The Crossing and Our First Week on Tenerife

After a good week, Arnold came back to reinforce the crew. One last quick visit to Paz, and the very next day we were off again because of the weather forecast. Plenty of wind on the first day this time, but if we waited we’d have to motor the whole way. Neither of us felt particularly at ease for the first two hours. There was a really nasty chop, so bad that we didn’t dare hoist the sails. For the non-sailors: when the waves are very short and steep, heading into the wind to hoist the mainsail is pretty tricky. The boat takes a real pounding, so if we don’t have to, we don’t. So it was a matter of motoring on until we reached properly deep water. After about two hours the depth was a few kilometres again and the waves had lengthened. Up with the sails, and off we go! She was sailing beautifully again.

With PredictWind and the Starlink connection, it’s now perfectly feasible to recalculate the optimal route at sea every few hours, so you sail as comfortably as possible and still as fast as possible. To improve on that in the future, I’ve had a PredictWind “DataHub” box on board since Lisbon. Technically it’s just an ordinary 50-euro low-end router, but with a direct link into the NMEA 2000 network on board. The box continuously measures how fast we sail in what wind and sends that back to PredictWind’s data centre in New Zealand. On every following passage their prediction model then uses this data, so it’s increasingly based on the speed Merrimac actually sails. Even now it was already fantastic. We were able to sail the entire passage, mostly at a true wind angle (TWA) of 60 degrees. That’s fairly close to the wind, but in just 8-11 knots of wind that’s exactly what you want, because the boat goes really well then. Even in the minimum of 3 knots we managed to keep making some progress close-hauled. After two nights we arrived at the north-east corner of Tenerife in the morning. The notorious stretch of water between Tenerife and Gran Canaria often has an acceleration zone where the wind picks up enormously when it’s blowing from the north-east. Not this time, unfortunately, so we really did have to motor. We passed the huge city of Santa Cruz, various small towns and industrial areas, until we reached a lovely anchorage where we hoped to be sheltered behind a handsome red rock. And so we were. Still a bit of swell, but perfectly manageable. One more lovely crossing under our belts, so it was time to crack open the arrival beer!

The next morning the wind had veered a bit to the east, so I decided we’d go and anchor on the west side of the island instead. We ended up in a rather nice bay with a cliff on one side and a resort area on the east side. Well, all those tourists who come to Tenerife for the good weather have to stay somewhere. Apparently that’s down here in the south…

The next morning I’m sitting inside, slowly waking up and reading a bit, when Arnold suddenly announces that… the dinghy has vanished. It had been in the water on an 8 mm Dyneema line. The line is still intact, but there’s no trace of the shackle that attached it to the dinghy. And no dinghy either, obviously. Well, it’s possible the shackle shook itself loose yesterday while we were towing it (which we normally never do, but this time it was only a few miles in no wind). But it’s also possible some opportunist thought: hey, that’s a bloody nice little boat… I don’t think we’ll ever know. I try to call the coastguard (Guardia Civil) and the rescue service. Even 112. Nobody picks up, no answer. Beep beep beep at best. Well, Spain and speaking English is apparently still a tricky combination. Later we weigh anchor and make a half-hearted attempt by motoring along the coast for a bit, but that’s a lee shore, so the chances of it washing up there aren’t great. Still, maybe someone saw something. A “Sécurité” call on the VHF gets no response either. When I call the port of Los Christianos, the only answer is “Okay okay.”

The annoying thing is that we’re no longer covered by the TVM insurance here, which I had actually just cancelled, because from 1 November we’re insured through Marijke v/d Rest again, and that policy has a hefty deductible. Besides, I don’t want to file a claim anyway; the chance of not being able to get insurance next year, or only at a much higher premium, is high, and I’m not risking that for the price of a dinghy.

After three o’clock we’re welcome in the marina of Amarilla Golf / San Miguel. We’re helped by a friendly Dutchman on a catamaran. They’d already seen us anchored by the red rock and wondered where our dinghy was… Yep! The harbourmistress turns out to be unyielding: you can only stay until the 14th. That’s awkward, because Tanneke and KJ come aboard on the 15th. Loading bags and then doing the shopping is a lot harder when you’re at anchor, and without a dinghy it’s impossible. Right, we’ll rent a car, then. Yes sir, that’s possible, fill in the website after scanning this QR code and you’ll get a call. Spain isn’t in the mood for Kees yet, because I fill it in and nobody calls. The next morning, then, I phone the resort. Oh, car reservations go through the marina, I’ll put you through to the marina. Er, no, they’re not in until ten. Sigh. So I wait until 10 and go back to the office ladies. Now they’re lovely: I’ll ring around for your dinghy, and the car thing is strange, could you fill it in once more? This time she does get a notification, and I get an email confirming I’m registered and will be called. And indeed, within 5 minutes an Englishman calls me. Shall I bring the car over, or will you walk to my office? After 5 days without setting foot ashore, we choose to walk. Past 5 monstrous resorts we arrive at a nice bloke who has a gorgeous orange MG. That’s the one we take, because MG = Maria Gillhaus. It turns out to be a fine car, though with a few Chinese quirks: the fan setting, for instance, is called “Wind mode”. And the little engine is a bit short of breath in the mountains. When we ask about any dents and scratches, he says: I’m not even going to walk round it with you, you can just leave the car at the harbour without me checking it, as long as the key’s with it I’m happy. What a breath of fresh air compared to the squeeze-every-last-euro-out-of-you routine you get from most of them.

We then drive like the clappers to the marina at Las Galletas. Maybe if I drop by in person I’ll get a berth? No, it’s been fully booked since last November, right through to next March, for every Friday and Saturday. Bizarre, but I have no choice but to believe it. The harbourmistress (a woman here too, then) does quickly phone the marina in Santa Cruz, the capital on the NE side. Well, if I email all my details very quickly, it might just be possible. Done in no time, of course. And then we head to Santa Cruz ourselves too, because according to the internet there’s a dinghy dealer there with a boat that might fit the bill. An hour on the motorway later, having squeezed through what looks like a rather nice city, we arrive in the enormous fishing harbour. A big dealer with loads of fishing boats, RIBs and, lo and behold, one 9-foot dinghy with a hard floor. A fibreglass floor rather than aluminium, admittedly, but made of Hypalon rather than PVC. In the tropics a PVC dinghy falls apart in no time, so Hypalon is a must. The fact that the dinghy is yellow is rather funny, though. So was our first Plastimo dinghy on Merrimac 1…

With the dinghy secured, my soul is at peace, and suddenly we’re seriously hungry. Arnold had been for a while already, but understood I had to sort this out first. Two hundred metres further along the fishing harbour there’s a little restaurant. In the corner of an industrial building, with sliding doors, plastic tables and chairs, the local workers are tucking into some fish. I order fish croquettes and “Merluza”, i.e. hake. Arnold looks a bit worried, but the croquettes are just as tasty as bitterballen, and the hake, which he’d never had before, is beautifully cooked and the best fish he (and maybe I too) ever had. Well satisfied, we then drop by the marina in Santa Cruz. Haven’t heard anything back, naturally. But lo and behold, wonders never cease today: it turns out they’d already replied with a yes, I just never got the email. Anyway, I sign a piece of paper, pay a 20% deposit and I’m welcome on the 14th. Tanneke and KJ will have to take the (taxi) bus to Santa Cruz, but we can do some nice provisioning here. In the evening we eat at the harbour, in the restaurant above the harbour office, 50 m from the boat. Fantastic again. Could Spain gradually be winning us over through our stomachs? Scenery-wise it’s not been all that spectacular yet. The coastal roads on the south side are fine, but the south has lots of resorts, and the city is nice enough but nothing more.

The next day, Arnold’s last, we have time for holiday stuff. In the morning we first take a ride in a submarine, which takes us down to 30 metres for an hour. Quite fun, lots of fish (partly because they’re fed, of course), including four large rays. After that we still have time to drive up the volcano. We’ve been able to see the summit of Teide from the boat for days. Hopefully there’ll be something to see, because more and more cloud is rolling in. Once we’re above the clouds, our jaws drop. We’re at about two kilometres altitude and the view over the clouds is amazing. The sky above us is crystal clear, dry and blue. Just like being in the mountains. Oh wait, we ARE on a mountain! A bit further on we drive into the Caldera. What we only now realise is that there isn’t just a summit but a gigantic crater (hence caldera) measuring some 5 by 20 kilometres. It’s one “ooh” after another. Vast fields of rock with stones that look as if they were launched out of the earth yesterday. Stunning. We drive out again via the north side and from there go anticlockwise along ever smaller roads back to the airport. The north side is much wetter and there’s not a tourist resort in sight. It’s completely different here. Not as green as Madeira, but green nonetheless, unlike the cacti, browns and greys of the south side.

At exactly five o’clock, right on schedule, we’re at TFS airport (Tenerife Sur). Arnold joins the long queue; the Transavia check-in desks aren’t open yet. We have one last beer together and then I head to arrivals. Marion comes out after just a quarter of an hour; they’d flown faster than scheduled. A quick hug for Arnold, and then off to the marina. We eat at the harbour again and have a fantastic paella with duck instead of fish. Back on board we’re both asleep before ten; Marion could do with some rest. This morning she got a nice lie-in, and I had the chance to update the blog. You’re all caught up again now: it’s Friday 7 November!