Arabian Nights. Across the Straits to North Africa - Ceuta, Tetouan and Tangier.

We couldn't be this close to North Africa and not go explore so we opted to sail across the Straits to the Spanish enclave of Ceuta, little more than a Spanish Gibraltar but a relatively easy way to enter Morocco. After one of our most memorable sails of the season, tacking back and forth across the busy shipping lanes, we entered the harbour of Ceuta and were allocated a finger berth by marinaro's manning the pontoons in the marina. When booking into the marina we were given a map of the town, on it Wayne spotted an advertisement for a local travel agent offering trips in to Morocco. That evening we took a walk around the town, found the travel agent and booked a day trip into Morocco for the following day at €30pp. There were a couple of taxi drivers hanging around the marina office offering to take us, but we had been advised against these by a local sailor.

There were about 16 of us, of mixed nationalities, nice that we weren't a coach load. We were transported by mini bus and the guide was multi-lingual and amusing. We were a little alarmed initially when asked to hand over our passports and then driven away without them. As our anxious ramblings reached our guide he then explained and reassured us of the procedure to cross the border. Our passports were left with agents processing our information in advance for a quick and trouble-free passage through border control, all while we were taken on a leisurely tour around the town and coast of Ceuta. The border was quite intimidating and we were told not to photograph anything. Once through and en-route to the town of Tetouan, we enjoyed views of the countryside, stopping briefly to view a couple of camels and their owners on the roadside, a few people chose to mount them. On arrival at the town of Tetouan we disembarked the mini-bus and were introduced to another guide, a local man who was hired to watch our backs through our walk through the Medina, the narrow streets at the heart of the community where most trading is undertaken. We were asked not to make eye contact or conversation with anyone unless we were serious about purchasing something. Wayne and I have both visited India and have seen severe poverty, but we found Morocco quite tense and a little threatening. Especially Angie when she took off her hat or sunglasses uncovering her fair hair and blue eyes. Our tour of the Medina was both fascinating and unpleasant; a maze of filthy narrow alleyways brimming with the bustle of normal daily life, food covered in flies and caged live animals awaiting their kill. Feeling very out of place and uncomfortable we were glad to be led inside the restored palace that had been converted to a restaurant, where we were to experience typical Moroccan fare for lunch. We were greeted by three lively musicians who created a very authentic, atmospheric welcome to this restored palace. The lunch included in the price of the trip was enjoyable and the interior of the palace an exquisite explosion of detail.

Back on the mini bus and after a one hour drive, we arrived in Tangier. Our experience through the Medina was much the same as in Tetouan but on a more serious level and city scale. Afterwards we were taken to a huge store selling beautiful but expensive wares such as carpets, trunks and huge ornate plates and vases. Wayne and I managed to escape with purchasing just one souvenir caftan, bartered for harshly, reducing it to less than half the original asking price, thanks to some training in India! The trip was completed by a two hour drive back to Ceuta through the breathtaking Moroccan mountains, glimpsing views of the Straits covered by 'white horses' as the Levanter continued to blow. The trip more than exceeded our expectations, was excellent value for money and gave us a brief but intimate taste of Moroccan life.

North Africa to The Costa Del Sol - a reverse culture shock!

Our trip back across The Straits began with a large swell and strong whirlpools, created by tidal races, tugging at the keel and rudder. We almost turned back assuming we had a problem with our steering but the conditions improved after a couple of hours and we enjoyed a wonderful sail escorted by numerous, playful dolphins.

Arriving at the marina in Estapona, after clearing in on a side-to reception quay we were allocated a berth. We had moored 'Med Style' before in Greece when chartering, but that was a few years previous, so we nervously attempted our very first 'bows-to' Mediterranean mooring with Hitrapia. This is something us 'Brits' initially get quite stressed about, but has now become second nature. In fact we commented recently about how much more time and effort it takes to tie a boat up well to a finger pontoon. In the Mediterranean there is almost always marina staff to help you berth. They scoot around the pontoons on mopeds to be there ready to steady your bow, pass up the lazy lines and tie off your bow lines, so there is usually nothing left to get stressed about. Sadly in Estapona we had other reasons to get stressed. The pricing structure here is such that you pay for the berth length and not your boat length. They informed us that they had no 10m or 12m berths available and therefore we had to pay for a 15m berth at almost €35 per night! Not a major crisis to suffer the expense for one night but we were trapped for four nights as thunderstorms and gales continued to howl. The first morning that the winds abated the weather was miserable, grey and wet but we couldn't bear to pay over the odds for yet another day, surrounded by rather loud football loving Brits dressed in their favourite clubs strip. We dragged our foul weather gear back out from the locker where it had naively been packed away for the summer and set to sea. To be perfectly honest, there was little to interest us along the Costa Del Sol so we passage made as quickly as possible, eager to arrive in the Balearic Islands before the height of the summer. We would have liked to have taken a trip in-land to Granada, but as it was already mid June we opted to save this excursion for our return passage out of the Med in a few years time.

The unpredictable Mediterranean - caught out at sea in a F9!

A couple of day sails and an overnight passage landed us 216 miles further east and although there was little of interest on land, the Mediterranean Sea and weather patterns kept us on our toes with a few un-expected encounters. On one such passage we set sail with a forecast for a W3-5, perfect. A few hours into the passage, the wind calmed and we were struggling to make way. Resentful of starting the engine we decided to pole out the genoa, having never done this before on Hitrapia, we were interested to see what the increased performance would be. It made a massive difference. Happily cruising along we began to notice an increase in the wind strength and monitored it more closely. Within no time at all we found ourselves poled out with close to 35 knots of wind as Wayne rushed on deck to take the pole down while I took the helm from 'Paul', our auto-pilot. The wind strength continued to build and held strong between 40-45 knots for the duration of our passage. Although we wouldn't have set sail that day with a F9 forecast we really found it quite exhilarating and Hitrapia took it all in her stride. It only became a worry as we got closer to port. Crossing a bay in to shallower water the sea state got steeper and steeper, jacking up high before curling over and rushing past and under us, slewing Hitrapia slightly off course each time. Concerned about breaking waves near the entrance to the marina we called them on the VHF to check if it was safe to enter. The Harbour Master's response was favourable, he instructed us to ignore all buoyage and to stay as close as possible to the breakwater, staying away from the beach. With Angie glued to the wheel, not really wanting to be there but not wanting to let go either, we surfed in to the entrance. Once behind the shelter of the breakwater the sea flattened, leaving us to moor with only the wind to contend with. Thankfully a marinero came out from the shelter of his office to once again catch our lines.

Hazards of the sea - Whales, jellyfish, poorly lit fishing nets and an unlit Customs patrol boat - all in one night!

On passage from Almerimar towards Cartagena, a 120nm overnight trip. Having rounded Cabo de Gata, yet another notorious cape, without incident, we expected the rest of our passage to be pretty uneventful but we couldn't have been more wrong. The fun began at dusk, a favourite time of ours at sea, while deeply engrossed in our magical surroundings, the colours of the sunset and the odd flying fish, we noticed sea-life breaking the surface of the mirror-like water ahead. It was two pods of whales, the second pod was of larger specimens, and we watched their graceful motion with open mouths. As they slowly crossed 90 degrees to our path, our course was bringing us closer and closer and we became concerned about a collision - the colregs don't cover who gives way when on a collision course with a whale! Directly ahead we noticed what looked like a mother and calf, not passing our bows but playing in our path. Not wanting to risk the consequences of getting too close, we abruptly altered course, suddenly realising a larger whale ploughing, at speed, straight for us on the surface like a torpedo- unlike the usual slow cresting motion. As we held our breaths waiting to be rammed, he (we presume the daddy) arriving at mother and calf, positioning himself between Hitrapia and his family, standing guard until they were ready to resume their passage.

Continuing our voyage and settling down for our night watches, in the black and virtually moonless night, while taking a pee on deck, Wayne noticed something odd about the water. Shining our powerfull searchlight at the sea we were amazed to see nothing but jellyfish. But we mean, nothing but jellyfish - millions - pinky-brown, about 6 inches wide with hardly a gap between them, as far out as we could see and as far deep. As if this wasn't spooky enough, we motored through them at 5.5 knots for four hours, over twenty miles, incredible! We checked the seawater strainer for the engine to find, as expected, bits of jellyfish wizzing around, creating the possibility of blocking the flow of cooling water to the engine - we sat our watches constantly flicking a torch on the engine instruments checking for overheating.

After settling down again for the rest of our night passage, around 4am on Angie's watch she noticed a light in the distance ahead. After spending considerable time studying the chart plotter and our paper charts she was having difficulty marrying it up with any navigational lights. As she decided to wake Wayne for a second opinion the light suddenly loomed close ahead, she thrust Hitrapia into reverse bringing her to a stand still while we regained our composure to figure out what was ahead. We motored gingerly towards what we could now see was a white strobe light, and as we got closer, Wayne on deck with the searchlight could clearly make out fishing nets underwater. Following the net to port we travelled slowly parallel for sometime but could find no end to it and so decided to turn around and follow it the other way. After a while we faintly made out another strobe light in the distance, thankfully marking the end of this huge drift net - we found another 3 nets after this one. We shudder to think of the consequences if we had run in to these inadequately marked obstacles.

Just one hour later we were to experience our final and most traumatic event of this incredible night. Out of the still, peaceful blackness, we heard the roar of an engine accelerating upon our stern and saw a huge white bow wave. The vessel was completely unlit. With little time to think and feeling very threatened our impulse was to shine our search light at our sails to make us clearly visible, then brace ourselves for either an attack of piracy or being run down by a fishing vessel. Suddenly the approaching vessel lit up like a football stadium swamping us in its interrogating floodlights, capturing us wide-eyed and stunned like a rabbit in headlights. As our eyes adjusted to the brightness we made out a substantial navy blue motor vessel with a number of men on deck and inside the pilot house, some looking at us through binoculars. The large white capital letters ADUANAS spelled out to us that it was a Spanish Customs patrol boat. We greeted them in Spanish, waved, pointed to our boat name clearly visible on the sail bag as well as on the hull and our British ensign, tried to look friendly and relaxed, but they made no sound or motion in return. Using their floodlights they intensively scanned the water immediately surrounding us; presumable checking that we were not towing or had thrown something overboard when they approached. After they'd satisfied themselves that we were in their waters legally and up to no mischief they flicked off all their lights and disappeared in to the blackness as quickly as they had appeared, leaving us wondering if we'd dreamt the whole incident Coincidently, this was the evening of the 21st June, the summer solstice, the longest day; it definitely felt like the longest night we've ever spent at sea! Thankfully, dawn saw us safely anchored and catching up on some Z's in a picturesque quiet bay some 10 miles west of Cartagena. Later that day we basked in the sunshine, enjoyed our first ever swim from the boat and tested a new snorkel and mask. The water was so beautifully clear and the seabed so perfectly golden that we were able to clearly see our anchor and chain from the deck, but it was a novelty for us to snorkel on the anchor and check its setting. It was also both magnificent and spooky to view Hitrapia from underwater, all that weight hovering in just a few feet of water.

Next Page > Cartagena.