The Ferry From Hell

Today I took a ferry ride that made the Picton ferry in New Zealand look like a lazy Sunday afternoon stroll.

We had gotten up very early in the morning to get the bus from Seville to Algerciras, from where we would get a bus to Tarifa and the fast ferry to Tangier, Morocco. From there we would get the overnight train to Marrakech, arriving around 8am the next day. Good times. Easy.

And to be fair it was fairly easy, but for one thing: the weather. It was absolutely hammering it down when we left Seville, and although the weather seemed to have improved markedly when we arrived in Algerciras, we were informed that either the bus to Tarifa no longer runs, or for some reason the fast ferry wasn't running, but either way, we weren't going to Morocco that way. Instead, we had to get the 2 hour slow ferry from Algerciras. No problem - or so we thought.

We headed out to the little supermarket in the ferry terminal and got some supplies for the journey - I mean, once we arrived in Tangier we would need something for the overnight train, probably better to get it in Spain than in some dodgy little market stall, right, where the hygiene might be a little dubious? So we armed ourselves with some bottles of water and some boccadillos, then set off to board the ferry.

The journey started off alright, we left the port, the sun was sort of shining, wind blowing a little - but nothing major, our hair flowing gently in the breeze (when we sat outside). It was all good - until we rounded the headland and left the relative calm of the bay...

Seriously, this crossing made the Bass Strait (during the Sydney to Hobart) look like Lake Windermere on a lazy summer's afternoon! The ship was literally bouncing up and down on the waves, up, up, up - then crashing down, down, down... at one point I timed it - 4 or 5 seconds of climbing up the waves then 3 or more seconds of crashing down- it was like a rollercoaster ride at Dreamworld or something. Suffice to say after about half an hour of this it wasn't long before the first splashes of vom occurred - and then the blokes came around with little vom bags for everyone!

I don't normally feel seasick, having been brought up in Brisbane and having been around boats ever since I was knee-high to a grasshopper, but with the weather like this it didn't take all that long for me to feel somewhat queasy and then it was a fight to the death not to succomb - good old Aussie pride was at stake here!

I thus contemplated my failsafe method of dealing with seasickness; which is to go outside, breathe in deep gulps of fresh sea air whilst firmly fixing my eyes on the horizon - unfortunately with the strong winds and the huge waves I practically ended up overboard in the drink, so I had no choice but to return inside. Alas, by this point, the inside of the cabin smelt like an explosion at a parmesan festival, which only made it worse. In the end, it was only by focussing, zen-like, on being 'at one with the boat' that I managed to avoid the dreaded vom and come through the whole experience relatively unscathed and with good ole Aussie pride in tact...

Now I just have to survive the smells and bells of the Tangier market before boarding our overnight train to Marrakech - as long as there is no hint of parmesan I should make it... fingers crossed...