Image: “Corto Maltés” in Venecia
Álvaro González de Aledo Linos, born in Santander, is a doctor, yacht captain, writer, and expert sailor.
Aboard the 6-meter-long sailboat “Corto Maltés” (Tonic 23 model), Álvaro has completed long voyages, usually more appropriate for a much larger sailboat. His voyages include tours of Spain, Italy, and France, and trips to Brittany and London.
Furthermore, some of his voyages and adventures have been immortalized in books in which he brilliantly and entertainingly recounts details of his preparations, anecdotes from his travels, and his own conclusions about sailing small boats.
We thank Álvaro in advance for sharing his experiences with our readers in this interview.
Image: Álvaro González de Aledo
Álvaro, Santander is the birthplace of great sailors. When did you start sailing and how did you gain experience?
At 11, I took my first sailing course in Santander, followed by others. I completed my degree and pediatrics specialty in Madrid, which kept me away from the sea. When I finished, I had two priorities: finding a job that would give me enough free time and living near the sea again. I achieved both by returning to Santander. My first boat was a dinghy, then a Condor 20, and I’ve had my current one, a Tonic 23, for 20 years now, with no desire to change it.
Can you describe to our readers what the “Corto Maltés” sailboat is like? Features, sails, engine, living space, etc.
It’s a 1985 Jeanneau design. For years, it was the cruising boat of the famous sailing school on the Glénan Islands in France, which speaks volumes about its seaworthiness. My version has a folding centerboard inside a keel, with a length of 6.90 m, a beam of 2.41 m, and a draft of 0.70 m with the centerboard raised and 1.38 m with the centerboard lowered. The height of the cabin at the foot of the companionway is 1.77 m, exceptional for this length. A large window forward of the cabin provides a view of the horizon and the course from inside, which is a safety feature when sailing in bad weather, as it allows you to remain inside.
The kitchen has a single camping gas burner and a single-bowl sink with a 25-liter water tank. It does not have a refrigerator.
To starboard of the companionway, there is a “bathroom” space separated from the cabin by a door, containing a chemical toilet and hangers for wet clothes that drain into the bilge.
There is a large chart table to starboard, facing aft, a double bed forward, and another double bed aft, below the cockpit.
The engine is a 6 HP outboard engine housed in a well under the starboard cockpit bench. The rudder is made of fiberglass, hinged at the transom, and can be raised a few centimeters so that when the centerboard is raised, it is level with the lower end of the keel, avoiding hitting the shallows if sailing with the centerboard raised or when grounding.
The boat can be grounded with the aid of stanchions supported by the keel. The centerboard is hoisted by tilting backward, a very safe system for sailing on sandy beaches, as if the bottom is touched, it gently yields and slowly lowers into its box.
The wardrobe includes a mainsail with two reefing strips and a genoa (with two spare ones), an asymmetrical spinnaker, and a storm jib.
The boat has no wind equipment, AIS, radar, depth sounder, life raft, windlass, refrigerator, oven, hot water, shower (although we made a system so we could wash ourselves on board), fixed electrical wiring, or alternator. It flies the Spanish flag and is licensed for Zone 4 (12 miles).
Image: “Corto Maltés” in London
You have completed long voyages with the “Corto Maltés.” What do you think are the reasons for its success?
The first and foremost is not nautical but vital: having time. I’ve always been clear that many times in life you have to choose between making time or making money. Most people choose money, and they’re wrong. In my professional life, I’ve often had this dilemma, and I’ve always chosen time. Now I’m less wealthy but happier.
Second, having a small boat. It gives you enormous advantages, primarily being able to travel across the interior of continents by rivers and canals, not just by sea. It allows you to transport the boat by road to access or return from distant navigational areas, instead of endlessly repeating the surroundings of your home port. It makes it easier to access crowded ports, where there’s always room for small units. And it makes it easier to access tidal ports, which lose draft or dry up at low tide, allowing you to leave the boat aground with its props.
Third, having a simple boat, with few devices that are a source of breakdowns. When you get used to sailing with lots of electronics and amenities, any equipment failure can leave you stranded. A breakdown in a foreign country during the summer months can ruin a trip. Workshops are often closed or in high demand, and if you’re inland, there may not even be any nautical workshops for hundreds of miles around. I’ve known sailors who’ve had to leave their boat moored in the canals for a year, only to return the following year with a mechanic and spare parts. In the worst-case scenario, an engine failure in the canals, with a small outboard it’s easy to fix: buy another one for 1,500 euros (even through Amazon, which will deliver it to you wherever you are), take the broken one home, repair it, and sell it secondhand.
The planning phase is critical. What aspects would you highlight from this phase for the “Corto Maltés” voyages?
This phase is the most unknown. Sailing around Spain, France, or Italy isn’t just a matter of leaving home one day and saying “see you later.” It requires several months of advance planning, studying the maps, legal requirements, where to rig and unrig, hiring a truck if you’re returning by road, the locations and dates where you’ll change crews, organizing your work situation by obtaining unpaid leave or similar, etc.
To choose a destination, I multiply the available time by 30 miles per day, which at the standard speed of 4 knots means sailing for about 8 hours, including port entries and exits. That’s about the same as a workday, to arrive at the port in the early afternoon and have time to explore the area and take care of the crew. From this distance, 10% must be subtracted for unforeseen events due to weather, days off due to breakdowns or crew changes, and days off. The straight-line distance must be reduced by about a third due to the tacking. Finally, consider whether you’ll be sailing at night, because one day of night sailing is equivalent to three or four days of daytime sailing alone.
How do you organize crews and life on board a small ship? Have you had to use your skills as a doctor on board?
There are always two people on board. My crew members rotate every two weeks, and I choose them based on friendships, blog posts, or spontaneous communications. I’ve sailed with 16 crew members now, and many have returned in subsequent years. I only had a serious problem with one, as he got seasick and returned to Spain on his first day, leaving me stranded 1,500 km from home and facing the most difficult stages of the journey to London in the middle of July. A lasting friendship has been forged with the others.
Life on board is easy since we have the relief of the daily port stops.
And as for the medical aspect, fortunately, it’s very rare and only for minor issues.
Image: "Corto Maltés" under Eifel tower
Some of the voyages you’ve taken have been on river navigation. What are the challenges or aspects to consider on rivers and canals?
First, the boat must be prepared, taking into account the need to dismast, the limited draft, and the height under the bridges. A reasonable margin must be allowed, as during dry periods the draft is reduced, and during periods of flooding the clearance under the bridges decreases. This information is provided in navigation guides and must be heeded, as well as the warnings to mariners for each section (works, damaged locks, etc.), as there are no alternatives, and if you encounter a closed section, you have no choice but to turn around and return the way you came.
Second, the legal requirements. Mainly the river navigation permit, which is complementary to those we have for the sea, but essential. Many are unaware of this requirement because it is not common for the authorities to ask for it, but if you were to have an accident, which is not unusual in the locks or with the hectic traffic of the canals, your insurance might not cover you. Furthermore, some traffic and right-of-way rules are different than at sea, and this is what you learn when you get your river permit.
A challenge for sailboaters is the exclusive dependence on the engine, as you are unmasted. Added to this is eutrophication (“green soup”), or uncontrolled algae growth, which can make it impossible to navigate some sections or burn out the engine due to the clogging of the cooling ducts and the algae blocking the propeller. This is made worse by the lack of rescue and towing services (since your life is not in danger). With any breakdown, you find yourself stranded inland, without a car to go and get help or spare parts, with no one to tow you, and with workshops closed or overworked in the summer.
Another challenge is the wide variety of hydraulic infrastructure you must navigate, which is usually unfamiliar to seafarers: locks, river waterfalls, water ramps, lifts, etc. River locks are especially dangerous, because if your engine stalls upstream of the lock, you’ll be swept away by the current into the waterfall parallel to the lock (several meters high, like a waterfall) and fall off with the boat.
I must make special mention of leptospirosis. It’s an infection transmitted by coypus (giant rodents that live in rivers and canals) and in severe cases causes meningitis and encephalitis. Lock keepers are vaccinated, but boaters are not, which is why bathing in the canals is not recommended, or even prohibited.
And finally, commercial traffic. On small canals, these are the chartered boats, for which no license is required, and which are truly dangerous due to the inexperience of those who operate them. On larger canals, these are the enormous passenger ships, or even merchant and oil tankers, with which the waterways and locks are shared.
Image: “Corto Maltés” with “Joshua” (Moitessier sailboat)
Of the voyages you’ve taken, which has been your best moment? And the most difficult or complicated?
The best is usually the arrival at the destination. Sailing beneath the Eiffel Tower, in the Venetian lagoon, or under London’s Tower Bridge, and having a photo of my boat there, is a magical moment. And the peace of that relaxed sailing, and the break from your busy life of the rest of the year, too.
Among the worst are the accident on the trailer when we were heading to the Mediterranean for the sail to Elba (one of the trailer legs got stuck in the hull and punctured it), or on the return to Spain, the impossibility of leaving the Guadalquivir due to the enormous waves generated when the river’s current clashes with the wind and tide. On the return to France when our outboard burned out in the canals, and on the return to Italy when we were caught in a waterspout and then the Bora in the Adriatic. And on the sail to London, when a crew member abandoned me on his first day of sailing, and the numerous storms at those high latitudes, which immobilized us in port for many days.
On your trip to France, you left your ship’s name written in the waters of the Brest roadstead. How did you do it?
It was an intangible gift for those who followed us on the blog, which consists of writing a message in the sea with your boat’s wake, which is recorded only on the plotter screen. In effect, it’s something that doesn’t exist and has never existed, because while you’re making a letter on the surface of the sea, the previous one has already been erased. Ana and I did it as we left L’Auberlac’h Inlet, south of Doubidy Point (48° 19.44′ N; 4° 25.09′ W). We had to be very careful at the helm (Ana was at it) and watch the boats around us so they wouldn’t interrupt us. When one approached, we had to slow down or accelerate, but never change course because it would ruin everything. The work was very fine, and its value lies in the two hours and eight “useless” miles we dedicated to our friends for following us with such enthusiasm, and in the precious memory it represents for us. Above you can see a photo of the result.
You include some interesting caricatures in your books. Can you tell us what they are?
I call them “dibucartas” because they’re a mix of a letter and a drawing. It’s a short text in which I describe the highlights of that chapter. It’s handwritten, and at some point the letters begin to twist, mixing uppercase and lowercase letters, and other tricks, so that the text becomes a drawing. I draft the sentence as the characteristics of the drawing appear, and I make, for example, a pointed letter (A or N) at the height of an animal’s ear, a round letter (o, a, G), and so on. They’re read by turning the book, and when the sentence needs to be interrupted because the drawing can’t hold any more, I add ellipses (2, 3, or 4) to resume the text where that number of ellipses appears again. I’ve attached an example. In my books, there’s usually one for each chapter, and at the end, an appendix includes a transcription in case someone can’t read the entire dibucarta. The transcript you can see in the image below, which is my boat seen from the fin and closes the log of the trip around Italy, says:
Hola navegantes. Después de dos mil doscientas millas en la estela y 111 días en la mar, he vuelto a Santander … Dar la vuelta completa a Italia es la realización de un sueño …. acariciado durante dos largos años, y que hemos logrado a pesar de las dificultades de la navegación y de la pandemia. Aunque no lo hago por demostrar nada, está claro que se puede ser feliz haciendo grandes navegaciones con veleros pequeños. Sólo hay que extremar la prudencia, conocer bien tus limitaciones y las de tu barco, y disponer de tiempo, ese tesoro. Ojalá os animéis como lo he hecho yo.
Finally, Álvaro, do you have any sailing project in the near future that you can share with our readers?
Yes, this summer we’re going back to the Mediterranean via the Canal du Midi to explore the French islands (there are at least 13 where you can land, inhabited or not) and the inland seas, like our Mar Menor, where you can sail (there are 3 or 4). We’ll set sail on June 2nd, and you can follow us on my blog:
cortomaltes2012.blogspot.com
From “Navegantes Oceánicos (Bluewater Sailors)” we would like to thank Álvaro González de Aledo for his collaboration with this interesting interview, which showcases his extensive sailing experience. We are sure it will be useful to those who wish to expand their horizons aboard their sailboat.
You can find more information and follow the adventures of “Corto Maltés” on the blog:
Note: On this same blog you can purchase Álvaro González de Aledo’s books, which describe the voyages of the “Corto Maltés.”
