Lagos to Benalmadena

Crossing the Atlantic had been hard so we flew to the UK for 3 weeks to see family and friends and watch Nick graduating. Then it was back to Portugal for Pat and Paul but not before they had persuaded Chris and David that there was some gentle Mediterranean sailing in the offing. Nick and Barrie had both learned about skipper’s concept of gentle and found better things to do. Nick had to start his career and Barrie still had an appointment with his unfinished bathroom. Pretty lame excuses if you ask me.

Peejay had now crossed the Atlantic in both directions so all that was left was to sail her past Gibraltar into the Mediterranean and take her back to Greece. Should be a doddle! Chris and David said they would like to start in Lagos and duly turned up with one way air tickets. “We’ll book the flights home when we know where we’re likely to get to” said Chris. They knew we still had about 1700 miles to go and even volunteered for some night sailing to increase the distance achieved. After all – they’d done some gentle sailing with us in Greece so how hard could this night sailing lark be?

We started with the obligatory fitting of life jackets.

It all started off smoothly. There was no wind to speak of and we pottered gently along the Algarve. The crew soon became useful as we approached the anchorage outside Albufeira.

Next morning everybody enjoyed breakfast and a lazy start….

Once again there was no wind so we motored along the coast and dropped a hook outside the entrance to Faro river. With no wind to hold the boat into the swell we had a miserable night rolling like the proverbial stuck pig. Chris, who was feeling sea-sick, didn’t thank me for that, promptly fed the fishes with her previous night’s dinner and went back to bed once we got moving.

Skipper decided to sail all night as the forecast was for wind starting to build from the East. There was risk of a two deepening depressions - one near Gibraltar and the other in Chris’s cabin. Skipper wanted to get to Gibraltar before any strong easterly winds made the passage through the straits difficult. The forecast said he had at least 48 hours – he reckoned he only needed about 24.

Later that day Chris emerged and started to feel better. She even took the helm.

We left Portuguese waters and entered Spanish territory.

Followed by a lesson on which knot to use.

All too soon darkness started to fall.

The westerly wind turned round to the east much earlier than forecast and started to increase. By the time we got to Cape Trafalgar it was topping 25 knots against us but we still had about 8 hours of favourable tide with us so pressed on. It was daylight by then, we had survived the first night and it didn’t seem too bad. Chris was firing on all cylinders and David was proving to be tremendous at helming in ever increasingly difficult conditions. He was even enjoying himself and shouted to the wind “come on then – throw your worst at me – give me all you’ve got”. Now the wind clearly rose to both the challenge and to 35 knots. Wind against tide threw up a horrible short sea and we started to get soaked. Should we carry on to Tarifa Point or abandon the plan and wait for several days to get through the straits?  Skipper decided to carry on. By now it was dark and we had run out of favourable tide. We were just about holding position and waiting until the tide turned again. Even with Peejay’s engine turned up to 2,500 rpm progress was no more than a crawl. The light on Tarifa Point just didn’t seem to be getting any closer. Pat is a brilliant navigator these days and if she says turn to starboard that’s just what I do. With everything else going on it was wonderful to be able to rely on her directions in dreadful conditions. Thanks sweetheart.

Tarifa Point must be one of the windiest places on the planet with over 300 days a year of 30 knot winds. This night was special as it started to creep above 40 knots. As we finally inched into the lee of Tarifa Point it was pitch black and the wind was screaming. 3 problems. Skipper was helming and couldn’t see anything with the vicious salty spay on his glasses. He was relying on the crew to tell him which way to go but he couldn’t hear them above the deafening roar of the wind. They were on the foredeck some 40 feet away from him ready to drop the anchor. The third problem was steering. With now 45 knots against us, holding the nose of the boat into the wind was a momentary luxury before it got blown away to one side or the other. Maximum revs were required to hold any position. Skipper knew we would only get one chance to drop the anchor in these conditions. If it went wrong, trying to recover it and then re-lay it in the dark might prove a little challenging.

There’s an underwater breakwater and some tunny nets in Tarifa bay just to add to the excitement in the dark. Somehow we managed to avoid them, steered between other anchored yachts that loomed out of the dark and dropped the hook in 5 metres of water just before we hit the beach. “Put out 50 metres” yelled skipper and after a nervous 20 seconds the boat stopped going backwards and stopped moving. The anchor was holding. It was an hour before dawn and the overnight sail had turned into 2 nights non-stop. We had hot drinks and collapsed into bed.

But not before skipper cheerfully announced we have to leave by 11.00 if we are to catch the tide in the morning and make Gibraltar. Everybody reluctantly agreed – nobody wanted to stay at Tarifa Point. So about 5 hours sleep then. The crew were too tired to mutiny.

Dawn broke and we saw what an awful place Tarifa Point really is.

Now dropping an anchor in 45 knot winds proved OK in the end. Recovering the same beast in what was now 50 knot winds was always going to be tricky. We tried a couple of times but the chain just kept jumping off the bow roller or jumping off the gypsy every time the boat got blown away from head to wind. We talked tactics and decided maximum revs on the engine and maximum speed on retrieving the anchor was the only possible scenario

That was the worst moment for Chris – last night she thought we would never get to Tarifa Point. This morning she thought we would never be able to leave.

It took us nearly an hour from start to finish but eventually the anchor was up and we headed out around Tarifa Point back into the straits. The boat was flung sideways a couple of times but gradually we got away from the point and things started to calm down. 5 hours later we were turning into Gibraltar bay – the wind was easing and we had dolphins playing around the boat.

After an ordeal like that, what would you want first? Shower or beer?

After a couple of days in Gibraltar sufficient beer and wine had flowed to dull any memories of Tarifa Point and we pushed on. The sailing was easy or it was motoring with no wind.

We called in at Sotogrande to clear Spanish customs and let the chief engineer do some maintenance.

The next couple of nights we anchored off the town beach at Estepona (very noisy), and then off the beach at Marbella carefully choosing the end that wasn’t backed by endless concrete.

With the calm conditions you could feel the tension lifting. People started to let off steam.

And finally there was a rousing chorus of “tie me kangaroo down sport” led by David and his backing group.

By now Chris and David had booked their flights home from Malaga so we stayed overnight in Benalmadena marina and went ashore for a last meal. What a ghastly place to end up!

So Skipper and David stayed up after the meal drinking and talking nonsense while the ladies sensibly went to bed.

The following morning Chris and David went to catch their flight while Pat and Paul headed out to sea on their own.

Our guests were both magnificent in what they achieved. Chris had to battle sea-sickness at the start and then they both had to deal with getting past Tarifa Point. It wasn’t mid Atlantic stuff – but it was just as difficult in a different sort of way and skipper takes his hat off to both of them. They didn’t complain and didn’t mutiny! Come back any time – skipper has some more gentle trips lined up!