27th May - Almerimar

Soundtrack: The wind whistling in the rigging as a fresh northeasterly funnels through the marina. We won’t be tackling Cabo de Gata until a change in the wind direction which is forecast for Sunday 31st.

High Point: Our visit to Granada to see the Alhambra palace – our two-day stay in the city is a good break from the boat and a fascinating history lesson. Seeing a splendid bronze astrolabe in the Archeological Museum, we’re struck by the idea that if it wasn’t for Moorish scientific knowledge (much of it lost during the Catholic reconquista), perhaps Columbus would not have found his way across the Atlantic. The train to Granada took us north around the mountains of the Sierra Nevada, passing dozens of wind turbines and PV installations in the uplands. On our return we took the bus down a series of dizzying viaducts to Motril and then along the coast to El Ejido. We are shocked to see the scale of plasticultura and the inevitable environmental degradation it brings about - 64,000 acres in this region are covered in polythene canopies to grow fruit and vegetables all year round. Yet another reason (if one is needed) to stick to buying local produce in season.

Low Point: Trying to get online using the marina’s frustratingly intermittent wifi connection. Standing on the coachroof with the PC balanced on the boom is not the best way to send email and Skype was unworkable.

Slowly but surely, the boat is getting shipshape. The peeling varnish has gone and after hours of sanding, the brightwork now boasts several coats of Teak Wonder – so-called because we wonder what’s in it? We’ve gone for the low maintenance option as it’s such a chore to keep the varnish looking respectable in the strong sunlight. Everything on deck and down below has had a thorough spring clean. A broken hinge fixed here, a duff electrical connection replaced there - and we’re starting to feel like things won’t come away in our hands any more.

The longer we stay in one place, we more we can relate to the story of Odysseus and the sirens. Many boats here have caught the bug and are clearly not going to move on again. The signs are obvious – a TV satellite dish, a pet cat sitting on deck, sometimes even a car parked close by. Their owners have succumbed to the twin sirens of home comforts and familiar surroundings. We are not immune either, and quickly get used to the convenience of the local shops, the lavanderia and shore power on tap. We must get on up the coast before we join them....

20th May - Almerimar

Soundtrack: Above us dozens of swifts are shrieking as they swoop and circle to feed – keeping down the mosquito population with any luck.

High Point: Stopping here in Almerimar for a few days. We’ve been on the move every day but one since leaving Ayamonte, and it’s good to have a break for a while – to catch up with family, get the washing done, stock up with food. The marina is home to many liveaboards, so we find it has everything we need.

Low point: The exorbitant cost of a berth at Motril means a change to our plan of staying there while we visit the Alhambra Palace in Granada. We are forced to go on to Almerimar instead. Unfortunately the forecast is for easterlies – dead on the nose.

From Caleta de Valez, we motorsail our way along the coast to Motril in flat calm and hazy sunshine. We’re surprised to see some snow still lingering on the summits of the Sierra Nevada. Many of the foothills below the mountains have been terraced to make room for rows of plastic covered greenhouses in which they grow tomatoes, peppers, courgettes, strawberries all year round. This unsustainable practice known as plasticultura is to meet northern Europe’s insatiable demand for out of season produce. It exports much of this region’s irreplaceable water and pays a pittance to immigrant labourers whilst generating profits for the likes of Tesco. Not a pretty picture.

Motril is a large commercial harbour which is also used by cruise ships bringing visitors to Granada – my parents came here a few years ago for that reason. There’s a small Club Nautico in the northwest corner. The good news is we’re given a berth on a proper finger pontoon, but the bad news is it’s quite rolly and ridiculously expensive. The place has an abandoned air about it. The clubhouse is closed and not a single boat appears to have anyone on board. We are the only visitors, apart from a French boat that tried to anchor nearby, but was moved on by the harbour master. All the forecasts we download from the HF radio say the same thing – easterlies, anything up to F5. The thought of head banging 38 miles to windward next day is deeply depressing.

In the event we get a foretaste of what to expect when sailing in the Med. The wind is up and down, mainly on the nose. At times it changes direction by 180 degrees, but it stays stubbornly forward of the beam. So the passage to Almerimar is a story of sails up, sails down, reefs in, reefs out, and despite all that effort, the engine is running most of the way. Very slow and tedious.

We’re looking forward to going ashore tomorrow to spend a couple of nights seeing the sights of Granada.

17th May - Caleta de Valez

Soundtrack: Kids chattering as they throw crisps to the fish in Caleta de Velez marina. They are standing on the pavement just four feet from our cockpit. We are squeezed into the tightest berth imaginable at the far end of a blind alley where the water ends and the rocks begin. How on earth we’ll extricate ourselves in the morning is anyone’s guess as there’s no room to turn.

High Point: Eating the first loaf of fresh bread we’ve baked on passage for lunch. We spent two hours spent gently drifting two miles off the coast while we had lunch and a snooze. Only the distant sound of the traffic on the autovia del Sol disturbed the peace.

Low Point: No wind at all today – we had to motor all the way from Benalmadena.

With the wind variable and due to turn easterly in the next day or two, we’ve had to do a fair bit of motoring the last couple of days to get ourselves along the Costa del Sol. Last night we were in Benalmadena, a 1,000 berth marina close to Torremolinos. The tight-packed rows of apartment blocks along the coast are a complete eyesore, and we are chastened by the thought of people saving up all year to spend their holidays here.

Benalmadena marina is buzzing with boats of all shapes and sizes. Our berth by the entrance is a perfect place to watch everyone come and go. A Ronnie Biggs look-alike drives past in a 53 foot Princess; girls in bikinis are having a party on the foredeck of a catamaran amid blaring pop music; a heavily tattooed skinhead kicks up spray on a jetski; five Frenchmen emerge from a tiny red sailing boat; a Chinese junk goes in and out a couple of times taking trippers out for a ride. The centrepiece of the marina is a pseudo-Moorish development of apartments each with their own berth. The water in the marina is disgusting, so it must come as a shock to find a cesspit on your doorstep when you’ve paid a fortune for one of them.

We’re enjoying the contrast here in Caleta. The resort is small and family-minded, with hardly a foreign tourist in sight. And we’ve had solar powered showers tonight!

15th May - Marbella

Soundtrack: Harry has creaked all day while he’s kept us on course to get here. There are a couple of blocks on the Aries that are crying out for a thorough oiling.

High Point: It’s my birthday today and we are in the Med as we planned! Honor has given me two books which are going to be much more enjoyable to read than the ones onboard which came from the Ayamonte book-swap and Bovey’s charity shop – thank you Hons!

Low Point: Yesterday’s passage from Barbate round Tarifa and up the Strait of Gibraltar – in drizzle, poor visibility and (how surprising) a good dose of wind.

We spent last night in the new yacht marina in Algeciras, which Colin’s Gibraltar pilot states has little to offer the passing yachtsman. He’s right! We moored up alongside the wall ahead of another English yacht, told by the marinero that it was OK (and free!) to stay there the night. There are no facilities but with the commercial port out of sight and hearing, and a good view across the bay to the Rock in the evening light, we’re happy. Two port police officers tried to spoil it later by saying we couldn’t stay after all, but after some discussion – and some strong words from the Spanish speaker in the English boat – they relented and left us in peace.

We make an early start to weave our way through the anchored ships in Gibraltar harbour and around Europa Point tight inshore. The wreck of a large ship is lying on the rocks at the foot of the lighthouse with only its superstructure visible and we wonder how it managed to wind up there. Then we are past the Rock and in the Med! Belfield is redundant, the tidal clock can go into a locker, the sun is out and we are making good progress under the trusty yankee downwind to Marbella.

By lunchtime the wind has got up to 25 knots and the swell has increased a good deal. It’s not long before we find ourselves slaloming down the surf off the entrance to Marbella marina to come to a crash stop alongside the reception pontoon just inside. The marinero observes that even more wind is forecast for later!

Going ashore in the evening to celebrate my birthday, we are struck by the noise of traffic and the crowds of people out enjoying themselves. We feel strangely detached as if living in our little secluded world has set us apart somehow. However it doesn’t stop us enjoying some delicious seafood in the delightful little Plaza Altamirana, with purple bougainvillia flowers tumbling from the balcony above us.

11th May - Rota

Soundtrack: The stern line is creaking regularly as it stretches when the boat moves back and forth in our berth in Rota marina.

High Point: Getting under way at last.

Low Point: It’s hard to say which episode in the last 24 hours was worst – J’s abrupt and unexpected departure; running aground; or getting a line caught around the prop. There have been hard lessons to learn from them all. If trouble comes in threes, we should be OK for a while – maybe……..

Sunday, the day set for our departure from Ayamonte dawned grey and blustery. Our 25kg Bugel keeping us anchored in the face of the wind and the spring flood in the Guadiana river gives us real confidence in its holding power. Five days off-grid anchored in the river waiting for a westerly in the Strait of Gibraltar has given us many insights about living within our carrying capacity for power, water, etc. J’s expertise on battery management, RE generation and so on is extremely welcome, but it’s clear that his and Leighton’s approach to problem solving is very different. We didn’t realise this was getting J down until he suddenly announced much to our surprise that he wanted to leave the boat immediately in Ayamonte and fly home. No amount of persuasion would get him to change his mind. We’re upset and very sorry he feels this way, because he has worked so hard to help us. Much of what’s been done could not have happened without him, and we’ll miss him.

We feel pretty emotionally drained as we say farewell to him and Niels (who’s putting him up on his boat for the night) and unprepared for the 95 mile overnight passage to Barbate which we’d planned. But we reckon moving on is going to be the best way to put the upset behind us. The pair of us are downbeat as we cross the bar of the Guadiana river one last time and we decide to sail instead to Rota, 65 miles away.

The SW3-4 gives us a gentle passage overnight with the light of the full moon for company. Picking our way through the Cadiz fishing fleet in the early hours, we decide to go on to Barbate after all. But by first light, the wind’s gone round southerly and we’re motorsailing into it. Rather than continue we turn back for Rota only 7 miles away to the north.

Because we’re tired and we’ve been into the harbour many times before, neither of us checks the state of the tide and we don’t even turn on the depth guage. I’m on the helm as we grind to a halt on the putty close to the seawall that forms the port hand entrance to the marina. We soon realise it’s still ebbing. Oh dear. Despite giving her full revs and unrolling the jib to give us an extra push, we’re stuck fast, and despite a call for help to the marina, they can’t do anything for us either. We look out anxiously for the high speed Cadiz ferry which will have trouble getting in to the harbour with us in the way.

Help comes in the form of a small fishing boat with a couple of good Samaritans onboard – a fisherman and his lad. After several fruitless attempts, eventually our combined efforts pay off and we float free. The lad drops the towing line overboard by accident and seconds later – kerchunk! – the engine stops as the rope wraps itself around the prop. The wall on the other side of the marina entrance is getting perilously closer and closer as we slowly drift downwind without power. Leighton is poised to drop the anchor but our fisherman friend - confident his tiny outboard will pull us out of trouble - persuades him to throw another line instead so he can take us in tow. He is not to know we weigh 14 tons! He makes no headway to begin with, during which time I’m imagining the boat smashed against the wall, a total loss, us homeless. It seems like an eternity before Makarma’s bow comes round and slowly we begin to inch towards the shelter of the marina.

Coming alongside downwind without the power to stop seems a trivial matter after the ordeal we’ve gone through. The smiles of relief say it all. We crash, shattered, into our bunk and sleep for an hour. Later Leighton dives down to untangle the rope, and once it was clear he found both prop and shaft undamaged – phew!

1st May – Ayamonte marina

Soundtrack: Are we human, or are we dancers? A catchy tune with bizarre lyrics which is on the playlist of the local radio station. Heaven knows who the singer is.

Since we’d expected to spend two weeks in the boatyard, we’ve still got loads of jobs to do before we set off. We’ve decided to return to Ayamonte as we know where to get things like stainless screws; epoxy; high temperature hose and other of life’s essentials. Moreover Chris’s invaluable workshop is nearby. And there are easterlies for the next week in the Strait of Gibraltar, so there’s no point heading south until the wind’s gone round the other way.

While painting the side-decks, I have a grandstand seat to watch some of the people who are staying here too. I reflect that the marina is microcosm of the types of yachtie folk you find everywhere.

There’s Nigel who’s so boat proud he’s terrified of going anywhere in case it will spoil the gleaming finish on his motoryacht. He’s got no takers to go with him to Seville since he doesn’t allow anyone to use the loo onboard. Maureen is chatting to the neighbours as usual. She knows everyone’s business as a long-term resident of the pontoon. She hates sailing but can be relied on to offer drinks/gossip/scandal to anyone who’s interested. Nils, who’s a retired IBM systems analyst is the resident computer expert, sharing out the latest wifi gear and his work to identify satellite images of anchorages in the Med. Alongside Daphne is cheerfully polishing an anchor windlass in marigolds as if she’s cleaning the bath back home. A Spanish guy with a seriously hairy chest, wraparound shades and flowered Bermuda shorts is pressure washing the bimini on his motorboat across the pontoon, while his girlfriend smokes a cigarette with a bored expression on her face. And the rest of us? We’re just enjoying the sunshine, fixing things on our boats, and anxiously looking at the forecast to decide when’s the best time to leave. I think it will be next weekend for us.