GIBRALTRA

October 18 – 25, 2009

If everything went according to plan - I was to be in the Port of Algeciras, Spain by 2:30pm. It was now 7:30 pm...I was thankful it was the same day. While the majority of the 33 or so people on the bus stood in line to complain about the heart-stopping drive through the mountains to reach the Port of Algeciras I had to find a yellow pages to locate my hotel as I foolishly wrote the information on the train jacket that was replaced several times while finding my way. I parked my life’s possessions with the Good Samaritan (see the trip from Barcelona to Gibraltar) while trying unsuccessfully to force an euro into a luggage trolley. Undaunted, I used my persuasive Spanish hand-gestures and found there were no taxis because we were so late in arriving at our destination. Following the policeman’s outstretched arm, to his pointing finger, to the park like entrance several blocks long, I got the impression to stand on the corner and stick out my thumb. Luck was with me and before I reached the corner I spied a taxi driver looking in my direction.

I’m such a suave traveler now that I thrust the paper with the hotel name and number I scribbled from the phonebook into his hand and asked “How much?” This is the first universal hand gesture everyone should learn. Turn your hand, palm up, and rub your thumb and first two fingers together. Since I had no idea how far it was we came to an agreement. Following the same path out, as the bus took coming in, we went back out of Algeciras crossed the small isthmus to La Gardino on the Mediterranean. He stopped at the taxi stand by the Gibraltar border and after much Spanish hand gesturing took off in a cloud of dust and deposited me at the hotel. I checked into the hotel, found out I could get no food till 9:30 pm when the restaurant would open for dinner. I couldn’t wait an hour and fell exhausted into a deep sleep. It had been 40 hours since my head has felt a pillow.

I was up and out the front door of the hotel at 8:30 am just in time to watch the sun rise over the Med. The sounds and smells of the Sea welcomed me to the new adventure I was going to embark in the next 2 weeks. Walking along the cobbled boardwalk in the fresh air with the joggers, dog walkers, and shore fisherman with their incredibly long fishing poles and beach umbrellas was invigorating. I found my way back to the Gibraltar border and entered along with lots of locals going to work at the huge condos and hotels along the ‘Rock’.

Customs in Gibraltar consisted of a sign that said “Do you have anything to declare? Go left”. Everyone was going right and we exited out the building and waited for the stop light to tell us no planes were landing on the runway so we could walk across the tarmac. I found the marina and the 17 boats that were flying the Blue Water Rally battle flag and introduced myself around. I was directed to the office and Boot Bolt greeted me like an old friend. She had thought I was going to make the party the night before so I could mingle and find a boat to hitch my star to for the Round-the-World-Rally.

Richard, Tony, and Christine gave me warm hugs and I signed up for the St. Michaels Cave private tour. At 5:30 pm we took a taxi to the top of the Rock and
 

entered the small hidden-from-the-enemy door leading to the WWII bunker built into the cave and would have served as an operating room in case of an attack from the enemy. There are more miles of tunnels in the ‘Rock’ then there are roads around the outside. So much for the saying "solid as a rock" when you are looking at the imposing site of the huge limestone monolith. We donned hazard yellow helmets and Tito took us on the never-in-the-USA adventure of a lifetime.

We climbed up and down ropes over slippery calcium coated rocks, shimmied over stalactites and stalagmites and crossed a lake of crystal clear water on a 3” ledge of calcium with our fingers clinging to the small impressions left by the dripping water. It took me back to my tomboy childhood of climbing trees and making rope bridges. It was 10 pm by the time we exited the cave and had an excellent pasta dinner in the Casement Battalion area of the small country.

The following morning Boot was all smiles and had me a start on a boat.

a Brit on a 38’ Moody, needed a crewmember to go for the overnighter to Smir, Morocco; his crew wasn’t showing up for several more days. So far, so good as this would give me more opportunity to meet the other boats in the Rally. Malcolm and I went for tea and we got to know each other. By the time I left to walk back to my hotel my cheeks were hurting from laughing so much, I was moving out of the hotel and onto the boat, and even before he discussed my intrusion on the boat with the rest of the crew he offered to take me to the first stop on the voyage, Lanzarote in the Canary Islands…maybe… if his crew approved.

Malcolm and I decided to wait till the following morning to discuss his rules of the boat and how to leave the dock to proceed to Morocco. The plan was to leave at 8:30am and sail with fair winds off the starboard beam for the 6 hour crossing. I awoke at 8:45 am to cheers from the docks as the other boats were leaving. Malcolm and I left the dock at 8:55 am. We were not the last to leave.
 

After rounding Europa Point ( the lighthouse is on the left side of the photo) we headed due south and put up the mast-furling mainsail. We hoisted the Genoa and before I could trim Malcolm was exclaiming that it was good enough and he wanted tea and breakfast. As we feasted on Muesli, fruit, and yoghurt two boats in our Rally passed us with perfectly trimmed sails. I was embarrassed and delayed my breakfast till I had properly set the sails. Malcolm didn’t care; we would make it anyways. Later I would tell Boot he was the exact opposite of Bob on Gaia.

SMIR, MORROCCO

When we arrived into the marina we had 25 minutes to get ready for the large, air-conditioned Mercedes bus and the tour of the city. In Morocco you can have up to 4 wives if you can afford them and, according to Hessian, if you can juggle the responsibilities and the children. Most men prefer only one wife and only several children. Our tour guide has only one wife and two children.

The guide told us there would be a police officer to accompany us on our walking tour of the market and even though he was in western civilian clothes you could tell he knew what he was doing. We wandered through fruit, veggie, fresh fish, fabric, ribbon and thread, leather, shoes, and woodworking areas. I bought olives, pastries (we were hungry), bread, a funny looking fruit to try, and gifts.

There were rooms gutted and filled with live chickens – their eggs sitting on top of cages of more birds. The streets were narrow, covered with buildings extending over the second floor, somewhat clean and dry, and crowded. It was quite different than the other Muslim / Arab countries I have visited as you were not accosted to such a high degree. The locals were not physically pulling you into their shop and holding you hostage. Maybe it was the influence of the policeman. The tour did leave the street and wander through many shops but unless you stopped to look they stayed back.

We did have a presentation in an herb shop where the presenter, in perfect English, asked us which herb was the most popular. People were shouting out answers and I thought maybe he meant the most expensive herb in the world. I won the prize, Moroccan curry!! He went through only part of the containers that covered two walls: some were for cooking, some were for incense, and some were medicinal. In Sri Lanka I bought some ointment for varicose veins (it really works!) and was waiting in vain (no pun intended) because so many people have asked me to get some for them. No luck this time. Later we went for a true Moroccan dinner and had a man do the most arm twisting antics with a tray of lit candles. The next day when we were getting ready to leave Malcolm asked me if I would like to drive away from the dock. No Way! Wait…we’re the last ones at the dock (Malcolm likes to sleep in) there is plenty of room behind us to pull out so don’t let this opportunity slip between my fingers. I issued orders to cast off, backed up, and pulled forward. I got all the way to the customs dock before I lost my nerve so the skipper did the landing at the huge concrete dock to check out of customs. By the time we had reached our berth in Gibraltar Malcolm had asked me if I would stay and crew to Lanzarote; he would need to ask his crew about the much longer voyage to Antigua in the Caribbean. After that landfall Malcolm would be heading up the coast of North America, the St. Lawrence Seaway, and the Great Lakes. I had spent the week in the much larger stern quarters but moved to the second largest quarters in the V berth when the rest of the crew arrived. Roy is Malcolm’s brother-n-law, Bob is Roy’s best friend, and John is Bob’s brother. They all have known each other for many years and made me feel welcome. Bob said he was the cook so he and I did the provisioning for the 6 day trip to Lanzarote. Good thing he was helping because the Brits eat some strange food. I kept saying “As long as you know what to do with it and what to serve it with then let’s get it!” My mother’s heritage came through as baked beans went into the cart. My mom eats them cold out of the can…gross! The crew wanted them for breakfast with eggs…gross!

Finally October 25 was upon us and everyone was excited to start the rally and the trip around the world. A navel cutter formed the starting line at Europa Point and everyone jockeyed for position. At 10 am sharp the cutter fired the starting gun seconds after we had raised the cruising chute and it filled the sky with the Welsh flag. Tony, Christine, Richard, and Boot all wished us a pleasant voyage and promised to be there to greet us in Lanzarote.
 

Even though Malcolm imminently said we would sail as long as we could make 2 knts we motored most of the first two days. Night watches would be split so a fresh pair of eyes would be on board every two hours. I like the 2am to 6am and nobody argued. We have a large Bimini over the cockpit so the stars are hard to see but the sun is a scorcher so I welcome the shade.

The third night I came on duty at 2 am and found John intensely staring at the radar screen looking at a ship that was 26 miles away.


“It is approaching us”
he says.

"Like in 4 hours”
I thought to myself.
 

He looked like a cat watching a bird pecking at some seed, intensely watching the radar screen, and when it was 8 miles away he noticed they had turned 5 degrees to starboard so he thought we should turn 5 degrees to starboard. This means we will pass to port with 6 miles to spare. He continued to intensely watch the radar until we saw it pass our beam. Is it me? Would I change course when two ships will be passing in the night by even a 3 mile margin? Should I be more diligent? I will wait until the longer voyage to Antigua and we are 2 days out of Antigua before I access this situation again. After all maybe John is just so bored that this was the only vessel on his watch that he needed the diversion to stay awake.

Time will tell.

Next to Barcelona!