Summer 2008 - into the Med

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Vilamoura to Barbate
2/3 July

The passage along the Algarve coast starts gently until the seabreeze gives us some livelier conditions. It is a glorious sail with a F4, then F5 on the starboard quarter until early evening with Cabo de S. Maria well astern, when we get 30 knots of wind and a building swell from behind. She's overpowered with full sail up, so we put two reefs in the main and gybe which allows us to enjoy a comfortable beer and crisps in the cockpit, whilst still doing well over 5 knots. To his dismay, Leighton loses his Blue Square Shergar Cup hat overboard in the breeze. They forecast strong gusts overnight, and they weren't wrong!  Our course takes us a straight 120 miles across the bight of Cadiz, with the coast well to the north of us. We eat mushroom risotto as the sun goes down behind us. The swell pushes us along, and Makarma leans happily in the gusts which blow across the port quarter.  Towards midnight we can make out the loom of Cadiz on the horizon, and the lights of fishing boats in the distance ahead.


At 1am, we're romping along, surging even faster in the strong gusts down the cresting waves we can hear but can't see.  Realising we're going to reach Cape Trafalgar before first light at this rate, we roll up the yankee to slow ourselves down, but we're still doing 6 knots. At 3am Leighton is on watch. A fishing vessel ahead of us, having just pulled up his nets, suddenly alters course and heads towards us at speed.  Leighton turns on the deck floodlight, as he's getting uncomfortably close. The astonished fisherman, spotting us at last, responds by turning on his decklights, and swerves away at the last minute. Phew!

Once it's light and can see land ahead, we unroll the yankee. The wind's come round more northerly, still F5 but less gusty. Hot porridge goes down a treat for an early breakfast.  By 9am, we're clearing Bajo Aceitera off Cape Trafalgar. The lighthouse is hard to see in the low sun. We meet a foul tide at the same time as the wind drops, which reduces our speed towards Barbate to less than 3 knots.  

A couple of sailing boats are well outboard of us, clearly on passage to the Strait, and for a second we're tempted to keep going on through to Gibraltar. But dry land beckons - we are on holiday after all, and would prefer a day ashore. The last hour is under engine. At 11am we clear the cardinal just off the breakwater that marks the tunny nets, and tie up in the marina shortly afterwards. 
The gentle part of the passage - lovely!

Barbate to Gibraltar
5th July
Barbate is the centre of tunny fishing in this area. Using an age-old method called the Almadraba developed by the Moors, the fishermen lay nets to catch the tuna that migrate down to the Mediterranean and back every summer.  The nets are protected by men in fast RIBs who run off vessels that stray too close. When the nets are hauled up, the fish splash helplessly on the surface until they're gaffed and killed.   Japanese ships often wait offshore to buy the pick of the harvest for sushi. We went ashore and had some delicious smoked tuna and meltingly tender tuna steak at a recommended fish restaurant just beyond the fishing port. The trouble with the nets is that they are an absolute snare to sailing boats and are not well marked, so we plot a course towards Tarifa to avoid them. Annoyingly, having motorsailed to pass to windward of the first set of nets at Zaharra, they were nowhere to be seen.  At least we could check away and make a course to Tarifa.  A little later, the wind dies away so the engine has to go on again, but approaching Tarifa we picked up a light breeze. We gybe around the point into the Strait.  The AIS screen is absolutely thick with ships.  On the VHF we hear a warning to look out for a group of students swimming the length of the Strait to raise money for charity.  Later we heard they were pursued by a pod of killer whales towards the end of their record swim!  By the time the Rock of Gibraltar is visible ahead, the wind's got up behind us and by the time we hurtle round Punto Carnero into Gibraltar bay, it's blowing 25 knots.  We wind our way through the shipping traffic to La Linea on the Spanish side in the northeast corner of Gibraltar harbour, and anchor under the sea wall which turns out to be draughty but comfortable overnight.

Gibraltar to Sotogrande, then on to Marbella
6th July
We wait until after lunch for a fair tide before setting out the short distance to Sotogrande some 15 miles north of the Rock. The wind's still westerly. Just under yankee, we go the long way round to avoid a sunken tanker just south of the Rock.  We guess rightly that there will be downdrafts on the lee side, and we're glad we don't have the main up. The wind blows strongly off the land north of the Rock as well.  We carry the yankee on a beam reach up the coast to Sotogrande, and tie up. A 20 knot wind pins us against the fuel berth where we check in.  An eye-watering 76 euros for the night - gulp!! We are 12.1 metres long. That 0.1m costs us an extra 35 euros over the 12m charge.  For that price we insist on a head to wind berth given the conditions, and two marineros to help us with the lines as it is the first time we berth fore and aft on a concrete pontoon.  Leaving aside the high cost of the berth, we don't take to Sotogrande.  It is a purpose built residential complex full of people wearing designer clothes and driving 4x4s. People don't sail here, they hang out onboard looking rich, while their crew polish their boats to a shine. There are no supermarkets within walking distance - everyone dines out! 

The wrecked tanker off Gibraltar 

'Rainbow Warrier' meets Sunseeker in Marbella
Cobwebs in the early morning mist
The next morning we set out for the Junta marina at Marbella - La Bajadilla - in the hope that with our 50% discount we can afford the berth.  The wind's on the port quarter, so we decide on the yankee only again and we have a glorious leisurely sail eastward along the coast with the mountains in the background. Although it's relatively calm, there's a following swell. Leighton takes an afternoon kip, while a small pod of dolphins gives us an escort on and off for almost an hour.  We surf down the swell through the narrow entrance of La Bajadilla, narrowly missing an unmarked buoy - only to be told they are full. Ah, that's what the buoy was about - the marina's closed. Dreading what the cost is likely to be, we turn back the half a mile to the Puerto Deportivo de Marbella in the town centre.  Reassured by the more reasonable 32 euros for the night, we decide to stay there and have a day ashore in Ronda tomorrow.  We are squeezed into a narrow space between two gin palaces, then we have a long search in the afternoon heat for a supermarket - our stores are decidely low since there were no shops in Sotogrande.  We rewarded ourselves afterwards with an icecream on the Paseo Maritimo.  

Journey inland to Ronda
8th July
The bus grinds in low gear round countless hairpin bends to ascend the 2,000 metres from the coast to Ronda, the finest of the white hill towns in Andalucia. Ronda has two claims to fame. The two parts of the town are divided by the dramatic El Tajo gorge spanned by the Puente Nuevo, over which they tossed prisoners during the Spanish Civil war. And it is the birthplace of modern Spanish bull fighting with the largest bull-ring in Spain.  We wander around the old town and visit the Palacio Mondragón, a museum with exquisite patios and gardens dating from its time as a Moorish palace. Ronda redefines the word 'view' - simply awesome.

Marbella to Estepona
10th July
We explore the charming squares and narrow streets of old Marbella, and find the central market. A couple of seasoned French sailors have just arrived from Madeira on their small racing yacht, declaring that it was 'very hard going' and they wouldn't do it again.  We feel better about our abortive trip. In the late afternoon we go down to the beach for a swim in a decidedly murky sea. After a tuna steak supper onboard we join the crowds promenading along the Paseo Maritimo, and stop to watch a British street entertainer, Richard Sullivan, amuse the crowds with his creaky Spanish and fuego yo-yo juggling act.  

At night, Marbella is a mosquito hell, and despite the sprays and the mosquito nets, we are driven distracted by the buzzing round our heads all night. To our surprise we wake to thick fog the next morning, with beads of moisture clinging to the cobwebs under the horseshoe lifebouys.  It soon burns off, but it's evidently going to be a scorching hot windless day.  We decide it's time to start the homeward journey westward, and to avoid being turned away, we call ahead and book a berth at Estepona, 15 miles away. We motor slowly past the upmarket developments behind the sandy beaches past Puerto Banus then we stop the engine and drift for an hour over lunch.  We're abeam Punta de Guadalmansa by early afternoon, and tied up in the marina by 3pm.  We get a very friendly welcome from the marina staff, reasonable rates for a berth, and a free bottle of Rioja!  There's a supermarket within five minutes walk, good showers and Estepona's first international jazz festival is taking place this weekend.  Estepona is a hit.

A long weekend in Estepona

The weather forecast says it will go round easterly on Sunday, and it will stay that way for a week.  This is good news as we need the levanter (easterly wind) to get us out of the Strait and back on the Atlantic side of Spain.  Our long weekend starts with the first concert of the jazz festival on Friday. A brilliant gig by jazz singer Madeleine Bell has us dancing until the early hours. It blows hard on Saturday, making the afternoon's walk along the beach a sandblast. We browse the Sunday street market, go the local museum, and clean the hull and fenders with Agerul (as effective as Fairy Power Spray). The other big winch gets a service too, and we go for a swim off the beach.  There's a family outing feel about the beach on Sunday and Spanish-ness which is absent in Marbella.


A jazz concert in the bullring
face to face with a dinosaur
Two dinosaurs face to face
servicing winch
A dab hand at servicing the winches


Estepona to Gibraltar
14th July
We slip out of our berth just after a brief rainshower has cleared. It's calm with not quite enough wind to make it worth hoisting the sails. We manage to sail for less than an hour.  We motor the rest of the way, eventually rounding Europa Point close inshore. Needless to say the wind gets up on the other side of the Rock, by which time it's too late to bother with the sails, especially with all the shipping in the harbour.  We make for Marina Bay to refuel.  The refuelling berth is pandemonium with several boats milling around trying to get alongside. The concrete dock is filthy and we remember that the last time we were here the staff were unbelievably unhelpful.  It's the same again this time. We fill up with 160 litres and with some relief make our way over to anchor in La Linea for the night. The respite doesn't last long as the funfair on the shore keeps going until 5am, and the levanter gets up in the night, making sleep difficult.  Leighton gets up in the early hours to stand anchor watch so I could get some sleep (what a wonderful husband!).
Gibraltar
 Close inshore at Europa Point

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