1st NOVEMBER 2007
The Algarve to the Canaries

550 nautical miles, the furthest so far. To be honest I was looking forward to leaving Portugal but I was not sure if I was going to like the journey, it was going to be at least 4 days and nights of going down wind pretty similar conditions to that of the trip across the bay of Biscay and that did not make me feel too good either.

We left Villamoura at around 4 pm and it was not very long before we were in darkness and heading south leaving the coast as a distant glimmer of light. The wind was light but still we made good progress. One change we decided to make from the trip across the bay was to our shift system, this time we opted for no formal watches during the day but at night, Niki would take the first 3 hours from 9pm to midnight while I tried to sleep, and then I was then on watch from midnight till 3am. Then we would swap again and I would sleep till 6am, and then it would be Niki's turn again to try and rest. So our night was split into 3 hour watches and whatever sleep you could get during the day would be a bonus. I have to say that this shift system worked better and out of the 3 hours you might get at least 1 hour good sleep.

One typical night shot; you can see from the flag that it was quite windy at times and we were so glad that we were going with it.

The solar panels that lay on deck were not much good that night !

One thing that kept us entertained at night was the phospheressence in the water; apparently caused by the plankton and when air is added it sparkles a florescent green, especially as the boat pushes through the swell.

Niki thought I was joking but I was not, its just that the boat makes so much noise it sort of deadened some of the sounds. Now Niki calls me Peter pillow, head I can’t think why.

Now I have sailed with many people over the years but none come close as having Niki on board with me. It must be said that it is a true test of our relationship (marriage).

To sail away together on our own boat and to see if we can cope with being together 24 hours a day in such close confinement. She really is one in a billion I am becoming to realise that I am a very lucky man. One of the scariest times for me is at night but Niki actually enjoys it, she star gazes, sings her little songs and keeps herself busy.

We were heading for Lanzarote and made landfall on an island called Isla Graciosa 4 days after leaving the Algarve coast. The island is only 6.5km long and 3km wide and in the guide books it says that you can take off your shoes and forget the world, in practise it was more than shoes that were being taken off but sorry I did not get any photos of that. But try these for size:

Land ahoy. The northern end of Lanzarote.

This is the channel between Lanzarote and the Isla Graciosa
Those peaks are 500 metres high.

Our beautiful anchorage at the playa Francesca on the Isla Graciosa.

I think we might just have to climb that peak and take a lovely shot for you all to see.
To be totally honest with you the journey across form Portugal was dull we only saw 2 ships (that we called on the VHF radio to see if they could see us on their screens, luckily they could) they each sounded as bored as me and no wildlife either. So when we arrived at the island I was a bit shell-shocked. Land, massive volcanic peaks, people, boats and even an English radio station called Buzz fm, all very weird. The best thing of all was you could see the sea bed even though it was 15 meters below us, water temperature 22 degrees C. Now I know if I was back in England this time of the year I would already be suffering from SAD( something to do with the lack of sunshine) but o not hear, it was fantastic, I have never been anywhere you could dive into crystal clear water and when you came out you did not feel cold… ah heaven.

A view from the top of the volcano above the anchorage

After a few days spent here we moved around the coast to the capital of Lanzarote, Arrecife. A very well sheltered harbour but very exposed if the wind blows from the south. Luckily for us that is very rare.

What I like about travelling by boat are the other interesting people that you meet. Even just in this harbour there were people from all different countries. There were Greg and Marie on a yacht called “Second Sally,” they were from Washington DC and a German guy called Feite, who we had met in different anchorages who was sailing solo, Tom and Taya originally from Holland and two other English chaps. also single handed sailors. Some have been sailing across the oceans for many years with lots of different stories to tell. After talking to Feite, he told us that his boat (far Left) was his first boat and that this his first trip (this picture was taken before his anchor dragged narrowly missing our boat). We thought we had it tough with our watch system of 3 hours on and 3 hours off but he sets an alarm clock to go off every 15 minutes so he can wake himself and go and look out side to see if there was anything out there, it must be such a relief when they finally reach the safety of a harbour.

Our anchorage in Arrecife, Niki’s finger at the bow of Don Quixote.

As I write this we have now spent over 3 weeks there. We have been doing lots of jobs around the boat and have been waiting for a part for our water maker to arrive from England, but it’s not a bad place to stay, it’s free to moor here, the town is 2 minutes walk around the wall and the water is soooo clear.

So we do find the time to have a quick swim.

This is I looking very pleased with myself as down load weather faxes from our SSB radio. Very bling.

Just a small neighbour about to tie alongside the harbour wall…

This is one of the 12 traditional Canary island boats that were racing around us, at one point I thought that they were using us as a turning mark. With a lovely view of the airport it the background.


On the first day of November we decided to go for a little walk with Greg & Marie from “second sally” our nice American neighbours. So we set the alarm for 6.15 A.M (that’s real early for us) rowed ashore only to find that we had to wait nearly 2 hours for the bus that would take us inland towards the volcanic park. It was worth the wait as the views from the top were stunning and coming down was kinda fun too (we just caant stop talking like them).

Just before it got real steep. Don't you just love to go a hiking, its so neat.

These bizarre looking things (not the ones above but the ones below) are lava walls built around grape vines. I found it hard to believe that anything lived there. The temperature was about 30 degrees C and boy our feet were pretty damm hot.

We particularly liked this one as there is a heart shaped one in the middle. Ahh

They looked like dimples on a golf ball, and all dug by hand.



We’re on top of the world.


Coming down was the best bit

Well we are still in Arrecife awaiting our part for our water maker, maybe tomorrow (but that’s what we have been saying for the past 2 weeks) and I don’t know if we will get a chance to write before we head off across the Atlantic. We have some superb crew coming to join us in Grand Canaria around the 20th of this month so hopefully we will finally make it to the Caribbean about 3 weeks after that, only another 3000 miles to go. That’s about as far as it is if we sailed directly back to Scotland, and I have read in one of our sailing guides that the easiest way back to Europe is via the Caribbean (easiest mainly because it will be sailing into the wind as apposed to with it, like sailing up hill for more miles than we have done already)So if you want to give us words of advice or encouragement or just laugh give us a call.

Portugal 2
10th October 2007

We stayed in Cascais for a few days doing a spot of sightseeing, just a short train ride away from Lisbon, and meeting old friends and making some new ones. This was the place that our fishing drought was about to end big style…

After another night socialising on board Sinbad with the fishing guru Duncan and his good lady Rachael, we decided to take his advice and use some proper bait, by the way of a tin of mackerel. It worked we caught 17 good size fish, honest.

Cascais was a great rest place as we caught up on sleep and walked life back into our legs. After being on the boat for a long time, muscles start to forget how to move and if it was not for our ‘daily stretches’ we would never be able to go out and down (Pete takes great glee at ridiculing the yoga style stretches).

We visited a few places in Lisbon and the best time to visit them is on a Sunday, for two reasons the first is that they are free and the second is that the shops are shut so Niki can’t buy anything.

Lisbon Cathedral (we went ‘Orb spotting’ down some park passages)

When we have had enough of ‘Don Quixote’ this is our next one….

But we might need some crew!

Torre De Belem

We liked the old part of the city as it reminded us of home……not (sorry it’s just that we have just finished watching Borat)

A view from Niki’s best side and also a view out across the river.


Our next part of the journey took us down the coast some 50 miles or so to a little place called Sines where Vasco de gama was born, and yes, you guessed it we had to motor all the way there but at least we had good visibility

Sines (apparently pronounced ‘Shin-es) harbour. We are the second boat at anchor from the left of the

From Sines to the Algarve
Yep, no wind again and thick fog as we left the anchorage. Nice...not (Borat), until we rounded Cape St Vincent and headed east and for the first time in ages, we found some wind so for the first time in days we were sailing at six knots on fairly calm water. It felt sooooooo gooood so we carried on to Lagos and timed it just right that we spent the night on their waiting pontoon, lovely. We left the following morning by my great skills in spinning the boat around on a sixpence and headed off to Faro to await the arrival of my Mum and Dad.
Now Faro really was like being back home on the east coast, little tidal estuaries, channels and gut ways. Everything apart from the jets that flew over

Our free mooring at Faro airport

Please let me explain why Niki is standing in the airport arrivals with a sign that says Uncle of Eric Clapton. Now any one who knows my Dad will know that he thinks he is a distant relation to Eric by the way of Erics Nan having the surname of Clapp. So we thought it would be funny….not

It was fantastic to see Mum and Dad not only to catch up with all the gossip back home but for them to bring us out presents, it was just like Christmas. Now it’s not many times you see my Mum out of the cockpit but this was a special occasion, as you can see in the background it was Mum’s perfect sailing weather..

Just look at these three; they had just put on show for us.

We had a fantastic time with Mum and Dad on board, we visited some of the caves and all the marinas along this Algarve coast, and had some great meals out; it felt like we were on holiday too...which I suppose we are but you know what I mean, don’t you.


We watched a small tour boat and decided to try and follow some of the routes he had taken. We ended up entering the smallest of tunnels and coming out into a large ‘theatre’ like cavern with a high domed ceiling and a few holes up to the sky where light poured in. Heaven.


After our luxurious lifestyle of marinas and restaurants, we had to face the reality that we could not afford to continue our 5 star cruising so we headed back to the refuge of Faro’s backwaters knowing we could sit comfortably at anchor until ready to make our move out of Portugal and on to new waters. This time the entrance was not as kind (or rather we poorly timed it!) and luckily the engine held fast against a quick running ebb. Even full out we only made a knot and half over the land!

Pushing against the flow


We decided to try the eastern end of the ‘backwaters’ (it really was Maurice Griffiths country) and headed for Olhao (never really found the correct pronunciation for this place so we just changed how we said it every time hoping to get it right at least once). Lo and behold we bumped into our friends on Sinbad again! We ended up staying nearly a week there as the surrounding islands were so beautiful (we found abandoned fig trees where the fruit tasted so sweet and we harvested a good crop of Samphire which was superb with butter and black pepper). One night we had a meal purely from the land/sea with Mackeral Pate, and bread donated to us by a German sailor whose boat we rescued when it dragged its anchor.

Pete and Duncan leapt into the tender and put themselves between the dragging boat and another (French) boat, just in time as they were about to collide. This shot was taken as they cared not for their own safety! (Miami vice eat your heart out).

One of the reasons we sat here for so long was because there were some severe thunder storms that passed us. But as with all things beastly, somewhere there exists beauty. Corny I know but this is just one of the many soothing sunsets in Olhao from our anchorage.

Besides, the weather was an excuse to get some jobs done before our next passage and we spent some time servicing winches…

and checking our mast gear aloft. (Pete made a technical splice for our toppinglift).

When the rains cleared, Pete decided he had had enough of the pesky Mullett that flirted around under the surface, just beside the boat. A while back, Magic John gave us a casting net designed just for these type of fish. So here is a detailed photo strip of Pete and Duncan’s efforts (a mention also to Rachel who read out the instructions on how to use it…properly).

The prep..

The throw (on 3 or after?)

The result…
He tasted mighty fine! (and the fish was not bad either)

It was sad to say good bye to our friends but time was ticking and we hatched a plan to spend another night back in Villamoura (which had now reduced from 50 euros a night to their out of season fee of 18) where we would replenish with water and fuel. We had been watching the weather for a while and knew the forecast was for some northerly winds to set in which we would take across to the Canaries, missing out Madeira.

It was time to move on.

Portugal
13th September 2007

Things happen in threes.

We are really sorry that we have not been keeping you guys back in good old blighty up to date with our travels lately, but to be honest there has not been too much to write about. It started back in Spain after dropping Stuart and Zoë off in Vigo, we headed out to Bayona. It was sad saying goodbye to them and for anyone who knows my little brother, very quiet on board; even though they only stayed for a few days it seemed like forever.

We headed south again around the cape and along the west coast of Portugal. The weather once again hot and sunny but for the first time no wind. It goes against the grain for us to motor but we needed to go south so we motored for 10 hours until we stopped at a place called Provoa de Varzim, a little place with a marina and a few fishing boats and a nice beach and still no wind. Instead of going into this said marina we decided to anchor in the harbour which was very sheltered and ok for the night, which it was until the next morning when we tried to raise the anchor and it was stuck fast and even our powerful winch could not lift it and whatever was causing it to foul, we were going nowhere.

Not having been in this situation before we did not know what to do, I thought I would have to go in the water and free whatever it was but to be honest there was a fair bit of rubbish floating around and it didn’t smell too inviting either so we thought again and with the help of a book my Nan bought me last Christmas, they say to drop the anchor again and lift it quickly again and some times you might be lucky. So we gave it a go and luckily some of the fouling came off and we could see what was trapping us. As you can see from the photo it was huge lumps of old rope. Still not sure how we were going to free us from the last bits I remembered a very good friend of mine bought me a very sharp knife for a wedding present and without any bother it sliced through the last bit of rope and we were free again.

FOULED ANCHOR!!

After that little escapade we motored very slowly out of the harbour still feely pretty stupid for anchoring there in the first place, and not putting a separate line down to the anchor called a trip line (it allows you to lift your anchor from the other end to the chain so it can be lifted up and anything snagged on it falls off) but we live and learn.

When in 2.5 meters of water we hit something really hard it didn’t slow us down but it sent a horrible shudder through the whole boat. Luckily for us our boat is fairly solid and we looked around under the floor to see if we were taking in any water and this time we weren’t. Two mistakes in the space of two minutes could have cost us our trip so we vowed that if ever there was any doubt about a free night anchoring or paying for a night in a marina we would do the latter.

Still feeling shaky, I don’t mean that 80’s pop star, but nervous we headed clear of the harbour entrance straight into thick fog. When I say thick I mean you could barely see 20 meters and personally my worst nightmare. Not wanting to go back into the harbour of doom we motored slowly south keeping a good look out and with our fantastic chart plotter, which we could view our radar display as well as look at our chart(very bling), it made the situation a little easier to bear.

The fog stayed with us all day

Our next stop on our journey was at a place called Averio which was about 50 miles south. It was a pretty busy port and a decision to enter in fog is not taken lightly, but as we approached the fog lifted a little to about 300m and we saw another yacht trying to do the same. So with safety in numbers we followed behind this French yacht called Zennon, he called us on the Vhf radio and asked us if we wanted to overtake but being British we let him lead (our thoughts were if any thing was to come out of this harbour entrance it would hit him first and if it got shallow then him being of the same size would run aground first), as I say we are British and a long way from home. We actually became good sailing buddies calling one another on the radio from time to time; he was sailing solo so the company was good for him. This was also the place that we first met another couple called Rachael and Duncan on a boat called Sinbad. They also were heading south for the winter and possibly longer.

The fog stayed all night and the next day we planned to leave the fog was as thick as ever. Looking around the pontoon we noticed that our French friend, called Michael had left, thinking either he was very brave or very stupid we gave him a call on the radio. He told us that the fog was still as thick as before (visibility 20 meters max) but he could see the sun. So with that extra piece of knowledge we left the safety of the pontoon and headed off again into the ‘pea souper’. Just to add to the situation the tide was pouring out at about 4 knots so once out of the shelter we were off whether we liked it or not. Apart from touching the bottom again, lightly this time though we were again heading south in the fog. A call from Michael told us that there was light at the end of the tunnel so to speak and that the sun was out and the visibility had improved to a few miles. The sun was out again all the way to a town called Figuera de Foz where we stayed in the luxury of their marina and got to walk around the town.

SUN DOWNER

SOON TO BE ON GRAND DESIGNS…

We met up with Rachael and Duncan. Now I consider myself a bit of a fisherman but I am in the Beezer homes league compared to Duncan who is at the top of the premiership. What he did not know about fishing was not worth knowing. We chatted about fishing and knowing I had a few mackerel up my sleeve (but not literally) I asked him if he had caught anything. His reply was in the form of a book/diary where he had listed all 34 varieties caught so far. Many of these more than once! Whereas were content to catch mackerel and eat them, he would chuck them into his bait box to catch bigger fish. With an informed chat and some practical demonstrations on wire traces and hook attachment, we found a well stocked tackle shop and stocked up on some new lures. The famous quote from Duncan…you can catch fish in a puddle with a rapalar!

Word was out amongst the cruisers that some islands, called the Berlengas, were on route to Cascais/Lisbon and were worth a visit. So the next day we all set out to find them…no wind …motored all the way…again. However the trip was worth it. The islands were full of caves that led right through to new bays and the water was so clear that we could see our anchor at 17 metres when we snorkelled. A fort sat on the edge of a rock surrounded by water and a path had been constructed to allow visitors to land on the island and walk up to the peaks.

APPROACHING THE BERLENGAS

CAVES THAT LED RIGHT THROUGH THE ISLAND

After our previous snorkelling experience we kitted up with all that we had (my gloves came out but I left the balaclava) and were surprised to last just over an hour as we made our way around the fort’s waterline. We found a sharp, shiny diver’s knife and saw many different types of fish. The night was swelly and I did not sleep, what with so much chain out (over 60 metres) we had a large swing circle and the anchor alarm had a field day of buzzing on the hour.

TYPICAL FOG THE NEXT MORNING

One night was enough and we headed on for a long day making our way to Cascias which marked our arrival to Lisbon. We had been excited about arriving there since we left Stu and Zoe as it meant we had made good progress down the Portuguese coast. Again though, it started with a sail but quickly turned into a motor. It was very special to round the capes at night and enter the anchorage which faced straight onto the town. The lights sparkled and the boats looked so pretty with their anchor lights shining off the flat calm water. We stayed up late to have a good old British cup of tea and smile at the special place we had arrived in.

25-08-07
0900HRS
LA CORUNA

Well we got the forecast we wanted thanks to the friendly night watchman at QAB. Northerlies for the rest of the week, force 5 to 6. Perfect for the 450 mile crossing to Spain. We left at 0700HRS on Tuesday 21st and killed the engine just outside Plymouth entrance; little did we know that we would not use the engine again, or change starboard tack until entering La Coruna.

Leaving Plymouth

The forecast held true and the force 6 was accompanied by gust of 7. What a difference to be going with the wind this time. Pete helmed and surfed down some of the waves which by now had grown in size. I was a tad alarmed when the boat occasionally headed up and as we rounded more towards the wind I appreciated how windy it actually was! Pete put my nerves at rest and I tried not to feel anxious as we had only gone 20 miles off the coast of England! The motion of the boat was strange. Not bouncing like heading up wind before, but rolling. The waves had a certain pattern about them; for a few minutes it would hold regularity in the angle of the following waves, but then the boa t would be knocked by several steeper waves that bashed into us rather than pick us up. We averaged 6-7 knots and on one occasion she surfed down a wave and recorded 10 knots on the log!

Swell

I found great comfort in trying to act like normal, doing all the things that I usually did. Checking the bilge I found ANOTHER BLOODY LEAK!!! This time I traced it back to the aft port side, again it seemed to pour in on the swell. Funny that the exhaust for the generator is on that side too…After bailing several bucket loads we decided that we would reassess the situation at Brest and if we needed to go seek a marina then we could.

We always wondered whether we would become sea sick. The sailing we had completed up until now was not severe enough to let us know. Although I had never felt any unease or sickness before, I just hoped I would be ok. On odd occasions in the past, Pete has felt a little queasy and it was not long into the passage that he commented that he did not feel too good. Lying down helped but it was the getting up and down, into and out of bed that was proving difficult. Although he was never sick on the whole journey, it troubled him that he felt ill, especially at night as although he usually felt better once he had returned to the cock pit, the blackness meant there was no visible horizon on which to focus on.

The sea swell that followed rolled us about and by nightfall we had reached the traffic separation scheme off the west coast of France near Brest. The wind dropped off and with it the leak subsided somewhat and so we began our first night of watches. With an early power nap before night set in, I took the first watch whilst Pete got some sleep. Well I say sleep, more like a record breaking attempt to kip on a rollercoaster, in an amphitheatre, with a rock band blasting out noise; virtually impossible until later on in the passage when you were so desperate to sleep that it did not matter. The boat has always made ‘noises’ and obviously as the conditions become harsher, so did the sounds. I tried to reassure Pete that it was like being on an old galleon as the wooden interior continuously creaked and stresses of the conditions on the boat carried around the inside. It was almost like the boat was talking to us, telling us how hard she was working and it drew on our emotions (I imagine like a mother trying to ignore the continual crying of a baby). When you woke up, (if lucky enough to get any shut eye), you momentarily forgot what it was like before you went to sleep and it seemed like a gale must be blowing. But after the quickest re-dress, when you popped your head outside it was no more windy than when you left!