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Shortly I will upload parts of the Log, but in the meantime: In January 1993 we visited Majorca and viewed several boats for sale,
immediately on seeing Jorodeta in her sun bleached distressed state we feel in
love. After months of negotiation and paperwork we finally agreed a price and I
flew out with Donal Bradley to get the boat ready in around July. We had to
purchase lifreraft, dinghies, outboards, sails and instruments as well as
hauling her out and scrubbing her down at the beautiful Club de Vela, Puerto de
Andratx. In Andratx we met and made friends with many people including all the
Petes (Aussie Pete, English Pete, Irish Pete, Scottish Pete, Pete Pete and so
on) as well as encountering the Spanish royalty (one of which we throw in the
water), TV personalities and retired gangsters, names are irrelevant but there
were many. Pavel, my brother joined us in September and just before we left my
father also arrived. After the long hot summer, conversing with customs on numerous deliveries,
and living the life of the rich and famous we set sail and immediately were
becalmed. Diesel in most of the Mediterranean is at full pump price of around £2
- £3 a gallon, whereas normally being a boat we would pay less than a £1 or in
some places a few pence duty free, and the budget had been severally stretched. Anyway sailing up the coast of Southern Spain we were met one afternoon by a
periscope which followed us, played chicken and finally surrendered and surfaced
alongside, just when a Viking sailing boat came into view, the submarine ran and
submerged and we were left with a Viking boat under full oars heading towards us
and waving. On investigation we discovered they were all from Russia, had sailed
down to the Med and were being dragged onto the rocks, without wind they were
helpless. Yet seeing a Viking longboat with full sails and rowing towards us,
manned by several long blonde haired men was a little worrying at first. Had we
entered the twilight zone! There was nothing from this century on the horizon,
just a bare rocky coastline. We towed them to the nearest port stayed the night
and drank vodka. After that it was a little uneventful, until we stopped at Gibraltar,
where we saw all the sites and restocked with food for the trip North. Out
of all the 100's vessels we were the only one heading north and at that stage we
nearly changed direction for the Caribbean as well. One visit to an electricians
shop in Spain nearly got me locked up, I went looking for a peculiar light bulb
with my Spanish phrase book, the entire staff were called and then the Police,
but all they could do was laugh, eventually by using the policeman’s radio I
discovered I was asking for an Onion bulb. The most exciting time spent in Gib
was the shopping trolley run. You would all line up along the runway, waiting
with full shopping trolleys for a gap in the planes landing, and then run across
the runway, they never go straight at speeds. To this day I can't believe we did
this, hopefully someone will build a tunnel before someone losses there
shopping. Up the west coast of Portugal, we dropped anchor off Cascais in a easterly
gale and left my Father ashore to fly home. All day long motorbikes seemed to by
racing up and down, at least by the noise, and in the evening a plane flew over
with FORMULA 1 TOMORROW. I am a great fan of the Formula 1, and decided
instantly to stay over. Next morning, Pavel and myself went ashore and left
Donal on board and relayed the Grand Prix by VHF. It was a 5 mile hike up to
Estoril, and then walked around the perimeter to a small village with a pub
which overlooked the track and sipped beers and watched. Towards the end we
decided to be bold (beer does that) and marched through security into the pits
and took numerous photographs of the drivers and crews after the race. Again
another experience to remember. Up the coast and into the Bay of Biscay, hardly a day in and a big explosion
below. What was it? On investigation we discovered that the battery terminals
had be blown off due to the fact that the main + and - leads to the engine had
shorted out. We turned back without engine or power and anchored in the lee of
Cabo de Finisterre at Puerto de Finistere. Here we repaired the batteries and
reran the cables- now one each side of the boat back to the engine. Dolphins had followed us all the way, one we called Fin, as he had a large
piece out of his Dorsal fin (we always thought we were original), had followed
us on and off all the way from Cascais. We arrived in Rosslare having averaged
over 10 knots, and repaired the top of the mainsail while motoring around the
port, there was nowhere to tie up. Then motor sailed on up the coast in sleet,
snow and a northerly gale, why had we come North? We finally surfed into Howth
Harbour averaging 4 knots from Rosslare. Showers, Food and a few Pints later we
finally sailed up to Carlingford and arrived on a glorious sunny winters day. And now the adventures start again......... |