The Canary Islands

Thanks to everyone who has been reading our blog, however can we remind you that the best way to find out what we are up to is to come and visit us.

This week it’s the Canary islands, playground for the overworked and cashed up western Europeans that trudge in their flip flops across the stony dunes and down the scrambly cliffs to festoon the beaches in all their pink generosity, before going back to their beehives of white boxy condominiums . We arrived here after setting off from Gibraltar in no breeze, motoring for two days, converging with the Spanish yacht Sabor mid trip; the skipper, Diego checked in with us every 6 hours or so on VHF and in the pastels of the last calm sunset they came so close as to be able to play us a lively tune on the Spanish version of the bagpipes to which we jigged around on deck and waved cheerily. The last two days we sailed down wind in a rough cross swell with 20 -25 knots from behind. Because our communications provide us daily weather forecasts (sailmail) Nick was giving weather updates to the other yachtspeople in VHF range some of whom were finding the conditions trying. The stretch of water between Europe and the Canary islands is busy at this time of year as the 1000 or so yachts that cross the Atlantic each year get into the tradeswinds by following this route. Pina Colada handled it beautifully, she is such a good vessel downwind, loves being wing and wing with the jib poled out, and averaged 6.5 over the 590 n. mile trip. We were tired after 4 and a half days – I had developed flu and Nick was recovering from a viral belly wog (too many late nights in Gibraltar perhaps?)

We finally dropped anchor at Isla Graciosa making landfall on these intriguing volcanic islands, this one low and sandy with four distinct cinder cones rising in Revlon colours and textbook symmetry. About 10 other yachts were sheltering from the strong north easterlies off Playa Francesa with us including our new mates off Sabor.

The next day we explored the simple fishing village, la Socidad, on foot and the chalky sand on my toes made me feel like I was on holiday and nothing really mattered. The island is a desert, strewn with rocks and the occasional stiff succulent shrub. To escape the constant wind it is common to find what Nick and I have termed ‘roasters’, circular shelters built with basalt stones on the beach sand for people to sunbake in. On the windswept flats and peneplains of the islands these rings are often the only relief and they adorn the populous beaches like pox. Nick went surfing and diving and got 15 sea urchin spines firmly embedded in his thigh and I overreacted; in hindsight I realised that this will happen often and I can’t do a thing about it.

The morning after our second night at Isla Graciosa we sailed down the western coast of Lanzarote where we could view the long dark tongues of recent lava flows (1970’s) that drop into the crashing sea. The few villages were conspicuous as tight clusters of white square buildings set against the brownie black backdrop of bare mountains. The lee side of Lanzarote is substantially developed with a very salubrious marina; Rubicon, (which we visited by dinghy for dinner with Sabor), hotels and apartment blocks. Its odd though because the terrain is so bleak and desert like. From out at sea I couldn’t make out what the sparkling buttons on the hillside were until closer up I saw that they were cars, parked neatly in rows on what resembled a spoil dump; miles from anywhere except a sand beach for the day.

From Lanzarote we sailed across Estrecho de la Bocayna to Isla Feurteventura, (3 hours or so) and tied up in the marina at Correlejo for one night (19 Euros) and a day to sort out some business/ tax/ shopping etc, then out to Lobos island where we had spied the locals visiting an awesome surf break. We both paddled out during the late evening when all the other people who had somewhere else to go home to had left. Nick baptized his new surfboard. It was a very rolly anchorage that night (my hair looked like a loaf of brown bread in the morning!) and the only thing to freshen up after so little sleep was another surf followed by an explore around the island which is a Park Naturalle. We were the only ones on the island until four tourist boats arrived at once, the tiny fishing hamlet being recently deserted. We left for Fuerteventura and had a glorious sail to Gran Tarajal striking upon a festival on the waterfront that kicked in at midnight and didn’t stop until the fireworks were just a drifting patch of smoke against the lightening sky. Who needs sleep?

A beautiful 68 foot American yacht ‘Outnumbered’ had shared the last two anchorages with us and on Sunday evening we were invited aboard for drinks with the owners, their four daughters, the first mate and the tutor, which ended up as a late dinner. Gorgeous yacht and family, hopefully we can share some cheer with them again on the other side for NYE.

Slowly making our way down the east coast of Fuerteventura we stopped in the marina Morro Jable and now lie at anchor at the most southern tip of the island tucked beneath the lighthouse with the Atlantic swell pounding the windward shores of the narrow spit that is our shelter. Great bursts of spray are visible from the deck of Pina Colada on the other side. We had a dive off the point but the visibility was very poor and the most exiting thing we observed was a large school of barracuda. Nick found a fantastic wave with a few locals on it so he’s happy. The trolling has been much better than the spearing (which has resulted in nothing so far). In the Atlantic we have hooked Mahi Mahi and a couple of different species of tuna – all delicious eating, but we are still experimenting with how to land them successfully without covering the aft deck with blood.