Monday 29 October 2012

Monastir (Terry)


Common Sense has arrived in her winter port of Monastir on the east coast of Tunisia.  It is 28th 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.

Saturday 20 October 2012

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.

Saturday 13 October 2012

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.

Wednesday 10 October 2012

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.

Thursday 4 October 2012

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.