LOG n.9 - Fill in the blanks

16.10. - 25.12.2025, Anfi del Mar

There’s a lot that happened. 

From Valle Gran Rey, I went back to Tenerife, to the north, for a doctor's appointment to discover that I, indeed, don’t have cancer. Which was great info, given what would happen after. 

From Radazul, I planned to anchor for one day on Playa Antequera at the very tip of Tenerife and then cross to Las Palmas de Gran Canaria on these supposed westerlies. Those completely disappeared, and since my family was visiting Tenerife the next week, I decided to stay. 

The Antequera anchorage was a wild experience as I had no signal and no Starlink, thus I couldn’t check the ever-changing weather forecast. And I was dragging with my CQR a lot. That made the urgency of getting a new and reliable anchor palpable.

I decided to skeddadle after a few almost sleepless nights to discover that marinas around me were all full. My fault for reaching the signal in the afternoon - but I somehow felt that I would find a place in the marina of Radazul, though when I called them, they've hit me with the same information - fully occupied. But the feeling didn’t disappear. 

And funnily enough, my engine suddenly started to ingress a lot of air. Luckily, it was an hour away from that marina. The engine almost died on me. Two times. It sounded like a fuel starvation, but I checked before going, and the level was sufficient. So I made it by a hair or two to the Radazul marina gas station, where they let me stay overnight. Actually, I slipped in two nights by sneakily waiting whilst figuring out this leak. It was the shape of the tank and motoring in the swell. Good to know. It was time to start cleaning the side tanks that are MEANT were built for that purpose, and that didn’t cross my mind before this happened. The previous owners disconnected them for a reason I forgot, and until now I wasn't presented with a reason to prioritise this detective endeavour.

Whilst fixing this, my family came to visit, so we went south and spent some days together. Emotionally charged, but pleasant.

After that, I had to meet my friend Martin, who got a new Rustler 40 and brought it from Portugal to Tenerife, amongst other reasons, so I can see it before he continues to Senegal. We had a great time, and then he had a lady friend visit him. They met on a sailing dating site, so I was curious. And she was Czech, and she was a riot, and I loved her and made a new friend.

Then I needed to go to England to visit a family friend, recover some parts and the important Starlink, ownership of which will hopefully prevent me from experiences of similar delight as Antequera was. Pulling up a dinghy at 4am and 20 knots of wind with total blank on the upcoming weather is not something I want to repeat.

Therefore, I moved the boat to the marina and had a couple boat-sit and cat-sit for me for those three days. I wouldn't leave it on anchor anyway, but now with the weather forecast I saw the storm coming from the west, starting on the day I was leaving. Needed to move the boat in marina at 25kn. Felt like in Fast&Furious. Called a ton of people for assistance on the pontoon. We made it and no touch. Docked safely with so much adrenaline and later cortisol flooding my veins.

 So I visited my family friend in England for some emotional support in important things as well (dealing with a lot of turbulent unresolved matters of my history and the present), which came in handy because the day after my arrival, I got the news that my best friend of 10 years - the only person I knew who could fully understand me, with whom I could talk for hours endlessly, with whom I had so many good, bad, and powerful experiences, the most influential person in my life so far - took her own life. That had a profound effect on everything I was experiencing.

When I came back to my boat, I couldn’t move. I was lying on the floor of my saloon in tears for days. Props to me for not picking up the bottle. I am an alcoholic, and I am 1 year and 4 months sober, and I intend on continuing with sobriety. Though, some times are harder than others.

I was depressed, and on top of that, I was dealing with some other personal stuff, where I stupidly agreed to a deadline for leaving the marina. Which I am never to do again. Got a new anchor, though (Rocna) and got my Genoa UV strip repaired.

So, totally unprepared, I set off the morning of the day of the deadline, it was blowing 25-32 knots outside, but the weather was not getting any better on the upcoming days. I charted a course to leave the island of Tenerife to go to Gran Canaria. I just wanted to get away from all of this. So the course was the most low effort I could do - close reach, one bearing - set the sails outside the marina on Tenerife and drop them in front of the marina on Gran Canaria. 

Little did I know - because I had my Genoa UV strip fixed, as I put the sail back on the forestay - I forgot to run the sheets through the travellers. For a close reach trim, a pretty necessary thing. But hey, I am learning with every mistake. I also forgot to fix the sprayhood. Not good in 3m waves. Thanks to those, we also discovered that the deck leaks a lot. Luckily, not the bottom.

Arrived in Puerto Mogán. Buttered the landing, as pilots would say. It was a tight space to maneuver in, and I looked like a real professional. That’s because they don’t know me. Once I know one person who is watching me dock, it starts to look funny.

Safely in the berth, I started looking around. Everything was wet from the leaks, and I had like 7 trash bags of laundry to clean and some upholstery to dry.

I planned to stay in Mogán for 3 days. 3 days changed into 2.5 weeks. I met some great people. Namely my neighbour Samantha - a woman of the military and immensely entertaining badass, who also has a blog (www.themenopausalmariner.com), and she was the wittiest Englishwoman. She sails from her childhood, and her husband (also military) learned sailing because of her, and now he’s an instructor. Them both having experienced those missions made them bold and grounded at the same time. And extremely funny. It was a nice change.

And thanks to Sam, I met Sascha, her friend, who’s a German sailmaker, and he’s going to do a new lazybag for Seraphis. That’s truly amazing because I have just lazyjacks, and I must tell you - single-handing with that is a tidy bit of pain in the arse, catching the main with my hands all the time.. So I am looking forward to that. I also need to change the whole running rigging and rearrange it. It’s all salty (takes after me) and sandy, and it’s done so unintuitively that it makes my days of sailing significantly more difficult than they need to be.

My Instagram is doing well. I really like to do it. It brings me joy, and I am glad that people like it. I am feeling great to get back to writing again because it is a whole other level of expression for me. 

Anyway, I left Mogán for Christmas because the berth I was in has its owners, and they were in the dry dock and were coming back in the water on the 22nd. I left on the 21st - on my name day. Anchored just 4 miles away at Anfi del Mar - an anchorage recommended by Sam.

I celebrated Christmas here with some company, and now I am in solitude again. Needed to re-anchor a bit. Thought I was going to go to Arguineguín, that is just opposite of here, but when I saw rocks, I turned around and anchored back at Anfi. And that is now, as I publish this piece. I am reflecting. Breathing.

The sea is calling me back to harmony with myself.