Costa del Sol, Spain

We had been warned about the high cost, lack of berths and indifference to English yachties on the Costa del Sol, so we had planned to zip through this part of the coast without too many stops.
7th May 2007. Our first scheduled stop was at Estepona, which we thought would be a reasonably priced marina, as we knew several boats that had wintered or stopped overnight there. We tied up alongside the waiting pontoon, which claimed to have 24 hour staffing. It was about 7pm and there was no-one to be seen. We wandered around the pontoons – no-one to be found, so we cooked our dinner and planned to spend the night on the waiting pontoon and be gone early in the morning. At 10.30pm the marinero knocked on the side and asked us to fill in his papers and check in. When we found out that it would be €50 for the night we decided to move on briskly and do an overnight passage instead. The mariner was kind enough to let us eat our dinner before we left and turn a blind eye to our short stay on the waiting pontoon. A lunch stop here is €25 so we were pleased with his generosity!
We had an uneventful motor along the coast, with virtually no fishing boats, no ships to be seen and a tranquil flat sea. The peace was briefly broken at about 3 am, by the deep sound of a high-speed boat that showed on radar at 1 mile but had no lights. It disappeared quickly into the night and off radar. Drug boat, we both agreed and Stu went back to sleep and I continued my watch. The lights of Marbella and Malaga winked past in an unbroken line along the coast but by morning we were sailing past the fairly undeveloped coastline of Almeria, still showing the benefit of starvation of development by Franco in the 60s, but now starting to catch up with its neighbouring costas, and the snow-capped Sierra Nevada mountains in the background. We studied the pilot book, and found a reasonably sheltered anchorage at La Herradura. This was close to Almenucar where Laurie Lee witnessed the outbreak of the Spanish Civil war in 1936. We had a restful couple of nights at anchor and our first swim of the season. The water was already warmer than the UK at its best!

 The Sierra Nevada and Costa de Almerimar

Our own anchorage at La Herradura in fine settled weather

Almerimar : 10-23 May
We next found ourselves at Almerimar marina. We just popped in to find out the costs, preparing ourselves for a quick departure based on the Estepona experience. We were amazed to find it was €9 per night (water and power extra), so we booked in for a couple of nights. This marina has 1000 berths in 3 large basins, surrounded by shops, apartments, beaches, restaurants. It is a boat city, but completely lacks character and atmosphere. We were pleased to be able to get wifi on board the boat, and that there was a huge well-stocked Mercadona supermarket on site. There is also a VHF net broadcast every morning, similar to that of Lagos, so you could keep up to date with events, buy sell and swap gear, and find out a daily weather report. This turned out to be immensely valuable as Cabo de Gata headland is the local nasty to be avoided in bad weather and almost impossible to round in a north easterly due to the sea-state and currents. Almerimar had us hostage for 14 nights in the end, as we waited for the right weather slot to move up the south east coast safely.
A few Lagos boats arrived – Dawn Chaser, Roamer, Birvidik, and we made some new acquaintances – Pam and Dave on ‘Will You’ and Pete and Lyn on “Huit Huit” who were full of useful information.  Pete and Lyn had cruised the Spanish coast and the Balearics several times so we had a pilot book party and made notes in our new pilot book from their suggestions as to where to head for, good anchoring spots and where to pick up water supplies.
A German live-aboard was selling LED lights that he makes up himself to your specification – we had been searching for the right ones for sometime, so we availed ourselves of his services. LED lights use very little power, so they are great as anchor lights, and saloon lights, reading lights etc. If you are anchored and need to watch your power consumption vs. battery charging ability, LED lights are invaluable. All that we needed now was the right light shades …..

David, the weather man, introduced us to a couple of really useful weather sites:
www.inm.es  the Spanish met office website and www.meteosim.com . By studying the weather buoy data we could check whether the sea-state was suitable for departure, avoiding the hassle of leaving, having a nasty day on the water, only to have to return to Almerimar.
We got a lot of jobs done on the boat, varnishing the woodwork and protecting the sails and ropes from chafe – it was a useful and cheap stopover, but finally a weather window developed and we were off like a shot.

We rounded Cabo de Gata in a still lumpy and rolly sea and even managed to sail in light winds. We had decided to head straight out to the Balearic Islands overnight as we were having such a nice sail in 8 knots of wind, with twin head sails poled out and no main sail. At about 2pm Stuart looked behind us and saw the water getting choppier, so we decided to drop the big lightweight hank-on genoa in case the wind speed was on the increase. At this point the Navtex spewed out a gale warning for all areas of the western Mediterranean.
Luckily we got the lightweight genoa packed away and down inside in good time, but no sooner had we done that, we had to wind away the roller-furling genoa bit by bit. The wind swung around to the NW 120 degree swing, and increased to35 and peaked at 45 knots!!!  We were running around closing hatches, and getting the spray hood up as we were being soaked by the spray of the rapidly building sea. This transformation from light wind ghosting to full stormy seas took about 45 minutes, a Mediterranean speciality.  We decided to head into the lee of the mainland, as although we were in no danger, we didn’t know how long these conditions might last. We motored up into the lee of the headland and headed straight into a new cheap marina at Santa Pola, which had been recommended to us by ‘Will You’. We were very thankful that we had not been too far out to sea when this weather came through – it was a salutary lesson as to how quickly the Med weather can change. With no tides to overcome, the sea state changes and builds as rapidly as the wind speed increases, and then only dies away slowly after the wind has stopped.
Santa Pola marina has only just opened and is almost empty.  It was €11 a night, the pontoons very solid and the bathrooms luxurious. We were happy to tie up for a few days – first job being to wash the salt crystals off the outside of the boat.  Santa Pola is a nice town, not touristy, and has Chinese shop warehouses where you can buy almost anything. Every town in Spain and Portugal has a Chinese shop – however small the village –well stocked with all sorts of tat, amongst which you can usually find something useful – a tool, a plastic tray for the fridge, a kitchen utensil. In Santa Pola we found 2B pencils for chart work at 35cents each, and some teak pencil holders for 65 cents, which Stuart is making into LED light shades!  Bargains galore!
Leaving the marina, and heading out from the mainland we had a rough and windy start to the 100 mile passage to the Balearics, thinking – here we go again! – But thankfully the wind moderated after a couple of hours and we motor-sailed overnight. Again it was a very uneventful passage, with just a few ships and fishing boats sighted. We take it in turns to be on watch for 2-4 hours at a time, for short trips overnight this is no problem, as you can catch up on sleep once you arrive.
It took 24 days from Ceuta to reach the Balearic Islands. We were lucky to have anchored in settled weather when possible, and to find a couple of cheap marinas. The marina charges were due to increase to summer rates within a few days of our departure from each place, so we had got in just in time. Will we be so lucky in the Balearics, given all the tales of woe that we have heard from ‘helpful’ souls who wish to fill our heads with all sorts of information?

Spain, Gibralter and Morocco

Ayamonte again
Our arrival in Ayamonte co-incided happily with Semana Santa or Holy Week. The week is celebrated by a series of processions day and night throughout every Spanish town and village. After watching one of the processions from one of the 9 churches in the town of Ayamonte, which doesn’t even warrant its own sentence in the Rough Guide to Spain, we were so impressed with the spectacle that we hatched a plan to go and see Semana Santa in ‘the’ place to see it – Seville. It’s widely reputed that the only accommodation left in Seville in Holy Week is exceptionally expensive, so we planned to travel up by bus (2 hours) in the afternoon of Maundy Thursday, stay up all night as the Spanish do anyway, and travel back the following day. We put a few essentials in a small rucksack and set off on an adventure.
             
An overland intermission in Seville (Maundy Thursday)
On arrival in Seville it soon became apparent that the best bet was just to follow the streams of  people who clearly knew where to head for to see the next procession. It was a great night, interspersed by warm-ups in bars with a few tapas to see us through the night. A hotel would certainly have been a waste of money, as we wouldn’t have seen much of it!
It was lovely to see so many people, many of them teenagers and young adults, genuinely enjoying the spectacle of their religion. As each pasos (processional float) passed by, a reverent hush would descend on the crowd. We walked miles and stood for hours.

One procession we viewed had a full 1,700 participants slowly moving past in various religious costumes from the tall pointed hat brigade to fully armed roman centurion outfits, feathers galore. Daybreak seemed to arrive very quickly. All the kids were still up, in or following the processions, all well behaved, not a single drunk seen all night despite all the bars still being open. We left on the 10am bus, halfway through the 12 hour procession that had started at 2am and would not finish until lunchtime. Despite the rigors of being on their feet all this time, and lugging around heavy (1 Ton) pasos, and the band having been marching and playing throughout the parade and still with 3 hours to go, they were all in remarkably good spirits. For us it was time to take the bus back to Ayamonte for sleep.

Thanks to Wikipedia for the following explanation of Semana Santa in Seville for those interested in the background to the processions. Other Spanish cities have processions; Malaga is apparently the next best to Seville if you are passing through the area at Easter sometime.
‘Holy Week in Seville
Seville arguably holds some of the most elaborate processions for Holy Week. A tradition that dates from Counterreformation times, or even earlier. The "Semana Santa en Sevilla" is notable for featuring the procession of "pasos", lifelike wood sculptures of individual scenes of the events that happened between Jesus' entry in Jerusalem and his burial, or images of the Virgin Mary showing restained grief for the torture and killing of her son. Some of the images are of great antiquity and artistic masterworks. These "pasos" (which usually weigh over a metric tonne) are physically carried on the neck of costaleros (literally "sack men", for its distinctive -and functional- headdress). The "costaleros" (from 24 to 48) are hidden inside the platform of the "paso", so it seems to walk alone. Historically dock workers were hired to carry the "pasos". From 1973 onward, that task has been universally taken over by the members of the confraternities who organize each procession.

The "pasos" are set up and maintained by hermandades and cofradías, religious brotherhoods, confraternities or sodalities, which precede the "pasos" (up to 3) dressed in penitential robes. Some of the processions are near 3000 persons each. In Seville, but for some officials, "costaleros", acolytes and a few other exceptions every participant must wear penitential robes and be hooded. A brass band may accompany the group, playing funereal religious hymns or "marchas" written for the occasion. Some processions are silent with no musical accompaniment. As each procession leaves its home church, called a salida, as well at its return (the entrada) and along the march route there are special extemporaneous songs offered by individuals in the crowd or a balcony. These songs are generically called saetas (arrows).

A total of 58 processions (as of 2007) occur during the week, from Palm Sunday through Easter Sunday morning. On Maundy Thursday there are two sets of processions. One group occurs during the afternoon and evening. The second set begins near midnight and continues until early afternoon on Good Friday. The most famous processions occur this night (the madrugá), including Jesus del Gran Poder, Esperanza - Macarena, and Esperanza - Triana.’

After all the excitement, we returned to Ayamonte to watch the smaller, but nonetheless elaborate processions over the weekend culminating in the colourful and upbeat Easter Sunday parade, where the penitents are not hooded and the ladies join the parade in traditional Andalucian headdresses.

We were ready to move on, having decided to enjoy the Costa de Luz for a while, which is reported to be the last delightful stretch of Spain before the Costas del Sol and Blanca, with glorious beaches around towns that still retain some of their original character.

Isla Christina/Isla Canela
Our first trip was just a few miles up the coast to free us from the tide constraints of the shallows outside Ayamonte. We approached Isla Christina marina, but were told that we were 40cm too long for their marina!!! We went across to Isla Canela in the same harbor, which is an up market apartment complex with absolutely no character at all. At least it was cheap. Just could not wait to get out of there!
Chipiona
Next day we motored 50 miles in desperation to get to Chipiona. When we arrived, I thought that maybe all the people had been abducted by aliens – it was so quiet that nothing stirred! We stayed a couple of days here while we sorted out the phone, and did some shopping. It is a long and boring walk into the town. Once there, it was pleasant enough, the bars cheap and not too touristy. The beaches were lovely, and it had an air of a once popular tourist destination that has got lost along the way and is in a sleepy decline.
Rota
We were soon ready for a move, and 15 miles to Rota was not too strenuous.
Rota is at the north end of the Bay of Cadiz, and is better known for the huge US Naval and air force base opposite the marina. Once inside the marina, the only evidence of the base, was a few helicopter and planes overhead, but they were not too much of a distraction. The old town is lovely in the daytime, with a happy, Spanish feel to it. There’s plenty of shopping and bars to be enjoyed, and a very traditional bodega where you can sample all sorts of sherry from barrels at 40 cents a go. At night however the town was full of loud yanks, drinking and showing off their cars and stereos to young Spanish girls.
There is a chain of government run marinas through Andalucía, (www.eppa.es) which are very cheap (€13.50 per night) and our choice of stop is largely determined by the availability of these marinas at the moment, particularly given our experience the next day….
El Puerto de Santa Maria
Across the Bay of Cadiz we visited a private yacht-club for a change. It was lovely, although in a state of decay. There is a swimming pool there (empty) and tennis courts (full) and a bar on the river (very nice). The town was closed for the afternoon (Saturday), although it was very pleasant. It is where the sherry is brought down from Jerez to be stored and shipped. Fortunately all the bodegas were closed so we couldn’t get into trouble!! The downside of this place is the price - €35 per night – the most expensive yet of the whole trip. The friendly marinero(captain of the port), clearly felt sorry for us paupers, and gave us some freshly caught fish for our supper! And some advice on how to save some marina fee money (by lying!) which we will take up at later opportunities.
We moved to a heavenly anchorage to the west of the river entrance and stayed for free – enjoying the tranquility after all the other boats had gone back to their marinas, leaving us to enjoy the views of the bay all by ourselves.

Puerto America (Cadiz)
We were keen to spend a couple of days in the 3000 year old city of Cadiz. We could have done this by ferry from Rota or Santa Maria, but the last ferries left the town at 8pm, so we would have been unable to experience the nightlife of the city. Instead we approached this marina with some trepidation, as the pilot book could not have been more negative about its charms! It is true that it is in the middle of a building site, and the toilet block is some distance from the visitors berths, but it is cheap, half empty and only a 10 minute walk to the start of the old city and the bus station, with good connections to many other cities. We were very pleased to be here, as within a day our friends Davy and Kate from Roamer had joined us, and the wind started howling out of the Straits of Gibraltar, which it has now done for 7 days making any further progress east very uncomfortable if not nearly impossible. The wind in the Gibraltar straits , gateway to the Med, blows hard either west or east 300 out of 360 days. We couldn’t have been delayed in a nicer place though, and we managed a few trips out on the bus, to Seville again, and to Santa Maria on a day when it was open (and very pleasant!) and many days of wandering the endless ancient streets of Cadiz. Cadiz is one of the oldest cities in Spain and every kind of architecture from roman to new is crammed on the small peninsula. It is an incredible sight, plenty of decaying buildings as a result of the limestone used to build and it’s weakness to the attack of the salt air. There is more restoration going on in this tiny area than I have ever seen. A huge effort to shore up and preserve the front facades whilst completely rebuilding the insides of ancient apartment blocks and historic buildings will ensure that this special city retains its special character for future generations. Steph: My  Spanish is coming on really well, as long as I don’t have to speak to anyone or to understand anything said to me! If we could communicate in writing we would get along just fine…… It’s not helped by the Andalusian accent, which doesn’t include most of the consonants at the end of the words!
While we were enjoying a glass of something cold during a shopping trip one day in Cadiz, we heard lots of car horns and shouting and everyone seemed to be sporting the same yellow scarf. It transpired that this was a parade of cars and people announcing a general strike in the bar of Cadiz the following day. A huge motor parts factory – Delphi - had just gone into liquidation, and the strike appeared to be in support of the workers who had been laid off that day. We were prepared for disruption the next day, and unavailability of transport and services as you would expect in a general strike, but the day of the strike was supported by all workers in the area. Not a single bar, café, shop, office was open for the whole day. A few dispirited tourists wandered the deserted shopping streets, filled with uncollected rubbish. If they were in self-catering accommodation, they had no chance of anything to eat, no entertainment, not a single bar in which to rest. It was a phenomenal display of solidarity amongst the businesses, all content to forego a days business and pay to show their support of the Delphi workers – although to what gain it was we’re not so sure. The small Carrefour supermarket, being French and therefore disinterested opened for a few hours and we were able to stock up on a few supplies, such as beer, wine,  vodka and bread! As there were no bars open in which to rest our weary legs, we just perched ourselves outside the supermarket for a little rest, and had a small can of beer to toast the cause!

At the moment we are waiting for the break in the weather to allow us to get to Barbate to await the right tide and wind to enter the straits. It is interesting to note that a lot of cruisers (many of whom do not seem to leave the marina in Lagos) advised us to lay up in a marina for the winter by November, but at that time, the weather was very benign and settled for 3 months until February. Since we have escaped and been on the move again, it has been the most unsettled weather that we have seen, as fronts and lows track across the south of the peninsula.
Gibraltar marinas are allegedly full so we don’t yet know if we will be able to stop there or not.  We also plan a visit to Ceuta – a small Spanish enclave in Morocco just across the narrow bit of the straits, before tracking as quickly as possible along the Costas to the Balearics.  (23 April 2007). 
Gibraltar
After a day delay leaving Barbate for the easterly to cease, we poked our nose round the edge of the massive tunny net (Fixed Tuna nets forming about a 4 mile funnel across the bay, entrapping and coaxing schools of unsuspecting tuna – and dolphins - into the central trap where they are hauled out). We were headed in company with Roamer the 15 miles south to Tarifa and then east to Gibraltar. The 6 knot easterly that wafted around the coast south of Barbate developed to 23 knots off Tarifa but backed down to about 12 knots by Gib. The forecast was westerly but it just doesn’t always do what is expected. The land mass of Spain and Africa have huge influence on the weather systems here. Luckily an advance call had secured us the so called last berths in Gib marina and we were able to spend a few days exploring around. I can’t say it was fantastic and it was the first place we have seen drunken pub culture, the type that you know to keep one eye open for the start of a drunken fight, since leaving the UK.
The airport is alongside the marina, and when I say along side I do mean the Runway is about 100 yards from the moored boats and if there is an aircraft taking off or landing you are not allowed to go near the end of the runway as there is a real danger of a collision with a plane and a mast.
The thing that every tourist has to do in Gibraltar is go up the rock. Unfortunately the tourist hunters know it as well and they’re all there to take your cash and cart you there. 16 pounds will get you there by minibus, herded from point of interest to monkey to vantage point and back in about an hour, and they do try to sell you their trips. Less expensive is the cable car, at least allowing you the time you choose to spend, 8.50 Pounds each. We are not tight ( yes we are) but we found a route through the botanical gardens and up the road to the nature reserve toll gate, paid 50p for entrance and ascended the cliffs via the Mediterranean Steps, a route of some spectacular views around the south east face of the rock and up to the top. Don’t underestimate the climb though. It took us about 2 ½ hours and we could feel it for several days after. But we saw the monkeys and the views and even got ourselves locked in the top cable car / restaurant station when the Sunday shift went home for the day. We managed to climb around the locked gates and make our decent down the road this time and through the older parts of the city.

A day mooching round the shops where the girls stocked up with knickers and tinned meat from M&S and spirits and English stuff from Safeway’s (Now Morrison’s). Spirits were really cheap but wine is cheaper in Spain. 4 Jars of Vegemite, 500 teabags, Cheddar Cheese, Marmite, Diet Tonic, New Electric toothbrush, and 480 liters of diesel (30% cheaper than Spain) we were done with Gib.
16 miles south is Ceuta. A brisk 28 knots of Westerly wind and east going tide gave us a quick but heavy trip across the shipping lanes that reportedly carry 25% of the worlds shipping. Personally I think we have seen more on some trips across the English Channel but not so concentrated and arguably less watchful or willing to alter course a few degrees to go around a small sailing yacht.

Sailing south from the rock across the straits on a typical lively

day

Ceuta is a Spanish enclave on the north coast of Morocco and our first new continent. Being Spanish makes the paperwork easy so it was our choice and quite a good one. Although it’s duty free the prices seem about the same for food as Spain. I believe electronics are cheaper although the choice is much better in duty free Gib. The market just opposite the marina is cheap and had wonderful fish and meat. Some Moroccan influence is visible in the market but it is very clean and we enjoyed a few hours buying little hand made mince things and marinated chicken and fantastic vegetables. We found eating out lacking in choice a bit and had our first meal in a dry restaurant.
Tetouan, Morocco
Roamer caught us up again and with an Australian couple we had last seen in Cascais we decided on a trip into Morocco to Tetouan. Tetouan is about 40 miles over the border and a world apart from this Spanish enclave. Our trip started with a bus to the frontier and the unusual experience of form filling and officialdom associated with the border with Africa and Europe. Touts are everywhere and will sell you anything if you let them, even the official forms to hand over with your passport which are freely given to you by the passport control men. Once through the Spanish side we were encountered by the tour guides, helpful and full of information to help you through the border crossing and then offering assistance in an environment that is so different that it’s hard not to accept and so we did. The guide was courteous and arranged two taxis at 25 Euros return journey, explaining we must not pay them a penny till they delivered us back to the border in one piece. The journey took about 45 minutes to Tetouan. The taxis would not pass an MOT. There was a front seatbelt in one of them but the driver said it wasn’t necessary to put it on - actually there was no catch part so you couldn’t use it anyway. He kindly took the window winder off his door and put it in the back seat so the passengers could share it to adjust the airflow as required. We had to stop for diesel for the 1970s Mercedes but he refused to stop the engine whilst filling, presumably for fear of it not restarting. Our convoy of 2 screamed along past donkeys carrying loads and camels standing around, past road workers living in tents on the roadside and through road works indicated by big rocks placed in the road as warnings to swerve round.

Wow, what a place, streets often only a few feet wide and full of market stalls and little tiny rooms containing shoe makers, leather workers, bakers, clothes makers, you name it.  Surprisingly there was virtually no arm grabbing and hassle to buy things( how much this would have happened without a guide we don’t know – on a couple of occasions he spoke a few sharp words to someone hanging around and they slunk off despondently!) . It seems that tourism really has not touched this place. It is all there for the people not for show. The honesty was amazing: One stall holder refused to sell me a chicken samosa as it was yesterdays and therefore not so safe for visitors to eat, presumably they are used to the bugs as he was quite happy to sell them to the locals. I bought a fresher one on the next stall to him whilst he simply smiled and said it was good I would like it better. We bought some spices and figs and others bought nuts and beans. Our guide became a little disappointed when we refused to buy carpets for the boats from one of the two tourist traps he took us to, the other being a Moroccan Pharmacy where we were dragged off for unwanted neck and back massages and then asked to ensure we tipped the masseur well.  We did not and the guide was a little put out but we had tried to explain that we are not normal punters. By the end he got the message, possibly our purchases finally did the job of convincing him. Scraps of off-cuts of leather for anti chafe patches and meat mincer (the Aussie likes to make his own sausages).

The tannery was impressive, stinking pools of god knows what full of hides at various stages of fermentation, people in waders in yet more pools of dye and others scraping the unwanted fur off cow hides over an old log. This centuries-old industry thrived in the middle of the walled old city, 120,000 people living in homes, crammed with three generations of family, shared hosepipes in the alleys for water. In the alley to the tannery, amongst the wild cats were leather workers and oranges and vegetables piled on the ground, brought in from the mountains by little old wizened ladies, wooden crates of fish smoldered in the sun and old men sat drinking thick coffees and talking. The smells and sights, not all wonderful, almost overpowered your senses.


Lunch was in a lavishly decorated beautiful restaurant in the old town. Clearly there for the tourist as no locals were to be seen but the food was very Moroccan and probably more suitable to our unaccustomed digestive systems than some of the less classy establishments we would have no doubt chosen if the guide had not steered us in here ( for his commission no doubt). No women were seen in any café or restaurant in the town (other than the tourist traps). We were told that if we had entered them the 3 girls would have been refused service!! The guide spoke proudly of the tolerant nature of the people here and how they lived side by side; Jews and Muslims, synagogue next door to mosque. But it is a long way from Ceuta in terms of progress and desire to change and be part of the modern world – although they were quite happy to take Euros from us at Spanish prices for their goods in the tourist traps!
5 hours after arriving the taxis were waiting for us and we were duly delivered back to the border and they were paid. Probably their lucky day judging by the number of taxies parked in huge ranks on the way to the frontier that obviously had not had work that day. The guide was paid and a small tip on top and after a reminder of do’s and don’ts for crossing the border he was off. We all agreed that the 35 Euros for the guide was worthwhile on the first trip but now we were seasoned Moroccan day trippers we would go independent next time and take our chances.

Leaving Lagos, March 22 2007

Well, February just flew by, taking us a bit by surprise to tell the truth. We had expected to be long gone by the end of February, but the decks just continued to be scraped and caulked, a process that took up much more of our time than anticipated. However it is all done now, and by doing it ourselves we saved at least €4000 so we are well pleased with our efforts, and we hope that the black stuff stays in place when we head into the Med and the decks bake in the summer heat.
Frustratingly the weather sensed that we were ready to leave and moved in with a week of frontal systems trailing down from the UK and destabilizing our lovely spring sunshine. But, eventually we managed to cut the umbilical cord to the pontoon, say goodbye to some friends and hasta luego (see you later) to others. …….
Alvor
Once out of the marina we headed for the nearest anchorage at Alvor (a huge voyage of 3.5miles). Motoring in amongst the huge sand-dunes and hundreds of wading and migratory birds, to the fishing port was beautiful. You could spend weeks here at anchor – some even anchor their boats here for the winter and head back home, it is so well protected. We enjoyed a few days of chilling out here, staying clean by visiting the nearby sports centre for a swim in their fantastic new 25m pool.  Unfortunately the village has sold its soul to the devil and the bars are full of the sort of English and Irish people that you really don’t want to meet on holiday, and the live music was even more terrible than that of Lagos ….. we would never have thought it was possible.

Portimao/Ferragudo
After a few days we said adieu to Pam and Keith on Two Easy – who had also left Lagos for the quiet and calm of Alvor, not to mention a huge saving to the budget of around €20 per day. The disadvantage of Alvor is that the entrance is tidal so we just exited at high water and cruised along to Portimao/Ferragudo to anchor in the river opposite the tacky new marina buildings. The weather kept us there for a couple of days before we could be released to attempt a move to Albufiera or Vilamoura. However cold, strong easterly winds and the combined effects of a southerly and easterly sea drove us back to Portimao to lick our wounds. The following day we were rewarded for our patience with a downwind sail in an offshore force 5-6 over a flat sea that kept us flying along all the way to the Faro/Ohlao lagoon entrance. It was just too good to stop at Vilamoura!!!
Faro/Ohlao
Turning to enter into the lagoon we had 32 knots of wind over the deck, no wonder we had a quick trip. We crept up the narrow channels of the lagoon to Olhao, where we were directed to anchor in the last space in the anchorage next to the marina. The marina was built a few years back, and still is in the process of development. Currently (March 2007) there is electricity on some pontoons, no water ( except by dinghy at the fishing boat marina) and no showers/toilets. The marina is full of local and long-term boats paying very cheap rates, and there is only one slot available for emergencies.
It was no hardship to anchor in this small space though, as we had a fresh fish, meat and veg market 100m from our doorstep and a free internet connection (by  putting the external wifi antenna in a round bottomed cooking pot pointing at the Algarve Digital connection on the wharf!! – this is a technique we learnt from a Dutch couple in Cascais)
We could have anchored in the lagoon off Ilha Culatra, protected from any swell by the sand-spits  all around, but the NW wind was cold and fierce and we were on mission to get to Spain by Easter so we pushed on. It is another anchorage where boats are left for the winter months while their owners go and visit their homelands….  As we were leaving, we met David and Liz on Kjemperjekk on their way into the lagoon – the only Lagos boat that we have seen in 2 weeks despite the number of boats leaving at around the same time, bound east for the Med.
Ayamonte
A short sail / motor found us at Ayamonte in Spain, at the entrance to the Guardiana river. It was fantastic to only pay 13 Euros per night and to go out for tapas again. Although Portugal was delightful, and the cost of living in Spain is higher, it is good to be able to explore another culture again, and to have different choices of food in restaurants, later hours and possibly to enjoy a more independent and thriving economy. Without wanting to knock the Portuguese, even in the smallest Spanish villages the mood seems to be more positive and upbeat.
When we met Portuguese people we were impressed by their calm and tolerant nature, respectful and helpful. They seem to achieve great changes, albeit slowly, by persistent efforts of democratic action. Unfortunately the police state was overturned only 35 years ago, and some unbelievable bureaucracy persists in all areas of government agencies. As long as you do not have to deal with these agencies, Portugal is a heart-warmingly nice place to be, but it was time to move on. We arrived in Spain just 2 days short of spending 6 months in Portugal. After 6 months, you are in theory subject to a boat tax. We were informed that this is rarely enforced, and usually by a raid on a marina. The taxes are subject to a very complicated formula, but would only be around £40 a year. The worst aspect is the inconvenience, as the tax has to be paid on one day of the year, in the post office, on the same day that the annual road tax is due, and most post office officials appear to have gone to post office training camp with the UK PO of the 1970’s. One day we waited over an hour just to post a single letter to the UK and it appears that smiling and courtesy have been banned in post offices throughout the country.
And another thing – spoken Portuguese is the most difficult language to understand and to speak. Despite a lot of effort, we failed miserably to communicate with local people outside of the tourist destinations. Now it’s time to start trying to speak Spanish again, after so many hours spent at night school…….
On paying our fees at the Ayamonte marina office, we discovered that Matador has also been here before, in August 1997, on its previous voyage. Déjà vu of a different sort.
After an overnight stop, we set off up the Guardiana river, which forms the border between Spain and Portugal. This creates endless possibilities for not knowing the correct time ( Spain is 1 hour ahead) and for creating offence by flying the wrong courtesy flag!
San Lucar (Spain) and Alcoutim (Portugal)
At the entrance to the river is a low road bridge, which the pilot book claims has a clearance ‘reported to be 20m at high water’. The top of our mast is 17m high, so this resulted in a few minutes of buttock-clenching as the tide pushed us unrelentingly under the bridge. The view from the cockpit was not for the faint-hearted, and a huge sigh of relief resulted as we emerged unscathed the other side.
We motored up the most un-spoilt, un-developed river that we have ever seen and anchored between the frontier villages 25km upstream at Alcoutim/San Lucar. A few fincas and quintas (small-holdings) scatter the waterfront, many of them taken over by English and Dutch families escaping the rat-race to till the land, replacing the old local families whose children have long-ago gone off to seek their fortunes in the same rat-race in the bigger towns and cities. The local action was between a few dogs patrolling the villages, but once ashore the villages had a quiet, laid-back character and a couple of well disguised bars contained the few locals who ventured out to watch football on the bar telly….
We enjoyed a few beers with Robert, an English guy who bought a finca 15 years ago, before going off to enjoy the Caribbean and beyond in his Trintella 29.  He entrusted us with his DVD collection to entertain us during the evenings in the river – after all, he knows how lively things get around here!
The next day we climbed the Spanish side to the old fort with fantastic views of the river and the surrounding countryside. There is just nothing but rolling hills to see on both sides of the river. At some time hopefully, it will be made a national park on both sides of the river, to preserve the natural beauty of the area in both countries.
There were many live-aboard boats left safely at anchor for months (years?) in the river, and not a single plastic fantastic production boat to be seen.

We then moved upstream to Pomorao (Portugal), a tiny one-bar village left over from the mining of sulphur and manganese, which were exported in large ships in the late 1800’s. The river has silted considerably since then, and we hit several shallow patches approaching the village. We turned back and anchored half a mile below the village, unaware at the time that our attempts had been the subject of considerable amusement to the locals …….o barco azul ?? everyone said as they met us in the bar. Yes, we replied sheepishly as they nodded their heads knowingly. The town marina (pontoon) captain and also captain of the local tourist ferry, of course knew the channel through to the town quay and offered to show us through but we were just as happy at anchor ½ a mile down river in the tranquility of it all.  It is perfectly possible to negotiate the shallows to reach the small pontoon on the village jetty and stay for some time for free.

The single bar was the cheapest yet – €1 for a wine and a beer together. If you want to be a member for the year to enjoy cheap drinking, free showers and hospitality it costs a whole €6 to be a member – very worthwhile we thought, although time-at-the-bar happened at around 8.45pm
Having learned our lessons, we made our next exploration up the tiny Rio Vasco in the dinghy, and found some small native terrapins sunning themselves on the bank. Stuart did a bit of fishing – I was right to be pessimistic, and cooked up leftovers with lentils which was surprisingly yummy, to accompany our DVD-watching marathon before returning Roberts collection the next day.

On returning downstream we dropped off the DVD’s and were greeted on the riverbank by Robert with a gift of a bucket-full of mandarins straight from the trees on his finca. They were heavenly. We can well understand the attraction of owning a small-holding on the riverbank with your yacht moored at the end of the garden, and wonder when we will see a place and people as naturally beautiful and open as this again.

This was really the end of Portugal for us and we had a fast sail under genoa back downstream to Ayamonte. The passing of the bridge was only slightly less worrying the second time around.

The great teak deck refit - What a way to spend Christmas ……and January ….and February…….

Matador in live-aboard mode. The full sun awning that we acquired with the boat served as a useful circus tent and also kept the dew off the decks while we started work.

The decks required renovation, as many of the deck screws had lost their caps, the decks were worn in places, and the black caulking was falling out. We suspected that some of the screws had moved and corroded and were allowing tiny leaks into the lockers below. It would be impossible to trace which ones were troublesome as the water tracks along ribs in the structure of the boat, so the wet lockers may not be underneath the leaky screw. We were lucky as our decks are solid and not balsa core under the teak. Had the decks been a balsa core type this operation would have been more urgent as if water gets into the balsa it must be dried out before being re sealed or rot could develop resulting in spongy decks.

Before – bare screwheads, worn teak and missing and untidy black caulking.

Step 1
First Steph uncapped and withdrew all the screws from the decks. The screws are only there to hold the deck in place when it is first laid – it is glued or epoxied in place so the screws are superfluous. Some screws had been replaced in the past with slightly longer ones that went  down too far and pierced  through the fiberglass decks, creating a pathway for sea-water and rain.
One problem is that due to corrosion, about 10% of the screwheads would break off during this process and could not be withdrawn.  Using a small plug-cutter on the drill it is possible to drill down around the shaft of the screw, leaving the screw standing with a hole around it.  It was then possible to draw the screw using pliers. The really stubborn ones required the screw to be heated up using a small grindstone and a dremel, until the screw smoked.
 This heat softened the fiberglass around the screw, breaking its hold and it could be twisted and pulled out with pliers.
Repeat 1000 times!!!

The screws removed – about 10% of the heads snapped off due to corrosion – these had to be drilled out
There were approximately 1000 screws in the decks!

 

Step 2
The holes were all drilled out to the same diameter to reveal the top of the fiberglass deck beneath the teak. We were relieved to see that the teak was about 8mm thick, so we know that we are OK to sand it. The most successful drill bit for this operation was a spade drill bit which Stuart had to grind down for a perfect fit for the new deck plugs. The pointed tip of the spade drill was placed in the old screw hole, thus centering the drill.

Step 3
Stuart filled the holes with a white thickened epoxy, using a syringe to inject each hole to a level approximately 2mm up the teak, effectively forming an epoxy nail..  Where holes penetrated the fiberglass deck, the epoxy runs into the holes and sets, sealing it from water ingress, Some holes required a further application.

The hole on the left shows that the epoxy has dribbled into the space below the fibreglass decks, indicating that this was one of the potentially leaky screw-holes. After leaving the first dose of epoxy to cure for 30minutes a second dose filled the holes and it looked like all the others.

Step 4
Once the epoxy had cured, the holes were recapped with teak plugs, which were glued or clear- epoxied into position. Stuart tried both techniques and found that, although a bit messy to work with, the epoxy worked better at filling any gaps around the teak plug. Overspill didn’t matter as once set the excess can be chiseled and sanded off. Where the extraction of the screw  had spoiled the edges of the hole, a slightly larger hole was drilled and a larger plug made in order to make a good fit.
The glue used was a one-part expanding polyurethane wood glue. You can find a type of this glue called Balcotan on the Robins timber website (although we used a local equivalent purchased from the local carpenter – we never found this product in chandleries, hardware shops or builders merchants despite them all being very well stocked).

We made our own teak plugs out of a block of solid teak (50cm x 11cm x 6cm), using a plug cutter on the drill. Once the glue or epoxy was thoroughly hardened the plug and excess glue was chiseled level with the surface. Sanding later will remove the last little stains and blemishes.

End of Part 1 – a spotty deck

Next thrilling installment – the removal of the caulking, re-route the grooves and re-fill with new caulking – and Stuart's home-made tools……….and then for the final sanding………

Step 1 Cut through the old caulking with a stanley knife

Step 2 Scrape out the old black stuff

Step 3 , scraping with a home made tool

Step 4 Filing with a homemade file

Step 5 Routing the grooves

Step 6 Cleaned and primed slots

Step7 Filling with DC280

Step 8 Spreading

Step 9 Ready for sanding

 PS I now have a Fein Multi master machine which has attachments for removing caulking and seems to be the choice of many deck repairers. They are magnificent tools on a boat,not just for decks.