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.
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.
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.
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