3rd July 2016, Puerto De Cadaques There was no rush for us to get off this morning as we have planned to go on anchor somewhere just up the coast, hardly an hour away . Once up we slowly started to make our preparations, fenders packed away, doors secured, water tanks filled, boat cleaned, bike stored etc. Wouldn't you know it though, we were ready to leave and the wind began to gust, no problem we were in no rush so we could just sit until there was a lull. At that point I released the lines on the side of the boat opposite to the side the wind was blowing, Mike gave the instruction to release the other lines whilst he held us in position. As we began to make our move I positioned myself next to the nearest boat ready to push us off if needed. I am always keeping an eye on the sides of the boat, the angle we will swing etc, ready to make a dash to fend off where needed. As we were pulling out of the berth I heard Mike shout "whats that line?" I glanced and declared "it's the slime line", "no that line behind us" as I looked back I could see a long orange line reaching from the pontoon to the boat "it's the electric lead, we've forgotten to disconnect the electric" I quickly ran to the stern (blunt end) and pulled the lead out of the boat socket just at the point we were about to run out of lead. Mike shouted "quick jump on next doors boat and unplug the lead, I'll pick you up" from the quay wall. The gap between our boat and the one next door was growing quite quickly and I hesitated, "quick" was the words of encouragement from the captain. I stretched one leg over as the boats continued to go their separate ways, bit like my nether regions. With a bit of a bounce I was off Dream Catcher and on the French boat next to us, there was nobody on board, at the time I thought this was a positive. Mike continued to sail out of the berth as I gathered up our lead and walk to the stern of the French boat. It was then I noticed the huge gap between the stern and the quay side, how was I going to get off? I was aware the wind was starting to howl, probably in hysterics at us two and that Mike would be trying to keep the boat still till he could pick me up off the quay side. I looked around and could see three French men chatting, I shouted "excuse me" whilst frantically waving at them, nobody took any notice; I tried again, no response. In my best Spanish I shouted "Oi", over and over again whilst jumping up and down and waving. One of the three men spotted me, I showed him my electric lead and pointed to Mike circling on the boat, he promptly went and unplugged the other end from the electrics, I don't think he understood what was wrong. Again I gesticulated I needed to get off the boat I was on and run to get on that boat over there. He seemed to comprehend and started to pull the lines.
Mike by this time could not see what was going on but had heard my shouting. He envisaged the worst that we had pulled the electric and water stanchion out of pontoon and water was gushing all over.
The French man was having no luck pulling the boat in and I certainly couldn't jump that far. I signed to him if he reached out and held my hand I would jump as he pulled me towards him. He uttered "be careful" with one grasp I was ashore; I thanked him profusely as I ran down the quay leaving him to sort the lines out on the French Boat.
I had already been for my jog this morning but trying to catch Mike seemed to distract me from the fact and I moved like I was running for my life. Mike was by now circling and indicating where I had to be poised to jump on to the bow of the boat. The wind was blowing and the bow (pointy bit & lightest bit) was swinging, Mike went to use the bow thruster and for some reason it wouldn't work. How was he going to get me on? Mike shouted to move round the corner as the direction of the wind would aid him getting near the wall for me to jump on. Mission accomplished, we both fell about laughing, never have we left the mooring with our electric still plugged in, another lesson learnt.
Drama over we continued our sail to Puerto De Cadaques, a large bay which has mooring buoys that you can attach to at a cost of €45 a night. It is a beautiful town sitting on quite low land, with its' white houses, each one peeping over the roof of the one in front. This is how I imagine Greece. This little town was the home of Salvador Dali, infamous Spanish painter. His home is now a museum and we are told only a short walk away. Tomorrow we shall catch a water taxi and go and have a nosey.
Today had certainly had its' challenges but it was time to face some more. I had a few weeks ago promised Mike when we were in clear water I would attempt to snorkel around the boat. This may sound easy to you all but to me it is massive. I am not a confident swimmer, I am scared of fish and I have a fear of heights. I know you're thinking what has heights got to do with it? But when I put my snorkel in the water and looked down it was like being at a great height, and fishes hovering around under the boat. After several attempts to let go of the boat, repeated reassurances from Mike that he would be right by my side and I was off. Gasping and flapping I made my way along the boat, by the time I reached the bow I felt quite tired but once I made the turn to come back I felt myself relax and passage through the water became easier. I was glad to get back on the boat though for the second time today.