Wednesday 1st September
We had a leisurely start, and Mo provided JP with a scrambled egg breakfast as a special treat. We had considered exploring the Ria de Pontevedra as we were already there from meeting Kealoha. This would avoid the need to re-enter the ria later. In the end, we decided instead to make our way back to Ria de Arosa, so that we could get the train to Santiago from Vilagarcia. JP had received an e-mail from Diane, so spent a long time devising a reply for her to send to O2, so it was gone midday before we set off. A thin mist or fog had come down the previous afternoon with the southerly wind. The mist was still hanging around, although the wind had all but disappeared and what there was was veering northward. So it was a case of motoring with little point in putting up the main at all. The sun burnt through occasionally, so it was not unpleasant and we decided to visit the Isla Toja, where the wealthy Spanish go on holiday (including General Franco in his day). The chosen route lay through an area populated with viveros. JP was steering the boat, dodging around each one, when he heard something in the propeller as he passed particularly close to one of the rafts. A degree of panic set in, as he was immediately convinced that we had a rope wrapped round the propeller. His panic quadrupled when he found he could not steer the boat, and although we were not powered, we were drifting with tide and wind towards one of the rafts. The dinghy was dropped into the water from the davits, Mo was despatched for fenders and knives, and our hero leapt into the water, but could see nothing wrong. 
Mo pointed out anxiously that we were now about two boats lengths from the vivero in front, and the depth was over 20M. Our hero leaps to the bows and prepares to drop the anchor, when Mo, who thought she should try to do something, shouts from the stern, "It's steering alright!" In his moment of panic, JP had forgotten that he had the autopilot on, and so the clutch was engaged and it was controlling the steering! Mo commented that in the absence of real trauma, JP needed to start inventing imaginary traumas to satisfy his need for adrenaline. Thank goodness there's one level-headed person on the boat! The approach to the anchorage was a little intricate, but we had no further problems, with the chart plotter helping us to avoid the rocks and shallows. Mo decided to prepare an early supper, so we consumed this. Then JP went in briefly to check that there was in fact nothing around the propeller, before we set off for our old anchorage opposite Vilagarcia. Once there, we caught up on e-mails before turning in.
The alarm went off when it was still dark, but JP got up to make tea as we intended to catch the train from Vilagarcia to Santiago at 0950. We were soon under way, and had a quick breakfast on the move. Vilagarcia was about 4 miles away, but the route lay through lines of viveros, and there were many fishing boats on the move as well. We moored up in the same spot that we had vacated on Tuesday, secured the boat, and made for the train station. We missed the 0950, but fortunately there was another 'Regional' stopping train at 1023, so we were not delayed for long. We arrived at Santiago, and followed our instincts towards the town centre until we found a board that confirmed the direction, and also the location of a tourist information office. There we were given a map, and leaflets in English describing the main buildings, the history of the cathedral and the Holy Year of 2004. The cathedral was started in 1075, following the re-discovery during the 9th century of the relics of St. James the Apostle, who preached in Galicia before being beheaded by Herod Agrippa. Our first sight of the cathedral was across the Praza da Quintana, across which snaked a long queue of people. They were waiting to pass through the 'Holy Door' that is only opened during Holy Years, in order to visit the Apostle's tomb. We decided the queue might die down later (it didn't) and made our way around to another door where people were going in, being vigorously shepherded by security guards. We were unprepared for what we saw. The building was packed with thousands rather than hundreds of people. You could barely move towards the little space there was at the back. The bishop, in red robes, was in full flow delivering a sermon, relayed on speakers and closed circuit t.v. : he seemed not to pause for breath for the remaining 20-30 minutes. Around the side aisles, priests were manning confession boxes, hearing confessions even as he spoke. Eventually, the sermon came to its conclusion, and the service was continuing as we found ourselves at a door on the far side through which we could make an exit. We continued walking, taking in other squares, and visiting the Church of San Martin Pinario. This building houses a museum, but in its original form provided a place where monks and presumably ordinary folk could worship, the monks being separated by a beautiful and elaborate altar screen. There were also a number of other altar pieces. We were only just in time, as with all institutions in Spain, they closed for lunch for a couple of hours at 2 pm! Having walked around most of the other points of interest in this central area, we set off to look for some lunch, but Mo fancied going to see the park, included on one of the recommended itineraries. This took us to another church, and there were great views of the cathedral towers through the trees. As we walked back we found the Café Restaurant Marte, opposite the police station, and we sat outside to enjoy a very nice two course lunch, with wine, bread and coffee thrown in, for 10€ each. This was just as well, because in the next street we found it packed with fish restaurants that would certainly have cost us a lot more! We set off then to find the 12th century Collegiate Church of Santa Maria, down by the Sar river. 
It had a Romanesque cloister and museum, and having been built near the river bed on soft soil, some of the pillars were leaning wildly. The community of Augustan monks had provided shelter to the pilgrims that were then making their way to the Tomb of St. James. Today, hundreds of thousands of pilgrims per year still come on foot, bicycle, and other transport along the same 'Route of St. James' from France and from Portugal. From here, we were in good time for the train back to Vilagarcia. Mo refused supper, but provided JP with some, then worked on e-mails before collapsing.
We had decided we could take a quick trip to Pontevedra while we were at Vilagarcia, as this would avoid having to go all the way up the ria by boat. Pontevedra is the administrative capital of the region, has a major university, and lies at the head of the ria of the same name. The railway runs from La Coruna, via Santiago and Pontevedra to Vigo, and provides an excellent service. Arriving in Pontevedra, we only had a vague notion in which direction we should walk, and somehow we contrived to take in the bullring and arrive at the river, but totally miss the old parts of town. Mo had spotted a church tower as we walked along the river bank, but there was no evidence of anything interesting at all from the river, other than a rather fine modern bridge.
As we plunged back towards the 'centro cite' advertised on a road sign, we came across a beautiful Jesuit style baroque church. We stepped inside and looked around at the altar pieces, many of them magnificently dressed with cloth. Pressing on we had done a tour around the centre, and been forced to stop for a drink (just over 2€ for two drinks, with Spanish omellete nibbles thrown in) to refresh ourselves, before we at last encountered a large square with a clearly significant building. At this point we found a tourist information office, and Mo emerged with a leaflet and map! Thus armed, we were able to go on a whistle-stop tour of the main sites. The Igrexa de San Francisco had particularly beautiful stained glass windows. Opposite, there was an 18th century church, now a national monument, with a ground plan in the form of a scallop shell - symbol of the pilgrims. Our tour took in two small chapels, a basilica where we were able to get in just as a service was finishing, and the Parador hotel. Everywhere, decorations and stalls were going up for a two day medieval festival, and we met a chap who worked in a school with students having psychological problems. He heard us talking, and addressed us in English. He wanted to know what Stansted was like, as he had to wait there between flights on his way to Ireland by Ryan Air in a short while. We set off back to the railway station, and JP turned this into a route march when he thought we might just be in time for a train an hour earlier than we had really been planning. We missed the train by 4 minutes, but had plenty of time to enjoy the extremely pleasant station café bar, where two drinks, a toasted sandwich and a tasty Spanish omelette amounted to just over 5 €. Getting back to the boat laden with vinous reinforcement and some fruit and cheese, we prepared to set off before we felt bound to pay another night's marina charge. JP had to go ashore to get more Gonuts for the phone, as e-mailing and downloading the antivirus had used up the remaining balance. This brings our total Gonut expenditure since mid July to 155€: still a lot less than O2. It was blowing as we left, and we were at pains to exit without touching our neighbours boat, a brand new Oceanis 47x from Essex. Once outside the harbour, we were registering Force 7, so we threaded our way through the viveros once more, but chose a new bay where we expected to have good shelter. This proved to be the case, as it blew most of the night. After a wonderful fish supper, we were too tired for Scrabble, but Mo beat JP at Backgammon :(
We had a lazy day. We read in bed, and finally got up and had breakfast. We took in turns to work on the web site, succeeding in doing most of the words, and selecting a few photographs. During the afternoon, when it was really hot, JP went in for a swim and suggested to Mo that she really ought to come in too. He was very surprised on returning from his trip around the bows to find Mo already in the water. The water was pretty cold however, with some really cold spots, so neither of us stayed in long. 
Later, a really heavy thunderstorm broke out. We were sitting in the cockpit reading, and it gradually came upon us. The wind rose from nothing to a complete hooley in the space of a few minutes, and veered around from west through east to south in the process. We came down below as it started to rain cats and dogs..and we thought about the medieval festival at Pontevedra. It continued to rain long after we had turned in.
We again lay in rather late. Shortly after we got up the first of two dutch boats appeared and dropped anchor not far away from us. We decided as there was no wind that we should remain where we were, and finish off the web site update at all costs. Manipulating the photographs and merging them into the text as usual took quite a while, but eventually the job was done. There seemed to be a lot of pyrotechnic activity again and we wondered what the celebrations were about. We again spent time reading, JP being entranced by the first of a trilogy. JP wanted to find some lost contact details that he thought would have been on the palm PC. The batteries had run down and the memory save batteries had also, resulting in the loss of the information. It transpired that the only backup was probably on the hard disk that bit the dust before Christmas. JP beat Mo at Scrabble. :)
Having had a lie in and not indulged in any physical activity, JP slept for a while, but was awake before 0330, listening to the continuing explosions from the shore. His big toe was giving a lot of pain due to his gout (the worst, possibly since the outbreak in Brest - too much red wine and not enough of Pete's patent gout cure - bottles of water), so in the end he got up and read for an hour. When morning did eventually come, he shirked his tea duties, partly because of the toe, and to attract sympathy. The weather had been wet the previous evening, and it seemed miserable first thing. By the time we got to breakfast, which we ate in the cockpit, it was really warm and quite pleasant with absolutely no wind. We decided we ought to make a break from our comfortable anchorage and head for Ria de Vigo. We set off under motor, having in mind a lunch stop on the Isla Ons. The pilot guide eluded to habitation of the beach, Playa Melide, by nudists, so JP was interested to see what went on. Leaving the Ria de Arosa, a Force 4 breeze sprang up from the west, and we set full main and jib for the second half of the journey. We anchored off the beach, with a Dutch and a Spanish boat, and had lunch. There seemed very little activity and as it was too cold to swim, we read for a while. We had not had a recent weather forecast, and JP was a little jumpy, as there was no useable weatherfax signal on the SSB either. At the sight of a long low white cloud with a grey top, we decided that anything might happen, and so weighed anchor and set out for Ria de Vigo. We had been under way for perhaps half an hour,and had just put in a reef because of the wind strength, when a thunderstorm materialised. The wind swung through 180 degrees, heading us, and rose from 17 knots to 30 knots in no time at all. Having reduced jib, it seemed no time before we were jilling about again with only a few knots of wind, so we put the motor on and kept it going to make as rapid progress as possible to a comfortable shelter. Having a nose, it seems, for nudists, JP had selected the only such bay on the Ria de Vigo, the Ensanada de Barra, just around the headland. We fell in love with the place, as later in the evening mist began to rise off the stream that we supposed lies in the valley behind the pine trees, and the smell of pines came to us across the water.
We set off from the anchorage and arrived at the entrance to the marina at Vigo. As we turned in the marina, thinking perhaps that it was full, an attendant came to meet us at the fuelling berth. We filled Fuga up with diesel and the dinghy cans with petrol. He assured us that there was a berth for us and so taking him at his word we went to investigate: sure enough we could just squeeze in between the boats on either side. The mooring system was 'Mediterranean style', mooring end on to the pontoon with a line to hold you off. You pick the line up from the pontoon and take it back to the other end of the boat. We were amused at the introductory address from the skipper of the cruise ship 'Royal Princess' moored nearby to his punters, and the sound signals that he and 'Oceana', the other cruise ship, emitted to accompany their departure. We went in search of a chandlers, but the shop recommended by the marina office stocked clothes and fancy goods only. Another we found had very limited stocks mainly for inflatables, but they referred us to another 'by the fountain', and although we found three fountains, we found no chandlers nearby. At this point it began to rain, and we seriously considered the possibility of a drink to allow it to pass. Having sheltered for a while, we returned to the first shop who directed us to a chandlers at the other end of town, which she estimated was 20 minutes walk away. JP took her at her word, as she must be right as she was attractive! We set off but only made it half way, where we found our other objective, the chart agents. We selected three charts to take us from the Portugese border down to Gibralter. We needed the charts for use in emergency if our electronic plotters (the computer and the old chart plotter) let us down. It was still raining, and we did in the end succumb to a round of drinks at a seedy port-side bar, but they only cost us 2. Who won the Scrabble? L
We launched the dinghy and put the outboard on. JP had had another attack of gout, and had not enjoyed hiking around Vigo in the wet the afternoon before, and this seemed to be a better way of getting to the other end of town. We took the dinghy out of the marina, past the fishing port, and into another pool where there is a smaller marina serving local clients. We searched hard for the chandlers, but did not find the one we were directed to the previous day. Instead, we found another that did in fact have most of the stuff we wanted. We were surprised to only have to part with 22€, and for this we had two lengths of rope, 20M of nylon for a flag halyard, and some rigging pins. JP had stepped on the lever of the main halyard jamming cleat and had broken it. As it was difficult to operate in any case, we wondered whether we should think about replacing the bank of four. We were soon put off by the price of 200€ for a bank of two Spinlock jammers, and they did not have any more. We returned to Fuga, and JP set about trying to remove the jamming cleats, which proved difficult. However, he managed to remove one, enabling him to dismantle the main bank to the extent that he needed to in order to swap the broken lever with one of the others. Araldite and some fibreglass ribbon made an acceptable repair of the broken one. We filled up with water, and set off for Islas Cies. We motored, and apart from a run in with the ferry coming towards us fine on our port bow, who refused to alter course, the trip was uneventful. We anchored in the bay north of the point on Isla Norte. JP resurrected Mike's rod, and tried a little fishing. JP signed up for Budget Dial Up instead of Gonuts, as this will give us local access from a number of countries.
There was another British boat, Starvision, anchored next to us. She seemed very small, probably the smallest we have seen this side of the Channel. Alexander told us that he had come across Biscay two-up, but had since been on his own, and was on the way back to La Rochelle. He had made it down as far as Porto, and warned us of the situation at Leixoes, following a gas explosion that had wrecked the yacht club and filled the marina with oil. We rowed ashore and beached the dinghy opposite Fuga, leaving it with the anchor in the sand to cope with the last of the rising tide. We had a very enjoyable walk over the causeway across the lagoon to Isla del Faro.
We walked past the campsite, and forsook the temptations of the bar restaurant (JP was weakening but Mo provided the moral fibre to do this). We found an information centre in what was probably an old chapel. They had various displays on the wildlife, fish, and ecological issues. Upstairs, there was a video being screened, which might have been interesting if we understood Spanish. We returned to Fuga for a well deserved drink and late lunch. We then raised the anchor and set off for Bayona. We had a great sail, with the wind just ahead of close hauled, so that we had to put in a couple of tacks. JP had another run in with the locals: this time a returning fishing boat failed to alter course. We negotiated the Canal de la Porta, inside Las Esteias, which Jens suggests is irresponsible without local knowledge. We took care to set up waypoints to dodge the rock in mid channel, although there was probably enough water to clear it in any case. When we got to Bayona, we were warned off as they were full, and had to pick up a mooring. This seemed odd, as there was plenty of space, but suddenly a racing fleet started to arrive. There was a big regatta sponsored by Rolex and apparently featuring the king's son amongst the competitors. We went ashore, but the paperwork that Diane had posted to us had not materialised. In the circumstances, with all the racing boats there, it was difficult to get them interested in doing a thorough search of the manic office. JP beat Mo at Scrabble. J
We were a little slow off the mark, as it had been raining and it does not become light until quite late on in the mornings. Mo had shut the hatches during the night, when the rain started, JP being oblivious. We went ashore and set off in search of a supermarket. This was said in the pilot book to be near the yacht club, and we did not anticipate a problem, or we could have asked. In the end, we had walked for miles before we picked up some signs. We followed these around a one way system, arriving back almost where we started. Even then, it was not until we were in front of the doors that we knew for certain that we had found it: JP had detected the hot air from the refrigerators around the back of the building! As we were fully loaded up, we walked back to the nearest steps and JP went off to get the dinghy. After lunch we left the mooring, and after some hesitation set off for the Isla St. Martin, the southernmost of the Islas Cies and a bird sanctuary, where we anchored off the beach. JP tried fishing again, from the boat with the new rod bought in Vannes (for the first time), and then from the dinghy. At last he caught something, but it was rather small and looked a bit gruesome, so he motored over to a leisure fishing boat to ask advice. They were very hospitable, and suggested that the fish would be great if it was a lot bigger, so JP released it. The skipper gave JP a line and lure for catching some fish off the bottom, and recommended him to try between the islands where there were lots of these. He then demonstrated the use of the line, and even offered JP a G&T. We loaded pictures from the camera onto the computer, and caught up with this journal.
