Cape Finisterre

In the morning we raised anchor, set the genoa, sailed out of the harbour and in to the Atlantic. The sail very slowly pulled us out to sea and we were busy searching for the bit of wind that the surrounding wind parks promised. Our sail flapped as did that of a more adventurous sailor who had his genoa poled out and his mainsail set to the other side. He completely lost interest when we jibed and overtook him at which point he switched his motor on.

Slowly the wind increased. We were heading well out in to the Atlantic and as the swell increased we were repeatedly rolling in the Genoa but still retaining a speed of six knots. Some waves started breaking over the stern so Neill donned the full sailing kit, Heidi occupied the relatively dry navigation station and Max used the excess wind power to play a computer game. We were tanking south along the Costa da Morte (coast of death) watching the distant hills fly by and being visited by dolphins who were jumping from wave to wave and swimming under the boat.

At some point a coastguard ship approached and I imgined the captain suggesting some one take a dinghy over to check who we were and the salty answer. Whatever! They turned away north.

So here we were running before a force six wind and surfing two meter waves out in the Atlantic and what does Heidi do? Hopes for bigger, more impressive waves, makes an “action video” to send to Jon and prepares food

Ahead we saw Cape Finisterre and turned inland to slip under it and in to shelter. Within five minutes we were throwing clothes off and sailing up a Spanish Ria in shorts and T-shirts. We sailed across the bay and then motored to anchor off Corcubion. On the third attempt the anchor held after Max found a patch of sand amongst the weed.

A spectacular day of downwind sailing.