The letter B.

31^st July 2020

Mugardos, El Ferrol, Galicia, Spain – Camarinas, Spain via Ares, Spain

The letter B is appearing in current affairs a lot at the moment. You can name Brexit, Boris, bombs, booming & busting businesses, and BLM. The letter B has also played its part on Ruffian as blue skies sat over beautiful blue water in sun-kissed bays where boisterous boys bob about, the Ruffians bimble and we take in some boisterous sailing.

As we bid goodbye to the bays of El Ferrol we took joy in our sailing schedule. We could happily bob along doing 2 knots blissfully unaware of the ticking hands of time. What did it matter if we arrived this morning, this afternoon or this evening? We could simply busy ourselves on Ruffian under the blistering sun while being blown along by the gentle breeze.

Anchoring in Ares the sounds of fun bounced off the beach and the water was alive boys being boys. As they became braver, they ventured closer and closer to Ruffian and before you knew it conversations were happening in schoolboy Spanish (Iain) and perfectly fluent English (10 year old boy). They asked if they could use Ruffian as a diving platform and it seemed all their birthdays had come at once as we welcomed them on board. As the sun blazed the water bubbled with boys and Ruffian was the centre of all fun in Ares.

The boat bimbling also continued in Ares. As we’d fixed the deck wash pump in Wales it was time for another pump to bite the bullet, it was the shower pump this time. Like all boat jobs which are booked to take ‘just 5 minutes’, those 5 minutes stretched into hours as lockers were emptied, wires traced, and inner workings examined. The pump stuck to its principles are remained broken even as Iain tried his as we to outwit it. At the end of the day the score line was pump 1, Ruffians 0.

With Ruffian being a proper blue water boat, it was time for us to once again head out into the big blue. Unfortunately, the blue had been replaced with grey but the Ruffians mood brightened as we had a boat race on our hands. “Annie” was just in front of us and try as we did she resolutely remained there. This however would come to be a big benefit, to beware of what was coming.

Entering Camineras the sailing turned from blustery to boisterous. The breeze got bigger and Ruffian got blown sideways, waves bashed into the bow turning us into a bucking bronco.  Even the fishing fleet behind us were suffering as they rolled from gunnel to gunnel while dispensing fish guts to their flocks of begging birds.

Camineras calmed down to give us beaches that stretched forever, hills with brows that looked down on the anchored boats and tracks that made for the most perfect running. What Camineras didn’t have however was petrol. We needed petrol and formed a plan

On our chart stretching off into the hinterland was small line of blue. This blue would end at a village with a petrol station where we could fill our jerry cans and make Brock and happy boat. Following this thin blue line felt like entering a different world. Wide open Ria’s gave way to high banked unexplored wilderness, not a soul stirred and not ripple broke the surface and then there was the town. All that was between us and petrol was a short walk.

Triumphant in our planning we used our best Spanish to fill up our cans, the petrol flowed and brusquely stopped. We’d literally run the station dry and had their final 20 litres. Our plan was busted, but the adventure made it all worthwhile.

With the letter B having been a blessing the Ria’s to the south are calling. Fingers crossed they continue to behold the delights we’ve already braved.