Miles visited three countries in six days: from the Rock he crossed
the Strait to Morocco before heading north up the Spanish coast to
Sotogrande.
The near-deserted Moroccan
marina would not have looked out of place in the cult TV series "The
prisoner".
We looked hard at the red and green masthead lights. They
were off the starboard bow, but how far? They had to belong to a yacht,
but that would mean they were only 200 yards away and closing.
My mind raced, trying to solve the riddle. We were in the middle of
the Strait of Gibraltar at 23.30. I was skipper and seemed to be on
a collision course. The other boat was on a port tack, we were on a
starboard. Surely they had seen us... I grabbed the torch and shone
it against the main. There was a shout from the other yacht as she emerged
from the night. She changed course and passed 50 yards away. The crew
gave us a wave and a slightly slurred greeting in Spanish and they were
gone.
An hour later we were in a Spanish bar on the Costa del Sol. It had
been my first night passage as skipper and beer had rarely tasted
so good.
Africa Bound
I was halfway through my RYA Coastal Skipper course on board trafalgar
Sailing's Gib'sea 402, Tarik Lady, with skipper Peter O'Hanlon who
has sailed the Western Med for 15 years, 10 out of which as an instructor.
Trafalgar operates out of Gibraltar, the promise of October sunshine
had also attracted Rex, recently retired and after his Day Skipper
ticket, an David, a barrister who had never sailing before.
Tarik Lady is kept at Marina Bay, a 10 minute walk from the airport.
That's one of the joys of Gib, nothing is very far away on a peninsular
less than 3 miles long and half a mile wide.
Day one of the weeks course had begun with a safety briefing and boat-
handling practice. "You see that little basin there?"Peter asked.
I nodded and he told me to take the boat in, turn her and bring her
out. I could see that Peter was not going to make this easy for me
but, having to use the propwalk and short, sharp bursts of water of
the throttle to push over the rudder and shrink the turning circle,
we emerged unscathed.
Next morning there was a light breeze and we sailed around the bay,
getting to grips with the slab-reefing main and rollar furling headsail.
Then it was time for my blind pilotage exercise. Peter told me that
an imaginary bank of fog was about to descend. I had two minutes to
establish my position by taking compass bearing before visibility
disappeared. My time was quickly up and I was sent down below. From
now on, I was not allowed on deck and had to use the chart, log and
echo sounder to get us to a given destination.
We eventually arrived, but made every mistake in the book enroute.
A couple of times I was about to admit defeat, but Peter pointed out
a few possibilities and left me to work out the rest. Next timethe
fog comes I'll be better prepared.
"OK Miles, you've got 20 minutes to sort out a passage plan to Morocco,"
said Peter. Our destination was Marina Smir 26 miles south of Gibraltar.
The Easterly levanter wind was freshening, pushing moist Med air up
over the Rock, forming thick cloud which surrounded Gibraltar. I consulted
the tidal stream atlas and checked the pilot books. If the wind didn't
shift we should be able to make it on one tack.
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I instructed the crew, which now included Peters daughter Cathy, to
put in a couple of reefs and sorted out a watch rota. On the helm, I
swung Tarik Ladys bow towards Africa. The seakindly Gib'sea handled
the force 5 easily, doing her best to top 7 knots while remaining totally
dry in the cockpit. Dolphins escorted us through the Pillars of Hercules:
Jbel Musa, the highest peak of the Rif mountains at the Northern tip
of Africa and the Rock of Gibraltar. My fix put us where we meant to
be, so far so good.
The wind eased and we shook out the reefs as we headed South along the
Moroccan coast. The day had been overcast but now the sun broke through.
The danger of shipping lanes were behind us and under full sail we were
bowling along. It was bliss. Marina Smir felt like a Moorish version
of "The Prisoner" set, with Palm trees and intricate iron work. We were
the only yacht there that night and, apart from a couple of resident
powerboats, the place was empty. It is busier mid-season, but the peace
made a nice change from the Solent.
Back in Time
After a beer ashore we ate on the boat, as we had done alternate nights,
with superb home-cooked meals prepared by Peters wife. After supper
I took a walk along the beach while other watched a video onboard. Feeling
the sand between my toes it was hard to imagine the chill winds of home.
Next morning, a taxi took us to the local town of Tetuan. A half-hour
drive and we travelled 700 years back in time. A guide steered us through
a labyrinth of alleyways, rich with the smell of bread baking in wood
ovens. There was the inevitable carpet shop tour with skilful sales
patter, and a visit to a spice shop with potions that promised miracles
for any madaly. The food market was the highlight with piles of vegetables,
mountains of olives and towers of colourful fruit. Then, through the
crowds came a young shepherd driving his flock before him. You just
don't get that at Tesco.
After a good lunch on board we headed north, 12miles back up the coast
to Ceuta, the Spanish enclave on the tip of northern Africa. Suddenly
dolphins appeared again, with seven or eight diving around the boat.
I lay on the foredeck mesmerized by the grey-blue shapes weaving through
the bow wave just inches beneath me.
Night Sail
We dropped anchor behind the sea walls in Ceuta for an evening meal.
The Spanish held on to the port when Morocco won independence in 1956,
and today there is a lot of fast ferry traffic from Spain. Peter often
takes the crew ashore to explore, but we had no time: there was a night
sail ahead of us. Setting of at dusk we headed north, back across the
Strait for Sotogrande, 23 miles up the eastern Spanish coast.
As the sun was setting, a pilot whale surfaced briefly before vanishing
under our bow. Then as night fell the dolphins returned , luminous shadows
in the water streaking up to the boat, leaving trails of phosphorescent
sparks before slipping away.
Our passage across the Strait took seven hours in a good sailing breeze.
It's one of the busiest sea areas in the world and you can't get much
better light-recognition practice. After my mid-passage brush with the
Spanish yacht, it was a relief to pick out the lights of Sotogrande.
I avoided mistaking a green pharmacy light for a starboard mark and
guided us into the plush marina.
Friday was spent practicing our man-overboard and sailing skills as
we headed north to Duquesa, a marina development with a real Costa del
Sol feel and no shortage of fish and chip restaurants. The final day
was a glorious six-hour beat back to Gibraltar with a good breeze and
flat seas. A debrief followed and Peter gave David and Rex their respective
Competent Crew and Day Skipper tickets.
The Coastal Skipper qualification can only be awarded by an independent
RYA examiner who has to be specially flown out to Gib. Instead, I was
given a certificate of course completion which is awarded if the instructor
believes you have reached the Coastal standard and are ready to take
the exam.
If you want to gain sailing experience and sea miles in the sunshine
with good winds and all the advantages of escaping chilly Britain, then
this course could be for you. Tarik Lady in also available for skippered
charter allowing tailor-made tuition or just a relaxing holiday. The
dolphins are included in the price.
For further information contact Cathy:
email: cathy@trafalgarsailing.co.uk
Mobile tel : +34 699411194
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