Barbate

The pilots and yachting guides available are less than complementary about Barbate, its true that the marina is a soulless refugee from the cold war architectural school of concrete blocks. reminiscent in some respects of Worsley Mesnes in Wigan. However the town itself, while never going to win an award for most lovely village has its own charms and is refreshingly honest. Lynn and I had explored along the rather nice town beach but had never walked to the far end, when we did we were rewarded by a glimpse of one of those moments, to a sailor anyway of, not quite a revelation but certainly an opening of possibilities. Could I get Dark Tarn up this obviously tidal river not mentioned anywhere as even a remote possibility? We could probably anchor, with upstream and downstream anchors in the deep centre of the river or raft up against the barge like vessels that laid the huge nets every year.

Towards the town end of the river was a art nouveau building that was being turned into an exhibition space. We think the art would reflect the tradition of Tuna fishing in the town which probably predates the romans. Seriously you wont believe how big Tuna is in the psyche of Barbarte.

I believe the pilot book writers et al have done Barbate a disservice, Lynne and I found it to be a very pleasant place to stay and worth looking beyond the superficial and try to find the bones of it. We were charmed by the rough and ready nature of some aspects and the obvious pride in the rather odd history based largely on the migratory habits of a particularly tasty fish!

One of the more irritating aspects of Marinas in Andalucia and the Algarve is that they are all owned and run by the Junta. So theoretically linked and therefore have a standard charging system. This may seem a good idea until you realise that regardless of standard of facilities or even length of stay charges are standardized, read expensive, and criminally , no wi-fi! Hence my retarded posts. I was far too busy trying to wrestle the 3 network into submission over the frankly ridiculous charges in Morocco, and unlocking our previously unlocked iPhone`s ( don't get me started!)

The weather was beginning to hint at the end of summer and we saw rain for the first time in a great while. The cooling temperature tempted us out to walk along the clifftops towards Cape Trafalgar .

Starting at the rather lovely beach adjacent to the marina a rather indistinct path leads through sandy dunes to the sandstone and then limestone cliff path.

The weather was threatening but dry, at least for the first few hours and the views back towards Barbarte and the straights of Gibraltar beyond were worth the effort. The path continues through Eucalyptus forests and leads to several lookout towers and pleasant picnic areas.

The path was a bit of a surprise, in that it wasn't obvious from the beach level just how developed the path was . Of course we shouldn't really have been surprised, its probably the reason its so difficult to buy a map in Spain, they don't need them. Everyone walks the same way, along a well established route that is well signposted and it has to be said very well used especially at weekends and evenings.

The further west we walked the higher the cliffs became and their contorted and dizzying heights became ever more spectacular. Regardless I still found myself looking out towards the horizon and imagining Nelsons fleet action that changed the world forever...…...Of course the Spanish see it differently.

It became apparent that the rain had not completely gone away and showers could be seen towards Tarifa, before gaining Cabo Trafalgar we decided to turn back. It had been a very surprising and pleasant walk and our legs were feeling it after so long on the boat. We returned tired and a bit soggy but were again surprised with one of Barbarte`s hidden gems.

The weather in the straights was looking favorable for a run to Gibraltar so early one morning we departed for the run down to Tarifa. Everything started O.K. with relatively light winds and even blue sky but as we turned into the long 15 mile run to Gibraltar bay from Tarifa the winds became a little stronger with each increasing mile.

Lynne was happy to helm and as we were running downwind with the "Poniente", the westerly wind in the straights, the only other wind direction is the " Levanter" or easterly, however it was still t-shirt and shorts weather, The westerly was blowing us nicely towards Gibraltar, its always easier but can be deceptive on a downwind run as the apparent wind always seems less than it actually is. This can also surprise you when you turn onto the wind and it increases suddenly and dramatically. as for example turning into Gibraltar Bay.

The late summer, parched landscape of Andalucia sped past as we hurried along the cliff bound coastline, we dropped the mainsail in good time and continued under the genoa. We noticed what seemed to be a wildfire developing.

As we got closer it turned out to be the case and we saw flames leaping hundreds of feet into the air. As we passed we saw helicopters dropping water on the blaze.

We were again enchanted with views of mysterious Africa in the haze, along with a scary amount of commercial traffic constantly transiting the narrow Gibraltar straights.

On entering Gibratar Bay the wind did its usual trick of seeming to increase a couple of beufort scales, however we had been here before and had reefed down in good time so we had a fairly relaxed time puzzling over the fact that seemingly a paddle steamer was being piggy backed on a transporter ship, an unusual mating! The amount of commercial traffic in Gibraltar Bay is just silly but it is a major "bunkering" port for big ships and along with cruise ships, container ships, tankers  and ferries, it makes for a busy spot and an interesting challenge sometimes crossing the shipping lanes.

We anchored in the Bay at La Linea de la Conception, just outside the marina entrance. We had booked into the Marina from the 1st of November as that was when the cheaper Winter rates kicked in. Until then we had the prospect of a month at anchor in the bay, that evening as the sun set it seemed a very pleasant prospect.....

Leaving Morocco

It was nearing time to leave Morocco, this maddening, confusing, dusty, smelly, noisy, other world of a country. It had certainly been different and even though we had barely scratched the surface of understanding the recent history and political machinations it had almost without our knowing crept beneath our skin. Being back in Tangier we felt that we could negotiate most of the frustrations of everyday life and were getting quite comfortable with the contradictions. We are very conscious that we can only ever be visitors. The reality is that we will never fit and are only ever to be tolerated as income generators. So it goes. We can live with that.

Back in the marina we were not surprised to see a couple of O.C.C. Boats arrive, from America and the west coast of Australia. We enjoyed a superb evening of hospitality and conversation , not to mention a fair bit of drinking .Many thanks to the skippers and crews of Taipan and Sequoia.

So, leaving Morocco, what will I miss and what not?
There are many similarities between Spain ( Andalucia ) and Morocco, history tells us us why.
BUT, and its a big BUT, the differences go so deep as to need some serious thought. I had serious issues with the disparity of wealth. The monarchy has to all intents and purposes absolute power ( and wealth, far more than our own monarchy), this is also complicated by the king being the religious leader. Since the Arab spring the entire country is in a political religious and social leap forward. The present and previous kings are certainly bringing in reforms but certain bits go forward faster than others, female literacy being a case in point. The Muslim world is struggling to escape its medieval roots in the same way that the Christian church was forced to do. Morocco is a very tolerant and in many respects moderate example of a Muslim country. It also, particularly among the younger elements seemingly  embraces most of the more worrying aspects of western society like mobile phones, social media and most annoyingly Rap music. How things will develop is difficult to say there are so many built in contradictions, it remains however a fascinating and beautiful country, watch this space!
Having scared Lynne to death on the crossing six weeks ago I studied the forcasts and chose a day where winds and visibility were not such a problem . Although this was still a major shipping area we were just outside the TSS ( traffic seperation scheme ) the rumb line to Barbate would cross the approaches as close to 90° as would make no difference. We crossed the initial lane ( Left to right) without problems but 5 miles further on the left to right lane had an enormous bulk carrier that we radioed to make sure we had a safe closing distance. CPA ( closest point of approach ) was less than a half mile. As Africa vanished in the haze Spain emerged reluctantly, the coatline down towards Tarifa never became visible and apart from a couple of yachts we had a lovely gentle sail in the warm South Westerly winds.

Slowly the coastline of Barbate to Trafalgar came into view along with a Tuna factory ship at anchor, the Lady Tuna.

Here was our first clue as to the raison-detre of Barbate. The charts indicated the presence of several huge ( huge as in, miles long) tuna nets. These are present throughout the summer months. We hoisted the Spanish courtesy flag and the ‘ Q’ flag, just in case. I felt quietly confident that the almost perfect crossing would have restored my crews faith in her skippers judgement, turns out she was just glad to be back in Spain!

Without any hard information as to the state of play regarding the huge tuna nets we approached cautiously towards the Tuna factory ship ‘ Lady Tuna’ my thinking being that being at anchor her swinging circle should be free of hazards.
The nets are known as ‘Almadraba’  these are normally in place during May and June and for 3000 years or so people have been harvesting the blue fin tuna as they migrate from the Atlantic to the Mediteranean.

Passing close to the factory ship the smell was enough to persude us that fishing was still ongoing.

We were directed into the marina after having negotiated the buoyed channel approach. The marina it has to be said is not the most attractive being based on the concrete bomb shelter school of architecture.

However much like Morocco it has a great colony of feral cats......

Its a bit of a hike around the fish dock to get into town and on the way its possible to see the huge anchors used to secure the  ‘Almadraba ‘ nets.

Walking along the front the reverence for Tuna continues with every restaurant having Tuna on the menu ( Tuna tartare, anyone?) There is also this rather wonderful sculpture, or should I say mobile as it is in fact a windvane. Built by Pedro L Barberá Briones, its a 4 metre high bronze wonderment.....

The town of Barbate up until recently was known as Barbate de Franco as the dictator Franco used to holiday here ( apparently a keen fisherman), the name was changed in 1998 after the rise of the Junta of Andalucia.

The pilot is fairly dismissive of the marina and town describing them as ‘ souless’ this is unfair and just plain wrong. The marina is indeed a concrete bunker but any town which has been around since the phonecians deserves a bit more respect.

The town hall square and old town are typical Andalucian spaces and are quite charming. We also discovered a plethora of supermarkets Lidle Aldi etc. Lynne was just smiling all the time........so many goodies!

There was a sculpture in progress on the town hall plaza.......tuna obviously, its a bit of a theme.

Luckily for us there was a rather nice beach very close ( just to the west) of the marina and the bathing passed all Lynnes tests. Ok it was warm water.....

I hadnt realised, to my shame, how much more Lynne had been affected by Morocco. How much more oppressive in fact the restrictions had felt, and how much of a weight had been lifted by a simple change of position of 30 miles or so.....

I watched my wife floating in her favourite place with a big grin on her face and realised how lucky we were. 

The echoes of the VHF in the Gibraltar straights and Tarifa radio constantly warning of inflatable boats with 40 people on board, gave me a sudden shiver.......,

Spain has accepted over 16,000 refugees, or illegal migrants this year alone. To put this in  some kind of perspective, another 5000 and they will equal the population of Horwich where we used to live.

Meanwhile thousands die attempting the crossing to a better life, the official line is to offer no help but report the position of the immigrants to the authorities. Help would be seen as aiding and abbetting illegal immigration and we as mariners would be prosecuted for offering assistance. What kind of a world are we living in?

I state here and now, I will offer assistance to whoever needs it, anywhere. If I save a life I will go to jail a happy man.....,,,and more importantly with a clear conscience. I recently talked with some American citizens who said they would not pick up migrants for fear of getting shot. I think this says far more about Americans than migrants. We all inhabit this Earth, we are all entitled to live upon it, by right. You people who profess to believe in God, well if you are a Jew or a Muslim, or a Christian , its the same God you all believe in.

I don't believe, but I think that people should not have to die in an effort to make their situation better.....because they are people.

The Jewish Tzedakah, or possibly more  relevant Gemilut, is a charitable obligation, in Islam one of the Five pillars is zakãt, another obligation. I am sure there is a Christian obligation to charity, other than a brief mention in Leviticus but I dont know where to look for it.

Sorry for the rant but some things need saying......,,,

Chefchouen

There are many ways to spell Chefchouan. Add an 'e', or a combination of other letters, miss out the chef part altogether and just go with Choan, this is what the bus companys do. All part of the slightly confusing side of Morocco.

Along with constantly changing street names it makes dry land navigation a constant challenge. However once you are ensconsed on a comfortable bus you may just sit and watch the world go by. This is particularly interesting in the rural Rif Mountains.

We arrived at the bus station and as Chefchoan is on a fairly steep hill with the bus station at the bottom we elected to get a ' petit taxi'. He dropped us at a small dusty track leading into some trees and after overcharging us somewhat, only by about £2, but it was an introduction to the prevailing state of play at this very touristy place.

The Auberge however was delightful, and our room, tastefully decorated in a craft style had a fabulous view over the Blue medina.

The house was built as a villa by a rich man and has recently been converted to an hotel or Auberge. Lynnes new hobby of ' looking out of the window' was well served by this one!

The view showed the Casbah, the brown castle like building in the centre of the blue medina, nestling in the high valley between the two mountains or ' horns' from which Chefchoan gets its name. It also showed the terrace 

With swimming pool and the lovely gardens around the Auberge.

If anything the view improved at night when the town below was lit up.

With the addition of spectacular sunsets over the mountains. Well, what can I say...........

 In the morning we breakfasted al fresco and were introduced to some very cute irritations, a litter of kittens who provided a deal of distraction while brothers and sisters mounted raids on our breakfast table!

We had decided to walk into town which meant taking a rather rough and indistinct path down the valley and through the smallholdings and houses perched on the hill.

At times this could almost be described as a track, at others we were directed by gestures from friendly locals as to which direction to take. Very often this was a rubble filled path behind a house maybe three feet wide.

The distinct brown castle like Casbah provided a good aiming point as we walked around the hill, importantly avoiding "down", because that would have meant coming back up at some point. Inevitably later in the day that was exactly the mistake we made!

We did wish we had brought hiking boots. However this was not an occasional path this was the everyday access to peoples homes. Made us think......

Eventually we emerged onto a metalled road by a small graveyard and had a good view of the two 'horns' with the valley running down to the spring of Ras el Maa, now enclosed by a building but is still the location of baths and wash houses built into the steep sides.

There are also water mills built into the side of the valley. The underground stream was the main reason for siting the town here as well as its defensive position.

Of course the main reason for the towns existence in the present day became apparent as soon as we crossed the bridge to Bab Onsar, the northern entrance gate to the medina. A local on the bridge tried to charge me 5 dirhams to take a photo. As we wandered around the famous and undeniably attractive streets the hassle level was a fairly constant, " irritating". We had fallen into the " tourist trap"

It was virtually impossible to stop and look at anything without being dragged into a shop or charged to photograph a blue wall.

Some were very blue indeed. It was a great pity and we found ourselves rushing from quiet spot to quiet spot and hurrying past the shops and stalls in the Souk smiling and constantly saying " non merci".

As we emerged onto the main square by the Casbah again we were assaulted by voices saying " hello, how are you? Where are you from?" Which is the unofficial " guides" opening gambit.

We had about an hour before the museum in the Casbah closed but were disapointed yet again to discover that the entrance fee for " estrangers "  was five times what it was for a Moroccan citizen. In fact the family in front of us were let in for free as it was close to closing. We decided enough was enough, and we left the medina without visiting the Casbah.

The " new town "proved interesting enough in its own way. It had some street art and we only got propositioned every thirty minutes or so.

After walking down towards the bus station a bit,  we decided ( foolishly) to walk back to the Auberge. We used the Spanish mosque ( visible on the hill ) as a  landmark and stopped half way for a refreshing orange juice in a local cafe. But it was a punishing climb in the heat and were glad indeed to see the welcoming Auberge and couldn't wait to dive into the pool.

After experiencing what we consider to be " tourist hell" in the medina the poolside was a very attractive proposition.

We were getting a little tired anyway so did very little for the next two days but swim, read, write blogs! eat and play with the kittens.

, well watch them climb trees and wrestle mainly!

We needed some time to recharge our batteries before the long bus ride back to Tangiers.

That evening clouds rolled up the valley and although we missed it, rain fell briefly overnight......the first since June, maybe it was an omen? Maybe it was time to return to Spain?

Our bus to Tangiers was not until 3 oclock the following day so after breakfast on the terrace followed by a mornings packing and showering we waited on the shady terrace in front of the Auberge for a taxi booked for 2 pm.

A delightful spot and even the kittens failed to hassle us as they are feral and we didnt have any obvious food.

We sat and read our Kindles. I thought about our trip and considered the similaritys with the sea. We navigate from safe haven to safe haven attempting to avoid hazards and perils. In the month and a half we have spent in Morocco we have done much the same. Sometimes feeling like a fish out of water, for me it has been an invaluable education and a great experience even if at times I have felt a little out of my depth!