Kicked out of Almería —as nicely as can be!

It was a windless day, so after motoring less than two hours from Las Roquetas, we anchored by late morning in the port of Almería exactly where Rob and Karen of Dreamtime anchored a couple of years ago. We showered, took a leisurely lunch, inflated the small tender, and rowed to the beach at around 3:30pm –but decided the homeless population was too numerous in the park for an evening return in the dark, so we rowed to the Club de Mar where they were absolutely welcoming for us to leave the dinghy “anywhere it won’t bother”.

To our surprise, as we walked towards the historic center, we saw a 50ft Guardia Civil boat going around Peregrinus and blowing its horn. We approached the waterfront park to hail them from shore but then saw the Guardias leaving. Since we did not get towed immediately and, so far, the Spanish cops have been incredibly relaxed, we decided to take it easy and leisurely visited the Alcazaba, which is the large fortress-palace complex begun in 955 by the first Caliph. The Christians finally took fortress and city in 1489. We then walked back to the Cathedral, whose beautiful main portal evoques the one of the Málaga Cathedral, but in 3/4ths scale, did some window shopping, quickly raided a large supermarket, and walked back to the Club.

We rowed to Peregrinus in the twilight, but just as we were disembarking the dinghy, we got a huge spotlight aimed at us… the Guardias had sneaked from behind! Two were at the front of their vessel, turned off the spotlight, and so we held a conversation from the back steps of Peregrinus: where is our flag from, surprise that we speak Spanish, what’s our citizenship, and where did we come from and are going to. Next we were informed we couldn’t anchor there, to which we reacted most surprised. They went on to explain that in ports “of State interest” one must contact the port authorities for permission to anchor, which will be summarily denied, they said. How’s that for a tip? And so we chatted for a while: these were two very nice fellows. They finally confessed, almost apologetically, that the Guardia itself has no problem with the likes of us but that some port directors just have “mala leche” (i.e., they’re just mean). Evidently, bureaucrats will be bureaucrats of their petty kingdoms, everywhere.

So we took it in stride and re-anchored a couple of miles down the beach. Tomorrow we plan on crossing the cape of La Gata.

The tiny white mast in the very center of the picture is Peregrinus at anchor, as seen from the Alcazaba. iPhone 6 Plus.

The monkeys of Gibraltar

The barbary macaques of Gibraltar are the sole free-ranging population of monkeys in Europe.  

We ascended the top of the rock and came across many of these monkeys including this fellow, sitting on the Charles V wall, built under Charles I of Spain during 1540-1552.

On the Guadalquivir

The river was known to the Romans as Baetis, a name that may have a celtic or phoenician origin.  When the Arabs invaded in 711, they called it "the river of Cordoba," after one of the cities on its shores.  But when other Moors of North Africa known as the Almoravids invaded in 1090, they renamed it "the big river," or Wad al-Kabir; when the Spanish took the river back, in the years 1236 to 1248, they kept this name of Berber origin, latinised as Guadalquibir.

Seville is 60 nautical miles away from the sea, but the river is navigable and the city features a very active cargo and cruiseship harbour.  Peregrinus has been docked at Odyssey Marina for the last three weeks.

We have often used the Guadalquivir as transport, commuting to the city center by Zodiac.  The Sevillanos use the river to practice sailing, rowing and paddling; and in fact a number of them have made it to the Olympic games.

Paddlers and rowers on the Guadalquivir from the Puente de Triana on a Saturday morning.  10:21 AM, 12 December 2015.  Leica Typ 114.

We, the dissidents

We found a chart of "all the civilian and navy flags of the world"  in the Maritime Museum of Seville.  It includes a section on treacherous American insurrectionists: América Disidente.

The subversives: Alto Perú, Bajo Perú, Colombia, Buenos-Ayres, Chile, Mejico, and Estado Central de America.

The rebel Estado Central de America, founded 1821, eventually dissolved into Guatemala, El Salvador, Honduras, Nicaragua and Costa Rica in 1840.  Recusant Colombia, founded 1819, later split into Venezuela, Ecuador and Colombia (including Panama) in 1831.  Insurgent Alto Perú is of course Bolivia, founded 1825.

A chart like this had a more-than-academic interest for a European power.  Out at sea, it was critical to be able to identify friends and foes, yay!, even those disloyal American rebels.  In the Museum of the Navy in Lisbon, for example, we saw a painting of a Portuguese frigate sunk, with substantial loss of hands, by a Buenos-Ayres naval vessel during the time the newly-minted Argentineans and the Kingdom of Portugal were in conflict for possession of what would later become Uruguay.  

The chart is undated, but it must be from after 1825, because the Alto Perú flag did not previously exist.   Conceivably the chart could be from before 1831, and it evidently cannot be from after 1840.

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Click image to enlarge.  Prospecto General De todas las Banderas que se izan a bordo de los Buques de guerra y mercantes de todas las naciones.  Museo Marítimo de Sevilla, Torre del Oro.  12 December 2015.  Leica Typ 114.

Maritime Ode

[...]
Ah! The remote beaches, the docks glimpsed from far away
Then the beaches looming up, the docks seen from close up.
The mystery of every departure and every arrival,
The sad instability, the incomprehensibility
Of this impossible universe
Felt in the skin more intensely at every seafaring moment!

The absurd gulping sobs our souls pour out
Over the expanses of various seas with isles in the distance,
Over far-off islands, coasts left behind as we pass,
Over ports grown clearer with their houses and their people
As the ship approaches.
[...]
——— Alvaro de Campos (Fernando Pessoa), Poesia

Peregrinus at anchor in the Odiel river, in front of Mazagón Marina, mancomunidad of Moguer and Palos de la Frontera.  Photo courtesy of Javier Delgado.  Sony DSC-HX60V, 10:14 AM, 17 November 2015

A visit to the first fleet of the Admiral of the Ocean Sea

Moored at Palos lies a life-size replica of Columbus' first fleet: the Niña, the Santa María, and the Pinta.  It is from Palos that Columbus departed on his first expedition, the 3rd of August, 1492.

The Niña, foreground, sailed three times to America under Columbus, making over 25,000 nautical miles.  In between the second and third expeditions, it was kidnapped by Moor pirates and was only saved because of the daring prison break and escape of part of the crew.  

Niña has about the same nominal dimensions as Peregrinus, except the latter is pointy, and so from its bow it takes more than half its length to get to its broadest point, from where it tapers sharply, whereas Niña gets fat not far from the bow and carries much of its full width nearly to its stern.  This helps explain how Niña had a crew of 24 under Columbus whereas Peregrinus is only rated for eight.  

At one point, we were questioned by the lady at the admittance how had we arrived.  It is not our custom to speak of Peregrinus, but she asked if we were driving –no.  Arrived by taxi, then? –no.  By bus? –no.  Well, how?, she insisted.  When we explained that we had come to Palos by Zodiac from the mouth of the Odiel river, then up the Río Tinto and had finally climbed the iron Muelle de la Reina, the lady was a bit floored, but she walked out of her booth and, like everyone we met at Palos, was most welcoming and helpful.

Palos de la Frontera (of the frontier to the New World, not to the frontier to Portugal, which is some distance away).  3:07 pm 17 November 2015.  iPhone 6 Plus.

Oceanus

Caius Calpurnius, Caius Vibius Quintilianus, Lucius Atius and Marcus Verrius Geminus commissioned this building with the mosaic.
      ——— Municipal Museum, Faro

So rare to find a Roman private building, in this case the office of a trading concern or a bank, and to actually read who the owners were.  The centrepiece is a portrait of Oceanus, the god of the Sea Ocean, i.e., the Atlantic.

Owner's names in foreground.  4 November 2015, Leica Typ 114.

In the Al-Gharb

When the moors took Hispania in 711, they called its west Al-Gharb, or The West.  In Portugal, they still call their South the Algarve.  The kings of Spain, from the time of Alfonso X, the wise, also styled themselves Rey del Algarve; at first, because they claimed possession of the whole thing, and later, after treaties with Portugal, because they remained, and remain, lords of the eastern parts of the old Al-Gharb, and in particular because of their conquest of the saracen kingdom of Niebla (1262).

From the time we passed Cape Saint Vincent, and therefore entered coastal Algarve, we've been astonished at the easy sailing and incredibly good weather enjoyed here, and, particularly so, east of Faro.  The explanation is that the upper section of the Bay of Cadiz, from Faro to the Guadalquivir, forms the ultimate shelter from Atlantic and from Mediterranean storms, while maintaining the warmest weather in Europe.

And so today we entered the Piedras estuary, at El Rompido, near Huelva, and this does not look like Europe at all: it feels as if we are somewhere in the Caribbean.  

No wonder the moors liked it.

El Rompido, Piedras river, Cartaya, in Huelva.  iPhone 6 Plus, 5:54pm 12 November.

The view from da Gama's home

Vasco da Gama is the adventurer who opened up the trade routes to India in 1498 and changed the world: for one thing, his success resulted in the terminal decline of Venice, which had been the preeminent maritime power until then.  Like the other heroes of the era (Columbus, Pizarro, Magellan, Cortés, etc.), his willingness to take risks and the ruthlessness with which he undertook his enterprises are hard to fathom today.  Five hundred years later, he is still Portugal's major hero.

We made an unscheduled stop in Sines, south of Lisbon, and went into the little local museum, filled, in the bottom floor, with Roman ruins, like every museum of history in the Iberian peninsula.  It looked like we were about done with the museum but there was an elevator to the top floors, and what do we step in there?  Da Gama's family rooms, the very place where the man grew up.

And so we snapped a picture of Peregrinus anchored out, as little Vasco may have seen it from the top of his home's walls, and perhaps have dreamt that one day he, too, would go out to sea.

A luz de Lisboa

The Light of Lisbon is a current exhibit on the West turret of the Terro do Paço.  Among many interesting trivia, the exhibit shows Lisbon gets more sunshine than any other Euro capital, and that it turns out the city and its hills form a natural parabolic reflector that throws light on to the Baixa Pombalina.

As we stepped of the exhibit and sat for a gin and tonic at Café Paço d'Agua , this is the light of Lisbon we saw from our table.

iPhone 6 Plus, 4:03pm 20 October 2015