Queensway Quay took care of our Customs paperwork in Gibraltar. Documentation was was handed to us when we settled the bill at the marina. The first stop we made on the way out was the duty free fuel dock were we took on 450 liters (Baja filtered this time). Although the tank holds much more that’s all we needed to top up. We finished refueling around 3:30 but didn’t want to leave until 4:30, so we fiddled around at the fuel dock, cleaning up spilled diesel and finding time wasting chores to do before casting off.
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| The Rock of Gibraltar shrouded in clouds as we left |
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| Almost across the Strait, and closer to Morocco's northern coast (N. Africa) |
Right on time we aimed the bow for the Straight and immediately a large pod of dolphins joined the foray, bringing on the party as they escorted us out of and across the bay, shooting the bow wake and dancing high into the air. They stayed with us for hours, making us feel as though they brought good fortune to us on our little passage.
Many yachts hug the Spanish coast and then shoot across farther along, but Frank wanted to get across to the African side and out to the point, past the high commercial traffic zone before dark. Although we had great wind astern and had caught the flow of the outgoing tide just right, he augmented that with the iron jib and we briskly motor-sailed across among mountains of container ships, freighters and massive ferries that resembled small cruise ships. It was a beautifully executed ballet. Three cheers to the Captain! He had planned this so well it felt like a cakewalk. After passing the midpoint, we encountered a slight countercurrent but nothing to get excited about. All the while, a Royal Navy warship patrolled the international boundary between the two continents sending warnings and alerts to potential territorial waters violators. We arrived at the head and made our left turn into the Atlantic with a few breaths of daylight to spare. Again, I turned to Frank and praised his fastidious planning.
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| the British war ship |
Passage Notes:
Saturday, 9/22/18
The first night out was nearly sheer bliss. We had prepared for a very rough ride but instead enjoyed a comfortable downwind sail for nearly 26 hours with little turbulence. Nonetheless we both only snacked lightly because a full stomach can become our worst enemy if the ride gets rough. We settled into 4-hour daytime watches and then switched to 3-hour shifts at night. We were making good time and hitting speeds of 8 & sometimes 9 knots which is good for our gal. The moon was nearly full and the night was clear and lovely. This is what we live for.
Sunday, 9/23/18
The wind began to lighten around 3:00 AM, while Frank was on watch. When I came up, we had slowed to about 5 knots. He really didn’t want to use the engine if at all possible but by 6:30, we had dropped to 3.9 boat speed, and just 4.0 SOG. The sails were flogging and I couldn’t take it anymore, so I cranked up the engine, furled in the genoa, shortened the main and brought out the staysail for stability. The big gentle rollers we had been surfing were beginning to get uncomfortable and I wanted Frank to continue sleeping and this helped.
The wind refused to keep the promise of a great 3-day downwind sail for us. We stayed offshore to try to catch and keep it, but also to avoid the dangers of the many unlit and poorly marked fishing nets we’d been warned about along the coastline that are reportedly laid as far out as 15 miles offshore. Too many yachts have gotten tangled up in them for us not to heed the warnings. Additionally, there are small, unmarked fishing boats that don’t show up on AIS or radar.
Sunday passed uneventfully under a brilliant blue sky and calm seas...wind pathetically dropped to under 6 knots sometimes gusting to 9-ish. By evening, the temperature dropped dramatically and the moon rose full and majestic giving us a gorgeously backlit night. As night wore on, however, a dense fog set in, obscuring the moon along with our visibility drenching us and the inside of the boat in heavy moisture. Our friends on Sabbatical III had already ventured to the Canaries a month or so ago and had mentioned the temperature drop, saying they just could not get warm at night. We can certainly second that and add that the moisture is deeply penetrating causing us to feel we were sitting in wet diapers all night long. The windshield was so wet and fogged up we would have to frequently unzip the clears (strataglas windows), and lean out to get a peek into the foggy nothingness in case those unlit fishing boats were bobbing around.
Monday, 9/24/18
I could pretty much say “ditto” to yesterday except that by early evening we were able to turn off the motor. We enjoyed a nice 20-ish knots of true wind on the beam, with large and easy following seas. We had another few hours of “Oh yea, this is why we do this” sailing. We didn’t break into song or dance. I actually leaned over to Frank and whispered, “I’m afraid to exhale”. He laughed and told me to just enjoy it and quit always waiting for the other shoe to drop. At the risk of sounding Cliché, I must’ve exhaled because the shoe dropped as did the wind, the temp and visibility. Damnation! This night was colder than before and the fog and damp so thick I muttered and complained to myself all through my watches. My rear end was sore, damp and cramped. My hands felt raw from dickering with the sheets and lines. During night watches I frequently get up and try to do squats or some kind of bending routine to shake off the sleep and cobwebs. This night I was just miserable. To make things worse, some complete idiot was singing silly little, nasty songs over the VHF, and calling himself “Baby Monkey”. From time to time, another voice would break in to shout, “Shut the bloody hell up Baby Monkey!” Well, this just egged Baby Monkey on and he got more degenerate by the minute. I thought if my watch didn’t end soon I would slowly go stark raving mad. Somehow, Frank always seems nonplussed in these situations. I tried to channel my inner Frank, but he’s much more Zen than I. Finally, at the end of my watch Baby Monkey must’ve gone out of range because I no longer heard him, and happily turned the watch over to Frank. I went down below to fix something warm to drink and a snack before hitting the sack. Then I heard Frank talking. I popped my head up to see what he wanted but he was speaking into the VHF asking someone what were his intentions. He said we nearly collided with a large fishing vessel that appeared out of the fog and he was trying to figure out who would do what. Then suddenly Destiny began to loop in a tight circle. The autopilot had just turned off. Frank was trying to secure the helm and couldn’t find the big boat in the dense fog, so I stayed up and spotted for him. What terrible timing! We located the vessel behind us, then Frank told me to run down to the Nav desk and reset the instruments. Meanwhile Frank had memorized the compass heading and was attempting to put us back in the right direction but with no way to see where we actually were. Thank God the reset worked and we got the autopilot back. We thought it was extremely odd and coincidental that when we bore close to the other vessel our instruments went crazy and then quit. We got out of there as quickly as we dared both feeling slightly unnerved but I was so tired I stumbled to the bed and was immediately out with a prayer still on my lips for the Good Lord to get us safely through this passage.
Tuesday, 9/25/18
We survived the night but were wetter than ever. Everything is soggy. Eventually the marine haze began to lift and we have been hanging bedding and clothing out to dry in the hot sun. Now we see fishing nets and boats as we near Agadir. We are so relieved to finally be close and not to be approaching this place by night. The wind came up once again allowing us to turn off the engine for a while. Unfortunately, after just a few hours the wind began to wane and the speed dropped to 4.5 SOG. We are only an hour out of Agadir so Frank cranked on the engine but it sputtered and died. Come on! What now!? He told me to turn off the key and try it again while he looked around in the engine room. We tried to crank it again but nothing this time. Really. Starter battery maybe? He turned on the generator and the engine choked to life. Now we are cruising on a wing and a prayer hoping to make it into the marina without the engine going out again. It’s 3:50 pm. We are both holding our breath.
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| Approaching Agadir - finally blue skies. |
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| In our berth at Marina Agadir |
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| Marina Agadir |
4:45 PM we eased into the breakwater of Capitainerie du Port de Plaisance Agadir. Now I can truly say that we never, in a million years, thought we would sail to Morocco. We are kissing Destiny and thanking God and those carefree dolphins who tossed a bit of fairy dust on Destiny as they frolicked in her bow wake. Morocco
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