Reprieve in Nazaré.

It happened that I flew from Dublin to Porto with Nutan, who was coming to give a photographic workshop here; we were very kindly met on the late late flight and put up for the night by his friend Luisa, who left me at the bus station for the easy 3 hour journey to Nazaré. I noticed that, towards the end of it, we passed the site of the Battle of Aljubarrota, where in 1385 the Portuguese army, consisting of 6,600 men, completely defeated an invading Castilian army of 31,000. I must visit the nearby Abbey of Batalha which was built to commemorate it. The Portuguese army included an hundred English longbowmen, well experienced in taking on French-style cavalry; now that is a detail of their engagement with the Continent that the English can be proud of, though of course it was before things went badly awry in their country.  I suppose one might add, God be with the days when matters could be settled by a battle with bows and arrows and swords and so on! I rather fear that the Catalonians have left it a little late in the day to assert their independence; but I do wonder if their relationship with their neighbours would be easier if Spain were a republic?

What a pleasure to come down the hill and see the sun shining high and bright on the ocean! It was now three o'clock in the afternoon, I had missed out on a proper meal the day before, so the first move was to find a restaurant still serving. Our Fionnuala had asked me what I would order when I sat down to eat for the first time again in Portugal? It turned out to be dried carapau; three little horse mackerel that would be disdained in Ireland, served warmed in a large dish swimming in olive oil and liberally sprinkled with flakes of garlic (cost Eur3.50), and supported with chunks of good solid bread. Delicious! They make a thing of their dried fish here, with wire racks for drying them and old ladies selling them on the beach. I followed through with a full meal and then staggered down to sleep it off there, taking care to keep out of range of the surf that surged and roiled powerfully on the steep sandy shore. Yet the sea was calm beyond, with a boat sailing serenely up for the harbour entrance.

Today, Friday, the Anna M has been right on the frontier 

 between the bright, warm sunshine that has bathed the town and beach of Nazaré all day, and the sea fog that has rolled down from the north, over the Pontal, just over or

outside the harbour entrance, and in over the low-lying littoral to the southward. Conditions aboard are perfect for work, neither hot nor cold, and while the saloon is a floorless workshop, and the fo'c'sle is full of sails and stuff, my little cabin alone remains a snug retreat. It has to be admitted that it is a big improvement on the grey skies, rain and wind that I left behind in Ireland; it feels like a reprieve from the onset of winter!


Alec plugs away at the old boat's reprieve too. It was very obvious, when we came to look at it properly, that there was precious little left keeping the planks together there beside the engine. One more good gale and, between the pressure of the rig and the pull of the keel, they would likely have parted to let the water gush in and send us all to 'Davy Jones' Locker'.

Not for the first time in my life, may I say, the cussed habit that I have of eyeballing reality, not infrequently condemned as 'being negative', seems to have paid off. But no, they often won't take it, you know! Like from someone in the present British establishment trying to say that the good ship Brexit just ain't sea-worthy!

Talking of facing reality, it is obvious that the Anna M will not be ready to sail again until the Spring. Progress, though steady, is darn slow, what with Alec struggling on between his other tasks.

I am still hoping to get her in the water before heading home in November, but engine-less, so that we can let her take up and make sure she is tight before the tanks and engine go back in. I am now aiming to recommission her in February, which would leave time to check her out and enjoy the Spring in Guadianaland before sailing north.