Ribadasella

We weighed anchor at Santander at 0620, an excruciating hour for us.  We cannot believe that we used to regularly surface at about that hour every day.  As we headed out to sea the first light was just picking out the scaffolds supporting the temporary stadium built for the Davis Cup overlooking our anchorage.  With no wind to ruffle the sea all night our wake was the only relief visible in the glassy water, eventually disappearing from sight in the hazy light miles behind our stern.

After motoring steadily for four hours the wind rose with the sun and by 1030 we had ten knots of wind from the east.  As we were sailing west we hoisted the kite out to port and poled the genoa out to starboard and let the wind take the strain.  The haze remained until the sun finally burned the last off by late afternoon.  This caused a quite uncanny horizon as the coast a few miles away was hidden from site yet mountains a little further inland poked their crests out and bathed in the sun.

The wind continued to rise as the day grew older and we were soon scudding along at seven knots.  The entrance to Ribadesella has a sandy bar, which must be crossed in the last two hours before high water.  At this rate we were going to arrive a good two hours early and have to wait off the estuary for the swell to stop breaking in the entrance.  We gybed the genoa and dowsed the kite in its lee, then furled in most of the genoa too, letting the boat potter in the last dozen miles at three knots to arrive bang on time.  Despite the rise of tide the entrance was still quite boisterous until we had passed into the narrow river beyond the entrance and a fisherman pointed out the deep channel for us to follow.

The scene that opened up before us as we entered the river was picture postcard perfect and we picked a spot where we could raft La Premiere alongside a French yacht lying against the quayside while a live band played Jazz further down the harbour, serenading the arriving yachts.  A short distance further on a man was entertaining the evening promenaders with a performing goat(!) and a couple of small dogs jumping through hoops.

For the first time in three stops we went ashore and explored a little before returning to plan the next hop, to Gijon, thirty miles further west.