TARRAGONA TO BENICARLO

What a lovely place. Tarragona is a small compact town with lots happening, radio stations that play English music 24/7 and the staff in the marina are just so helpful, whatever you want to know, just ask and Helena the receptionist will do her best to sort it for you. I've only got one criticism, and that is, it is a bit "moovey aboutee" in a southerly, with a lot of movement so you need those metal springy things.

As usual, it was soon time to move on, and once again I checked the weather several times before deciding to leave. It all looked perfect for at least a couple of days, so my plan was to go south and around the Ebro delta, which sticks out quite a way, and then sort of follow the coast. That way, should anything that I did not fancy show up, I could within a short space of time, be in shelter in a nice marina, because down this stretch of coast, they are two a penny. With a north west wind of about 15 knots, I left the marina and sailed past the oil pipeline buoy, which is massive, and has half a mile of trailing, floating pipe attached. I think it is for tankers to tie up and take on or discharge oil. I remember when we were sailing off Lexoies, near Porto, we encountered one, and it scared us to death, bearing in mind it was thick fog and we just wanted to get in. Anyway, I digress, sun was up and I was just thinking about ringing Jackie, and telling her how many thousands of pounds people pay, for sailing like this, when I decided to have some weetabix, and a nice cuppa out of the flask. The Ebro delta was about 20 odd miles away, and I had put in a waypoint about 5 miles to the east, to be well clear, and then I could get back in close again.

After a couple of hours, the wind died, and I had to put the iron horse on. It kicked us along at 5 knots, so not a lot to complain about. There was not a cloud in the sky, and as I past my first waypoint, a slight breeze filled in from the south east. As I chewed on an apple, it occurred to me, that if this fed in a bit strong, I would have the Ebro as a lee shore. I let the thought get away, after all, the forecast was never more that 15 knots, and according to "wind guru" it could come from anywhere.

I decided that tonight was going to be curry night. I had bought a tasty looking bit of meat, not sure if it was lamb or beef, but it didn’t matter about being tende, because once it had been in the pressure cooker for 15 minutes, it would melt in the mouth. I fried an onion (all done in the pressure cooker)and then a bit of garlic, diced the meat into medium pieces, and threw them in. I got it all nicely browned and then the coup de grace, a special mixture of herbs and spices that Jackie had blended together and put in one big jar for me. All I had to do, was add a couple or three spoonfuls, give it a good stir and Bob's.......(well, Bob used to get us cheap fags, but that’s another story!)I put in a tin of tomatoes and a tin of mushrooms, then gave it all a good old stir till it started to rock, and then I remember Jackie saying something about some coconut milk, and she had got me a couple of packets. Where had I put it? I had a look out, as we were heeling a bit, and the wind seemed to be up a couple of knots, then I went back to hunting for the......ahh, there it is! I cut the top of with the scissors, and poured in the lot, another good stir and then a couple of cupfuls of water, to give it the required amount of fluid, brought to the boil with the lid firmly in place and when the steam started blowing, I popped on the weight, and let it blast away for 15 minutes, reducing the heat as necessary.

Time to come up and have a good look around. The wind was freshening and still from the south east, this was going to piss me off I could tell. There was a whole line of fishing boats heading to where I had just come from, all further out to sea than me. I was in 180 feet of water so no worries. A few wispy clouds began to appear, and I suppose the wind was about 12 knots true. Some waves had formed during the next couple of hours, and the wind had increased to probably 18 knots, but the seas had increased alarmingly, well no, not alarmingly, but they were getting big and steep. I guessed that this was because, only a couple of miles to the east, the sea goes deep, I mean really deep, from 60 metres where I was, to 300 hundred metres in the space of less than half a mile, and I guessed that the fishing boats were all on that line.

The pressure cooker was taken of the stove, and put on the floor for safekeeping and I decided to put four or five rolls in the main. I already had the small jib on. It seemed to be taking ages to get past the Ebro delta, and I had also noticed that the wind was veering more in to the south, forcing me further inshore at a time when I did not really want to go inshore. A couple of big waves made my mind up to tack, and go out to beyond the step line where the water gets deep. By now, I have my oilies on, as a few waves become playful. I DON’T WANNA PLAY! It is still in my mind what happened last week, off the Pyrenees. I got myself out further, probably about a mile beyond the line, and tacked back. The wind had veered by then and to maintain a decent heading, I kept the engine on, and we moved along pretty good at 5 knots with the waves not quite so big.

By about 5pm, I was getting a little fed up. The wind was up to above 20 knots, and it was kicking up a wet sea that came aboard with every opportunity. I realized that it would be getting dark by about 7.30pm, and my plan of an overnight sail were evaporating fast. I just was not ready for another bashing, and started looking at my options. There were a few along that coast, south of San Carlos de la Rapita, but not many had a safe entrance, especially with a south east wind. It was blowing hard onshore, and eventually, I had made a decision, and it was to be a little place called Benicarlo. At the present rate, with the engine running, I could just lay it on port tack, and it was about 14 miles away, so it would be just about dark by the time I got there. I had also decided, that if it looked dodgy getting in, I would give Jackie a quick call, and tack back out to sea, into the safer deeper water. (Not an option that filled me with happiness,but there you go!) Over the next couple of hours, the wind increased, but stayed in the same direction. I could see a big squall gathering on my starboard side, and it seemed to be sucking the wind in too. There was more thunder and lightening, and I have got to say, it all caused me to bring into question what was I doing out there and what on earth was the point of it all. I got on the phone to Jackie, and told her what the score was. I told her it was the end of the trip and I was coming home and that I had had enough!! HAD I HAD ENOUGH? As I was on the phone, it felt as if the boat had luffed, and come to a standstill. Remember, I was below trying to keep the phone dry, (trust me, I have had a lot of phones on boats!), I hurriedly told Jackie the score and not to worry, put the phone back in it’s plastic box, and came up to see what was going on. All of a sudden, the boat heeled alarmingly to port, and the wind totally changed direction by 180 degrees, and came at me at 20 knots plus. I quickly released the main, and off we bowled into the still large seas that had been built up by the south easterly. Suddenly the sea was very confused, but the blessing in disguise, was that I could now lay Benicarlo on a broad reach, and also the entrance would not be a lee shore (what was that about roses?). I let out a massive sigh of relief, despite us taking very big seas right over the boat. I gave her a few pumps to clear the water then picked my moment to open the hatch, and went below to take a close look at the entrance on the plotter, closing the hatch behind me.

In the space of half an hour, it all died down until the wind went completely, and we ended up rounding the breakwater in a glassy sea. It was dark, but calm as I called the marinero on the VHF to get a berth for a couple of nights. His name was Pedro, and he didn’t speak a word of English, but made up for it by bounding round the marina to the side I was about to berth to. And so a peaceful night. I got the pressure cooker back on the stove, did some rice and had a fantastic curry before falling asleep on yet another wet bunk!

Benicarlo, I must say, what a lovely little town. The marina staff were very friendly and Pedro could not do enough for me. Sign language works wonders, and it seems you can get by any problems. That day, I found an internet café, got myself a new gaz bottle and dried out everything on deck. I had decided to stay for two nights and just relax. The weather funnily enough, was fantastic and warm. I went down to the fish market and watched the fishing boats come in and land their catch, and watched with interest as it was all brought, and loaded into lots of little vans and a couple of lorries. There were a couple of women on the dock all wrapped up and sitting on chairs mending nets ready for the next foray into the ocean. I really took a liking to Benicarlo, and it will be a place that I should like to return to sometime, but all too soon, it is time to move on.

I had spent a lot of time in the internet cafés, poring over the weather, and for the next couple of days, it was going to be a northerly maximum 16 knots. Just what the doctor ordered. I went to the local supermercado, stocked up with food and soft drinks, and was determined to get in a decent leg of 36 hours and get some miles down. I left Benicarlo with a superb north westerly breeze, keeping close to the shore, maybe a couple of miles off. I remember thinking once more, this is what people pay thousands of pounds for. With full main, jib and flyer, and travelling along with no heel at about 5 knots, has somebody finally smiled on me and given me a break? I HOPE SO!