'SUMMER' CRUISING ON THE COSTA VERDE

Mike Pocock

The Admiral does not have the best of luck with the weather when she picks a time to join Blackjack for her `summer' cruising -- Scotland in 1996 was typically cold and wet -- but we were hoping '97 might be better. Pat and I had had a fair ration of decent sunshine as we day-hopped southwards through Brittany on our way to our rendezvous with Mary, who was to join us at Bilbao. It is worth mentioning that there is no great difficulty in anchoring in the boat harbour at Santurce on the dockland side of the Abra de Bilbao. From a convenient dinghy landing it is only a short walk to meet arriving crew members at the P&O ferry terminal.

Mary arrived punctually at 0800, and once we had freed our stern anchor of assorted discarded fishing gear we were away bombing downwind to the eastward. A fresh breeze and a healthy swell made for some exciting running and the digital log occasionally went into double figures as we sped towards Elanchove. This little fishing harbour about twenty-five miles east of Bilbao was strongly recommended both by Robin Brandon's pilot book and by friends. The entrance is tight and tortuous to defeat the swell and there were some exciting moments as we scrambled the main down and shot in past the pierheads under power. The harbour is tiny with the village a steep backdrop of white houses piled on top of each other under red clay tiled roofs.

The book recommends laying out an anchor in the middle of the harbour and taking a stern line to the fishing boat buoys and this is what, in our ignorance, we attempted to do. Sheltered the harbour may be, but on the day of our visit this was only a relative term. Vicious gusts sheered Blackjack this way and that and, with the stern firmly tethered and an apparently fairly hard bottom over which our anchor was soon sliding, our late lunch was interrupted by the need to find a better arrangement. The harbour walls had that deserted and peaceful condition that goes with siesta time, and in any case our limited and very rusty Spanish meant that little helpful advice was likely to be forthcoming. The inside of the outer wall was not particularly desirable as there is a well documented ledge that projects at low level to catch the unwary as the tide falls. The outside of the inner wall, which on another occasion would have been the ideal berth, was occupied by a sizeable fisherman who, for reasons we were to understand later, was laying out a particularly heavy stern warp.

It was while we were trying to moor by some steps where we hoped we would avoid the dreaded ledge that the reason for this warp became obvious. The fisherman's main engine suddenly burst into life, forward gear was engaged, and a one hour full power trial commenced. In so small a harbour there can only be one result and that is a salt water jacuzzi on a grand scale. While the whirlpool lasted we could only hang on where we were and wait. Later, when peace returned, our final solution was to moor over the ledge but held off by a kedge laid out abeam from amidships so that, at low water, there was a four foot gap towards the wall. By lowering a heavy `chum' weight down the warp and taking its line to the bows it was easy to keep Blackjack parallel to the wall and the problems of adjusting warps, as the tide rose and fell, were taken care of. By the time all was sorted out the rain had set in and exploration ashore was deferred until next morning.

Elanchove gave us a great baptism into the excitements and uncertainties of mooring in small Spanish harbours. Each has its own peculiarities and Brandon's advice, particularly with regard to the use of one's anchor, should be disregarded. The demands of the increased fishing and leisure fleets has meant that space is too much at a premium. The only solution is to enter with all available fenders and warps ready for use and to take each venue on its own merits and moor accordingly. East of Gijon and early in the year cruising yachts are few and far between -- part of the attraction -- and provided the movements of the fishing fleet were not impeded we found that we were well received and quite warmly tolerated.

Our next stop heading eastwards, with another exciting high speed downwind arrival, was in direct contrast to Elanchove. Guetaria is significantly larger and the outer harbour has been neatly divided with yachts and motorboats to port and the fishing fleet to starboard. As we passed between the pierheads a person could be seen hurrying down the quay, and by very explicit signals there was no doubt where we were intended to put ourselves. Within minutes of entry we were safely secured in a proper marina berth with the berthing master punctuating each instruction with d'accord, obviously his latest linguistic acquisition from the French. Charges were, we thought, reasonable at 3000 pesetas (about œ12).

Our assessment of eating ashore in Spain had so far been pretty dismal, especially since Blackjack is a yacht on which early bed and early rising are the favoured pattern. The Spanish preference for feeding at 10pm or later is something that we have never found easy to accept. The obvious solution was to sail to France, now only twenty odd miles away, where we enjoyed a delightful Saturday night run ashore in Hendaye despite rain which had, by then, set in with a vengeance.

All that downwind sailing had to be paid for and the rest of Mary's week was spent slogging back upwind in conditions that varied between the absolute bottom, with wind, rain and a horrible sea, to relatively civilised moderate winds, an occasional let-up in the rain and perhaps even a glimpse of the sun. We lay to a buoy behind Isla Santa Clara at San Sebastian on a wild evening which relented by morning, and enjoyed a delightful overnight stop in Motrico which we thought a most attractive and happy place. Finally we spent a very wet evening in Bermeo, which we didn't think would be all that much more attractive had the sun been out. But it was convenient.

As Mary's ferry departure was not before noon we sailed to Castro Urdiales just to the west of Bilbao. This is a delightful, sheltered harbour with a dramatic backdrop of the cathedral and ruined castle which are particularly striking when floodlit. In the morning we took a bus to the ferry terminal to see Mary off and to enjoy the sights of Bilbao. As we returned to Blackjack the sun came out and the sky turned blue and we wished that Mary was just arriving instead of heading home. Never mind, she sailed home in order to fly out to join Michael and Eve Bonham-Cozens OCC aboard Gemervescence in Nova Scotia, and by all accounts they managed to lay on much better weather than we did.

Pat and I continued westwards in mixed weather, some good, some not so good, until we reached Cedeira. The stopover that will stay longest in our memories was at San Vicente de la Barquera about thirty miles west of Santander, where we lay with our stern to a buoy and our bows to one of the bridge piers in a stream which ran very fast on both the flood and the ebb. Our experience, though not disastrous, proved to us that such a berth is much better approached at high water slack than on a roaring flood. We enjoyed a day off from sailing, riding in a motor coach and a cable car up to 2000 metres in the Picos de Europa.

Thirty miles out of Cedeira and hard on the wind for home we met, almost literally, the only OCC yacht on our travels. We enjoyed a five minute chat with Chris Watney on Jalingo III and sent our regards by him to Alfredo Lagos as he rolled happily downwind en route to Bayona.

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