We’re close to the corner north of Lisbon (Cabo Raso for
those who like precision in these matters), it’s a very calm night with 3kts
true wind, and we are – again – motoring.
We seem to be alternating between motoring in calms or light winds, or
waiting out strong headwinds: Otra Vida is not a boat that sails well to
weather. Since leaving Vigo last week
we’ve sailed for 2 hours and motored for about 45 hours. This is not a pleasing ratio. And it’s not that we’re in a rush. The issue is that the wind remains like that
for as far ahead as we can see with forecasts.
Today we’ve had plenty of dolphin company. In this almost glassy calm with 2m swells
rolling in from the Atlantic, moonlight on the water, and smoke from something
burning on land in the air, the dolphins alongside are even more ethereal than
usual. When it was sunny earlier their
lithe muscular bodies diving and rising and twisting in the perfectly clear
blue-tinged deep water were something to behold. Now there are unexpected sounds of waves and
splashes next to the boat, a fin rising out of the water, a small explosion of foam
and bubbles where they break the surface, glassy white and silver in the
moonlight against a black mercury sea.
There are many lobster pots off this coast, so we’re on
almost constant lookout for them.
There’s a rope cutter on the propeller which theoretically should cut
through and stop rope from fouling the prop, but I have two concerns. The first is that I am not convinced that the
rope cutter will actually cut through all ropes … it seems to me it would
struggle above say 15-20mm diameter, and it would depend on where and how the
rope started wrapping around the propeller.
The second and more important consideration is that these lobster pots
are someone else’s livelihood, and cutting through the rope means the loss of
10-20 pots on the end of the line, plus whatever seafood contents are in
there. So we keep a very regular watch
and try to avoid them. To my knowledge
so far this year we’ve avoided them all.
We were in Porto for two days at the very swanky new marina
in the river. It used to be that your
only real choice was to anchor or berth at Leixoes, outside the entrance to the
river, as the river itself had no practical docking facilities other than for
local boats serving the port (wine) tourist trade. No more.
The marina is lovely, and the fresh bread they leave in your cockpit each
morning is a nice touch.
I was last in Porto in 2009, heading south to the
Mediterranean for the summer, with Wendy and Neil on board. The marina didn’t exist then, so we stayed in
Leixoes and travelled into town. A
memorable day was spent visiting Casa da Musica, a Rem Koolhaas designed
spaceship that landed in Porto to provide a concert hall for the
population. Four years on it is still
arresting, particularly inside, but I am struck by how much it has tired in such
a short time. I know defenders of
traditional architecture claim “old style buildings mature, modernist ones just
get old”, but that is an argument I’ve never really bought – it sounds too much
like code for “don’t try new things, don’t push limits, and don’t
progress”. Even if Koolhaas’ brilliant
building was only temporarily fresh, it was still worth it – for me and I am
sure for many others the emotion it brought four years ago is still there. And the
contemporary fado concert we enjoyed there this time was not tired at all.
You can’t go to Porto without visiting a port house. Maret wasn’t much of a fan of port before the
visit, but developed a taste remarkably quickly. Just like Laphroaig in Islay, or percebes in
Galicia. I remain cautiously optimistic
that her enthusiasm for sherry will extend beyond Pedro Ximinez after a visit
to Sanlucar de Barrameda.
Some of Maret’s friends from Estonia were coincidentally in
Porto on a brand new and very beautiful catamaran, and we stopped by to say
hello. I’d met Raul once before, on a
different catamaran in St Lucia a few days after Maret and I first met. He’s been around the world since then, and
is now heading across the Atlantic for a Caribbean season. Jaan had last seen Otra Vida one cold
morning in Saaremaa during the winter refit – quite different indeed to how she
looks today. He too has circumnavigated,
and amongst other things sings about his experiences doing that and living a
unique life on a tiny Estonian island. A
nice visit, and I still have major boat envy about their inside steering
station!
A friend from Cordon Bleu, the ever-energetic Maria, is
originally from Porto, so naturally I asked her for suggestions. We’re still recovering from her recommendation
to try the local classic the Francesinha, a warm sandwich of American
proportions, consisting of thick bread, sliced meats, sausage, smoked pork,
fried beef, melted cheese and a tomato, beer and chilli sauce, all washed down
with a glass of beer. It’s not for the
timid, and you won’t need to eat again for the rest of the day. It reminded me of a cross between a Monte
Cristo and a Philly Cheese Steak.
Excellent stuff!
After this monumental cholesterol bomb lunch we walked
around, slowly dragging our laden stomachs with us, hoping to burn off at least
a few percent of the calories. The
Palacio de Cristal is a prominent Porto building used for exhibitions, and has
extensive terraced gardens leading down towards the Douro River. The views, as you would expect, are
lovely. The gardens themselves seem
almost to have been designed for lovers’ trysts. Lots of little spaces accessed by deliberately
unnecessary detours, partially obscured from sight by the trees and shrubs,
with views down to the river. The sheer
number of such romantic spots makes me think it did not happen by chance. What a great city.
Leaving Porto we had 3kts of river current with us from the
east, which collided outside the river mouth breakwater with W/NW swells from the
Atlantic and 15kt wind from the south.
Add the reflected waves from the river protection, and a steeply
shelving bottom. Yes, it was like a
washing machine. Nothing dangerous with
a working engine, but definitely uncomfortable.
2 miles out from the river we came across the telltale tidal race waves,
where the current finally gave up. After
that things were back to normal.
Our next weather window looks to be Tuesday afternoon,
although forecast accuracy 5 days out is quite variable. If the forecast is accurate there is a risk
we may actually sail. I wonder if we’ll
remember how to do that.
Time to go. I can faintly
see the 25 de Abril bridge in the distance, and I can hear the dolphins back
for a late evening visit.
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