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.