SAILING MAREDA: Portugal

Showing posts with label Portugal. Show all posts

Monday, 16 January 2017

The Uninteresting Places

In French, there is a sailing quote that says (roughly): “sailing is the most expensive, slowest, and uncomfortable way to go from one place you have no reason to be to another place you have no reason to be.” When I told this as a joke to a friend recently, she asked why we didn’t simply travel fast (e.g., not by boat) to spend more time in the interesting places rather than spending so much time and effort to land on the edge of nowhere.

Widow selling dried fish in Nazare, Portugal.

Shady lanes of the old town, Muros, Spain.

I don’t remember what my answer was; some blundering stale version of the voyage being half the fun, I suppose. But this week, while reading Alexander’s Path by veteran traveler, explorer, and spy Freya Stark, I found the answer I wish I’d given:

“A good traveller does not, I think, much mind the uninteresting places. He is there to be inside them, as a thread is inside the necklace it strings. The world, with unknown and unexpected variety, is a part of his own leisure; and this living participation is, I think, what separates the traveller and the tourist, who remains separate, as if he were at a theatre, and not himself a part of whatever the show may be.”

Cathedral entrance, Porto, Portugal.

One of our favorite things about traveling by boat is meeting people, both fellow sailors and locals who don’t live in an area inundated by tourists. As globalisation slowly erases our cultural differences (or accentuates and polishes them in an artificial Disneyland-type attraction for tourists), traveling slowly to the uninteresting places provides a last chance to experience a rapidly disappearing world.

Repairing fishing nets, Galicia, Spain

That said, next season’s cruise to the Balearic Islands and Sardinia will hardly be saturated with uninteresting places. I am, however, searching for what appears to be an extinct cultural experience: a nice nightclub in Ibiza for timid old farts on a budget! How uninteresting!

Photo Friday: Halloween Special

Today's Halloween Special takes us to the Carmo Church Bone Chapel in Faro, Portugal, and the Mertola cemetery, where the dry climate means you can simply slide a coffin into a glass shelf to keep your loved one on permanent display. Happy Halloween !

Photo Friday: Looking Up

Welcome to the second week of Photo Friday, where we post photos that didn't make it into the blog from our summer sail around the Iberian peninsula. It's only the second week and already I've decided to break my own rules. I had the clever idea of posting photos in themes, but to properly curate such a collection, I decided to include some photos that have been previously posted. So there.

This week's theme is Looking Up. This isn't a philosophical feel-good theme, but rather one that explains why I now have to slog through 10 sessions of physical therapy for a crick in my neck that hasn't gone away in the last 5 months. As I was looking through my photos, I realized that most of our visits were spent with our heads tilted back, looking up at statues, monuments, fortresses, and cathedrals. I hope some good has come from our efforts and you enjoy the view with a neutral head position !

Photo Friday: Golden Hours on Mareda

As we settle in to our winter routine, I'm going through all the photos I took over the sailing season. There are some I'd like to share that didn't make it into the story line of the blog posts, so I've decided to start a Photo Friday post to group some photos into themes.

To get things started off with a colorful bang, here are some photos I took during the "golden hours", when the sun is rising or setting, casting long shadows and splashing beautiful colors around. As usual, you can click on the photos for a larger image. Enjoy !

Portimao Sunset

Portimao Moonrise

Fort Berlengas

Culatra Moon

Sunrise over the Straits of Gibraltar

Sunset over Marina Alcaidesa, La Linea

Sunset over Combarro

Winter Wrap-up 2016

Sailing season 2016 is officially over for us, we are back home in Brittany, and Mareda has been tucked in for the winter at Marina Alcaidesa, La Linea de la Conception, Spain, otherwise referred to by us as “Gibraltar” for lack of a more prominent landmark.

The rock, viewed from La Linea, Alcaidesa Marina.

La Linea, Alcaidesa Marina viewed from the Rock.

We’re disappointed that we couldn’t extend the season out to the end of October as initially hoped, but given the circumstances, we’re both very happy to be home a little early. A mere 24-hours after landing, Patrick developed an abscess in one of his front teeth and his face swelled up like a balloon. He was in agony for 48 hours despite maximum doses of Tylenol with codeine. The antibiotics finally took effect and he’s back to normal but the prognosis doesn’t look good. We’ll know more next week, but he could be looking at 2-3 surgeries with 4-5 month recovery times in between. That could put a crinkle in our cruise plans for next year.

As for me, I have an appointment with the rheumatologist to see about my newly blossomed arthritis, which could put a crinkle in more than our cruise plans. We’re both looking at a lot of doctor’s visits over the next few months and we’d rather be home to cope with it all.

Patrick "Woo Hoo! We're in Gibraltar!" Ape: "if I had a banana for every stupid tourist photo I pose for..."

Here are some statistics for 2016:

Miles covered = 1140

Days on boat = 114

Days sailing = 33

Longest sail = 78 hours

Hours motoring = 141

Different ports and moorings = 30 in 3 countries

Number of nights at anchor = 20

Average port cost for 2016 season = 17 euros / night (calculation based on port fees, free nights at anchor and an exchange program between our home port and ports in Galicia, Spain that gave us some free ports in June.)

Highlights

The thrill of sailing new territory in new countries

Visiting La Coruna, Porto, Coimbra, Lisbon, Sintra, Faro, Cadiz, and Gibraltar

Playing Robinson Crusoe anchored behind Culatra island for two weeks

Beautiful hot sunny weather from June to October ! (neither of us wore shoes for 3.5 months)

Meeting other cruisers and sharing the journey

Lowlights

Health problems; ours and visiting friends’

Stress (Patrick wishes to emphasize that the stress was mine, not his). Sailing in new territory with new weather patterns and in a foreign language can be tough on the nerves. We sailed around some mythic headlands this season: Cape Finisterre in Spain, Cape St Vincent in Portugal, and Cape Trafalgar / Tarifa / Gibraltar. All went well, but the anxiety of anticipation was heavy. Even though we didn’t really have a fixed calendar to respect, I often had the feeling that we were on a boat-delivery job and we didn’t always have time to enjoy a place because the weather forced us to either move on the next day or risk getting trapped for a week. I had a small breakdown (yes, yes, tears and all) around Mazagon, which was just after our horrible experience in Lagos and just before I went to the clinic to find out why my hands weren’t doing what I was telling them to. I have hopes that these issues will be resolved before we head out again next year and we’ve already agreed to take it much slower next year.

Unbelievably poor internet services. I think most ports have just given up trying to keep up with the demand and they now expect every cruiser to be autonomous (mobile telephone with 4G connections, sat phones, etc.) Even the bars and cafes around the marinas have limited services. When internet is your only means of getting good weather information, this becomes a critical issue. We’re studying options for next year, but they all look expensive.

What worked

Riding sail: we only put this to the test a couple of times, but we noticed a big difference in our motion compared to that of our neighbors.

Heat management: I was worried about this and my Breton husband, unaccustomed to heat. Despite 37°C / 99°F heat in Portugal, we stayed comfortable thanks to the bimini, the dodger and its opening front and side panels, our wind chute to capture even the slightest puff of air (when you hook it up even in light winds, you have the impression that you’ve turned on a fan down below), and good engineering by Jeanneau with lots of ventilation. All the hatches have mosquito screens built in and we use a mosquito net across the door of our cabin at night so we can keep maximum ventilation. The only thing missing is side panels for the bimini.

Electricity management: Our solar panels kept us charged with no worries even after 2 weeks at anchor and despite a refrigerator working overtime. Our electric wok and toaster, which we can use when we are hooked up to shore power, cut our cooking gas consumption by a factor of 3!

Diesel management: When we fire up the motor, we rarely ask it to give us more than 5 knots, usually in combination with sails, so our gas consumption was much lower than we anticipated. We averaged 1.3 liters / hour.

What didn’t work

Internet. We wonder why we even invested in an expensive wifi antenna. Useless, given the circumstances.

Spinnaker pole: we’re selling it! We always thought it was important to have one to pole out the genoa or the gennaker, but the reality is that we are never sufficiently motivated to actually hook it up. In addition, I discovered a new way to maximize the opening of the genoa when sailing with a tailwind or wing-on-wing, which is to use the gennaker sheets and the barber hauler to pass the sheets outside the boat (rather than through the sheet travelers), thus turning the genoa into a small gennaker. By keeping the genoa sheets attached to the sail at the same time, I can bring the genoa back to normal (for quick hauling in / rolling up) without the hassle involved in dealing with a spinnaker pole.

Pocket hose: I loved my little pocket hose but it didn’t withstand its second season. The problem is the textile casing, which gets fragile when too exposed to UV. Once there is a rip in the casing, the inner tubing blows up like a goiter and explodes. We’re back to a regular garden-hose type now, which is certainly more robust but also takes up much more space and is much heavier.

Lessons learned

You CAN sail in the Med, but you have to have time and be motivated. You often hear that in the Med there is either too much wind or not enough. This all depends on what “too much” and “not enough” mean to you. We managed to keep our motor hours down thanks to the gennaker and accepting to drift along at 3 knots at times, but we did crack and fire up the motor more often than was really necessary and there were quite a few occasions where we SHOULD have put up the gennaker but didn’t. The typical day is calm in the mornings with good sailing winds for a few hours in the late morning / early afternoon, then up to 20-25 knots in the afternoon, all of which can come from just about any direction, especially around headlands and cliffs. You have to be willing to make lots of sail changes and to make them fast if you want to sail here. Often what happens is that you opt for a “ready for anything” approach, which means 2 reefs in the main with the motor. You motor-sail in the mornings, sail with 2 reefs and full genoa in the early afternoon, then sail with only the reefed mainsail and maybe a tiny handkerchief-sized genoa in the afternoon (or fall back to motor-sailing if the wind is too much in the nose). It’s not ideal but it is the best lazy approach! We tell ourselves we WILL make more use of the gennaker and try to just leave it out as much as possible so that we can’t whine and gripe about who has to go below and haul it up from the lazarette, hook up the furler, etc. Eliminate the excuses as much as possible!

We’re more bourgeois than we imagined. We like to think of ourselves as intrepid adventurers, but we’re much happier when we have good internet, good food, and beautiful or interesting surroundings to visit while we’re out. On several occasions we were ready to head out in unsuitable weather conditions because of dissatisfaction with a port: nothing interesting to visit, no internet, no good food markets nearby, ugly industrial settings, etc. We may adopt the strategy of a few cruisers we met this year and make some long overnight sails to jump over the boring or ugly bits.

Clouds over Gibraltar,

Mareda, nestled down for winter behind the rock.

Culatra Island

Note: south of Lagos, we entered an internet dead zone. We've only been able to get text emails and basic weather info for the last 2-3 weeks on the boat, and even the cafes and bars seem to have very limited internet. The next 3 posts, coming in rapid succession, are brought to you from the fantastic staff of the Cadiz tourist office, who have let me sit in their air-conditioned waiting room. Note: south of Lagos, we entered an internet dead zone. We've only been able to get text emails and basic weather info for the last 2-3 weeks on the boat, and even the cafes and bars seem to have very limited internet. The next 3 posts, coming in rapid succession, are brought to you from the fantastic staff of the Cadiz tourist office, who have let me sit in their air-conditioned waiting room.

The trip from Albufeira to Culatra was typical, with motor sailing in the morning and finishing up with about 18 knots in the afternoon. We entered the Ria Formosa at about 1 hour before high tide and even in a period of low tidal coefficients we had lots of whirlpools and counter currents to liven up the entrance. Once past the channel entry, the bay opened up and reminded us of the Morbihan Gulf at home (but less beautiful, of course). We were only flying the genoa as we sailed down to the anchorage area and we suspected that we might have problems with the furler, since we had problems the last time we had sailed downwind with the sail see-sawing back and forth in front of the genoa stay (now know/think we should have hauled in the sail a bit more to limit any rotation of the furler drum). As we neared the mooring field, I convinced Patrick that we should try to roll up early in case we had problems. He agreed to a short test roll (he who always wants to sail right up to the dock) and we discovered that we did, indeed, have a very stuck genoa furler line. I couldn’t undo it with a few tugs as I did the last time it happened. We quickly turned the boat around, headed back out into the bay away from the other anchored boats and took all the tension off the sail. With the deafening flopping of the sail, Patrick went forward and managed to get the first too-tight wrap undone and we rolled the genoa up half-way until it got stuck again. The whole process took about 10 minutes but it felt like an eternity. I was envisaging either trying to anchor with a wildly flapping sail, or taking down the whole genoa and trying to stuff it into the forward cabin hatch until we could calmly look at the problem. Fortunately, that wasn’t necessary, but with nerves already frazzled, this latest incident made me wonder what the hell we were doing out here.

Drying out in Culatra

Despite being August in the Algarve, there's plenty of room for everyone (with a lifting keel) in Culatra

Faro in the background

The anchorage is very protected and despite the hundreds of boats around there’s plenty of room for everyone (especially if you have a lifting keel!). The Rocna dug into the sand/mud mix with ease and we spent a quiet night on a mirror-smooth bay. The water is warm and we’re living in our swim suits, diving off the boat any time we need to be refreshed. There’s enough of a breeze to keep the inside temperature comfortable and nights are fresh. Patrick went shell fishing at low tide just behind the boat and made himself a big clam pasta dinner. (I’m too squeamish to eat shellfish from a zone I don’t know well.)

The island has very little to offer other than a few mini-markets with the essentials, and a few restaurants and bars whose principle attraction is free internet. Friends from home flew in to Faro to visit with us for a few days. We took the ferry over to Olhao and its farmers market to load up on fresh food. After a couple of days lazing around at anchor, we rented a car and drove up into the hills to see some of the back country and the lovely old town of Faro (post to follow).

In all, we stayed at anchor 14 days and gave ourselves time to refresh and reassess the next few months, which will, we agree, be done at a slower pace. In the beginning, we weren’t too cautious about our fresh water reserves (330 liters), rinsing off with fresh water every time we came back from a swim. We hadn’t intended to stay so long. By the last day, we had to go ashore with 2 jerry cans to give us enough for the last day, and we limped into our next port with the water pump sputtering air. Good to know your limitations! As for the electricity, we had no problems at all thanks to the solar panels and sun-filled days.

Some reflections on beaching the boat in a warm climate:

1) It’s great to be high and dry, but unless you’re in a zone of pure sand (rare), low tide can be quite a smelly affair.

2) When the boat is out of the water, the interior can get quite hot, since you no longer have the waterline to keep things cool. With good ventilation (which we thankfully have) this isn’t a problem, but if you think those beers you stored under the floorboards will keep cool, think again.

3) Unless you beach perfectly horizontally (rare) your water gauges will read false. Don’t panic. Just check again once you’re floating.

4) In zones of light winds and strange little whirlpools of currents, it is possible to settle down onto your own anchor and chain. In warm water, you can plunge into the water just before the boat settles and gently push her off the chain or move the chain. In colder water, I’m not sure I would attempt this. That said, one night we did settle onto our chain and there was no problem. We just checked to make sure there wasn’t too much tension on the chain or windlass. Settling onto the anchor would be a problem, though.

5) Remember that when the boat is out of the waterline, you don’t have a seawater intake to flush the toilet. The holding tank keeps the flush from going out into the water (or rather, plopping down on the sand), but you still need to flush and you don’t want to use precious fresh water resources. Before the water slips away, take a bucket of seawater and have that handy for flushing.

Portimao and Albufeira

The anchorage at Portimao is fantastic, with beautiful ocre-colored cliffs, good holding, and plenty of room. We were looking forward to a few calm nights after the chaos of Lagos and its nightclubs around the marina. Unfortunately, even though we were quite far away from the actual town of Portimao, the sound from the techno-club carries over the water and we were treated to another few nights of boom-boom-boom. We tried to get into the spirit of the thing, telling each other is was summer in the Algarve, we could catch up on sleep during the day, etc. That attitude exercise worked until 2 a.m., when we decided that we really were bothered by the noise and would leave earlier than planned.

Albufeira is a marina nestled in a crack in the cliffs with wonderful protection from the wind, although it does get a lot of swell if winds are southerly. We pulled into our rather narrow spot without any misadventure (Patrick checked out the spot before we even left the welcome dock). There is nothing in the marina area of Albufeira except restaurants and nightclubs. As a treat after more than a week of techno and dance music, we were treated to a night of “best of Sting” followed by a drunk Irishman screaming out pop songs from the Irish pub. Mercifully, they ended their shows at midnight.

We knew we would be anchored for many days at our next port and had friends coming in, so we needed to load up on food. We ended up taking a bus into town to a major grocery store and made our way back to the boat in a tuk-tuk taxi just in time to cast off the lines and make it out of the marina for the hop down the coast to the Ria Formosa near Faro. As usual, the option was to head out in a rush or to stay for 3 or 4 more days because of bad weather. It feels like we’ve been pushing ahead like this for weeks. I found myself getting very frazzled and knew I needed a long rest.

Lagos

We had been looking forward to Lagos. This is a spot where many sailors winter-over and we have friends from Brittany who love this spot. It is beautiful and the weather is perfectly hot and dry, the water is turquoise. After our overly-physical departure from the Sagres Ensenada in the morning, we pulled into Lagos thinking the worst of our day was over (see previous post). We were wrong.

The beautiful Algarve coast around Lagos.

The long welcome dock was full and we had to raft up next to another boat. We missed the approach on the first attempt because the wind shoved us too fast and at a bad angle into the other boat and we had to rapidly put the boat in reverse to keep from doing damage. Once in reverse, the wind and currents took us on a bizarre ride and threatened to push us over to the rocks on the other side of the narrow channel. We finally got control of the situation and made a gentler approach, tied up, and checked in at the marina.

Patrick requested a spot with good internet reception. He still hasn’t learned. This almost always means going deep into the finger berths and getting into a spot meant for smaller boats near the dock entrance. I’m going to start announcing to marinas “we are an 11-meter boat AND WE DO NOT HAVE A BOW THRUSTER !!” Our first arrival was just perfect, except that we were in the wrong spot. We were in a spot for the many tourist boats that take people to visit the grottos. We had to move. The wind was 15 knots from ahead. Patrick asked the marina for assistance to get into the slot next to us because it was a tight squeeze to back the boat out, and with stiff cross-winds, we worried about our maneuverability. Two guys from the marina came out and expected that all they would have to do is shove us off and take our lines in the new spot. Patrick backed the boat out and the wind immediately took the nose and pushed her over onto the boats on the other pontoon faster than we could react. Once pinned against the other boats, their anchors scraping on our hull, there’s not much we could do. People came running from everywhere, yelling, screaming, pushing, shoving, yanking. We got Mareda off the line of boats and once into the middle of the fairway, the wind shoved her right back before we could even slam the motor into gear. One guy asked if our bow thruster was broken. Finally, one of the smaller tourist rib boats came out and took our lines and towed us free, and once Mareda was properly lined up and the motor engaged, we managed to pull into the assigned spot. The hundreds of on-lookers from the terrace restaurants cheered. We were traumatized and mortified.

In the end, there was no damage to the other boats, our gelcoat had a few superficial scratches, and the iroko-wood rub rail has a big gash in it, but it could have been much worse. We hung our heads low and tried to make ourselves invisible for the rest of the day.

Our efforts were not even rewarded. The internet was crap, the showers were cold, and we got blasted by “Karaoke night” from the bar next door. For this, we’re paying 47 euros a night – the most expensive port so far. We were so looking forward to visiting Lagos and now we can only think of how to slink out of here as soon as the winds calm down. Yes, yes, I know: “Get over yourselves. You’re not the first to screw up a maneuver; it’s not the first time and it won’t be the last time.” Easier said than done.

Cape St. Vincent and Sagres

This Cape at the southwestern tip of Portugal once marked the end of the known world and was the point of departure for explorations of discovery. It has a bad reputation for wind and waves, exposed to the full force of the Atlantic and a confused meeting of the waters as you turn east towards the Mediterranean. From Oeiras, we made the typical pilgrimage, traveling 50 miles down to Sines and then 60 miles around the Cape. From Oeiras to Sines, we motored half the day and finished with 20 knots (typical) and from Sines to Cape St Vincent, we motor-sailed about 50 of the 60 miles, making it a safe and boring trip. As we neared the cape, the wind picked up to 19 knots and we were on a beam reach with full sail. As we only had a few miles to cover before pulling into the protected Sagres harbor, we just let out the sails with the gusts and rolled up the genoa just as things got difficult.

Helmsman Patrick making a wide turn around the Cape St. Vincent, Portugal.

After dropping the anchor, we duly congratulated ourselves and celebrated with a little bubbly (okay, it was beer, but there were bubbles-a-plenty). We sailed our boat around the Iberian Peninsula! It may be small potatoes for some, but it’s a major accomplishment for us. Some sailors we talked to before leaving said they wouldn’t sail around this area because of its rough reputation. One couple we met en-route got scared during a difficult passage and turned around to head back north. We’ve been very lucky (and cautious) with the weather so far and it has paid off. The most important thing is to not have a calendar and to not be in a hurry. As the old saying goes, “sailors with no calendar always have good weather.” I hope we can keep living up to this motto.

Mareda nestled into the protected Sagres Ensenada.

Sagres is the village established by Henry the Navigator to repair and supply ships destined for discovery. History marks it as the site of a famous school of navigation, but our nautical guidebook says the existence of the school is an unsubstantiated myth. The harbor is breathtakingly beautiful and is a wonderful first stop in the Algarve. It’s everything we expected from the Algarve and the Mediterranean: cream-colored cliffs, turquoise water, sandy beaches. We spent a quiet night at anchor and although the weather was supposed to turn blustery, we decided to spend another day and night in the harbor.

French flag over the Sagres Fort and supposed navigation school of Henri the Navigator.

We took a few precautions to lie comfortably in the 20 – 30 knots winds forecast for the evening. We moved closer to the beach to be more sheltered by the cliffs, dug the anchor into the sand and increased the scope to 5:1 (at high water, meaning that it’s about 6:1 most of the time). With gusts roaring down from the cliffs, we also decided it was a good time to test my riding sail to keep the boat pointed into the wind and avoid the windshield-wiper swinging effect that strains the chain and makes for an uncomfortable ride. We are pleased to announce that it was easy to install, and based on our motion compared to those of our neighbors around us, it seems to be working like a charm. We still get a little bit of swing but the sail kicks in and pushes the tail back in line with the wind before the chain gets strained. With my plastic shackles, it doesn’t make noise on the backstay as it tacks from side to side.

The birth of the riding sail from Spray's old mainsail. Posted this photo on 22 May on the Facebook page as I calculated dimensions and cut the sail.

My riding sail doing its job in the Sagres Ensenada.

The next morning, the gusts had died to around 10-15 knots and we were ready to head to Lagos, a short 16 miles east. As soon as we hauled up the anchor and motored 100 meters back from the protecting cliffs, the wind started screeching through the mast. 27 knots ! We hoisted the sail with 2 reefs and tried to convince ourselves that it was just a local effect around the headland and that things would be different once we got out of the bay. They were different. We had 31 knots outside the bay. The sea was choppy but with no swell and we were on a beam reach. We put Mareda on the correct heading and eased the sail out to minimize the heel. We were doing 6 knots with only the mainsail double-reefed. After half an hour, things died down to a more comfortable 23 knots and we rolled out a handkerchief-sized patch of genoa. As we progressed east, we could see dark clouds over the cliffs that came to a sudden end about 5 miles ahead. When we got near this cloud break, the winds dropped from 23 knots to 6 within a span of 15 minutes. We rolled out the rest of the genoa and proceed on to Lagos, shaken and perplexed but glad that it was over.

Looking back at our nautical guides, we now believe what they say: the effects around big headlands like Cape St Vincent can extend for 5 miles. When you look at the grib files for the area (meteorological maps), you see very high winds around the Cape and light winds east of there. Lesson learned: watch out for those headlands and give them a wide berth.

Oeiras and Lisbon

Note: we are currently in Albufeira, Portugal, a stone's throw away from Faro. We hope to make it into the estuary of Faro tomorrow and enjoy a little down-time. I am about 3 blog posts behind because internet is difficult to come by here. I try to give more timely updates on the Facebook page, but the details will have to wait. Cheers, friends.

The Oeiras marina is only 5 miles away from Cascais but worlds apart in terms of attitude. It’s a small marina that requires tight manoeuvers, and a reservation ahead of time is a good idea. But the marina staff are almost excessively friendly and the price is unbelievable: for a 7-night stay, the price averages out to about 26 euros a night, compared with 44 Euros in Cascais. The transportation to Lisbon is a simple 15-minute walk to the train station and a 20-minute ride into Lisbon, which deposits you in the center of town. The marina has a few restaurants around it as well as a good-sized grocery store within a 10-minute walk, and visitors to the marina are given free passes to the aquatic park across the street. There are two beautiful (crowded) beaches within walking distance, a nice bike path, and … hang on to your hats…fresh bread is delivered daily to your cockpit. We did miss the attraction of a town like Cascais, but in terms of a base for visiting Lisbon, Oeiras is hard to beat.

Beach near Oeiras Marina

Mareda, far right, Oeiras

The whale tail, symbol of Oeiras marina

Lisbon was a bit disappointing, in fact. It was so crowded with tourists that we gave up doing a few things we wanted to do. We managed to squeeze in most of the “must see” places and thoroughly enjoyed the Jeronimo (St Jerome) monastery. Truth be told, we’re getting a bit fed up with religious edifices and fortresses. We countered this by visiting the museum of modern art in Lisbon and got a good dose of secular bewilderment.