There, I finally made it back after what turned out an eventful trip!... It all started when I left home for Lisbon, heading soon afterwards towards Lagos, a fisherman's village converting into a marina just off to the west of Faro. Got there early, enjoyed a few drinks in the local marina bar, catching up on gossip as it were, pretending to be "part of the crowd"... Marina hot spots and local Yacht Clubs have always that same feel to them, a bit too salty for me at times... Next day I met up with the crew, saw the boat, realized she was actually smaller than what I had expected but still at 42ft, she was roomy enough for the three of us, Gee, Arh & me (not real names btw). We filled the fridge up, filled her up with fuel, did a few checks and tied up alongside waiting for the mornin sun to set off. We had another few drinks that night to gel in, so to speak, it looked good, the crew were chatty & amicable, that's one worry less :) We left early the next day, the sun with us accompanied by a few fishermen on row boats. It was a brisk wind and the boat, Emm from now on, was handling well. We passed Cabo de São Vicente at the southeastern tip of Portugal, the scenery was real nice, huge black cliffs with jagged edges slicing through the atlantic swell and froth. It would take us almost two days to reach on next stop, Baiona, south of the Spanish border... But as sailing isn't such a predictable means of transport, we ended two days later up just on the mouth of the Tejo River, Cascais, ½ hr from Lisbon! The wind was on our nose all the time, we were getting a beating so we welcomed the stop... I had taken advantage of this first leg to get my sea legs together, things came back naturally and the thrills were just as strong. On one night shift, I was alone on the helm when some 20/25 dolphins came around to play in the phosphorescence of Emm's wake, it was really beautiful. As the sun was rising, I could see still them glide under the hull, I had goosebumps all over... Yes this is why I love sailing. Cascais was a pleasant stop, an old fishing village turned rich, with a few palaces and bourgeois houses with azulejos all over them, I dipped into sardines and beer as we had our little aperitif on a sunny terasse. Our next leg was to reach the end of the world, Cabo Finisterre, in Gallicia. We ran into more traffic on that journey, container ships laden with i-don't-know-whats, heading south, off the portuguese coast. As we closed in on Camariñas, the coast disapeared into dense fog and the swell increased, those black serrated rocks well present in our memories... We found out later in a local café that we had just sailed up la Costa do Morte, no translations needed. We got a phone call the next morning from Head Office warning us that we had to get some speed into us, as a big bad weather system was slowly getting on our route through the Bay of Biscay, so it was eggs on the go, refuel and off again we go... The sun was out early that morning and it looked like plain sailing again. We went northwest of the Cape to hopefully get better winds to cut back towards Brittany, everything seemed fine and we started to wonder what was all the rush about. Two days passed and we were still heading northeast, we then decided to head on the other tack aiming for the channel islands... The next morning I was on the sunrise shift again, the night had been uneventful except for a few close encounters with ships, but as I was having my morning coffee and handing over the shift to Arh, the waves started to get bigger and we could now see several dreaded towering dark gray cumulonimbus clouds on the horizon... Head Office was right, some nasty shit is coming our way... By the time I was feeling tired, waves were like 5m high and the wind gusting to some 40knots, I went downstairs and decided to get some sleep while I still could. When I woke up an hour or two later, Arh and Gee were fighting with the helm and the winds were still howling strong, I got up in the cockpit and had a quick breakfast cigarette and assessed the situation. The waves were now twice the size I had left them, when Emm would dip under them, the lip of the waves was more than half way up the mast, we were kindda surfing them at at 45º angle hoping that none would break over us. With the two on the helm I was not much use above so I nipped down into the "drier" nav station on radar watch... We fought it out for 11 hours, I was never too far from my grab bag and the liferaft, I never doubted we would get out alive but when the gas alarm started to ring and the storm sail ripped, I must confess I puffed a little. Gee and I went up on the bow and got the ripped sail off, the metal wire that held it up, the halyard in technical terms, had also ripped as if made of cotton... The wind blew to a maximum of 62 Knots (that's over 100 Km/h) and the waves were between 6-10m high... The lads were tired and wet so I took over the helm for a while, the winds had died down a little but we only had the engine to rely on now, the sun dipped finally under the clouds just before sunset and lit up the whole sea again for us, I quickly spotted a lighthouse and a big part of me raised its arms in triumph, we had made it... to a lighthouse at least! We were only an hour or two away from a hot shower and that gave us a little more energy. Camaret is a small little village close to Brest, it looked like paradise to us, a boat tied down for the night, a hot shower to rinse off all the salt crusts followed by a lovely meal served by delightful waitresses... Yes it is why I love sailing! We had had a near to death experience without most of the pain, the kindda one that gives you time to think about it, and while I was over the chart I never feared... I was pissed off for allowing myself to be in this mess but I knew that it was only going to be a lesson to me and nothing else. It was all about staying positive I figured out... So we got to Camaret, we stayed there a a full day just iddling about, dryin out our gear and people watching over un café... Life IS sweet
Well, I'm only just in the door and it's time to think about packing again.. Where for? Saint Tropez and its "luvely" people to take a boat all the way back to England. When? Next week... What? A Hallberg Rassy, swedish made and around 40ft... Clearly I made a good impression!
