Ilha de Culatra
The Ilha de Culatra is basically a big sandbank on
the seaward side of Faro and Olhão in the Parque Natural de Ria Formosa. The island itself is bounded
on one side by a long sandy beach and by salt marshes and mudflats on the other
(for those of you who know it, it’s a bit like the Bury Estuary on the north
Gower coast, all sandbanks, salt marsh and rip tides – only it’s a lot warmer).
It had one tree – now deceased.
The ex-tree of the Ilha de
Culatra.
The island has about 3000 inhabitants during the
summer months, and about 300 actual natives, no cars, about 3 tractors and lots
of wheelbarrows. The islanders farm the clam and cockle beds in the salt
marshes, and fish for sardines. The island is simple, quiet and stunningly
beautiful.
We had miles and miles of beach to
ourselves.
We walked, and walked, and walked and walked. We
belly boarded, body-surfed, collected shells, found a wreck on the beach (which
we walked around). Bryn found ‘squeaky sand’ and learned how to throw a javelin
(well, OK, a long stick). Bethany collected clams (which she and Bryn had
for tea) and learned how to do cartwheels.
Cartwheels on the sand.
Clams and cockles, alive,
alive’o.
We got lost in the salt marshes and ended up
squelching through them.
The serenity of the salt
marshes.
Watching the wildlife and the
stars
According to the guidebook, the area is a haven
for wildlife. The orange-tailed EasyJet is clearly visible alongside the
blue-winged BMI-Baby on the beach (sorry, runway) near Faro. We were also lucky
to see the lesser-spotted grey-backed Portuguese landing craft, along with some
guillemots, various terns, sandpipers, curlew, herons and herring gulls. There
was also supposed to be an abundance of fish in the area, but in spite of
numerous attempts with lurid lures, we failed in our efforts to catch anything –
not even a plastic bag!
The lesser-spotted, grey-backed Portuguese landing
craft.
The light pollution wasn’t too bad and the night
sky was studded with stars (for the first time, so it felt, since crossing
Biscay). The children and I saw Betelgeuse (sounds like Beetlejuice)
for the first time. It flashes red/green/white, and is sometimes – apparently –
mistaken for the navigation lights of a boat.
Sailing on the Algarve
After 3 days of holding fast in the anchorage
through some pretty stiff wind and tides, we returned from walking the beach to
find that CAPE had moved 200 metres down river,
luckily into clear river, not another boat. All on her own – bless! This
galvanized us into action and we decided to head back to Vilamoura Marina for
England v. France.
For the first time since leaving the UK, we were suddenly faced with some
challenging eyeball navigation (the kids were posted on the foredeck for
sandbank spotting), secondary ports and exacting tide calculations to make the
most of the fierce tide that runs up and down the Ria Formosa. Our exit from the
harbour – against a 7-knot flood tide – was ‘exciting’ but thankfully
uneventful. On inspecting the anchor later, we found dents and scuffs suggesting
that someone had laid their anchor chain over ours and had dislodged our anchor
when they had retrieved theirs.
Popping out of the breakwaters like a champagne
cork, against a 7-knot flood tide with the wind behind it.
We actually SAILED back to Vilamoura with 15 knots
of easterly wind behind us!!! This allowed us to make 7 knots under genoa alone,
but the roll confused Bryn who wasn’t sure on which side of the boat to throw
up. This was an improvement on the trip there, as we beat into the same 15-knot
wind for 4 hours, which had both Bryn and me on the sick list.
Racing TENGY back to Vilamoura – 7 knots under
genoa alone.
