Safely in Spain

Location: 43 07.59 N 9 10.92 W

After a quiet crossing of Biscay, we were surprised this morning to be surrounded by a fleet of perhaps 50 fishing boats. Viewed against a grey dawn, they looked like giant insects with their enormous outriggers. But we were still over 50 miles from land - why were they all here? A quick peek at the chart soon explained their presence. We were sailing over the edge of the continental shelf, where the depth of the water changes precipitously from over 4 miles to only 100 metres or so. Presumably, upwelling currents here provide an abundant feeding ground for fish, with rich pickings for fishermen.

 So many fishermen might mean less fish for cetaceans, but this certainly did not appear to be a problem on Stella’s birthday. With perfect timing, a large school of common dolphins arrived just after Stella had opened her birthday present - a new camera. They spent the entire day and most of the night playing in Ananda’s bow wave, delighting in performing acrobatics, leapfrogging over each other and, every so often, turning on their sides to look up at us through the crystal clear water. Each animal seemed to have its own distinct personality and many sported a range of scars, possibly from injuries sustained by propellers or even fishing nets.

As we head southwards, the air is becoming noticeably warmer. Despite being covered by a crust of salt from butting into the short channel seas, Ananda now feels drier, and so the night watches are becoming more comfortable.

The VHF radio provides an interesting window on the world. One skipper sounded most irate and indignant that another ship had passed too close to his own. So how do yachtsmen on tiny boats feel in the same situation? When about to be run down by a supertanker, I usually try and call up the ship on VHF, hoping a little polite conversation might wile away some time before drowning. Not all reply, despite the use of a lot of technology to call them directly both by name and by callsign. Are their radios turned on? Or are they too busy on the bridge doing their internet shopping?

Now it’s dusk, the moon has already risen, and we are preparing for another night at sea. We are sailing over a ‘submarine exercise area’, whatever that is. I suppose if you don’t exercise your submarines regularly, they must get pretty unhealthy. Still another 25 miles to go before we arrive at Camarinas, on the north western tip of Spain, for a little rest and paella.

Just over 4 days non-stop from Eastbourne and another 700 miles on the log – not too bad.

Buenas noches, mi amigos.

Turn left at France

Location: 48 26.92N 5 00.99W

Just one of those perfect night watches. No matter how many times you've experienced it before, there's still something magical about the combination of a gentle warm breeze and the boat making her way through a silvery sea. The moon keeps a watchful eye and peeks under the sprayhood every so often. Venus is in the west, Jupiter's there somewhere too, and. according to our planetary 'guru' Tim, we should see Mercury later in the east, an hour or so before sunrise. There are now only a few fishing boats about, although in the distance we can still see the endless procession of ships heading further offshore to clear Ushant. The AIS, an automated information system for ships, tells us so much about them, their dimensions, speed, course, cargoes, and such a range of exotic destinations as would stir the heart of even the most diehard couch potato. We, however, have chosen to close the shore and take a shortcut around this north western extremity of France, on our way to Spain and warmer waters. It was hard to get away. The list of jobs, both in our new home and in preparing 'Ananda', stretched on to infinity. At the last minute, I dived to check out the underside of the boat, using Jim's ingenious breathing apparatus - a combination of a dinghy pump and some plastic electrical conduit. Intriguing it may be, but the anaesthetist in me still remains wary. All that was missing was the brass helmet! But on examining the prop shaft, I found the propeller anode missing, presumably having fallen off. There was little left of the shaft anode either, so I bolted on a new one. Reassurance was needed, so we decided to slip the boat at the last minute, making a thorough check and washing her off for an extra turn of speed.

Touched by the interest shown in our plans and by the warmth of the best wishes from friends and family, we finally set off, once the weather improved sufficiently for a late season getaway. Now it's all about settling into safe routines around the clock, keeping the boat's systems working. Yes, it has been a hard day's night. I just called up a cargo ship called 'AB Liverpool' on the DSC radio, and rather than the reassuring tones of a fellow scouser, I was startled to hear a very polite German voice. Something to do with the Beatles' Hamburg connection? Must be getting late. Time for Stella to take over this watch.... Happy birthday Stella! And onwards across Biscay….

Will we go...?

Location: 50 47.73N 0 19.73E
All a bit of a rush really. Will we actually get away before winter freezes the halyards and algae cover the decks? The longer we leave it, the more enticing the lure of the armchair and a cosy log fire. Then we'll just have to read about it in the yachting mags rather than actually doing it.....