December 2015

We started December in Puerto Calero, Lanzarote.  Having, for our current lifestyle, had a hectic week – Elsie doing her Day Skipper practical and me flying to U.K. and back, we planned a chill-out and we knew just the place: La Graciosa.  The anchorage here is in a conservation zone and requires permission.  The system for granting this seems designed to make it almost impossible for the cruising yachtsman who relies on the vagaries of the weather:  application must be made, in writing, at least 10 days in advance on a form available only in Spanish.  Fortunately, I had had time to spare while in Rubicon.  I found the form online; completed it, with the aid of Google translate and sent it to the correct person.  48 hours later – nothing.  So I went to the marina office and the helpful lass picked up the phone and after a 5 minute phone call, 4 ½ minutes of which seemed to be about hair, children and plans for Christmas, she assured me that it was all arranged.

We timed our departure from Calero to get the best winds, which were forecast to be SE’ly F4 from late morning, backing to E’ly in the afternoon.  The directions were fulfilled but it was lighter than forecast so it was late afternoon before we arrived at the Estrecho del Rio, the strait between Lanzarote and La Graciosa.  The wind now veered and increased and, as we passed under the cliffs it was a gusty SSE’ly F6.  This was blowing directly towards the anchorage and we seriously considered continuing west and spending the night safe at sea.  When we arrived at Playa Francesca, however, it had reverted to a light South-Easterly.  The anchorage, which a month before had been full, was now deserted.  Did everyone else know better?  We decided not, though we did put out extra chain on our main anchor and laid a second, just in case.  In fact, it was a very quiet night, with the wind boxing the compass and putting a full twist in our anchor cables.  It then settled from the east and we lay nicely to the kedge anchor for the next few days.  A couple of other yachts, which had been anchored (illegally) under the cliffs when we arrived, joined us the following day, and tourist catamarans visited daily but it was otherwise a very peaceful interlude with the biggest exertion being the afternoon dip, followed by a solar heated shower or, once, a dinghy ashore and 2 mile walk to the local settlement for fresh provisions and an ice-cream.

After 3 days of lotus eating, we headed south again.  Once more, the winds were lighter than forecast but we managed to (mostly) sail down to the capital, Arecife, to spend the night in the new marina, with a stroll round town to finish the day.  Next day, 6^th, we made the jump down to Gran Tarajal in the south of Fuerteventura.  A fine sail for the first 50 miles with 15-20 knots just behind the beam.  The wind then died and we had to motor the last 12 miles.  The book says that there is no-one to contact after 1400, so we just motored in and picked a berth, on the pontoon against the southern wall.  As we tied up, we noticed a guard in a hi-vis jacket waving at us and braced ourselves for his visit.  We had, apparently broken 5 rules, including not calling him on VHF; not noticing him waving; berthing on the wrong pontoon and taking a space that could have been used by a catamaran.  I suspect that it was bluster to impress his trainee and, as no catamarans arrived and the motion on his choice for our berth was quite pronounced, leading to one finger being broken off, I didn’t feel too badly.  The Port Captain, when visited the following morning, certainly didn’t seem at all concerned.

Betancuria

We were now a bit stuck.  It was 90+ miles from here across to Gran Canaria, our next destination.  This is too far for a daylight crossing, we didn’t want to arrive somewhere new in the dark and the wind was forecast to die every night for the next week.  Morro Jable, 20 miles to the west, was reputed to very uncomfortable in the current, SE’ly winds.  We managed to console ourselves by sitting in the sun, with a daily walk to town for provisions.  After 3 days, I bumped into a local, who told me that, although the normal pontoons at Moro Jable suffer from the swell, there are others, used by locals, that are more comfortable.  Accordingly, on the 10^th, we made the 20 mile trip and the old pontoons were indeed very calm.  We tied up alongside, rather than stern- or bow-to, as the local boats were.  Again, the Port Captain was very relaxed about this and charged us less than 7 Euros a night.  No water or electricity, but still a better bargain than those who, inexplicably chose to anchor in the swell outside, rather than join us.  This time we stayed for 4 days with an afternoon trip across to the standard pontoon to top up water and batteries and one day with a hire car to explore the island.  The western side had areas of great charm, including the old village of Betancuria, but much of it is almost as barren as Lanzarote and doesn’t appeal as a long term destination.  I took advantage of our lack of motion to go up the mast for a couple of jobs, including replacing the TV aerial, which had fallen off a few weeks before.  We now have 60 odd channels, with nothing worth watching.

Monkey up a stick

Finally, on the 15^th, we got a forecast of decent winds overnight.  We cast off at 1500 and headed south west.  Once more, we were disappointed with the strength of the wind, achieving 3 – 4 knots through the evening rather than our planned 5 – 6 but we had 24+ hours to make the 80 miles across.  The wind improved after midnight and Elsie got a good sail through her, 0100 – 0600 watch.  We arrived at our destination, Arguineguin, at 0800.  There was, supposedly, an anchorage in the lee of the harbour but, as often happens, this space is now taken by moorings for locals.  We tried anchoring but, where there was shelter there was a rocky bottom, with poor holding and where we managed to dig in, it was uncomfortable in the swell so, after an hour or so, we picked up and continued the couple of miles to Puerto Rico.  This is a tourist resort with a commercial marina.  Not our usual choice but there is, on this coast, with this wind, no better alternative.  One bonus was a launderette opposite our pontoon with commercial sized machines having 40 minute cycles.  By early afternoon laundry was done, tanks topped up and all squared away.

After our exertions, we took a day’s rest before hiring a car for a tour of Gran Canaria.  Much greener than the two eastern islands and a pleasant mountain road up the western side gave some great views.  We ventured into the capital, Las Palmas, to try to see the marina in case we wanted to use it in future but while the one=way system allowed us to pass it, we couldn’t find the exit and after 2 circuits, we gave up and headed down the east coast.  Things did not improve much as, try as we might to find a pleasant road to follow, each time we left the motorway we ended up in derelict industrial estates or minor housing roads.  The south east corner of the island is a huge holiday resort but we managed to find our way through to Arguineguin, which we had failed to visit by sea, for a very late lunch and mega shop before returning the car.

On the 20^th, we finally got a good sailing wind and made an early(ish) start across to Tenerife. We had a NE’ly F4-5 on the beam all the way across and made it to Bahia de Ahona by 1400.  We had hoped to find an anchorage here but, once again, the only usable spot was taken up with local moorings.  Fortunately there was plenty of time to carry on down the coast to Punta Roja, in the lee of which we knew there was a good spot.  We dropped anchor at 1630, having sailed 57 miles in just over 8 hours and spent a very comfortable night.  The following day we headed west again with a following F6 until passing the south west point of the island  where we found ourselves in light airs, eventually settling down to a light south westerly which took us up the coast past the fleshpots of Los Cristianos and Adeje to Los Gigantes where it finally died, leaving us to motor the last few miles to Playa de Masca.  This is a tiny bay surrounded by huge cliffs.  Rain was forecast and, sure enough, it started falling in the valley, leaving us dry but with a rainbow to enhance the already spectacular scenery.  The icing on the cake was the coastguard helicopter on exercise, rather than a shout, practicing approaches to various parts of the valley.  Given the huge variation of winds along this coast and the height of the cliffs this must have kept their adrenaline levels well up.

Coastguard helicopter, Los Gigantes

Although we were very comfortable through the evening, unfortunately a change of tide in the night put us beam on to the swell and we were a bit short changed on sleep.  The following morning, we headed back down the coast, again in light westerlies although the general area wind was from the east.  The day was enlivened by large pods of Pilot Whales.  I would call ‘there must be 10 out on my side’ only for Elsie to report 15 on hers.  On passing the south west tip, the wind again switched to Easterly.  We had been hoping to stop in Las Galletas but were told that there was no room so continued on to San Miguel, a rather soulless marina attached to a golf course.  Despite calling ahead by phone, there was no reply to radio calls, or to the phone on arrival leaving us making a blockage at the entrance.  A flustered mariniero waved us to a berth just as we overheard a radio exchange in which his boss assured the skipper of a departing tall ship that the entrance was clear.  We fortunately managed to get out of her way in time.  We eventually managed to find a small supermarket, manned by ex-pats, which provided us with essentials and a few luxuries, including mince pies.

Another island hop on the 23^rd, across to La Gomera.  Winds were forecast to be light overnight so we chose to anchor at la Cantera, a small bay on the south west side, served by a footpath and intrepid boats dropping off even more intrepid back packers.  Some of these set off up the, very large, hill shortly before sunset so I hope that they had a good plan.  Sleep was again disturbed by a change of tide putting is beam on to the swell and we resolved to become proficient at Bahamian moors which, with an anchor out at each end, can keep one head (or stern) to swells. 

On Christmas Eve we had a slow sail back round the coast and up to the Capital, San Sebastian.  This is a very pleasant town with an equally pleasant marina (apart from the ARMAS ferry which leaves it 2 stroke diesel generator running).  We had left ourselves time for shopping but unfortunately failed to find the big supermarket, which hides under the bus station, and could find nothing more exciting than frozen mince for our Christmas dinner.  This turned out not to be a problem as we were parked next to an Irish boat which had a supply of ice.  After a walk round the town on Christmas day, we joined them for a drink, which turned into several and we found ourselves wandering ashore at 9 PM for a festive burger. 

Needless to say, the 26^th was spent recovering.  We had hoped to hire a car to explore inland, but they were all fully booked for over a week ahead so, on the 27^th we set off on a series of very short hops round the coast.  As there was a good SWly wind this day, we zoomed out and back for a couple of hours, to blow away the cobwebs but anchored only a couple of miles further south at Playa de al Cabrito,  a quiet bay with a hotel served by water taxi.  We took the precaution of laying a second anchor and spent a comfortable night, head to swell.  The following day, another couple of miles south to Playa de la Roja, a small bay served not even by a footpath, though we dingy-ed ashore for a pleasant walk up the valley. We seemed very protected and did not lay the second anchor, with predicable results.

We learned the lesson next day another few miles down the coast at Playa de Chinguarime.  This is a wide bay, a mile or so east of Santiago harbour.  We had looked at it on Christmas Eve and figured that the most comfortable spot would be close to the eastern edge.  We set our anchors to keep us aligned with the edge and put our stern to the swell creeping round the edge, which also gave us full sun in the cockpit.  We discovered that we could fine-tune the heading by up to 15 degrees by changing the lead of the kedge (stern) anchor, and spent a couple of very comfortable nights with a little shopping trip to Santiago on the 30^th.

Vueltas

On New Year’s Eve, we continued round the coast, motoring the 11 miles to Playa de Argaga, just outside Puerto de Vueltas.  Like Santiago, there are no pontoons here and the harbour wall has a bad reputation for shredding fenders and mooring lines.  There are a few berths for bow- or stern-to mooring and we could possibly have squeezed in here but the anchorage seemed comfortable enough and there as there was a good place to leave the dinghy on trips ashore, we were content to stay outside.  There was a small care hire shop just outside the port which provided us with a car for the next couple of days so we went back aboard and slept through the New Year chimes.

Stats for the month:
Logged:          430 miles
Over ground:  416 miles

November 2015

In which we make it to Canary Islands and start our cruising life.

We started November in Porto Santo, Madeira.  Having had a few days exploring this small island, on the 1^st we set off to the main island.  We wanted to see a bit of it but indications were that, at this season, we were unlikely to get into the small marina at Funchal and that other marinas could be crowded, expensive and inconvenient.  It being fair weather, we anchored the first night just south of the eastern tip in the Baia de Albra, a very pleasant little anchorage. I had dropped a pair of expensive sunglasses overboard in Porto Santo and, while retrieving them noticed that the propeller anode was nearly exhausted.  I took the opportunity to renew this, using my little Scuba set.

Leaving Porto Santo

 The following two nights there was a south westerly forecast so marina berth required as there is no natural shelter.  A phone call to Quinto de Lorde confirmed that they could accommodate us.  Although it was only 2 miles away, we decided to have a beam reach down the Islas Desertas and back just for fun so actually did 46 logged; 41 across the ground.  Very warm welcome and plenty of space. But the cost! Our length being 12.06 metres (most places ignore the 6 cms) meant that we were classed as 12 – 15 metres, which put the price up from 33 to 46 Euros per night.  They then added on 10% for this and 20% for that and charged over 62 Euros.  Even at current exchange rates this is ridiculous for somewhere 90 minutes by bus from town. 

Another phone call in the morning to Funchal gave us news that there was space for us there so off we went.  Directly into a SW’ly 4-5 gave us a spirited beat.  4 hours to achieve 13 miles to windward (though 25 miles logged).  The pilot book spoke of rafting 6 or 7 deep and the phone call had advised that we would be alongside another boat.  No problem, Elsie is getting better at sharing.  It was only when we got to the far, cramped, corner of the harbour that we realised that we were expected to moor stern to the pontoon with a lazy line pick up to hold us off.  This is standard procedure in the Med and, 2-3 years ago we were well practiced but we were unprepared and Ruby does not handle well in confined spaces with a cross wind.  Suffice it to say that we provided entertainment for the onlookers without actually hitting anything.  The fees here were a much more reasonable E26 per night.

Thursday 5^th, we stayed in Funchal, intending to see the sights but after visiting one winery, where they didn’t do tours but provided free samples and another where they did both, we were not in a fit state to anything but sit and admire the scenery.  On Friday, after a delay caused by a blocked loo, we hired a car and toured the western end of the island encountering many hairpin bends, excellent ice cream and one parking ticket.  Managed to get help from a local on the last and escaped with only a 4 euro penalty.  We rounded off the afternoon with a trip up a mountain.  Elsie pointed out a little side road which seemed to be signposted to a higher mountain 20 km away.  Surely a mistake.  No.  There really was this incredible narrow, steep, windy road along the spine of the island.  Poor little Renault had to climb about 2000 ft in 1^st gear and the road was shutting for the night in 30 minutes so it was an ‘interesting’ journey.  Give Elsie her due, she only actually screamed once.

We had been studying route winds since arrival.  The previous Tuesday would have been ideal for our next leg down to Lanzarote, but would have meant missing the Madeira tourist bit.  Saturday looked, albeit with a slow start pretty good but we needed to make some ground to the East to get the best wind so, on Friday afternoon, we motored back to our initial anchorage, needing only 2 hours for the journey this time.

Sun setting over Madeira

We had to motor out of the anchorage on Saturday morning but within an hour had just enough wind on the beam to give us 3 knots.  It slowly built and, by 20:00 we had a F4 giving us 6-7 knots with one reef in for the night watches.  We had had full moon on the way to Madeira but, 2 weeks having passed, it was now proper dark – another new experience for Elsie who, though apprehensive at first, soon found the pleasure of a real night watch (in fair weather with the wind on the beam!).  Our plan of heading north of track worked well and we managed to keep the wind near the beam all the way down.  Once again we kept 6 hour watches and with growing confidence (and better weather) Elsie didn’t need to wake me at all while I was off-watch.  She managed to eat and I managed to sleep so we arrived in great shape 51 hours later at La Graciosa, the most northerly of the inhabited Canary Islands.  There is an anchorage in the sound between this and Lanzarote, which we had visited before both on Fumeke, a chartered Dufour 34 and as guests on Velvet Lady, an Oyster 55.  Previous visits had been in February and we had had the bay to ourselves.  This time, there were about 12 others, but finding a space presented no problem and we settled down for a couple of days of idleness. 

On Thursday 12^th, we managed to shake off our torpor and repeated a voyage first made on Fumeke, down the west of Lanzarote nearly 4 years earlier.  Back then, it had seemed like a huge undertaking – nearly 40 miles with no intermediate safe haven (not helped by my trapping, and breaking, a finger in the sprayhood.  Strapping with duct tape showed, once again how essential this stuff is).  Now, it was much less daunting, though perhaps we should have stirred ourselves a little rather than having a leisurely breakfast and only just managing to get the anchor up before 10.  We might then not have had to motor for an hour when the following wind dropped to F3 and our speed of less than 3 knots meant that we might run out of daylight.  Fortunately the wind increased and veered more to the beam so we had a good reach down and beat up to marina Rubicon on the southern coast.  Strong winds were forecast for the next 2 nights, so we planned a 36 hour stay. 

To entertain myself on Friday, I decided to check out the plumbing on the head (loo) before we had another blockage.  Oh dear.  Over the years, the 38mm outlet pipe had become encrusted with sea salt and was now less than 10mm for most of its 5 metre length.  Plus 3 valves.

Salt encrusted diverter valve

Most of this was inside a small locker inside an already small compartment.  It turned out to be a 3 day job to obtain, adapt and fit all the parts.  The marina is pleasant and we had no pressing engagements, so it could have been worse.  We stayed local for the rest of the week, day sailing and anchoring just outside the marina, as I had booked the boatyard to do a check on our standing rigging, replaced 4 months and several thousand miles ago.  It transpired that no adjustment was necessary but better to be sure.  Day trips included a circumnavigation of Ilsa de Lobos; one where we just zoomed out to the west and back, covering 34 miles in less than 5 hours and one where we tried hoisting our old genoa in the spare headsail track to give us twin headsails for a downwind passage.  Several hours were usefully spent experimenting with various sheeting and furling strategies and we are (reasonably) convinced that this is the way to go downwind in the Trades.

The following Saturday, we sailed the ten miles up the coast to Porto Calero marina, where Ruby was to spend the next week as it was time for my 2 monthly trip back to Scotland for medical checks.  Elsie spent the week doing her Day Skipper practical course.  Passing this means that, on paper at least, she is more highly qualified than I am to sail Ruby.  I wonder if she will still let me take a turn at being in charge?

Monthly Stats:

531 miles logged

506 miles across the ground.