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.
Monday 27th April – in the Marina Guadiana boatyard, Portugal
Soundtrack: The sound of waves washing against the beach below Makarma’s perch high on the hard. From the cockpit there’s a fantastic view to the north up the Guadiana, and in the other direction – to the open sea.
High Point: Hot water! Four years after getting a calorifier at the Beaulieu boat jumble, the two engineers onboard have got it wired and plumbed in. Despite dire warnings about running out of water, we’re enjoying the luxury of it.
Low Point: Getting a black eye by banging my head on the gearbox – I think it was the gearbox anyway – while working in the black hole of the engine compartment. This is in the process of replacing the anode bolts which go through the hull. They are buried deep behind the engine out of reach of any normal human. Black sikaflex to seal the holes is smeared everywhere before a nut has to graunch down on each bolt. Leighton manages to tighten the first nut but seeing the effort it cost him, it’s obvious that the smallest person onboard is going to have to do the other one. Black eye, hands covered in sikaflex, and shoulders screaming with pain. Are we having fun yet?
We have a day’s delay getting lifted out of the water as the boatyard is overbooked. And they insist on getting us back in on the 27th, when we’d booked to stay until 6th May. We’re going to have to cram more work in the four days than we would normally do in ten. The minute the boat’s been parked and pressure washed, we get cracking with the antifouling. Another pair of hands is absolutely invaluable, and work progresses quickly. The trouble is, it is like having the builders in, except there’s nowhere to escape the disruption – floorboards up; tools everywhere; electrics off; wet paint on deck. Absolutely ghastly for as long as it lasts, and we’re forced to eat out one night as cooking is impossible. One night someone nicked our ladder, leaving us stranded onboard. For someone used to dropping out of helicopters, it’s no problem to shin down a rope to the ground and get it back, but it’s a nasty moment.
High Point: Hot water! Four years after getting a calorifier at the Beaulieu boat jumble, the two engineers onboard have got it wired and plumbed in. Despite dire warnings about running out of water, we’re enjoying the luxury of it.
Low Point: Getting a black eye by banging my head on the gearbox – I think it was the gearbox anyway – while working in the black hole of the engine compartment. This is in the process of replacing the anode bolts which go through the hull. They are buried deep behind the engine out of reach of any normal human. Black sikaflex to seal the holes is smeared everywhere before a nut has to graunch down on each bolt. Leighton manages to tighten the first nut but seeing the effort it cost him, it’s obvious that the smallest person onboard is going to have to do the other one. Black eye, hands covered in sikaflex, and shoulders screaming with pain. Are we having fun yet?
We have a day’s delay getting lifted out of the water as the boatyard is overbooked. And they insist on getting us back in on the 27th, when we’d booked to stay until 6th May. We’re going to have to cram more work in the four days than we would normally do in ten. The minute the boat’s been parked and pressure washed, we get cracking with the antifouling. Another pair of hands is absolutely invaluable, and work progresses quickly. The trouble is, it is like having the builders in, except there’s nowhere to escape the disruption – floorboards up; tools everywhere; electrics off; wet paint on deck. Absolutely ghastly for as long as it lasts, and we’re forced to eat out one night as cooking is impossible. One night someone nicked our ladder, leaving us stranded onboard. For someone used to dropping out of helicopters, it’s no problem to shin down a rope to the ground and get it back, but it’s a nasty moment.
Sunday 19th April – farewell to Ayamonte
Soundtrack: The main halyard is gently slapping against the mast, and there’s a brief commotion ashore as a handful of kids drag their optimists up the slipway of the sailing school. Otherwise it’s absolutely quiet.
High Point: Getting under way at last – and the sun’s come out! A number of our neighbours assembled on the pontoon to pay us a fond farewell and to wish us good sailing. We shall miss the camaraderie of the other boats berthed here but it’s time to go. We certainly never expected to spend three winters in Ayamonte marina, but now finally we’re off! We’re just going along the coast a little way for a shakedown sail before returning to the river to lift out at Vila Real next week.
Low point: Torrential rain on Friday night, which produced some serious drips in inconvenient places down below. It brings home to us that the poor old boat needs quite a bit of tlc to bring her up to scratch. Whilst she’s been sitting here patiently waiting for us to decide to come and live aboard, she’s been going slowly downhill.
We’re sitting at anchor at Tavira in Portugal. We’ve had a cracking sail to get here this morning. A gentle drift downwind under the yankee to get out of the Guadiana river, followed by a boisterous beam reach in a northerly F5, bringing us to the sheltered lagoon between Tavira island and the mainland by lunchtime. Trip distance is 16 miles. Jason had a go at fishing with the shiny new lures without success – he’s now going to try his hand with the lobster pot.
A low-lying sandy island protects us from the sea. It appears uninhabited, although the dumpy little ferryboat is plying back and forth carrying plenty of passengers. A faded blue fishing boat lies abandoned in the scrub some distance above the bank beside us. From here we can see the white buildings and orange roofs of Tavira a mile or so inland with the torn paper outline of hills beyond. The town boasts a fine Roman bridge which we’ve crossed before on the way to Faro. A concrete pontoon, the lifeboat station and a couple of cafes complete the picture.
High Point: Getting under way at last – and the sun’s come out! A number of our neighbours assembled on the pontoon to pay us a fond farewell and to wish us good sailing. We shall miss the camaraderie of the other boats berthed here but it’s time to go. We certainly never expected to spend three winters in Ayamonte marina, but now finally we’re off! We’re just going along the coast a little way for a shakedown sail before returning to the river to lift out at Vila Real next week.
Low point: Torrential rain on Friday night, which produced some serious drips in inconvenient places down below. It brings home to us that the poor old boat needs quite a bit of tlc to bring her up to scratch. Whilst she’s been sitting here patiently waiting for us to decide to come and live aboard, she’s been going slowly downhill.
We’re sitting at anchor at Tavira in Portugal. We’ve had a cracking sail to get here this morning. A gentle drift downwind under the yankee to get out of the Guadiana river, followed by a boisterous beam reach in a northerly F5, bringing us to the sheltered lagoon between Tavira island and the mainland by lunchtime. Trip distance is 16 miles. Jason had a go at fishing with the shiny new lures without success – he’s now going to try his hand with the lobster pot.
A low-lying sandy island protects us from the sea. It appears uninhabited, although the dumpy little ferryboat is plying back and forth carrying plenty of passengers. A faded blue fishing boat lies abandoned in the scrub some distance above the bank beside us. From here we can see the white buildings and orange roofs of Tavira a mile or so inland with the torn paper outline of hills beyond. The town boasts a fine Roman bridge which we’ve crossed before on the way to Faro. A concrete pontoon, the lifeboat station and a couple of cafes complete the picture.
Thursday 16th April – farewell to Bovey
Soundtrack: I wake at 6am to the sound of a car alarm up the street. It is almost drowned out by the dawn chorus in full and glorious voice.
High Point: Finally getting rid of the car, which overheated 30 minutes after its new owner drove it away. We managed to persuade him to keep the car, but only by meeting the cost of the repairs to the radiator and water pump.
Low Point: saying goodbye to my parents, friends and neighbours. Casting off the ties that bind us to the shore is painful, making it hard to leave, despite the fact that we’re realising a long-held dream to go.
Leighton left on Monday for the boat, leaving me with two clear days to pack the last things and clean and shut up the house. There’s still a few jobs to do this morning before Jason and Kirsten come to take me to the airport. Jason is flying down with me to spend a few weeks aboard with us. He’s offered to help Leighton install the solar hot water, and we hope to give him some sailing as well. Better get on…..
High Point: Finally getting rid of the car, which overheated 30 minutes after its new owner drove it away. We managed to persuade him to keep the car, but only by meeting the cost of the repairs to the radiator and water pump.
Low Point: saying goodbye to my parents, friends and neighbours. Casting off the ties that bind us to the shore is painful, making it hard to leave, despite the fact that we’re realising a long-held dream to go.
Leighton left on Monday for the boat, leaving me with two clear days to pack the last things and clean and shut up the house. There’s still a few jobs to do this morning before Jason and Kirsten come to take me to the airport. Jason is flying down with me to spend a few weeks aboard with us. He’s offered to help Leighton install the solar hot water, and we hope to give him some sailing as well. Better get on…..
3rd April Bovey Tracey - 10 days to go
High Point: Finally getting our 30kg box of boat bits shipped to Ayamonte after packing and repacking it several times and numerous attempts to find a carrier.
Low Point: Lying awake last night thinking about everything still to do and worrying about what could go wrong.
Soundtrack: Outside, the pair of pigeons nesting in the tree in the drive are calling to each other; there's a distant buzz of a lawnmower.
The good thing about going away is that it's galvanised us into seeing more of our friends. Suzie and Craig (last seen 15 years ago!) came specially down from Westbury to visit us. Last weekend I went to London to say goodbye to Edd, staying overnight with Jane before going on to see Liz and Tom and their growing household in Surrey. This week it's been lunch with David and Elizabeth, and a visit to Dartmouth to see Chris and Jenny. Each in their own way has been a source of inspiration and encouragement to us, and knowing they wish us well will sustain us in the months ahead.
Today is a glorious spring day, the G20 protests in London have passed without a call from Edd to say he's been arrested, and its beginning to sink in that we really are embarking on a life-changing adventure. My feelings veer from trepidation to excitement. Roll on departure!
Low Point: Lying awake last night thinking about everything still to do and worrying about what could go wrong.
Soundtrack: Outside, the pair of pigeons nesting in the tree in the drive are calling to each other; there's a distant buzz of a lawnmower.
The good thing about going away is that it's galvanised us into seeing more of our friends. Suzie and Craig (last seen 15 years ago!) came specially down from Westbury to visit us. Last weekend I went to London to say goodbye to Edd, staying overnight with Jane before going on to see Liz and Tom and their growing household in Surrey. This week it's been lunch with David and Elizabeth, and a visit to Dartmouth to see Chris and Jenny. Each in their own way has been a source of inspiration and encouragement to us, and knowing they wish us well will sustain us in the months ahead.
Today is a glorious spring day, the G20 protests in London have passed without a call from Edd to say he's been arrested, and its beginning to sink in that we really are embarking on a life-changing adventure. My feelings veer from trepidation to excitement. Roll on departure!
23rd March - No stopping us now
Forget one year away - we've rented the house for a minimum of three! No turning back now......but I think we'll get back to Devon every winter for a couple of months. The boat pile just keeps growing, and I don't think Flybe (sorry everyone!) is going to be excited about checking in our tins of varnish and assorted boat bits. Notice there's no mention of clothes, shoes and the rest of the usual paraphernalia.....there's something strangely liberating about getting down to the bare essentials......
High point - Audrey has agreed to be chair of Bovey Climate Action pending the AGM, which makes me really happy that I am dispensible. All our community work is at long last coming to an end, giving us more time to concentrate on prepping the house and boat.
Low point - a seriously wobbly moment caused by a major row with Leighton over the mountain of stuff we have to pack. Thankfully all sorted now we've hired a 20ft container in a local banana warehouse. Fiona has lent us a transit van and two of her Polish workers to help us get everything moved.
High point - Audrey has agreed to be chair of Bovey Climate Action pending the AGM, which makes me really happy that I am dispensible. All our community work is at long last coming to an end, giving us more time to concentrate on prepping the house and boat.
Low point - a seriously wobbly moment caused by a major row with Leighton over the mountain of stuff we have to pack. Thankfully all sorted now we've hired a 20ft container in a local banana warehouse. Fiona has lent us a transit van and two of her Polish workers to help us get everything moved.
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