Nothing to see here.

We set off from Figueira da Foz at 09:30, a little later than usual, hoping the fog that we'd awoken to would lift . It didn’t.

We hadn’t had a particularly restful night. Between the surge from the numerous passing fishing boats and the dredging going on throughout the night, right next to us, Juna had spent much of it rolling and rocking about.

There was absolutely no wind and a significant swell of two to three metres was running across the breakwater entrance. A container ship had gone out five minutes before us, and watching it pitch and disappear behind the waves was not particularly encouraging.

Visibility became no more than 50 metres. We could hear waves crashing around us as we rose and fell on some incredibly steep waves. I felt very thankful for the charts and radar, since none of my other senses were contributing to what was around us. It was an intimidating start.

We’d already decided to make this a shorter passage, following our friend Nick’s (from Nick and Lucy Sailing) recommendation to visit Nazaré. We were glad of that decision, because the fog stayed with us the entire way. So did the complete lack of wind.

A significant swell with no wind to sail in is uncomfortable enough. What I hadn’t quite accounted for was how exhausting it would be to spend hours trying to see through the fog. We were constantly looking for fishing buoys, pot markers and whatever detritous teh Portuguese had floated in our path. Just as one started to think it was all clear, another collection of markers would appear and you’d be back to peering into the murk.

After a while, I started seeing those little worm-like shapes drifting around in my vision. Then it became a question of what I was actually looking at. A ripple? A seagull? A dolphin? A pot marker? Or just something in my eyes?

By the end, the strain of looking was as tiring as the movement of the boat.

After about seven hours and 37 miles, we approached the narrow entrance to Nazaré. At 300 yards out, we still couldn’t see it. What we could see were patches of white, which turned out to be waves breaking on either side of the entrance.

Aim for the bit that wasn’t white, then - that the plan.

At perhaps 100 yard, the two large entrance markers finally appeared, and we made our way through the breakwater.

We then had the next small challenge: finding our way around a completely unfamiliar harbour in the fog. Fortunately, the marina staff were fantastic and guided us in without too much fuss.

And that was that. Another little passage in the books. We were very glad to be off the sea.