In Search of a quiet night in the Rias Baixas

In Search of a quiet night in the Rias

La Coruna to Camarinas 15th July When we explain to the next door yacht that we were off the next morning to Camarinas they point to our prop and say, “not with that round there you’re not!” To our horror, a length of green rope is wound round the propeller. We have no idea how long it’s been there, but thankfully it comes off easily when Leighton dives down to free it. The wind is NE F2 when we set off along the charmingly named Costa del Morte towards Islas Sisargas. As we discover time and again, if there's a big swell, it’s impossible to fill the sails if the wind is less than 10 knots apparent. The rolling just knocks all the wind out of the sails. So we’re motorsailing… …again!
Marion prepares another good fry-up in the rolly conditions. Mile after mile of wind turbines stretch out along this rocky coast, testament to Spain’s sizeable investment in renewable energy. The wind finally pipes up on the far side of Cabo Villano, and we have a brief beam reach into the ria to Camarinas. A wall of heat hits us as we approach the land, and the temperature has gone over 30°C by the time we dock in the small marina at Camarinas.
Here we meet what turns out to be the first of many fiestas dedicated to the Virgin Carmen. We never did find out who she is, but she’s certainly popular with the folk of Galicia. Here the fishermen have festooned their boats with sprigs of bay, and preparations are well underway to set up a funfair and stage for a pop concert – all less than 200 metres from the pontoons. We join the party until after midnight, eventually driven away by the appearance on stage of a Julio Inglesias type with a mullet and a monster ego who belts out Spanish pop at full volume. Sleep is impossible until they wrap up the gig at 03.30.

	Camarinas to Portosin (past Cape Finisterre) 16th July Bleary-eyed we sail out of Camarinas and hit a bank of fog almost immediately. We’ve been having more trouble with battery 1. It didn’t start the engine yesterday, and today it wouldn’t start the engine after a night on shore power. We’re concerned about running it down if we use the radar for any length of time, so keeping the donk on in neutral, we sail in NE F4 past Cabo Torinano (invisible in the fog) and on towards Cabo Nave. By the time we’re approaching Cape Finisterre the fog has lifted and the wind has fallen light. To our surprise given Finisterre’s reputation, the sea is flat calm. We give ourselves a pat on the back. It’s another milestone passed.
	Later that afternoon, we set the spinnaker, the first time we’ve done this EVER! Brian spends a considerable time setting up bits of string and fixing blocks, and miraculously it fills first time. It is quite small and very patched, and since it looks awfully complicated to fly it, this is probably going to be its one and only outing. Sadly it doesn’t stay up long because we need to gybe and we can’t face the effort of setting it the other side. We donk the rest of the way to Portosin at the head of the Muros ria.

Celebration in Portosin

Portosin marina has a deserved good reputation with a well run clubhouse and good showers. The marina staff are very helpful at sorting out Marion and Brian’s onward travel arrangements. That evening we toast our success at crossing Biscay and rounding Cape Finisterre with a bottle of Veuve Clicquot. We couldn’t have done it without our crew, the trip across was tiring enough with four, let alone just the two of us. Their help has given us a lot of confidence too. Left to our own devices we’d probably still be teetering indecisively on the brink in Brittany. Entrusting their welfare to us and the boat was a sign of courage or madness, I can’t decide which. On top of all that, given that we’ve been sharing a 40 foot space in adverse conditions we’ve all got on remarkably well.

Portosin to Muros
17th July
We go ashore for provisions. Meanwhile Leighton has found a loose connection between the batteries and the starter button, so after all it doesn’t look like our starting problem is down to dud batteries or the alternator failing to charge. Nevertheless he’s tightened the alternator belt as well just in case. A nice sea breeze gets up by mid-afternoon, blowing directly into the ria. We leave for Muros, just 6 miles away, closehauled in F3 and flat calm. Marion shows Leighton how to trim the sails using the genoa tell tales. But the wind soon dies away. We ghost along slowly enough to allow Brian to try his hand at fishing. Almost immediately he manages to hook a couple of mackerel, but they get away. It’s the only bite he gets. That’s blown a fish supper then.

We anchor in the bay off Muros to discover the fiesta has decamped here today. We can clearly see a Bart Simpson bouncy castle and (groan!) another stage for a concert on the quayside. The sound of ‘Adios Muros’ drifts across the water at 02.00, but it was 04.30 before the music finally stops. Only Leighton sleeps well as he has earplugs.

Muros to Vilagarcia
18^th July

Drizzle and poor visibility greet us this morning when we make an early start to get to Ria Arosa. The wind is light, on the nose. Our GPS route has 13 waypoints to wend our way through the narrow north channel and keep us off the shoals. There’s avoiding the usual littering of lobster pot markers to worry about too. A very boring day’s run into the ria which is largely invisible in the mist. We can just make out rows of viveiros looking like landing craft waiting to go up the beach on D-Day. We finally reach the marina at Vilagarcia, chosen because of its convenient train connection to Santiago da Compostela, where Marion and Brian will leave us. It presents a pretty dispiriting sight, much like Hull or Felixstowe with cranes lined up along the quayside. The town isn’t much better either. We fail to find a café that will serve us tapas as it’s late afternoon, and later we walk miles along the beach in search of a recommended restaurant without success and have to walk all the way back again. We end up in the restaurant overlooking the marina and Marion and Brian treat us to a slap-up farewell dinner.

Farewell dinner

Santiago da Compostela
19th July
Mixed feelings today. Visiting Santiago is a real highlight of the trip so far. We walk the narrow streets of the old city, lined with colonnaded arcades and gaze at ancient buildings which for centuries have been connected with the serious business of pilgrimage. Today’s pilgrims still wear cockleshells, the badge of St James. They converge in their hundreds on the plaza in front of the cathedral, looking weary but proud to have reached the end of the pilgrim trail. We understand their sense of achievement as we’ve climbed a mountain to get here too. And the mixed feelings? We’re sorry to say goodbye to Brian and Marion today. On the train back to the boat we think about how far we have to go on our own. We’ll have the boat to ourselves, but now it’ll be down to the two of us to get Makarma to Ayamonte by September – from here the prospect looks daunting.

Vilagarcia to Pobra do Caraminal
21st July
Two days later we’re still in Vilagarcia, just hanging out in the sun and relishing not having a schedule to keep. We’ve been watching the forest fires burning on the hills on the other side of the ria, and smoke haze is settling everywhere. Eventually we venture out, and in light wind and good visibility we motor the short distance to Pobra and anchor off a sandy bay close to the fishing harbour. We reflect how brilliant it is to have some peace and quiet away from the marina. Our illusions are shattered at midnight when a beachside disco powers up. It breaks all previous records for noise by still going strong at 06.30am!

1. A Slow Start	2. Belting Across Biscay	3. In Search of a Quiet Night	4. Overalls
5. Having a Swell Time	6. It's a Small World	7. Turning the Corner	8. Lazy Algarve
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