The route we wanted to go was down the Galician coast, into Portugal and then hopping across to either Madeira or the Canaries. There was, however, a minor issue. For the last couple of years killer whales  have started  chomping on boats like a nurse on cake.

What started as gentle curiosity a couple of years ago now seems to have grown into some sort of Orca Olympics, with boats now having their rudders knocked off daily and more recently, boats being sunk. They approach quickly, knock the rudders off or have a quick nibble and then bugger off on their merry way to do the same thing to another boat.

There are whale specialists from all around the world trying to analyse this behaviour, and they still have no firm idea what has caused it, but they are fairly certain it’s adolescent orcas causing all the problems. The older ones, like humans, just can’t be bothered.

It has become a massive problem for sailors due to safety and also for the marinas due to people avoiding that long stretch of coastline from A Coruña to Gibraltar.

The apps and Facebook pages are doing their best to stay up to date with interactions and attacks, as they are called, but the main problem is Orcas move!

Now for a little Orca Overview…

Orcas, also known as killer whales, are among the most intelligent creatures in the ocean. Despite their name, they’re not actually whales at all but the largest members of the dolphin family. So basically just a really  chunky dolphin. Except dolphins don’t sink boats.

They’re built for speed and are capable of swimming at more than thirty miles per hour. This means if they swam at full pelt rather than cruising speed, they could cover the distance from Gibraltar to A Coruña in a day. And whilst there was originally 1 pod,  which gave you a fighting chance of moving about if they were either North or South, now there are 2, so they are acting like some sort of shit underwater relay team.

And because they aren’t tagged they can’t be tracked, making everything we are using to find and report encounters pretty useless. Because once they chomp, they move off. They don’t hang about waiting to be shot with darts by marine biologists. In fairness, I probably wouldn’t.

Despite this, they are rather fabulous. They  are highly intelligent, with one of the most complex brains in the animal kingdom. Their limbic system—the part of the brain responsible for emotions—is exceptionally developed, suggesting a deep capacity for social bonding and empathy. Each pod has its own distinct dialect, a bit like a regional accent, and they communicate through a sophisticated system of clicks, whistles, and pulsed calls. They don’t just communicate; they teach, learn, and pass down hunting techniques through generations, which means orcas actually have cultural traditions.

Which brings us to where we are now. Some teenage arsehole Orcas off the coasts of Spain and Portugal appear to have learned from a few adults how to nudge or push the rudders of yachts, and the behaviour has since spread within the groups. Scientists think it could be a form of practice or play, much like how young orcas test strength and coordination in the wild. All rather lovely and cute. Unless you are on the boat. Which we are.

After weighing up the risks of being sunk, drowning at sea and then being eaten by a giant dolphin, I decided the odds were stacked against me. Thinking logically, as Lee has more life  insurance than me I made the executive decision he should probably do the trip on his own.

I have had too many near death experiences in water as it is, so like the lovely wife I am, I stocked the boat up, cooked and froze loads of food and then got a hire car, chucked the dog in the back and drove 14 hours South, back to my cousin Tracey  down in Granada.

As it was, his pal Rob off Ghostrider fancied a sail so he flew over and they sailed off into the sunset together. 4 hours later a boat was sunk exactly where they had been.

Lee and Rob spent their week sailing South, eating food, tweaking sails, drinking a sundowner each night and, knowing Rob, speaking very little and communicating via the means of mime.

Franco and I proceeded to spend a terribly civilised 10 days with my cousin Tracey and her husband Simon. We ate, drank, visited the witches town of Soportújar and were very happy.

Franco and I flew out to Las Palmas after an absolute epic sorting out flights, hire cars and hotels and Lee picked us up when we arrived. Complete with a little bottle of wine.

And here we are again in Puerto Mogan!  Lee’s now sailing the Challenger 72 around the Canaries, Nerys from Ghostrider is sunbathing on the bow and I’m dying in bed due to what was clearly a couple of bad peanuts I ate whilst I drank a bottle of wine and 2  martinis the previous night.

So that’s us up to date. Laters!