Jonas and Gabby the temporary crew of Sulis decided to make the boat trip with us over to Oama. So up early and ready by 8am Jack picked us up and off we headed in a little low tin boat out of the bay and back into the reasonably flat ocean.

Jack sped along, I sat on the bench seat between Jack and Craig with only a little ledge under the seat to hold on to, it wasn't too bumpy much more comfortable than I feared it would be. Jonas and Gabby sat in the bow.

Flying along below huge vertical cliffs we were treated to seeing the coastline from close up.  There were rock shelves where the swell had pounded the rocks for millennium. We stopped in at a huge rock formation with an oval mouth ten feet tall and thIs is the vagina Jack laughed, the penises are around there and this is the vag. It took Gabby a few minutes to realise he was serious.

We pulled into a deep cliff valley with lots of sea birds flying above us.

Pulling into the bay we had to negotiate another surging concrete harbour wall to climb out onto shore.  Jack had to tie up his tinny to a floating buoy, he then had to jump in the water and swim ashore, his packet of tobacco in his mouth !! 

We walked the same street as yesterday but this time the shop was open. There is no atm but the supermarket is happy to give us cash out.

The supermarket was surprisingly well stocked. We picked up a few onions, some carrots, a block of Bega cheese unrefrigerated but there was a couple of fancy French cheeses in the fridge.

We grabbed a made up ham and cheese baguette, but there were no baguettes left in the box.

I was relieved to see Craig had picked up one of the rolls when we first walked in as they were all gone by the time we walked out. I have no idea how much all these things cost but I know we paid a small fortune for them and the cash out.

We kept walking for a good half hour and turning up a small track, after climbing up a steep muddy path we eventually arrived at the petroglyphs, ancient rock carvings in stone, apparently the warriors used these rocks to sharpen their spears and carved among other things a tuna and a boat into the hard rock.

It was very hot muddy and lots of mosquitoes. We passed a pig in a cage being fattened up ready for slaughter.

Unfortunately the museum was closed but we did talk to a couple of ladies who were painting tree bark with traditional designs, when we said we were from Australia they were disappointed we couldn't buy anything but they understood we can't take any kind of wood home with us.

We bought some honey off a local trader and had a look at an enclosure filled with vanilla plants growing, with the pods laid out drying in the sun, it all smelt divine.

We had spoken to Jack about tattoos and we stopped in at home where a young guy covered in blocks of tattoos (not very nice ones) offered to come to the other harbour and give Craig one the next day. We declined the offer, he seemed like he was a bit drug addled, not quite what we were looking for.

We picked up a box of large pink ripe mangos picked straight from the huge huge tree.

On our way back we stopped at the supermarket to buy a cold beer where jack was admonished by other locals for drinking outside in the middle of the day.

We decided not to go to the one food outlet the snack shack and to just head back.

But then we did have to sit for half an hour at the dock under a shady tree to wait for the tide to turn.

We were exhausted and it was only 3pm.

The next day Craig and I had a rest day it had been exhausting going ashore2 days in a row after doing nothing for 29 days. It rained most of the day and we had some boat jobs to do.

We decided it was time to move on, we had spent enough money in this town, after some research we concluded that we had actually paid too much for the car drive over the mountain.

 The other interesting thing that we would miss out on doing,  was a hike up the mountainside to a signed turn off and a climb through the jungle to a waterfall, Miles and Colette had done it, they said it was spectacular but a muddy treck and after it had rained so much yesterday it was going to be even muddier.

We upped anchor and headed back out to sea, it was only a short 2 hour sail to the island of Tauata.

 An easy sail brought us between the islands and rounding the corner, we were on the leeward side of the island and the swell dropped considerably.

Time for a swim, we had been told to look out for manta rays and reef sharks in the stunning crystal clear aquamarine waters, and sure enough as Craig set to work cleaning the hull, I lowered my self slowly into the 35c water, I must have had a hot core temperature because it felt refreshing at first but after a while I could feel how warm it was. 

I could see lots of little fish (I had on my rather childish, daggy full face snorkel) and looking to the bottom I saw one!! a black tipped reef shark, apparently they are harmless!! but a shark is a shark and I was brought up on the movie JAWS I couldn't help it, i climbed out very quickly, of course it had disappeared when craig went to look for it.  

We did see a manta ray its rounded grey wings ruffling the surface of the water, churning the water so you could see something was there but it didn’t fly out or show its face. 

On our 30 day passage we had gone through a bloom of barnacles.

Bunches of shells and long goose neck barnacles clung to the hull and a greenish yellow slime joined them on the waterline, making Adriana look like she had been abandoned in a marina for years.

We had been told that 48hrs in Fatu Hiva and the barnacles would be gone but that didn't seem possible the hull was covered. But sure enough, they were gone all eaten off by something either a fish or even crabs as we had seen tiny red crabs scuttling over our back step, but there was no sight of what had eaten them. All that was left to do was the green slime to be cleaned off. 

Craig set to work on the hull and I got out the stainless steel polish to take the rust off all the cleats stanchions and hand rails. It was incredibly hot. But a lovely calm bay with clear water.

Our next stop was just an overnight stop we didn't go ashore, well I didn't but Craig took the dingy with all our 30 days rubbish and dropped it in a skip bin next to the dingy dock. I think we did very well, only one bag. The idea is to open the cans (including beer cans) and drop them overboard, they will rust away. Smash the bottom of jars and bottles, they came from sand anyway. And anything organic including paper towels went overboard too. Anything smelly, such as meat wrappers was stuffed into a drink bottle with the lid on tight to hold in the smell.

There was a small mini mart and Craig picked up a fresh crisp baguette such luxury.

It was a beautiful natural bay, I read it was a volcanic crater, with steep mountains all-round, this is the most populated island but apart from a petrol station and the mini mart everything else was a bit of a hike away up a steep gradient. 

So we didn't see much point in going ashore

The anchorage was very tight, all the boats were extremely close together, even though we were tucked in behind a breakwall we didn't feel quite right. 

Lifting the anchor early the next morning we were on the move again, deciding not to stay but to head to the next island Nuku Hiva.

 

Fatu Hiva French Polynesia

Arriving in a new country on your own boat, under your own navigation is always a buzz, doing so after 29 days at sea, is next level excitement !!!

And this iconic,  first anchorage in French Polynesia didn't disappoint, it's stunning.
Once we had spotted land at sunrise on our 29th day on the ocean, it seemed to take hours to get close. 

Because the island has a great height it was visible from so much further away.

We pulled in the sails and started the engine oomph who cares about saving fuel, let's just get there.  The seas had been big and rolly overnight and as we had slowed down so that we could arrive in daylight, it had been quite uncomfortable and neither of us had had much sleep.

Motoring slowly into the bay there were a handful of cruisers already anchored there, we motored in and chose a spot not too far out the back but not up the front either, we originally anchored in around 30mt depth but upped the anchor and moved into the bay a bit further,  sitting in 20mt we put out 90 Mt of chain, this is the deepest anchorage we have ever anchored in.

The original name for this bay is Baie de Penis because there are several towering rock formations that, really do look like penises.  But when the missionaries came, they did not like the name and renamed it to “Baie des Vierges” which is translated to “Bay of Virgins.”  The Marquesan name for this bay is “Hanavave.”
We dropped the anchor, and first things first we messaged family that we had arrived safely, and after a thirst quenching beer, I went to have a sleep and Craig pottered around tidying up.

After a couple of hours I woke feeling a bit more refreshed, although sticky and yuck, it's 30c and it seems to rain every 20 minutes,  so its very humid too.

We winched the dingy off the deck, added the outboard motor and climbed in for a quick look around the bay.  We stopped to chat to a Canadian boat from Montreal who had arrived an hour or so before us, its always fun to share the experience and compare notes.
We didn’t go ashore but did check out the dingy dock that we would use tomorrow.

Up early,  we had showers and a quick breakfast, we had the last of the round muffin type rolls that Craig had made on passage, we toasted them, with butter and Promite, I had Vegemite, delicious.

The dingy dock was frightening, all high  concrete and surging waves. I'm uncomfortable getting in and out of the dingy when its an almost level dock and with no swell.
We had to manoeuvre past the local boats that were tethered in front and also with a stern anchor thrown out the back, lifting one of the lines over our heads so we could get in close.

So with the dingy along side the concrete dock I had to judge the swell, keep my balance while standing on the slippery side of the dingy and chamber up the green slimy wall. Not to mention the shiny black crabs scuttling out of my way. I did successfully manage not to fall in or injure myself, not even a scraped shin.

Walking up a concrete road we were passing pretty coloured houses, big gardens full of trees and flowers and the smell of the earth and frangipani was beautiful.
There were a couple of Toyota 4wheel drives and kids on push bikes milling around.
The first thing we did was hand over a large bag of the yellow fin tuna we had caught on passage to the first random person we encountered, a middle aged lady waiting at the dock ?

I hope she understood that the fish was fresh, they speak French and their own Marqueses language, and we have neither language.  

We made the mistake of forgetting to download French on off-line google translate, so we did what we could using pigeon English/French and lots of hand gestures.

Walking up the road we came upon a little shop, a lady came out of the house opposite and asked if we needed fruit.  We walked into her yard she had bananas and pampelmouss (grapefruit) we gestured that we were going for a walk and would come back later.
We had a look in the shop, it was quite well stocked with all the  basics including breakfast cereals, tinned French butter, a few freezers full of meat and frozen goods.
Onions and potatoes were the only veggies we could see.
We said Merci and stepped outside the shop.

"You need fruit?" Asked a smiling, thin wiry man wheeling a wheelbarrow with 2 eskys in it.
Yes we do ! and we would like to go to the other village too, we replied.
Just as a Toyota pulled up at the shop.

After much smiling, broken English and gestures the plan was that would accompany Jack to his home to see what he had and then his sons- wife's - father would pick us up and drive us the 14km to Oama.

Taking a side road we walked with Jack and his wife, who had a bit more English, on reaching the end of the concrete road we kept climbing the hill until we reached their cottage. We would never have kept walking beyond the road if we weren't with them.
We were greeted by numerous mango coloured dogs, including a couple of very cute puppies
Open door and windows,  fibro cement, with colourful curtains i would have loved to see inside their home.

Their youngest son was working undercover in a lean too, off from the house. I headed over there to see what he was creating. He was carving the most beautiful timber tikis.
I didn't remember his name but he is the youngest of 3 brothers and lives on the island, the eldest brother lives in France and the other one in Tahiti.
There is only a small elementary school on Fatu Hiva and the children are sent away to school after that. They stay in dormitories on Hiva Oa for middle school and then go to high school in Papeete, Tahiti.  I think a lot of them return when it's time to settle down and have a family, that is what the youngest boy has done.

I stood chatting to the mum about families, meanwhile Craig had followed Jack and the dogs up into the bush.

The 4wheel drive arrived and Craig and Jack returned from what Craig told me was an epic hike up through the jungle. Carrying 2 papayas, a bunch of red chilli's, a heap of pampelmouss, a few passionfruit and a bunch of yellow ripe bananas and a bunch of green bananas.  We arranged to leave our bounty there and pick it up on our return.

The drive was spectacular like something out of Jurassic Park and lord of the rings !!!

Huge black rock formations, millions of mango trees, coconut palms and other colourful tropical vegetation.
All very green, spectacular and beautiful. And a few mountain goats.

The drive to the next village turned out to take a lot longer than we thought, the road was incredibly steep, with razor switchbacks.  The car was in 4wheel drive most of the way and literally had to stop and do a 3 Point turn to get around some of the corners.  Our driver was lovely and stopped often encouraging us to get out and take photos.
It took us over an hour to drive 14km.
My ears popped twice, we were so high after being at sea level for so long.

Back into normal drive once the road became concrete again we decended into the larger settlement on the island.
Nestled in a deep valley, you can see why they settled there, it is so rugged and mountainous all around,  and this valley ends in a black sand beach.

We stopped at the community open ground surrounded by open air pavillions to check out the different rock carved tikis.
This is where they hold traditional gathering, hukas and I guess the market when the cruise ship comes in.
Each island takes turn holding a interisland gathering, Fatu Hiva held one in 2022.

There is no airstrip nor do any regular interisland ferries come here,  only a monthly supply ship and a seasonal smallish cruise ship.

We walked up the main road, well there is only one road, passing the catholic church and small neat houses with fenced yards and huge gardens, I'd say each one has at least one mango tree. We passed the soccer pitch, the only restaurant and two supermarkets, which were all closed.  Turns out today being the 1st of May is a public holiday, we never, get it right we always end up onshore on a weekend or a holiday.

Still it was lovely to walk around and see the pretty village.

On the drive back, we stopped and our driver jumped out and picked us another 6 pampelmouss, from a tree at the side of the road, he explained in broken English this was his family's land and they don't live here but harvest and sell the produce.

Arriving back at Jacks house after we had had an incredible drive through the most stunning island., we knew we had to pay and we had read that we could pay with US dollars turns out we didn't have enough, silly us hadn't asked the price beforehand. Oops

Anyway we negotiated with the family and yes we could go to the atm tomorrow back in Oama. It was all a bit awkward at first but we left all smiling as we had worked out a payment plan.

We chose to go by boat this time to experience the rugged coastline close up. Jack would take us in the family skiff.

Jack walked down to the dock with us, wheeling his wheelbarrow full of our plunder.

It was decided that Jack would jump in our dingy so he could see where Adriana was out in the bay ready for tomorrows pick up.
We shared a beer with Jack before Craig took him back to land.
We swapped 10 beers for our fruit.

Jack finished the cold beer we gave him and had started on the warm ones.  Afterwards we laughed, how come we end up the the cagey alcoholic man, not the Christian generous ones we had read about.

We finished the day by having a drink and sharing our day plus going over our experiences on passage with our New Zealand friends on their boat Sulis, who had arrived that morning after their 30 days at sea.  It was a big day ...

Scotland my homeland

SCOTLAND

Many of my friends know I was born in Scotland and my parents emigrated to Australia, dragging along my younger brother Steven and myself with promises of sunshine and beaches.

We were born in Dunfermline, Fife. "The ancient Capital of Scotland", this was in the late 70’s, I was 15 and Steven 12. 

We lived in Dunfermline until I was about 8 then we moved to a brand new house in Bonnyrigg Midlothian 15km outside of Edinburgh about a half hour drive over the Forth Road Bridge. 

I have not been back to see my homeland and I have family (my godparents) that I’m really close to, so when we couldn’t get to the UK with Adriana but landed in Portugal we felt we were almost there, well at least on the right side of the world, and I was desperate to go visit. 

We chose a boatyard in Faro where we were able take Adriana out of the water for some minor repairs and a new bottom paint job, we chose Faro because of the low cost and the added bonus that there is an international airport close by. 

 

Faro is a popular destination from the UK with Ryanair, Jet2.com and Easyjet all constantly flying in and out ferrying British holidaymakers, so the flights were cheap, ha ha but never as cheap as you think, by the time you have to choose your seat, take insurance etc it all adds up but still way cheaper than anything in or out of Oz. 

We didn’t realise how easy getting to the airport was going to be.... It is literally a 20 minute walk to the bus station, then a €4 bus ride to the airport. We did the trip to the airport the day before just to make sure we had the details correct and to suss out the PCR testing for the morning.

Talking to the testing staff we decided to take the test there and then, that was easier and still within the 72 hours allowed. A few weeks beforehand we had received word that we could apply for an EU digital Covid Vaccination Passport, (after being vaccinated in Dutch Sint Marten)

My one had come through early in the week but there was some frantic emails to get Craigs sorted, it literally came through the night before we left. 

So with our negative results in hand we left Adriana locked up in the yard and sprinted off to the bus station, everything went smoothly and we arrived with plenty of time for a coffee and some breakfast, Craig enjoyed the English Cafe “sausage and egg roll”, I don’t think he wanted to share it but at €8 we weren’t buying two, plus we are going to the UK there are sure to be lots of good sausages. Our Australian dollar us literally half of the value of the British pound so a $16 roll.

The trip was quite emotional for me, I have dreamed of this for so long so it’s no surprise I was crying on and off the whole flight, I was "going home"  You should have seen me going through passport control, I decided to use my Australian passport as I really didn’t want to confuse things with boats and borders and Covid, I felt it was best to keep everything the same as Craigs.

My Australian passport wouldn’t scan and I had to go to the desk.

The poor man that got me, he actually said “Welcome Home”, he said he was from Fife too, “but why wasn’t I using my British Passport” After the welcome home I was greeting like a wee bairn. (Crying like a mad woman actually) Through my tears I tried to explain I was on a boat and with Covid and Schengen I thought it best, but I think I was crying so much he had no idea what I was talking about - so he just waved me through. 

My Dads brother my - Uncle David, my Auntie June and cousin Lisa were all there to meet us, wow it was a surreal feeling. 

The still dark morning air was a bit cooler than what we had left behind but it wasn’t as cold as expected. David and June live in Clackmannan a little town between Edinburgh and Glasgow, very close to Alloa close to the city of Stirling. 

The whole countryside is seeped in history and the locals take it for granted that there is a humongous castle, a monument to King Wallace and a strange standing stone beside an ancient clock tower to name a few things, there was a bit of Hadrians wall somewhere in there too all in less than a 25km radius. 

On one of our walks we visited Clackmannan Tower that is next to " The stone"  

The stone or Clack was sacred to the pre-Christian deity Mannan a unique relic of pagan times, it’s been moved from its original location but that was in 1833 !!. There is also the Clackmannan...... within sight of Stirling Castle.

the Clack of man 

Then Craig and I had a few days staying in the Laird and Dog hotel in Lasswade, this is where I went to primary school, I didn’t realise how very beautiful the area was, well I knew it was special but it’s really a lovely place. 

My primary school was built in 1843.  That’s around the time of the gold rush in Australia. 

It has now been converted into flats, but the original building is still the same, it’s set on top of a hill with the river Esk running below, we had to walk over the river and up the hill to the school.

My house was only a few minutes walk from where the walkway down the hill towards the primary school emerged, it’s really @#$& steep I made Craig follow me up the brae regaling him with tales of my childhood, in Winter when it snowed we would have the best fun sliding doon the brae but the climb home could be a bit precarious especially where the snow had turned to ice, we had to cling to the walls and scramble our way back up. 

My old childhood home just looked exactly the same, the street hadn’t changed and I wondered if anyone living there would remember the Archibald’s, you know the folk that emigrated to Australia. 

The old pub we stayed in was quite a treat, old wooden panelled walls with huge old oil paintings, a winding timber staircase led upstairs, our room opened on to the street with the double decker buses having a birds eye view into the room as they trundled past. 

One of my fondest memories from Lasswade Primary was visiting the graveyards behind the school for art classes (we were allowed to make etchings of the stones)and learning that these kirks were where graverobbers would steal the recently deceased bodies and sell them to Edinburgh University for the medical students to study. 

We spent a lovely afternoon wandering up past the school and through the graveyard examining all the headstones, there is even a knight ensconced in a small private chapel. 

A few days earlier we had visited Stirling Castle with David and June, Lisa and Brodie, while we were wandering through the graveyard there a local guide came up to us and showed us some points of interest, wow was he good, we learnt what a lot of the symbols engraved in the headstones meant and he even pointed out holes from muscat shots on the church walls and in the headstones in front of said walls, from a battle, 

Lisa literally stuck her finger in a bullet hole from the 1600’s. So with this little bit of knowledge we were able to look for the symbols and appreciate the stonemasons craftsmanship a little bit more. 

Craig finally had his full Scottish breakfast with haggis and tatie scones but we actually wished we hadn’t had it included in the tariff as after the first morning the novelty wore off and we struggled to eat that much food again, luckily they had a smaller version. 

We also sampled their locally sourced pork sausages and ta da their steak and Guinness pie. 

Covid has definatly changed everything, we sat downstairs in the bar a couple of times and everyone said hello but we all kept the to social distancing rules and never really got into conversation with the locals.

Only one man came and gave us his card, he works as a tour guide in Edinburgh grey hair, kilt and all, can’t blame him for trying to rustle up some business. 

Edinburgh was only a short bus ride away, even though Lasswade and Bonnyrigg are etched in my memory I had no recollection of the roads to and from the city. We sat up top and front of the double decker bus just for the fun of it, Edinburgh is a beautiful city shadowed by the imposing Castle. 

As a 13-14 yr old I remember exploring the Royal Mile the ancient cobblestoned road leading up the the castle it has many small side lanes and Braes that haven’t changed over the hundreds of years, the tourist shops certainly have though, I was brought to tears again by a piper busking on a corner, it’s in my blood to feel so strongly about the sound of the bagpipes. 

Our budget didn’t stretch to pay to enter every castle we encountered we gave Edinburgh Castle a miss, skipped going in to Stirling castle but couldn’t resist seeing what all the fuss is about at Rosalyn Chapel and I’m so glad we did, this is the one that’s in Greg Browns Davinchi Code.. 

We visited family, spent lots of time drinking cups of tea and sharing meals.  David and June booked us all into a airb&b in the highlands so we had a trip to Loch Lomond, Loch Ness and the Cairgorms.  We had a day trip to Ben Nevis.

It was a great break from sailing and so exciting to see my family and Scotland again.

But our time was running out and it was time to head back to Adriana.

Portugal 

We were ok with our decision to head to Portugal it was our original destination before we realised there was another option, the one where we could sail to Scotland. 

We had taken our time enjoying The Azores so we had used up a fair bit of our Schengen time.

The Schengen visa allows non EU visitors 90 days in 180 days, basically 3 months in every 6 months but you have to leave the Schengen area for at least 3 months to reset the clock, Oops

Once we sat down and really thought it through we realised we had stayed 45 days in the Azores and by the time we realised this we had used up another 5 day’s oops our time is running out if we want to see Portugal, Spain, Italy or Greece. 

We had spoken to friends on the yacht Dunracing, they had spent 5 years in the Med and the way they managed it was to fly home every European winter, but for us at the moment with Covid that’s not possible. 

Or they would cross to Tangier or Turkey for winter but at the moment those countries have closed their borders. 

We are feeling a bit panicky at this stage. One thing in our favour is that the lady in the customs office in Horta didn’t stamp our passport when we checked in, we have boat papers and we are listed as crew, this is normal acceptable paperwork used while travelling between Horta and Praia Victoria and we were given a departure form when we left the Azores so we had proof of our last port. 

That’s needed these days with Covid so we are right to enter Portugal. 

When we checked into Cascais/Portugal we had to ask that they stamp our passports, so hopefully when we fly out, the stamp on our passport will be the only thing airport customs look at.

But first we had to play a bizarre game of frogger, crossing the very busy shipping lanes that were full of  huge container ships pouring in and out if the Mediterranean.

On our approach to Portugal we were greeted by high rise buildings and suburbs, something we hadn’t encountefor a very long time.

Cascais was such a shock to our senses, it’s the middle of Summer, the middle of school holidays “peak season” and the place is hootching, turns out it’s a favourite holiday destination for Portuguese locals, as well as international tourists. So for the first time in years we were amongst crowds of people. To minimize our risk we kept to ourselves while out walking donning our masks even when outside in the more crowded laneways. Masks are compulsory in shops and on public transport. 

The anchorage is huge with a nice sand bottom, so good holding, our view is very pretty we are sitting in front of a very beautiful white sand beach and there is a huge long concrete promenade littered with cafes and restaurants , stretching  all the way along the coast to the next town. Everyday there are numerous games of soccer and volleyball on the beach.

High rise flats dot the horizon behind the shops and main town. 

The water is a chilly 17c and we are bemused by the crowds that pile onto the beaches everyday sunbrellas and windshields in hand. The water is chilly but it doesn’t stop the holiday makers paddling, swimming, snorkeling, jet skiing, water skiing, windsurfing you name it, it’s a very busy place. The paved streets are crowded, the extended outdoor dining spaces don’t help its bedlam. 

We hear a few English and Irish accents but it’s mostly Portuguese families on vacation. 

The town is very pretty just like the Azores the streets and even some of the roads are all paved with square cream blocks interceded with grey or black patterns some of them quite intricate. Where the paths have been heavily treaded  over the years the stones are shiny and very slippery, along with the unevenness , It makes for treacherous  sightseeing.

Cascais is only a 20 minute train ride into Lisbon so we take the opportunity to visit the capital city, there is no social distancing on the train but everyone is masked up.

 

We loved Lisbon wandering through the narrow cobbled, paved streets, then finding ourselves in big open squares lined with cafes and restaurants overshadowed with huge statues, archways and churches. We walked through the old part of the city, climbing stairs and up steep pathways until we reached the São Jorge Castle up on top of the capital city.  Enjoying the view looking over the terracotta tiles roofs and whitewashed buildings, we walked back down through the narrow streets of the old city.

We did a second excursion by train to Cinta Palace, taking the public bus halfway  up and walking the rest. Cinta Palace is like something out of a fairytale but it was hard for us to trapsing through the narrow hallways and rooms surrounded by so many people, we really aren't used to the crowds.

It’s time to get moving, we had met Steve and Helen New Zealanders sailing on Cerulean, and following their social media posts we decided to head towards Portamao and maybe haul out and fly to Scotland. We don’t have any charts or books on Portugal to give us information, we have the maps and what we need for navigation on the chart plotter and an app called Navionics or Active Captain gives us an indication and sometimes a small description on where to anchor but word of mouth is the best way to find out where to stop on our way down the coast. .  

We visuted so many different anchorages, all different towns some had easier shore acces and some were harder, most were only a day sail in between. We took our time discovering old churches, more cobbled streets, local cafes selling " Portuguese tarts, and we stumbled upon a fresh produce market and bought the most beautiful olives marinated in olive oil, lemon oregano and just a hint of garlic, a bag of homegrown oregano to sprinkle on some homegrown tomatoes, I just love oregano and I have discovered it’s delicious sprinkled on top of toasted ham and cheese sandwiches. ...

We also stumbled across numerous butchers with pork still being the cheapest,  but reasonable prices for chicken and beef, lamb is still expensive but more affordable than anywhere we have been so far. 

I did get very upset walking through the fish markets, so so many dead fish how does the sea sustain all this fishing 

On our sail from to Horta we had problems winding in the furling main and it got caught inside and doubled over on its self but this time we didn’t have Adam and Khiara there to help us, luckily we were in a very quiet protected, very still anchorage so Craig had to spend half the day winched up the mast undoing the mess. Without the extra hands it was me who had to run between the electric winch and the manual winder on the mast pulling the sail in and out, then changing the ropes and engaging the winch to hoist Craig up bit by bit as he freed the folded sail. My part was easy, I wasn’t sitting up there hanging on with my legs wrapped around a mast. 

There are always afternoon trade winds and we just managed to unfurl the whole thing as the wind picked up, there were a few scary moments as we started to sail while on anchor but the breeze made the furling in of the sail that much easier, by keeping it billowed out as we reeled it in. 

Even on a cloudy day we can see Morocco.

Do you know how exciting that is, unfortunately Morocco’s borders are still closed, which is unfortunate as that is where we would have headed to, to reset the Schengen clock, a quick sail over to a secure marina to live for a few months then when the time is right head into the Mediterranean. 

So on we sailed down the Portuguese coast, taking in the rugged coastline, lined with stunning caves and sometimes quite isolated beaches, turning the corner into the Algarve we were hit by a sudden gust that almost knocked us over with kabatic winds blowing from the mountains to the sea.

Once we righted ourselves and trimmed the sails in a bit we sped along, in wonder at the incredible smells coming off the land, it smelt like warm dry earth, thick and musty it smelt like what I imagine Africa would smell like and Africa is not far away across the water but the wind was coming off Portugal in totally the opposite direction.

Into the Algarve, we anchored in Portama and caught up with Jackson a friend of a friend who had moved to Portamao from Ireland to live.  Craig had a hankering for fish and chips, and being quite an English holiday destination Jackson took us to his favourite English restaurant, the meal was served with mushy peas and was really good. 

After a few days exploring the area with our Aussie friends Scott and Deb who we had spent time with in the Azores, we upped anchor and headed for Culatra. 

Culatra is a beautiful part of Portugal, and very quiet, hardly any international tourists, mostly Portuguese.

Our destination was Bruce's Yard a haul outyard in Faro.  The yard is located right up inland on the  Faro River.  We had to navigate our way up this windy river and a motor boat met us and guided us into the warf where we would be hauled out.