The Straits of Gibraltar

The Straits of Gibraltar is a narrow strait that connects the Atlantic Ocean to the Mediterranean Sea and separates Spain from Morocco - 7.7 nautical miles of ocean at the strait's narrowest point. 

So what I really want to know is why it takes 45 to 60 minutes to traverse in a big ferry a/k/a boat from Tangier's to Gibraltar 7.7 miles?  That's right, a ferry operates between the two cities transporting people and vehicles hourly between Africa and Europe.  Last week Darrell and I were among the passengers making this trip.  We were told it would take up to an hour to make the trip what we were not told was how rough the ride would be, and me with a sensitive stomach often experiencing motion sickness.

The ride on the ferry from Spain to Morocco was rough.  The ride from Morocco to Spain was a rollicking bronco ride.  I have learned since the trip that rough water is a norm because the Strait of Gibraltar serves to directly link the Atlantic Ocean to the Mediterranean Sea which creates certain unique flow and wave patterns due to the interaction of various regional and global evaporative forces, tidal forces and wind forces.  In other words the water may not look choppy but there are undercurrents that are going to jolt your teeth loose.

Me with my sensitive tummy was doing everything in my power to think of something positive and ignore the constant rocking.  Darrell was attentive and filling me with fluids because I had been complaining of thirst. 

We sat at a table with a family from Morocco, mother, father daughter of about 12 years and her friend.  They spoke very little English and I spoke even less Spanish but we were trying to communicate.  The mother was also suffering from motion sickness.  I was trying hard to be brave and not mention my discomfort as we struggled to talk.  The young girl was lovely with big brown expressive eyes and long thick coal black hair.  One day she would drive the boys nuts (perhaps she already did).  In broken English she expressed her love for Johnny Depp, something we both had in common. 

The conversation lagged and I told Darrell I had to go potty.  I knew it would be difficult to navigate across the boat with it lurching so badly so I had waited until I couldn't wait no more.  I walked like a drunk but made it safely to the water closet (as they say in England) and found both stalls occupied.  (Later I learned the crew had locked the doors because they didn't want the toilets clogged from all the sick passengers barfing.)  All I could do was stand in the tiny room waiting for the stalls to be vacated.  So I stood and swayed with the irradiate rocking holding on for dear life.  Finally I started beating on the stall doors begging for whoever was in the stall to hurry up.  I was desperate.  When there was no answer behind the door I staggered out of the tiny enclosure and motioned to Darrell across the room I needed help.  He couldn't figure out what I needed so like a lunatic I yelled at the top of my lungs "BARF BAG".   That did the trick.  He can really move in an emergency. Thank goodness because as he handed me the bag I filled it.  To make matters worse during the fit of vomiting I had no control over my bladder so I peed on myself. 

All in all it was a humiliating experience that I had no control over and I will never take that journey again.