We emailed our Christmas greetings mid December and received many in reply – good news from all around the world! Another year over and an exciting 2025 ahead of us! This year we plan to visit the USA and Cuba in July and August. At the end of the year we plan to sail down to Tasmania and cruise around the island for a month.
The Schady-Muller mob on Warriewood beach.
December, as for most of us, was a busy month. Michelle came back from Fiji and is staying with us until she has lined up her next project. We spent time with the girls on the beach as well as attend various events with our sailing friends.
Stumpy the lizard visits the Sail Cruising Division Xmas lunch.
It was good catching up with old friends from South Africa and local friends over lunches, as well as our neighbours at 153 Garden Street, in Warriewood.
Dec. 2024; Reini, Lynne, Annie and Dirk.
Dec.1983: Reini, Lynne, Annie and Dirk.
To work off all the festive food and drinks, I did a lot of cycling, Annie a lot of gym and together, we did walks and swimming along our local beaches.
Annie doing her laps in the Narrabeen rockpool.
Annie and Michelle enjoying the sail down the coast to Sydney harbour.
The girls asked us to sail down to the harbour for the New Year fireworks and we had the pleasure of meeting a lot of their friends. We ended up spending 10 days on Sydney Harbour (Port Jackson), before sailing back.
The extended family anchored in Rose Bay for the fireworks. Welcome Evan!
Another spectacular show, viewed from Esprit. Also, midnight ringing in Annie’s 70th birthday! (looking good and many more birthdays, my love!)
We celebrated our friend Gavin Birch’s 80th birthday for lunch and music on the Zephyr charter boat, cruising on the Pittwater.
The excellent duo performing on Gavin’s birthday cruise.
Dusk- Zephyr returning to Newport wharf.
Our friends Jim and Gail Petrie arrived at their apartment on New Year’s Day. Over dinners, we caught up with their Cape Town news. We visited Pretty Beach for two nights, did a coastal walk to Maitland Bay and attended a Joe Camilleri and the Black Sorrows concert in Gosford.
Gail, Jim and Annie on the Maitland Bay walk.
Joe Camilleri and the Black Sorrows at full tilt.
Australia Day on the 26th January fell on a Sunday, with a public holiday on the Monday. We started the festivities with champagne and canapes at the RMYC and ended with the SCD members at Bonny Doon beach.
Part of the Australia Day crowd.
Michelle, in the meantime, discovered that some of her frequent flyer points were about to expire. So off she went to Sri Lanka on a two week surfing holiday – evidently, the new Bali for surfers and yoga lovers. Latest news is, she was having a whale of a time.
View of the surf from Michelle’s accommodation.
Annie is getting excited about the prospect of becoming a grandmother on or about the 5th February. I have asked her to hold back until the baby has arrived. We will report back with the deets on gender, weight and name in our next post.
The distance from Agadir in Morocco to the Canary Islands is about 220 nm, so if we could average about 6 knots over this distance, we should be able to do the distance in about 37 hours. We arranged with the Moroccan Border Police, to check out at 7am on Monday the 2nd December, in order to have a two day and overnight crossing and arrive in the Canaries before dark the next day. The Police did as arranged, but Customs were fast asleep, so we only left at 8am.
The first 10 hours were quite pleasant with hundreds of dolphins swimming and playing around Esprit, as we sailed away from North Africa. Then the weather turned nasty – either we had made a mistake with the GRIB files we downloaded, or the Predictwind and Windy forecasts were hopelessly wrong. Either way, we fully reefed the mainsail and furled the jib to about 10% as the wind picked up to 40 knots. For the next 20 hours, we had the worst conditions imaginable.
The Gulf of Lion in France previously rated tops in bad weather for us, but this was to put it mildly, sh1t! With swells coming at us from the North west like rows of double storey blocks of flats, combined with squalls of rain and lightning, we only managed alternating one hour watches through the night, sometimes hitting 12 knots surfing down the waves. I was worried about the solar panels and the bimini being blown off, while Annie was worried about us getting injured as we were thrown about the boat. Often a large wave would break over the boat and swamp the cockpit with water.
Daylight came at 8:15am which was a relief, as we could at least see and anticipate the breaking waves. We arrived at La Graciosa Island, north of Lanzarote Island in the Canaries after 31.5 hours, having covered the 220 nm at an average speed of nearly 7 knots/h. It was a relief to be allocated a berth in the small marina to have a hot shower, dinner and a stiff Irish coffee before hitting the bed for a good night’s sleep.
Graciosa harbour.
Graciosa is quite a special island, being a protected nature reserve with low key developments and no tarred roads – a bit of a lunar landscape. The sort of place where you could disappear for a week and enjoy the peace and quiet. The day after our arrival, Jonny and Tina on Paikea arrived, having done a long crossing from Gibraltar and missing some of our bad weather. We chilled out for four days, enjoying walks, croissants from an excellent little bakery and coffees on the quay.
Annie in front of the church.
The modest, but imaginative fishermen’s interior.
Sandy streets.
The camp site.
Arrecife and Rubicon on the on the East coast of Lanzarote provided us with sheltered anchorages before we crossed to the East coast of Fuerteventura with two further stops at Gran Tarajal and Morro Jable. The final leg was to Las Palmas on Gran Canaria Island. We managed to master the Hydrovane windvane steering on the 150 nm trip and I have to admit – it’s like having another crew member on board. Good, for when it’s just the two of us, to share watches.
Lanzarote coastline, sailing south.
Gran Tarajal – a pretty town in the middle of nowhere.
Annie and Harry the Hydrovane.
Fuerteventura – nothing growing here.
Suddenly, oasis like resorts.
Last look at Fuerteventura.
We arrived in Las Palmas on the 11th of December after a robust 58nm crossing from Fuerteventura, averaging 7.5 knots over the distance. With some 1,250 berths at the Las Palmas Marina, we thought that after the start of the ARC rally in late November, there would be plenty of berths available – no luck, we were placed on a waiting list with 40 other boats already anchored in the bay, adjoining the marina.
While calling the fuel berth in the marina on VHF 11, to tie up and fill up with diesel, Robbie and Bev Collins from the USA on Mersoleil recognised my voice and called back inviting us for dinner. What a small world – we had met in Cochin, India and later caught up in Cape Town. Whilst we opted to sail through the Red Sea, they went the long way around the Cape and then across to the Med. We will probably be sailing to the Caribbean around the same time.
Annie and Bev.
Robbie Collins.
After two days on anchor in the harbour, we were allocated a berth in the marina. This was a relief, as we had work to do on the boat as well as stocking up with groceries, gas and diesel. The marina was buzzing with crews on their boats getting ready to do their Atlantic crossings – quite exciting. There was also a constant stream of young people coming past, looking for berths to get to the Caribbean.
The marina, bursting at the seams.
Australian, South African and UK sailors doing their departure planning.
On the 15th December our daughter Michelle, arrived from London to join us for the Atlantic crossing. Fortunately for us, she was between finishing her London contracting job and starting an assignment for United Nations Women in PNG in February. Being an avid sailor, she wouldn’t miss the opportunity to do and ocean crossing and getting to know Esprit better. Karen would have joined us too if she wasn’t committed to travelling with her beau Evan, in South America and Cuba at present, .
Annie and Michelle.
Although the wind is pumping from the south at present, we are looking at setting sail around the 18th December when there appears to be a good weather window to head south to the Cape Verde islands and pick up the easterly trade winds across the Atlantic.
For those interested, you can track us on this link:
Our last sunrise in Alcaidesa Marina with the Rock in the background.
Annie decided she had enough of the cold weather, so went to Carrefour in La Linea to buy us a 1,500 W fan heater. On Tuesday 19th November, we motored out of Alcaidesa Marina in La Linea next to Gibraltar, to catch the outgoing tide, if any, to cross the Gibraltar Strait to Tangier, Morocco.
Goodbye Gibraltar.
Despite planning our crossing according to the Pilot guidelines, we encountered a substantial flood current running into the Mediterranean Sea. Evidently evaporation in the Mediterranean cannot be offset by inflows from rivers into the Med. Therefore, the Atlantic Ocean water level can be as much as two metres higher than in the Med, as well as having lower salinity than the Med.
Our track across the Gibraltar Strait.
This causes flood currents into the Med of up to 6 knots and depending on the wind direction, can sometimes be partially offset by the ebb currents. Our expectations were too high, as we had to crank up the engine up to 2,500 rpm to crawl across the Strait at 3.5 knots, dodging ships in transit in the shipping lanes.
We were met by friendly marina staff at the new Tanja Bay Marina in Tangier, who were efficient, as well as the police, who handled passport control. The Customs officials were slow to process their documentation and on inspection of our boat, were more interested in weapons and drones, than in the substantial cache of alcohol and wine we had stowed away in La Linea. Lucky for us.
The marina offices.
For more than 2,500 years people have inhabited this strategic point on the strait separatingEurope from Africa. And just about every race or power that ever had an interest in this corner of the Mediterranean has left its mark. The port has seen them all come and go: Phoenicians, Romans, Visigoths, Arabs, Portuguese, British and Spaniards among others. Tangier (Tanja to the locals) has also for some 40 years been under the dubious control of an international council, before it was reunited with Morocco, after Morocco’s independence in 1956.
Walking through the Medina’s wider streets – you can get lost in the smaller alleys.
A shrine in a small alley.
A school in an alley.
We used the overcast and rainy weather to visit the Medina (old town) and the Kasbah (Casbah). We found a tailor who were more than happy to replace a zip on one of my shorts and patch up the splitting seams in our two fold-up bicycle bags – for AUD 6! People eke out a living here and the contrast between the hip Moroccan youngsters and the older generation is striking. The other striking thing is the absence of older women on the streets – the men crowd the coffee and tea houses in this patriarchal society, seemingly with no need to work.
The tailor has a small shop above the courtyard.
Market vendors outside St. Andrews church.
On the way to the Kasbah – spice vendors.
Annie buying dried fruits and nuts for our muesli – very cheap.
I’m guarding my master’s spices.
There was a break in the rain the following day, so we took the opportunity to walk all the way to the top of the Kasbah to visit the Kasbah museum – the former Sultan’s palace. Here we found an interesting display of artefacts dating back to the Carthaginians and the Romans who occupied this palace followed by the Muslims, Portuguese, Spanish and British Governors.
At the entrance to the Sultan’s palace.
Inside the palace – a courtyard with floor mosaic.
Wall plaster carving.
The carved ceiling above.
Door detail.
On a more contemporary note there is also the Cafe Detroit on the second floor off the garden courtyard. It was set up in the 1960’s by Brion Gysin, writer and friend of the Rolling Stones. It was then called the Thousand and One nights and saw many musicians pass through, including Brian Jones founder and original leader of the Rolling Stones, before his early death in 1969.
The garden courtyard with Cafe Detroit on the second floor.
Impressive doors in the smarter Kasbah streets.
Walking out of the Kasbah alleys.
We ended up staying in Tangier for four days, enjoying the local food and waiting for the rain that came with the south-westerly wind, to abate. We departed on Saturday the 23rd November, when a favourable north westerly set in to carry us south along the coast to Rabat, the capital. Alas – we were still in the Gibraltar Strait and had to fight massive swells and current before we could turn south along the Moroccan coast. The preceding four day’s wind left a lovely 3-4m swell rolling in from the Atlantic, but the new 15 knot westerly wind allowed us to sail through the night for 70 nm.
Gibraltar to the Canaries.
The last 70 nm to Rabat had less wind, leaving us with a confused sea through which we had to motor sail. Arriving off Rabat at 11:30, we were refused entry into the harbour, as the swells were crashing over the breakwater and harbour walls, resembling a washing machine. Err on the side of caution we said, and carried on to Mohammedia, a large harbour with a small yacht club, about 12 nm north of Casablanca – which we discovered, doesn’t have a yacht basin due to funding cuts.
We had a very friendly reception by the police and customs officers who came to stamp passports and check the boat. During the night, we discovered that the 2.7 m tidal range, had Esprit standing on her 2.2 m keel, at every low tide. We were tied up well and the security at the yacht club was excellent, so the next day we took the express train to Marrakech (Marrakesh) for the 3-hour journey in second class. Not cheap at about AUD 24/person, but convenient, clean and on time. I was reminded of Crosby, Stills and Nash’s hit, the “Marrakesh Express” from 1969.
The station in Mohammedia – platforms in need of repair.
Platform in Marrakesh – in better shape.
Marrakesh has an entirely different feel to Tangier in the North. It remains more African than cosmopolitan Tangier and Casablanca. It was at one stage the capital and the king has his palace here. Located in the foothills of the Atlas Mountains, it is still regarded as the southern capital and attracts merchants and traders from the surrounding plains, High Atlas Mountains and the Sahara. Red, in all its shades, has become the colour of Marrakesh – even on the modern buildings.
Modern buildings in Marrakesh new town.
Marrakesh station interior.
Marrakesh station is a modern structure with quite an airy feel, incorporating traditional symbolism, arts and crafts. Djemaa el-Fna, is a large, irregularly shaped open area in the heart of the old city and the medina, with the landmark Koutoubia mosque across the main street. From this open area runs the traditional maze of souqs and twisting alleys, where you can easily get lost. We had lunch here, watching the passing show of tourists, hustlers, traders and snake charmers.
Koutoubia mosque
Fruit vendors in Djemaa el-Fna
Narrow alleys in the souqs.
On the advice of Karen our daughter, who travelled through Morocco a few years ago, we didn’t visit Casablanca, as it is Morocco’s largest city, industrial centre and port – nothing to remind you of the movie Casablanca with Humphrey Bogart. You can visit the Hassan II mosque, the third largest religious monument in the world, completed in 1993, with a 210 m high minaret. It is said to be big enough to house Notre Dame or St Peter’s in its vast prayer hall. It took a photo as we sailed past from a distance of about two nm.
Hassan II mosque from a distance.
Leaving Mohammedia, we went well offshore to keep out of the way of the numerous fishing boats and the ever present fishing buoys that inhabit a 12 nm distance offshore. The sea was now much calmer with a gentle 3 m high swell setting in from the West. It took us 46 hours to sail or motor on occasion, the 280 nm to Agadir in the South. The two nights en route were quite cold, but when we tied up in Agadir marina at midday on the 28th, the temperature was a pleasant 27 deg C.
Agadir marina.
Again, we were met by very friendly customs and police staff who were clearly aware of the value of tourism to this out of the way town. We took the opportunity to fill up with cheap diesel and gas cylinders for the last time before crossing to the Canary Islands. We had a pleasant evening with Eduard and Almuth Keck Otterstedt from Switzerland on their yacht “Single Malt”, who at the ages of 83 and 76 have circumnavigated the world and are still cruising. They are also glider pilots.
Almuth, Annie and Eduard.
Next stop will be in the Canary islands, so until later, Cheers!
Cartagena was worth a three day visit. We were tied up in the marina while the westerly was blowing fiercely in the bay. We explored the town which has an abundance of public sculptures and visited the Roman theatre and the Forum precinct which dates back to the first century BC.
One of the sculptures.
The Roman theatre.
The town is partially enclosed by ramparts constructed by Charles III and has many well maintained historical buildings such as the monumental City Hall in the form of a triangle with different facades and also the house of Miguel de Cervantes, the writer of Don Quixote amongst others.
Charles III ramparts.
The eclectic City Hall.
We set off from Cartagena on the 5th November in a sparkling clean boat, inside and out, only for the rough passages over the next three days, to cover everything again in a layer of salt – that’s sailing. We anchored in Carboneras, Roquetas, Adra and Almunecar enroute.
Esprit’s route to Gibraltar.
The coastal strip from Roquetas to Motril just before Almunecar, falls between the tourist coasts of the Costa Blanca and the Costa del Sol. This strip should be called the Costa del Hothouses, as it is covered by hectares of massive plastic roofed hothouses. Clearly, this is the food basket of Spain and probably much of the EU, because of the warm climate and the south orientation.
Google maps detail of an area of hothouses.
The majestic Sierra Nevada mountains forms the backdrop to this coast. The cold front sweeping south from the Arctic around the 8th November, covering the UK in snow, also brought snow to these mountains and the temperature plummeted, requiring us to take out our jeans and jerseys.
First snow on the mountains behind Motril.
It’s been a long time between drinks (as we colloquially say in Australia), but when my brothers and I parked our camper van on the beach in Almunecar in 1975, it was a small and charming coastal village. We got to know Pepe’s Bar in Almunecar quite well, due to Pepe’s generous free tapa’s of smoked ham, olives and cheese. Usually to be followed by an order of Tortilla, a delicious spicy potato omelet. Below is a photo of the town today and somewhere behind the rows of apartments, you my find a small and charming village.
Almunecar today.
There was no time to sit and contemplate the changes that inevitably occur during the course of 44 years, so we pushed on with stops at Malaga, Torre del Mar and Marbella. Each day, the temperature dropped as the Arctic freeze swept south into the Mediterranean, with snowfalls on the mountains in Mallorca (Majorca). Rugged up and now in foul weather gear, we pushed on.
This is the Costa del Sol?
As we were approaching Gibraltar from the north east in a building wind, who should crop up on our AIS, but Paikea from NZ. We hadn’t seen Tina and Jonny for a while, as they were cruising in the Balearic islands of Majorca, Minorca and Ibiza – now, here we were sailing into Gib together facing a howling north wester as we rounded the tip of the “Rock”.
Paikea, out of the blue.
Approaching Gibraltar.
Rounding the Rock in a big sea.
Fortunately, Queensway Quay Marina where we had a booking for the following day, had a berth for us to enter a day early – anchoring off would have been impossible. Having all the amenities the Brits expect, we visited Raj’s Curry House for a calming bottle of wine and a delicious meal, before an early night.
The next day we were informed by the customs broker that our Hydrovane would only be cleared for collection the following day. James Pritchard from Pritchard’s Marine came around to measure up for the installation and promised to collect the gear from Customs the next morning. We took the opportunity to walk to the chandleries to buy additional bits and pieces, as I had two pumps to fix that afternoon – the leaking deck wash pump and a non-flushing toilet pump.
While I tackled the pumps and got them working again, Annie cycled to Morrisons Supermarket to buy some vittles. Anthony and Michelle from Melbourne Australia, on their catamaran Boomerang, two berths down, joined us for sundowners – they were just entering the Med, having come up from Morocco, so we could exchange useful information.
The Hydrovane gear in 5 boxes.
Next morning, James and Luke arrived with the gear for the Hydrovane and set to work, until the rain interrupted them at 1:30pm. They took the pieces that needed modifications back to their workshop, promising to be back the next morning to assemble the system.
Luke and James mounting the mock-up.
The job was completed on Friday morning for GBP 490, which allowed us to leave the marina, re-fuel the boat tax free in Gibraltar and motor to Alcaidesa Marina beyond the airport runway, which is the border between Gibraltar and Spain.
Harry the Hydrovane, our new crew member.
Now the reason for a three day stay in Spain is because, despite Gibraltar’s so-called tax free status, the only things cheap in Gib, are diesel and alcoholic spirits. For the rest, food, wine and beer are cheaper on the Spanish side. So we used these prices to re-stock our provisions for the next four months, as evidently, the only thing cheap in the Caribbean is rum,which we don’t like.
The Rock from the other side, as we motor around to Alcaidesa Marina.
We had time to catch up with Paikea in the marina and start planning dates for the Atlantic crossing, as Jonny and Tina are good company and our boats have similar lengths and speeds. They had been to Morocco before, so while Annie and I sail to Tangier and Rabat to explore Morocco, they will stay in the marina to take their mast down and do some instrument re-wiring.
While waiting for the right tide through the Strait and a fair wind to Tangier, we say cheers until the Canaries.
Back in the 80’s when we were big into board and wave sailing, Hyeres in France, was synonymous with speed sailing on slalom boards. We have figured out why – Hyeres, just east of Toulon, is on the edge of the Golfe du Lion, known for the Mistral winds that blows down the Gulf.
Western Mediterranean.
According to the Mediterranean Pilot, “The Golfe du Lion is an area which merits much respect”. During our crossing, the Gulf of Lion lived up to its reputation with regard extreme winds. We set out from Marseille at noon, with our course set for a 120 nm passage to Baia des Cadaques on the western edge of the gulf, just across the Spanish border. The weather forecast was for a pleasant 15 knot wind for the next 24 hours.
About 10 nm out of Marseille, we caught up with a Canadian flagged Dufour 45, sailed by a couple who had problems controlling their boat, as it was screwing up to windward with every gust – clearly, the boat was over-canvassed, despite their reefed sails. We were going nicely with a fully reefed mainsail and half furled jib in 20 knots of wind on a beam reach, doing 7-8 knots SOG. As we passed them, they turned around and headed back to Marseille. In hindsight, we should have done the same.
Annie at the wheel.
The wind was building to 25 knots with gusts of 35 knots, which is OK in a moderate sea, but the waves had built to 2-3 metres and were breaking. We were down to the reefed mainsail and were hand steering at 8-10 knots SOG, as the autopilot refused to cooperate after the first two hours. We did one hour watches on the wheel for the next 16 hours, as steering the boat was exhausting after an hour. In all our years of sailing, the 1987 Beachcomber race from Mauritius to Durban on a Farr 38, was the only passage worse than this one, having back then been hit by the cyclone Domoina, south of Reunion.
At 6am we anchored in the dark in Baia des Cadaques in Spain, cold, wet and exhausted, saying “Never believe weather forecasts again!” – over a glass of brandy. Later in the afternoon, after a good sleep, shower and a shave, we hit the pretty town of Cadaques for a walk up to the church and to have dinner, with a bottle of Spanish red wine.
Cadaques harbour front.
Cadaques town.
The ornate church interior.
View down from the church.
Dinner time.
The following day we walked to the village of Port Lligat, to visit the house of Salvador Dali, where he had lived and worked for more than 50 years.
Casa Dali.
Stuffed bear in the entrance hall.
Dali’s painting of Gala, his wife, muse and model.
View over the rooftop of the house.
His tower for the pigeons – he had a thing for eggs.
Statue of Salvador Dali in Cadaques.
Our plan was to spend some time in Barcelona to visit some of our favourite buildings and see the Familia Sagrada church of Antonio Gaudi which had been completed since our last visit. On the way there, we stopped over in Cala Montgo, Sant Feliu and Arenys de Mare. Since entering Spain and hence, the northern Catalan province, we noticed the Catalonian flag flying everywhere and posters calling for Catalan autonomy.
Catalan flags outside most houses in Cadaques.
Posters calling for the freedom of political prisoners.
The acting Spanish government then made the mistake to imprison nine Catalan leaders over their roles in the failed push for secession two years ago. A call went out to Catalonians to march in Barcelona in protest against the imprisonment of these leaders. The march that had preceded the unrest, had been peaceful. According to Barcelona police, about 525,000 people congregated in the city, many of them having marched there from around Catalonia.
The sh1t hit the fan when a radical movement of young Catalan separatists, Arran, called for a new demonstration “against repression” in central Barcelona on Saturday afternoon. So, we arrived in Arenys de Mare in the middle of five consecutive nights of violence in Barcelona. The right wing opponents of socialist prime minister, Pedro Sánchez, were calling for the government to take a hard line on the latest eruption of the regional independence crisis.
Barcelona barricades: Photo from the internet.
Street battles – photo from the online news.
Although Sánchez has taken a more conciliatory approach to the Catalan question than his predecessor, he has ruled out any referendum on Catalan independence and insisted any negotiations will have to respect the Spanish constitution. Spain is due to hold its fourth general election in as many years on 10 November. We decided to wait in Arenys Marina, about 20 nm from Barcelona, until the dust had settled, while we got a lot of maintenance done on the boat.
The church in Arenys – one of the very few older buildings remaining.
Detail of the main entrance.
With Barcelona in lockdown, we decided to sail to the Balearic islands of Mallorca, Menorca and Ibiza off the Spanish coast. But now, the weather turned against us, with a forecast of six consecutive days of very strong southerly winds blowing back at us from the islands for the 100 nm crossing. Our recent experience across the Gulf of Lion, made this a non-starter. Having spent two weeks on these islands a number of years ago, enjoying the sun and the marvellous products from their gin distilleries, we decided to give the islands a miss this time and rather sail down the Spanish coast to Gibraltar.
Sunset in the Arenys marina before the storm set in.
However, Arenys de Mar turned out to be our stopover for six days, because the weather deteriorated to the point where a massive storm hit us in the marina on the 21st October. We were glad to be in the marina because the entire Catalan coast got hammered by this storm all the way down to Barcelona and beyond. A walk to the supermarket the next day was a challenge through mud and water logged streets.
The storm from the shore – not a good time to be out there in a boat.
Our journey continued on the 24th October in relatively flat seas with stopovers in Vilanova, Cala Podrit and Peniscola, covering 150 nm in three days of sailing and motoring. Peniscola turned out to be an attractive town, situated on a small peninsula with a spacious harbour on the south side, where we could anchor. We decided to spend an extra day here, to explore and shop.
Peniscola – anchored outside the harbour.
A model of the town of Peniscola and its fortifications.
One of the gateways into the old town.
In the year 1233, Peniscola, which had been under the control of the Arabs since 718, was taken over by King James I. In 1294, during James II of Aragon’s reign, control was passed over to the Knights of the Order of the Temple. It was at this point when the Templars built their last great fortress here from 1294 to 1307. In 1411, Pope Benedict XIII made the castle his pontifical seat. It was fascinating to explore this well restored and maintained castle and surrounding old town with all this history.
Entrance into the fortress.
Pope Benedict XIII.
The lighthouse at the top of the town.
Old town Peniscola street scene.
When we anchored at Burriana on Monday the 28th October, we reached a milestone: we were anchored at Longitude 0 degree, (The Greenwich prime meridian line) where East meets West. When we sailed from Nimoa island in Papua New Guinea, we were at Longitude 153 degrees and have therefore, sailed 42.5% of the equatorial circumference of the world since. In practice, a bit further of course, due to our north and south track, as we sailed west.
Calpe harbour.
There followed a few days of very little wind, so we had to motor sail and anchor in Ghandia and Calpe. Calpe has a good anchorage outside the harbour and is an attractive town in the shadow ofa huge rocky promontory. Most of this section of the Costa Blanca coast has white sandy beaches with beautiful mountains as a backdrop.
Rocky coastline.
Unfortunately, the building developments along this coast approaches miniManhattans as witnessed in Benidorm, our next stop. The expat Brits and UK holiday makers seem to like it here as there are fish and chip shops and Indian curry restaurants on every block.
Benidorm skyline.
New Benidorm gold coloured highrise – a Saudi prince the developer?
For every wind free day there follows a good windy day and we enjoyed two days of lovely sailing, first to Torrevieja and then to Cartagena. We are in the marina at Cartagena at the moment, waiting for a fierce westerly, gusting at 35 knots in the marina to blow out, before we continue to Gibraltar. Cartagena is a lovely town with old Roman remains of a theatre and a forum precinct, which we will explore tomorrow.
Cheers for now, our next post will be from Gibraltar.
Our Cape Town friend, Ernst Hartwig, emailed me these photos taken in the Maritime Museum of Amsterdam. Evidently a Dutch Dirk Muller (1758 – 1834) reached the rank of sailing captain (ship’s master) in the Dutch East India Company. The Australian Dirk Muller (1947 – ) isn’t a commissioned officer, but nevertheless enjoy his sailing .
The Australian Dirk Muller was shocked looking into a mirror this morning.
WTF! I have slept my hair into a Donald Trump last night.
Back to sailing: Our crossing from Calvi in Corsica to Cap Ferrat in France started well on the 1st October. At 4:30 in the morning, with no moon, we were ticking over nicely with a fully reefed main and full jib in 18 knots of wind on the beam for the first 5 hours. Then the wind started veering and gradually headed us, forcing us further east. The result was that we tied up to the transit berth in San Remo, on the Italian Riviera, 25 nm to the east of Cap Ferrat at sunset, having sailed 91 nm in 14 hours.
Western Med route from Corsica.
Before the second world war San Remo was the haunt of the rich, renowned for its fine hotels and restaurants, offering service in the “grand manner” and for its casino, where large sums could be lost or won. The vestiges of that era remain and the elegant villas and hotels confer the charm of a once-exclusive resort on the town.
San Remo – walking up to the Madonna Della Costa cathedral.
After our morning walk through town and up to the cathedral, we stopped at a harbourside cafe for coffee and croissants and were intrigued by the passing parade. A large number of rich elderly people seems to have retired here and botoxed men and women with brilliant white teeth and orangey-brown spray tans, draped with jewellery and with fashionable french bulldogs in tow, were passing by.
Nearly there.
Don Orione from the monastery at the top of the hill, will assist you for your last few steps.
Very ornate Baroque interior.
View down to San Remo.
The nearby Conad supermarket provided us with the opportunity to replenish our supplies, before we set off for Menton on the French Riviera, 12 nm to the west and just across the French border. We tied up in the Port de Garavan marina for EU 29/day to stay out of the wicked north wester that was coming down theGolfe du Lion, hitting Marseille and St. Tropez where our friends Grant and Lesley Thompson on Cattiva were tied up.
Menton.
Tina and Jonny Patrick from NZ on Paikea also tied up in Menton, so the following morning after coffees, we took the train to Monaco, where we explored the town and visited the Grimaldi Palace and the Oceanographic museum. The latter has the best aquarium we have ever visited. After a long lunch we caught the train back to Menton, footsore and for a good night’s sleep.
Annie, Jonny and Tina walking up to the Grimaldi palace.
View down to Monaco harbour.
Photos of Prince Rainier and Princess Grace in the Palace precinct.
The impressive Oceanographic Institute Museum.
Jellyfish.
Clown fish.
On the way back to the station – admiring a small electric car.
We explored Menton which has a beautiful old town, the following day.
Menton old town.
View down to Menton harbour.
On Friday, we decided to pull down the jib sail as it appeared the leech stitching was parting ways. We were shocked to see that the UV protective strip on the leech of the sail was starting to delaminate and the bolt rope on the luff was parting with the sail. After 12,000 miles, we expected that this was bound to happen. No problem, a call to Pascale Boulocher (a lady) at Amure Nautique sailmakers, got the jib and our asymmetric spinnaker re-stitched over the weekend.
On the train to Nice – a French busker.
With the wind still raging, we caught the train to Nice on the Monday. Nice is quite a large city with wide boulevards in the Paris style and a very cosmopolitan population. We covered quite a distance walking from the train station to the old town and up to the citadel and remarkable cemetery. This was followed by lunch at a sidewalk cafe before we walked through quite a big outdoor market, back to the station and then a train back to Menton.
Nice station.
Nice – beautiful park with water features.
Kid’s playground.
Nice beachfront.
This wall is painted! (faux windows, shutters, doors and balustrading)
Nice town square.
The wind abated sufficiently on the 8th October for us to leave Menton and sail to Cap Ferrat (our original destination).The following day we motor sailed past Monaco and Antibes and when rounding Cap d’Antibes sailed past Juan les Pins on our way to Cannes.
Monaco from the sea.
The Oceanographic Museum on the cliff face above the water.
Those of us old enough to remember, will think back to Peter Sarstedt’s 1969 hit “Where do you go to my Lovely” and his lyrics “When you go on your summer vacation, you go to Juan les Pins. With your carefully designed topless swimsuit, you get an even suntan on your back, and on your legs..”
I wondered then, before Google Maps, where Juan les Pins was – and here it was, between Antibes and Cannes. The list of regulars in Juan les Pins in the 1920s and 30s reads like a roll call of the greatest American creative talent of the period: Archibald MacLeish, Gertrude Stein, Alice B Toklas, Robert Benchley, Dorothy Parker, Ernest Hemingway and Scott Fitzgerald, adding to the wild reputation of the place.
We anchored in the deep sheltered bay of Rade d’Agay on the Cote d’Azur, where a 25 knot northwesterly still tested our anchor holding during the night. The following morning, it seemed like the wind had abated, so we set off for St-Tropez. Big mistake – the northwesterly came up again, gusting 35 knots in a big sea. Sails furled, harnesses clipped in, after an hour we turned around and ran with the wind, back to Rade d’Agay. A hearty bacon and egg omelette with coffees soothed our battered ego’s.
Sailing past St-Tropez to Port Grimaud.
Not content to err on the side of caution, Ms Schady decided to set sail again three hours later, as the three weather apps she consulted, indicated that the wind had now abated. The wind was still blowing 20 knots, but at least the swell had decreased. so after a brisk sail we anchored off Port Grimaud at the top of the gulf of St-Tropez at 5pm. A quiet night with very little wind followed.
Classic yachts tied up in St-Tropez.
The following morning at 9am we anchored off St-Tropez harbour and went ashore to explore this quite attractive town, made famous by Brigitte Bardot, who settled here. Today, the rich and famous frequent the town which has a surfeit of art galleries and premium brand shops. We enjoyed the most expensive coffees and croissants we have come across to date – just to say we did!
The old town.
Someone will have the money to buy this exclusive Emilio Pucci creation.
How considerate – free 30 minute only parking at selected bays!
The coffee and croissants were good.
After St-Tropez, we anchored off Cap de Bregancon near a little island with old stone buildings, when Jonny and Tina on Paikea turned up, to anchor next to us for drinks. The following morning we headed off for Toulon and Marseille, while they carried on west to cross the Gulf of Lion.
Cap de Bregancon.
Jonny and Tina steaming past on Paikea under spinnaker.
After 35 nm, we anchored in the lee of La Madrague, between Toulon and Marseille, to leave the Cote d’Azur behind and enter the Provence region. I must say that we were most impressed with the Riviera and Cote d’Azur scenery, the food and their wines – thank goodness the summer high season was coming to an end and life for the locals and visitors was more relaxed.
Leaving La Madrague.
Our next stop was Marseille, where we had to pick up two parcels that were forwarded to us at a local marina. We tucked into a sheltered cove outside the marina as there was no staff working on a Sunday! We collected it on the Monday morning, as well as pick up some provisions at a nearby Carrefour before setting off to cross the Gulf of Lion to the border of Spain. This leg of 110 nm will be an overnight sail – let’s hope the Mistral blowing down the Gulf won’t be too strong.
Sailing into Marseille.
Fortifications on the island opposite the town.
No less than four passenger liners in the harbour.
