POOH BEAR REPORT - 29 December 1999 Starting: Rota, Spain, 20 November 1999 Ending: Gibraltar, 8 December 1999 The Science Lessons of the Day Now your geography lesson. Over the history of the earth, a low spot in the surface that we know as the Mediterranean has alternately filled and emptied as the climate changed and the ocean levels rose and fell. In the last cycle the, the only entrance at the western end of the basin was completely blocked from the sea by the mountains that extend from northern Spain into North Africa. Due to evaporation, the water totally dried up and the Mediterranean became a great salt basin extending from Western Turkey to the Atlantic. Then the oceans rose again and eventually found a path through the mountains. What followed must have been the most awesome waterfall in history. The Atlantic poured through, filling the Mediterranean and cutting down the mountains on each side resulting in the Straits of Gibraltar. Even today, the Med basin is still a relatively warm, dry area so waters from the Atlantic still flow in primarily to replace the evaporation. But the lunar tides alternately raise and low the Atlantic waters enough to cause the tideless Med to flow in and out through the Straits twice daily. And as a bonus, here is your meteorology lesson for the day. The Straits of Gibraltar are today only about ten miles long and eight miles wide, still bordered on the north by the mountains of southern Spain and to south by the mountains of North Africa. The entrance from the Atlantic is marked by Cape Tarifa, a high rocky promontory on the southwest tip of Spain and the entrance from the Mediterranean Sea is defined by the Rock of Gibraltar. These constrictions force the winds to blow either east or west and little else. And the funneling effect greatly increases the velocity of whatever wind there is. A rule of thumb the experienced Med sailors use is the expected winds are increased by ten knots (a rule we were unaware of until after our gale in the eastern Straits). While the water flow in the middle of the Straits is mostly from west to east, the lunar tides cause several knots of current each direction in both the middle and the near shore, but not at the same time. It is a very complex flow pattern. All advice says NEVER attempt to passage the Straits without a fair wind and current. For our eastbound transit then, we needed a west wind and needed it at a time when the north shore current was flowing towards the Med. And the ship traffic in the Straits is unbelievable so we wanted to do it in daylight. Slow boats (meaning sailboats) have been known to wait two or three weeks to make a passage. Eastbound boats, as we were, generally work down to Barbate, the last harbor before Cape Tarifa and the entrance to the Straits, then wait for the proper combination of wind, tide and light, then make a sprint for Gibraltar. Rota, Spain to Gibraltar Early on the morning of 21 November, Pooh Bear and Skittles left Rota for a six-hour run to Barbate. The moderate northwest wind, sometimes aided by the engine, pushed us south along the coast and the brilliant sunshine accentuated the rocky coastline Along much of the coast, shear cliffs are the demarcation between the mountains of the southern Iberian Peninsula and the Atlantic Ocean. The cliff colors vary from deep red to a gray. Where each valley, surprisingly green on the lower slopes, meets the sea is invariably a small village with red tile roofs and white buildings and a small river entering the ocean. I couldn't help but wonder how the inhabitants of these tiny cut off villages make a living. Those who are history buffs may remember a great sea battle that took place in 1805 when, in spite of mortal wounds, Lord Nelson led the English fleet to defeat Spain in the Battle of Cape Trafalgar. The cape from which the battle took its name lies about two thirds of the way between Rota and Barbate. Judy and I both assumed that such a famous battle deserved a spectacular cape. Not so. It was a low flat rock, only about fifteen feet above the sea and jutting more than a mile into the Atlantic. It seemed so inconsequential that we rounded only a quarter of a mile offshore. Barbate had a nice enough marina, but the town a mile distant appeared quite uninteresting. Fortunately we never had to find out. The morning forecast from Tarifa Radio called for what we most didn't want; easterly winds in the Straits. But the previous northwest wind was still blowing and we had no desire to be stuck in Barbate for days or weeks, so both boats left at daybreak figuring that if the winds did go easterly, we could come back to the shelter of Barbate. The wind gods smiled on us and moderate northwest winds, contrary to the forecast, were still blowing as Pooh Bear entered Queensway Quay Marina in Gibraltar in mid-afternoon. The cooperation of the weather did not mean an unexciting trip. Just actually being in such a historic place was exciting. Cape Tarifa, the turning point into the Straits, is spectacular. From a tiny white structure near its peak, Tarifa Radio with its powerful radar, monitors and controls an unending procession of ships, eastbound and westbound, of all sizes, shapes, nationalities and cargoes. And past the line of ships to the south was Africa, a jagged line of mountains. For the crews of both boats it was our first view of the Dark Continent! The Pillars of Hercules! We were There! The ten-mile sail down the coast was anticlimactic, but the unfolding view was not. And as we entered Gibraltar Bay, there was The Rock! We had all seen pictures of the Rock of Gibraltar (every Prudential ad) but nothing quite prepared us for the Real Thing. By early afternoon Skittles and Pooh Bear threaded their way through the maze of ships, anchored and underway in Gibraltar Bay, and into Queensway Quay Marina. Now the wind could do whatever it wanted, and it did starting that very night Gibraltar Gibraltar is one of those places I have always wanted to visit. We were not disappointed, but it was not a place we would want to stay for any length of time. It is a city, a state and a country all in one. It is crowded, vibrant, spectacular, new, old and expensive. It has a most confusing political status. It is British, it's citizens carry British passports, but it is not part of the European Union. Never ever make the mistake of referring to Gibraltar as part of Spain. You will offend any Spaniards or Gibraltarians present, but for quite different reasons. A packet of our mail was mistakenly addressed to "Gibraltar, Spain". Mailed in November it has yet to be heard from, and from what we are told, it probably never will be. (Two months later it did show up.) Gibraltar is truly the "crossroads of the world". Gibraltar Bay is bordered on the west by Algecerias, Spain, on the north by La Lineas, Spain, on the east by Gibraltar and on the south by the Straits of Gibraltar. At any time the bay has twenty to thirty ships anchored, ranging from toy like 150 foot freighters to 900 foot tankers. And moving about are another dozen or so ships, not counting the fuelers, supply ships, pilot boats and pleasure craft. Since there are almost no safe anchorages in the area, most yachts use one of the three marinas. The oldest, Shepards, and with the only small boat yard, is probably the best know. But it has developed a bad reputation from an attitude, facility and service standpoint so we had ruled it out. Marina Way, immediately adjacent to Shepards and next to the runway extension into the bay has the best reputation. But its fixed piers (often known in this part of the world as pontoons even though non-floating), bad surge and Med mooring, make getting on and off Pooh very difficult so we ruled it out. That left Queensway Quay, the newest, with floating pontoons, and according to our cruising guide, with finger piers, and the most expensive and furthest from the center of town, as our choice. Well, it turned out it was a choice we did not regret. Even though the finger piers had been removed so we still had Med mooring, the facilities were very nice, the atmosphere was pleasant and it was not all that much more expensive. A little explanation of "Med mooring" may be in order. In the States, yachts normally berth either alongside a long wharf or go head in (or out) to the wharf with at least four pilings to tie up to. Finger piers extend out perpendicular to the main wharf at least half the length of the boats so you can easily step ashore. More modern marinas have at least the finger piers floating so they stay in the same place relative to the boat in spite of the state of the tide. In the tideless Med, a different system has developed that permits a maximum number of boats in a given space and requires a minimum of land facilities; Med mooring. Boats approach the wharf at ninety degrees and when still some distance out, say a hundred feet, drop an anchor, then motor on in until a line can be put ashore and secured. Then the anchored line is pulled taught and the boat secured at right angles to the wharf, one end by the line to the anchor and the other end by the line to the wharf. Now days, most western Med marinas have modified the system to provide mooring blocks with a line that leads ashore and you tie off the outer end with that instead of dropping an anchor. Watching late arrivals at a crowded Med moor marina is a great source of entertainment. Crews on all boats involved (docked or arriving) line the decks, deploy six and eight fenders on each side, shout instructions in various languages to everyone, and eventually the newcomer is wedged in. It is a standard way of operating in the Med. Most power boats and some of the modern sail boats with wide sterns choose to back in, but Pooh Bear, being pointy at both ends, always goes bow in. In addition, we have the windvane steering on the stern and a bunch of other claptrap in the way making stern boarding impossible so must climb off over the bow pulpit (the railing on that stick out of the front end for you lubbers). For those of you that know Pooh, the bowsprit is at quite a rakish angle making it a long way down from the end. Prior to Gibraltar, our only encounter with Med mooring was at Viana de Costello where Med mooring worked rather poorly due to the three foot tide. If at low tide we set the stern line to put the bowsprit just over the dock, it would be several feet from the dock at high tide. Med moor veterans solve this problem with a "passarelle"; a boarding ladder that has casters on one end and is attached to the boat at the other end. Some are very fancy with hydraulic or electric systems to raise or lower them. Some are of gleaming stainless steel with handrails. Some are nothing more than a wide plank tied to the boat with a piece of old rope On some of the "gold platers", the passarell is raised and lowered by radio control so unwanted boarding is difficult when the crew is ashore. Having nothing like these, we had a little borrowed rope ladder off the end of the bowsprit that allowed us to demonstrate our athletic prowess. At Queensway Quay Marina, we still only had the little rope ladder, but it worked better with the floating docks. At least we thought we had it a lot better than our friends at Marina Way. There, they timed their leap from the fixed wharf (either up or down depending on the state of the two foot tide) to some precarious foothold such as an anchor fluke, to coincide with the boat surging forward. All of the marinas had a surge problem, especially during gales. We had one especially bad period when the winds reached into the fifties and the seas jerked the floating pontoon around so much it was difficult to walk. We added fenders between us and the adjacent boat, doubled and tripled bow lines (remember, the stern was held in position only by the tautness of the single stern line, and we added auto tires in the bow lines to reduce shock loading. Even then, we destroyed two dock lines due to chafe. Life aboard was difficult to say the least so we spent a lot of time ashore. Gibraltar is awesome when viewed from the base of "The Rock", but is so small in area. It is very, very busy and crowded with lots of construction, yet it seemed "grubby" to us. This is a viewpoint shared with many of the Brits. Possibly it is the result of the military having pulled out and left many massive concrete structures empty and unmaintained. Rumor has it the US Navy is going to pull out of Rota and move to Gibraltar. If true, it certainly would be a great boost to Gibraltar's economy, but I question whether it would make it a better looking place. While the British influence is very strong, there are thousands of Spaniards that cross the border (and the airport runway) each day to work. Almost all native Gibraltarians speak both English and Spanish with equal ease, sometimes mixing the two to make a strange language. Drug smuggling from Africa is a big problem in this part of the world and has led to some interesting restrictions. One is that individuals may not send their LPG bottles across the border for refilling (smugglers were filling the empties with drugs to get them into Spain). I learned, with the help of a local yachtie, to decant the locally available Camping Gaz butane bottles into our US tanks. (Butane works fine in a Propane system, but don't try it the other way.) This may be very helpful to us later when we can't get our American tanks filled. Gibraltar is a very expensive place. We are told it is a taste of what we will experience in England. I would say that an item in Gibraltar is 50 to 100 percent more than the price in the US. The currency is the Pound, but there are two kinds of Pounds; Gibraltar Pounds and Sterling Pounds. In Gibraltar they were equally accepted, but as departure time neared, we had to insure we only had Sterling Pounds as the Gibraltar Pounds could not be exchanged after we left. Since we depend one hundred percent on ATM machines for our cash we were careful to select Pound Sterling machines only. It is interesting to note that we have readily found Cash Point Machines (ATMs to you Yanks) since arriving in Europe. And not a one of them charges for a transaction (although our bank in the U.S. sure does). There is no such thing as an inexpensive snack meal. Never-the-less, it didn't slow down our habit of eating out frequently. One bonus in Gibraltar was the big Safeway Supermarket stocked, at a price, with all kinds of things that we recognized, such as crunchy peanut butter! Judy was also introduced to many products we are unfamiliar with, but will see in the U.K. One thing we didn't spend money on was transportation. We did a lot of walking, usually going the half a mile to and from the main area of town at least twice a day. On the way we usually stopped at the best and most expensive Internet Café I have seen. It had two consoles of eight first class computers each, all linked to a central printer at the console and a friendly owner. Drinks and limited snacks were available. Getting our e-mail was easy as they even had an AOL account. We could also get our e- mail at the public library almost for free, but the hours were somewhat limited and the computers were terribly slow. And no drinks were available. But the granddaddy of all walks during our Gibraltar stay was our visit up the rock to see the view and the Barbary Apes. In company with Chris and Allan, our British friends from Skittles, who also docked in Queen's Way, we spent an entire day on "The Rock". I swear we walked 24 miles (six up, six down, twelve around). And see the apes we did. They live in the rocks and as the day warmed up (relative only) they suddenly appeared everywhere. They can be quite destructive and are becoming a problem. Mostly, they ignore humans, but are territorial and for no apparent reason, one would suddenly rush at one of us with bared fangs, hissing and growling. We know of no one actually bitten, but always quickly backed off. "Solid as the Rock of Gibraltar" is an oxymoron. The "Rock" is actually honeycombed with man made tunnels and natural caves, only a small portion that is open to the public. We toured St. Michaels Cave, a rather spectacular natural cave towards the south end that is not only opened and lighted, but used for public performances. We walked along the upper road to the north end and entered the open to the public siege tunnels. The tunnels we viewed were dug from solid rock, without the aid of modern machinery, by the British starting in the late 1700s for defensive purposes. They were still being expanded during World War II. Living and working in these tunnels as troops and civilian personnel did until the middle of this century would be a bit daunting. In spite of being a very small and isolated land mass, Gibraltar must support all of the functions of any political entity including it own courts and prison system. On the way down from the rock, we passed the old prison, still very much in use, and housing some "lifers". Like all prisons, it didn't appear too inviting, but did have a spectacular view from at least some cells. With its own weather system, we began to feel like Gibraltar was holding us prisoner, day after day the cloud cap streamed over the rock meaning continued easterly winds. We were beginning to wonder if we would be spending Christmas in Gibraltar instead of Alicante. But, eventually the Levanter winds did break, and the very eventful trip east into the Azure Sea will be in our next Pooh Bear Report. Bob & Judy Bailey (aboard s/v Pooh Bear) POOH BEAR REPORT - 31 December 1999 Starting: Rota, Spain, 20 November 1999 Ending: Alicante, Spain, 26 December 1999 The Azure Sea The days remaining on the 1999 calendar were getting shockingly few. We had to get on our way with the first break in the easterly winds, but in spite of the forecasts, the cloud cap continued to stream over "The Rock", day after day. Our planned one-week stay stretched, not unpleasantly, but expensively, past two weeks and towards three. We awaited a forecast that would let us make the three hundred mile trip to Alicante in one long, two-night voyage. During one short lull in the easterly, Chris and Alan on Skittles, slipped out of Gibraltar intending to coast hop eastward as the weather permitted. On the 9th of December, just as we were despairing of ever seeing a solid westerly, the forecast posted in the marina office and the absence of the "cap over The Rock" agreed. Winds westerly, force five to six (20 to 25 knots). Hurriedly, we paid our marina bill, said our good-byes to old and new friends, cast off lines, topped off the fuel tanks, and motored around "The Rock" into the Med. The afternoon sail was interrupted only by a minor event that highlighted the importance of never going overboard. While latching the Monitor windvane into position, the extended portion of the boat hook came loose and floated off astern. I immediately came around to retrieve it. We momentarily lost sight of it, then spotted it only fifteen or twenty feet abeam to starboard. Turning as tightly as possible, we simply circled it, unable to get closer. I then turned to port to get some distance, then sharply back towards the boat hook, now 100 feet away. During the turn, only momentarily, Judy and I both lost sight of the boat hook, and though I felt sure I steered us on a reciprocal course, we never again saw it again. Did I become disoriented during the turn and not return to the proper spot or did the boat hook sink during that few seconds out of our sight? We will never know, but we were both sobered and impressed by the difficulty of retrieving a small floating object even in broad daylight and clear weather with seas less than three feet. What if that had been a person instead of a boat hook! We sailed on, slightly north of east, with a fine west- southwest wind, mainsail to port, jib poled out to starboard, the windvane steering. Most of the unending stream of ships paralleled us only a mile or so off our starboard beam, but a few, probably on a path to or from Gibraltar Bay, passed close to us requiring a sharp lookout. Through the afternoon the wind increased and before dark we took two reefs in the mainsail and rolled in a bit of the jib. By midnight, though the skies were clear, we had a near gale with the winds still building. Thankfully, before dark we had installed the cockpit curtains, shutting out most of the howling wind. We watched the anemometer hover between thirty and thirty five knots with gusts to forty and a little above. We watched the speedometer never fall below six knots with frequent readings of seven, seven and a half, and even one eight and a half as we slid down the face of a wave. This meant we had true wind speeds of forty knots, gusting to fifty; a full gale in any seaman's book. Fortunately it was dark and we were unable to see the seas, but knew the Med was living up to it's reputation when, on several occasions, the cockpit was filled momentarily from a sea breaking over our stern. By 0200, the jib, still poled out, was as small as we could make it and I was wishing we had no main at all. But, I dreaded getting out on deck to lower the main, if indeed I could safely furl it under the existing conditions. Instead, my only action was to hope the wind would get no stronger. I also pondered how we had such conditions when the forecast had been for winds southwest at force four to five (15 to 20 knots). I use the personal " I " in describing the night, but I am sure Judy was having similar thoughts as she stood her watches. We maintained our usual 3-hour watches through the night and Pooh Bear behaved beautifully. We experienced no equipment problems, save one. Around five o'clock in the morning, Judy reported the windvane was no longer steering properly. I found one of the steering line blocks had broken apart making the windvane useless. Replacing the failed block would be easy, but not under the existing conditions. The autopilot could not begin to cope with the wind and seas. This meant the person on watch hand steered for the next ten hours. At first light, with no decrease in the wind, in fact maybe a slight increase in gusts, I felt we must reduce sail and, with Judy at the helm, went forward to claw down and stow the mainsail. Even as I was doing so, the wind began to lay noticeably. An hour later the wind was dead calm and we rolled and slatted terribly in the left over seas. We reset the main and jib. Then the wind commenced blowing form the EAST! And increased and increased until by 1000, still with a clear sky, the wind was up to thirty knots and we were back to a double reefed main and partially reefed jib, but now banging to windward. A very strange sight it was as the east wind ripped the tops from the left over six to eight foot waves that were still moving to WINDWARD! Enough was enough! We set a course to the north, hand steering for shelter and rest in Almerimar. By noon the east wind had dropped to nearly nothing and we were motoring. Then a light breeze came in from the northwest and held as we motored into Almerimar in the middle of the afternoon. On the way in we were delighted to be called on the radio by Skittles and they too entered Almerimar shortly after. Pooh Bear and crew had been initiated into the unpredictability of Med weather. For us, other than shelter, Almerimar was not a very attractive town and we were quite happy we had not chosen it as a place to winter. But it did have one redeeming feature; the marina was less than $5.00 for the night. We have since learned from other yachties that it is an excellent place to haul and leave a boat for the winter. Skittles and Pooh Bear headed east the next morning, motoring, again with a promise of west and northwest winds for the next two days. We took the forecast with some skepticism, but in this case, it was unwarranted. Both boats had a relatively uneventful thirty-hour sail to Alicante, arriving in the middle of the afternoon the next day, Sunday. Skittles, being a bit faster and not dragging four or five thousand extra pounds as Pooh was, arrived a couple of hours ahead. The only thing of significance was the continued heavy ship traffic, especially during the night. And instead of the ships being a few miles abeam, we all were following the same path line up the coast. Once, a well lighted cruise ship coming up astern told us, on vhf radio, they would alter course to starboard to overtake half a mile off our starboard beam. That was fine, except a southbound ship told them they would pass port to port. This put the southbound ship passing between us and the cruise ship. A few nervous moments, but OK. Shortly after leaving Almerimar, we rounded Cabo de Gata and our course swung from nearly east to north-east and changed characteristics. Whereas on the first leg we had been treated to a panorama of spectacular mountains coming down into the sea, on the second leg we seldom saw the coastline at all. It consisted of two bays indented more than twenty miles, each eighty or more miles across so land was only in sight as we neared each of the points. The points were protected by rocky islets, some extending well offshore, ready to snag the careless navigator. Navigation ain't what it used to be. While I do most of the navigating, Judy is also a proficient navigator. She prefers the paper chart methods, while I love all the electronic gadgets. To me, the electronics available now make the life of the navigator so much more relaxed, I am resist them. I learned my sailing when navigation was by dead reckoning and positions were fixed by visual or celestial sights. Everything was plotted with a parallel rule or plastic plotter, dividers and a 2h pencil on paper charts. Positioning uncertainties of a mile or more at landfalls were the norm, requiring constantly checking and rechecking position (and worrying a lot). Then during WW II came a coastal navigation system, Loran A, big and power hungry so only for the big boys. Thirty years later came Loran C, far more accurate and easier to use and, thanks to the transistor and the integrated chip, small enough for even the smallest of boats. Life of the small boat navigator became giant step easier. Then came Sat Nav using satellites to give a position fix over most of the globe to less than a quarter of a mile every one and a half to six hours. Most recently, the GPS (Global Positioning System) provides precision position fixing to even the smallest of boats. In fact, we have two GPSes aboard. With GPS, a positional fix is displayed, usually within 300 feet, once each second. And from this, the GPS receiver calculates and displays speed and course. And it continually tells the distance to the left or right of course and how long before reaching a selected waypoint. But the best is yet to come. On Pooh Bear, we have a computer (actually two are aboard) running one of the more sophisticated navigation programs, The Capn, linked to the GPS. Now, instead of a paper chart, I see on the computer screen a replica of a paper chart. On the chart is displayed our planned course, our actual position and the actual track made good. Electronically, I can do absolutely everything I formerly did on paper and can do it usually more accurately and faster. A few key strokes and position data is entered into the electronic replica of a conventional log book, to which I can add as much additional information as I wish. Another few keystrokes and I can check the time of sunset, determine the time of moonrise and check predicted tide level at arrival. Judy agrees with all of the above, but still prefers to draw her lines on a paper chart. With my background in electronics, I well know electronic equipment will fail and besides, a good navigator never relies on a single source of information. We always carry paper charts (though usually unblemished, if up to me, by a single pencil line) in addition to the electronic charts, we cross check critical points by conventional methods or by other electronic means such as radar and we try always to ask the question; does this look reasonable? The bottom line means I now enjoy navigation even more and am certainly a more relaxed navigator. But whichever method used, this navigator still experiences a bit of apprehension, then a thrill, as a landfall appears as predicted. On our last morning before arriving in Alicante, we had a weather scare. Judy heard a Spanish coastal station saying something about a northeast gale. This would put us only a few miles off of a lee shore. I immediately began looking for a safe harbor. Judy stayed with the radio until she found a kind soul on Cartagena Radio who spoke fairly good English. He gave the local forecast and explained the gale Judy heard of was 200 miles northeast of us in the Gulf of Lion. Whew! Our northwest winds held and in the early afternoon on a beautiful Sunday, the 12th of December, we arrived in Alicante. We went initially to the reception pontoon. While checking in we were informed that the showers, one of the elements that influenced our selection of Alicante, were not operational. They were being refurbished. Then we were informed that the laundry, another element that influenced our selection of Alicante, was not operational. It was being refurbished. Then we were told that although our Documentation Papers said Pooh was less than 10 meters long, because of the bowsprit, they would consider us 11 meters long and therefore must pay a higher rate (actually we are more than 12 meters over all). Judy scraped the skipper off the wall and we moved Pooh to our assigned slip. Due to some confusion on the part of the skipper as to exactly what slip we were to enter, we missed our first approach and had to back out and try again. Much to the chagrin of the skipper, people came running from everywhere to help us in (and protect their investment from a rampaging bear I suppose). What an arrival! But finally Pooh Bear was "home" for the winter. ************************ In January of the "New Millennium"(?) Pooh will be left alone while we return to the "States" so there will be no adventures to report for awhile. But, in the spring, who knows? Bob and Judy Bailey (aboard the s/v Pooh Bear in the Mediterranean) W5TFY@amsat.org