The Bay of Cadiz to Malta, 2006.

The first passage of 2006:
Lagos, Portugal to Chipiona, Spain - 113nm.

After 6 weeks hard work preparing Hitrapia for our second season, we finally left "Port Velcro" (as we'd come to call Lagos Marina) Wednesday 10th May. We felt a little behind schedule so decided to undertake an overnight trip of 113nM direct to Chipiona, Spain. There are many places of interest around this area, Seville, Rota, Cadiz, so we knew we'd be busy sightseeing for sometime after this first passage. Meteorologists were predicting F7 Easterlies through the Straits of Gibraltar for a whole week. The Algarve would surely begin to suffer the effects of this after a few days, therefore we knew we had to make a run for it or risk being stuck on the Algarve for at least another week. Local cruisers advised us that the Straits weather did not affect the Bay of Cadiz, which agreed with the area forecast of light Easterlies. We were prepared to do some motoring, looking forward to the opportunity to try out our new crew member 'Paul' (Hitrapia's Christmas present, an electronic auto-pilot for use under engine, named after the owner of Bluewater Algarve Yacht Services who sold us the unit).

After leaving the protection of Lagos harbour it was immediately obvious that the swell was much larger than forecast, but it felt really great to be finally on our way with a new season of adventures to look forward to. As Hitrapia pounded through the sharp easterly swell like a bucking bronco we both began to feel rather queasy. Angie was sure she was going to be sick - we took some pills and after 3-4 hours we thankfully gained our sea legs. We passed offshore of Isle de Culatra around 6pm then headed out into the dusk to cross the Bay of Cadiz. The sea grew sharper still over the next few hours and through the early hours of the morning the wind decided to pick up too. At first we took this as a bonus and pulled out the sails, but with more than 20 knots on the nose, whipping up an evil sea, we began to get very wet. Hitrapia cut through the sea like butter, but the waves were so close together that every now and then she'd hit one out of sync and it'd come crashing over the top. She was quite comfortable but we were making hardly any ground, maybe 2.5 knots, toward our destination. Suddenly out of the blue, over the horizon came an entourage of lights. Having seen no traffic at all since nightfall this felt like an alien invasion, very "War of the Worlds"! Some were container ships travelling at enormous speed but most of the traffic seemed to be floodlit fishing boats. We've never, ever, seen so much traffic in one area. It was like a fishing boat convention! As Hitrapia beat to windward under full sail it became difficult to keep watch on the hundreds of lights; we rolled away the foresail, kept the main hauled in tight and started up the engine. As we picked our way through one fleet, yet another row of lights would appear over the horizon, this lasted for about 4hrs with around 50 boats per fleet. As we neared land we gradually benefited from some shelter; the sea flattened as the winds abated and at dawn we could easily have imagined that we'd dreamt the activities of the night if it wasn't for everything being soaked or salt encrusted.

 
At 9am we made landfall at Chipiona marina feeling somewhat miserable about our unpleasant first night at sea, but also excited to have made some headway east into our 2006 cruise. After clearing customs we moored the boat in our allocated berth, grabbed a bite to eat, locked up and went to bed for a few hours. Later that day, whilst swatting up on the area from our "Rough Guide to Andalucia" guide book, we learned the reason for our fishing boat invasion during the night. Along the Costa de La Luz, since ancient times, April-June has been the season for the catch of bluefin tuna, as the fish migrate towards the warmer waters of the Mediterranean to reproduce (and early July - mid August on their return). They are the largest of the tuna family weighing in at around 200 kilos. The methods used to catch the tuna are still referred to by the Moorish name 'almadraba' (place for hitting), which involved dragging the giant fish ashore in great nets and clubbing them to death. Today the fish are caught at sea by herding and corralling them in a huge net stretched between a circle of boats when they are gaffed - their blood turning the sea crimson - before the weakened fish are then hauled aboard. Their biggest market is Japan and ships are often waiting offshore ready to transport the fish across another ocean to be sold raw as sushi. If only we had read some of our Andalucian guide before setting sail - a worthy addition alongside a pilot!

Chipiona is a modest town with a charming old quarter, in fact a nice surprise, as there was nothing charming about the Marina or its staff. It is home to the tallest lighthouse in Spain and is also a very convenient place to visit Seville from by bus, and that was our reason for stopping there. As a Spanish seaside resort, locals, Sevillians and Spaniards from surrounding towns flock here for the cooling coastal breeze and its twelve kilometres of beach. Rising temperatures became very noticeable here and we found ourselves on the look out for new clothing to suit the hotter climate. Living in the heat rather than 'holidaying' we're now able to better understand why everything grinds to a halt in this part of the world between 1.30pm and 5.30pm for siesta.

Next Page > A Road to Seville.