Lanzarote. How We Were Blown Out of an Anchorage

Lanzarote. How We Were Blown Out of an Anchorage First Mate’s Diary, 10 May 2015 We had heard rumours that the southernmost marina on the island of Lanzarote was terribly expensive. The rumours proved true, and just 15 minutes later, the dazzlingly handsome, smiling dockhand was casting us off again, because we weren’t prepared to pay 40 euros a night, not even for him. At those prices there weren’t many people in the marina, and the fellow was clearly going to miss us: “Stay for an hour free of charge, go to the shop, stock up on food!” “Oh no, we have plenty of everything,” we hastily assured him, said a heartfelt goodbye and cast off. Five minutes later, it turned out we had also cast off without the onions and carrots. We had to make pilaf without them )). At anchor! We anchored in a bay literally a mile east of the marina. We dropped anchor in 5 metres of water and it set on the first try. The night wouldn’t be dull: besides us, there were another 5 yachts at the anchorage. A little boy of about 3 or 4 popped out from under the Swiss flag on the neighbouring boat, followed by his mother and various other relatives. The sight of children aboard our boat brought the entire Swiss crew cheerfully to life. We smiled back and put off getting acquainted with the neighbours until tomorrow. The night was starry, but not the most pleasant: Nastya and I developed headaches, and Andrei went to bed early. By half past ten, everyone was already asleep, and even the internet refused to talk to me. I went out into the cockpit to look at the stars. Today is the second day of the full moon. It’s very bright and beautiful, even though the moonlight is muted by haze. The surf sounds very loud, as if we were anchored right by the shore. Tomorrow or the day after, we’ll weigh anchor and sail another 20 miles or so along Lanzarote to Arrecife, where we’ll check out of the Canaries. Morning The following morning. The weather, as is customary in the Canaries, changed faster than we could prise open our sleepy eyes. A brilliant dawn. Half an hour of dead calm—and thassit... Somewhere in the troposphere, someone suddenly threw the switch for a 20-knot onshore wind. Clouds appeared from nowhere and gloomily drizzled against the porthole, while the wind howled: “You’d better clear out while you still can, my friends, or you’ll be driven ashore—I swear you will.” Almost all the boats at the anchorage swiftly weighed anchor and bolted along the island’s eastern coast. We decided not to be stubborn and fled too, without even finishing our tea. We accelerated almost instantly to 7 knots, catching up with the yachts that had left before us. The wind is almost ideal for our course, somewhere between a beam reach and a broad reach. But according to the forecast, this fair wind won’t last long, and it would be good to make as much distance as possible while we have it. Nastya handles the throttle masterfully while we weigh anchor, and she’s just as good at the helm at sea. I’ll soon be taking lessons from her. Our daughter already knows how to hold a course and even catches up with the boats ahead. Ladka is singing a song about Mum and washing down the cockpit walls with a rag. I’m writing a letter to friends (talking is easy, after all). As for actual seafaring work aboard, so far I mostly serve as a towrope and winch-winder; they won’t trust me with anything more. Less than an hour after our emergency departure, the wind died. The sun stares out through all its rays with shameless innocence, as if there had been no gloomy, cloud-laden squalls and no violent lurching over the waves. Wind 6 knots... Neither teleportation nor a time machine could have managed a change of scenery better than the Canaries’ wind roses :). Our young sailor began insisting that we hoist the gennaker: it’s pretty and billowy. But there were only about 10 miles left to Lanzarote’s old harbour, so we made do with the engine and arrived before we knew it. There has been no marina in the old harbour for a long time, only small fishing boats and a shallow anchorage dotted with buoys. That’s where we dropped anchor.