Sailing down the Portuguese Coast

21 July to 6 August 2022

This blog needs to start with a huge congratulations to Sander. After countless hours spent rigging up our fishing rods and casting without even a piece of seaweed taking hold, Sander caught his first fish sailing down the Portuguese coast. Imagine his delight as the rod moved, and then again, and once he reeled it in, a lovely mackerel was attached. Sander caught another two not long after, enough to feed us all. Knowing that he has provided for his family in a way never before was a sight to behold. Well done, Sander.

We set sail from the bay of Bayona at 11 pm in the evening (the first time leaving an anchorage without being able to see what is in front or around you) and keep watch not to bash into the mussel farms scattered across the bay. We are still on high alert for orcas, listening for any blow holes or sudden changes in the waves slamming against the hull. And then, out of nowhere, a streak of light passes under our boat. We found that in these waters, the bioluminescence is intense, allowing you to see what is happening around your ship as you move through it. And there it is again, the flash of light. As your eyes get used to the contrast in light and dark, we start to see the outlines of dolphins swimming around and under the boat. It’s the most beautiful sight to see them playing around your moving home.

And then the show is over, and we return to the blanket pitch-black nothingness surrounding us. We have read about the numerous amounts of fishing buoys we would encounter sailing up to 12 nautical miles off land. It is hard to see whether to veer away when they are not lit up and only marked with a pole and flag. And then, out of nowhere, you see the shadow of one passing the hull at arm’s length. The issue is that if we hit one, our propeller might become entangled in the fishing line and make us immobile. A couple minutes later and a second one appears on the port side. Then we need to keep a keen eye on a third and a fourth. As the first glimpse of light passes the horizon, we are met with fog so thick that we cannot see past the bow. It feels like you are stuck in a horror film, where fishing buoys and fishing vessels (without their AIS transponders) appear out of nowhere, ready to attack you. It is scary, and you feel helpless as these things are beyond your control. But at the same time, we see a lone sunfish slowly surfing the waves and are entertained by two playful dolphins teasing our slow movements.

We arrive in Porto by 15:30 and anchor off. Entering and anchoring off on this particular day proves eventful, as the wind and tide are against each other. Due to this, Susie Jane struggles to power her way through the current and point her nose into the wind to anchor. We realize these will be the conditions for the upcoming days in Porto.

We explore Porto, with many buildings covered with ornamental tiles and wrought iron balconies. Portugal is very different from Gallaecian Spain. Facilities are less maintained, and there are many derelict building projects. Public transport is efficient with buses, trams, rental bicycles, -mopeds, or -electric scooters. By lunchtime, the air is filled with the smell of fish being prepared on open fires at the numerous restaurants scattered along the Rio Douro.

As we proudly look out onto the water and Susie Jane, we notice she is moving further and further from her anchored position…she is dragging. With Will on Sanders’s shoulders, shopping in hand, and Ava and I running behind, we launch our dinghy just in time to ensure she has set again. I would imagine the locals had a giggle at these funny tourists.

We are joined a couple days later by a friend (Matty Duncan) we met in Brighton on his sailboat. Matty is undertaking a solo sail to around Cape Horn to raise awareness of mental health issues and his journey to recovery. See Wrong Way Round here. Matty is in his early 20s and has more nautical miles sailed than many sailors we have met until this point. It is genuinely inspiring to meet someone this young following his dreams. He is a good soundboard for our sailing plans, considering we are still a little green. Our goal is to sail from Porto to Portimão (Portuguese Algarve). This should take us two to three days (weather permitting).

As a general, Sander and I would not set sail in winds higher than 18 knots an hour. This afternoon, it is blowing 23 knots, and Matty assures us that it is okay…and we can do it. Having a young man tell us it is OK drives a primal urge to do it and step out of our comfort zone.

The waves off the Portuguese coast are more confused and higher than we are accustomed to. We spent the rest of the evening surfing humungous waves and deciding if the sound you just heard was that of an orcas or a wave breaking on the hull. During the first night, the wind picks up, and we manage 11.5 knots for a second or two as we surf down a wave. It is thrilling and scary at the same time. Bioluminescence all around and a perfect sky of sparking lights. Most of the rest of the sail past Lisbon includes jibing, rocking, losing and picking up speed.

The children are now versed in seasick tablets, avoiding using the PlayStation when the boat rolls and grabbing a pot for a rough vomit. As we pass Lisbon, the waves simmer, and the air becomes warmer. It has also become practice to ‘knock on wood’ when any wrong thought of rogue waves, orcas or man overboard arises. Our knuckles are starting to show it too.

And then there is another moment of excitement. We spot something blowing out air in the distance. After seeing this coming closer for the third time, within a minute we have all our sails down, engine and instruments off, and the whole boat hushed (these actions are recommended to sailors when encountering orcas, as there is no proof of what has been instigating the attacks). We sit and wait to see whether our time has finally come, and luckily, it is another fin whale going about its own business. We breathe a breath of fresh air and start up all systems.

The wind is picking up, and a front is heading our way, making the sail past the headland hard. We decide to tuck into Sines for the night and take it from there.

Sines is ugly from afar, as it has an oil refinery and petrochemical industries visible from the seaside, with large ships surrounding her entrance. But she is a beautiful sight once you have passed all of this. A sandy beach surrounds the tiny bay, with pastel-coloured houses climbing up the mountain. Sadly, we cannot explore due to the weather and head out of Sines at 12:30 the following day.

We sail close to the coastline (another recommendation to avoid orcas) and enjoy the beautiful views of the Portuguese coastline. Nightfall brings with it a sense of excitement and fear. It is near impossible to see the waves coming at you, even though you feel the boat jerking from side to side (there are some big waves here). The evening also brings with it another light show. Stars are brighter than usual due to the limit of light pollution, seeing many a shooting star and many wishes later. And then, out of nowhere, when things get dull…dolphins treat you to a spectacle of light, darting under the boat and leaving streaks of bioluminescence on their trail. Strangely enough, we notice some large patches of bioluminescence disturbance two to three waves away from us. These are not dolphins but a pod of something larger. As we watch in anticipation, one of these mysterious causes of light swims to our bow and then back again. And then they were off. We read the following day that a sailboat sailing past Sines the previous evening was sunk by a pod of orcas. The crew had to abandon the ship onto their life raft after having the orcas bump and tear at the rudder for two hours. Whether we had met the same orcas or just a pod of friendly whales will remain a mystery.

We arrive at Portimão, and the anchorage is even more dramatic than we had imagined. The brown limestone cliffs with jagged edges and hollows are spectacular. It is the first time we can see our anchor down to the seabed (10 meters down). We enjoy the beach, some swimming and exploring the caves. During the evening, there is enough bioluminescence to light up your body as you swim through the water (a bit like a scene from The Beach film, without Leonardo being steamy, of course). It is well worth a visit.

Our final destination in our Portuguese adventure takes us to an anchorage between Faro and Olhão.

When you first buy your sailboat, you imagine yourself as part of a handful of people doing this. Then you move to a marina and meet more people with boats. So then you think, ah, we are only a couple of people sailing…until you hit Faro anchorage. There are hundreds of boats anchored off here. Everyone seems to be a cruising sailor around here, and then you realize how many people are actually taking this leap…you do not feel as unique and special anymore. Guess we will have to find something else that makes us different.

There is a tiny village off the anchorage called Culatra. They do not have any ATMs, and all supplies are brought over by boats from Olhão and Faro. A short walk towards the ocean side, you are met with miles of white sand running down the coastline touching turquoise water. It is an island paradise.

And then, we run into the question I would imagine most cruising sailors do: should we stay a little longer or head off now to avoid heading into bad weather. And so the choice is made for us again; we need to set off. Say goodbye to Portugal and head over to Gibraltar.