Illas Cies to Ensenada de Barra

Friday 13th June

No wind, glassy seas, very hazy

3NM (691NM)

We’ve decided that today is our last day here, as we’re not sure whether we have permission for ‘day’ or ‘overnight’. Some people seem to just come and drop the hook for the afternoon, and we don’t have permission for tomorrow (Saturday), so we think our permissions might just run out tonight… And being prudent sorts, with the Park Police about, we’re going to play it safe.

This morning there looked to be more haze flanking the mainland, presumably as a result of the heat trapping pollutants in the air. It was so still again this morning, just lovely, and we were nearly the first onto the beach. Certainly the first little dinghy to launch. Despite yesterday’s experiences, I wanted to do another trail, to the high view point to see if we could get ‘the view’ of the whole beach. Actually, I think you have to be on the next peak down for that, but that’s not permitted to visit. My walking sandals let me down today. By the time we’d reached the lagoon (all of about ten minutes,) I had a blister under my ankle. Eh? So I had to wear them folded down, which gave rise to another blister. It was OK for the hour or so to the lookout, but not to get to the other lighthouse. Today’s walk was without being yelled at by gulls, which made for a far more enjoyable experience, except these wretched blisters.

The walk was mostly shaded, helpful given the strength of the sun, but cleared at the viewpoint. It’s a rocky buff that you can see from Whinchat. We met a few people on this walk, including a couple who were running back down (??!!). At the top, a Spanish bloke insisted on taking our photograph, with my camera, and here we are….

The photo we didn't know we wanted taking!
The photo we didn’t know we wanted taking!

On the way back, Pete and I split. He carried on to the lighthouse (another one, on the east of the island), and I was heading back to the cafe to wait. Until I spotted the lovely little beach that I’d fallen in love with when we came past on our way to Baiona. I took a detour there, and walked along the edge of the water, the cool waters soothing my wounds! There were only three other people on the beach, and a group of gulls, which I flapped my hands out to check that I was the more scary. I was.

On the way back to the cafe bar, I counted NINE different parties of school kids. Certainly enough to ensure that the island isn’t a peaceful reserve today, particularly when they’ve all done the walks and the talks and can then scream and play in the cold water! But as Pete says, it’s happy noise.

As the last of the kids trudged back to the ferry boat, we weighed anchor, for the epic journey across the water to another bay. The Rochna anchor is great, it never lets us down, but it was a pain in the butt to bring in today! We’d twirled around on the chain so much that the chain was twisted, so when the anchor finally yielded to the windlass, the anchor kept on trying to come up ‘upside down’. There is a roll bar on the top of the anchor, which points to the sky, with the ‘nose’ of the anchor downwards. It took about three attempts (and small squeals) for it to turn the right way. It came up with a right old ‘CLANK’, announcing that it was safely stowed. With that where it was, we could head east.

We could see one mast in the bay, but only when we got closer did we see that there were seven! Mostly tucked in two ‘tramlines’ along the cliffs to the western edge of the bay. We joined the line, and dropped in about 10m of water. It set perfectly. What a super spot! It was around about 19:00 when we moored, and far too hot to think about cooking, so we sat in the cockpit, trying to find the shade of the boom, drinking wine and having a little tapas. The sun was reluctant to leave us, but by about 20:30 it had sunk over the cliff, bringing with it a delicious moment of cool. Time to cook!
The last of the provisions was a very fat pork filet, which I’d been marinading in a little onion, garlic and white wine. It was to be roasted in the Remoska, with some pesto rice and the broccoli. Pete tells me off for being hard on myself, but I didn’t enjoy the pork. The Remoska, I don’t think, roasts things very well. There is nowhere for the moisture to go, so things sweat a bit. This is why it does a good casserole, a good piece of fish, a good roast chicken – but the pork was not coloured well and was, well, not what I had in mind! I think we’ll griddle it next time, or BBQ (even better). We’d thought about eating on deck, but it was pretty buggy – and neither of us wanted to slather ourselves in bug spray.

I didn’t think that I’d sleep because it was still about 30degrees inside Whinchat, but the temperature did drop, and I slept well… until the wind woke me!! 02:00, and the wind was whistling, the anchor chain clanking. I got up and checked. It was 15-18knots, from the north. All the boats were lying the same way, and we were being blown away from the land. I debated with myself whether to wake Pete, but I decided not to. He did the same an hour later, with me telling him it was OK. It was only at breakfast the following morning when I told him about my debate with myself, that he said he’d rather have been told. So, next time, I’ll know.

By the morning the wind had died again, with the haze very much lingering on the coastline. It’s provision day tomorrow, with laundry, so Cangas again.

Today’s haiku:

hazy thick air clings,
the coast chokes and splutters
oh breeze, where art thou?



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