Sepember did not start well.
You may recall that we ended August moored to the wall at Luarca. The pilot book warned that this berth would
be uncomfortable in strong northerly weather.
As the winds were light, we assumed that this did not apply. Wrong!
The Northerly swell came round the corner of the harbour wall and made
us rock, roll and surge through the night, keeping us awake and putting more
strain on the moorings than we would like.
So, up before dawn, ready to let go at first light. A helpful angler threw off our shore lines
for us, which meant that I didn’t have to dinghy ashore for that but, as this
was an unexpected bonus, we still had to secure Rubette and put away long
mooring lines before getting out to sea.
Once clear, the day went well.
Finally, the winds we experienced matched those forecast and we had a
cracking broad reach in a NE’ly F4 50 miles along the coast to Viveiro,
anchoring in a wide bay with just a few other yachts for company. Amongst these
was one we had spotted on AIS a few times over the last week or so and we were
finally able to identify.
Dinghy ashore in the morning for bread, this time using the
outboard, as we had to go about a mile up river to the marina. Disappointed at lack of suitable landing
spots (security gates on pontoons and no clear place to get help re-entering)
Elsie had to climb up a ladder to get ashore.
Fortunately, it was near high water so only a 2 meter climb. After purchasing bread (and E30 worth of
other groceries – how do we always manage that?) the tide had dropped another
meter. No way was Elsie going down that
ladder! So I kindly motored to far end
of marina and held Rubette against a slipway while Elsie boarded. Up anchor just before mid-day and another
great downwind run to Cediera. 39 miles
in 5 ¾ hours from anchor up to anchor down.
Easy to cover the miles in these conditions. Another nice anchorage, though a little more
closely packed. We ended up close to our
companion of the previous night and managed a wave. At this rate, we’ll be close friends in a
week or so.
Internet was called for, and I was down to my last clean
polo shirt so, on Thursday, 28 miles round the coast to A Coruna and a berth at
Real Club Nautico Coruna. Not as formal
as it indicates in the pilot book as one is permitted to complete mooring
without a tie. I had been here in my
Merchant Navy days but had forgotten how beautiful the town is. The old town is still intact, with narrow
cobbled streets lined with houses, each with glazed balconies. The main shopping street even has a
distinctive character, even if Kentucky Fried Chicken snuggles next to Burger
King. Other facilities were a little disappointing: no internet. “Some days it works; some days it
doesn’t.” Laundry had 2 domestic washers
and one drier, all with very long cycles.
Just as Elsie was ready with first load for drying, a German managed to
get his towels in first and set the drier for 2 ½ hours. But the worst was the movement. The Marina is sheltered from swell, but is
open to the main harbour and fishing boats proceed past at full speed, creating
huge wash, which jerks the yachts and pontoons around very nastily. This made for very broken sleep, so at least
Elsie was up, bright and early, to finish off the drying!
Glazed balconies in A corunna.
Friday, walk to chandlers, for bits and bobs, and
supermarket, then a long stroll in the afternoon before re-fuelling then
motoring across the bay to Ensenada de Mera for a comfortable anchorage with
nice views of million Euro holiday homes.
And the best bit: it’s free!
Early-ish start on Saturday, as we had a reasonable distance
to go and the wind was forecast to die. In
fact, it built through the day, starting NE’ly 3 and finishing F6. Great
sailing! 45 miles covered and anchored
in the prime spot off Corme by 1530 for a little siesta, then dinghy ashore for
a walk round a very pretty town, back for sun-downers in the cockpit before
dinner. This became a pattern over the
next few days: 24 miles in NE’ly F4 to
Camarinas on Sunday and 28 to Sardiniero on Monday, albeit having to motor the
last 10 as the wind died. This brought
us round Cabo Finisterre, thus fulfilling an insurance requirement to be clear
of Biscay before the 15th.
As
we approached the town of Finisterre, a huge fleet of passenger and fishing
boats emerged, with a saint’s statue in the lead boat, for a trip round the
bay. As they returned to the port, there
were sounds of firecrackers. (At least I hope so, and they weren’t shooting the
last of the Moors). Sardiniero proved to be another picturesque holiday village
with the added attraction of every (traditional) house having in its back yard
a stone out-building mounted on staddle stones.
The ventilation holes looked too large to make good grain stores, they
had no access for hens and all had stone crosses at the gables.
My suggestion that they were where the spare nuns were kept in case of emergency was dismissed by Elsie (we later discovered that they were grain stores, but I’m not sure how rain would not be driven in by autumn winds)
Cape Finisterre, in brilliant sunshine.
My suggestion that they were where the spare nuns were kept in case of emergency was dismissed by Elsie (we later discovered that they were grain stores, but I’m not sure how rain would not be driven in by autumn winds)
From Sardiniero we sailed the 6 miles round to Corcubion,
encountering a seasonable fog bank on the way.
A town with no great charm, but firmly on the route of the pilgrims on
the Santiago circuit. Forecast of
complete calm on the 9th led us to spend a lazy day at anchor,
bobbing in the pleasant breeze – grrr.
The 10th saw us sail round to the next Ria, Muros & Noia
and an anchorage at San Francisco bay.
By now we were running short of water, so motored round to Muros in the
morning, managing to upset the marina manager by firstly parking on a dirty
pontoon and then wanting water when only paying for a day visit (you have 3
hours!). One can understand that marinas
have to turn a profit, but our preferred cruising style of anchoring when
possible and only using marinas for port of refuge, does not work well on this
coast. There are no pontoons without
security gates, which makes dinghy access problematical and with our adoption
of the continental ‘bread and’ breakfast and lunch, requiring daily visits to
the bakers, this became an irritation.
As it was forecast to be light airs for the next 2 days and
we had time to kill we continued past Portosin and Freixo to anchor off a
holiday beach. The pilot book suggested
that this might be tricky and we took it slowly but there proved to be plenty
of water. The book warned that the river
up to Noia was badly silted but we planned to go up by dinghy in the
morning. The silting was even worse than
we expected and, at low water, we could not make it, so had to leave Rubette at
a, fortunately unlocked, pontoon at a harbour a mile or so away. (But 2 miles
on foot). Much larger town than we were
expecting, with an attractive centre. On
return to the dinghy, were given hard stares by the locals. From here, motored down to anchor in the lee
of Portosin which gave good shelter from S’ly F6 overnight. Dinghy in on Sunday morning, for our daily
bread, to find a classic car rally in progress.
Nothing exceptional but Elsie loved the SEAT versions of the 500 and was
able to sneer at a badly restored Capri.
I saw a Panther Kalista, a car I had drooled over as a young man, for
the first time in the flesh. What was
more amusing was the number of models which we had either owned, or remembered
from new. We must be getting old. Returned to Rubette to be told, by the
“welcoming and helpful” staff of the yacht club that it was not permitted to
land at their slipway. By this time it
was too late to make the voyage round to the next Ria, so just sailed back to
San Francisco bay.
Very strong winds were forecast for Tuesday so an early
start to make sure that we made it round to Ria de Arousa in good time. As it transpired, winds were kinder than
expected on the way round and we made it to Cabo de Cruz by 1600. Very helpful mariniero assisted with mooring,
unlocked the laundry (E2.00 per load) and even gave us a lift to the
supermercado. Winds on Tuesday proved to be every bit as
vile as forecast, with accompanying heavy rain.
While the washing machine had proved efficient, the drier was anything
but and the bulk of the day I was kept entertained bustling back and forth on,
sometimes wildly bucking, pontoons to progress the laundry. The wind abated on
Wednesday afternoon and we nipped out and across the bay to anchor off Pobra do
Carominal. Very sheltered, with the
bonus of 2 supermarkets on the seafront, rather than the usual dozen cafes, so
we knew where to get our bread in the morning.
What we did not know was that this was a prime shellfish area. As low tide approached on Thursday morning,
the shore was filled with cockle harvesters in waders raking the sea bed. And between us and them a dozen boats
anchored with free divers harvesting scallops.
We managed to weave our way between them in the dinghy and stocked up on
essentials of bread, wine and beer then heaved up anchor to go for a little sail
across to Vilagarcia. This is only about
8 miles in a straight line but there was a pleasant breeze so we headed up
between the mussel farms to Rianxo bay for a look-see. A nice, sheltered area that would be ideal
for dinghy racing but we were only able to get round as it was near high water. There was a small motor-sailer pottering
about. Pottering until we passed then he
started his engine to give us a race, still with full sails. Takes all sorts. Into Vilagarcia, paying for marina for third
night in 4 but we wanted to go on a tourist trip on Friday, which was forecast
to be flat calm.
Ashore in the morning and train into Santiago de Compostela. Managed to use the ticket machine to buy
booked seat tickets back and forth, though this did mean that we had to catch a
nominated train on return. This turned
out to be a good thing as, it being Friday, the afternoon trains were packed
with students taking bags of washing home to mum. Santiago is the resting place of St James the
apostle and the end of a very popular pilgrimage so the cathedral was packed
with those pilgrims, all queueing to touch the cape of his statue behind the
altar. Beautiful cathedral and beautiful
city. We are a bit slow on the uptake
but managed to work out the tapas bar system.
Order a couple of beers and plates of the house snack are included. Perfectly acceptable lunch for less than 2
Euros a head. You just need to do a bit
of browsing to distinguish the bar that is serving calamari and Spanish
omelette, as today’s was, rather than the beans with tripe we had on our first
attempt.
Back to the boat at 4 with a dilemma. Do we wait for half an
hour, for supermarkets to reopen after siesta to get fresh veg for supper, or
leave immediately? Unforecast sailing
breeze sprang up so, with the prospect of tinned beans for supper, we went out
and had a short but pleasant sail back to our anchorage with supermarket
views. No shell fishers to get in the
way of our shopping trip the next morning so, that accomplished, headed out for
a slow sail down to the next Ria, Pontavedra.
Nice little anchorage just inside, off Porto Novo. Once the day trippers had left we had this to
ourselves for a quiet night. Sunday, we
had no particular place to go so had the slowest sail ever, 6 miles in 5 hours,
to the head of the Ria and Cambaro. This
is an ancient fishing village and tourist trap.
Very pretty but we don’t deal well with crowds and, it being Sunday
afternoon, it was packed. Dinghy-ing
back, we found water in Rubette. It was
a bit splashy, so we assumed that we had taken it over the side.
Next morning, on the bread run, we discovered that we had,
in fact, managed to haul Rubette over a sharp rock and put a slice in the
bottom. Out with the repair kit, to
discover that the glue had solidified, so a temporary duct tape repair
effected. The plan for the day was to pop into the,
little, Ria de Aldan but, with the northerly wind stronger than forecast, we
couldn’t find anywhere suitable so carried on to Ria de Vigo. Our first attempt, just inside Cabo del Horne
(no, not that one) proved uncomfortable so we popped round the corner and found
a spot in the middle of 3 small bays.
The other 2 already had yachts in and ‘ours’ only a small fishing boat
which we were sure would soon disappear.
What we didn’t realise was that he was just starting to shoot a ring
net. To be fair, he only glared at us as
he passed 10 ft from our bow, but I don’t think that my apologetic wave
sufficed.
We were still ‘killing time’, as I had flights booked back
from Porto on Monday 28th and we didn’t want to arrive too
soon. The weather forecast was for very
light winds in the few days leading up to this so the worst that could happen
was that we would have to motor the 60 odd miles down the coast. Wasn’t it?
So, on the 22nd, we headed up the Ria de Vigo, dodging
homicidal ferries to the shallow lagoon of San Simon. This didn’t look that inviting on the way up
but turned out to be remarkably scenic for somewhere as close to a major city.
Another quiet night at anchor and another dinghy ashore in
the morning hunting for bread before heading back down the Ria in light airs
which, totally unforecast, changed instantly to a N’ly F5. We now had a dilemma. This was probably the last sailing wind for a
week, and we still had 70 miles to go to Porto.
Do we go for the first leg of 35 miles, probably arriving at an unknown
port after sunset or stay put? We opted
for the latter plan as we didn’t want to arrive too soon and what could
possibly go wrong? So, up to the head of
the bay where we had upset the fisherman two nights earlier, to a sheltered
anchorage next to a nudist beach. We
anchored what we thought was a polite distance off and were amused by the later
arrivals who all anchored within feet of the bouys marking the bathing area. Purely to get the best shelter I’m sure.
Thursday 24th we planned to be our last day in
the Rias. There are islands to visit,
but they are nature reserves requiring prior permission and, by the time we
realised this we were too late. Never
mind, I’m sure that we will return.
Instead, we went a little offshore and made use of what wind there was
to go round three sides of a square down to Panxon. This is another very pleasant little town
with an ancient baroque church that turns out to have been built in the
1930s. We could not anchor where
planned, as mooring bouys fill the good spot and, with a change of wind that
night ended up rolling quite badly, resulting in not much sleep.
Friday, we bit the bullet and started once again down the
coast. It was motor; sail; motor; sail
all the way as the wind grew or died.
Eventually, with about 5 miles to go to Viana do Castello, we put the
sails away and re-started the engine to be engulfed by clouds of white smoke
from the exhaust. Almost simultaneously the
fog, which had been lurking offshore, descended on us. There was no available anchorage so we just
had to proceed slowly, with visibility sometimes down to tens of meters into a
strange port with a sick engine. Weekend
coming up, still 35 miles to go to Porto and the harbour crammed, mostly with a
gaggle of Swedish yachts heading South.
The marina staff did manage to find an engineer for us on Saturday and,
while his explanation of the problem and how he solved it seemed a little far-fetched,
the proof was that running the engine for 20 minutes under load produced no
smoke. By now it was too late to
continue down the coast so had a pleasant stroll round the town. Some beautiful architecture with ceramic
tiles coating the facades of many buildings, but much of it in poor
repair. We later discovered that the
Swedes had a torrid trip down in very thick fog, so didn’t miss much by our
enforced stay.
Sunday, it was motoring all the way down the coast to Porto
in light airs and poor visibility. Not a
great joy, but needs must. Into Leixoes
(apparently pronounced ‘layshoinsh’).
Not the most picturesque of places but handy for the airport. Lionel to fly home for health checks etc.
leaving Ruby in the care of Elsie.
Stats for the month:
462 miles by log
422 miles over ground
Stats for the month:
462 miles by log
422 miles over ground
