The Zia crew spent a little over two weeks in the Spanish province of Galicia this July. Our visit to the region was full of discovery as well as challenges. Situated in the very northwestern corner of the Iberian Peninsula, this region of Spain differs dramatically in landscape from the rest of the country. A boater's paradise, loaded with seaside villages and beaches, the rocky Atlantic "Costa do Morte" or "Coast of Death," intimidates as much as it entices. Unpredictable wind, fog, and rocks collaborate to validate its ominous name. These same forces also create an abundance of natural beauty and bounty.

Caught unawares in unfamiliar territory, the Costa do Morte has condemned many a vessel to its watery depths over the years. The predominately northeasterly winds above Cabo Finisterre, influenced by land or sea breezes after a day of hot sunshine, often shift up to 180 degrees, creating a dangerous lee shore for the unwary sailor. Fog frequently creeps along the coastal waters, hiding the stunning vistas as well as the lighthouses essential to navigation. Cabo Finisterre, Europe's westernmost point of land, forms a natural dividing line. The "Rias Altas or "High Rivers" north of the Cape offer a more dramatic seascape than the more sheltered, gentler "Rias Bajas" or "Low Rivers." We made plans to explore both.

Zia approached her Galician stopover with a prudent eye to the weather. We got our feet wet in our new country with a few days at the marina in Baiona before getting back into the serious business of cruising. The Islas Cies was the perfect first stop, giving the girls a day of free play on the beach, and mom and dad a day of relaxation without having to pay too much attention to them.

The Islas Cies is a group of islands that make up a Parque Nacional just 8 miles away from Baiona. The beach we chose on Isla de San Martin is only accessible by boat, although there is a ferry that delivers campers and sun worshipers to the neighboring Isla Del Norte. We were warned that boats are not allowed to anchor overnight at the park, so when we saw an official looking "Guardia" boat come and drop the hook around 6pm, Joe dinghied over to get the skinny. (He is thrilled to be able to communicate with the locals.) He managed to get us special permission to anchor overnight. We were one of half a dozen boats permitted to do so, and we felt privileged. As the bay slowly emptied of all the day trippers, we enjoyed our first dinner at anchor in Europe in relative seclusion.

Our first swim was a bit of a shocker, as the temperature of the North Atlantic ocean at 42 degrees of latitude flooded our lingering tropical memories. I imagine we will get used to it, in time, and hopefully it will warm up as we head south, but for now the short swim from bow to stern suffices for this old salt!

Meeting up with friends in the Ria de Aldan the next day, we managed to prolong our beach theme for a couple more days. We moved up one river to the Ria de Pontevedra for another beautiful, coarse sand beach. Although much more crowded than we are used to, I was astonished to find ourselves, as the sun slowly descended in the Sunday evening sky, alone in the anchorage.

Although we often decide our destinations based upon the beaches, the first thing we inevitably seek once we arrive is wireless internet access. This has proven to be more of a challenge since arriving on the European continent than I would have ever guessed. In the middle of nowhere, Bahamas, ninety percent of the time we were connected. Granted, it cost us $40 a week in the Abacos, but we often traveled 10 miles between gorgeous secluded anchorages, connected the whole trip. It was well worth the price tag for us. The transition from eight hours a day in front of our computers to the cruising lifestyle has left us with a certain obsession with connectivity. We're lucky it was fairly easy in the Caribbean and Bahamas, or we might very well have called this whole crazy scheme off right away! A year into it, we are handling the withdrawal with a little less alarm.

After a wonderful weekend with our friends, enjoying the beaches and vacation resorts of the area, we found ourselves on our own again. Joe and I devised a plan. There's a big town called Sangenjo just three miles across the river. Let's go see if we can connect! Although the trip was really too short to raise the main, the breeze was perfect to sail over with the genniker. Half a mile out from our goal, I started picking up signals. Connected!

"3Com seems to be working for us." We have learned that these generically named signals tend to deliver the free connections more often than, say, "Telefonica." I started surfing and downloading emails.

"Oh, I just lost it. Well there are a whole bunch more signals here, let's drop anchor." We sat at anchor for an hour, replying to the emails and trying to reconnect. It wasn't happening. Telefonica was the strongest signal but it was a pay service. I muddled through the sign-up procedure in Spanish, entered the credit card information, and prepared to connect.

"Producto o servicio NO confirmado. No se le va a cobrar el producto o servicio." Dang.

"Well, try it again," Joe almost pleads.

I go through the whole thing again with the same result.

"Tell you what, lets raise the hook and go back out to where we were picking up the 3Com signal. That worked great." Looking back at the track from that little expedition tells the whole story.

After sending off all our emails, we went the three miles back across the river and anchored in virtually the same spot as before.

Ready for a "real sail," we left the next morning, motoring, for the Rio de Muros. Fog and no wind accompanied us for the 33-mile trip north. Arriving in Muros, moving towards the anchorage, we were thrilled to see a "Biblio-Galicia" wireless signal on the computer. We had figured out this free service from the marina in Baiona, when we had first arrived in Spain. We anchored among the half dozen other boats. Disappointment flooded us as we repeatedly tried to connect, unsuccessfully. Giving up, we went into town, looking for a decent meal.

Muros is charming; an old fishing village with a 15th century church, tiny cobblestone streets and open-air restaurants. We were disappointed to learn that we had just missed the local festival, the Fiesta de la Virgen del Carmen. Each of the 3,800 parishes in Galicia has its own fiestas and fairs throughout the summer months. Our Royal Cruising Club cruising guide mentions the dates of the local fiestas for each location it describes. This religious ceremony in Muros involved a church service and an elaborate blessing of the fleet. Not to worry. We were sure to catch a local festival in another village before leaving the region.

Although the festival day in Santiago de Compostela was not until July 25th, we decided to make the journey by bus to the famed pilgrimage destination on the 20th. The city and cathedral were spectacular, and we enjoyed watching the throngs of international pilgrims flood the streets and squares of the old historic district. We managed to explore the whole historic section of the city without a thought about connecting to the Internet.

Back in Muros, we had tracked down the "Biblio" wireless signal to the square in front of the library. Once a day (really, just once...usually) we trekked up the staircase for our Internet fix. Joe and I started taking turns, since the kids complained vociferously when we all went. Joe and I would gorge for an hour on the free connectivity, leaving them bored and restless. Aside from emails and intermittently successful skype phone calls, we had to check on the weather, for safety's sake, after all.

The weather forecast promised mellow conditions, so we ventured north, around the legendary Cabo Finisterre, to our first and only Ria Alta, the Ria de Camarinas. Luckily, the fog stayed away and we got a good view of Cabo Finisterre, shrouded in clouds but otherwise unintimidating.

Nothing in particular attracted us to Camarinas, other than that it was a convenient distance away and sounded nice in the guide book. We arrived in the evening, saving our exploration of the city for the next day.

Unfortunately, the next day dawned cold and foggy. We did enjoy the local market and a walk around town but were unable to find wireless Internet. The yacht club had a couple of computers we could use, although we generally prefer to connect with our laptop. That way we can save any important emails and weather information to view at a later time back on the boat.

Not finding much difference between this little fishing village and the last one, we decided to head back south. We had a rendezvous with family in Portugal in a few weeks so we needed to start making our way along the coast. We had skipped the Ria de Arousa on our way north, "the largest of the Galician rias and perhaps the most attractive for cruising," so we set sail south for Ribeira. Reading up on the area, it seemed that our timing on the festival thing might have improved. The "sardinada" or sardine festival occurs on the 25th of July in nearby Cambados. Although not an object of admiration for much of the Zia crew, the sardine is a local staple and the festival must be something worth seeing. We decided to hang in Ribeira and see if we could find out more about it.

Our first night at anchor, Saturday night, we were awoken by the shouts and songs of happy vacationers from the nearby beach. On my exploration of the city the next morning, I was shocked to run into several groups of youngsters (did I really say that? I'm still a youngster myself!) obviously just heading home at the end of a long evening. Wow! This is a party town. The cruising guide had warned that this ria was particularly popular with vacationing Spaniards. Plus, it was the weekend.

On our quest for an Internet cafe, we discovered much of the city before finally stumbling into the Bar Plaza. It really isn't such a bad way to see a town, meeting the locals as you request directions, making frequent inquiries to double-check your sketchy Spanish translations. A definite festive atmosphere still resonated throughout the town. We noticed bands of rowdy locals of all ages, each group wearing a distinct, brightly colored T-shirt, wandering the streets and squares. Occasionally a car, blaring its horn and full of pinks or reds or greens, would careen around the corner. Sitting in the square, enjoying a free wireless connection and a glass of wine, we finally figured it out. Today was festival day in Ribeira! We could not believe our luck. La Fiesta de Las Dornas is huge. Thousands of people from all around the area would be descending upon the town. As our luck had it, the formalities were just beginning down at the port.

Anticipating a religious ceremony and some sort of procession, we squeezed our way through the crowd to see what was happening along the walls of the fishing harbor. We couldn't quite make out what exactly was going on through the heads, arms, and legs of the teeming mass.

Joe volunteered to go fetch our dinghy. Clearly, the way to see this was from the water. We basked in anticipation as we found ourselves in the middle of a dozen other boats full of locals, getting a close-up and personal view of an ages-old tradition. This is what we are out here for!

Slowly, it dawned on us. Rather than respectful reverence, the crowd seemed to still be celebrating in the rowdy fashion we had observed earlier. We could scarcely believe it when we saw our first glimpse of the main attraction of the Dornas Fiesta. Different teams, holding aloft strange homemade constructions of just about anything you can imagine, run through the crowd and vault themselves and their creations off the seawall.

We saw everything from baseball hats, to simple cardboard boxes, to elaborately designed airplanes. The groups in same-colored t-shirts represent the different teams. There were at least three dozen displays that wound up floating in the fishing harbor to the wild cheers of the crowd.

We had to resort to the Internet to figure out the meaning of La Dorna. We had actually seen some dornas when we first arrived in Ribeira. We were a little surprised to find out that they are actually sailboats.

An ancient Nordic design brought to southern Europe by the Vikings, these simple homemade sailboats were widespread in the region as long ago as the 11th century. They were used primarily by fisherman, and today have been adapted with engines, but there is a movement to revive the pure sailing dorna. The simple homemade quality of the original boats, combined with a convenient excuse for another party, created La Fiesta de la Dorna in 1948. This was not exactly the centuries-old, solemn, and meaningful tradition we had anticipated. Are you sure it wasn't invented by Americans?

We returned to Baiona for our last few days in Galicia. Determined to better our previous record for enjoyable dining in the region, we decided to go out for dinner "like real Europeans," as our daughter Cassie likes to say. We left the boat at about 8:30pm for a little stroll down the street. We stopped for a drink and some tapas at a little bar along the way. Tapas, at least in Galicia, are little free dishes that they offer with your drinks, usually olives, or bread with salami or cheese. As we were sipping our beer, a gentlemen whom we recognized walked by. He came over to say hello. We couldn't quite place where we had seen him, and his English was nonexistent, so his brother helped translate. Ricky Rodriguez is from Miami, but comes to visit his family for two months every summer in Baiona. We had seen his brother at the yacht club earlier that day, where we had been inquiring about wireless Internet access. (They offer free wireless Internet access when you dock with them.) We had a wonderful chat with him, offering him a beer and asking for advice for our final meal in the region. After he snuck in to pay the tab, Ricky walked us down to his favorite family-run restaurant down the street. Declining our offer for dinner, he nonetheless walked us in and had a few words with the proprietress on our behalf. We loved our meal of Piementos de Padron (grilled peppers), Tortilla Espanola (potato and onion omelet), Langoustas (grilled shrimp), Mejallones a Vinagre (mussels), Patatas Fritas (of course) y Ensalada. Glancing at the clock, we realized it was eleven o'clock by the time we finished. We couldn't quite bring ourselves to go all the way and stop for an ice cream on the way home. We saved it for breakfast the next morning!

We left Galicia with fond memories. The region is well worth the time and effort spent in discovery. The weather is definitely much cooler than the rest of Europe, which can be a blessing when temperatures in the rest of Spain are climbing into the 90s. Dining out is much easier if you enjoy seafood, but you can certainly find alternatives, with a little patience. Although less convenient, we are also able to find places to satisfy our Internet cravings in virtually every little village along the coast. Prices are incredibly cheap. I can count on one hand the number of Americans we saw in Galicia, apart from Santiago de Compostela. We left much of the region undiscovered and I found myself wishing we had bicycles on the boat so we could get into the countryside a little more easily. The whole northern coast of the region, including Basque country, remains undiscovered, awaiting our next visit.