Three tempestuous days battling the Bay of Biscay had left us weary, seasick, and frankly, admitting defeat. Though our original plan wasn’t to stop in Ares, the storm had other ideas. Its unrelenting fury pushed us to this small Spanish bay, where the calm waters and the charming village offered a desperately needed refuge. On July 24, 2017, we anchored near Ares, the rhythmic clinking of the chain a welcome lullaby after sleepless nights.
Exhaustion was like a physical weight bearing down on us. Exploring the village held allure, but succumbing to sleep’s irresistible pull was an even stronger force. With Wilson, our trusty volleyball captain (I mean, first mate!), keeping watch over our vessel, we retreated to the cabin, collapsing onto the bunks for a much-needed slumber.
By late afternoon, we emerged, blinking into the slightly brighter sky. While the promise of exploring Ares tugged at us, the practicalities of sea life beckoned. Fixing minor storm-induced disarray, collecting scattered belongings, and scrubbing the deck became our tasks. As the salty air whipped our hair and the sun peeked through the clouds, a sense of accomplishment mingled with the lingering fatigue.
But even amidst chores, there was room for a touch of escapism. Games of Thrones flickered on the television, transporting us to Westeros while we toiled on our own watery realm. It was a moment of normalcy, a reminder of the comforts that awaited us beyond the sea’s challenges.
With the storm a fading memory and our spirits slowly reviving, we made a plan. Ares would cradle us for the night, offering a safe haven for rest and recuperation. But come dawn, with the promise of clear skies and calmer waters, we would set sail once more. Portugal’s shores and the crucial engine service in Cascais beckoned, another chapter waiting to be written in our nautical odyssey.
