Monday 3rd August - Camarinas
By 8 o clock last night the sea
had got quite rough again which made cooking dinner more of a challenge. The cooker is gimballed so that it stays
steady and doesn’t spill things even in the roughest conditions but it does sway
a bit when the boat is rocking from side to side so our 3 egg courgette frittata
took quite a while to cook evenly and the boiled potatoes overcooked so had to
be mashed instead – a bit of a scratched together meal to end our 6 day stint at
sea but tasty enough. The rocking
got steadily worse and sleep was virtually impossible due to rolling from one
side of the bunk to the other and the noise as it slammed into the sea. Paul did a 1-6am watch and I could hear him above sorting out the sails
to keep the boat tacking southwards.
The morning was grey and chilly
when I took over but since we were so near land I was able to make a phone call
from my mobile to say we’d made it safely across Biscay. Paul slept until 10 but
although I was tired it was still too bumpy to sleep so I stayed below in the
warm listening to Spanish radio and reading. We arrived at the
port of
Camarinos at about 5: 30 and did our usual cruising around the
marina to check for a suitable spot to berth. I was at the helm while Paul got
the lines ready and had been keeping an eye on the depth of the water to check
it didn’t go below 3 metres. There were lots of boats and dinghies around –
teenagers who’d been racing, fishermen returning with their catch and a few
other yachts on moorings. Paul
finished his jobs and took over the steering and within a minute there was an
awful grinding sound, a jolt and we’d gone aground. It’s always been one of my
worst fears to be stuck in the seabed, unable to move and then Paul informed me
we’d have to wait until the tide came back in before we could get free. Furthermore, we’d need to stow things
away because the boat would tip over at quite an angle as the tide went
out! I was quite alarmed by this –
not least because I’d been looking forward to getting ashore for a walk into
town, showers, dinner etc. To make matters worse, people from the other boats
were staring and pointing at us.
One of them, a fishing boat, sped towards us and the two men inside were
gesticulating wildly and shouting things we couldn’t understand, yet I
instinctively knew they would end up getting us off the mud. Communicating through hand signals and a
few familiar words, they got one of our ropes and attached it to their boat
while Paul and I used our combined weight to try to force the hull out of the
mud. It was all quite dramatic and
in time-honoured fashion a crowd had gathered on the nearby pontoons and boats
to watch the proceedings. The first
attempt failed because the rope was too short so the fishermen beckoned another
boat over with a longer rope. Paul was doubtful whether any of this would do any
good because we were deep in the mud but I still believed they’d get us out and
suddenly we were moving again as the bigger boat tugged us out. With many shouts of “muchos gracias” we
made our way slowly to our berth where another helpful fisherman took our
lines. I gave our gallant rescuers
a bottle of cold beer each and once safely tied up we had a much-needed one
ourselves.
Camarinos is a fairly small
unpretentious town, surrounded by densely forested hills. On these hills are
numerous groups of wind farms, the windmills furiously and silently rotating in
an almost hypnotic manner which gives the place a quaint and eerie atmosphere,
especially at dusk when it was very quiet and heavy clouds hung overhead. It was the kind of place described
within the pages of a Stephen King novel, and so many windmills created an
impression that they were somehow controlling the town…perhaps I’ve been reading
too many ghost stories.
After freshening up we headed
into town to buy a few things before the supermarket shut. The streets consisted of an interesting
mix of old and new buildings: really ugly or deserted houses and shops flanked
brand new, impressive shops or well-kept houses. It was nothing like any other
town in Europe we’d been to but we decided we liked it.
At 9 we had dinner in the marina restaurant – salad, home made fries and
pimentos (calamari for Paul). This, with a bottle of wine came to 25 euros. We
decided to stay here all day tomorrow and leave for
Lisbon on Wednesday.
Tuesday 4th August
After a well-deserved lie-in we
spent the late morning catching up on jobs and updating the blog. Paul went out in search of a place to
buy internet access while I read and listened to the radio. Although it was warm the day remained
overcast and grey. This marina is
quiet with none of the hustle bustle of Kinsale and there were fewer boats
around today, so in this chilled-out atmosphere we relaxed on the boat sipping
white wine, listening to music and planning the passage to
Lisbon. At 7 we took another walk into town and
discovered pretty side streets further up the hill, still with the strange mix
of old and new constructions side by side.
Later, we stopped at one of the pavement tapas bars for dinner – more of
the deliciously prepared salty/oily green pimentos, potato and onion tortilla
and patatas bravas (baby squid for Paul).
It was lovely sitting there among the Spanish holidaymakers, looking out
across the bay and we lingered there for an hour or so before heading back to
sit in the cockpit where we watched a group of teenagers having great fun
fishing from the quay.
Wednesday 5th
August
We set off at 8:30 this morning for our two day trip to
Lisbon leaving Camarinos still
cloaked in heavy cloud and its windmills relentlessly turning. Within an hour we were approaching blue
skies and the sun made a most welcome appearance. The wind was in our favour so no engine
needed and the sails were set to speed us along at 5-6 knots with Harriet
steering. The speakers in the
cockpit blasted out Jesus Christ Superstar – ideal stirring stuff for sailing
along to, although Paul thinks it sounds a bit corny these days. During the afternoon the waves built up
and the wind speed increased but it was still possible for us to lay out in the
cockpit soaking up the sun. The
waves were rocking us from side to side this time instead of up and own – easier
to deal with and they don’t cause nausea.
We were even able to have a cafetiere of coffee in the cockpit while
listening to Leonard Cohen’s brilliant Live in
London album. After Paul had had his regular 6 o’clock chat with Neil we went to sit up at the
bow to look for dolphins and enjoy the exhilaration of the boat’s movement
through the waves. For dinner we
had spinach and ricotta lasagne and then Paul went to the bunk to attempt some
sleep in the increasingly rocky waves.
Thursday 6th
August
Sleep proved impossible for both
of us for most of the night due to the waves increasing in height and tipping us
right and left at huge angles. We
were chucked from side to side all night but it wasn’t too bad because I read
and Paul managed to wedge himself into a space on the floor that allowed him to
sleep. He’d also spent a good deal
of time during the night rearranging items in cupboards and lockers that were
crashing, banging and knocking into each other. I woke up to find plates neatly wrapped
in tea towels and cups and glasses swathed in non slip rubber grip – but there
was still the odd bang and knock he couldn’t find the source of much to his
frustration and my amusement. For
my watches I wedged myself in the desk area by the quarter berth and read Haunted Wirral. Apparently, ‘Death’, complete with
trademark cowl and scythe has been spotted hitching a lift from passing cars in
the district of Thingwall while in Frankby a phantom with only half a body and
clad in a white blanket is said to terrorise cyclists on foggy nights…still no
ghost ships here. I was hoping to
see the sun rise into a clear sky at dawn this morning but clouds prevented
it. Paul woke me at 10 to watch
dolphins who put on a spectacular morning show for us and stayed for quite a
while. I cooked us a much needed
brunch while Paul talked to Neil – no mean feat when you have to grip onto bars
and rails to keep from falling onto the cooker. I’ve become expert at gauging wave
movements so that I can use two hands to delve in the fridge or transport fried
eggs from the pan into the bowl. Not as sunny a day today but pleasant
enough. We are both looking forward
to reaching our changed destination of Cascais tomorrow.
Friday 7th August
