Belting across Biscay

Belting Across Biscay

Ste Marine to Camarinas
10^th July - Day 1
Up at first light to get going, but when we turn the engine on, the wretched ignition light comes on and stays on. Since we can’t be sure the light isn’t draining the batteries, or if the alternator belt is about to fail, we reluctantly put off leaving until it's sorted. Leighton feels responsible that he doesn’t have a spare that fits and I wonder if the delay will mean our crew will jump ship and get on the ferry to Santander instead.

The alternator fanbelt only comes off after you’ve removed the other two belts, something that takes a long two hours of grunting and serious bodily contortion. After some tricky measuring, and some debate about whether fanbelts are sized by their internal or external diameters, we go shopping for a new one. The harbourmaster ferries us about obligingly, but early Monday morning is clearly not a good time to be looking for fanbelts. He does some phoning around for us, and eventually we find a car parts place in Pont L’Abbe. We buy a several of different sizes in case our measurements are wrong. Another two hours to refit the belts and we’re ready to go. We slip our lines and motor out of the Odet at 13.30.

In fact the fanbelt problem turns out to be a blessing as by the time it’s fixed we’re all just desperate to get going. If anyone has any misgivings about setting out across what can be the scariest stretch of water on the planet, they keep it to themselves.

The wind for the next three days is forecast W, veering NW or N. Even out of the lee of Penmarc’h, we don’t get the forecast wind until early evening, when we can finally turn the engine off. We begin to make good progress on a beam reach. Overnight the wind increases to NW F5 and the waves build, and we put one reef in the main. Although we don’t sleep much, no-one feels sick. So far so good.

11^th July - Day 2

The next morning the wind veers to the north and then northeast and eases to a F4, forcing us to alter course from our rhumb line to keep the wind on the quarter. Just at the right moment when we’re all feeling a little deflated at the reduced VMG and daunted by the prospect of another two days to go, a large pod of dolphins appears. They play around us for almost half an hour and cheer us up immensely. During the morning we notice the brand new first reefing line has chafed through where it got jammed in the block on the end of the boom. We jury rig a new block and use one of the spinnaker sheets as a replacement line. We’re steering a zig zag course, as we gybe along our course rolling in the following swell. At one point I feel like hugging Marion when I see her cleaning out the slops in the loo. For the first time ever the boat's movement forces me to hitch myself to the stove as I prepare pasta supper. By nightfall, the wind is too light for the Aries to steer an accurate course, so we take to hand steering and continue on and off all night. It’s a brilliant moonlit clear night. No shipping.

12^th July - Day 3

We all slept well last night and feel ready for anything since we passed the halfway mark at 0400. It’s as if we’re almost there, and yet there’s 175 miles still to go. Marion treats us all to a wonderful cooked breakfast. But Biscay hasn’t finished with us yet. All day the wind builds gradually. At least the Aries is steering again. Makarma is rolling a lot making the smallest activity difficult. We pick up the shipping forecast at midday and it tells us what we least want to hear – gale 8 or severe gale 9 in Finisterre, just where we’re headed. We all agree a change of plan is needed. A quick look at the chart shows La Coruna is the obvious alternative to Camarinas. It is 85 miles away and a good course with the wind on the quarter. We could make landfall at first light and be there by early morning. That’s decided it then. We punch in some waypoints and alter course. I spend most of the afternoon in my bunk trying to calm my nerves by listening to my iPod. It's Honor's 21st today, and I bless the HF radio which allows me to send her birthday wishes by email.

In the early evening we roll up the genoa completely and Brian goes forward to put in the second reef in the mainsail. Afterwards we settle down to a restorative G&T in the early evening sunshine and enjoy the easier motion that the reduced sail brings. It is blowing a NE F6. The respite doesn’t last long. As we get closer to the continental shelf, the seas bear down behind us, the swell confused by breaking waves. At midnight we put the third reef in the main, but thankfully the wind doesn’t go above 30 knots apparent and Makarma takes it all in her stride. One wave breaks over the coachroof and another down Marion’s neck while she’s keeping a lookout in the companionway. Otherwise the decks are dry. Then we have a power failure. We had intended to start the engine earlier to charge the batteries but somehow it got forgotten in the drama after the forecast. So now we have no lights, GPS, radar, etc. A panicky moment later the engine starts on battery 2, and power is restored. We switch the navigation instruments to the seat battery which should give us about 6 hours if we use the radar sparingly. Why has battery 1 run down that quickly? Is it the alternator? Something to investigate when we get in. As a precaution, we back up the waypoints into the handheld GPS and get out the handheld VHF and torches. In the early hours, we make out two lighthouses ahead - Spain! Finally the coastline appears as a dark shadow in the distance, and then we can make out Cabo Prior. As usual with a landfall the time passes quickly trying to make sense of the lights and checking our position, so it doesn’t seem long before it’s light and we’re rounding the breakwater at La Coruna. We tie up on a mooring and crash for the rest of the morning. It hasn't sunk in yet - but we've crossed Biscay!
	La Coruna 13th July Our first Spanish encounter isn’t promising. A man waves us away from the Club Nautico pontoon and shouts something unintelligible at us. Clearly we aren’t welcome. All that changes when we meet the delectable Carmen (immediately nicknamed TDC) who runs the marina office. Carmen had spent her childhood in Banbury and had gone to school at Blessed George Napier Catholic school. When she learns we used to live near Banbury, she goes out of her way to be helpful, showing us where to go, what to eat, how to get our washing done, etc. She finds us a berth and we settle in, I for one relieved we aren’t still out in the northeasterly we can hear whistling over the breakwater behind us. On the opposite side of the pontoon is a boat dismasted in Biscay only two weeks before. We’ve found a small puncture in the top of the mainsail. That and the reefing line are our only casualties.
Two days in La Coruna pass very pleasantly indeed. It is a very civilized city of open air cafes, inviting shops and, in the old city, cobbled streets, old churches and shady plazas. We eat some delicious seafood at a restaurant recommended by TDC, where Brian tries gooseneck barnacles caught by her boyfriend. This local seafood delicacy looks very unappealing and doesn't taste much better. One afternoon we take the tram to the Torre de Hercules, which claims to be the oldest working lighthouse in the world. From the sea it looks like a huge flaming torch in art deco style. Close up, it rises solidly above an exposed headland curiously scattered with modern statues. It’s very windy up there and swell crashes on the rocks below.

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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