Windblown Battle in Bayone

The wind increases all day. Force 7 in the harbor is the prediction. All the boats on the outside of the pontoon will have to leave, go out and anchor. Just getting off the pontoon will be a challenge. Sailors and staff discuss weather and logistics all morning.

By 1pm, our fenders are just about flat against the pontoon, waves of salt water splashing over, the sailboats lunging like broncos on short lines; the pontoon is a writhing snake. The decision is made: Local berth-owners have been contacted. The marina has decided that all the outsiders are to be temporarily moved inside. Then they bring out their monster. A big power-boat with a 225h. outboard. It roars into action, ropes are flying, and the bows of each sailboat are pulled out from the quay. It’s a tug o’ war against the wind, but the other sailors and staff tip the battle, handling ropes and fenders, pushing off.

Soon we're all happily bobbing in the quiet waters inside. Happy ending. No damages!

In the evening the brushfires on the hills towards Finisterra seemed more and more extensive in the strong blow. Dirty-yellow smoke filled the South-eastern sky. The hillside has a red lining, flames high at places. We are grateful for a peaceful, safe place to lie.

Out of the wind.