time! The problem was with every beer,or wine, more tapas. Even in the cafe at ten in the morning when you order a tea, or coffee, it comes with orange juice and a cake or croissant!

A visit to the market is a must. The food is so fresh, and compared to England, cheap. The big difference was the enourmous variety, and just how fresh it all was. So fresh that the shrimps, prawns and langoustine were all still alive.

Black

It was black, very black. The sky above was inky too – lit by a myriad of twinkling lights. Plosh, flip, slap -the blackness alongside was being carved-up. We were crossing the continental shelf. First a few then more. And more, then more. From all directions they came. Ten? Twenty? Fifty or more? I don't know, but dolphins, then porpoises, came out of the blackness to play. Their ghost-like silhouettes streaking through the water, a trail of bioluminescence erupting in their wake. They arrived just before my watch started, and left after it had finished, four hours later

The winters dawn broke slowly. The back sea turning a steely blue, reflecting the sky above. Slowly the eastern horizon turned a burnished brass, through gold, to welcome the burning orb as it rose to proclaim the day, and a school of porpoise joyfully flipped by, and pilot whales ambled past on a reciprocal course.

We had waited a week for this weather window. Gale after gale had targeted the English Channel bringing SW 7-8 and big seas crashing against the Brest Peninsula. Sheltered in the sleepy Breton port of Camaret we missed the worst. Windy, yes, but often blue skies, allowing us to enjoy the Ile de Crozon, as the area is known.

Moule & frites, followed fabulous fish dishes, not to mention the occasional glass, all enjoyed in the company of new sailing friends. A couple from the US regaled us with tales and photos of their trip in a 30ft boat, via Greenland, icebergs and Iceland; and the Chileans, with their stories of Cape Horn and Puerto William, their home port, encouraging us to visit Chile. In return we shared our experiences on the passages south from here to the Cabo Verde, and the Caribbean – their destinations, on their way home.

Leviathans from the deep guided us around the “Coast of Death”, as this corner of Galicia is known,. As I climbed into my bunk the sounds of the deep penetrated the hull. The frantic clicks , echo location, of the dolphins, and the song of a whale somewhere below, sent me to sleep.

A "Valiant" Arrival

Having sailed from the Solent to Dartmouth in what was frequently gale force wind. Then endured a bitterly cold and wet day on the Dart, we listened with anticipation to the Met forecast for Sunday.

There were warnings of gales in Dover Wight Portland and Biscay (and the rest of the UK), but not Plymouth! We scoured the internet for more information – they all suggested the same – NE 5/7, backing N or NW 6/7, becoming 3/4 later. So we sailed!

The sky was blue and sunny, but still very cold. With two reefs in the main and a poled out jib we aimed at Ushant and romped across the channel at 7 – 8 knots, often surfing at up to 10. Night came early but the moon was full and bright. As the clouds scudded across the sky we surfed the waves below. The first light of dawn found us heading down the Channel du Four. By lunchtime the fleeces were off; we were sat in the sun having a beer.

Footnote: Good to find “Valiant” looking good and proudly flying her PSC burgee.

A Wandering Dream.....

The summer was wet and windy. Autumn looks set to continue the same. Now as the cold polar air gets sucked down by the passing depressions it's just getting colder!

Nothing much changes.... or does it? Sitting on the Folkboat “Mistress” during Folkboat week a month or so ago, I was delighted to see my old friends Alan and Jo on Wandering Dream, a Rival 38, quietly nosing up to the quay. I had first met Alan at Palmeira, on the Island of Sal in the Cape Verdes. He and Jo became good friends as we later cruised in company up through the Caribbean.

Friendships renewed, all it took was a phone call. It didn't take much to persuade me!

So it was that with the forecast of wind East force 6 to gale force 8, showers rain later, we slipped from the club pontoon aboard Wandering Dream, destination Lagos, Portugal.....and sunshine!

The tide swept us west, past the Needles, then Weymouth (the sailing venue for the Olympics), and into Lyme Bay. As darkness fell so did the rain, squally gusts of 33+ knots chased us down channel. We surfed the waves under double reefed main and a pocket hanky sized jib. Enough was enough – we hung a left and tied-up in Dartmouth for the rest of the night.