A Yarmouth23 Sailing Blog

Abandoned boats!

Abandoned Boats

Here I am busying myself with boat maintenance and moored across from me is the most sorry looking  collection of dilapidated sailing vessels I’ve ever seen.

Why isn’t someone looking after them?
A mystery which was only recently resolved while chatting to locals.

They are the confiscated property of drug runners plying their trade between la Costa del Sol and Morocco!

Which explains why the authorities were so keen to question me and search my boat at Benalmadena and again upon my return to Almerimar.

Except that I hadn’t been anywhere near Morocco…

I’m told that in the past these assets were sold, but the authorities found they often ended up back in the hands of organised crime so now they just sit there at the mercy of the elements.

Small boat Insurance

Hurray! Eileen of Avoca is insured for yet another year of wandering.

No mean feat because insurance companies usually don’t like little boats venturing too far. I have to stress that a Yarmouth23 is no ordinary 23 footer, but the efficient staff at Velos Insurance (www.velosinsurance.co.uk) pulled through yet again and I now have comprehensive coverage for the Mediterranean and East Atlantic coast including the Isle of Wight.

I did however have to concede to reverting to 3rd party coverage when sailing to Maderia, The Canary Islands or Cape Verde.

Fair enough! I am willing to bet that I don’t sink on these trips

Life in Almerimar – an oxymoron?

Running the wiring

I’ve been sheltering in the port of Almerimar on La Costa Del Sol for the past month.

Regular, and poorly forecast storms with with Force 8 winds are making cruising somewhat impractical so I’ve assigned myself to boat maintenance duty.

I’ve made a temporary mount for my Rutland 504 wind turbine out of a fishing rod holder, run new wiring, and installed a Rutland HRDX Charge Controller to manage the system.

Running the wires took a couple of days (I’m on cruisers time so all jobs take 3 times as long to complete), and while all the cabin lining was removed I though I’d might as well get my Mer Veille (Rada Detector) up and running. It wasn’t doing me much good stowed away in the hold.

So here is what it looks like now.

Rutland 504 wind turbine

I’ve put the instruction manual for the HRDX here and the Mer Veille here so I don’t loose them (again…)

Eileen of Avoca is really starting to look like a long distance cruiser now!

On a sunny day (a rarity), I also made a highly optimistic attempt at varnishing, but a sudden change in the weather ruined my masterpiece so I’ve given up and will wait another month or two before tackling the brightwork.

Another couple of days were passed head down in the bilge figuring out why my hot water system leaked… (Calcium deposits in the pressure release valve)… Fixed with some “anti-calc” bought at the supermarket.

HRDX Controller and Mer Veille

While playing the yachtsman version of “twister” in the bilge, I gave the few rusty bits on the propeller shaft coupling a good scrub and repaint so everything is now looking remarkably tidy down there. A case of transferred entropy, because I was looking remarkably messy.

So… is there anything else to do while wintering in Almerimar (apart from visiting the chandlers for that missing piece required to complete a boat project?

Well, if you like walks on the beach you can amble along what’s left of the grey sand to the west of the marina admiring the unfinished apartment monoliths. There are also plenty of bars and restaurants competing for what seems to be an increasingly endangered species… the client. I regularly frequented an English bar called the “Stumble Inn” or a Spanish one called “Emporio” for a social chat, coffee and free Internet Wi-Fi.

Beach at Almerimar

I’m struggling to add to the list… but perhaps I’m just too unimaginative.

Wintering in Almerimar, Spain

Well I didn’t expect to get stuck in the south of Spain for the winter, but there is no point pursuing a planned itinerary when the weather is so disagreeable. I’ll just have to be fatalistic (quid erit, erit …) and accept that I wont be moving until Poseidon wills it.

My plans must change. Fortunately I have no time limit and few commitments, so it’s easily done.
Crossing the Atlantic will now wait until the 2010-11 season. The new plan has me sailing along the Atlantic coast back to Yarmouth on the Isle of Wight where Eileen was built before heading south for the usual jump-off points.

This opens plenty of new possibilities for interesting cruising in Portugal and the west coast of France. I’ll be able to catch up with other Yarmouth23 owners and finally have some quality work carried out on Eileen of Avoca before heading further afield. I’ve not had the greatest success with yards in Italy, Greece or Spain.

For the moment I’ll play the wintering in Spain game and catch up on what boat maintenance I can carry out while afloat. Yay!

Disenchanted with Southern Spain

Sailing near Denia

I spent the next two weeks sailing down the Costa del Sol and Costa Blanca stopping at Denia, Altea, Alicante, Torrevieja, Cartagena, Almeria, Almerimar, and Benalmadena.

With a steady land breeze, the sailing was exceptional. Eileen of Avoca sped effortlessly along the coast, often passing within a cable of bizarrely shaped headlands with dramatic cliffs and abundant bird life.

Dolphins visited frequently, swimming beside us with ethereal splendor for hours on end. At night, their intricate performance (illuminated by the agitated bioluminescent plankton), prompted rapturous applause.

Almeria

The cities I’ve visited are the antithesis of this natural splendor. They appear excessively contrived and soulless. The further I travel south, the more feigned it all becomes.

With the exception of a handful of historic buildings, period architecture is abandoned to make way for the construction of theme park styled apartments and brand name shopping centers. What has happened to the real Spain? Tourist traps and real estate agents can’t be all that’s left!

Everything is for rent or for sale. Did the recent boom come at such a cultural cost?
I put these questions to the older sailors berthed for winter in Cartagena. They assure me that the real Spain still lives but it is not to be found further south among the plastic covered landscapes and marina developments of Andalucia.

Benalmadena

I am certainly not impressed. The scarcity of berths for visiting yachts at intended destinations (Almerimar excepted) made landfall a chore, and the frequent questioning or searches by port officials did little to make me feel welcome.
Perhaps misinformation from my outdated Mediterranean almanac was to blame, or I’ve just been in the wrong frame of mind.

I decide to break my journey and leave Eileen while I return to Belgium for a white Christmas. I’ll take up where I left off in the new year.

Seasons Greetings everyone!

Ibiza is dead

Eileen at anchor

For almost a week gale force winds battered the anchorage. Eileen of Avoca shifted from side to side tugging at her lines but sheltered from the open sea, the passing storms had little effect. I didn’t even have to worry about getting struck by the frequent lightning with this fine lightning rod (see photo) anchored close by.

By the 10th of November conditions had vastly improved and I made haste for Ibiza. I’m told the fishing is especially good after a storm and my haul of swordfish and tuna certainly seemed to confirm this. I was simply having a ball.

I wish the same could be said after my arrival in Ibiza. Incredibly this supposed mecca for hedonists had even less going for it in November than my quiet anchorage in Mallorca. A city consisting of vacant apartment blocks is not quite my cup of tea, so I sailed to the other side of the island to check whether “la belle vie” had moved to San Antonio.

It hadn’t.

I half expected to see tumbleweeds rolling through the deserted streets and seasonally abandoned establishments. With no incentive to linger, I set sail once more, braving an increasingly agitated sea to reach Denia and the possibility of real life on the Spanish mainland.

A sweet little anchorage west of Portals Nous

Finding a safe anchorage in the Bay of Palma

I motored Eileen of Avoca just 4 miles west to Cala Nova but found the marina had unreasonable expectations with regards to the size of my wallet, so I motored another 3 miles passed Iletta to an anchorage outside Portals Nous.
We found good holding in sand but the rolling swell and the constant baying of sea lions from the adjacent marine park was only amusing for the first hour. At dawn we weighed anchor and moved a little over a mile further west to a brilliant little anchorage at N29º31.33′ E2º32.40′ and that’s were Eileen of Avoca stayed for the next week.
My crew abandoned ship on the 5th heading back to Amsterdam, so I was left alone to wait out some ugly weather. A handful of other boats shared my anchorage sheltering from the intensifying north westerlies but aside from the occasional brief salutation, the crews kept to themselves. Winter sailors appear to be such a sociable lot
I passed the time reading, fishing, surfing the Internet (free WiFi access from the boat), and ferrying provisions with my kayak. The towns cafés and lovely beaches were largely deserted but I was content. Provided there were no unexpected wind shifts, Eileen was secure with both her 25lb CQR and trusty Danforth deployed.

Kicked out of Palma de Mallorca

Cathedral, Palma de Mallorca

I found a great spot to moor at a quay for small boats marked “molinos de Jonquet” on my BlueNav electronic chart. I took care to choose a spot that was not in use (evidenced by the growth on the mooring line), and set about exploring the highlights of the town.

One Gothic cathedral later; we’d run out of tourist sites to visit and sat wondering what the Mallorca sailing hype is all about. Admittedly this was November so we couldn’t expect to find carnival, but we’d held such naively high expectations!

Luckily, before the boredom set in too deeply and reduced us to autonomous zombies seeking pleasure in purchasing kitsch plastic tourist offerings or t-shirts, we were kicked out of Palma by a uniformed baton wielding despot with so many chips on his shoulder he could open a mill.

The banging on the bowsprit woke me at an uncivilized hour (any hour before I naturally wake up is uncivilized in my book). Poking my head out of the forward hatch I found an animated official banging away with his crowd control baton on Eileen’s brightwork.

Spanish isn’t my forte but I did manage to  establish that his acrimony had something to do with me and an incongruity with his clipboard. No matter, surely it was just a matter of handing over the appropriate mooring fee.

Apparently not. Insisting that another boat was due to take our spot, and every other free place on the quay for that matter (as unlikely as this may seem given the quantity of unused berths).

Needless to say, this encounter did wonders to colour my appraisal of this city with its upstanding executive establishment. So we were not too miffed to loosen warps and politely wave adiós.

Sailing to Mahon Menorca

With the sea calm once more, Gianluca and I were captivated by the night approach to Mahon Menorca. It had been a magical crossing. We’d caught three Dorado (though one managed to get away while lifting it out of the water), had a prolonged visit by a tired little avian friend, and even spotted whales (yes this time I’m not joking. There really are whales in the Mediterranean).

Despite the mention of a tsunami affecting the Balearic Islands in 2003 (originating from the Zemmouri earthquake in Algiers), my Mediterranean almanac and electronic charts showed a safe, well lit, approach to Mahon.

Menorca

Tying to the public quay opposite Isla Pinto we were surprised to find the port relatively empty. Where were all the yachtsmen? We invited a curious passerby aboard and exchanged a portion of our latest catch for some local news and gossip. Evidently the sailing season ended in September. Looks like the Spanish leisure boaters take their toys out only two months of the year (just like the Italians), and the last of the cruising set (heading for Gibraltar and beyond), passed by at least a month ahead of us.

I’m late! I’m late… and before long the fine weather will surely deteriorate!

After a whirlwind tour of Mahon, resupplied and well rested, the not so dynamic duo said farewell to the hoards of locals gathered to witness our departure…. would you believe a hoard of two elderly couples and one child in a pram? How about a stray dog and two seagulls? OK, we slipped away before anyone would notice and set our sights on reaching Palma de Mallorca (120NM away) by the 1^st of November.

Tuna steaks

Sailing directions in brief:

Take a heading of 240º from the southern tip of Menorca, then turn right before you hit Isla de Cabrera. Easy. Moreover, catch sizable tuna à volonté while on route, slice into steaks and eat to your hearts content.

Fishing while cruising in the Mediterranean

Fortunately (for Gianluca), food would not be in short supply this trip. Up until today, I would have confessed to being one of the worlds worst fishermen. All I could show for two years of effort while underway (and the loss of innumerable lures), was one very small tuna and a seagull. Not anymore!

Dorado

Behold… (see photo)

I had to stop fishing or I’d catch much more than the two of us could possibly eat!

Fishing, ha, there’s nothing to it. All you need is to be where the fish are.

Or perhaps it being almost November had something to do with it, or the fact that there were no other boats to be seen in the area (since loosing sight of Sardinia), or…

Frankly, I haven’t a clue, but that didn’t stop me fetching my copy of “The Cruiser’s Handbook of Fishing” by Scott and Wendy Bannerot, and with great enthusiasm learning to identify and clean my catch.

After a gruesome and surprisingly bloody job in which Eileen’s push-pit started to look like something out of a B-grade horror movie, we were ready for the good bit. Cooking and eating the catch of the day. I had never eaten such fresh fish, and I must say, Dorado fried in a little olive oil and seasoned with rosemary is truly exquisite.

Gianluca on the night shift

A tiny avian visitor

By dawn, I’d managed to pass the southern tip of Sardinia and after setting a course of 228º taking us between Isola del Toro and Isola Sant Antioco, I handed over the GPS to my trusty crew and went below for some sleep.

I usually sleep exceptionally well in my Yarmouth23. Whether it be in the forward v-berth or with my feet in the trotter box of the settee, but not this time!

A disagreeable pounding on the hull accompanied with the pounding of my head against the bulkhead, tore me from my slumber.

What was going on? Why was Gianluca setting such a punishing pace against the unfavourable winds and increasing swell?

Overruling his landlubber logic of “we’ll get through it faster this way”, I set the throttle to a more comfortable speed before returning below to grumble and make sandwiches.

Despite what my friends and family say, I find that my irritable nature is often tempered by a full stomach…

Sailing from Sardinia to the Balearic Islands

Sailing route from Sardinia to Spain

Cagliari has a busy port, it even has a traffic separation scheme extending two miles from the breakwater. The massive refinery at Sarroch on the western side of the bay adds to the chaos as gargantuan tankers ply the waters of the shallow bay. All of which calls for some intrepid watch keeping while underway, especially at night. With this in mind and a distance of at least 280NM to cover to reach Menorca I decided it would be preferable to sail in company. Time to call upon my strategic reserve of unseasoned yet fearless crew (cue Gianluca).

We flew into Cagliari on the 27^th of October, caught the regular bus service into town, and immediately set about preparing for departure. After gathering a few provisions (mainly fresh bread, water and take away pizza) and carrying out the mandatory Internet cafe weather check, we walked the remaining 2km to S. Elmo marina, arriving at dusk.

I like Cagliari. I can see why many cruisers chose to winter here, and I regret not taking more time to appreciate the city and its people. My schedule was to blame… With the window for Atlantic crossings approaching fast, I wanted to get a move on, so as to reach an appropriate jump-off point before the season for southerly storms.

After filling my fuel reserves (6×10 liter plastic jerry cans stored in the rear compartment with the main fuel tank), at the nearby service station, Eileen of Avoca was ready and we leisurely motored into the night on a smooth sea.

Sailing from Palermo to Gagliari

Motor Sailing

I’ve set (motor)sail for Cagliari and something is wrong with Eileen of Avoca. There are odd vibrations coming from the engine but I am at a loss as to the cause. After a restless night I notice an appreciable loss in power and am getting more concerned. I’ve checked everything I can on board and all that remains as a possible cause of the vibration and loss of power is an issue with the propeller.

Attaching my waterproof video camera to a boat hook with copious amounts of tape, I lower it over the side and film the rudder and propeller shaft in action. Problem identified!

I’ve become entangled in some debris, if only I had thought to check this sooner. I’m now midway between Sicily and Sardinia and I need to go into the water to clear the prop.

Now if I were McGyver… all I’d need is some chewing gum, a welder, two dolphins… etc… and I’ll build a dry dock in which to do my repairs!

Facing reality (Shucks, I’m not really McGyver), I drop the sails and deploy my parachute sea anchor. No way am I going to get into the water if my boat wont stay put. To be extra sure I put on a harness and tie myself to the boat on a long line before jumping in. Now why do I suddenly feel like shark bait?

Twenty minutes later, operation, clear prop is a success. The vibrations are gone and I’m happily making 4.5kts motor sailing toward Gagliari.

It’s the 9^th of October 8am. I’m moored at S. Elmo marina and making arrangements to get back to Belgium.

Sailing to Palermo

Palermo port

Setting the TillerPilot, I take 20 minute naps (using an egg timer as my alarm clock) between lookouts and manage to reach Palermo by 1pm the following day in a semi-rested state.

Thankfully there was very little in the way of shipping, though I still don’t like sleeping when the coast is just an hour or two away. Especially when this area has a reputation for being the “Bermuda Triangle” of the Mediterranean.

The port of Palermo is not a pretty sight. A forest of cranes, numerous decrepit ships and offshore rigs undergoing maintenance dominate the skyline, but at least I’ve found a spot to moor Eileen (an abandoned refueling station).

Caught in a whirlpool

Capo Peloro

Strangely, I’m experiencing a complementary current near the coast when I’d expected a contrary one. As a result I arrive at the strait at least two hours before schedule. What an inconvenience!

What I’ve failed to notice is that my complementary current is an eddy. Fooled by the shipping which makes the passage through the strait regardless of tide, I head for the narrows and find myself caught in a whirlpool!

With the engine at full speed I make headway at less than half a knot but even this progress is short lived as the engine overheating alarm sounds and I am forced to switch off the motor. Now I’m at the mercy of the currents. Luckily the weather is fine and there is no swell. I hoist all sails but it has little effect. I am pushed around in a large circle at over 5 knots!

After an hour of going backwards, sidewards, and just about everywhere else I’d rather not go, I’m getting a tad frustrated. I manage to start the engine and head for Capo Peloro (but only by steering 90 degrees from my intended destination). I make about 1kt speed over ground. The idea is to get as close to the coast as possible where I hope the effect of the current is less. Surprise surprise, the strategy works and I pass the troublesome headland just meters from the shore. A shoal draft vessel does has its advantages!

By sunset I’m exhausted and I head for Milazzo for some sleep. I tie up at the nearest marina and ask to stay for 4 hours to rest. “No problem says the manager, rest, we will only charge you 5 Euros an hour”. As if I can sleep when the meter is ticking! I refuse the ‘generous offer’ and set sail once more for Palermo.