Off on my bike : Itaobim to Governador Valadores

Rio Jequitinhonha, just South of Itaobim.

I follow a river valley out of Itaobim, sadly this doesn't mean flat, the road climbs up and down the side of the valley, makes for hard work.  One good thing, seems to be less traffic here, not sure where the lorries have gone but I don't miss them.  Rather scenic too, if it were a bit less up and down this might even be an enjoyable ride.

After Itaobim, which seemed to be all about mangoes, I'm now getting into 'pedras preciosas' country, as I pedal through my stop for tonight, Catuji, there are many roadside stalls selling bits of crystal.  Don't think I want any more weight to be honest.  I notice this is also a region with granite and marble quarries, seems to have been a theme of this trip, there were some on Lanzarote too...  More buffet food, then I find a bar and some locals willing to tolerate my attempts at the language... have I seen many snakes, one asks - hmm, only lots of dead ones.  So many dead animals...

Padre Paraiso.

Onwards, the weather has improved, blue skies and hot work up and down more hills, the road following one valley and then another via a series of passes.  Green country here, farms fill the valley bottoms, stands of bamboo line the route, and for a while there are people growing trees and shrubs for sale, it's like riding through a garden.  Destination today, Itambacuri, a little off the main road, nice to see a town that isn't all about the needs of truckers.  It's market day, seems a thriving place, many stalls, I consider trying to get a new spoke but can't face trying to explain my requirement in Portuguese.  I do manage to order a burger, like much of the food in these parts it has milho - maize - in it.

Sheltering from the sun under some bamboo.

Seems flatter next day, I power along, then after lunch there is something of a hill but I manage, then as I zoom down the far side I hear a loud twanging noise, ulp, yes another spoke gone.  Two on the same side, with just one between them, if that goes too the wheel may just collapse... I carry on, trying to avoid any bumps, and am very relieved to reach Governador Valadores.  Even better there is a bike shop near my hotel, they have spokes... but, hmm, of course the broken ones are next to the gears, so I'd need a special tool to remove them before fitting new spokes.  Well, thankfully I meet Carlos, an English speaking(!) mechanic who fits not just two, but an entire set of spokes, thirty reais parts and labour.  Would cost ten times that in England.  My hotel's nice too, free food this evening, something rather like couscous, largely consisting of milho I suspect.  They even have a drink made from it, it's not unlike fruit juice.

Not quite as common as Beetles, but there were still lots of them.

Photos to go with this post can be found here.

Off on my bike : Manoel Vitorino to Itaobim

Vitoria da Conquista.

Seventy miles through hilly country, well I have done worse, just have to keep going.  The landscape around me continues to change, I see aloes by the side of the road, just flowering, and there are big plantations of trees - Eucalyptus maybe?  Weather is changing too, it rains on and off throughout the day, it's getting colder in fact, I need my sweater in the evening, well it is the depths of winter here.

Into another big city, Vitoria da Conquista, I have a hotel booked here, it's quite posh - actual soap in the bathroom!  I continue to experiment with Brazilian snack food, tonight a plate of various 'salgados', something like croquettes or dumplings, deep fried of course, and of course containing meat.  I can tell this is a big city, the 'petiscaria' I get these from has menus, and even chairs that are not of the plastic garden type.  My bottom appreciates this.  And then a bar, with live music even, a nice change from pickup trucks.

Crossing into Minas Gerais.

Another day, another seventy miles, more rain, at least I'm not getting as many punctures now the road has improved - though I have to be careful whenever I stop, just pushing the bike off into the dirt can leave the tires covered in little spiky things, seeds I think.  Pretty sure they would work their way through to the tube if I didn't pick them off.  On to Divisa Alegre, another truck stop town, bit of a landmark as it's just past the state border, I've been in Bahia for what seems like forever, but now, Minas Gerais.

Rather pretty in these parts.

I find a hotel, and manage to negotiate a 'self service' dinner - I've seen a lot of these, you help yourself to veggies, rice etc., then they bring meat, in this case 'boi', beef I think.  Seems to sometimes be fixed price, but often, as here, they weigh the plate and charge per gram.  I pay thirteen reais for my plateful, can't be bad.  Then to a nice little praça away from the road where there are of course bars, well that is all I need, I decide to stay another day.  Can't say I do a lot with it, lie about, continue my largely fruitless attempts to learn Portuguese - sadly it seems that as with French, it matters little how many words I theoretically know, in practice when the locals talk I just hear a meaningless blur of sound, and likewise they have no idea what I am trying to say.

Itaobim - land of the mango!

Probably should have given the bike a checkup during my day off... when I come to wheel it out of my room I notice the brake rubbing on the rear wheel.  It's slightly buckled, OK, can fix this with my spoke key, oh hang on, one of the spokes has snapped, oops.  Bet it was that vicious speed bump I hit thirty miles or so back, well, no wonder the wheel is buckled.  But, tightening the adjacent spokes on that side of the wheel pretty much straightens it, fingers crossed it'll hold.

I feel better for a rest anyway, seventy miles to do again but I make good pace through pretty country - wooded valleys and sheer rock faces stretching up to peaks to either side.  The wheel holds up, and I roll through some dramatic gorges into Itaobim, a nice little place, doesn't seem to match the picture of grim poverty painted by it's wikipedia page.  There's a pleasant main square, and a pizzeria, yay.  I consume pizza, beer, and watch Brazilian TV on a big screen - seems to be the same set of soap operas every day...

Photos to go with this post can be found here.

Off on my bike : Feira de Santana to Manoel Vitorino

Plenty of room for me on the shoulder.

Think I am due a day off, and the internet comes up with a cheaper hotel in Feira de Santana, more central too - spitting distance from the cathedral.  Good to rest, and the bike gets some TLC too - two new inner tubes, and I get the saddle raised a bit - explaining that was very hard.  Hmm, the poverty I didn't see in the small towns is in evidence here, plenty of homeless beggars.  I guess, the economy here is in decent shape, wages aren't that low, but there is simply no welfare state, with all that implies.  Still, they've got the church... that evening I drink a beer or two in the square by the cathedral, some sort of event is happening, there is music, singing, chanting, preaching, even fireworks.  The street people sleeping around the square don't pay much attention...

The love that lacks the capacity for language required to speak its name.

Next day the road improves, dual carriageway even, the shoulder is smooth tarmac and fully two meters wide, this is good, I manage sixty miles to Itatim, nice place nestling in the shadow of some steep sided hills - bit of a mountain climbing destination it seems.  Some event is happening, maybe a political rally?  Music and fireworks anyway, and I enjoy, yes, beer and pizza for a change.  People ask where I am from and where I'm going, and other questions I don't understand, don't think they are used to tourists here, no coach parties, no backpackers even, I am off the beaten track.  Well, except for all the lorries anyway.

Itatim!

Onwards, the road continues to have a proper tarmac shoulder and I manage a fair pace, although it is getting hilly, makes for pretty country anyway.  Worst are the steepest slopes, hard work of course, but also my shoulder tends to turn into a crawler lane and I have to trust the truck drivers to give me space, not ideal.  Eventually I realise the thing to do is ride on the other side where there is still a shoulder - I see locals on the wrong side even when it's flat...  On to a settlement that has grown up around a road junction, doesn't seem to have a name but I find a bed and some food, all good.

Rio de Costas.

Then an easy fifty miles or so to Manoel Vitorino, I don't have a spare day to rest but it's good to flake out for a few hours of an afternoon.  Again, not much of a place, little more than a truck stop really, plenty of pousadas though.  Wish I could find a restaurant, I suspect the value here is street food, little cabins have various pots on the go, but ordering would need a better grasp of the language than I have.  I get a burger anyway... not like I am short of calories, not least I generally get breakfast, here for instance there is bread, mortadela, melon and best of all, cake fresh from the oven.  And then, back on the road.

Photos to go with this post can be found here.

Off on my bike : Bedengó to Feira de Santana

Euclides da Cunha.

I'm hoping to get seventy-five miles or so from Bedengó, I start early enough but a puncture less than thirty minutes along doesn't bode well, and honestly I am feeling broken, struggling to manage half an hour of cycling between breaks.  I find myself in a bit of a bleak mood, is it really possible to get to Rio at this pace?  Not if the road continues to be this way I fear... I need to average fifty-five miles a day, more with days off.  As it is, at 1:30pm or so I'm at Euclides da Cunha, thirty-five miles short of where I'd hoped for, and I just can't be sure of getting there before dark.

Horse walking.

So, find a nice hotel, have a little siesta, then Saturday night in Euclides - there's a proper party happening in the main square, pickups with big speaker systems in the back cruise around, kids are catered for with various trampolines, a bouncy castle etc., is all cool.  Must say it doesn't seem terribly poor here, for all I've heard about Brazil - I guess this is far from the big cities and their favelas.  I enjoy a pastel, clearly a cousin of our English pasty, they come in various forms, but commonly kind of flat and deep fried.  This one contains sausage and cheese...

Note the big cactus.

Onwards, next day I feel stronger and manage sixty-five miles, yay.  The country is changing as I move South, stony ground with goats picking at parched looking vegetation giving way to grassy slopes and actual crops, mostly maize.  Could be in Europe, except maybe for the tree sized cacti sprouting here and there.  Sunday night in Araci, there's a party happening here too, slightly fewer musical pickup trucks, can't say I'm too sad.

Access to the fields.

Then a long day to Feira de Santana, this time two punctures in the first hour, I only have one spare tube but the roadside repair holds.  Make it to the outskirts as the sun sets, now to find a hotel... Hum, normal method of heading to the centre isn't going to work, this is a substantial city with a big centre.  I should have booked in advance, as it is, my GPS knows of hotels here but they are pricey, no help for it though, well, only thirty pounds, won't break the bank.  Though I see little difference to the place I paid less than a quarter of that for yesterday.

Photos to go with this post can be found here.

Off on my bike : Juazeiro do Norte to Bedengó

Padre Cicero watching over Juazeiro do Norte.

I have a fun free day in Juazeiro, walk out of town, over a river chock full of terrapins, then up to the main tourist attraction, a giant statue of Padre Cicero overlooking the city - the Padre was a prominent clergyman and politician in the early 1900s, there are statues of him everywhere.  The attached museum is filled with thousands of votive offerings, mostly carved wooden legs or hands, rather bizarre...

Back on the bike, I am sure seeing a lot of Brazil.  I like the small settlements I pass through, many just a few houses but every one has a bar or two.  Little football pitches are common too, even in places where I wonder how they can get even a five a side team together.  Also lots of 'clubes', music venues by the looks of it, again I'm not sure where they get the crowd from.

Roadside repairs.

I ride up a monster hill, then through a high altitude forest - actually a national park, I reckon I could camp here.  But no, service station pousada again, can't go wrong for fifty Reais - twelve pounds or so.  I've hit a busy trunk road, still just two lanes, but many lorries so I am stuck on the bumpy shoulder, not ideal.  Not least the various bits of tyre and other debris are probably responsible for my first punctures of the trip, well a chance to use the repair kit I've carried all the way from London...

The mighty Rio São Francisco.

It's hard to make much progress, what with having to bump along on the shoulder, and indeed stop at intervals to pump up the tyres, or sometimes put in a new, or at least repaired inner tube.  Gives my poor backside a rest from the saddle at least.  And towns big enough to show on my map are far apart now, so finding accommodation is a bit touch and go.  One day I find myself at a 'posto' - service station, more or less - at 2:30pm, I manage to ask how far 'til the next one, ninety kilometres they say.  Well, I really need to get further, but with only three hours of daylight left I am not doing ninety kilometres.  I'm thinking about getting the tent out, but in fact after a couple of hours more there's a tiny village, with a roadside restaurant / pousada.

Sunset at Bedengó.

I get rice, beef and beans, it's good, nice to have something that isn't pizza.  The lady whose restaurant it is discovers that if she writes things down I can understand - yeah, basically that is because it forces you to say one word at a time.  And on I go... next day, again I hit a posto mid afternoon, and decide to call it a day, the attached village, Bedengó, is big enough to have actual bars which is enough to decide me.  Barefoot kids play football on the square in front of a little church, and I consume a few beers and a vast amount of food - carne do sol, chicken, sausage, rice, pasta, beans, salad... can't complain.

Photos to go with this post can be found here.

Off on my bike : Fortaleza to Juazeiro do Norte

My first pousada on the road.

I confess I had some doubts about biking in Brazil - would it be too hot, do they ride bikes here, is the whole idea just too crazy?  As I struggled to buy a cycle, I did think, why not just buy a big bag and get on a bus...  Well, there were plenty of cyclists in Fortaleza, even a municipal hire scheme.  Deciding factor was the Argentine guy staying at my 'pousada' - guesthouse - who had ridden from Salvador to Sao Paulo, so it is a doable thing here.

Not easy though.  New bike may be new, but compared to the one I've left in Tenerife it is heavy, slow, the gears are clunky, the seat both uncomfortable, and unwilling to stay correctly adjusted.  Still it works, I ride south, sticking to a main road as all the others I see have dirt surfaces.  First day it rains, actually good as on a clear day this is hot work, at least riding along I have the passage of air to keep me cool, but I go through a lot of water - it goes into my bag cool, but before long it is almost hot when I come to drink.

One of the Quixadá monoliths.

I'm carrying the tent, but to be honest while it's good to have the option, I'm not desperate to wild camp near the road here.  Not least, while I might feel safe enough if I could get a hundred metres or so away from the traffic and hidden behind some trees, this is tricky because every mile of road is bordered by an unbroken line of barbed wire to either side.

Not a big problem as yet though - internet searches don't bring up any hotels in these parts, but in fact every ten miles or so I go through a small town, and each has a pousada or two.  I even find a decent hotel in Quixadá, air conditioned!  Actually a bit of a tourist spot here, thanks to the numerous rocky peaks that sprout improbably from an otherwise more or less flat plain surrounding the town.

That near-empty reservoir.

And onwards, bike keeps working, I keep stopping to buy cold drinks, but still average sixty to seventy miles a day.  I have my water filter in case I need it, though there isn't much water about, I ride on bridges over dry rivers, and past a reservoir whose level is well below even the bottom of the dam intended to hold it back.  That evening, the pousada (part of a service station complex that is an oasis of modernity next to a shabby looking village) has a sign blaming the dam for what comes out of the taps - sure enough the water is yellow and sulphurous.

Huge birds circle over the road, are they vultures of some kind?  Well, I'm not ready to be roadkill just yet, generally there is a metre or so of shoulder to the right of the carriageway and it feels safe enough, not much traffic anyway.  On to Iguata, I meet Luiz, a local biker who plies me with beer and does a fine job of communicating in pidgin Portuguese, good to practice.

Taking a break on my way up a hill.

Last leg to Juazeiro is a ninety mile monster, my fault for stopping early the day before, still I can do this, 6:45am start, and a routine of thirty minutes on the saddle, then five minutes to swig water and snack.  Pretty, if hilly countryside to ride through, seems a bit greener here, where the first hundred miles or so was very dry, cows looking half alive, here they look like, well, cows.  I keep on, the sun sets, at least I have lights, and finally reach my pousada at 7:30pm.  Hey, it's not even late, time enough for a burger and a beer or two.

Photos to go with this post can be found here.

Off on my bike : Fortaleza

Iracema Beach.

Fortaleza!  I'm definitely not in Europe now... for all that the people here look pretty European, bit of a contrast to Cabo Verde.  So... I have three nights booked here, plan is to buy a bike and any other stuff I need.  This proves hard... Fortaleza is huge, I spend many hours wandering, thankfully it isn't too hot, the constant breeze from the sea helps, but traipsing between bike shops that turn out to not exist, or are shut, gets to be annoying.  Guess I should have realised the weekend was a bad time for this... only bikes I see are in shiny modern malls, and are really out of my price range.

OK, I book two more nights, my hotel is fine, and most cheap.  Odd location, 'central' and yes, this is where the 'centro' signs point to, not a lot here though.  Frankly this is an odd city, seems kind of... distributed, with no real centre at all.  The big malls crop up here and there, and there are plenty of bars and restaurants, but not really a single area with lots of them.  Nearest would be the area around the Dragão do Mar cultural centre where I spend a fun Sunday night dancing away to a free drag spectacular - some kind of pride thing I guess.

Fences and condominiums, welcome to Brazil.

Well I get my bike on Monday, a hundred pounds worth of cheaply built steel MTB, how far it'll get we shall see.  More wandering as I try to find an ATM that takes my card, not many banks here, even on one street that I walk along for at least a mile past endless clothing, shoe and handbag stores, ho hum.  Feels safe enough, but I do notice the many secure condominium blocks that sprout at intervals.  Even the lower rise housing all has barred entrances, I often pass people sat in what look like little cages at the front of their home, hmm.  Shopping done, I get a few beers and a huge pizza near to the hotel, and then on the short walk back I get an idea of what all those bars are for...

I'm accosted by a lady of the night, OK not the first time, but she really will not take no for an answer, before I know it she's trying to get her hands in my pockets - simply for the purpose of theft I'm sure.  Well, I am strong enough to hold her hands away, but she's got a grip on my shirt and this is really not helping progress towards my hotel.  Then a motorcyclist pulls up, asks me if I know her, no I say, and oh my god he is pointing a pistol at her.  At least she lets go of me now.  This guy is just a concerned citizen, OK cool, but then the police turn up in a big 4x4, they chat to the biker and he rides off... and now they want me to get in their car, well, safer than out here I guess.  But then my assailant gets in next to me, what the?

This is where the pizza buffet was.

The officers speak little English, they do mention money, it seems she is claiming I, er, owe her for something.  I summon up all my hastily learnt Portuguese to explain that no, I really don't - meanwhile they drive to the beach, seems that come sundown this is the main stamping ground for the oldest profession around here, and thank goodness she gets out.  Seriously, she was still trying to pick my pocket while sat in the police car.  They then drive me to my hotel, still talking about money.  Do they want some?  Just say so and how much if so dammit.  In the end they look at my passport, the hotel night porter counts my cash for them, but then they go and I've still got it all... not the best end to the night really.  And that pizza plays hell with my stomach, probably shouldn't have had the Mexican.

Hummingbird!

Last day here, safe enough to go out in daylight I'm sure.  I ride around on my new bike, seems OK, and so nice not to have much to do, I just check out the beach and take a few photos.  Back at the hotel, a hummingbird flits between flowers in the secluded little garden, most cool.  I decide that tonight, riding is safer than walking, and my new machine takes me down to an outdoor eatery near the Dragão do Mar, where locals are gathering for the Tuesday 'rodizio de pizza'.  More pizza?  When in Rome I guess.  My dictionary helpfully translates rodizio as 'castor', turns out to mean they keep bringing out pizzas and offering you slices...

I'm pretty conservative when it comes to pizza toppings, but hell if it is on offer I will eat it.  They come topped with chicken (wrong), hard boiled egg, broccoli (really), and finally, cheese, chocolate, coconut and cherry (how can that work, but so good).  Live music plays, all's good, whatever tomorrow may bring.

Photos to go with this post can be found here.

Off on my bike : Sal

Wonder how and when this got here?

I arrive at Sal airport at 4am, not ideal, still it is 6am in the canaries so my body doesn't object to being awake too much.  Nobody seems to mind me dozing on a chair, and it isn't too long until a cafe opens, yay, coffee.  So, my flight is not 'til this evening, what to do?  I ask about tours of the island but no luck, the lady on information suggests a ten euro taxi to the tourist area / beach where my (cancelled) hotel is, hmm.  OK, looking outside I see an undulating plain of dirt and gravel, no sign of agriculture, no fences, few roads or obstacles in general - in other words I can walk wherever I want.  What's more I can see Espargo, largest town on the island, so off on two feet it is.

I did quite like it actually.

Little over half an hour and I'm there, not much of a place - dominant architectural style seems to be 'half built from irregular looking breeze blocks'.  I wander up to the viewpoint above town, lots of tourist buses up here, can see the sea to either side, this is not a big island I must say.  There's a town on the coast that I guess is Palmeira, another stop on the island tour I at least saw a map of at the airport, off I trot then.

Nice little place with a marina, people building boats and mending nets, oh look the big tourist bus has followed me... Plenty of bars here, quiet now, they look more set up for the evening when I can believe there's a bit of a party.  Still, I get a few local 'Strela' beers, and a proper lunch - well, back to airline food tonight.  Fresh fish, interesting thing with spines and sharp teeth, plus a hash of beans, maize and, oddly, bits of various meats.  All good, I rather like this place.  I play improvised shove ha'penny using bottle tops against one of the local kids, then it's time to get moving.

Boat building at Palmeira.

I walk along the coast, I saw a 'Monte Leão', that is Lion Mountain, marked on a map as this way, sure enough after an hour or two I am at the summit, fine views of the island and a good place to get a bearing on the airport from.  Well that was all fun, kind of sad I didn't have the planned three days here but what can you do.  Time to get on yet another aeroplane, last for a while at least.  Could do without the delay while they remove the luggage of a couple of passengers with 'documentation problems', but before long we're off, next stop Brazil!

Monte Leão summit.

Photos to go with this post can be found here.

Off on my bike : Tenerife

With the Los Gigantes cliffs behind me.

It doesn't take long to reach the last Canary Island on my itinerary, and then after a brief halt while the Gaurdia Civil check my passport - nothing to do with the Brexit kerfuffle I'm sure - I'm on my bike again.  Just a short ride from Santa Cruz to the Aeropuerto Norte, where I am picking up a hire car, yes it is cheating, but I am leaving the island from this airport so only a bit.  And, no way I can ride all the way to my apartment from here.  Hmm, I think of Tenerife as dry, but after Lanzarote and Fuerteventura it seems a lush, verdant paradise, particularly here in the East.  It's also very hilly, hadn't realised but the airport is around seven hundred metres above sea level, ouch, but I make it, nice to pass the Dorada brewery on the way too.

Sardinas a la plancha, con mojo - de casa!  With some vino of course.

I have fully two free days here, don't do much with them though.  I try riding the bike uphill, but even with no luggage it's incredibly hard.  On a carbon fibre hire bike, I rode this route all the way up to the caldera, this time I get to Tamaimo and give up, just shows how heavy / broken my poor old machine is.  Other than that I lounge by the pool and reacquaint myself with old drinking haunts, and why not.  Well... turns out when the plan is to wake at 4am and drive to the airport, it probably makes sense to not drink much and get an early night.  The alarm does wake me, but I guess instead of 'snooze' I hit 'dismiss', next thing I know it's 7:30am, oops.

Icod bus station.  Not a place I planned on visiting this trip.

Not good.  I still have to do the two hour drive to take the car back, then take most of the day returning to Los Gigantes by bus - nice to have a little time in Icod at on the way at least.  I find a new flight in two days time, looks like I'm not spending much time on Sal now.  At least I have somewhere to sleep in the interim, could be worse I guess, really don't need the expense though.  Of course, new flight is from the North Airport as well, another long bus journey, then a small turboprop plane takes me to Casablanca where I consume coffee and viennoiserie.  Then onto a red-eye flight to Sal, OK, back on track.

Photos to go with this post can be found here.

Off on my bike : Gran Canaria

Playa de las Canteras.

It's a long boat journey to Las Palmas, but only a short ride from the dock to my hotel on La Isleta - seems a bohemian area, sounds of jazz waft up to the hotel's rooftop terrace.  This is clearly a big city, a friend has recommended his sister in law's restaurant in the centre and it's fully four miles away, well, a chance to see the place.  I walk through squares lined with cafes, past a big complex of open air pools, along a section of main road by the sea, then into streets of shops and stylish but cheap eateries.  One such is my destination, but sadly they're full, and indeed shut tomorrow, and the owner isn't even here.  Oops, ah well, plenty more to choose from.

In the park.

Plan is to bar crawl back to the hotel, I head inland a bit to avoid the main road, and oh my god, this has to be the seediest neighborhood I've ever seen and that's saying something.  I will spare you the gruesome details, let's just say I get out of there quickly.  I do find a beer in one of those plazas, keep heading towards the hotel but get caught up in a big crowd heading for the other side of the narrow spit of land joining La Isleta to the city proper.  Turns out they are going to the massive beach party happening this evening - partly an annual Spanish festival in honour of John the Baptist, but of special significance here as it's also the anniversary of the founding of Las Palmas.  People are wading into the sea, there's a band, and at midnight an excellent firework display... can't fault my timing.

Casa de Colón.  We should call him Colon in English too.

I have a free day, and just sight seeing in Las Palmas is easily enough to use it up, I wander around various parks, including one that used to be home to the local football club, then into the old town.  Plenty of interest here, many old buildings in the traditional Canarian style, including a substantial cathedral.  I have a good wander around the Christopher Columbus museum, then back to the beach, all quiet today, still I manage to find some dinner.  Early boat next morning, which turns into a bit of a panic, Las Palmas has many docks, I head to the one my map has the ferry going from but it's wrong, they tell me I want the Nelson Mandela dock.  Of course it is as far away as it could be, I pedal along frantically, reaching it thirty minutes before the departure time - and no boat is there, this is wrong too, aargh.  OK, a chap here tells me a third dock to try, and thank goodness, ten minutes later I'm there and so is the boat, off to Tenerife then.

Photos to go with this post can be found here.