At the entrance to the Mediterranean

Yet again we find ourselves in a waiting game. Waiting for Hans to finish work, waiting for favorable weather and winds, waiting to start cruising again. After a two-week skiing hiatus with friends in Colorado (amazing, epic, outstanding, insert all the other superlatives), we returned to the boat in Lagos and made a quick trip to Gibraltar where we would stage for our entry into the Mediterranean Sea. We arrived in Gibraltar a couple days before my mom flew in for her annual birthday visit and Hans left a week later for his regular two week work trip. We've been in Gibraltar for a little over three weeks now and are itching to leave. Gibraltar is fine, but the clear waters and island-hopping freedom of the Mediterranean beckon.

First, sailing through the straits of Gibraltar. It was, indeed, legendary and lived up to my expectations. At the narrowest point, the strait is only 14 miles across and is marked on either side by the Pillars of Hercules--massive land forms on the north and south side of the strait with the Rock of Gibraltar on the European side and Jebel Musa on the African continent in Morocco. The label, the Pillars of Hercules, was coined by Pliny the Elder and references one of the twelve labors Hercules performed. Greek myths tell that he had to bring cattle from the west to the Greek king Eurystheus and the two "pillars" on either side of the strait mark the farthest west he reached. Needless to say, we have started an in-depth Greek Mythology unit in our boat school! This is perhaps the truest version of worldschooling, and the kids are actually very engaged and excited to learn about the ancient stories. (Not as excited as they are about Roblox, but it's hard to compete with the screen.)

Morrocco as seen from the Straits of Gibraltar. These yahoos in ocean kayaks decided to "play" around our boat. They were uncomfortably close to us, surfing on both current wakes and the wake from our boat. We were running downwind and kept asking ourselves, "what will happen if we have an accidental gybe?" The answer: we'll run over one of the kayakers, sending them to the bottom of the ocean. Either they didn't understand how close they were, or the implications of their proximity, or they were aware and big risk-takers, or they were just idiots. I think the latter.

Gibraltar. It's a funny place. It's a small spit of land that juts off the Iberian peninsula and I'd say half of the land is not developed--partly because it is a designated UNESCO World Heritage Site and nature reserve, but also because it would be impossible to build on the sheer cliffs of the rock. Subsequently, the liveable, developed land is very congested. Sidewalks exist but they are narrow and people seem to drive very fast with little regard to pedestrians. In order to access nature, you need a pass to visit the nature reserve which you either pay for on a daily basis ($$$) or you have to go through an application and mail-in process. It's much more concrete-jungle like than I imagined, but that makes sense since land is so scarce. Because of the lack of easy outdoor space, I joined the nearby gym and I've been loving having daily gym time.

A little scrap of nature overlooking the concrete jungle.

 

My mom visited for two weeks and we had terrible luck with the weather. When she first arrived we had southerly winds which covered everything with Saharan dust. We woke up one morning with almost a centimeter of dust covering the decks. The thick dust lingered in the air for days, keeping us inside since it irritated all of our eyes and throats. We escaped for a day via rental car to a small town in the southern mountains of Spain, Ronda. The drive was incredibly scenic, but perhaps a little too scenic because we all got car sick. I often get seasick, but I've never gotten carsick before. It was still a little dusty in Ronda, but not as bad.

Meme bought Matilda the hat she's been begging for for nearly 3 years.

Back in Gibraltar, the dust cleared after about five days and then the rain started. It got the decks and rigging clean, but two days was enough. Unfortunately it rained for well over a week. We tried to make the best of it, especially by getting off the boat when we would get a few hours of clear skies, but it got tiresome after awhile. Thankfully, the last day of my mom's visit was clear and warm. We took full advantage of the weather and finally went up the Rock. Monkeys (specifically, Barbary macacaques), dramatic views, a cathedral-like cave, and finally some hiking in nature. We definitely made the most of our last day together.

We visited the little zoo in the Botanical Gardens. I was much more comfortable seeing the monkeys when we were separated by a fence. All of the animals in the zoo were acquired by British customs after being intercepted on smuggling boats.

Flowers at the botanical gardens

part of the military fortifications

The Rock as seen from the runway, with a pretty impressive cloud formation.

There are some historic parts of Gibraltar, you just have to hike through neighborhoods to find them.

Scenes from our day spent at the top of the Rock:

Inside St. Michael's Cave, complete with a light show. It was actually spectacular, not tacky.

Taxi traffic jam.

Walking to church on Easter morning. Rain, rain, rain.

We took advantage of a few hours of sun and took the bus out to the southern point of Gibraltar.

Enjoying the Botanical Gardens. A gorgeous, free park in the center of Gibraltar.

On another sunny day we walked up to the tunnels. Gibraltar is basically a massive British military fortification. They carved military tunnels throughout the entire rock, I assume using already existing caves to make longer, bigger tunnels. These were part of a completely self-guided tour--no map, no definitive entrance of exit. Just the light of our cell phones and whatever nerves we had, or didn't have, to continue.

Happy birthday Matilda! Sushi in the park.

Making pankakor tarta with Hans.

And happy birthday Freja!

 

Since then we've settled into our normal routines of school, cleaning, little boat projects, and waiting. We've met a couple other kid boats here and the adults have thoroughly enjoyed leaving the kids to their own devices while we go off the boat for dinner and drinks. A perfect solution all around. Hans returns today and we'll wait, hopefully patiently, for the winds to switch to the west so we can sail into the Mediterranean and properly start our cruising season.

Dust,

Dust,

dust. Three days in a row of dust.