By Fi
Me: “Gibraltar VTS, Gibraltar VTS, Gibraltar VTS, this is Away, Away, Away on channel 1-2, do you copy, over” I professionally say on the radio to announce our intentions to cross the bay to our booked marina.
Gibraltar VTS: “Away, Gibraltar VTS, you are clear to proceed. Oh, by the way, what is your air draft?”
Me: “20 metres”
Gibraltar VTS: “Ok thank you”
Confused, we set across the bay of Gibraltar dodging all the boats. Usually authorities are concerned about our water draft, how far under the water we go. But these guys are asking about how high our mast is! I check the charts for bridges or cables over the marina entry. Nothing. Confusion.
In the bay, there are anchored cargo ships, moving cargo ships, high speed ferries everywhere, pilot boats, sail boats, fishing boats, tinnes – you name it. It was possibly worse than crossing the traffic separation scheme in the middle of the English Channel.
Why do they want to know our airdraft????? It all became clear as we turned to starboard to enter the marina channel. We literally crossed in front of the Gibraltar airport runway.
It was kind of nice to see a little piece of Britain again. We promptly went out for some proper stodge food, a feed of fish and chips, steak and ale pie and some beer. A couple of Australians went to an Irish pub, were served by Spanish speakers, and ate English food.
After our stodge, we realised a pretty big weight was lifting off our shoulders (and maybe adding to our bellies). The Orcas. There hasn’t been an “attack” east of Gibraltar for years, and from what we can tell, the Orcas are attacking boats in the north of Portugal at the moment anyway. As the weight lifted and lifted, we realised that Gibraltar would be a good place to actually rest for a while, decompress and get a few little jobs done.
We find the chandlery, of course, wander around town and do some shopping, visit some nice wine bars and restaurants, and finally, we feel rested enough to actually visit “the rock”.
Up we go one sunny but windy morning to the top in the gondola and plan out a day looking around the rock.
We meet the monkeys, Barbary macaques on the top. They are not interested in humans, unless you have a backpack or pram which they associate with food. We had neither, and so just observed from afar.
Walking on the top of the rock, we spy our first real view of the Mediterranean Sea. Oh my gosh we’re almost there!
We walk down the hill a little to visit St. Michaels Cave and the angel inside. The formations were spectacular.
After the cave, we wanted to see some of the tunnels. We we walking down hill a lot. Like, a lot. Maybe we don’t want to walk back up.
We walked down to the Siege tunnels, built around 1782 with the desire to reach a rock formation called “the notch” which they didn’t quite make it to. They also accidently blew a hole in the side of the rock, which happily provided much needed ventilation, and so this became a thing. Also because its good to poke canons out of.
Next stop was the WW2 tunnels. Yes, there are so many tunnels in the rock its basically Swiss.
It was super fun visiting the rock. We were happy to have spent a bit of time here, recuperating and exploring. But now… It was time.
We leave Gibraltar, fill up with some wildly cheap diesel, and turn left. Then left again, straight into the rising sun. East. To the Med!
And we arrive, finally, in the Med. Our first Med mooring. Don’t worry, we get used to it and no one died and nothing broke.
More on that next time.
