After a couple of days of battering by wind and waves day and night from La Rochelle we arrived in Gijon in North Spain – pronounced something like hee-hon – try saying it without sounding like a donkey! We were approached and boarded by Spanish customs officials who spoke no English at all. We filled in their form as requested and they went away quite happy. They assured us that this was entirely routine, but we never came across any other boats that had been welcomed this way!
On arrival, we jumped ship and went to a bar to try and regain our senses and land legs. All around people were buying a bottle of cider with one glass between them. It would be poured from a great height, often without looking at the glass. This resulted in much spillage. The glass was then passed to someone, who would gulp it down except for the dregs, which would be swilled around the glass and chucked on the ground before passing the glass back to the pourer. This strange behaviour was all around, and we later discovered that it was fiesta time here, and is a local custom. Pouring the cider from a height makes it fizz momentarily and taste acceptable. It’s traditional to share one glass so the dregs are swilled around to clean the glass before it is passed on to the next drinker.
The following two days we made the most of arriving during the fiesta, and attended the firework display on a Monday at midnight on the beach. It was an awesome display of 45 minutes, some of the best fireworks we’ve ever seen. There was an intermission of 10 minutes during the show, which turned out to be a problem with one set of fireworks. We were treated to the missing ones at 2pm the next day – which didn’t quite have the same effect.
There was music for free in the square and down by the port, a huge stage set up with a Riverdance show and various other free gigs. These went on until well into the small hours. We retired to bed about 3am, but the town was still heaving with people of all ages, mostly drinking cider and spilling it in the streets. We didn’t witness a single episode of drunken misbehaviour and the atmosphere was very convivial.
On the way to Gijon, Stuart caught an enormous tuna (actually a bonito) which he butchered on the foredeck with lots of mess and scales running down the sides of the deck. We let the boat drift while he got it aboard and did his dastardly deeds with it, and it was two hours before we were able to set sail again, with it safely in manageable size pieces ready for the fridge.
Stuart made lots of friends in Gijon by distributing huge tuna steaks to the other cruisers there. It was probably around 20-25 kilos. In France bonito was selling in the markets for around 28 Euros/kilo, so it was an impressive catch. We ate tuna for days and days after this, our favourite solutions to tuna overload being green thai curry, and portugese fish stew (Caldeira).
The cost of living is much lower than in France here- we were starting to wonder if our budget was up to the task when we shopped in the supermarkets. The meat is much better quality here and about ¼ of the price. The wine is abundant, cheap and excellent quality. What more could you want in life??
Ribadeo
Onto Ribadeo next, about 75 miles along the coast. Another boisterous sail with head winds, or now winds and steep short seas, just like the English channel.
The town was OK but a bit run-down, with an annoying swell in the marina (run by the yacht club). Whatever we did with fenders and lines we snatched and jolted around and rubbed fenders with our neighbours. Helen and Matthew joined us for a night on their way home from Pontevendra to the airport. Matthew (8) ran around the boat like a mad thing, pressing every button and pulling every rope he could find – a great adventure playground – while we held our breath and hoped that nothing vital was being activated (like the EPIRB!)
We found a fantastic typically Spanish restaurant with the usual bright lights and immaculately clean kitchen. Helen brought us news that the rain that we found annoying and persistent was very welcome in the region, as they had not had any for 3 months before we arrived. This, combined with some bizarre arson attacks had resulted in terrible forest fires all over Galicia, with loss of life and homes on a scale so huge, that satellite pictures show the smoke streaming out into the Atlantic.
After seeing Helen off to the airport the next day there was an absolute downpour. The steep alleys and streets were streaming with water, the drain covers disgorging their rotting contents. We were quite safe aboard our ark, but the wiff was becoming quite nasty, and we discovered that what had appeared to be just a pile (wide metal vertical pole) in the marina turned out to be the overflow pipe. We named it ‘Pissypoo’ fountain when we saw what was surrounding our ark!
Viveiro
Moving swiftly on we sailed 35miles to Viveiro, a pleasant old town with a new marina and a friendly harbourmaster. We spent an hour in his office to do our paperwork (one form) and receive Spanish lessons and a comprehensive knowledge of nearby anchoring possibilities. Met lots of cruisers here, including Dutch and Danish cruisers and a couple heading back home after their yearly cruise of the region. Andy and Carolyn on Trio gave us lots of information about the cuisine and the areas not to be missed and we seriously took advantage of their extensive drinks locker during one pleasant afternoon aboard.
On Monday and Tuesday evenings there was free live music in the town square, for which all the locals turned out. Everyone brings their kids out until late in the evening, and no-one would think about eating before 10pm. We were clearly born to live in Spain, as our bodyclocks have been synchronized to Spanish time for as long as we remember – even as a child, it never felt right to eat at 1pm and 7pm. We’d frequently find ourselves the last customers in a restaurant, or having to negotiate a table before the kitchens closed in the UK and in France.
Peter joined us on Tuesday for a few days. Unfortunately we thought that it would be a simple connection to Asturias airport where there is a nearby train station. Of course the last train of the day departed 10 minutes before he landed, so the only option was an expensive taxi ride.
We motored around the corner to El Barquero. Here we found a picturesque beach with virtually no-one around, under the ruins of probably an old fish factory. The sand was so white and the water so clear, we had an easy view of shoals of tiny sardines chasing around making the water choppy with their activities and heaps of other fish that avoided Stuart and Peters’ attempts to land them. Steph was quite content with a rest from fish for a while as the tuna had only just been consumed, and we were quite keen for a change of diet.
After a morning swim to the beach, we sailed off to La Cedeira. Again, no winds/head winds and a lumpy sea and we were pleased to arrive in this fishing village. We anchored behind the breakwater near ‘Offski’ a Glaswegian boat off to the Med. The town was a disappointment in every way. We found it hard to find a decent restaurant, the beach was quite dirty, the weather terrible and Peter could find no way out of the place without another expensive taxi ride (and it was touch-and-go as to whether anyone would take him).
After seeing Peter off in his taxi, La Cedeira’s parting shot was an anchor fouled by the most humungous fishermans anchor/mooring we have ever seen, complete with 2 other anchors that had met the same fate as ours. Now we understood why we had held our position so well in the 25 knot winds that we had in the rain-storms!
Our powerful windlass brought the mass of steel to a couple of feet below the surface of the water, so we could see what was what. You would have to be mad to get in the water to sort it out, as it was all hanging in a tangle of fishing net off the flukes of our anchor, ready to take you down with it, should it decide to drop off at any moment.
Luckily we managed to manoeuver the tripping line/anchor chain up and down to free ourselves of this mess and got ourselves free of La Cedeira in favour of La Coruna.
On arrival, we jumped ship and went to a bar to try and regain our senses and land legs. All around people were buying a bottle of cider with one glass between them. It would be poured from a great height, often without looking at the glass. This resulted in much spillage. The glass was then passed to someone, who would gulp it down except for the dregs, which would be swilled around the glass and chucked on the ground before passing the glass back to the pourer. This strange behaviour was all around, and we later discovered that it was fiesta time here, and is a local custom. Pouring the cider from a height makes it fizz momentarily and taste acceptable. It’s traditional to share one glass so the dregs are swilled around to clean the glass before it is passed on to the next drinker.
There was music for free in the square and down by the port, a huge stage set up with a Riverdance show and various other free gigs. These went on until well into the small hours. We retired to bed about 3am, but the town was still heaving with people of all ages, mostly drinking cider and spilling it in the streets. We didn’t witness a single episode of drunken misbehaviour and the atmosphere was very convivial.
On the way to Gijon, Stuart caught an enormous tuna (actually a bonito) which he butchered on the foredeck with lots of mess and scales running down the sides of the deck. We let the boat drift while he got it aboard and did his dastardly deeds with it, and it was two hours before we were able to set sail again, with it safely in manageable size pieces ready for the fridge.
The cost of living is much lower than in France here- we were starting to wonder if our budget was up to the task when we shopped in the supermarkets. The meat is much better quality here and about ¼ of the price. The wine is abundant, cheap and excellent quality. What more could you want in life??
Ribadeo
Onto Ribadeo next, about 75 miles along the coast. Another boisterous sail with head winds, or now winds and steep short seas, just like the English channel.
The town was OK but a bit run-down, with an annoying swell in the marina (run by the yacht club). Whatever we did with fenders and lines we snatched and jolted around and rubbed fenders with our neighbours. Helen and Matthew joined us for a night on their way home from Pontevendra to the airport. Matthew (8) ran around the boat like a mad thing, pressing every button and pulling every rope he could find – a great adventure playground – while we held our breath and hoped that nothing vital was being activated (like the EPIRB!)
We found a fantastic typically Spanish restaurant with the usual bright lights and immaculately clean kitchen. Helen brought us news that the rain that we found annoying and persistent was very welcome in the region, as they had not had any for 3 months before we arrived. This, combined with some bizarre arson attacks had resulted in terrible forest fires all over Galicia, with loss of life and homes on a scale so huge, that satellite pictures show the smoke streaming out into the Atlantic.
After seeing Helen off to the airport the next day there was an absolute downpour. The steep alleys and streets were streaming with water, the drain covers disgorging their rotting contents. We were quite safe aboard our ark, but the wiff was becoming quite nasty, and we discovered that what had appeared to be just a pile (wide metal vertical pole) in the marina turned out to be the overflow pipe. We named it ‘Pissypoo’ fountain when we saw what was surrounding our ark!
Moving swiftly on we sailed 35miles to Viveiro, a pleasant old town with a new marina and a friendly harbourmaster. We spent an hour in his office to do our paperwork (one form) and receive Spanish lessons and a comprehensive knowledge of nearby anchoring possibilities. Met lots of cruisers here, including Dutch and Danish cruisers and a couple heading back home after their yearly cruise of the region. Andy and Carolyn on Trio gave us lots of information about the cuisine and the areas not to be missed and we seriously took advantage of their extensive drinks locker during one pleasant afternoon aboard.
On Monday and Tuesday evenings there was free live music in the town square, for which all the locals turned out. Everyone brings their kids out until late in the evening, and no-one would think about eating before 10pm. We were clearly born to live in Spain, as our bodyclocks have been synchronized to Spanish time for as long as we remember – even as a child, it never felt right to eat at 1pm and 7pm. We’d frequently find ourselves the last customers in a restaurant, or having to negotiate a table before the kitchens closed in the UK and in France.
Peter joined us on Tuesday for a few days. Unfortunately we thought that it would be a simple connection to Asturias airport where there is a nearby train station. Of course the last train of the day departed 10 minutes before he landed, so the only option was an expensive taxi ride.
We motored around the corner to El Barquero. Here we found a picturesque beach with virtually no-one around, under the ruins of probably an old fish factory. The sand was so white and the water so clear, we had an easy view of shoals of tiny sardines chasing around making the water choppy with their activities and heaps of other fish that avoided Stuart and Peters’ attempts to land them. Steph was quite content with a rest from fish for a while as the tuna had only just been consumed, and we were quite keen for a change of diet.
After a morning swim to the beach, we sailed off to La Cedeira. Again, no winds/head winds and a lumpy sea and we were pleased to arrive in this fishing village. We anchored behind the breakwater near ‘Offski’ a Glaswegian boat off to the Med. The town was a disappointment in every way. We found it hard to find a decent restaurant, the beach was quite dirty, the weather terrible and Peter could find no way out of the place without another expensive taxi ride (and it was touch-and-go as to whether anyone would take him).
After seeing Peter off in his taxi, La Cedeira’s parting shot was an anchor fouled by the most humungous fishermans anchor/mooring we have ever seen, complete with 2 other anchors that had met the same fate as ours. Now we understood why we had held our position so well in the 25 knot winds that we had in the rain-storms!
Our powerful windlass brought the mass of steel to a couple of feet below the surface of the water, so we could see what was what. You would have to be mad to get in the water to sort it out, as it was all hanging in a tangle of fishing net off the flukes of our anchor, ready to take you down with it, should it decide to drop off at any moment.
Luckily we managed to manoeuver the tripping line/anchor chain up and down to free ourselves of this mess and got ourselves free of La Cedeira in favour of La Coruna.
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