The very end of Europe!!!!!

Well, here we are… South West tip of Europe (Portugal, Baleeira, Little fishing town reminiscent of Cornwall) planning the crossing to Morocco!

Back up slightly, how did you get there I hear you ask! Well after Lisbon, (which was amazing) we headed to Cascais, essentially a suburb of Lisbon and anchored in the harbor there. Here is where I had my 1st experience of helming as we anchored Lista!

The thought of being "in control" of 35 tons of wood, rope (there IS rope on this boat), lead, people and all their associated stuff is daunting enough out at sea with nothing around. Transpose this to near the shore, rocks, other boats, mooring lines and scantily clad Frenchmen and you have lot to think about! All went vaguely well under Dave’s expert tuition. At least it can be said the anchor dropped and we didn’t move far after!

So we spent a lovely few days wandering around the town and drinking in an old railway coach converted into a bar. Then there is the dog spotting. Clare is dog obsessed. I’ve always been wary of dogs. When I was about 6 me and me ol’ Pa were walking down a path to a friend’s house and Dad was knocked to the floor by a crazy Alsation. The dog was about twice my size. Scared the crap out of me. On the other hand small dogs are intensely annoying and generally bring out the urge to drop kick the little shits over the nearest wall/cliff/hard object. Recently though I’ve grown to quite like the idea. Maddy was the start (Shirl’s soppy black lab). Then we saw a Rhodesian ridgeback, reddish chocolate brown with a ridge of fur running the opposite way up it’s spine, beautiful. Dog in Asia perhaps…I’ll probably end up eating a lot at the very least!?
Also on the animal train of thought I’ve been considering ideas for propulsion around Central America. More and more I’m liking the idea of getting a horse. Or a donkey. Imagine that! Wandering the wilderness with nothing but my beast, violin and a few worldly possessions! And a fishing rod…

Clare is leaving soon and that makes me sad. On the up side there will peace and quiet and no constant and bickering. Also, I’ve inherited a fishing rod! Been doing a lot of fishing. So far I’ve lost 7 feathers, 3 spinners, 3 weights, 2 hooks and about half a mile of twine. On the up side I’ve caught sweet FA except a hatred for fish in all their forms. They swim around the boat tempting me with their sweet juicy mouths and then ignore my bait. I’ve got quite good a casting but to no avail. I WILL CATCH FISH.

I’ve even started dreaming about it. I’m standing on a 34th floor on a balcony with me rod in me hand. FINALLY, a bite! STRIKE! Got him! Reel him up, beautiful sky blue fish. As he gets closer I realize he’s tiny. Then I can’t even bring myself to kill him.

I hate fish. Clare gets loads. This irritates me beyond belief. If I don’t catch one soon I think I might go mad(er).

Anyway, where were we? Cascias. Somewhere around the 17th. Nick and Holly have joined us and we’re off to where we are now, near Lagos. Gorgeous day sail down from Cascais to somewhere I can’t remember. On the way Clare decides to climb the shrouds up to the top of the main mast. Great view from up there and good exercise!

However, slightly rough on the chosen day and after being spun around the shrouds a few times at the height of the spreaders (about 10m) down she goes. You’ve basically got 2 choices in that situation. Push off and go in the sea, would be my choice, man overboard is bad but probably better than the 2nd option of splatting into the deck. Clare however clung of for dear life and ended up wedged on the starboard light box, Smashing the head off of the green light box and clinging on. Luckily (unfortunately) she is essentially fine. Great bruising on the left thigh and burnt fingers but other than that fine! I do like a good bruise. Felt good to get bit of nurse Dan on the go again. Checking up on my patient, assessing/palpating the wound, meds rounds. Pics to come!

Eventually got to wherever it was and chatted with the local Policia Maritime and they told up that we were not allowed to go to our next destination, as there were many moving sand banks in the area that would ground us. With a slight change in the planned anchoring position we headed off anyway and found a beautiful bay surrounded by cliffs, hills and trees. 2 days of wandering, snorkeling (seeing millions of fish, cuttle, mackerel and many more), dingying and total lack of fish jumping onto me hooks. Nick and Holly found a beautiful monastery set into the hills with 6 dome things spreading up the hill, only to be shouted away by an angry man.
Then it was a Day/night/day sail down to near here. On the run down we finally got the spinnaker up! Lista’s spinnaker used to be called Brutus. Basically a massive kite flown off the bow with 80’s tracksuit colours. We’ve renamed him Bruno.

First night we dropped anchor in a massive bay with high cliffs surrounding it. Around 2am Clare and I were drinking white port on deck and the cliffs all of a sudden looked a lot closer. Worryingly close in fact! The stern anchor way down as well as the bow but something was not right. Around this time the wind picked up to a force 7 gusting 8’s from the west and the rain started. Cap’n Dave was awoken and the decision was made to move to a more sheltered spot around the next headland. Up the anchors! NOT SO SIMPLE SIR! Both trapped around rocks. After half an hour of pulling, winching, twisting and finally getting the engine on the case we were free!

When it’s raining hard, visibility is greatly reduced, and your wellies fill up with water. Kind of comforting sometimes. Nothing like pounding though a hefty swell with white water forming on the peaks all around, being soaked by the heavens opening and blown around the deck by the rising wind! Keep low, clip that harness on, one hand for you, one for the boat, buy the ticket, take the ride…

Two hours later we’re in a much more sheltered spot. Dave a Kat are back in bed and Clare and I finish our drinks on the freshly warmed up engine block! Heaven. Of course the rain stopped as soon as we’d got the anchor down. Someone’s idea of a joke no doubt.
Nick and Holly had been downstairs the whole time. No point getting everyone wet. More bodies on deck means more potential men overboard. A chilling prospect in those seas. I can’t imagine what it was like down there with the wind, waves, rain, us stomping around me shouting back to Dave the position on the anchor (PORT, STARBOARD, STRAIGHT DOWN, CLEAR!!!).
I really like shouting.

So now we’re here, Baleeira, a surf bar called Dromedario, drinking El Capitan’s finest spiced rum to be exact. Time to sort out a few things on land, patch up a few boat bits and get rid of Clare…

No more drunken evenings sleeping on deck with the girl, no more arguments about the names of light houses, no more thigh examinations, no more of those puppy dog eyes, no more general abuse. Thank Christ for that! Na seriously though… it’s been good fun, if you read this, good luck with whatever you do! Sell that stupid motorboat and buy one with sails! Say hey to Dolla!

Let’s stow the boat, batten down the hatches, lift the anchor and say good-bye to Europe!! Africa here we come!!!!