La Coruna

The forecasts were for a North-easterly force four or five, we had received five, all in agreement on this.  Two from Britain, the radio four shipping forecast at 0535 gmt, the Met Office broadcast on Navtex, the Meteo-France forecast, the Spanish Navtex broadcast and also the local Spanish forecast broadcast on the VHF by "Finisterre Traffic".  We were a little surprised therefore to spend the last two and a half hours being pursued by a force seven!

The first twenty miles had been a blast, downwind with clear blue skies, the log had rarely shown less than seven knots and I found it reassuring to be in the company of Lycka once more.  Yet as we approached Cabo Prior, a large rocky headland jutting out into Biscay around which we were to pass before heading south into La Coruna, the wind shot up to force seven, picking up a fair sized sea, the crests of which were being blown off as you might blow the head off a pint of beer.  On the one hand things were quite exciting, we had kept far too much sail up as we chased our highest ever speed, but on the other hand it was a little scary.  Our highest ever speed, which we have left in the display's memory is 13.5 knots, so we were a little disappointed to only hit 10.8 despite surfing down quite large waves with a force seven up our backsides.  Every time we were hit by a gust Chris would bear away down the next wave and we would stare at the log, eight . . . . nine . . . . ten and back down to seven as we fell off the back of the wave.  I suspect that carrying two bicycles, a surfboard, gallons of spare diesel and water and all the other paraphernalia of life aboard were to blame!  It was not all plain sailing though, we broached a few times, with the boat healing right over and slewing around in a broadside to match the best 'The Dukes of Hazard' could ever manage with their handbrake hard on!  The scariest moment though came shortly after a breaking wave crest filled our dinghy, which we were towing, and the weight of water was putting too much strain on the towing eye.  We had to empty the water and so while I steered, Chris clipped on his lifeline and dangled over the back waiting for a wave to help him capsize the dinghy and then right it once more.  Common sense, or more likely exhaustion, made us reef in and we pottered along with just a handkerchief sized piece of jib left up; we were still making six knots though!  Still, we counted ourselves lucky, as we had rounded Cabo Prior we heard Lycka on the radio to Zephyrus talking of force eight, but they were a bit closer in than us!

We entered the Ensada de Mera, a small bay opposite La Coruna, exhausted.  We had enjoyed an exciting sleigh ride in windy conditions, but beneath a clear blue sky.  And though windswept and blasted with sea spray the sun had kept us warm.  We dropped anchor, ate bangers and mash and went to bed!

After ten days cruising the Rias, La Premiere was getting a little low on supplies so we decided to motor across the bay to La Coruna, a little over one mile away, to take advantage of the marina facilities.  We were soon moored up to a pontoon at the Real Club Nautico and started work on the boat.  We filled the water and diesel tanks, scrubbed the deck and rinsed all the salt from the deck fittings, did two loads of laundry and emptied the local supermarket.  Despite the convenience afforded by the marina, we discovered that we have become anchoring converts.  The marina was sometimes noisy, there were often other yachts manoeuvring close by, one of which bounced off our fenders and our views from the cockpit were not especially scenic; with yacht masts bristling from the pontoons on one side and La Coruna's very best concrete architecture on the other!  We decided quite quickly that once our chores were finished we would motor back across the bay to spend the next night at anchor again.

Before motoring back out to anchor we visited La Coruna's old city and spent a couple of hours meandering through the narrow paved streets, overlooked by the houses’ characteristic glazed balconies.  As if the weather was not hot enough the architects build greenhouses onto the front of every floor!

By early evening we were swinging once more to our anchor, sitting in the cockpit and soaking up the evening sun.  Chris dived off the boat and went swimming in the clear water and we planned our next hop to Corme, thirty-seven miles further around the coast.