Ellen MacArthur – 21st Century Heroine

A brief note on Corme. Corme has lots of beaches but is a rather primitive fishing village, which is why, for the second night running we didn’t set foot on land. For the first time on this trip, however, we have crickets, indicating a move to hotter climes!

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Intelligent Dolphins

El Ferrol is a major naval and commercial port, though there is little to entertain the yachtsman on land. That said the ria has a spectacular entrance, lined by forts either side. We anchored up but didn’t go ashore, which is why I didn’t send a postcard from El Ferrol. Instead we watched the red moon replace the golden sun and change the landscape from a heady mix of green vegetation and mountains into a twinkling Rupert Bear bay.

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Senoritas & Tapas

Boy do the Spanish love to party! In the main plaza of La Coruna, Plaza de Maria Pita, a huge stage had been erected to host a number of Galician bands who played into the night: I think they eventually turned the music off at 1am, which is completely unheard of in the UK considering this was in the town centre.

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Crossing Bay Of Biscay – What’s In Store?

I’ve already mentioned the mysterious fog and its novelty factor when we first had to navigate our way through it, but one watch I undertook from 12 – 4am was no laughing matter. With the engine running due to lack of wind the sea was still but the fog extremely thick. So thick I could only just see the end of the boat, so with everyone else asleep I had no one looking out for me. I had nothing to look at except the phosphorescence illuminating the wake of the boat

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Damn Rude French Sailors

“We want to refuel, why can’t you move the boat, get it out the way” and so on, now with some added comments regarding the English thrown in Now they’re starting to p!ss me off. “Look, it’s what the English call queuing”, I pipe up. “We had to wait, now you can wait. We’ll only be a few minutes, so what’s the rush?” After all, this is sailing, not the F1 pit-stop. Now they’re cursing obscenities at me, whilst some English sailors on the pontoon join in. “Aha”, I smile, “some support from some fellow English chaps”. Turns out they’re starting to have a go at me as well.

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The Galley Bitch Gets The Chop

Leaving L’Aber Wrach we’re totally surrounded by fog. Not just patches of fog, as the shipping forecast had warned us, but fog banks. This reduces visibility down to around 50 metres, making our first leg of the journey very taxing. As I said previously L’Aber Wrach is notorious for its rocky banks and hard-to-negotiate channels, so with limited visibility we really were relying on the Skipper’s expertise.

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