Finale

We had a great summer.  Thanks to all of you who took the time to dip into the blog, or otherwise offered support and reminded us of the normal world.  We were away 4 months and a bit, covered 3300 miles, and stopped in 82 ports, several of which we remember not at all.

Here are the way points in our chart plotter (we call him Aubrey).

We promised you the Cruise Awards:

- Most efficient service - the Raymarine organisation, who managed to replace our faulty plotter in Galicia within 3 days without delaying us by visiting in one port and supplying a new machine in the next.

- Most helpful harbour - Marina Greenwich on (0 deg longitude in Eastern Spain) who provided us with all normal assistance at reasonable prices, and also offered to drive us to the local-ish shops.

- Most chaotic harbour - Cudillero in Asturias, where the assisant harbourmaster tried to help us pick up a mooring, failed because the lines were too tangled,showed  us where to drop an anchor, which we couldn't recover because it was tangled in other lines, then  helped us dock alongside a pontoon which broke.  We declined his offer to dive for the lost anchor!

- Most mercenary harbour - San Jose, who provided an extremely uncomfortable berth exposed to heavy swell, charged twice what nearby marinas charged, and still wanted us to pay for the night we left after being storm-bound 5 days.

- Most determined visitor - our daughter Cathy, who joined us for the three windiest places of the cruise, but only got sea-sick twice.

- Most officious police force.  The GNR in Portugal.  It did get tiresome to return from the police station having completed multitudinous forms to find the police at the boat wanting documents and more forms completed.  And the fact that police and marina offices don't communicate, but do need the same data and copies of the same documents (I think that there are now several hundred photocopies of our passports in Portugal).  And the police launches which speed up to you as if to intercept, and then object to us not giving way.  They were never rude to us - just extraordinarily tedious!

- Most customer-focussed restaurant - the harbour cafe in Marina America in Cadiz.  They provided us with simple but excellent fish dinners, at what we thought were very reasonable prices.  They may have thought differently, siince having paid they then provided unlimitted quantities of brandies, liqueurs etc to us and Ian and Helena, Cathy and Marion.  A win-win!

- Most inviting marina water.  St Peter Port in Guernsey - ask Val!

And no - we don't know where or when we're going to go next!

We're back

That's it then.  No more wondering where to go tomorrow, worrying about the weather, trying to remember the code for the marina toilets...Funny places, houses.

Friday was Val's birthday, and we were on our way on a short hop from Trebuerden to Treguier, further East, when we realised that the wind was better for Guernsey than Treguier.  So we gritted our teeth (the grit seems to need replacing more frequently these days) and did a hard 50 miles to Guernsey.  What's more we got to St Peter Port in time to celebrate with a good meal and a drink or two.  We had to moor outside the marina, so we took the inflatable dinghy ashore. We were still celebrating when, on getting back into the dinghy, Val lost her balance momentarily...  She was able to clamber back into the dinghy with good grace, and nothing lost but a sliver of dignity.  Her phone however is not happy!

And from Guernsey to Alderney, and on Sunday a good, very fast sail from Alderney to Lymington, reaching in up to force 7 at a steady 7+ knots.  Tiring, but very satisfying!  And we got the boat into Birdham, where we will probably keep her, today.  Val's brother Alan, who has kindly been house and mother-sitting met us there.

For those of you (if any!) who are still following, all is not yet complete.  There will be a final blog entry, including some reflections and an awards list from the cruise.  Watch this space!

Rockin' on

We've done the last corner now, and are homeward bound.  We even caught a snippet of Falmouth Coastguard on the radio.  With Cathy and Ian we stopped at a couple of very pleasant Breton towns, and had some excellent seafood (and we even caught a mackerel, which made a dainty lunch for four).  It's an impressively rocky place this end of Brittany (Finisterre it's called, which I always confuse with the cape in Spain).  And they have some impressive lighthouses to go with them

This one, on Isle de Vierge, claims to be the highest in the world, at 77 meters.

We are now peacefully anchored in the Morlaix river - well anchored anyway, since the wind is howling round us.  It's the wind that has been the problem the last few days; we've had continuous strong Easterlies, with more forecast to come.  And where to we want to go, now we're round the corner?  East!  So it's slow, and quite hard going.  We've been up at dawn the last two mornings to get some help from the tides, but even then, trying to head directly into strong winds gets tiring. Or maybe we just get tired.

By the way, Steve asked what a backstay tensioner cleavis pin was.  Really!  For the really ignorant amongst you, its the horizontal pin towards the bottom of the picture.

Brittany

At last we've got to somewhere we've been before.  We're in Concarneau, a very attractive port in South Brittany, where we're meeting Cathy and Ian tomorrow.  It seems to have been a hardish week.  Some attractive places in the Vendee, and the Isle de Yeu, where we had a lovely cliff-top walk.

 Our mood was a tad upset by unluckily spending one night next to a smallish French boat  where a dozen or so youngsters (well under 40s) decided to party until 4.30 am on deck.  Surprisingly they then put to sea, so we didn't even have the pleasure of disturbing them at 7.30, when we had to leave. 

Until the last two days it's been warm and calm - we've been motoring a lot.  But the weather has now changed to wet and windy.  There was a Force 9 forecast for today (for the uninititiated that's definitely breezy) but we managed to get here before it did.  All we had was pouring rain alternating with thick fog and a brisk breeze, while we tried to weave our way around the numerous very sharp-looking rocks that pepper this coast (not really possible without GPS/ Chart Plotters).  Then in the middle of it the engine started to smoke a bit alarmingly.  Then another yacht called up to ask for a tow because they had (unrelated) engine problems.  If someone had been trying to set a Yachtmaster test they could have done worse.  Still we got here.  And we hope the engine problem isn't serious.

Soon we'll be at the last corner!

Masting

...or, in French, mâtage.  Well, we found the mast, and it's up, and we hope it will stay that way.  It was a hard working, and quite stressful 3 days in Pauilac.  The actual raising of the mast only took an hour or so, but there was rushed preparation, and quite a lot of sorting to do afterwards.  The raising was a joint effort with harbour staff - and our french wasn't really up to "tighten up on the starboard lower shroud" or "lock the cleavis pin on the backstay tensioner".  With all that we missed out a bit on the glories of Pauillac, and in particular the vinyards that we might have visited/ sampled.  Still, we did manage a Sunday lunch on the boat with fresh local oysters and local Entre Deux Mers.

 We're now in La Rochelle.  It's a really pleasant and interesting city.  Splendid entrance to the harbour

and a very attractive atmosphere.  We're actually sitting in a huge, 3000 boat marina, and there is boating activity everywhere.  A proper place.  For some reason the tourist blurb doesn't dwell too much on the siege.  27,000 inhabitants - mainly protestant civilians - killed according to Wikipedia.  Still, it was a long time ago.

We continue North tomorrow - the weather seems to be improving the nearer England we get.  There will, I'm sure, come a point where this ceases to be true...

Back to sea

That's the canals done then.  A lot less hectic and busy at the end than the beginning. It's easier going down, and there are fewer people and boats at this end (it's the Canal de la Garonne, rather the the Canal du Midi).  We had a lovely stop in Toulouse - a beautiful city we thought, and one we could comfortably live in.   And pleasant though the canal was, we've really seen enough plane trees for now

You don't really see a lot else - barring occasional otters (we always thought they needed clean water!), purple herons and towards the end, lots of kingfishers.

We're now on the Garonne river, just outside Bordeaux.  It's spring tides and the flows in the river are impressive - about 5 knots either way, and about 10 minutes pause between the changes.  The water is chocolate brown (mud we think/hope!).  Occasional tree trunks passing give rise to some concerns.  And the current makes parking interesting!  Off to Pauillac today (when the tide turns) to find the mast, we hope.  We plan to be there a few days to sort out before and after it's put up.  Then we'll be a proper boat again!

France Profonde et canaux moins profonds

Bit of a cock-up on the blogging front, I'm afraid.  I thought the comment from Narbonne had already gone on on the blog.  So now there's two at once.

It's harder work than we thought.  So far we've done 61 locks in 4 days, and still going up.  The locks themselves are automated, but they are fast and violent, so the boat takes a lot of handling.  The canal was built in the 1670's and for some reason caring for delicate fibreglass hulls was not among the designer's priorities.  So everything is stone or concrete, and Sally T's delicate complexion is taking a bit of a battering.  And we're the only boat we've seen with a crew of only two.  Since I have to do the really difficult bit (steering) this means that Val is running around everywhere with bits of rope to pull.

It's not helped by the crowds of international (Brit, German Maltese, Oz) boaters in specially built dodgem boats, who aren't always worried about whom they hit (they're mainly friendly and helpful though).  We spent a great evening yesterday in Carcassonne, with a memorable cassoulet.  And we're now in the crumbling, decaying town of Castellnaudary - grandeur fading.

There's a dark secret here, not mentioned in any of the reference books.  I'll probably have to forego my aspirations to the Legion d'Honneur for mentioning it.  On the coast, one is not permitted so much as a pee to go into the sea within 3 miles of the coast (boats have to have tanks to put it all in, and pump it out well away from land).  On most canals there are pump-out stations, so that tanks can be emptied harmlessly.  But not here.  It all has to go into the canal.  Which, unsurprisingly smells.  Oh well.  C'est La France!

No piccies this time - the connection's too slow.  Just wait!