Spanish blues: my third week on a sailing boat

After two weeks aboard Triton, this sailboat that claims to be queer and feminist, I already feel like I’ve been through a lot, maybe a little too adventurous. We have just crossed the Bay of Biscay, starting from the island of Yeu, off the Landes coast, to arrive in Gijon, in northern Spain. The boat was damaged in the crossing, and I have the impression that my morale is too. I need some rest.

The day after our arrival, we have a team meeting which sets out the to-do list on the boat. There is the mainsail, which you have to take to a professional to repair it (it ripped during the crossing), but you also have to clean the boat, recharge the batteries, the tanks, and also tinker with the cockpit table which no longer holds much straight.

I’m the only one on board who speaks Spanish (and again, my Spanish is pretty rusty), so I’m the one asked to ask locals questions. That day it rains and when I take some time to visit the city, I don’t really find it to my liking. Since the two new crew members, Claudi and Sushi, are rather introverted, I cling to the long audio messages I send and receive to my friends.

Calm and morale in socks

Waking up at 5am the next day doesn’t help. The region has a particular climate, there is very little wind where we are, and there we have a good wind window until midday, just what we need to reach Cudillero, our next destination. Only that contrary to the weather forecast, when we leave the port, it is dead calm. We are on site. So we decide to keep the engine and stop first, in a very small fishing port, Luanco.

It’s 8am, everyone is sulking, and as I try to cheer up the group by chatting and joking, I get nothing but silence in return. I understand, but it weighs on me. Hannah, our skipper, tells us they need some alone time. I’m going for a walk with Claudi and Sushi. I feel they are more open to discussion, so our little excursion is beautiful I take this opportunity to tell them that I feel bad on board, there. Claudi answers me without digging that we have to talk about it collectively.

In the evening, very solemnly, we held a crisis meeting. No one has morale, each for his own reasons. Some find the uncertainty about our sailing schedule burdensome, that we spend too much time repairing the boat, not enough time enjoying the place. I feel isolated, because I’m the only non-German on board and I can’t relate well with the others. I wonder if it’s cultural. We are trying to find solutions.

The Bucket of Discord

When we leave the next day for Cudillero, our original destination, I feel a new energy set in. We’ve recovered physically from the crossing, put our differences to rest, and there we arrive in a lovely little town and find some sailboats we’ve befriended in Gijon. We are happy to meet again, we even have an evening together.

Only that in this port, I find that there are no toilets or public toilets. And after 3 episodes, I have to restore the truth about the baths of Triton, our sailboat. It is not really a toilet proper, but a bucket, placed in the bow cabin of the boat (therefore right next to 2 berths). We do our own thing and throw the contents overboard. And for the toilet? We fill it up again with sea water, before pouring everything back into the sea.

Up until then I was fine with that as I was waiting for the port toilets to run the big errand but that’s too much. I find it too humiliating to poop in a bucketespecially since Triton is never empty (so everyone can smell and hear what’s going on) and the boats next to us are busy (and can see your “package” floating)…

There is the option to go downtown and go to a cafe to take advantage of the real baths, but you have to go around the port and it’s a 20 minute walk.

Others seem to agree with the poop bucket idea, me, I feel like a princess who quibbles over nothing, and I feel guilty for feeling bad about this idea. Every day we look at the weather forecast for the next day to see if we can get going, and every day, only the absence of wind is noticeable. The other sailboats we had made friends with are all motorized, but the Triton’s engine does not allow you to cover such distances.

The toilet skyline

After 5 days, FINALLY, there is some wind and we decide to leave for our next destination, but when we arrive at the next port and there are still no toilets, I explode and Tell Hannah I want to leave in a week. I lack sleep, feel isolated on board and the history of the toilets is the straw that broke the camel’s back.

They react calmly telling me that they understand, but that they have to find a solution… In the meantime they remind me that moods on the boat change like the weather, that Claudi and Sushi, the other two crew members leave in 2 days and that after the rain come the sun. I only see the storm coming. But who knows, maybe he’s right?

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