Oh, Happy Day

Saturday, 21st March

Our bags were packed and loaded into the car. Preparation for the journey had been made as well as we could. Enough food and drink for a family of four should get us through the two day journey. If we could get there. I’d even written out some key phrases in Spanish to explain where​ we were going and why in case we were stopped by the police. It still seemed like a good idea to allow an extra 4 hours for delays.

Leaving Jávea was so very different from previous years​, no fond farewells or see-you-next-time except by phone, the uncertainty palpable. So it was fitting that the day dawned dark and damp. Cloud obscured the mountains and misted the mostly deserted roads.

On the motorway the lorries were on the move, unsung heroes transporting the vital supplies to keep the country going. Signs over the road warned of checks on unnecessary journeys and we fretted about the rule only allowing one person in a car. The police presence was most evident at service stations where we stopped for comfort breaks (another worry allayed: would the toilet facilities be open?) They left us alone, though and gradually we gained in confidence. It must be obvious that a foreign vehicle, loaded to the gunnels and heading north must be leaving the country we reasoned.

The weather even reflected our growing optimism. Soon we were wearing sunglasses and opening windows. Hawks flew over the empty roads and seemingly deserted towns around Zaragoza By the time we reached the coast between Bilbao and Santander we found ourselves wanting to explore the many holiday resorts signposted as if these were normal times.

That they weren’t was reinforced when we reached the port. Staff and the many Guardia Civil were all wearing masks and gloves. At check-in we were instructed to read a notice informing us that we must remain in our cars until boarding and go immediately to the cabin where we must remain until instructed to return to our car on arrival.

Neil had received an email en route to inform us that the ferry would be an hour late departing and we now had five hours to wait before boarding. Visits to the toilet block were permitted but woe betide those tempted to linger to enjoy the sea view or exchange pleasantries. The Guardia were having none of it. Thankfully, they were more tolerant of stretching legs by the car or taking items out of the boot as long as we kept a distance of at least a meter from anyone else.

Boarding took much longer than usual to ensure no overcrowding on the garage decks or stairways and to allow for only two people in the lift at a time. It seemed to work better than usual, to be honest.

Thus we’ve made it onto the ferry and are underway. We’ve even been provided with complimentary cold snacks delivered to the cabin at meal times. So we now have enough food to feed a family of six.

After the Storm

Well, we’re on the ferry and have made it as far as Brest for the crew change and are now heading for the Channel. It’s been decidedly rolly but nothing we couldn’t cope with so far after swallowing a couple of Sturgeron. Others haven’t been so lucky, though as the sound effects coming from the toilets testified.

Saturday’s storm had been a rough one. Sunday, however, dawned bright but with a chilly wind still making itself felt. There was no rush to reach Santander so we took our time, diverting off the motorway every time we glimpsed somewhere we wanted to explore. We found a lovely beach this way but I have no idea where it was. The effects of the storm the night before were very evident, though and the clean-up operation was already underway. Piles of sand and seaweed in a frothy spume had been thrown onto the promenade and were proving a difficult job for the poor souls trying to shovel it up.

 

Now at low tide, it was hard to imagine how the distant sea could have come crashing so far in land. This also proved to be the case when we stopped at Santoña. Here the force of the waves had ripped up the granite paving slabs, snapping the tubular steel railings and hurled them some 10 to 20 feet away in places. We had been drawn to this spot after recognising the name as overlooking Punta del Pasaja, the first place we had arrived at in Spain after crossing Biscay on our way to Greece in Seren Môr.

 

We’d planned to have a leisurely lunch in Santander as the ferry wasn’t due to depart until 5pm. It was not to be, though, as they had decided embarkation would start at 2pm, leaving us tight on time. Quiche and pasty from the cool bag, then. Mind you, if we had gone into town we would have missed the spectacle of the cargo ship being rescued by the tug boats as it listed heavily to its port side. We never found out what ailed it but wondered about shifting loads in the storm.

 

Boarding early also had its advantages in that we were already chilled out in the bar area before the announcement came over the tanoy asking passengers to remain seated as the ferry left port as “the ship will roll”. Our reaction? Better finish the beer, then!

 

This is an excerpt from the diary I wrote when we arrive in Spain back in May 2010. You can find all the sailing diary on www.sailblogs.com/member/serenmor if you are at all interested.

“Neither of us got much sleep though we continued to try well into the day. When land was sited it was an enormous relief. We had decided to head for the small but sheltered Punta del Pasaja, basically because it sounded easy in the pilot guide. Simply pick up a yellow visitors’ buoy and enquire at the yacht club afterwards. First problem – none of the buoys were yellow. A water taxi appeared and pointed to a buoy which we picked up without difficulty but, of course, someone else appeared saying it was his buoy!

After picking up a second, again as directed, we settled down to get some rest. The water taxi appeared once more to tell us it was 25 euros to stay there – more than a night in a French marina complete with water and mains electricity! The bonus was we could go ashore with him as many times as we liked – except there wasn’t exactly a lot to go ashore for! Quite frankly we were too shattered to try anyway and quite incapable of looking for somewhere else. We paid up.”

 

Ferry Bad Weather

I’m almost packed and ready to head off to Spain for the winter. Just about the whole contents of the wardrobe along with a mountain of food supplies and toiletries that are either expensive or difficult to get hold of in Spain are piled up and standing by to be loaded into the car. I’m just waiting for the thunderstorm to subside. Now there’s the rub. The weather.

We have a ferry to catch on Sunday amid dire warnings of the storm conditions that are approaching the British Isles. The worst storm since the 1980’s according to the Mirror. Surely they’ll cancel the ferry, thinks I. Oh no, says the Caravan Talk forum, they’ll happily go out in a force 9. I’ve been trying to reassure myself that at least we’ve got a cheap interior cabin where the motion will be less than on the more expensive exterior cabins.

So there was definitely a feeling of relief when I got a broken call from an annoyed Neil to say the ferry had indeed been cancelled. Until I got home and read the email, that is. Yes, the ferry had been cancelled but not because of the weather but due to “a technical difficulty on board” and we’d been offered a place on the sailing from Portsmouth to Bilbao. Not only that we had been upgraded to an exterior cabin. Lucky us. Oh, and this is a two night crossing with a stopover in Roscoff. Agghh!!