Liam’s Take:
San Sebastián, Gipuzkoa.
The moment we sailed in, I exhaled. Relief, pride. That weird, gut-deep feeling when something just clicks. Like you belong, even if you’ve never set foot there before.
Our Ma’ was born here. She left when she was twelve, but it still feels like part of our story. Like we’re retracing footprints we never actually made.
San Sebastián hits different. Green hills rolling into the sea, that perfect crescent of golden sand, old-world buildings that look like they’ve seen it all and still aren’t impressed.
La Concha Beach was Mum’s favorite. Walking it for the first time, I felt like I was chasing her shadow. I swear I could hear her voice—telling us about summers here, toes in the sand, racing the tide.
First stop: her childhood home. It’s still standing, tucked into the Parte Vieja, holding its history in its walls. I stared at it, trying to picture her as a kid, weaving through the streets, maybe stopping for warm bread at some tiny bakery. Weird being here without her. But also, weirdly, like she wasn’t so far away.
The city? Alive.
The Old Town hums. Pintxos bars spill over with noise, plates clatter, someone laughs too loud, the smell of grilled seafood and warm spice lingers in the air.
We bar-hopped, eating our way through Mum’s heritage—jamón ibérico that disappeared before it even hit my tongue, fresh anchovies that punched with vinegar, txangurro that tasted like the ocean. It felt like a celebration. Like raising a glass to something bigger than just us.
Ryan’s Take:
Right. So San Sebastián wasn’t just some sentimental stop. Don’t let Liam spin you.
We had a boat to fix. The crossing from Dublin took its toll, and La Sirena needed some love before we went any further.
First problem? Steering.
Somewhere in the worst of the Bay of Biscay, the wheel started fighting me. Docked in the marina, I squeezed into the cockpit locker (which, for the record, is not human-sized) and checked the cables.
Frayed. A disaster waiting to happen. Thankfully, the chandlery had replacements, and after a sweaty, swear-laden afternoon, they were in.
Then: the starboard winch. Slipping under load, which is exactly what you don’t want mid-storm. I cracked it open on deck, laid out the springs and gears like I was defusing a bomb, cleaned everything, re-greased, reassembled. Smooth as butter.
(Pro tip: if you’ve never rebuilt a winch, start small. Or prepare for chaos.)
Final check: the rigging. Turnbuckles knocked loose, cotter pins bent. We swapped them out, tightened the lines, and made sure the mast wasn’t about to throw in the towel.
Liam’s Take:
While Ryan played engineer, I had my own war zone below deck.
Post-Biscay, it was carnage. Books everywhere, pots and pans rattling around like they’d staged a mutiny, a carton of orange juice that had gone off like a grenade in the fridge. (Sticky. Nightmare.)
I spent hours scrubbing, reorganizing, discovering new and horrifying smells. But eventually, La Sirena felt like a home again. Or at least, not a biohazard.
San Sebastián wasn’t just a stopover. It was a deep breath after chaos, a reset button smacked hard. A chance to remember why we’re even out here, bouncing from one place to the next. And yeah, maybe we needed it more than we’d admit.
What’s Next?
She’s patched up, stocked up, as ready as she’ll ever be. Next stop: Bilbao.
Could be smooth sailing. Could be a fight. Could be another fridge-related crime scene. Either way, we’re in it now.
Catch you out there.
Ryan & Liam
The Ocean Bois
