19th June - Amphitheatres at Arles and Nimes

Having always a had an interest in the history and archaeology of the Roman Provinces, I read with some interest a press release in May issued by the French Ministry of Culture stating, among other things, that a number of pieces of Roman sculpture were recovered from the Rhone close to Arles. The press release boldly identified a life size bust as an aging Julius Caesar, who founded the Roman colonia of Arles in 46 B.C. The attribution appears to have been a little quick and has been the subject of much debate ever since.

Rome was allied with Massilia (Marseille) as early as 154 B.C. when Rome offered assistance in repelling Ligurian raiders. Later incursions resulted in the establishment of a castellum at Aquae Sextiae (Aix-en-Provence) in 124 B.C. However, the province of Gallia Transalpina, and later to be named Gallia Narbonensis, was not established until 121 B.C. when in a number of actions involving armies under the command of Quintus Fabius Maximus and Domitius Ahenobarbus, the Allobroges and Arverni tribes were defeated. Not long after (circa 118 B.C.) the first infrastructure was put in place and a secure road called the Via Domitia was laid out linking northern Italy north eastern Spain. Just over 60 years later Julius Caesar pacified the remainder of Gaul and thereafter, despite the odd minor revolt, the provinces of Gaul and in particular Gallia Nabonenis thrived.

Stability allowed development and romanisation of many settlements, and the current locations of Arles, Beziers, Frejus, Nice, Nimes, and Orange pay testament to the extensive building programs of the Roman period. On this day, I was making my way to one of the most important Roman colonia in Gallia Narbonensis, Arles, or Arelate as it was once known.

On exiting the railway station, just outside the town, you are greeted by the river Rhone. Looking downstream, and situated on a bend on the river is the town of Arles. Just visible above the rooftops are the distinctive powerful stone arches of the arena at the centre of the town.

Narrow medeval streets surround the arena, terminating and opening up giving access to monumental amphitheatre. The arched stone walls of the amphitheatre rise impressively and defiantly before you. The structure is built on a small incline and measures 136 meters long, 107 meters wide. With its 34 tiers the arena is reported to have been capable of seating in excess of 20,000 spectators. The decline of the Roman Empire during the 5th century the amphitheatre was gradually occupied by the town's people, and by the 1820s there were 212 buildings and two churches within the structure. These houses were cleared out between 1826 and 1830 and the interior of the area restored to its present and dramatic glory.

After paying an admission fee you are free basically free to roam, clamber about, and examine the ancient stones that make up the structure. Restoration, as I already stated commenced in the 1820s, and continues at the present time. Certain parts of the facade are currently being renovated with freshly cut stone. In one respect, this proposes to give a better impression of what some elements of the original structure and facade looked like, but in my heart I cannot but feel some of the romance, age and history of the structure has been eroded and lost in the process. Significantly, today the arena is not only an attraction, and archaeological site, but is still used for bull fighting, a traditional entertainment in the Camargue.

Not far from the amphitheatre is a Roman theatre, which was also built during the 1st century A.D. The site is impressive, but little remains of the 50 meter wide semicircular theatre. Only a few tiers of the theatre survive, but the immense buttressing supports that exist behind these tiers, and some elements of the original exterior wall preserved in adjacent buildings give an impression of how big the original theatre was.This site is being renovated in a similar way to the amphitheatre to reveal and flesh out some of its former appearance. Excavations are also taking place on the theatre; beautifully detailed, crisp cut marble sections of cornice and other architectural elements were to be found all over this site.

Leaving Arles by the late afternoon, I decided to make my way to Nimes (Nemausus) and explore the amphitheatre there. Nemausus became a Roman colonia after Arles in 28 B.C. and is probably one of the most impressive towns in the region in terms of Roman Architecture. While the colonia was walled and Maison Caree constructed under the reign of the Emperor Augustus, the construction of significant buildings in the the colonia, and infrastructure, continued to be developed for many years. No small part in this colonia's development arises from its close association with the Emperor Antoninus Pius, whose father was born at Nemausus. The largest remaining building, which dominates the town is the amphitheatre, which was built towards the end of the second century A.D.

The structure of the amphitheatre is more complete than the one at Arles and measures 133 meters long, 101meters wide. Signs of habitation following the Roman decline do still exist, and the facade does not appear to have been the subject of renovation efforts similar to those employed at Arles. Unfortunately, I arrived too late to gain entry, but from glimpses snatched through, an entrance the interior passages, walkways, and arena itself appear to have suffered less from the ravages of time than the one at Arles.


After a little local refreshment, and with the sun setting, I set out for the Via Domitia and modern SNCF rail network, which would take me back through Marseille and eventually to Toulon.

18th June - Toulon

Arriving at Toulon by sea is for me almost akin to sailing through a history lesson. You enter the outer bay or Rade, and then proceed northwestwards passing between the defencive walls and towers before entering the inner harbour. The city gradually comes into view and opens up seated on the shore below Mount Faron. I last visited Toulon in 1990, and to be honest I did not explore the town much then but what I saw of it then had not changed greatly in the interim. There are not many places that you can say that about, and certainly coastal towns nearby have been developed and enhanced greatly over the same period, but unfortunately Toulon has escaped this attention.

The port and town was very well fortified over the centuries, primarily due to its significance as a naval base, having an arsenal and dockyard since 1599; these fortifications pay testament to a great maritime and military past. Significantly, it was the location of Napoleon Bonaparte's first victory, where he strategically breached the defences compelling the withdrawal from the bay of the combined British and Spanish fleets, and in turn dislodging the 13,000 British, Spanish and Neapolitan occupying force.

There is a great daily street market in Toulon, which was a great source of fresh seasonal and local produce. Smells of freshly cut watermelon and vine peaches sweetened the warm air and enriched vast selection of fruit and vegetables available on the colourful stalls.

The day was spent washing and cleaning in an attempt to thoroughly clean off the grime and salt that had collected on Fenix over the previous weeks. Some time was also spent hatching a plan for the next few days, because I wanted to make some time for a little exploration before my return to Dublin. Before leaving on the trip, I had intended visiting Arles and Nimes because of their proximity to Port Camargue, and still now wanted to see the Roman sites in these towns despite my current location.

15th - 17th June - Adventure along the French Coast

With the crew down to three we operated a two hours on four hours off watch system because the passage proved to be quite calm. We were meant to dock at Port Camargue, close to Montpellier, but there was conflicting information in the pilots and almanacs for the depths recorded in that marina, and we decided to check out Sete, which I knew to be a deep water commercial port. Fenix draws close to 4 meters, and many of the ports and marinas along the South coast would not be suitable unless you are prepared to anchor.

We arrived off Sete just before 9 a.m. After entering the port we were advised that the inner dock would not be accessible till 1700 hours, which effectively ruled out us staying there because we needed to dock, and more importantly access to shore power. Having decided to try our luck elsewhere we moved on to the next port at Palavas-les-Flots, where there was just enough water to get enter but the marina was quite full and had no berthing for us.

Our last resort on the Languedoc Rousillon coast was Port Camargue, which was our original proposed destination. We entered the marina and were received by a guide boat which was to lead us to our berth, but unfortunately as we suspected we grounded on a number of occasions. Finally, we were offered a dock which the customs vessel was berthed on, but again we grounded within a meter and a half of the dock. The marina staff were very apologetic, but this left us with a bit of a dilemma as the next port with water deep enough to enter was Marseille, a passage in excess of 45 miles.

It was 1700 hours by the time we managed to extract ourselves from Port Camargue, and we set off in the direction of Marseille leaving the shallows of the Camargue and Stes-Maries-de-la-Mer along our port side. The light and bascilica of Notre Dame de la Garde, situated high on a high rocky outcrop above the vieux port in Marseilles, was our guide as we motored through the night over the last 25 miles to that ancient port. With some relief and a little tired, we docked in the vieux port in the early hours of the morning.

The morning of the 16th June was bright and sunny and the light glistened in the long marine avenue of the vieux port in Marseille. Small fishing boats were already beginning to gather at Place les Belges to sell their catches of fish. There were less fish available here than in Barcelona and this is probably due to the scale of the vessels and fishing carried out in the area. Some vendors were offering for sale monkfish, sole, bream, and small fish for soup, while others displayed shellfish such as sea urchins and even seahorses.

After checking in with the port authorities, it became clear that we could not stay for as long as we wished, and consequently we would have to move on. After a little lunch, we decided to get a bit of exercise and walk up to Notre Dame de la Garde to take in the views and gaze down over the city. Views out to sea were dominated by the Frioul archipelago, a goup of four islands in the Bay, one of which is the location of the notorious Chateau D'If. Turning towards the west provided great prospects inlands over France's second largest city.

For a variety of reasons we needed to be able to remain at dock for a minimum ten days and the port authorities in Marseille could not accommodate us. So we made our preparations once again and slipped our lines early in the morning of the17th June. The next port along the coast that had deep enough water for us was Toulon. Our journey brought us out past the Frioul archipelago, along with the odd small local fishing boat, as the unrisen sun began to make its presence felt against the mountains to the north of Marseille. Later we would make our way outside Les Calanques, pass the beautiful bays of Cassis and Bandol before tuning to port once again and entering the well protected bay and port of Toulon, where we were promised docking for the next ten days.

Barcelona

My day started in with the watch commencing at 2 a.m. once again and I contemplate how amazing it is that your body clock can adapt and become accustomed to watch systems. I have always liked the watches whereby you witness the setting of the sun in the evening and the rising of the sun in morning, and with it the movement of the stars and cycle of the moon. That statement might sound a little simplistic, however I have found that day and night to some extent can become blurred, and with it the passage of time. As a result, I would express a preference for these watches whereas many would not.

The night was less dull and moonlight was taking away some of the darkness of previous nights. With little wind and under engine and full main we abeam of Valencia and were approaching the Islas Columbretes, a small group of islands about 30 nautical miles off the Spanish coast. With the proximity of Valencia and Barcelona there was an noted increase in the shipping traffic and fishing boats were much in evidence.

As the morning approached the wind began to increase and by mid morning we were once again under full sail making good speed towards Barcelona. Our progress northeastwards also naturally caused a convergence with the coast which provided a little more diversion and interest, as gradually features of the city of Barcelona came into view.

One of our number was stepping off in Barcelona and was on a 10 p.m. flight out. This was not going to be an easy flight time to meet as a considerable amount of time is lost entering port complying with speed limits and then docking. Thus as our approach to Barcelona brought us under the main flightpath to the airport , every so we would often poke fun at the expense of the nervous prospective passenger, querying if the plane overhead was the one he intended to catch. Afterall it had to be one of the few Easyjet aircraft that were landing at this time afterall!


We made it to the dock a little after 8 p.m. releasing our onward bound crew member. After a quick tidy up, wash, and finding some relatively clean clothes to wear we ventured up the town to find a bite to eat before retiring. I had been in Barcelona briefly two years ago, and after venturing around the side streets and back streets had happened upon a restaurant called Los Caracolles. Having smelled the wood fired oven on the exterior walls and seen the old cooking ranges I knew I would not be disappointed. On this evening likewise, I knew I would not be disappointed and chose the calamarines (deep fried baby squid) with a little rose wine, and a creme catalana to bring the night to a close.


13th June began a little misty and dull and the weather forecast was not good. There were strong winds forecast in the Gulf of Lyons, where the seas can become quite steep and destructive and with three crew we would be quite exposed in those conditions. We opted to tend to a number of jobs on board and take the opportunity to explore a little.

I decided to go to the Boqueria St Josef, a large covered market in the center of Barcelona just off La Ramblas. The market was a maze of colour and stalls, selling everything you could possibly need. The center of the Boqueria St Josef is dominated by a fish market, and the icy stalls displayed a rich and varied catch of the freshest fish. The translucent meat of the portions of tuna, swordfish and bonito was of an entirely different quality to any I had seen before. The colours looked natural and texture of the meat had not become waxen or dull.

It was easy to be amazed for a long time and I admit to taking over half an hour before selecting some swordfish to cook for the dinner that night. I had not for a long time experienced such a luxury or pleasure in buying fish, and where quality normally causes me difficulty and unease, here I was seduced by the choice and variety of the fish on display.

In North Western Europe we have succumbed to convenience and with it we depend on large supermarkets or "convenience" stores. These methods of food selling, in my view, suppress choice. The Barcelona markets, and and others like it, allow many sellers to evolve and specialise while competing amongst each other often under the same roof. As a result choice, quality and product are all excellent. One such example of this are the Bacalao sellers; there are three if not more stalls selling Bacalao (salted cod) in the Boqueria St Josef. All of them are quite different and distinctive in their own way and service they provide, and at the same time demonstrate skill in the manner in which they treat and present and sell the cod.

Back on the dock servicing and investigations had revealed a number of underlying problems with the engine. Ordinarily these problems would not provide any great difficulty, but were an inconvenience, and the symptoms had been recognized for a number of days. It was however acknowledged that attention and an overhaul was required. Swordfish and salad was served once the engine oil and grease had been removed from the the crew and the weather forecast was considered again with a possible planned departure the next morning.

June 14th was bright sunny and warm in Barcelona and I got back into town early to go to the Santa Catalina, which was a little closer to where the boat was docked. The last time I was here it was closed for renovation but thankfully had since reopened. It was much brighter and more modern than the Boqueria St Josef, and again proved to be an excellent place to reprovision with necessaries such as local bread, cured ham, fish and vegetables for the short trip north to the French coast.

The market is quite a bit smaller and as such serves the community and quarters of the city close by. Again the fish stalls were stocked with a vast assortment and some of the fishmongers showed great skill in cleaning and presenting small anchovies for sale. Many varieties of tomatoes were on display and the most interesting of them was the variety grown at Montserrat nearby, also known as the coeur du boeuf or beef tomato. Their appearance was not mere fancy and they were full flavour.
A number of Spanish and French weather forecasts were again studied and compared prior to departure. Although the passage was a relatively short one no risks could be taken in these waters. It appeared that most of the wind would be present in the mid and eastern sector of the Gulf of Lyon while the French coast, essentially the Cote Vermeille would escape. After refueling we set off, and once again set our fishing lines in the hope of catching fish, proceeding north eastwards in the direction of Cap de Begur with the Costa Brava on our port side.

10th & 11th June - Cabo da Gato and onwards

I was on deck just before 2 a.m. and Fenix was sailing along under full main and a single reef in the headsail. Malaga was clearly in view to the North. We were beating to windward in 15 knots of wind and the barometer was stable again at 1019 millibars, but our course was gradually taking us away from our destination or waypoint. This situation did not last long and the wind dropped off again whereby we were back under engine and full main by 5.15 a.m.

The outline of high mountains were visible prior to dawn this morning and by the afternoon they were graduallly replaced by more gentle slopes intensively farmed judging by the acres of polythene covering the land as we approached Punta de Sabrinal.

There were also reports and chatter aboard of fish striking our line this morning at about 9 a.m. However, just after noon and as we crossed the Banco el Seco de los Olivos, a seamount where the sea rises quite steeply from 500 meters to 72 meters another fish hit the line, causing a lot of line to run out. At this time of year the bonito and tuna are running into the Mediterranean and given our average speed of 8 knots, only the bigger and fast fish were going to be capable of taking our lure. We had a tactical change of fishing line in Gibraltar and were now using an immensely strong man made vectran fibre; there was a general reluctance to touch the rod and line for fear a finger might get snagged and lost! In any event we were slow throttling down and the fish made away with our valuable and "best" lure.


Despite persistent attempts to catch fish, which included having two lines out the back almost 24 hours a day and using an assortment of lines and lures, there was an ominous feeling developing aboard that we would not land a catch on the trip. So much so, the odd wager was being made and as the barren hours and miles passed the beliefs became stronger because not even the trusty wayward, and smelly, flying fish was to be found stranded on deck. I add the above image because at around this time I found a few small fry on the deck early in the morning and they indeed turned out to be the only species landed.



After passing the Golfo de Almeria and rounding Cabo da Gato the coastline changes dramatically. Most notably it is quite sparsely populated with little or no development for miles and from the shores the land rose again steeply to pointed hilltops with ranges of mountains behind them. This portion of the south eastern coast, despite its distant and difficult terrain, is quite distinctive for its system of hilltop forts or lookout towers located intermittently along the coast just within sight of each other. A closer inspection of the the charts on board confirmed this and the extent of the fort system as it extended northwards towards Barcelona.


Similar structures that would be familiar are the Napoleonic Martello towers along the coastlines of Ireland, England, and the Channel Islands. While taller and narrower in form the Spanish hilltop towers were probably used for a similar purpose. The Royal Naval vessels certainly targeted the Spanish coastline for a period during the early 19th century, but the necessity of these forts probably arose in reaction to a more persistent and long term threat; the Barbary Pirates raided this coastline sacking villages and enslaving the people from the 17th to the early 19th century
causing havoc, and these towers would have served well as an early warning system against such seaborn attacks.

Light winds and calm seas dominated Wednesday 11th June as our passage took us north eastwards towards Cabo de la Nao, passing Cartagena and the Murcian shore, and later past Alicante and the Costa Blanca. We rounded Cabo de la Nao under engine and full main in the evening around sunset knowing that by sunrise we would be somewhere due east of Valencia and closing in on the Catalan city of Barcelona.

9th June - Gibraltar

Gibraltar has been a British dominion since 1713 when it was ceded by Spain to England in the Treaty of Utrecht. Its important strategic, and desirable, position has led Gibraltar to having many masters down through history and was most notably controlled by the Moors for up to 750 years. Today Gibraltar remains a stronghold of sorts and is primarily an army and naval base. Its duty free status attracts many day trippers from the Spanish costas with reported cheap purchases. Unfortunately this latter highly visible trait dilutes the rich historical character of Gibraltar. Modern high rise housing developments dominate some areas of the Rock and traffic congestion is commonplace.

What seems to have suffered most is the history of the Rock, and while there is much evidence of the current military and naval use, very little of the underlying history and the neglected but proudly named bastions and ramparts, unfortunately lack significance and are lost among the high streets and modern featureless developments. It appears that Gibraltar, probably for the purpose of financial survival, has made a choice and only time will tell whether the Rock will be a better place in the future.

There are still places of interest to be found and the Trafalgar cemetery is noted as the last resting place for two victims of the engagement at Trafalgar. The tombstones pay testament to Gibraltar as a military and naval stronghold and many inscriptions record the battles in which the deceased were wounded, and the ships they served in.


Another location of interest are the botanic gardens where bronze cannon, statues of historical Gibraltarians, and exotic plant life are mixed with interesting results. I had an ulterior motive for visiting the gardens as my nose and face were quite raw from the sun, salt and wind from the day before. Among the many beautiful flowerbeds, shrubs and trees was a large quantity of aloe vera and pealing back the skin of a leaf reveals a gel like centre, which is a great restorative for weathered skin.




There was a larger queue for the cable car to the top of the Rock and we debated walking to the top. Unfortunately, time was not on our side because we needed to refuel and get some fresh provisions, so we contented ourselves with a walk around the town and the sight of many toy Barbary Macaque monkeys being sold to tourists on the high street.

Europe had been in the grip of a transport strike over the past few days and we were to find that fresh food was only beginning to arrive into Gibraltar. The large supermarket was obviously short of stock but the food market had just received its delivery and I purchased a wooden crate of fresh Spanish strawberries, peppers and some swordfish. With everything stowed we departed the marina and proceeded to the fuel berth which is beside the runway for Gibraltar airport. Again the transport strike had an effect here and fuel would not be available for another two days. With enough fuel to get to Barcelona we decided to set off again.

Departing Gibraltar you are required to pass Point Europa and its lighthouse reaching out into the Mediterranean. Modern development is spreading its way down to the point and spoiling some magnificent vantage points. The Macaque monkeys must gaze down at their fellow inhabitants and the occupied areas below them in mixture of amazement and amusement, but are unfortunately confined to and contented with stealing from tourists. Despite this, Gibraltar had one last and unexpected surprise for me, and as we passed Point Europa in glorious sunshine, clearly audible from a mosque set just in behind the lighthouse was the call to prayer. It echoed out along the narrow tip of land and over the water to Fenix as she passed by.


With a slight breeze we ate down below savouring the swordfish followed by the fresh Spanish strawberries with creme caramel as we motored away from the Rock on a course of 76 set for Cabo de Gata and Almeria. We were quickly chased and surrounded by dolphin and a stream of ships made their way down our starboard side and later during the night ships were visible inside our line making for the port of Malaga. The Spanish coast would remain a source of interest on our port side for the next few days as we made our way to Barcelona.

7th & 8th June - Towards Cabo St Vincente and Gibraltar

With the wind directly behind us the motion on board was a little awkward due to the rolling of Fenix in the following waves. The moon had slipped down over the western horizon before I came on deck and the dark night sky that remained was made bright by the presence of Venus. We were making good progress towards Cabo St. Vincente given the conditions and we rounded the Cape just after 9 a.m. in glorious sunshine. The wind moderated and seas flattened with a slight 5 knots of wind and we steered our new course of 113 for Cabo Trafalgar and the Straits of Gibraltar.


With calm waters and good afternoon heat I prepared an extensive grazing picnic lunch. The assortment of Guernsey smoked glazed ham, salami tartuffo, suffolk gold and blue, Camembert, goats cheese, sliced tomatoes and pears was served with a rustic bread purchased in Cascais and devoured with relish. Dinner followed a similar formula with the addition of cold baked snapper, potato salad with garlic mayonnaise, mange tout and asparagus, served with a Cote du Bourg 2005. The skippers walnut and coffee cake was served with clotted cream and set us up for the night watches ahead.

2 a.m. - 36 17.68' N 6 40.16'W - 1017 millibars - 7.1 knots boat speed - 3.5 knots wind speed.
Sometimes it is difficult to get a sense of what the conditions might be like before you come on deck and the conversation that takes place in the changing of the watch often gives you an understanding of how conditions might be developing. As I surveyed the horizon in the very dark night, it was quite evident that we were closing in on the Straits of Gibraltar and Cabo Trafalgar. The horizon to the north and north east was illuminated intermittently by the lumes of light and lighthouses from Cadiz and other cities along the Spanish coast. Meanwhile on our starboard side a dark indistinct horizon suggested the African and Moroccan shore. A lume of light from the city of Tangiers just off the starboard bow, a long way distant, was the only visible evidence of urban settlement.

The sea was very calm and almost motionless and the slightest of swells was beginning to take its shape on the surface of the sea. Under full main and under engine Fenix pushed made her way effortlessly through the oily water. Luminescent lines in the water revealed dolphins once again were close by. Every so often I could hear a fluttering sound in the water alongside the hull as the water was pushed away from the sides. The sound was more agitated than it should have been and it soon became clear that we were travelling through very large shoals of slumbering sardines. Upon awakening suddenly, and with surprise, they literally took flight and were jumping out of the water all around the hull to evade this new perceived predator.

By 5 a.m. dawn was approaching and the lights of Cabo Trafalgar and Cadiz were still visible blinking away against the bright red horizon with deep blue resplendent sky above it. Approaching Cabo Trafalgar we crossed the Banco de Trafalgar where the sea shallows from about 120 meters to a low as 6 meters in places. Just over two hundred years ago the Royal Navy engaged the combined French and Spanish fleet here. While the battle was won by the English fleet, a new threat quickly emerged as the conditions changed and a severe south westerly gale made escape from this shore very difficult for many of the vessels. Nelson's rumoured request and order was to anchor the fleet after the engagement however this did not happen and the Spanish shore was littered with wrecks and bodies for days to come.

As the sun crested the horizon at about 6 a.m. we were abeam of Cabo Trafalgar. With the advent of the dawn the breeze gradually began to build, but more ominously the barometer began to fall and it recorded 1015 millibars as I completed by log entry.


Soon after my watch ended the jib was unfurled and we were sailing again as the wind picked up to 17 knots. This idyllic sailing was short lived and the sail plan was reefed down as we began to sail to windward in winds of as much as 40 knots. Unlike many yachts Fenix was in her stride and we tacked our way upwind, our course limited and confined by the Spanish shore to the north and the busy shipping lane to the south. With the proximity of Gibraltar and Tarifa to the African shore, only separated by approximately 7 nautical miles, the build in the wind was probably accentuated by the narrowness of the straits.


The straits of Gibraltar almost defy description. A great number of ships constantly make their way entering or departing the Mediterranean, while other ships traverse the straits between the ports of Tarifa (pictured below), Algeciras and Tangiers linking continental Europe with Africa. Among this traffic on this day were leisure sailing and motor craft, some recommencing their passage west, making their way out of the Mediterranean Sea into the Atlantic Ocean with favourable winds. There were not many arrivals given the conditions. Sailing upwind, Gibraltar was now made effectively further away and more difficult to get to, with the result that everybody was on deck for the next 40 nautical miles for the frequent tacking as we proceeded through the straits.


We eventually reached Punta Camero, and passing outside Bajo La Perla and other rocks the full size of the Rock of Gibraltar came into view shrouded by cloud as it was forced to rise steeply above its sheer 430 meter high peak. As we exited the straits the wind also moderated to about 20 knots and finally by the time Fenix was docked at 1700 hours the sea was calm once again - 36 8.13' N 5 31.24' W.


After a glass or two of wine, a joint of pork was put in the oven and we were enjoying a full Sunday roast dinner by 2100 hours despite the fact that we had all not slept properly for more than a day.