It seems to be Miss Bossy's curse that she's never quite quick enough to get in to a strange harbour in daylight. Yet as darkness falls and there's no chance of making port, she then seems incapable of slowing down enough. The irony of sailing...
So after reducing sail to little more than a hint of canvas, as dawn broke we started to enter La Paloma harbour, our first port fall in Uruguay.
Naturally, as we made our way in to the well set up berthing areas behind the breakwater, the wind kicked up to 20 + kts, giving Miss Bossy Actual an excellent opportunity to yet again demonstrate her surreal berthing abilities to the cast of thousands of awe struck Uruguayans lining the pier. Both of whom, instead of applauding, did help us tie up.
Checking in to the country was probably the least painful experience with officialdom we have thus far encountered. A very pleasant and helpful naval rating bemused by the combination of Portuguese, Portunhol and sign language had our paperwork filled out, stamps affixed and gave us directions on the quickest way to get to a bar in town.
Unfortunately, at this point, our visions of idyllic Uruguay which had so far seem to have been confirmed with our ease of entry, withered and died on the vine. La Paloma itself is, I'm sure, a vibrant beachside resort for both months of the Uruguayan not freezing cold season. However, as said season doesn't commence for another 7 weeks, perhaps one bar/restaurant in six was open for a few hours a day, making the windswept main drag feel like the set of a post apocalyptic movie.
Three nights later, having availed ourselves of the excellent free broadband to stock upon TV, we departed for Punta del Este.
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