We had planned to come from The Azores (last landfall was the lovely island of Santa Maria the most easterly of the group) to Gibraltar. As you’ll no doubt be aware there is a border between Spain and the U.K. here, with marinas in both territories only yards apart. The border is strictly controlled.

During our passage from Horta to Santa Maria we became aware of an issue with the autopilot and had ordered an expensive new component to be available in Gib. Unsurprisingly it had not arrived when we went to the chandlery, one which is reputed to both expensive and to have questionable service. Nobody seemed to know where our part was, the closest we got was, “It’s in Spain!”

We therefore had an utterly frustrating morning having moved the boat from a lovely marina in Spanish waters to a much less nice one in Gib so we could collect our parts, and dealing with the added irritation of the Gibraltar Customs. We were told our “immigration” papers would be processed some time during the day and that we couldn’t leave till done. We were trapped by Customs (the online system is utterly useless and wasted more than an hour of my time) and by the need to await arrival of our new autopilot.

I was keen to go up the cable car that whisks you to the top of the Rock in 6 minutes. So, as we were unable to go anywhere outside Gib, we set off down the old part of town, forsaking stops in the endless duty free shops on Main Street. We can across a sales person, whom we later found was called Fidelio, and were persuaded to go instead on a minibus tour for £1 more than the cable car. It turned out to be an excellent move and Tripadvisor blogs had said the minibus was better also.

We had a blast of an afternoon. Fidelio was a Gibraltarian with a passion for his home and its history. He promised us an hour’s tour but such was his and his passengers’ enjoyment, he actually gave us a whole afternoon and no extra cost.

For me the highlight was the monkeys (Barbary macaques) which we were told Churchill referred to and said as long as the monkeys are there, it will remain British. The colony numbers about 300 and they are clearly much loved. Numbers have to be controlled to ensure there is enough food and to avoid them coming down into the City which happened at some point in the past. To do this, females are occasionally sterilised. All the monkeys are vaccinated against Rabies and have microchips and many are so recognisable that the taxi drivers have named them.

We were especially lucky to come during the time of year when babies are being born so we were told we might see a mother and baby. Pregnancies are usually singletons and very rarely twins, with one twin pregnancy so far this year.

Very soon we came across 2 nursing mothers, the second of which can only have given birth a few hours before as the baby was tiny and still had the remains of its umbilical cord attached. The monkeys can be aggressive with each other and we saw how protective the alpha male can be. We were told it to hold them as they dislike this. Several times they jumped onto the minibus or directly onto us.

This was a most joyful afternoon and one I shall remember for a long time. In addition to the privilege of the monkeys we spent time learning about the efforts over the centuries to resist forces determined to capture the rocks and the lengths taken to defend the place with 30kms of tunnels chiselled and blasted through the rocks.

Absolutely terrific afternoon followed by a top top curry ashore and a good night’s sleep before leaving at dawn. Gibraltar certainly redeemed itself by nightfall.