2010-05 to 2010-09

The route. Sweden-Ireland

2010-05-03 Gothenburg. Written by Mark

I'm back in Sweden living on Mare. The magnitude of the project is still sinking in. I constantly find myself thinking about small issues at my old job and realizing that it doesn't matter. It doesn't matter in such a fundamental way. I have never felt this free. Ever. Everything I do is for myself, no one cares if its good or bad - I'm the only one that will be impacted and I'm the only one who cares. It's a new and good feeling to be my own judge and the lord of my own destiny.

Today I have been installing myself in the boat and the coming month i will set everything up for the navigation. I was happy to note that some important structural reinforcements have already been done by the previous owner. However the gelcoat (paint) is in an awful state, the length of all the hairline cracks is probably from hear to the moon and back, the only cheap solution is to repaint the whole boat - the finish wont be the same but at least it will be better then the spiderweb it's now.

I'm also happy to note some kind soul who lives nearby haven't password protected their wireless connection so free internet here I come!

2010-05-17 Gothenburg. Written by Mark

'Sanding, cleaning, painting, varnishing again and again. Plumbing for freshwater, salt water and bilge pumps. Rebuilding interior. Wiring vhf radio, second radio, batteries. Reinforcing hatches, restoring rudder, repairing machines, shopping and work work work work. I have been so busy the last 2 weeks, most of the tasks are new to me (more or less) and so its interesting, challenging and generally fun. No disasters yet, I'm getting suspicious by now something should have happened! Just wait until the boat is in the water :D (its still on land). The original estimation to start sailing the 1 of June seems OK, I might even be ready before that. As long as the rigging is OK...

I'm writing this sitting on top of the boat and looking at the sunset but now my fingers are starting to get so cold its hard to write. Goodnight everyone, I miss you all! .

2010-05-18 Gothenburg. Written by Lena

This Saturday, I landed in rainy cold Gothenburg and got picked up by a black SAAB with Mark at the steering wheel.

First to Hornbach to buy some tools and paint. They have this ad on the radio, that goes like "Hornbach - how crazy is your project?" Hm, I think it's crazy allright...

Canal is finished and we are soon off to the sea again, with Jussi Björlings voice in the background. It has been a few cloudy and rainy days, but the company has been great - two friends from Stockholm joined up at Dumnadrochit to follow along the way.We have fished for Nessie, bathed in the ice-cold Loch Ness, drunk beer, gone through sluices, and been photographed by tourists a couple of hundred times. Met another Swedish boat yesterday, a big one with a crew of six, and had a pint (or five) with them at the local pub in Bunavie, had a great time. The ginger ale here is great, the label brags about it being both an aphrodisiac and a cure for sea-sickness, don't know about either but the taste was excellent.

Today, we will hopefully proceed southwards via Oban to the islands of Jura and Islay, and spend a day or two there exploring the distilleries before the boys will fly back home and me and Mark will head for Ireland.

The outboard engine decided to give up just before entering a lock, luckily there was a workshop nearby where we could get the tools needed plus some start gas, which together with 5-56 and some Russian swear words did it. I will try the same treatment on the inboard, which is still not cooperating, so wish me luck. It's preferable to have as much engine power as possible at the coast here, because of the strong and very tricky currents. Well, nothing is too tricky with a generous dash of Laphroaig to it, so we hope for the best as always ;)

2010-07-21 South Scotland. Written by Lena

Mark has gone off to a vacation for the week, leaving me as the captain of Mare Liberum, with two friends of mine that came visiting as the crew. Our objective is to reach Islay as soon as possible and indulge in whisky, so today we're about half-way between Oban and Islay.

Oban was a great little town, but they did not have any gasoline (only diesel) in the marina at Kerrera side (very much recommended, there is a free ferry taking you to the city of Oban every hour and a bar where you can wait for it while sipping on a Kilt Lifter IPA). The boys went over to Oban to get som fuel, but it costed about 15 pounds to get the fuel containers transported (a separate ferry had to be booked), but even paying that it turned out that the UK law prohibits filling plastic containers larger than 5 litres with fuel. WTF?

Leaving Kerrera, we were low on fuel and low on GPS batteries, heading to one of the most dngerous areas of the coast. But it's a Yo-ho-ho (etc) and a lot off pirate spirit, very impressed by the boys' crewmanship, so we made it through the fast current, the boat making over 7 knots on just the main, and later on without the sails and just a slight bit of engine power to be able to steer. The winds were to become stronger, with a near gale warning in some parts of Scotland so we decided to put anchor at Easedale. Navigating through the extremely narrow channel we mad plans to moor up at a buoy, when, suddenly, the engine just died. What a great time to stop working - cliffs on one side, shallow water within tens of meters and a current of 2,5 knots! And it would not start again for a while. Now both the inboard and the outboard were dead, great!

Well some andrenaline had never killed anyone! But luck was with us and we got the engine to run, all the way to Craob Haven Marina where we are now warm and dry, free-surfing in a lovely pub called The Lord Of The Isles. There was no gasoline here either, and we're down to one litre to spare or so, but the harbour captain got a 20-liter container to be delivered, just telling me to stick around the pub unttil eight. Wonderful service.

The crew is all right, and we might just reach islay tomorrow. Then you will probably not hear from us for a couple of days...

2010-07-25 Craobh Haven, Scotland. Written by Lena

The harbour of Craobh Haven, my friends, is a great place. Situated in a protected bay and secured by piers made of natural stone, it's a joy to enter, calling them at VHF channel 80 and getting a berth with complete parking directions. Unlike most of the harbours in Northern Scotland, there is no locked iron grid door at the marina entrance, and no barbed wire in between the boats and the very well-kept facilities, which means that you can reach them without visiting the harbour office which makes it easy to skip paying. In this harbour however, you would not want to skip paying since they are so kind and helpful that you would probably be reincarnated as a seacockel if you would try.

There is also a very nice bar there, called "Lord Of The Isles", and a few houses, and that's about it. Upon arriving, we met Paul, who has been sharing the same route ever since Loch Oich, so we have been double-stalking each other all the way to down there, and we once again had the privelege of having him over for the supper and some drinks. Hope he got his gear box fixed!

We had less luck with fixes though. Waited for the right tide to give us a nice current, we were all set to go off, but the outboard would not start. At all. Even after sweet-talking and Easy-start and spark plug change and fuel system cleaning and 5-56 just about everywhere. Luckily, we had great weather, so I could go around and swear in sunshine instead of rain, for once. Paul got me a cup of coffee, which cheered me up and it was time for action. Talked to the harbour office about the problem - and it did not take more than a half a minute to locate John the Mechanic, a local celebrity it seemed, a Viking-like fellow that took the outbouard on his back not unlike some female captive and briskly proceeded to the cave, I mean the workshop.

The carburator was the problem (damn carburators! Enough already!). He did not work out how to fix it, so I headed for Crinan, determined to get a new carburator or a new outboard engine. Asked a couple of gentlemen on the pontoon whether they had an outboard for sale, just in case, and one of them was going to Crinan so I got a ride there! Dave turned out to be a principle at the Yacht and Sailing school, I got a map and some advise and he had to get back, while the Crinan mechanic still tinkered with my carburator. A plug was missing; he replaced it but did not know if that would do it. Time to get back and try it out, but before that I wanted to visit the second-hand outboard shop in a village nearby, to raise the chances of heading off tomorrow.

There was a decent 6 hp ourboard for 400 pounds, and he'd drive it to Craobh. So, now for heading home. There were no buses since it's summer vacation, and it's a long way to walk, especially with that strong sun. Everyone seems to hitchhike, that's the public transport in Scotland, so after getting that advice a couple of times I went for it.

Unfortunately, there were no cars in my direction for a good while, and those that came later would not stop. I had walked for several hours, in the middle of nowhere, wishing desperately for a shop with some water and lunch, and covered some kilometers, setting sores on my feet. Luckily, later I got two rides in a row delivering me straight to the harbour. The carburator worked. We set off. Finally!

Jura

The boys would be let off at Islay and Mare Liberum would continue further south. We made a stop at a mooring in Jura, just outside of the distillery, the pub was alive, and the whiskey was great. However, the shop was closed, there would be no food at the bar, and there was some rowing distance to the pier and back (very beautiful at night though, with sea gleaming of fluoricent plancton that drifted by after every stroke of the oars like tiny starfalls).

In the morning, I sent the boys off to get some petrol. Myself, I was sleeping extra since I got a cold and was feeling quite miserable - but the captain cannot get a sick leave so I needed to get well, the sooner the better. The boys seemed to really take their time, I had slept well and had breakfast but they were still not back. I smsed them asking how it went but I guessed they were discovering the distillery... Suddenly, reading down below, I heard some voices, and came cheerfully up to meet the boys, just to hear an engine of a big boat just beside ours, bumping into our side. I threw myself up the deck to fight off the intruders, but that was the Jura passenger ferry, droipping off the boys and the dinghy they went with. The boat turned and went away - before Daniel got onboard, leaving him hanging over one of the sides, risking his pride and his mobile phone. We pulled him in.

It turned out that the dinghy has been run over while being parked at the petrol station, probably by that same passenger ferry. One of the oars was so badly damaged that there was no use for it. Luckily, the dinghy itself was fine and the petrol containers too. We set off and the boys got a breakfast.

Our plan was to get to Port Ellen, or to Lagavullin Bay, where there are visitor berths and the distilleries are lined up: Lagavullin, Laphroaig and Ardmore. The boys would get off, and get a ferry from Port Ellen, and Mark would come back and continue with the boat that now will be sailed southwards, to Ireland. We never got that far.

Past the Sound of Jura, the fog was rushing in. The head wind was fresh and we were making way by engine instead. The waves were tricky, some tide meeting zones outside of Islay's south-east coast were making them sharp, uneven and quite high. The engine was complaining, being too far up from water and revving up, or down, almost covered by the waves, stopping completely. Daniel made several attempts of restarting it, but we were making way for the shore, with underwater rocks and sharp cliffs. A fishing boat came by to ask if we needed assistance. I told Daniel to give up the engine and stand by steering, and Jocke would help with the sails. Main up - immediate fail. The halyard had got caught by the radar reflector. After some struggling, I saw that it could not be fixed easily, so I let it go and went for head sail instead. We managed to get it up in great speed, however speaking of speed I should mention the crash course that Jocke got on managing the headsail, drifting about in a boat thrown sideways, never having sailed headsail before. The boys did brilliantly, and Daniel even managed to get the engine to run on the way back, so we returned. We made two attempts and failed, I called for a course alteration northwards, since making way was neither possible (nor safe). We put anchor in Claiggan Bay, a calm protected harbour, populated with curious seals. Luckily, we had a spare oar so I could row the dinghy to the shore. It was longer than I thought from the safe anchorage area to the beach, so it took a good while. Two swans were watching us from the beach, and a seal stalked us, amusing the boys.

Port Ellen

The road on the sea chart turned out to be a narrow path enough to fit one car. The nature was beautiful, and several siamesecat-coloured sheep were trying to figure out whether to attack us, with a followed cowardly retreat to the green hills. We walked on, 20 km or so to go. We were tired and wet, hungry and thirsty.

Of course, we were hitchhiking. The second car stopped, and it was a very nice couple with lovely kids. Unfortunately, they did not have any place in the car, and told us it's a long way left. I wished them a nice day... unless they had room for three wet sailors in the trunk of the car.

I really love the kind of people who say "why not". They opened the trunk, so we sat in a row, dangling our feet over the asphalt and looking at Islay landscape fly by; hills, seal beaches, small houses, deer and distelleries, unfortunately closed for the day. Arriving to Port Ellen, we had some food and then the boys were sent off to a bar while I ran around doing magic, which was finding a ride back or accomodation.

It was Sports Day in Port Ellen. Boat races and all kinds of stuff were taking place, which meant that everyone got drunk at ten in the morning and things were not any better. I was reluctant to come in to the pubs, and that does not happen often, I tells you. The Sports day also meant that the accomodaion was extremely hard to find, all of the B&B were full, but in the end I had some luck.

The morning brough even more luck, when two gentlemen offered us a ride to the beach. I rowed back again, got the boys' bags, and rowed to the beach again, which felt something like rowing from Stockholm to Finland anbd back again, and then we tried to get a taxi. However, the taxi number we got from the hotel was incorrect, and the taxi company listed in the tourist papers was not able to help us. The bus for Port Askaig was to go in an hour, and the boys could not miss the ferry (and consequently the flight). We were prepared to hitchhike, no cars came.

More Port Ellen

When looking for a room, I stumbled across the hotel called White Hart. I don't think it's included in the tourist listings, that cover the two or three streets of glorious but small Port Ellen, but it's worth looking for. On the ground floor, there is a lounge (the weapon fetishist might squeal with joy), a dining room, a lively front bar, and a back bar with an open fireplace. You can have Scotch specialities for breakfast, and there is a great choice of local whisky to try. And for those who are not into whisky, there is raspberry sambucca!!

Having trouble getting into Port Ellen, I phoned the hotel up for a correct phone number to the taxi service. The man answering the phone said he'd pick us up. Mr Gordon did not just pick us up, he showed us the most ancient Scottish cross, told us a lot about history of Scotland and Lord of the Isles (fascinating story about a Viking becoming king of Scotland!), made a pit stop at a distillery, and actually drove us all the way to Port Askaig with a detour to Lord of the Isles Castle! A very interesting tour, and a service that would be unheard of in Sweden. Would definitely recommend a stay in the hotel, the whisky season starting in the Autumn! It's very close to the marina, the ferry and virtually everything. Here is a link.

Now: waiting for Mark at Port Ellen. Still extremely sick with cold. Westerly winds, so hoping to head off southwards soon!

2010-08-06 Wexford, Ireland. Written by Lena

I've heard that there is an Indian proverb: "you are not a real doctor until you've killed one or two patients".

I don't know if it's a real proverb or if it comes from India, but generally I am inclined to agree. How can you become an expert if you haven't made any mistakes? Being profound in anything, might that be fishing, martial arts or IT, is only about making those mistakes first of everyone, thus being able to find a correct solution and use these skills later. The same goes for sailing. You gotta rip one or two sails, run agound a few times, have engine malfunctions and water leaks and misread the broadcast and end up in devilish weather, in order to become good at what you want to do. Simply reading manuals doesn't work.

Wexford, a city by the sea, does not have a mantained harbour. It's a mess. Fortunately, we could moor beside two huge fishing boats, in the very city center, and that did not cost us one penny. However, the experience could be nearest compared to having a nice motorcycle parked at Gothenburgs main Avenue. Daytime, every single person passing would stop and stare at it, as he had never seen a motorcycle before. Some would take pictures. It's flattering at first. First five minutes or so. Then you start wondering who those people are and why the hell they are so interested in my property. A lot would stop for a chat, so many in fact that if you are doing anything important you better have a taser gun ready to be able to get some privacy. At night, drunks would lose all respect and start climbing it, and probably will break it.

I'd had two nightmare nights at Wexford, being unable to sleep. When I managed to slumber, I was awakened by unwelcome sounds. Ropes beating against the mast in the wind, boat beating against the harbour wall in the tide, anchor chain making noise agains the deck. And of course, the noises from the bars and nightclubs, with tasteless hits. Drunkards coming down to the pier to take a leak, talking loudly - Irishmen, Russians, you name it, some stayed by the pier and talked endless drunken rants, thinking no-one could hear them. And more music, and more drunks. I thought that the drunk girl in the boat (a humorous answer to the captain's prayers, I think ;) was yesterday's business, but the next night too, I woke up when a guy was trying to pull a mooring line, probably to try to get in, so I chased him away, coming back shaking with rage. If I'd see anyone near the boat again they would be keelhauled without a trial. Not much sleep that night, as mentioned.

We were to leave Wexford early in the morning, at 5 am or so, when the water was high, as the tide diff is about one meter or more. I finally managed to slumber just before that, but climbed on deck to assist. I knew that the way out was tricky, because of the multiple sand banks moving around and making the navigation unpredictible. I also wanted to see that the inboard would be doing OK.

Mark told me to get back to sleep, that it'll be OK. Have you heard of an expression "famous last words"?...

The inboard started coughing after just a short while. I decreased gas to make it go more smoothly, checked the GPS for speed diff, but suddenly we were losing speed despite engine being run!

We had run a-ground, and things were getting ugly quickly. The inboard wouldn't back. We had to act fast because the tide would turn soon. We ran around as if to Benny Hill sountrack, got the dinghy out, inflated it, put the anchor in it, Mark rowed it to the side, put the anchor down and I started pulling like a madman. It didn't help, no matter which side we pulled on, or winched, or how we shifted weight or rocked it, the boat just seemed to sit tighter and tighter on the bottom. In the end, we had no choice than to wait for the high water. This would mean that Mare Liberum would lay on her side in the mud for 6 hours or so.

We secured all lose items, filled a termos with hot water, ate a fast breakfast and went to sleep. I was so tired I could not even care to get up when a boat came by to check if we were OK. Sleeping on a 45 degree berth is actually quite OK given that you are exhausted enough.

The high water came and we finally came out with almost no effort at all, hands still swollen and burning from pulling the anchor rope like animals. Continuing in the bay, we managed to get stuck one more time, but two passing fishermen in a boat gave us a pull, while me and Mark were hanging on the boom swayed to the side, just like pirated in old movies, to heel Mare.

The inboard works some 20 minutes at a time, so we alternated it with the outboard and finally got out from the hateful harbour. Even being caught between two huge passenger ferries going in opposite directions in a small channel outside Rosslair was refreshing, now we were in deep water!

We are in a small bay near Carne south of Rosslair now, it's been suprisingly sunny the last two days, I had a good sleep this night, and I am never going to Wexford, ever ever again.

2010-08-08 Carne, Ireland. By Lena

We rowed the dinghy down to the sandy beach and slowly managed to collect enough wood for a small fire to grill the evening meal. I haven't grilled on the beach since outside Lysekil, I think, so it was about time.

On the way back, it was dark, and for a change it was a beautiful, warm starry night. Mark went into the boat, but I wanted to go for a swim in the night sea, so I quickly got into the water by the ladder in the stern.

I started swimming - and there was luminescence all around me! I swam once around the boat, small glittering stars around me in the water wherever I touched the surface, firing up and fading as I passed. Then I stopped in the water and looked at the shimmering night sky, as dark as the sea. A star fell down. I couldn't believe my eyes.

Mark shouted: "Did you see that?!!"

And then another fell.

And I made a wish.

And there were still stars in the water, with every splash of the waves. Bioluminescence, or "mareld" in Swedish, it truly should be seen...

Or bathed in.

2010-08-11 Carne, Ireland. By Lena

Sailing south-west down the coast of Ireland to our jump-off point, Cork. Yes, sort of the same place as mentioned in Whisky In The Jar (here, the old Irish song is marvellously covered by my favourite band). Got no pistol or rapier to produce, but I can definitely hold up a pair of dirty socks with an authorital "stand and deliver", which could most possibly work.

The weather is predominantly sunny, and it feels like summer for the first time for ages, the smell of warm soil and dry hay coming with the wind from the coast in the evenings. It's not only the humidity (rain and clouds and abscence of sun) that makes it so cold all the time, it's the constant wind at sea. My arms are still almost as white as they were after the Swedish winter, but the hands are brown as gingerbread; it's jacket on all the time. And of course, the "racoon tan" is clearer for every day, due to constantly wearing sunglases.

The fishing is splendid, of though it is mackerel all the time, nice large fat mackerels that are not even exciting to catch anymore since they are so plentiful that as soon as you start getting them, you barely have time to throw the hooks back in the water before the next one bites. You get tired of the taste quite fast. I'm constantly coming up with more ways to make mackerel taste less like mackerel. For those interested; recommended is fish soup with fresh cream and white wine, and definitely not recommended is ceviche :-/

We are not in a hurry; strong winds over Fitzroy (area on the way to Spain) give us a lot of time to take it easy. We stopped at Sheep Island to have a stroll, and looked at fabulous cliffs and caves, for example. Hope for the weather to get better soon, which would be no SW winds (sign of a coming bad weather in Biscay bay) and no gales, and we'll be fine to go after Saturday.

2010-08-12 Dungarvan, Ireland. By Lena

As you may have noticed, sailing is not just great going and laughs all the time, it's a series of ups and downs. Or "annoys". One of the reasons is just practical. Hurting yourself is the first stage to get through; and especially on such a small boat. The most common word on the boat is "AJ!" several times an hour for the first weeks, before you get used to it. But: you only get used to it by making enough mistakes. For example, first time you jump out on deck in an urgent situation barefoot will teach you a lesson or two. Then, you learn the annoying ceiling bend just before the toilet, and the very sharp edges of the solar cell, and not to leave anything valuable on the cockpit floor, and exactly the diameter where the fishing hooks are swaying, and to duck instinctively when the main sail is luffing, and approximately how much hot tea you can comfortably have in a cup when it's moderate to fresh breeze.

The annoys today have been mainly the sores and the bugs. Here at the Irish shore, we have repeatedly run into swarms with hundreds (thousands?) of insects, mostly harmless but very annoying if you want to have a meal without a fly in the soup (or, to be more true, twenty-five flies). Finally I decided to go down below because I was sick and tired of them, where I realised I could read while IN the boat, which I never could before (I could hardly read while on deck), which means one of the annoys is mostly gone - the ever-proximate sea-sickness (of though the waves have been low for the past weeks! We have been lucky with the sea conditions compared to, say, Sweden or Norway). The other annoy is the presence of the small sores on my hands. It's been a bother since we have been working on the boat; now it has come back with full force. A part of my finger is totally missing skin because I sliced it on the oar getting onshore after the walk to Sheep Island, and beside that there are a couple of deep cuts from the fishing knife, and if you call me clumsy, then you should freaking try cleaning a fish while riding a rollercoaster without a safety harness, that's how it is to prepare food in here.

On the topic of cleaning fish - it's actually one of the ups today. Getting tired of the mackerel, we did not fish for it. Instead, Mark put in two huge wobbler plugs on each fishing rod (we have two rods out, one on each side of the aft), of though we were quite close to the coast with the chance of fish big enough to get a 20 cm bait being close to nil. I wondered if it was not just waste of plugs (they'd certainly just hook the sea bottom, what a waste), but to my surprise, after a while it freaking worked. Big fish!! While Mark fought the catch, I put down the sails in urgent fashion to slow down and make it easier to pull in the fish, and prepared the Killer Fish Hook; an almost two meter long pole with a large wicked round ultrasharp hook on it, a ~€75 thing we bought at El-Ge's just for the large fish, to get it up in the boat.

And so Mark pulled the fish to the surface and I got the fish in the boat with the hook. Oh the splatter! Oh the blood! Oh the huge mouth and the strenght of the tail! Ah, it was "only" a 70+cm Pollock (Lyrtorsk) fighting for its life, nothing dramatic at all. We killed him and cooked him, a great lot of great-tasting fish, first steaming fresh poached with white wine and black pepper and butter, and then in a hearty creamy stew for dinner.

Another definite "up" was the welcoming into the Cork harbour. Having a bit of a hard time with the engine (out of fuel, how unbelievably badly planned, having to start the outboard), suddenly I saw small fountains on the surface of the small waves.

I studied the direction, hoping I did not see wrong.

And there it came - a dark blue back fin after the fountain.

And at first nothing else. I kept on watching the spot, a few meters ahead.

And then there were fountains again! Two beside each other! And two back fins beside each other, and two curved beautiful dolphin bodies elegantly making a full round to above the surface - and slowly back again into the water.

Watching... waiting......

And again! Three fountains, and three fins at the time, and the fourth behind them, diving up all simultaniously to the surface and circling down again, and it feels like they know EXACTLY what they are doing, that they know that you are watching, and they know exactly what sight you are really going to find stunningly beautiful, and they give you just that.

And they have waited to do it at the sunset, just because they know how beautiful it will be.

The route. Spain-Portugal

2010-09-04 Baiona, Spain. By Lena

So I'm back home on Mare Liberum. I had to leave for Stockholm to fix some papers, and took the chance to pass the Coastal Yachtmaster diploma (skepparexamen) as well as SRC and CEVNI certificates, all in one go which meant a lot of studying the days before.

I think it's good to get some contrast and perspective sometimes, coming back to Spain I was delighted by the wondeful weather, the blue sea and hot sun, cheap fruits, wine and delicacies, the beautiful mountain landscape, the sandy beaches and the awesome athmosphere, while all other longsailors were used to it and were not as intensively happy. I think it's always wise to take a moment and have a reality check, to understand and appreciate what you have, not to take it for granted.

Boats from all of the Scandinavia are grouping up; right now we have a Norwegian boat and a Danish one beside ours. At Isla Cíes, where we spent a couple of splendid days enjoying the mountains and the beach with sugar-like sand, there were several more Norwegian boats.

All in all, sailing in Spain is wonderful, and if I want to live in Europe some day again, I want to live in this country.

By Lena in La Coruña

On Friday we were ready to leave Cork to cross the bay of Biscay. However, as you remember, it's bad luck to start a sailing trip on a Friday. And I guess it's especially true on Friday the 13th...

Superstition aside, I also wanted to get a chance to feel land under my feet, and pay a visit to an Irish pub in Cork harbour. Had a great time, and met some wonderful local people, a lot of laughs, songs and a wonderful atmosphere. I was still asleep in the morning when the captain started off the journey.

I admit having been excited about the bay of Biscay; it is known for its high waves and violent gales. There was an apparent gale warning for NW Spain, just where we were heading. Yeay! Blood, sweat, tears and Kraken!

It turned out to be nothing like that. To be honest, the first day or two in Biscay were the most beautiful sailing days I've experienced. We had wind in our back, the waves were very slight, there were dolphins following our boat, playing around in front of us, sometimes together with their babies (sweet enough to melt any hard and salty sailor's heart) and at night there was the magic glitter of biolumiscence in the water, and the sky was cloudless, with millions of constellations, the great Milky Way, tiny satellites passing by, and a lot of beatiful shooting stars. It was a real pleasure to have the night watch, lie on the back in the cockpit and look at the universe spreading endlessly just above the slightly rocking mast top.

But the next day welcomed us with the complete abscence of wind. What gale warning, where?? It seemed unbelievable that there could be wind or waves somewhere in this bay. The water was like milk; white and completely still, apart from the microscopic wavelets that our engine was making. Yes, we ran the inboard 14 hours in a row. We knew the wind would turn SW (thanks to my dear parents that were so kind to sent weather reports to the satellite phone) so we were in a hurry; SW wind in Biscay means bad weather on the way. Also, it's good to pass the continental shelf as soon as possible as things can get ugly there when the weather is bad, the waves break too easily.

But no. No bad weather, no freak waves, no nothing. The inboard gave up after that day, but we got wind again, and could go on. On the continental shelf there were lots of dolphins too, and now something completely new: whales! A huge distant fountain of water would stretch several meters above the surface, and then came the long, dark body slowly diving up and disappearing again in the same move.

We crossed Bay of Biscay the long way, in less than 5 days, which is shorter time than we counted on (which was 5 to 10 days). Approaching La Coruña, Spain, took us half a night, in the dark, with a lot of boats around and the intensive traffic being typically Spanish. The night breeze from the land smelled of spice and humid warm stone, an exotic smell that instantly makes you aware of that you are not in Northern Sweden anymore. At four in the morning, we opened a bottle of KGB champagne, and finally had Spanish ground under our feet.

Right now, we are in the first and largest Coruña yacht harbour, may be moving to the one that is a nautical mile to the South, not as exclusive and new but cheaper. There are quite a few Scandinavian long distance sailors here, so we have already met some.

Now, off to have a cerveza, and maybe some tapas tonight. Finally!!!

2010-09-08 Portugal. By Lena

Sitting in a café at Viana do Castelo. A very beautiful city, I had a fast walk around it last night when we arrived, but haven't seen it by daytime... Because today I spent all day in a café, intensivelly enjoying the fast Internet connection. I have three online courses I have to keep up with, and all of them require Internet, so I have a lot to do while I'm here. By the late Autumn, I will know all that's worth to know about classic astronomy, intercultural communications, and philosophy. The phylosophy course is the most interesting;for example, the first module is all about happiness as according to the ancients (hedonism, epicurism and stoicism) and the first essay to write is "Feelings vs reason, what is best and why". Incredible. This must be the only science that is best researched while having some good wine and some great company to talk to.

The sea outside has been choppy on the way here, a lot of fishing gear everywhere, the Danish boat Awareness that were neighbour to us in the last harbour needed to be rescued after getting fishing gear in their engine, and the French boat from the same harbour had to get back because of the strong winds. The advice is a good lookout, and a good weather report page, like windguru.cz which is absolutely great.

The Portuguese, unlike Spanish, don't have Siesta, are opened on Sundays, and everyone speaks English. Everything is also cheaper. I don't understand why they call it a lesser country... It's great here!

2010-09-10 Porto, Portugal. By Lena

Viana do Castelo was a nice little city with calm athmosphere. A glas of wine costs half a euro, and after you're done, the regular guests at the bar ask the waitress to fill it up for you, it's the Portuguese generosity.

It was a sunny day yesterday, and I have been tinkering with the engine all day. John from s/y Awareness was so kind to be a competent and helpful coach, and the inboard was functioning again to our delight. We left the harbour at the low water and run slightly aground. All in all, the harbour was a bit dangerous - the river outside runs at up to 4 knots, and the entrance to the harbour is blocked off by a tiny walking bridge that is opened from the harbour office (not always manned though). If you arrive at night and are tired or not paying attention to the bridge, you could get serious damage on the boat.

Now: sitting in the harbour in Porto. My back is sunburned, it was a sunny warm day today, and spinnacker sailing for 30 nautical miles. The yacht harbour is just beside a fishing harbour and a cargo harbour, so there are containers everywhere and it's anything but beautiful in here, but a bunch of Swedish, Norwegian and other long-sailing boats are here, and several familiar faces met us on the pontoon. We'll try to figure out whether to go up the Porto river tomorrow. Good night for now!

2010-09-14 Porto, Portugal. By Lena

We spent more days in north Porto than expected. The inboard engine was to be fixed; John from Awareness did help me to adjust the timing and to lock the screw that had loosened so the distributor was turning around thus messing up the timing. I also removed corrosion from the wires, sandpapered all contacts and the engine was running happily. For ten minutes or so, and then it started making strange noises and died again.

So this time, two Irish guys from White Whisper, a boat next to ours, came along and took the engine in pieces and back again. There was a bearing that had too much friction and it was fixed. We tried the engine, it worked again. Of course, we celebrated by a pub round, and had a great time with the lads! But just on the way out from the harbour the engine started making trouble again. The outboard did not want to cooperate either; the killchord had rusted and had to be replaced on the fly with a temporary cable solution while we were bobbing on the waves near the harbour entrance, creating an obstruction for the ships of various sizes that were coming in and out. We were almost turning back at one point, but since we could go by the outboard, we continued to Porto. (There was no wind at all, so sailing was not an option).

Porto is absolutely beautiful, and even more so when coming from the sea and into the Douro River. It's a fantastic city, and everyone is very nice and humble. We are morred by the stone wall near a bridge, and the whole of the old city is just out here. I went for a shopping and sight-seeing round, could spend several days here, but we need to get moving since Mark had promised to meet the norwegians from Fri Inspirasjon on Saturday.

Here, the food is cheap and you can find exotic stuff in the stores. I got some quail eggs (vaktelägg) for less than a euro for a dozen, and make a delicacy dish with beluga lenses, cured Spanish jamon and quail eggs. It's very warm here, and the view is astonishing. I will try to upload some pictures soon...

2010-09-18 Figuera do Foz, Portugal. By Lena

So, almost 100 days at sea. Time for a small conslusion of the trip - not everyone reads the whole blog :)The North Sea and the Bay of Biscay were supposed to be the hardest parts of the trip.Here on the left side you can see what they would be described as... Winds, waves, gales and storms and sea monsters and what not. Or at least that was what I was expecting.But they were really a piece of cake. On the right: how it really was; cruising by daytime in the middle of North Sea with sunshine and no waves at all, and last the sunset in the bay of Biscay, for a whole day also still and windless.

Some really beautiful stuff we've seen was also in the bay of Biscay; bioluminescence and dolphins and whales. And upon arriving to A Coruña, there were fireworks over the night sky. Just beautiful.The boat itself requires continuous maintenance, everything from the engines to wiping off the mold and refitting loose parts. However it's just to get used to, it's a very old boat. The lack of fridge, microwave and hot water is also a matter of habit.

Scopoderm, the anti-seasickness plaster, is one of the best things that has happened to sailors (Thanks ApoEx!) Marinas with free showers and internet are also great, although infrequent.

The countries have been very different. Norway was barely worth staying in - very beautiful but too expensive. Scotland was rainy and cold, and Caledonian Canal was nice but a lot of hassle with all the sea locks. Jura and Islay were great. Ireland was also chilly, but the sailing was better due to constant Western winds - no waves and good speed.

Spain was splendid! Hot sun, blue sea, cheap wine, nice fruits, great food - the supermarkets were filled with Spanish specialities for laughable prices, the two pictures were taken at a local store - a cured ham, the whole pig leg, can be purchased from 25 euro and up, incredble.And Portugal is even better - it's cheaper, the people are a bit more sophisticated, speak more English and are extremely generous and friendly. A glass of wine costs a half a euro, the architecture and the palms remind of Goa, which has been a Portuguese colony. And the beaches in Portugal are sandy, warm, and reach out for miles and miles... Perfect for surfing or just walking around and enjoying the summer weather.The best stuff with sailing must be all the wonderful people you meet. Most of them are also heading South, so there is a community of boats which we meet all the time - very nice to have friends away from home. Everyone's helping everyone else, no matter if it's an engine that needs fixing or a sea chart that is missing. It's a great sailor spirit here.

My favourite city this far is Porto. A lot of new, old, and ancient buildings everywhere, colourful and diverse, with thousands of small restaurants that come alive at the evening. An absolutiely beautiful city; here are some photos, including the view from our boat at night.

The fishing has been great; mackerel is still frequent, but we are starting to get some fish that is like a mixture of mackerel and blue marlin. Also, the menue is diversified by all kinds of other fish, mussels and octopus.

But new things are learned every day. There are new concepts; like "good-morning flies", the flies that wake up when the sun goes up and buzz and disturb your sleep better than any alarm clock. Or the differens between the word "rolig" in Swedish (fun) and in Norwegian (calm), so we have to specify (Vi ska ha en rolig kväll. - Svensk-rolig eller Norsk-rolig?) And lots more :)

In the next hundred days, I should have crossed the Atlantic and arrived to St Lucia. So, a lot to look forward to!