BOATYARD- AYAMONTE - Day 4

It's Monday morning already and I'm looking forward to jet washing my boat's undercarriage, but the wait, unexpectedly, continued into the morning.  I was also told that I would be going back into the water a day early, as another boat was booked to come out.  There must have been some sort of mix up with the days and I was left feeling immensely pressured.  After calculating what I still had left to do, this was a set back, as I may have to forgo some of the jobs, and only concentrate on getting her sanded, primed and painted ready to back into the water.

Leaving the frustration of possibly not completing everything I needed to do, I had to concentrate on the best plan to do as much as possible.  I could save the cutlass bearing for another time, for example. (A cutlass bearing is a cylindrical bearing made of brass with an inner grooved rubber lining that is lubricated by the surrounding water, and supports the drive shaft, where it exits the boat.)

I decided the hull was priority and that was it.  A friend was coming down later to stay over and help, so we would get it all done in time.  That would also mean Eby's best friend Mr Bob would be staying too and even I began to feel lighter.

Preparing below the waterline for repainting can be a messy, difficult and dangerous work, so it's not for the faint hearted.  Usually the best way to rustle up any enthusiasm with anyone is for them to own a boat too and for you to have helped them when they hauled out. A perfect quid pro quo situation.  There are always numerous people who will get caught up with the romantism of boating and affirm their help even as far as the boatyard.  But in the blink of an eye they will find a limitless supply of excuses not to help you, when they find out what's really involved maintenance wise!

 

Keels cleaned, sanded and primed not to mention the 3 pairs of knickers drying nicely on the guardrail!

The hull needed seriously sanding to remove every last trace of barnacles.  We are aiming for a smooth as possible base to build up from.  The smoother the better, the faster.  Yes boating can be rather anal at times.  I handed the sander to Jen when she turned up and she got busy.  I on the other hand was to drag myself to the worse area to work on.  Directly under the boat, between the keels.  With my small angle grinder, I worked away, against gravity, against anything that comes naturally really.  It was agonizing work, but had to be done.  One sings, yells, whoops and sighs, during the arduous process and believe me, it really helps.  The other saving grace was looking forward to a hose pipe shower, (when all had gone home) and a few cold beers and tapas at our local haunt.  Sometimes it's the little things in life, that make everything else seem rosey.

Jenny working on her 'blue rinse' look!

I have seen many a boat hauled out via travelifts, trolleys and cranes, but the small fishing boat that came out and was chocked up next to me was the most interesting.  During one of the blue dusty breaks I saw the owner of the yard and a worker strip down and prepare to head for the water once more.  What are they up to now  I wondered, so I downed tools and watched and waited. 

Not walking on water!

The half walking on water was the best bit as they were merely getting wet again for another haul out, crab style.  They stuck it on a support next to me, unchocked and looking most precarious.  Good for us, there was no storm forecast from the North East!

Chock free, live dangerously!

The aquatic yard crew run the boat up the runners and in all the excitement, I think they forgot to chock the boat for safety!

BOATYARD LIVING AND ADAPTATION (cont.) - DAY 3

I felt disillusioned over the weekend as I was unable to plug into electricity and crack on with things.   Improvisation is a popular word to anyone owning a boat, so I made the best of it.  First job up I thought, was to tackle the blue line.  This operation didn't involve any power tools but what I did need was a low scaffold, where it would be safe to prep and sand and paint my new blue line.  What I ended up with was a crude improvisation.  An empty 44 gallon metal drum! I chocked it level with an assortment of pieces of wood that were in abundance just about everywhere.  It's a boatyard after all, full of interesting bits and bobs and boat wrecks, which is all generally rubbish to the untrained eye!

Now Eby, the proud ship's dog was looking forward to her daily run, but I had noticed her becoming increasingly worried about the method of getting on and off the boat.  As you can see from the photos, a ladder lashed onto the trolley was the only access up and down.  There never seemed to be a problem with us getting onto the boat.  I simply lifted Eby up under one arm and scaled the ladder while she put her front legs on my leg each time I stepped up to give her leverage and perhaps think that she was helping the situation.  However, it was not so easy on the way down.  Eby would come to the edge of the deck and look down and almost shake her head and back up, do a little dance, keeping her feet moving in a nervous moment of vertigo!  I tried to coax her sweetly, but she wasn't having any of it.  Usually we had an audience of boat workers which could have even added to the problem.  Finally I thought of a solution.  I would put her in the doggy lifejacket and carry her on up and down if need be, like a piece of hand luggage! We were thoroughly impressed with the innovation, well at least I was.  I think Eby had other thoughts on the idea!

A not so impressed Eby!

 With the problem of getting Eby onboard solved, I could get stuck into the re painting of blueline with no further worries or problems.  We had the boatyard to ourselves and Eby thoroughly enjoyed running around at her leisure, investigating every nook and cranny, the memory of the stressful descent from the boat long forgotton.

As the day came to a close, the full moon rose up, lighting up the cockpit with a soft lunar glow.  

A subtle satisfaction washed over me, in spite of no electricity, no bathroom, shower and a dog with vertigo.  We always have to make the best of what we have, and always look at what we have achieved, not what's still on the 'to do' list!

FROM PORTIMãO TO CULATRA

Ancorage at Portimão

Just after dawn

 Another fine, clear morning on the anchorage at the bay overlooking Praia Grande, Portimão and I'm setting sail for the short 36 mile hop East to the island of Culatra that lays off Faro, making up the beautiful marshland that is the Ria Formosa.  There's a trickle of a Northerly blowing and I want to catch as much of it as possible, as will probably decrease to nothing as the day develops.  As I have Lea, the ship's cat on board, it's a good idea to run ashore quickly one last time to give her a little run and a chance to dig a little hole in the sand, if she so desires.  In fact, she takes the opportunity of scaling the cliff to go exploring and it takes me slightly longer than anticipated to get hold of her again.  In true cat fashion, she thinks it's all part of some game for me to chase her.  Thing is I'm not in the mood for shimmying up cliff faces today and one swift swipe and I've swept her up in my arms and we head back to the dinghy to up anchor and make way.

With the wind gusting up to 15 knots or more, I had my work cut out for me at the helm, but when I heard the familiar sound of dolphins jetting through and up out of the water, I quickly grabbed my compact camera and started shooting.  As no self steering was connected, I had to keep one hand on the tiller and one randomly hitting the shutter release button on the camera!

There's always something exhilarating when you're amongst one of the most wonderous mammals of them all!! I never tire of their presence and on longer ocean passages, welcome their company as they are just as curious to go out of their way, to check you and your vessel out.  They'll be more than willing to give you a free display of their abilities in motion, with leaps, flips and slaps and you can also get a rare sight of baby dolphin with mother, which can only fill you with adrenaline induced joy, leaving you sensing everytime you have been witness to something remarkable.

The wind predictably dropped throughout the day, which slowed down my boat and feeling fulfilled with the day's events already, I was more than content to just go with the slow flow of a gentle Easterly for the duration of the journey.

 

Santa Maria Lighthouse on Culatra

 I chugged into the entrance and passed the distinctive lighthouse on the last approach before the short motor up to the anchorage.  There's always plenty of room at this anchorage and as I only draw 1,20M depth, I can usually slip into shallower waters and drop the hook, therefore making it a much shorter dinghy ride to reach the beach or pontoons.

Though tired from the days sail, the combination of sealife and pure air usually will leave one pleasantly weary, I put my head down and had a quick 40 winks, before going to see who was about and what was going on, on harder ground.

INTROSPECTIVE

It's been a funny old time of it recently.  In fact this summer has been not what was expected.  Advocating a most excellent example that we should, in fact, not expect anything, therefore never finding ourselves disappointed.  From the salty seas to the dry and scorched lands,  a life of diversity certainly and this year inadvertently thrown back to the land with work projects.  My dear boat and its extras took a back seat somewhat as I weighed up the pros and cons of cashing in where I could. 

The aftershocks of the recent fires, showed me another perspective.  I and a group of friends who were all involved with the disaster, decided to meet on a regular basis and share our space and thoughts and humor.  If nothing else was realized it was the appreciation of who we have in our lives and what is important and just how it all can change in the blink of an eye.

 

One of my particular points of joy!

Naturally sailing took place as and when!  The wind blew for weeks from the north, which makes an exciting sail, as you will get intermittent gusts.  I love this type of sailing as you have no time for complacency.

How can one think of selling their sailboat, when it is a point of joy?  A moment that will lift you, get the adrenline pumping and put a wide smile on your face.

They also can suddenly become the bane of one's life.  Only harbouring troubles and problem after problem to solve.  It takes a stubborn owner to not capitulate and keep on solving problems and moving on to the inevitable next one.  

I am going to take a peek at the Greek Islands.  You never know what's around the corner.  Buy an island? Park the boat there and swim with the mermaids.  You really just never know what is around the corner!

A small delay in the blog flow

A quick post here to inform all of you that:

1. My computer crashed...
2. All hell broke lose last week and we were fighting the worst bush fires on record.

Will resume blog A.S.A.P

 I would also like to add that since there seemed to be a crass censorship of releasing the latest coverage to the world press, due to a few deranged politicians here in Portugal, I felt  this really needs to be highlighted.   It was though we all had been propelled back to Salazar's era and I find this not only morally corrupt, but a complete breach of the whole freedom of speech, particularly when people's lives and livelihood's were at stake.  To the community here I am humbled and deeply touched with the help from local people, who came to our hamlet to fight the fires with us.  To the portuguese government I am totally disgusted.  Shame on you, and what's worse the cowards would never own up to it.

FROM THE WATER TO THE DUST - Friday Day 2

I admit to having an affinity with Spain.  Don't get me wrong, I adore the Portuguese and all their strange little quirks, but something has to be said about the Spanish and their 'joie de vivre'!  We are all aware of the economical mess banks and governments have put this planet in for now and the ripple effect reaches us all to some degree.  In this particular region of Spain, I will be hauled out not only into a huge dust bowl, but one of the poorest areas of the town.  One of the first things I noticed upon landing on Spanish soil was how loud they all talk.  Many would even have to say they were actually shouting, but I do know different.  The Portuguese sometimes shout, they appear to be shouting, when most of us would be 'having a normal conversation.' Db wise.  Let's say the average person speaks at around 65-75 decibels say at approximately one metre distance, so I reckon the Spanish speak/shout at about 35 decibels.  They long to be heard, they love to be heard and they most certainly are heard.

My theory is this.  Long before the days of Alexander Graham Bell, the only way of communicating across the hills, was to take a deep breath and yell your point across the yards and somehow this art of communication became deeply ingrained into the genetic make-up.  In fact long after the days of Alexander Graham Bell too, for deep in the vast remote countryside, many couldn't contemplate the cost of having a telephone, let alone even the availability.

I find it very endearing and amusing as long as you don't expect to nip off to the local Café for your morning coffee, expecting a heavenly silence, with only the swallows' song and the chime of distant church bells to accompany the caffeine.   Your silence will be truly broken not only with the loud, non stop banter but to accompany the cacophony of speech, the slot machines will be whirling, chinking and lighting up just about every colour under the rainbow.   Buenas dias to you all!

Putting yelling aside for just one moment, I have a boat to haul out.  I'm a little nervous, it's normal, so I'm attempting to keep myself busy before the tide is high enough for me to get onto the trolley.  My engine this morning has decided to cough and spurt and stop.  I turn the ignition once more and she again bursts into life.  I think either its air in the fuel system or crud.  Either way with an imminent manoeuvre on my hands, I would prefer it to just run without further hiccup.

Suddenly the trolley makes its way into the water and two guys are left hanging onto the upright stanchions of the trolley like a couple of stranded monkeys. One of them is the owner of the boatyard and he waves me in.  So it's time to leave the mooring and chug over to the trolley.  The engine decides en route to stop a further two times, to add a touch of drama to the approach.  I haven't mentioned the fact that the steering has tightened too, so to be able to turn the tiller remotely in any direction, requires a body lean to help it notch up a few degrees. 

So here I am, metres from the trolley, wind from the SW and I've made the turn too early and I'm possibly in danger of missing the trolley completely and it's nigh on impossible to steer and I'm also wondering if my engine will cut out again at a crucial time!  Who needs caffeine in a noisy Café to wake you up!

I really enjoyed their no fuss and nonsense in regard to getting my boat hauled out and when in doubt as to whether my keels are sitting pretty on the trolley, get in the damn water man and check!!

When the winch kicked in, I didn't realize at first we were in fact moving at the speed of a snail up the runners.  There used to be a train track from Ayamonte to Huelva and I never knew why it eventually disappeared.  You can only get from one town to another via road or the sea these days, but looking down now onto the tracks that are aiding the trolley, I think I know what happened to the train track.

As I looked forward to jet washing the boat next with what had been described to me as one of the best industrial machines for the job, with a kick to it to match a land to air missile launcher, the boatyard crew were getting ready to haul out a much larger vessel.

Unbeknown to me, they took precedence over everything as they would be going back into the water on Sunday.  I would only get the jet wash on Monday, so I had the weekend to complete other jobs.  The great thing about that is, when you have a boat, there are no end of  'other jobs' to do!

All hands on deck for the haul-out

So we are safely in our respective places for the brief time we shall be out of the water.  It's now time to head to a bar, sit in the shade, get sung to, shouted at, watch someone win €80 jackpot on the smallest of slot machines and above all sink an ice cold beer!

ONE WOMAN AND HER DOG - Thursday Day 1

Two days before I had planned to depart for the short hop to Spain, we had had a beautiful South Westerly wind, most ideal  for the run down to Ayamonte and the Guadiana river.   When Thursday had arrived, not only was I still tired from a 40 hour working week under a blazing sun of 38º C, non stop trips to the boat with gear, tools etc, and a quick bottom scrub down on the island, but an eerie silence enveloped the Ria Formosa.  A shroud of fuzzy cloud sat above us and a slight surf could be detected, crashing its load on the ocean side of the island.  It meant only one thing. O Vento Levante, or in other words, an Easterly wind approaching.

The wonderful thing about an Easterly is the apparent surf it brings, usually prior to the arrival of the wind.  So hordes of seal like surfers go running off to the beach with glee.  Not for me.  An Easterly for a sailor in these parts, means, big swell, lolling seas and if you're heading East, like me, wind right on the nose!!  

Kicking up a wake with the new outboard!

As I got myself ship shape to leave, it became obvious after a brief glimpse at WindGuru, was that the arrows depicting wind direction, gave 'no knots' speed.  Not particularly encouraging at all.  So the conditions would be plenty of swell and not a whisper of a breeze.  Now if I didn't have the boat booked to come out of the water, I simply would have stayed put on the mooring, but I didn't want to miss my slot.   The surf gave much concern to one local resident, who looked at me aghast and told me I couldn't possibly leave because of the Levante.  They may well have told me a tsunami was on the way and we were all doomed, with her stricken face pleading with me not to leave and I couldn't alleviate their concern, because I was leaving.  Besides, it's sometimes tricky to explain the conditions to a landlubber, that it's not a life threatening journey!

Now I haven't ever succumbed to seasickness per se, but on this short journey of approximately 15 miles, even I couldn't manage to rustle up an appetite!  The relentless rolling of the boat in a swell that lifted you up from the starboard side and the intermittent waft of diesel fumes, doesn't bode well to getting a pot on the go.

Flag hangs limp

Not a whisper of wind

Even my dog Eby was quiet, settling herself down first at the helm and later in the shade on the cockpit boards, curling up on her makeshift sleeping bag.  I made sure we drank a lot of water and kept ourselves out of the intense sun.  My solar panel helped to give her shade.

Eby girl at the helm

On route I saw only one other vessel and  it definitely wasn't another sailboat! Let's face it, they wouldn't be so stupid as to subject themselves to a most uncomfortable passage.  I passed a small fishing boat just short of halfway and then nothing until I reached on the approach to the breakwater at Vila Real, where small fishing boats were busy finding fish.

Port Buoy at the breakwater (a welcomed sight!)

My morale lifted no end after we rounded the buoy and made our approach into the river.  The swell was behind us now and gently lifted and shunted us towards the direction we were intending.  Even Eby began to perk up and could smell all the scents that wafted over from land and my stomach began to show obvious signs of hunger. 

Chugging up the channel, with silly hat

There was the contrasting sides of the river to absorb, on the Portuguese breakwater, many people were fishing on land and on the opposite side, small Spanish fishing boats busy buzzing around the shallow waters of the entrance.

I think she likes what she smells!

Eby smells land

The further up river we motored, the calmer the waters became.  I had calculated the right time to arrive at the mouth of the river with regard to tides etc and the tide was perfect for us. It was on the flood.  Further more I had a happy canine at my side, no doubt looking forward to exploring new lands.  Shortly before I left Tavira, my neighbour to my mooring had told me to pick up the biggest mooring buoy that belonged to the boatyard.  It also happened to be the closest mooring to the slipway.  I suppose he felt compelled to help in anyway but most vehemently declined the ride down.  No surprises as to why, and I certainly wouldn't have wished the trip on anyone, especially someone  susceptible to motion sickness or I could have had a boat swimming in.....oh never mind!

Heading over to the town of Ayamonte

On the mooring  

Weary yet happy, we set off to explore the area and for Eby to do whatever she deemed necessary.  It was a very still afternoon, no wind had arrived at any point, so we were wiped out more from the dreary journey and heat.  My hunger was still yet to be fulfilled and a friend with hindsight had ordered Mousaka from the night before, to take with on the trip.  All I had to do was reheat, feed the dog and get my head down!

A well deserved pre-cooked meal of mousaka and rice!

 Dead on my feet, I make my way down below to get horizontal and hope soon the band will pack up and scurry away.  Somehow they seem incapable of reading my mind and carry on repeating the same bars over and over again.  I found myself commentating, throwing in constructive but cringing criticism.  As Day One heads towards dusk, tomorrow is really when the fun begins.  I get hauled out via trolley at 11.00, Portuguese time, 12.00 Spanish time, just to make it even more interesting.

This is one tired woman and her dog signing off...

This vista of  nature's beauty is the last thing I see before slumber

N.B  Crucial footnote needed here, to tell you keep scrolling down till you get to next post.  I think possibly a black hole intervention took place...