Birvidik

Phase two begins....

The boat went back in the water on Liz's birthday (12th April just to make those of you who forgot it feel guilty). Bob enlisted the help of Tony and Joyce from 'Reeve' as Liz decided to go and have a haircut, pedicure and general pampering instead of fulfilling her seawomanly duties. You just can't get the crew these days.

After five days of frantic preparation we shot dishevelled and gasping through the bridge at Lagos and turned left toward the Med. After 4 hours we were pretty sure no-one was still watching us so we pulled into Portimao and dropped anchor. It's tiring stuff this sailing business.

Left Portimao the next morning and motored into wind and swell for six hours toward Ria Formosa, a nature reserve near Faro. It's amazing that it's taken us a day and a half (well, 10 hours sailing) to cover what you can do in 45 minutes on the motorway. The trip was a fine reminder of the less enjoyable aspects of sailing. The boat was pitching up and down, testing our hurried stowage to destruction and we survived on ginger biscuits. Am I selling the idea to anybody?

Conditions eased towards the end of the trip and when we anchored in the salt marsh lagoons it was idyllic. Sailing's like that, crap to sublime in nanoseconds (and the converse, of course).

Straight off the next morning to the River Guardiana, the border between Portugal and Spain. The skies cleared to another lovely day and we weighed anchor at about 09:50 and set off keeping a wary eye on the depth sounder as we were leaving at low water springs. The lowest registered was 1.8 metres so Liz didn't have to do the bit where she stands on tip toes when it gets shallow as if this somehow reduces the draft of the boat. What is it with fisherman, small boats and river/harbour entrances? There we are, trying to stick to the only bit of channel deep enough to let us through and we have to pick our way through hundreds of small dinghies with lines, nets & pots off them, whilst trying to dodge the behemoths of the fishing boat world steaming straight in at us at top speed. Still, we managed it.

What a change from the day before. Calm seas, sun shining and lots of (mainly juvenile) gannets. We even got a bit of a sail in on a beam reach (wind on the side for non-yotties) before the weather gods decided we'd had enough fun for the day and the wind died.

A known hazard in these waters are the tuna nets, which can stretch for 7 miles and are strong enough to bring a coastal freighter to a shuddering halt. We spotted them and avoided them easily but so that we didn't get too bored the local fishermen had scattered the area liberally with pots.

An observation on fish conservation:

All along this area there are artificial reefs and other areas which are marked on the chart as fish havens, along with a big 'no fishing' symbol. Even without the chart these are easily found, as the borders are surrounded by lobster pots and fishermen with lines and nets. One fin, tentacle or leg over the line and you're dead meat.

Setting up off the river we were a little concerned as to which courtesy flag to fly, with the river being the boundary between Spain and Portugal. Being typical wishy-washy liberals we couldn't make a decision and flew the two side by side until we moored up in Ayamonte, where we took the Portuguese flag down. Having been up since the 5th August it was definitely looking a bit tired and frayed.

Bob's concentrated efforts to learn Spanish finally paid off when he went to pay at the marina. After the first sentence the woman in the office decided that it would be easier all round if the rest of the conversation was conducted in English.

So, after your winter's respite, brace yourselves for more frequent updates.