Hola España

The lighthouse that featured in my last blog was finally rounded and we set sail with a fair wind, blowing a steady 15-18 knots.To those not in the know, that is a good breeze and one that will carry a 20 ton boat with two passengers and a dog at a steady 6-8 knots (6-8 nautical miles an hour – a nautical mile is just over an imperial mile; 1852 metres), which is a good comfortable speed. With the wind off the starboard bow (coming from front right), any more wind than that and it starts to get wet (spray everywhere as you bash through the waves), and bouncy which is fun for a while, but over a a day and a half would be very tiring and would mean that making tea becomes more awkward; any less wind and frustration sets in. So we were making good, comfortable speed. The fixed engine was off and we were on a direct line to Bilbao. The forecast was good and the wind was expected to veer (go clockwise around the compass) coming from SW (now) and moving to W as the day progressed into night, which would help us and make sailing more comfortable so all was good. Again, sorry to those that know all this, but the fastest and most comfortable wind for a sail is when the wind is coming from about sideways on to the boat to about 30 degrees from the back of the boat. If the wind is directly behind you, the boat tends to roll a lot on the waves and obviously you cannot sail directly into the wind …

So all was good; kettle on, tea, coffee and chocolate biscuits … tuna and sardines in tomato sauce with pasta with fresh fruit a plenty for dinner, No booze while at sea (except when we get to Cape Trafalgar, where I intend get out the rum to toast Lord Nelson and his victory and death at the greatest sea battle in history), but plenty of chilled water in the fridge. Toby however looked concerned. Despite a fair wind, a good course, hot food and chilled drinks, a floor that moved constantly was not something he had witnessed before. He is not a natural sailor. The compulsory lifejacket did not help. He remained unsettled for the whole trip and somehow managed to keep his legs crossed pretty much all the way. I think his tummy was in a knot. We sorted out the watches, which are the times when one of us is on duty, while the other sleeps. You cannot leave any boat at sea to its own devices, as although most of the time not much happens, when it does you need to do something. Hitting another vessel because you were slumbering is frowned upon in the marine community. Not changing sails when the weather changes (which it can do at night) can be dangerous, so somebody is on duty all the time; 24 hours a day.

As we sailed away from land, hay fever symptoms go away completely and insects diminish to nothing. Nice. There are plenty of birds that  fly within inches of the waves with incredible skill, picking up sardines or other sea life that ventures too close to the surface. And if you are lucky, dolphins appear (as in the photo; left) and play around the boat for a while before disappearing as quickly as they appeared. Surprisingly, there was very little in the way of boats or ships on this course. Normally you can see one or two vessels on the radar (or AIS), which has a range of 15-20 miles, but for most of the trip; nothing. One of the great things about sailing is no traffic, no traffic lights and no road rage whatsoever. I checked the chart again; could the lack of any other vessel be because we were in the French military practice firing range as sitting ducks, about to supplant Brexit on the front page of the Daily Mail as the innocent, but stupid victims of an international incident as aFrench flagged Typhoon jet swoops out of the sky at Mach 2 blows us out of the water? Nope … just no ships. As we approached Bilbao, traffic started to appear, but on the way, for 24h, almost nothing.

We approached Bilbao at about 10:30 in the evening. It was getting dark and visibility had dropped to 100 meters as the rain came in. Had we navigated to Dun Loaghaire (Ireland) by mistake? I was told in all the literature that Spain was sunny by day with warm balmy evenings with good wine and tapas by night. This was drenching rain and no visibility. We had to come in on instruments. It was definitely Spain, as I could not understand a word on the radio (would Ireland be any different, I wonder?). We found a berth changed out of wet clothes and headed for a bar. Yes; we were in Spain, not a tapas bar in Dun Loaghaire. It is amazing; after just 36hours or so on the boat, you get used to a moving platform for your feet, so terra firms feels a little odd for half an hour or so even before the beer.

We have wine

Nicky returning from bar. Empty handed

The sun came out the next day so we set off to explore the old fishing village in Getxo, the harbour just outside Bilbao where we were moored.Found a lovely tapas bar with a Spanish guitarist sitting under an old fig tree strumming away over the gentle hum drum of social chatter. and Toby’s re-invigorated over exuberance and playful spirit.

We have arrived in Spain. Hola!!