Portugal

Ryan woke up before the alarm. That already told me what kind of day it was going to be. The Strait had been sitting there in our heads for weeks. Not fear exactly. More like a low, constant awareness. You don’t “arrive” at the Strait of Gibraltar the way you arrive at a marina. You […]

Ryan We came into Portimão just after sunrise. The sea was flat for the first time in days, so quiet it almost felt wrong. The engine had been coughing, low oil smell drifting through the cabin, but we made it in. The marina looked half empty. Rows of clean charter boats on one side, us

Ryan The morning looked innocent. Flat light, gulls acting like they owned the place, chain lying like a good dog. That’s when you do the work—the boring stuff you only notice when it fails. I started at the bow because that’s where the night talks back. Snubber off, fingers on the splice, no heat, no

Liam’s Take Didn’t move. Wind was nothing. Anchored holding fine. Swell wrapped around a bit, but I’ve slept worse in a car park in La Coruña. Tightened the topping lift, cleaned the scuppers. Solar’s working again. One of the stern lines smells off. I’ll bleach it later. Mam rang. Asked if we were back on

Liam’s Take Left early. I wanted distance before the wind backed. Forecast showed 15 knots NW with gusts to 20 around the cape. PredictWind said 25. Navtex said 12. I trust none of them. The truth is always somewhere between the numbers and your stomach. We were motor sailing for the first few hours. Swell

Liam’s Take Stayed another day. The forecast’s clean but I wanted a proper check before rounding Cape St. Vincent. It’s not a tricky headland, but it’s known for making easy things hard when you’re not paying attention. Started the morning with gear checks. Winch oil. Reefing lines. The lazy jacks were catching again — I

Liam’s Take We hadn’t planned to stay. But by the time we’d flushed tanks, checked filters, and found the decent showers, it was too late to move. Ryan mentioned food. I said he could cook. We ended up walking. Lagos at night was louder than I expected. Rua 25 de Abril was full of buskers,

Liam’s Take Left Portimão early. Forecast was decent — light offshore wind building through the day. It held. One reef in, a bit of heel, quiet sailing. No dramas. Might’ve even enjoyed it if we hadn’t had Lagos in mind. Marina’s well-run. Everything works. You get the code to the showers without having to beg.

Liam’s Take We left early. First light, just enough wind to make it worthwhile. It was backing southeast by mid-morning, so I wanted to clear the river mouth and be moving before it dropped. Ryan looked rough. He always does when we leave anywhere before breakfast. I’d prepped the night before — fuel, lines, rig.

Ryan’s Take:It started with binoculars. Liam had them out before breakfast, claiming he’d spotted either a dolphin or a bin bag that “looked hopeful.” I was halfway through a soggy cracker when he froze, went quiet, and said, “We’ve got company.” There was a boat. Grey. Official-looking. Fast. With men who did not wave. They