Meakin on Two Easy - Meakin on Two Easy

Wednesday, October 8^th 2008

Tunisia

Well, we made it to Tunisia, and quite a journey to get here too, as we detoured to England before completing our passage.

The few weeks we were in Cartagena were interesting, the TP52 Breitling Med Cup was due to take place just before we left for England so we enjoyed a few days of the razza-matazz of such an event. King Carlos of Spain was competing, though we didn’t see him. He would be ensconced safely in the Navy base, but we saw his crew and boat. An amazing display of man and muscle working together for the common good (for a change)

We left for England, the first step of the journey being a train ride via Murcia to Alicante. I still marvel at the efficiency of the Spanish rail system, on time, clean and each station with its’ own master. Deja-vu. We stayed over in Alicante as our flight was early the next morning. The town of Alicante was nice, wide Avenidas, good architecture but when we got to the marina, a sad and sorry sight. The usual Brits abroad theme shopping centre, that had seen better days. We did a little shopping, not in the shopping centre, and enjoyed a meal and the cool of air conditioning in our hotel room. Oh the joy of being cool with dry skin!

The novelty of being cool didn’t last long as when we landed in Bristol, we had left a hot 43c to arrive to a cold 15c and, boy, did it feel cold. As soon as we picked up the hire car I donned jeans and fleece! We met with our friend Susan for lunch and a gossip before heading off into three weeks of driving madness. The cost of fuel was a shocker, we didn’t realize just how much petrol had increased until we filled the car up, usually £30 does it, now a staggering £55 with each fill up and with 2500 miles of driving, we did so with regular monotony.

We caught up with friends Caroline and Jim from Moujik who had sailed from Portimao to Emsworth (where we found Two Easy). After nine years of sailing they decided to sell up and become landlubbers. So the promise of fish and chips from Caroline after Loule carnival could now be fulfilled. We enjoyed the whole day on Moujik, though she was mud bound, such is the tidal system in Emsworth, eating our fish and chips and drinking beer.

That evening we drove to Gatwick to collect Liam Martine and Clara as they flew in from Denmark. Clara was only two weeks old last time I saw her, now riding high in a baby sling taking it all in. We then headed up to Leeds to Mark and Sam’s leaving our passengers then headed further north to my mum’s, arriving at 4am.

During the following week, we did much to-ing and fro-ing between Teesside and Leeds with a trip to the Lake District as Liam wanted to show Martine some real mountains, rather than the mole hills in Denmark. It rained, but then it usually does, that’s the nature of the lakes. We had, yes, fish and chips for lunch, and Clara just smiled through the whole journey.

The wedding day arrived and it was, yes, raining. The ceremony was lovely, the vows Mark and Sam made to each other very touching and Sam’s mum and I both had to wipe away a tear. Sam looked stunning and Mark beamed at Sam when he said his vows. We were going to Bolton Abbey for photographs but due to the rain the ground would have been muddy. Instead pictures were taken in the grounds of the hotel, the Devonshire Arms, and on cue the sun burst through the clouds. The Yorkshire Dales were the backdrop of the pictures and the photographer was very creative with her settings, leaning out of a bedroom window at one point. The food was delicious and the party that followed great fun. Again Clara took it all in her stride.

After the wedding we had to head south to Stansead, booking into a motel as Liam Martine and Clara’s flight was early the next day. We enjoyed our final curry together, (it’s amazing the foods you miss) Clara even joined in having rice as her first solids. I soaked up as much Clara time as possible before their flight back to Denmark. We went for a Sunday Roast and before our food arrived we had a text saying they were back home.

We headed off to Glastonbury to friends Ivor and Maggie to stay in their apartment under the house. We visited more friends and went to the boat show in Southampton, having to buy a bigger bag for our boatie stuff and essential books and DVDs we were taking back. We managed to pass it off as two lots of sports equipment and paid only £56 rather than the £90 of excess baggage.

We had a final weekend with Susan and one of her mad parties that includes grandchildren and nephews, 10 for dinner and 5 kids sleeping after a riotous game of bingo. Susan’s nephews are very intelligent, way above their years and got quite a kick from playing nine cards at a time.

We arrived back in Cartagena to an orange boat, covered in Sahara sand so had to hose it down before we did anything. The hateful job of unpacking, the three week wash pile and a shopping trip soon saw us up straight and ready to sail. However when we came to leave the dock the starboard side propeller was stuck. The barnacles had soon made their home in the five weeks since we came in, so Keith had to snorkel down to scrape them free.

Our first stop was Porto Colom, Mallorca. 256 miles/65 hours, of motor sailing, good seas but no moon. Our only encounter was with a Spanish fishing boat, it was my watch and as I tried to move to pass port to port, he moved in the same direction, I tried again and so did he. So I decided I would pass starboard to starboard as fishing boats don’t always follow maritime rules. So did he, by now the 3 miles since he appeared on the radar were soon eaten up so I woke Keith. We flashed him with torches and put our deck lights on calling our co-ordinates on the radio. Eventually a very relaxed and happy Spanish voice asked us where we were heading, we said Palma Mallorca, ‘Ah’ he said ‘New York, I will give you correct co-ordinates’ and promptly disappeared, meanwhile the boat is drifting nearer. Our sails are flapping wildly as we came off the wind and we were only just holding our course. He came back up and told us to go to 004 blah blah blah, we thanked him and wished him a safe journey, what else could we do.

As we entered the bay of Colom our starboard side gear cable broke leaving us struggling against a strong current, we quickly eyed our spot and dropped anchor, breathing a sigh of relief. A quick tidy up, breakfast and we were asleep within the hour. Fortunately the next day when we went to shore we soon found a dealer who had a cable in stock.

We stayed two days and made our next move 265 miles/72 hours, to Teulada Sardinia to a new marina. So new it wasn’t in our pilot book but with the wonders of wi-fi we had checked it out on Google Earth before we left. It was the cheapest place we had stayed, only 16.50 euros a night however we had to get a taxi to town with our fuel containers as there was no fuel berth. The taxi cost 40 euros but we did have the best café latte ever whilst waiting to go back to the boat.

Two days of rest then the final leg of 226 miles to Tunisia, only 48 hours away. Still no moon, the last eight days of sailing have been quite hard on the eyes being pitch black and trusting in the chart plotter and radar, but still looking out every mile. We had lightning flashes all night and one rain storm on Keith’s watch, rain like he’d never seen before. Next morning there were two flying fish on the decks. We picked up a dolphin at Cap Bon, only 40 miles from harbour it seemed quite happy bobbing along with us for company.

Just before Port Yasmine we saw two Spanish galleons at sea, they circled us and sailed either side for a few miles, full of tourists taking pictures and waving, but we kept the dolphin. We arrived 11.30 am and took two hours to clear customs, not officious, just necessary and very friendly. We were guided to our berth and settled in, again breakfast and a big sleep.

We’ve been here now five days and I’m still trying to find the bottom of the wash bag, no launderettes here so all washing by hand, I have my super douper magic wash machine, a little like a butter churn but it can only do about 3 or 4 tee shirts at a time. We’ve met up with Mick and Jo, friends from Nazarre, Portugal and been introduced to Daisy the Dog. Mick and Jo had a Staffie called Yazz when we met them but sadly Yazz died. Yazz had been renamed Aqua dog after she fell in the dock and sank like a stone, Keith and a guy called Jim pulled her out so the name stuck.

When Mick and Jo got to Sines, they heard of a stray that had been living on the beach for two years, surviving on fish. The locals called her Daisy, and a Dutch couple took her on board. When Mick and Jo said they were looking for a new pet they were given Daisy. Here’s the irony, in Alvor when we were telling our Dutch friends of our impending trip to Tunisia and meeting up with Mick Jo and Daisy, they were the Dutch couple who had given them Daisy. We had wintered with them in Portimao!

The picture we had seen of Daisy was a very thin looking girl but when we met her she had put on a few pounds! Happy in her retirement, she now trusts that she will not be left behind. Jo thinks she may have fallen off a boat as she seems used to sailing and was spayed; only Daisy knows the truth, but she wouldn’t get off Mick and Jo’s boat if she heard the engines running, not even for fish. She’s quite independent but happy to have company yet there is still a sad haunted look behind her eyes.

Posted by pam

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