16th August

Saturday 16th August 2008. 43° 11’.20 N, 009° 13’.28 W. Between Corme and Camariñas.

Well, guess what, we still didn’t quite get to Coruña. The Navtex was still giving problems, so on leaving the previous town, we made for the modern marina of Sada, which boasts not just marine electricians, but English speaking ones. Only a few short miles from Coruña … We had the, by now, usual grey and rainy sail along the coast, with the wind heading us whichever course we chose. Finally, on the last seven miles into the Ria de Betanzos, we were able to sail freely, and Tomia romped along in a rising force 5-6.

In Sada we found our first of the renowned ferreterias – only an ironmonger’s, but what an ironmonger’s! Far from the sterile aisles of B&Q, it stocked every single type and size of screw, nail, bolt, nut, string, picnic basket, mole trap, light bulb, compass, weedkiller, ironing board, drill, boat hook, mosquito net, lawn sand, clothes peg, fishing rod, fly spray, fabric dye, and grade of sand paper that the most avid home owner could use in a life time – all in a glorious random-seeming order, piled high on towering shelves … the woman in front of us in the queue spent 15 minutes in a detailed discussion, involving the catalogues of three different manufacturers, of the best head for her garden rake: the total cost of the transaction was 3€15.

One night there was a concert on the beach, a celtic band – Galicia having a strong celtic culture, in common with Brittany, Cornwall and Wales, those other rainy, rocky outcrops where the indigenous people took refuge from the Roman invaders. Bagpipes, hurdy-gurdies, violins, harps and square tambourines produced a lively racket.

Finally, the navtex was fixed and we left Sada for – Coruña! Where we arrived on 14^th August, a mere 2 weeks – or 200% if in pessimistic mood – late. We did manage to sail the final 10 miles, with the wind kind and the sun shining, which made a pleasant change.

We walked out to the windy point, and climbed the Tower of Hercules, the oldest working lighthouse in the world, built originally by the Romans. In the winding streets of the old town, we found our first tapas bars, and filled up happily on calamares and pulpo. The restaurants display their fish in the window to entice customers: octopuses are propped up on an upside down flower pot, so that their tentacles can be extended to their fullest, juiciest length.

The weather is still way off what we had expected – whether because the Azores high just hasn’t settled in, or because we had unrealistic expectations of this Atlantic corner of Spain. Anyway, today the sun is shining and I am wearing a t shirt, long-sleeved shirt, fleece and a sweater. In the middle of August.

Onwards and westwards – and south.

The beach in Corme has tiny flat silica plates among the standard grains of sand. These have walked their way onto the boat, and every flat surface sparkles as the sun catches it. It seems a shame to brush them up.

My Spanish dictionary has, at the top of each page, the first and last words to be found on that page, with a little arrow pointing from the first to last. Looking up the word for mast, I find that, in the view of the editors at least, masochism → mating!