We left La Coruña on Monday 9^th 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…