Position: 36° 35′ 49″N 4° 30′ 46″W
Spain’s southern coast is better known as the Costa del Sol. England’s relationship with the region is long and colourful. During the 1950s and 60s London’s gang leaders stepped out of the shadows and began rubbing shoulders with a better class of criminals. The gentrification of crime coincided with vicious turf wars that left east London in the hands of a few hard-core thugs.
Most famous in America were, perhaps, the Piranha brothers, Doug and Dinsdale. But before Monty Python’s take on this history, the Piranhas were real-life gangsters Reggie and Ronnie Kray. Twins with attitude. Murder, arson, robbery and assault figured among their talents. As nightclub owners in London’s swinging West End, the Krays partied with the rich and famous.
Barbara
By the end of the 1960s, though, the police had arrested the Krays and key members of The Firm, as their gang was known. Some escaped and ended up hiding out on the ‘Costa del Crime’. So many criminals fled England over the last 50 years, that the Kray’s former fixer Freddie Foreman (rather alliterative, wot? – ed.) said recently, “I hear more Cockney accents in Spain than I do in London”.
Originally invented as a marketing term for the region of Málaga, the Costa del Sol embraces the towns of Málaga, Torremolinos, Benalmadéna and Fuengirola. The coastline is not friendly to those seeking safe anchorage. With no natural harbors and just a few exposed coves, marinas are the sailor’s choice. In the off-season they’re cheap with plenty of availability.
Leaving Gibraltar we stopped in Estepona for a couple of nights. Med-moored (i.e. stern to the quay) we took the opportunity to try out our new passerelle. A passerelle is a fancy French term for a gangplank. Driven by our cruising tightwaddedness we bought a folding ladder with plates covering the rungs when set up. Deploying it for the first time, one of the plates immediately went over the side and sank into 12 feet of cold harbor water. Fixing the problem, not the blame, Karen and Carol pleaded with a diving crew, out checking mooring lines, for help. They happily responded. Once recovered, the passerelle was complete and even Marlon managed to negotiate it with ease and safety. Estepona’s marina stands out for its shower facilities. Hands down the best we’d seen in two years.
Both our new crew members, Karen and Michael, were nervous about seasickness. Michael had sailed to Hawaii from Washington State in his 20’s and knew his stomach well. Karen, a lubberly horsewoman and adventurer, had almost no sailing experience. Taking this under advisement, we kept a close eye on the weather, particularly the swell.
Sketchy
Moving further into the Med meant a couple of things. Tides soon became a thing of the past, and, even in winter, there is either too much or too little wind. Fortunately, the wizards at the European Center for Medium-range Weather Forecasts (ECMWF) get it right most of the time. When I say right, I mean accuracy down to the hour. A couple of times we’ve found 10 knots more wind than predicted, but that’s a problem common with American forecasters, too.
Benalmadéna, our next stop, is all modern condos built right up to the beach and a short step from better-known Torremolinos (itself stunningly unremarkable). If your idea of a good summer holiday is beaches, booze, and discos, then this may be your kind of place.
What about organized crime, you ask? Well, a few Asian massage parlors and sketchy bars near the center were more obvious hallmarks. Otherwise, it seems the criminals keep a low profile, preferring to smuggle drugs and people outside of the central tourist areas. Besides, the shine is off. Police inter-agency cooperation has increased dramatically in the past 20 years and arrests are up. These days the Costa del Sol is no safer for criminals than Norwich.
Pablo
The region’s main city, Malága, dates back to Roman times and was the birthplace of Pablo Picasso (him again – ed.). We spent a sunny day wandering the streets, eating so-so paella and viewing a discrete collection of Picasso’s paintings and ceramics.
Karen and Michael, as honeymooners sometimes need to, decided to rent a car and take off for a few days. We agreed to rendezvous in Almería after they traced our steps through Ronda and Granada.
The modern town of Aguadulce lies a few kilometers west of Almería and is the cruiser’s preferred port of call. Mostly because Almería is a working port with less than a fathom of water. Given the dearth of anchorages and marinas along the coast, Carol and I decided to make the journey in one hop.
The forecast looked good for a 120NM passage: quiet in the afternoon with winds steadily increasing to 15-20 knots overnight. The winds were a little late, starting around midnight, and closer to 30 knots when they came. But with reasonably calm seas, a double reef in the main and a sliver of jib, we kept our speed down and arrived just in time to watch a local 10K run finish up. We tied up alongside the welcome dock and settled in for a few days, waiting for our crew to return.