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Date: 01 Jun 2012 19:01:45
Title: Costa da Morta........coast of death

It's the first day of June and the writing of the diary has been passed on
to me as the feed back from our children was that Andrew's writing was too
factual talking about knots and aft and heave to and tacking. They want to
see more of the juicy bits, like who was sea sick, who has fallen off the
boat and what was consumed for dinner. So I will try my best....and any
criticisms about my English I'll type in Persian
I joined the boat in La Coruna after the men (Andrew, Andrew Baker, Humphrey
Gale and Barry Poole had done the hard part of sailing(rather uncomfortably
I believe) across the Bay of Biscay. I left a rather hot and sunny London
on May 21st and arrived in a rather cold, wet and grey Spain. It was a bit
of a shock.
Barry and Andrew Baker left the boat here and left Humphrey on board with us
for the next 4 days.
We spent a day in La Coruna visiting the sites and walking the beautiful
streets and shopping for food in the markets. The hilly steep streets were a
little hard on our legs which have been so used to the flatness of Somerford
Keynes.
The following day we left to start our sail south. We left in sunshine but
within 30 minutes a thick fog descended which meant the radar was switched
on and we had to keep a beady look out for fishing boats. There was
absolutely no wind, so the whole day was under motor which was frustrating
to say the least. I had not taken my sea sickness pills and had forgotten
how the Atlantic swell can be devastating to a delicate constitution that
has not been on the boat for a week or so. I spent the entire day horizontal
on the deck feeling rather sorry for herself.
We pulled into a beautiful Bay just off Camarinas in much better weather
than we had left in. We dropped anchor and by then the sun was out again
and we managed to nave dinner on deck. The sun doesn't set till 10:00pm and
its only the end of May.
We left Camarinas early next day and headed south again. Today we had to
round Costa Da Morta or The Cape of Death and then on around Cape
Finesterre.....the End of the World as the Romans called it . The wind had
decided to take another vacation.....so it was motoring again. It was a
long day and the only respite was a lonely dolphin who did surface to see
who we were before disappearing into the dark waters again. The plan was to
anchor off a place called Puerto Del Son, as Humphrey was anxious to get off
the boat and explore some iron age remains on the coast, however the onshore
winds would have made an comfortable anchorageso we crossed the bay and
anchor off Muros. This proved to be pretty and quiet. We took the dingy
into town and had a meal of Pulpo (Octopus) and other Spanish tapas in one
of the small cafes on the front.
The winds were still light the following day, but a few hours into our
motoring the winds picked up and we managed to have a fantastic sail all the
way into the Vigo River. Our plan of going into Baiona was scrapped as a
sudden squall at the last minute made us divert into the port of Vigo
further up river. We went into the marina where they had all facilities
needed and right in the heart of the city. It was cold, and wet on arrival
and stayed like that for the whole evening.
Humphrey left us the following morning, and so Andrew and I walked around
the town provisioning the boat and enjoying the town. We also had to
reacquaint ourselves with the wonderful Spanish habit of long afternoon
siestas for everyone!
Sunday was quiet everywhere, so a slow start and then a two and a half hour
lunch break where we consumed the most wonderful Octopus cooked in front of
us. Feeling guilty at consuming a whole bottle of wine at lunch time we
decided to walk to the marine and fishery museum at the edge of town.
However the walk ended up being a 5KM hike up and down the steep hilly
streets. The sunshine also decided to come out half way through our hike
which made it hotter and more difficult. The museum was OK but a little
disappointing. Luckily we were told that a bus did run on a Sunday every
hour. As we approached the road we could see it trundling down the hill, so
a sprint and a frantic wave of arms was enough for it to stop for us. The
embarrassing thing was that we only had a 20 Euro note and nothing smaller
in change. The driver shook his head as he started downhill at speed. I
dug into my pockets and kept showing him the 20 Euro note which he kept
rejecting. I honestly thought that we would be thrown off the bus at the
next stop, but no, my faith in human kind was restored. The driver unlike
many a London bus driver simply waved us to a seat and told us in sign
language and a big smile that it was ok.

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