Saturday 8th dawned dull and drizzling, with low cloud that was forecast to burn off. We did not race to set off hoping for an improvement in the weather. John waved Mike off, he was heading for San Vicente too, but is not as fast as we are, so needed the whole day to cover the milage. We set off about an hour or so after him. The weather had not picked up much by that time. The spring weather in this part of Spain is not dissimilar to an English summer, not the new fangled monsoon, but the old sunshine, showers, mostly overcast sort.
Witness our arrival in Ria de Muros three days ago
The fog seemed to be worsening, rather than burning off. John turned on the radar as we backtracked over our previous waypoints, before turning to port for our journey down the coast. Ahead of us in the mist we spotted a mast swaying and worked out it was Mike. Being made of wood and concrete Sea Eagle did not register on the radar at all, but the small red flag at the top of her mast stood out distinctly. John was surprised we had caught up with her so quickly. Disturbingly she seemed to be heading towards us. John hailed her on the radio and Mike’s voice came back, cheerful as ever, to say his engine had overheated and he was making his way slowly back to sort it out. We offered help, but he seemed confident he would be fine and so we carried on into the gloaming.
We also had a disturbing moment when the depth gauge went from reading over eighty kilometres, to less than four for quite a spell. There was nothing on the chart. I speculated about shoals of fish, given the dolphin and seagull activity round about. John waited till we were tied up in the marina to say that the same thing had happened crossing Biscay before they saw the whales. Less than four meters! Argh! I think it was fish.
The harbour of San Vicente is marked by a break in the golden sandy beaches of the bay. It is actually beyond the Ria Arousa, the next one we plan to explore, but looked very beautiful and is small, so we planned to have time to be able to head back into the Ria if there was no room for us. Luckily when we radioed in for a berth we were invited to come straight in, no problem! We were met at the entrance to the harbour by a man standing in a small boat, who directed us to the far side of the first pontoon, then motored up to the nearside, stepped off his boat and tied it up all in one smooth movement, to stand waiting to take our lines. The pontoon finger here is the shortest yet, but we are held firmly in place by a lazy line astern. We had arrived in time for a late lunch in the smart marina clubhouse. Afterwards we had a bit of a wander along the sea wall. It is a lovely unspoilt spot, though Lyra does look rather a giant here.