2007 Diaries
Beginning Our Great Adventure
April 25, 2007 -- We launched Big Sky today! Arriving at the Nauticat Yard in Turku in our rental Big Sky was just being loaded on the back of a truck for its two-hour slow drive along country roads to the sea. Six men in orange coveralls climbed into the truck, leaving the Yard, stopping just five minutes away, pulling into a mall, leaving Big Sky in the parking lot and us looking awkward. We jumped out of the rental and sprinted toward where the orange suits were last seen. Oh, the Finns never miss a coffee break. The big burly guys were sipping coffee from small cups. Exactly 15 minutes later, they were on the road heading toward the Baltic Sea, having to stop often to pull out street signs and various poles in order for Big Sky to fit on the narrow streets it traveled. With the northern spring rain falling, Big Sky was gently placed into the dark waters.
April 28, 2007 -- Big Sky was scheduled to be outfitted, mast placed and rigged, systems checked, and knowing it would take a few days, we set off by train for our pre-planned trip to St. Petersburg, Russia by train. It took at least a month to coordinate our entrance into Russia beginning in Canada with a hotel reservation in Russia, followed by a formal invitation from the hotel, that and and our passports scurried off to Ottawa to obtain our Visas. Arriving in St. Petersburg, stepping out of the station into the quiet of the night, we had no idea which of the half dozen taxis to take. We read about the criminals and nefarious people operating the taxi systems throughout Russia. Con said, "Pick one." I did. We piled in and sped through the fog-filled streets while the Moody Blues played in his cab, arriving at a beautiful hotel overlooking the square. It felt good, finally slowing down from our months of busy "Getting Ready" work our big adventure. Finally relaxing, walking lazily hand in hand, we sauntered through St. Petersburg's historic streets taking in the architecture, the hustle and bustle around us, all the while with a purposeful destination--the Dvor Metro Station. The station claims some of the most fascinating embodiments of Stalinist style and ideals. We had to see it, and successfully purchasing subway tokens despite lots of miscommunication with the lady behind the window, we entered the museum-like station. With no destination in mind, we selected the blue line. Still holding hands, I stepped up to enter the train car, and in a flash we were swarmed by a well greased pick-pocket gang. About four guys pulled Con from behind, another two tried to separate our hands, and three guys grabbed my left arm and yanked me aboard. Con and I didn't let go of each other's hand, but finally, he was free and flew forward passing me falling on his belly inside the train. The doors closed and sped down the blue line. Baffled, for a second, we then realized what had happened.
"They stole my wallet," Con said quietly. I turned and glared at the four remaining attackers standing in the doorway looking nonchalantly anywhere but at us. I immediately accused them of steeling Con's wallet. They glanced at me and then away. "Barbie, they took everything, my credit cards, money. " Con whispered in my ear.
I must have lost my common sense at that point, and turned back toward the men and began frisking them. They moved back against the door. I demanded to see inside their pockets and jackets. Eventually one man turned to me and looked in my face with hate seething from his eyes and keeping eye contact with me began to unzip his pants. Con nudged me; I backed away, and we got off at the next stop. The pleasant irony of the day was that our "soft" phone (computer phone) had not been working, but that afternoon Con was able to call all the credit card companies and very efficiently cancelled everything.
"You should have new cards in a few weeks," they promised. Since everything was in Con's wallet, including his Canadian citizenship paper, his first thought was "identity theft". Con always puts his wallet in his front pocket and his hand in his pocket, except today. We called the kids right after and laughed about our ill fate. What else could we do.
May 2, 2007 -- Our last full day in St. Petersburg. We've walked a marathon a day and there's still much more to see. Tempting fate, or hoping to have a win, we made our way back to the Metro station, this time Con had one hand in his pocket (holding the cash), the other holding the map. I had one hand on his jacket and glared at all the gypsy-like people believing they were all pick pockets. About an hour later, I finally realized that my dagger-death threat stares were scaring the innocent Russians.
Below: Kai, Inventor and designer of Nauticat boats at the factory; a sketch of the 515 boat.
Beginning Our Great Adventure
April 25, 2007 -- We launched Big Sky today! Arriving at the Nauticat Yard in Turku in our rental Big Sky was just being loaded on the back of a truck for its two-hour slow drive along country roads to the sea. Six men in orange coveralls climbed into the truck, leaving the Yard, stopping just five minutes away, pulling into a mall, leaving Big Sky in the parking lot and us looking awkward. We jumped out of the rental and sprinted toward where the orange suits were last seen. Oh, the Finns never miss a coffee break. The big burly guys were sipping coffee from small cups. Exactly 15 minutes later, they were on the road heading toward the Baltic Sea, having to stop often to pull out street signs and various poles in order for Big Sky to fit on the narrow streets it traveled. With the northern spring rain falling, Big Sky was gently placed into the dark waters.
April 28, 2007 -- Big Sky was scheduled to be outfitted, mast placed and rigged, systems checked, and knowing it would take a few days, we set off by train for our pre-planned trip to St. Petersburg, Russia by train. It took at least a month to coordinate our entrance into Russia beginning in Canada with a hotel reservation in Russia, followed by a formal invitation from the hotel, that and and our passports scurried off to Ottawa to obtain our Visas. Arriving in St. Petersburg, stepping out of the station into the quiet of the night, we had no idea which of the half dozen taxis to take. We read about the criminals and nefarious people operating the taxi systems throughout Russia. Con said, "Pick one." I did. We piled in and sped through the fog-filled streets while the Moody Blues played in his cab, arriving at a beautiful hotel overlooking the square. It felt good, finally slowing down from our months of busy "Getting Ready" work our big adventure. Finally relaxing, walking lazily hand in hand, we sauntered through St. Petersburg's historic streets taking in the architecture, the hustle and bustle around us, all the while with a purposeful destination--the Dvor Metro Station. The station claims some of the most fascinating embodiments of Stalinist style and ideals. We had to see it, and successfully purchasing subway tokens despite lots of miscommunication with the lady behind the window, we entered the museum-like station. With no destination in mind, we selected the blue line. Still holding hands, I stepped up to enter the train car, and in a flash we were swarmed by a well greased pick-pocket gang. About four guys pulled Con from behind, another two tried to separate our hands, and three guys grabbed my left arm and yanked me aboard. Con and I didn't let go of each other's hand, but finally, he was free and flew forward passing me falling on his belly inside the train. The doors closed and sped down the blue line. Baffled, for a second, we then realized what had happened.
"They stole my wallet," Con said quietly. I turned and glared at the four remaining attackers standing in the doorway looking nonchalantly anywhere but at us. I immediately accused them of steeling Con's wallet. They glanced at me and then away. "Barbie, they took everything, my credit cards, money. " Con whispered in my ear.
I must have lost my common sense at that point, and turned back toward the men and began frisking them. They moved back against the door. I demanded to see inside their pockets and jackets. Eventually one man turned to me and looked in my face with hate seething from his eyes and keeping eye contact with me began to unzip his pants. Con nudged me; I backed away, and we got off at the next stop. The pleasant irony of the day was that our "soft" phone (computer phone) had not been working, but that afternoon Con was able to call all the credit card companies and very efficiently cancelled everything.
"You should have new cards in a few weeks," they promised. Since everything was in Con's wallet, including his Canadian citizenship paper, his first thought was "identity theft". Con always puts his wallet in his front pocket and his hand in his pocket, except today. We called the kids right after and laughed about our ill fate. What else could we do.
May 2, 2007 -- Our last full day in St. Petersburg. We've walked a marathon a day and there's still much more to see. Tempting fate, or hoping to have a win, we made our way back to the Metro station, this time Con had one hand in his pocket (holding the cash), the other holding the map. I had one hand on his jacket and glared at all the gypsy-like people believing they were all pick pockets. About an hour later, I finally realized that my dagger-death threat stares were scaring the innocent Russians.
Below: Kai, Inventor and designer of Nauticat boats at the factory; a sketch of the 515 boat.
Our routing the first few months: Finland, Aland Islands, Sweden, Finland again, the Baltic States, Poland, Germany, Danish Island, Kiel Canal, Cuxhaven, Germany and then The Netherlands...
Below: Setup our winter tent in the cockpit; Sea gull eggs on Nauticat Island, Con's first days sailing, the cabin on the island, Big Sky docked at the island, and me in my Gill suit.
Below: Setup our winter tent in the cockpit; Sea gull eggs on Nauticat Island, Con's first days sailing, the cabin on the island, Big Sky docked at the island, and me in my Gill suit.
May 8, 2007 -- Our 5th day living aboard Big Sky! We discovered so many innovative things about this boat. Rising early each morning, we work ourselves to exhaustion getting the boat ready, and then dropping into bed at the end of the day dead tired. Our manuals are all in German and Finnish for both the boat instruments and appliances making it a good challenge. Today, we learned how to make the washing machine give us back our clothes and that took two days. Believing the dryer didn't work, we learned that it sucks the clothes dry and stores the water in a container which needs to be emptied! I eventually learned that the time has to be set on the microwave in order for it to work. Everything aboard is like new, and Her Kroll (the previous owner) invested in the "best" of everything. We discovered a winter tent cockpit enclosure in storage which provides another room. We have Blues music playing through our speakers, sunshine streaming through the pilot-house windows, birds are flying around the boat with great spring-time animation, and the smell of freshly baking buns is wafting from the oven. Con spent time in the engine room with a nauticat engineer learning the systems. I realized after pushing many oven buttons over and over in various sequences that it works only when the clock is set. Yesterday, Her Kroll and his lovely wife Rika arrived (from Spain) for a visit saying he wanted to show us things aboard, but truly I believe it was to say, "good bye" to Lady R, the former boat's name. By the afternoon, we rode the 7 km (there and back) to Turku with our laptops on our backs like armor to protect us from homesickness. We frequented a friendly bar where for a coke or a cider, you can camp out as long as you want using their Wifi. We set up our phone contraption systems every day to call our daughters.
May 12, 2007-- First sail day! Big Sky cut smoothly through the Baltic Sea, like a hot knife through butter while on the engine. Once out of the marina we used the push button system and unfurled the main sail, followed by our 23-meter genoa, cut the engine and rode the dark waters like a rain drop on glass heeling 20 degrees to port. A perfect "get the kinks out" sail. Returning to the marina skinny slip was to say the least, daunting. Surrounded by million euro boats, Con calm and sure moved her 29 tons and all 52-foot (15 meter) in a dog-leg move slipping her into our narrow slot with just a credit-card size space between the dolphin poles.
May 13, 2007-- Feeling cocky about our sail, we set off again for a Mother's Day sail. With fair winds, and lots of sunshine, we managed a smooth 8 knots on a broad reach. Tingling from our sail, we turned back toward the marina. Con hit the pedestal buttons to furl the main into the mast, but the 23 meters wasn't moving, it was stuck at the base. The wind was steady, blowing us down the narrow waterway. There was no room to jibe and the bridge was not too far ahead. My adrenaline was rising. Con was cool, he's always calm no matter what the panic might be. I stayed at the wheel, and Con climbed part way up the mast coaxing the sail in as I gingerly pushed the buttons. We did it! Con took the wheel, turning just in time into the narrow marina entrance. I took a last look at the low bridge, just ahead, and let out a deep exhale. A cross wind was blowing and I felt we were moving in fast speed. "Ready?" Con asked, already turning bow into our slip. It's like threading a needle, with dolphin poles on either side of the boat, with the added trick that you have to lasso them.
"Umm, I'm not sure," I answered tentatively, gathering the lines. My heart was pumping hard. It took a few attempts to finally lasso the dolphins, but I did it! Ah, in my anxiety, I forgot to secure the other end of the line to the boat which is a mistake, as the dolphin lines hold you back from the pier. Nevertheless, looking forward, likely like a deer in headlights, I scampered to the bow to secure the ladder, which will take me six steps to the pier. Once in place, I reached for the heavy lines slipping the line through the cleat from the outside in, no inside out, so I was right the first time... I bundled a handful of lee-side lines in my arms and took the first step, missing the second and landing hard on the crate, hurting my rear, elbow, and head and mostly my ego, but I still held the lines. Palming the end of the line, I stood defeated, not even knowing where to tie it. The last word Con had said to me was "ready?" The answer should have been "Nope". Con apparently walked forward feeling proud of his docking, noticed the untied dolphin line, secured it, and saw me walking toward him having climbed back aboard.
"That went well, didn't it." He declared, having absolutely no idea of the chaos and that I'd fallen off the boat.
May 19, 2007 --With days remaining in the delightful town of Turku, our home for the past three weeks, we cycled to town again for final provisions. We returned balancing 270 feet of newly purchased line, a reel to bolt to the side of Big Sky to hold the line; a four foot hook; vacuum cleaner; microwave lid; indoor/outdoor thermometer; batteries; heavy navigation book; rain gear; a few other smaller things; and most importantly to-die for smoked salmon from the Turku market (oh yes, and herring, pickled in juniper berries, Con's absolute favorite treat). You could barely see either of us for being buried under all the things. Once we'd unloaded the line, reel, and hook, discarding the wrapping in the wet recycling area with rain falling in a heavy drizzle, we tucked inside to investigate the last hiding place aboard Big Sky to see what treasures might be there. Lifting the bow bed mattress we discovered a brand new line, reel, and hook! Con retrieved the wet box and wrapping, put on his new rain gear, and cycled back to the store to return the new line, reel, and hook.
Kai, the Nautical designer and owner, and his wife Tuula Gustafsson, also involved in the business, dropped by for a visit. They couldn't do more for us as gracious hosts, continually making notes following each visit for more things they could do for us. They are a treasure, honest, solid characters loaded with spirit and a love of the outdoors.
The last task before setting sail, was to get my shaggy-dog husband a haircut, so in the dusky northern daylight, at 11 pm, I sat Con on a cement post on the dock in a cold breeze, plugged my hair clippers into the abandoned fuel house, and gave him a great haircut.
May 12, 2007-- First sail day! Big Sky cut smoothly through the Baltic Sea, like a hot knife through butter while on the engine. Once out of the marina we used the push button system and unfurled the main sail, followed by our 23-meter genoa, cut the engine and rode the dark waters like a rain drop on glass heeling 20 degrees to port. A perfect "get the kinks out" sail. Returning to the marina skinny slip was to say the least, daunting. Surrounded by million euro boats, Con calm and sure moved her 29 tons and all 52-foot (15 meter) in a dog-leg move slipping her into our narrow slot with just a credit-card size space between the dolphin poles.
May 13, 2007-- Feeling cocky about our sail, we set off again for a Mother's Day sail. With fair winds, and lots of sunshine, we managed a smooth 8 knots on a broad reach. Tingling from our sail, we turned back toward the marina. Con hit the pedestal buttons to furl the main into the mast, but the 23 meters wasn't moving, it was stuck at the base. The wind was steady, blowing us down the narrow waterway. There was no room to jibe and the bridge was not too far ahead. My adrenaline was rising. Con was cool, he's always calm no matter what the panic might be. I stayed at the wheel, and Con climbed part way up the mast coaxing the sail in as I gingerly pushed the buttons. We did it! Con took the wheel, turning just in time into the narrow marina entrance. I took a last look at the low bridge, just ahead, and let out a deep exhale. A cross wind was blowing and I felt we were moving in fast speed. "Ready?" Con asked, already turning bow into our slip. It's like threading a needle, with dolphin poles on either side of the boat, with the added trick that you have to lasso them.
"Umm, I'm not sure," I answered tentatively, gathering the lines. My heart was pumping hard. It took a few attempts to finally lasso the dolphins, but I did it! Ah, in my anxiety, I forgot to secure the other end of the line to the boat which is a mistake, as the dolphin lines hold you back from the pier. Nevertheless, looking forward, likely like a deer in headlights, I scampered to the bow to secure the ladder, which will take me six steps to the pier. Once in place, I reached for the heavy lines slipping the line through the cleat from the outside in, no inside out, so I was right the first time... I bundled a handful of lee-side lines in my arms and took the first step, missing the second and landing hard on the crate, hurting my rear, elbow, and head and mostly my ego, but I still held the lines. Palming the end of the line, I stood defeated, not even knowing where to tie it. The last word Con had said to me was "ready?" The answer should have been "Nope". Con apparently walked forward feeling proud of his docking, noticed the untied dolphin line, secured it, and saw me walking toward him having climbed back aboard.
"That went well, didn't it." He declared, having absolutely no idea of the chaos and that I'd fallen off the boat.
May 19, 2007 --With days remaining in the delightful town of Turku, our home for the past three weeks, we cycled to town again for final provisions. We returned balancing 270 feet of newly purchased line, a reel to bolt to the side of Big Sky to hold the line; a four foot hook; vacuum cleaner; microwave lid; indoor/outdoor thermometer; batteries; heavy navigation book; rain gear; a few other smaller things; and most importantly to-die for smoked salmon from the Turku market (oh yes, and herring, pickled in juniper berries, Con's absolute favorite treat). You could barely see either of us for being buried under all the things. Once we'd unloaded the line, reel, and hook, discarding the wrapping in the wet recycling area with rain falling in a heavy drizzle, we tucked inside to investigate the last hiding place aboard Big Sky to see what treasures might be there. Lifting the bow bed mattress we discovered a brand new line, reel, and hook! Con retrieved the wet box and wrapping, put on his new rain gear, and cycled back to the store to return the new line, reel, and hook.
Kai, the Nautical designer and owner, and his wife Tuula Gustafsson, also involved in the business, dropped by for a visit. They couldn't do more for us as gracious hosts, continually making notes following each visit for more things they could do for us. They are a treasure, honest, solid characters loaded with spirit and a love of the outdoors.
The last task before setting sail, was to get my shaggy-dog husband a haircut, so in the dusky northern daylight, at 11 pm, I sat Con on a cement post on the dock in a cold breeze, plugged my hair clippers into the abandoned fuel house, and gave him a great haircut.
May 22, 2007 -- Kai and Tuula told us as Nauticat boat owners, (Nauticat Hull 515-09) we share ownership to Jarviluoto Island which we've called "Nauticat Island." We set a route and sailed there on beautiful beam winds, dropping our sails as we rounded the cove, gliding up to the pier in front of the adorable dark-brown rustic cabin. Mooring Finnish style, (clipping onto the orange ball from our stern and tying our bow at the pier) we climbed onto the pier to explore the property. A spotlessly clean cabin, rusty water from a pump, and a lovely sauna awaited us. Tuula said, "Be sure to start the sauna as soon as you get there."
Hundreds of birds, song birds, ducks, geese and other wildlife surrounding the property. Arriving early evening caused quite a ruckus with the Herring Gulls, whom we later discovered had three unhatched eggs they were protecting, just under the edge of the pier. They swooped down with their feet out like birds of prey, ready to attack Con. We were later told that they do! We ate aboard and moved into the cabin for the wood burning sauna which was now ready. A half hour later, we were doing what the Finns do -- relaxing and sweating. Dark clouds moved outside the windows and then to my horror stuck to the window! Not clouds, but bird-sized mosquitos! I swear I could make out muscles in their legs. I raced back to the boat, and they swarmed me. Once the door was latched, I killed more mosquitos inside than I likely have or ever will in my lifetime.
May 23, 2007 -- After breakfast, we moved on to Verkan with the gentle winds. It's a very small hamlet with about 1,000 inhabitants but were told the ribs in the marina were excellent. Verkan is surrounded by islands (an island itself) and dotted with hidden obstacles -- rocks -- just under the water's surface. Navigation is tricky with coloured poles marking islands, rocks, and other surprises just under the water and since it's been surveyed, we were told to "Keep on the roadway." Approaching the marina, we had our sails still up but needed to turn into the wind in order to take them down. Unfortunately turning into the wind would take us off the roadway. I watched the depth meter drop quickly from 4.3, 3.2, 2.1, and then bang! Our keel is 2.1 meters and we hit a rock. I had a quiet panic, looked to Con for reassurance. He was calm, as always. We got the sails in, and continued to dock. (Later when we lifted Big Sky for general maintenance, we saw the bite the Finnish rock took out of the keel.) In Finland, you'll encounter markers on land that you must line up properly to know that you have reached the precise place to make your turn. There are many coded markers: black and white, white with black, white on top, black on top markers. Each notates the location you should be in relation to the pole when you pass it, i.e. on your east, west, etc. To make it more challenging, the black and white system is being changed to yellow, red and green poles.
May 27, 2007 -- We just left a strange little town called Lappo in the Aland Islands. The sun was warm so we attempted to bike the parameter of the island and found maybe five residents, and the rest were birds. The Harbour Office was unlocked, but no one showed up. We helped ourselves to the electricity and enjoyed our little piece of paradise. In the morning, the mist rolled in and we charted our course southwest with a gentle 5.5 knot wind filling our sails. Chopin is playing throughout the boat, in the pilot house where I'm sitting and in the cockpit where Con's happily working the controls. Life is good.
May 28, 2007 -- We have a routine in the Aland Islands. We sail into one small village after another hoping to see a living, breathing person, and sure enough we find one or two. It's a hit and miss finding an outlet for electricity and the access to internet is pretty much out of the question. I drive Big Sky out of the marinas as Con works the lines and vice versa wherever we arrive. Leaving Remmarhamn, we headed to Degerby. We haven't had internet for a few days and I'm anxious to connect with the kids. I'm so homesick and feel I'll never get over it. That afternoon during our walk for internet, I snuck up on Slavonian Grebe nesting, she took off and left me to peak at her delicate eggs.
Hundreds of birds, song birds, ducks, geese and other wildlife surrounding the property. Arriving early evening caused quite a ruckus with the Herring Gulls, whom we later discovered had three unhatched eggs they were protecting, just under the edge of the pier. They swooped down with their feet out like birds of prey, ready to attack Con. We were later told that they do! We ate aboard and moved into the cabin for the wood burning sauna which was now ready. A half hour later, we were doing what the Finns do -- relaxing and sweating. Dark clouds moved outside the windows and then to my horror stuck to the window! Not clouds, but bird-sized mosquitos! I swear I could make out muscles in their legs. I raced back to the boat, and they swarmed me. Once the door was latched, I killed more mosquitos inside than I likely have or ever will in my lifetime.
May 23, 2007 -- After breakfast, we moved on to Verkan with the gentle winds. It's a very small hamlet with about 1,000 inhabitants but were told the ribs in the marina were excellent. Verkan is surrounded by islands (an island itself) and dotted with hidden obstacles -- rocks -- just under the water's surface. Navigation is tricky with coloured poles marking islands, rocks, and other surprises just under the water and since it's been surveyed, we were told to "Keep on the roadway." Approaching the marina, we had our sails still up but needed to turn into the wind in order to take them down. Unfortunately turning into the wind would take us off the roadway. I watched the depth meter drop quickly from 4.3, 3.2, 2.1, and then bang! Our keel is 2.1 meters and we hit a rock. I had a quiet panic, looked to Con for reassurance. He was calm, as always. We got the sails in, and continued to dock. (Later when we lifted Big Sky for general maintenance, we saw the bite the Finnish rock took out of the keel.) In Finland, you'll encounter markers on land that you must line up properly to know that you have reached the precise place to make your turn. There are many coded markers: black and white, white with black, white on top, black on top markers. Each notates the location you should be in relation to the pole when you pass it, i.e. on your east, west, etc. To make it more challenging, the black and white system is being changed to yellow, red and green poles.
May 27, 2007 -- We just left a strange little town called Lappo in the Aland Islands. The sun was warm so we attempted to bike the parameter of the island and found maybe five residents, and the rest were birds. The Harbour Office was unlocked, but no one showed up. We helped ourselves to the electricity and enjoyed our little piece of paradise. In the morning, the mist rolled in and we charted our course southwest with a gentle 5.5 knot wind filling our sails. Chopin is playing throughout the boat, in the pilot house where I'm sitting and in the cockpit where Con's happily working the controls. Life is good.
May 28, 2007 -- We have a routine in the Aland Islands. We sail into one small village after another hoping to see a living, breathing person, and sure enough we find one or two. It's a hit and miss finding an outlet for electricity and the access to internet is pretty much out of the question. I drive Big Sky out of the marinas as Con works the lines and vice versa wherever we arrive. Leaving Remmarhamn, we headed to Degerby. We haven't had internet for a few days and I'm anxious to connect with the kids. I'm so homesick and feel I'll never get over it. That afternoon during our walk for internet, I snuck up on Slavonian Grebe nesting, she took off and left me to peak at her delicate eggs.
May 29, 2007 -- Fog! We arrived in Degerby a pretty and quaint Finish town and set off immediately for internet. The town had one restaurant, one grocery store, one computer in the library, and the library closed at 2 pm. It was 2:10 pm. I relaxed somewhat knowing we would depart in the morning for Mariehamn in the Aland Islands as there was bound to be internet there. Just one more day and I'd connect with the kids. We woke the next morning to the sounds of fog horns. A thick pea fog rolled in and surrounded us. It was so thick I could have sliced it with a bread knife. About 1:30 pm though, we spotted a sliver of sunlight believing the fog was lifting. We immediately untied, and began the confusing exit of the narrow channel. There are markers of every kind for as far as we could see (which wasn't too far with the fog already rolling back in). There were red ones, green ones, black with white and white with black, as well as centre markers, and our GPS showed markings for underwater rocks -- everywhere! Moving gingerly through the maze, eyes straining forward we heard the ferry's fog horn right behind us -- but we couldn't see it from fog! In a matter of minutes, the fog had rolled in like a freight train and surrounded us. The ferry captain blew the horn again and we detoured to a tiny area between a marker and the roadway, making sure not to leave the roadway for the rocks. The ferry shot passed, and in a brief moment, we saw it -- and the colour of the eyes of the passengers looking down at us. Intending to follow the ferry, Con hit the throttle down hard but within 10 seconds the ferry was swallowed up by fog and like the Twilight Zone, our GPS went haywire not landing on any true location. It jumped putting us on land, then moving us well off where we believed we were. We were out there and blind. I raced below and turned on Raytheon plotter which immediately showed our true location and I called out turns from the pilot house equipment. Once our GPS behaved, I joined Con topsides straining to see anything. I nearly had a head-on (literally) with a red marker as I leaned over the rail hoping to spot something -- anything. I then leaned over the dodger listening for the sounds of ferry engines and sure enough, I'd see the third story of the ferry above the fog. The big ships looked eerie as if they were floating above the water. About five hours later, we tied in what was one of our favourite locations -- the Mariehamn marina. We had internet, sunshine, sauna, and most importantly, a connection with our family, including my mom and dad. Life was once again perfect.
May 31, 2007 -- Smoked Salmon Pulling out our fold-up bikes, we were told "that way" to the fish monger. We set off down the wooden path built over the fallen trees, streams, and at times bridged over the sea water. Our hearts were singing with happiness with the cool air on our cheeks. The path suddenly ended. Con led the way, lifted his bike, and carried it down the incline, planning to walk up the other side and across the street where the fish monger shop was located. I followed. I could see Con having a difficult time managing the slope and getting off to wheel it down the inclines. In anticipation, I did the same. Sliding most of the way through thick sludge, and slipping and sliding our way back up the other side, we exited the forest and had reached a road. My feet were so heavy. I looked down to see my running shoes were incredibly heavy with mud and that mud was in the hem of our pants up to our knees, weighing them down causing us both the fight against gravity, yanking them up at our hips. I focused on our beautiful new bikes seeing that they didn't fare any better. We wheeled the bikes to the front of the fish monger's store, and Con pulled out the three locks to secure them while we shopped. "Honestly Con," I offered. "Who in their right mind would steal these?"
Finnish men entered and exited with their goods, all dressed in shinny pointed-toed shoes, jeans, crispy shirts, pink or purple sweaters over their shoulders tied at the neck. Woman entered wearing colourful outfits, looking, well, clean. I tried to clean the mud off Con's forehead with my sleeve just before it was our turn. Once we had the smoked fish in the brown bag we no longer cared what impressions we were making, unlocked the bikes, slid back down the slope and up the other side to the wooden path and back to Big Sky.
The marina is a 110-year-old yacht and sailing club. For 22 euro we had 24-hour internet, a sauna twice a day, access bike paths that led us all over the island, and pretty much the entire marina to ourselves. Finland isn't on holiday -- yet.
May 31, 2007 -- Smoked Salmon Pulling out our fold-up bikes, we were told "that way" to the fish monger. We set off down the wooden path built over the fallen trees, streams, and at times bridged over the sea water. Our hearts were singing with happiness with the cool air on our cheeks. The path suddenly ended. Con led the way, lifted his bike, and carried it down the incline, planning to walk up the other side and across the street where the fish monger shop was located. I followed. I could see Con having a difficult time managing the slope and getting off to wheel it down the inclines. In anticipation, I did the same. Sliding most of the way through thick sludge, and slipping and sliding our way back up the other side, we exited the forest and had reached a road. My feet were so heavy. I looked down to see my running shoes were incredibly heavy with mud and that mud was in the hem of our pants up to our knees, weighing them down causing us both the fight against gravity, yanking them up at our hips. I focused on our beautiful new bikes seeing that they didn't fare any better. We wheeled the bikes to the front of the fish monger's store, and Con pulled out the three locks to secure them while we shopped. "Honestly Con," I offered. "Who in their right mind would steal these?"
Finnish men entered and exited with their goods, all dressed in shinny pointed-toed shoes, jeans, crispy shirts, pink or purple sweaters over their shoulders tied at the neck. Woman entered wearing colourful outfits, looking, well, clean. I tried to clean the mud off Con's forehead with my sleeve just before it was our turn. Once we had the smoked fish in the brown bag we no longer cared what impressions we were making, unlocked the bikes, slid back down the slope and up the other side to the wooden path and back to Big Sky.
The marina is a 110-year-old yacht and sailing club. For 22 euro we had 24-hour internet, a sauna twice a day, access bike paths that led us all over the island, and pretty much the entire marina to ourselves. Finland isn't on holiday -- yet.
June 1, 2007, Dad's 82nd Birthday! With my Nokia phone, I contorted my body in all sorts of ways, walking to various points around the marina to get a good signal and finally connected with dad. "Happy birthday!" I could tell he thought it was pretty cool that I called from so far away. Mom picked up the extension line and the two of them were having a jolly conversation a room away from each other while I listened from Finland. I stepped aboard feeling great, ready see if Con wanted to go for a sauna and looking forward to a good night's sleep. We spoke at the same time. "No you go first," I said to Con.
"I checked the weather Barbie, and we should leave now and have a night sail to Stockholm." There was complete silence aboard. He added, "Besides, we can practice a night sail, and what better conditions than a bright northern night sky." I was ready to bunk into Mariehamn for life, in fact, the idea of a night sail appealed to me as much as plucking my leg hairs out one by one. But Con was right. A northern night would be perfect. By 10:15 pm we untied, and sailed into a glorious dusky night sky. As the sun set, an awesome sight spread out in front of us, just at the same time we'd entered the 21-NM stretch of open waters. Most sails, I suffer from sea sickness, and I was nervous about how my stomach would react. The moment we hit the open water, the motion of the sea did not set well in my body. I swallowed Gravol at regular intervals. When it was my shift, I rose from the bed only to vomit and Con told me to go back and lay down. At one point, he called to me frantically curing the darkest part of the night. "Barbie! Come up, there's a hip on fire. No, a fleet of ships." I raced topside and we studied the massive light on the horizon and saw the northern sun setting and an enormous moon rising. "Well, will you look at that," Con said in awe. We'd never in our lives seen Mother Nature showing off so much. Once we entered protective waters again, my stomach settled and I took the helm while Con slept until we neared Stockholm. Along the way, we passed small clumps of land with hundreds and hundreds of smelly, noisy cormorants nesting.
June 4, 2007 -- Day two in Stockholm -- the city that never stands still. We're docked at the only public marina and it's right downtown. For its location, it's surprisingly quiet and like all marina's fairly empty this time of year. The Mallard ducks waddled up and ate right out of my hand. The swans are beggars, knocking on the back of the boats with their beaks and waiting for handouts. Stockholm is a fabulous city, filled with young people, exuberance, and pulsing with life. Buildings are beautifully preserved in their 16th and 17th century age, reminding me a lot of Amsterdam. High-school graduation celebrations are going on and calling them "celebrations" is a huge understatement. Each day balloons fill the sky, fireworks have begun at night, and today, an antique car parade passed us while we explored castles, parks, waterways all on our fold-up bikes. We joined the festival in the park with great bands playing music from U2, Robbie Robertson, Rolling Stones... A "Taste of Stockholm" was also taking place. Con and I were mesmerized by the sheer amount of things going on and asked a local about it. He shrugged, "Nothing special. It's Stockholm." Beautiful healthy-looking people, well dressed, and blonde. The summer fashions are funky and classy, lots of white, and off white, with splashes of colour here and there. It's a city that likes to dress.
The Baltic Sea fingers through the city, and bridges link all the fingers and the surrounding islands. There are 70 museums, we visited the Maritime Museum, directly in front of the marina, showcasing the Wasa ship a nearly intact 17th century ship that sunk on its maiden voyage in 1628 because the king demanded 64 guns. Too many, but nobody wanted to tell the king.
June 5, 2007 -- The main sail got stuck in Turku when we did the test runs, and Con noticed the wow at the bottom, so we took it down at the North Sail shop for repairs. Since it would take a week, we melded into the Swedish community. For early June, it was hot! And the celebrations were getting wilder (and wetter) each day. Wetter (in the hot sun) as every street had open backed trucks traveling with dozens of dancing, mostly drunk graduating students in white shirts and white sailor hats dancing with their Grade One pictures. Inevitably when the flat-bed went by, we were soaked by the students shaking beer cans and spraying it into the crowds.
"I checked the weather Barbie, and we should leave now and have a night sail to Stockholm." There was complete silence aboard. He added, "Besides, we can practice a night sail, and what better conditions than a bright northern night sky." I was ready to bunk into Mariehamn for life, in fact, the idea of a night sail appealed to me as much as plucking my leg hairs out one by one. But Con was right. A northern night would be perfect. By 10:15 pm we untied, and sailed into a glorious dusky night sky. As the sun set, an awesome sight spread out in front of us, just at the same time we'd entered the 21-NM stretch of open waters. Most sails, I suffer from sea sickness, and I was nervous about how my stomach would react. The moment we hit the open water, the motion of the sea did not set well in my body. I swallowed Gravol at regular intervals. When it was my shift, I rose from the bed only to vomit and Con told me to go back and lay down. At one point, he called to me frantically curing the darkest part of the night. "Barbie! Come up, there's a hip on fire. No, a fleet of ships." I raced topside and we studied the massive light on the horizon and saw the northern sun setting and an enormous moon rising. "Well, will you look at that," Con said in awe. We'd never in our lives seen Mother Nature showing off so much. Once we entered protective waters again, my stomach settled and I took the helm while Con slept until we neared Stockholm. Along the way, we passed small clumps of land with hundreds and hundreds of smelly, noisy cormorants nesting.
June 4, 2007 -- Day two in Stockholm -- the city that never stands still. We're docked at the only public marina and it's right downtown. For its location, it's surprisingly quiet and like all marina's fairly empty this time of year. The Mallard ducks waddled up and ate right out of my hand. The swans are beggars, knocking on the back of the boats with their beaks and waiting for handouts. Stockholm is a fabulous city, filled with young people, exuberance, and pulsing with life. Buildings are beautifully preserved in their 16th and 17th century age, reminding me a lot of Amsterdam. High-school graduation celebrations are going on and calling them "celebrations" is a huge understatement. Each day balloons fill the sky, fireworks have begun at night, and today, an antique car parade passed us while we explored castles, parks, waterways all on our fold-up bikes. We joined the festival in the park with great bands playing music from U2, Robbie Robertson, Rolling Stones... A "Taste of Stockholm" was also taking place. Con and I were mesmerized by the sheer amount of things going on and asked a local about it. He shrugged, "Nothing special. It's Stockholm." Beautiful healthy-looking people, well dressed, and blonde. The summer fashions are funky and classy, lots of white, and off white, with splashes of colour here and there. It's a city that likes to dress.
The Baltic Sea fingers through the city, and bridges link all the fingers and the surrounding islands. There are 70 museums, we visited the Maritime Museum, directly in front of the marina, showcasing the Wasa ship a nearly intact 17th century ship that sunk on its maiden voyage in 1628 because the king demanded 64 guns. Too many, but nobody wanted to tell the king.
June 5, 2007 -- The main sail got stuck in Turku when we did the test runs, and Con noticed the wow at the bottom, so we took it down at the North Sail shop for repairs. Since it would take a week, we melded into the Swedish community. For early June, it was hot! And the celebrations were getting wilder (and wetter) each day. Wetter (in the hot sun) as every street had open backed trucks traveling with dozens of dancing, mostly drunk graduating students in white shirts and white sailor hats dancing with their Grade One pictures. Inevitably when the flat-bed went by, we were soaked by the students shaking beer cans and spraying it into the crowds.
June 7, 2007 -- Stockholm held us spellbound. We'd sit in our sunny cockpit eating breakfast looking across the water at Castle Holmen and the many medieval buildings and church steeples against the landscape. Finland and Sweden have a reputation for being the countries with the least amount of thefts, nevertheless, after our pick pocket ordeal in Russia, we triple locked our bikes. Today, we parked on the royal castle grounds right beside the royal guard standing guard. Con walked over to him and asked, "If you don't mind, we'll leave our bikes here and you could watch them." The guards are trained not to respond to people, but Con waited, and he finally gave a slight nod. By the afternoon, we stopped in the medieval part of the city and sat at a sunny table in the open square for lunch. Late afternoon, we called the kids to wish them a happy morning in Calgary. Unable to resist the lure of the city, we climbed back on our bikes after dinner and wove through city parks to take in the dozens of people enjoying picnics.
June 12, 2007 -- Getting used to Big Sky, I was pleased with myself after backing out of the tiny Stockholm slip we called "home" for the past 10 days, and navigated through the narrow exit toward the North Sail shop. I gave Con the helm to dock in the small edge of the pier in the shallows. We were so close to the shore that I could lean over and pluck the grasses from the marsh port side.
June 13, 2007 -- I motored out of the shallows this morning and away from the North Sail pier with our main sail finally fixed. Furling it out, we caught the winds to Sandhamn Island, a six-hour sail averaging six knots. Sandhamn is a small village on the outer edges of the Archipelago and we told the kids to watch us on the marina webcam giving them the time we anticipated to arrive. What a disaster was about to befall us. With 30-knot winds blowing, we attempted to dock. Five people stood on the pier watching, which made great entertainment in the little town. I tossed the bow and stern lines and a man tied our bow first, immediately causing our stern to blow out wide. Mistake. Our bow holds the bow thrusters so there's no way we could get our stern in but we tried. Con and I pulled and pulled on the lines, not gaining an inch in the wind. A young man about 18 walked by munching on an apple, and said nonchalantly, "Why don't you use your electric winch."
Why didn't we think of that. Once settled, we giggled about our prerdicament especially believing the kids were watching on the webcam. We stood in front of the webcam, wind blowing our hair and clothes wildly and waved like crazy people. Later, we called to see what they thought. "Oh sorry, we forgot," they all said separately. Below: Swedish coast guard; midnight sun on Big Sky; sea sickness struck.
June 12, 2007 -- Getting used to Big Sky, I was pleased with myself after backing out of the tiny Stockholm slip we called "home" for the past 10 days, and navigated through the narrow exit toward the North Sail shop. I gave Con the helm to dock in the small edge of the pier in the shallows. We were so close to the shore that I could lean over and pluck the grasses from the marsh port side.
June 13, 2007 -- I motored out of the shallows this morning and away from the North Sail pier with our main sail finally fixed. Furling it out, we caught the winds to Sandhamn Island, a six-hour sail averaging six knots. Sandhamn is a small village on the outer edges of the Archipelago and we told the kids to watch us on the marina webcam giving them the time we anticipated to arrive. What a disaster was about to befall us. With 30-knot winds blowing, we attempted to dock. Five people stood on the pier watching, which made great entertainment in the little town. I tossed the bow and stern lines and a man tied our bow first, immediately causing our stern to blow out wide. Mistake. Our bow holds the bow thrusters so there's no way we could get our stern in but we tried. Con and I pulled and pulled on the lines, not gaining an inch in the wind. A young man about 18 walked by munching on an apple, and said nonchalantly, "Why don't you use your electric winch."
Why didn't we think of that. Once settled, we giggled about our prerdicament especially believing the kids were watching on the webcam. We stood in front of the webcam, wind blowing our hair and clothes wildly and waved like crazy people. Later, we called to see what they thought. "Oh sorry, we forgot," they all said separately. Below: Swedish coast guard; midnight sun on Big Sky; sea sickness struck.
June 15, 2007 -- We had to make our way east again, back to Turku to collect our life raft which was now ready for pick up. Up at 5:30 am, we departed Sweden for Kokar Island, Finland, arriving at 9 pm after a 15-hour sail. A gale was expected that evening and an early departure gave us better assurance we could be tucked in before it arrived. I was at the helm when about two hours into our sail I heard a siren. Neither of us knew what it meant and carried on. Fifteen minutes later, an air force plane was circling our boat and few minutes after the plane buzzed us two guys in combat gear popped out of the hatch from a navy boat that appeared stealth-like on our starboard. "Change course immediately to 140 degrees, you're in a live missile testing zone." The plane continued to circle us until we were well out of the range. My sea sickness was in full force. This time, I tried wearing a sea sickness preventative watch which sends pulses through my wrist, meant to combat it. It didn't work. Eight-eight NM later, as we were rounding the point coming into Kokar, Immigration officers raced up to us in their speed boat, "From where?"
"Stockholm," Con replied. They nodded and then disappeared. The gale arrived at 12:45 and slamming into Big Sky's starboard like Moby Dick, but our trusty lines held us secure.
June 17, 2007 -- Our sails collected the winds from the tail end of last night's gale and blew us into Verkan for our second visit. The owner (or manager) waved us in with a big smile, and before we climbed down he called up, "Welcome back our Canadian friends. I've booked your sauna for 8 pm so you have time to get ready for our party tonight. Please come as our guests." We had a blast. An acoustical guitarist played great English 70s songs with a strong Swedish accent, "Eight-teen, t-ill I die." The owner placed two glasses of wine in front of us, "On the house." I left my seat for a few minutes and Con was fully engaged in an animated conversation with a man who was allegedly telling him funny stories. The only problem was that Con couldn't hear him but Con was laughing heartedly. Relieved that I'd returned to translate, I soon realized that he was speaking in Russian. I fake-translated anyway and we laughed 'till we had tears. Walking back to the boat, at 1 am, the sun had set about an hour earlier, but the sky was still a light-grey. Five days remain until "Midsummer Day" (first day of summer) where Scandinavians celebrate with fervor their all-too-brief summer. Our next journey: Turku, Helsinki, then across the Baltic to Estonia.
"Stockholm," Con replied. They nodded and then disappeared. The gale arrived at 12:45 and slamming into Big Sky's starboard like Moby Dick, but our trusty lines held us secure.
June 17, 2007 -- Our sails collected the winds from the tail end of last night's gale and blew us into Verkan for our second visit. The owner (or manager) waved us in with a big smile, and before we climbed down he called up, "Welcome back our Canadian friends. I've booked your sauna for 8 pm so you have time to get ready for our party tonight. Please come as our guests." We had a blast. An acoustical guitarist played great English 70s songs with a strong Swedish accent, "Eight-teen, t-ill I die." The owner placed two glasses of wine in front of us, "On the house." I left my seat for a few minutes and Con was fully engaged in an animated conversation with a man who was allegedly telling him funny stories. The only problem was that Con couldn't hear him but Con was laughing heartedly. Relieved that I'd returned to translate, I soon realized that he was speaking in Russian. I fake-translated anyway and we laughed 'till we had tears. Walking back to the boat, at 1 am, the sun had set about an hour earlier, but the sky was still a light-grey. Five days remain until "Midsummer Day" (first day of summer) where Scandinavians celebrate with fervor their all-too-brief summer. Our next journey: Turku, Helsinki, then across the Baltic to Estonia.
June 19, 2007 -- Our last day in Turku, (on our return for our life raft) we biked 30K to a Medieval town called Naantali where we watched Gypsies and Laplander women in the market. That night, we had an enjoyable last visit over dinner with Kai and Tuula (Nauticat owners). June 22, 2007 -- Docking in Kasnas. Still getting the kinks out of docking. I attached the Finnish stern hook to the buoy, secured the bow latter, Con motored toward the dock, I stepped down the latter, attached windward line. Con turned off Big Sky, tossed me the lee side line, and climbed onto the dock. In that moment, the wind turned, Big Sky's fenders bumped the boat portside, Con then pulled his line attempting to tie, slipped on his bare feet landing plop on his butt, about six inches from being pulled into the Baltic. "Relic" we later called him watched from his boat to our port side with a sour look on his face. Con tied on. Relic climbed off his boat, retied our lines (seemingly the same way Con did) and pointed to the line, "How it's done", and climbed back aboard his boat. We thanked him. From our pilot house windows we watched Relic catch a half dozen white fish. When he saw us watching, we gave him a thumbs up. We leave for Hanko in the morning.
June 23, 2007 -- Some of the Differences Finland is celebration "Midsummers Day" (June 21st longest day of the year). Hundreds of kids have gathered in Hanko to drink -- litres and litres of beer and by morning, they are looking pretty rough. Kids are passed out on rocks around the water's edge, feet hanging out of cars sleeping (mid afternoon). Bottles and garbage everywhere. Seagulls are doing their best to help clean up the leftover food items. Grocery shopping is different from what we're used to in North America. Stores are about the size of 7-11s, fruit and veggies are acquired at outdoor markets. Eggs are on the counter not refrigerated. Finland has an enormous array of potato varieties. And the smoked fish has teased our taste buds to the point of addiction. The other difference in shopping is the package size. Flour, for instance, is in a 1 kilogram package rather than 10. Can't find chocolate chips. It's confusing with the languages to distinguish between baking soda or baking powder and spices. Most people use bikes rather than cars and the car drivers give way to the bike riders, so do pedestrians. We have a cell phone and continually change SIM cards when we change countries. Oh, emergency is 112, not 911. Most people know a minimum of three different languages, and many five or six. Pizza and kabobs seems to be the adopted national foods.
June 25, 2007 -- To Helsinki By 6 a.m. we were under sail for our 77-NM journey to Helsinki. Sea sickness pounced on me again. I took watch for about two hours and the rest was spent managing my ill stomach. We had our least favourite angle of sail (from behind) as it tempts Big Sky to jibe. The waves set up on a following sea at time three meters high. Big Sky rose high and dipped low, never breaking inside the cockpit as we sit high above the water line.
June 23, 2007 -- Some of the Differences Finland is celebration "Midsummers Day" (June 21st longest day of the year). Hundreds of kids have gathered in Hanko to drink -- litres and litres of beer and by morning, they are looking pretty rough. Kids are passed out on rocks around the water's edge, feet hanging out of cars sleeping (mid afternoon). Bottles and garbage everywhere. Seagulls are doing their best to help clean up the leftover food items. Grocery shopping is different from what we're used to in North America. Stores are about the size of 7-11s, fruit and veggies are acquired at outdoor markets. Eggs are on the counter not refrigerated. Finland has an enormous array of potato varieties. And the smoked fish has teased our taste buds to the point of addiction. The other difference in shopping is the package size. Flour, for instance, is in a 1 kilogram package rather than 10. Can't find chocolate chips. It's confusing with the languages to distinguish between baking soda or baking powder and spices. Most people use bikes rather than cars and the car drivers give way to the bike riders, so do pedestrians. We have a cell phone and continually change SIM cards when we change countries. Oh, emergency is 112, not 911. Most people know a minimum of three different languages, and many five or six. Pizza and kabobs seems to be the adopted national foods.
June 25, 2007 -- To Helsinki By 6 a.m. we were under sail for our 77-NM journey to Helsinki. Sea sickness pounced on me again. I took watch for about two hours and the rest was spent managing my ill stomach. We had our least favourite angle of sail (from behind) as it tempts Big Sky to jibe. The waves set up on a following sea at time three meters high. Big Sky rose high and dipped low, never breaking inside the cockpit as we sit high above the water line.
June 27, 2007 -- In Helsinki. Docked in the marina right downtown, we walked to the open market and stopped for lunch at a popular outdoor tented restaurant. The smell of fish sent our stomach to growl and we stepped right up to order a plate each of fish with new potatoes sprinkled with fresh dill. It was served on a flimsy paper plate. The moment we turned to find a seat, we saw the dangerous competition for our plate-full of fish that we'd have to navigate. Seagulls! Large and healthy looking ones lined up casually inside the fold of the tent top, barely noticeable but for their four-inch pencil-like beaks sticking out, all facing the innocent just exiting the fish counter. They had a brilliant strategy. One swooped down at the victim hitting their head with their enormous wing, which generally made the victim react by impulsively lifting their hands to their heads accidentally tossing their flimsy plate of food, and within seconds the rest of the soldier-like birds swooped down and cleaned up. Finally settled at the table, arms open and nearly laying on the two plates to protect our food while Con went for napkins, a gull appeared in my peripheral vision hovering just behind over my left shoulder. I turned and nearly touched nose to long yellow beak. He stayed hovering until Con returned and shooed him with great animation.
June 29, 2007 -- We left Helsinki for Kabbole, a mini sized town with just one spot alongside a dock and lucky for us there was no other boat. We made a bowl of soup, popped a bowl of popcorn and watched a movie on my laptop. Our next stop was Kotka, Finland, just 50 nautical miles from the Russian border. For 17 euro, we had electricity, water, and internet. The weather has been wet, but we set out anyway to tour by bike. Another quaint and delightful town, with many parks and water features.
July 1, 2007 -- Happy Canada Day! This is our last day in Finland, a country which we've totally enjoyed from the people, smoked fish, (for Con the herring), the 19-hour daylight and nightly sauna's. In the morning we sail south to Estonia.
July 3, 2007 -- Estonia Our route south to Estonia had us travel through what our Baltic book warned, "Potential mine fields." The area had been swept in the late 80's as part of a clean-up plan, but not completed. We motored over the glassy water pondering the chaos the Baltic had seen during WWII with submarines, battleships, mines, and bombers. About two hours from our destination, Vergi, Estonia, our engine quit. We opened the genoa sail and drifted at 2.5 knots. Con went into the engine room to study the fuel tanks, switched to the second tank and primed it, and the engine turned over. We entered the shallow narrow entrance, irresponsibly not heeding the suggested entrance and got stuck in the murky bottom. Con managed to back us up with much fanfare lined up on the correct route. The tiny pier was completely full, beyond capacity and not a spot remained. A woman came out of her boat and called, to me motioning our lines. "Toss it!" I did and then learned about the "V" docking formation. We hung out the back of the pier, tied to two smaller boats. Starved, Con pulled out our bikes and we followed our GPS in the direction of a promised restaurant. The nearest village was four kilometers. Alas, we spotted a rustic outdoor picnic-like restaurant. Con flashed euros to the waitress. She shook her head, "Kroons only." He flashed a visa, again she shook her head. Con then went table to table asking if anyone could exchange Euros for Kroons. We had many strange looks and that was only when someone would look, mostly they turned away. Finally, a friendly German man seated to the far right smiled and gestured us over. He volunteered, "I checked the exchange rate this morning, no problem."
July 5, 2007 -- We moved on to Pirita marina located in a small beach community within biking distance to Taillon and moored a stone's throw from the 1980 Olympic torch. This marina was built for the Moscow 1980 Olympics because Estonia was then under Russian rule. We biked into Taillon, population 400,000, awed by the medieval section. The Estonians were celebrating Medieval Week and old fashion stalls were set up and the merchants were dressed in peasant clothes and some as Maid Mariam, others as Robin Hood.
A bloody mystery was taking place aboard. Each morning, we woke to blood spots on the sheets near Con's feet. I scrubbed the sheets every morning for a half week and inspected Con's body each night and morning. Not solving the mystery, I carefully took the bed apart and casually attempted to pinch a piece of black lint when it jumped. I finally captured "the lint" in a cup and tossed it out the window and the mystery was solved when I called my dad. He laughed, "You've got fleas! And, they can jump like a son-of-a-gun." We figured it hitchhiked back with us from the ranch and luckily it didn't have friends or babies.
June 29, 2007 -- We left Helsinki for Kabbole, a mini sized town with just one spot alongside a dock and lucky for us there was no other boat. We made a bowl of soup, popped a bowl of popcorn and watched a movie on my laptop. Our next stop was Kotka, Finland, just 50 nautical miles from the Russian border. For 17 euro, we had electricity, water, and internet. The weather has been wet, but we set out anyway to tour by bike. Another quaint and delightful town, with many parks and water features.
July 1, 2007 -- Happy Canada Day! This is our last day in Finland, a country which we've totally enjoyed from the people, smoked fish, (for Con the herring), the 19-hour daylight and nightly sauna's. In the morning we sail south to Estonia.
July 3, 2007 -- Estonia Our route south to Estonia had us travel through what our Baltic book warned, "Potential mine fields." The area had been swept in the late 80's as part of a clean-up plan, but not completed. We motored over the glassy water pondering the chaos the Baltic had seen during WWII with submarines, battleships, mines, and bombers. About two hours from our destination, Vergi, Estonia, our engine quit. We opened the genoa sail and drifted at 2.5 knots. Con went into the engine room to study the fuel tanks, switched to the second tank and primed it, and the engine turned over. We entered the shallow narrow entrance, irresponsibly not heeding the suggested entrance and got stuck in the murky bottom. Con managed to back us up with much fanfare lined up on the correct route. The tiny pier was completely full, beyond capacity and not a spot remained. A woman came out of her boat and called, to me motioning our lines. "Toss it!" I did and then learned about the "V" docking formation. We hung out the back of the pier, tied to two smaller boats. Starved, Con pulled out our bikes and we followed our GPS in the direction of a promised restaurant. The nearest village was four kilometers. Alas, we spotted a rustic outdoor picnic-like restaurant. Con flashed euros to the waitress. She shook her head, "Kroons only." He flashed a visa, again she shook her head. Con then went table to table asking if anyone could exchange Euros for Kroons. We had many strange looks and that was only when someone would look, mostly they turned away. Finally, a friendly German man seated to the far right smiled and gestured us over. He volunteered, "I checked the exchange rate this morning, no problem."
July 5, 2007 -- We moved on to Pirita marina located in a small beach community within biking distance to Taillon and moored a stone's throw from the 1980 Olympic torch. This marina was built for the Moscow 1980 Olympics because Estonia was then under Russian rule. We biked into Taillon, population 400,000, awed by the medieval section. The Estonians were celebrating Medieval Week and old fashion stalls were set up and the merchants were dressed in peasant clothes and some as Maid Mariam, others as Robin Hood.
A bloody mystery was taking place aboard. Each morning, we woke to blood spots on the sheets near Con's feet. I scrubbed the sheets every morning for a half week and inspected Con's body each night and morning. Not solving the mystery, I carefully took the bed apart and casually attempted to pinch a piece of black lint when it jumped. I finally captured "the lint" in a cup and tossed it out the window and the mystery was solved when I called my dad. He laughed, "You've got fleas! And, they can jump like a son-of-a-gun." We figured it hitchhiked back with us from the ranch and luckily it didn't have friends or babies.
July 6, 2007 -- Hero of the marina! An old guy, along with a younger man, young woman, and a child motored into the marina about 10 am having sailed overnight from Helsinki. Attempting to dock, they hooked their line on a buoy which was shared with another boat, and then backed right over that boat's line which seized their engine when the line wrapped around their prop and shaft. Their boat was drifting dangerously toward Big Sky's stern. Con called to the boat beside us to toss them a line. They stared at us not moving from their cockpit seats. Without the line, the drifting boat would slam into our stern. The old captain looked perplexed, unable to make a decision about what he must do. Finally, a line was thrown to the boat stopping it from a collision with Big Sky. Con called to the captain, "Someone will have to dive down to free the line." The captain stood frozen to his wheel. Con then decided the "someone" would be him. "Get my snorkel please," Con called to me. He slipped into the 15 degree dark water and dove several times under their boat using a knife attempting to cut the line free from the captain's prop. Each time Con surfaced spewing water with loud coughing fits that sounded like he was drowning himself. Each time he surfaced, his skin was a darker blue and I figured if he doesn't drown himself, he will collapse from hypothermia. By now, many gathered to watch the scene unfold.
Each time Con finished his coughing fit, I'd call to him, "That's enough, come out now."
The neighbor (who we learned was a doctor) looked at my concerned face asking, "Are there any health issues we should know about your husband?"
"Yes! He won't quit until the job is done!"
Finally, once Con was able to catch his breath he said, "It's dddone."
I wrapped a white towel around him leading him to our hot shower aboard and I saw the towel was covered in BLUE, not hypothermia, but antifouling from the bottom of their boat.
July 7, 2007 -- Albertine arrives and her luggage the next day. Albertine is the youngest of the six siblings in Con's family. They are the closest of friends and so very much alike in so many ways, you'd think they were twins. It was good to have our first visitor and share the joys we were having with family. While the three of us were chatting in the pilot house about 11:45 pm, we heard a loud bang and joked about our neighbours having a wild party in their 16-meter yacht. I went topside to take a look, but it was so dark, I couldn't see anything, and all was quiet. Earlier that evening, we saw the three young guys from that yacht greet three young local woman dressed very sexy like, and the six of them leave the marina. the next morning, the owner of the boat stopped us to tell us they were robbed, "Everything is gone, including my underwear! Did you see anything?"
"I heard a loud noise about 11:45 pm and went out to take a look, but saw nothing," I volunteered.
The man moved in too close to my face, to question me further making me feel guilty. Apparently, a boat arrived, tied up beside them, used a fire extinguisher to break the main window, and proceeded to empty the yacht. Suddenly, we were reminded of our robbing in Russia and everyone looked suspicious to me again. A woman and her companion walked passed Big Sky taking pictures of our boat in a stealth-like manner, with her camera low on her hip. I scurried topside and blatantly took a picture of her.
July 9, 2007 -- Mechanic Arrives The generator wouldn't turn over and Con was still concerned about Big Sky stalling when we crossed to Estonia. We learned that the key to the engine and generator was to switch tanks BEFORE it's empty and always prime. We motored to the tax-free diesel pump and within 20 minutes filled our tank (10,000 EEK - CND$1000). Rain had been falling for a few days and we hiked from one bus stop to another dodging serious puddles and tidal waves of splashes from the vehicles. Tallinn, Estonia's capital city has a great mix of old and new architecture as seen in the well-preserved medieval old town and the more recent Russian cold-looking concrete that was poured in between the interesting old buildings, and even in front of the pretty Opera House to hide its beauty. Ending the evening in the cockpit eating a delicious dinner sipping wine, a woman surprised us. She climbed up onto our boat imploring emphatically that we "take her with us." She was a second generation Russian implanted into Estonia during the time when Russian tried to "Russificate" Estonia. We shook our heads saying, "Sorry, no".
July 10, 2007-- Hornet enroute to Lohusalu The largest hornet I've ever seen, about 4-5 cm long landed beside Con while undersail. I scooped it up and tossed it overboard, but he just landed in the water, never flew away. I learned that these hornets are endangered in Germany and there's a 50,000 euro fine if you kill one. Oops.
We are on watch at all times and being watched too. Leaving Pirita (Tallinn's marina) the coast guard called us on Channel 16 "Big Sky Big Sky Big Sky, this is the Coast Guard, turn to Channel 20." We did. They wanted to know our destination and last port.
July 13, 2007 -- We left our tight slip at Lehtma, Estonia and blew to another tight marina docking, securing Big Sky with spring lines. Just settling for dinner another boat came in under high speed squishing in between our boat and our neighbour's running across our spring line. Con dashed out and quickly released the line, preventing a tangled mess. Believing the pier couldn't fit even a canoe, and just before we settled in for the night, about 11 pm, to our amazement, a 16 -meter wide yacht attempted to squeeze into a six-inch space to our right. He did! Talk about sardines in a can...
Each time Con finished his coughing fit, I'd call to him, "That's enough, come out now."
The neighbor (who we learned was a doctor) looked at my concerned face asking, "Are there any health issues we should know about your husband?"
"Yes! He won't quit until the job is done!"
Finally, once Con was able to catch his breath he said, "It's dddone."
I wrapped a white towel around him leading him to our hot shower aboard and I saw the towel was covered in BLUE, not hypothermia, but antifouling from the bottom of their boat.
July 7, 2007 -- Albertine arrives and her luggage the next day. Albertine is the youngest of the six siblings in Con's family. They are the closest of friends and so very much alike in so many ways, you'd think they were twins. It was good to have our first visitor and share the joys we were having with family. While the three of us were chatting in the pilot house about 11:45 pm, we heard a loud bang and joked about our neighbours having a wild party in their 16-meter yacht. I went topside to take a look, but it was so dark, I couldn't see anything, and all was quiet. Earlier that evening, we saw the three young guys from that yacht greet three young local woman dressed very sexy like, and the six of them leave the marina. the next morning, the owner of the boat stopped us to tell us they were robbed, "Everything is gone, including my underwear! Did you see anything?"
"I heard a loud noise about 11:45 pm and went out to take a look, but saw nothing," I volunteered.
The man moved in too close to my face, to question me further making me feel guilty. Apparently, a boat arrived, tied up beside them, used a fire extinguisher to break the main window, and proceeded to empty the yacht. Suddenly, we were reminded of our robbing in Russia and everyone looked suspicious to me again. A woman and her companion walked passed Big Sky taking pictures of our boat in a stealth-like manner, with her camera low on her hip. I scurried topside and blatantly took a picture of her.
July 9, 2007 -- Mechanic Arrives The generator wouldn't turn over and Con was still concerned about Big Sky stalling when we crossed to Estonia. We learned that the key to the engine and generator was to switch tanks BEFORE it's empty and always prime. We motored to the tax-free diesel pump and within 20 minutes filled our tank (10,000 EEK - CND$1000). Rain had been falling for a few days and we hiked from one bus stop to another dodging serious puddles and tidal waves of splashes from the vehicles. Tallinn, Estonia's capital city has a great mix of old and new architecture as seen in the well-preserved medieval old town and the more recent Russian cold-looking concrete that was poured in between the interesting old buildings, and even in front of the pretty Opera House to hide its beauty. Ending the evening in the cockpit eating a delicious dinner sipping wine, a woman surprised us. She climbed up onto our boat imploring emphatically that we "take her with us." She was a second generation Russian implanted into Estonia during the time when Russian tried to "Russificate" Estonia. We shook our heads saying, "Sorry, no".
July 10, 2007-- Hornet enroute to Lohusalu The largest hornet I've ever seen, about 4-5 cm long landed beside Con while undersail. I scooped it up and tossed it overboard, but he just landed in the water, never flew away. I learned that these hornets are endangered in Germany and there's a 50,000 euro fine if you kill one. Oops.
We are on watch at all times and being watched too. Leaving Pirita (Tallinn's marina) the coast guard called us on Channel 16 "Big Sky Big Sky Big Sky, this is the Coast Guard, turn to Channel 20." We did. They wanted to know our destination and last port.
July 13, 2007 -- We left our tight slip at Lehtma, Estonia and blew to another tight marina docking, securing Big Sky with spring lines. Just settling for dinner another boat came in under high speed squishing in between our boat and our neighbour's running across our spring line. Con dashed out and quickly released the line, preventing a tangled mess. Believing the pier couldn't fit even a canoe, and just before we settled in for the night, about 11 pm, to our amazement, a 16 -meter wide yacht attempted to squeeze into a six-inch space to our right. He did! Talk about sardines in a can...
July 14, 2007 -- To Saaremaa We motored 100.6 NM to the Estonia Island of Saaremaa tying near the castle but not until we slithered through the rock-bordered shallows. with our 2.1 draft, we slithered through the mud at a 1.9 depth. Sea gulls lined up on each side of the rocks six meters to our right and left watching or maybe guarding the Castle entrance. Once settled, we toured the Kuressaare Castle, the only entirely preserved medieval stone castle in all of the Baltics. A beautiful moat surrounds it. On the tall slope overlooking the moat we watched a mother swallow feeding her babies.
July 15, 2007 -- Land Tour The three of us set off in a rented a car made available by the Harbour Master's friend. We visited the Kaali Meteorite Craters; various churches including the Kaarma Church, and buildings.
July 17, 2007 -- Leaving the island at 6:00pm, we did an overnight to Riga, Latvia with the three of us sharing two-hour shifts. Half the night was under sail. Not another vessel was seen that night, except a Swedish-flagged sail boat that crossed very close to our stern on my watch. I saw the captain's silhouette wave from his cockpit. The northern night was another beautiful one, leaving a full peach-tangerine skyline in the west when the sun set. During my shift a bright lime-green star fell into the sea to the east. Such a simple thing left me with such joy.
July 19, 2007 -- Latvia quite likely has some of the most beautiful young women and they don't mind showing off in various manners of dress, see-through tops, short skirts to show off legs that extend to their armpits, perfect hair and make-up. By contrast, some of the older woman who lived through the Soviet occupation look tattered and worn out, bent over, poor skin, bad teeth, and dried up hair.
Generally the people speak English and they are very friendly. Tourism is just taking off in Latvia and Riga and by reflection, items are twice the price than in Estonia. One Lat is worth CND$2. Last night, we attended an Organ Concert in the enormous Dome Church, with all the large sounds coming from the one man/one organ.
July 20, 2007 -- A 12-hour motor/sail from Riga landed us in a commercial fishing harbour at the mouth of the Roja River. "Canada! Welcome!" People called out from the bridge above, many wanting to hear about our crossing from Canada (which of course we didn't do). Next stop: Ventspils, a major Soviet oil terminal and one of the richest town located on the west side of Latvia. At the helm, the Harbour Master called to me, "Use your anchor". That would be a new one for us, since we hadn't used our stern anchor yet. Con dropped it and I motored to the concrete quay. Albertine tossed the lines and we were secure for the 35-40 knots expected that night. The Ventspils pipelines have dried up, as a result of the bad relations between Russians and Latvians, putting the little town's future into jeopardy.
July 15, 2007 -- Land Tour The three of us set off in a rented a car made available by the Harbour Master's friend. We visited the Kaali Meteorite Craters; various churches including the Kaarma Church, and buildings.
July 17, 2007 -- Leaving the island at 6:00pm, we did an overnight to Riga, Latvia with the three of us sharing two-hour shifts. Half the night was under sail. Not another vessel was seen that night, except a Swedish-flagged sail boat that crossed very close to our stern on my watch. I saw the captain's silhouette wave from his cockpit. The northern night was another beautiful one, leaving a full peach-tangerine skyline in the west when the sun set. During my shift a bright lime-green star fell into the sea to the east. Such a simple thing left me with such joy.
July 19, 2007 -- Latvia quite likely has some of the most beautiful young women and they don't mind showing off in various manners of dress, see-through tops, short skirts to show off legs that extend to their armpits, perfect hair and make-up. By contrast, some of the older woman who lived through the Soviet occupation look tattered and worn out, bent over, poor skin, bad teeth, and dried up hair.
Generally the people speak English and they are very friendly. Tourism is just taking off in Latvia and Riga and by reflection, items are twice the price than in Estonia. One Lat is worth CND$2. Last night, we attended an Organ Concert in the enormous Dome Church, with all the large sounds coming from the one man/one organ.
July 20, 2007 -- A 12-hour motor/sail from Riga landed us in a commercial fishing harbour at the mouth of the Roja River. "Canada! Welcome!" People called out from the bridge above, many wanting to hear about our crossing from Canada (which of course we didn't do). Next stop: Ventspils, a major Soviet oil terminal and one of the richest town located on the west side of Latvia. At the helm, the Harbour Master called to me, "Use your anchor". That would be a new one for us, since we hadn't used our stern anchor yet. Con dropped it and I motored to the concrete quay. Albertine tossed the lines and we were secure for the 35-40 knots expected that night. The Ventspils pipelines have dried up, as a result of the bad relations between Russians and Latvians, putting the little town's future into jeopardy.
July 23, 2007 -- Anchor Stuck! As predicted, the high winds arrived just as we sat down for supper and Big Sky's bow hit the dock with a bang. Scrambling topside, Albertine at the bow lines, me at the stern anchor, and Con at the wheel. Albertine untied, as the crowd of sympathetic onlookers gathered. Con slowly backed up, as I pushed the anchor "up" button, but it was stuck. Con and I switched places so he could try lifting the anchor, but it wouldn't budge. We were in quite a pickle. At this point, I danced Big Sky in various angles (in the middle of the harbor) using the motor and bow thruster trying various positions to free the anchor. The wind was howling around us trying to take control of Big Sky. The harbour master arrived and called, "There's an old cable in the harbour, you're stuck on it!"
"Old Table?" Con scratched his head looking at me for confirmation. "Take her back to the dock," Con said in defeat.
I turned and aimed toward the spot we'd exited, now fairly blown over by the neighbour's boat. Keeping Big Sky angled as best as I could in the winds, ever so carefully I eased her back in, all the while the Swedish neighbours standing guard over their boat. Con tightened up the anchor as best he could, now knowing we were at the mercy of the "Old cable" to hold us from the concrete. Albertine and Con tossed the lines to the eight or so men waiting to help. With the help of the bow thruster, I looked like a pro and once settled, the Border Guards applauded from their ship just behind and to my starboard, then applause from the people on the dock. Walking forward, the men called to me, "Good job Skipper!" I told Con that he may not be able to stand my ego for the next little while. A diver from another boat told Con he'd go down and check it tomorrow, "Because we're sea brothers." I was grateful that Con didn't volunteer for THAT job, since the anchor was stuck in 15 meters.
July 24, 2007 -- First thing this morning, our "sea brother" the diver went down as promised and freed Big Sky's anchor to which Con gave him a generous tip.
July 25, 2007 -- Exhilarating last sail for Albertine. Managing speeds of 9.2 knots to Liepaja with beam winds, we cut our travel time nearly in half. Latvian's seem to have forgiven the Soviets for their occupation but quickly secured a position with the EU to protect them from any future Soviet occupation. Previous conversation with the Ventspils, harbor master, a 30-year old entrepreneur shared that in his opinion, the current situation is not correctly reported in the media and that there is no animosity between the remaining Russians and the Latvians. The change to independence provided many positives for Latvia with corruption being the only remaining negative. To me, it's the concrete colourless, Russian four-walled buildings they erected. Many are now abandoned factories. We joined the many families out enjoying the summer picking forests berries and mushrooms. The Baltic States seem to be captured in time, with many towns still preserved in the medieval style, as if we've walked into yesterday.
July 27, 2007 -- Albertine flies home Con found a flight for Albertine from Leipaja to Riga for LAT$1 (CND$2), including coffee and a cookie. Con and I are now charting our next few weeks to connect with Lindsey and Courtney in England. We have some sailing ahead of us, since they arrive in a month.
"Old Table?" Con scratched his head looking at me for confirmation. "Take her back to the dock," Con said in defeat.
I turned and aimed toward the spot we'd exited, now fairly blown over by the neighbour's boat. Keeping Big Sky angled as best as I could in the winds, ever so carefully I eased her back in, all the while the Swedish neighbours standing guard over their boat. Con tightened up the anchor as best he could, now knowing we were at the mercy of the "Old cable" to hold us from the concrete. Albertine and Con tossed the lines to the eight or so men waiting to help. With the help of the bow thruster, I looked like a pro and once settled, the Border Guards applauded from their ship just behind and to my starboard, then applause from the people on the dock. Walking forward, the men called to me, "Good job Skipper!" I told Con that he may not be able to stand my ego for the next little while. A diver from another boat told Con he'd go down and check it tomorrow, "Because we're sea brothers." I was grateful that Con didn't volunteer for THAT job, since the anchor was stuck in 15 meters.
July 24, 2007 -- First thing this morning, our "sea brother" the diver went down as promised and freed Big Sky's anchor to which Con gave him a generous tip.
July 25, 2007 -- Exhilarating last sail for Albertine. Managing speeds of 9.2 knots to Liepaja with beam winds, we cut our travel time nearly in half. Latvian's seem to have forgiven the Soviets for their occupation but quickly secured a position with the EU to protect them from any future Soviet occupation. Previous conversation with the Ventspils, harbor master, a 30-year old entrepreneur shared that in his opinion, the current situation is not correctly reported in the media and that there is no animosity between the remaining Russians and the Latvians. The change to independence provided many positives for Latvia with corruption being the only remaining negative. To me, it's the concrete colourless, Russian four-walled buildings they erected. Many are now abandoned factories. We joined the many families out enjoying the summer picking forests berries and mushrooms. The Baltic States seem to be captured in time, with many towns still preserved in the medieval style, as if we've walked into yesterday.
July 27, 2007 -- Albertine flies home Con found a flight for Albertine from Leipaja to Riga for LAT$1 (CND$2), including coffee and a cookie. Con and I are now charting our next few weeks to connect with Lindsey and Courtney in England. We have some sailing ahead of us, since they arrive in a month.
July 28, 2007-- Rough Seas! We anticipated rough waters nearing Liepaja's protective breakwater. Fifty meters from the exit, large rolling waves were breaking and soaring 20 meters high. We set up a reefed main for stability and and reefed jib on a 7-knot close haul in 30 knot winds. It wasn't a day for the fair-weather sailor. An hour into our sail, waves broke starboard coming into the cockpit and some over the dodger! Con remained outside tucked under the dodger and I took a position inside laying flat on the pilot house cushions to calm my sea-sick stomach. Eight hours and 51.2 NM later, we tied to the Klaipeda inner harbour dock. Con was called four times by the coast guard on the VHF to confirm the name of our vessel and our location. We listened to a "Man Overboard" Pan Pan, and we were delighted to hear he was rescued. Tough sailing day. The annual Klaipeda Festival of the Sea was in full swing, with bands playing right outside our bow. We washed the salt out of our hair and every orifice and went to check it out.
July 29, 2007 -- The Festival of the Sea in Klaipeda. It appears alcohol has played a bad role in the Baltic States society. We see young and old staggering down streets drunk with beer bottles in hand. Sadly today, a young mom and dad poured beer into their baby's bottle and then ordered another for themselves.
We'll catch the winds tonight for our 140-NM sail to Poland, our longest sail yet. We'll pass near the Russian border south of us but we've been told not to cross the border or we could be pulled into Russia without a visa and that could result in chaos.
July 31, 2007 -- Klaipeda to Gydnia Poland Rescuing Lines This was our wildest ride yet, at times sailing in 35-knot winds, with Big Sky pounding into waves some appearing to be 5 meters high lifting our bow and banging her down. We stayed inside to steer from the pilot house. Twice, I had to leave the safety of the cockpit to rescue lines. Con had to concede that if one of us was tossed over, he could collect me faster than I'd collect him. I spotted the starboard bow line had gone overboard and was dragging in the water, a dangerous situation since it could get caught in the prop and foul the engine. Wearing my Gill storm suit and life jacket, I left the cockpit, keeping my knees bent low, slowly moving forward, one hand on the rail, and other on the pilot house handles. Seven steps remained where I'd only have my right arm holding the rail, nothing to hold onto with my left hand. Big Sky rose high just as I reached the line. I turned facing the rail holding tight with both hands. The hull came down hard with a loud bang and green water rushed over the bow. I could feel the danger under my feet and the water rushed passed. When the boat began to lift again, I pulled quickly wrapped the line onto the cleat and held tight. Bang! The water rushed again under my feet and up my legs passed at my knees! My bangs whipped around my face stinging my eyes with salt water. By the third bow lift, I managed to get all of the line secured topside and made my way back to the cockpit and then inside to change. That challenge was as great, balancing to take off all my wet clothes for dry ones. We had two-hour shifts through the night, watching the wind and traffic. Only two ships passed, and of all the routes available on the sea, both came frighteningly close. As dawn was breaking, the wind appeared to be okay to set sail again, and once we did, the winds shot up and we were going too fast -- 9.5 knots on a steep heel. Reefing became a major task. We turned Big Sky into the wind to free the pressure on the sail making a loud violent flapping motions in the sails. The jib lines tangled into knots needed to be cleared or we'd never furl the sail. This time, I put on the harness and hooked myself to the rail and went out on the heeling side, water once again rushing past my feet trying to take my balance. We were leaning so far starboard that when I looked down, the Baltic was just a foot below me on that crazy heel. Contorting my body sideways to accommodate the heel, I moved forward slowly clipping and unclipping my harness to the rail until I reached the mess. Once untangled, I clipped and unclipped myself from the rail again for my return to the cockpit. Once again, I was challenged taking off my wet clothes for another set of dry. Seventeen hours later, we in Gydnia by 2 pm and starved, not having eaten since our departure. We had a bowl of chicken soup and a sandwich, collapsing into a dead sleep. Waking still hungry we set off by bike in the pouring rain to eat authentic Polish food at a restaurant.
Below: A brief look at the Danish Island
July 29, 2007 -- The Festival of the Sea in Klaipeda. It appears alcohol has played a bad role in the Baltic States society. We see young and old staggering down streets drunk with beer bottles in hand. Sadly today, a young mom and dad poured beer into their baby's bottle and then ordered another for themselves.
We'll catch the winds tonight for our 140-NM sail to Poland, our longest sail yet. We'll pass near the Russian border south of us but we've been told not to cross the border or we could be pulled into Russia without a visa and that could result in chaos.
July 31, 2007 -- Klaipeda to Gydnia Poland Rescuing Lines This was our wildest ride yet, at times sailing in 35-knot winds, with Big Sky pounding into waves some appearing to be 5 meters high lifting our bow and banging her down. We stayed inside to steer from the pilot house. Twice, I had to leave the safety of the cockpit to rescue lines. Con had to concede that if one of us was tossed over, he could collect me faster than I'd collect him. I spotted the starboard bow line had gone overboard and was dragging in the water, a dangerous situation since it could get caught in the prop and foul the engine. Wearing my Gill storm suit and life jacket, I left the cockpit, keeping my knees bent low, slowly moving forward, one hand on the rail, and other on the pilot house handles. Seven steps remained where I'd only have my right arm holding the rail, nothing to hold onto with my left hand. Big Sky rose high just as I reached the line. I turned facing the rail holding tight with both hands. The hull came down hard with a loud bang and green water rushed over the bow. I could feel the danger under my feet and the water rushed passed. When the boat began to lift again, I pulled quickly wrapped the line onto the cleat and held tight. Bang! The water rushed again under my feet and up my legs passed at my knees! My bangs whipped around my face stinging my eyes with salt water. By the third bow lift, I managed to get all of the line secured topside and made my way back to the cockpit and then inside to change. That challenge was as great, balancing to take off all my wet clothes for dry ones. We had two-hour shifts through the night, watching the wind and traffic. Only two ships passed, and of all the routes available on the sea, both came frighteningly close. As dawn was breaking, the wind appeared to be okay to set sail again, and once we did, the winds shot up and we were going too fast -- 9.5 knots on a steep heel. Reefing became a major task. We turned Big Sky into the wind to free the pressure on the sail making a loud violent flapping motions in the sails. The jib lines tangled into knots needed to be cleared or we'd never furl the sail. This time, I put on the harness and hooked myself to the rail and went out on the heeling side, water once again rushing past my feet trying to take my balance. We were leaning so far starboard that when I looked down, the Baltic was just a foot below me on that crazy heel. Contorting my body sideways to accommodate the heel, I moved forward slowly clipping and unclipping my harness to the rail until I reached the mess. Once untangled, I clipped and unclipped myself from the rail again for my return to the cockpit. Once again, I was challenged taking off my wet clothes for another set of dry. Seventeen hours later, we in Gydnia by 2 pm and starved, not having eaten since our departure. We had a bowl of chicken soup and a sandwich, collapsing into a dead sleep. Waking still hungry we set off by bike in the pouring rain to eat authentic Polish food at a restaurant.
Below: A brief look at the Danish Island
August 1, 2007 -- Gydnia to Gdansk Poland Our jib had split in places following our crazy sail and both Con and I had tried separately to go up in the Bossom chair but failed. Con got half-way up and was laying flat in the chair. I brought him right back down. I got part-way up and couldn't free the jib. Together with the female harbour master and a sail maker, we finally got it down. Something wasn't right with the hardware because it kept sticking. Both are currently being repaired.
We biked around the gorgeous city of Gydnia, called the City of Freedom, where in 1989, Lech Walesa, the Solidarity leader started Central Europe on its road to a peaceful freedom from communism.
August 4, 2007 -- We've crossed paths with Christen aboard the French-flagged sailboat Concerto, meeting first in Stockholm. We crossed from Lithuania to Poland at the same time and during the rough sea, we touched base a few times by VHF to make sure we were both okay. During that crossing, we recognized to location the coast guard had been calling on the VHS. It was for Christen. The coast guard kept asking, "Vessel at (giving the location of Concerto) please respond." After a few attempts and no response the coast guard called again, this time giving our GPS location. Con answered, "This is Big Sky..."
"Please spell," they asked.
"Bravo, India, Golf, pause Sierra, Kilo, Yankee".
"Can you see the boat near us?" The coast guard asked.
"Yes."
"What flag?"
"French," Con responded.
"What name?"
At the time we didn't know Christen's boat's name. Con responded. "Unknown."
The coast guard asked, "Please spell slowly."
"Uniform, November, Kilo, November, Oscar, Whisky, November."
August 6-8, 2007-- Overnight sailing East -- Departing Poland in the morning we passed kilometers of crowded white-sand beaches. By night, we fell into our two-hour shifts arriving 26 hours later on the Danish island of Bornholm. My sea-sick stomach was relieved to reach land. Con pulled out our fold-up bikes and we cycled around the island, stuffing ourselves with the fresh sweetness of the delicious Danish danishes. That night, after scouting all over for the best restaurant for authentic Danish food, Con selected a place which unfortunately turned into a disaster. While underway the next day, Con struggled with food poisoning in one bathroom, and I hovered over the other throwing up from sea sickeness. Unfortunately, I had to call Con to rise from the bunk room, his sick bed, to take a look at the jib which was rotating beyond where it should. Putting on his life jacket, he clipped to the rail and went forward to inspect. The pin had come out at the base of the jib rigging twisting the rigging inside the motor below. Rather than sail to the southern tip of Denmark, we immediately detoured to Warnemunden, Germany believing Germany was a better bet for repairs. Con managed to crank the 23-meters of sail in using a six-inch winch. Quite a task. We now plotted our course through the Kiel Canal, a short cut to the North Sea. It was a major engineering feat in its day, built in 1895 to take the German fleet through rather than around Denmark. It's 53 nautical miles long, with two locks at each end.
August 9, 10, 2007 -- Tall Ships and Ship Repairs Con still recovering from food poisoning was resting when I woke him to tell him the Tall Ships (which we knew were in the region but hadn't seen yet) were coming into the canal. Con grabbed the camera and we sprinted to the water to watch. A Mexican Tall Ship was entering with about 100 sailors standing on the masts high above.
A repair man arrived by small boat, about 4:45pm assessed the damage, checked his watch, and quickly jumped back into his small boat. Con asked, "What's happening?"
"I'm on vacation in 10 minutes, my boy Heindrick will bring you the part tomorrow" and he was off.
In the morning, a 10-year old boy brought the part, Con and he secured it, and after stocking the fridge, checking the wind, we were off. Our next destination: The Keil Canal. We tucked into an open slot in a private marina overnight close to the canal for an early morning departure. Fog moved in overnight. the canal will shave seven hours off our journey and dump us into the German Bight. Sounds ominous.
We biked around the gorgeous city of Gydnia, called the City of Freedom, where in 1989, Lech Walesa, the Solidarity leader started Central Europe on its road to a peaceful freedom from communism.
August 4, 2007 -- We've crossed paths with Christen aboard the French-flagged sailboat Concerto, meeting first in Stockholm. We crossed from Lithuania to Poland at the same time and during the rough sea, we touched base a few times by VHF to make sure we were both okay. During that crossing, we recognized to location the coast guard had been calling on the VHS. It was for Christen. The coast guard kept asking, "Vessel at (giving the location of Concerto) please respond." After a few attempts and no response the coast guard called again, this time giving our GPS location. Con answered, "This is Big Sky..."
"Please spell," they asked.
"Bravo, India, Golf, pause Sierra, Kilo, Yankee".
"Can you see the boat near us?" The coast guard asked.
"Yes."
"What flag?"
"French," Con responded.
"What name?"
At the time we didn't know Christen's boat's name. Con responded. "Unknown."
The coast guard asked, "Please spell slowly."
"Uniform, November, Kilo, November, Oscar, Whisky, November."
August 6-8, 2007-- Overnight sailing East -- Departing Poland in the morning we passed kilometers of crowded white-sand beaches. By night, we fell into our two-hour shifts arriving 26 hours later on the Danish island of Bornholm. My sea-sick stomach was relieved to reach land. Con pulled out our fold-up bikes and we cycled around the island, stuffing ourselves with the fresh sweetness of the delicious Danish danishes. That night, after scouting all over for the best restaurant for authentic Danish food, Con selected a place which unfortunately turned into a disaster. While underway the next day, Con struggled with food poisoning in one bathroom, and I hovered over the other throwing up from sea sickeness. Unfortunately, I had to call Con to rise from the bunk room, his sick bed, to take a look at the jib which was rotating beyond where it should. Putting on his life jacket, he clipped to the rail and went forward to inspect. The pin had come out at the base of the jib rigging twisting the rigging inside the motor below. Rather than sail to the southern tip of Denmark, we immediately detoured to Warnemunden, Germany believing Germany was a better bet for repairs. Con managed to crank the 23-meters of sail in using a six-inch winch. Quite a task. We now plotted our course through the Kiel Canal, a short cut to the North Sea. It was a major engineering feat in its day, built in 1895 to take the German fleet through rather than around Denmark. It's 53 nautical miles long, with two locks at each end.
August 9, 10, 2007 -- Tall Ships and Ship Repairs Con still recovering from food poisoning was resting when I woke him to tell him the Tall Ships (which we knew were in the region but hadn't seen yet) were coming into the canal. Con grabbed the camera and we sprinted to the water to watch. A Mexican Tall Ship was entering with about 100 sailors standing on the masts high above.
A repair man arrived by small boat, about 4:45pm assessed the damage, checked his watch, and quickly jumped back into his small boat. Con asked, "What's happening?"
"I'm on vacation in 10 minutes, my boy Heindrick will bring you the part tomorrow" and he was off.
In the morning, a 10-year old boy brought the part, Con and he secured it, and after stocking the fridge, checking the wind, we were off. Our next destination: The Keil Canal. We tucked into an open slot in a private marina overnight close to the canal for an early morning departure. Fog moved in overnight. the canal will shave seven hours off our journey and dump us into the German Bight. Sounds ominous.
August 12-14, 2007 -- It was a lovely warm day as we motor/sailed through the Kiel Canal and into the North Sea. Now we're challenged by tides and currents, either gaining 2-3 knot speeds or fighting 2-3 knots. The Elboe River (the waterway that led us into the German Bight) has drying areas and the tide can lower the sea by up to 3.5 meters.
About 1.5 hours out to sea, we noticed a boat circling so we sailed close to check that they were okay. Turned out it was a funeral at sea, and we sailed right over the lilies and ashes. Our sail to The Netherlands is expected to take 29 hours with nowhere to stop and with many shallows. We continued our two-hours night watches, remaining inside with clear visibility through the pilot house windows. In Cuxhaven, they were dredging the sea for bigger boats to enter Den Helder creating a heaven for the seagulls as they feasted on the dredged up fish. Entering Den Helder at 3 pm we showered and found a nice restaurant to celebrate our anniversary. Three years ago we married in our sunny floral backyard with our four daughters standing up as witnesses.
August 16, 2007 -- The weather report stated: "Rain in the morning, strong winds tapering off by noon, clearing trends with afternoon Beaufort 3-4 winds." Since we'd waited a day for better weather, this sounded pretty good. I motored out of the protected marina at 11:30am with high tide, still trying to get a fix on the GPS.
"Head toward the ferry," Con called out from the starboard side as he pulled in the fenders. I kept on my route believing that taunting the ferry was not a good idea. "Head toward the ferry Barb," he repeated.
Finally a fix, Oh my God! I'd taken us right into the shallows and if it hadn't been for high tide, we'd have beached Big Sky. I made a swift detour toward the ferry. The weather was not what was predicted. Waves were high and winds blew Beaufort 6 & 7, and then climbed to 8 & 9! The Beaufort Scale goes from 1 - 10. One is a smooth sea, light breeze; 10 is a storm with very severe conditions. The wind went from strong breeze, 22-27 knots to a strong gale with 41-47 knots. The waves were mounting higher and higher now breaking on the top of the pilot house. The winds howled. During our five-hour journey, we listened to five Search and Rescues on VHF 16. One couple called a Pan Pan when their line caught in their propeller and they were drifting into rocks. A May Day was called from an inland freighter loaded with sand was taking on too much water. He wouldn't give his exact location despite the many requests from coast guards and sadly it sunk. And then two other rescues were called, but they were too far for us to hear their problems.
August 18th -- Picnic aboard Safely tied at the Ijmeiden Harbour, Con's 91-year-old mom, two sisters, and brother arrived with armfuls of food, gifts, and flowers for a picnic aboard and a five-hour sail passing the Dutch country side and right into the heart of Amsterdam. (Ijmeiden is at the mouth of the Nordzee Canal, a protected waterway with locks to protect The Netherlands from being buried by the North Sea.) Jan kindly drove Nomie, Geert, Lois, Anna and Albertine to Ijmuiden by car and planned to join us in Muiden to collect the family again. Nomie, curious about everything on Big Sky, quickly moved in on Geert behind the wheel and took her turn at navigating us down the Nordzee Canal. We traveled the inland route. It was an almost perfect day, with the rain holding off until our arrival at Muiden. Not familiar with the docking style, we took up positions: Geert at the stern, Albertine at the bow, me standing with the boat hook ready to catch the line in the water attached to the dolphin pole, and Con at the wheel. He expertly backed Big Sky into the slip holding steady with the cross wind when Big Sky's keel parked itself (in the shallow water) about a meter from the dock. We did our best to tie up, despite the many comments from the lady Harbour Master shouting in Dutch about what we should be doing instead of what we were doing. In the end, we were all happy and went inside for Happy Hour.
August 20, 2007 -- Frans, Marianne, and Robin joined us for lunch, Con's nephew and family. Robin is our youngest visitor -- so far. He was busy counting all the winches, feeding the ducks, checking out all the equipment, jib lines and the engine room.
About 1.5 hours out to sea, we noticed a boat circling so we sailed close to check that they were okay. Turned out it was a funeral at sea, and we sailed right over the lilies and ashes. Our sail to The Netherlands is expected to take 29 hours with nowhere to stop and with many shallows. We continued our two-hours night watches, remaining inside with clear visibility through the pilot house windows. In Cuxhaven, they were dredging the sea for bigger boats to enter Den Helder creating a heaven for the seagulls as they feasted on the dredged up fish. Entering Den Helder at 3 pm we showered and found a nice restaurant to celebrate our anniversary. Three years ago we married in our sunny floral backyard with our four daughters standing up as witnesses.
August 16, 2007 -- The weather report stated: "Rain in the morning, strong winds tapering off by noon, clearing trends with afternoon Beaufort 3-4 winds." Since we'd waited a day for better weather, this sounded pretty good. I motored out of the protected marina at 11:30am with high tide, still trying to get a fix on the GPS.
"Head toward the ferry," Con called out from the starboard side as he pulled in the fenders. I kept on my route believing that taunting the ferry was not a good idea. "Head toward the ferry Barb," he repeated.
Finally a fix, Oh my God! I'd taken us right into the shallows and if it hadn't been for high tide, we'd have beached Big Sky. I made a swift detour toward the ferry. The weather was not what was predicted. Waves were high and winds blew Beaufort 6 & 7, and then climbed to 8 & 9! The Beaufort Scale goes from 1 - 10. One is a smooth sea, light breeze; 10 is a storm with very severe conditions. The wind went from strong breeze, 22-27 knots to a strong gale with 41-47 knots. The waves were mounting higher and higher now breaking on the top of the pilot house. The winds howled. During our five-hour journey, we listened to five Search and Rescues on VHF 16. One couple called a Pan Pan when their line caught in their propeller and they were drifting into rocks. A May Day was called from an inland freighter loaded with sand was taking on too much water. He wouldn't give his exact location despite the many requests from coast guards and sadly it sunk. And then two other rescues were called, but they were too far for us to hear their problems.
August 18th -- Picnic aboard Safely tied at the Ijmeiden Harbour, Con's 91-year-old mom, two sisters, and brother arrived with armfuls of food, gifts, and flowers for a picnic aboard and a five-hour sail passing the Dutch country side and right into the heart of Amsterdam. (Ijmeiden is at the mouth of the Nordzee Canal, a protected waterway with locks to protect The Netherlands from being buried by the North Sea.) Jan kindly drove Nomie, Geert, Lois, Anna and Albertine to Ijmuiden by car and planned to join us in Muiden to collect the family again. Nomie, curious about everything on Big Sky, quickly moved in on Geert behind the wheel and took her turn at navigating us down the Nordzee Canal. We traveled the inland route. It was an almost perfect day, with the rain holding off until our arrival at Muiden. Not familiar with the docking style, we took up positions: Geert at the stern, Albertine at the bow, me standing with the boat hook ready to catch the line in the water attached to the dolphin pole, and Con at the wheel. He expertly backed Big Sky into the slip holding steady with the cross wind when Big Sky's keel parked itself (in the shallow water) about a meter from the dock. We did our best to tie up, despite the many comments from the lady Harbour Master shouting in Dutch about what we should be doing instead of what we were doing. In the end, we were all happy and went inside for Happy Hour.
August 20, 2007 -- Frans, Marianne, and Robin joined us for lunch, Con's nephew and family. Robin is our youngest visitor -- so far. He was busy counting all the winches, feeding the ducks, checking out all the equipment, jib lines and the engine room.
August 24, 2007 -- Belgium We're in MacDonalds, maybe the only WiFi location in Ostende, Belgium. Arriving late in the night, by morning, we saw that we were directly in front of the main town with spectacular Tall Ship behind us. Belgium, our eleventh country is beautiful, clean, and friendly. Ostende has a marvelous beach promenade with wide sidewalks, stores, beach property for rent facing the North Sea, and hundreds of beach sheds lining the beach. People show up rain or shine, pull out their chairs from the sheds and enjoy the day. The weather has been poor in Europe, overcast, rain off and on, and cooler days. We're days away from collecting Lindsey and Courtney across the English Channel in Brighton.
August 26, 2007 -- To Brugge With the speed with which we've been travelling, touring has become a luxury and that's what we did today. By train, we visited Brugge (about 20 minutes from Ostende) arriving in one of the most beautiful cities we've seen.
Brugge was celebrating the "Pageant of the Golden Tree," a well done theatre production in the form of a parade. The central theme was the "Tournament of the Golden Tree" a tradition since 1468 in the Market square on the occasion of the wedding of Charles the Bold, Count of Flanders and Duke of Burgundy, with the English Princess Margaret of York. There were more than 2000 actors, 6 giants and 12 floats. The next day, we woke early, biked to the train station, folded up our bikes and took a seat for Lille, France, 150 miles from Ostende and about two hours by train. Lille is a spectacular compact city, and for us, a great introduction to France. It's the birthplace of Charles de Gaulle and Louis Pasteur. The centre of the city is made up of beautiful old buildings with architecture dating back many centuries. There was a fantastic citadel from Napoleonic times. We loved the busy cobblestone paved streets filled with local people enjoying outside brasseries (cafes) and the many different shops. Croix, France was just an 8 kilometer bike ride from Lille, so we biked to the Victoria Yachting store and placed our purchase for custom-made sheets for Big Sky. We'd had their catalogue for a year, so it was great to be able to walk into their only store and finally place an order. While in Belgium, we enjoyed Belgium Endives for dinner, prepared by Con.
August 29, 2007 -- To France We're finding the English language hard to come by in France, but luckily Con has high school French. He can get by with a bit of German, French, Flemish, Dutch and English languages, the latter two of course he's fluent. We walked all over the downtown "old" section of Boulogne-sur-Mer, France buying fresh foods from the market and taking it back to Big Sky for a picnic in the cockpit. The tides here are astounding, 6 meters! We arrived at low tide deep in the marina surrounded by concrete walls, by morning, the city was all around us.
August 26, 2007 -- To Brugge With the speed with which we've been travelling, touring has become a luxury and that's what we did today. By train, we visited Brugge (about 20 minutes from Ostende) arriving in one of the most beautiful cities we've seen.
Brugge was celebrating the "Pageant of the Golden Tree," a well done theatre production in the form of a parade. The central theme was the "Tournament of the Golden Tree" a tradition since 1468 in the Market square on the occasion of the wedding of Charles the Bold, Count of Flanders and Duke of Burgundy, with the English Princess Margaret of York. There were more than 2000 actors, 6 giants and 12 floats. The next day, we woke early, biked to the train station, folded up our bikes and took a seat for Lille, France, 150 miles from Ostende and about two hours by train. Lille is a spectacular compact city, and for us, a great introduction to France. It's the birthplace of Charles de Gaulle and Louis Pasteur. The centre of the city is made up of beautiful old buildings with architecture dating back many centuries. There was a fantastic citadel from Napoleonic times. We loved the busy cobblestone paved streets filled with local people enjoying outside brasseries (cafes) and the many different shops. Croix, France was just an 8 kilometer bike ride from Lille, so we biked to the Victoria Yachting store and placed our purchase for custom-made sheets for Big Sky. We'd had their catalogue for a year, so it was great to be able to walk into their only store and finally place an order. While in Belgium, we enjoyed Belgium Endives for dinner, prepared by Con.
August 29, 2007 -- To France We're finding the English language hard to come by in France, but luckily Con has high school French. He can get by with a bit of German, French, Flemish, Dutch and English languages, the latter two of course he's fluent. We walked all over the downtown "old" section of Boulogne-sur-Mer, France buying fresh foods from the market and taking it back to Big Sky for a picnic in the cockpit. The tides here are astounding, 6 meters! We arrived at low tide deep in the marina surrounded by concrete walls, by morning, the city was all around us.
September 1, 2007 -- A test of patience! After 4 1/2 months of separation, I'll be with my daughters again, Lindsey 26, Courtney 23 in just a few hours. The anticipation is almost more than I can take. We'd been apart before, when both girls worked separately in Mexico for a few months, but this separation was different, as we were still grieving Larry's death.
From Heathrow they were making their way by subway to the Victoria Train Station, where for 22 pounds (about $50 Canadian!) they locked up their luggage and toured London for the next three hours. They'll take a train from London to Brighton and that's where we'll be waiting for them, close to 9pm. Finally, as 9 pm neared, and in the pitch black of the night, Con and I walked the long boardwalk high above the crashing waves to the first boardwalk intersection, took a bench, and waited. From a distance, through the crashing waves, we heard the click click click of their bags as they rolled along the wooden walkway. I took off in the dark toward the sound. Once we connected, the three of us wrapped our arms around each other in a three-way hug, laughed, and cried, not wanting to let go. Con caught up to us in the dark, and wrapped his arms around the three of us. Back aboard, we talked till midnight and then we were up at the crack of dawn to depart England for Dieppe, France across the English Channel. Our broad reach sail was perfect, reaching about 9.5 knots at times, arriving 10 hours later. As we neared Dieppe, I told the girls to "watch" for the first docking as Con and I would take them in and tie up. I no sooner said that, looked back over my shoulder to see Courtney at the helm driving us through Dieppe's choppy breakwater into the marina. Lindsey looked at her with such pride. Lindsey and I put out the fenders, and threw out the lines to the two marineras at the dock who secured Big Sky. Not bad for first-time sailors. Big Sky barely settled from being tied up, and they were on land exploring the beautiful quaint streets.
September 4, 2007 -- The four of us walked everywhere ending the night with a great dinner and a game of dice. That afternoon, Con ordered us ice cream in our coffees. Expressos arrived with a glass of ice on the side. Better luck next try.
September 5, 2007 -- Con made an early visit to the boulangrie (bakery) for our breakfast and we left Dieppe at 7 a.m., planning our arrival at FeCamp during high tide. Lindsey drove us out of the harbor into three meter high waves at the breakwater, and Courtney drove us into the next harbour again. Tides, winds, and currents were perfect. We hiked around the quaint little town, and spotted a small cafe/bar to return to for dinner. We were celebrating Con and my 4th month on Big Sky. Leaving FeCamp around 9 a.m., we motor/sailed to Deauville seeing some of the most beautiful sites along the way.
September 8, 2007 -- Finally, a sunny day! We motored up the Caen Canal to Ouistreham, a touristy town just inside the lock that separates us from the English Channel. Con and Lindsey carefully planned our next few days making sure to departure and arrive to in high tide, otherwise we couldn't get into the marinas as they completely dry during low tide. We left FeCamp for Deauville, then Caen, then on to St. Vaast-La-Hougue In Caen, Lindsey and Courtney arrived with a fist-full of sun flowers. We entered Deauville in a high tide, and entered the lock. We had just milometers to spare between Big Sky and the silted bottom. Con took out the bikes and we all explored that happening town. That night, we celebrated early birthdays for Lindsey and Courtney's birthdays (Sept. 18 & Oct. 4th) since we wouldn't be together then. The night, they went downtown to catch Ben Affleck and other actors walking the red carpet. Planning our departure had to be precise, as the exit route dries completely in low tide. The lock opened at 6:30 and we needed to be at the gate waiting, as the tide was already ebbing at that time. It would be a piece of cake, provided the lock opened when scheduled. We told the girls to sleep in. The lock operator was late! Finally, at 6:40 the operator opened the gate. We motored precarious down the unmarked channel toward the ocean hoping to be following the river path which takes a meandering path. However, we were off the path. The depth reader dropped below our keel depth and sucked us into the sooty mud bottom. Con pushed the bow thruster buttons blasting a loud growl through the boat (and directly underneath the V-berth) causing the girls to bolt to the pilot house just in time to see the trouble we were in. They stood quietly watching, waiting for any instructions. All the while, I'm thinking of what to salvage and how to get us all safely to shore swimming through the murky waters. Con continued cranking the wheel left and right, and pushing the bow thruster buttons left and right. Nothing. We were locked solid in the mud and the tide was now ebbing. The only sounds were the bow thruster's growl and Con's explicit swear words, which seemed to help, as Big Sky began rocking. We began moving ever so slightly! The depth reader numbers began to rise even as the tide was dropping. I looked behind us as we picked up speed, still not our of the shallows yet. The water behind us was ebbing quickly and I could see the mud. Finally, we had decent depth below us and we all exhaled. High tide again would not be until 5 pm. We were two minutes from the tide dropping and ending our Big Sky adventures right there!
From Heathrow they were making their way by subway to the Victoria Train Station, where for 22 pounds (about $50 Canadian!) they locked up their luggage and toured London for the next three hours. They'll take a train from London to Brighton and that's where we'll be waiting for them, close to 9pm. Finally, as 9 pm neared, and in the pitch black of the night, Con and I walked the long boardwalk high above the crashing waves to the first boardwalk intersection, took a bench, and waited. From a distance, through the crashing waves, we heard the click click click of their bags as they rolled along the wooden walkway. I took off in the dark toward the sound. Once we connected, the three of us wrapped our arms around each other in a three-way hug, laughed, and cried, not wanting to let go. Con caught up to us in the dark, and wrapped his arms around the three of us. Back aboard, we talked till midnight and then we were up at the crack of dawn to depart England for Dieppe, France across the English Channel. Our broad reach sail was perfect, reaching about 9.5 knots at times, arriving 10 hours later. As we neared Dieppe, I told the girls to "watch" for the first docking as Con and I would take them in and tie up. I no sooner said that, looked back over my shoulder to see Courtney at the helm driving us through Dieppe's choppy breakwater into the marina. Lindsey looked at her with such pride. Lindsey and I put out the fenders, and threw out the lines to the two marineras at the dock who secured Big Sky. Not bad for first-time sailors. Big Sky barely settled from being tied up, and they were on land exploring the beautiful quaint streets.
September 4, 2007 -- The four of us walked everywhere ending the night with a great dinner and a game of dice. That afternoon, Con ordered us ice cream in our coffees. Expressos arrived with a glass of ice on the side. Better luck next try.
September 5, 2007 -- Con made an early visit to the boulangrie (bakery) for our breakfast and we left Dieppe at 7 a.m., planning our arrival at FeCamp during high tide. Lindsey drove us out of the harbor into three meter high waves at the breakwater, and Courtney drove us into the next harbour again. Tides, winds, and currents were perfect. We hiked around the quaint little town, and spotted a small cafe/bar to return to for dinner. We were celebrating Con and my 4th month on Big Sky. Leaving FeCamp around 9 a.m., we motor/sailed to Deauville seeing some of the most beautiful sites along the way.
September 8, 2007 -- Finally, a sunny day! We motored up the Caen Canal to Ouistreham, a touristy town just inside the lock that separates us from the English Channel. Con and Lindsey carefully planned our next few days making sure to departure and arrive to in high tide, otherwise we couldn't get into the marinas as they completely dry during low tide. We left FeCamp for Deauville, then Caen, then on to St. Vaast-La-Hougue In Caen, Lindsey and Courtney arrived with a fist-full of sun flowers. We entered Deauville in a high tide, and entered the lock. We had just milometers to spare between Big Sky and the silted bottom. Con took out the bikes and we all explored that happening town. That night, we celebrated early birthdays for Lindsey and Courtney's birthdays (Sept. 18 & Oct. 4th) since we wouldn't be together then. The night, they went downtown to catch Ben Affleck and other actors walking the red carpet. Planning our departure had to be precise, as the exit route dries completely in low tide. The lock opened at 6:30 and we needed to be at the gate waiting, as the tide was already ebbing at that time. It would be a piece of cake, provided the lock opened when scheduled. We told the girls to sleep in. The lock operator was late! Finally, at 6:40 the operator opened the gate. We motored precarious down the unmarked channel toward the ocean hoping to be following the river path which takes a meandering path. However, we were off the path. The depth reader dropped below our keel depth and sucked us into the sooty mud bottom. Con pushed the bow thruster buttons blasting a loud growl through the boat (and directly underneath the V-berth) causing the girls to bolt to the pilot house just in time to see the trouble we were in. They stood quietly watching, waiting for any instructions. All the while, I'm thinking of what to salvage and how to get us all safely to shore swimming through the murky waters. Con continued cranking the wheel left and right, and pushing the bow thruster buttons left and right. Nothing. We were locked solid in the mud and the tide was now ebbing. The only sounds were the bow thruster's growl and Con's explicit swear words, which seemed to help, as Big Sky began rocking. We began moving ever so slightly! The depth reader numbers began to rise even as the tide was dropping. I looked behind us as we picked up speed, still not our of the shallows yet. The water behind us was ebbing quickly and I could see the mud. Finally, we had decent depth below us and we all exhaled. High tide again would not be until 5 pm. We were two minutes from the tide dropping and ending our Big Sky adventures right there!
September 9, 2007 -- Traveling Through WWII History Sailing around the Normandy coast evidence of the horrific WWII destruction was all around us. We visited D-Day landing beaches, the Men's Monastery built in 1066 filled with WWII bullet holes and partially bombed churches and new reconstructed buildings. Everything had been flattened except parts of the stone churches. Everywhere we traveled WWI and WWII plaques listed the dead. The Memorial de Caen was a powerful and deep journey of the wars through letters, videos and tapes. One eerie letter written by a young German soldier to his aunt said "The poor sods just kept coming onto the beach and we took them out... 3000 of them and no casualties for us. Some of them pretended to be dead and laid on the beach... when the tide came in, they had to move, so we picked them off too."
September 10, 2007 -- Locks aren't as easy as they look. Con drove us into a lock while a strong current tried to control our 27 tons. Courtney used the boat stick to hook us to the cable at the stern, but there wasn't another cable for Lindsey at the bow. I had planned to climb to land and secure us and heard Courtney saying calmly, "I can't hold it, I can't hold it." I looked. She was half in and half out of the boat not wanting to release her hold on the lock. When she did, the hook went into the lock. Con tried the landing again, this time I was able to climb to land and attached the lines, Courtney hooked again using the second stick and then rescued the first stick once we were tied.
September 11, 2007 -- In Cherbourg we discovered an internal hose leak. While in the cockpit, we heard the bilge continually running. Con turned off the water and we each took a position in the boat ready. Con turned on the water and Lindsey called, "Here!" the hot water hose had torn behind the guest toilet. Con contorted his body to fit into tiny crevasse and managed to replace the hose for 21 euro. We decided we ought to celebrate the accomplishment with a really nice French cuisine dinner. That afternoon, Customs and Immigration had instructed all people aboard the boat beside us to step out and stand on the pier. The drug-sniffing dog went through the boat for the next few hours. The officers would take out a bag, a person would identify it, and the dog would sniff. We don't think anything was found.
September 10, 2007 -- Locks aren't as easy as they look. Con drove us into a lock while a strong current tried to control our 27 tons. Courtney used the boat stick to hook us to the cable at the stern, but there wasn't another cable for Lindsey at the bow. I had planned to climb to land and secure us and heard Courtney saying calmly, "I can't hold it, I can't hold it." I looked. She was half in and half out of the boat not wanting to release her hold on the lock. When she did, the hook went into the lock. Con tried the landing again, this time I was able to climb to land and attached the lines, Courtney hooked again using the second stick and then rescued the first stick once we were tied.
September 11, 2007 -- In Cherbourg we discovered an internal hose leak. While in the cockpit, we heard the bilge continually running. Con turned off the water and we each took a position in the boat ready. Con turned on the water and Lindsey called, "Here!" the hot water hose had torn behind the guest toilet. Con contorted his body to fit into tiny crevasse and managed to replace the hose for 21 euro. We decided we ought to celebrate the accomplishment with a really nice French cuisine dinner. That afternoon, Customs and Immigration had instructed all people aboard the boat beside us to step out and stand on the pier. The drug-sniffing dog went through the boat for the next few hours. The officers would take out a bag, a person would identify it, and the dog would sniff. We don't think anything was found.
September 12, 2007 -- To the Channel Islands Off to Guernsey, an English Island off France. Since the weather was 27 degrees, we stopped mid journey so Con could dive below the boat to check the sacrificial anodes. Nobody joined him, as the water was shockingly cold. Anodes were good. On the way to Guernsey, we listened to the VHF as "Never Say Never" a 62-foot yacht hit the rocks. It became sadly comical as the radio kept repeating, "Never Say Never, Never Say Never, Never Say Never... From the Gursney News: " A NAVIGATIONAL error which grounded a 65ft luxury yacht on rocks off St Sampson's Harbour yesterday afternoon has been branded as sheer stupidity. Thousands of pounds'-worth of damage was caused to Never Say Never when it ploughed into the south-east Platte reef at 15 knots at around 1pm. Half-an-hour before the collision, the million-pound vessel, which was bound for Weymouth, had taken on six tons of diesel in St Peter Port. The hull was damaged across the length of the keel and a ruptured fuel tank led to considerable amounts of fuel spilling into the sea."
September 14, 2007 -- 11.5 hours to Granville Tide timing was just right arriving at the harbor entrance in just 3 meters of water. The marina doors closed to keep the depth before the outer waters dried. Every 12 hours the tide rises 36 feet and drops to drying land."
September 17, 2007 -- Good byes It was tough saying "good bye" to Lindsey and Courtney but we reminded each other that we'd be together again in December. They had toured London and Brighton on their own, then climbed aboard to cross the English Channel and together we toured Dieppe, Fecamp, Deauville, Caen, Ouistreham, St Vaast-La-Hougue, Cherbourg, St. Peters Port, (an English island), and finally Granville, France. We've had some of our best sails with sunshine and perfect winds, and our scariest moments when we got stuck in the silty marina entrance just as the tide was falling. We've seen Napoleon's stronghold where he had hoped to launch his attack on England; William the Conqueror's castle; beautiful churches that survived the war; and remnants of others that did not. We visited a brilliantly done WWII Memorial Museum, walked under and on top of the beautiful white cliffs, and sailed past the D-Day beaches. We've seen the red carpet and paparazzi as they swarmed Ben Affleck in Deauville and listened to "Never Say Never" ground their huge yacht on the rocks. But, the best time by far was just the simple moments we shared together. I miss them already! They brought a special light and joy to Big Sky while they were here. Con set his watch alarm for 3:30 am to deliver Lindsey and Courtney to Charles de Gaulle airport for their 1:30 pm flight. We were also picking up Kris and five-month pregnant Brit who will arrive at 1 pm, on the same flight Lindsey and Courtney are returning home on. Con woke.
"Hurry, grab your stuff," Con called. "We're late!" Perplexed, we all clambered into the rental car. I quickly set the GPS to the road setting and we headed down the road and entered the highway.
"Exit here!" I exclaimed following the GPS instructions.
Con did. Confused, we followed road signs to the airport. But again, the GPS said "exit" and we were on dirt paths. After about the third time we realized the GPS was set for bike route. Precious time was passing, but we got the girls there just in time to hug and shoo them through security as Kris and Brit exited their gate. Once back in our car Con's watch alarm finally went off. It was 3:30 am in Canada.
September 14, 2007 -- 11.5 hours to Granville Tide timing was just right arriving at the harbor entrance in just 3 meters of water. The marina doors closed to keep the depth before the outer waters dried. Every 12 hours the tide rises 36 feet and drops to drying land."
September 17, 2007 -- Good byes It was tough saying "good bye" to Lindsey and Courtney but we reminded each other that we'd be together again in December. They had toured London and Brighton on their own, then climbed aboard to cross the English Channel and together we toured Dieppe, Fecamp, Deauville, Caen, Ouistreham, St Vaast-La-Hougue, Cherbourg, St. Peters Port, (an English island), and finally Granville, France. We've had some of our best sails with sunshine and perfect winds, and our scariest moments when we got stuck in the silty marina entrance just as the tide was falling. We've seen Napoleon's stronghold where he had hoped to launch his attack on England; William the Conqueror's castle; beautiful churches that survived the war; and remnants of others that did not. We visited a brilliantly done WWII Memorial Museum, walked under and on top of the beautiful white cliffs, and sailed past the D-Day beaches. We've seen the red carpet and paparazzi as they swarmed Ben Affleck in Deauville and listened to "Never Say Never" ground their huge yacht on the rocks. But, the best time by far was just the simple moments we shared together. I miss them already! They brought a special light and joy to Big Sky while they were here. Con set his watch alarm for 3:30 am to deliver Lindsey and Courtney to Charles de Gaulle airport for their 1:30 pm flight. We were also picking up Kris and five-month pregnant Brit who will arrive at 1 pm, on the same flight Lindsey and Courtney are returning home on. Con woke.
"Hurry, grab your stuff," Con called. "We're late!" Perplexed, we all clambered into the rental car. I quickly set the GPS to the road setting and we headed down the road and entered the highway.
"Exit here!" I exclaimed following the GPS instructions.
Con did. Confused, we followed road signs to the airport. But again, the GPS said "exit" and we were on dirt paths. After about the third time we realized the GPS was set for bike route. Precious time was passing, but we got the girls there just in time to hug and shoo them through security as Kris and Brit exited their gate. Once back in our car Con's watch alarm finally went off. It was 3:30 am in Canada.
September 18, 2007 -- Touring by car and Happy Birthday to Lindsey who turned 27
Brit, Kris, Con and I spent the day touring Normandy by car arriving at Bayeux, situated just behind the D-Day beaches, an incredibly well preserved small old town, with a stunningly beautiful church. We drove to Juno Beach where on June 6th, 1944, the Canadians experienced one of the most critical battles of WWII. We ended the day's touring at the Canadian cemetery, where row after row of white marble stones marked the deaths. It was emotional reading the etching on the stones, many written by the mothers to their lost sons, and so many had died in their early 20's. Canada, as part of Great Britain, had declared War on Germany on September 10, 1939 and was terribly unprepared for military conflict, but nevertheless, sent more than 16,000 men. My grandpa (dad's dad George Evans) a farmer by trade served in both WWII and WWI, fighting at Vimy Ridge and Paschendale. Kris' grandfather was one of the survivors who landed on Juno Beach. The Allies had realized that to knock out Germany they would need to launch a cross-Channel invasion of France. The remnants of the many German bunkers dot the beaches today. They say that the most astonishing thing about the invasion was the fact that the greatest armada of ships ever to leave Great Britain sailed 140 km across the English Channel towards German-occupied France without being detected.
The winds kicked up to 31 knots in the marina in the night and knowing Brit doesn't like sailing, it was easy to decide to stay another day. Eating breakfast in the sunny cockpit, we spotted our friend from Sweden and the Baltic States, Christen aboard "Concerto" sail into the harbor. Turned out Granville was Christen's home port. We shared a drink together that night before he left for home -- Paris.
September 19, 2007 -- Granville to St. Malo The waves were too bumpy for Brit on our 3.5 hour motor which wasn't a surprise in retrospect since the wind had been kicking up the water. After about an hour Brit relaxed with a magazine and Kris and Con chatted the rest of the way. Nearly in St. Malo, sea sickness attacked Kris and he laid flat in the pilot house. St. Malo is the home of explorer Jacques Cartier who explored Canada.
September 21, 2007 -- To Paimpol As dawn approached we made our exit (at 6 am) with Kris at the helm. Brit had a good sleep, rising at 10 am just as the French Border Patrol announced that they'd be "boarding immediately." After going through all our papers, they were satisfied that our VAT (European taxes) were paid and promptly left with a friendly wave. The scenery was beautiful, the wind was perfect for a good sail but as soon as the sails went up, Brit became overwhelmed by the heeling and Con promptly took them down. Ironically, we were entering Paimpol at the lowest low tide of the year! Our 2.2 keel slugged through 2 meters stirring up the mud. We got through the lock just barely into the marina and our keel planted us in 1.8 meters of mud. The lock doors closed with just milometers to spare between our stern and the doors. The four of us set off on foot and explored quaint little cobblestone town. It's a working fishing port where residents set off to Iceland and Newfoundland fishing for cod and whales. Boys as young as 12 set off to the Grand Banks, returning as young men.
September 22, 2007 -- Waiting for higher low tide We're hoping that later today Big Sky will float again, as the lowest low tide of the year has passed. To exit, we will need to take our departure through the river of ocean water that ebbs and flows. Big Sky's tracks in the mud are visible when the land dries.
Brit, Kris, Con and I spent the day touring Normandy by car arriving at Bayeux, situated just behind the D-Day beaches, an incredibly well preserved small old town, with a stunningly beautiful church. We drove to Juno Beach where on June 6th, 1944, the Canadians experienced one of the most critical battles of WWII. We ended the day's touring at the Canadian cemetery, where row after row of white marble stones marked the deaths. It was emotional reading the etching on the stones, many written by the mothers to their lost sons, and so many had died in their early 20's. Canada, as part of Great Britain, had declared War on Germany on September 10, 1939 and was terribly unprepared for military conflict, but nevertheless, sent more than 16,000 men. My grandpa (dad's dad George Evans) a farmer by trade served in both WWII and WWI, fighting at Vimy Ridge and Paschendale. Kris' grandfather was one of the survivors who landed on Juno Beach. The Allies had realized that to knock out Germany they would need to launch a cross-Channel invasion of France. The remnants of the many German bunkers dot the beaches today. They say that the most astonishing thing about the invasion was the fact that the greatest armada of ships ever to leave Great Britain sailed 140 km across the English Channel towards German-occupied France without being detected.
The winds kicked up to 31 knots in the marina in the night and knowing Brit doesn't like sailing, it was easy to decide to stay another day. Eating breakfast in the sunny cockpit, we spotted our friend from Sweden and the Baltic States, Christen aboard "Concerto" sail into the harbor. Turned out Granville was Christen's home port. We shared a drink together that night before he left for home -- Paris.
September 19, 2007 -- Granville to St. Malo The waves were too bumpy for Brit on our 3.5 hour motor which wasn't a surprise in retrospect since the wind had been kicking up the water. After about an hour Brit relaxed with a magazine and Kris and Con chatted the rest of the way. Nearly in St. Malo, sea sickness attacked Kris and he laid flat in the pilot house. St. Malo is the home of explorer Jacques Cartier who explored Canada.
September 21, 2007 -- To Paimpol As dawn approached we made our exit (at 6 am) with Kris at the helm. Brit had a good sleep, rising at 10 am just as the French Border Patrol announced that they'd be "boarding immediately." After going through all our papers, they were satisfied that our VAT (European taxes) were paid and promptly left with a friendly wave. The scenery was beautiful, the wind was perfect for a good sail but as soon as the sails went up, Brit became overwhelmed by the heeling and Con promptly took them down. Ironically, we were entering Paimpol at the lowest low tide of the year! Our 2.2 keel slugged through 2 meters stirring up the mud. We got through the lock just barely into the marina and our keel planted us in 1.8 meters of mud. The lock doors closed with just milometers to spare between our stern and the doors. The four of us set off on foot and explored quaint little cobblestone town. It's a working fishing port where residents set off to Iceland and Newfoundland fishing for cod and whales. Boys as young as 12 set off to the Grand Banks, returning as young men.
September 22, 2007 -- Waiting for higher low tide We're hoping that later today Big Sky will float again, as the lowest low tide of the year has passed. To exit, we will need to take our departure through the river of ocean water that ebbs and flows. Big Sky's tracks in the mud are visible when the land dries.
September 23 -- Nasty Nasty Nasty Con told Brit we could end the sailing here, no problem, or we take the 20-minute slack tide window and move from Lexardieux to Treguier believing we'd end our holiday with them there. Bravely Brit said, while rubbing her belly letting anxiety spill out in her words, "Let's move on." I secured all the cocks, locked the windows, and Con aimed for the river mouth. A standing wave met us. Big Sky dipped deep into each roll unable to rise again before the next enormous one hammered us down further. A third wave hit hard, swallowing us like a giant green monster and then our bow rose, rose, rose. We lifted to an obscene height exposing our hull and then plunging again. Water was everywhere. I remained composed so we wouldn't scare the kids. Once through Kris called to me, "Hey Barb, was that the worst you've had?"
"No," I lied. I looked out and couldn't tell where the ocean met the sky, both were the same charcoal colour. Rain pelted down in combination with the waves like shrapnel.
September 24 -- Hit a Rock! Kris had a good taste of the Atlantic Ocean (literally) driving us partway to Treguier in what continued to be nasty water. He was soaked. The conditions continued, 30 - 33 knot winds and massive-sized waves. Con took the wheel going down the river to the marina and we were moving at quite a clip with the river current to our marina when Kris called out, "Hey Con, aren't those rocks a little close?" and a moment later keel hit with a loud bang and jolt as we scraped over rocks beside the marker. (Later when we lifted Big Sky we saw the big bite out of our keel.) It was necessary to enter Treguier at low tide otherwise the current was too strong but it makes for tricky navigation through shallows. We tied, checked the water temperature, 19.2 degrees. Con put on his snorkel (much to my protest) and went under the boat to try and have a look. Unfortunately, the low tide created murky waters making it too difficult to see the keel. Even at low tide, the current was strong! I insisted Con tie a rope around his waist. When we finally convinced him to come out, it took all my strength and Kris to haul him back aboard against the current. The strong winds are expected to remain for a few days keeping us in the little historic town. Treguier's Cathedral dates back to 1339. St. Yves the patron saint of lawyers and defenders was buried there and his scull is on display. Duke Jean V had this chapel built in order to be buried next to St. Yves. The church is surrounded by wooden 15th - 17th century houses a few bakeries and a dozen hair salons, but try to find a grocery store or the internet to check for weather!
September 26, 2007 -- Weather Too Rough to Depart Winds were again blowing 30 knots with gusts up to 40. Ironically, Brit is our one daughter who does not enjoy sailing and has had the misfortune of having the worst weather conditions we've experienced. We rented a car again for land trips ending our sailing. We had visited Granville, St Malo, Paimpol, Lexardieux, and Treguier and so many small towns by car. While driving them to the airport I said to Kris. "It was."
"What Barb?"
"The worst conditions we'd ever had!"
"No," I lied. I looked out and couldn't tell where the ocean met the sky, both were the same charcoal colour. Rain pelted down in combination with the waves like shrapnel.
September 24 -- Hit a Rock! Kris had a good taste of the Atlantic Ocean (literally) driving us partway to Treguier in what continued to be nasty water. He was soaked. The conditions continued, 30 - 33 knot winds and massive-sized waves. Con took the wheel going down the river to the marina and we were moving at quite a clip with the river current to our marina when Kris called out, "Hey Con, aren't those rocks a little close?" and a moment later keel hit with a loud bang and jolt as we scraped over rocks beside the marker. (Later when we lifted Big Sky we saw the big bite out of our keel.) It was necessary to enter Treguier at low tide otherwise the current was too strong but it makes for tricky navigation through shallows. We tied, checked the water temperature, 19.2 degrees. Con put on his snorkel (much to my protest) and went under the boat to try and have a look. Unfortunately, the low tide created murky waters making it too difficult to see the keel. Even at low tide, the current was strong! I insisted Con tie a rope around his waist. When we finally convinced him to come out, it took all my strength and Kris to haul him back aboard against the current. The strong winds are expected to remain for a few days keeping us in the little historic town. Treguier's Cathedral dates back to 1339. St. Yves the patron saint of lawyers and defenders was buried there and his scull is on display. Duke Jean V had this chapel built in order to be buried next to St. Yves. The church is surrounded by wooden 15th - 17th century houses a few bakeries and a dozen hair salons, but try to find a grocery store or the internet to check for weather!
September 26, 2007 -- Weather Too Rough to Depart Winds were again blowing 30 knots with gusts up to 40. Ironically, Brit is our one daughter who does not enjoy sailing and has had the misfortune of having the worst weather conditions we've experienced. We rented a car again for land trips ending our sailing. We had visited Granville, St Malo, Paimpol, Lexardieux, and Treguier and so many small towns by car. While driving them to the airport I said to Kris. "It was."
"What Barb?"
"The worst conditions we'd ever had!"
September 29, 2007 -- Brit & Kris depart; Geert Arrives and we Tackle the Bay of Biscay With our rental we drove to the Rennes train station at 3:30 am for Brit and Kris' 6:10 am departure. On the way, we received a photo radar ticket but didn't know it for many months, since it was mailed to Nick in Canada. Absolutely pooped, and with an hour to go before our next guest, we parked, put back our seats, and slept in front of the train station. At exactly 4:15 pm Geert, Con's brother climbed off the TGV from Holland and we scooted off to Big Sky. Wasting no time, we left Treguier's calm waters under sunshine skies for La Coruna, Spain anticipating a 60-75 hour trip across the Bay of Biscay. Late for a crossing.
October 1, 2007 a.m. -- Bay of Biscay The ocean deteriorated very soon after our sunny departure having left on the tail-end of a storm. Con studied the weather, which can give a fairly good outlook for about three days, and decided this would be the best time to depart. The boat responded to the waves knocking things around inside including the mattress on our bed, which came off so many times that I finally conceded and fell asleep on the couch with the mattress on top of me where it landed. Sea sickness was my middle name, barely able to make my shifts for throwing up. Geert suffered too. Only Con was handling the rough waters. Finally on our second day, the sea calmed. Geert made some dinner and took it outside to eat on his watch. That's when he spotted the second group of whales. What a sight! Geert called to me "Barb, see over there." I saw the rippled water became smooth and then the large grey whale surfaced humping it's back gently remaining there for a moment and then diving. We woke Con when just a few minutes later, on the other side of the boat, a number of them seemingly moving slowly passed us. We were at the half-way point, 37 hours under our belts and another 25 to go. The irony in our preparations was that we'd stocked the cupboards but nobody could eat. While on my night watch, I was standing over the pilot house navigation station and accidentally hit the Man Overboard button. I didn't know I had done that. Con, however, laying in bed looking out the window wondered why we had been passing the moon over and over again. We had been going in Man-Over-Board circles for the last 45 minutes. Con set us back on course. Geert woke and sent me back to bed. My sunrise, I could feel the ocean rhythm had changed to deep rolling swells and with them came the dolphins. When they spotted us, they rerouted to our bow chirping, twirling, leaping. I sat on the bowsprit that overhangs the water and watched them as they watched me.
October 4, 2007 -- Courtney turned 24 today. We arrived in La Coruna in the dark. A few drunk Irish helped tie us on. Big mistake. Con and Geert stepped down the bow latter to say, "Hi", all the while Big Sky was moving away from the pier and the lines slipping back into the ocean. I motored back toward the pier which caught Con's attention and tied us up properly. The next morning, I went topside to see Geert sitting on the bow spit with all his clothes, sheets and bedding strung everywhere. Apparently the vent had been left open when we left France soaking his bed and belongings. "Why didn't you move to the bunk room Geert?" I asked.
"It was no bother Barb."
Enjoying La Coruna, we figured we could stay for weeks, but needed to keep moving. Doug and Merrilee would be joining us next from Porto, Portugal. Next destination: Caminaras, Spain.
October 1, 2007 a.m. -- Bay of Biscay The ocean deteriorated very soon after our sunny departure having left on the tail-end of a storm. Con studied the weather, which can give a fairly good outlook for about three days, and decided this would be the best time to depart. The boat responded to the waves knocking things around inside including the mattress on our bed, which came off so many times that I finally conceded and fell asleep on the couch with the mattress on top of me where it landed. Sea sickness was my middle name, barely able to make my shifts for throwing up. Geert suffered too. Only Con was handling the rough waters. Finally on our second day, the sea calmed. Geert made some dinner and took it outside to eat on his watch. That's when he spotted the second group of whales. What a sight! Geert called to me "Barb, see over there." I saw the rippled water became smooth and then the large grey whale surfaced humping it's back gently remaining there for a moment and then diving. We woke Con when just a few minutes later, on the other side of the boat, a number of them seemingly moving slowly passed us. We were at the half-way point, 37 hours under our belts and another 25 to go. The irony in our preparations was that we'd stocked the cupboards but nobody could eat. While on my night watch, I was standing over the pilot house navigation station and accidentally hit the Man Overboard button. I didn't know I had done that. Con, however, laying in bed looking out the window wondered why we had been passing the moon over and over again. We had been going in Man-Over-Board circles for the last 45 minutes. Con set us back on course. Geert woke and sent me back to bed. My sunrise, I could feel the ocean rhythm had changed to deep rolling swells and with them came the dolphins. When they spotted us, they rerouted to our bow chirping, twirling, leaping. I sat on the bowsprit that overhangs the water and watched them as they watched me.
October 4, 2007 -- Courtney turned 24 today. We arrived in La Coruna in the dark. A few drunk Irish helped tie us on. Big mistake. Con and Geert stepped down the bow latter to say, "Hi", all the while Big Sky was moving away from the pier and the lines slipping back into the ocean. I motored back toward the pier which caught Con's attention and tied us up properly. The next morning, I went topside to see Geert sitting on the bow spit with all his clothes, sheets and bedding strung everywhere. Apparently the vent had been left open when we left France soaking his bed and belongings. "Why didn't you move to the bunk room Geert?" I asked.
"It was no bother Barb."
Enjoying La Coruna, we figured we could stay for weeks, but needed to keep moving. Doug and Merrilee would be joining us next from Porto, Portugal. Next destination: Caminaras, Spain.
October 5, 2007 - We'd crossed into a different culture. From baguettes to jamon and siestas. Dogs no longer have restaurant privledges. Caminaras is an attractive little fishing harbour with a few cafes and restaurants. We left the next day for Portosin where we'll make our pilgrimage to Santiago de Compostela along with the hikers, bikers, and those seeking absolution.
October 6, 2007 -- Pilgrimage The three of us hitch hiked to Noia accepting a ride from a friendly local and then hopped on a bus to Santiago de Compostela to tour the basilica where St James' tomb has rested since the 9th century. Thousands of tourists arrive by foot, bike, donkey, car, and bus from the ancient medieval route call the Camino de Santiago de Compostela. This basilica is next in Christian importance to Jerusalem and Rome and many were moved to tears upon reaching it. That afternoon, Geert and Con not having caught up on their crossing sleep had a siesta -- in the park!
October 7, 2007 -- Dolphins! I think they waited for us just outside the marina because as soon as we left they rode at our bow. We motored to Vigo, Spain, docking on a public access pier. We took everything off the deck and stored it inside to discourage any would-be thieves and headed out for tapas.
October 8, 2007 -- Thanksgiving in Canada The three of us bummed around Vigo taking in the art, enjoying the people, and shopping for our Thanksgiving dinner. The jamon leg was 431.57 euro.
October 9, 2007 -- Six Hours to Viana do Castelo, Portugal We entered the Minho region north of Porto known as Costa Verde (green coast). Grapes grow everywhere, vines hang from trees, porches, climb slopes and terraces, and can grow on poor rocky soil where nothing else flourishes. The Minhotos train their vines to grow upwards, onto the trees, houses and hedges to leave ground space for cabbages, onions and potatoes. We're arrived in Viana do Castelo during the grape harvest (Sept. and Oct.). In rural towns, you might find the old fashion festival dancing in the grapes with arms linked. People say it's the only way to crush the fruit without smashing the pips and spoiling the flavour of the wine. Today, most of it is done mechanically which ought to keep sweat out of the vats.
October 10, 2007 -- We were swarmed by flies Thousands of them landed all at once aboard. It was the oddest thing. I had to whish a towel at the companion-way door just to get inside, but hundreds still followed. And then, as soon as they arrived, they were gone -- all except the ones trapped inside. It was a killing field. Next port: Porto
October 6, 2007 -- Pilgrimage The three of us hitch hiked to Noia accepting a ride from a friendly local and then hopped on a bus to Santiago de Compostela to tour the basilica where St James' tomb has rested since the 9th century. Thousands of tourists arrive by foot, bike, donkey, car, and bus from the ancient medieval route call the Camino de Santiago de Compostela. This basilica is next in Christian importance to Jerusalem and Rome and many were moved to tears upon reaching it. That afternoon, Geert and Con not having caught up on their crossing sleep had a siesta -- in the park!
October 7, 2007 -- Dolphins! I think they waited for us just outside the marina because as soon as we left they rode at our bow. We motored to Vigo, Spain, docking on a public access pier. We took everything off the deck and stored it inside to discourage any would-be thieves and headed out for tapas.
October 8, 2007 -- Thanksgiving in Canada The three of us bummed around Vigo taking in the art, enjoying the people, and shopping for our Thanksgiving dinner. The jamon leg was 431.57 euro.
October 9, 2007 -- Six Hours to Viana do Castelo, Portugal We entered the Minho region north of Porto known as Costa Verde (green coast). Grapes grow everywhere, vines hang from trees, porches, climb slopes and terraces, and can grow on poor rocky soil where nothing else flourishes. The Minhotos train their vines to grow upwards, onto the trees, houses and hedges to leave ground space for cabbages, onions and potatoes. We're arrived in Viana do Castelo during the grape harvest (Sept. and Oct.). In rural towns, you might find the old fashion festival dancing in the grapes with arms linked. People say it's the only way to crush the fruit without smashing the pips and spoiling the flavour of the wine. Today, most of it is done mechanically which ought to keep sweat out of the vats.
October 10, 2007 -- We were swarmed by flies Thousands of them landed all at once aboard. It was the oddest thing. I had to whish a towel at the companion-way door just to get inside, but hundreds still followed. And then, as soon as they arrived, they were gone -- all except the ones trapped inside. It was a killing field. Next port: Porto
October 12, 2007 -- Doug and Merrilee Arrive! Geert's taxi arrived and we hugged "good bye", 30 minutes later another taxi arrived, and we hugged Doug and Merrilee "hello" making them our ninth and tenth visitors aboard. First task was to load up on fresh fruit, trout, wine, and snacks. Wine is good and cheap, 2 euros a bottle. The espresso coffee package .46 euro cents. Weather was warm and sunny when we left the marina Leixoes marina just north of Porto to explore the historic old town.
October 15, 2007 -- Lunch Becomes a Comedy Act Porto is built on a series of hills leading up and away from the river. The four of us explored on foot -- up the hills and back down the series of stairs. By afternoon, starved and exhausted, we selected a table in the large square that appeared to be the busiest, since we believed that meant it had the best food. A frazzled woman eventually came to our table and we placed the order, somewhat miffed that she had gone to another table where the people had arrived after us. She assured us that our order would be dealt with first. We thought that was brilliant and sat back to relax. After a long wait, we noticed that not one table had food. In fact, we noticed that when the lady came out of the kitchen with a tray of drinks angry people snatched them right off her tray, and in one instance knocked over her tray breaking the glasses! Doug and I went inside to see what was happening. Three women were reacting like ducks at a carnival where the patron shoots at them and they turn to go in the opposite direction. Further investigation, we saw a five-month old crying baby crying in her walker, tied to a keg of beer under the hot fryer. Doug joined in the chaos, reached through the lettuce piled high in the sink, grabbed the woman's hand to stop her and said, "Two beer; two sangria." She grabbed two dirty glasses, washed them by hand over the lettuce, filled them with pre-made sangria, and grabbed two beer. We returned to our table, guarding our stash. Con not believing what Doug and I described had to see for himself. I followed. Con jumped right in, calling firmly catching the woman's attention, above all the irate customer's voices, "A plate of olives, bread, and cheese". We never did get our original order. Con saw the woman pass us, dazed and frazzled. He gently touched her arm stopping her and stuffed some euro's into her apron pocket.
The next morning, in our rental, we visited Guimaraes, the birthplace of Portugal, and Braga both attractive old towns. We toured the 10th century churches and castelo high on the mountain giving us magnificent views. Winding around the mountain roads to Citania de Briteiros, the remarkably well-preserved Celtic ruins in one of Portugal's most important archaeological sites. The prehistoric fortified village inhabited by Celts was discovered in 1874. We drove a bit further to Bom Jesus, the religious centre set high on a mountain, another popular pilgrimage known for its remarkable stairway flanked by chapels and statues. Near exhaustion, we drove on to Braga and bought a couple of delicious Piri Piri roasted chickens, fruit and veggies that we ate later aboard.
October 16, 2007 -- Swimming with the Rats After nine hours on the water, we arrived at Figueira da Foz. I told Doug and Merrilee to watch what I do (like a show off) and we'd take care of the docking this time. Con was making the turn into the slip; I opened the side rails and dragged the stern line; pulled; lost my balance and fell out into the 19 degree water! Con asked casually, "Was that Barb falling overboard?" as if I do that all the time.
"Tell her to swim away from the boat." Merrilee made finger motions to me to swim away, with full sympathy on her face. Doug threw the life saver to me and I swam away. Attempting to lift my heavy clothes-soaked body up onto the high pier became nearly impossible. Looking over my shoulder, I watched Doug finish docking with Con as Anne (a woman we met more formerly in Lagos) caught the lines. Back to my task, I used the last of my strength to pull myself up, pushing down hard with my foot on the life preserver for height. My sun glasses hanging around my neck cut deep into my ribs, leaving them bruised and soar for weeks, but the worst of it was my bruised pride. I sloshed back to the boat, changed clothes, and Merrilee kindly made me a cup of tea. Later we met up with a couple we'd met in La Coruna. Coincidentally, they're from Mill Bay which is across the water from my mom and dad's place in Brentwood Bay. They crossed the Bay of Biscay the day before us and their sailboat was knocked down. The man asked me, "Did you mind swimming with the rats?" He'd spotted a dead rat in the marina that same afternoon I fell overboard.
October 17, 2007 --In Search of Crack Doug had researched the Casa do Paco, a building with walls covered with several thousand 18 century Delft Dutch tiles said to have been transported here from shipload destined elsewhere -- confiscated. The locals don't seem to know what a treasure they have. After lots of inquiries someone finally said, "Aw, follow me." We were lead into a school room where kids ate lunch. Apple cores, discarded brown lunch bags were strewn over the large table. There they were and truly amazing, telling story after story of the great travels of the explorers. This afternoon, we lazed at the beach.
October 19, 2007 -- To Nazare A spectacular town locked in time with breath-taking scenery. Local women still wear traditional garments from the 17th century. Widows all in black with head scarves, and younger women in colourful hooped patterned skirts to the knee, with a different patterned shirt, and head scarf. It's an understated town, with beautiful breathtaking scenery. It's also the location where each winter surfers from all over the world congregate to surf some of the largest waves in the world.
We visited Alcobaca, in the town of Batalha where a magnificent Cistercian Abbey with a foundation stone laid in 1148. In our car, we drove to Fatima, an interesting religious site standing on a desolate high-lying plateau where allegedly three peasant children sited the vision of the Virgin Mary in 1917. Since then, it's become a highly profitable tourist spot called the Lourdes of Portugal where thousands take the pilgrimage there. Two of the children died shortly after the sighting, and the third one died in 2003. They're buried in this basilica built in recognition of the importance of the site to pilgrims. In Tomar, we hiked up the long cobble-stoned medieval street to the Convento do Cristo. Tomar was the headquarters of the Knights Templar in Portugal, an order formed in 1119 during the crusades who gained incredible wealth. They left behind marvelous ruins of the old castle, church and cloisters. Months later, Doug received a parking ticket from Tomar, and the "Captain" at the Nazare marina told Doug to handle the ticket like this. He snatched it from Doug's hands, and ripped it in two. Months later, he received the ticket in Toronto which had climbed to a ridiculous amount.
We sailed on to Peniche, the second most westerly point in Europe, population 18,000. Before arriving, we detoured to the island off Peniche, Ilha da Berlenga, a protected bird sanctuary.
October 22, 2007 -- 8.5 hours to Cascais The four of us ended the sailing portion of our time together in Cascais, just outside Lisbon. Taking the tram into the capital city, we toured the castle and old part of the fabulous town. Celebrating the end of our sailing part of the holiday in a quaint restaurant over a delicious dinner sitting outside under an avocado tree.
Below: Nazare, the coffin at Fatima, Con in Cascais.
October 15, 2007 -- Lunch Becomes a Comedy Act Porto is built on a series of hills leading up and away from the river. The four of us explored on foot -- up the hills and back down the series of stairs. By afternoon, starved and exhausted, we selected a table in the large square that appeared to be the busiest, since we believed that meant it had the best food. A frazzled woman eventually came to our table and we placed the order, somewhat miffed that she had gone to another table where the people had arrived after us. She assured us that our order would be dealt with first. We thought that was brilliant and sat back to relax. After a long wait, we noticed that not one table had food. In fact, we noticed that when the lady came out of the kitchen with a tray of drinks angry people snatched them right off her tray, and in one instance knocked over her tray breaking the glasses! Doug and I went inside to see what was happening. Three women were reacting like ducks at a carnival where the patron shoots at them and they turn to go in the opposite direction. Further investigation, we saw a five-month old crying baby crying in her walker, tied to a keg of beer under the hot fryer. Doug joined in the chaos, reached through the lettuce piled high in the sink, grabbed the woman's hand to stop her and said, "Two beer; two sangria." She grabbed two dirty glasses, washed them by hand over the lettuce, filled them with pre-made sangria, and grabbed two beer. We returned to our table, guarding our stash. Con not believing what Doug and I described had to see for himself. I followed. Con jumped right in, calling firmly catching the woman's attention, above all the irate customer's voices, "A plate of olives, bread, and cheese". We never did get our original order. Con saw the woman pass us, dazed and frazzled. He gently touched her arm stopping her and stuffed some euro's into her apron pocket.
The next morning, in our rental, we visited Guimaraes, the birthplace of Portugal, and Braga both attractive old towns. We toured the 10th century churches and castelo high on the mountain giving us magnificent views. Winding around the mountain roads to Citania de Briteiros, the remarkably well-preserved Celtic ruins in one of Portugal's most important archaeological sites. The prehistoric fortified village inhabited by Celts was discovered in 1874. We drove a bit further to Bom Jesus, the religious centre set high on a mountain, another popular pilgrimage known for its remarkable stairway flanked by chapels and statues. Near exhaustion, we drove on to Braga and bought a couple of delicious Piri Piri roasted chickens, fruit and veggies that we ate later aboard.
October 16, 2007 -- Swimming with the Rats After nine hours on the water, we arrived at Figueira da Foz. I told Doug and Merrilee to watch what I do (like a show off) and we'd take care of the docking this time. Con was making the turn into the slip; I opened the side rails and dragged the stern line; pulled; lost my balance and fell out into the 19 degree water! Con asked casually, "Was that Barb falling overboard?" as if I do that all the time.
"Tell her to swim away from the boat." Merrilee made finger motions to me to swim away, with full sympathy on her face. Doug threw the life saver to me and I swam away. Attempting to lift my heavy clothes-soaked body up onto the high pier became nearly impossible. Looking over my shoulder, I watched Doug finish docking with Con as Anne (a woman we met more formerly in Lagos) caught the lines. Back to my task, I used the last of my strength to pull myself up, pushing down hard with my foot on the life preserver for height. My sun glasses hanging around my neck cut deep into my ribs, leaving them bruised and soar for weeks, but the worst of it was my bruised pride. I sloshed back to the boat, changed clothes, and Merrilee kindly made me a cup of tea. Later we met up with a couple we'd met in La Coruna. Coincidentally, they're from Mill Bay which is across the water from my mom and dad's place in Brentwood Bay. They crossed the Bay of Biscay the day before us and their sailboat was knocked down. The man asked me, "Did you mind swimming with the rats?" He'd spotted a dead rat in the marina that same afternoon I fell overboard.
October 17, 2007 --In Search of Crack Doug had researched the Casa do Paco, a building with walls covered with several thousand 18 century Delft Dutch tiles said to have been transported here from shipload destined elsewhere -- confiscated. The locals don't seem to know what a treasure they have. After lots of inquiries someone finally said, "Aw, follow me." We were lead into a school room where kids ate lunch. Apple cores, discarded brown lunch bags were strewn over the large table. There they were and truly amazing, telling story after story of the great travels of the explorers. This afternoon, we lazed at the beach.
October 19, 2007 -- To Nazare A spectacular town locked in time with breath-taking scenery. Local women still wear traditional garments from the 17th century. Widows all in black with head scarves, and younger women in colourful hooped patterned skirts to the knee, with a different patterned shirt, and head scarf. It's an understated town, with beautiful breathtaking scenery. It's also the location where each winter surfers from all over the world congregate to surf some of the largest waves in the world.
We visited Alcobaca, in the town of Batalha where a magnificent Cistercian Abbey with a foundation stone laid in 1148. In our car, we drove to Fatima, an interesting religious site standing on a desolate high-lying plateau where allegedly three peasant children sited the vision of the Virgin Mary in 1917. Since then, it's become a highly profitable tourist spot called the Lourdes of Portugal where thousands take the pilgrimage there. Two of the children died shortly after the sighting, and the third one died in 2003. They're buried in this basilica built in recognition of the importance of the site to pilgrims. In Tomar, we hiked up the long cobble-stoned medieval street to the Convento do Cristo. Tomar was the headquarters of the Knights Templar in Portugal, an order formed in 1119 during the crusades who gained incredible wealth. They left behind marvelous ruins of the old castle, church and cloisters. Months later, Doug received a parking ticket from Tomar, and the "Captain" at the Nazare marina told Doug to handle the ticket like this. He snatched it from Doug's hands, and ripped it in two. Months later, he received the ticket in Toronto which had climbed to a ridiculous amount.
We sailed on to Peniche, the second most westerly point in Europe, population 18,000. Before arriving, we detoured to the island off Peniche, Ilha da Berlenga, a protected bird sanctuary.
October 22, 2007 -- 8.5 hours to Cascais The four of us ended the sailing portion of our time together in Cascais, just outside Lisbon. Taking the tram into the capital city, we toured the castle and old part of the fabulous town. Celebrating the end of our sailing part of the holiday in a quaint restaurant over a delicious dinner sitting outside under an avocado tree.
Below: Nazare, the coffin at Fatima, Con in Cascais.
October 24-25, 2007-- To Lisbon and Cascais From the marina, the electric tram brought us 29 km into Lisbon dropping us off at Praca do Comercio. We walked to exhaustion up and down the steep Lisbon streets through the fado districts, the crumbling old quarter of town where music pulses from buildings, and where graffiti is epidemic. We toured the churches inside and out, admiring the post-1755 earthquake architecture. November 1, 1755, All Saints Day, the tradition to burn candles at the front doors was in full swing when a massive earthquake just off the coast created unimaginable destruction. Beyond the crumbling of the buildings, a tsunami enveloped Lisbon, running along the Algarve as far as Cadiz Spain, who reported six-meter waves. The earthquake killed more than 60,000 people in Lisbon alone, from drownings and fires that burned in the city for six days. From the collapsing of buildings and the fires, nothing much was left except the Jewish quarters as they were situated high on the hill. We walked the River Tagus waterfront to the monuments in awe of the cities beauty, winding our way through the city and back onto the tram for the marina. The next day, we toured Cascais, a beautiful coastal resort where Big Sky is docked. Cascais is the playground for Lisbon's wealthy commuters. The town's claim to fame is that in 1482 (10 years before Christopher Columbus), a Cascaisian named Afonso Sanches was the discoverer America. Columbus was a better marketer and received all the fame.
October 26, 2007 -- To Sintra By bus, we arrived in Sintra, the city known by the Romans as the Mountains of the Moon, now a national park with gorgeous palaces, castle, and monuments situated around an enchanted forest. The Palacio Nacional da Pena dominates the town from the top of the mountain overlooking the small town, built on the site of a 16th century monastery.
We said out "good-bye's" to Doug and Merrilee after a fabulous holiday together. They flew back to Toronto.
October 28, 2007 -- Slept for 13 hours Doug and Merrilee left a few days ago, after two fantastic weeks together touring the Portuguese coast and spots inland. Since Brighton, we've literally had guests arriving and departing on the same days! Lindsey and Courtney; Brit and Kris; Geert; and Doug and Merrilee.
October 30, 2007 -- Back to Lisbon by Foot With all-day bus passes, we toured the old district and castle. Upon arrival in Cascais Customs and Immigration told us our Schengen Visa was us in a few days but that we could go to their offices and purchase an extension. The office was bursting with African's lining up for various things. Con and I were the only white people and stood out. An agent called us over, making us stand out even more, when everyone else was lining up. The man took our passports and disappeared for about 15 minutes. We weren't at all sure we'd see them again. He reappeared and said, "Okay, it's simple. First, come back with 1500 euro each just to show us, a copy of your return airline ticket (who has tickets anymore), along with our ships papers, photo copies of every page of our passports." We were flabbergasted.
We said, "No thanks."
He held our passports close to his chest, "What will you do then?"
Plucking them from his fingers, Con said, "Sail to Africa".
October 26, 2007 -- To Sintra By bus, we arrived in Sintra, the city known by the Romans as the Mountains of the Moon, now a national park with gorgeous palaces, castle, and monuments situated around an enchanted forest. The Palacio Nacional da Pena dominates the town from the top of the mountain overlooking the small town, built on the site of a 16th century monastery.
We said out "good-bye's" to Doug and Merrilee after a fabulous holiday together. They flew back to Toronto.
October 28, 2007 -- Slept for 13 hours Doug and Merrilee left a few days ago, after two fantastic weeks together touring the Portuguese coast and spots inland. Since Brighton, we've literally had guests arriving and departing on the same days! Lindsey and Courtney; Brit and Kris; Geert; and Doug and Merrilee.
October 30, 2007 -- Back to Lisbon by Foot With all-day bus passes, we toured the old district and castle. Upon arrival in Cascais Customs and Immigration told us our Schengen Visa was us in a few days but that we could go to their offices and purchase an extension. The office was bursting with African's lining up for various things. Con and I were the only white people and stood out. An agent called us over, making us stand out even more, when everyone else was lining up. The man took our passports and disappeared for about 15 minutes. We weren't at all sure we'd see them again. He reappeared and said, "Okay, it's simple. First, come back with 1500 euro each just to show us, a copy of your return airline ticket (who has tickets anymore), along with our ships papers, photo copies of every page of our passports." We were flabbergasted.
We said, "No thanks."
He held our passports close to his chest, "What will you do then?"
Plucking them from his fingers, Con said, "Sail to Africa".
November 2, 2007 -- Trying to Motivate Beyond Lazy The Portuguese sun continues to shine, and with weather in the 20s, we motivated ourselves to tour north of Cascais (Estoril) by bike. A week later, we set off for Sines (pronounced cinch). Dozens maybe close to a hundred dolphins visited our bow, and right in front of us two were mating! We clearly heard their high-pitched squeaking even below the surface.
November 9, 2007 -- To Lagos Up at 3 am, we were on the water for our 12.5-hour trek to Lagos. Friends Bob and Di also in the marina heard us getting ready to depart and at Di's insistence they immediately untied and followed us. We didn't know that Di carried anxiety about Portugal's "corner" and had comfort sailing near us. Had we known, we would have slowed down for her, but almost as soon as we exited the marina we were well ahead of them. We arrived in Portugal's Algarve, up the river tp the Lagos marina and experienced the warmest weather in Europe, 25 C by day. People were still swimming in the ocean.
November 14, 2007 -- We're Illegal Our time in Schengen has officially ended so we climbed aboard a bus to Portimao to attempt--again--an extension, not having sailed to Africa as we told the last agent. Once again, dozens of immigrants were all vying for their time slot in what appeared to be organized chaos. By days end, we had paid $120 Euro, plus another $10 Euro for photos and told we were "legal". In 30 days we'd be leaving the country to enjoy Christmas with our Canadian family. We originally planned to sail to Portimao to leave Big Sky there for Christmas, but fell in love with Lagos. We had been tied to the outside pier for nearly a week, asking each day if there was a spot for us. Each day we received "no". Finally after a week, they led us to a long-term berth. We tied up, pulled out the bikes and explored the area, first stopping at the grottos. It's still summer-like weather, however, a storm was expected and it came. Eighty-knot winds brought a change in the weather from sunshine to wild torrential down pours accompanied by lightning and thunder. We've learned Lagos Marina is nicknamed "Velcro Marina" because once you arrive you don't want to leave. We've met people who arrived for a day and remained 16 months, another seventeen years! We shared dinner and drinks with Bob and Di before they flew home to England for Christmas with their family. Now tucked in, we've been doing tasks. Con changed the oil, I cleaned the nooks and crannies.
November 27, 2007 Rental With our last days before flying home, we rented a car visiting Tavira, where poinsettia plants grow year round. We passed a band of Gypsies in the process of relocating camp, and passed vendors selling bags of oranges. The latter we stopped for, in fact bought three bags. The second day, we drove to Silves, a beautiful city once populated in the 4th century BC by the Moors. The town is coloured the same as the earth: reds, pinks and burgundy's. The Romans occupied it for a bit, building bridges and cisterns, the Portuguese conquered it, then the Moors took it back a few years later and built a wall with a castle atop. The Portuguese eventually took it back from the Moors. The last day, we drove to Sagres, to the small fishing town on the south west corner of Portugal. The Fortalaza de Sagres (the fortress) can't be missed when sailing past, as it's situated high on a desolate rocky point about 200 or so feet above the ocean. Talk about extreme fishing! Men hanging over the cliffs told us it was "very dangerous, but not today. When it rains we lose people here every year."
Pink flamingos live nearby (especially in the river near Portimao). A big blue herons uses the boats for a good vantage point for night fishing. Storks nest across the marina on the top of a building. On December 2nd, Con was shirtless in the cockpit enjoying the Dutch Telegraaf and a delicious Pastel de Nata. We visited the huts near the Lagos yard where Fado and Bossa Nova music plays at night enjoying a Brazilian band. We faced the ocean as the sun set, drinking blanco sangrias. Blue waves that had traveled across the Atlantic and around "the corner" were meeting their end rolling white frothy curls up onto the miles of ivory coloured sand. I When the band began, people were literally bouncing in their chairs. December 9th, we tarped Big Sky and left on an overnight train to Madrid for our flight to Calgary.
Below: a few videos throughout the year.
November 9, 2007 -- To Lagos Up at 3 am, we were on the water for our 12.5-hour trek to Lagos. Friends Bob and Di also in the marina heard us getting ready to depart and at Di's insistence they immediately untied and followed us. We didn't know that Di carried anxiety about Portugal's "corner" and had comfort sailing near us. Had we known, we would have slowed down for her, but almost as soon as we exited the marina we were well ahead of them. We arrived in Portugal's Algarve, up the river tp the Lagos marina and experienced the warmest weather in Europe, 25 C by day. People were still swimming in the ocean.
November 14, 2007 -- We're Illegal Our time in Schengen has officially ended so we climbed aboard a bus to Portimao to attempt--again--an extension, not having sailed to Africa as we told the last agent. Once again, dozens of immigrants were all vying for their time slot in what appeared to be organized chaos. By days end, we had paid $120 Euro, plus another $10 Euro for photos and told we were "legal". In 30 days we'd be leaving the country to enjoy Christmas with our Canadian family. We originally planned to sail to Portimao to leave Big Sky there for Christmas, but fell in love with Lagos. We had been tied to the outside pier for nearly a week, asking each day if there was a spot for us. Each day we received "no". Finally after a week, they led us to a long-term berth. We tied up, pulled out the bikes and explored the area, first stopping at the grottos. It's still summer-like weather, however, a storm was expected and it came. Eighty-knot winds brought a change in the weather from sunshine to wild torrential down pours accompanied by lightning and thunder. We've learned Lagos Marina is nicknamed "Velcro Marina" because once you arrive you don't want to leave. We've met people who arrived for a day and remained 16 months, another seventeen years! We shared dinner and drinks with Bob and Di before they flew home to England for Christmas with their family. Now tucked in, we've been doing tasks. Con changed the oil, I cleaned the nooks and crannies.
November 27, 2007 Rental With our last days before flying home, we rented a car visiting Tavira, where poinsettia plants grow year round. We passed a band of Gypsies in the process of relocating camp, and passed vendors selling bags of oranges. The latter we stopped for, in fact bought three bags. The second day, we drove to Silves, a beautiful city once populated in the 4th century BC by the Moors. The town is coloured the same as the earth: reds, pinks and burgundy's. The Romans occupied it for a bit, building bridges and cisterns, the Portuguese conquered it, then the Moors took it back a few years later and built a wall with a castle atop. The Portuguese eventually took it back from the Moors. The last day, we drove to Sagres, to the small fishing town on the south west corner of Portugal. The Fortalaza de Sagres (the fortress) can't be missed when sailing past, as it's situated high on a desolate rocky point about 200 or so feet above the ocean. Talk about extreme fishing! Men hanging over the cliffs told us it was "very dangerous, but not today. When it rains we lose people here every year."
Pink flamingos live nearby (especially in the river near Portimao). A big blue herons uses the boats for a good vantage point for night fishing. Storks nest across the marina on the top of a building. On December 2nd, Con was shirtless in the cockpit enjoying the Dutch Telegraaf and a delicious Pastel de Nata. We visited the huts near the Lagos yard where Fado and Bossa Nova music plays at night enjoying a Brazilian band. We faced the ocean as the sun set, drinking blanco sangrias. Blue waves that had traveled across the Atlantic and around "the corner" were meeting their end rolling white frothy curls up onto the miles of ivory coloured sand. I When the band began, people were literally bouncing in their chairs. December 9th, we tarped Big Sky and left on an overnight train to Madrid for our flight to Calgary.
Below: a few videos throughout the year.
