Choosing  only 8 records to play on your desert island is tough. You’ve probably done this too mulling over the dilemma. And my choices do change depending on mood, circumstance and sometimes just hearing a great record and thinking, bloody hell, that’s ace, I really like that. There are however some non negotiable tracks ….

1. bring me sunshine – morcambe and wise. Had it our wedding, it’s my alarm every day and i love its sentiment. What’s not to like, it brings smiles to faces and it’s easy to sing along to.
2. blue monday – new order. Part of my ‘yoof’. I also think it’s timeless as you play it today and it’s doesn’t need sound dated. Great baseline.
3. stone roses – waterfall. The album this track is from is immense. I can quite happily listen to  it on repeat without getting bored.
4. eagle eye cherry – people will always take the long way round. Upbeat and part of dave and I’s history.

The remaining four allowable tracks as I said, weave in and out of my consciousness. If you’re at a loose end, let me know a couple of your tracks and why….I’m just being a bit nosey.

The reason for the angle of this blog, is that we are on our own desert island. Islas Cies is an island in the national park, not far from Vigo or Bayona. I’m not really going to say much more about it other than look at the photos and enjoy. We are.

It’s not all sunshine and light though. We did have right old pea soup fog last night where seeing the boat from 50 to 75m away was impossible. Glad we left the anchor light on otherwise we may never have found her in the dark returning on the dinghy. Seeing Grace loom up out of the darkness was quite spooky. And lying awake at 4am hearing an engine from another boat that could have been 1 mile away or 20m away was disturbing. I’m thinking, please see us. Don’t the crash into us. We have survived the night intact and will walk up to the lighthouse at the southern end of the island for sunset and views tonight.

Off to Vigo tomorrow. Big city will be a big contrast to here.

Not many photos here. Slow email in our beach bar.

We’ve been liveaboards, boat gypsies, transient souls, work avoiders, travellers (substitute your own word here) for over 100 days. I know that because I read an article in the british press that it’s 100 days since the Brexit vote and we moved onto the boat the Friday the results were announced.

I’m glad to report Europe is still welcoming Brits and as U.K. Representatives, I hope we are received as doing our bit to be friendly, non judgemental, interested and happy to spend money in whichever country we are in.

We went into a café at lunchtime yesterday in Aguino in the Ria de Arousa. We tapped into their free wifi for 45 minutes and bought a couple of beers – cost €3.40. In that time we were brought two little tapas dishes each, one with a few roast potatoes, a mini sausage and a small spare rib and the second with a small portion of octopus stew. Both delicious and flavoursome. As if that wasn’t enough a bowl of crisps and a bowl of olives arrived too. That was lunch unexpectedly taken care of. All for about £3.00.

It’s Sunday. Dave is writing a proposal. It’s sunny but it was a bit nippy this morning before the sun developed a bit of warmth. First indications of autumn maybe…. time to get further south. The Ria here is beautiful and rocky, not unlike Brittany or the Channel Islands. We motored in close to shore through a narrow channel to save 3 or 4 miles. It sharply focuses the mind seeing the rocks looming as we followed a dogleg of transits. How accurate is the chart plotter? Stay on the bearing, 105 degrees to the green and white tower. Breathe, we’re through.

There are some islands off the coast here which form part of a national park. We have applied for a permit to visit and been ‘approved’. So Isla Ons we hope to visit you this week.

Dave’s rope work skills were put to the test a few days ago when Dan and Emily snagged their anchor on a massive log in Muros harbour. The log was longer than their 27 foot boat, incredibly muddy and stank. Between us the log was wrestled and returned to the depths for the next unfortunate boat who picks that self same spot. It was too unwieldy (and smelly) to take to the shore. Sorry.

Today we went inland to Santiago de Compostela. I know our journey by boat and service bus doesn’t qualify as a pilgrimage. I looked up a definition just out of interest…..”A journey especially a long one made to some sacred place as an act of religious devotion”.

We chatted to a guy in the Cathedral who told us to qualify officially for the ‘Pilgrimage Medal’ (not sure exactly what the honour is really called) you need to have walked at least 100km or cycled 200km to reach the city.

The Cathedral itself is remarkable. Massive, incredibly ornate and rammed full of what I considered to be three merging groups of people. 1. Backpackers, walkers and cyclists easily recognisable in their lycra kit and possibly from their smell?! 2. Tourists, which is the category I’d put us in and 3. People there for religious reasons and to take part of the daily services.

Even today in 2016, the bling of the ornate gold in the centre of the Cathedral cannot go unnoticed. Who knows what your average local Spanish peasant thought of it in the 1700’s if indeed they were allowed to look.

There is an extension to the walking trail from Santiago to Cape Finisterre. Having had a cracking sail round the lighthouse into the bay, the following day, which was Dave’s birthday, we walked from the village out to the lighthouse on the headland. We pondered how many countries have their own Lands End / Finisterre equivalent. And do they all sell their own variety of tat?

On the way back we sat in a beach bar in the sun having a drink looking out over a beautiful sandy beach framed with hills and Eucalyptus forests.. I’m happy that our sailing journey so far had taken us to some amazing places. Such a view is enough for me. No need for ceremony and bling.

On a more practical note, we have starter motor problems which is pretty key in starting the engine. We may be in Muros which is in one of the Spanish Rias for a few days.

Some folk are just natural storytellers. Our friend Miv has some great personal stories to tell about bus driving and watermelons in Lincolnshire. If you catch him in the right  place at the right time, (he’s a busy man) he may regale you.

On this trip, we’ve had a few notable stories told to us. Danny and Emily are proper sailors. Their current boat has journeyed from Mexico to the States to the Med and upto Portsmouth. This trip of several thousand miles was all done without an engine. They ‘hove to’ off the Isle of Wight for two days waiting for the northerly winds to abate. That’s proper. They had an engine fitted in Portsmouth. We met them in El Ferrol in an anchorage off a sandy beach. They plan to sail to Chile, Danny’s home country as he wants to sail round Cape Horn. In comparison, we are ‘nanny class’ with our bespoke mattress and Earl Grey teabags.

Another tale which kept us laughing for ages was told by a chap who admitted in his younger days that he was a bit naughty. He was obliged to do Community Service as penance. His supervisor took him to a flat that needed painting which belonged to a thalidomide victim. Fair do’s. he thought. Armed with tins of gloss he started his many hours of payback.

After a couple of days he thought there’s always lots of people to-ing and fro-ing from  the flat. And even above the vicious fumes of the gloss paint, there was always a lingering sweet smell around the place.

it then dawned on him. He was painting a thalidomide drug dealers flat, under the instruction of the criminal justice system.

Today we’re heading west towards Camarinas but it won’t be long before we round Finisterre and head directly south along the Spanish and Portugese coastline.

The list of breakages and things to mend is increasing every day. Guess it’s mostly wear and tear. Living on a boat is substantially different to the odd holiday or weekend afloat. More free nights at anchor are calling to pay for running repairs. Having said that, we stayed 5 nights in La Coruna for €73 which works about £12.60 a night. British marinas take note!

In our time messing around with boats we’ve done the odd little good deed helping people out or even when they don’t believe they need helping. A few years ago in the Solent we came across a couple of teenage lads in a tiny inflatable with one paddle about a mile offshore oblivious to the fact they were heading out on a flood tide towards the Needles Channel. They’d been towed out by some so called mates and left to drift. We motored up, said “Hi lads’ where are you going? Isle of Wight came the reply. We pursuaded them it was unlikely they’d be able to paddle there and to come on board. We called the inshore lifeboat who came and took them away. I think potentially they were more scared of the reception they were going to get from their parents rather than the life boat crew who also gave them a bit of a stern talking to.

Last Saturday night we were in Cedeira, a small fishing village which boasts an army of deck chair sitting, chain smoking, cardigan wearing women who sit on the pontoon at night fishing with hooks and lines mostly gossiping. We’d been out painting the town red, okay a very faint pink, and returned to the pontoon to row back in our tender to the boat which was anchored in the bay.

A couple of French guys were doing the same thing. We’d seen then in a bar earlier in the evening engaged in intense conversation, calamari and Rioja. Dave was just pulling the tender in when there was an almighty sploosh. We turned round to see a drunk Frenchman was in the drink. We fished him out and he went straight for his iPhone. Guess it wasn’t one on the new ones just launched which are supposedly waterproof to a certain depth.  There was some spluttering and thanks but what was most notable was the army of women pi**ing themselves laughing and not stirring from their deck chairs. I don’t think they’d move for a nuclear blast. Love ’em.

Holed up in La Coruna right in the centre of town. It’s another lovely old town with squares and traffic free streets. I went to the grand and ostentatious post office earlier. Cromford Post Office is a little under whelming in comparison. Service in La Coruna not a patch on Carol though.

Local Hero is one of my all time favourite films: British, quirky, small budget, great message and low key. And if you ever go to watch Newcastle United. play football, which I know most of you quite rightly won’t, you will hear the film music  by Dire Straits played as the ‘Toon Army’ run out onto the pitch. Brings a lump to my throat and a tear to my eye but that may be about the quality (or lack of it) that I’m to witness over the next 90 minutes.

The setting for Local Hero is a small unsophisticated but very likeable village. We’ve been to such a place on our travels. Cudillero is the Spanish equivalent. A fishing harbour with some local boats and space for passing yachts. Normally you’re expected to pay marina fees when you park up. Not here. “You’ve come by boat. You deserve to stay” the slightly dishevelled and maybe a little bit drunk Spanish gentleman declared in a local bar as Dave looked for a Marina Office that was non existent. I like the logic. The pontoons are a bit ramshackle, there’s a bit of swell coming in under the breakwater but the place has no pretensions and boasts a pretty village that clings to the hillside. If you want sophisticated pricey marinas with all the services this place is not for you. It suited Dave and I just fine.

We’re now in Vivaro, about 50 miles east of La Coruna. Today is a work day. We’ve been in the library till we got thrown out for siesta at 2pm so we’re holed up in a cafe using their wifi and eating calamari. Dave has been chatting to clients too on passage. Photo evidence above.

We’re entertaining tonight so need to buy some food for dinner. Still no fish caught even though we trailed a line and a rod with a delicious looking plastic squid on the end of it for most of yesterday.  Fish seem to be very fussy as to what they eat in French and Spanish waters.

Years ago we did a whole load of work with BP Retail. One of the sessions was about customer service and going above and beyond to delight. The examples the BP trainers used were rubbish, their main example being “Flowers in the toilet”. It was a bit of standing joke amongst those of us who worked on the contract.

We have however experienced amazing help at the marina in Santander where we left the boat to head up for a jaunt into the Picos Mountains. More later on that. Back to the marina where ‘our main man’ let us log onto their office super fast wifi, most helpful, then when we asked about the nearest cash point, bundled us up into his car and drove us to one a couple of miles away. The following morning he arrived knocking on the boat at 8.55am to take us in a golf buggy to the bus stop. Now that’s outstanding customer service.

Dave spent two months in the Eastern Picos when he was an impoverished student at Lancaster University in 1985, mostly underground, scaring himself on 120m entrance pitches. We had a rough plan to retrace some of those steps from over 30 years. Without any underground nonsense. We started at 100m and walked up the Urdon Gorge which is just over 5kms in length and gains 830m in height. Impressive switchback after switchback. We discussed if we were on a zig or a zag and what is the difference between the two. No conclusion reached. Dave recalled walking up it with a massive pack carrying caving gear. We had camping kit but thankfully not as heavy.

We reached the village of Treviso then carried on another 12km to track upto a refuge where the caving expedition had been based. The hut had been upgraded but was still pretty familiar to Dave. In fact the Guardian said a group from the university had been based there earlier this summer. Old habits, traditions and links die hard.

We camped 15 minutes away from the refuge on a flat grassy patch. We used our friend Stevie’s tent. Thank you Stevie. It was pretty chilly with frost on the ground the following morning but after some porridge and a consult of the map (thanks Becca) and guide book, we came up with a plan to do a circular route up high. It was a blue sky day so we had a fantastic walk although the terrain wasn’t straightforward and we lost the path down from one of the peaks and ended up scrambling / climbing down and up to find the path again.

Around 6pm we headed down to the road and hitched to the village of Sotres, checked into a fab little hotel and ate and drank well. We’d covered close to 50km and climbed more that 7,250 feet on our two day trip which felt pretty good and a bit achy.

Here are a few snaps of our trip. Back on the boat now, fridge had stopped working but fingers crossed its chugging away now.

There have been occasions in my past when I’ve felt important and key to what’s going on. What I like about the scale of nature is it that it puts everything into a different perspective and gets my ego back onto an even keel. Nature forcibly reminds me how small and insignificant we all are in the grand scheme of things. I like this. To me this way of thinking is healthy and appropriate.

In the last few days, we sailed 200 miles from La Rochelle in France to Santander in Spain. My night watch was illuminated by a sky full of stars filling the vista from horizon to horizon. Then the moon came up and many of the stars disappeared as the light was so bright it rubbed them out. Setting a cracking pace as the sailed on a beam reach towards Spain, I could feel myself smiling and just enjoying the moment. Simple, uncomplicated, special.

We haven’t posted anything for a while. I was back in the uk for 12 days doing a bit of work with the lovely people from Nando’s, seeing some friends and family and collecting a few odds and sods from the store which we’d forgotten to pack. That’s one for you Matt. Electric dinghy pump, bike pump, spare bilge pump bits, etc etc…mostly pumps it would appear.

Dave spent around 40 hours recaulking one side of the teak decks, a pig of a job that involves stripping the old caulking out, sanding and cleaning the grooves with acetone, taping where necessary then using a gun to squeeze new caulking into the cleaned gaps. This then goes off over 48 hours, leaving the job of removing the excess caulk, sanding the deck and finally stripping away the tape. Not sure how long it will take for him to have recovered mentally to face starting the port side of the boat. He will have ‘crew / skippers wife’ to help next time.

My Bro and family came to visit in La Rochelle. It was great to see them and for them to see the boat too for the first time. We ate, caught the water taxi into town, had ice creams and fished off the boat in the marina for mullet. My nephew Toby is a particularly keen and successful fisherman unlike his fish free aunty. Evidence in photo form here.

We’re currently anchored off the beach in Santander. Last night we embraced the Spanish way of life and went out to have tapas and Rioja. Most excellent. It was gone 1130 when we got back onto the boat, late for us but we both enjoyed the buzz wandering the busy city streets late at night.

We plan to leave the boat somewhere on this coast and head off into the Picos mountains for a few days. So some research needed on buses, routes and weather. Not sure either of us or our legs are ready for walking up big hills but that’s not a reason not to go. Dave spent some time in the Picos when he was a student in Lancaster on a caving trip. We may well try to retrace some of his journey. Without the caves.

I think I’ve mentioned already that I’m a serial list maker which as afflictions go is probably not the worst possible although I know some of you will find it unnecessarily structured and pedantic. We were sailing from Saint Gilles Criox de Vie to Les Sables d’Olonne yesterday evening with the last of the evening sunset, when I started pondering about lists of things.

Islands

1. Ile de Brehat. Delightful, like going back in time, no cars, great anchorage, a beautiful water mill and quiet and understated. Been before, loved it then, still loved it now.
2. Belle Ile. Great coastal walking, not unlike Cornwall. Small coves and sandy inlets and an impressive Citadel overlooking the main town, Le Palais. In fact the footpath goes through part of the Citadel. Save up and go for lunch. We hadn’t but someone arrived by helicopter who had. There’s something to aspire to …maybe.
3. Iles de Glenan. Described to us by a local as the French version of the Caribbean or the Galápagos Islands. St Nicolas where we anchored takes about 20 minutes to walk around. Crystal clear water, white sandy beaches. We swam with wetsuits  on – wimpy?!?

Wildlife

1. Rob Knowles, Mark Ludbrook and my dad will be polite and make supportive noises about my dolphin photos because that’s the kind of people they are. In reality they are pretty shoddy and some more photographic work is required here. Dolphins swimming on the bow wave make us smile every time.
2. Not sure this really fits under wildlife but the queue to the trawler that arrived with sardines got bigger and bigger as locals and tourists turned up with buckets and Asda plastic bags.
3. Being at anchor in Cameret where the evening entertainment was watching gulls dive no more than 4m from the boat and coming up with beaks full of fish. My personal fishing attempts have so far drawn a blank. Hum.

Food

1. Crab Mayonnaise. A whole crab arrives in pieces with an array of tools that could only have been invented by a dentist or someone from a horror movie to help dissect it. A painstaking hobby with lots of delicious reward.
2. Moules a la crème. Top Nosh and another time consuming but delicious dish.
3. Ice cream. Lemon for Dave. Mango for me. No need to embellish. Buy one and walk round the old town which is in the ramparts of a castle on an island in Concarneau.

Les Sables d’Olonnes is an iconic sailing location. Pete Goss was welcomed back here by over 500,000 supporters after forsaking his own race to sail 2 days into 80 mile an hour winds to rescue Raphael Dinelli from his life raft in the southern ocean. Epic. Yesterday a few families out walking along the piers waved to us and the fishermen and women retracted their lines as we motored in along the canal. It still felt iconic to me.

Engineers make things. Engineers fix things. And engineers make things to fix other things. Not for them the bolting on of new parts in the hope of a miracle cure.

If an engineer needs a tool to do a proper job, and the right tool doesn’t exist yet, your old school engineer will make one. And it will be fine piece of work in its own right.

Grace of Longstone, and by association, Helen and I were lucky enough to know such an engineer. When we arrived in Goole with a beautiful boat and great plans but next to no idea of the engineering required, this man took us under his wing. Not only were problems fixed, but the causes of said problems removed and systems re-worked and improved. Working alongside this engineer was an education and a pleasure.

We heard today that this engineer laid down his tools for the last time on Saturday and so today is a immensely sad day for us.

That Grace is such a seaworthy vessel owes much to this man’s skill, love of fixing things and patience with engineering novices. Am I a better engineer from working alongside this man? I believe I am and this is something I will always be thankful for.

Phil, I hope that you understood how much we were grateful for your friendship and help and how much of a difference your time and support over the last four years made to us.

Caroline, thanks also to you for your support and friendship over this last few years.  We are glad that you found a beautiful place in Ireland for you both to spend your time and continue doing the many things you enjoyed together.

We promise you that Helen and I will come and visit when we have returned from the adventure that Phil helped us so much to prepare for.