South West Portugal

It's like someone had pulled the plug. I'd made unbelievable progress for the last few days, clocking up nearly 140 miles per day at one point, averaging 5.5 knots per hour. Tacking down across the north easterly and surging with the swell just off the aft quarter. I had started to get a good sense of 24 hour rhythm with nights following days, the changes in temperament and a little routine emerging. Last night I was just getting ready for the night, about 11 o'clock and then it was over. Engine on, chunter chunter chunter through the night. Being close to a major shipping lane ill afforded me much sleep as we plodded through the moonlight, stars studding the sky. This morning found the Cabo Sao Vicente emerging through the dawn, with its tall lighthouse standing fortress like on the cliff. I motored around to a secluded bay with walls of layered stone on three sides and a shelter from the swell. Dog tired I fell into a slumber for an hour in my bunk rocked by the waves undulating under the keel.

Today I studied the entry requirements to enter port in morocco. It seems that my copy of some Hindu devotional script, as well as an on board machete would provoke suspicion and possible problems, as probably would my attitude to authority. I looked up onto the cliff and a seagull flew there and I realised that that was the world I wanted to live in. Not a world governed by paranoia and distrust, but a world of collaboration and flow. I suddenly felt the urge to return to the ocean, Aisling and I, where we look after each other and make our way, away from the nonsense of men. The swell in the bay became intolerable, a great shame but the wind was getting up a bit and it was time to move on. We motored up the coast a little and found a small fishing harbour where we are now anchored. Some young fishermen sat around on the dock, and two seagulls fished in the water next to my boat repeatedly and skilfully catching fish so big that they stood no chance of manhandling them into their mouths. No flow of poetic prose flowing forth tonight. Tired and a little disillusioned about the absence of my main means of propulsion, wind. There may be nothing much for a week in which case I'll hunker down or maybe try to pick up some coastal breezes and head up the coast towards Spain. I feel a bit like I'm trying to climb Everest but can't get out of Base Camp at the moment, but the sun is shining and I remind myself that I have all the time in the world.