A Yarmouth23 Sailing Blog

Bayona to Piedras Negras Marina, San Vicente del Mar

The beach at Piedras Negras

The mornings downpour was relatively short lived and by early afternoon I made the most of the improved conditions and set out to explore the anchorages off Isla del Faro. I liked the beaches here so much, I went for a swim!

In truth, I managed to collect an unwanted souvenir around Eileens’ propeller and was forced to take a dip to remove the culprit. Otherwise I’d never have ventured into the water, especially after what I’d seen floating in it yesterday!

The anchorages off Isla del Faro are fine for a day-time stopover, but I didn’t feel comfortable remaining there for the night, so, having had my 30 second swim, I set off to investigate what Isla Ons (10 miles further north) had to offer.

Helicopter surveillance in Spanish Rias

On route, I was intercepted by the ‘big brother’ chopper for a photo shoot (see marked white bulbous protrusion in accompanying image).

Your guess is as good as mine as to why the helicopter crew found it necessary to take aerial shots of Eileen, (is she really that pretty?), but not wanting to be outdone, I quickly fetched my own camera and after a brief wave (for good measure), set about starting my own collection of helicopter photos.

The anchorages off Isla Ons were much worse than those I’d visited earlier in the day, leaving me no option but to push on for San Vicente del Mar, just 3 nautical miles to the north.

Sunset in Spanish Galicia

I was treated to a spectacular sunset and arrived at the little marina of Piedras Negras just as the last of the light faded.

If the surge within the marina was anything to go by, I made the right decision not to anchor for the night. At one point I wondered whether the entire pontoon would break loose, but even the jarring, creaking marina cacophony was not up to the task of keeping me from my sleep, and by morning everything had settled.

Sailing from Leixoes to Bayona, Spain

Polluted waters in Spanish Rias

Leixoes turned out to be my last port of call in Portugal. I had originally intended to stop in Viana do Castelo but changed my mind on route as the weather was so enjoyable.

Not so pleasant was the amount of pollution in the water. Large patches of sea along the coast here, can only be described as truly repulsive. I was beginning to wonder whether my cooling system might clog motoring through this soup of effluent discharge!

What is this odd vessel?

I passed the time trimming sails that didn’t need trimming, rigging a boom keeper just for the practice and watching odd ships pass by. The one pictured here wins the prize for “oddest vessel of the day”. Goodness knows what sort of ship it is. If anyone knows, feel free to enlighten me. Fortunately there was little in the way of swell, because it certainly didn’t look very seaworthy.

Arriving in Bayona at dusk, I thought to anchor for the night. Unfortunately the anchorages marked on my charts turned out to be occupied by private moorings. I only discovered the next day that picking up a buoy for the night would have been fine. As it was, I took the advice (shouted by an English crew) that “this marina is cheap”, and took an outer berth at the Monterreal Club de Yates (at the foot of Bayona’s castle) for the night.

View from marina, Bayona Spain

The following morning, as I sat at the marina cafe admiring the view from the fortifications which included the replica of Columbus’ ship the Pinta berthed nearby, I satisfied myself that English dry humour and the 16 Euro a night fee were not so acerbic.

Aveiro to the port of Leixoes

The northern breakwater at Aveiro, Portugal

Weighing anchor at 8:00, I motored with the ebb past Aveiro’s breakwater with its dangerous (in heavy seas) and turbulent washing machine like entrance, heading for the 20m depth contour in search of calmer conditions.

As I ambled north in peaceful contemplation, a loud buzzing interrupted my daydreaming. I just had time to sit up and look about when a red rigid inflatable whizzed past (withing a few meters) Eileen’s stern, at what can only be described as tremendous speed.

It was the rescue RIB from Aveiro.

I waved to it’s two helmeted crew as they bounced along like rag dolls. They waved back (quite a feat when you think about it), and then sped off to continue their bone jarring ride elsewhere. It all happened so fast, I didn’t even have time to take out my camera for a blog snapshot.

Metro, Porto

Oh, and despite my best efforts (getting up at 7am for starters), to beat my new 3-day-friend’s boat to the next port (Leixoes), I was overtaken with just five miles to go. Drat! I must be the slowest yacht in Portugal.

The port of Leixoes was a convenient stopover for my whirlwind tour of Porto. I caught the fancy new metro to town, took the compulsory tourist photos of random buildings, bought a bottle of Porto and an amusing souvenir, then raced back to get some sleep.

What more should I have done in Porto?

North along the Portuguese coast to Aveiro

Eileen of Avoca under sail in Portugal

My next leg to the anchorage at Aveiro was uneventful, except perhaps for the occasional downpour, forcing me to shelter below decks. I’d occasionally pop my head out to make sure I wasn’t about to run into anything but other than that there was little to keep me occupied. I wasn’t even going to try to fish. With yesterdays catch under ice (purchased in Figueira da Foz), I would not need to use my lucky lure for quite a while.

Forced below, I did a little cooking to pass the time and make a new batch of fish pate.

The recipe?

Preparing fish (Bonito) pate

Fry your bonito or tuna steaks in olive oil with some rosemary. Take off the skin and bone when it cools so that it looks like what’s in the photo. Take one chopped onion, several chopped capers (the large type with the stem), mash your catch of the day, and add lots of mayonnaise. Voila! For variety add a little chili powder, fresh avocado, or tomato sauce to the concoction. Serve with fresh bread or crackers and you have a great sailing snack.

Nazare to Figueira da Foz

3-day Friends?

I was up early this morning and after checking the latest weather forecast I decided to leave immediately. Rain was forecast for Sunday and if I lingered another day, I had the impression I’d be stuck in Nazare for weeks!

Not that that was such a bad thing. The group of sailors sheltering in Nazare were a diverse and entertaining bunch. We’d spent all afternoon drinking beer at the small cafe (yes, the one with the gnats), and retired to a Belgian boat (no, not mine) for an evening of “La Grande Bouffe”.

I’m not sure how much more of this I would have been able to take!

I only regret that by leaving so early I was not able to say goodbye to my 3-day friends.

For those not into cruising, the “3-day friend” is quite a common phenomenon. You invariably end up stranded in a port somewhere with a mix of other yachtsmen of varying nationalities and walks of life. You may share drinks or a meal, recount sailing misadventures, tell jokes, and have a chipper time together, only to say farewell as soon as the weather improves. Despite a few exchanged email addresses and the best intentions, it’s rather unlikely that you keep in touch or cross paths again, but never mind, your new 3-day friends are but a port away.

Die Zwei Gebruder

Also leaving at the same time was the German registered vessel, “Die zwei Gebruder”, pictured here. A fine boat immaculately kept despite being nearly twenty years old.

The sailing (and the fishing) has been exceptional. April is definitely a great time to be heading north along the Portuguese coast. Weak low pressure systems off the coast have generated frequent easterlies and slight seas. Despite occasional rain storms, my journey north thus far, has certainly been easy on the stomach. I would not care to head north in July or August when the high pressure systems establish themselves.

What fish is this?

I caught four of these (anyone care to identify my catch?), and after arriving in Figueira da Foz, sat down to a wonderful baked fish dinner with the crew of “Die zwei Gebruder”, as the skies darkened with an approaching storm.

Figueira da Foz, Portugal

Peniche to Nazare in search of Pizza

Port of Peniche, Portugal, at sunrise

Having left Peniche just after dawn, I had plenty of time to reach Nazare in daylight, just 24 nautical miles to the north. I ambled along at my usual 4 to 5 knots as the skies grew overcast and a strange mist rolled out over an oddly smooth sea. The scene would not have been out of place in an episode of the twilight zone, but at the time I was busy enough hauling in catch after catch with my recently salvaged blue fishing lure, to pay much attention to the unusual weather.

Fish with headscarfs?

Photographed here are two fine specimens wrapped in paper towel soaked in seawater (to keep them fresh without refrigeration). But more were to come!

Nazare has an interesting geological feature (a deep sea trench) just offshore, which makes it a safe port of entry in even the worst conditions. I had little need for it on a flat sea, but it was comforting to know this nevertheless.

After making fast to the visitors pontoon early in the afternoon, I made my way to the marina office only to find it closed until 14:00. I entered the adjacent bar to wait and was stuck once more with the unnerving impression that I had somehow found my way into the twilight zone!

Traditional fishing boat on beach in Nazare

A roughhewn lot of fishermen sat quietly drinking coffee or beer as the television droned on unnoticed and gnats flew in lazy circles around the center of the room. I ordered what turned out to be a surprisingly good espresso and joined in with the unofficial Nazarean sport of gnat watching.

Drying fish on the beach

If fact, I enjoyed it so much, I decided to stay several days… but perhaps impending rain and the need to wait out the spring tides may also have played some small part in arriving at this decision.

Later, the surreal nature of this place was further emphasized, while exploring the port on foot. Stray dogs fought by a series of workshops, while angry fishermen interrupted with their net mending made ineffective attempts to separate them….. with of all things, oars! Well I guess it’s smarter than using your hands.

Perhaps if I walked into town I might come across the path back to the real world?

Failing that, I’ll settle for a pizza.

Portuguese pizza

As luck would have it, after coming across a couple of elderly ladies drying fish on the beach, (I didn’t purchase any), and a fisherman making nets (now that’s something I’m more interested in and I did purchase one), I stumbled upon my Shangri La and sat down to a magnificent feast of pizza napoletana (or should that be pizza portuguese).

Nazare is now in my book of places well worth the visit, marked as an atypical place with charm… (Oh, and decent pizza to boot).

Peniche Portugal, not quite closed to cruisers

Saving the blue lure

Departing Cascais on the 12^th of April, in light winds from the northwest, Eileen of Avoca motor-sailed the 44 odd miles to Peniche in just under ten hours. I did nothing…

Slow going, but I did have a slight delay when my new lure stuck to a fishing-pot float. There was no way I was going to sacrifice yet another lure so I captured the flag to reacquire it!

Traveling north, I have no option but to stay close to the coast (to make use of the complementary counter current), otherwise I’d stay clear of these incessant obstacles.

The port of Peniche was officially closed to visitors but apparently they make exceptions. In the limited space rafting up was the order of the day, but what better way to become acquainted with fellow yachtsmen.

Internet at the Java House

I met the very simpatico Jean Marie and Bernard on their way from France to the Mediterranean. After a couple of welcome drinks aboard their yacht (Ricard of course), we wandered into town for our daily dose of Internet weather forecasting. Not such an easy task, but we did manage to find a rather busy establishment called the Java House with free access.

Upon departure we agreed to take photos of each others yacht and sure enough I have already seen mine posted on their blog at:

http://marveda.over-blog.com/article-e-48587462.html

So as to live up to my side of the bargain, here is theirs leaving the port of Peniche on Tuesday the 13^th of April at about 8:20am.

French yacht heading South

Bon voyage mes amis!

I’ll send you the other photos by email.

Sailing along the western coast of Portugal

Avian hitchhiker

24 Hours later I weighed anchor and started the 50 plus nautical mile leg north to Cascais on the outskirts of Lisbon. The sailing was in light winds on a relatively smooth sea, so generous use of my mighty 13.5hp Beta engine was necessary. Even at a consistent 5kts, it was almost dark as I approached the Rio Tejo. I really should learn to wake up earlier…

Dolphins made an occasional half-hearted visit, but this was more than compensated for by frequent social calls by exhausted avian hitchhikers.

Overall, the passage was soothingly tranquil, ignoring a brief episode of near panic when my favourite hat forced me into another impromptu “man overboard” drill. I did get it back however! As you can see in the accompanying photo, it is just the thing to compliment my sailing ninja apparel and I would be loath to lose it.

Sailing ninja apparel

I spent two nights in Cascais marina and I will happily return here (perhaps at anchor) in summer before heading toward Madeira or the Canary Islands. There are interesting little beaches, quaint winding cobblestone streets, and a multitude of bars, restaurants and cafes catering to all tastes.

I was also pleased to find the “out of hours” marina staff exceptionally helpful and professional; evidenced by the quick defusing of potential disaster as an accompanying Finnish yacht bungled repeated attempts to tie off at the reception pontoon. The incident prompted a spontaneous and amusing discussion on general marina mishaps, and having witnessed first hand what these people have to contend with on a daily basis, they have my deepest respect. Let me elaborate with an example;

Beach, Cascais Portugal

I’d noticed quite a substantial number of seagulls resting on the marina breakwater in the afternoon and a sudden cacophony of avian cries disrupted my hapless attempts at Wi-Fi prompting me to pop my head out of the companionway, I was just in time to see an enraged fisherman take out a pistol (the air gun type from the sound it made) and start shooting willy-nilly at gulls attempting their getaway with stolen fish. I’m afraid I do not have an accompanying photo captioned “enraged fisherman shoots sea birds”, but I was studiously minding my own business at this point.

Besides, dealing with this sort of thing is the business of those aforementioned, exceptionally helpful and professional marina staff.

I was too tired to sample Saturday’s marina nightlife and had to content myself will meeting other cruisers “en passant” partaking in the new and ridiculously bizarre yachtsmen ritual of wandering marina grounds seeking improved signal strength for Internet Wi-Fi, laptops extended, face aglow.

Rounding Cape Saint Vincent to Western Portugal

How to tame boisterous children

Planning was high on my list of priorities as I methodically watched the weather forecasts pending departure. I did not care for a repeat performance of the previous days hair raising port entry. If I wanted to spend my free time surfing, I would have brought a Malibu board to Lagos rather than Eileen of Avoca.

As I waited for easterly winds, I busied myself with some serious relaxing at the beach occasionally burying a locals child to stop “it” running about and making a general mischief. Despite my best efforts, they continued to be a nuisance and even had the gall to find it all rather amusing. Oh well, I’ve never really been that good with kids.

Rounding Cape St. Vincent in calm weather

I’d decided the best way to tackle Cape Vincent was to leave at midday, round the cape during daylight hours and complete the total of slightly less than 80NM to Sines by night. The easterly winds dropped from force 4 to a gentle 1 and 2 overnight and while the sea maintained a significant swell, Cape Vincent came and went as an anticlimax.

Sprayed by dolphins

Dolphins escorted me for much of the journey, and their company was mostly appreciated, the exception being when a particularly cheeky individual would “sneak up” alongside Eileen and enthusiastically shock me awake with a spout of fishy smelling water. Who would have though dolphins had a sadistic sense of humour. I like them more and more each day!

Aside from scaring the living daylights out of me by catching me unaware with their playful nocturnal antics, they effectively made sure I wasn’t going to catch any fish for supper.

I optimistically trolled with a brown lure (holding my newly acquired blue one in reserve), until at about midnight it was lost. to either:

a) the biggest fish I’d ever hooked (the dolphins at this point had vanished), or more likely;

b), a fisherman’ pot (even though I was at the 100m depth contour).

I’m newly resolved to fishing at night only when more than 10 miles off the coast.

At dawn I motored into the lovely little anchorage off the beach in Sines and set to work composing an opus in snore major.

Anchorage at Sines beach Portugal

Villamoura to Lagos

Surfing into port Lagos

It is approximately 30NM from Villamoura to Lagos, and I completed the leg in less than 6 hours. Winds from the east and a following sea had me sailing at a respectable 5kts and this with only the jib and a reefed mainsail set!

As the day progressed, the southeasterly swell (caused by gales in the strait of Gibraltar) intensified, and by the time I reached the relatively narrow entrance to Lagos I confess to having entertained thoughts of seeking landfall elsewhere.

Eileen of Avoca was already surfing down the faces of some of the larger sets and the sound of crashing waves against the rocky coastline west of the entrance did little to assay my growing anxiety.

At least I was not alone. Another sailing yacht followed me closely, and if I had not happened upon a brief lull between sets of larger waves, (precipitating my attempt to run to safety), I might have come about and let them try first. I’d already rationalized to myself that it would be the gentlemanly thing to do.

At this point, I had the motor running at close to full throttle. With sails furled, fenders out and heart pounding, I raced for the entrance while the other yacht hesitated.

“No worries, a fine run… now let’s see if you can do the same….” flashed through my thoughts as I turned to watch the fate of my fellow sailors.

Even stray dogs appreciate the art in Lagos

With Cape Vincent as my next challenge, I decided to rest up for a while, purchase provisions and wait for fine weather. Lagos has much to offer visitors and I thoroughly enjoyed my habitual aimless perambulations about town. Now if only I could speak a little Portuguese!

Tavira to Villamoura

The red cliffs of Southern Portugal

With northeasterly winds at force 5, I made a reluctant and somewhat tardy start (12:15) to the day. Laving Tavira on a slack tide, with the intention of overnighting at another anchorage just inside the Faro / Olhao entrance, it was a rapid and pleasant sail in fine weather.

I enjoyed it so much that as I approached the light house and breakwater (after approximately 20NM), I altered course and decided to carry on to Villamoura (another 10NM to the northwest).

The southern coast of Portugal is quite dramatic. Long white sandy beaches east of Faro give way to red and yellow cliffs interspersed with forests to the west. In places I was reminded of the sandstone cliffs off Sydney. This is a spectacular coastline and contrasts greatly with the arid scrubby look of southern Spain.

Villamoura marina

My first marina stop in Portugal also left quite an impression. Arriving on the last day of the Villamoura boat show, the extensive and modern marina was a hive of activity. Pontoons were filled with a plethora of motorized “gin palaces”, (or if you prefer, “plastic fantastics”), and the bars overflowed with patrons.

It struck me as a little odd however, that sailing vessels were clearly underrepresented at this exhibition of extravagance. How can anybody prefer a boat without sails?

Isla Canela to Tavira

Tavira anchorage

My run of “bad luck” extended into the next leg of my journey as I sailed from Isla Canela in Spain to Tavira Portugal just 16 NM away.

Sailing along the 10m contour I had my fishing lure catch on a poorly marked lobster pot (just a scrap of blue foam no larger than a paperback novel with a line running to the bottom). I made valiant attempts to retrieve it, even managing to have it break free from the entanglement, but in the short swell and without a net or other means to fetch items from the water, I could not retrieve the now drifting lure.

I was devastated by the loss of my lucky blue fishing lure. Perhaps devastated is too strong a term, how about extremely annoyed, or perhaps extensively miffed? Purchased in Calabria Italy, it was this lure that had hooked me numerous tuna, two dorado and a small swordfish. Life without it might be severely lacking in fresh seafood!

Four hours later I was anchoring to the side of the marked channel west of the ferry docks in Tavira.

Being a warm sunny Saturday, large queues had formed and the ferries worked frantically returning day trippers to the mainland. It was all very amusing to watch.

My guide suggest two anchors (both tied to the bow), as the tide runs strongly here. The same guide also refers to Tavira as spectacularly unspoiled anchorage, but I’m not one to really appreciate the questionable beauty of salt marches. For me, they fall into the same category as mosquito infested swamps and bogs, but with the wind blowing at a good 20kts, it would take one tough mosquito to verify the validity of my insect laden prejudices to marshlands.

I set my main anchor on the flood (in 4m), and paid out the usual scope before dropping my danforth from the stern and running a similar length of rode to the samson post. I wasn’t too comfortable about the arrangement and set my alarm to wake me at the turn of the tide. I’d thoroughly checked the almanacs tables but as an added precaution I left my depth sounder on and set its alarm to 1m.

After having anchors drag, I’ve grown accustomed to taking extra precautions while asleep. For good measure and for the first time in months, I also took the trouble to hang out my dusty anchor ball and display an anchor light.

30NM from Mazagon to Isla Canela

Sailing obstacles

The next day I made my way west taking full advantage of the smooth seas I had so eagerly sought this far north.

What I had not taken into account in my planning, was having to dodge the hundreds, if not thousands, of fisherman’s lobster pots (at least I think that’s what they were), littering the area. It would appear that only day passages are possible, as at night, you would be almost guaranteed to become thoroughly entangled on a regular basis. Perhaps there is scope for inventing a new sport here: What do you think of ‘Giant Yacht Slalom’?

Isla Canela Marina

While mooring at my designated finger pontoon in Isla Canela marina, I jumped clumsily to tie off and the jarring motion sent my best sunglasses falling to the murky depths beneath Eileen. I spent the next hour free diving to try and recover them, but to no avail. Visibility in the water was so poor I literally could not see more than 20cm in front of me and at 4 meters I couldn’t hold my breath long enough to search effectively .

As the sun set, I gave up in disgust and went to mope over their loss at Sugar Reef, (a bar boasting Wi-Fi). Several beers (I mean hours) later, I wasn’t feeling too bad about my latest trivial misfortune.

Chipiona to Mazagon

Boarded by customs

I left Chipiona in mild weather, so it came as quite a surprise to find myself thoroughly tossed about in the muddy tidal ebb of the Guadalquivir river. As I crossed the line drawn by a sea colour change, the conditions settled and I enjoyed a trouble free ride all the way to Mazagaon, (a little less that 40NM to the northwest).

On route, my lucky blue lure caught me another free meal. Five miles from my destination, when I had just finished cleaning this latest windfall, I was taken aback when intercepted and boarded by Spanish customs.

My concern was that they might impose some sort of penalty as I belatedly wondered whether there might be size limits on tuna catches for these waters. I had heard horror stories of cruisers being fined several thousand Euro for catching octopus (apparently protected in some areas), and perhaps I’d fall victim to some obscure regulation of which I was totally unaware.

Friendly customs officers

As the customs vessel approached they indicated that they would come alongside, so I took out several fenders from the push-pit lockers and simultaneously stowed my questionable catch.

I needn’t have worried, while one officer sat (on the locker hiding my catch) reviewing my boat documentation, the other helped me decide which ports I should visit on my future travels along the Portuguese coast. They were very pleasant company and even posed for a couple of snapshots.

Snug at my assigned berth in Mazagon I set about the serious business of preparing my hidden treasure. Seared in very hot olive oil with a few bay leaves and served with sliced avocado, mayonnaise and a dash of pepper. A true delight.

Tuna steaks with avocado

It’s days like this that make me truly appreciate the cruising lifestyle. As I enjoyed an accompanying glass of white wine my only regret was that I had nobody with which to share the moment. My consolation however, was that there was a second helping of fried tuna to be had.

The accidental wind intruments of Chipiona

Chipiona at high tide

Keeping the obligatory two miles from the coast, I motored the 17NM from Rota to Chipiona in calm seas with Force 1 to 2 winds. Unfortunately, the gentle breeze was short lived and for the next three days I found myself weather bound. It seems I only ever get to play tourist in bad weather!

Chipiona is an interesting town and the days passed relatively quickly. Apparently it’s population of about 20,000 triples in the summer as Spanish tourists flock from Sevilla on mass, to enjoy the beach life (though it’s more like rock life when the tide is out). Not that this migratory phenomenon was evident in March.

The center has plenty of shops and restaurants, a pleasant seaside promenade and a few architecturally interesting buildings, but what really captured my imagination was the haunting sound coming from what must be one of the most unusual accidental wind instruments I’ve ever heard.

It took me a considerable amount of time to identify the source of the towns pervading and eerily haunting music, but I finally narrowed it down by the tedious process of elimination, to the resonating of a steel railing running the length of the foreshore. How bizarre! I bet that was also what the locals were thinking of me as I set my ear to a number of unlikely candidates in the course of my auditory investigation.