Anchor Agony.

Cala Culip, Spain

It took us six tries to anchor in this cala in far north Spain. We needed to wait out some weather and the cove was protected, but the cruising guide said nothing about the rock seabed. The conditions were calm; we heard a cell phone ring on shore, great we’d have Internet. A man on another boat gave us a bow and asked about our voyage. How did he know, we wondered – we often forget about the big American flag flying off the back of our boat. Our first attempt looked good. So did the second, third, fourth and fifth. But each time we dropped the anchor, we heard our 132-pound spade bouncing happily along the bottom, catching here, letting go there, as if to say “try again suckers!” It was very frustrating, exhausting. For years, along the US East Coast, in the Caribbean, Venezuela, we have anchored only once, every time. But it is different here in the Med; there is lots of grass, lots of rock. And our anchoring practices are very stringent. We put the anchor down, typically with five times the depth in scope, and then we set the anchor by backing down, 1,000,1,500, 2,000, rpm, until it holds for several minutes. Many people think it is over the top, but we like to sleep at night.

So we finally got the anchor set and the boat settled, and OMG – we didn’t have a signal. No Internet. What would we do? Larry accepted this fate much easier than I did. I like being connected to the real world. I love checking my email every morning, even if there is only a message from Office Depot about the latest sale. For a moment I contemplated going up the mast to look for a signal, but I quickly came to my senses. We spent five days in Cala Culip waiting for the conditions to change. During that time, there was still boat work to do, but not the backbreaking kind of Barcelona. There were no daily trips to the ATM to collect Euros for vendors. No bills to pay. For these reasons alone, it was paradise. But there was more. It was absolutely beautiful. Dramatic rocky hills on every side, the prettiest sea gulls we’ve ever seen, people were hiking and fishing on shore. It was quiet and calm, with very few boats. The water was too cold to swim, so we turned on the stereo, got our France books out and started planning a trip in Provence. We began listening to all our music in alphabetical order by song. We heard songs that we haven’t listened to in years, along with ones we didn’t even know we had. Even with skipping duplicates, it will take 641 hours to get to the letter Z.

Fellow Americans, Pam and Steve, joined us in the Cala for a couple of days on “Eirene” their Hylas 46. We all went on shore and discovered that Cala Culip is part of a national park “Paratge de Tudela.” It was just as beautiful on land as it was from the sea. We hiked to the lighthouse and discovered a quaint little restaurant there. Apparently Cala Culip wasn’t quite as remote a spot as we had thought, but it is still a wonderful and surprising part of Spain. Luckily we had enough Euros in our pocket for cold cava and beers. We relaxed and enjoyed our last day in Spain. The weather had improved enough cross the Gulf of Leon to France.

Muchas gracias Espana. Teníamos la época de nuestras vidas.