Sailing... Next morning the sea got rougher, and easterly winds were blowing into our faces, waves rising higher, the ship riding and stomping... We have cut the gulf of *Cadiz* and passed the tower of *Trafalgar* (on the outside – the riff extens 10km out into the sea). Slowly my stomach wound itself up, tighter and tighter. I tried to relax. Look at the horizon! Try to sleep. Close your eyes. Take some medication...
BBRBRRRRAAAAAAGAHGHAHGHGHGHHGHGHHH-pft!!
Ok, so much for that. Sea-sickness had me now. After three times at the ship’s rail, we turned back towards *Barbate* in Spain, were we arrived at 15:00. I heard Joel also got sea-sick, but I was too sea-sick to notice. :__
The marina there is ugly – big concrete walls, outside the town, the administration at the other end of the pier... But showers! We’re experiencing *Seegang* while taking showers, ie. the floor seems to move as soon as we close our eyes. Tartaruga
In the evening, Claudia, Joel and me decide to go for some tuna in town. Bernd gives us approximate directions for a restaurant that he knew from last time, and off we go. We ask some more people, including some Moroccans, and finally find the right spot. I forgot the name; started with a C, I think. El Campista, Campenista, or something like that.
In *Barbate* they have lots of tuna fishing. To do this, they span big wire nets from the coast out to the sea, for miles. The tuna schools that swim too close to the coast on their move from the Atlantic into the Mediterranean or back are trapped by the net, follow it, and end up in a big round trap where they are picked out by the fishermen using harpoons or spears (actually I don’t know which). ¹
