This evening, you find “Knotty Girl” resting in the Portuguese port of Cascais. Ardent racing sailors will know Cascais as host to the TP52 series each year. Others will know it simply for its proximity to Lisbon. Tanya knows it as home to her brother Eric. The restrictions here have been lifted enough such that she can head off to Erics home and have dinner with the family, leaving us to troop off to "O Pescador”, one of the many fabulous seafood restaurants in this charming town. 

This made me think - where are all these restaurants getting their fish from? 

The reason I ask, is because I have spent all day today (and most of yesterday) towing a large array of colourful lures through some of the (allegedly) most fertile fishing grounds in the North Atlantic. Nothing. Zip. Nada. No fish. Not even a nibble. My chosen lures were acquired from the Absolute Dead Cert Fishing Shop, and delivered with a note stating that I’d have fish leaping all over me in gratitude for having selected such an enticing way to get their attention. Tomorrow, we shall be sailing past Sisembra - supposedly one of the best breeding grounds for swordfish in the Northern Hemisphere. There must be some swordfish around, as it is on the menu at “O Pescador”. However, I’d bet my mortgage that I could tow a pink feather boa through there and not catch one. Time will tell. 

So, to the fishermen of Portugal, I propose you find a more lucrative way of earning a living. Try becoming a plumber, or an electrician. There is always plenty for plumbers and electricians to do, but I can safely say that after considerable research, and expense, that there are no fish in the North Atlantic.

Alastair