Homeward Bound

We spent our last day in Monastir preparing Common Sense for a little rest, cleaning and securing everything and locking her up safely. Then, after completing the last few stages of the complex process of visa acquisition, we were off on a three hour train ride to Tunis, Tunisia's capital. We spent a couple of days there - and what a fantastic city it is, with the best of modern Europe and ancient Arab culture side by side. When we finally located it, the Bardo museum was a stunning highlight - a beautiful exhibition space filled with Roman mosaics and the few precious artefacts that survived the burning of nearby Carthage.

There's that Neptune bloke again

 

Then at last, after a year and ten months away, it was time to head for home. We boarded the Qatar Airways flight to Dohar (about five hours) then changed over for the ten hour flight to Perth. We were pretty impressed with the service on Qatar, especially their care and attentiveness when I managed to faint a couple of hours into the second leg. I recommend passing out as an effective, though slightly extreme, way to get a nice lie down if you're fed up with being cramped in your seat. The less said about the waiting lines in Customs in Perth Airport, the better, apart from the fact that it puts a serious dampener on your excitement at coming home, and must create a rotten first impression of Australia for new arrivals. This was sad, as the Brits on board had been just about orgasmic at the prospect of 24 degrees at 6pm in the evening.

 

Fortunately we discovered that our passports had microchips and we could go through the self-check-in, leaving all the other poor passengers seething in their endless slow-motion queues. The it was out into the clear air and the lovely balmy evening. In spite of the slightly jarring discovery that I'd let my driving licence lapse, our car-hire proceeded smoothly and off we went, back on the left hand side like we'd never had to change.



It was a very weird feeling to be driving through a familiar cityscape where we felt like strangers - tourists in our own home town. But I'll save the Australian travelogue for the next blog. It really is great to be back!

 

Ponton Deux

How fortunate we were to end up on Ponton #2 at Cap Monastir with all the live-aboard French families. There is always some interesting project underway, whether it’s Olivier constructing his own fibreglass dinghy, Laurent repairing sails, Giles building new cupboards, Christine’s awesome sewing or even the children’s projects ; and these are not just building sessions, they are social events with much conferring, lending of materials and offering of advice, not to mention regular breaks for food and drinks. DIY skills are taken for granted – it seems to be the mark of a real French sailor to be able to make or fix anything yourself.

 

It’s also a matter of pride to be able to cook, and we have been privileged to sample the wonderful dishes that issue constantly from tiny boat galleys and grills – tartes, crepes and gateaux as well as great salads, fish dishes and pasta. Last Sunday’s cook-out on Ponton Deux saw us feasting on ourcins (sea urchins which Guy and Giles had dived for that morning) and seches (cuttlefish cooked with peppers and pasta) followed by crepes doused in delicious home-made orange liqueur. And several bottles of wine, of course. We contributed fennel and artichokes grilled in the delicious local olive oil – thankfully these passed the required culinary standards and were pronounced ‘tres bons’.

 

Last week we took the train to Mahdia and toured the huge Friday market with Olivier and Lauren. I bought a much-needed warm blanket for 15 dinar (it even has special symbols to ward off the Evil Eye) and our friends picked up a good sewing machine for 70 dinar, after a bit of gentle haggling. We also bought loads of dried fruits and nuts, including some black figs which are brushed with olive oil before sun-drying, and are totally delicious, especially stuffed with walnuts and fresh cheese. Mahdia has a spectacular old cemetery spreading over the cliffs on a high peninsula, and a fishing boat harbour carved out of the limestone rock below it. We wandered through the town and enjoyed a very good lunch of fresh fish, chicken and cous-cous (along with all the usual extras of bread, harissa, olives etc etc) at El Moez restaurant, before taking the train back to the marina.

Well it’s just a week now until we head home, and we’re so looking forward to seeing everyone. Just don’t expect to see the trim, taut figures who completed the Atlantic crossing – as you can tell from this post, we’ve been eating a little too well for that!

Beer Review #8 [Terry]

 

Monsieur le Capitaine has been hard at it, sampling brews for your edification:

 

 

Cergal

http://www.ratebeer.com/beer/cergal/10094/

 

Same people who brew Sagres in all its permutations.  Cheap Dutch style pale lager.

Nice cold

Cruzcampo

This is a great beer, and a source of great pride to Andalusians and other Spanish to a lesser extent.  Cold it is superb and in a big glass goes down well.  Always opt for ‘Grande’ when asked as a ‘Pequeño’ is way too little to do anyone any good.

From Wiki:-

Cruzcampo Brewery

Cruzcampo is considered to be the biggest beer producer in Spain. Founded in 1904 by Roberto Osborne and Agustín Osborne in Seville, takes the name of La Cruz del Campo (The Cross of the Field), which used to be a cross in the middle of the field, which still stands today next to the brewery in Seville.^[22]

Nowadays it is part of the Heineken corporation who bought it from Guinness, however Spanish people, especially Southerners, regard Cruzcampo as the national pride and is the most consumed. Cruzcampo can be found anywhere in Spain, but it is in Andalusia where it is most consumed. It has breweries in Seville, Madrid, Valencia, Jaén and Arano. The actual logo is the figure of Gambrinus, who is the legendary creator of beer, since 1926. Before it was the original cross in the field.^[23]

Beers also made:

• Cruzcampo: Pilsen type
• Cruzcampo Shandy: beer with lemonade (similar to the German Radler)
• Cruzcampo Export
• Cruzcampo Alcohol Free
• Big Cruzcampo
• El León
• Krone Lager
• Spieler Pils

Mahou / San Miguel

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mahou-San_Miguel_Group

 

Mahou is OK stuff.  Perhaps a little like Bintang but not quite as sweet, just headed in the same direction.  I didn’t try the San Miguel, as I wrongly assumed it was simply the Philippines beer I already knew.  However, I now know it is not, it is a Spanish beer – it came out of the Manila Agreement signed between the two breweries in the early 50s.

 

San Miguel

I have now tried San Miguel.  It is the same as San Miguel in Asia.  Which I like no matter which side of the world I’m on.

 

Flag Speciale

This is a Moroccan beer and is brewed in Fes, where all great Moroccan craftsmen come from.  Comes in small bottles where we are (240ml).  5.2%.  Not bad stuff at all.  I don’t know how much it cost because it was tied up in our supermarket purchase/s of 2 cartons of long life milk, 3 packets of potato chips and 4 bottles of Flag.  All up it was $11.99 so I don’t think they cost that much.

Stork

This is supposedly Morocco’s premier beer.  It’s not bad but a little sweet for me and for mine Flag is better.  Nowhere near as crap as VB but not something I’d chase down.  Pity, I’ve got a carton to get through.

 

John Smith Extra Smooth

On tap here in Gib.  Nice but not a lot of flavor – more a publican’s beer, as you could down three or four and they still wouldn’t be in danger of serving an intoxicated person.

 

Old Speckled Hen

This is an old favourite of mine – Carey Park Liquor Store always has it in cans but at Australian prices.  Here in Gibraltar, even with their more-than-Spanish prices it was only about a £ for a half or about $2.00.

 

Lancaster Bomber

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Thwaites_Brewery

 

Well, I just had to get this one and toast Dad’s weapon of choice.  Perhaps he didn’t quite choose it and just got assigned to it.  Great stuff.  You should read the wiki on the Thwaites family.  Genuine brewers for a couple of hundred years and fighting back against the giants.  They have a strong presence in hotels and supermarkets too.

The ale itself is rich and nutty.  I let it warm a tiny bit as it got a bit too cold in the fridge and it was excellent.

 

Theakston’s Old Peculier.

Like Speckled Hen, one of my favourite British ales.  Could drink this stuff on and on and wouldn’t get bored.  Genuine class act, with richness, caramels and some bitterness.  Good with pies, casseroles and roasts.  Good on its own, too, with bar snacks.

 

Fuller’s London Pride.

We had an electrician on the boat yesterday dealing with all that Dark Arts stuff from Hogwarts.  Comes on the boat as 240, goes through a magic yellow box, turns into 115  but if you turn it off it still comes in as 55 because it’s a something-something-middle-something.  Worked out well because he got a boot part way through and said that despite it hurting he wasn’t dead.  No idea.  Anyway, Jim fixed whatever was ailing the box and told us that as he’s a north Londoner his favourite tipple is London Pride.  Wandered into a restaurant in Casemates Square that very night after seeing Steak and Ale pie on the menu and blow me down there’s London Pride on tap no less.  Had a couple with dinner.  Very nice drop.  Easy to drink with a bit of kick.

 

The Cannon Bar

We had a very tiring day climbing all over this Rock visiting St Michael’s Cave, Jew’s Gate, the Botanical Gardens, the Siege Tunnels and finally the Moroccan Castle.  Damn we walked a passel of miles for sure.

 

Coming down the back lanes and winding roads of Upper Gibraltar we came across “The Cannon” bar.  I was reluctant to stop at first as it is a Fosters branded pub and I thought if someone found out I was Australian I’d be blamed for launching that crap on the English speaking world (someone actually came in while we were there and ordered one!!)

Anyway, I had a John Smith Extra Smooth again and Carol had a Kronenburg.  I’ve had that before, years ago, and found it a bit light.  After our walking, that’s exactly what Carol wanted and she pronounced it suitable for a leg-weary lady on a hot day.  A bit on the flat side but nonetheless refreshing.  From memory it’s about the only French beer I know but I don’t have wiffy so I can’t check it online.

 

I also had a Graymer’s “Olde English” cider, made by people who’ve been making Cider since 1770, or before Australia was found by Cook.  Nice and crisp and very sharp.

 

The bar manager, Matt, was from Northern Ireland and he wrote down somewhere for me to visit when I get there.  Bushmill’s Distillery!  Had to tell him it was already high up on the list as I’ve been a Black Bush drinker for years.  Very nice chappie.  He passed me a bottle of something made in Mexico with no label, only a label around the throat of the bottle.  Says Cerveza, made in Mexico, lists the usual beer ingredients and advises that it’s imported to Spain by Colebrook S.L. into Madrid.  He said he doesn’t know how they get it, it just sort of “appears” and they give it to friends and friends of friends.  I’ll cool it down and drink it after we finish the next leg of the voyage.  Then I had another John Smith Extra Smooth just for fun.

 

Estrella Galicia

What a find this was on a warm and lazy Sunday afternoon in Adra.  This is heading for my new favourite-most beer in the world.  I had two Grande and Carol had two pequeno.  For tapas, I had a potato with herbs and sour cream (magnificent!!) and then a potato salad with tuna mixed through the mayonnaise and a fried pork and chips dish.  Carol had a tapas of a small piece of fried fish with the same sour cream to dip in.  I went to ask the chappy how much and he said €10.  Seriously, for 4 beers, (two large, two small) and 4 tapas dishes - $12 or so.  In the middle of all this we had an interlude with the Guardia Civil, our first brush with the law to date (see the blog for Adra)

Back to the beer – this is excellent on a warm day.  Strong and full of flavor – like a well rounded version of Corona which can be a bit on the weak side depending on the shipment.  Enough almost to make you want to move to Spain.  Apart from the food, the wine, the beaches, the price of apartments, the price of cars..  I could go on. (note:- Corona in Spain is known as Coronita – same beer, though)

 

Alhambra Premium Lager

www.cervezalhambra.es

Made in Granada.  I thought this would be a supermarket beer, brewed to a price not a recipe but it’s actually quite good.  As usual, cheap by the dozen, and a nice drop indeed.

 

Steinburg “Classica”

http://www.fontsalem.com/en/empresa/

 

This one is brewed to order for a supermarket, Mercadona to be precise.  It’s brewed in Valencia.  It’s supposed to look German, with Lions Rampant in the background and Teutonic lettering.  It’s as German as I am.  Don’t know why they can’t call it Valencia and be done with it – the Spanish make decent beer and have nothing to be tipping their hats to the Germans for, even though the Allemagnes do make some of the world’s finest brews.

The company is one of Spain’s biggest brewers and gets most of its business from “Private Labels”.  This sounds cool, like you have your own wine pressing but all it means is that if you are Coles or Woolworths you get to have Coles or Woolworths or anything else you want on the label.

Despite the cool-trendy escapees from the wine appreciation sites who now monopolise the beer sites criticizing it for being mass-market stuff, it’s actually quite good.  I bought a carton, luckily, because we are no longer in Spain and I can’t get it again for a while.

 

Celtia

Société de fabrication des boissons de Tunisie

(that’s just French for “the mob that makes the drinks for Tunisia”)

 

Tunisian beer.  When I first had one I found it very yeasty and because of that a bit amateurish.  However, our local “wifi” restaurant ran out of Becks and only had Heineken and Celtia.  I refuse to drink Heineken with the preservative in it so I had Celtia.  It was actually quite good so I must have had a fresh batch first up.  Had it a few times since then (still no Becks) and don’t mind it at all.

“33”

Société de fabrication des boissons de Tunisie

 

A French beer.  Blonde.  I assumed 33 meant 3.3%.  Silly me – I should have guessed that there is no word in French for Low Alcohol, not a word for Low Fat and no word for Low Carb.  This stuff is 7% and packs a wallop.  Here in the supermarket it’s 1.290TD or 80c for a 210ml can (most of their beers here are in these skinny cans).  Surprise #2 – it’s actually brewed here in Tunisia.  They also brew Becks under licence so they know what they are doing. 

 

SIDE RANT.

The ratings for Celtia include one by one wanker (you’re allowed to use wanker because the WA Supreme Court said so many years ago) who complained that it was the worst beer in the world, then proceeded to qualify this with high-falutin terms that made it sound like he knew shit from clay.

The Beer Review sites are full of these tossers.  They are very similar to the tossers you all know from Wine Appreciation sites – all “floral tones” and “notes of plum” and crap like that, only they don’t know the big words so they just bag everything.  They are the worst put-down sites I’ve ever come across.  If it’s not something from out-there that nobody else has found yet, it’s garbage.  I’d love to meet some of them in a bar one day.  Arnold (the Governator) had a term for them that I won’t repeat here but essentially even at 60 I’d be on the front foot with the insults with little fear of any consequences.

 

A Day Out in Sousse

 

One dinar each gets you a train ride (complete with whistles and uniformed conductors) up the coast to the ancient city of Sousse. Originally Phoenician, this fertile and strategic site has been occupied by the Carthaginians, Romans, Vandals, Byzantines, Arabs, Normans, Arabs again, Spanish, French and again the Arabs. All have left traces, and the place to get a real sense of this is in the huge kasbah and medina of the old city. It's a beautiful structure, with golden sandstone walls that seem to flow in curves over the landscape, contrasting with the angularity of the more modern buildings. The medina has a very lively souk, with just about everything you can imagine for sale. I would so love a pet chameleon (to be named Karma, of course) but I don't know how well they take to life at sea.

 

The museum is a gem: a beautifully designed new building integrated into the old fortress, it houses a display of funeral artefacts from early Christian times and the most awesome collection of Roman mosaics, depicting scenes from myth and especially from everyday life. They are all made painstakingly from natural coloured stone (not glazed ceramics) and you can look at them for hours, noticing more and more little details.

Look again at that first image of Neptune with his sea-horses - did you notice the resemblance?

One mosaic depicts a head of Medusa, and it's displayed with a big overhead mirror - so the viewer doesn't run the risk if being turned to stone! I really enjoyed a huge mosaic showing four famous gladiators, all named, fighting four leopards - also named and, apparently, equally famous. In the middle of the picture is a bloke with a pile of moneybags, which suggests to me that it was the Roman equivalent of World Championship Wrestling.

Unfortunately the Khalef Tower was closed, so we didn't get to experience what must be an incredible view over the harbour and the whole Bay of Hammamet. We've learnt to be philosophical about the arbitrary nature of opening and closing hours in this part of the world - often those frustrating efforts to do one thing turn into interesting adventures doing something else.

We enjoyed a coffee on a lovely broad promenade in the town centre, where a very obliging waiter ran off to a patisserie to get us some cakes when they didn't have any on the menu. Of course we got sold a few things by persuasive (but not aggressive or intrusive) vendors throughout the day - massive lumps of almond toffee and the Tunisian version of Turkish Delight, one of those Arab headscarf thingies that Terry has always wanted, a French dictionary, a few presents, some fruit ...

And finally a pleasant walk to the station along the waterfront at sunset and a crowded, but always interesting, train ride back to our marina.

Blowing a Gale

Nestled in here in our winter haven, shopping and cooking, socialising, tinkering and wandering around the medina, you could almost forget you were living on a boat. Until the weather makes its presence felt, of course. It's now been blowing a gale for 48 hours, with winds 40 - 50 knots inside the marina and over 55 out at sea. Several tonnes of Libya, in the form of fine grit, is coating everything. One of our mooring lines snapped and we're temporarily tied up to the vacant boat next door, until divers can get to the line in the morning; and to make matters worse, all the floating plastic rubbish in the Bay of Hammamet seems to have been blown into a heap at our stern. We're rocking and rolling and the wind is blowing a full orchestra of noises through the mass of masts and rigging in the marina. Yes we're definitely living on a boat - I'm just glad we're safely tied up in here, not out there. Thanks to everyone who gave us the good advice to be in a safe harbour by November!

Mausoleum of Tunisia's first president, at sunset

One of the little things I really enjoy about travelling is the variety of amusing signs and brand names you see everywhere. China was a real treat with Pansy brand men's undies, a vile wine called "Enduring Pulchritude", the endearing little sign that greeted us on a low doorway each morning: "Look Out Knockhead!" and many many more. On this trip, after the slight disappointment that we didn't have time to anchor in El Fartass, I've really appreciated the coffee brands - just finished a pack of "Carrion" from Morocco and now we're into the Spanish with our morning "Bonka". I'll be a bit sorry when that's finished. The Tunisian pack looked promising with its flourish of Arabic script, but I'm told it just means "Grandmother".

The Ribat, visible from everywhere in Monastir. "The Life of Brian" was filmed here.

In good weather it's quite lovely here. I'll do a proper tourist blog shortly - and then it will be time to head home. Buying our tickets tomorrow!

Tunisia: early impressions

Well here we are, thoroughly settled in our winter haven in Monastir, Tunisia. There are about 200 yachts here, many locked up for the off-season, but plenty with folks living aboard. The majority are French cruisers living on very functional boats – not too many luxury craft here, rather, older boats that have been well-used, loved and worked on over the years. On our dock there are three boats with families – seven children makes for a lively and interesting environment. They are very resourceful kids: give them a tub of water and whatever junk they can find on the dock, and they’ll invent a game that can last for hours. Several French stereotypes have been reinforced – a Sunday barbecue with great food and copious amounts of wine; beautiful, elegant women married to men with 'lived in' faces, just like every French comedy you’ve ever seen; the classic shrug, the stinky smokes, the earthy humour. I’m managing to communicate pretty well with the French cruisers and the locals, for whom French is a universal second language. Belated thanks to poor Monsieur Bassett (aka Fred), who managed to teach the language so well that forty years on, it’s all coming back to me. Terry is enjoying his new status as 'Monsieur le Capitaine'.

First sight of land

First impressions of Tunisia are generally positive ones. The weather is great, the beaches are clean and calm – still very swimmable. Local food is good – north African staples enlivened by very fresh seafood and the French influence (good bread, cheese etc) – and the people are friendly and welcoming. Contrary to what we'd been told, wine and beer are readily available, and quite acceptable. The young guys all look like French gangsters from the 60s – skinny trousers, cool jackets, smoke in the corner of the mouth, general insouciance – then it appears they transform into amiable, portly middle-aged blokes with gappy smiles. The women go from gorgeous to invisible – either wrapped and scarved or literally invisible; you simply don’t see them in public. Cafes are full of men, all seated facing the street, smoking, drinking coffee or mint tea and no doubt discussing matters of importance. This is a relatively liberal and tolerant Muslim country, however, and clearly there are many educated women in professional roles.

So far we haven’t done much sight-seeing or cultural stuff, apart from the local medina and a trip to the Saturday market. Great fresh produce, but almost everything else came off a container ship from China, sadly. Tunisian jewellery, ceramics, carpets and textiles are beautiful, but this market was clearly not the place to find them. We’re planning a couple of trips to see Roman ruins and other interesting sites, then it’s home to catch up with everyone over December and January.

Au revoir!

Footnote: Just went to the dentist in Monastir. Check up, X rays and extraction of a rotten wisdom tooth done on the spot, expertly and painlessly. Total costs: 25 Dinar (about $15) for the X ray and 25 Dinar for the consultation. Codeine tablets at the pharmacy: 2.5 Dinar. We've discovered that it is a waste of time worrying about health care overseas - it all seems to be better and cheaper than you imagine (though I'm thankful we didn't need anything major in the USA).

 

Monastir (Terry)

Common Sense has arrived in her winter port of Monastir on the east coast of Tunisia.  It is 28^th October, 2012 and is exactly one year from the day we set out from Mears Point Marina to begin our journey.  We left the marina at 7:40am for the Patuxent River, our first stop.  We arrived off Monastir at around 7:38am today according to the Route map on the chartplotter.  Two minutes short of a year!  Not planned.  We are in the land of Star Wars, near Tatooine (and we did visit the site of  Naboo in Seville) so perhaps Obi-wan Kenobi is using The Force on Common Sense?

Shortly after posting the challenge to Neptune that things were going swimmingly well, last night past Cap Bon, we encountered a severe electrical storm.  Admittedly the brunt of it passed a little behind us but at the time it approached us from the WSW, over the city of Hammamet we could not be sure of the relative speed of it to us.

It was dangerous enough for us to begin immediate preparations for abandoning ship.  We pulled the liferaft out to the main cabin, then the 25 kilo “grab bag” that goes with it.  We gathered the passports and wallets, main computers, iPad, spare credit card and cameras and put them in a dry sack.  Finally we got the lifejackets out and sat and waited to be hit.  It all passed without further incident.  A heavy rain fell but nothing more, just a spectacular light show put on by nature.

From then on we had zero wind, not even an assist.  We motored steadily through the night without seeing a soul.  Not surprising as no one in their right mind would go out fishing with the weather on the way.  We could see violent storms flashing behind us some 60 miles back and were glad we were in the Bay.

Firts sight of Tunisia - Cap Bon

We arrived off Monastir at around 8am and entered the marina looking for somewhere to tie up.  The place is quite full, masts jammed in tight together.   After a couple of unsuccessful forays in and around pontoons, a young man with a motorbike called us over to a berth we hadn’t seen in behind a tourist boat, a replica pirate ship.  We nosed in without incident but I’m not sure I can see how to get out again.  It’s a little on the tight side.

Entering Monastir

Unfortunately for us, our entry has been complicated by two factors.  One is that it is Sunday.  We hadn’t consulted our Day Clock so we were not aware of this, having left Formentera last Monday and losing track of time out on the anchor.  The second factor is that it is the third day of a 3-day Muslim feast and between the two there is zero chance of anything happening.

I wandered over to the Police station on the other side of the quay to check in to Tunisia.  We need visas for here (the policeman apologized for this) where the majority of Westerners don’t.  There is an old quirk that Australians and New Zealanders require them but no one knows why.  It just “is”. I filled in the police forms but we can’t get visa stamps until an office opens.  The police sent a man over to say we should go to the airport to get them as that was open 24/7.  I arranged with a young man in the marina to go on the back of his motorbike in 10 minutes’ time but after 40 minutes and no-show I wandered back over to the Policeman to tell him why I hadn’t returned.  Apparently, everyone had decided that they wouldn’t require us to go all the way to the airport to get the stamps and that we could wait until tomorrow when the office here would be open.  Unfortunately they all forgot to tell me.  No problem.  The young copper hit the nail on the head when he said, “No matter, we have your passports”.  Certainly do, so were not likely to run off.  He had a final question as I left “there’s nothing on board that shouldn’t be there?”   No, no firearms or anything like that, only flares.  There is a certain amount of trust placed in honest exchanges between people and if they had to inspect every boat (as in Cuba!) nothing productive would ever be done.  It’s not something to be dismissed lightly, though, or abused, as I think if you ever did you’d come up on alert flags for ever and a day and that would not be good.

However, we are morally bound to hang around the marina until this gets concluded.  We still have our “Q” flag up and haven’t presumed to run up our Tunisian courtesy flag yet.  I did find the young guy and we snuck off on the bike to a bank in the city to get some money.  An Australian Dollar costs about 1.48 Tunisian Dinar.

The marina is full of cruising boats here for the winter.  There is a group of French cruisers down a little from us on our pier, 4 boats in all, who’ve been cruising in company through the eastern Med.  They have about 6 kids between them all flying around the marina on their bikes letting off steam.  Many boats are at the bottom of the scale in the pretty stakes but even a casual glance says that they are at the top of the scale for being set up for cruising.  There’s a lot of thought gone into what’s being carried in terms of add-ons, in solar panel arrangements, stern anchor reels, cockpit hardware etc.

We beat the weather system by about 4 hours.  It’s closed in behind us now and there is a very strong Westerly wind blowing.  We are glad we are not out there trying to get here, and not back in Sardinia in what was supposed to be 60 knot winds (Beaufort Force 9/10 and even 11 predicted for short periods).

The landscape here is dominated by a castle which is in quite good condition externally – it’s been here for hundreds of years to ward off attacks from Christians in Sicily and elsewhere in Europe.  The coast here has been settled since at least 1,800 years BC and it’s probably been fought over for that long, too.  If we use the Star Wars history timeline, it’s been way, way longer than that, as this is the location of  Tatooine, Luke Skywalker’s birthplace.  It’s quite famous and is much visited.

Restaurant prices are cheap – Chicken Tagine is about TD10 or AU$6.70.  Breakfast today of coffee, croissant, fresh apple and strawberry juice (with chocolate?) plus slices of baguette with butter (you get a whole new pack of butter!) and jam cost about $7 between us.

It looks to be a delightful place so far and we will be allocated a longer term berth in the next couple of days.  It’s such a squeeze here that there is little prospect of wandering out for a day-sail as getting back in would be a nightmare.

 

Old Gods of the Med

Maybe it was the sensory deprivation of several long days at sea, but I looked out at the breaking dawn on Tuesday to see an astonishing cloudscape. A rim of flat grey clouds circled the whole horizon, resembling a vast circular table, and around this conference table, formed from great pillars of white, grey and rose-gold cumulus, sat the whole pantheon of Greek gods. There was Zeus, his great muscular arms raised to wield a thunderbolt; Poseidon with his robes and beard like turbulent waves;  Diana, virginal in wispy white; Bacchus with his crown of vines, raising a cup; Aphrodite leaning back lasciviously, hair tumbling over her generous breasts;  Hades, ominous in billowing  black; Hera, arms folded, frowning regal disapproval on the rest of the gathering …

If I had been an ancient  Mediterranean mariner, I’d have had no trouble believing in the old pagan gods – their presence is everywhere.  The sea is calm as Apollo’s golden chariot rises from the waves and begins its daily journey westwards. With little warning the dark clouds pile up; Zeus roars and lightning bolts split the heavens, while his brother Poseidon stirs the waves to fury with his trident. There’s just time to chant an invocation and sacrifice a goat or two before Aeolus bags up the wind again, the sky clears and the sea glitters deep blue. The old gods were just as capricious and changeable as the weather (and the people) they ruled.

Voyage to Tunisia

We're making our way slowly to Monastir in Tunisia, where Common Sense will have a bit of a rest and a clean-up while we head home for a month or so. So far we've anchored in some beautiiful places along the southern coast of Spain, and then enjoyed an overnighter to Formentera in the Balearics. Just a couple of photos of highlights along the way:

Anchorage at Playa de Levante, Costa del Sol

Sorry I can't get this to rotate - it's called the 'Iyolot de los Frailes; - Isle of the Friars - with a ruin of an old hermitage. We anchored in here one night.

Two-tone dolphins surfing the bow-wave.

At the moment we're waiting out a bit of dodgy weather in Formentera, in the Balearic Islands. This is party central in the season but the party is obviously over now.

Almerimar, Costa del Sol

We’ve spent the last four days in Almerimar, a beautiful and astonishingly cheap marina on the Costa del Sol. We didn’t intend to be here – it just happened to be the closest place we could get repairs done on our sickly dinghy outboard.  As luck would have it, we squeezed in next to a yacht named Wraith owned by Vicky and Jeff Vidler, veteran Aussie cruisers of 12 years or so, so we’ve been enjoying their company and their wealth of knowledge and experience of sailing throughout the Mediterranean.

 

With 900 berths and good facilities, there is a very active cruising community here. Many yachts are here for the winter, some locked up but many with their crews living aboard for all or part of the off-season. Lots of pleasant cafes, a range of restaurants and shops and plenty of activities such as quiz nights (Team Down Under managed a creditable second place despite the English bias of the questions), barbecues, trips to markets and interesting historical sites, and of course the daily radionet on the VHF.

Vicki and I had an enjoyable day out at the huge market in Roquetas , successfully negotiating the bus journey and returning laden with new towels (two for five euros), clothes (I bought a dress for ONE euro!), fruit and interesting bit and pieces.

 

The motor is working, the weather is looking good and we’re planning a good long sail to Ibiza or, if the wind holds, onwards towards Pantaleria, between Sicily and Tunisia.

Adra Overnight

Adra. (Terry)

Never heard of it.  Nor had I until yesterday afternoon.  We left Gibraltar late-ish in some fog and wandered our way eastward through massive container ships, fuel tankers, small traders and lots of yachts going in all different directions.  Everybody’s got somewhere to be.

 

 

Passing silently at 15 knots

We didn’t get a lot of sailing in.  Every time we pulled the sails out it was the death of the wind so we kept putting them away.  We went on through the night to get some distance up and morning saw us headed for here, Alda, or Almerimar.  I was tired and this was closer so in we came. 

We are anchored off the main town beach, just outside the yellow “don’t go’ buoys.  Huge mountains in the background, pleasant foreshore in front.  After a sleep, we put the dinghy in the water to make our way into the marina to see about fuel.  It only made about 200 yards and the Honda died.  Coughed and spluttered and jerked and stopped.  No amount of fuel-bulb-squeezing or starter-cord-pulling made a difference so we sculled back to the boat and put the engine away.  We then decided to row to shore and walk up the promenade.

 

Breakwater and the mountains

This we did and pulled the dinghy up on the sand.  A lady who had just finished her sunbathing and swimming session talked to Carol and said the dinghy wasn’t safe as there were lots of druggies in the area and we should ring the cops.  Great idea for the dinghy, but not for us as we hadn’t bothered to check in.  In fact, we checked out of Spain in Cadiz some weeks ago, even though we’ve been to Barbate and Ceuta since then.  No one seems to mind, though.

Anyway, we decided to move the dinghy down the beach a bit to where a group of older type ladies were lying about getting warm.  We then walked up the promenade and shock horror we found a bar!  Couldn’t pass it up and ordered tapas and beer.  Estrella Galicia, my new best beer in the world.

 

 

The view from the bar

Then all hell broke loose.  First one cop car, then another – four Guardia Civil guys on the walk above the dinghy.  Since none of the old ladies seemed to be wanted for murder, we guessed it was our dinghy causing the problem.  I went over and luckily, for once, I had our passports and a full set of ship’s papers with me.  That seemed to calm a couple of them down and the 9mm sidearms stayed put.  Then the lady Carol had talked to arrived and it turned out that she had called them and said the dinghy was at risk.  They assumed that it had been nicked, or the engine had been nicked.  Eventually one of them asked “problem or no problem” and I assured him ‘’no problem’’.  Everyone was happy and passport numbers were written down, they established that we were not Americans but Australians and then we began going around the badges on my backpack. Carol had just sewed on Cadiz and Ceuta and the small Guardia guy actually came from Ceuta.  He was mightily excited about that and I told him how much we had enjoyed the place and he positively beamed.  I wasn’t lying either – it was great.

A couple of Tapas dishes and some Estrella Galicia and we were contented.  A stroll along the promenade, which was just starting to come to life and Spain was once again the only place you’d want to be right now.  We sat on the low wall of the walkway for a while with a Chinese guy and watched Adra’s citizens go by then rowed back out to Common Sense.

Carol’s out the back fishing with live worms we bought in the Bazaar across the road and the boat’s rocking side to side.

We’ll fix the dinghy tomorrow and worry about fuel then too.  At the moment, we’re both relaxed and contented.

History:-  Adra was the last place the Moors held out in in Andalusia.  The king, Boabdil, departed from here.  I think from memory he’s the bloke who got home to Morocco and his own mother said he should have come home tied to his horse, not riding it (i.e. dead)  Nice one mum.

Ceuta to Gibraltar - Crossing the Straits

... There is some corner of a foreign field that is forever England.

Rupert Brooke

We had a great time in Ceuta with Mike and Marg, capped off with a beautiful fine day when we took a tour of the whole enclave, with awesome views of the Straits of Gibraltar from each of its peaks. Looking west from the border, the mountains take the form of a reclining woman:

During our five day visit I think we managed to take in all the attractions in this fragment of Spanish territory on the tip of Morocco – a massive fort with a real moat, right in the centre of the city; a good museum built on an archaeological dig of a Roman necropolis; dozens of interesting statues, buildings and monuments and excellent cheap food.

But now it was time for the big crossing: the massive limestone Rock wasn’t visible when we set off into the mists, but there was no doubt Gibraltar was there, just 12 nautical miles across the Straits at this point. It was quite a challenging passage as there is a lot of shipping traffic as well as some interesting currents because of the different water levels and temperatures between the Atlantic and the Med. It was fascinating to think of all the vessels that had passed this way over the centuries, from Phoenician triremes to Roman galleys; tall ships of England, Spain, France, Holland and Portugal; the great cruise liners; military ships and submarines during the wars, and vast amounts of cargo. Our crew handled the trip extremely well, enjoying the sight of dolphins and the great variety of ships and yachts passing by on all sides. The sun came out right on cue, lighting up the beautiful Bay of Algeciras and the majestic Rock as we entered the harbour. Terry and the crew did a great job of berthing Common Sense neatly stern-to in Queensway Quay Marina.

Going ashore in Gibraltar, there was not the slightest doubt that this was a little corner of Mother England. The main street looked just like any village high street, complete with red post boxes and telephone booths, and posters celebrating the Queen's diamond jubilee. Gone were the flamboyant Spanish fashions in favour of sensible shoes and beige knitwear. Sadly, lovely cheap Spanish food was also off the menu: the previous day I had a huge plate of perfect fresh grilled sole in Ceuta for about 6 euros; today, 'fish and chips' meant overcooked, over-battered frozen something for about twice the price. This is obviously one reason why so many people (Spanish, British, Moroccan and others alike) live in Spain and cross the border every day to work in Gibraltar.

It's easy to see why the Rock has been a site of conflict over the centuries. From the top (reached by chairlift, car or SAS-style exertions - option A in our case) the view of the Strait and the approaches from the Atlantic, the Med and the land are almost limitless. The first Neanderthal skull was discovered here, so there was probably a prehistoric skirmish or two before they succumbed to us sapiens. Greeks, Phoenicians, Carthaginians all left traces. For the Romans, it was the limit of Mare Nostrum (Our Sea) until the Moors conquered it in 711AD and named it Jebel Tarik (Tarik's Mountain) after their leader. This is where the name 'Gibraltar' originates. Arabs and Spanish took turns to be kings of the hill for a few hundred years, with Spain taking firm control in 1462. British Admiral George Rooke seized an opportunity to capture the Rock in 1704, pounding it with 15,000 rounds until the Spanish surrendered. The Rock was beseiged by the French and Spanish for four and a half years during the American War of Independence, and, after the victory of the English over the French at Trafalgar, Lord Nelson's body was brought here, preserved in a barrel of rum (hence the saying 'tapping the Admiral' for partaking of your daily rum ration.) A wander around the beautiful old cemetery reveals that many men who fought at Trafalgar were brought here, only to die of their wounds or a fever brought on by infection. The Rock was a major strategic site during both world wars.

This violent history is on display everywhere when you walk around. Huge bastions and fortified walls line the streets, while the labyrinth of tunnels constructed by the Royal Engineers during the Great Seige of 1779 - 83 still astonish with their scale - over 30 winding miles inside a rock that only covers about 2 square miles in total!

Nothing beats the view from the top, however - along with the colony of placid 'barbary apes' (macaques that came over from Morocco with the Moors) and the endless comings and goings of ships in the bay and through the Straits.

                                                           Model pose

After three days of exploring Gibraltar it was time to bid farewell to Marg and Mike as they set off on the bus to Seville, while we prepared for our long haul to Tunisia. It's been fantastic having them aboard Common Sense and we hope that other friends will follow their lead and join us for part of the journey.

Detour to Ceuta [Guest Blogger Terry]

Wednesday dawned wet and wetter.  The rain that came at 4am went away for only a couple of hours and returned by 9.  We were not thrilled at the idea of 42 miles in the rain to Al-Jebha, then a raft up in a harbour alongside a fishing boat in the wet.

 
Carol did a rethink and suggested we go to Ceuta, only about 15 miles away and with a nice marina.  I was convinced so we motored over to the Police and fuel dock and checked out of Morocco.

Off to Ceuta in the rain.  We managed to sail for a while then, as usual when things are going well, the wind died.  And it went on the nose.   Sails in, motor on but with wind on the nose, and raining, the rain was in my face.  I hate rain on my glasses because I can’t see but there was no other option.  Still, it wasn’t cold so there was some relief in that.

By the time we reached the Ceuta harbour walls the rain had stopped and we had a sunlit entry past the Hercules statue into Marina Hercules.  We were glad of the change in weather because there were giant ferries and ships going in all directions, in and out, and entry was a little hectic.  Then we had to Med-moor for the first time, reversing into a “slip” with nothing on the side and a mooring rope to hold the bow in place. We managed that without hitting anything with Carol and Mike doing a sterling job on fenders and lines.  Interestingly, when I checked into the marina, the marina took our passport information but when I asked where to go to get them stamped as entering Spain, the lady in the office said “they could see you when you passed the Port Authority building and if they’d wanted your passports they would have asked for them by now.”   I just love this relaxed attitude to entering a country.

Once more on this journey a completely unplanned stop has turned out to be a wonder.  This place is amazing.  I think I’d heard of it once before in my life.  The marina is “in” town.  We are slipped just off the main drag.  At one point today, after Mike and I had managed to change our Dirhams for Euros, we could look one way and see the Atlantic and turn through another archway 180° and see the Mediterranean.  It is a very swish Spanish city, with all mod cons, and at the same time a very ancient lived-on site.

 

As with mainland Spain, food and wine are inexpensive.  A huge meal for 4 of us of 24 steel kebabs (12 chicken, 12 beef) plus a house salad and a huge mixed grilled fish plate for Carol set us back €51 and that included a bottle of decent red (El Coto, the Stag) and a large CruzCampo for me.  Plus complimentary bread and olives.  Great restaurant, Cafeteria Heladeria Gin, Avda Sanchez Prados.

Ceuta is a duty-free city and  people come over from Spain and Morocco to buy luxuries here.  I went looking for a new lens today and came across a Tamron 18-200, which has only recently been advertised in National Geographic, and got one for €189 or say $A200.  Clothes, perfume, electronics all over.

 

Everywhere you look there are elegant street lamps, impressive statues and busts of formidable Greek and Roman intellects (Homer, Aristotle..) Navigators, chart makers.  Public parks and fountains, churches and cathedrals.  A delight to be in.

Carol was in McDonalds this afternoon (free wi-fi) and heard some Australian accents.  She went over to inquire and met 4 Australians who had just spent 3 weeks driving around Morocco in two cars they’d leased in France. Derick and Beth Johnston and Peter and Julie Kitchingman, all from Kalamunda, are well-seasoned travelers with many miles and countries covered.  It’s a small world for sure and to boot Julie knows Jim Chute, who I sailed with in the early 80s on Challenger.

If you’re ever in Spain, jump on the ferry from Algecira or Tarifa and come on over to Ceuta for a few days.