Category: Ports of Call (Page 22 of 39)

Morocco is a country that requires a bit of patience for formalities and customs that tend to drive type A American personalities a bit crazy. Clearing into the country was the beginning. We arrived mid afternoon at the marina visitor’s pontoon, where they took our lines, secured the boat, and then we began the dance of marina paperwork, immigration paperwork, and customs paperwork. After being shuffled around a couple of offices, we were sent back to the boat and told to wait for more officials. A couple of hours later several men boarded the boat (the commandante in full uniform), took our flares and drone (both of which are not permitted in the country and are held till we leave). Everyone was very polite every step of the way, it was just a bit of disorganization and a lot of waiting for no clear reason. Ironically in that time we were given the Wi-Fi password and gate key cards, but no information whatsoever about the marina, town, or country. I can figure out anything with an internet connection, so once we had Wi-Fi I got to work.

I found directions to a phone store where we could buy a local SIM card for better internet access (only $10 for 10 GB!) and a local supermarket for provisioning. After that we were desperate for a drink, only to remember that Morocco, a Muslim country, does not serve alcohol in most establishments. Luckily Tangier is a pretty modern city, and we were able to get a couple of beers and some appetizers at a club just above the marina. Off to plan our Moroccan adventures!

For some unknown reason, Orcas (killer whales) have been interacting with sailboats in the last 3 years from the coast of France down through Portugal and Spain, and across to Morocco. They approach the boats and do anything from circling, to bumping the hull, to forcefully moving the rudder, to altogether breaking off the rudder (and at least two sailboats have been sunk – crew rescued though). It’s not entirely known why, though researchers think they are ’playing’ with the boats or potentially teaching the young how to fish for tuna (the rudder of a modern sailboat could potentially resemble the tail of a tuna and orcas bite the tail to prevent the fish from getting away).

Unfortunately we’re sailing directly through waters where boats have had interactions with serious damage done every day. Fortunately for us we have a boat bottom that is older and does not look like modern boats (particularly the rudder which is keel-hung rather than being separate), which may make us less of a target. Nonetheless, we had our orca tool kit ready. I had a rubber mallet to bang the hull (noise to make them leave), dish soap to pour in the water (might interfere with their echo location and again make them leave), and diver recall firecrackers as a last resort (bang in the water to make them leave). I’m happy to report the passage was uneventful, and I have way too much dish soap onboard now 😁.

The bigger issue for us was dodging big boat traffic entering and exiting the Med. I felt like we were playing the 80’s video game Frogger, dodging and weaving in between the big guys! And once it was over, Tangiers!

Update: the orca attacks continue daily. As we came into Tangier we heard a radio call from another sailboat reporting an ongoing attack. Just one day later, a boat was hit so hard it sank and the crew had to be rescued. What a frustrating situation…..

The Straits of Gibraltar is a relatively narrow body of water that marks the entrance to the Mediterranean. You need to carefully time your movement around the straight, avoiding any easterly winds that can make for a very uncomfortable ride. We found a weather window of three days with winds from the west, shifting to northwest, and then light and variable. We waited for the first day for seas to lie down. The second day we headed for Barbate, but hoped to get further. The swell was still substantial, but it was a good sail, and we made it to the anchorage in Bolonia, about 10 miles south of Barbate.

Oh how I wish we had an extra day here. The water was crystal clear like the Bahamas (I could watch the anchor and chain and not wonder where it lay). Right in plain view of the anchorage were the remains of a Roman amphitheater. Further down the beach was what is known to be the largest dunes in Spain, some 70 meters wide and 200 meters tall. In the distance we could see the famous Rock of Gibraltar. We could only admire from deck, as we needed to push on the next day with the last of our weather window.

From Portimao we sailed to Albufeira and then Faro. We were planning on a day sail to Mazagon, but the winds were so nice we decided to press on to Cadiz, knowing that we wouldn’t get in till late. The sailing was absolutely beautiful, but one distressing thing did happen. Throughout the late afternoon and into the evening we could hear radio calls frantic in tone but hard to understand. After a while it became clear that the message was ‘we are a fishing boat, please don’t shoot!’ The Tarifa authorities put out a call to be on the lookout for a boat with 24 migrants. It was unlikely that we would see such a boat as we were at the northern geographic boundary of the call, but it was a distressing reminder of the desperation that some are still in and the measures they take to escape.

We had planned on anchoring just outside the Cadiz marina, and we were sussing out the anchorage at 0100 (1:00am), a little blearily, when a polite voice came on the radio. It was a Cadiz pilot boat (they guide cargo and cruise ships in and out of the port) informing us that we couldn’t anchor there and had to proceed further into town. We did as instructed, passing half a dozen tiny, two-man fishing boats (at 1 AM!), and dropped the hook in what felt like the middle of the river to maintain a decent depth. After a few hours of rest, we headed into the marina. Of course we got there at lunch, and despite the reassurances by radio that someone would be around, everyone was on a lunch break. I’m proud to say we managed to maneuver ourselves to the welcome pontoon as well as to our slip without any help. Whew!

Unfortunately by now, Trip decided we needed to replace the transmission cable, as well as tweak the mixing elbow riser once again. Thus began a few days of long work during the day, followed by showers and nights out on the town (luckily the Spaniards are night owls). Cadiz is considered to be the oldest continuously inhabited town in Western Europe, and the fortifications and other artifacts are still present everywhere you look in the city. You can do self-guided walking tours of the city that walk you through the ages of the Carthaginians and onward.

And the food and wine! Portugal was good, but this was a whole new level. We would arrive at a tapas bar (Casa Manteca and La Tavernita were our personal favorites) around 8:30, where you’d order a beer or glass of wine or even sherry. And then you’d go through the tapas list. Fried shrimp fritters, iberico ham, pork cutlets in sherry sauce, octopus, spinach and chickpeas, you ordered until you were full, or ready for the next bar. Quite by accident we found La Candela, a famous local restaurant, where we wound up sitting next to Kit and Kaia, a lovely pair of Brits on holiday who took us to their favorite little bar around the corner. They explained that Cadiz was such an incredible place because it really doesn’t see many tourists. It’s 2 hours to the closest airport, and despite the number of cruise ships that pull in, I think most people board buses and head to the Jerez region to drink sherry. It makes for a really charming town that doesn’t feel overwhelmingly touristy.

A fellow friend on the dock complained just the other day: “why bother making all these new friends when you know you’re never going to see them again?” It’s true, there’s quite a few new friends we’ve made that we won’t see again, so why do we do it?

Friendships amongst cruisers tend to be fast and intense. It often starts with a nod and smile on the dock or a wave in the anchorage. You notice someone that needs help and you have just the right tool or at least a hand to lend. You start talking and find that you share a common lifestyle that many others don’t understand. You’ve had some of the same hardships and many of the same life pleasures.

And amidst all this we are so different. We’re from different countries: Sweden, Denmark, Netherlands, Germany, Portugal, Britain, France, even Russia and the US. We’re different ages: Our group of friends this season ranged from age 13 to 88. We’ve had different life experiences; from sailing with a family, to losing a loved one, newbies in the cruising community or those who have done it for decades. We have a myriad of health issues that have taught us adaptability.

And we learn from one another. We share stories and emotions. We’re there to lend an ear when someone needs to vent, or whatever else we can do to help. Tools and technical advice are certainly free-flowing. We share travel advice from the places we’ve been to those who haven’t gone yet. We share a glass or two of wine and learn about one another. In this day and age of divisiveness we come together as new friends. And maybe we won’t see many down the road. But we will see some. And we will stay in touch. Because these are the people who have touched us so.

After an overwhelming goodbye from our friends at the marina, we cast off the lines and eased our way out of the slip. (With an old heavy boat and small engine, we hate navigating around marinas, but Trip was master of the wheel.).

We had cleared out earlier in the day with Immigration, so we have a stamp in our passport that shows we’ve officially left Portugal. This is important to note, as Americans can only spend 90 days (in a rolling 180 day period) in most of Europe. We are allowed to transit, which is what we’re doing now. We’re just 7 miles east of Lagos in Portimao. We’re at anchor, and will not go ashore. We’ll hop down the coast this way, till the weather is good enough for us to cross the Strait of Gibraltar and enter Morocco via Tangiers. The time we spend in transit, and the time we spend in Africa will not count against our Schengen days (named after the city where the border treaty was signed). And thus begins the 2023 Schengen Shuffle!

Update: there are only 12 boats or so in this anchorage and 3 of them are Tayana 37’s! I posted this entertaining fact on Bob Perry’s FaceBook fan page (he’s the designer of the T37) and he nominated me as an ambassador to boost his fan page membership….😁

Despite all our work last fall, there were still new things that came up this spring. Some were small, like going up the backstay and re-doing the bracket for the man overboard pole. Others were a bit more significant, such as reattaching the transmission cable (so glad Trip had suggested firing up the engine just to test things out in the slip!). Then there was the frozen pull on the dinghy outboard (glad Trip likes to row). We’re ignoring the problems with the slow toilet till we run out of other things to solve and will then delve into that mess.

And we’re already thinking ahead to later this season. Med-style mooring involves backing into a slip. There are usually no finger pontoons (the little docks that run the partial length of the boat). We can’t back in due to the amount of hardware hanging off our stern: Low slung davits for the dinghy, and the wind vane block any means of us getting off or on the boat from the stern, so that leaves the bow. Our bowsprit rides pretty high (shoulder height I would say), so it’s not a matter of simply climbing up. Friends who have already sailed the Nordic countries with a boat that has similar issues showed us their folding stainless steel ladder – they can even climb aboard with their dog! For now we’ve created something by hanging a temporary boarding ladder off the bowsprit with the help of a step stool on the dock. It’s been pointed out that once we get into the Med we’ll see more chandleries equipped with these boarding tools to make our lives easier, and by the end of the season we’ll have it figured out.

I have no idea what triggered it (hopefully nothing from my favorite farmers market), but we were out Thursday with friends when the fever began. I had chills all night, followed by three days of not wanting to stray far from a bathroom. It’s miserable being sick in another country where things just aren’t familiar. Trip was concerned by Sunday and talked about heading to a hospital the next day. I went over to the next pontoon, where sailing friend Lisa happens to be a nurse. It’s such a relief to speak bluntly about symptoms and get an opinion from someone you trust. She gave me a probiotic, and reassured me that if I felt good enough to walk to the market, I would be fine and to let it run its course. Since then, every day has been a little bit better, and I’m looking forward to meals like the one below again.

Trip’s niece Madeleine and friend Allison only had a few days when they came to visit us, so we made the most of it and gave them a whirlwind tour of Lagos!

They came in via bus from Lisbon (with a slight mishap of getting off one stop early), so we collected them, dropped their gear off at the boat, and headed into town, We wandered out as far as Potato Beach (named for the days when fishermen and farmers would barter, often for potatoes) and then in and out of the rambling streets and alleys of town. We had a late lunch with lots of seafood, we met Lotta & her daughter Susanna for drinks and we wound up back on the boat for appetizers and drinks to finish up the evening (the girls passed out like tired puppies in the cockpit).

Monday, family friend Theresa came over and we all headed to Meia Praia (Beautiful Beach). The beach goes on for miles, and we walked the entire length and back, stopping for lunch at one of the many fun beach bars. There was lots of shell collecting done, lots of catching up, and only a little bit of avoiding the nude sunbathers at the one end of the beach. The town has put in beautiful walkways to protect the dunes, which make it even easier to get around.

Then it was back to the boat for a shower, some apps at one of the Marina pubs, and then off to Monday night darts at McCabes with fellow cruisers.

Tuesday we took one of the little local boats to tour the grottoes on the other side of town.

The grottoes are sandstone cliffs that have slowly eroded and worn away, leaving hidey holes and tiny beaches up and down the coast. I was rather grateful for a calm sea state, as well as a talented skipper who guided us in and out of the caves.

After the boat tour, we took a cab out to Praia Camilo, where we sat with a drink and just enjoyed the view. Thanks to more public walkways, we could walk along the cliffs, descending when we got to Praia Dona Ana and exploring from the edge of the beach. You can climb over and under parts of the sandstone that have worn away to give you access to the next little cove, some of which might disappear at high tide.

We grabbed lunch at a local beach bar, and then wandered back from the beaches into town to do a little shopping before heading out for our final dinner.

We saw the girls off Wednesday afternoon, and then it was back to cleaning, reorganizing, laundry and a well deserved nap! It was great having them here even for the little time that they had. Theresa came back on Saturday with her husband Rick, and we had a leisurely stroll through the farmers market, then came back to the boat, where we had lengthy conversations about all the challenges of living abroad on the fly (SIM cards for cell phones, to immigration bureaucracies, to keeping or seeking a home back in the US, etc.). Needless to say it was nice to have kindred spirits to kvetch to!

We’re back! After several months at home working, cleaning, plus whirlwind visits with friends and family, we flew back to Portugal at the end of March. First off was time with Mads and Lotta, who were kind enough to let us stay with them while we turned the boat back into something we could live on once again. We dove into the tasks of unpacking, filling the water tanks, airing out all the clothing and linens that had been packed away, installing the new batteries (were able to donate the old ones to friends who will be using them to power an electric fence or a water pump up in the mountains!), washing the boat, and generally cleaning things up. No matter how well we store things away, it always takes a few days. Linens always smell a bit stale, no matter how freshly laundered and zipped up in compression bags. A bit of mildew always forms, despite the regular airing that Mads gave over the winter, and of course there was a fine layer of dust on both the outside and inside.

In between bouts of cleaning, there were lots of trips to the farmers market and the local stores. You can only buy what you can carry, but the exercise is always nice (one of the things I really missed while back in New Jersey was the ability to walk to run errands). My lists were usually a mix of daily needs plus long term cruising supplies. The one advantage we have this season is that we don’t have any extensive, long passages planned, so will pretty much be able to provision as we go along. There’s an additional incentive not to over provision – this season promises to be some of the best eating, with Spain and Italy on the docket.

And in between it all, time to catch up with old and new friends. The live-aboard community here is a delightful one. We’ve had the chance to try Qi Gong, meet up with fellow sailors for regular happy hours, play darts at a local pub, and I even got in an afternoon of paddle boarding (I’m hoping for much more of that this season).