Saturday 11th September From Spain to Portugal, Viana do Castelo
The alarm went off, and Mo was ungracious enough to remind JP that this was because he wanted to go fishing. Somewhat grumpily, JP put down his book and got dressed. Setting off in the dinghy, JP trawled a lure using the new rod, but was hailed from a yacht anchored at the other end of the beach. 'Tramp' was flying a Norwegian flag, but it emerged that the skipper was English, although he had lived in Norway for many years. Tramp seemed very similar to a Nicholson 32, but was of Danish origin. He, the skipper, (we did not get to names), was en route from Norway via his sister in Scotland, to Madeira, the Canaries and the world, singlehanded because, he said, he could not find anyone willing to come with him. JP went on as instructed to the sound between the islands, and there deployed the new weapon. In not many minutes, he felt a bite, but lost it. The next bite held, and he found a sort of squid on the end, that fired water at him. He managed to land it in the bucket, with some water, and it seemed quite peaceful. The next one got away, but only as JP tried to get it into the bucket. It fired copious amounts of blank ink which went in the bucket, over the dinghy and into the sea. As the boat drifted with the current, so did the ever spreading black cloud. Obviously, this is where the navy got the idea of smoke screens from? At a loss what to do with his guest, JP enquired of Tramp, but he had no idea either. So JP took it back to Fuga, took a photograph of it, and released it. After breakfast, we recovered the dinghy and set off. There was no wind, but we tried to hoist the main in order to steady the boat in the slight swell. The new reefing blocks sewed to the main have unfortunately not been up to the job, and when we hoisted the sail, the reefing line was jammed tightly between the pulley and the bent housing. With much swearing, the line was eventually released, and a hammer used to re-shape the block temporarily. As we passed the estuary of the Rio Minho, chaos broke out. JP had forgotten where he had stowed the code flags, and with them the Portugese courtesy flag. The result was carnage in the aft cabin! When they were eventually found the rather tattered Spanish courtesy flag came down, and a new flag halyard was run with the Portugese flag on it. The wind did not get up until we were approaching our destination, Viana do Castelo, when it at last came in quite freshly from behind. We relieved the boredom with lunch of pizza, and took it in turns to have a snooze. During the trip, of 30 miles, we saw three pods of dolphins, but they did not really engage us in their usual games. In Viana, we went for a vacant berth, but were soon moved off it onto the overflow area opposite where there was no water nor electricity. We had to launch the dinghy to get ashore efficiently, and having had a drink, went off to see if we could get a SIM card for the phone. We had no luck, as the shop was shut, but we did have an opportunity to look around the town with its many attractive buildings and narrow, interesting streets.
We were both immersed in our books, so we lay in for a bit too long with cups of tea. One scenario had been to leave early for Alveiro, 60 miles away, but it was only on doing the research that we discovered that this would have been impractical, as would the alternative scenario of lying up off the beach and setting off overnight to arrive early in the morning. It appears you need to get your timing right with the tides at Alveiro. We didn't fancy the expense of our rough berth with no compensating facilities at Viana do Castelo, so settled for a sail to Leixos, although we had heard that the marina was closed due to a gas explosion and subsequent oil spillage that had destroyed the club house. There was space to anchor in the harbour. After a few cloudy days, the morning had broken with a cloudless sky and by mid morning there was a pleasant northerly breeze. However, we decided that first we would take another look around the town in daylight, so went ashore and had a good walk around the older parts of the town. We just missed a 'performance' by a large group of people all dressed up in traditional costume, some carrying musical instruments, that we came across outside a church. Back at the boat, rather late, we set about recovering the dinghy and tidying the boat. All in all, we were a bit late setting off, with a pizza in the oven for our lunch. We had hoisted the main and put one reef in, but as soon as load came on the sail the Whitlock block that had been hammered back into shape yesterday disintegrated into pieces and landed behind us in the water. So much for the perfect solution applied for us by Sanders Sails in Lymington, just before our departure. Anchoring off the beach in the harbour, we put one of the old Lewmar blocks back on, and had a hasty pizza before setting off again, by now rather late for a 30 mile sail! However, the gods were with us, as the Force 5 Nor-nor-west kept up for most of the way, and we were making about 7 knots over the ground with some help from the current. We saw about 5 separate pods of dolphins during the trip, some of whom kept us company for a while. JP was quite cold by the time we arrived at Leixos in the dark, found an oil-bund still across the marina entrance, and anchored off it with the other yachts in 5 metres. Mo rustled up one of her 'Mosoulet's that she had removed from the freezer earlier with tagliatele, and we settled for the remains of our Apricot Brandy from Burley in the New Forest as a post-prandial celebration.
We had set the alarm so that we would be aware of the passage of time, and got up to prepare for going ashore. Our plan was to visit Porto, but we did not have much idea of the transport arrangements for getting there. We landed leaving the dinghy at the Yacht Club pontoon, and walked past the marina where they were hard at work trying to remove the remnants of the oil spillage. 
There was a bund across the marina mouth, and another closer to the club house end. There were two continuous ropes of 'oil-sorb' material running around the perimeter, and then through a wringer arrangement that removed the oil. Once outside, we found a bus shelter with a map, and debated whether to get on a bus, or to try to find more information from a tourist information office. Deciding on the latter, we walked across the lifting bridge over the dock basin, and eventually found our way to the office. They were very helpful, and provided us with maps of the locality and of Porto, recommending that we use the metro that had not been mentioned in the pilot guides. For €2.10 each we got returns: a young lad bought them for us and told us how to 'validate' them before each journey. The two car articulated metro was comfortable and efficient, running mainly on the surface, and in places negotiating street corners. We got off where we had been told to, and found ourselves in the middle of Porto, near the town hall, although we noticed that there was practically no advertisement of the metro's presence at this point, there only being vast metal sheeting that appeared to be a sign of on-going works. We looked at the town hall then fell into a coffee shop. JP wanted something to eat, and Mo wanted the 'facilities', but we each had a coffee with a cheese and ham croissant affair. Next stop was the railway station, built at the beginning of the 20th century, but whose front hall was decorated with painted tiles depicting events in Portugese history. The more colourful tiles were at the top. Unfortunately, the protective sheeting covering the tiles detracted from their brilliance, as evidenced by the areas where it had been torn away. JP misread the map, and so we found ourselves down by the river before seeing the cathedral. Having walked through a road tunnel we found ourselves under another of Mr. Eiffel's bridges, and had to climb back up via various stairways. This allowed us to take a look at one old church, but this was closed. The cathedral and bishop's palace was high up, demonstrating the church's knack for getting the best real estate. Disappointingly, the cathedral was also closed, and one tower was encased in scaffolding, so it was impossible even to photograph the outside. By this time, JP was getting hungry, and we went back down to the riverside to find somewhere to eat. We took a look at the quay, where three Dutch yachts were comfortably moored alongside. Across the river, there were the various Port cellars, with traditional boats moored up opposite. We declined a river cruise, and settled at a restaurant that seemed to be well patronised. We went for a 'tourist menu' providing 3 courses, wine and coffee all thrown in, but it was probably a mistake. 'Throwing' is what they did with the food, at you, before you were ready, and it was a little disappointing although there was plenty of it. Next we found the house of Henry the navigator, but if that was open it was not obvious, followed by the Igreja de San Francisco. This wonderful baroque church was listed as a must, and we were surprised to find it open, only to be rebuffed by a surly security man who demanded our tickets. We were directed to the building opposite, where we were sold our tickets, providing access to a small museum and catacombs, as well as the church. However, it was worth the €3 each. The church is decorated all over in the most beautiful wood carvings, covered in gilt. Following that, we returned to the bottom of the hill below the town hall, then climbed up taking in two more churches, side by side, one decorated in classic/baroque gilded wood carvings, and the other quite different, being rococo. After this, we found a phone shop to buy a local SIM card, and headed back towards the metro. We found ourselves near the spot where we supposed a metro stop to be, but had asked a deaf/mute chap for directions, before some lads directed us through a car park and down beside a wall. We thought they were pulling our legs, and took a firm grip of our camera as we crossed the car park. Nowhere was there any evidence of the metro, but sure enough, there was a path that led along beside the wall to where the metro tracks ran through a cutting. Nowhere was there any sign at all! We arrived back to find the yacht club gates locked shut, with our dinghy the other side. Fortunately there was another gate onto the quayside by the marina, and JP managed to traverse along the ledge outside the iron railings until he was able to climb over into the yacht club premises, and so regain the dinghy. It was then simply a question of rowing over to the vertical steps further along the quay to collect Mo. With the new SIM card we were able to pick up e-mails, and did a quick update of the web site. We were still stuffed from lunch time, so Mo skipped supper duties and went to bed, leaving JP to raid the cheese box.
We set the alarm, our intention being to leave reasonably early with a view to getting to Alviero (30M away) just before high water, so that we could enter on the flood. In the middle of the night it seemed that this plan was going to be scuppered when we were hit by a rain storm with massive gusts of wind. JP got up to see our neighbours break free from their anchor, but after dragging it a couple of boats lengths it reset itself. They appeared on deck, and so JP left them to it, reasonably content that ours would hold. He had wondered what he could have done about it if they had not been so lucky. By the morning, it was clear and there was no wind. With the wind promised to veer N to NE, there seemed to be no problem, and we set off. The NW wind, F3, was not enough for us to make our entrance, so we motored more or less the whole way before the wind picked up to the advertised F5, but still from the NW. We entered behind a couple of trawlers and two larger ships, all of whom had disappeared from view by the time we negotiated the breakwaters. We were carried in at up to 10 knots by the remains of the tide, and soon found our way to the artificial lagoon off San Jacinto. Mo vetoed this anchorage as it had very restricted room, close to people fishing off the quay, and opposite were commercial quays. It was not quite what she had imagined at all. So we set off up the channel towards the north, executing one dog leg over to some viveros, and back again. There were absolutely no channel markings, although we came to the conclusion that there was plenty of water if you could find it. Our electronic charts had no detail this far up, so it was a case of feeling your way. Finally JP took fright when with reducing depths, he saw a tide rip ahead. Turning the boat around, at full throttle we took some time to regain deeper water. There is a marina further north at Torreira, but how you get there safely is another question! Instead, we retraced our steps a short way, found a deeper hole and anchored in 8M at the top of the tide. We brought all our bedding up to air it in the bright sunshine and breeze, but were disconcerted when in one gust one of our mattresses took off. It didn't quite go overboard, the only reason being that it had caught on a fish hook attached to the rods lashed to the hand rail. We abandoned Scrabble after Mo had made a killer score giving her an unassailable lead, as we were both tired. L
We woke to a bright and breezy day. After breakfast, we sunbathed for a while as Mo had realised that when the flood began the boat would turn round with the cockpit out of the sun, and facing into the wind that was still blowing NW, but now at least F6. Mo started on the accumulated backlog of washing that she had had soaking in two buckets, and JP volunteered to do the rinsing and wringing. This completed, we hung the washing out on the windward side, JP being entrusted with the simple stuff that did not require carefully hanging to avoid creases in the wrong places. We had a light lunch, and JP contemplated the jobs list, but found inspiration lacking. He fancied a trip ashore, but Mo pointed out that this would involve getting soaked in the cold wind, and reminded him of the last time we left Fuga to her own devices in a hooley. Finally, when the ebb started at around 1830, JP persuaded Mo that we should move to somewhere nearer the town of Alviero. This involved a trip of some 8 miles, the first half with a tide under us, and although this was only just getting going, it seemed at times to be taking control. Then we had to do a sharp left, and go up the buoyed channel towards the town, with commercial quays on our starboard, but now against the current. We flew the jib to help the engine a bit and so eventually reached the bend in the channel where the lock leads into the Canal das Piramides. Ahead we spied a pontoon off the old fish quay, with one empty space not occupied by yachts. 
We decided to go for this, but did not reckon on the back eddy off the closed lock that meant that we had to take power off to avoid going into the stern of the last yacht, and then get swept out again into the stream by the ebb. Eventually, on about the fifth attempt, JP made contact with the pontoon, Mo jumped and secured the headrope to prevent us going forward. Fuga was pinned precariously against the corner of the pontoon by the eddy, with the headrope holding her back. (Damage assessment has yet to be undertaken.). We then took a little while sorting out the lines, before settling down to a celebratory drink. Mo provided a special fish supper with a super sauce from her 'short cut' cookery book, with roast potatoes and peas.
The day dawned with another wonderful cloudless sky, but with practically no wind. We were woken around 0900 by voices, and on investigation there were half a dozen fishermen standing on the fish quay, above the pontoon, with rods. They did not subscribe to the school of stealthy, quiet fishing, preferring loud conversation. We had breakfast, and set out to walk ashore off the pontoon, but were thwarted by the locked gate at the top of the most impossibly steep gangway we have ever encountered. There was a chap working on his boat, who offered to let us out with the key, but we saw this as only half a solution and probably more of a problem, given our experiences at Leixos! We returned to Fuga, launched the dinghy and mounted the outboard. This time we approached the lock and were surprised to find it manned. It was not long before we were cruising up the Canal das Piramides into the town centre.
There was a network of canals leading off the central canal. We followed the central canal up, under road bridges carrying a roundabout, and footbridges decorated with flowers. Having hit a submerged object with the propeller, probably a shopping trolley (if this is like the UK?) and in any case emerging into the back end of town, we turned round and moored the dinghy in the centre. We took to our feet, and explored around the pool with its decorated traditional boats, and through some back streets. In the central area, there were some larger shops, and a very pleasant covered shopping mall. We found the main square, then went in search of a drink and snack. We found a place with tables in a narrow side street, and sat down, selecting a steak brought to the table half cooked sizzling on a hot stone. You cut a piece off, brought it to the desired point of cooking, then consumed with chips and rice. A little more expensive, but we did not relish re-visiting the menu turistica after our experience in Porto. After lunch, we found a bookshop, bought a Portugese-English dictionary, and returned to the boat. The morning had revealed that our attempts to moor must have involved multiple passages under a low high tension power cable. Mo had seen it, apparently, and judged it to be ok, but JP was none too sure, Fuga's mast being a tad taller than all the other boats there. We had to leave in any case to get to the bar before high tide, but the thought of a rising tide reducing our clearance added urgency. We left the berth, and JP tried to dodge inshore around the bend, as close to the pylon as possible. Inevitably, perhaps, we ran aground on the stony bank, but we cleared the cables in any case! We left the harbour headed for Nazare, 67M south, causing further damage to the sail cover as we raised the main, but without any further incident. The wind was still NNW, contrary to the forecast, and initially a bit gusty. It sooned died off to less than 10 knots, but we made reasonable progress down wind with one reef still in. We did not shake the reef out because of the unpredictability of the winds, and the fact that we did not really want to be forced to reef again in the dark. We settled down for a rather boring uncomfortable sail, rolling with a NW swell, which persisted until dawn.
The wind had dropped slightly and veered slowly around towards the E, so that Mo, who had found herself on the dogwatch, had been forced to go further west to keep the sails from slatting. We gybed and could make the course to the waypoint off Nazare, but at 0530 we put the engine on. The new course was down the swell rather than across and was much more comfortable, so all that remained was to gaze up at the brilliant milky way, watch meteorites flash and fizzle, and wonder at the amount of reflected light from Venus (presumably) until the sun eventually extinguished them. When we arrived at the marina at about 1000, we were met by Captain Mike Hadley. He had impressed Mike and Lisa when they visited in Jemmana in 1999. He helped us tie up, and asked us to come up to the office once we had made ourselves comfortable. To JP that included breakfast, so we were knocked up again by Mike, as the assembled officials were expecting us, and getting rather restive. Mike's wife Sally booked us in to the marina, and explained where and how to go in the town and around, giving us a hand-out in English. Mo set about some washing, while JP feigned sleep by snoring, apparently. Mo left the rinsing for JP when he woke up, but did not let him hang the washing out as this is skilled work. After lunch, Mo collapsed as she was on the other watch, and was oblivious as JP and one of the marina staff adjusted Fuga's mooring to allow an American catamaran to moor ahead of us. Mo (David Bailey) suggested a walk ashore to stretch our legs and capture the moment with the camera. In doing so, we found C'Est La Vie's contribution to the mural art opposite the fish dock. Mosoulet and rice for supper, as we settled for pizza en-route after the steak at lunch time.
Mo did some more washing, and JP volunteered to do the rinsing and wringing on the pontoon, where water was plentiful. Afterwards, JP was gripped by a sharp pain on both sides of his back. Mo officiated with the Ibuleve jelly and gradually he recovered: presumably unused to doing manual work bent double! We then set off on foot for the town, and made our way along the beach to the 'ascensor' - visiting the tourist office on the way to get a map.
There was a long queue for the ascensor when we arrived, clearly a coach party with funny matching hats and labels on, so we went off for a drink. The only food they did was crabs, clams, and such like, which Mo didn't fancy. We still had to queue for a while when we returned to the ascensor, but soon got to the top of the hill, known as Sitio. The views from here over the bay were magnificent. We visited the church, decorated inside with gilded carving and some painted tile panels from floor to ceiling. Outside the church, in the square, there were a lot of grockle stores, well patronised by hords of hatted and labelled tourists. Many of the locals were in traditional dress. We wandered around the town, and then started to walk back down hill. We found a 'pile-it-high-sell-it-cheap' supermarket, and bought some fruit, then continuing on down into the town found a rather nicer supermarket where we completed our purchases. JP wanted to re-charge the phone, but we had quite a problem finding a TMN agent. When we did, the girl's response to Mo's opening remark was 'Oh my God! English!' - but we managed ok. We visited a couple of shoe shops, and in the second found some cheap deck shoes. Here the young lad there c. 14 years old spoke perfect English, only confusing 'Oui' for 'Yes'. English is generally taken as the second language, but they also study French. We returned to the marina, cutting through from the yacht club marina opposite. Later, there was some re-adjustment to the warps necessary, and we invited the American crew of 'Jo Do Beer' - a home built catamaran to come over for drinks. They were about to eat, so our supper was deferred until after they went, some 3 or 4 rounds of drinks later. It was fun meeting them, and clearly Doug and Jon have sailed to many different places in a variety of boats. Doug came over with his son, via Bermuda and the Azores, and the ladies were visiting for 5 weeks, after which Doug and his son's friend were going to go to Venezuela via the Canaries, and planning to leave the boat in Trinidad. Jon's (Doug's wife) main concern was that her son should come back safe: he was not replaceable, but Doug was!
We were a little hesitant at first, as the wind seemed quite strong and the forecast was F5-6, with a 2-3M swell. In the end, we decided to go for Peniche, about 25M away, and set about our preparations. JP paid the marina fee, and was taken aback to be asked for nearly €60 for the two nights, having been expecting less from Mike's account of his visit in 1999, and the pilot guides indication of prices. A pity the charges were not advertised up front. We tried to get alongside the fuel berth but it was low tide, a down wind approach was not really viable, and beyond it we ran out of water. So we abandoned that idea. While the apparent wind had registered 24 knots as we came out of the harbour, once we had borne away it seemed quite pleasant in the sunshine, although the wind was cold. After lunch, Mo went to bed to get warm and did not appear until the engine was started on the run in to Peniche. The wind had lightened, but came back again towards the end of the trip. We rafted alongside a Dutch yacht, and were then visited by the Brigada Fiscal, who then sent JP to the Marina office where he was asked all the same questions again for the third time in Portugal. We had supper and went for a walk, admiring the citadel which is now a museum. The town had many bars and restaurants, few of which were doing much business. Our Dutch neighbours rafted inside us are leaving for Lisbon at 0700, so early to bed.
Very impressively, set the alarm for 0600, and began unstitching the electrics and shore lines by 0640. The skipper of the Dutch yacht and Mo both had to visit the marina office to retrieve the deposit for the security card, but we were away by 0730. To start with there was a moderate wind, about 14 knots and we stopped the engine in the harbour entrance. Unfortunately it was from behind, and later died a bit. The weather was a bit miserable, being cold and cloudy, but later in the day the sun broke through. JP proposed shaking out the reef, but we settled for motoring to augment the sails. JP provided cuppa soup and bacon/sausage butties when requested, and later even heated a pizza. Quite suddenly, when still about 12 miles short of Cascais, the wind freshened again, until we had 19knots apparent, or probably a Force 6, so we screamed along for a while without the engine, until suddenly it died again as we approached Cascais. The Dutch yacht managed to get ahead of us, but only I think by motoring more, as they were keen to make Lisbon before dark. We anchored in the bay outside marina, with a lot of other cruising yachts. We sunbathed, and watched the antics of an enormous fishing boat picking up its mooring nearby. It seemed that getting produce and crew ashore relied on multiple trips in a rowing boat.
