How We Sailed Through Gibraltar

How We Sailed Through Gibraltar All day, until we emerge into the Atlantic, dolphins escort us. There seems to be no end to them, apparently constantly taking turns so that we do not get bored. The sea vagabonds pull out all the stops: turning somersaults, leaping belly-up out of the water, and performing all manner of acrobatics. It is overcast, and the Rock of Gibraltar, when it comes into view, looks nowhere near as picturesque as it does in Aivazovsky’s painting. We bear farther south, setting a course for Ceuta—Spain’s enclave on the northwestern coast of Africa. Clearly, having its own port on the opposite shore of the Strait of Gibraltar allowed the Spanish Crown to control the entire strait. In the darkness, Ceuta looks like a crown adorned with golden beads—the road climbs right to the top, encircling the mountain with the yellow glow of streetlights. Passing between the Pillars of Hercules is stirring. Andrey and I are acutely aware of the solemnity of the moment: after a year and a half of travelling as a family aboard a yacht, we are leaving the enclosed basin for the open ocean. The children are watching a fairy tale, so we are the only ones who feel the significance of the moment. The Strait of Gibraltar has three currents flowing in different directions and insane shipping traffic. Our captain’s skill allowed us to slip through all of it under sail, without using the engine at all. In the middle of the Gateway to the Atlantic, we saw a yacht sailing in the opposite direction for the first time. Before that, throughout the entire Mediterranean, we had encountered sailing yachts only near the coast. In the open winter sea, we had been alone. Gibraltar At around three in the morning, we clear the Strait of Gibraltar, and our Lady Mary cuts through the waves of the Atlantic Ocean with her stem. To port, the lights of Morocco are glowing. Vessels are scattered all around us, most of them invisible on AIS. This is a striking difference between Morocco’s coastal Atlantic waters and the Mediterranean: there, almost everyone has AIS. At half past four, Andrey goes to sleep, and I take over the watch. “Keep your eyes peeled! There are fishermen and nets everywhere.” Barely half an hour later, I spot an unidentified vessel moving rapidly to intercept us from the left. Roused by the alarm, the captain dresses in an instant and makes a series of manoeuvres: he bears away, starts the engine, and heaves to so he can assess the situation. The vessel immediately breaks off its pursuit. Evidently it was a fisherman whose completely unmarked nets we had almost run into in the dark. And he had charged at us, ready to ram, to protect the fish he had caught. Can ramming really cost Moroccans less than a lantern?.. “Your fish or your life?!” We choose life. So that we can later tell the story of how we sailed through Gibraltar. Next— The wind came up hard after the calm. Across the Ocean to the Canaries