Crossing Biscay. Day 4 Tuesday June 11th -> Wednesday.

Tuesday was our easiest day of sailing.  First the sense that we were on the home straight, secondly the fine sunny weather, the calm winds from behind and relatively slight seas.

I also spotted the most extraordinary aquatic gymnastics I’ve ever seen.

My attention was drawn to a splash more than a hundred yards away, aft of our port beam.  I stared at the point, hoping I might see something more and was not disappointed.  A dolphin jumped completely out of the water, heading north.

And then a few seconds later it repeated the feat.  And again and again, until I watched in awe at the sheer physical energy being expended as this magnificent creature propelled itself clear of the water no less than seventeen times in succession.  It then turned and cleared the surface in the opposite direction, before turning again and performing one more acrobatic leap northwards.

Why would any sea mammal do this?  I could only assume for fun, just for the sheer pleasure of being able to do it.

By early evening the wind dropped away and the boat was rolling in the waves, no longer held by the wind in the sails, and the sails were flogging a little.  So we wrapped them away, secured the pole again to the mast, and started the engine.  We’d made such amazingly good progress, we didn’t want to lose it all by being purists.

The wind returned before sunset, and we were able to motor sail through the hours of darkness.

In the early hours of Wednesday we turned off the engine as the wind picked up, and even found ourselves reefing both main and foresail.

We saw the haze of the lights off the N Spanish coast, and changed course a little to dodge a few fishing boats who seemed to be trawling in no particular direction.

A landfall is always to be celebrated, and, therefore, it was only partly in deference to EU import restrictions, that Liz cooked up a breakfast of the remaining bacon, eggs, tomatoes and fried potatoes. 

The first century Roman “Tower of Hercules”, now the oldest lighthouse in the world, was distinguishable from a distance, as was the enormous marina control tower, half way along the breakwater.

Our Portishead friends Rose and Sam, also a school friend of Bones, had left Portishead earlier in May, and after pausing for a while in the Scillies, had crossed to Coruna in their boat Zora, arriving almost three weeks ahead of us.

Coruna marina reserved a space for us next to Zora, and so we jokingly messaged Sam, suggesting he put the kettle on.  Sam and Rose excelled themselves, and after taking our lines, invited us on board to celebrate with a second breakfast of fresh coffee, croissants and pains aux chocolat.  What a welcome!

Thanks Rose and Sam!  Thanks Anna and Bones!

Marine traffic recorded our trip as 3 days, 23 hours and 49 minutes.  Our impellor log recorded a distance of 599 miles, which, to save you the maths, equates to an average speed of 6.25 knots.  Even allowing for a little distance overstatement on the part of our log, we planned five days, and arrived in just under four, with less than a quarter of the time aided by engine.  Not bad for an old lady like Eas Mhor!