Celtic Sea

Shortly after I bid Chris so-long at the International Ferry port I joined the ship. Having staggered up to my cabin (Deck 8, starboard side towards the bows) with all of my touring gear, save the bike and tent we set off for Spain.

The scale of the ship warps the perception of speed, the vessel appears to lumber forward, but my GPS reports that we are making headway at around 30mph (very fast for a big ship). Stood out on the deck, near the bow of the ship, the wind is fierce (I was seriously worried it was going to blow my tripod and camera overboard) and I can better apprehend our speed of travel.

By night fall my GPS showed our position as being in the English Channel, directly south of Exmouth and North of Perros-Guirec in France. The sky had become overcast, which was disappointing as I had hoped for a brilliant star-field, being so far out from shore (and hence light pollution).

Although the stars weren't out, the lights of other vessels in the busy shipping lane of the English channel could be seen across the horizon. I was woken in the night by one particularly pronounced roll of the ship, but I've fortunately experienced no sea sickness or the like.

By the time I rose, we had passed Brest and were off Nantes in the Bay-of-Biscay. Around noon I caught my first sight of wild dolphins, playing in the wake of the ship. A guide from the Orca association assured us that we were yet to enter prime Whale and dolphin spotting territory, which begins about 3 hours out from Bilbao, but I saw only a handful more (and none close enough to be properly photographed).

The rest of the afternoon was occupied with watching for whale and dolphin and reading on the deck (Jules Verne's "Around the World in 80 days") and generally attempting the pretense of being rather more civilized than I consider my self to be.

I've long been fond of slightly archaic modes of travel, and a day long sea voyage to Spain well into the era of jet travel would certainly seem to count.

My impression of the cruise-ferry is that it is an elegant mode of travel; it allows a traveler to attain a state of repose beyond the reach of those traveling by air. It certainly suits me down to the ground. Two of my failings when it comes to holidaying are that I hate to wait and I'm not very good at just relaxing. The cruise ferry seems to be a good solution to this problem, as I'm making progress whilst relaxing.

I've a cabin, there is a cafe', restaurant and bars, amongst other facilities, so the effect is like chilling in a hotel, but I'm actually making headway. The engines produce a gentle thrum. The swell causes a rocking of the ship, barely perceptible whist sat, but quite noticeable when walking the deck.

The fittings in my cabbin make a quite, slightly forlorn creaking as the ship pitches, which I imagine to be not far off the sounds that the timbers of a sailing schooner, or man-of-war might have made were I making this voyage 200 years ago. Altogether I find it quite therapeutic, as it reminds me that I'm on my journey.

The sea wall protecting the harbor at Bilbao are topped with wind turbines; they were my first close-up view of Spain seen from the porthole of my cabin on the Cap Finestre as I packed my gear.Weiterlesen