We left La Coruña on Monday 9th July and, as
there wasn’t a breath of wind, we set out to motor the 32 or so miles to Laxe,
seduced by the photo in the pilot book. Being on a bouncy pontoon hadn't
maintained our sea legs and Beth and Bryn were being sick within 15 minutes of
leaving the harbour and I was green for the next few hours. Luckily it only
takes a few dolphins and the sight of a new bay and beach to explore and the
kids forget how much they hate life at sea. I, on the other hand, must learn not
to go to sea with a hangover...
Beth and Bryn assuming vomit
position.
We motored into the photo in the pilot book and
prepared to ‘drop the hook’ (yottie term for using the anchor) in the middle of
the bay.
Laxe.
Bobbing in the
bay
This is the first time we'd used our new bow
roller in anger and it worked like a dream (thanks again Dave). We let out the
anchor and some chain, and David put us into reverse to set the anchor (make it
dig in) and...nothing happened, we just bobbed. We tried to go forwards
instead...still nothing happened and we carried on bobbing. We had a team
meeting to go through possibilities – morse control, gear box? Lawrence went into the
bowels of the engine room to see if anything had come adrift in there – all
fine. No prop wash – perhaps we’d picked up another rope around the prop?
Special Agent Lawrence got into his wet suit and went over the side to see why
we had no prop wash...no prop wash because we had no prop!!!
Now we know we had one when we left La Coruña – this must have
been what got us to Laxe. We had removed the prop to fix the leg in Neyland, so
it hadn’t been neglected – it had been lovingly greased and refitted while we
were on the hard. We have come to the conclusion that the split pin through the
locking nut holding it on must have sheared. While we were going forwards it was
OK, but as soon as David put it into reverse, it just wound itself
off…
The next morning David and Lawrence had a good
snorkel around our swinging circle to look for the offending item (luckily David
had a new 5 mm wetsuit for his birthday...), but the water is just a bit too
deep to see anything on the bottom. We try locating a diver to have a look for
us, but our Spanish just isn’t up to it (but we do know the Spanish for
‘propeller’ now). We have a spare 2-blade folding prop on board, but it has 8 or
9 pieces and a handful of screws, so can’t be fitted under snorkel power. There
is a 16-ton hoist here in the harbour, but it only has 5-ton wires and lifting
strops. There is also a small slip, but there isn’t enough room to get safely
onto or off it. Other options we considered were sailing 16 miles up or down the
coast to the nearest small harbour with a hoist or drying-out berth. Eventually
(after many team meetings and beers) we give in and ordered a new prop from
Volvo UK to be couriered out to us.
We have yet another team meeting – we are OK. We
are sitting at anchor in a beautiful bay with 5 m of water under us, and
everything will be fine – unless the wind gets up. Laxe is stunning – a crescent
of silver sand with sparkly bits, clear blue water (just like the photo in the
pilot book), gullible mullet, cheap beer and wi-fi in the coolest café (got to
get our priorities right!). We swim, we snorkel, we play beach cricket (much to
the amusement of the Spanish), we practice getting up before noon and having a
siesta and fitting in three meals a day (we only ever seem to manage two) and I
work a bit, and everything is fine for a couple of days – until the wind gets
up.
Remember we didn't get a chance to set the anchor
properly? Well, all of a sudden we are a bit closer to the pontoon and rocks
than we were 5 minutes earlier. We deploy a second anchor that seems to halt our
progress towards land, and as both anchors now set properly with a bit of weight
on them, we are perfectly safe again. However, as the forecast is for a bit of a
blow, we decide that as discretion is the better part of valour (and we still
haven’t got a prop to get out of difficulty), we probably ought to get onto the
pontoon sooner rather than later. It is Friday afternoon by now, and getting
hold of help might be a bit harder at the weekend. Unfortunately our Spanish
phrase book doesn't have 'Our prop has fallen off and our anchor is dragging' –
but eventually we manage to speak to someone with enough of a grasp of English
to arrange a tow by Cruz Vermilla Espana (the assistance service here in
Spain) onto the pontoon.
Mr Cruz Vermilla, who managed to drive his RIB,
smoke and talk on his mobile ‘phone all at the same time all through our
relocation to the pontoon.
Killing time, CAPE
style
Safely parked on the visitor pontoon, we carry on
waiting for the prop to arrive, killing time by doing school, exploring the old
bits of the town, walking the hills above the town, swimming, snorkelling, spear
fishing, and tormenting baby octopus and tiny hermit crabs. Beth and Bryn learn
how to snorkel. Lawrence gets to go out with some of the local fishermen to see
how they catch razor clams, David manages to catch our first razor clam (a baby,
so we re-plant it), and I do a bit more work. Beth manages to tread on a lesser
weever fish (just in case you ever need to treat a weever fish sting, immerse
the area in water as hot as you can stand…).
Bryn, Lawrence and the baby
octopus.
The coast further south.
Beth and Bryn swimming off the
boat.
Lawrence roasting on
the Lego deck.
New prop fitted under snorkel
power
Eventually the new prop arrives and Lawrence and
David manage to fit it while we are in the water. Much their disgust, Bethany decided that this
was the time to have a poo!!!! Lots of cursing and swearing resulted and work
was halted until the offending items had drifted out of the area and you could
see clearly all around the boat again. We escape back to anchor in the
bay.
Scorchio!
We haven't really seen/heard much news from the
UK (still only getting helicopters on
the SSB), but did pick up on the floods and endless rain. We haven't had endless
sunshine here, it rains heavily in 5 minute spells or we have fine rain for an
hour or two, but at least when it rains it’s warm. When it isn't warm it’s
'scorchio' (we are helping Lawrence out with his Italian, in the hope that
one day we might get that far...). Fave boat sayings at the moment are
'scorchio' and 'Biscay' (instead of cheers – to accompany every beer – 'cos we
still can't quite believe we made it). Hopefully tomorrow we will inch a bit
further down the coast…One day, we might make it around Cape Finisterre!
PS For those of you like me who haven’t much
experience of using Google Earth, if you use the scale indicator on the left or
double click near our position marker on the map at the top, you can zoom in and
see a satellite picture of where we
are…
