A haulout, a Spanish fiesta and a Biscay crossing
Coming out of the water at Cedeira wasn’t a problem - they had a 100-ton container hoist – but it was certainly pricey. The original quote of 450 euros had almost doubled by the time they added on the costs of a power-washer, a carpenter for chocking the boat, storage per day, and tax. Ouch! Still, there weren’t many other options and we were keen to de-barnacle the boatbefore crossing the Biscay.
It was at least a scenic spot to haul out. The yard literally jutted out into a quiet bay full of moored boats and a small beach on one side, and the town with its long sandy beach at the far end. With warm dry weather, Dave soon had the bottom scrubbed and sanded, and he also decided to paint the topsides while we were at it.
The children and I did school on board each morning, before cycling into town. We bought bread for lunch, had a little play on the beach and explored. Cedeira was an affluent town wth a pleasant waterfront promenade and a river running through the middle. The river dried to a stream at low tide but further up a weir held in enough water for a group of swans (black and white) and geese to live, and it seemed positively rural.
In the afternoons, the children were allowed to watch a DVD while I helped Dave with the painting. Katie was keen to help, and even Reuben joined the painting team for a while too!
One afternoon, as I was painting the grey undercoat, a Spanish man stopped by.
‘I preferred the blue,’ he said.
‘It will be blue again tomorrow’, I replied, explaining that this was only the first coat.
He looked a little perplexed, and told me that the Spanish don’t bother with undercoat, or even sanding for that matter. They simply powerwash the paint, let it dry, and apply a thick coat of gloss! The Spanish fishing boats always look tidy and well-painted, so maybe theirs isn’t such a bad system after all!
Four days later, the Ros Ailither looked spick and span again, and we were dropped back in to the water. We decided to eat out to celebrate, and found ourselves at a tiny tapas bar, that had been recommended to us. There was barely enough room to sit down but we were presented with delicious plates of pork ‘n’chips, fish ‘n’ chips, and, for Reuben, SHARK ‘n’chips! All very tasty washed down with a cold beer.
We heard spoken English for the first time in ages, and made the acquaintance of a young American couple who were spending a year teaching English in nearby el Ferrol. They had family over to visit and had come to Cedeira especially for the Fiesta de San Juan. We had noticed that a string of bonfires had appeared on the town beach but we had no idea what for. Apparently, San Juan, celebrated on the 23th June, is a mixture of a Christian ceremony, and a pagan celebration of midsummer. They light bonfires all along the beach and it is good luck to jump over them nine times!
We wandered down to the beach to see what was happening. There was a temporary bar and a barbecue with huge chunks of meat ready to cook. Local restaurants were also cooking thick steaks and sardines on outside grills. People were sat on the wall and milling about on the beach but not a lot was happening yet.
We treated the kids in the local sweetie shop and bought a beer while they played on the playpark. We would probably have gone home if we hadn’t joined up with the American family again. The children enjoyed racing each other around the square, while we told our sailing adventures and heard all about the shock of the family’s first visit to Europe, with its narrow streets!
Finally, around midnight, the bonfires were lit, and a series of orange glows appeared all along the beach. Fireworks were let off, more drinks were bought, and we all wandered down to the shore to bask in the heat of the fire. We saw one man jump over our bonfire, but it didn’t end well. He landed in the hot ashes, and limped back to his friends, without doing the other eight leaps!
It was a lovely night, with a very relaxed atmosphere. We finally managed to drag the kids away at about 1.30 am. Not for the first time, I wondered how on earth the Spanish manage such late nights...
So we woke on the 24th rather late and with a faint hangover, to the surreal news of a Brexit vote! We headed out to sea in a bit of a daze, soon to be compounded with queasiness as we bashed into the choppy seas. There was not a lot of joy on that particular trip, but I did manage to crochet Katieher newly-invented superhero character, ‘Supercarrot’!!
We rounded the jagged rocks of Cabo Ortegal and arrived at Cariño, a pretty little town nestled into green hills, and fronted by a long white beach. Once ashore, we realised the town itself had definitely seen better days, with lots of empty shops and disused fish-canning factories. The people were friendly, however, and we had a cheap meal ashore when we arrived, which helped lift our spirits.
The anchorage at Cariño turned out to be one of the rolliest ever, and we spent a day rolling from side to side before we sensibly moved in alongside the wall. There was a little French yacht tied up alongside the lifeboat. It turned out that the couple had bought the boat in the Med and on the trip home had blown out their jib in strong winds near Gibraltar, then lost their engine rounding the top corner of Spain. It was a windless day and the swell was pushing them closer and closer to the rocky shore, so they were forced to call out the lifeboat, who towed them into Cariño.
They were now having their engine looked at by a local mechanic, who of course couldn’t get parts until after the weekend! They joined us for drinks, where we heard about their epic delivery trip, and Margot got roped into helping Katie sew herself a cape!
A boardwalk behind the beach led over a wild grassy stretch, and the next day we followed this to the hill overlooking the anchorage. The path led us past a little church and through pine and eucalyptus trees, until we were overlooking the anchorage. A fine view!
We had originally planned to hop along the northern coast of Spain, and skirt the Bay of Biscay in short hops, but looking at the chart, we realised this would extend our journey length hugely. From where we were in Cariño, it was pretty much the same distance to any point along the French Biscay coast, from Brittany down to Bordeaux. Time was running out to get to Brest Festival, so when the wind and swell dropped off and the forecast looked good for several days, we decided to do it in one big hop.
With a clean bottom, the boat slipped through the water much faster than before and we kept an average speed of over 6 knots for the first day. As we reached the Continental Shelf, we watched the depth plunge from a few hundred feet to twelve thousand, and we started keeping an eye out for whales, who often frequent the Bay of Biscay. We saw one from a distance, lots of debris in the water, and several pods of dolphins or porpoises feeding. They were intent on their catch and, apart from a brief splash around our bows, didn’t stop to play.
On the second day, the wind filled in and we had a fantastic day sailing – just the right amount of wind in calm seas, nobody seasick, and visits from dolphins left, right and centre. We spent most of the day out on deck watching them. Fantastic!

I saw one huge pale grey whale through binoculars as I scanned the sea, but it disappeared without trace so I was unable to identify it. All I know is that it looked incredibly close through binoculars, and I worried it might surface underneath us!And then was disappointed it didn’t resurface…
We also saw plenty of birds - young and adult gannets, storm petrels and a fulmar. This is Reuben trying to identify one in our Sealife book.
Sadly the skies turned grey and drizzly by evening – we are heading north after all! – but still more dolphins came to play, much smaller ones this time, and we all trooped out in our oilskins to watch.
The night was full of the lights of big fishing boats, we had a night-long game of dodge with them. By morning, we were getting close to land, and were all pleased to see a hazy outline emerge on the horizon after breakfast. It is amazing how long it takes from first seeing land to actually arriving, the initial excitement has long worn off by the time you actually get there!
We closed in on the Iles de Glenan, passing fishing boats and trip boats, and sailed the last stretch into Benodet along with three or four other yachts. Finally, at two in the afternoon, we dropped the anchor and stopped moving!
 |
| Hauled out in Cedeira |
 |
| Free showers as Dave powerwashes the bottom! |
 |
| View from boatyard as mist rolls in |
It was at least a scenic spot to haul out. The yard literally jutted out into a quiet bay full of moored boats and a small beach on one side, and the town with its long sandy beach at the far end. With warm dry weather, Dave soon had the bottom scrubbed and sanded, and he also decided to paint the topsides while we were at it.
 |
| Old streets of Cedeira |
 |
| Katie in Cedeira |
The children and I did school on board each morning, before cycling into town. We bought bread for lunch, had a little play on the beach and explored. Cedeira was an affluent town wth a pleasant waterfront promenade and a river running through the middle. The river dried to a stream at low tide but further up a weir held in enough water for a group of swans (black and white) and geese to live, and it seemed positively rural.
 |
| Swans near weir upriver |
 |
| Black swan, Cedeira |
 |
| Boat at low tide, Cedeira |
In the afternoons, the children were allowed to watch a DVD while I helped Dave with the painting. Katie was keen to help, and even Reuben joined the painting team for a while too!
 |
| The painting team! |
One afternoon, as I was painting the grey undercoat, a Spanish man stopped by.
‘I preferred the blue,’ he said.
‘It will be blue again tomorrow’, I replied, explaining that this was only the first coat.
He looked a little perplexed, and told me that the Spanish don’t bother with undercoat, or even sanding for that matter. They simply powerwash the paint, let it dry, and apply a thick coat of gloss! The Spanish fishing boats always look tidy and well-painted, so maybe theirs isn’t such a bad system after all!
 |
| Spanish fishing boat with sides protected |
 |
| Going back in the water |
Four days later, the Ros Ailither looked spick and span again, and we were dropped back in to the water. We decided to eat out to celebrate, and found ourselves at a tiny tapas bar, that had been recommended to us. There was barely enough room to sit down but we were presented with delicious plates of pork ‘n’chips, fish ‘n’ chips, and, for Reuben, SHARK ‘n’chips! All very tasty washed down with a cold beer.
 |
| Obligatory statue to virgin Carmen |
 |
| Shark n chips at tapas bar |
We heard spoken English for the first time in ages, and made the acquaintance of a young American couple who were spending a year teaching English in nearby el Ferrol. They had family over to visit and had come to Cedeira especially for the Fiesta de San Juan. We had noticed that a string of bonfires had appeared on the town beach but we had no idea what for. Apparently, San Juan, celebrated on the 23th June, is a mixture of a Christian ceremony, and a pagan celebration of midsummer. They light bonfires all along the beach and it is good luck to jump over them nine times!
 |
| One of the waiting bonfires, Cedeira |
We wandered down to the beach to see what was happening. There was a temporary bar and a barbecue with huge chunks of meat ready to cook. Local restaurants were also cooking thick steaks and sardines on outside grills. People were sat on the wall and milling about on the beach but not a lot was happening yet.
We treated the kids in the local sweetie shop and bought a beer while they played on the playpark. We would probably have gone home if we hadn’t joined up with the American family again. The children enjoyed racing each other around the square, while we told our sailing adventures and heard all about the shock of the family’s first visit to Europe, with its narrow streets!
 |
| With our new American friends |
Finally, around midnight, the bonfires were lit, and a series of orange glows appeared all along the beach. Fireworks were let off, more drinks were bought, and we all wandered down to the shore to bask in the heat of the fire. We saw one man jump over our bonfire, but it didn’t end well. He landed in the hot ashes, and limped back to his friends, without doing the other eight leaps!
It was a lovely night, with a very relaxed atmosphere. We finally managed to drag the kids away at about 1.30 am. Not for the first time, I wondered how on earth the Spanish manage such late nights...
So we woke on the 24th rather late and with a faint hangover, to the surreal news of a Brexit vote! We headed out to sea in a bit of a daze, soon to be compounded with queasiness as we bashed into the choppy seas. There was not a lot of joy on that particular trip, but I did manage to crochet Katieher newly-invented superhero character, ‘Supercarrot’!!
 |
| Supercarrot! |
 |
| Rocky Cabo Ortegal |
We rounded the jagged rocks of Cabo Ortegal and arrived at Cariño, a pretty little town nestled into green hills, and fronted by a long white beach. Once ashore, we realised the town itself had definitely seen better days, with lots of empty shops and disused fish-canning factories. The people were friendly, however, and we had a cheap meal ashore when we arrived, which helped lift our spirits.
 |
| Cariño town |
 |
| Old truck on Cariño quay |
 |
| Cariño beach |
The anchorage at Cariño turned out to be one of the rolliest ever, and we spent a day rolling from side to side before we sensibly moved in alongside the wall. There was a little French yacht tied up alongside the lifeboat. It turned out that the couple had bought the boat in the Med and on the trip home had blown out their jib in strong winds near Gibraltar, then lost their engine rounding the top corner of Spain. It was a windless day and the swell was pushing them closer and closer to the rocky shore, so they were forced to call out the lifeboat, who towed them into Cariño.
 |
| French yacht in Cariño |
They were now having their engine looked at by a local mechanic, who of course couldn’t get parts until after the weekend! They joined us for drinks, where we heard about their epic delivery trip, and Margot got roped into helping Katie sew herself a cape!
 |
| Katie's cape |
A boardwalk behind the beach led over a wild grassy stretch, and the next day we followed this to the hill overlooking the anchorage. The path led us past a little church and through pine and eucalyptus trees, until we were overlooking the anchorage. A fine view!
 |
| Boardwalk path at Cariño |
 |
| Looking down over Cariño |
We had originally planned to hop along the northern coast of Spain, and skirt the Bay of Biscay in short hops, but looking at the chart, we realised this would extend our journey length hugely. From where we were in Cariño, it was pretty much the same distance to any point along the French Biscay coast, from Brittany down to Bordeaux. Time was running out to get to Brest Festival, so when the wind and swell dropped off and the forecast looked good for several days, we decided to do it in one big hop.
 |
| Heading out across Biscay |
With a clean bottom, the boat slipped through the water much faster than before and we kept an average speed of over 6 knots for the first day. As we reached the Continental Shelf, we watched the depth plunge from a few hundred feet to twelve thousand, and we started keeping an eye out for whales, who often frequent the Bay of Biscay. We saw one from a distance, lots of debris in the water, and several pods of dolphins or porpoises feeding. They were intent on their catch and, apart from a brief splash around our bows, didn’t stop to play.
On the second day, the wind filled in and we had a fantastic day sailing – just the right amount of wind in calm seas, nobody seasick, and visits from dolphins left, right and centre. We spent most of the day out on deck watching them. Fantastic!
 |
| Dolphins around our bows |
 |
| Dolphin jumping around our boat |
I saw one huge pale grey whale through binoculars as I scanned the sea, but it disappeared without trace so I was unable to identify it. All I know is that it looked incredibly close through binoculars, and I worried it might surface underneath us!And then was disappointed it didn’t resurface…
We also saw plenty of birds - young and adult gannets, storm petrels and a fulmar. This is Reuben trying to identify one in our Sealife book.
Sadly the skies turned grey and drizzly by evening – we are heading north after all! – but still more dolphins came to play, much smaller ones this time, and we all trooped out in our oilskins to watch.
The night was full of the lights of big fishing boats, we had a night-long game of dodge with them. By morning, we were getting close to land, and were all pleased to see a hazy outline emerge on the horizon after breakfast. It is amazing how long it takes from first seeing land to actually arriving, the initial excitement has long worn off by the time you actually get there!
 |
| Sunrise at sea |
 |
| Approaching land |
We closed in on the Iles de Glenan, passing fishing boats and trip boats, and sailed the last stretch into Benodet along with three or four other yachts. Finally, at two in the afternoon, we dropped the anchor and stopped moving!
 |
| Nous sommes en France! |
posted by Katie at 10:01 PM
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