The erratic weather along the coast in this part of the world has been wreaking havoc with the minds of the sailors aboard those boats here on pontoon K in the Cascais Marina who have been waiting to leave.  It's been changing every few hours or so and therefore making it almost impossible to predict, which is essential to planning a safe passage.  Most of us are looking at fairly long passages of several days when we leave here, so it is even more important that we get it right.  I won't bore you with many more details, but let's just say that our conversations run endless loops along the same theme and sound a little like the lyrics from a song by the 70s British punk group, The Clash:  "Should I stay or should I go?"  

With each update, I have been mentally preparing or unpreparing myself for our next passage, which we have been hoping would be to Madeira.  It will be our longest trip yet--3 to 4 days at sea, so you can understand why my brain gets in a bit of twist over this.  To be honest, I've really enjoyed being in Cascais and have even begun to feel a part of a community on pontoon K. If I had time, I would tell you a bit about our life here, but that will have to wait for my next post as it looks like we're going, NOW! TODAY! 

In a nutshell, yesterday morning,  after Patrice went through his usual weather review, looking at all the sites he subscribes to, he got a big grin on his face and said, I'm calling the router because I think our weather window has just opened up."  

"B...b...but yesterday you said  that it we'd probably be here another week!" I sputtered.  

"Yeah, but it looks like things changed during the night," he answered and after a short conversation with Michel, our weather router, it was confirmed:  We were given the green light to go Sunday.  So for the past 24 hours the two of us have been scurrying around doing everything that needs to be done before undertaking such a journey and now we're off.  Prayers would be much appreciated for "fair winds and a following sea" and no seasickness this time. 

Sailors pray,
For fair winds and a following sea

The smell of salt in the air,
The feel of their skin as it's touched by the spray

An albatross soaring above,
Dolphins in the ship's wake at play

To witness a work of art that only God can create,
The sunset at the end of day

At night a million stars in the sky,
Safe anchorage in an islands lee.

And always there would be,
Fair winds and a following sea 

                                       C.D. Williams

I’m struggling with how to share our experiences and impressions of Lisbon without sounding like a droning tourist board.  

So I’ve kept things as brief as possible with snapshots to illustrate where words fail and a little lesson in Portugese vocabulary thrown in to keep things interesting.

 I’m a girl who always appreciates a beautiful view and you cannot go far in this city, which is spread out over seven hills without getting one. 

St. George’s castle dominates the city on the highest hill. Its oldest parts date from the 6th century and it was the setting for many conflicts involving Romans, Visigoths, Moors Crusaders and Spanish.  It is now a peaceful place where peacocks strut under olive trees and pines.  We spent a divine afternoon strolling around, enjoying the calm of this ancient site and outstanding views of the city below.

Lisbon is a modern city and has a great network of buses, subways and trains, but our favorite mode of transportation was riding on the elétricos (trams), up and down the hills, San Francisco style.

You cannot go anywhere in Portugal without seeing decorative ceramic tiles (azulejos), ornamenting public buildings and private residences alike, both outside and inside (more on this possibly in a future post).  This museum displays examples from five centuries and educates the uninitiated to the process. We went there on the strong recommendation of a friend and we were surprised by how interesting we found it.  The quilter in me was busy tucking away ideas.

Alfama is a village within the city made up of a web of medieval alleys, tiny squares, churches and residences. Walking through the narrow streets is like stepping back in time and you never know what you will find around the next corner:  A white-washed house with an lovely garden in front, a wrought-iron balcony with pots of flowers or drying laundry, a stair-case painted by a local artist and of course many businesses and residences decorated with Azuelijos.

It was a relief to step off the city’s bustling streets into the oasis of peace and quiet in Lisbon's cathedral built by Portugal's first king in 1150 after the Portugal was liberated from the Moors by the crusaders. .  There is something about a cathedral’s soaring columns and vast overhead space that expresses the majesty of God so well.  This one was a bit musty, probably due to the current archeological excavations of its once beautiful cloister.

If you’ve read my last few posts, you know that at some point we almost always stop for a cup of chá (tea) and ‘a little something sweet.’  The bolo (cake) in this famous bakery was nice, but sadly not worth a description.  Rossio Square where the bakery/cafe is located is, however.  It is at the heart of the city, a lively bustling place and very beautiful thanks to its classic architecture, bubbling fountains and the elegant black and white waved pattern built into its cobblestones.  

This gem of a church tucked away in the Largo Trindade Coelhoa, another lovely white and black cobblestoned square, has a deceptively simple facade for an church with one the most opulent interiors I have ever seen.  Of note,  one of its chapels is known as the "world's most expensive chapel" and is made with ivory, agate, porphyry, lapis lazulli, gold and silver.  It must also be spiritually rich as it was built in Rome and then blessed by the Pope before being shipped to Lisbon in 1747.

Fish restaurants abound in Lisbon, hence one of the reasons for Taka Trois’ nemesis, those infuriating fishing buoys.  We put aside our rancor for these pests and enjoyed their ‘bounty’ over several first-rate meals out, but not before checking with the chef if the fish was indeed fresh.

The Bairrio Alto is a 16th century working class quarter and a favorite haunt of artists, writers and musicians. The area and its popular Fado Houses comes alive at night.  Fado is a type of melancholy folk music, sung by a solo performer usually accompanied by guitarists.    We first heard Fado on the streets mournfully sung a capella by an elderly gentleman through a fog horn (!) and we also enjoyed a dinner performance that almost moved us to tears.  Mind you, that may have had something to do with the local vinho we were sipping while we listened.

Taka Trois is one of many boats in marinas along the coast of Portugal who are waiting; waiting for the right weather to cross over to Madeira or The Canaries.  There are several boats who have already gone either out of necessity or impatience, but the rest of us don’t want to take the risk with such a big passage.  We’re fortunate as our ultimate deadline for being in Grand Palma is 6 weeks from now when we fly back to France to close the sale on Patrice’s parents’ home.  We’re also fortunate to be waiting in such a lovely place and so for the moment, we’re content to linger here and explore this beautiful city.  

Last Friday we took the train to Belem, one of Lisbon's historical areas. It was from here that many of the great Portuguese explorers embarked on their voyages of discovery including Ferdinand Magellan and Vasco de Gama and this was where Christopher Columbus stopped on his way back to Europe after discovering the New World. The area, situated just west of the city along the Tagus River is famous for several things notably:  The Jeronimo Monastery, built it in 1502 which has an impressive cathedral and the largest and most beautiful cloister I have ever seen; the Belem Tower, built in 1515 as a fortress to guard the entrance to Lisbon's harbor and was the starting point for many historical voyages, the Discovery Monument (see photos below) and finally the pastéis de Belém, a delectable little flan pie with a crunchy crust sprinkled with cinnamon and powdered sugar.  The crowds at the Antiga Confeitaria de Belem where these are made testify to the popularity of this delicacy, but personally, we found that it does not beat the Travesseiro from Sintra which we have now discovered are also called “heavenly pillows.”  You see, I just knew they were Divine!

To work off the calories, we walked along the Tagus River admiring the view of the 25 de Abril suspension bridge which has an overall length of 2278m (approx. 1.5 miles) and the longest central span in Europe (1013m/3323ft), longer than its twin, The Golden Gate Bridge in San Francisco.  It is over looked by "The Monument to Christ," a 28m (90ft) figure of Christ built in 1959 in thanks to God for having spared Portugal during WWII and was inspired by the famous statue in Rio de Janeiro.  Not simply content to gaze at it from afar, the next day we decided to give Taka Trois some exercise and sail up the river under the bridge and past the monument as far as the city itself.  

It was a perfect late afternoon and we invited some ex-work colleagues of Patrice’s who live here to come along for a sunset cruise.  Perfect, that is until our engine began to make a funny noise on the way home, just in front of the entrance to the marina--this is never a good sign!  We had been on high alert for those pesky fishing buoys and feared that we may have snagged one, especially as it was dark at this point and they were very difficult to spot.    Upon inspection there was no evidence of this and when we reduced the engine speed the noise stopped.  We reassured ourselves that there surely would not be a buoy so close to the marina.   Once at a standstill back in our berth however, up popped a buoy on the side of our hull!  Apparently our keel had picked up one of those devils and we had dragged it back with us.

As it was too late and too dark to do anything at this point, we sent up a prayer to God, opened a bottle of wine and enjoyed the rest of our evening.  The next morning, we alerted and complained to an official at the marina office who shrugged apologetically saying that this was certainly an illegal buoy.  As we debated the best course of action, Marco, our Finnish boat neighbor came to the rescue.  In no time, he donned his personal dry suit and fins and jumped in to have a look from below.  The good news is that the rope had only been caught by our keel and not the engine’s propellor and there appeared to be no damage.  He untangled the buoy and rope which was weighed down by a large stone (!) and all was well again.  We tested the engine and the noise was gone.  Whew!  Thank you Marco and thank you Lord for taking care of us, once again! 

We needed a break from the boat yesterday after learning from the local Ray Marine expert that some of our electronics will have to be upgraded (already!) or maybe even replaced.  For those of you not familiar with boating, this sort of news always means a painful outlay of cash--urrgh!.  So I suggested we hop on a bus and go to visit Sintra.  Sintra is a charming medieval town at the foothills of a splendid park spread out over a series of hills and forest about ten kilometers from here. 

Among other things, It was the summer residence of the royal family and has several castles, estates and buildings from as far back as the 8th century perched on top of the hills or tucked away in different corners of the park with the National Palace in the center of the town.  Many artists and writers have passed through here, notably Lord Byron, the famous British poet who stopped by in the 18th century, writing that the town is "perhaps in every respect the most delightful in Europe," and calling it a "glorious Eden" in his epic poem Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. It is truly an extraordinary place now protected by UNESCO as a World Heritage Site.

We found the main square in town too packed with tourists poking around souvenir shops and just too busy for our current mood, so after having lunch, we headed for the park and hiked around the ruins of a Moorish castle.  Let’s pause here for a brief history lesson:  This part of the world was taken over by the Moors (Arabs) in 714 AD and was only taken back by the locals (Christians) in 1147 during the second wave of the crusades.  The castle is perched on top of several hills with a spectacular view of Sintra and the surrounding area.  We enjoyed a pleasant afternoon climbing and scrambling around the ancient ramparts and parapets while breathing in the clean pine scent of the forest and drinking in the beautiful vistas.

Feeling thirsty and peckish, we returned to the center of town in time for tea, which we took ‘Sintra-style’ at the famous Piriquita Cafe which serves fresh-squeezed orange juice and a their speciality, the Travesseiro.  We hesitated before ordering this rather ordinary looking pastry, but after one bite, we were hooked. I don’t often rave about desserts, in fact I think the last time I did so was when I discovered sticky toffee pudding at the Bridge Hotel in the Lake District in England in August, 1997.  Yes, that dessert was so amazing I remember when and where I first had it and I confess that I also remember I ordered it every night of our stay! 

Anyway,  the lowly little Travesseiro turned out to be something so amazing we’re sure it was made in heaven.  Imagine the most incredible, lightest, melt-in-your-mouth puff pastry filled with a touch of almond cream, with a lemon curd consistency, surrounded by a satisfying crunchy sugar coating, fresh out of the oven. Very very moreish!  We bought a box of them to take back to the boat with us.  At least we’ll have something to cheer us up when the guy from Ray Marine comes back tomorrow morning with the electronics estimate...

*British slang meaning, “so good it makes you want more.”

I really wish I shpoke portugesh, not jusht becaushe I would like to shpeak with the lovely people we’re meeting here, but alsho becaushe is shounds like shuch a fun language to shpeak.  I apologize if I sheem irreverent, I actually have the greatesht reshpect for the portugeshe and have found them to be very kind and mosht welcoming.  I will shtop now, promishe.

Taka Trois and her crew are now happily ensconced in their new berth in the very posh marina in the town of Cascais--no daily bread delivery here, but a complimentary bottle of local wine upon arrival. Nice! This an affluent suburb of Lisbon with lovely shops, a mall, cobble-stone pedestrian streets, international schools nearby and a large expat population--a little like a Portugese St. Germain-en-Laye, a town close to our home in France or Westmoorings, where we lived in Trinidad.

From the latest marine weather report, it seems like we will be ‘shtuck’ (oopsh, sorry, that one just slipped out) here for at least a week, so as my personal version of the old saying goes, “when the going gets tough, the tough go shopping and get a pedicure,” and I’m pretty tough!  Seriously, we plan to take advantage of our enforced stay to make use of the ship chandlers here to get some work done on the boat, do some chores, explore the area and rest up and provision before the next passage to Madeira which will be a three to four day trip.  

Our tuna, by the way, was exquisite.  Patrice skillfully cleaned and gutted the fish with relatively little mess and then sliced them into steaks--very impressive!  We gave half the bounty to a neighboring French family on our pontoon (three children aboard; 6, 4 and 7 months old! And you think we’re crazy?) and we flash-grilled the rest, Receta* style, marinated in olive oil, lime juice and dark rum.  Yep! The same rum that we used to kill them.  

On this subject, we have had many queries and comments about the use of rum as a weapon.  In answer to your questions:   Yes, we really did use rum to kill the fish--it beats bashing them over the head or other violent solutions.  We used Appleton's Jamaican dark and it worked instantly.   Makes you wonder what the stuff does to our brains... No, we did not use all the rum on board, there is still plenty left both for humans onboard and for all the fish we hope to catch in the future and finally, no, we couldn’t tell if the rum that killed them actually flavored the fish.  All I can say is that they were exceptional both as steaks and in the fish cakes which we made with the leftovers.  Can't wait for our next catch!

*Receta is our friends’ Steve and Ann’s sail boat.  Ann Vanderhoof is an outstanding cook and the author of The Spice Necklace, a potpourri of stories about island cooking and culture and An Embarrassment of Mangoes, which tells the  story of their trip on Receta from Toronto to Trinidad and back.  The tuna recipe can be found in this book and is an excellent read even if you’re not a sailor.

“What have I gotten myself into?” I asked myself last night after depositing the contents of my stomach into a bucket.  Meanwhile, Patrice was above deck in the darkest of nights battling with multi-directional swells and wind (hence the reason for my bout of sea-sickness) and trying to avoid being hit by tankers and container ships.  Thankfully Patrice has enough adrenaline and energy to power several sailboats and managed to hold the helm and avoid any disasters until dawn when things had calmed down on all levels and I was able to relieve him.

This happened whilst en route for Lisbon directly from Porto.  The original plan was to stay just a few days in Porto and then slowly make our way down the coast to Lisbon stopping at several places along the way.  Porto was such a delightful place, however, so we lingered there longer than expected and then got stuck for an extra few days waiting for a good weather window.  After talking with other cruisers and trying to make up for some lost time, we decided to do Lisbon in one shot which takes generally takes 1-2 days.  

Before I move on to Lisbon in this blog, I need to tell you how much we have enjoyed being in Porto and discovering the area.  The geography is somewhat similar to Galicia with combination rocky/sandy beaches and lots of pine, eucalyptus and palm trees. although the climate is slightly warmer, especially when you go inland a bit.  The city of Porto sits on several very steep hills with an ancient inner-city at its heart and a modernized infrastructure all around. It is spread out over the both banks of the Douro river several miles in from the Atlantic coast and has miles and miles of bike and walking paths which we took full advantage of. 

Our spanking new marina with its daily onboard deliveries of fresh bread and staffed with the friendliest and most helpful personnel imaginable, was situated on the south bank about a 45 minute walk from the center of town, but just a few minutes from the coast.  We did our exploring over four days and used a variety of transportation methods at our disposal: water taxi, tram, bike, river barge, metro, car rental and of course, our feet.  There is even a gondola available to cross from one hill of the city to another.  We spent the next four days hanging out in the marina doing boat chores, stocking up on provisions and getting to know some very nice cruisers in our marina.  

Our passage to Lisbon was 165 nautical miles and took us just over 28 hours.  It all started out very pleasantly.  We left at the end of the morning with gentle winds that allowed us to get going slowly and eat our lunch in a civilized manner.  Patrice volunteered for the afternoon shift as he wanted to give Rodney, our fishing rod, another try, so I went below for a nap.  I had just drifted off to sleep when I heard: “Deb! Come!”  Yep, he had nabbed his first fish--a 51 cm/20 inch tuna! Just for the heck of it, he put the line back in and before we had time to figure out what to do with the first fish, he caught another one!

As we already had enough with two on our hands, we put Rodney away and debated how to put an end to these babies’ misery.  In the end we opted for the non-violent solution and splashed a shot of rum in their gills.  It killed them instantly and sent them off to fish-heaven pleasantly stoned.  

Our next catch was unexpected and not so pleasant for shortly afterwards Taka Trois snagged a fishing buoy with one of her rudders (thank heavens we were under sail, so it couldn’t get caught in the propellor).  Miraculously however, during the ensuing panic and while Patrice was getting suited up to dive below, Taka Trois managed to untangle herself without our help--good girl!  We decided to head further out to try to get out of this trap-laden area and found ourselves in the middle of the shipping lane!  At this point I was indisposed below so Patrice, along with his mighty pals ‘Radar’ and ‘Ais,’ dodged these monsters on his own in the pitch-black moonless night.

In the end, all is well.  We arrived safely in Cascais just outside of Lisbon late this afternoon with stories to tell and fresh fish for dinner--yum!

We now know more about Port wine than is necessary for our continued existence on this earth.  Nevertheless, the education process was very enjoyable, as was the necessary tasting involved and we did learn a few interesting tidbits worth a mention.

First of all, Port is not actually made in Porto, it is only aged in the city.  All of the major Port manufacturers have caves in the hills on the banks of the river Douro opposite the main city here where the wine is stored and eventually shipped out.  The vineyards themselves are located more than 100 kilometers east along the Douro river valley. 

Port wine arrived on the international scene in the 17th century when distressed British traders, cut off from their supply of Bordeaux by frequent, shall we say, errr...disagreements with the French, went looking further afield for their wine fix.  They took a liking to the robust wines of Portugal and negotiated a long-lasting trade agreement with the more agreeable Portuguese.  These wines, however, did not travel well, so the traders added brandy to fortify them against the rigors of the sea voyage to Britain.  Eventually this was replaced by pure grape spirit, which is still used today. 

It is interesting to note here that when this spirit is added, it stops the fermentation process and thus preserves the sugar content and this gives the sweetness that this wine is known for.  The spirit also gives the wine a hellava strong kick and we were warned that it can also give a nasty hangover to those who over-indulge.  No problem for us, this wine is too sweet for us to drink more than a glass or two.

Many of the grapes are still hand-picked and as a long fan of a classic I Love Lucy episode where Lucy treads on grapes,  I was delighted to learn that the traditional method of foot-treading is still used for a portion of the harvest.  We were told that the foot-treaders have to stomp grapes for four hours.  During the first two hours they are to gently march to the cadence of a drill sergeant to gradually extract the juice. During the second two hours, music is played and they have to dance exuberantly so that the grape skins macerate with the juice as long as possible to build color, tannins and flavor.  Sounds positively decadent! 

As part of our personal education, we visited the Taylor caves in the city, enjoyed several leisurely glasses of Port on a sunset river barge cruise and rented a car for a day to tour the Douro river valley and its vineyards.  We were delighted to find that the harvest was still in progress and not only did we see pickers in the field, but we were almost side-swiped several times by local pick-up trucks laden with grapes speeding past us to bring in their crops.  Apparently this has to be done has quickly as possible as fermentation starts almost immediately after picking, even at the expense of running tourists off the road.

We eventually caught up with some of these portuguese speedy Gonzales at a local wine cooperative and we were somewhat gratified to see them forced to wait patiently for their turn to hand over their bounty.   As our Portugese is severely limited and there was no one who seemed willing to explain the process to us, we had to guess at what we were seeing. From what we could tell,  it looked like the first step was some of evaluation of grape quality or at least the taking its temperature with a giant thermometer, then came weighing in, followed by some sort of sorting and squishing.  Although I did not inquire as to whether or not they were still hiring ‘foot-treaders’ for this year’s crop, the idea really appeals to me and I think I just may put it on my bucket list.

It’s funny how my brain works sometimes.  While quickly glancing through our guidebook on Portugal a few days ago, I read that Porto was the 2nd largest city in the country.  Call me a romantic (or perhaps just plain stupid), but somehow my imagination refused to register the word ‘city’ and I continued to picture the place as a quaint village with locals stomping grapes to produce Port Wine, or Porto, of my favorite beverages.  

My brain did get a bit of a shock when we arrived here late afternoon yesterday as it is indeed a large metropolis complete with a very large shipping port, refineries and even an IKEA!  I was delighted however, to see that this city which lies along shores of the river Douro retains some 'old village' charm.    Our marina is located just inside the mouth of the river and I knew I was really going to like it here when a strapping young representative from the marina office came zooming out of the port in his Zodiac to guide us into our berth.  We followed his lead and by the time we arrived at our appointed spot, he was on the dock waiting for me to throw him our mooring lines--what bliss!  

I must clarify here for those of you who have never sailed, that coming onto a mooring (or dock) is the most stressful part of sailing for me.  Patrice is usually at the helm at this point and he’s pretty good at this, but the wind, the current and the fact that boats don’t have brakes (!) all contribute to making this a challenge each time we do this.   While he maneuvers the boat, I scurry around dragging onto an enormous rubber fender ready to use to cushion our boat from anything we might inadvertently bump into.  This is called being a ‘roving fender.’  At the same time, I have the mooring lines (ropes that tie our boat to the dock) ready in my other hand and if there is no one on shore to catch them, I have to jump off the boat (ouch!) and attach them myself.  Now do you understand why I just loved this guy? And he was awfully cute to boot!

As you have deduced by now, we made it safely here on our long passage from Baiona: 10 hours and 65 nautical miles.  The cruise (I say 'cruise', not sail, because we motored all the way due to a complete lack of wind) was pleasant and made difficult only by a bit of fog at the start of our trip and the need for constant vigilance the whole way to avoid the hundreds of fishing buoys found in this part of the Atlantic.  Of note were the ghostly mists which hugged the coast of Spain as we left early in the morning and the dolphins came and said hello to us twice; once when Patrice was at the helm and another time when I was on duty.  Very considerate of them, don’t you think?  Worth a mention as well, Patrice tried his new fishing rod (nicknamed Rodney) for the first time.  Nothing came of it this time, but with perseverance and practice, we hope to be eating fresh caught tuna very soon (don't worry I have lots of the canned stuff just in case ;-)

So we’re moored up here for at least the next four days or so to explore the area.  I’m determined to find some vineyards and maybe some grape stompers or at the very least some places to do some Porto tasting.  Before I sign off, I must add that this marina, which is brand new and perhaps is just really trying to make a good impression on its first customers, got even more kudos from us when they delivered fresh bread to our boat this morning--that’s a first!

“There’s no place like home,” Dorothy said in the Wizard of Oz and this is true even if your home is a sailboat moored against a dock in Spain and you have minimal living space.   It’s especially true for us right now as we’ve been away for more than a month, living mostly out of a suitcase, doing a lot of traveling and working hard to take care of our various responsibilities on land including the bittersweet task of clearing out Patrice’s family home.  Not to worry, most of what we had to do was manageable and we had ample opportunity to enjoy ourselves in the midst of it all, including one lovely day walking around in Paris which is still, after all these years, our favorite city in the world. 

Patrice and I both agree that the best part about being off the boat is the opportunity to spend time with friends and family.  I love my husband and I truly am enjoying being together more than we have ever been in our almost 30 years as a couple.  Thus said,  the one thing I really miss in this cruising life aside from my darling daughters, is spending time with my girlfriends.  This past month on land, I was fortunate to be able to spend a bit of time with some of you, sadly not all and it has been a balm to my soul.  Thank you, dear ones, for your continued friendship despite my frequent absences from your lives.  The photo here is courtesy of a fellow cruiser and no, I'm not onboard, but I wish I was there with my pals.  I just love the exuberant female camaraderie, not to mention the pink boat!

If Patrice were to have a voice in this blog, he would probably say that the thing he misses the most, aside from our girls, is being able to talk as much as he likes.  As most of you know, my husband really likes to talk and the number of words he needs to express in a day is far superior to the number of words I am capable of listening to :-/ Thankfully we’re rarely far from a port for very long and as Patrice is not shy in any way and is capable of talking to anyone about anything AND is not daunted in the slightest by any foreign tongue,  he almost always manages to find someone to talk to.

Nevertheless,  it really is good to be back onboard Taka Trois.  We were grateful to find things in fairly good shape onboard when we arrived late Sunday, except for some nasty scrapes and gouges on the port side of the hull.  We think it was caused by another boat rubbing repeatedly up against her.  The marina blamed it on the backlash from tropical storm Nathalie, but amazingly they have taken full responsibility without an argument (!) and fixed it in two days, just in time for our planned departure tomorrow!  Viva l'Espagna!  

So no, we won't be lingering here in Spain.  There is an autumn chill in the air here and the weatherman has forecast good wind and clear skies for the next few days, so we will be on our way south to Porto, Portugal, the first stop of phase II of our journey and apparently an excellent place to replenish some of our ‘ballast’ (or wine cellar) which strangely ‘evaporated‘ during the first part of our trip.   

Consequently there's no rest for these weary travelers as we are spending our last hours in Spain unpacking and reorganizing, checking our instruments, restocking our supplies, cleaning, passage planning and getting ready to go.   I’ll be in touch when we reach Portugal, but meanwhile, I invite you to have a look at some of the updates on this website which include additional photos of Taka Trois on ‘the boat’ page, a new page called ‘albums’ which has more photos of some of the places we’ve been to with her and some details on where we’re going next in ‘the plan.’  Véale pronto mis amigos ...