Firstly, thanks a lot to Ben from Amsterdam for the donation! Also thanks to my long lost Aunt, who seriously sent me an email with some paypal funds that started with ´you probably don´t remember me, but I´m your Aunt!´. Well, Laurel, don´t you worry, I remember!

The last post on my Lisbon to Canaries trip was written while at sea, and didn’t truly encompass the final leg into port, so here is a little more information on my arrival.

I was so anxious in the final day of sailing to get into port, I couldn’t busy myself with anything other than writing a post for the website, or fidgeting with the sheets in the cockpit, anxiously wondering if the objects in the horizon were actually becoming bigger or not. The wind had swung around to the south, and ‘August the mighty Yanmar’ was on duty to get home, Constellation having crawled to a halt, with me just wanting to tie up and go to sleep as soon as possible. It seemed to take forever to round Isleta, and when I finally arrived, I became absolutely disorientated, with huge tankers and pilot ships steaming in and out at three in the morning. It’s a really simple entry, but I was just so tired, lights blinking everywhere, and a myriad ships to steer clear of, I couldn’t quite work it all out. I contemplated just setting the ‘Windy the Windpilot’ back on duty and sailing back offshore until daybreak, but I just couldn’t do it. After ten days, land was just there… I could see it. Tenerife was on the horizon, with ferry’s chugging past my stern, so I decided to just do the night entry and get it over and done with. Eventually I was so frustrated, I put Constellation in donut mode (lock the tiller to port, engine in tick-over so you simply circle going nowhere) and went down below to sort things out navigationally. I programmed a two-leg route and just followed it into harbour, which all became clear after about ten minutes. I tied up to the visitor pontoon, and felt distinctly depressed. I have no idea what I expected to feel or experience, but it was like running an ultra marathon with nothing at the finishing line, except a dusty old cactus and a hand painted sign saying ‘Caribbean, 3000 miles to go’.

I disembarked onto dry land for the first time in ten days, and felt land sick. I swayed a little and walked around to check the marina out. For some reason I just saw really big yachts, and felt even more depressed. I instantly thought ‘oh, it’s that kind of marina’. So I went back to the boat and curled up to sleep. At 9am on the dot, there was a tapping on my cabin roof, with some stern looking harbour master telling me to register and pay at the office. I just wanted to throw a wash board at the guy and go back to sea; after all that tension over ten days to get here, it all just really sucked. I can’t think of a more eloquent way to describe it. I registered and signed about five hundred forms with alternating signatures, just to be annoying. At least the Spanish are a notch down from the Portuguese when it comes to paperwork, but still, really, I’m an EU boat with an EU passport. Who cares? Just let me in already, borders are so last century.

I got my pontoon, and moored bow-to. The mooring here is stern-to, but as I’ve said before, I never back into places with the steering gear on rear end. Luckily some friendly people on the pontoon helped me dock, as ’slime line’ mooring can be difficult singlehanded. There is a technique for it, but there must have been 20kts of wind blowing from the stern, which wasn’t assisting me in any way whatsoever. After getting safely tied up, I looked around to see what the vibe was. For the first time on my trip, I was surrounded by what seemed like permanent liveaboards. Clearly Constellation and I had been pidgeon-holed into the gypsy stereotype, and I was set among my brethren. I guess it beats being moored up next to the 120ft multi-million dollar ketch from Guernsey…

Below is a really short film (requires latest Flash player if you just see a blank space) with just some quick clips of my Canary trip. It has music playing to it, so if you’re in an office, turn the speakers down… Your boss doesn’t appreciate you watching clips about sailing. You might get crazy ideas! The conditions were not all as placid as they are shown in the clip, but one hardly runs for the camera when other things must be tended to.

The day of my arrival coincided with Jack arriving. What timing! I had been calling home on the satellite phone to pass on the message that I was going to be at least a day late, however on on the 9th day I was making such good progress I changed my ETA to ‘early on the 26th’. It was nice to have a friend around after such a long period alone, having only my engine and windvane to talk to since Lisbon. Jack was really great, feeding me delicious food, and even renting a car to explore the island with, which was amazing. I rarely get to go inland, and I also rarely get to drive. Therefore I was able to get two years of non-driving crammed into two days. I believe Jack will continue to walk around with his hands held in front, in a motion that may suggest ‘I am just resting my hands on the dash, I don’t really think they will assist my survival in an accident at this speed, but it makes me feel safe’.

For those that haven’t been to the Canary Islands, all I can say is: Wow. I arrived here with no expectations (the best way to be; you’re always impressed), and was just utterly amazed by the landscape. It was almost too incredible to appreciate. The weather here is perfect too, around 24degrees during the day, and 19degrees during the night. At long last, after all my complaining, I have finally hit the warm latitudes… The water is a nice temperature too, and if you ever come here, go direct to Agaete, it’s amazing.

I wanted to film a Western with Jack in the mountains, but alas time didn’t permit, and both of us had forgotten our guns and horses back at the boat anyway. I was constantly looking for props for the film (tumbleweeds etc), and our only piece of costume was a garishly coloured ‘Havana Club’ cowboy hat we found on a park bench the day before, clearly forgotten after a long Saturday night at the Carnival (I forgot to say, it’s festive season here!). We both felt the film could win awards, however in the end, we decided to go swimming at the beach instead.

Jack left for Berlin today, and I managed to drive back unassisted from the Airport without having an accident… Remember, I’m from Australia, so I was driving on the wrong side of the road. I feel a little bit hollow after the tense time at sea, having someone around for the past five days, and now this, just a quiet existence in the marina again. I have a reasonable amount of work to finish off before I leave, however I am tentatively looking at departing for the Caribbean on the 10th of February. I have some significant route changes planned (no, they don’t involve Cape Horn!), but there is no use talking about them until I make some decisions… I will have absolutely run out of money again once I hit the other side of the Atlantic, so that will be the third time I´ve gone broke since I began my trip. First it was in Amsterdam, then La Coruna, and soon the Caribbean - Third time lucky! So, in the next few days, I’ll write another update about all about the excitement that surrounds my preparations for 30+ days in a bathtub on the high seas, on a dollar a day!

nick

Firstly, I’d like to welcome Airnavsystems.com onboard, as a new Bigoceans.com sponsor! AirNav build flight spotting software and products, and are releasing a new ship spotting product called ‘ShipTrax’. It seemed like a very fitting partnership, and AirNav are assisting with additional funds, which is really what I need at the moment. I seem to be going through what little money I have at a great rate, buying charts, parts, and provisions. Very, very special thanks to Andre for approaching me with the idea, being so fast to help out, and for believing my trip is a worthy idea to support.

It’s been a very busy past few days - I sat around sick for too long, and then when a good forecast came my way, it was all panic to get myself ready. As you can see from the above sponsorship, I haven’t just been sitting on my laurels. I’ve also spent over a week waiting on another partnership which would have provided some neat communications potential for my trip to the Canary Islands, however nothing has come of it yet, and it’s time for me to leave. If you missed it, there is a photo of the article regarding my Cape Horn aspirations (!!) located here.

Yesterday I provisioned the boat with supplies, which turned out to be an epic job. To begin with, I had exceeded my daily transaction limit at the bank, and only had 140euros in my pocket. I thought this would be enough for 15 days of food, but apparently I was wrong. By the time I was done shopping, my trolley was about to break, and I could barely push it. I tried to get money out, but it was futile, so I hid my trolley in the honey isle, and high-tailed it out of there, feeling really guilty about some poor kid having to re-pack everything because of my stupidity. It was with great luck that S/V Aquamarijn were able to loan me some money, and I ran back to see if my trolley was still hiding. Thankfully it was, and I caught a taxi back to the marina with a boatload of provisions. Putting all this food somewhere turned out to be a new experience, and I know for a fact, I will be finding food purchased in Lisbon, hidden around the boat for many years to come.

So my route now, is direct to the Canary Islands, not stopping anywhere. This is an 800nm trip, which I expect to take from anywhere between 7 and 14 days. I’m not going to mess up my expectations on maintaining a 4kt average like I did across Biscay, which put myself under a lot of pressure to arrive within three days, to tell friends and family that I was ok, and not to send helicopters. I expect to take around 10 days, but up to 14 I think is still quite possible. I have a decent forecast from Commanders Weather, but I’ve been waiting around today for reasons I’ll explain some other time, so already I’m 9hrs behind where I should be. I will be heading 1degree east of a direct line to Lanzarote, anticipating a wind change in a few days to South, which means I will hopefully be in a good position to tack back onto course for the Canaries, without sailing directly into the wind.

‘August the mighty Yanmar’ has new oil, and I never found an explanation for the overheating. Today I ran it in gear (in the marina) at a decent pace for 30mins, and ran an infrared heat gun on the block, but there were no signs of overheating. Fingers crossed the issue was a bag around the inlet or something simiarly temporary.

I spent last night having another wonderful dinner with the Hooligans et al, and then had a second dinner and drinks with Pedro #1, Pedro #2 and Ana, which was really nice. I’m still in absolute awe at the generosity of everybody around me. Last night I came into my boat, and sat down, and I must admit (I don’t get called Mr Toughguy for nothing!) I almost felt a little teary at everyones generosity and kindness towards me. I’m just some guy with a little red boat, trying my best to do my thing, and people are helping at literally every turn. Remember Pedro #1 saved me from a lonely Christmas, invited me into is really great family, fed me, gave me a bed, introduced me to his closest friends, and really showed me a side of Portugal people rarely see. Pedro #2 took me out for dinner and lunch everyday, showing me what amazing food the Portuguese produce, let me sleep in his house while I was sick, took me to the maritime museum, the planetarium and even parted with a bag of food and some extra money, citing I would need it for the marina in the Canaries! The Hooligans (plus Ton & Petra) have been really wonderful company in La Coruna, and here in Lisbon, and packed huge bag of extra Dutch provisions for my trip, and even loaned me a satellite phone (one of the reasons todays departure is delayed, finding a new SIM card) so I am able stay in contact, and hopefully maintain web-based position reports on my 800mile journey. I will miss everybody so much… I wish my boat were 15 times larger so I could just bring all the incredible people I meet along with me. I cannot necessarily return this kindness directly to the people who have helped me, but be rest assured, I will do my very best to ‘pay it forward’ and help others whenever I possibly can.

Thank you so much Portugal. The Canaries are Spanish territory, so this is the end of Portugal for me, and also the end of continental Europe. I cannot believe I am leaving Europe, after being here for almost two years. What amazing experiences and people I’ve met, from Berlin, Sweden, Norway, Denmark, England, Belgium, France, Spain, Gibraltar, Guernsey and Portugal. This is my longest solo non-stop voyage so far, over doubling my Biscay distance. I can’t wait to reach the Canaries, and look forward to telling you all about my biggest passage so far.

See you in a couple of weeks, and check back when you can, because there is every chance I may be able to get some news up on this site from somewhere out there in the Atlantic. More than likely updates will come via Twitter or onto my tracking page.

-moby nick!

I’ve never understood why someone would be ’sick as a dog’, because in my experience, dogs are rarely sick. The same can probably be said for Turtles, since they live such a long time. But anyway, that’s the best title I could think of in my current state, because, for the past four or five days, I have been couch bound.

Couch bound you ask? When did you install a couch in Constellation? Well, truth be told, the installation of my purple, crushed velvet love-lounge in the forepeak is only a pipedream… I have however been rescued once again by the fantastic Portuguese. Generosity must be part of their genetic makeup, I’m certain of it. Wherever it stems from, it’s amazing and I just can’t believe it. Really I’m just a smelly vagabond without any money on a small bathtub with sails, yet assistance comes from all directions.

This time around it is by Pedro, but not that Pedro, another one. He will be referred to as (how original) Pedro #2 for the sake of limiting Pedro induced confusion. Pedro #2 is a friend of Paul & Lisa, who long term readers will know helped me out on numerous occassions in Holland and even in Spain. Pedro #2 has been taking me out every lunch & dinner, and providing a nice cosy house for me to live in while I have been sick, and today even took me out on an excursion to the Maritime Museum, so I could learn all about The Discoveries, and see how real navigators conducted themselves. I dearly wish I could waltz around in such a dashing outfits, sextant in my left hand, jewled sword in my right, commanding great discoveries on the bow Constellation… But alas I merely have a pair of torn jeans and a handheld GPS. And everything is mapped already.

If the Portuguese had had things their way, chances are, you my reader would be considerably more Latin than you probably are. As you probably well know, the downfall of Portuguese rule was a disappointing fall from near absolute global domination through seemingly infinite maritime discovery. It’s always special to think about how little changes in history would have affected the way we are today… Unfortunately there was no information I could find in the museum on theories of prior Portuguese discovery of Australia, which is an especially interesting topic. One look at their maps and expansive routes, does lead you to easily believe that there was every chance they made our East coast before the Dutch or the English.

This bout of sickness has been a real downer on a lot of levels. First and foremost because I haven’t had the slightest chance to work on Constellation. I actually have quite a bit to do before I leave continental Europe, and none of that work has really even begun. The real sailing begins from here, and things just cannot be left to chance. I have my liferaft at the service station, which I sent back after noticing that in the first service the canister wasn’t closed properly. I really hope this isn’t a sign of things to come, service-wise… Liferaft servicing is something you need to feel especially confident in.

As I have been sick, it also means the boat has been sitting in Cascais marina, knocking up a nice bill I’m sure. I had great plans to sit at anchor or something similarly free, but now money is going down the drain hole for the boat to just sit there. My last and final feel-sorry-for-myself-I-am-sick-boo-hoo complaint, will be that time is really of the essence. It’s the peak of winter, and I should have been out of here months ago. Once I reach Madeira or the Canaries everything will be back on track, it’s the bit from here to the Islands that’s hairy, and I just really don’t relish the idea of the whole thing. I need to be in good physical (ie. not sick) shape to do the trip, because I think it will be long and difficult. I still have every intention of leaving for the Atlantic islands for my doubters, and I know my sickness may appear to be some kind of convenient excuse to lay about on the couch, watching DVDs and surfing the Internet. Fear not, I promise I will be back at sea, getting drenched, shivering with cold and generally being miserable, as soon as I possibly can.

My down-time has not been entirely wasted though, I’ve been working on other things, and conversing with Australian sailing greats like Nick Moloney on sleep strategies. With great astonishment Nick sent me sleep training paper written for the Pirates of the Caribbean Volvo Ocean Racing team. I’ll be up there racing Open 60’s before you know it! Thank you Nick.

There really is little else to tell you… I just can’t thank Pedro #2 enough for letting me be the resident vegetable on his couch. There is nothing worse than being sick, especially when you’re away from home, and the best you can do is sleep on the dry side of your boat, not even having enough legspace to curl up in the foetal position and sob like a child. I’m not sure if it is men in general who fall to pieces when ill, but, I’ll be honest and tell you, I do… I wish could ship my mum over for Chicken soup and a pat on the head.

Yeah I know, what a whimp.

nick.

So much has happened, I’ve actually been avoiding this post, simply because I couldn’t work out how to encompass everything without writing a novella…!

While in Baiona, I had the very good fortune of meeting a pair of Australians aboard an enormous catamaran, who turned out to be fellow Melbournians, taking time out to explore Europe by boat. It was really nice to hear accents from home, and I don’t know why, but it’s situations like these, far away from home, that complete strangers from similar regions emit a sense of homely calm, and you instantly feel at ease. Later in the week I met Geoff and Sassie, liveaboards on their own respective boats, quite amazingly, both 26ft and built in 1972 - The same length and DOB as Constellation! I spent dinner with the Australians one night, and another with my 26ft friends watching DVD’s and being treated to another lovely homecooked meal. Special thanks to Geoff for the bivvy, which is keeping my sleeping bag much drier! (I suffer from condensation problems as a result of sleeping with half my body in the enclosed quarter berth).

I was eager to leave Baiona, because as I’ve said previously, I can only work in short steps with Lisbon being my next goal, one I have been eager to reach for a long time. A friend in Holland told me I would not be a real sailor until I reached Lisbon. Am I a real sailor now? I don’t know what that is, but I’m here, so there you have it. The coast down to Lisbon from the Spanish Rias was quite barren, and one could say it is more suited to surfers than sailors. As always, I had intended to sail much faster… Baiona to Lisbon, non-stop: No worries! Well, at least a week later, maybe two (probably closer to two) I arrived. I stopped off at some hazardous ports, to which I won’t bore you with details… Let’s just say, Constellation learnt to surf. In a race for Christmas, after being generously invited by Pedro to spend the ‘festive season’ Portuguese style, I was attempting to sail to Nazare as quickly as possible, the closest port to be picked up from. Unfortunately I was delayed, and ended up in Figuiera Da Foz instead, a port I don’t really recommend anyone to enter, except possibly on slack high water, maybe in Summer, with nothing less than glassy water… Pedro and his brother Andre, drove a long distance to pick me up and bring me back to their home, where I spent Christmas, Portuguese style.

The Portuguese Christmas I encountered, is a tradition I will definitely be bringing back to Melbourne. First I was shuttled to Pedro’s fathers house for the most amazing dinner of 2007, an official nomination which I have recently created, and goes without a doubt to this particular meal. Pedro insisted I should store food like a Camel, which I really did try to do, but one always encounters certain physical boundaries in such sports. There was Cod casserole, steamed Cod with potatoes, amazingly tasty Turkey, and so many desserts I couldn’t actually try them all. I was a complete stranger in this household, but I didn’t feel like one, and it was because of everyones fine efforts and generosity, to which words fail me. After taking on food stores, I was shuttled back to Pedro’s mothers house for a continuation on the theme of generosity and Portuguese flair. More drinking, desserts, an enormous family which I think may constitute a small village, and warm friends around the fire until six in the morning. I believe Christmas day was actually spent primarily in bed, which was probably a good thing, because as the tradition goes, there was another party to attend which also ran into the wee hours of the morning. Again I was a stranger in a foreign land, in a foreign house, surrounded by foreign people, yet I had forgotten all this, and had another wonderful evening deep inside Portugal, a rare place for ‘tourists’ such as myself.

After all this eating and drinking, and being part of such an amazing family for several days, I came back to the boat and suffered a full day and night of severe ’sailors blues’. That might sound silly to you, or maybe my fine audience thinks my life is a constant dazzlement of the senses, but on occasion, things coming crashing down, and life takes a serious dive. I was trapped due to tides and a difficult exit, and I lulled into a deep depression, touching the very core of what it is I’m doing, and why. I am convinced my stoic solitude was confused by this outpouring of kindness and family, in the sense that it begged to ask many questions on what is really important in life. I’m not going to bring the joviality of this post down by exploring ’sailors blues’ in this post, but I will in another if anyone is interested, because it’s an interesting topic to consider.

Eventually I left Figueira Da Foz, stopping briefly in Peniche, and then direct to Cascais, in Lisbon. The trip from Peniche was not without its difficulties. For some peculiar reason, I was absolutely beset with boredom. I could not entertain myself in any form, and I became incredibly agitated. I saw a bunch of small crabs seemingly floating just under the surface, and to curb my boredom, I did circles to try and catch one with the boat hook. I thought maybe I could catch a crab, and we could hang out on deck, smoking cigarettes, drinking gin and playing poker for awhile… Possibly talk about Miss Mermaid 2007 for a bit, and then I’d pop him back in the sea… Unfortunately catching a crab with a boat hook in four metres of swell, is like trying to eat a single noodle out of Port Phillip Bay with a chopstick, and so I resumed my slow going to Lisbon, alone, still immensely bored.

My boredom was soon transferred to stress and annoyance, with severe engine problems rounding the first cape into Cascais, Lisbon. I came in engineless under full sail, for four hours after an irritable day with diminishing wind. I docked French style (under sail) on the visiting pontoon and battled Portuguese bureaucracy for a little while. They were not exactly convinced my expired insurance policy was as valid as I was attempting to argue… It expired on the 16th, and my course of debate was that I paid half yearly, and simply didn’t have the paperwork on me… Eventually it was accepted (it was all a farce, I never renewed), and I was able to sleep off my stressful engine fiasco. A seriously big bravo to all engineless cruisers, you guys are mad. Although I might be joining you rather soon if I can’t fix ‘August the mighty Yanmar’…

In Cascais I met up with S/V Aquamarijn again, having an opportunity to share stories of sea-sickness and surfing down the Iberian coast, which appeared to be a common thread. I was quickly attacked by the Hooligans, who made a special point of climbing all over my boat like monkeys, to which I could neither argue nor complain, because I like climbing around my boat like a crazy monkey too.

New Years Eve appeared from nowhere, and again I caught up with Pedro in Lisbon, for a stunning prawn curry cooked by the hyper-smart Ana, coupled with a walk through Lisbon city. I finally managed to meet Fernando Pessoa, sitting in a cafe, almost oblivious to his surroundings. Fernando and I chatted for awhile on the topic of banality and the soul, after which I carried on with celebrating another year closer to an all-eventual end.

Where to now? I think America is calling. I hear the stripes of their flag, and the warmth of their southern latitudes through my conch shell; it is the end of my time in continental Europe, my departure point for gaining some serious mileage in a westerly direction, towards home. I feel a little sad leaving so soon, it’s crazy that the end of my ‘European vacation’ will not climax with a burst of avgas down a runway, but rather via a bouncy ride to some small Atlantic islands in the middle of nowhere, before setting a course to the Caribbean. I had so much more to see here, I guess that means I’ll have to come back. Right now I am trying to get my liferaft serviced, diving under the boat and cleaning cooling inlets, epoxying deck joins and re-drilling chainplates. I hope to leave in a week and a half. It looks as though 2008 is going to be a serious mileage builder.

So, to sum up Portugal, is to say ‘muitíssimo obrigado’ an infinite number of times to Pedro, Ana and their wonderful family and friends, for helping me have such an special entrance into the country of Portugal. Really, truly, amazing.

Happy New Year, and thank you again to everyone who spends time reading, contributing, and supporting my grand expedition across big oceans.

nick

Just a quick post to wish everyone Merry Christmas, and to thank you for reading, contributing and being such a great help throughout my journey so far.

I have parked Constellation in Figueira da Foz, around 80nm north of Lisbon. Pedro, a new and very warm Portuguese friend, drove over 100km in the middle of the night, to come pick me up, take me to his family home and adopt me for Christmas, for which I am eternally grateful. I wasn´t relishing the thought of Christmas alone again, and the trip down here has been fraught with terrifying waves, port entrances from hell, and racing tides. I was glad to get away from all that, and today I write from the warmth of an open fire.

I will post again from Lisbon - Feliz Natal!

nick.

It was a little sad leaving Laxe, not because I didn’t want to get on my way, but really just because of language difficulties. I couldn’t express to Miguel and his family how much I appreciated their hospitality, and it really disappointed me to just be leaving without be able to say much more than ‘Thank you, Goodbye’. I left two bottles of wine, and my email address, however I’m not too sure email was his preferred method of communication… I should have asked for their address to send something, but alas, it never occurred to me. Here is a photo of Miguel, who was hard at work cleaning his nets. He showed me an enormous bag of crabs he had caught, and we compared boat sizes. I think I’m going to try sending something to ‘Boat Loly Uno/Miguel, Laxe, Spain’ - I bet he receives it!

It was a relatively short sail to my next port of call, Camarinas. After the bad weather of the previous few days, I was treated to sunshine and little swell, albeit without any wind. I’ve been motoring all over the place, so poor little ‘August’ the mighty Yanmar has been working overtime. I’m quite certain when he came out of the factory, he exclaimed to his bigger friends how lucky he was to be in a small sailboat, doing nothing more than working in and out of port. Little did he know, he’d be motoring to Australia.

As I came into the Ria that houses Camarinas, a little wind picked up, and I launched my headsail. I tacked up the Ria, and decided to sail right into port for the first time. Sailing onto the dock must be a singlehanders best party trick, so I figured while I still have 3rd party insurance (it ran out on the 16th), I should do some practice. As I rounded the breakwater at three knots, I let her run a little, before dousing the foresail. I coasted into the pontoon area, and lined up perfectly for a free berth. As I neared, someone started shouting and carrying on, insisting that I go to another berth. I really couldn’t see what the bother was about, considering the entire place was empty, but there you have it. Luckily I had enough power under main alone, and I redirected, and docked to perfection. Unfortunately no one was around to take any notice at all, except the Marinara, who was probably just really annoyed that I had just sailed at 2kts for the last twenty minutes into his marina, while he stood on the dock attempting to direct me.

Nothing of particular interest happened in Camarinas, and I had really only come into a marina to find a post office. Post offices have been causing me great pain in Spain (that’s a rhyme)… In La Coruna, I couldn’t find the post anywhere, and when I eventually did, the hours were beyond comprehension, it never seemed open, and then I was ready to depart, and hardly in the mood to wait around to figure it all out. In Laxe, the post office was nothing more than a post sign out the front of a house, which upon entrance, turns out to actually be exactly that: The post office is a set of scales in the front room of somebody’s tiny apartment. I walked in, and accidently thought I’d gone through the wrong door… While Laxe had the facility to post mail, I really needed a big post office with envelopes, boxes etc, and so, I had to move on in hopes of something bigger further on.

A friend emailed me after hearing I was going past Finisterre, mentioning that it was the end of the Camino Trail. This trail if you are unfamiliar with it, is a walk, or pilgrimage, going from one side of Spain to the other, finishing at Finisterre. As a symbolic gesture, I am told some walkers burn their clothes at the end of the walk, which as you can imagine, results in naked pilgrims loitering around the Spanish hills. All endeavours related to the act of persuing nakedness should be heartily encouraged, so I came in close around Finisterre (to those concerned, it wasn’t that close, yet for the sake of narrative…) with eagle eyes. Unfortunately all I found was a sore neck from craning, but I decided to come into Finisterre proper, as another small boat pontoon was reportedly in the harbour. As with the last small boat pontoon, I was dubious of its existence, but noted a decent anchorage nearby, if it was only a summer installation. To my luck, it did exist, and I slept cosily tied up inside the breakwater. The following day I did a scout around for naked pilgrims; rather, I mean for a supermarket so I could buy provisions, but none were open… I walked past a Churros vendor (sort of like donuts that don’t connect?) and asked for three Churros please, because I knew any more would make me sick, and I have no self-control when it comes to sweet things. The women exclaimed that I had to buy six for one euro. I couldn’t understand why I couldn’t buy three for half a euro… The mathematic puzzle really didn’t seem too deep to me, however, language barriers resisted my abilities for debate, and so as expected, I ate like a glutinous pig.

Dolphins, the greatest animals on the planet, piloted us out of Finisterre, as I made for Ria De Muros. They danced around the boat, and I would have jumped in to join them, if it wasn’t for my Churros illness. I motored into Muros town, and tied up against the fishing harbour wall. No one seemed to mind, so I walked around for a bit, bought eleven tins of anchovy olives, and moved Constellation into the bay so I could sit at anchor, listen to shortwave radio, and eat my tinned olives in the tranquility of not being tied side-on to something. It was still daylight (day/night has effects on stations one can receive), so I was stuck with Christian Science Monitor, and Radio Slovakia German Special Edition on the radio. As you can imagine, I understood neither. Actually, that’s a lie… I could understand about 20% of the German Special Edition, however one fifth of any conversation leaves much to be desired. As night fell, BBC World finally came online, and I lay in bed happily listening to the ailments of the planet, reported every fifteen minutes of every day, 365 days a year.

I left Muros for Sanxenxo (pronounced Sanshensho), for reasons I still don’t quite understand. I think the name attracted me… I should have powered onto Baiona, but I wasn’t finished with the Rias, and Sanxenxo seemed like a good place to stop. While on route, the Guardia Civil (coastguard) curiously powered past. I curled up in a ball in the cockpit to reduce my visibility. This is an instinctive animal trait, that assumes if I cannot see the Guardia Civil, the Guardia Civil cannot see me. In actual fact, they probably now think my vessel is not under command, or I have not set a proper watch, further incriminating me. I fear the Guardia Civil for several reasons, mostly because they could get me on a number of technicalities if they so chose, and I hear they enjoy paperwork, strict rules, and small red boats. In light of all my bad mouthing, they carried on, and left me huddled in a ball thinking up good excuses as to why I didn’t have VHF licence or a motor cone up.

In the distance I could see the triangles of sails as I made my approach to Sanxenxo. Out here they appear to be an anomaly - I am about the only sailboat around, so I was happy to see some others out enjoying the distinct lack of wind. I was rather suprised to see several boats sailing quite quickly in the distance, past Isla Ons. How on earth they were sailing was beyond me, as the air was so still, you could see smoke rising from the villages in enormous vertical trails. All I could think of, was that each boat had it’s crew on the ‘windward’ side, blowing great mouthfuls of air onto the sails, to the timing of the skipper cum coxon. In the interest of hypotheticals, if any physicists are onboard, could you please tell me whether or not that would actually be possible… Because if it is, I think I’m going to ditch the solo thing.

As I eventually came into Sanxenxo, which was now dark, I was admiring the surrounding hills when the most curious thing happened: They all quite literally disappeared. In front of my eyes, a huge power outage unlit an entire city. For a second, I thought it was the sneaky Guardia Civil, testing to see whether I was doing Streetlight Pilotage (a close cousin of Stern Light Navigation). Minutes later the city came back online, and I was still floating, which must have meant I had past the test, which as you can imagine, was a great relief.

Thud.

Nothing of particular interest happened in Sanxenxo… I bought some more olives, and left the next day for Baiona (Bayona). I plotted my projected course, punched in my waypoints, setup my routes and sailed south in a perfect wind on the beam. This soon evaporated like a fox, putting ‘August’ the mighty Yanmar back on shift, to my great annoyance. It wasn’t all bad though, as I kept one eye on the compass, and one eye on Fernando Pessoa, until I came closer to Baiona. Then, out of nowhere came a stiff wind and enormous choppy swell. I was not prepared to do any ‘real’ sailing, the boat was a mess, and I expected nothing less than calm seas and sunny weather, as it had been for the past four hours, and the past five days. I launched the foresail to harness some of this precious wind, and I started flying along at 5kts, burying the bow, and probably slightly over powered. The coffee plunger fell over, covering the floor, the cabinets flew open, and the books on the chart table ended up in the sink, but Constellation was a free bird, almost soaring directly into the wind (upwind is a long keeled, skinny boat speciality). A tanker and a tug boat went past before I could change tack for Baiona, and eventually I docked at the fancy yachtclub closest to the breakwater. The Marinara attempted to put me stern-to with a slime line on the bow, which I think is the most horrible way of marina mooring on the planet, especially for visitors. Sorry, but it’s just stupid. Give me a finger pontoon please, or something else distinctly grounded. Not to mention the fact that reversing a long keeled boat is near impossible, and I’ve got a 1600euro windvane hanging off the back which I don’t relish the thought of impaling on a pontoon… So I high-tailed out of there, and went to the lesser Deportivo next door, which was more my style anyway. The fancy one had a restaurant with leather couches, a cigar cabinet, and oil paintings of square riggers painted in pastille colours hanging on the walls. It really wasn’t me… Stick me in with the fishermen any day, at least they’re interesting, and are really, truly, the only genuine people of the sea.

Baiona was one of my milestones. Thinking of sailing to Australia is impossible - It’s simply too far away. I can only think in baby steps… For me, sailing from Amsterdam to Calais was a milestone. Cherbourg was my next milestone, as was Camaret, and then La Coruna. Baiona was my next one, with Lisbon being my last before hitting the Atlantic islands, where my milestones become much further apart. So, as Baiona was a milestone, I was kind of irritated by how things were going. First, the unpredicted wind and sea-state-weirdness, then the silly stern-to idea, and then once in the other marina I was redirected to about three different pontoons because they were all ‘prohibido’, even though the place is desolate and I’m probably the first sailor from a foreign port they’ve seen since the end of October. And then, I put my shoes on, and the starboard shoe was full of coffee. I think it was just one of those days…

Special thanks to Cindy at Cindigo for the donation. You rock! I suspect it was a subtle suggestion that I should go by some seasickness medication!

So, I need to get cracking down to Lisbon before Christmas day…

nick.