Christina Lee Update, November 2008

Christina Lee 11/11/08

Hello Folks, hope all is well in the space that you occupy? At last we have arrived in Tunisia! We left Melilla on Sunday 2nd with the forecast of westerly wind for the next few days, possibly going SW. Plan was to sail for as long as possible till the weather changed or we got tired of the journey.

As it happened, the weather was great for sailing but not good for humans unfamiliar with living in a washing machine. Gay was first to be unwell and then Jane succumbed to the inevitable. It was to be expected and it only happened once and they soon became used to the motion, going back to their infant days and sleeping all the time.

Algeria has a beautiful coastline, all 750 miles of it and we were very lucky to be able to sail down it without any problems. For the most part it is an extension of the Riff mountain range that runs from Morocco through to Tunisia and is populated its entire length. Algeria is a country that appears to be booming, they have gas and oil and as we sailed east we have passed numerous refineries, belching flames into the night sky and countless oil and gas tankers shipping the liquid gold to the hungry west.

After three days and 365 miles, we needed a rest and I had not been able to sleep so was feeling crap. It’s difficult to make decisions when that tired so we decided to anchor for a bit before pushing onwards. Sadly for us, the Algerian Coast Guard keep tabs on all ships in their waters and they had been watching us from day one. As soon as we had dropped the anchor they called us on the VHF and asked if we had a problem. I should have lied. They kicked us out and told us to go to Sidi Ferruch Marina, the only marina in Algeria and the closest one to the capital. Problem was a weather system to the west had caused the sea state to become dangerous and we were trying to cross massive seas at 45 degrees. I was not happy.

The boat was taking a battering as we rolled from one wave to the next, a couple of times we were overpowered and slewed round to port, the auto pilot not being able to predict what was coming up from behind. I try not to look behind sometimes as it can be quite alarming! We hit 10 knots a few times with only a scrap of sail in 25kn of tailwind, Christina Lee may be slow to windward but she goes well down the front of breaking waves. I decided that it was too dangerous to go into Sidi and made the executive decision to go round the headland and into Algiers where the harbour there is huge and safe but does not welcome yachts.

I called them on the radio and requested an emergency ‘port of refuge’. They can’t refuse us if we have problems. I told them I had two crew who were unwell and had problems with my engine, not strictly a lie as we had a problem the day before in the bay of Arzew and I had to put out a ‘pan pan’ emergency call to alert all ships to our position. The water pump impellor had failed and we had no engine and no wind to clear the very busy shipping lane, good job we had a spare impellor!

As was our good fortune, the Algiers Port Authority chap was very understanding and spoke perfect English, with an Australian accent. They took us in and we berthed on the ferry terminal in front of the ferry to France. A local was fishing by hand line and caught a large octopus from the wall we were berthing against. Gay happened to be next to the bloke, tying up the bow line as he yanked it from the water in one big movement. Gay shrieked out as it flew past her head and landed all forlorn on the dock! Say’s something about the water quality in the port.

As became the norm in Algeria, they look after us sailing types as they don’t see many. The advice we heard before leaving was to not stop in Algeria at all? Totally misguided and paranoid western thinking from people who had never even been there.

The Authorities were the most polite and respectful we have ever come across and they spoke enough English that we were not misunderstood. Gay has a reasonable grasp of French so we had some interesting conversations. They seemed to be obsessed about the cost of things in the west and would ask us, quite unashamedly about our possessions. We had about seven different people come aboard, Customs, Immigration, Police, Navy and some who were just curious! It’s a bit of a farce as none of them can make decisions and they don’t have any official forms to fill in, they just take the relevant, or irrelevant details in out of date diaries or pieces of paper supplied by us. Most of them had to share a pen and there seemed to be a distinct pecking order in rank and status within the port. Great for us as we were innocent transient spectators, with nothing but time to loose.

The next morning we were asked to move but then told we could stay as a huge ship was about to arrive following the departure of the previous ferry. It was 247 metres long and I decided it might be better for us if we shifted along the dock a bit. The thing was massive and only just got in the remaining space. It was good to be there to see such a monster come alongside above us.

We left a short time after but were recalled to the dock as immigration had not checked us out, despite the earlier check by the policeman. An hour later we left. It cost us one litre on Smirnoff and three cans of Sprite for the duration of our stay. A cheap night but I shall miss the last full bottle. The process was made easier as I had two ‘ladies’ on board rather than a bunch of blokes. One of the port police gave Gay a big box of dates before we left, another gesture of Algerian kindness.

The weather was in our favour and we had a westerly wind to take us east to Dellys were we stopped again. The policeman was into Love and Peace and not the least bit interested in bureaucracy or terrorism, (once we finally managed to get into the port.) We had been turned away but decided to hang about while Gay made another of her fantastic one pot dinners, in the process, another bigwig made a decision that we could come alongside the fishing dock. We were escorted by the coast guard into the port and tied up under the glare of the local youth club and cat’s protection league, alongside the fuel quay. The place stunk of fish but it was friendly and welcoming.

We had to go to the police station to do the paperwork where our new friend explained about the chaos that is ‘Algerian Immigration’ and the constant search for ‘terrorists’. They had a big poster with the country’s ‘most wanted’, I didn’t recognise any of them? The forms were complete after our policeman rattled off the last one on an old typewriter, dating from the sixties, with no covers and several parts missing.

It was like Faulty Towers, the poor chap did not really know what he was doing and kept picking up bits of paper, then putting them down again. It was all very amusing to Jane and myself.

At last we managed to get an Algerian stamp in our passports before we left. Quite why we didn’t get one in Algiers, a proper port rather than a fishing village, I cannot understand? It’s just how it is. Jane gave our local copper her 1964 edition of an English/French dictionary so he could improve his English.

From Dellys we continued east with a favourable wind on route to Bejaia, another large port of entry. The sun was out, the wind was good and we had a fantastic sail along the coast. Sadly we did not see any Dolphins the whole time we were in Algerian waters? Not a thing. We did collect several suicidal Flying fish on deck and we were visited by a few small finches that would come for a rest on the guard rail before heading off out to sea. It was the best sailing that we have done since buying the boat as the wind was in the right direction and the sea was not to rough.

Bejaia was another night entry, our third. Difficult to navigate as there is a mass of back light from the surrounding town and dock area. Our GPS plotter was not to be relied on for accuracy as the charts used were up to a hundred years old, from the time that the Frogs ran the show in Algeria. We found that most of the lights did not show the sequences expected but were somewhere near! Suffice to say I was relieved to get in and alongside the freight dock next to a Turkish freighter unloading tons of steel rods for the construction industry. It was a dirty, dusty place but the customs and police were great and had the now familiar disorganised routine of form filling and making up details. Sometimes they even wanted to know our parents names and what they did for a living! Both Jane’s and Gays parents are dead but they still took the details, most bizarre? We didn’t have any currency to buy fuel so I did a deal with the police captain for some Euro’s, he was cool and didn’t rip me off but as we left we discovered that the fuel dock was closed as it was Friday! Oh well.

Next stop was Collo, a small fishing port about 65 miles away and the prospect of another night entry. True to form the Algerian Coast Guard had the reception committee waiting for us but this time they were four miles from the port in a RIB! They came alongside and we confirmed that we were heading for Collo. They suggested we follow them there. It was handy for us as the place was under cliffs and very dark. They obviously knew the water and kept pretty close to the cliff but I kept out a bit for safe keeping, even then the GPS had us on land and sailing through the lighthouse! In the port there were lots of fishing boats with lines out to moorings so they could moor stern too and no room for a sailing yacht. I did not want to drop my anchor in the port as there was a good chance I might not get it back up with all the crap on the ocean floor in the port. We were eventually guided to the fuel dock but not before I had chopped through some poor fisherman’s bow line. We were getting blown on so it was a case of shit or bust as there was no way of getting out if we ran out of water below the keel. As luck would have it we didn’t run aground, we just threw some lines out and invited the usual rabble of officials aboard to do the formalities, including the now frozen guy in the RIB.

We got to bed at about 3am but were rudely awakened at 5.30am as the fishing fleet had returned. They wanted us to move so they could unload in front of a hundred or so locals who were part of an early morning bidding war to buy the catch. It was a real pain but I was more concerned that they would damage our boat as they tried to come alongside. Even given that we were making their job difficult, they were not upset and would have worked around us if we had stayed put. It’s a strange thing, they never see Europeans so don’t mind the inconvenience of our boat and they are curious to look at the Ladies!

We managed to extract ourselves from the dock and the mass of fishing boats, narrowly avoiding running over another piece of floating rope, before going outside the port and dropping the anchor 200yds away. We went back to bed as it was still only 7.30am but our peace was soon shattered by the VHF. The coast guard did not want us to anchor in the bay. Why don’t you just leave us alone you bastards! We returned to the port and tied up to an old boat that was there when we arrived and would have been perfect for us some six hours previous but that’s the way it goes!

As it was now 9am and the place was fully up and running, it was pointless trying to sleep so I took the fuel cans and bought 40 lt of diesel. I cost 600 dh, about six quid. Collo has one of the best anchorages in Algeria, just round the corner from the port so Gay got permission from the police(in her finest Francaise) to anchor there while we waited for our departure time of 10pm. I guess the coast guard does not have much to do with the Police as they turned up about 17.30 to kick us out of the bay. We haggled and had a bit of a laugh with them but they were concerned that we might get some unwanted visitors from over the hill. The ‘Bad Guy’s’ might try and board us when it got dark. We were told to move nearer the lighthouse so we could be kept an eye on. All day we had been under surveillance from some dodgy blokes on the slopes above the shore, we took them to be plain clothed police, leather trench coats, dark shades etc. Rather than tempt fate and get abducted by ‘bin’s boy’s, we left on tick over and headed out to sea. The Algerian security forces are very anxious about foreigners as they pose an international problem and reflect badly on the country if they get abducted by Islamic fundamentalists and then held to ransom or even killified! Pity, as the people are the most hospitable you could meet and have no axe to grind with us.

We watched some dodgy DVD after a superb dinner as we motored west at 5 knots, in no hurry to arrive early at Annaba, our last port of call in Algeria. The wind was non existent and the sea calm so it was not long before the Ladies were asleep, leaving the Skipper to enjoy the full moon.(Gay did her watch from midnight for about 3 hours but as usual I couldn’t fall to deep slumber as she is only a ‘day skipper’!!!) There were lots of fishing boats along the coast, some had no lights but I could usually pick them up on the radar. Some of the smaller ones had nothing to make me aware of their presence and I had to make a couple of last minute swerves to avoid going across their fishing gear. They don’t follow any set course as they are trawling so one can never tell their next move. I usually just knock the speed off and wait for them to go by. They have the right of way over all vessels so they ignore us unless I fail to see them at all, this prompts a rapid turning on of all their lights including the hauling lamps. It’s like having a floating spaceship suddenly appear on your bow.

Annaba was our only disappointment. The port is a huge commercial complex with a large fishing fleet to boot and is not prepared for yachts. We looked around for the fuel dock near the fishing port as we didn’t want to stop for long, just long enough to get a tank full of cheap diesel and then hightail it to Tunisia. It was not to be. We spent five hours tied to the dock while the usual bunch of not so smartly dressed officials came aboard. Sadly for the customs man, who explained that he was in charge of the whole port and as such was a very important individual, the Police had taken our passports so he was unable to complete the forms as Jane did not know her passport number off the top of her head.

We eventually got bored of waiting and went to the Police who gave back our passports so I could drop in at the customs and get them sorted before we went to the fuel dock. Here lies the problem. They bring the fuel to you, in a tanker and sell it buy the ton. Great if you are a bloody great merchant vessel but not so good if you only want a couple of hundred litres. I tried to make the bloke understand our predicament as I only had a few hundred of their currency but it was hard work. Even with a calculator and a pen and paper we could not make sense of his figures. It seemed he wanted to charge the equivalent of 80 cents (euros) for a litre! Four times the normal price. You can keep it, I explained in my finest Arabic, I’ll take a chance and sail to Tunisia with an empty tank. That’s what you get for being greedy, five hours and no fuel! Humbug!

I called the port to tell them I was leaving and we set off on our final leg to Tunisia. Once we had cleared the port I switched the VHF off so they would have to send a RIB out if they wanted to speak to us. I didn’t throw any toys out of the boat though. Once well clear, the girls were left in charge while I tried to get some shut eye. Six hours later we were motoring along nicely with the Ipod blasting out some kickin’ sounds when we were jumped by the coast guard and his gun toting buddy doing 40 knots towards us in his Mad Max RIB! It did look pretty cool and was obviously built with high speed pursuit in mind. We were five miles inside their territory and they had been trying to reach us on the VHF? Did we have a problem? No, of course not, it was working fine! I went below and turned it on again before calling them on channel 16 to prove it was all good. Oops! Having boarded us to make sure we had no illegal emigrants or camels to trade, they sped off and monitored our progress for the next couple of hours from a distance. At no time were they threatening or offensive, they were just doing their job of looking after foreign transients while in their waters. At no point during our time in Algeria did we come across any animosity or ill feeling from the Men that we had dealings with. Sadly the Women were not to be seen much except at the police station in Annaba.

Algeria has a lot to offer the cruising yachtsman (or woman) with some fantastic waters and interesting ports to stop in as necessary. Sadly we were on a time scale plus no visa that meant we could not stop for longer and take in more of the dramatic coastline. It does have a few outlying dangers but they are marked on the charts and should not be a problem for those wishing to day sail from port to port.

Prior to leaving the mainland of Europe we found that many of the folk’s who spend any amount of time sailing in the Med are totally reliant on well documented Pilot books and will not venture far beyond the safe confines of the Euro zone. With the current free edition of Google Earth, there never needs to be a port that you cannot research before you make your passage plan. Having an ignorant mistrust of the Arabs is never going to help them make their country more accommodating to us yachties either! We all need to loosen up, chill out and long for the day when there is less red tape.

I’m grateful to have had fantastic sailing weather and the only breakdown was whilst the boat was becalmed, making it easier to replace the water pump impellor. I also had a fantastic crew of two female, sleeping librarians who never showed any fear or reacted to my out bursts of frustration. They also turned the Authorities to putty, THANKS ladies!

Now what about Tunisia I hear you ask... ... ...