OK, so perhaps this is an overly dramatic blog title, however with the incidents we’ve experienced with the Mar Menor this year and last, we’re beginning to think the place is not for us!
Heading on East
The last blog left off with us having a disturbed night’s sleep due to swell creeping around the headland, so we decided to push on east. In the morning, there was still a noticeable roll in the anchorage and as we cleared the shelter of Cabo Tinoso, it only got worse. We’d expected a downwind sail, for which we would only use the fore sail (yankee), but it was looking more likely we’d need to raise the main, if only to counter the swell. Always fun when bouncing up and down.
The winds were light so we motor sailed east. As the morning went on, the wind increased and we were soon making 6kts SOG (speed over ground). This felt quite amazing given how much sealife was clinging to Emerald’s hull. At this speed we’d make the 14:00 bridge opening at Mar Menor, rather than having to hang around outside until 16:00. With thunderstorms forecast for the late afternoon, we decided to forego the option to sail and pushed on.
The Mar Menor and it’s Opening Bridge
The Mar Menor is an inland sea, separated from the Mediterranean by a narrow stretch of sand, known as La Manga. There is a single entrance passable by yachts, spanned by a bridge which opens every two hours on even hours. On our way south at the end of last season, we’d planned to spend a few days there, before heading in to Cartagena. But when we’d arrived, the bridge hadn’t opened. The bridge controllers don’t respond to radio calls, so instead we called Tomas Maestra Marina, which is next to the bridge, who informed us there was a problem. As we waited for the next opening, a RIB came out and told us the bridge was confirmed broken and would take several days to fix. It took ten. A lucky escape to have not got in as otherwise we’d have been trapped inside.
We were surfing our way around Cabo de Palos, chased by a F7 wind, still with time in hand. Arriving twenty minutes early at the approach to the bridge, we held station in the strong wind which was trying to blow us towards it. With the wind and narrow, shallow channel, we were reluctant to move closer until the 13:55 radio call came, confirming that the bridge would be opening. It came, so we began to move down the channel, Colin on the helm, me on the fore deck keeping an eye on the bridge. We were getting close to the reported shallow area at the corner, it was now 14:03, with cars still crossing, and no sign of it opening. An announcement was made in Spanish, but we didn’t understand it. It looked like the bridge wasn’t going to open!
We continued inwards for a few more minutes but reluctantly agreed it wasn’t opening and we’d have to get ourselves out of the close confines of the channel. Trying to get the wind through the bow was tricky, but at least the prop walk in reverse was in our favour and the outgoing current worked with us. Bow now pointing south, we hightailed it out of there, as fast as we could with 25kts on the nose.
It had been one of those days, the non opening bridge had led us to have to contend with wild weather in a not so ideal location. As the evening settled down with calm weather returned and no more storms on the horizon, we could reflect on the events of the afternoon. Why hadn’t the bridge opened? Were we too slow to approach or was it broken again? We were cautious and didn’t want to run out of manoeuvring space, but it would have been obvious from the tower that we were coming in. Later in the week, we watched boats going through, and the bridge remained open a further 4 minutes after the penultimate boat had passed, for a late arrival to go through. A mystery we’ll never know the answer to.
Thunderstorms at the Oasis
So where to now? There was the abandoned ferry terminal next to the entrance but having never been in there, manoeuvring in it’s close environs in strong winds didn’t appeal. With black clouds quickly filling up the sky, we headed north to the lagoon known as “The Oasis”. The wind was howling off the shore, but with little fetch it seemed a good place to wait.
As the afternoon wore on, rain and lightning strikes surrounding us as storms passed over and moved out to sea. But it wasn’t over for us. The rain that falls from these enormous clouds can create an effect of pushing air away from them and we’ve often experienced the strong winds that follow from an unexpected direction, after the storm has passed. In this case, with the storm now east of us, the wind increased from that direction and we soon had 35kts trying to blow us towards the shore. But, the anchor held firm and although the waves increased, Emerald comfortably rode them out with very little pitching. After two hours there was a noticeable easing, we turned to the north west and a beautiful full double rainbow spread itself across the sky behind us.
Bridge Attempt Part 2
The next morning, with lighter winds, we made our second attempt on the bridge. After yesterday’s experience, stress levels were high but at least we didn’t have strong winds to contend with. We were already part way up when the five to radio call came, and at the corner, we were relieved to see the two halves start to rise. But now, we had a noticeable current against us and with the engine at full revs, struggled to make 5kts. A boat passed us going out, but we still had some way to go before we were through. Surely they wouldn’t close on us? The relief when the mast was safely through was palpable. We eased back on the revs and completed the remainder of the channel in a much happier frame of mind.
Our First Sail of 2020
With a light north wind blowing, we rolled out the genny, turned the engine off and had our first sail of the season as we slowly wafted south. Halfway to our destination the wind gave up and we came to a standstill. Seagulls bobbed on the water around us, possibly wondering what on earth we were up to. As the sail hung lazily, we noticed a small wear patch in the UV strip and set out making a temporary repair.
We anchored in the area we’d used 6 years ago, just outside the Club Náutico las Isleta with the hope to be able to tie up the dinghy there to go ashore and perhaps get water, as we had back then. This time, the first yes, the second no. We didn’t want to risk the watermaker so pickled it as we didn’t know how long we’d be there. We choose to pickle if we’re not going to use it for at most 5 days.
Sunny Mornings, Windy Afternoons
A pattern set up over the next few days – we’d go ashore in the mornings whilst winds were light, then back onboard for the afternoon when the winds would increase from the south west, reaching 25 to 30kts. There was a small fetch, but hardly noticeable inside the boat and the holding was excellent. By late evening, the wind would die off. Except one night, when we were rudely awoken by a blast of 40kts that jolted us awake as it howled through the rigging.
One small issue was the number of bugs that took up residence on Emerald. One morning, as we looked out through the net over the companionway, we could see black dots covering the shade nets that surround the cockpit. At first glance they looked like mosquitoes, however having bravely broken the net seal to poke a camera lens out, on closer inspection, they turned out to be chironomid midges, given away by their fluffy antennae. Fortunately, these ones don’t bite. We still didn’t really want them inside and who knew, perhaps a real mossie would be lurking amongst them. So in the evenings it was essential to put nets over every opening to keep them from moving in.
Another day, large dark clouds began gathering to the north. We watched them on satellite as they paraded their way towards us and prepared for a soaking. A supercell formed and passed just a few miles to the west of us, covering the land in a thick layer of hail and causing thousands of euros damage to the crops. Our solar panels had a lucky escape.
Not Welcome in Mar Menor
We’d planned to hang around a little longer in the lagoon, perhaps making a trip to the north end for some variety as we waited for the lockdown restrictions to ease and for inter province travel to be allowed. One morning as we were walking around the pretty coves at Cabo de Palos, we received a message from our friends anchored by us, to say the Guardia Civil had visited and told us we all had to leave. It seemed there was a new rule, and that rule was no anchoring in the Mar Menor. We had been seen and reported. Puzzled by this, we reluctantly headed back to Emerald and sailed our way to the 16:00 bridge.
Leaving was a much less fraught event than arrival and Colin gave the bridge controller a wave once we’d safely passed through, which was returned with gusto.
Back to the Oasis we went, where several more boats had since arrived. Perhaps the Guardia had done us a favour – the water was much clearer here with fewer bugs – but a trawl of the internet in both Spanish and English could not unearth this new rule.
And so, the curse of the Mar Menor gave us another mystery, unlikely to ever be solved!
4th June: Cabo Tinoso to The Oasis, Mar Menor – 34nm
Anchored in 4.5m sand, position 37 45.364’N 0 44.256’W
5th June: The Oasis to Mar Menor South – 12nm (3nm sailed)
Anchored in 4.3m mud, position 37 38.746’N 0 43.663’W
10th June: Mar Menor to the Oasis – 11nm (5nm sailed)
Anchored in 4.5m sand, position 37 45.223’N 0 44.129’W
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