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Agadir Marina, Nearby Cities & Marrakesh, Morocco October 2018

October 30, 2018 admin 4 Comments

This article can also be found on the world cruiser’s Noonsite.com called Morocco: Agadir Marina and nearby cities.

The day before our departure to the Canary Islands, I discovered an irreparable leak in our engine’s fresh water pump. It would take more than 2 weeks before our replacement would arrive in hand. Moroccan customs are notoriously painful. Thus we remained berthed in Agadir Marina for more than 4 weeks, a great place to be “stuck” and here’s why:

Finding it was not immediately obvious when we came into the marina, here’s the entrance waypoint: 30°25.2 North, 9°37.0 West.

We called two days in advance by phone from Mohammedia to insure they had space for our 12.7m monohull (+212 (0) 5 22 79 84 84). They did. Apparently, although they monitor channel 9, they don’t reply. Upon our Friday morning arrival, we hailed the marina on VHF channel 9 with no reply. As we arrived, we were waved toward our berth and assisted in tying off bow first, our preference as we have a windvane. The dock pontoons are low and short. The distance between pontoons is large enough for catamarans. When a heavy swell comes, boats sway with great force. Chafing gear and extra lines are recommended. The staff does what they can to assist.

Water (reportedly potable – although we still filter it) and power are included in the slip rental, as well as toilets, a hot shower, and WiFi. Water requires a pipe thread to garden hose adaptor. The meager toilets and shower stalls are locked behind a single door, with the key hidden outside. The toilets (2) are sit down with toilet seats, but bring your own toilet paper. The poorly maintained single shower has enough hot water for one and half showers and is clean enough for those who aren’t particular.

Morocco houses Immigration, Customs, and National Police at the marina office, 24/7. There sole role is to process pleasure craft. I think they hear us hailing, but don’t always reply. Once you’re tied up and settled in, they come immediately to your boat and process you quickly and professionally. We offered them coffee which they seemed to like. They filled their forms, we provided them copies of our ship’s documents, and they took our passports to be stamped and returned 1-2 hours later. They asked for a blue customs form from Mohammedia, which we never received. They accepted our explanation without issue.

Speaking French helps, but English is fine. Note: they asked if we had a drone. If we did, they would have held it in their office until our departure. There were no charges for processing.

Checking into the marina office was casual. Check out is the same. They want to see your ship’s document for measurements. Their credit card machine doesn’t usually work, so be prepared to pay cash when you plan to leave. An ATM nearby usually works, but other ATMs are not far away. Make sure your statement reads “Paid in Full” to eliminate any potential misunderstandings. Let officials know when you plan to leave, at least 12 hours ahead, or the night before if you wish to leave early. They do break for lunch and they do have shifts, so best not to wait until the last hour to check out. Note: the marina office is closed on weekends and holidays, but you can pre-pay your slip fees. They are very accommodating.

Security is excellent, 24/7. The common gate leading to the pontoons is not locked, but closely monitored. We left our boat to travel to Essaouira and Marrakesh. The free WiFi in and around the office is adequate for basic needs, including phone and video chats. We were able to slowly upload short videos and handle all Facebook and internet needs for communication back home. For decent phone and data service, go to Telecom Maroc and buy a sim for 20 MAD. Once you have your sim, head over to a local tabac or convenient store to top up on phone and data service…50 MAD buys you 5 gigs of data.

A nearby fuel dock offers diesel, gasoline, and cooking gas at normal local gas station rates. We gravity fed our own propane tanks at the station’s boat yard using our own adaptors.

Here is an instructional video we made while hanging out at the marina on the subject:

Light provisions can be found close to the marina, but a 20-minute walk there and a 20-40 MAD (Moroccan dirham) taxi ride back from Carrefour and/or Uniprix, or from the main Souk (closed Mondays) is worth the time and incidental cost. Marjane is a super modern supermarket near Mr. Bricolage (Home Depot), accessible by the #98 bus (3.5 MAD pp, one way) discussed in more detail later. Car rental agencies occupy one block near the marina (we liked Lotus), or the marina can arrange one (we did this too). We paid about $33/day for a 4-seater small diesel car. When we first took possession of the car, it had almost no fuel, so our first stop was the station to top it up. Parking on the street or in a lot where there are attendants is normally 2-5 MAD, not 10! Apparently, some insurance is automatically included within the rental rate. Good thing as we were broken into (small back passenger window) while parked at a beach. Nothing was stolen, but insurance covered half the window replacement; we paid US$70. The window was replaced in a couple hours.

Rental car with back passenger window broken

If you need any assistance buying parts, getting supplies, or with repairs, Youssef Ajewher, a kind local yacht service person and former merchant ship engineer, working privately at Marina Agadir would be glad to assist you. He helped us with many issues, including medical, getting recommendations, driving us around, bargaining and translating for us. He even knows where to dine. Having him care for us was a great relief and time saver. He accepts whatever you think his services are worth. If it were a simple errand, we paid him a little more than twice what a round trip taxi would cost because he knew where to go, who to talk to, and how much to pay. Sometimes, he spent nearly the whole day when we had a medical issue, making sure we knew what was what, and advocating for us. Obviously, we paid him more when he spent so much time, and he was grateful. I love that guy! Youssef Ajewher, +212 (0) 6 77 45 68 87, email:

aj************@gm***.com

Agadir is a great place to visit and an excellent base from which to visit, Paradise Valley, Essaouira, and Marrakesh. We enjoy the sights, sounds, and scents of Moroccan souks (open marketplaces). Agadir’s souk is huge. Be sure to explore the nooks and crannies. Again – note that the Agadir Souk is closed on Mondays! Spices, olives, dates, almonds, walnuts, fruits and vegetables, butchers, bakers, souvenirs, electronics, cleaning supplies, clothing, it’s all there. The freshly peeled prickly pear cactus fruits are fun and wonderfully sweet and tasty. Expect to bargain, and even then, to pay more than a local. Bargaining is not our strength. Inside Agadir’s souk are wonderful micro cafés with inexpensive and delicious Moroccan dishes. Don’t be afraid to try out a café or two. On Fridays, couscous is served with vegetables, chicken, or beef. A portion serves enough for two and chicken couscous is 20MAD ($2.20 USD) which comes with additional sauce/broth. I recommend getting the bag of sour milk, a sort of buttermilk that marries perfectly with the couscous if your stomach handles dairy. They serve the milk with a bowl of plain couscous to mix with into a paste as an additional separate treat. I tend to leave an extra 5MAD as a tip. To get to the souk from the marina, walk awhile or take a taxi for about 30 MAD, or take a bus for about 4 MAD each.

Another souk a bit further away from town central, more rustic and active than Agadir’s, can be found in the town immediately south of Agadir at the end of the #98 Bus. Catch the bus just north of the marina (just north of the large round about by the fish market) and take the 98 bus to its terminus. It’s also your bus back. As you exit the bus, facing in the same direction as the bus, walk a few blocks further up and to your right. Ask around for the souk or “marche.”

This part of town survived the 1960 earthquake and its souk feeds the south of Morocco, selling mostly in bulk and wholesale. Chickens, turkeys, goats, cows, and camels are slaughtered between 5-8 a.m. The whole thing is an extraordinary experience sending you back in time.

Our favorite Agadir promenade restaurant is Herguita (aka Hurguita), a little place located just south of the La Coupole restaurant. It’s a wonderful stroll alongside locals and tourists. The Herguita breakfast and lunch/dinner combos can’t be beat for price, taste, service, and location. Breakfast of fresh squeeze orange juice, café au lait, Moroccan pastries is 20MAD. A two-egg a la carte cheese omelet is 16MAD. One lunch/dinner menu: soup or salad, brochettes or tajine, ice cream or mint tea for 60 MAD ($6.60) serves two of us. The avocado-date-milk drink is Bryce and my favorite Moroccan smoothie type drink.

RigneysKandu at Hergita Agadir Promenade Restaurant

Take a taxi before sunset up to the Kasbah overlooking Agadir for a wonderful view. They offer camel rides up there too, but we just took in the view of twinkling lights coming to life.

Bryce Rigney atop the deteriorating Kasbah wall

Kasbah of Agadir

Agadir Kasbah view overlooking the city

Through travel agency ‘AdmireMorocco’ located on the Agadir promenade relatively close the marina, we booked a local sand dune sand boarding trip located near Tamri (north of Taghazout right on the coastline) that included a traditional tajine lunch in the home of a Berber family; the three of us loved it.

One bummer about Marina Agadir is its proximity to the sardine fish packing plant just north. The smell and occasional dead fish floating around your boat can be a bit much for some. It doesn’t bother me, but then I don’t shower enough to notice.

PARADISE VALLEY is less than an hour’s drive from the marina. We rented a car. Don’t be fooled by the first beautiful stream-side date tree orchard with a Paradise Valley sign. Continue to take the ‘highway’ (currently under construction) much further into the valley, hugging the majestic sedimentary rock wall faces, layers of rock resembling pages from an enormous geological book. Keep going until you come to a ‘parking lot’ from where you can hike up, then down into the quaint picturesque valley. Little “resto’s” are everywhere along the 2-3 km trail, ready to serve you fresh juice or even a tajine lunch.

Paradise Valley: Don’t stop here…keep going!

ESSAOUIRA is a picturesque well-kept old fortified seaport that can be a day visit from Agadir. Two and half-hours by car, buses are a likely option as well since the old town is small enough to tour entirely on foot. The excellent wood crafting is not to miss.

Eric Rigney and those silly Moroccan tree goats!

Bryce Rigney walking thru Essaouira souk

Bryce & Leslie Rigney atop the Essaouira battlements

Eric Rigney ready to get’em w/ his new antique Moroccan knife.

For MARRAKESH, reserve seats on a CTM or similar bus for 200MAD round trip per person. Take a red-colored taxi from the marina for 40 MAD to the Gare Routier (bus station). I don’t know how often a bus fills up, but tickets can be purchased in advance and paid with by credit card at the Agadir station.

The bus is very comfortable but no onboard toilet. The bus makes one toilet stop. Note: 2MAD is the standard fee for a toilet visit. It’s about 80MAD (maybe less) by taxi from the Marrakesh Gare Routier to the center of the old town. I recommend pre-booking a Riad in old Marrakesh (bed’n breakfast type accommodation). They are inexpensive, private Moroccan/exotic guest homes designed with a garden patio in the center, centrally located within walking distance of nearly everything, and include a delicious breakfast. Some have pools; all have roof top terraces. The beds are often hard and our room’s shower didn’t have hot water (no morning coffee required!), but we only paid $40/night for three adults at Riad Chennaoui. We booked the night before through Booking.com.

Bedroom Entrance

Bedroom

Breakfast

Two to three nights should be adequate time to enjoy most of Marrakesh, but there’s no rush either. A guidebook like Lonely Planet is all you need. Not necessary to hire a guide.

Marrakesh Jewish quarters

Marrakesh donkey cart

Streets of Marrakesh

Bahia Palace, Marrakesh, Morocco

Bahia Palace

Bryce Rigney, Bahia Palace, Marrakesh, Morocco

Bahia Palace

Bahia Palace, Marrakesh

Saadian Tombs

Leslie & Bryce Rigney at the Saadian Tombs, Marrakesh

Bryce Rigney, Marrakesh

Marrakesh Museum – renovated palace

Koutoubia Mosque & Minaret

Majorelle Gardens, Marrakesh

Relaxing at Majorelle Gardens

Eric Rigney at Majorelle Gardens, Marrakesh

Leslie & Eric Rigney at Majorelle Gardens

Moroccan dancer

Marrakesh streets

Dyer’s Souk

Handmade Moroccan leather shoes

JAMAA EL-FNA – In Marrakesh’s main square called Jemaa el-fna, we found a food tent, #31, serving only Moroccans. We ate there twice. The Café Glacier rooftop is the best way to experience the square as the sun sets; great photo ops, day and night. From there, you can enjoy the street performers (snake charmers, African drummers, acrobats) without their aggressive demands for money. Some sailors found Marrakesh to be an aggressive, overly populated, tourist trap. We avoided traveling there on the weekend and found it to be a treasure worthy of its worldly acclaim.

SURFING: And the main reason why we came to Agadir was for the local Atlantic surfing scene. There are several spots north and south of Agadir that are good. A 20-minute bus ride (just 7 MAD) north from Agadir on either L31, L32, or L33 is a favorite spot due to the nice accommodations at Richie’s Cafe located at K11 on the beach front route just south of Aourir and Banana Beach. It’s generally a beginner wave, but fun when Anchor’s Point, further north off Taghazout is not pumping. Taghazout is a surfer hangout surrounded by up-and-coming tourist resorts. Even more north just south of Tamri village is Boiler’s Spot where a big ship’s boiler can be found rusting in the wave break. It is a more intermediate to advanced break where Bryce had a great time when the swell was strong. Wetsuits starting in October are generally used.

Richie’s Cafe from the front, street side

Richie’s Cafe: Surf haven just South of Aourir road marker K11.

Bryce Rigney at Anchor’s Point, Taghazout, Morocco

Bryce Rigney heading out from Richie’s Cafe, Aourir, Morocco

Bryce Rigney geared up to surf of Richie’s Cafe, Aourir, Morocco

Richie’s cafe surf site, Aourir, Morocco

Some things we didn’t do that sounded like fun:

1) Fez, just too far for us even from Mohammedia.

2) Book a camel trip to a desert Bedouin tent adventure. Sounds great, but we did camels in Egypt, and everything we were finding here was a bit too expensive for us. Those who did it, loved it.

3) There’s also a renowned film studio, but it’s a bit of drive from Agadir. Ouarzazate is the most famous where Lawrence of Araba was filmed and more recently: The Sheltering Sky, Last Temptation of Christ, Alexander, Gladiator, Black Hawk Down, Kingdom of Heaven and Prometheus to name a few.

Whether planned or not, an extended stay in Agadir proved of great value to us. Hope our insights help you get more out of this friendly corner of Morocco.

Eric Rigney

Experiential, Leslie's Posts, Morocco

Laundry in Agadir, Morocco: Saving is a Joke!

October 29, 2018 admin 12 Comments

At home in California, I constantly tried to be frugal. I was taught to save money. I didn’t go out to buy coffee and treats at Starbucks. If there were leftovers from the previous night’s dinner, I would eat that for lunch the next day. I packed the boys’ lunch. I bought the grocery store brand that was $0.10 cheaper. And I used coupons.

Then I would get a parking or a speeding ticket.

In my mind, I would think all that saving was for nil. Privately, by myself, I would rant and rave, throw an adult “tantrum” – absolutely pissed off at myself for being so stupid to get the ticket or to have wasted so frivolously, wondering what was the point of saving if the universe or fate was going to take away my penny here penny there savings anyway. After a while, I would calm down and follow my mother’s advice. Immediately, I would pay the ticket and put it in the mail – try to forget about it.

At a certain point early on, I learned that maintenance of ‘possessions’ was much more expensive than the original purchase price. I tried not to buy unnecessary or repeat items.

Once I became a homeowner, the motto “Less is More” rang true in my head…small house, small cars…. Instead of getting pulled into a ‘sale’ item just because it’s ‘on sale,’ I would talk myself out of the purchase nurturing the concept, “if I don’t buy the ‘sale’ item, then I saved even more!”

Like refurbishing a house where we were warned to budget 30% above and beyond the original foreseen/planned budget, traveling on a ‘houseboat’ is similar. However, I’ve come to figure that expenditures on maintaining Kandu account for 3/5 of our annual budget. So, Eric and I and the boys continue to save and make decisions accordingly. Perhaps we eat out too often. Living on the boat, I’ve never cooked so much in my life. But in other aspects, we work to save. In fact, we planned extensive stays in countries where the dollar is strong and prices are cheaper for us: Marquesas, Samoa, Fiji, Indonesia, Malaysia, India, Egypt, Morocco.

Having learned that in non-Western, generally Islamic countries, bargaining from vendors is expected and among locals it’s a skill. We Western tourists are prime targets for milking and paying double or even triple the ‘local’ price which often ends up making the items as expensive as what would be paid in a technologically advanced country.

Yesterday, I wanted to have our laundry done because washing 3-weeks’ worth of clothes and linens by hand is an all-day painstaking job. I had previously researched the Internet to find there were no coin operated laundromats in Agadir. I asked the marina manager for a recommendation. She highlighted an area on the map indicating there was an establishment across from ‘a restaurant’ that some other yachties have used and the prices were reasonable.

Having been heavily ripped off and burned in Egypt over laundry, I was equipped with courage and determination to barter for the price. I was not going to pay US$100 dollars for two bags of un-ironed laundry. In Egypt, with use of a derelict washing machine (2.5 hours per load), I spent 2 days washing, hanging, and folding 5 loads of laundry. Port Suez Yacht Club then unexpectedly charged me US$10 a load. I had spent hours doing all of my own laundry and they charged me $50 in a country where things are supposed to be cheaper? I was beside myself frustrated.

Now in Agadir, armed with a map, Eric and I took off with two bags (3 loads) of laundry filled with 4 sheets, pillow cases, worn but decent boat clothes and underclothes that can all be washed together – no separating necessary. After a bit of searching we found the recommended laundry place (pressing or blanchisserie): Pressing Alwafa located across from ‘SouIaymane Restaurant’ on Rue d’Essaouira just north of the taxi cab hangout.

Pressing Alwafa, Agadir, Rue d’Essaouira opposite Soulaymane Restaurant

I approached a middle-aged man at the counter and started bargaining in my imperfect French right away. My mistake may have been that I should not have been as assertive. Many Muslim men don’t appreciate strong women, especially those not wearing long non-descript smocks, gloves, and head coverings. He wanted to charge for each item, so I took out all the large pieces and said: “I will hand wash the small pieces myself.” Then he counted the large items as I watched, dropping them in a basket behind the counter, announced it was 35 items and it would be 350 dirhams which amounted to US$38…already expensive! I then asked if I could double count the items – he was annoyed and turns out he was off by five…there were only 30. At that point, he said fine, for another 10 dirhams, he would do all the laundry – a total of 400 dirhams or US$45. I agreed. Then we negotiated when I would pick-up the laundry. The next day was Sunday, so he wanted to give it to me on Monday, but I needed it back the same day since we would be leaving on Monday – we agreed the pick-up would be at 7:00 pm. I mentioned that he didn’t need to wrap the clothes in plastic. Instead, to simply refill my laundry bags directly to on save plastic. He was put-out. Then I asked for a receipt which must have completely tipped him over.

At 7:15 pm Bryce and I returned to pick-up the laundry. Everything was cordial enough. Back at the boat, I started to sort through the laundry and discovered one of my good and hard to find ‘no underwire’ bras was melted/destroyed. Continuing to sort, half the laundry smelled burnt or dirty and felt hard, as if it hadn’t been washed and then I found 4 more pieces melted, burned and/or ruined and three others scorched. Now it was my turn to be pissed. The badly ruined and scorched items with the exception of one of Bryce’s old shirts and a hole in his best Hurley shorts, were mine. Was the damage orchestrated intentionally to punish me specifically because I had ‘aggressively’ tried to bargain? Or since I mentioned I was leaving the country Monday, maybe he didn’t care? On passing us the bags of laundry, the man certainly knew that several items had been ruined and/or damaged and didn’t mention it because half of the clothes were folded and some even ironed! He accepted the full amount of money with a smile. Also, the clothes in one bag were extremely hard wrinkled having been left sitting in a hot dryer – and then not folded. The wrinkles won’t come out even after hand washing unless I iron the items. It was the worst paid laundry job I have ever experienced. I guess I’ll be hand-washing my clothes in the future if I cannot find a coin operated laundromat where I can wash the items myself.

Expensive ExOfficio Specialty capris for sun protection

Recently gifted sweatshirt from Aunt Meg

My immediate reaction to the destroyed laundry was to retaliate. I know it’s sounds foolish and well I felt foolish, but I couldn’t sleep that night for all the possible methods of malice I kept devising in my head. Of course, much of this anger in me is pent up frustration in response to the overall Islamic culture’s treatment of women. It feels like to me that within conservative Islam, women are good only for breeding, cooking, and cleaning. Women should say little and have no opinions. Oddly, only mothers are revered. Not other people’s mothers, just yours. Certainly, a man cannot be friends with a woman…friendliness is interpreted as the woman being open to have sex with the man.

Typically dressed Muslim women in Agadir, Morocco

Eric tells a story about a male public restroom attendant working in the Middle East, filling pitchers of water for patrons to use (they clean themselves with their left hand using the water, no toilet paper). As a business man descends into the attendant’s domain, he grabs the pitcher at the end. The attendant orders the man to set it back down and take the third pitcher from the end. “Why? They’re all the same,” the patron declares. To which the attendant replies, “When I’m up there, I have to do what you say. But when you’re down here, you have to do what I say,” exercising what little power he can. Was this that case? Was the laundry man just exercising his power, because he thought he could? Because I was leaving and had no recourse?

So, my experiment with saving in Morocco was a joke. I tried to save on laundry or to at least get a fair price and I was kicked in the butt. The universe is laughing at me. However, what is the best thing to do? It is to WALK AWAY and let him think he defeated me – that he stole from me, beat me down, won. To me, he’s a middle-aged man surrounded by ugliness and dirty buildings, usurping his little bit of power over a foreign, modern woman.

What do we truly own in life but our attitude? Everything else can be taken away. I want my attitude to be positive, so I work to reject that man’s actions. Happiness is my preference. I want to be happy, and I will keep trying to save because it’s what I do, but maybe a little less vigilantly. Still, hard as I might, I remain a bit hurt, feeling attacked. I guess he won today since I chose to stay inside the boat, hide away and write this article instead. I also didn’t want to spread any residual bad mojo to those around me. Eric and Bryce went to visit the Moroccan souk without me, which I really wanted to experience, . . . but, well, I didn’t buy anything, so I guess I saved.

Epilogue – Eric and I returned to the pressing/laundry with the worst damaged 4 pieces that I was unable to fix and a pillowcase that was unmistakably browned – the other items I rewashed, pressed and/or mended myself. The shop owner seemed dismayed at the news, as his worker, the man I dealt with, looked on. The owner asked us to leave the items with him to see if he could have them repaired, and for us to return in a couple days. Without me, Eric returned and spoke with the jerk clerk. He said, “We were unable to repair the clothes, but we did clean the pillowcase. We are sorry.” The man didn’t make any special offers until Eric pressed him. Compelled, the man offered to do another load of laundry on the house. Burned twice having laundry done in Muslim countries, I couldn’t bare the possibility of getting burned thrice. I have since washed the laundry two times myself with a plunger, buckets, cold water and elbow grease. It all turned out perfectly clean, sun-wind ironed and smelling like fresh air. Not only did I save myself cab money and consternation, I got some exercise too!

Leslie's Letters, Leslie's Posts, Morocco

Leslie’s Letters from Agadir Marina, Morocco

October 26, 2018 admin 1 Comment

Dear Jeff (Jeff Jordan is a high school friend whose second job is traveling the world and may be joining us as a line handler in the Panama Canal),

Actually, we don’t know if Rick’s Cafe in Casablanca is still owned by an American…we never looked. We enjoyed very much our experience there. It maintains an international flavor. We went upstairs to watch the ‘Casablanca‘ film for 15 minutes. I had never seen it. BTW – did you know that the Casablanca movie was never filmed in Morocco? Eric believes it was filmed entirely in Southern California.

Rick’s Cafe Interior, Casablanca, Morocco

Bryce & Leslie Rigney at Rick’s Cafe, Casablanca Morocco

The exterior of the restaurant was nondescript same as most buildings we have seen in French Polynesia, Indonesia, Malaysia, India, Eritrea, Egypt, Sudan, and now Morocco. We have discussed that matter with locals and their feeling is this: they don’t want to draw attention to their dwelling on the outside because they don’t want others to know their actual wealth and to steal from them or to expect unearned generosity. Today, a Moroccan gentleman explained to us: “If your neighbor needs something, you are compelled to give it to them over your own needs; your neighbor takes precedence over yourself and your own family.” Yet in my mind, we are all human, aren’t we? Such generosity is difficult to conjure even in myself. Sigh!

We’re finding Agadir great. Now that we are forced to remain here to await special bolts and a new water intake pump for the engine, we are finding Morocco more and more charming – desert dust and all. Sadly, the more time we’re spending inside the city (out of the resort areas) we’re experiencing a lot more beggars and homeless. Such an interesting human/global problem since forever, I think. My parents related during their five weeks with us that San Francisco is becoming quite the pit of filth, drug addicts and rampant homelessness. Not good for attracting international tourism!!!

We have meet wonderful people and not so wonderful people as we travel. At a local surf hangout called Richie’s located at highway marker K11 on the beach just south of Aourir (30 min busride north from Agadir), we met a wonderful young woman serving tables. For not ever having lived outside her country, her English and accent is excellent!!! I was so impressed with her and her artistry that we invited her to our boat and then she invited us to her home to share couscous. Hadjar’s generosity was so great that she insisted on giving us one of her paintings. Wow! We gave her a couple things too, but her favorite was a California flag!

Freelancing at Marina Agadir, we met a wonderful Muslim gentleman, Youssef Ajewher, a retired military ship engineer who provides yacht services. Along with many boat maintenance issues, he has also provided us many personal services too.

Youssef Ajewher, +212 (0) 6 77 45 68 87

aj************@gm***.com

He helped me locate and visit a woman’s health/dermatologist (Clinique IBN SINA Avicenne) for some black spots that I was nervous about on my chest thinking they might be the beginnings of cancer – which the kindly middle-aged female dermatologist declared were deep seated blackheads and removed with a bit a trouble having to use her scalpel to cut open the skin. She did a good job and now, most importantly, I am no longer worried. We spend so much time in the sun, that I want to make sure to catch things early on. I was nervous about waiting 8 months to return home before addressing the issue.

On the other hand, we had a little issue with our laundry. I was so upset, I wrote a story about it in the raw the day the day I got back the laundry…couldn’t bear to go out for 24 hours as I felt personally attacked. Waiting a few days, yesterday, with Youssef, we took 5 ruined pieces back to the cleaner and presented them to the owner. He was apologetic. The man who had enacted the damage was there too, shamefacedly. The owner said he would try to mend them wanting us to come back in a couple days. I forgive the naughty man now, but at the time I was thoroughly put-out.

Pressing Alwafa, Agadir, Rue d’Essaouira opposite Soulaymane Restaurant – Damaged clothes!

Since we are waiting around, we have made arrangements to take a bus to Marrakesh, the capital city of Morocco, on Monday with a reservation through www.booking.com at an inexpensive yet decent centrally located Riad (old private home turned into a Bed’n Breakfast:

ma******@ho*****.com

“>Riad Chennaoui) – for two nights. Our 2 new water intake pumps (2^ndone is a spare), ordered from the Netherlands, will arrive sometime on Wednesday. Eric will get busy replacing the pump (he’s become quite the mechanic!) while I get to work cleaning, laundry in a bucket, etc. Bryce has some chores too to keep Kandu looking ship-shape. If all goes efficiently with shipping and customs, the plan is that we depart in a week or so for the Canary Islands.

Truly, moving from one culture to the next is always exciting yet a little daunting. I was nervous coming back to a Muslim country after our difficult experience in Egypt…which we haven’t really wrote about yet…I’m still too raw and I don’t want to sound mean nor like a spoiled brat, which sometimes I see myself as when wandering around poorer countries. Sigh….again!

Leslie

Educational, Eric's Posts, Experiential, Leslie's Posts, Morocco

Mohammedia Docking, Clearance & Casablanca Sights Sept 2018

October 5, 2018 admin 3 Comments

An extended versions of this report for cruisers is available on www.noonsite.com. Follow this link: Morocco-mohammedia-report of visit in october-november 2018

September 17, 2018

Unable to reach the Yacht Club du Maroc, a private enterprise, prior to departure, we set sail from Gibraltar in hopes a space would be available. A forecasted large NW swell had us forego the shallow entrance of Rabat, and Casablanca has no facilities for receiving yachts. Upon our morning approach, Port Control Mohammedia responded to our VHF call on 16. We were instructed to enter the port and head directly to the marina where someone would point us to a berth. Warned in reports of underwater obstructions near the marina, we arrived at high tide. The private marina resides tucked away in the corner of the commercial and fishing port. Seeing no one of authority, we stayed just off the marina’s two large pontoons, toward the commercial portion of the port rather than the likely shallower small fishing port.

Kandu waiting to be welcomed to Yacht Club du Maroc in Mohammedia

Within 10 minutes, an official looking person with collared shirt and long pants, holding a handheld VHF guided us to raft up alongside one of two possible boats, the choice was ours. They have limited space for visiting yachts. Looking at our depth sounder during our maneuvering into place, the depths were more than adequate, never below 18 feet. The official, who we never saw again, asked us to drop an anchor which I said I would do later, but intending only to stay for 2 nights, with no bad weather forecast, we did not.

All officials came to us within an hour or so, boarded our boat, and processed us politely and professionally in English and French, . . . no “gifts” asked, none given. Leslie offered coffee, which they gratefully received. No charge for clearance. They took our passports for an hour to process, stamp, and return them to us with shore passes (as we were in a commercial port with high security), and held on to the ship’s original documentation to insure we checked out properly. Check out was as simple and painless after 9 a.m., presenting our passports. Taking only 15 minutes, we had our exit stamped passports and original ship’s document. Agadir officials said we should have received a blue paper from Customs, but did not belabor the point with us.

The YC charges two fees, theirs and the port’s. Warned of the high price and that they charge per day, not per night, I was mentally prepared to see a high bill. Accepting only cash, up front, the YC manager was pleased I had made the effort to have Moroccan dirham on hand, having exchanged in Gibraltar before our arrival. He charged us for two nights, not three days. Perhaps because we planned to leave at the same time that we’d had arrived. The two-night YC charge was slightly higher than the port charge, but for a 12.7m monohull, the charges were about 500 dirham each, 1000 total, or $55/night. Price includes 220 power and potable (we don’t trust) water, separate men and women’s toilets and hot showers (clean and adequate), excellent security, trash, access to their restaurant across the port, and weak to non-existing WiFi. Our pontoon was for larger boats and was shared by mostly sports-fishing boats. While there are smaller local cafés nearby, to get to the center of town, a 10-dirham taxi ride makes it easy. ATM’s are common. We used the ATAM at the train station and purchased via cash our tickets through the ticketing vending machine. We hopped aboard the frequent (±every 30-minutes) half-hour train to Casablanca (showing up at least 15 minutes late), costing 32-dirham R/T, and walked 20-minutes to the Hassan II mosque, taking the 100 dirham English-speaking tour, by far the best and most worthy experience we had in our short stay in Casablanca.

Hassan II Mosque, Casablanca, Morocco with Bryce Rigney

Mosque Hassan II Casablanca Morocco

Mosque Hassan II Minaret

One of many entrances

Titanium doors

Mosque Hassan II Interior, Bryce Rigney silhouette

Italian Murano glass chandelier

Magnificent Interior Hassan II Mosque

Intricate plaster carving

Mosque Hassan II Ablutions Chamber

Local Moroccan marble

Exit corridor

Moroccan art at it’s very best: Hassan II Mosque of Casablanca with Eric Rigney

Rick’s Café Americain was charming and elegant, although more expensive than we’re use to paying (4x the cost of the normal hole-in-the-wall places we frequent), very delicious, and the portions are large enough to share between two (wished we had known earlier). As with most all less technologically developed cultures, non-written prices must be negotiated before you engage in buying open market food items, but especially with taxis, where you might pay as much as 3 times the going rate. In perspective, sometimes that means paying $3 instead of $1, but it can also mean paying $50 instead of $20.

SIM cards are an excellent deal in Morocco, 20 dirham ($2.25) for the Maroc Telecom SIM which allows you some limited calling then you add separately a top-up at a tobacco/convenience store to acquire data or more phone. 10 dirham per 1 GB data. Valid for 30 days. We bought 50 dirham worth (about $5.50). SIMs are purchased at a Maroc Telecom or other brand store.

In summary, Mohammedia is a friendly, efficient, and secure place to berth if Casablanca is on your must-see list. Reportedly, the most populous Moroccan city, except for the Hassan II Mosque and the train station, we found this historic city to be unattractive. The old colonial architecture described in tour guides is not maintained and disappointing to behold. To be fair, we did not pay for a guided tour, nor did we have a local showing us the charm of what may otherwise be a very lovely place. Bryce did get to surf at Florida Beach, but even that experience was just okay. Eric Rigney

Dar Bouazza / Florida Beach, Morocco, Sept 2018

Arrive Dar Bouazza, Morocco

Bryce Rigney at Dar Bouazza / Florida Beach Sept 2018

Bryce Rigney waxing his board at Dar Bouazza

Bryce Rigney heading to surf Dar Bouazza, Morocco

Dar Bouazza, Morocco

Leslie Rigney at Dar Bouazza Beach, Morocco

Bryce Rigney, Dar Bouazza, Morocco

Leslie’s brief Facebook excerpt:

Casa Blanca on the ocean claims to be the largest city in Morocco. But not having a yacht marina directly in Casa Blanca, we headed instead to port Mohammedia 10 kilometers north from the city. From Gibraltar we left with perfect wind and tide circumstances hopping the Gibraltar straights shipping lanes to the south like a rabbit to avoid the big tanker traffic. With Kandu docked in Mohammedia, we took advantage of the inexpensive train and taxis to see the sights in Casa Blanca. We visited Dar Bouazza Beach for some long overdue surf and the renowned Rick’s Cafe for excellent 1920’s art deco ambience and delicious Moroccan couscous.

Bryce & Leslie Rigney at Rick’s Cafe, Casablanca Morocco

Rick’s Cafe Interior, Casablanca, Morocco

We were spellbound by the most impressive architecture found in the large and beautiful Hassan II Mosque (inside and out as they allow non-muslim visitors to tour the interior for US$11/person). We also walked the city to visit the acclaimed business city center, local souk and the famous Rialto Cinema…all of which were underwhelming. Not a beautiful or romantic resort town, two days was plenty. Sadly, most of the city was run-down and dirty…with hopeful construction everywhere especially on the beachfront which was completely torn up and off-limits except on the outskirts like Dar Bouazza / Florida Beach.

Casablanca city center

Casablanca souk

Casablanca street market

Casablanca skate park

Casablanca Superior Court

Casablanca Rialto Cinema

Eric's Posts, Experiential, Morocco

Estimators, One and All by Eric Rigney

October 3, 2018 admin 5 Comments

September 11, 2018

Gibraltar City, Gibraltar

One reason I travel is to learn more about us, the people who inhabit this planet. Recently, here in Gibraltar, an understanding hit me . . . epiphany?

Geographically, Gibraltar is a small place with a population of 32,000. An overseas protectorate of the United Kingdom since 1967, the culture is very mixed; Maltese, Moroccan, Spanish, English, Christian, Jewish, Muslim, something like 61 different cultures in total. Additionally, a labor force of 12,000 Spanish cross the border each day to work in Gibraltar and 1,000 to 6,000 cruise ship passengers make their way through the streets and sights of the famous “Rock,” returning to their ship each evening. During our stay, Gibraltar held its week-long annual end-of-summer family fair; Ferris wheel, bumper cars, ice cream, churros, beer garden, loud music; you get the picture. At the fair, our son Bryce was doing his thing, trying to meet pretty girls and cool dudes. Just as with other European countries, Bryce thought he’d have no problem meeting young people, especially with English being their primary language. Much to his disappointment he discovered the youth were socially closed off, disinterested in making new associations. “Why?” we wondered.

Gibraltar City with Spain in the background

Surrounded by, but cut off politically from Spain and Morocco, far from Britain, under such unique circumstances, Gibraltar seems to have cultivated a particular breed of isolationist village-type mentality, manifested and simmered over a thousand years of various occupations and waves of immigration. They’ve their own language, Llanito a type of ‘Spanglish,’ Spanish with sprinkles of English. The unusual circumstance of the community thus makes it hyper-confined. Anything a member of the community says or does travels through the gossip channels as fast or faster than any technical version of social media. What is said among fellow villagers matters. When for instance, a young girl was seen talking with Bryce, her phone rang constantly. “Why are you with that guy?” It’s made clear: “He’s not one of us.” To be seen spending time with Bryce, a visitor, places the young lady’s reputation in possible question. Guys are equally as brief and dismissive of Bryce’s attempts to connect. This is an unusual circumstance for us. Visiting country after country, an average of two countries per month for the past year, we’ve learned that lifetime friendships can sometimes be forged within days. People who don’t travel much may not appreciate just how quickly and frequently this occurs. At the same time, we’ve learned that, when it comes to preferences as to which people most people wish to associate, people are simple: they prefer to engage with people just like themselves.

Bryce’s Gibraltar experience sparked broader impressions within me. Obviously the more someone is like us, the easier it is for us to receive them. The more unique a group, the more narrowly it is defined, thus allowing for fewer options for developing associations and/or friendships and the possibility of changing their minds, something they don’t really wish to have happen anyway. On the other hand, any possible differentiation that can be discerned naturally gives us pause, a cause to guard and nurture what is ‘us.’ The distinction can be obvious, like skin color, age, sex, sexual orientation, style of dress, weight, the way a person walks, shakes hands, a visible handicap, the vehicle a person drives. It can be less obvious: religion, geographic coordinates, socio-economic class, occupation, food, culture, language, education, etc. Within each of these categories, there are subcategories, for example: education. We differentiate whether one is a high school grad, the school attended, public or private, foreign or domestic? Did they attend college? Which degree? Degree level? Which college? Ivy league? Which one? Fraternity/sorority? Sports? Scholarships? It goes on and on. And to what end do we differentiate others? What greater good is served by cultural confinement? Survival of our offspring? Of our clan? Could it be simply a case of “I want ‘my’ people to thrive, let the others worry about ‘their’ people?” Is this why humans migrated from Africa, into Europe, Asia, South Pacific, and North and South Americas, to get away from the ‘others’ that prevent ‘us’ from thriving? “To heck with you, I’ll find my own hunting grounds!” . . . I wonder.

While I was in college (American, west coast, California, Southern California, San Fernando Valley, public, Cal State University, not UC, no fraternity, graduate degree, mass communication (not law, MBA, medicine, etc.)), a professor described a study that had participants estimating the number of dots flashed from a projector on a wall. The participants were then isolated into two groups, over-estimators and under-estimators. Unbeknownst to the participants, the purpose of the study was to observe how people would compare their group to the other group, solely on the basis of how many dots they thought they saw. Guess what? Each group could be heard extolling the virtues of being like them and the drawbacks of being like the others. Dots . . . something as simple and benign as estimating dots is enough to create an ‘us’ and a ‘them.’

Sailing around the world, except for the occasional trip to McDonalds, we intentionally cast aside our natural tendencies to seek cultural experiences similar to our own and instead actively pursue immersion within other groups. The less something is to what we’re accustomed to, the more excitedly we pursue it. This approach allows us to meet many wonderful people, briefly experience their way of life, their perceptions; thus, opening-up our perception of the world and/or re-enforcing that which we held. More often than not, we find kind, generous, hospitable people. Mutual respect and admiration (love) seem to melt away otherwise persistent barriers. Likely, those individuals with whom we come to form friendships share a similar type of curiosity and willingness to stretch beyond their comfort zones as well. This exchange can sometimes be made easier among the youth who, through music, movies, and attire trends, share a global ‘teenage’ culture. That’s in part why the experience in Gibraltar was unusual. As with most kids across oceans, and especially Europe, the Gibraltarian youth listen to the same music, dress the same way, speak mostly the same language, do the same things, but yet would not readily open themselves to conversing with a foreigner. Not all “Gibs,” as they call themselves, behave in this manner. As disappointing as the youth experience was for Bryce, I met mostly kind, helpful, and generous middle-aged Gibraltarians. So maybe in Gibraltar it’s a generational thing? Difficult to know. Maybe Bryce for the first time stumbled into a group of teenagers representative of the average Western teenager: “yeah,” “maybe,” “sure,” “I don’t know.”

As much as closed-societies are disappointing, more troubling are cultures whose mission, in part or in whole, entail the termination of the “other,” non-identical culture. The multitude and quality of positive cultural interactions personally afforded us these past 4 years make the knowledge – that groups exists to destroy the “other” – more intolerable. Take the category of religion for example: history depicts many examples of one religious group trying to exterminate another. To the extreme, Islam requires Muslim societies to force non-Muslims (kaffirs) to either convert to Islam, be enslaved to serve Islam, or be killed. Furthermore, as with other religions, Islam splits into different versions of the faith. Within the different Islamic versions, the difference leads to death and destruction between them. These are just religious examples. Similar lines can be drawn economically, politically, and obviously between races.

In the USA, as with any nation, we find many opportunities to discriminate against “others.” Skin color is an easy one, pick a color, any color, it’s all the same if they’re not your color, your exact color to be precise. Within color groups there’s discrimination (differentiation). Yellow: Among the different ethnic Chinese groups, they might discriminate based on pale versus darker skin tones, freckles vs. clear complexion, eye shape, nose shape, etc. White: How white, red-headed freckled white, Anglo-white, blond blue-eyed, Mediterranean bronze, brunette brown eyed? What’s white? Black: Within their group, African-Americans distinguish how black or less black an African-American is. Traveling around the world, we’ve had the opportunity to observe that dark colored skin isn’t exclusively African and that not all “Africans” are black-skinned. Arabs and Berbers inhabit nearly all of North Africa. Pacific Islander Melanesians share the same features as peoples from central and south Africa; skin color, wooly black hair, broad noses, etc. Should geographic ancestry play a role in establishing skin color, another layer, another dividing line? Besides, genetically speaking, aren’t we all from Tanzania . . . Adli and Eidi, not Adam and Eve?

Skin color and religion aside, globally today no other groups are belittled or marginalized more than women and homosexuals. By limiting half of one’s population, does society not limit half its potential? While women are typically relegated to a lesser societal position at best, or subjugated and/or murdered at worst, homosexuality is treated as an incurable contagion/psychological or genetic defect. In Sudan as in much of Africa, parts of the Middle East, India and Southeast Asia, we read that many to most young women have been circumcised and some received clitorectomies, a mostly Islamic practice that Judeo-Christian nations deem as reprehensible female genital mutilation. In New Delhi, India, Hindus are known to set brides ablaze for not satisfying the dowry demands of her husband; contrasted by the Baha’i Lotus Temple’s prominently displayed poster of a large man seated at one side of a balancing-scale in perfect alignment with a small woman seated on the opposite side of the scale, indicating that in the Baha’i faith, women are regarded as equal to men, possibly the only international religion to hold such a perspective. Yet, when asked about their view on homosexuality, the young Baha’i volunteer explained that they have much compassion for people afflicted with this “illness” and hope for a cure someday soon, a view shared by many cultures around the world. “Nothing wrong with being a homosexual. It’s only a sin to engage in a homosexual act,” Christian friends explain. In Sumatra, Indonesia, they cane homosexuals, as if to beat it out of them. Learning how women and homosexuals are treated around the world, it makes visible how far Western cultures have come, and are coming, to accept and protect “them.”

The list of us-vs-them categories is extensive. But I find myself in a dilemma. Is it hypocritical to hate haters? To be intolerant of intolerance? Does that make me just like “them,” because I “know” “my” side is right . . . truly right . . . right?

Ok, so what have I learned. People make us a “them” for any and all reasons, large and small. I have learned that if I want to get beyond these natural tendencies, theirs and mine; if I want to navigate more freely within “their” culture, it’s easier if I honestly modify what I can to match their cultural tastes: dress like them, talk like them, love their children, make some of their problems mine, watch their sports, listen to their music, eat their food, visit their places of worship, go to their schools, participate in their charities, hang at their clubs, visit often their neighborhoods, in general, show genuine interest in their culture. I can’t change my age, sex, height or skin color, but I can otherwise respectfully play the role of [insert cultural group here] to the best of my ability, without lying or betraying my core self. It’s not perfect, but it’s the best I can do if I want to move more freely in their village and gain the benefit of their different perspectives, their “spice” on life, thus opening further my horizons. Experience teaches that often the better flavors are generated where cultural fusion occurs. I’m told the most nutritious part of an entire carrot is the small purplish line that borders between the flesh of the orange root and the base of the green stems. Likewise, I think where two cultures honestly and respectfully meet is where the healthiest humanitarian perspectives develop. Or, we can continue to be “us,” unadulterated, full strength, “what you see is what you get, take it or leave it (or die?).” And guess what? “Our” people will love us for it, cheer us on. But before we get too proud, we might wish to ponder one simple question: Are we over-estimators or under-estimators?

Sailing around the world from port to port in our little sailboat Kandu, it’s obvious: one race, one planet, one time.

Europe, Itinerary, Leslie's Letters, Leslie's Posts

Travels after Sudan….Where are RigneysKandu?

October 1, 2018 admin 4 Comments

After Sudan, we were on a whirlwind tour of Egypt, Israel, and Europe. Not much has been posted on the blog site since then. The three of us – myself, Eric and Bryce – plan to rectify that, posting articles recounting more detail than revealed in our postings on Facebook about the many extraordinary adventures of the last 5 months. BTW – if you don’t know, Kandu is down to 3 as Trent returned to California to attend high school. He is living with Uncle Nick Rigney in Calabasas.

August 29, 2018

Dear Sara and family,

I have been thinking of you since we were in Spain wishing I had become more fluent in Spanish like you. Unfortunately, we didn’t spend any time in Spain outside Barcelona, darn it! Just had 90 days to visit the Schengen countries (The Schengen agreement among most of the European Union countries grants visitors a 90 day tourist visa…if not European, then you only qualify for a 90 day visitor’s visa out of 180…3 months within a 6-month period. Turkey, Croatia, Cyprus, England, Gibraltar are not part of Schengen.) It’s just as well, because our bank book is quite depleted. It’s been very expensive traveling and docking the boat in Europe west of Greece. We sailed past the lower boot of Italy bee-lining it to Pompeii – one of my bucket list sights.

RigneysKandu floating in Dead Sea of Israel

Santorini, Greece

Acropolis, Athens

Pompeiians asphyxiated

Walking the boardwalk of Ancient Pompeii

Eric and I had never been to Rome or Venice. Having the boys with us, it was a must to make efforts to hit the bigger sites. Maybe another day, we’ll get a chance to explore more of Italy as I really fell in love with that country, full of ancient wealth and history.

Florence’s Duomo: carved marble exterior

Roman Colliseum

Michaelangelo’s David

Gondola ride in Venice

Actually Paris this time for us was not as mesmerizing as it has usually been in previous visits and stays. Perhaps it’s because we were generously put up by a friend in the suburbs of Paris and it took almost 90 minutes to get into the city, making early morning and late night strolls a little more challenging. Oh well. Not to mention the hoards and hoards of summer tourists swarming the big sites, and the heat. I don’t remember previously visiting Paris in the summer.

Bryce Rigney at Le Louvre

RigneysKandu Men in Paris

I haven’t had a chance to write on our blog much since making Egypt. Now that we have a bit of time to breath having exited out of the Schengen territories, we can enact repairs on the boat and record more details of our explorations.

In Bruge, Belgium with Ron and Rosie Dennis and Sian, Lara and Elena Demande.

Thierry and Clara Robert, Ron and Rosie and RigneysKandu touring around Huy, Belgium.

Most recently, we had a wonderful 6 weeks with my parents. Via extended invitations from our dear Belgium and French friends, we were able to introduce the boys and my folks to European living in many forms and to visit extraordinary sights and places like the picturesque & unforgettably charming wine villages along the Rhine in the Alsatian province. Eric and I had been to Alsace a couple times before, visiting with friends, but we had never explored the region: Colmar, Strasbourg, nor the wine trail villages. It’s no wonder why this region bordering Germany has been under contention for 100’s of years between France and Germany…it’s rich in valuable resources: hard working “Protestant type work-ethic” people and rich land for agriculture. The Strasbourg Cathedral housed the most incredible astronomical working clock we’d ever seen.

Baden Baden, Germany ancient fortress

Alsatian ladies dress in traditional costumes

Strasbourg Cathedral Astrological Clock

Alsatian style building, Strasbourg

Together, we also had time to visit some bordering areas/towns of Alsace including Baden Baden on the frontier of Germany – extremely wealthy boasting a lovely old fort that we hiked during the rain, and Luxembourg – which is clean clean clean, with a picturesque old town, fort, huge city walls and gorgeous Catholic churches. Of course, all through Cyprus, Greece, Italy, Belgium, France, Monaco and Barcelona, we visited churches, Basilicas, and Cathedrals ad nauseum. I loved it all….the boys were definitely done with the typical city offerings except the most spectacular ones such as St Peter’s Basilica in Rome, The Duomo in Florence, Versaille in France, and The Sagrada Familia by Gaudi in Barcelona. In Chartres Cathedral, France, the inside has recently been painted white to enhance the otherwise dire interior, but most specially the organist played for about 20 minutes, which for me, was magical.

Sagrada Familia Exterior, Barcelona

Sagrada Familia Interior, Barcelona

We’ve enjoyed so many other incredible country spectaculars: art museums, Napoleon history, war memorials and museums about WWI and WWII, plus many ancient sites, valuable and palatable history lessons for us all.

Ron n Rosie climbing Waterloo lookout, Belgium

WWII Memorial for US soldiers, Bastogne Belgium

Truly truly spectacular traveling which I hope to write about more fully on our blog now that we are moving at a more leisurely pace.

We and Kandu are now in Gibraltar harbored in Queensway Quay Marina. Trent, our youngest at 14 returned to California from Barcelona to live with Uncle Nick and started school August 23rd in Calabasas. Happily, he made the volleyball team. He is thrilled to be back home and excited to get academically serious. He’s extremely motivated. Bryce (16) flew solo to London last Friday night, visiting a good friend that he met in Athens.

Gibraltar – The ROCK!

Queensway Quai Gibraltar

Queensway Quay Marina, Gibraltar

Eric Rigney walking over Gibraltar Airport landing strip

Bryce is staying the 6 days with a dear friend of ours who is working on the next Spiderman movie currently filming in London. Bryce is exploring the city historical sites, skateboarding along the way.

Once Bryce returns, we’ll finish the remaining maintenance and repairs and sail off to Morocco, a two day sail, leaving Sept 3 to Mohammedia to visit Casablanca, Morocco. Then we’ll sail further south to Agadir to work on the boat a bit more and hopefully find some good surf for Bryce after almost a year of circumstantial abstinence. We plan to depart Agadir on Oct 1st for a two day sail to the Canary Islands (7-day stop, Columbus’s last before setting off to our New World), the Cape Verde Islands to restock (8-day sail), find a bit more surfing for Bryce – and then when the weather is good sometime around October 31st we plan to take off to sail the 18 days across the Atlantic .

After that – things are still undecided. If all goes well we’ll head straight to French Guiana, then Surinam, Guyana and north to visit a couple of the French Caribbean Islands, then west to the A, B, C’s of Dutch Antilles and Columbia to get ready to transit the Panama Canal around my birthday in February 2019. In the Eastern Pacific, we make our way north through Costa Rica and Mexico, skipping the less secure countries in between. It’s reported that there are pirates along the Central American coastline from Nicaragua through to Guatemala. Our plan is to return to Ventura end of May, early June 2019. Our McCool house has re-rented under a two-year lease. We are not beholden to any specific place to live in Southern California until we both land employment.

We’re getting close to the bottom of our cruising funds. From here on out, we’ve gotta be careful. Hopefully we won’t have big expenditures with the boat. We’ve already replaced so much!!!

Sending you big virtual hugs my dear girlfriend!
Leslie

Eric's Posts, Europe

Across the Tale…poem by Eric Rigney

August 2, 2018 admin 8 Comments

Across the sea, I chose to sail. No life of ease . . .

a soulful tale.

Plans were laid, efforts then spent. Pathways will fade,

without relent.

Waves of resistance, waves of assistance, same wave . . .

different approach.

Comfort is gone, lessons are learned. Brain’s turned on,

much feels earned.

Faults are found, strengths are too. Change profound . . .

when both collude.

Faced with choices, purpose defined. Soul rejoices . . .

when goals refine.

Risk is a mirror, few wish to see. Confront the fear,

or live it eternally.

Joy uncovered, doubts aside. Love discovered,

when love’s inside.

Choose to stay, choose to go. Which is best,

I cannot know.

Across the sea, I thus have sailed. My mind at ease . . .

I’ve lived my tale.

Experiential, India, Leslie's Posts

Sightseeing INDIA from the Bolgatty Palace Marina, Cochin

June 11, 2018 admin 6 Comments

Feb 10, 2018

We had an exceptional time in India due to the delicious & inexpensive food (that even our 14 year old son Trent loved), the vividly colored clothing, the profoundly different culture, the prolific vegetable and fruit markets, our fabulous tours to the Taj Mahal and Kerala’s backwaters, and the general hustle and bustle.

Still getting our bearings, the second night we got a chance to see the renowned Kerala Kathakali facial dance and costume show along with the pre-show application of the make-up and fitting the costume was amazingly interesting and colorful. The spectacle is offered every evening right at the Bolgatty Palace Resort Hotel for a modest price. The Kathakali entertainment was just the beginning of our great adventures in India.

Instead of flying both ways, we purposefully took a 48-hour sleeper train ride north to New Delhi to observe more closely the countryside, its peoples and to have a true local Indian experience. The Taj Mahal mausoleum, the most important site of our India travels, was as impressive and beautiful as anticipated – all white marble with specially carved and intricately cut and inlaid floral designs. (Definitely one of today’s ‘Wonders of the World.’) The photos say it all!!

We absolutely loved spending Happy Holi day in New Delhi on March 2^nd, where people hit the streets with fluorescent colored chalk plastering it on each other while getting lampooned by water balloons and/or water hoses. We enjoyed the wonderfully generous people we met full of smiles and hellos. The four of us are BIG fans of Masala tea (Chai tea) and samosas: potato & veggie filled deep fried savory.

Before….Happy Holi

Fluorescent Happy Holi Chalk

After….

The boys and I especially appreciated witnessing the ‘holy cows’ walking in amongst the Agra car and auto tucktuck traffic. Sometimes huge cows were laying down right in the middle of traffic – vehicles simply drove around them. Bryce spanked the hindquarters of one behemoth that was walking VERY close. Holy Cow!

Driving on the streets in India is all that it is reported to be…hectic, crazy with just a few rules…mostly ‘anything goes.’ The four of us frequently squeezed into auto tucktucks, which are two or three-seater three wheeled motor cabs that can be hailed everywhere. In the city, it is far more exciting to travel around in that cheap and convenient mode as opposed to cars.

Renting a car wasn’t really an option nor was it expensive to hire ‘tour guide’ drivers with nice cars to drive further than in-town distances like traveling south to the backwaters of Kerala or the two hours between the Taj Mahal in Agra province to New Delhi.

One such driver was so friendly, that he suggested we come visit his home in the older section of New Delhi. A driver/musician, he sang Indian songs in the car for us, and when we arrived at his home, he played all the Indian sounding licks on his keyboard while singing along. In exchange, I sang “O Mio Babbino Caro” to his family’s delight. We would never have gone into that section of New Delhi without a guide – too local and impossible to navigate!

These particular residential New Delhi streets are narrow like in medieval European towns – no cars, just scooters, bicycles and pedestrians. Built on a hill, the small streets are packed and slippery due to running water leaks. Houses are constructed side by side and scale upwards – one floor per family. Our driver is one of three grown sons with their own families all sharing the same parents’ house: the parents’ room is on the ground floor, the 2^nd son, wife and 2 kids in the only room on the 1^st floor shared by all as a dining room with the kitchen down the hall, our friend and his wife and son live on the 3^rd floor with the only house bathroom across the hall, the 4^th floor houses the 1^st son, his wife and 2 children plus the laundry room down the hall. Then there is the rooftop for drying clothes and seeing the city sights below. Each room is about 600 square feet and much of the square footage of the house is made up of stairways. The ground floor, supporting five stories is only about 1000 square feet. It is tight living – but not quite as tight as living on a 13-meter sailboat!

We had read that one of the biggest tourist attractions of the Kerala state where Cochin city is located (and the region where our boat was docked), is a houseboat ride on the Backwaters. Our 24-hour trip south to hire one did not disappoint. Relaxing on a luxurious riverboat, we floated through the rice paddy levees enjoying the green scenery and fresh air. Occasionally, we witnessed women wading in the water slapping clothes against the rocks and others bathing fully clothed in the brackish waters. Many homes line the levees and many of those are actually large and brand new looking. Maybe the area supports city families’ second homes? Happily, I didn’t have to cook or clean during that relaxing trip.

Bryce Rigney at Kerala’s Backwaters

Kerala Backwaters houseboats

Clothing – 1/3 of the women dress in the most beautiful saris and men either wear plain sarong bottoms or long pants and plain button down short or long sleeved collared shirts. It’s a little like fancy birds bedecked in colorful feathers except the opposite – the males are plain and the females draw the attention. More modern female Indian style is the ankle length legging and knee length cotton tops with slits up the sides and long sleeves. No shorts anywhere, even in the tropical heat! Fashions are cut conservatively to maintain modesty.

Buying sim cards for phones is like in the United States – you need a permanent address within the country. Thus, it was impossible to purchase our own. Our handy dandy Cochin marina go-to man, Nazar P.M., provided us two of his own for a modest fee (US$15 each) including phone and data. We returned the sims upon departure. He also drove us around in his tucktuck to shop, sightsee, to get to a local restaurant, to go to the post office (which I would never have found on my own), to find ATMs (almost everything is handled in cash), etc. One day he even loaned me local money when I couldn’t pull out enough from the ATMs to purchase my local market groceries. He helped us obtain diesel and drinking water at great prices always showing up with a huge smile. Plus, he invited us to come and dine at his home and to meet his lovely family. He truly made India GREAT for us.

Although more are spoken, there are 23 languages officially declared in India, each protecting special long-standing cultural traditions. But if an Indian wants to communicate widely, English is their go-to language along with Hindi. Ashamedly, I thought most East Indians spoke English, but only the higher educated actually speak some English.

We had a true Indian experience riding 48 hours by sleeper train from Cochin to Agra. Part of the ride was to see the countryside up close, hang with the local Indians and inexpensively make our way to Agra where the Taj Mahal is located, then to make the two-hour drive to New Delhi to tour the environs including a visit to the Parliament House, the Baha’i Prayer Center, a Kashmir rug store, the place where Gandhi was assassinated and so much more.

New Delhi Parliament

Baha’i House

Baha’i

Indian Kashmire rug

On the train, each sleeper section housed 6 beds. The four of us slept on the top bunks to insure no fowl play, but that meant Eric was separated from Bryce, Trent and me in a different section on the same train car during the night. Of course, he did sit with us during the daytime. Along with us traveled a lovely older Indian couple, retired dentist and wife. He spoke some English. They were very sweet. During the trip, we got off when the train stopped and walked around the quay for exercise and people watching.

One time, Bryce actually climbed off the train, over a fence onto and over an adjacent quay and into the train tracks to take movies and pictures with his ‘expensive’ GoPro and iPhone flashing in his hand. From the train, I was watching him and within 5 minutes, a local man stood up from his perch and started to nonchalantly walk in his direction. I hollered to Bryce to come back quickly. Bryce turned to me and began making his way to our train quay, jumping up and then over the fence down to our train and inside. I watched as that local fellow followed faster and faster all the way up onto the quay – but stopped at the fence grimacing at me. We glared at each other…’Mama Bear protecting her cub!’ Later I discussed the situation with Bryce and explained to him that his actions opened him up to be a target. It was a lesson fortunately he didn’t have to learn the hard way. Hopefully he learned that he mustn’t flaunt his foreignness and prosperity, especially when alone.

Side food markets

It’s definitely true that there are many poor people in India – those we saw while on the train, begging in New Delhi, and working in the Backwater rice fields. However, the upper lower classes are solid workers and eat well…we didn’t see people starving. Even beggars in New Delhi looked good. Their housing conditions aren’t perfect or large, but they aren’t miserable either. Most people have access to water and sanitation, modern transportation: auto tucktucks, cars, buses, ferries, trains, etc. There is a prominent middle class that spends money in modern malls, on cars, on phones and computers, and on nice clothes. The clothes people wear are clean and ironed, unlike mine – which often smell of boat and are never pressed! We found that the people are happy and free to work as hard as they want or not and to move around freely, with freedom of speech!

The biggest bummer was the amount of trash piled up in the waters, along the rivers, in and around the train tracks, and aside the roads. We constantly witnessed all kinds of people tossing trash on the ground anywhere and everywhere – plastic wrappers/bags, paper cups, full trash bags, cigarette butts, boxes, bottles, etc. When asked why they toss trash on the ground instead of holding it or finding a trash bin, they shrug their shoulders and say, “Everyone does it.” Over and over, we explain that everyone makes a difference and the only way to enact change is in their own individual actions and teaching their children not to toss trash indiscriminately.

The only marina in India that can handle cruiser yachting boats is in Kochi or Cochin on Bolgatty Palace Island. It is located within the confines of the Bolgatty Island Resort Hotel that had a fine restaurant, bar and pool. The reception area was so nice and air-conditioned, that it became our office when we wanted to escape the hot humidity of early afternoon. The boys loved the workout room and ping-pong table. We were able to have our laundry washed, charged by the item not by kilos…so I hand-washed the smaller items using the inexpensive but non-potable marina water on the dock. The showers and toilets were clean and in okay condition, the docks were repaired and in working order, not perfect but fine, and the marina manager was effective.

The customs process was straightforward since we hired Nazar to act as our agent, however, it still took all day – everything is done on paper – and at least five people are involved, when only one is necessary – very few computers and modern equipment are used. Our one hiccup was declaring that we have a satellite texting device. The police and customs required that we dismantle it and have it officially sealed by an officer on our boat inside a cabinet. We were not allowed to use it while in India. India has a problem with Pakistani terrorism. Terrorists once used a satellite phone to activate a bomb housed on a catamaran that killed many people. Unfortunately, customs did not communicate with the police that our device had been sealed and so we were hassled a bit by the marine police who didn’t understand English. Eventually, it all worked out, but at the time it was challenging.

Our departure was easy. The morning before we intended to leave, Nazar tucktucked the four of us back to the customs offices and we were relatively quickly checked out. It took only about two hours. All paid up and accounted for, the next morning we departed the marina early without even making a radio call. It was a wonderfully educational and colorful visit. We thoroughly enjoyed our too short but very sweet two weeks in India.

BTW – We hired a tour agent to help us get to the Kerala Backwaters and onto a boat at short notice: Basil Mathew of Tour Green India recommended by one of Eric’s LA colleagues whose wife hails from Cochin. Basil was so great, that we asked him to help us make our way by train to the Taj Mahal in Agra, then to New Delhi where we spent 2 nights in a hotel frequented by Indian tourists, including tour guides/drivers, and then a plane ride home. All our expectations were addressed and handled extremely well. The only frustration was that we couldn’t use our credit card. Everything needed to be handled in cash or bank transfer. Frustratingly, the ATMs at the banks want to earn fees so they force you to take small amounts of money requiring many withdrawls. Fees then accumulate quickly.

Basil Mathew, Tour Green Co, India, tel: +91 90612 58758, email: info@keralatourgreen.com, www.keralatourgreen.com

Nazar P.M. tel: +91 98951 64090 or +91 97464 62686, Facebook: Nisams, www.yachtsincochin.com, www.noonsite.com/countries/india/cochin

Bob Bechler was an enormous help encouraging us and several other yachts to make their way to Bolgatty Island through the Facebook private group: Red Sea Passage.

Nighil, Bolgatty Palace Marina Manager, tel: +91 97470 57015. He is available at the marina every day except Sunday between 10h00 – 18h00. His English is pretty good.

Immigration Entry Visas: Before visiting India – each person on board must obtain a tourist visitor’s visa. The easiest way to get a visa is online: http://indianvisaonline.gov.in. Each visa cost us US$75. Make sure to provide the right size photos and passport pdfs – don’t make any mistakes – check your work twice before submitting. When done, print out the final versions for immigration to present when you arrive.

Here are some more photos taken the last free tour day in Cochin including the celebrated old-fashioned fishing nets off the entrance of the natural Kochi bay, the incredibly huge monkey shrine, clothes hand-washing, spice galore, Indian children, our tour guide Nasam, and more.

Leslie, Nasam & Bryce pulling up the old-fashioned fish nets

Bryce Rigney on the fishnet apparatus

Indian fabrics

Indian pressing laundry

Indian handwashing laundry

Indian spices for sale

Indian spices

Processing spices

India’s children

Nasam

Cochin produce

Cochin traffic

Cochin Fisherman Boats

Women’s India High Fashion

RigneysKandu East Indian style on Happy Holi Day!

Bryce's Posts, Educational, Experiential, Gulf of Aden & Red Sea

Eritrean Coins by Bryce Rigney

May 17, 2018 admin 5 Comments

1991 was the end of Eritrea’s 30-year civil war with Ethiopia but it seems that 1997 marked the beginning of Eritrea’s printing and/or coinage of their own money. Over time, the government began to discourage private enterprise and travel, resulting in depreciation of their money, and the extinction of Eritrean coins. Today, 26 years later, the most commonly exchanged denomination are the 5 and 10 Nakfa bills. Sadly, the streets of Eritrea house large amounts of beggars. One of which was a skinny old man with a kind face, distinct jaw line, and a gruff white beard. He hobbled down the pedestrian sidewalk of Liberation Avenue in downtown Asmara, past a line of homeless, grasping tight his well-used yet sturdy cane and then he stopped. He had spotted a young Caucasian teenager and his mother, us, sitting in front of the towering Ave Maria Cathedral.

Bryce Rigney in front of Ave Maria Cathedral of Asmara, Eritrea.

Suddenly the man came alive, he reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a handful of coins, Eritrean and those from other countries in North Africa. “Hello, hello,” he said with his aged voice, trying to catch my attention. Interested and frankly board of sitting down in front of the cathedral waiting for Dad, I moved over to see what he had placed out for display. Unmasked from his chapped palms were a 1 and 5 Eritrean coins from 1997.

On one side, they displayed images of native animals that had once thrived amongst the lands. The other side depicted soldiers raising up the new national flag to mark their independence in 1991. I asked to borrow his treasures for a minute so I could interest my mom sitting a few steps above with what I had discovered. At the time I hadn’t a clue that they were of no value. In exchange for a couple of 1’s and 5’s I gave him a 10 Nakfa bill, which would most certainly be spent on his dinner that night. It was obvious from his big smile that he was delighted. Before continuing his walk, in broken English he informed me that the dates of the coins were manufactured in 1991 and tried to explain their original values. Then he proceeded down the sidewalk and blended in amongst the busy paths of other pedestrians.

For more information, I found a great short website about the printing of Eritrean money: http://africa.worldofcoins.eu/af-eri.htm

Educational, Eric's Posts, Gulf of Aden & Red Sea

Suakin, Sudan in April 2018 by Eric

May 1, 2018 admin 8 Comments

This article is also posted on the World Cruiser’s Noonsite website under Soaking in Sudan.

April 8, 2018

Before leaving Massawa, Eritrea, I emailed Mohammed Abubaker, Port Suakin’s wonderful yacht service agent, via inReach SE satellite text of our pending arrival. He had arranged a tourist visa, hotel, and transportation for my brother Nick Rigney who flew into Port Sudan from U.S. to join us. No commercial carrier offered flights to Khartoum, where visas are more expensive/complicated and U.S. State Dept considers the city a Level 3 security risk.

Kandu motoring into Port Suakin, Sudan. The ruins of Suakin Island as a backdrop.

Mohammed Abubaker awaiting Kandu’s arrival.

Hailed Suakin Port Control on VHF Ch16 and 14 an hour before arrival. Not until 06h30 when we were almost at the entrance did we get a response, which after answering the standard questions (port of registry, size of yacht, number of crew and nationality, etc.), came immediate port entry permission and a kind welcome. Once well within the channel, we hugged the ruined city of Suakin Island to avoid the shoals of the channel’s opposite (western) side. Nearing the end of the season, we were the only sailing yacht except for an unmanned yacht anchored and covered in Red Sea dust. We anchored just south of the island, before the fishing skiffs, in about 20’: good holding on mud bottom. We were so guarded from swell that below deck, I thought we were in a well-protected marina.

Mohammed Abubakar and Eric Rigney clearing customs and immigration in Kandu’s cockpit.

Per my most recent email arrival estimate, the friendly Mr. Mohammed Abubaker (

mo****************@gm***.com

) was there to greet us, fresh local bread in hand. His English is excellent. He’s tall, handsome, cheerful, and has a deep bass voice, features worthy of a character-actor movie career. His white fiberglass panga/skiff served as our dinghy dock, from which he boarded our dinghy to our yacht, and efficiently collected our documents:

1 passport picture per person for the shore pass
1 passport photocopy per person
1 crew list

Charge for clearing the four of us in, including his commission, $220 USD.

He returned with our shore passes within a couple hours. Additionally we requested 600 liters of diesel (US$0.70 per liter delivered to shore in our gerry jugs), 2 10GB data SIM cards (US$15 ea), and to exchange US$140 (25 Sudanese pounds to the USD, an excellent exchange rate with the understanding that he’d buy back what we didn’t use). Our diesel jugs returned full within 3-4 hrs. Mohammad lent us his portable WiFi hotspot device gratis, so we could spread decent Internet joy among the crew installing one of the 2 SIM cards into the hotspot. (We hadn’t had Internet since leaving India, as Eritrea doesn’t really have anything useable).

Suakin Island ruins. After 100 years of no maintenance, the coral block buildings fell apart.

Visiting the Ruins of Suakin costs 10 Sudanese pounds per person (US$0.40) for an all day pass. Each time we walked around, we bumped into a friendly local authority ready to describe the ruins in his best English; very kind. After visiting the local museum a few days later, a short taxi or motorized rickshaw drive away, we had greater appreciation for what we were seeing, how old the site was and how quickly it fell apart.

That evening, Mohammed drove us in his worn four-door Mercedes to an excellent local herb-grilled chicken restaurant. Reading how traditional Muslim Sudan is, whenever ashore, Leslie opted to wear her full body Muslim dress and head scarf so as not to draw too much added glares against herself and the family in general. We saw many more men than women out at night (women made up only about 5% of those out after dark). Our tab for the delicious dinner of 4 chicken halves, 3 bean plates, fresh bread, 5 small water bottles and 2 Cokes was $14 total. No flatware or napkins, yet all food establishments have set up a water can with working spiget and a bar of soap to wash before and after. Air dry always.

Eric Rigney, Mohammed Abubakar, Nick Rigney at Port Suakin in front of Mohammed’s car.

BBQ Chicken Restaurant in the adjacent village.

Mr. Mohammed answered all our questions and solved all our visiting requests. He was our dream official and guide. He drove us to the open market for fruits and vegetable provisioning, as well as shops that sold UHT boxed milk, pasta, and canned goods. He then drove our provisions and us back to the “dinghy dock.”

Leslie wheeling and dealing the local Sudanese merchants for quality produce.

He found a replacement 30l gerry jug for one of ours which its lid no longer held tight. And he arranged a taxi fellow in Port Sudan to act as a city tour guide (Mr. Gafar’s English not so good, so he called Mohammed to clarify whenever necessary. It worked fine). We took a 1hr public bus from Suakin to Port Sudan (US$1/pp). Mr Gafar met up with us and drove us around the port, took us to a fish market, to a wonderfully rustic restaurant for grilled lamb, and an open market for more fruits and vegetables, (we didn’t know how to ask to see the handicrafts bazaar), and drove us back to Suakin Island. There, he took us to the museum and to an awesome local bazaar to buy smaller aluminum jebbanas for serving Sudanese coffee. Total cost for driving us all around: $20.

Leslie and the boys decided to relax on the boat, while my brother, Nick and I went ashore to find some local dinner adventure. We stumbled across a small popular shack serving among other items a traditional bean dish, sprinkled with cheese, topped with fresh chopped tomatoes, onions, and greens, as well as a medium spicy oil sauce. They called it the “special.” Served with the local leavened pita-like bread, we dug into it with relish tearing pieces of bread to dip like tortilla chips at home and drinking small glasses of hot, sweet mint tea. Total cost for two, including 2 teas each: US$2. Note: I’ve been traveling awhile in ancient-culture nations, so I’m perfectly ok to eat with my hands, no flatware, communal plates, bread tossed on a rickety table, flies everywhere, goats, donkeys, etc. Tourists love it, tolerate it, or hate it. I happen to love it . . . a lot. The locals watch us with curiosity and esteem when we partake in their ways.

Early the next morning, Nick and I went to a flimsy blue coffee shack Mohammed recommended, and enjoyed strong ginger-flavored Turkish-style coffee served from a small aluminum jebbana, complete with a filter of dried grass stuffed in the jebbana’s spout. The ceramic shot glasses were half filled with granulated sugar. We spoke in informal international hand language. Flies, goats, donkeys, cats, hawks, local stares, dirt floors, rickety old timber construction, table about to fall down? . . . Loved it!!!

Clearing out with Mohammed was equally as simple. The cost was low, don’t remember because the 30l jug filled with diesel was included in the over all price. Another boat arrived, a French charter captain who’s sailed this part of the world for 14 years. Mohammed highly recommended we speak with Captain Jack. Jack gave us advice that we are exercising:

On the way to Egypt, stop at Sanganeb Reef & lighthouse to snorkel, buy a T-Shirt (US$15 ea. supports the workers), and tour the lighthouse. Per the Red Sea Pilot Guide, we just tied up to the lighthouse pier’s bollard for a couple hours as the current and wind gently kept the boat off the pier. We did all that Captain Jack suggested, enjoyed the pristine beauty and then easily untied and took off. Wonderful experience, super friendly people.
Check into Port Ghalib, cheaper, faster, and friendlier. Make arrangements with one of the two Egyptian Suez Canal agents before proceeding. Visit Luxor.
Skip Hurghada where a new bureaucrat charges boats a lot to check in again and all other costs are high.
Check/clear out of Port Suez after visiting the pyramids.
Stop in Ismailia, required anyway, and visit the wonderful yacht club but don’t leave it to go further ashore as we would have already cleared out of Egypt from Port Suez. Stay until the weather is good, but hopefully spend a couple days at the club: laundry, showers, etc. Hire a pilot.
Drop the pilot off in Port Said, but for the sake of your boat, sanity, and wallet (damage due to ship’s wake, clearing out is harder, more expensive, etc.), keep on going, preferably to Cyprus. From there, cheap flights can take you to the rest of the eastern Med for a lot less money and hassle than arriving by boat.

Suakin, Sudan ruins

Well that’s our experience and learning. We were one of 28 boats this season to stop in Suakin. We heard only 18 stopped in Eritrea. With Mohammed’s help, nothing could be simpler, easier, and more enjoyable than stopping in Suakin, Sudan. He really made it a great experience. If you have more time, I hear you might wish to see Sudan’s pyramids, precursor to the larger, newer Egyptian “copies.” If you want to scuba dive, you need to make arrangements ahead of time through the dive companies in Port Sudan. Most scuba operating boats are liveaboards and in high season, depart for a week at a time. We didn’t dive because all the boats were booked and there were no day trips available. We don’t carry our own dive equipment on Kandu. Just no space.

The Rigneys' Great Adventure