Wednesday 21st July
The family went ashore again to give JP some space so the he could investigate the generator problem. JP checked out the fuel situation, and wondered whether there was another blockage. This was inconclusive, but he did discover that the new fuel pump was pumping the wrong way round. This however was not the cause of the problem, and following the lead in the manual, JP tried eliminating the various safety switches. This proved that the exhaust temperature switch had become faulty. JP left a bypass in place, in order that we could have the benefit of the generator while seeking a solution from Mastervolt. Late in the afternoon we went into the marina. We were soon met by the chap from the marina, who was most friendly (contrary to one of the pilot books). He encouraged us to squeeze stern first into a slot that was barely wide enough.
Peter and Tom set off to climb El Raton (a mouse-like rock 110 metres high) to see the lighthouse that 'Lucy Lamplady', a character from Letterland at Tom's nursery, had built there. The family went ashore to the beach again, after breakfast. Mo and JP emptied the freezer, and we defrosted it. Once again, it needed the hot air gun to accelerate the process as it had gone too far. We wanted to use shore power to freeze it down again, and so conserve battery power. After this, we managed to get ashore for a stroll around the village. The church was particularly extraordinary, as an archway ran underneath it providing access from the port to the main street. Inside, the floors sloped upwards towards the main alter. We left the marina, rather late in the day after topping up the water and with batteries charged. This involved warping Fuga out, as there was no room to turn around under engine. Once extracted, we anchored in the bay outside again.
After a comfortable night at anchor, we got up reasonably promptly and set off, motoring as there was again no wind. Breakfast was an impromptu affair under way, but it was not too long before we had covered the 10 miles to the waypoint off San Sabastian. We anchored behind the Isla de Santa Clara in order to keep out of the worst of the swell that was still entering the harbour, despite the lack of wind and calm seas outside. Mo and JP went ashore and had a long walk around the city, although JP who had been on the red wine was suffering from a sore toe. Emma had broken out with spots, clearly Debbie's immune system was insufficient to suppress Tom's variety of chicken pox. This perhaps explained why she had been a bit grotty over the previous two days.
…
We had a reasonably comfortable night anchored off San Sebastian, behind the island. The family went ashore to look at the town and to visit the Aquarium, while JP and Mo planned to go on a procurement shopping trip. The large outboard was playing up, being difficult to start and stalling when slow running. We wondered whether it was the fuel we had purchased at Guetaria. JP tried to check the plugs, not surprisingly oiled up, and extracted the slow running jet. It seemed to improve a little, but possibly the adjustment of the jet is still miles out. JP did find he was using too oily a mix of fuel. JP and Mo eventually got ashore and found the supermarket, a Lidl, under a large square, with a market selling fresh meat, fruit, vegetables, bread, etc. outside it. When the family returned, the Aquarium had proved to be a success. We had lunch, then went for a swim off the boat. Tom managed to climb down the boarding ladder, and eventually was persuaded to jump in. Following this, a beach party was launched to run Tom off a little, while JP and Mo looked after the dormant Emma. We got ready for sea, including getting the motor off the dinghy and the dinghy onto its davits, and set off for Hondarrabia. At first we thought we might have a favourable wind, and be able to sail for the first time in over a week, but the wind soon died and headed us. We anchored off the beach outside the Port of Refuge, where we had anchored on our first visit. Tom, who had slept for two hours, came out for his share of the spaghetti Bolognese.
Tom was up early and so Peter was trying to keep him entertained, while the rest of us kept our heads down. Debbie beat a retreat into the aft cabin. After breakfast, the family set off for an expedition to Hondarabbia. Leaving the boat in the marina, they walked the length of the town, eventually arriving at the airport. Peter had to go back to the marina to bring the dinghy round to pick them up, as walking back again was definitely not on. After lunch, Tom was enticed to launch himself off the back of the boat, and swam or was towed around twice.
Spent day at Hondarrabia. Peter took Tom for an early exercise session on the beach, and returned to the beach again while JP and Mo went supermarket shopping. Debbie stayed on board in the hope of a rest. Then in the afternoon to the chandlers. The primary objective, Peter insisted, was to get some more fuses for the toilet, as we were on our last one, and he feared for the consequences, having blown two already. Late in the afternoon we packed up and set off for the 20 miles to Gueteria, where we anchored in our free rolly polly anchorage.
Tom woke the boat up at 0540, although JP had been tossing about for most of the night. Although JP produced a timely beaker of milk, Tom demanded another, and falling out with Dad invaded Debbie and Emma's space. We had intended getting up early in any case, as Peter wanted another snorkel off the Isle St Nicholas. So we set off, having some breakfast on the way. Paradoxically, JP blew the fuse on the toilet, so was glad that Peter had insisted we buy more! We enjoyed the only sail to date of the holiday, with a light wind coming from the north, but eventually had to motor sail. We anchored close in under Isla de San Nicolas. Peter, Debs et al set off for the village to find some bread, and came back with the necessary plus some useful extra pizzas. JP had a snorkel near the rocks by the island, and saw a huge number of attractive fish. After a swim around the boat, notably by Tom, we had lunch. The family then went off for some beach activity, returning for 1530. We packed up the dinghy and outboard, etc. and set off for Plencia. If we liked the look of it, we could stop there the night; if not we could continue to Bilbao. Just as we were approaching Cabo Machichaco JP saw a disturbance in the water, and wondered what it was. Then we seemed to be surrounded by a large pod of big dolphins, spread out over perhaps a mile. They were all heading east, so we turned to follow them, and wondered whether it was worth while waking Tom. We decided Tom would not come too sufficiently quickly and in good enough humour to benefit, and so let him sleep on. Debbie took Emma to the bows, just as the autopilot decided to do one of its rare slam turns to starboard. The dolphin that was upside down and brushing its underneath on our bow managed to follow the crash turn and remained in place, while Debbie sat down on the winch to avoid being thrown off with Emma. The rest of the trip was uneventful, and we duly arrived at Plencia. We were warned off the anchorage in the mouth of the river by a smaller yacht coming out, and so found an anchorage on the NE side of the bay, under the lee of the cliff and jetty on that side. It proved to be very comfortable.
Peter and Tom went ashore for a quick run off before breakfast, and afterwards Tom wanted to go to the diving platform inside the roped off swimming area. Peter took the dinghy to the buoy, and left it there to swim with Tom to the platform. They managed a good trip down the slide together, and then returned to Fuga. JP was having trouble with the outboard, and had changed the fuel in the tank with some positive effect, but that left us short of fuel. He and Mo set off to get some from the pumps in the harbour, as mentioned in the pilot guide. However, there were none! The best advice we could get suggested that we could walk from a bridge higher up the river. As the advice was in Spanish, the outcome was far from certain! We tried, and had almost drawn a blank when we encountered a chap with some English who was able to direct us with some certainty. We got back in the dinghy, and motored further up river, leaving the dinghy at a rather dubious landing place behind a rugby club. This proved to be ideal, as when we had found a way out behind the fenced, locked and gated grounds, we were at the filling station and returned triumphantly with two gallons of petrol. We were glad to have made the trip up river as the town and particularly the countryside beyond the town along the river was very pretty. However, by the time we returned to Fuga, the motor was again misbehaving, refusing to run at slow speed. JP suspected a blocked slow running jet, could extract the adjustment pin, but did not know how to clear the obstruction. After lunch, JP investigated the failure of the generator after two minutes running. Drawing off some fuel, including a bit of foreign matter, the conclusion was that this was preventing the fuel pump from operating. Anyway, the generator began to run again. The filter is fitted after the pump, which must surely be a nonsense? Pete and Tom had another session on the diving platform, this time Tom suffering an injury to his self esteem, at any rate, when he fell down the ladder to the slide. Shortly after this, the weather began to deteriorate. Clouds came in, and for a while it blew westerly Force 5, then reverted to a more northerly direction. It was enough to kick up some swell in the bay, and we decided to head off into Bilbao harbour in case it became more uncomfortable. It was not a pleasant sail, made under jib with engine, and with much rolling, so we were pleased to anchor off the yacht club in our usual position.
We came to at a reasonable time, and after breakfast we moved Fuga into the yacht harbour of the Real Club Maritimo Abra, at Las Arenas. JP found himself locked out on the wrong side of the barrier, and it took some time to find the chap who was in the Capitania. Having filled in the form, we needed all crew members' passport numbers. The whole process took some time, but we were finally in a position to set off for the Metro in Las Arenas. After some very helpful advice as to how to buy the best deal, we bought just one ticket for €5 and passed it through the barriers repeatedly until we were all through. We split up when we got to Bilbao, the family going by a circuitous route through a park, while JP and Mo went straight to the Guggenheim museum. On the way JP was severely rattled when 3 chaps tried to rumble him for his wallet. One emerged from a doorway, dropping his keys to create a diversion and prevent escape, while one cut off the rear, and the other was going for his right hand shorts pocket. Fortunately he felt the hand in his pocket, and cut downwards sharply whilst shouting, and they de-materialised as fast as they had appeared. JP and Mo were pleased to pay the €12 admission fee each, the exhibits and their surroundings were well worth while. The fee included a personal audio guide machine loaned for the duration of the visit. We met Pete, Debs et al outside, and walked to the old town area, where we found a restaurant. Tom sat most of the meal out, asleep in his bush baby papouse. We very much enjoyed the meal to which Peter and Debbie were treating JP and Mo, sitting on the pavement outside. Afterwards we returned to the metro, and using the same ticket got back to Las Arenas. Pete and Tom made use of the club swimming pool. Emma was tearful for no apparent reason, but eventually got to sleep, allowing Peter and Debbie to at last relax a little before going to bed.
We were all up early, and the family had a quick breakfast before the taxi arrived at 0800 to take them to the airport. JP and Mo had no time to think as the boat needed straightening out before Dave arrived on the same flight, anticipated him at the marina at about 1030. Mo worked down below, while JP had a go at the decks, and particularly the cockpit. The pressure washer came out of hiding for the first time since Haslar. Mo received a message on the phone from Dave, saying 'I'm here! Where are you?' - he wasn't quite sure which marina to come to, and neither were the taxi drivers. After drinks and lunch on board, we spent the afternoon at the swimming pool. Dave was somewhat aggrieved when the 'mental nurse' (from her uniform) admitted him to the pool at half price, in view of his age… After supper on board, we went for a walk to the transporter bridge, but unfortunately the viewing level was closed as it was just past sunset. We purchased tickets to go across all the same, and after strolling along the river bank we settled on a bar to have a drink. We returned to the transporter bridge via various streets that were humming with night life. As we left the transporter bridge we could hear fireworks, and rounding the corner we were in time to see the finale of the display, across the water at the old port.
We went shopping after breakfast, but ran into some difficulties. The roads had been closed off for a cycle race, and most of the local shops were shut. We found our way to the supermarket, and to our consternation, this too was shut. On the way back to the boat, we found a charcuterie that was also selling bread, but not some of the essentials we needed. We were relieved to find the other supermarket, that Mo and JP had not been impressed with previously, was however open. The fruit and veg department had a reasonable stock, so we managed to get what we needed, returning to the charcuterie for some steak, sausages and hot, freshly baked bread. After lunch, we set off for Castro Urdiales. JP hoped to sail, but after trying to beat out of the entrance of the harbour, he gave up as the wind died and Dave showed some signs of discomfort at the motion. We anchored in the same position as before, and immediately put the dinghy in the water and went ashore. Compulsory culture was thwarted when the church was closed, but we enjoyed a drink at a bar with rather oily tapas. They were setting up for a concert as we left, but a swim off the boat followed by supper held more attractions.
