You just can’t get the crew these days!
Friday 17th July
The scenery along the northern coast of Mallorca is incredible, cliffs soar straight out of the water 300m into the air. The rock is a jumble of tilted layers, pocked cliff faces, huge dislodged slabs, holes and caves. They demonstrate every aspect of corrosion and would make a fabulous living geography lesson. The sea is crystal clear and an inky royal blue, pine trees line the deep valleys and grow on every possible ledge. We sail mouths open, completely agog at such splendor, cameras clicking.
We left Soller via the fuel dock. Penny and Stephen went into town for fresh bread and fruit, Rick and I slipped the lines at our berth and tied up for fuel. There was just a light breeze and no current but still, we congratulated ourselves on our slick docking. With so little wind over the last month, Raya has basically become a motor boat, we are using our fuel quickly but life especially at anchor is a bit cheaper than expected and we still seem to be on budget.
We were told the Cala De la Calobra, a few miles up the coast was not to be missed, so having topped up with fuel we motored north west. The bay was narrow, it’s sides towering cliffs, we searched for words to describe it, savagely beautiful, awe inspiring, dominating………
As we crept further in we were pleased to see that only three yachts were anchored but as we got closer we saw the beach was absolutely heaving with people.
At the back of the cove there is a dramatic valley where a river winds its way down to the sea, there are caves to explore and a tunnel system that runs straight through the huge cliffs. It has become one of Mallorca’s must see tourist spots.
Please excuse my rant, but knowing the pebbly beach and its shallow area of shore is so small, the tour guides that bring the hordes by bus and pleasure boat are just taking advantage of them. We swam ashore there wasn’t an inch to move, the beach and swimming area were full of rubbish, it was not a pleasant place to be. Everyone was complaining, they obviously all felt well and truly exploited, the grandeur of the location just couldn’t be appreciated. Surely the tour operators should be limited on how many trips come each day and then be made to clear up the mess that is left behind!
We moved on quickly and motored to Cala Foradada, an anchorage with no beach, no roads, no restaurant we anchored behind a jagged L-shaped cliff with a massive hole in its face, finally we had found a quiet spot. As the boats around us left in the normal evening exodus, for a moment we had the bay to ourselves. Unfortunately two other yachts arrived, but with just three boats around we had a peaceful night.
Saturday morning we headed southwest towards Palma. As we rounding the top corner of Mallorca, slipping between the mainland and Isla Dragonera things began to get busier, we spent a night in Cala Llamp and called into Andraitx for supplies. As Penny and Stephen leave tomorrow we gave them the option of carrying on towards Palma or returning to the peace of the north. They voted to turn back so we are now re-anchored in Cala Foradada.
We tried to do a bit of actual sailing yesterday, Penny and Stephen will be joining us for the Panama to Galapagos leg next year and they wanted to get some confidence with the sails, lines and furling systems on Raya, hopefully there won’t be much call for their new anchoring and motoring skills on our 900 nm passage. For a while the wind toyed with us at around 10kts. Being in no rush we let the wind dictate our journey. They did manage a bit of time each at the helm and a few tacks but the presence of the breeze was brief and soon we were wallowing with sails flapping and we were back motor sailing.
It is Monday morning, all is quiet except for the bleating of a family of goats in the hills above us – they obviously haven’t read the early morning peacefulness guide. We had a steamy night and this morning the wind gauge actually reads zero, still it does mean we don’t need to find sheltered anchorages, life is hot but relaxed.
Thursday 16th July
We had a lovely night sail to Mallorca Tuesday night. We had left Cala Salona for the other side of Formentera where reportedly there was a supermarket close to the anchorage at Cala Pujols. We entered another beautiful bay with again turquoise sea and dramatic cliffs, these full of caves and nooks and crannies.
We headed for shore to get some lunch and stock up the cupboards, we spotted a rough stone jetty to the west of the main beach, keen not to have to park the dingy on the beach we diverted and tied up. Above, was what looked at first sight to be just another beach cafe but turned out to be a delightful, if a trifle expensive restaurant – Chez Gerdi. The meal started with a complimentary glass of Cava and a small portion of gazpacho, as we perused the menu the discussion turned to putting off our night sail and enjoying a long boozy lunch and an afternoon snooze. It is such a privilege to have such freedom – “it’s nice here let’s stay”. As it turned out we had a long but unboozy lunch, got to the supermarket, Penny satisfied her shopping itch in the local boutiques and with the anchorage again filling with yachts we decided to set sail, leaving just an hour later than planned.
It was Stephens first night sail and the first for many years for Penny, they couldn’t have asked for a more enchanting night. An hour after leaving we were treated to a magnificent sunset, the sky was full of wispy clouds that reflected amazing colors long after the sun had disappeared.
And, we were actually sailing for the first time in days, squeezing 5-6kts out of the 11kts of wind.
As darkness fell, being a moonless night, the stars were spectacular. We managed to sail for nearly six hours but gradually the wind died and we were forced to turn the motor on again. The wind was on the beam and the sea calm, so we had little heal and the ride was smooth. During our watches there was enough traffic to keep us interested and awake and the boys on watch at 6am were treated to the sun rising above the cliffs of Mallorca. Penny and I had dolphins swimming at our bow, one turned his head and looked us straight in the eye, we both agreed he’d come to say hello.
We are now in Puerto Soller on the north coast of Mallorca, when we arrived yesterday we were keen to get tied up to a dock for the night, to fill with water, dump rubbish, get some wifi etc. etc. and we needed to top up with fuel. The marina was full but we managed to reserve a berth for the next night. The area outside the marina was crowded so we tucked ourselves under the cliffs in a protected corner and anchored in 20m just out of the bay, where we had space to ourselves. It is all very pretty and as Penny commented “not a bad place to queue for petrol”.
While we ate supper we were joined by another Oyster, who promptly turned on all his deck and spreader lights. We decided to join the party and switched on ours, as it turned out it was entirely appropriate. Our guide book tells us that the 15th July is the day for the local festival of the Virgin de Carmen. The Bay was surrounded by torch lights, fireworks were lit and a small water borne procession carrying the Madonna a blaze with light, bizarrely they past us just a few feet from our stern, our brightly lit mast greeting them.
Puerto Soller is a nice little town with all the facilities we need, so once stern to on our berth we set about our tasks for the day. It is so hot and so much more humid here that even the smallest effort makes us drip with sweat, so we work slowly. We miss being at anchor and being able to cool off in the sea but it is much easier to lug the shopping and laundry on and off the boat while tied up.
In the evening we took the tram five miles inland to the old village of Soller to explore and find supper. The area was once a wealthy and thriving orange and lemon exporting port and we travel up the valley passing obviously once grand villas and acres of citrus groves. The village itself had a gentle feel to it, the normal narrow streets and a typical overly large church, all built of mellow colored stone. We ate in a charming courtyard garden behind a small hotel, and decided this was a good introduction to Mallorca.
Monday 13th July
I love that we wake each morning to a different view. I am often first up on the boat, in fact, sometimes it is so quiet and still, it feels as if I’m the first up in the whole of Spain. This morning the sea was calm, there was hardly a breath of wind and it was silent except for the continuous gentle lapping of the sea on the rocks. I did have one fellow early riser, a fisherman bobbing up and down in the distance, but the beach was empty.
My view today, as I emerged sleepy eyed through the companion way, was of the huge slab of rock, Vedra Island. It is rumored to have been used for the photography for South Pacific’s Bali Hai and this morning it looked fantastic in the early light and was crowned with a puff of white cloud.
An hour later I could begin to feel the warmth of the rising sun on my back and Vedra’s veil had been burnt off. As other sailors emerge from the yachts around me, the peacefulness seems to demand quiet and everyone is talking in hushed tones, slipping rather than diving in for their morning swim and much like me sitting on the deck quietly enjoying the view, even the gulls seem to be respecting the silence.
As we and the day move on, we become re-immersed in the madness that is Ibiza. We sailed to Fomentera, an Island, joined by a string of rocky islets to the Southern end of Ibiza. Our guide book written in 2011 describes it as being quieter and less busy than the main Island, that alas, is no longer the case.
The bay, Cala Sahona, is shallow and the water turquoise, the beach is of white sand and the cliffs are orange and patterned by ancient striations, it would be beautiful – but for the crowds. It is a mystery to me why so many boats, many expensive large motor yachts, all congregate in the same anchorage for the day. At times the boats are so closely anchored together no one can relax for fear of bumping into each other, skippers sit at the helm anxiously watching the ballet of swinging yachts around them. Swimming far from the yacht is foolhardy as jet ski’s, dingy’s and small motor boats weave their way between the spaces and there is hardly a square foot spare on the beach.
We would move on but we plan to sail to Mallorca tomorrow evening, Penny and Stephen, who joined us yesterday, are keen to do a night sail and this is the only convenient sheltered anchorage for tonight. As the evening approaches the boats thin slightly and we manage to move to an emptier spot, but a noisy flotilla of charter yachts has joined us and the peace of the this morning seems a distant memory.
The past week has been spent circumnavigating Ibiza, sailing from one cala (cove) to another. They really are beautiful it’s just a shame that at the head of each one the beach areas are so built up. Sitting in our cockpit if you look one way there is just blue sea, dramatic cliffs and tree covered hills.

In the other direction are hotels, some high rise others more tasteful, beach bars, restaurants and people, so many people. Every inch of beach is covered in sun beds and sunshades, the buoyed off swimming area is full of swimmers and the restaurants are buzzing. Around us speed boats whiz by pulling kids on floating toys or water skiers, leisure boats come in and out ferrying people on glass bottom boat trips, trips to the next bay, trips out to the islands and then, there are the pedal boats. In what circumstances did someone sit down and actually think – I know what the world needs, a pedal boat shaped like a car with a slide on top?
We could really do with going into the marina for a day or two but the prices here are bonkers. The lowest quote for a night we have had is €300 plus water and electricity, three hundred Euros to tie up to a floating piece of wood and use their loos, I think there is a bit of a mismatch in supply and demand. To put that in context I think the very highest fees in the UK are about £70 a day and the main Marina in Palma has just quoted us €120.
So we are at anchor. It’s amazing, day to day, how little we notice the essentials we rely on. That is until you don’t have them, long term anchoring does bring with it a few practical problems.
Water, we can make our own fresh water from sea water to drink, shower, wash up, clean the decks, do the laundry etc etc., and with just two of us onboard we seem to have plenty.
Food, we are using the dingy to go ashore for essentials at the small resort supermarkets, using our stored supplies and are justifying eating out more often than planned, by the fact that anchoring is free.
Rubbish, which builds up surprisingly quickly, despite it being just the two of us, we are taking ashore and using the local bins. This is something we need to think about for the Atlantic crossing, food waste and glass can go into the sea but plastic and similar waste will have to be stored somewhere.
Toilets, we try and use the toilets ashore when possible, we have holding tanks so we can use the toilets onboard until they are full when we either have to sail offshore far enough to empty them or call into a marina to have them pumped out.
Internet, we have a satellite connection, but it is slow and expensive, we use it to download emails to the boat address and grib files ( a type of weather report ), but for anything else we have to take our tech ashore and find a bar that has wifi that we can use. Not so brilliant for blog writing!
Crew changes, Matt and Robyn we put ashore at one of the east coast resorts, dropping them and their bags at a rickety few sticks on the rocks that we managed to tie the dingy too. Yesterday we had to pull the dingy up on to the beach, obviously not far enough, while ashore the sea got rougher and when we returned it was full of water. Penny and Stephen arrive tomorrow so we are sailing to San Antonio today to try and find a better solution to get them and their bags onboard.
Routine maintenance, there is always something not working on a boat, people joke that cruising is boat maintenance in exotic places.

Yesterday Rick spent a few hours trying to get to the bottom of the problem of our unreliable air conditioning. This would have been much easier had the boat not been rocking and rolling every time a another boat came past, although being at anchor did mean he could dive under the boat to clean the water intakes.
In the anchorage around us there are boats of every shape and size. Some are small yachts, and actually not so small yachts, that I’m sure would love to have watermakers and salitalite coms and others are huge super yachts that have a full staff and no doubt all the amenities of a large hotel. Raya is designed for long term cruising, there is nothing we are desperate for, we are living very comfortably and we love the relaxed nature of being at anchor, I suspect however we will be looking forward to a few nights tied to a pontoon by the time we reach Mallorca.
Sunday 5th July
We have finally arrived in the Ibiza.
I am constantly surprised by how changeable the weather conditions are and how badly the weather forecasts predict things. We left Saturday morning having waved Rachael off on the Alicante Airport shuttle bus from Torrovieja the night before. The conditions and forecast was for F4 winds with a 1m swell the wind direction was not great but it was time to get away from the mainland and we prepared ourselves mentally for a slow slog. Within a couple of hours the wind was up to 30kts with a large swell breaking over the bows. We were managing to sail quite fast with reefed main, the staysail and a bit of engine to keep us as high to the wind as possible but were sailing more North than was ideal. By late afternoon we were all feeling quite tired and I was stealing myself to go below and heat through the Rissoto I had prepared for supper. We are still taking seasickness pills for long or rough passages but I think we have pretty much found our sea legs. A huge relief for me having been sea sick all my life and with my less than auspicious start across Biscay. So it wasn’t the problem of queasiness bothering me as much as managing to move about below and keep hot pans safe.
One benifit of our northerly direction was that we had pretty much followed the coastline and looking at the chart we saw that we could dive behind Punta de la Escaleta that would hopefully give us a bit of protection from the wind and swell and drop the anchor. This would give us time to rest and allow us to eat without deviating from our course too far. The long beach here is Playa de Benidorm and as we came in closer it revealed itself, through the haze, in all its “splendor”. Dozen upon dozen of tall sky scrapers built amongst the rocky headlands with the high hills behind, it looked rather like a set of a Scifi movie.
With Matt to help with watches, the night passed quickly and we all got some sleep, when I came on deck to relieve him at 6am the lights and islands of Ibiza were clearly visible.
We took a look at the marina at San Antonio but decided that we could do without another day surrounded by boats and apartment blocks and went just a few miles up the island to Cala Salada, where I sit now.
We have spent the day swimming and resting, watching the goings on of the other boats including the super yacht anchored next to us. Our nephew Jason who is holidaying in one of the resorts nearby came with a couple of friends to the bay and Matt picked them up in our dingy for a look around Raya. For supper we went back into the bay to eat at the small restaurant.
At one point the afternoon swimming came to an abrupt halt, when Matt took this selfie. My son is mad, we have just identified it as a mature Pelagia Noctiluca, a glow in the dark jelly fish that can give a very painful sting which leaves a mark on the skin. Luckily this one seems to have been asleep!
Matt arrived in Almerimar with a tummy bug, looking rather grey and weak from his journey, then not to be out done Rachael woke the next morning feeling just as bad. So with Robyn only having been on the boat once before and my two sick, it was just as well we had planned a “settling in sail” for their first day. We headed to an anchorage just 30 nm away, tucked inside Cabo de Gata. Rachael spent the first hour or so below decks and when she came up to the cockpit and saw the view, the blueness of the sea and the sky, her smile was a picture and I sighed in relief, both were on the mend.
It was an extremely hot afternoon, with little wind and we all relished the cooling water, the sea temperature has risen six degrees since we left Gibralta now reading 25 but still raising a yelp as we dive off the boat. Rach, Matt and I swam over to the cliffs and snorkeled around the rocky shore, I was pleased to see that there were a surprisingly large number of fish, last time I was in the Med there hardly seemed to be a fish in sight. I love swimming off the boat, Rachael had asked me earlier in the day what was the best and worse things about our new life and diving into clear blue seas has got to be one of my favorite best things, however as I searched for another snorkel, I realized that one of the things I hate is the cupboards, lockers etc having to be so full and well packed, every time you want anything you have to empty them first!
The day ended with us being treated to a magnificent sunset.
Monday morning, everyone was feeling much better and up for the day and a half crossing to Ibiza, the wind was strong enough at 12 knots to sail but was right on the nose, so back on came the motor. It was a nice day however with the breeze tempering the heat of the sun and dolphins around to keep us entertained, we motored on for four hours but the going was very slow.
Team Raya went into conference, no flights were booked yet, the Costa Brava Pilot (sailing guide book) indicated that there were some nice anchorages to the northwest of us, the Port of Cartagena with its vast history lay further north and there was an easy flight for Rach from Alicante on Friday night. We turned west and went where the wind was blowing us and finally got the sails full. We had a fantastic two hour sail and anchored for the night at Cala Bardina, a pretty bay well protected from the NE winds by the 244m high headland of Mt Cope.
The next day again with the wind blowing directly at us we motor sailed for five hours to reach Cartagena. We had one anxious moment as we fell foul of an extremely aggressive fishing trawler. Having taken a wide turn to keep clear of him, we thought we were well past any trouble, but I guess his fish finder indicated a new shoal right where we were, as he suddenly started coming up behind us at about fifteen knots. Even on full throttle we can’t do much more than eight knots we tried to turn away but he came very, very close indeed.
Half an hour later we entered the bay outside Cartagena, we were surrounded by steep barren hills, a huge refinery, anchored tankers and sparcely spaced industry. Our chart plotter indicated that we were heading for the entrance of Peuto de Cartagena, but not until the last minute did the entrance reveal itself. The town has proved to be much the same, real gems of antiquity and great modern architecture, sitting hidden amongst ugly buildings and derelict areas. There is hardly any other tourist around, unfortunate for the city I guess but a refreshing change for us after the past weeks sailing up the crowded Costa del Sol.
The Roman theatre was the highlight, it had been rediscovered when a slum section of the city was being demolished in the 1960’s. The Ministry of Culture has done a great job of reconstructing some areas using pieces of the original material intermingled with new sections, to create an idea of what some areas of it would have looked like, but cleverly showing where the old ends and the new begins. Not an easy job, as in about the 13th century many of the marble blocks and columns were broken up and turned on their side to create the foundations of new building works.
Hot and tired we were drawn to the dark cool interior of a nearby bar, the kids recognized the name – La Catedral from their research, as one of the best restaurants in town and so it proved, we stayed for a fantastic lunch.
NOTE TO SELF – if you want to continue to fit into your clothes, you can’t eat and drink like you are on holiday for the whole of the next few years!
We have spent the past few days sailing up the coast of the Costa del Sol. The few hundred metre strip that lies between the sea and the steep craggy hills inland, is shockingly built up. Apartment block, after apartment block after apartment block, interspersed with huge holiday home complexes and stark fronted hotels follow the coastline for miles and miles. Rick and I sit wondering where all the people come from to fill such an abundance of accommodation. There did look to be an incredible coast road to bring all the crowds, we have glimpsed it frequently for almost the whole of the three days sailing, winding its way through the hills and across the valleys on a string of high bridges.
The back drop may have been unchanging but the weather and sailing conditions have not, as everybody has told us the wind here appears to be all or nothing.
We left Duquesa on Tuesday having said goodbye to Phil and Julia and thanked Kieth and Dianne for a fantastic evening in there beautiful villa, grateful that we seemed to have a bit of wind at last. As soon as we left the marina we realized that we had in fact more than just a bit of wind, it was almost directly behind us, so we flew just the Genoa and the boat sailed along happily at about seven knots. The swell was however right on the beam (side of the boat) so we were rocking and rolling quite vigorously from side to side, preparation of lunch was a bit harder than normal, luckily Diane had given us the left overs from the BBQ the night before and so I could just pop a sausage in a roll with some HP sauce, job done.
As the afternoon progressed the winds built until we were well reefed in F6-7 we spotted one gust of 60kts, the swell increased as well with one wave actually crashing over the rear quarter into the cockpit. Needless to say we were happy to arrive and tie up at Puerto Feungirola.The wind continued to howl through the night and the forecast for the next day was for much of the same so we holed up and spent the day catching up on the myriad jobs that have built up over the last couple of weeks including giving the dingy some much needed love and attention.
What a difference a day makes, we left early on Wednesday morning heading to an anchorage in the bay at Herradura. There was absolutely no wind and a thick mist came down, hanging heavily in the air, it was quite surreal motoring through a completely still and silent sea, surrounded by nothingness. We were both struggling to keep watch, our eyes straining to find something in the whiteness, grateful again for the AIS system and with our main sail up, not in the hope of it driving us forward, but to make us more visible. We were compensated by the arrival of a huge pod of dolphins, our path took us right through the middle of them, there were dolphins everywhere.
We woke to another day of zero winds but thankfully the mist didn’t reappear and we had quite a magical sail, well motor. The sea was dead flat and appeared almost like oil as it reflected the sun, we hardly spotted another vessel for the whole of the six hours, it was as if we had the coast to ourselves, with just the dolphins for company. Again we saw dozens of them, including a mother and calf that swam in our bow wave for a few minutes just under my feet! The landscape had become even more hilly and quite dramatic in places. The buildings had thinned out but been replaced with equally ugly acres of plastic, forming giant polytunnels that meet the demand for fruit and vegetables by the supermarkets of Northern Europe.
Matt, Robyn and Rachael have just arrived (unfortunately Hugo has just started a new job and was unable to join us) and we are planning to head towards Ibiza over the next couple of days.
As we approached Gibralta we had radioed ahead to Marina Bay, they had no space for us and so we diverted to Queensway Quay. What luck, it was extremely nice, the staff were friendly and helpful, the showers were good and although it was surrounded by the ubiquitous blocks of apartments the environment was pleasant, and all for only £26 a night!! On the quay were five or six good restaurants some serving full English breakfasts, steaks, ribs and chicken a welcome change from the fish, fish, or fish we have had for the past few weeks.
After a day or two of chores, chandlery, provisions, hair cuts etc… Friday we put on our tourist hats and took the cable car to the top of the rock. Here we enjoyed the view and watched the macaques, while a cloud, that would eventually veil the peaks of the rock, formed in front of our eyes. It was fascinating, a fast stream of mist rose from the Mediterranean side of the cliff, much like someone was boiling a giant kettle just the other side of the ridge and gathered into a cloud above us.
First stop was the St Micheals cave complex, they were incredible. Unfortunately, the powers that be had decided that they would be enhanced by playing a continuous light show, flooding our soroundings with a fluorescent rainbow of colors. They were wrong, the grandeur of the cathedral sized cavern with thousands of stalactites hanging like giant organ pipes needed nothing to enhance them but a bit of white light.
Emerging back into the sunlight, we set out to walk the couple of kilometers to the other end of the rock to find the war tunnels that riddle its heart. When Rick, Mathew and I were here about eight years ago, we equally eagerly set off downwards to explore, but got completely lost and ended near the bottom at a very tall locked gate, there was no way we could even contemplate walking back upwards, so had no choice but to climb over. I clearly remember being perched fifteen foot up, Matt who’d hopped over like one of the monkeys egging me on from one side and Rick encouraging me on from the other and I thinking to myself – I’m too old for all this. So it was with some trepidation, now even older, that I started off on the badly signed paths again. Luckily this time around we did make it to the tunnels, if with slightly sore feet and knees from our steep decent. The tunnels are certainly a great feat of engineering that have protected Gibraltar for over three hundred years, but left me, in my rather weary state, uninspired.
Saturday morning we motored out of Queensway Quay and around the corner to the fuel docks to top up our tanks with duty free diesel. We had been beaten to it by two very large boats who were just starting to fill up, now it takes us about an hour to fill our tanks, so these guys were going to take ages. Keeping a boat still, untied up, is extremely difficult, so forming an orderly queue with another two boats that were waiting, was not a attractive prospect. We weren’t desperate for fuel, just wishing to take advantage of the cheaper prices, so we abandoned the idea and with Julia at the helm we rounded the Rock into the Med.
Not a breath of wind greeted us and the sea was glassy smooth with just a gentle swell.
As we said goodbye to Gibralta, in the distance, we passed four or five pods of Dolphins swimming towards the straights and before we knew it we had covered the 12 nm to our anchorage just north of Sotogrande.
Here the gentle swell became a bit more noticeable but determined to enjoy ourselves we braved the cool water to have a swim and took the dingy out for a whizz around the bay. We had a lovely evening, we cooked, drank wine and relaxed to the melodious sounds of Katy Meula and Simon and Garfunkel.
We are now moored in Puerto de La Duquesa, tonight we are visiting some friends with a villa nearby and tomorrow Phil and Julia say goodbye. Hopefully they have had a good time, just a shame we only managed a couple of hours of actual sailing with them. I have just watched as they confidently stepped up to take the lines for a boat coming in opposite us, something they definitely wouldn’t have even thought to do a week ago.
Wednesday 17th June
What a fantastic day we had yesterday.
The story really started on Monday evening, we’d spent the day sightseeing in Cadiz and were planning to spend a final day in El Peurto de Santa Maria to enjoy the beach and sample the sherry made in the town. My first job, however, was to create a passage plan and I started by downloading the weather forecasts for places en route – Barbarte, Tarifa and Gibraltar. As I swiped through the pages my heart dropped, the predominant colors as the week went on were changing from greens and yellows – F2-3’s to oranges and reds -F5-7’s. Now we have done plenty of sailing in such winds and the boat is more than up to it but for this trip there were two differences, firstly the wind direction and swell were both from the east which meant we would be sailing right into both, which translates into a hard and wet sail. And secondly, and most importantly, we have Phil and Julia onboard neither of whom have ever sailed before and we were keen not to put them off from the first day.
We decided if we sailed Tuesday and Wednesday we could make it to Gibraltar in two hops and beat the weather. So it was all hands on deck as we prepared the boat and new crew. We went through the safety checks and the procedure with the fenders and lines when we leave and arrive in port, Phil and I created the passage plan and we tidied and stowed everything downstairs. By 10.30pm we and the boat were ready. With our alarms set for 5.30am, timimgs dictated by the tides as always, we went to our beds.
As we set off for our first stop, Barbarte, it was still dark. A surprising fact is that Gibraltar, at 6 degrees W, is further west than Plymouth at 4 degrees W, with the clocks being I hr ahead this makes for dark mornings and long light evenings.
As we motored out of The Bay of Cadiz a fantastic sunrise accompanied us. Phil and Julia apprehensive about the day ahead, Rick and I a little downhearted about the lack of wind and the prospect of another day motoring something we have had to do a little too much of recently.
Well we did end up motoring most of the way but that was the only downside of the day. We started off in fleeces and ended the day in t-shirts always warm enough and never too hot. We had clear blue skies and apart from a small swell the sea was calm, almost glassy at points. It was even calm enough for Julia and I to sit and enjoy the view on the forward deck.
We were having a great time enjoying the sunshine and the back drop of the Spanish hills and beaches, we were much closer to land than we have often been because the coastline is deep here and with the motor on (absolutely no wind!) our route was not dictated by the sails. Everything was going so well and we were making such good progress that we decided not to stop at Barbarte and push on straight to Gib. For a couple of hours we managed to get the sails up, we had perfect conditions, I’m afraid Phil and Julia may have got the wrong idea about this sailing lark.
But the real excitement was yet to come, as we approached Tarifa, Rick spotted a large dolphin off the starboard bow, it was odd for a dolphins to be swimming alone and not to approach the boat and we quickly realized it was in fact much further away and actually a whale. Then the whole pod revealed itself, about ten members we think, including a mother and calf that swam and dived in unison. They gave us an incredible show for about half an hour, at one point one was only 50m from the boat, we couldn’t believe our luck. A quick look at our Sea Mammals of the World identification book revealed them as a pod of killer whales and in fact the Straits of Gibralar is a hot spot for sightings. Almost impossible to get a good photo, below is our best attempt.
On our right we spotted land – Africa, the first land we have had out at sea to starboard since we left Plymouth, the huge cliffs and mountains of Morroco. And then the Straights of Gibraltar came into view an impossibly small gap from afar. We negotiated a stream of fishing boats returning to Tarifa and entered Gibaltar bay.
The dreaded stern to mooring was achieved without drama by Captain Ricky and the well earned cold beer drunk. Quietly we congratulated ourselves, stage one completed. We always, when explaining our route, would say glibly “we will hop down the south coast to Plymouth, across the Bay of Bicay, down the coast of Portugal and around the corner to Gibraltar before entering the Med”. Never could we have imagined what an adventure it would be and this is, very much, just the beginning.
We are currently moored in El Puerto de Santa Maria, Real Club Nautica (Royal Yacht club). As members ourselves of the Royal Southampton Yacht Club we can fly a Blue Ensign instead of the normal red one. We are not really into the minefield that is flag etiquette but with our red flag fraying badly and in need of repair we have been discussing using it.
As we now find ourselves tied up, on show, right outside the restaurant and bar of the Real Club Nautico, where by the amount of flags around they obviously are into such things, we decided to put it up and as it turns out it does looks rather good, dare I note – that it really goes well with the blue color scheme.
We wandered into town and again flags were on display everywhere. Below is the cathedral where flags were not the only thing flying. If you look very carefully at the turrets you will see numerous storks that have built their nests precariously on the spires and statues.

Back at the boat we discovered one disadvantage of our mooring here. Something that at home I hardly even thought about, turns out to be a real mission on the boat, the laundry. Despite Ricks kind efforts to wear just one T shirt for as long as humanly possible, it still builds up.
So every couple of marinas we visit we have the delight of spending hours and Euros in the laundry facilities. We do have a small washing machine onboard but not a tumble dryer and Rick takes some persuading to let me hang it out over the boat. Here in our prominent position in the marina even I agree that we couldn’t really cover the decks and rigging with our freshly washed bedding – luxury yacht or Chinese laundry?
Hooray, we finally have Internet!
Saturday 13th June
We enjoyed Tuesday and Wednesday night at anchor, it was extremely peaceful. Despite being under the flight path for Faro airport, the frequent passing of the local ferry service and all the fishing boats zooming around, it was still somehow quiet. We enjoyed not having to deal with the marina authorities, not having the pressure of parking and really liked being 50m rather than 5ft from the nearest boat. All with the added bonus of being free.
We anchored in a channel, cutting through the wetlands south of Faro and Olhao, off the small island of Culatura. Culatura is little more than a sand bank and there seemed to be more tiny fishing boats in its harbour than houses in the village, I think we can guess the main source of income on the Island. There were a couple of restaurants serving excellent fish, of course, catering for the locals, the few anchored yachtsmen and a dribble of tourists arriving on the ferrys from Faro to enjoy the beaches on its southern shore.
There were no cars, the roads were made of sand and the pavements were wooden board walks. The small store next to us at lunch was been stocked by tractor that carried goods up from the dock and a friendly scavenging dog wandered around the tables. It was all slightly ramshackle, unhurried, authentic.
When we are at anchor our dingy is the equivalent of our car, and we carry it on davits, a crane like construction on the back of the boat. I always love travelling in the dingy it somehow seems adventurous. Of course it is essential for us, without it when ashore we couldn’t get back to our boat and conscience of the fact that it and the 20hp outboard are and look brand new we have a strong cable and padlock to secure it. Having taken lunch and wandered around the island not only did it feel an unnecessary precaution it almost seemed insulting.
Wednesday evening the wind got up, we anxiously sat on deck keeping an eye on the orientation of our neighbours but we just gently swung left and right and our anchor held fast. The small French boat behind us began to drag and had to re-anchor but on the whole the muddy bottom gave good holding and the night past without incident.
Next morning we upped anchor, taking a good quantity of the mud with us and set off towards Cadiz, one of the places on our route I’m keen to visit. The channel we were in was quite shallow, so we needed to leave around high tide, which was at 11am. This meant that sailing the eighty nautical miles directly to Cadiz would have us arriving in the middle of the night. So instead we planned to stop halfway at, as it turned out, a rather soulless modern marina in Mazagon. But it did the job, giving us a good nights rest and we arrived at Puerto de Santa Maria yacht club at four pm yesterday. There is a ferry that runs regularly to the old town of Cadiz and the yacht club apparently has lots of facilities including a swimming pool we can use and on Sunday Phil and Julia arrive to join us for ten days.
And it has reasonable wifi.
Where to next?
The World may be our Oyster, but our Oyster has a deep draft, so some of the more shallow marinas and anchorages are off limits. Added to that we are trying to work out the best places for our friends and family to join us over the next couple of weeks, carefull planning is required.
We have been kicking our heals in Lagos, waiting for an engineer to look at our freezer. It died on us almost as soon as we left Southampton and typically as soon as he arrived, we switched it on and it began to work perfectly. The problem now is whether, having lost all its contents once, to risk refilling it or not.
To pass the time we have been enjoying the great beaches, swimming and walking. I was surprised to spot all these common plants we attempt to grow in our moist, fertile soil, growing wild in the sand dunes. It certainly makes you wonder why we spend a fortune on compost and fertiliser!?
We never really settled in Cascais and never got agreement on quite how to pronounce it. We felt a bit ripped off by the high marina fees, almost double everywhere else we have been so far, for the least appealing spot we have had. Our berth was right under the high marina wall, next to that area of water that all marinas seem to have, where all the rubbish and scum collects. The showers were not great either, I’m rapidly becoming an expert at what features make a marina shower good and having to press a knob to get the water to run, that turns off every 30 seconds, is definitely not one of them. And last but not least the free wifi was so weak it was almost unusable.
The town and bay were very pretty but very much a holiday town full of cheap Kiss Me Quick souvenir shops, restaurants tempting you in with pictures of the food – never a sign of high gourmet standards I find – and at the weekend it was full to bursting with day trippers from Lisbon.
But enough moaning, with a bit of effort we did find some fantastic food, Italian on a secluded roof terrace, bizarrely one of the best Indian meals we have had for a long time and we spent a very pleasant evening in the wonderfully named Douche Bar, discovered and thoroughly researched by Brad and Duncan, where we ate amongst other things fantastic grilled sardines. The hilly streets were paved in mosaic, as is common in Portugal, but many of the lanes were laid in wavy black and white patterns that were fun to look at but slightly disconcerting to walk over, especially after a couple of bottles of Portugal’s finest. There were three very nice beaches to explore, we did have a paddle and ate ice-cream but the water needed to be quite a few degrees warmer to tempt us in for a swim.
After Brad and Duncan left us we considered moving out into the bay and anchoring for a day or two, but those pesky north winds were still plaguing us and often reached F6-7 in the evening. We decided with our first night sail with just the two of us planned for the next day, a night checking our anchor was holding, was probably not the most restful way to prepare.
The crux of our passage plan was to round the headland – Cabo de Sao Vicente in the morning when the winds would be at there lightness, which meant leaving at about 2pm. I cooked a chorizo, potato and pea stew an easy dish to reheat for our supper, Rick filled our water tanks and we cast off. We were surprised by the chill of the north wind and were quickly back wearing three or four layers. The sea quickly built as we travelled further offshore but the wind was slightly lighter than we were use to and it took us a while to set the sails so they were comfortable. We ended up with the main slightly reefed, out wide on a preventer line and the Genoa full on the other side, with wind directly behind us, we goose winged down the Portugueese Coast for about twelve hours. The AIS told us there were plenty of boats about, but only a couple of fishing boats and one tanker came into view. We had a 72ft yacht sailing the same route as us, he was about five nautical miles behind when we first spotted it on the screen and to ‘this is not a race’ Smith’s delight didn’t manage to catch us, in fact if anything we pulled ahead. We had a bright full moon and during his early morning watch Rick was honoured with a performance from a dolphin somersaulting out of the water, framed perfectly in the shimmering moonlight.
We didn’t do a very good job at getting much sleep. With someone always needing to be awake we opted for a three hour watch system. When I was on watch Rick tried to get some sleep in the salon so he was within easy reach if I needed him and I conscious of the fact that he wasn’t getting much sleep felt I needed to cut short my off watch periods to support him, I think we only managed about two hours each. Room for improvement but everything we do at present is such a steep learning curve and everything needs time to be worked out.
I have read many a time how turning the corner at San Vicente is a a real milestone and that everything becomes easier but we weren’t quite prepared for the dramaticness of this change. One minute we are fully reefed with 3m swells and white horses, just half an hour later we had calm blue sea and as the dawn turned into the morning the temperature rose steadily. Of course we paid for this by a drop in the wind and eventually had to put the engine on but to be honest we were more than ready for a bit of easy motor sailing.
On the chart the entrance to the river that runs up to Lagos marina is marked at 2m, the navigation app on my iPad tells me low tide is at 9.37am with just an extra 0.7m, a bit close for our 2.4m draft. We had estimated our arrival at about noon when the higher tide would gives us plenty of depth, but our fast progress down the Portugueese Atlantic Coast meant we were arriving at 10.30, we squeaked in with just a metre to spare under our keel.
We tied up as instructed at the welcome pontoon, only to discover a familiar face smiling at us, our friends Chris and Barry have been holidaying in Lagos for the past week and following us on Boat Beacon saw us approach, Barry cycled down to meet us. A lovely surprise and after the arrival beer and a catch up snooze we joined them for an enjoyable dinner at the Carribean beach bar a ten minutes walk away, (we must really try to fine some Portugueese food somewhere!).
The marina, it turned out, had no visitor berths large enough for us available and so we remain on the welcome pontoon. To be honest it’s rather pleasant, watching the comings and goings of the river and the people walking along the busy street on its opposite bank. The breeze is blowing into the cockpit helping with the temperatures that are in the high twenties and we are spending the day catching our breath.
It has been brought to my attention that in the last post rather than ‘we’ washed the last of the Southampton grime from the hull it should read ‘Duncan despite the heat, unstable platform and meagre support from other members of the crew, boldly scrubbed the hull for hours to remove’ the last of the Southampton grime from the hull. I take sole responsibility for the contents of this blog and sincerely apologise for any inconvenience or distress my mistake may have caused.
Saturday 30th May
We had a fabulous berth in Baiona. it was protected from the wind and the wake from passing traffic but had great views over the town. On the marina side of the headland the water was calm and blue, but on the beach just a few hundred meters away, the other side of the headland, the waves were crashing on to the rocks. The best of both worlds.
Duncan and Brad arrived on Tuesday to sail with us on the overnight passage from Baiona to Cascais in Portugal. We took Wednesday to familiarise them with the boat and do last minute preparations. This included erecting the Bimini (a canvas roof over the cockpit) as with the improved weather we needed some shade. We washed the last of the Southampton grime from the hull and enjoyed the excellent local wine. The crew proved their worth early on. Brad helped a scooter rider who’d fallen off his bike while we were enroute to the supermarket and Duncan who had taken our dingy for a fun ride around the bay ended up rescuing a fisherman stranded with no engine and needing a tow back to the dock. He was rewarded with a bundle of razor clams, we didn’t really know quite what to do with them, so decided to cook them as we would muscles. We steamed them in butter, garlic, lemon juice and white wine. Unfortunately the result wasn’t as good as expected and being conscious of the state of our stomachs for the journey ahead most of them ended up over the side.
We set off early, struggling with just a small breeze that was directly behind us. The boat is not brilliant in light airs, so we turned west on a track that took us a bit further offshore, in search of wind. And we found plenty, as the day came to an end we had around 30 – 35kts of it. The sea got quite big too with a large swell coming in from the Atlantic. Raya as before took it all in her stride and with a stricter pill regime I didn’t get seasick, a huge relief. We again came across plenty of traffic, cargo and fishing, demanding our concentration and ensuring we stayed wide awake. In the early hours we clocked up our first one thousand miles, just another thirty odd thousand to go.
As we got further offshore we passed over a ridge in the ocean floor where our chart told us the depth went from 200 to an amazing 4000m deep in just 5nm. That’s quite a steep cliff by any standards and probably contributed to the rough conditions. However it was a beautiful clear night with a bright 3/4 moon, for a while it was directly in front of us and its light created a silvery path for us to follow. As it set at about 3.30am the stars came into there own, millions of them filling the sky. Unfortunately it was hard to easily appreciate them in their full splendour as we have a ‘no leaving the cockpit’ rule at night and now with the Bimini up it blocks our view, a conundrum yet to be solved.
To our delight, another highlight of the passage, was the arrival of Dolphins, during the 36hr sail we were joined by three pods. I don’t know if there is an official explanation as to why Dolphins swim with boats but from the deck of Raya it seemed obvious they had come to play, they swam fast next to our hull, surfed in the waves and dived under our bows.
As we approached Cascais we had to sail through a minefield of fishing pots, which for reasons best known to the fishermen are marked with sticks bearing blue, green or black flags, ie the colours of the sea and almost impossible to spot. The crew were put on lookout duty and we managed to get through without hitting any although it was very close with a couple of them.
Despite our offshore detour, we arrived in Cascais an hour ahead of schedule tying up to the waiting dock at 5pm. All feeling a bit weary we were rather dismayed to be directed to a berth in the corner of the marina with limited room to manoeuvre. We have been dreading the stern to parking that is common in the Med but knew we would have to do it at some point and this was that moment. Rick a little stressed, did a great job, with restricted depth and a huge concrete marina wall looming over us, he reversed into our berth without incident.
Next came what’s becoming the customary cold beer, then a shower, food and a night without lea cloths.
Tuesday 26th May 2015
We were feeling rather tired, the sailing so far has been quite challenging, so we thought long and hard about whether to sail to Baiona in one hop, a 12hr sail. In the end we decided to go for it, with a few researched bolt holes enroute if we felt we needed to stop. As it turned out we had a fantastic days sail.
We started off with the sheer granite cliffs very reminiscent of Cornwall as our back drop. Cabo Finesterre has a fearsome reputation as being a rough and windy spot, but we had left early before the winds had really got going and it hardly bothering us. As the day went on the scenery soften and began to look more continental, with craggy hills and sandy beaches.
The sea here is very deep and a dark, dark, greeny, blue black. There was a metre or so of swell and small waves with white horses, but compared to what we’ve had, it felt calm. The sky was blue with hazy cloud stretching across it.
We were sailing downwind so the boat was relatively flat and on deck, although the true wind was around 20kts, the apparent wind (the wind you feel onboard) was much less as the movement of the boat cancelled out some of the breeze. This was more like how we had imagined things and we began to believe that we could – cook, shower, live – for the weeks we need to cross an ocean.
The day had started as a three layers, wet weather gear and boots type of day, but gradually it became warm and we ended up in t shirts and deck shoes.
It might have taken us 12hrs sailing due south but we finally seem to have found summer. In fact this morning as we sip coffee and tea, on the veranda of the yacht club, looking out over the pretty Ria Baiona it feels as if we have passed through a time warp.
Sunday 24th May 2015
As I was chatting to Matt on the phone yesterday and discussing our trip across Biscay, I had to have a little smile. When Matt did his Yacht Master a few years ago during December and January, I always remember him telling me how they would go for days without changing, hardly even taking off their wet weather gear or life jackets little alone their underwear. I had tutted as Mum’s do and put it down to teenage boy slovenliness. But now we understand. When you have on as many layers as you can fit and still move, when the boat is rocking and rolling so much you can’t stand, when you are on deck for a cold three or four hour watch and have a only a few hours of rest before your next one and when concentrating on every clip, zip or piece of Velcro makes you sick, it is the obvious default position. So it was that I found Ian, Rick and at times Chris laying fully booted and suited on the salon sofas.
No need for that today however, we sailed for just 6hrs and are now tied up in the Galician village of Muxia in Ria de Camarinas, Northern Spain and a little peeved that we are STILL not warm. We seemed to have been plagued by north winds since we moved on to the boat in March and for the last couple of days it has been blowing a gale, literally.
It is common for there to be a strong north wind here at this time of year, they call them the Portugese trades because they run right down the Spanish and Portugese Atlantic Coast, but even the locals seem fed up with how chilly they are for the time of year. They have helped the sailing of course, as they did today with us averaging nearly eight knots for the 45nm from A Coruna to Muxia. But it would be nice to sit in the cockpit and relax in the sunshine without being battered and blown.
It took a day or two but we decided that we liked A Coruna with its quaint old town and bustling restaurants. Having Ian with us, as we wandered around, was great fun because as an architect he looks at a town through slightly different eyes and we saw things that we would normally never have noticed.
For example it is characteristic of this area of Spain for buildings to have a false facia that stands about a metre proud of the building and is made of windows of glass. This gives the occupants a small ‘conservatory ‘ area in winter (and when the North winds are blowing!) and can be opened and shaded, to keep the rooms cool in summer, as can be seen in the lovely terrace of apartments in the picture above.
We took a day out, while in A Coruna to visit the medieval town of Santiago de Compestella with its narrow streets and churches, it is place of pilgrimage for Roman Catholics and was thronging with people loaded down with backpacks, wearing walking boots and carrying staffs. We drank beer and wine in a terraced garden courtyard, wandered the streets and felt on holiday for a few hours.
Rick worked on things on the boat, we did the laundry and reprovisioned, a busy couple of days and then this morning we left Ian on the dock to catch his flight home, as we sailed to Muxia.
The Spanish Rias that run all around this coast are deep inlets surrounded with wooded hills and pretty beaches, we had planned to spend a few days exploring them, they are meant to be very beautiful and littered with secluded anchorages. However, the combination of our delayed start and the cool windy weather has made us decide to keep going South, next stop Baiona.
Well the Bay of Biscay lived up to its reputation of being rough and stormy and the crew all still feel slightly weary but have an immense sense of achievement.
However before I tell the tale, a quick note on our AIS system for all our friends and family who follow our progress on various beacon apps, thank you all for the concerned calls, texts, posts etc we recieved. Our AIS transmits a VHF radio signal and therefore will only travel short distances, ours being situated on the top of our tall mast can be picked up by receivers for about a maximum of 50miles. So when our blip on the screen disappears this is not us sinking it us sailing out of range of the receivers that are mostly based on land. You will see large commercial vessels far out to sea as they relay their AIS through the internet, but we, I’m afraid, will disappear.
Last Sunday we left Plymouth promptly at 7am to catch the best of the tide for the start of our sail to A Coruna in Northern Spain, the route took us across the English Channel and then across the Bay of Biscay, we estimated it to be a three day passage. On board with us we had Ian an old friend who has sailed with us before but, like Rick and I, was a long passage virgin and Chris, a member of the Stella Maris team and experienced delivery skipper.

We had for days been watching the weather forecast and we were expecting to have NW winds for the first few hours, which would back to the SW as the first day went on. Our plan was to get as far west as possible while the wind was right and then turn southwards as the southwesterlies came in, hoping to be far enough west to skirt outside the Traffic Separation Zone that carries the big cargo ships around the headland at Ushant in France. However as we left Plymouth Sound the winds were persistently from the SW. Probably with our inexperience telling, but keen to get sailing and with the lure of the south pulling us, we headed for the inner passage at Ushant instead. We had a great day with the winds on our beam, Rick gaining confidence as captain with every mile. We set up our watch system to ensure the boat was manned 24 hours a day and that everybody got plenty of rest, we cooked our first hot meal onboard while sailing and relaxed. All was working well.
As we approached the Traffic Separation Zone noted in the log is “dodging tankers”, they were huge great things that bore down on us relentlessly as we moved between them, keeping watch on the screen and on the horizon became vital.
Eventually we had to turn westward to get past the Ile d’ Ouessant off the western most point of France and the motor came on. At first with the tide with us, we were steaming along with a speed over ground of around 8kts, but then the tide changed and we struggled for a frustrating few hours with not only tide but wind and waves against us, for hours we were hardly moving.
Unfortunately it wasn’t just the tide that began to change, as we entered Biscay, the 15-20kt winds that were expected, built to a steady 30kts peaking on Monday at nearer 35kts, we had a large swell layered with a choppy sea. We took photos but capturing the roughness of the sea escaped us, this great photo was taken by Chris just imagine a few huge waves in the background.
I came on watch with Chris at 10pm Sunday, it was a very dark night with no moon or stars and, with the boat rocking and rolling, despite taking pills I started to feel seasick. For me, from there on things only got worse. I managed to stand my watches for about another twelve hours but eventually had to give in and take to my bed where if I kept absolutely still with my eyes closed I could reduce my sickness.
The others battled through, Chris was a lifesaver with a seemingly iron stomach that meant he could keep everybody fed with the food I had prepared before we left. Ian was sick for a while but found his sea legs by the end of Monday and Rick was on a high as Raya shook off the conditions with ease. At no point did we ever feel worried, she just plowed through the waves happily at around 8kts, both main and genoa reefed. With, now finally, northerly winds we were able to head straight for A Coruna. Would we have had a calmer ride if we had stuck to the original plan and kept further out of the Bay, I guess we’ll never know, but what we do know is that Raya is not going to let us down, even if some of the crew do!
The entry into A Coruna in the dark at about 4am Wednesday morning, with the sea still very rough and a fleet of fishing boats leaving, was quite challenging and tested our navigation skills, but we made it in to the marina unscathed. On the radio we had been directed to an outer pontoon, in the darkness we couldn’t see that it was in fact covered in netting laid to discourage birds from landing. As it turned out it should have discouraged us as well, it was a bit like something out of the Keystone Cops as in turn each of us jumped off the boat, lines in hand and promptly tripped up. We did get her tied up, a little bruised and blooded but were quickly met by a very apologetic marineros who showed us to a better berth.
Despite their tiredness and the fact it was 6 o’clock in the morning the boys managed a couple of celebratory beers and then we all crashed into bed for a few hours of sleep in our now wonderfully still bunks.
Sitting watching the sunset, after a great day, congratulating ourselves on successfully reaching Plymouth.

Monday we set sail from Yarmouth heading for Portland, there was a bit of mist but it was forecast to lift mid-morning and we had the tide with us for an early start. We shot through the needles channel at eleven knots straight into a bank of fog, not a pea souper but enough to make the going a bit percarious. Had it not been for our AIS, a VHF signal that all commercial vessels and now many pleasure boats broadcast, that shows their position, we would have felt quite exposed. But nobody else was stupid enough to be out and the screen was clear.
Then out of the gloom, screaming straight for us came a military speed boat. Trying to squeeze a course as close to our track as possible with the wind on our nose we had strayed into the Lulworth Gunnery Range and they were live firing. We were abruptly instructed to sail 240 degrees for 31/2 miles. So down came the sails and rather sheepishly we motored off. After forty minute we could turn back towards our destination and as if by magic as we arrived at the marina the fog disappeared. We had made it through the first day.
Tuesday it was on to Dartmouth, again the wind wasn’t kind to us but we did manage to sail a bit of the way and at least with better visibility we could enjoy the scenery. We gave Portland Bill a wide berth but the sea was still very choppy and it was cold, we both had on about five layers and full wet weather gear.
Now for you non sailing girls let me now explain what problems this causes. Going to the loo is a nightmare, you put it off and off and off until you just have to go. The boat is bouncing about and often healed over at an angle, just getting to the toilet is a challenge. Then wedging yourself upright by leaning against the wall you start to unwrap yourself. First comes the fumble to get the life jacket clips undone, then off comes your Musto jacket, a confusion of zips and Velcro and then the dungarees. Now down to your normal clothes a certain urgency ensues, you wish you hadn’t left it so long. If you are lucky you are on a tack that slopes you on to the toilet, if not you have to wedge yourself on and have the added pleasure of the toilet seat snapping at your bum. Finally it’s back on with everything and you return to the cockpit at best sweating and exausted, at worst feeling seasick and swearing not to drink anything more until you reach port.
Although having a reputation of being quite tight fo space we had been looking forward to visiting Dartmouth, we have been many times before, on land, looking out at the yachts wondering how it would feel to arrive by sea and here we were doing just that and it didn’t disappoint. Even the sun came out reflecting off the hundreds of colourful houses that line the steep banks of the Dart river. We had been directed to what turned out to be a too small berth and there was a hairy few moments as Rick had to manoeuvred us out of the small space and we motored up to the end of the visitors pontoon. On the dock, at the only space available, in very big letters were the words No Berthing, Landing Only, but the Marina office was closed for the night and we were off at seven the next morning so decided to risk it.
Wednesday dawned a sparkling sunny day and the wind had veered to the East , making for a perfect days sailing. It was almost warm, the wind was behind us and we made the trip on just three tacks. We arrived at the mouth of the River Tamar at midday, this is another place with connections for us. We waved at Cawsand Bay as we past, the birth place of my Father, his Parents, his Grandparents and their Parents, as far as I can trace them back and the location of my first remembered summer holidays. We saw the little chapel we had climbed out to perched on the end of Rame Head and we spotted the house on the cliff in need of refurbishment that we viewed as a potential retirement plan before this bigger plan took shape. We had arrived in Plymouth, our first big challenge completed.
This afternoon at 1.30pm we slipped our lines and set off around the World! The first leg might be quite a modest affair, just three hours out into the Solent and across to Yarmouth on the Isle of Wight. But every adventure has to start somewhere and we can now say we have visited our first island.
The storms of last week faded away Thursday allowing the last minute preparations to resume. Paul from Dolphin Sails arrived with our large awning, especially designed to give us plenty of shade when at anchor or in a marina in the sunshine. (If you are interested you can see us at Dolphin Sails Facebook page where they have posted some photos.) Harry from the Rig Shop came to have a last tweak of our rig and we finally finished stowing all the spares. We had a last minute panic when we discovered a gas leak, but Rick managed a repair just in time for our departure.
Another delay bonus was that we were around to see Rachael when she came to pick up my car yesterday and Matt joined us for lunch. Both are looking forward to joining us at the end of June and it seemed fitting that the four of us were together just before we departed.
Rick woke on this momentous morning to a pair of red feet above his head, there was a large black and white bird standing on our cabin hatch. He not only had red feet but a long narrow red beak too, it was an oyster catcher and we felt that his visit must be a good omen at the beginning of this adventure aboard our Oyster 56.
We waved a farewell to Shamrock Quay as Rick navigated down the river and I dashed around the deck putting away the mooring lines and fenders. Before we knew it we had left. Southampton water and the Solent were extremely busy, at one point we were dodging two huge tankers and their accompanying tugs, hundreds of sailing boats, a good number of motor craft and a handful of maniac jet skiers. Most of the traffic was returning to Southampton and Portsmouth, we relished the thought that everyone was going back to their home ports because it’s work tomorrow, in our direction we were leaving it all behind.
We arrived in Yarmouth at about four and headed straight for the fuel dock, we filled our tanks with 1400 litres of diesel and took a deep breath as we handed over the credit card. But this will last us quite a few months and we are now set to take advantage of the weather window of the next couple of days and get ourselves down the South Coast to Plymouth.
We are on our way!
This blog was going to be titled final preparations, yesterday we were frantically running around trying to get all the last bits of shopping and sorting finished for our off on Thursday. Over the pass week amongst less exciting objects we have puchased two new dive tanks, a passerelle (gang plank) for getting on and off the boat when we are moored stern-to in the Med and two hand held VHF Radios. Bags of spares have been bought and packed away and Tesco has been raided for those UK specialities we can’t live without – HP sauce , Branson pickle, Macleans toothpaste and boxes and boxes of tea bags.
Surely there can’t be any more screws to organise!?! Apparently yes.
Everything was taken out of the lazarette, before being replaced in a more organised fashion, hopefully having created plenty of room for all the fenders. We felt ready to go.
But what a difference a day makes. We are now sitting in the boat feeling rather down hearted. The forecast storm has been battering us all day, we have had sustained winds of 30kts, with gusts of 50kts. There are proper waves in the marina!
Being such a heavy yacht we bounce about less than many of the other boats, some of which have looked quite precarious at times but it is still quite rolly and very noisy as the wind roars around us and the waves crash into our hull.
And the bad news is that it is now forecast to carry on blowing a gale tomorrow, so although the winds are lower on Thursday, our planned day of departure, the swell in the English Channel will be considerable. If that wasn’t enough there is another storm coming in Friday afternoon and over the weekend. So we could leave Thursday with the swell and wind directly against us meaning a very uncomfortable sail, see how far we can get and then hole up while the second storm comes through or delay our departure until more clement weather arrives. After much discussion we have reluctantly decided to postpone our departure.
Looking at the weather in the Atlantic there seems to be a whole set of low pressures lining up to hits us. We may be stuck here for sometime. Could someone please tell the weather it is May not November!!!
It has been an emotional week, at least it should have been, but we seem to have put ourselves in auto mode, a defence many expats will recognise as you pack up and leave family, friends and familiarity behind you every couple of years. Never actually saying goodbye – “we’ll try to see you next week”, “October is just a few months away” or “try to get down to the Med to see us”. All the time immersing ourselves so much in the preparation that we never really think about the actual leaving until suddenly we are gone. We have set, weather etc. allowing, our departure date for next Thursday 7th May.
The week started with us finally, after removing all the last bits of furniture for the rental house and bringing the few remaining bags to the boat, managing to empty the second storage unit. Amazingly we managed to fit everything that was left into the main store with all the “good” stuff from Ongley. I must admit to a little twinge of sadness as we finally clunked down the door on all our processions from our previous life, everything piled high but still looking so familiar.
However this sadness was immediately tempered as we reached the boat and I unpacked a large bag carefully marked with a blue dot for ‘boat’ and labelled ‘Roz’s summer clothes’. As I squeezed everything into the limited space assigned to storing my wardrobe, memories of holidays and sunshine came into my head and it was exciting to think that in a few weeks this is what I’ll be wearing. The next set of bags contained our scuba gear, wet suits, snorkels etc. and visions of swimming in warm, clear blue seas, full of colourful fish motivated us to get on with yet more stowing, organising and fixing.
Monday we went out sailing – for a photo shoot, no less! The magazine Sailing Today are putting together a few articles telling the story of our refit and preparation, then possibly more articles as they catch up with us on our journey. I’m not really sure how I feel about this. In my other life I’m sure I would be slightly horrified but in my current numb state I just feel slightly embarrassed, just another new experience and it does mean hopefully we’ll have some great pictures of Raya. Unfortunately we had no wind, we just about managed to keep the sails full and hopefully we will look as if we were doing a bit more than the 2kts we were actually achieving.
Tuesday we started a two day trip back to Kent to visit the dentist and to say goodbye to the Mums. Both mums are anxious for are safety, sad not to be seeing so much of us but also excited for us and looking forward to following our progress. Big hugs were exchanged and last minute contact procedures finalised and after all it is only a few months until we are back for a visit in October.
In fact friends and family have all been brilliant , helping us out in so many ways, coming down to see us and the boat and most importantly being excited and interested in our adventure. Quite a few will be joining us along the way and many more will following us here on the blog.
You see it’s not really goodbye at all.
I wake this morning to a change in the weather, our “window on the world”, from the bed, is the hatch above our heads, for the past week it has been filled with unbroken blue but this morning there is a blanket of slate grey. The sounds are different too, instead of the slap of oars from the procession of early morning rowers passing just feet from our hull, I can only hear the fog horns from the cargo ships leaving the docks in Southampton.
Each morning as one of us steals ourself to get out of bed to turn on the heater, we miss our reliable, auto-timed central heating system, once on we quickly jump back into bed until the boat warms up. I glance out of the window but all is quiet on the river, a lone swan swims by, its feathers fluffed up in full display. Unfortunately for him this effort is in vain, as far as I can see, there are no other swans nearby so this performance is watched by just myself and a bunch of disinterested seagulls.
An hour later and the marina has woken up, the large yacht next to us is having its windscreen replaced, the sailing school boat a few berths down welcomes a group of sheepish looking students and a rib speeds past setting all the boats rocking. On the hard, as I take some rubbish to the skip, it is also busy. Half a dozen salty sea dog types are lovingly painting and polishing their crafts and there is a motor boat being put onto the crane to be returned into the water, while another three boats line up on the working dock ready to be lifted out.
Onboard Raya, Rick has all the cushions up and is busy sorting spares into a selection of assorted boxes and filling every inch under the seating. As the only seat left is at the chart table I take out the chart plotter instructions and start work on recalibrating. The Raymarine display units ( the screens showing our electronic charts) are the only part of the navigation electronics we haven’t replaced, so I spend time deleting all the old routes and way points and setting the types of displays, alarms, etc. to the settings we want.
In the meantime a guy from Sailfish comes to check over the watermaker. When switched on we can supposedly make about 90 litres an hour of fresh water from seawater, amazing really. We have left this job to right at the end of the refit as once commissioned the unit does have to be used, ideally every couple of days or at least once a week and as we are sitting in the not so pristine waters of the Itchen river it is better to be run it while we are out sailing. Happily everything is working well. Once Rick is satisfied that he understands all the ins and outs the engineer leaves and we jump in the car to buy engine and generator spares. It is only a half successful trip but we do find a fantastic pub on the river Hamble for a light lunch.
As the day wears on the marina begins to empty of workers, most of whom don’t work Friday afternoons, and would normally start to fill with owners coming down for a weekend of boating. Today however people must have looked at the weather forecast and decided it would be warmer to stay at home, everywhere is very empty. The wind is whistling through the rigging and creating a chop on the river, the friendly black lab is hunkered down on the dock patiently waiting for his owner on one of the boats, even the ever present seagulls seem to be hiding somewhere, just the odd hardy soul sails past slowly.
Rick and I turn on the heating and settle down to some admin, he is responding to emails and researching the final few spares, while I type out a Mayday radio procedure sheet to be put next to our VHF Radio – lots of RED and CAPITAL letters.
It is almost high tide and so the tidal stream that rattles past the boat has reduced and the floating pontoon we are tied to is nearly at the level of the surrounding land, all the mud flats are covered. Our depth meter shows 5.2m, that’s under our keel so the river is now about 25ft deep, at low tide it can go down to just 6ft or 7ft. That’s a lot of water moving in and out twice a day and produces the strong currents that can make mooring so difficult here.
Late afternoon the sun threatens to appear but fails, Rick goes on deck to finish a piece of woodwork that he has been glueing and I sit down to write this blog. Opposite us more well wrapped up crews arrive for the sail school boats, a group of flirting swans take off magestically from the other side of the river and the choppy water continues to lap noisily at our hull.
All is well on Raya we have achieved quite a lot today and we have a friend arriving to take us to dinner, it’s time to break out the gin and tonic. We have been drinking Gin and Tonic with Jonathan for about forty years, but today he comes armed with ingredients for a very different beast. Hendricks Gin, Fever Tree Tonic, cucumber, lots of ice and finally a couple of twists of cracked black pepper. Surprisingly good!
We’ve just returned from our first sail on Raya with just the two of us aboard.

There wasn’t a huge amount of wind but there was plenty of beautiful spring sunshine and at lunchtime we stopped and anchored off Osborne beach to enjoy it.
In the afternoon a sea breeze got up and there was just enough wind to sail back to southampton water. We may not have been the slickest team on the water but we managed without incident.
Under Itchen bridge, we returned to Shamrock Quay, where we parked, always the moment of highest tension, almost perfectly, phew!
A good day.