Yesterday we anchored off the lovely town of
Muros. Definitely one of the prettier ones around here. However, the holding was
poor, so in the afternoon we moved and anchored in a nearby bay.
Since it was a secluded bay, we had been trying to exchange our pasty white
English bodies for tanned versions, and so had not bothered with clothes. This
threw up one of life's dilemmas: Caroline is happy to swim in 16 degree
water, but normally I need another 10 degrees, but today I had been persuaded to
swim, and so then took the opportunity to clean off the transom from the
water. At this point we were approached by two customs men in a RIB, who,
before I realised that they were coming to see us, had arrived at the starboard
hull and were proceeding to board the boat. The dilemma then, was how to exit
the water with any degree of modesty. Almost impossible....but Caroline was able
to pass me a towel, and modesty was preserved. They were all the friendlier
when on inspecting the passports, they realised that this was indeed
Caroline's birthday. Later, as we were relaxing after dinner on
board, the wind suddenly got up to 30 knots and we realised that we were quickly
dragging anchor. This is the third time that our very oversized and overpriced
Spade 180 anchor has dragged on this trip despite being properly laid.
Disappointing - maybe we will go back to Delta anchors.
We upped anchor and in the failing light we
weaved our way through the rocks and shallows and made the shelter of the tiny
Puerto de Son, and secured alongside the only reasonable spot - which was the
lifeboat! Eventually the local police turned up out of curiosity, but
seemed happy for us to stay there, and a peaceful night ensued. The excitements