Wednesday 15th June, 2016

Ocean Village Marina, Gibraltar  36 09.0N 5 21.2W

Today's Blog by Ted (Time zone: BST; UTC +1)

I now understand why the Mistral Sailboard manufacturer had a model called the “Tarifa”. It's named after the Spanish town, the southernmost  Spanish town on the northern side of the Strait of Gibraltar, where "winds in excess of 30 knots are said to blow for 300 days of the year"; so says the RCC Pilotage Foundation Guide to the Strait of Gibraltar to Cabo de la Nao.  From a sample of one day here, it seems to be true given that there is about 30-35 knots blowing from the west through the strait at the moment and bouncing us around in our berth.

This former Aussie boardsailing enthusiast got a taste of it last night between 0200 and 0500 hours.

"Keep the ships out there to starboard," the skipper had said to me, "and leave the Tarifa lighthouse on your port side”.  After a second’s thought he added “Bang on my hatch window if you are unsure of anything, and I'll be up in a flash.”

It's been a thrill for me to sail in these waters for the first time … just as my father, Syd, and his dad had done. My Dad went to sea at sixteen aboard the "Glenapp" for the Far Eastern trade from 1930 to 34; and later, in 1940,  aboard the oil tanker "Karabagh" trading to the Black Sea.

Last night, however,  there I was,  in command of Serendipity, entering the Mediterranean as the moon set astern.   Many cargo ships were steaming out of the Mediterranean toward the Atlantic in a long line to my right, silhouetted against the lights of Tangier to the south. For me it was the most exhilarating sail of cruise so far.

Thankfully, it wasn't blowing 30 knots then; a light 10-12 knot westerly "up our chuff" and a 4 knot current assisting our squeeze through. Boat speed through the water, 4 knots, speed over the ground, 8 knots! Just the staysail and main. but I did have to raise David from his bunk when the wind shifted and we gybed as we slipped through the narrowest point.

This overnight sail from Faro came after we delivered the ‘prog rocker’ and ‘hapless hopalong’,  Richard to the airport (the tennis and a birthday called!), and welcomed Doug aboard, on a stinking hot day. The rendezvous point was 5 miles upriver and another variation on anchoring, thankfully (I am told) without the kedge.

After successfully berthing us this morning at Gibraltar, (in a tight space, against a rock hard, bollardless dock, with a freshening westerly blow pushing us off and questionable assistance from the dockmaster (whose attempts to secure us to the dockside were comical at best) with a brooding sky threatening rain…. (just another day at the office, then? Ed.),  the skipper then made a splendid boiled egg and toast breakfast!

Doug and I have taken the cable car to the summit of the Rock, absorbed the spectacular views and ambled down amongst monkeys, tunnels, caves and tourists.  Rock on!

Tomorrow we set off again – (Errr.. Rock Off!?  Ed.) - bound east into the Mediterranean until we get bored and decide to stop!