I’ll briefly wind up the Cruise through Blues series that I was posting in September. I was just getting to the best bits when I got distracted, so here they are. (There are no pictures I’m afraid as the camera had already received the dunking from which no camera shall return.—But here’s a picture of a blue-footed booby that came up when I typed Onawind Blue into Google images.)
Too impatient to spend another day in the anchorage where I’d waited 32 hours for wind I set out on the 20 mile crossing of the Bay of Roses in fog. Rowing at three knots I considered that 100 to 200 metres visibility was sufficient. Judging by the quiet the motorboats had stayed at home.
A breeze arrived after a couple of hours rowing but the fog didn’t lift. It was no more than a blanket, looking up I could make out blue sky. With enough wind to sail large at 4 to 5 knots Onawind Blue clattered over the small, developing sea. The only other noise a mechanical throb coming from all directions. Shortly the bows of a trawler parted the curtain and I changed course. We passed close by and I waved but got no response.
I trusted the compass to keep pointing north but checked the GPS more than necessary all the same. The boat and I inhabited a small disc of sea with a diaphanous boundary that we could never reach. The sensation was of total solitude and we could have been many more than 10 miles off shore. From my reading I expected sailing in fog to be a nightmare—and I’m utterly convinced it generaly is—but this time it was one of the most enjoyable sails I’ve had. The blanket lifted finding me two miles offshore just west of Cape Norfeu. (Last time I’d been up this way I’d sailed too close in under the cliffs, lost the wind and eaten lots of wake.) Now I could bear away still more and sail straight into Cadaqués bay where I anchored in Cala Nans, had a swim and made lunch though it was 6 in the afternoon.