|The coast of Africa and laundry|
Now before you all start to panic, I'm okay and Mariquita is happily sailing/motoring down towards the Gibraltar straights as I type this. Of course in real-time, and because you're reading this, we're probably already in Barcelona and with any luck, I'm sitting in a nice little bar with a cold, clinky Mojhito, a large umbrella keeping me cool and my lap-top screen visible whilst the handsome Spanish waiter brings me another of those tasty little tapas numbers.
|As we left Brest|
However, as I write this I am in my cabin having just finished my watch and we haven't quite reached the Gibraltar straights yet. So my tapas fantasy is still quite a few days off.
All-in-all it's not been a bad trip. It certainly beats the trip going to the UK earlier in the year. But it has most definitely had its ups and its downs. We had to sit in Brest, France for 6 days before we could really get going. Then when we did, the rocking and rolling was pretty unbearable.
Though bare it we did all the way across the bay of Biscay until the fog came in just as we reached the other side. Now boy was that some fog. It swamped over us like a cotton wool blanket and would not thin out, no matter how much we peered into it and blew on our fog horn. We had a look-out at the top of the mast as the collected fog literally rained down on us from the rigging and from our eyelashes.
It was most eerie; a silencing, swirling web of water. And then it happened, as the darkness fell and the fog became even more blinding; we ran over a bloody fishing pot.
Now bare with me whilst I have a small but I feel, legitimate little rant here; how are fishermen/people (P.C?) allowed to plant small, un-lit, fishing pots in the middle of shipping channels? How is this legal? How do they sleep at night? This particular pot wrapped itself beautifully around our prop in the middle of the night in thick fog with a ship we could see on the radar stealthily coming up behind us. No wind for sailing and nowhere to go!
And it was my Fiancé who had to jump in with scuba gear, a knife and with a rope wrapped around him for safety to cut us free - what a hero he is. But if I ever get my hands on the fisherman who put it there, ooh! he'd get a piece of my mind.
And now to finish; happily I am sitting in a quaint cafe here in Barcelona. The waiter is in fact a waitress, the Mojhito is a glass of fizzy water with ice and lemon and I've had way too many tapas already to contemplate having any more. I am far from cool, in fact I am absolutely boiling and am lusting over the thought of a long, cold shower at the Barcelona yacht club. After 10 days of 10 second boat-showers, I feel I can leave the tap running for a few moments over my hot head. I feel it's justified.
I shall leave you with the usual chain of photos and a quick, fantastic recipe for a line-caught fish carpaccio with hot sesame oil, lime and soy sauce. Ever so easy but ever so delectable and even better if you have only just plucked your fish from the sea like we did.
Thanks for reading!
For fish carpaccio with sesame you will need;
1 fresh fish or a largish fillet such as swordfish, we had a stripped Bass
5 tbsp of sesame oil
5 tbsp soy sauce
juice of 1 lime and one lime cut into wedges as a garnish for folk to squeeze their own
Although that isn't how we ate it as we popped into the Med through the Gibraltar straights on a very dry boat. But it was still splendid with a jug of iced water!
|Arriving in Barcelona as the sun set.|