Get Ready… It’s Going to Be a Wild Ride
Here is a preview of one of our many adventures! I know many of you were concerned about the Orcas attacking sailboats along the coast of Spain… the coastline we had to travel along to enter the Mediterranean. Unfortunately, we had some close calls with the maurauding pod. More than once, we were in a location a few hours either prior or after a boat had been disabled.
Here is an excert from our upcoming book: an account of our close encounters of the Orca kind…
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There was one stop left before we would enter the notorious Straits of Gibraltar, Barbate, Spain. Dan researched harbors along the southern coast of Spain. The options were very sparse. Most sailors do not stop once they leave Lagos; they sail straight into the Med as there are only a few good harbors to stop at along the way. Since we did not have the wind in our favor, we had to make our way in bits and pieces when the wind was in the right direction.
There were no good reviews about the harbor of Barbate. There was nowhere to anchor; you had to go into the marina. The state-owned marina was rumored to be poorly run and had old docks that were in much need of repair. It was hit or miss if anyone would be around when you pulled onto the welcome dock. As it was our only option, we departed from Porto Sherry for the 50-mile sail to Barbate.
As per our routine, we set the sails, put out the fishing line, and settled in to watch for buoys and fish farms as we hugged the coast. The coastline was magnificent. Lots of colorful seaside towns lie nestled among a mountainous backdrop. There were expansive stretches of white sandy beaches. If not for the perils of the traps and buoys, it would have been a great sail. We stayed alert and were thankful it was a gorgeous, sunny day, and the wind was in our favor.
The evening was closing in. We only had a couple of miles left to sail. There was an unspoken apprehension about pulling into the marina and what we would discover. When we got within range of the marina, we would hail them on the radio and ask for permission to enter.
Suddenly, our radio crackled to life. A distressed voice called out, “Pan Pan, Pan Pan, Pan Pan.” Pan Pan is a distress call, one step down from Mayday, which means, come help me, my life is in peril. Pan Pan means that you are in distress or danger, but not life-threatening. That said, the tone of the man’s voice told us that he was terrified.
First and foremost, the voice called out his latitude and longitude. We looked at the chart and discovered he was only a few miles away from us. We quickly scanned the horizon but could not see his boat. Next, he yelled that Orcas were attacking his boat. He begged for someone to come help him immediately. Moments later, he called out again. He screamed that more Orcas were coming, and the attack was getting worse. He called several more times, pleading for help. We prayed that his calls were being received and help was on the way. We knew there was nothing we could do for him and that approaching the pod would put our boat in danger. Meanwhile, Dan was marking his position on our chart plotter, knowing that if the distress call became a Mayday, we would be compelled to go there. The tension was broken a few minutes later when we heard the Guardia Civil respond that they were on their way. We both breathed a sigh of relief and set our sights on the marina entrance again.
When we were in sight, I made several attempts to hail the marina. I was met with silence. Dan looked up a phone number for the marina, and I called the number, but there was no answer. The recorded message was in Spanish, so I had no idea what information had been given. We knew this might be an issue, but we were hoping for a better outcome. We started our engine, pulled in our sails, and took a deep breath, hoping the end of the stressful day would go smoothly.
Not a soul was visible as we entered the marina. The small ‘welcome dock,’ which most marinas will have a dock to tie up if you do not have a reservation, was empty. We tied up and walked up to a building that looked like an office. The lights were off, the doors were locked. There was a paper taped to the door with the office hours. It was after five pm and the office was closed. It would open at 10:00 am. We looked at each other with a mutual, “What do we do now?” expression.
“Well, let’s go pick a slip,” Dan said. And we did.
There were lots of open slips available, so we picked one that was easy to get into. We secured our boat, poured two beers, and toasted to being safe as the sun began to set, highlighted by a blaze of colors, behind the marina. Suddenly, Dan pointed to the marina entrance and said, “Look who’s here!”
A bright orange rescue boat was towing a sailboat. We knew it had to be the boat that had been attacked by the Orcas. We knew that when the Orcas went after a boat, they would use their gigantic teeth to rip off the boat’s rudder. Without a rudder, it is impossible to steer. Thus, there is a need for a tow boat. A single man sat in the cockpit as his boat was delivered safely to a dock in the middle of the marina. His slumped posture was a telltale sign that he was exhausted and had a very bad day.
At ten the next morning, Dan and I walked up and checked in at the office. There seemed to be no concern that we came in and pulled into a slip without having checked in. Dan paid for two nights, as the weather was okay to continue to Gibraltar the following day. Dan wanted to return to our boat and rinse her down with fresh water and fill our water tanks. I said I would meet him there. There was someone I wanted to talk to.
I found the dock with the injured vessel and approached tentatively. I saw the captain standing by his boat. I saw the French flag flying from his stern. “Bonjour,” I said. The very sad-looking man returned the greeting. It was clear he was still shaken following his very bad day.
Between his broken English and my very poor French, we managed to have a brief conversation. I explained we had heard his distress calls and were very near to him when the Orcas arrived. I asked how badly his boat had been damaged. He said that his rudder was ripped off. He had gone into the water and looked earlier that morning. It was completely gone.
I gave him my condolences and wished him success in getting his boat repaired. He thanked me, and I left. I did not get a warm fuzzy feeling that this man was ready to get repairs and head back out any time soon. Come to find out later, when I read an update about the event, the repair costs were too much for him. He sold the boat and gave up sailing. Being so close to someone whose boat was disabled by the Orcas made us even more wary as we set out the following morning. I was sad for him but happy for us. We were about to take a major step in our circumnavigation. We would finally be breaching the notoriously treacherous Straits of Gibraltar.
Journey with Us!
From the coast of Spain – into the Med, you will travel from port to port through this incredible region with us. This journey was not always smooth, there were many rough pasages. Read about the good, the bad, the beauty and the beasts, in Riding the Waves of Reality part II.
