It was a perfect Bodrum morning. The sky was blue, the birds were singing and everyone was smiling. We had agreed to put Esper in the water after lunchtime, around 2ish, bearing in mind that in Turkey “around 2 o’clock” is a very elastic concept…
Launch And Naming Ceremony! Read Post »
As we approached the Essex coast we ran out of fuel. Well, we didn’t run out of fuel, the second tank wasn’t feeding fuel to the engine for some reason. With this in mind the skipper wasn’t happy sailing all the way back to Burnham with no diesel so we made a detour up the Orwell with the aim of pulling in to Levington to refuel. It was closer and the wind was in our favour. Or so we thought. Are you ready for this?
Everything Just Went Horribly Wrong Read Post »
Unfortunately I was made to sleep in the saloon, which was odd since there was a spare bunk at the back of the boat. It didn’t really bother me until I realised I hadn’t brought any sleeping gear with me! Ooops – school boy error. The one pain in the ass feature with the drop keel is the big column that sticks up in the middle of the saloon – the drop keel. And when I say pain the ass I mean it. The first time I eased myself down the steps backwards into the saloon I dropped straight onto the steel column, smashing my coccyx. Another school boy error!
I started the morning off hunting for a fishing line. The local fishing shop was closed (I thought fishermen got up early) so I hung around the fisherman’s pontoon, looking like I was after a different type of cruise. A bloke walked past in wellies, arms loaded with tats – gotta be a fisherman, I thought – so I asked him if he could help. Sure enough he was about to head out to sea for a day’s work so I wandered down to his boat with him, chatting skate and whiting.
Tattooed Fishermen & Gay Sailors Read Post »
With a high tide and strong winds the cycle ride became a very wet fairground ride as huge waves battered the sea walls, splashing up to 20ft high and spraying anyone in its path. Like four hung-over pratts on bikes. The trick was all about timing, something that Tim didn’t have, unfortunately for him and his clothes.
Biking Around In Cascais Read Post »
The petrol head from Manchester who now lives in Abersoch, Wales. Dave has owned more cars than I’ve had hot dinners, and he’s owned as many boats as he’s owned cars, so he’s got through more engines than I’ve had hot AND cold dinners. In fact he’s owned so many sea-faring vessels he can even boast to owning a pedalo. Until someone nicked it.
Instead I had to consider the possibility of staying in Albufeira. Ever heard of it? I had, and it conjured up images of Club 18-30 slags and warm lager.
Albufeira. Club 18-30 Here We Come! Read Post »
And then we entered the Algarve. If ever a country demonstrated a distinction between the north and the south then Portugal must surely be the most extreme. The north, mountainous, green and lush is dominated by tradition and culture. It’s very poor.
The Cultural Divide Of Portugal Read Post »
