Oct 8 & 9, 2018 Morocco to Graciosa

10 am departure. Started the customs checkout process at 8.

Uneventful for several hours. Other than a couple of fishing boats and nets.

These blobs are marking fishing buoys

Into night, there is no moon. I looked straight up and immediately saw a shooting star. I told Frank that is our good omen for a nice little passage. We have about 220 miles and some 33 hours to go to reach Graciosa in the Canaries. It is absolutely black out but the stars are visible through the patchy marine haze. It’s quite damp. Frank is down for a rest I see strange flashing lights off to the port side. Nothing shows up on AIS or radar. They seem to be getting closer but I couldn’t tell what was going on with them as they became erratic seeming to jump from spot to spot. We are off the coast of Africa, Western Sahara and I don’t know why our insurance company didn’t want us to go there so my mind is running through scenarios. Are there pirates around here? If so, why would they use a light...don’t they sneak around in darkness? Maybe it is flashing erratically to throw me off so I won’t know from which direction they are coming? Is it a fishing boat? I woke Frank because although I am not yet terrified maybe I needed some reassurance. 

He came up and told me to go get some rest. Really? He’s not worried about this oddity so I should just go get some rest. Ok, maybe I’m just tired and my mind is going haywire. I go down and try to rest but it’s only about 9:00 p.m. I can’t sleep - came up an hour later and Frank said the flashing lights appeared to be some kind of buoy. Maybe a fishing buoy, who knows but one got real close and he said the lights became very bright, about 4 feet from the surface. We both stayed up for a while until he went back down for some sleep around 11:30 p.m. No way I was sleeping with my mind on full alert now watching for fishing buoys and possibly

nets. I spotted three more of the strange lights around midnight. We sure wouldn’t want to hit one since we don’t know what they are. I’m being extra vigilant.

Around 2:00 a.m., I began so see more and more phosphorescence in the water. This and the stars are my favorite parts of a night passage. The brilliance in the water is mesmerizing. It is as though Neptune himself is down there tossing handfuls of stars up to the surface each time the boat throws a bow wake. They tumble in a sparkling mass, spreading like the tails of comets. I’m tethered into the cockpit, but I can’t get enough of this enchanting display of God’s wonder.   I lean out of the cockpit watching as in a dazed trance. I’m thinking this is like a mirror image of the sparkling stars in the Heavens. I have chills. It is so thrilling to me that I let Frank sleep extra long so that I can stay up for the late show. I don’t want to miss a minute of this miracle of the sea. In my mind, this is God’s gift of a moonless night and a sight that we haven’t enjoyed since leaving the South Pacific. Eventually around 3:30 a.m., I gave in to the fatigue and regrettably woke Frank for his turn at watch. 

Frank woke me at nearly 7:45. No real wind but we expected that. We did sail for a short while and have been motor sailing for 15 hours now. There’s an approaching storm in the forecast and if we keep up the current speed we should beat it. With daylight came visibility and with visibility came the absurdly bundled “blobs” of crudely constructed fishing buoys. They looked like a tangled mess floating out here 100 or so miles from shore. Man would that mess up our prop if we had run over one of those nasties. God only knows how many we missed in the night. 

This is one of the the fishing blobs we saw at dawn.

Providence is getting us through. We continued to spot the odd blobs as the storm ahead began to brew bringing on a 20+ knot headwind and bringing the following seas around to slam straight at us. Every now and then we would get a big angry crash over the bow. Thank goodness there was no thunder boom and no lightning, just a lot of wind and gray sky. We rode the bull for about 5 hours praying for the rain to come and wash our salty decks. Some folks may think we’re crazy because we enjoy these rides. The sails were up on a close reach (about 45 degrees), with the motor giving us forward momentum. This to us is exhilarating and we think Destiny kind of likes it too. It’s as though she is racing to reach the next cresting wave to remind us we are still alive and loving this life. It’s literally like a surfer paddling out into the big waves, ducking under the breaks knowing when he reaches his sweet place, he will turn and ride. This is the gift of the effort. Destiny will get her turn to ride when we leave the Cape Verdes in December. 

Our view of Lanzarote through the gray

End of this story...we made it in, after motoring around to find a safe spot to anchor in Francesca Bay between Isla Graciosa and Lanzarote.

Oct 1 – 8, 2018 Final days in Agadir Morocco

(photos wont upload until we get better internet)
Back in Agadir, Frank set about diagnosing the problem that was causing our engine to stall and quit on us. He spent an entire day mostly on his stomach waist to head deep in the engine compartment dismantling the fuel filter housing. Island Packet does not make these jobs easy. The thing was coated with dirty fuel gunk. He cleaned out everything he could access and then went to work on the generator fuel filter housing just in case. Two days, my man worked like a slave getting cut and bruised in numerous places on his body in the process. As usual, I’m running around trying to catch the blood that’s dripping off him and cleaning it off sheets and whatnot. He finally cut up a tube sock to wear on his arm and elbow as a bandage because nothing else seems to work. Not much could be done about the two gashes on top of his head, that spotted the pillowcases crimson, but to keep it covered with a hat and copious amount of Neosporin. He was so sore and cramped up he took to snacking on Aleve instead of cookies for a while. Poor guy!

Our next hurdle was locating propane. Our tanks were nearly empty and had been since entering Spain last year. Obviously there will be no cooking without propane. We‘ve been eating out for the most part and making food that can either be prepared by boiling water in the electric kettle, microwaved or eaten raw (salad, sandwiches, etc).  There was no propane to be found in any of our previous ports in Spain. They use exchangeable camping gas canisters. We have been told there is none to be found in the Canaries either. Fortunately an American family here in the marina pointed us to a station that sells propane that must be self-filled by hand. Well this is a first. We’ve done it with diesel in Tonga and Indonesia but not propane. The man, Erik, went with Frank to show him the ropes while I went in search of prescription refills, and took care of other chores aboard. The job took Frank about 2 hours but our tanks are both nearly full so we wont have to worry about crossing to the Caribbean with out cooking. The American guy said he videoed the process and put it on the web. Their yacht is named Kandu. I think the link is RidneysKandu.com (its written all over their boat), if any sailors are reading this and want the info.

locals always coming to the marina for a day out.

The locals love to stand in this corner of the marina to get their photos and look at fish in the water

We have taken several long walks into the town and along the bustling waterfront. The main part of town is not close which is fine with us because we enjoy the long walks. We didn’t hang out on the beach. We just didn’t fit in. I don’t have a caftan and leggings appropriate to blend in with the local beachcomber threads of the Muslim ladies. Its fascinating people watching as so many women dressed in layers, heads covered, stroll along the beach with fabric billowing behind and around them in the ocean breeze. Some were even kicking around a soccer ball. Can you imagine? The men of course have no worries, running around shirtless in their trendy trunks. Again, we didn’t snap photos because it would have been very rude to do so.

fog in the breakwater entrance (from Destiny, bow-facing)

foggy days (from the stern)

Several of our days have been socked in with fog but we did manage to walk to the Sunday Market (the Suq which is actually open every day) on the other side of town for wonderfully fresh fruits and vegetables – and the olives that are amazing here. Unfortunately, as fresh as everything is, it is just as dirty. The gorgeous head of lettuce I bought was full of sand and black dirt. An hour of shopping is generally followed by an hour of washing the food before putting it into the galley. 

Frank's reward  - Moroccan beer) for letting me drag him around shopping. Love these olives!

One really big downside to Agadir for me personally is the smell coming from the fish market and the open fire grills along the adjacent port where they cook the fish all day into the night. The “offal” smell permeates not just the air, but our hair and clothing as well. It really is disgusting and pungent when the breeze is coming from that direction. I’ve begun to call Agadir: “Stinkadir”, and find myself constantly parading around the inside of the boat spraying air freshener.  A French yacht came in next to us with a little dog that yaps and barks a high-pitched incessant screech that rips right through us day and night. Everything sets this poor little dog off.  A pair of German Shepherds enjoy sauntering by on the dock to taunt him. When he gets completely riled they then curl up to settle down on the pier just aft of the French boat, sending the little yapper into a crazed frenzy for hours on end. I think Frank wants to feed him some of our diesel gunk.

We have enjoyed our time here and have found two really great restaurants on the waterfront: Pure Passion (very gourmand), and Mama Caterina (excellent homemade Italian food by a family who emigrated here from Torino).  We are, however, anxious to get moving. On the 3^rd, Frank booked Customs to check us out at 8 AM the next morning and sent me up to the Marina office to settle our bill while he readied the boat. After I finished paying, he walked up to the office to tell me we should stick around for a while because he just checked the forecast to find there is absolutely no wind after all and we don’t want to motor for two days. Next Thursday (the 11^th) promises great wind so we will stick around for another week. Oh boy.

I’m bored and ready to go. I’ve read four books while Frank putters around with Blue Jobs. I decided to clean our showerheads because the water we had filled up with in Sant Carles had a lot of lime or some kind of mineral substance in it that clogs the faucets and showerheads causing them to spray every which way. We learned a neat little trick from the RayMarine guy in Gibraltar, which is to soak our speed log paddle wheel in Efferdent to clean it off. I thought this might work on the showerheads and faucets. I soaked away, hoping this was better than using vinegar, the normal remedy. I think it worked but one of the showerheads broke when Frank was trying to reattach it. We spent one day trying to source a new one. That was a new adventure on the local bus #98. We looked real out of place and smelled better than most of the other riders! But it got us exactly where we needed to be on the other side of town.  We spent another day cleaning out all of the fresh water hoses.  Yes, we do live an exciting life but these things help us to do that.

Today is Monday Frank had another very early look at the weather and announced that the promised wind for Thursday has now completely disappeared off the forecast. There will be no sailing wind to the Canaries for at least another week. I urged him to let us just go. At 8 AM he went to Customs to begin the checkout process. We know there is a Front headed to the Canaries but if we don’t leave today we will be stuck again for several. We think we can get in before the bad weather hits. By 10:00 we were squared away with the marina and the officials. Here we go – 220 miles into the wind!

September 30, 2018 – Last Day in Marrakech and Return to Agadir

Before leaving Marrakech we had time to visit the Dar Si Said, the Museum of Moroccan Arts that housed artisan textiles and crafts, including the oldest object in Marrakech a chest dating back to around 1002 AD. We spent a few hours here meandering through the various halls of this old mansion admiring tools, arms, woodworks, jewelry, clothing, rugs and children’s play implements. As always, we cant get enough of the history. The suq and Djemaa el-Fna were so jammed with tourists that we could hardly get through. Saturday was just as bad and this is why I don’t have photos of the “circus” that plays out here. It was rowdy and nearly unbearable. The difference in weekdays crowds to weekends it astounding, and I would caution anyone visiting Marrakech to avoid Sat/Sun here. The pickpockets and thieves are on the move. We were fine, but ready to leave now.  We enjoyed a leisurely lunch on a quiet street away from the crowded Medina before finally bidding farewell to cozy Riad dar Sheba and dear sweet Kareem who had been so helpful to us.  He arranged our taxi this time, saving us a small fortune. Arriving at the bus station we boarded a very crowded but comfy bus for the 3-½ hour ride back to Agadir.

A knight's clothing

Gorgeous very old carpets 

our favorite rug tells stories...

Barb and Kareem

September 28 & 29, 2018 – Marrakech Morocco Days 2 & 3

I’m a bit messed up on my days. The previous blog was a merging of Thursday and Friday. It doesn’t really matter, the essence is all there and so this is more merging of Friday breakfast and then Saturday. Any Gemini can follow this – right?

Friday (and each subsequent morning) morning we had gone down for breakfast in the courtyard where to Frank’s delight, we were served loads of BREADS. At least that is what my mind saw. First we were served some type of bubbly little crepe that was more like a very flat pancake with a firmness that might indicate there was some corn flour or masa in it. I couldn’t tell, but ate it anyway with a drizzle of honey from a platter that also contained a variety of jams, marmalades and some other type of fruit compote. Next came a basket of slices of an entire baguette, a plate of some type of biscuit and also a couple of pain du chocolat. (Chocolate croissant to Texans).  Thankfully, we were also given some diced melon, fresh yogurt and a boiled egg.  While Frank was rolling around in pastry Heaven I was really enjoying the delicious French Moroccan coffee. I did manage to snap a photo of part of our breakfast but it felt rude, so I didn’t capture everything as it was served in waves.  

first round of breakfast before the coffee was even served

 We then went for a stroll to the suq to shop for what I call Turkish towels for the boat. I also wanted to return to the Mellah to buy some of the aromatic spices from there rather than from the main suq. The main suq was a bit frenzied for our taste, with vendors constantly beckoning, motorbikes buzzing up from behind us in the narrow passageways nearly running us down and the flies that gathered in cloudy masses around the pastry and spice stalls. I remarked to Frank that I’d rather buy the pure spice, not the ones containing the additional flavor of motorbike fumes, fly larvae and sweaty palm essence from the guy hand-scooping the products. Yep, that’s no exaggeration. So, we found our way to the wonderful little “Herboristerie Caravanserail” Chez Reda. In short, a young man named Reda ran this very clean and delightful spice market within a larger stall in the Mellah. I would recommend him to anyone shopping for fresh herbs and spices in Marrakech. He even mixed up his special version of Moroccan coffee beans for us. I also picked up some specially ordered goods for my friend Laura Pitt (Sabbatical III). We left very happy and then dove back into the main suq to source those towels. My shoppers ADD was really on overdrive in the main suq, so much that I could not focus on any one thing but Frank managed to channel me back from time to time. Mission accomplished, good prices negotiated, we returned to the riad to deposit our bounty with time to spare before our 1 PM Hammam appointment.  It had felt good to walk off that 4,000-caloried breakfast.  

Coming out of the Mellah

main suq

main suq

sampling of hand made shoes 

The Heritage Spa was one of those highly recommended Hammams that was also referred to us by our riad. We were scheduled for a 2 ½ hour couples “Heritage Romance” package that included a 45 minute Hammam Detox (definitely need that!), a 1 hour massage followed by a facial for me and a foot massage for Frank. (I can just hear my friend Jerilyn guffawing and knee slapping over that!) I normally wouldn’t go into detail about something like this but for those who haven’t had a Hammam experience this is good information. My only previous had been in Kas, Turkey a few years ago – a girl’s day with sailing friends Laura and Jane. Our Turkish hammam was a bit different and a little cozier. 

For the Moroccan experience, Frank and I started out relaxing in the comfy salon where we were served tea while a hostess described our service then asked us to choose our oils, scents and soap preferences. Following that we were moved to a dressing room where we stripped except for a little something to cover the nether regions and donned fluffy robes and white slippers and then directed to a dark, blue tiled room where we removed our robes and were told to each climb up onto a wet, very hot and very uncomfortable flat tiled L-shaped surface, feet touching from right angles. Frank got there first and promptly let out a WHOOP!, then jumped down, saying, “That’s HOT!” the two attendants sort of giggled but sprayed cooling water over the tiles until we could lie down without leaving scorched bits of skin stuck to the surface. Next we were lathered up with Argan oil mixed with another wonderful smelling component then scrubbed from head to toe with rough mitts. I was reminded of scaling a fish. When the first layer of skin was completely scrubbed off our fronts, we were unceremoniously flipped over to have the backsides removed. Painful indeed but we were told that we were being detoxed and our skin made fresh. Next came the power wash on both sides, flip flop again, that felt like sandblasting, before we were slathered in black gunk, flip flop again and left with a bottle of water each, lying on our backs to sweat. We lay there for a very long time until I literally thought I would pass out from the heat. I asked Frank if he was alive, and he said, “I think so. I wonder why the ceiling has that dome shape”.  Was he going into delirium? I peered up and said that maybe it catches the heat and cycles it back down.  We were beginning to think they had forgotten us.  So far, we were struggling to find the romance in this. After another long while, I slithered down to the floor to try to pry the door open but it was very slippery. Eventually it came ajar enough that cool air began to seep into the room. When we both seriously thought our poor bodies could take no more of the heat and the painful slab, the door opened and a new assault began as the black gunk was power scrubbed off , our hair washed and we were rinsed like fish in the market. Finally, we were wrapped in the fluffy robes and led into a small lounge area laid with big cushions and pillows along the floor, and then served HOT Moroccan mint tea and sweets. We drank the tea, ate the sweets and then asked for water. After a short rest we were led away separately for our massages and subsequent treatments. Both of us reported back to each other afterward that those massages were sheer bliss, and not just because they followed the torture treatment of the hammam. I would return to this spa just for the massage in a heartbeat. It was better than any I’ve had in years. Frank said the same about his and also his foot massage. My facial was so relaxing I nearly fell asleep. The kicker to all of this is that the entire package for both of us cost 1700 DH. That’s $179.00!

We were so relaxed after the Hammam experience that we were really grateful we had booked dinner at the riad that night. We were the only guests for dinner. Because there is no restaurant here booking a day in advance is required. It felt so nice to enjoy a beautifully prepared meal in a quiet and lovely setting. We had no idea what was for dinner and were very pleased to be served a homemade chicken tagine accompanied by perfectly cooked fresh mixed vegetables, followed by a delicious homemade dessert that I cannot identify and of course, Moroccan mint tea.

Sept 27 – 30, 2018 – Marrakech, Morocco – Day 1

Arriving into the CTM bus station at Marrakech was a no-drama ordeal until we walked outside the lobby doors where the full frontal assault began with the Taxi drivers. Against all that we knew, we got hustled. It’s tough really, because we must’ve been wearing great big “I am a foreigner, probably a rich American, please take advantage of me” signs that had been tattooed on our foreheads while we dozed on the bus. Still it was cheaper than NYC.

Frank queuing to buy our return bus ticket

We chose to stay in a Riad rather than a hotel. A Riad is a large private home, often a former mansion, situated within the old city or Medina with a large center courtyard into which all of the rooms and windows face. Originally the courtyard would have been a garden with a fountain but most have been converted to guesthouses with a small pool and seating area in the courtyard area. Riad dar Sheba was very homey and we immediately felt as though we had stepped into a quiet little paradise far away from the city.  We were greeted by Kareem (Karim?), and then invited to sit in the pillow-laden salon to relax and enjoy a Moroccan mint tea and some biscuits (cookies). He gave us a map of the city and explained some things about what to expect and how to get around. We requested of him to arrange two things: a private walking tour and a couples' treatment at a local Hammam. He then went off to make arrangements while we got settled into our room.

this is only part of our room at the riad

The Riad is literally steps away from the large Koutoubia mosque and the Djemaa El-Fna that is the main square of Marrakech. This massive square plays host to a variety of what we call “buskers”; live acts with people, snakes, monkeys, dancers, singers musicians, you name it. It is lined with large fruit stalls where drinks are made fresh while you wait. One center area converts to a multi-restaurant venue at night. Around the periphery are multi-storied restaurants with rooftop terraces and amid all of this are the entrances to the souks/suqs where alleyways will lead you on a meandering path to a shopping experience even bigger than the Turkish markets. You can shop for anything here locally/hand-made or made in China, we could never tell but we enjoyed ourselves nonetheless.  Among the myriad shops are cafes offering Tagines, couscous dishes, French pastries... You can eat well here on any budget.

A market stall with items made from old tires

Every day we were approached by some random guy telling us we must hurry and follow him, saying; “the Berbers are in town for two hours only” or “Come, come, this way, this way is a short cut to the auction that is about to begin” …“The Berbers are here with carpets and will soon be leaving”.  Whatever line you are fed, don’t fall for it. You will be taken on a wild goose chase, “just around this short cut here” that meanders forever and leads you to the same carpet store that is on all of the tour routes where you will be served tea and planted for a show and tell of expensive carpets that lasts for nearly an hour.

Mohammad and Barbara before entering the Bahia Palace

Mohammad explaining the harem to Frank

Our private tour was scheduled for the very afternoon we arrived. Our guide, Mohammad walked us through the highlights of the Medina, starting at the Koutoubia mosque, which tourists may not enter but a walk-by was enough for us, giving us its history of course. He led us through the market, explaining how to “negotiate” if we wish to buy something, and to the Mellah (the Jewish Quarter), which was far cleaner and better kept than the main - I suppose - Muslim area of the Suq. Negotiating is all part of the experience and is expected. We visited the Bahia Palace where he gave us a private tour, detailing the story behind it’s origin and the owner who had several wives and concubines within the massive estate including a school for his hundreds of children, all tucked into separate Dars and Riads that were guarded by Eunuchs because he didn’t want temptation to be an issue. He also employed blind musicians for the same reason. What a guy!  

intricate designs in Bahia Palace

Bahia Palace passage from one riad to another

Ceiling of the room in the chamber of the "other wives"

Ceiling center in Wife #1's room

Bahia Palace

Frank in Bahia Palace's "Man cave"

Then we learned about the popular Argan Oil and were taken to an “official” factory shop where we sampled so many products our heads began to spin. Of course we bought an entire bag full. Next on the tour was a carpet show room where we saw some beautifully crafted tribal pieces from all over Morocco which was very interesting in that each area of the country and tribe makes a product quite different from the next and using materials such as camel hair, wool, cotton fibers and so on.  Eventually our 3 hour tour had stretched to 4 hours so we called it a day and bid Mohammad farewell as we hustled back to the Riad to shower and rest before heading back out to dinner.

Walking back into the Suq area, we located a wonderful rooftop restaurant, Café Arabe’, a perfect venue to enjoy our first Marrakech sunset. The seating in the lounge area was arranged amid comfy white cushions, backed with lots of pillows surrounded by flowing white curtains. It was gorgeous and so was the dynamic sunset. Frank happily sipped his beer (I took a cute photo of him but he wont let me post photos anymore of him drinking beer), while I tried to catch the storm rolling in on the setting sun. As soon as our dinner arrived, the storm had reached us and waiters quickly swept us and our food up, hastening us downstairs to the internal dining room where laughing, wet patrons were cramming themselves into the pillow laden sofas to settle in for dinner and a storm. There is a gorgeous video that is on my Facebook page. I can't seem to get videos to post on our blog.