We are now in position 39:12.08N09:26.81W on route to Oreiras but let’s
catch up.
Back in Porto we awoke to the second day of thick fog and that day it
mattered because we needed to set off once more to keep up with the schedule.
Andrew postponed the start for two hours, but no sooner had he done so
than we could see the harbour entrance. So within a few minutes we were all
ready for the off. As Porto dumps raw sewage into the River we were aware of the
need to disinfect our hands after stowing the lines. Well, I was busy casting
off when I smelt this awful stench and saw brown liquid pouring from the black
water tank. Oops it wasn’t just Portuguese poo we were dealing with. The gauge
on the tank doesn’t work so we didn’t know how full it was, now we did!
The day was spent passing through banks of fog and Really enjoying the
radar and its special eyes. Rob noticed some exhausted racing pigeons, sitting
on the water. With their non webbed feet we couldn’t imagine how they would be
able to take off. One had already expired with its head hanging down in the
water. A more fortunate one landed on one of the other boats, so lets hope the
rest means it could make it to dry land.
From Figuera we went on a coach trip to the old Portuguese capital Coimbra,
which has had a university for centuries. On the way we stopped for coffee and
amazing pastries and cakes at an enterprising road side cafe amidst tall
eucalyptus trees. The day was hotting up and by the time we got to Coimbra the
temperature was 34 degrees under clear blue skies. We lingered in the cool of
the library at the university, surrounded by books dating back to the 16th
century and all on public loan. Fortunately our coach had driven us up the hill,
now all we had to do was wander back down the narrow, cobbled streets and find a
little cafe for a light lunch, and this we did.
On the way back home we meandered around Montemor-o-Velho castle where the
pretty tree dotted grounds and tranquil atmosphere belied the bitter interfaith
struggle between Moors and Christians to which the castle has borne
witness.
The day before yesterday, the 17th June was a real curates egg of progress
from Figuera to Peniche. Wind on the nose and light once more. So we made a long
tack out to sea and had some reasonable sailing then, dodging lobster pots all
the way, many in over 100mtrs depth. At least there was no fog. A night time
landfall on the Portuguese coast must be very dodgy.
Approaching Peniche reminded me of Portland with its high rock overlooking
the ocean and sand bank that was once absent making the outcrop a true island.
As we rounded the headland fishermen waited patiently for that tug on the line.
We crossed the line at 20.15 and were rafted up between Orion and Infinity on
the exposed visitors pontoon by 20.30.
I dashed below to get our Figuera Fish market bass cooking in the oven when
Hille asked Rob if we would like drinks on board Infinity. So while we chatted
and nibbled our fish was cooking, but would not be needed for that meal. No
matter we would have it as a salad for lunch the next day. I popped back on
board to turn the oven off and collect a bowl of cherries, the punnet of greek
yoghurt and the biscuits I had made on the way down. Well they went down well
with Torsten’s raspberry snapps! We slept well.
Yesterday was a fishy day. We had sardines with sliced tomato and toasted
stale rolls for breakfast. In town there were many shops, especially ladies
wear, often selling shoes too, pharmacies, gift shops, electrical shops etc and
in the market we stocked up with veg including a bag of fresh shucked pees. We
were going to find a cafe but then Rob spotted a traditional barber’s shop, the
barber of Peniche. And therein lies a tale!
I sat and watched as this skilled master of the sharp scissors spun Rob in
his chair. Rob had gestured with finger and thumb about 1cm but after a while we
realised the barber thought that was the length he wanted left, not off! On the
first revolution his duck’s arse fell to the floor, next revolution the pile of
tumbling locks grew and when I was just about to yell “Stop, enough” (a girl has
to have something to run her fingers through) the scissors were laid down and
the cut throat razor was set and greased. Neck hairs gone, now for the ears,
where next I wondered. Now this was ambitious, hairdryer and round brush, ok. So
impressed was Torsten he waited till the barbers lunch break ended at 2.30 and
had a cut himself. All that for 7 euros!
We had a look around the fort in Peniche after the fish salad lunch
on board. Political prisoners were tortured in different ways, bread and water
to eat, standing for long periods and sleep deprivation but at least they had a
once a week bath, for an hour and a half in a cool underground cistern.
Our last fishy meal of the day was swordfish at a local restaurant arranged
for us all by Andrew.