No Ferry. No Cádiz. One Finished Novel.

The storm finally arrived!

This week’s blog was going to be one of glory, of success, focused on my recent trip to Spain, which was not only successful but worthwhile. While I was prepared to sing the praises of what I saw, tasted, and accomplished, the weather fairy decided to make any travel plans negligible and moot. 

Let’s be frank now, I don’t understand how, in 2026, we can’t get the weather models right in this part of the world. Yes, I’m putting it out there in this neck of the woods, the northern tip of Africa and southern Spain, why can’t the weather apps decide what’s really going to happen, even three days out? I don’t understand, period. 

We were supposed to get light rain on Friday morning, but I ended up walking to school in a deluge. No joke. The side streets were streams, borderline rivers with equally fun crossings because my entire route is downhill. Thankfully, I’m a resourceful man and packed a change of clothes, but my sneakers are still not too happy about our little adventure. Three days later, they remain soaked. 

While I’m harping on the streets, the amazing thought process of having tiled sidewalks in Tangier continues to rock my mind. Sure, it’s easy to clean up afterwards, but even a few drops of rain make these routes treacherous. Let’s turn a light drizzle into a downpour, and it’s easier, let alone safer, to take my chances on the roadway. The only saving grace are the locals appear to hide in the early morning hours when these weather occurrences do their business, which means one less thing for me to manage. 

As for my ill-fated trip, I watched a school of little sailboats, we’ll call them minnows, parade out in the bay for a good four hours yesterday afternoon, while the sun basked above them. Meanwhile, the ferries stayed shuttered as though it was a perfect time for a holiday. I joked with my friend that I think the Spanish port wanted a weekend off, because it was fine over here. Only now, at 1:30 Sunday afternoon, has the wind finally arrived, making the water less than ideal for a crossing.​

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Homemade meatballs helped make up for staying home.

The truth of the matter is that the blasted ferry service from Tangier to Tarifa decided there was too much wind to make any runs across the strait as early as Thursday. Why they called it days before the scheduled departure makes little sense, especially when it appears our weather patterns are always in flux. I suppose I should be annoyed about this development. Perhaps, in a way, I am, since I was looking forward to seeing Cadiz and its cathedral. 

All told, this would be the first time in southern Spain that I was actually able to get into a church. Lo and behold, the streak of no church visits, let alone exploration, continues. While I will try this coming weekend, I grow envious of my friends and family back home in the States, where their forecasters seem to be able to predict accurately a snowstorm that will cross over 2000 miles over a three-day period, and yet we can’t even predict if sun or rain will show in a ten hour period. 

Not to be entirely negative or sarcastic, I did make the most of this weekend. Double Cross is complete and now set for preorder. February 10th is the release date. What a relief and a blessing at the same time. I’ll share more details in the coming weeks. The important thing is that the book is done, edited, and ready for readers. While reading Rusty Star beforehand would prove beneficial, the story itself can stand alone. Of all my books, I believe this latest novel is the strongest storywise and is filled with enough details to get you not only immersed in Russell’s world but living in the moment with him. We’ll see, right? 

You can thank the flawed forecast, intermittent rain, and soft breezes for keeping me indoors to complete the project. Now the only questions that remain are whether Cadiz will actually happen this coming weekend and what the next writing project is. Stay tuned and oh… Go Patriots!

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