The lovely La Gomera

With Love from La Gomera...

It seems like absolutely ages since we last added to the blog. Perhaps it is? I’ve calculated that we’ve been on the road for two and a half months now but it seems like an eternity… in a good way you understand.

Chapel in Lanzarote

The stainless leg for the water generator worked out in the end. It’s a shoddy job but it will do. What can you expect when there is not a flat surface in the whole shop and the man does not possess a set square? My Spanish was most definitely pushed to the max. However, finding words to explain ‘point load’, ‘flange’, ‘R pin’ was a doddle compared to interpreting for a (by then) very irate Casper. The generator itself pumps the power into the boat brilliantly, providing an excellent addition to the wind and solar generators, so my hair straighteners run fine and we have a constant supply of ice cubes.

Montañas de Fuego, Lanzarote

We grew very fond of ‘Arry, as we nicknamed the Lanzarote’s capital, with its white cityscape, doors and windows edged with fresh blue and green, its ‘charco’ lake and fortresses. Thanks to Manrique’s tireless dedication to conservation, Lanzarote, unlike it’s island neighbours retains its traditional character and beauty. Fuerteventura was a whole different kettle of fish. To be fair we only stopped in one port, Corralejo, which was a good base from which to explore the outlying Isla de Lobos, but an architectural carcrash. Lobos means ‘wolves’ but the meaning intended in the island’s name is ‘sea wolves’ or seals. These inhabited the island shores until, in the 15th century, a group of French mariners were shipwrecked there and ate every one of them to stave off starvation. We only day anchored at Isla de Lobos because the swell was very pronounced.

Big surf at Isla de Lobos

The sky was moody and dark when we left for Tenerife and once night came she was splintered with lightening and shaking with thunder. The heavens flickered with light as we sailed on, surrounded by storms but thankfully never actually in one. The odd squall hit us with the thud, the lines groaning as they were yanked harder round the winches. The anemometer jumped 10-15 clicks and the clouds delivered sheets of hard but warm rain.

The 125-mile passage was very fast and, not wanting to enter Santa Cruz in darkness, we stood off the North Eastern coast of Tenerife until daybreak. The baby pink dawn revealed the island’s velvetine peaks. The colour of sage and rust, and arranged in tidy piles, they looked like some mystical hand had plucked them skywards.

Rainbow arriving in Tenerife

The refreshingly green beauty of Tenerife’s Northern tip was an unfortunate place to start circumnavigating the island since it would seem to be, by far, the best of the coast. As we bore away and cruised downwind, the bone dry shores became increasingly littered with ugly developments catering for fish and chip tourism.

Pico de Teide, Tenerife, seen from La Gomera

We had an unhappy few days trying to find a decent place to stop. An extra dimension was added to the habitual list of requirements in the form of a visit from Val, my mother. We needed to be in a ‘nice place’, sheltered from the prevailing winds and swell, a bus trip away from the airport, a ‘sensible’ dinghy ride away from shore or alongside. Somehow it took us ages and many arguments to find either and we eventually settled for Los Cristianos (where the charm of the old town has not yet been entirely obliterated by the bucket and spade brigade).
The weather really doesn’t care whether you have plans. Given that I had once witnessed Val getting seasick in a dinghy on a flat calm sea with no wind, I was rather anxious to make the intended passage to Tenerife’s neighbouring island La Gomera on a sunny day, with a gentle breeze from behind and a small following sea. Instead we thumped our way into a heavy sea with two reefs in the main, a miserable force 6 periodically heading us, forcing us to alter course so much that darkness fell way before our arrival. It was, apart from Biscay, the worst sailing we have had thus far. Poor Val had no option but to retire to the ‘divan’ huddled in blankets, an emergency bucket close. Amazingly she still wants to sail with us.

The 3 of us having made it to La Gomera

La Gomera is Onbelievable. The most beautiful island I have seen so far. Cathedrals of rock, lush deep valleys, palm trees, pine trees, banana plantations, beaches of fine sand, dark and chocolatey.

Val & Casper pulling faces, Alto de Garajonay, La Palma in the distance

It is unspoilt and I hope to God it stays that way…

Descending to Chuipude, La Gomera

I need to go back to sea to have a rest! Being in the marina here at San Sebastian is a social whirl. We hooked up with friends made at previous anchorages, eating, drinking and going to bed late. It’s amazing what we end up talking about over supper now – twiddle buttons and self-digging anchor tips. God help you friends when we come back at Christmas*!

With love from us all x Capn Casper, First M8 K8, Chief Bottle Washer Bal

Imogen, our mascot (twice for some reason)

* December 19th to January 6th