We meet two interesting characters upon arrival at Viana Do Castelo...

Piloting through the darkness, we approach a spare berth on a finger-pontoon with caution. Out of the blackness, appear two male figures. They are gesturing they will take the ropes and help us moor up. We are tired after a long sail (it's now about one in the morning) and we are glad of the offer of help.

As we step off the boat to thank these chaps for their help, one of them thrusts a large bottle of port, about a quarter full, into my hand and says, "Welcome to Viana Do Castelo!" Of course, these two are completely pissed but they are kindly characters and Pete offers them a beer by way of a thank you. Conversation begins..."How long have you been here? Where did you come from and where are you headed?

"You'll love this place," the most lively of the two replies, "Went out for a meal last night when we got in. Drank and drank. Great stuff."

The friend chips in, "Yea, in La Coruna before here. Don't remember any of it. I was so drunk. We're off in a few hours."

Pete and I look at each other a little concerned for them. One of them must have caught our look of concern, believing we were just worried about them being drunk. He reassures us, "No worries. We're not on watch for a few hours yet."

But it's not just that we're thinking of. We know the weather is turning nasty in the next 6 hours as well. Pete mentions the forecasted bad weather. Strong south-westerlies. No good for heading south. That's why we're here for a few days to sit it out. "Yea. Excellent!" one of them beams, "Hoping to catch a Force 9. See what she (the boat) can do. Put her through the paces, you know. Throw her about a bit. See what she can handle."

Pete and I are amazed that anyone would actually opt to go out in such weather.

"Sounds a bit hardcore," says Pete, "Are you Army or Marines or something?"

"No. Just enjoy sailing. Didn't even know each other before the trip."

"Yea," expands his crew mate, "just answered one of those find-a-crew-dot-com things and here we are. It's the skipper's boat. The skipper is really tough you know. But it's good. He just says, 'This is what I'm doing...we're going out in a Force 9 and if you don't like it, get the hell off my boat'. I'd never have the chance to go on a boat like this otherwise. Come and have a look at it," he says, pulling us toward a Dufour 42 with obvious pride. "But we have to be quiet. If we wake the skipper, he'll kill us."

As we stand on the pontoon admiring the Dufour , talking in whispers, I imagine Captain Bligh sleeping soundly down below.

Anyway, we say our goodbyes, wish them a good journey and go to bed. When we awake next morning, their boat is gone. Good luck lads. Safe trip. I really hope you are all OK.