Cedeira Beach (Hi Res pictures to follow)
Economy in all things is crucial aboard, which is why I wash up al fresco, using a bucket and water from the Ria. This is all well and good, but one does need to retrieve the utensils, before emptying said bucket over the side after washing up, or it can become expensive. It hasn’t been too bad thus far – just a galley knife, spoon and cup.
Incredibly trawlers travel as far as South Africa and Canada from here to catch mainly tuna, which I believe they do or did process and can here. Cedeira is a municipality of A Coruna, and its population of around 7,500 has been in slow decline since the 1960s, but as with Viveiro, it has become a resort so numbers
probably double during summer holiday months.
An ancient pilgrimage route passes south of here, headed for Santiago de Compostela, where St. Francis of Assisi founded the Franciscan Order in 1214. Life is a journey or journeys, of course, but a phrase attributed to St. Francis struck me; “The journey is essential to the dream”. Even if that dream is as simple!e as crossing Biscay or arriving safely at the chosen Ria, or something much more significant, you cannot achieve it without journeying.
Oddly, legend has it that the Milky Way ended near Cedeira and the people here were descended from whales and fish – and no, that wasn’t written on a Rioja label.
I thought Again of Granddaughter Izzy Here!
Runs ashore confirmed little Cedeira to be a beautiful spot, immaculately presented, a combination of small town resort and fishing harbour. A picnic on the beach seemed a sound future plan, though I have never seen anyone doing that and very very few swimming. Typically I was too early for many things in the little town on my first visit, but bread and a pastry were readily found as was the lottery ticket seller, whom I felt was also a tad early but perhaps he worked a long day.
Going ashore has its potential hazards, such as having enough rope on your dinghy to ensure it is not submerged on a rising tide, or left hanging down the sea wall on a falling tide. Another, of course, is a slippery step, one I fell foul of on return from my first run ashore, sliding very neatly down the weed covered steps into the water and under the dinghy, with barely a splash: Tom Daley would have been in awe. Fortunately vitals were in a waterproof bag, the water was warmish and pride undented for no-one was watching.
The kids were out in rowing boats over the weekend, 4 to a boat with an adult cox, all trying furiously hard – very sweet. Earlier, burly young men had cut across the Ria at speed in similar boats, a complete contrast to the youngsters on jet skis who shot noisily around the bay, which Pippin and I owned for a couple of days, until a huge French catamaran joined us for a night. I have to hand it to those young jet skiers – doing 30 knots whilst operating a mobile phone is no mean feat.
Cedeira is reported as sometimes being a gusty Ria, and I found it so though never to a worrying degree. It gusted well ‘north’ of 20 knots on occasion, which never troubled Mr Rocna, as we lay tethered to the the seabed 4 or 5 metres below, though I never like leaving Pippin at anchor for long. It was a little rougher than Viveiro, perhaps because it is so much smaller and roughly circular, so waves bounce off the walls.
Pippin is in the Background
The very large French catamaran couldn’t raise its anchor next morning. I puttered across to help the two older ladies, as the skipper descended down the anchor chain very professionally in his wetsuit, and snorkel. Standing high on the foredeck of the 50 foot catamaran, I was reminded how small – and to my biased eyes, how pretty – Pippin was. The anchor chain was humungeous, the winch looked under sized and both the crew barely topped 5 foot – both had seen as many years as me too, but they were tough and frankly I was superfluous.
Anyway we, or rather the skipper, eventually succeeded and I learned this was the second successive time, for their anchor had also caught in a submerged boat at their previous anchorage. My witty joke in bad French that things happen in threes wasn’t rapturously received and they left for Finisterre. I don’t have a wetsuit, or snorkel …….. so I might just check if there are any divers in the fishing port, for there are no boat support services here. A little sketch will be of more use than any attempt of mine to explain in Spanish!
Tattoos are popular as I have pronounced before, so perhaps it wasn’t surprising to find a tattoo parlour, the ‘Smog Tattoo’, which nestles alongside the ‘Chelsea Pension’, two star (probably generous). Google ‘Smog Tattoo – it’s 5 star rated! – so if my anchor gets caught, perhaps I’ll have an anchor tattoo done.
Boat checks included the usual, but I like to throw in a surprise or two, so I checked out the place in the bilge where the foot of the mast meets the hull and cleaned out the shower tray, useful, as the shower sump pump can help drain the bilge in an emergency. Pippin had no surprises for me, all was in good order.
Now if that is the sort of stuff I am reporting to you from pretty Cedeira, it’s time to move on very soon! The Willis master plan – simple as always – is to drop the hook in Ria El Ferrol, 30 nautical miles or so to the south. Plans are but the intentions of the moment though, as I am want to pronounce, so we always head ‘towards’, never ‘to’, at whatever date and time I get that anchor up.
A nice spot for a cafe negro and a play
Hasta la vista