A Biscay Waltz

It was as difficult as ever to get organised for departure from Horseshoe Cottage. However, in the run-up I managed to get the tough-book computer from Anto in Killruddery, who had very kindly offered it to me since he was not using it any more, complete with the Open CPN chart and navigator set-up installed on Ubuntu (Linux). My Guardian Angel also prompted me to get John O’Mahony from Belco Marine Electronics to instal the passive receiver for the Automatic Identification System (AIS), which he kindly did on the morning before we left. Here is a photo of the set-up, showing the Anna M moored once more here in the harbour at Sada, on the Ría de Betanzos behind La Coruña. The little arrow-icons can also be seen, which represent ships anchored in the Ría.

‘We’ were myself and Anna Legge, a sister-in-law of Anto’s, who had done some sailing on the Asgard, but was not that experienced and very brave to set out with this old geezer across Biscay. We had been getting very good forecasts, but as I had a last look at Predictwind.com before departure, I noticed that their own model (which they display along with the GFS from NOAA which most weather sites use and they themselves start from) was suddenly throwing up a gale on our third day out. Well, at least NOAA were not giving it and they were not giving a major storm, and anyway it was predominantly easterly and was only going to last 24 hours or so…. The first couple of days were perfect; just couldn’t bear to cancel, with all preparations made and Anna come!

It does mean a lot to get a good start, and we had a perfect beam reach down to about the latitude of Belle Isle. However, right enough on the second evening out the wind was freshening and the glass falling. As I changed jib down to the working one, some pilot whales came to check us out; the photo shows one of them spyhopping - sticking its head up to get a better look at us.

The Anna M and I have a little understanding, which I think my crew-mate Anna approves of, that if I take it easy on her, she will look after me; so in the morning with the wind still rising, the working jib was replaced with the storm jib, and we were down to the third reef. The wind had also veered SE, and then SSE. I was not going to thrash to windward; the old bilge pump had more and more work to do as it was. Neither did I fancy running back to Ireland, and Brittany was about a hundred miles to the east, close on the wind anyway. The time had come at last to try that sea anchor, a fancy Para Tech  American job that I had splashed out on back in my fishing days.

Drying the sea-anchor.

It seemed a good idea, but in fact it never came out of its bag since. In the fishing boat, it was easier just to dodge to windward at night on the autopilot, when one had a chance for some kip, which was the main thing I had in mind at the time, emergencies apart. Anyway, out it came, and deployed beautifully, stopping the old girl in her tracks, head on to the waves. The problem was obviously going to be the rode, for this sea anchor was a bit too strong for the Anna M. Rope was not going to last the proverbial pissing time at the bow; it would not stay snug in the roller at all, let alone allow a bit of plastic hose to stay in place. I shackled the loop on the end of the stout nylon rope into the regular anchor chain.

It’s not easy to describe the motion in a small boat in a gale. The normal businesses of living become hugely difficult. The water that one might try to put in a bowl to do a bit of washing-up, for instance, promptly leaps out. One is constantly being thrown around, liable at any moment to be hurled violently across the cabin. One soon gets bruised and it is lucky if one can avoid sustaining injury. So it was a comparative relief to lie at the sea anchor.  I was reckoning there would not be any traffic out there in the middle of the Bay of Biscay. The AIS however was working away, though the mouse was very difficult to use.

After a while, a boat shows up, and sure enough she seems to be heading straight for us. I even get her name, Le Ressac, a fine French fishing boat evidently heading for Spain. I call her up, several times, in French, in Spanish, in English. Pas de réponse.  I start the engine and think, would I cut the sea anchor adrift or try to retrieve it? She appears through the murk, less than a mile away. Suddenly the VHF comes to life and she veers away, within a couple of cables. ‘Je ne vous voyais pas, ni sur le radar ni sur le AIS’. ‘Mais je vous voyais bien sur le AIS, moi, et je vous ai rappelé plusieurs fois….’ That stopped his gallop, but I must replace that useless radar reflector and try to get the active AIS….

Phew! But now two more boats have shown up, on the same route. I managed to get through to them, but they all seem pretty aghast at the idea of a sailing boat suddenly appearing, lying in their path. Next thing, a whole fleet of little arrows are coming at us, about thirty of them altogether! It must be the tuna fleet on its way from the Irish fishing grounds. This is a fine kind of video game….. Well, the wind is at least backing somewhat. I was just making up my mind to retrieve the anchor when, bang, the rope parted where it was shackled into the chain. However, we retrieved it without difficulty. A great job, but I will have to figure out something better for that rode!

We were able to set out SW now, under storm jib and trysail, with the engine ticking over as well. I wanted it anyway to keep the volts up through the long, pitch dark night, with the bilge pump now on pretty continuously. A great little Jabsco job, that I originally bought for the shower, but which has been faithfully pumping away at my poor old raft for nearly two years now; it was lucky that it could keep ahead of the leaks.

The only other trouble was that the strop at the top of the foremast that holds the pulley for the fore halyard parted, and the jib came down about three feet, where it stuck. I shortened the luff with a life-line and it worked away. We were now doing around 4 knots, gradually coming more to the south as the wind veered east and very slowly moderated. It finished up in the north-east and we were able to swing in towards La Coruña; indeed this was better than trying to run on before the wind for Cape Finisterre. Oh and there was the bit of a knob on the Hydrovane that broke off, so that it couldn't stay engaged, but I cobbled it fairly well with a couple of bolts - and the handle that lost its bucket.

We had to keep on under that rig because the storm jib would not come down. This got to be annoying as we ended up with a head wind coming into the Ria; good job it was no longer strong. I wound the jib round the fore-stay and wrapped it up with the spinnaker halyard as best I could. If that strop had broken at the beginning of the storm with a big jib up, the consequences do not bear thinking about; it goes to show the value of changing sails in good time! We found a quiet anchorage early in the morning just above the big quays at the mouth of El Ferrol, outside a couple of fishing boats in the Ensenada de Cariño. Later on, in bright sunshine, we steamed up to Sada, and Paco and his mate came and sorted out the jib.

The offending strop (with the handle that lost its bucket).

Anna landing, (and the storm jib still up).

It’s great to be back in Spain. Now all’s in order, and actually the damage was very slight, though we’ve a bit more work to do on the rig on Monday morning. I’ve had loads of sleep and a shower; the wind is SW and quite strong, it’s good writing weather! After Tuesday, the wind is supposed to be NE again, but with high pressure and sunshine. Let’s hope it is! But though the leaks have slowed down, we’ll have to take it handy going south, and it looks as though the Anna M will have to end up on the land rather than that mooring, and I’ll have to see if  I can manage a proper job on the hull.

As for the rest of it, Anna was brilliant, she would put many fellas to shame, and so is the AIS; thanks again to Anto and to John who got me fixed up with! To me, it pointed up a broader lesson. The world is no place for buccaneers any more, a static given back-drop where we can just go on doing our thing and to the Devil with the rest. Like those Brexiteers, we must realise that if we go on being buccaneers, we also go down the road of running over the weak, even bombing cities and aborting babies in order to ‘do our thing’. But there is a clear alternative, in which we are called upon to join the dance of dynamic interplay, difficult and trying as this may sometimes be; actually we may call it civilisation. It involves talking to the other guy, yes, those ghastly things like soft power and communication. It involves risk and giving some things away, the track of a good fishing tow for instance; it involves winning friends and getting the other guy to respond; but that actually is the famous Catholic Civilisation of Love, and the good news is, it’s fun!

Sunset after storm, off the Costa do Muerte.