A few days in Las Palmas on the island of Grand Canaria, Canary Islands.
Although it is off the coast of Morocco, it is owned by Spain and most definitely a "part of Europe".
European Union passport holders walk right through and the Euro is the local currency.
The Canary Islands are to Europeans, what the Bahamas are to Americans. . . .
some place warm to visit during the winter that is only a couple hour flight.
More importantly for me, it is where I started my trans-Atlantic sailing voyage.
The easiest way for me to get to the Canaries was through London.
This building is giving birth to an airplae.
The South African Airways jet I arrived on 3 hours earlier.
The now retired super-sonic Concord jet.
A cargo ship.
Arriving at Gran Canaria.
Fish farms slightly offshore.
Arriving in the city of Las Palmas.
The first of many rainbows.
The 2nd rainbow.
The 4th (boy I forgot how many there were).
The crew of the Matilda, where we would be leaving from in a couple days.
A local Spanish style restaurant with ham-hocks hanging from the ceiling.
Driving through the port looking for Immigration. As the only non member of the EU, I was the only that had to get and exit stamp in my passport.
The captain of the vessle has to present the passport.
A very windy day.
Returning the rental car.
Local grocery store.
The local beer.
Meeting with some friends aboard Matilda.
Running into a friend in town.
Tea onboard, talking about the upcoming departure.
The company I SCUBA dove with.
All of the ARC boats awaiting race day.
Some people from a town I know well.
Sun Downer party for sailboat crews.
Carrying the repaired outboard back to the boat.
Dumpster Dave diving in the trash pile.
And the race begins.