Into Portosín

Trip Start Oct 15, 2010
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18
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Trip End Dec 15, 2010


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Flag of Spain  , Galicia,
Sunday, November 7, 2010

A slamming boom woke me at 2:30am and then I heard rain drumming on the deck above me so I began donning my foulies.  Libellule, in the cockpit, asked me for the distance to some point that was scrawled among scrawls on the messy chart table, and when I asked which one he meant he got frustrated and was yelling and then I was yelling back at him not knowing if this was urgent.  It wasn't.  There were no sorries said this time.

Outside was a dark gloom with the reassuring lighthouse on Cape Finisterre sweeping across rain clouds that brought drizzle on the increasing wind out of the north, and unseen waves would unsettle us, tilting the lights of sleeping towns on the distant shore.  A cloud would sometimes obscure a whole town and make me glad there was any visibility at all.  But I did not want to close shore at this hour, so alone at the helm I picked a safe area of sea and spent my entire watch sailing circles in a holding pattern.

With the ship's GPS mounted down at the chart table I found it more convenient to steer by my little hand-held Garmin Foretrex, at least until the batteries failed and I had to clamp on the autopilot and dash inside to root out a replacement pair.  To entertain myself on this interminable watch I played around with sail and wind and wave angles.

With the dawn, now heading into our destination bay, the world materialized and lost its ominous feeling.  We had a good sail as the waves decreased behind a peninsula until finally the surrounding hills blocked our wind.  My hands felt rough from pulling wet salty lines and I noticed a new scrape on a finger.  Groggy Pappy came up to help navigate the route described in our fat pilot book.  Windmills on the hills weren't turning and we started the motor as the sun broke through.

There was a regatta of tiny sailboats manned by children heading out as we arrived at Portosín.  We docked near the harbor entrance, found the office closed but upstairs a cafeteria with a view of the port and a cheap menu del dia and motorcycle races on the television.  We relaxed with refreshing beers.  Pappy and Libellule headed out to scout the small town while I went to kick back on the boat and was there when two laid back immigration men came up wearing faded green uniforms and asked for all the papers.  I guess we were supposed to have stayed aboard until this was done, but they weren't angry.

The first picture of the day is here.

Here is the route we sailed from Gijón to Portosín.
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