Chocks Away.......

Gibraltar

Well here we are, GS raising a sweat just doing the dishes.  But we just don’t care.  Were in Gibraltar.  Yes indeed, nestled under the World's most famous rock in a tidy marina berth.

Portimao fishing fleet heads home plus a cloud of greedy gulls

After a rocky ride from Lagos, we set WJ3’s hook (after remembering to switch the windlass on…whoops!) in Portimao in time to celebrate his Captainship’s birthday.  Pleas to Immigration officials to have our stay in Portugal extended early fell on deaf ears.  So, wagon ho, let’s gets this show on the road.  Gibraltar here we come!

We had a pleasant motor sail to Faro, dodging our first tunny net – a large and complex maze of heavy nets buoyed by masses of high-viz orange buoys.  Not good form to have it wrapped in our new prop on day one!  We then slid through the boiling currents and upwellings at Cabo de Santa Maria to a nice little anchorage in the tidal lagoons inside Culatra Island.  Culatra is a barrier island protecting a vast swampy area; a haven for shellfish, fish and birds of all kinds.  And giant mosquitoes too!   The Cap’n, scented faintly of flyspray, was a nervous wreck the next morning….

Dodging fishing boats off Cadiz, Spain too!

The weather was good; the current was right and distance now do-able in a (long) day. Let’s head for Cadiz.  I think we even sailed for a bit.  A string of deep water fish traps showed us the way and kept us on watch.  Spain put on its finest off-shore fog about 10 miles out.  We should have taken this as a sign of things to come but sailed on happily (ignorant) into an anchorage in Cadiz Bay near Puerto Sherry.  An energetic Sunday crowd cleared not long after we anchored, leaving us to swim peacefully in warm bay waters. The Atlantic is still quite cold for this time of year. 

Time to explore Cadiz on the way back!  Next stop Barbate, or so we thought!  Poor WJ3 bounced into the wind all the way out of the bay, dodging hazards aplenty round the famous Castillo de San Sebastian.  Now is the time folks, to re-read your stories of the famous Admiral Lord Nelson!  We are most certainly in his famous battlegrounds. 

Spanish sunset and the fishing fleet is off on the hunt

Grumpy wind gods seemed to follow us south along the coast until at last, our Cap’n could set a decent sail.  And so it was for some several hours.  We were lulled into a false sense of hope and as we neared Barbate decided to join a couple of other yachts who were clearly making a run through the Gibraltar Strait.   Bye bye Barbate…

Somehow we missed the bit in the Pilot that said Tarifa has 30-40kt winds 300 days of the year.  We could see a clear wind line ahead in the distance toward Tarifa.  Not only that, it was blowing east and the tide was running west.  Sigh!  We’re in for a rough ride.  No turning back!  We closed in to Tarifa’s point, still hurtling along at 7kts, and then were dragged on 2½kts more of current, through into the MED!!  Yessssss! 

Trying to find a Rock in a fog....

No sooner had we turned the corner than the winds eased, leaving us to admire a boiling, bubbling, swelling waterway.  Of course, as winds eased and the sun set, a nice fog settled in.  We strained to keep sight of freighters, ferries, and large fishing boats as we picked our way to a northern anchorage in Gibraltar Bay. 

The usual recriminations of course – don’t sleep late; make a plan; don’t sail into an unknown port at night…blah blah blah!  Still, we made it.  And as we set anchor, a well-lit Rock face revealed itself, just a little, just enough.  We were so excited!     

Here it is!  Take down that yellow flag.  WJ3's cleared in at Marina Bay!

From: Lagos, Portugal   Lat/Long: 37:06.3950N  08:40.2380W   Date/Time: 18/07/12: 1155
To: Gibraltar  Lat/Long: 36:08.2089630N  05:31.2270W   Date/Time: 24/07/12: 1245

Time Taken: 211.5nm (34hrs)  Distance (this year): 221nm (34hrs)

Distance Total (since 2008): 10448.5nm   Weather: Wind around the dial, up to 28kts at Tarifa.    

Fastest Speed: Riding the torrent through the Straits of Gibraltar 7.5kts SOG 9.5kts

(Blogger seems to hate tables.  WJ3’s Log format has been changed so as not to upset the vagaries of html.)

Cats 'n Bags

Lagos, Portugal

Well don’t look now, but I think we are about to splash – any day soon – truly! 

We took advantage of a windless day and put sails up.  The Cap’n has been tinkering with WJ3’s engines and our credit card made the yard bill go away; painless for now.   Yes, the cat may well be out of the bag….

Even the boatyard ducks are talking about us....

Storking Off

Welcome to Faro's Old City

Faro, Portugal

Another week, another cultural event!  This one by train to Faro, situated mid-way along the curve of the Algarve coast.  Faro’s history goes back to prehistoric times; surrounding marshland and barrier islands providing protection and a ready food supply for stone-age types.  Romans settled here too calling their port city Ossonoba and later the town continued to prosper under Moorish occupation.  Afonso III recaptured the city in 1249, returning it to Portuguese possession only to have it sacked and burned by the Earl of Essex in 1596.  Despite damage from the 1755 earthquake, Faro was designated the Algarve capital (in lieu of Lagos) in 1756.  Now it supports an international airport, accommodates a thriving tourist industry, guards the flanks of huge nature reserve, and remains a busy administrative centre.  We thought Faro retains a distinctly Portuguese character (despite an influx of Brits) and having sat in the train rattling over Mediterranean scenery of rolling hills, orange groves, grape vines and small subsistence farms, we thought we had a better appreciation for the Algarve’s personality too.

Faro's Small Boat Harbour with train along its walls

We began our tour with coffee (in the Portuguese style of course) overlooking the boat harbour and walls of the old city.  A few masts stood high out in the lagoon’s calm waters; there is no marina in Faro, it’s far too shallow.  Refreshed, we sauntered around the old walls before exploring narrow cobbled streets within.  The Bishop’s Palace and Se (Cathedral) flank a large open square lined with orange trees, groaning with fruit.  An old man sat under one, calmly watching the day to day goings on, his quiet reverie disturbed briefly by a grey tabby asking permission to share his perch. 

Renaissance Era Convent

Next we visited the Municipal Museum housed in a former convent.  The picturesque two storey Renaissance cloister (1540) houses a collection of grand paintings of saints, religious statuary and coats of arms, heavily carved in stone.  Modern exhibitions, including a stunning paper collaged face by graffiti artist Mollek, contrasted with marble busts of stern-looking Roman emperors.  One of Faro’s best local finds however was a 3^rd c mosaic floor dug from the mud near the railway station.  Poseidon it seems, favours sea ports, fisherman and their boats (hopefully sail boats too!) through many ages.

I say darling, it's a great view from our nest up here!

After taking lunch in a shady square, we walked on through the Arco da Vila, an arch built on the site of a medieval castle gate.  Huge storks, it seems, have a fondness for local marshes, bell towers, chimneys and historical buildings.  A serene pair enjoyed their splendid view from on high above the Arco da Vila.

Cherubs everywhere!

Lunch is taken seriously in Faro; many of the museums did not reopen until 2.30 or even 3, so we were forced to linger by the harbour-side.  Beer prices here were certainly not the same as happy hour in Lagos, the Cap’n noted!   We whiled away a little more time walking through the pedestrianised shopping area, rather larger than Lagos and busier than Portimao, before heading to the Ethnographic Museum.  GS was hoping for a textile fix, and it was to some degree, but focused on weaving, braiding and basketry.  A special exhibition was devoted to naturopathic medicines, mostly herbal, but Cap’n Claw was not inspired to try one for his still sensitive wrist.

Ingreja do Carmo & cobbled square

Our final stop was the Ingreja do Carmo (not another church) but this one held a surprise.  Aside from an over-the-top, gold leaf clad, Baroque interior, it housed a small chapel built from the bones of monks.  Yes, 1245 skulls line the interior walls and ceilings; leg or arm bones add a further “decorative” touch.  A cemetery around the church was partly removed in 1816, in the name of progress no doubt, and the Chapel of Bones built as a memorial to remind sinners of their destiny.  A sign above the doorway asks of its visitors, “Stop here and think of this fate that will befall you.”  

I think I'm being watched?

On that philosophical note, we made for the station (wondering what other ruins, Roman or otherwise, lay beneath its floors) and snored our way back to Lagos in the afternoon heat.  We’re really getting into living this local life….

Not Another Loop

Lagos, Portugal

Having successfully completed one cultural foray, it was soon time for another – only on two wheels not four.  This time we intended to explore locally and the Cap’t agreed, on the proviso that said excursion included a “full English breakfast” (rather too easy to find in this part of the world!). 

Up-River Lagos

Lagos is a port town of Roman origin on the Rio Bensafrim. Later, Moors built a fort here to service Al-Gharb, the western edge of their Islamic empire.  The town too was greatly involved in Prince Henry’s exploratory endeavours, providing a protective harbour, shipyard and source of experienced seamen (most probably fishermen who quickly learnt to sail the superfast caravels). Local sailor, Gil Eanes of Lagos was the first to round Cape Bojador to open up the Africa coast for further exploration.  Once trade routes were established, Lagos merchants went in search of spices, gold and slaves.  The town grew to become the capital of the Algarve (1576-1756) until its unfortunate demise in the 1755 earthquake.

Forte Ponta da Bandeira

We started with the 17^th century and at the foot of the harbour.  Tiny Forte Ponta da Bandeira had an amazing azulejos-covered chapel and inventive modern wind sculptures on the roof.  Sadly, we learned little about the fort itself, but rather were swept along in some longstanding rivalry over Prince Henry’s navigation school and discussion about whether indeed Henry was a man of science.  Quelle horreur! You mean the man didn’t have a degree or two!

A small chapel within the fortifications

Small town politics aside, we rode on out to Ponta de Piedale. From this windblown precipice, we had an excellent view of clear water grottoes and sandstone karst “‘islands” far below.  This was clearly part of the well-trodden tourist trail and given the crowds, we suspected a cruise ship had docked in Portimao. 

Trippin' the Grottoes

Back to the old city, we biked around the narrow cobbled streets, trying to keep the 16^th c ramparts in view.  This led us away from tourist haunts and into neighbourhoods of tiny terraced homes, some built against those sheltering walls.  We couldn’t make our way into the Governor’s Castle with its hospital barricade however managed to find Santo Antonio, an 18^th c church given completely over to a museum. The church interior is flowering baroque; a swathe of blue azulejos, carvings of exuberant cherubs (well-endowed young ladies rather than mere chubby-cheeked babes, I might add!) and a tangle of shrubbery, painted and gilded within an inch of its life.  Behind is a busy collection of ephemera that seems more “boy’s room” than museum. Fossils, shells, coins, stamps, paintings, African, Roman and prehistoric artefacts are all crammed in. Thankfully, any pickled beasts (with 3 eyes or 7 legs) in jam jars were hidden from view.  GS would like to have known more about weaving and lace samples but docents were busy humouring groups. 

Back Streets of Lagos - within the old city walls and a delight to walk

Back out into the Algarve’s dazzling daylight, we walked downhill to the square where Henry the Navigator sits, amid fountains and contemporary sculptures, contemplating the meaning of life in these modern times.  

After a quick run through Santa Maria, the Parish Church of Lagos and a walk beside 8^th c Moorish wall segments to the Regimental Stores, we were ready for some afternoon refreshments.  “Not before we see the 1441 Slave Market” said GS.  With a few African beads, a skeleton, cardboard covered walls and a slowly morphing face of Henry, we were thankful for some written commentary on Portugal’s participation in slavery at least. They need not worry though, they certainly did not invent it.  Time for a beer…

Gil Eanes does Manga in the City Square

So we did and sat behind Henry wistfully looking out to sea and over the 4km of Meia Praia – the beach just behind WJ3, contemplating life beyond the boatyard.