Fuengirola Marina

It was a cold and wet 22 hour sail from Almerimar to Fuengirola and despite wearing nearly every article of woolen clothing that I own, I felt I was sailing in the Arctic rather than the South of Spain.

With so many layers of clothing I looked like an inflated puffer fish, but despite the handicap, I still managed to keep Eileen of Avoca pointed in the right direction. Bravado aside, there really isn’t that much to do ‘on passage’ once the sails are set and the autopilot’s engaged.

Just the way I like it… There aren’t too many sporting activities that allow you to make a cup of tea or take a nap while you are at it… though upon further reflection I’ve added cricket to the list :).

Not that I was sleeping, a ready supply of RedBull and the angry buzz of my newly installed radar detector kept me wide awake as I ambled past the light off Cabo Sacratif (FL (2) 10S 25M).

I passed the time rummaging through my provisions for that ideal midnight snack, listening to insults exchanged over the radio (prompted by some bored fisherman amusing himself with incessant on-off transmitter clicks and the occasional groan), and obsessively fussing over the GPS in order to make that negligible and completely unnecessary adjustment to my course.

Surprise surprise, I didn’t run into anything, I was not attacked by pirates or sea monsters, and no rogue waves materialized. I just motored into the marina, tied Eileen to the visitors pontoon, and stepped ashore in Fuengirola. All too easy! I’ll have nothing to blog about if this keeps up.