Gibraltar is a busy and noisy place. Miggy had expected it to be like Guernsey but is disappointed to find that not to be the case. The place has changed since I was there 25 years ago. There is massive redevelopment on reclaimed land with apartments selling for up to £2m. Who was buying them we asked? Rich Americans, Brits and all nationalities other than Gibraltarian we were told - they can no longer afford accommodation on the Rock. Main Street is now pedestrianised, lined with many more large shops and filled with a huge number of tourists. The waterfront has also altered extensively with many Marina berths being swallowed up by the redevelopment. We will have to book our space next April to have any chance of staying there.We shopped at Marks and Spencer for some Christmas goodies and quality tinned meals for the reserves. I noticed a clock in the store saying 1750 and we were meant to meet Neal’s stepmother Beryl and her partner Gerry in the Rock Hotel at 1800.
I had mistakenly put our clocks back to BST! We made it only twenty minutes late having rushed back to the hotel, changed and splashed on some deodorant and catching a bus to the Hotel. After extending our sincere apologies we had a very pleasant evening of good food and wine in grand company and surroundings. At the other end of the scale we indulged ourselves with fish and chips and good old English Ale. We set off to the top of the Rock on the cable car with great expectations of fine views over North Africa and the Mediterranean. These were dashed by cloud although we were thrilled to see a Peregrine Falcon hover near to us and then dive out of sight. The interactive facility is excellent and we vow to return in the spring. 
The Barbary Apes enchanted us. They are by no means timid and are always on the lookout to steal one’s bag in the hope that it may contain food. There is a saying that as long as the apes remain on the Rock so will the British. When Winston Churchill was told that only three apes remained he imported some from Morocco. The half hour bus ride to Jerez takes us through rolling hills covered first with cotton plants and then with vines on which grow the grapes that make the sherry but more about this later.Our expectations of Jerez were not great having seen the outskirts, which comprise industrial estates and run down buildings, from the bus on our way to Gibraltar. We were pleasantly surprised though and spent one of the best days of the trip.
Our walk through the cobbled and citrus tree lined streets and squares of the old town was all done in the pouring rain although the temperature was around 25ºC. The locals were in shirtsleeve order under their umbrellas and there seemed to be a ‘battle of brollies’ going on with no one giving way or raising their weapons to clear others. We came across no casualties however!We found the most spectacular of all the sights to be seen to be the Alcazar of Jerez. This is basically the remains of the 12th century Moorish defence system a group of buildings surrounded by castellated walls and towers. The Alcazar was a fortress and a palace and constituted the seat of political and military power for the city of around 16,000 inhabitants.
This beautifully renovated and restored monument comprises the 12th century City Gate, Mosque and Arab Baths and a 15th to 19th century palace built on the site of the original Arab Palace and its Oil Mill. A good section of the walls and towers around the perimeter remain to be seen, albeit substantially restored, together with the Parade Ground and stunning gardens planted with Olive and citrus trees around the cool running water of fountains and ponds.
Amongst other attractions is the Cathedral and a superb pedestrianised shopping area.The City is, of course, renowned as being the home of sherry and takes its name from the drink. The town is littered with ‘Bodegas’ where the sherry is made and stored. As you look at the City from on high you can pick out familiar names on the Bodegas such as Sandeman, Harvey’s, Gonzalez Byass along with many, many others. We had intended to visit the Sandeman Bodegas but the last tour had been and gone when we arrived. The girl in the Tourist Information office had misinformed us. Never mind we will go to Jerez again nearer Christmas – it is only a half an hour away and the return bus trip costs all of 2.25 euros each.
The performance of the ‘Como Bailan los Caballos Andaluces’ at the Fundacion Real Escuela Andaluza Del Arte Equestre; The School of Andalucian Equestrian Art, will be an everlasting memory. This equestrian ballet to Andalucian music is based on choreography taken from classical and country eighteenth century dressage. We have seen dressage on television but we were unprepared for what we witnessed which was extraordinarily beautiful with horse and man in perfect harmony moving with stunning grace and beauty. The elegant Andalucian stallions performed leg movement that one would have thought impossible if one had not witnessed it.
We are sad that, because photography is naturally not permitted during the performance, we cannot post a photo of this incredible event. We can however show you the ‘siring’ of another fine animal!
To make the day complete we had lunch at an Argentinean restaurant. We had excellent meat at such a restaurant in Amsterdam and we were not disappointed here, anything but.Life here in Rota goes on as ever with yet another fiesta. This time it was like our Harvest Festival but without the ‘we plough the fields and scatter’ bit!
The weather has definitely turned and we have had strong to gale force winds, first from the west, ‘The Poniente’ and then from the east, ‘The Levanter’. The myths, legends and facts about these winds and those of the Mediterranean are so very interesting but are best recounted in writings more informed than this.
Earlier this week we were delighted to welcome Jane and John aboard for the night. They arrived with John’s mother, Mary and Stepfather Peter at lunchtime. We enjoyed an afternoon of superb company under blue skies and sunshine and an extended lunch washed down with various beverages including a delicious cold Manzanilla, a very dry, salty, sherry from Sanlucar de Barrameda, a town 20 kilometres north of here. Later in the evening, after Mary and Peter had left to drive back to their home outside Sotogrande, Jane and John were kind enough to treat us to a delightful dinner at El Sixto in town here in Rota. The following lunchtime we were thrilled to see Clare and her boyfriend, Richard, who, after lunch, drove John and Jane back to Sotogrande. 
During the previous week we were honoured to witness the Fiesta de Patronales de Rota, the town’s celebration in honour of their patron, La Virgen del Rosario. The week’s festivities started with the coronation of la Dama Major (the fiesta queen) and the swearing in of her Corte de Honor, a guard of honour comprising twenty beautiful young ladies and a number of children as pages. There was a parade with the girls in traditional dress on magnificently decorated floats, from which they were removed at the end by way of forklift trucks. Later the girls were paraded around town in somewhat more comfort in horse drawn carriages. After evening concerts, poetry readings and various children’s activities the fiesta concluded on a religious theme with the solemn parade of the effigy of the Virgen accompanied by town bands, the girls, the town dignitaries and representatives of local associations and organisations. The life size dressed statue of the Virgen together with silver candlesticks and ornamentation on a heavy silver or silver gilt platform measuring about two metres by three metres is carried by twenty strong young men at ‘shuffle’ pace around the town for three hours. To get the effigy out of the Church they had to shuffle on their knees to clear the arched doorway. When they stood up their burden toppled and raised a gasp from the exceedingly sizeable crowd. 
We visited the town of El Puerto de Santa Maria that stands n the shores of the Bay of Cadiz about a half hour’s bus ride from Rota. It is a town that once burgeoned as one of the main ports for the export of Sherry. A number of Sherry companies, including Osborne and Terry, still have Bodegas there. The Plaza de Toros is one of the largest and most famous bullrings in Spain and, among the Town’s other sights, are the 13th Century Castillo San Marcos, the old Fish Market and a small building on the river that housed the water supply for ships voyaging to South America in the 17th Century. Our greatest sight was the renowned shellfish eating house, ‘Romerijo’. The restaurant straddles the road on one side of which they serve boiled shellfish and on the other side deep fried. One buys portions of the incredible array of type and size of shellfish and conveys them in paper ‘cones’ to a table at which cutlery, plates, condiments and a large receptacle for disposal of shells are provided. One orders drinks from the waiter and then tucks into a feast! The place is packed. 
A striking feature of Rota and, indeed, the rest of Andalucia, is the ‘Patio’. Many houses are built in the classic Mediterranean and Moorish style where the courtyard or patio is at the heart providing light and air to the surrounding living and sleeping accommodation. Whilst many of the houses are now subdivided into apartments the patio survives with its whitewashed walls, citrus trees and terracotta pots filled with geraniums and carnations. Jasmine fragrance adds to the atmosphere. The Andalucians and, indeed, the Rotarians (yes, that’s what they call themselves) take great pride in their Patios be they palatial spaces in the grandest residences or the tiny courtyard in humble homes, shared by many. 
Hasta luego and love to you all until the next time.
A small fishing fleet sets out to sea each day except Sunday and on its return there is an auction for the trade and a stall for the townsfolk selling fresh fish caught that day extremely cheaply.
A word about the Ferreteria or ferret around ‘ere as Miggy calls it. This Institution is not just an ironmonger but an Aladdin’s cave hiding anything and everything one would ever need for the house, garden, the car, the shed, the workroom and even the boat.
There was a ‘Feria de Tapas’ in the church square for four days during which one swapped coupons, bought at a kiosk, for Tapas selected from six choices from each of six stalls run by a separate restaurants. Each tapas was 1.75 euros and Tapas de dia was 2.00 euros. A wine, beer or soft drink was 1.00 euro. During the evening there was entertainment including Flamenco, folk, rock and puppets! Talking of food we have bought a two ring electric cooker to supplement our electric kettle. We pay for electricity on the pontoon so we may as well use it instead of our camping gaz. Perhaps we’ll invest in a toaster and electric grill as well!
Cadiz is just a 30 minute ferry ride across the bay and the terminal is 100 metres from our berth. We were captivated by the intimacy of the old city that is just 1200 metres by 1800 metres in area. It is so small that we walked around its narrow cobbled streets a couple of times taking in the sites on the way. By far the most striking building is the Cathedral with its twin Torres. The panoramic view over the city, the bay and Rota from the Torre Poniente was superlative. We enjoyed a beer at a café in a cool, dappled square and lunch of Paella in a Restaurant on the street by the Mercado Municipio, the most gigantic fresh fish, meat and vegetable market we have ever seen.
It was great to hear from family including a phone call from Kate Hill – thanks Kate, also our 1st letter since March from Marion Satterley. Emails from Betsy and David, Jane and John and David’ Indian epistles have been much appreciated. We have also been happy to get emails from friends including John and Karin Spink, Ted and Iris Watts, Ian and Sue Burr, John and Annie Cordon and Ken and Jackie Hay. Keep them coming. Hearing your news makes us fell close to our real home.
Some fifteen miles up river we dropped the anchor in midstream between the whitewashed houses of the tiny villages of Alcoutim on the Portuguese side and Sanlucar de Guardiana on the Spanish side. We did not know which courtesy flag to fly and even the mobile phones were confused as to which country they are in.
Miggy has a creditable and usually successful attempt at cooking local dishes. The salt cod Bacalhau was not one of those successes in that it turned out very tough and extremely salty. She had soaked the fish for two hours whereas, as we later discovered, it is customary to soak it for two days! Neal thinks it was a deliberate ploy to go for a meal ashore!
Our next river was the Rio Piedras and the tiny holiday village of El Rompido reserved, it appears, mainly for the Spanish tourists. The marina there is new and sparsely populated but the management were friendly and helpful. We spent one night at anchor in the river which is separated from the sea by a strip of sand dunes upon which people picnic. The trouble is they leave their rubbish in plastic bags under the signs that say ‘National Park’ when they go home. They even leave cheap picnic tables, chairs and umbrellas. Who do they reckon will clear it up? We can tell them – it is the seagulls that rip open the bags, eat what they can and leave the rest scattered for the high tide to wash away and litter the sea.
At the next port, Chipiona, we witnessed the Fiesta of the Virgin de Regla. She is a black saint established by the Church to attract ‘pilgrims’ and swell their coffers! How could I be so cynical? The fiesta also marks the end of summer.
The western Algarve has a beautiful coastline of craggy multi coloured layered sandstone cliffs with isolated sandy coves and deep caves. It is a desperate shame that these coves and beaches are filled to the brim with British tourists and the cliffs are topped with gross over development of high-rise hotels and apartment blocks. Place names Vilamoura, Praia de Rocha and Almancil may strike the fear of God into you.
It was in Lagos that we said a fond and sad farewell to our very good German friends Michael and Jutta from ‘Allegro ma non Troppo’ who are heading east at a faster rate than us from now on. We hope to meet up with them in the Mediterranean in years to come.
In the marina at the next stop, Portimao, we first noticed that the boat next to us had a delightful black Labrador on board. A little later we saw that the Dutch boat the other side of us, which was a static ‘live aboard’ catamaran, had a Rotweiler, a Heinz 57 dog, and African Grey Parrot, three Budgies, a Siamese cat and a black Moggie. The Guinea Pigs and Rabbit had died!! All pretty bizarre!!
We quickly transited the resorts of the Algarve to the Rio Formosa, a lagoon on which stands Faro. We anchored for a couple of days just a dinghy ride away from this serene regional capital with its historic old walled town. We were fascinated by the Storks once again and, talking of things that fly, have learnt the livery of every charter airline and budget carrier as the anchorage was directly under the flight path and only a matter of a few hundred meters from the end of the runway at Faro airport. Funnily enough one soon became accustomed to the noise which stopped before bedtime and started at a reasonable hour in the morning. 
Further east in the lagoon we anchored off the Isla Culatra, a sand spit that separates the lagoon from the open sea. The tiny ramshackled fishing village, whilst overrun with local tourists at this time of year, maintains its individuality and charm and its incredibly low prices. We had lunch in a no nonsense café of fine crusty bread with locally popular sardine paste, a beautiful selection of fish grilled over wood, a salad to die for, as they say, and a litre of local Vinho Tinto all for 20 euros (£14) for the two of us. Our sole concern at this windy anchorage was other yachts dragging their anchors with the risk of hitting us. Anchoring techniques amongst the French, Spanish and Portuguese leave a lot to be desired with them putting out much less chain than is necessary and choosing positions at which to drop the anchor that belie all accepted practice and common sense. We survived without a scratch however!
We have found Internet less accessible along this coast, particularly when we are at anchor. We therefore apologise to anyone who has emailed us within the last two weeks for our lack of reply. Normal service should be resumed from now.
During our transit of the Portuguese coast we have encountered yachts from twenty different nations – French, Belgian, Spanish, Portuguese, Swiss, Danish, German, Swedish, Finnish, Norwegian, Polish, Latvian, American, Dutch, Irish, Russian, Bermudan, Australian, South African and from St Maarten in the Caribbean. In addition the good old Brits are still here although their numbers dwindle as we head south.
Having written extensively about the places we’ve visited perhaps you would like to hear a little about us and our life aboard. In the four months and 1500 miles that we have been away from the UK we have actually sailed for 39 days. We generally start a passage day, particularly on this Atlantic coast, at about 0600 so as to arrive at our destination before the ‘berthing’ breeze sets in at around Force 6. Being safely on the berth watching others struggle to berth in the wind is better than TV – yachts all over the place fending off everything in sight and loads of shouting! We are not exempt from this I should add but we’re getting better!
A particular mention of Supper and the magnificent job Miggy does in the galley with just two gas rings, an inadequate oven that actually negates roasting, braising and baking, and sometimes a limited choice of ingredients. She concocts varied and delicious dishes that would do great justice to any respectable supper table all in quick time, generally while Neal is drinking a ‘livener’. It is the sauces that make the difference she tells me and I agree. The food on board is so fresh and tasty that we rarely step ashore for supper, perhaps only twice a month to taste national or local dishes. Having said that we appear to be out tonight for an Indian! It’s good to out once in a while as it gives Miggy a rest from the heat of the Galley.
Miggy’s art is progressing extraordinarily well with her painting local landscapes, buildings and things of interest to remind us of where we’ve been. She is developing her individual style and her technique and style are improving day by day. People, to whom she shows her work, including an art teacher from Lisbon, praise it for its professionalism and quality. Someone has to keep us in the way to which we have been accustomed in later life! 
Finally we have been delighted to receive emails, texts and phone calls from some of you. As we travel further from you all, although it only takes a day to get back to see you, we do miss you increasingly. Your contact with us helps allay our homesickness, which, although not overwhelming, is present.
There are three elements of the weather that one must take into account when sailing down the west coast of Portugal. Firstly and perhaps most importantly the Atlantic swell. It emanates from storms well offshore and is present to some degree most of the time. It becomes critical at about 2.0m to 3.0 metres when some ports may close because it is so dangerous to get in over the sand bar at the entrance. Secondly the wind. The north-easterly Portuguese trade winds are reinforced by local sea breezes to reach Force 6 or 7 by evening time. Most people therefore set sail in the early morning so as to arrive at their destination before the onset of the worst of the wind but having to cope with the third element, the fog. This can take the form of sea fog 4% to 10% of days which lingers throughout the day or coastal mist which burns off around midday.
Viana da Castelo where we stayed for two days is a 13th century town that prospered from fishing. Wealth derived from trade with Europe and Brazil funded the many opulent mansions built in the Renaissance and Baroque styles. The town’s interest today lies in its winding streets and intimate squares.
In the 17th century British traders, cut off from their supplies of Bordeaux by frequent wars with France, took a liking to the full flavoured robust wines of Portugal. But these wines did not travel well so the Traders added Brandy to ‘fortify’ them against the rigours of the Atlantic sea voyage. Before long pure grape spirit was added during fermentation and Port, as we drink it today, was created.
We had a guided tour around the Taylor’s Lodge, one of the oldest having been established in 1692. It is still owned and managed by the founding family descendants. We learned about the vineyards, which are situated about a 150 miles from Porto up the Douro River, the fermenting, blending and ageing and about the styles and vintage. All so very interesting but too long a story to tell here. Taste it as we did at the Lodge and all will be revealed!
Having caught up with the mundane chores of yacht maintenance, cleaning, and the like, including Miggy successfully cutting her own hair!! tomorrow, the 15th of July, we leave Leixoes for the 70 mile sail to Fiqueira de Foz, a lively resort in the Bieras region. We will be glad to be at sea again because it has become so hot – 30 deg in the shade.
Those of you in the BBC Radio Solent region who rise early may have heard Miggy’s regular broadcast on the morning show with Julian Clegg at 0630 on the 3rd of July. Her next scheduled broadcast is on the 26th of July at 0630 or thereabouts.
It was Midsummer Day and, as is the tradition in this part of Spain, the local population celebrated in the evening with a Sardine supper and fireworks lasting well into the night.
On then to the Rias Bajas, a series of five large inlets to explore before reaching the Spanish/Portuguese border. The first of these, the Ria Muros was, like the Rias Altas in the north, surrounded by high hills with their steep sides mainly covered in pine forest.
