We depart for Rota, Spain!

The normal refueling and running about was rapidly completed, since we had been underway just four days before. We were completely ready with no last minute issues; All waypoints had been established and entered into both GPS's and the distance from Portimao to the Bay of Cadiz was only about 100 nautical miles away, so it would be a piece of cake.

The winds picked up a bit with about 15 gusting to 20 from the West, and the seas got slightly lumpy. It never was a real problem (compared to Biscay!) which it may have been scary at any other time but I knew it was almost a pleasant ride that would be over soon.

Fatigue did its normal thing to me, and the hours from 0100 to 0500 were a blur, I just knew to keep the boat on a Southeasterly heading and the journey would take care of it's self.

Sunrise found us about ten miles from the Bay opening, and we had a nice cuppa coffee as we passed by the Puerto Santa Maria, which I thought would be full of fishing and local cruisers.

Here is a depiction of Puerto Santa Maria and Old Rota;



Good looking, isn't it?

"Why weren't you going there?" You might ask.

"Oh, we want to visit Puerto Sherry, the newest and most modern sailing destination in the Southwest Spain!"

Sounds great.

We pull into the large and vacant marina, find a berth and tie up. I go up and down the docks and find a small office open. They check us in and the charges will be a bit more than we were used to.

I asked about the closed up restaurants and taverns.

"Closed for the season. We will open back up in the spring... you should have been here back in September!"

Bummer.

We took a cab into the old town and made our way to the Naval Station Rota. Our friend Rocky, was still stationed there and was expecting us to visit.

Only we can't get on base. Really!

I had visited Rota about five or six times while deployed on the Deyo and Elrod, but it had been five years since my last visit. It seems when I went out into town (Twice) I hadn't noticed the rules for entering the base.

The ID in my pocket was still Active Duty, since my Retired ID would not be issued to me until I had completed my travel home. (Heh heh!) I had no orders that gave me any business on base, therefore I am not allowed on station. It was a Status of Forces deal, and to this day I haven't a clue why this is, other than the Spanish don't want U.S. Military retirees lurking near the base not paying the local rates for food and other necessities.

We got hold of the Rockster and he came out to get us.

Through some sort of irregular shenanigans, we obtained a signed leave chit which allowed us access to the base. This enabled us to use the Library, Medical facilities, Pizza Joint, Sports Bar and the one little "Stop and Rob" shop across base, which sold sundries.

Totally unexpected. I thought we would be able to restock our boat with American goodies! In fact, had I known of this horse-squeeze, I would have just stayed in Portimao.

Rock asked us why we weren't staying at the little fishing marina, conveniently located a mile from the base?

I told Rock about the wonderful Puerto Sherry, blah blah... blah."

A quick walk and we arrived at the Marina, spoke to the nice Manager and arranged for a berth at a price that was almost half of the big marina, plus the advantage of a more central location in regards to the nice old town of Rota, proper.

We got a ride back to the Puerto Sherry, spent a very quiet night and vowed to be underway the next morning. And we did.

Upon tying up we met some folks who we sorta knew from London. This established our bona-fides and we settled in to the dock side living right away. Restaurants and hardware stores were a-plenty along with some great super mercados.

Repairs were made (I had to climb the radar mast to clean and lube the rotating antenna), also general cleaning from our previous month at sea.

Our crew, Chris and Richard, were scheduled to arrive five days hence. Chris and Richard are members of the Little Ship CLub in London, Chris was the Rear Commodore (East Coast) and had been with us from Brest to Leixoes. Richard was an instructor for the RYA in competent sailing crew and coastal sailing. We thought that they would be a valuable addition to the Wildebeest "Gnu Crew" ocean crossing team.

The five days went fast, being full of chores and the day to day going out and about. We did the internet cafe every day for emails and contacts with our loved ones at home and interested friends everywhere. But there was something about being in Rota that made me unhappy;

Nothing happens in Rota between 1300 until 1900!!!

Nothing. Siesta.

No food. No restaurants. No bars. No internet cafe.
NO!

The problem is that I had never lived in a Mediterranean type town and had no idea of the traditions.

For instance; When I was traveling around the Med with the Navy, we tended to look for a market to buy beer and wine, then go off somewhere to drink it. I never paid attention to the deserted streets or closed establishments. Oh, I remember hearing from the single guys complaining that the night clubs didn't open until 2300; I attributed that the the European model of partying until sun-up.

"Wildebeest III" had a model of living which meant that we held reveille at 0600-ish and we would work through the day until about 1600, call it quits and look for a watering hole. We were in bed by 2200 most nights.

Being fair, the stores in Rota opened at 0900 but were shutting down between 1100 and 1300, just when I have identified a part or item that needed replacing. Also, it makes a lot of sense to be closed during the hottedt part of the day where you went home, enjoyed a great mid day meal with your family and took a little snooze until 1800. The business would open around that time so you would go to work then, and carry on in the cool of the evening. The evening meal is at 2230ish and if you carroused or went to bars, well you went at midnight!

Really, I wish I could live like that but I can't. But I do respect that lifestyle, it is more family centric.

Even the Marina Dog likes his siesta time;



After a couple weeks we were deep into the frustrating war between Us and the Wind Hunter Company. You see, we did not test the Windhunter after it had been installed, the boat had to get out of town too quickly. the assumption was that it would be easiest to do it in Rota with the built in delay of three weeks in port and two extra hands to make it work.

Bad headwork!

The Wildebeest was out on a bright morning testing the Windhunter; This meant being out in the Gulf outside the Bay deploying a towed turbine device (looks like a propeller) with two hundred feet of braided line. We got the turbine spinning and the machine was stiff and trying to break in. The spinning line turned a generator and hydraulic pump. This powers a 1500 PSI ram which operated a control on the rudder. On paper it was a fantastic idea.

The Windhunter would only hold a wind course, not a compass heading, which was unsat. It minimally held the wind course at that. We paid for the top of the line Wind Hunter which steered to compass headings. We expected no less for the huge amount of money we paid.

We tried twice, testing on the water. I could not trust this thing to not send us out of control, so we stepped up the complaints.

First of many frantic phone calls to London.

If we had been in the UK, we could have drove a car to the factory and picked up the parts that they would now send us. Or choked the life out of someone who was putting a cramp on our trip. Nobody sails an ocean without a self steering device, and it was a little late to be ordering another style of device.

We were told our "Logic" assembly was not good, that batch had proved to be less than properly made. The magnetic sensors on the ram were inop, too. A new package with the updated device would be sent via overnight.

So we waited a week, no Logic device. No sensor switches, either.

Called every day; Same result. "It's on its way."

They lied. Never sent the gear. We didn't know this until much later, after wasting three weeks.

Thanksgiving came, we celebrated by purchasing a very large chicken (The oven was too small for a turkey). I did not know that chickens in Spain come with the head and feet attached. I had to remove the neck and feet before the Spouse would go near it. We had a great feast and invited the crew of "Papeche" to dine with us.



Left to right; Tony, Laurie, Chris and Richard.

It was a wonderful dinner and great fun to have our neighbors with us. Tony and Laurie had sailed from Annapolis to the Azores and arrived at Rota a week before. "Papeche" was a Morgan 38 and Wildebeest was a Morgan 43. Papeche was retired Army, I was of course Navy. There are some more Military similarities, but due to OPSEC and a 75 year no talk document I signed, well we will leave it there.

The mood was getting quite tense after Thanksgiving, since all Atlantic sailors know that the window of opportunity is between 25 November through 25 December; I did not know exactly why there was such a narrow window, Hurricane season seems obvious, but I would soon find out!

The Spousal Unit and I were getting kind of upset with our crew, too. It was the stress of the delays, mainly, plus we were getting to know the personalities much, much better. Stuff you would never find out over three years of casual acquaintanceship. Only in very close quarters do some of these traits come out. Not all the fault of the crew.

There were some very serious discussions being privately held between the Boss and me. We would walk to the base and go to the club and be able to chat frankly and alone. We even started feeling that our journey would have to be put on "delay" due to lack of Windhunter parts. The Air Terminal had C-5's that regularly flew to Dover and Travis, and that was a way we could get home, work over the Winter and return in May for a journey into the Med and a target of visiting Turkey and Greece.

On base in Rota; The VQ-2 Don


On one of our evenings at the Sports Bar, a familiar voice mentioned my name and rank that asked why I was in Rota... It was a Lieutenant I flew with at HSL-44, he happened to be on the USS Elrod with my old 44 detachment!

The Spousal Unit had never seen the Ol' Elrod we were welcomed aboard as guests and did a quick tour around the public spaces. My name was still on the plaque listing all the Enlisted Surface Warfare Specialists who had qualified since 1987, so I had that street cred going for me. She finally got to see the ship and spaces that had been a big part of the '90's for me.


The fun thing was to be able to not have to have a "Liberty Buddy" and not have to be back to the ship at a certain time.

Cruising around Rota, it was easy to remember that history was made ther. It had to, with the natural position of the nortern part of the Bay of Cadiz. It is said that Columbus left Cadiz, but the truth is that he left Rota.

Here is a picture (taken through a window in the old city wall) of the Curch where Columbus and his Captains received their blessings from the Church and Crown;



Some more views around the wall and the adjacent beach;







Here is the walk into town;


A view of the Marina. Our boat is fifth from the right;



There was much to consider and more to discuss. Over the space of a week we cajoled Windhunter, whined and argued our next step. Finally, we told the crew of our thoughts; They were quite upset. I understand, totally; They took off time and spent money to come down and be available.

"But we don't have our self steering done."

They were willing to hang out as long as it took to make this cruise happen.

You have to hand it to them; They were equally as miserable as us, more so if you consider that we were controlling the destiny.

We gave a warning that a final decision was coming up that afternoon. It was Sunday and it was 1300. I promised they would know by 1800.

The Spouse and I walked to the base. We checked availability of flights home and put ourselves on the stand by list. Afterwards we went to the bowling alley and had a burger and some cokes. We talked about sailing offshore with and without self steering. Another point was our crew. We liked and disliked a number of things. Could they handle hand steering?

Point for them was that they would probably never get the chance to sail across the ocean again. They were both in their fifties, and these deals are rare.

She who will be listened to said, "Look, if we go home and get jobs, we will probably wind up losing our boat or having it stolen. The longer away the more chance of not doing, I say let's bite the bullet and get on with it. And we need to leave in the next two days or not at all."

Decisive.

Ok. Were going. we informed the crew, who acted a little like they really didn't want to go. But did.

We made one last round of stores and cast off lines at 1600 the next Tuesday. This is the last photo of Rota, the Icon of Mary on the Jetty;



I said a little prayer because we were off on a five day trip to the Gran Canaria island. We would be crossing the approach to the Mediterranean and heading for the great unknown.

Will we ever leave Figuiera Da Foz???

Yes. We will.

Three weeks of constant weather disappointment, and we were itching to go. The rainy season was upon us and temperatures were dropping to 70 degrees and I was getting worried about being trapped in a pleasant cage. Great food and nice people, I could see us staying another year.

The Florida locals went out on their 38 foot Freedom sailboat with a goal of visiting the Madera islands, just four days journey. They came back with a broken main sail wishbone and tales of a very tough sea, having only made it two days out before turning around and limping back.

With the Bay Of Biscay caper so fresh in our minds, we worried that we might have a bumpy ride to Lisbon.

We did want to go to Lisbon, right?

Review the chart. We are at the middle point between Leixoes and Lisbon.



Finally, the weather looked good but it was late in October, we needed to make a real nautical statement, so we decided to make the two night passage to Portimao, bypassing Lisbon. We pulled the 'Beest over to the fishing fuel pier, got creosote and oil on the sides of the boat but we filled up with diesel and were underway by mid-afternoon.

So far, the winds were gentle from the North West, and we happily began motorsailing for maximum transit speeds, riding the swells and watching the ever present Siamese Dolphins.

Evening soon came and we began swapping out the helm duties, the Spousal Unit taking it from 2200-2400. She woke me up from a half sleep at midnight and I took my turn on the helm in the cool night. I think I was hallucinating by 0300, and I had her take the next hour. Generally, when it got like this I would snooze in the cockpit so I could be at the ready if anything happened. Not very comfortable but it made me feel useful.

When you are at the helm in the middle of the night, all you could see is the red LED lights on the compass, the red glow of the Garmin 45XL hand held GPS mounted on top of the instrument panel which consisted of three square indicaters.

The left indicater was a multi use indicater which I used for a True Compass and depth. The center indicater was a Raymarine Autohelm 4000 which showed a digital magnetic course, but I could only use the Autohelm in flat seas. Finally, the right hand multi-indicater was used for wind direction and speed.



The bow lights glowed red and green, but that was about all the light we emitted. Inside the boat, we had red lights near the deck so we could keep night vision. The coast had sporadic lights so it was easy to stay clear. We passed Lisbon at about 0430 with me back on the helm.

Traffic was the odd fishing boat, they were lit up like christmas trees so it was easy to remain clear.

About surise I passed control over and went below for a good snooze. I came back up about 0830 and took the helm. Breakfast smells began to waft outside and we shared hash and toast with coffee. Then the Spousal Unit went below for four hours while I let Otto-Helm drive us through the calm water. I liked when the Autohelm could steer and I looked forward to having the newfangled self steerer in operation after Rota Spain.

After lunch, we both were up and doing our normal chatting and patient watching of the weather. It started to get cloudy, but the winds were still fair and under 12 knots, out of the North West. About 1800, we started seeing the thunder storms ahead, and I knew we were going to get it but good. There was no port to duck in, so we continued towards Cape St Vincent. I tucked my head down at 2000 to get some rest before the evening fun started. But first I rolled up the head sail and reefed the main.

About 2300, I heard a quiet voice (Her ankles were beginning to hurt- sure sign of badness) I stiffly rose to take the helm as She Herself folded up to her smallest package under the dodger.

A brief memory of a film came to mind in the humid darkness, this;


I could hear that goofy, upbeat voice say, "Could be worse; Could be raining!"

The downpour started at full throttle. No pause between drops with a growing pitter patter of pennies from heaven for me; Nope!

Full. Florida. Pour.

With Thunder and lightning.

"Sorry". She said.

Meanwhile, I'm thinking about electricity, water, and metal steering wheels. So I'm looking like an idiot, balancing on my right foot and holding the wet, metal, conductive steering wheel in my right hand, hoping desperately that a great jolt of blue happiness doesn't pass through the propeller/motor interface and send all 5 gigavolts flying outta my butt!

BOOM!

A second later, only one hundred yards away; BOOOOOOOOM!

Rinse. Repeat. Rinse.

For the next two hours. I swear I shook like a little girl with every new stroke.

I casually glance at my loving wife, fetally curled under the awning, dry. She made apologetic motions.

It could be worse, indeed.

The fireworks stopped awith the rain, about 0200. We swapped duties and I curled up in the warm place up front and managed to get an hour worth of snooze.

Back at it about 0330, as we pass Cabo Sao Vicente and make our turn to the next waypoint, finally on the Southern part of Portugal in the Golfo De Cadiz, but more properly called the Algarve Coast of Portugal;


This photo is from http://www.algarve-portal.com/en/cities/sagres/OBJ/cabo_vicente/

The weather was no very quiet, and there seemed to be hundreds of seagulls just sitting in the water watching as we ghosted on by. Portimao was ahead, maybe five or six miles and it was looking like we had made better time than we thought! We would actually have to slow down in order to let the sun rise.

We were tired, but knowing that sleep was coming soon made us have to move just a little bit more careful, a bit more deliberately. I started making an approach to what I thought was the Portimao river, only to find I was actually heading to the beach! (Someone else did exactly that a couple days earlier...)

After a bit of prodding, we were able to see the opening in the cliffs and headed for the Municipal dock in the fishing town of Portimao. It is the same dock seen in the photo below.

The dock master told us we could only stay four nights, since cruisers were encouraged to go to the new marina at the Praia Da Rocha.

Where ever that was. The Cruising guide made no mention of this new marina development, so we were here and wanted to take a shower and catch some rest.

That was fine with the Dock Master, just be gone in four days.

We refilled with water and secured our stuff and went on a brief walkabout.

Click to embiggen the chart, you can see where we parked the Wildebeest in relation to everything else.


We had a good sleep and the next day we took a trip to the Praia Da Rocha; Beach of Rocks and Cliffs.


We saw the Marina, it was under construction and this is a recent pic;



We stopped by a cliffside restaurant for lunch (Eight bucks for both of us, with one drink included) The photo below is the picture taken by our waitress.

Here is another. I really wished that lunch could last forever, like Jimmy Buffett said in the song by the same title.





After lunch, we headed back to the marina and walked to the new development.

As we approached the gate, we saw our old friends from Brest, "Fair Rose of Sharon", from Denmark.

Actually, their Golden Retriever saw the Spousal Unit. Dog started the happy barking thing and sprinted down the dock at full throttle.

Animals LOVE She Who Will Be Obeyed. All of them. It's embarrassing.

We had a great afternoon swapping tales of the trip from Leixoes. "Fair Rose" spent the stormy two weeks stuck in Lisbon, at $60.00USD a night. Their bank account was very depleted, but they hoped to go home and get jobs for a bit before resuming the trip.

Bummer. But there was beer and wine to enjoy, and some wonderful dining to be had.



We returned to the boat in the wee hours, but despite the desire to move to the Praia Da Rocha marina, we decided we had better stay at the municipal Marina so that we could be back on the journey to Rota. Time was getting late!

The final night, we decided to not eat at a restaurant but check out hte chicken kitchen, "Cozinha".

There was a line outside the door, and English was not spoken or understood. This was a "locals only" place and it was worth the hour wait.



I had no idea that such heavenly grilled chicken existed! It was run by a Brazilian family headed up by a cigar smoking black lady who stood over a twelve foot wide wood grill wielding three foot tongs. She placed marinaded, split chickens (Split in the back, not the breast) that were flattened for cooking ease. We muscled our way to the counter and grabbed a tag. Numbers were called, and people paid. No ordering.

Pay = Receive.

Somebody who was helpful nudged us when our number was called. It was like standing in a Mosh Pit, and instead of Punk Rock we were there for dinner. It was smelling good.

We paid our four bucks and scurried back to the boat.

After eating such a wonderful meal, we felt remorse, because we only bought one chicken and we were leaving in the morning. Just one chicken. It's been ten years but we talk about that chicken to this day.

And the witchdoctor lady smoking a cigar who created such a spell.

A beautiful Sunday in Jacksonville

Lovely, sunny and warm. A person cannot ask for more, life in Jacksonville is great on these sunshiny days. Will run a few errands, finish up the house cleaning and wrap up the day by having dinner at Mom's, later on. Burgundy Beef...

Remember our trip last month to California? Here is a video that someone else took of the Big Band that entertained us for dinner at the Madonna Inn. Stop by San Luis Obispo off of Hwy 101, (the Madonna Inn exit) and treat yourself to the great dining and entertainment that the Madonna Inn offers. The song is "Shiny Stockings"



The Barco Sin Vela is in the midst of a "Limited Availability" period; Nick is stripping off hardware and trim from the sundeck and rebedding/reinstalling said acoutrements. All dome lights are being rehabbed. Lee is stripping old wax off the entire hull and super structure and cleaning and waxing all surfaces. Barco Sin Vela will be hosting the Florida Yacht Club Race Committee for the "Kings Day Regatta", and we want to look our best for the yachting crowd.

I gotta go borrow some money...

Have a nice Sunday.

I am stealing Jihad Gene's theme this afternoon

Our Dear Reader always has a Friday dance theme; I happened to find one of the big hits from my neighborhood in 1977;

Blue Oyster Cult;

GODZILLA!


The next cut became the unofficial must listen for the Hancock Squadron;

"Golden Age of Leather"


1977 and 1978 were tough times...

I won't even start on "Foghat Live". Because I'm just a fool for the city!

Veterans Day 2009

The streets are a little more empty as Jacksonville finds itself facing a gloomy, cloudy Federal Holiday. No students walking to school, half of the workers making the commute. Of course, I have to be at work. Not that I really care; The failed tropical depression, "Ida" has made the skies iron gray.

I am amazed everyday that so many people I meet have never served in our Armed Forces. Didn't even consider it.

"That's for the poor people... Maybe people who have no opportunity".

Hmmph.

One nice gent, a glass repair business owner, came in yesterday and mentioned that Veterans Day was upon us.

"Oh yes it is!" I said, "And here at this office we have a genuine actual veteran!"

David, (The business owner) asks, "Who is it?"

The immediate thought in my mind was 'Is this guy actually thinking that this is all I have ever done in life, selling insurance???'

Quickly, I recovered. This guy just thinks that being in the Service is for other people, not for people you actually know and do business with.

We have about two thousand customers, and more than a few of them have served. We have at least two (that I know of) former POW's who spent a year of their youth incarcerated by the Germans in WWII. They walk a little stooped and a limp is apparent from proud pain endured. The hearing aid gives a loud squeal, testifying to the damage from exposure to loud noises of machinery, or weapons.

Some are Korea and Vietnam Vets who don't bring attention to themselves. They had enough mistreatment by their peers back in the 50's and 60's.

But we know each other as having served; Small Code words, here and there. Using the phonetic alphabet when giving and receiving vehicle identification numbers.

Some wear loud t-shirts, jackets and hats, proud of their service. Others you might see the blue ID card just inside the wallet when they make the insurance premium payment.

We know who we are.

Now that I have been out for just over ten years, I am just a regular citizen and I even feel like I am telling a "Tall Tale" or a fib when I remember that I used to serve. I guess that's why the Glass dude did not believe me when I mentioned casually that I had served for twenty years, but my only claim to the Veteran Brotherhood was that I had a couple of pieces of cloth that indicated that I was in an area where people received imminent danger pay.

Gloryoski's!

Sounds pretty weak to me, too. Especially when we have young friends and customers who are deploying on their third tour in the Middle East, or some other place that the "Imminent Danger Pay" is earned, daily. In places where buying the farm is not a joke, but a fact indicated by a family who receives a Servicemembers SGLI (Servicemembers Government Life Insurance) payout, which can easily pay off a family's home.

Let us all remember the real heroes who served before and today's heroes who return to do the dirty work that needs to be done.

I was going to say something melancholy but I won't. My service can be summed up as follows; I just had as good a time as I could.

Still do.




I prefer to remember when these pictures were new.








Thanks to everyone who served, and will serve.

Crew of Barco Sin Vela II



















******Update******

I surfed over to this, and I feel physically ill.

Jerks like this trivialize the service of better men and women, and this sort of idiocy make me feel like a poseur about my own military service time. All this fool had to do was join and spend a couple years in uniform. But that takes too much time.

Doesn't it?

Off to Figueira da Foz

View Larger Map

We had about 65 miles to cover so we were underway just before sunup. The ocean was incredibly calm, but after the butt whippings we had enjoyed in the past couple weeks, we were very reserved. I had the main and head sail up and motorsailed with the trusty Perkins 4-108 chugging along. We were doing a respectable six knots and were surprised to find ourselves entering the little bay while the sun was high in the sky.

Dolphins were our escort the entire trip and it was truly nice out. The breeze was warm and the sun bright and we were almost lulled into complacency, but not this time!

I did a security check several times and found that water was entering the boat (Still!) and this time, I could see it seeping in around the rudder post.

Interesting. Berthon Boatyard had replaced the rudder gland packing, and they did not tighten the assembly back. Incredibly lucky that we did not lose the rudder during the violent ocean motion we had in the Bay of Biscay. Easy enough repair, all I had to do was tighten the five inch nut. Should be simple, right?

Wrong.

I did not have a pipe wrench capable of turning this nut.

So now I spent my time agonizing about the water entry and closely monitoring the bilge pump's operation and the levels of water.

This is just another example of having a boat yard do work and kicking us out without doing a proper shake down cruise with the list of repairs. Just to see what is broken or unrepaired.

We arrived at about 1600, and we slid into the little marina at closing time. Our friends the "Vikings" spotted us and with loud whoops of welcome, they guided us into an available berth and grabbed our lines. Totally cool arrival!

I stole these pictures from




Stolen from Manor Houses dot com cruising guide.


Over sunset cocktails we swapped yarns of our journey since Brest. The Vikings had an engine failure about twenty miles out of the harbor and used their ten foot dinghy with a 7.5 HP outboard to tow their boat in for the last ten miles. Once in port, the lad's turned to and did a rebuild of their diesel in the ten days that they had been in Figuiera Da Foz.

Awesome! I sure wish I had a crew like this to do our voyage... can you imagine? They rebuilt their diesel in ten days!!!

All I can think of is my lack of talent and the wasted years of not being a mechanic. Oh well.

I asked if they had the appropriate wrench?

They were getting underway the next morning and, "No, we don't have the right wrench."

Like anything I do, it has to be a full production. The next morning I began my search of every hardware store in the town. Nobody had the pipe wrench I needed, and it was the next day when I found a plumbing supply store. Sixty dollars later I had my wrench and I hustled back to the boat.

I got to the rudder post and in eight or nine turns, had tightened the rudder gland.

Just like that. Sixty bucks.

We went to the internet cafe and checked out the weather situation; The weather forecast was not good for the next few days so we settled into a routine of waiting, dining out and enjoying the local atmosphere.

The weather forecast five days later was for the remnant of hurricane Irene to make landfall in our vicinity, so we had to batten down the hatches and secure the boat for a blow.

The marina operators came out and had all of us cruising sailboats rearrange our berths and we all met at 0900 to move about fifteen boats to more secure docks. I was glad to see a virtual NATO of cruisers all pitch in a hand so that the moves were made in an efficiently quick and safe manner. We put four line handlers on each boat with three or four line handlers at the dock to catch lines. This meant that the skipper could fire up his motor, move and be tied up in about ten minutes vice the inevitable banging around that a non-assisted boat would endure.

Like NATO, the only boat who refused assistance of any kind was a French owned Super Maramou 53', he didn't want any of us coming near his boat. Just like NATO.

Capitaine French dude did not trust the English, Americans, Danes and Finns anywhere near his bateau.

We stood by to assist anyway when he started beating his stern into two Portugese sailboats. His was the only damaged boat along with a couple broken outboards and rudders.

Idiot.

The rest of the time was spent enjoying the company of our polyglot fellow mariners, and we enjoyed the rains and winds down below emptying our wine lockers and beer cellars. I also broke out the video and television so we could catch up on the box of video tapes my Mom had recorded for our trip.

So every day, we would venture out to check the weather on the internet and close the evening with dinner and dessert of local Ports.

For three weeks this went on, finally the weather forecasts began to be more favorable for a two day journey to Portimao. We were bypassing Lisbon because of the delays, and we needed to make way towards Rota, Spain. Asap.

In retrospect; Figuiera da Foz was one of the best ports we visited. The cost was about ten U.S. bucks a night, and the fellowship with the other boaters was phenomenal. One such new friend was a young man tending his 36 foot Cat Boat. He greeted us in unaccented American English, and we struck up a conversation, especially because his boat had a Portuguese flag.

As we chatted, we asked where they had lived.

"Oh a small town in Northeast Florida, you wouldn't know it."

I bit; "Oh, you'd be surprised."

"We lived at Jax Beach."

Ah. "What street?" Was my reply.

"Third Street".

I went on and mentioned I lived there while stationed at Mayport. What an incredibly shrinking world, we are in Central Portugal and meet Jax Beach locals.

The only uncomfortable thing we had to bear was learning about some of the local dinner choices. Dining could be exciting due to language restrictions, for example; on the Spousal Unit's birthday, we went to a nice restaurant with the specific idea of ordering steak. I was afraid that I would make a mistake and order say, "Shoe covered in Cheese", or some other ghastly gastronomic ghoulie.

The highest price steak on the menu was "Steak Especial". It may have been spelled Steack Espeziale, or some variation of that theme

Oh boy, this should be good...

Imagine our surprise and disappointment when a small sirloin comes out covered with a fried egg and a dark brown gravy covering the egg and steak?

Bummer.

So we scraped off the offending eggs and choke down our dinner. Another family comes in and they are from a Danish boat on our dock. They mention that they are looking forward to a steak, and I warn them about the "Especial" part. So they order the steak sans "Especial" and they get a beautiful sirloin unfettered by gravies or sunny side up eggs.

I get a surly look from the waiter for scraping off good food. No matter, off to the Casino to see our favorite Maitre D, who invites us to his bar (He was the owner of another place up the street) where we get a private tasting of his best Ports.

The three weeks was a bit frustrating, since we wanted to be in warmer weather but again, one has to take the good deals where you can make them.

Haven't gotten pictures yet, from Phil

But the good news is that a keg of Fuller's "London Pride" will be making its way to the Veldt Lounge.


My favorite beer in the world! (Other than PBR, we are talkin' about Premium beer!)

Just in time for the Bed and Breakfast season here in Jacksonville. Somehow, the past five years has seen an upswell of guests around Thanksgiving time, all from Traverse City Michigan. Latest count is like five, or so.

"Peabody, here... Sherman; to the Wayback Machine."

We return to Leixoes, Portugal.

Arriving at about 1100, we quickly checked in for the real reason for our visit; Getting Propane for our cooking system.

Since Propane is a hassle in Europe, one has to know where to find it. If you happen to be traveling around, it won't be apparent. We were running out, and cooking required propane. A helpful marina dude said he knew where to get propane, so we gave him our four bottles and hoped for the best. Later that afternoon, we got four very heavy bottles and rejoiced. Wildebeest III was set for the next month, or so.

We made the rounds of the small marina and found a couple of friends from Brest. So we got together for beer and snacks and renewed friendships. After all, one never knew if they were going to see these same friends again.

Bad weather and luck can strike anywhere, or you might just go home because you get frustrated with the weather or with boating. It happens.

Chris bid us farewell, since he had business back in London, and we found ourselves alone for the first time in a month. Woo hoo!

The next day an expedition to the City of Oporto was declared. There was much planning and charts consulted, we discovered a bus that would take us into downtown.

One of the young Danish fellows was going with us, and I noticed he was wearing "Shower Shoes" (Military description) civilian nomenclature: Flip Flops.

"You're not wearing those downtown, are you?" I snidely asked.

"Why not?" I wear them everywhere." Sayeth the 19 year old slacker.

"What if you get a 'Blow out', then where will you be?"

"I never have that problem, these are most comfortable for me when traveling."

Idiot. What is with society, when half the people are walking around with very substandard footwear? How will you run if there is a fire, or a ghetto uprising?

We take the public transport and find our selves in downtown Oporto, an ancient seafaring city.

I notice beautiful dark haired maidens, all looking like they just stepped out of downtown Hayward California, with snug black slacks and lovely long, raven hair. Stunning!

Then, you see proud ladies wearing dark skirts; they are married and have children. I am the master of the obvious, no?

We can identify the targets for dating. How convenient, for the single male. Too bad I missed this place in the 70's. Or is it?

This is when our 19 year old Dane has a flip flop malfunction. He is walking barefoot on centuries of spit and dog offal. I smirk with a "I-told-you-so". there is no Surf Shop that sell replacements. But there are wine shops!

Walking along the river Douro, we see the Port wineries and naturally, we just have to visit.

The Douro is a natural highway for transporting the fine wines that have been grown since before the Romans.


We saw the Sandeman winery and found we had a hour or two before the next tour. So we went to the train station to check out the depression era artwork.

They had these wonderful tile murals depicting the Portuguese tradition of adventure and navigation. Prince Henry figures large in these murals.




The pride in their Catholicism is everywhere, too.

The language is closer to Italian than Spanish, so I was completely lost. The Spousal Unit had three years of Latin and had the same result. No matter. The locals were as nice as can be and we were completely welcomed.

So we go the the Sandeman Cellars.


The Museo

Port Barrel




I normally will not pay for a tour of anything, this is from years of experience with USO tours and living in Florida. Anyone can get more out of a visit by studying library references and other publications concerning the area toured. Plus, ther is no constant chorus of, "Stay with the tour, we're moving... keep up with the tour..."

This time, I paid the fee. It was informative and interesting. And we bumped into one of the Lieutenant's from the retirement ceremony! Talk about pleasant surprises.

Here is a photo of this nice fella with the charming Emma, from the retirement ceremony. (I have pictures of this gent in Oporto but since he is still on Active Duty OPSEC requires me to use something to obscure the identity).



We had a great reunion dinner and we invited the LT and his Spouse to stay on the 'Beest, saving them a hundred bucks on lodging. We tried to talk them into sailing with us to Lisbon, but they had air reservations that could not be changed.

The next day we did breakfast and bid our guests farewell. The weather was warm and lent itself to cleaning the Wildebeest and preparing for our next trip to Figueira Da Foz, a mere five hours away. We fueled at the fishing docks and were underway the following morning, about 0600.