Gibraltar

We continue our cruise down the Costa del Sol in flat water stopping first at Almerimar then Marina del Este and Puerto Banus on our way. Puerto Banus has a reputation as the glitzy harbour on the ‘Costa del Crime’ where wealthy roués who have escaped from northern Europe come to display their new found wealth. It lives up to its billing. We find the port looking slightly tired, but crowded with expectant visitors who gaze longingly into empty expensive boutiques which would be more at home on the Boulevard St Honore than in this Spanish amusement park.

We decide on a Pizza and sit in an Italian bistro, open to the port, decorated with faux Roman columns and murals depicting a scene incorporating Vesuvius, the Coliseum and dusky slave girls smiling out at us alluringly.

There is a birthday party being held and the boys are already on station, in tight jeans, white shirts and designer stubble, paying frequent visits to the marina to smoke and ogle the tourists who strut past uncomfortably in unstable vertiginous heels.   Then the girls arrive. The garments are designed for maximum exposure and to provide sufficient olive flesh to show off a variety of exotic tattoos. The girls all kiss each other, and the boys, and then they too sashay past us for a fix of nicotine. It is great entertainment and for the majority of the evening most of the birthday party is either on its way, or on its way back, from the smoking den, leaving one or two more healthy party goers marooned at the table typing studiously into mobile phones.

We aren’t sad to leave Puerto Banus and we set off on the last leg of this journey towards Gibralter. It is early morning and dawn is just breaking as we leave the marina. Soon the Rock appears out of the mist on the skyline, and with it the currents that run fast through the straights of Gibralter as the Atlantic fills the Mediterranean.  As we dock in Queensway Quay Marina, a young Englishman takes our lines, directs us to the harbour office and politely reminds us to remove our Spanish courtesy flag – we are back in England. We have two days to prepare for the next leg of our journey which is a 600 mile trip offshore down the Atlantic coast of Africa to the Canary Islands. Paul and Steven are joining us and Fatty is leaving us to fly back to the UK.

 

We clean the boat, shop for provisions and Fatty cooks and freezes 4 meals in the galley so that we can avoid cooking in the Atlantic rollers. With the boat clean and laden with food, I walk Fatty to the airport as we have been unsuccessful in our attempts to persuade her to stay. Kim and I are sad that Fatty is leaving as we have had a fun trip down the Spanish coast, but she has decided that this is a boys trip and not a place for girls.  We will miss her 100 megawatt smile and her easy company and as I wave goodbye I turn my attention to the long offshore sail down the coast of Africa. I meet Paul at the airport and later tonight Steven is due to arrive at one in the mornin. Tomorrow we leave very early for Lanzarote.