Saturday 13 September 2008

When the going gets tough…

Staff and fellow sailors at Peniche marina were somewhat surprised, and (we like to think),a little impressed to see us arriving at 0945 out of an uncomfortable northerly swell. Most had decided the forecast was far too bad to leave the marina. It was certainly a lively sail but nothing that Candida and crew couldn’t handle.

We had slipped from Viana do Castello at 10.50, through the swingbridge, operated by the friendly but ineffective marina staff, for whom life is seemingly one long coffee break.

We motor into bright sun , the day perfect for dolphins, but of course one cannot order dolphins on demand and none appear. Turning south at 1345 on a course of 190 the wind builds behind us and we are soon running with 20-25 knots on our three-reefed mainsail and no 3 jib, cruising down the waves at 8-9 knots. We hit 11 knots a few times today. With gusts hitting 30 knots we reduced to mainsail only, finding no reduction in boat speed – 8 knots southwards in a rolling sea, a 3-metre swell. The wind itself presented no particular problems, nor did the swell: it was just when a particularly big set of waves combined with a 30kt+ gust that we really corkscrewed alarmingly for a minute or so. The boom-preventer earned its keep today, the sun kept shining, and we enjoyed every minute of our two hours apiece on the helm, knowing that the forecast was for the wind to drop by evening. Did it hell!

Candida bobbed like a cork on a mission, staying dry topsides, slicing through the water; over the last 24 hours only one wave was ‘invited in ‘ to the cockpit. Into the night now, our course directly into the sparkling track of the full moonshine, the wind as strong as ever, the helm requiring unremitting concentration. Early morning brought us abreast of the enticing Berlengas islands and the impressive lighthouse and cliffs of Cabo Carvoreiro and on to the port of Peniche

This is another very relaxed marina, at the foot of a castellated tourist town, a day before the official end of their summer season. There was, apparently, no demand for marina services on a Saturday. Or perhaps no desire to offer marina services at this stage of the season. The town echoed the marina; 'shabby-chic' without the chic, but with a good heart.

The crew of a neighbouring French boat had some fun at Steve’s expense, nicknaming him 'Le Rosbif' after he had gone somewhat pink in the sun. Steve took some consolation that at least he is not a cheese-eating surrender-monkey. Vive L’entente cordiale.

With so many fishing boats in port we simply had to try one of the many local fish restaurants, and by a combination of luck and judgement found what may well have been the best in town: 'La Tofa'. Crammed with bustling locals, bright tiles everywhere, attentive staff, mountainous vats of fish stew, sardines and bacalao, magnificent mussels, washed down with a Douro wine. Even a television to watch should we run out of conversation. At 20 euros a head this was a very good night out.

Tomorrow we head for Cascais. ENDS