Before I start a reminder that my diary is my perspective of our travels, it includes very little techy talk (John does enough of that for the both of us J) but aims to tell the story of our travels onboard Freya Frey, our 26ft Heavenly Twins catamaran.
Last time I wrote up my diary I was in France with 22 staples holding together my scar from having the plate removed from my ankle. The nurse removed them with only one not wanting to part company with my leg and took more time to remove than all the others put together. With the exception of that one it was not as painful as I had thought. I was pleasantly surprised at how soon I was able to walk again, but decided that a couple of weeks in Cyprus staying with my brother and family would be the perfect recuperation before heading back to the boat. I was right, it was lovely and my scar healed nicely whilst I was there.
Towards the end of April I returned to Spain, where John had finished most of the jobs on the list that were marked as “to do before we sail”. He had of course saved the scrubbing the bottom task for my return and we ran Freya Frey up the beach in Ortigueira (with permission) and pressure washed down her hulls. The benefit of the type of antifouling we have (something called Coppercoat) means a pressure was all that was needed and it doesn’t cause pollution like normal antifouling. Neither does it need replying annually, although after 9 years John thinks it has finally reached the stage of needing replacing so we have already put that on the list of tasks for next winter.
|The beach BBQ|
|The pipers came out on our last day in town|
|Our anchorage at Barquiero|
|The view of Barquiero from our walk.|
|Some graffitti that made me smile on a shaped stone|
Foz was somewhere we had considered visiting on our way westward last summer but could not do so as the swell was too great on the sand bar. It was a little on the shallow side half way up the tide as we entered, but we had been overtaken by a fishing boat at the entrance so we had a guide up the river to the old fishing quay. Now in summer spending mode marinas are for emergency use only, so we bypassed the tiny visitors’ basin in search of an anchorage. John dropped me and my bike on the quayside and I cycled off for fresh provisions whilst he guarded the boat from his deckchair on the foredeck. Later in the afternoon the wind picked up again and we took advantage of the high tide to head a little up the river and hide under the shelter of a hillside out of the wind, in a very peaceful anchorage. It is in this anchorage that I am writing my diary and hopefully it won’t be too long before we get to a wifi bar to put it on the blog.