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 |
No comments:
Post a Comment