Logbook

• Departure: Carboneras (36.9913, -1.8895), Friday, April 25, 2025 at 09:48 UTC
• Arrival: Garrucha (37.1845, -1.8193), Friday, April 25, 2025 at 14:51 UTC
• Duration: 5.1 h
• Distance: 14.3 nm
• Average speed: 2.8 kn
• Crew: Tobi, Anna, Jo, Eli

Carboneras to Garrucha: a modest half-day’s sail, 14 nautical miles at an average of 2.8 knots. Wind 4–8 kn from the SSE, gusting to 20 kn. The seafood restaurants at the harbor were excellent, though a gypsum shipping facility right by the marina keeps everything coated in a fine layer of dust.

Logbook

• Departure: Los Escullos (36.8030, -2.0564), Wednesday, April 23, 2025 at 09:34 UTC
• Arrival: Carboneras (36.9896, -1.8984), Wednesday, April 23, 2025 at 19:54 UTC
• Duration: 10.3 h
• Distance: 28.8 nm
• Average speed: 2.8 kn
• Crew: Tobi, Anna, Jo, Eli

Departed Los Escullos for Carboneras, a full day underway covering 29 nautical miles at 2.8 knots average. Wind 6–9 kn from the ENE, gusting to 19 kn. Current up to 0.5 kn setting WSW. The “marina” at Carboneras turned out to be a rickety pier with questionable electricity and, in the low season no less, an eye-watering 50€ a night.

The autopilot quit within hours of leaving Almerímar, which meant a whole overnight leg to Los Escullos steered by hand, in the dark, by a crew who had rather hoped to be doing other things with their evening. I did not have a name for this sort of behavior yet. I have one now. At the time I simply stood over the tiller, unseen as usual, and watched a perfectly good electronic helmsman give up the moment the work started, which strikes me as a fairly reliable definition of cowardice in any century.

I will say this much in its defense: at least it had the decency to fail early, before the wind picked up, rather than waiting for the worst possible moment to make its point. That refinement, I gather, came later.

Someone at the tiller all night is proper old-fashioned sailing, the kind I was built for, and I stayed close the whole way in, which is more than the autopilot managed. The anchorage at Los Escullos, in front of its old fort, was a fine reward for it. A long night, a tired crew, and a good hook down at the end. I have seen worse trades.

Logbook

• Departure: Almerimar (36.6771, -2.6737), Monday, April 21, 2025 at 19:04 UTC
• Arrival: Los Escullos (36.8046, -2.0589), Tuesday, April 22, 2025 at 11:12 UTC
• Duration: 16.1 h
• Distance: 39.9 nm
• Average speed: 2.5 kn
• Crew: Tobi, Anna, Jo, Eli

Weighed anchor at Almerimar, bound for Los Escullos: a long day that ran past sunset covering 40 nautical miles at an average of 2.5 knots. Wind 0–8 kn from the WSW, gusting to 18 kn. Current up to 1.4 kn setting ENE. The autopilot packed in early on, so the whole leg was hand-steered. Worth it, though: the anchorage at Los Escullos, in front of an old fort, was a fine reward.

The Spaniards have a good word for it: invernaje. Everything made fast, everything stowed, and then the whole crew vanishes for a few months while the November storms have their say. I am told this is sensible. I am told the crew has homes to go to, and elderly relatives with failing wifi who apparently cannot survive the holidays without someone young enough to understand a router. I have never once been consulted on the scheduling.

I will be staying, obviously. Someone has to. A ship left alone at a pontoon for months at a stretch needs a spirit aboard to mind the lines, listen for anything working itself loose, and generally keep an eye on a boat that cannot keep an eye on herself. This is, in fact, the single oldest and most legitimate piece of my trade, older than the pipe, and I intend to point that out to anyone who suggests I have nothing to do all winter.

It does sting a little, watching everyone pack up and head off to somewhere colder and greyer than here, especially in December, when this stretch of coast is putting on some of its best weather of the year for an audience of precisely nobody. Their loss. I hear there is a proper refit planned come spring: fixing, sanding, and the general glorious mess of getting a new-to-us boat into shape. I will have had several quiet months to think up complaints about all of it in advance.