RIP Lucky Lure :( (Lanzarote - Fuerteventura)

 

The anchorages of Lanzarote so far have been a little disappointing: rocky bottoms, constant swell - Chez actually reported ‘The worst night of swell ever’ one morning. I can’t confirm this as I managed to sleep... and snore through the vast majority of it.

This, coupled with a windlass that appears to be slowly dying and a ripped main sail has meant a less than perfect start to our Canary Islands experience.

We tracked down a possible sail repair location in Playa Blanca at the Southern end of the island. The owner - Manuel - had advised that he was busy, but would have a look for us to at least provide a quote. With no other options, and unable to sail at all until it’s repaired, we headed along with the sail. After a short wait, Manuel took a look at our ripped clew - he put on a pained expression and started doing some classic dodgy mechanic style umming and arring...

I’m thinking ‘Here it comes’ - how wrong could I be.

“€50, and I’ll have it done in half an hour’”

Well - miracles happen: and true to his word, a short 30 minutes later a perfect repair had been made.

We thanked him, and gave him a big Toblerone as a bonus. Lots of smiles all round: great guy.

Social butterfly Chez has been in touch with some old Ag Nik residents from Crete, now in the Rubicon marina for a few days: Rene and Barbara.

Although we hadn’t been overly close back in Crete, visiting their lovely boat we were greeted as old friends, and it was great to chat with people who are living and experiencing similar travel/boat issues and adventures as ourselves. They also have a delightful dog Rizzo who was a sucker for a tummy tickle.

Having lived in Australia for many years, I’ve developed a true appreciation of a good nickname: Barbara’s is up there with the best.

Back in the marina in Crete there were two Barbaras: both living aboard their boats - one of whom had a washing machine on board, and one who did not (as many live-aboards do, relying on hand washing or laundrettes instead) - this differentiation gave rise to the affectionate and well received nicknames: ‘Clean Babs’ and ‘Dirty Babs’ - Barbara was keen to confirm that she was the clean one

The windlass repair followed the regular cycle: frustration, getting dirty, and ineffectually trying various fixes. I eventually managed to get to the bottom of the issue: in basic terms the motor was clogged up with carbon, and needed to be dismantled and cleaned up.

Once both the sail and the windlass were fixed, we can now take a breath and start to enjoy this very different landscape: The dark stark burnt land has a post bush fire look to it. It’s bare of vegetation other than a few cacti, patches of aloe vera and the occasional palm tree.

We made the short crossing to Fuerteventura - had a great sail with reefed main and genoa out, 15ish knots and the hydrovane finally working exactly as it should.

Fuerteventura shares the same barren look as Lanzarote: it’s as if an artist has squirted out far too much burnt umber onto his pallet and let it dry.

After spending some time anchored in the barely protected bay on Isla de Lobos, we visited the town of Corralejo - opting to anchor out. There’s lots of ferries coming and going, but less swell than we’ve had for the last few nights. Ventured into town for a recce - lots and lots of almost exclusively English tourists. Restaurants mostly full at lunchtime, and less than 5% of people masked now. Not the prettiest of towns, but lots of choice of restaurants and bars.

Returned in the evening to address Chez’s hankering for sweet potato fries which we’d spotted earlier in the day - having dinner in a stylish little burger place: all very good.

Set off down the coast the next morning, catching what I think was a small hake fish (long and lots of teeth) soon after setting out - not eating size, so sent him back home with tales to tell his mates. Limited wind to start the day, so motoring along as I write this.

We’d planned to visit and stay at Rosario Marina, we have visitors coming next week, and this looks like a good location close to the airport. Coming through the entrance to the port we passed two massive cruise liners, one on each side, and as we neared the dock the wind picked up to make the side to docking slightly less easy than it could have been - this accompanied with a mildly angry policeman heading down the dock towards us; “why you no radio?” didn’t make for the best first impression. Once Senór Plod had calmed down a bit, he offered to take us to the Marina office in his car for us to check in and pay. Chez headed off to the office with our papers as I stayed with the boat and adjusted the lines and got the hose and cable ready to connect water and electric.

It was not to be: after half an hour Chez returned, the Marina wanted to charge us €84 for an overnight stay (they charge for two nights minimum, and had added who knows what else to come to that figure)

Upshot - we’re leaving, and leaving with a now strong wind blowing us hard onto the dock. With the help of a burly chap a few boats down the pontoon, we managed to spring away

from the dock and carried on down the coast.

Both very tired by the time we got to our plan B anchorage, we then spent an hour trying to set our kedge anchor to our stern to minimise the overnight swell - a tricky business, but after our third attempt, with both anchors set we settled down for the night.

Next morning, after heaving the kedge anchor and chain aboard we set off, and once again. I drop the lucky lure off the stern and hope for the best.

It’s a nice day, clear sky, still warm (low 20s) for November, and we make good progress with following wind and swell.

The reel squeals - and this time it’s really squealing! I take up the rod and begin trying to reel in the biggest fish (or possibly log) that I’ve ever caught.

After 15 mins or so, I get my first glimpse - it’s a big bonito. Arms aching I finally manage to get it to the back of the transom in all its striped blue and silver glistening glory - as I lift it out of the water, I’m sorry to say that with a final truely death defying flip, the fish, and my lure, are lost to the deep.

Still currently sulking about it..

RIP Lucky Lure