The Rias 42.07N 08.49W

Dandelion
Rick, Helen, Sue, John
Mon 25 Jul 2016 16:00
> Sorry in advance. Here's the next instalment. I realise it's a bit chunky but think of the advantage. You only have to press the delete button once.
>
> More before too long, I'm afraid
>
> Love, The Skipper
> S/V Dandelion
> Porto
>
> Tuesday 21st July
>
> A day spent in Cedeira is never a wasted day. The roughly 'T' shaped Ria is set between steep, thickly wooded hillsides mostly of pine and eucalyptus. At the left hand cross of the 'T' is the town, fronted with a sandy beach and containing many Galacian-styled apartment blocks, primarily used by holiday makers. It's a bit off the international tourist route, and none the worse for that. The centre 'boulevard' is largely laid to Astro-turf and given over to roundabouts, swings, slides and other items of interest to our younger colleagues. This part of town is not, consequently, an complete haven of peace and serenity. However, at the other end of the 'T' is a beautiful but hard-to-get-to beach (largely because at either end the sands are cut through by two medium-sized rivers) and after a modest lunch of beer, octopus and potatoes, beer, tuna and red peppers and beer, eggs and red sausages, we took the RIB over to the right-hand river and worked our way up until we encountered a series of rapids and the end, therefore, of salt water and of navigation.
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> Friday 22nd July
>
> 0630. We motored out into a grey, rolly sort of day contemplating a passage along the coast to Camararinas a voyage of some 60 miles. Camarinas, a truly lovely, and largely undeveloped Ria,
> ......and positioned slap-bang in the middle of what is known as the Costa del Morte'.
>
> 'Have you thought where you're going to holiday this year?'
> 'We were wondering whether we might try Torquay again. What about you?'
> 'Well, we've decided on the Coast of Death'
> 'Really, err....oh'.
>
> The coast line here, running NE - SW is really a lee shore and when one get up-close-and-personal one finds: -
> Easy-to-get-into-havens: FEW, IF ANY.
> Massive rocky cliffs and menacing headlands with associated reefs: LOADS.
> So the old boys in their 15th century galleons (which were about as weatherly as my bath) would have contemplated a passage along this shore with something less than equanimity.
>
> Camarinas. We anchored just beyond this small white-walled, red-roofed town in a very sheltered spot. Outside in the Ria proper the NE'ly they'd sent along hammered through, kicking up white horses and giving a big NO THANKS to the concept of pumping up the inflatable windsurfer and going for a little sail.
>
> We had a bit of a techno breakthrough today. You may remember that our AIS had gone on unofficial leave. By way of testing the damn thing I rowed across to an English yacht in the anchorage and asked them if they were transmitting. They confirmed they were and as the two boats were only about 150 years apart this didn't bode well (i.e we should easily be able to 'see' them on the techno-plotter thingy.). Back to the boat. The mate, looking all innocent and nonchalant, said, 'look, it's OK, I've got it working after all'. (Amongst other things, the mate is the ship's 'sparks'.) Her somewhat casual response left me with the whiff of a medium-sized, long-tailed rodent and further enquiries revealed that on our trip back from the Scillies in May, due to there had been so many AIS contacts the alarm was beeping constantly, we'd disabled it and, since then, forgotten that we'd disabled it. All very complicated.
>
> Sunday' July 24th.
>
> The 30M passage from Camarinas to Ria de Muros takes one around Capo Finisterre, right on Spain's NW extremity. Notwithstanding its reputation for tempest, storm, typhoon and wrack, etc, the headland itself is a bit of a damp squib. It doesn't, as you might first imagine, thrust proudly out into the Atlantic, assuring passing mariners of Spain's might and manliness. No, it starts off OK but then sort of droops, slightly shamefaced, and ends up pointing limply southwards. (Sorry, I may have over-cooked the analogy here.) Anyway, if I'd been a Spaniard I'd have thought about having the thing re-aligned.
>
> Finisterre more-or-less marks the beginning of the NE Trades and as you turn south, with the wind very much now on your shoulder, there's a sense of a great big door being closed firmly behind you. These trade winds - pretty reliable, strong, N'lies - blow down the coast here, hastening one to 'go south, young fella, and do not, in any circumstances, try to head back north'.
>
> Despite this well understood rule, you occasionally do see boats bashing away uphill. It's almost an act against nature. The 'up hill' boat, heeled at 35/40 degrees, slams into the short, steep seas, at times completely hidden in spray. The helmsman, fully kitted for foul weather, grimly clutches the wheel and and the rest of the crew take what shelter they can. Mile after mile - bash, bash, bash, bash.
>
> Meanwhile, the 'south-bounders' (and for the avoidance of doubt, that's us, folks) sprawl around the cockpit reading books, sun cream to hand, perhaps getting up now and again to tweak a sheet and watch the coastline going past a 8+ knots, the boat gently rolling over the laughing blue sea.
>
> Muros is a nice looking, busy little, granite town on the N side of the Ria of the same name. A town of steep meandering, narrow, stone streets and arranged, roughly crescent-shaped, on hillsides overlooking the Ensenada de Muros.
> For yachtsmen using the anchorage, one thorn does intrude. The marina. The marina itself is fine with new pontoons and, no doubt, more than adequate showers, loos, laundry, etc. The one blemish is the marina owner who, and I trust you'll forgive my lapse into common parlance here, is clearly a first rate shit.
>
> No sooner had we tied the RIB to a vacant pontoon and started to fill a water can, than the owner's representative - a young, good looking, athletically-built young fella (not unlike m'self) was amongst us and saying, in most unequivocal terms, NO! As in NO dinghy allowed and most certainly, NO water. (So bugger off, mate.)
>
> Having absorbed this overwhelming welcome and assuring him that he would be reported to UNESCO, United Nations and The World Health Organisation we puttered round to the old fishing harbour, tied to some steps and after a cooling-off stroll round the town found solace in a beer and a plate of those roasted green pepper things they do down here.
>
> Including a 20 Peruvian Real note* in our payment for this snack was not, perhaps, the very apex of our Muros visit but at least we got to see the the waiter sprinting after us waving the (almost) valueless note.
>
> (*We're a most international set in this ship, let me tell you.)
>
> Monday 25th July.
>
> Another early (well, 0700) start. We hoist the main in the calm of the anchorage. The question of how many reefs was raised. Looking out into the Ria proper there's significant white horses. Two reefs. Once clear of the anchorage we're bowling along at 8 knots with a French Omni 43' abeam. In the old days of course, if one had a Frenchie (or Spaniard, Dutchman, etc) abeam, one beat to quarters, let him have a full broadside, boarded him, sent the prize back to Portsmouth and waited for the money.
>
> Those were simple times, then.
>
> 1000. Anyway, now we've got an F8 and the helm's struggling so in with a third reef.
>
> 1100. Swipe-me-Bob, where's the bloody wind gone now? It peters away to bugger-all and we're down to 2 knots. A few Dolphins turn up but clear off straightaway as if to say, 'we're not going to waste our time chasing you at 2 knots, mate, we've got mackerel to catch'. So we fire up the donk and trundle along over a rolly swell. But then, not an hour later we're back in F4/5 territory, beam-reaching, the Hydrovane is doing its thing and the Iles Cies are over the bows. What's not to like?
>
> We're heading down for Bayona as there are one or two items requiring attention: New freezer not working, water-maker low pressure pump u/s and we may find an engineer (to re-gas the freezer) and there will be Internet access in the marina there.
>
> Frenchie's still there. He's crept ahead. Maybe we should get a cannon.
>
> Bayona (or Baiona) was where old Christopher Columbus made his mainland landfall after discovering the New World. One could imagine that, from a distance, Bayona today mightn't look hugely different from how it was in 1492. A natural promontory protecting the harbour, overlooked by the fort (now the yacht club). A Parador (with battlements) plonked next door and a town of mostly of red-roofed, whitewashed buildings clustering around the beach-fronted bay. Down in the marina (definitely not there in 1492) there's a replica of 'Pinta' (Columbus's boat) tied to a pontoon. Perhaps one could imagine his landfall, being greeted perhaps by a fisherman jigging for bass/eel/mackerel (yeah, what would I know?).
> 'Hey! Chris! Hey! Welcome back! How's it going? Any scurvy? Did you discover the New World? Got any fags?'*
> And Columbus replying, 'look, sod off mate and find me a port-side-to berth and bring me veinte y cinco cervezas por favor!!'
>
> (*Yes, I realise it was the other fella but the fisherman wouldn't have known.)
>
> Actually the big discovery of Columbus's voyages (other than finding the New World and all that) was the simple hammock. (I think Caribbeans had taken to hanging them between to trees so that their sleep wasn't interrupted by crawling fauna.) This simple device that was very quickly adopted by the all world' seafarers - up till then the crew, at least, just curled up where they could.
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> In Bayona there are two marinas. we headed in to the right hand one operated by the grandly-named Monte Real Club de Yates. It's proper-posh - two fellas rush round to take your lines - and its overlooked by the smart yacht club in the old fort. Inside the yacht club they even have a dress code and, as one who has been ejected from such establishments solely on the basis of attire, I would advise you to treat this code with due respect.
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> We were shooting the breeze in the cockpit when a fairly elderly gentleman, supported by a younger man hove into view. The elder turned out to be Senor Lagos, the Ocean Cruising Club's Port Officer. The younger was Alberto Lagos, his son. The Mate and I are OCC members and Senor Lagos, bless him, having spotted our burgee, kindly hobbled down to visit and see if there was anything we needed. Indeed there was! A freezer engineer. And before you could say 'ice' they were on the case and a couple of days later, we had the fella they recommended on board, and the freezer is working. Easy.
> And Ice for the G&Ts.
>