New Year’s Eve, Atlantic Day.
We had planned to leave around 10.00 and 10.06 was our moment. There was plenty of wind in the channel between the two islands but it dropped from 30knots to 8knots instantly when we entered the lee of the big island, so we motored out of it watching the wind direction and speed indicators until they showed the return of the trades.
The yacht behind us took in his sails when he entered the lee and we haven’t seen him since but we know at least four German boats are leaving today, hot on our tail.
At 11.55 last night the DTW (distance to waypoint, Guadeloupe) reading was 2015 miles, the same as the year. Five minutes later the year became 2016 and the DTW 2014 miles.
The early hours brought along teenage winds, 13 – 19 knots but as the sun rose so did the wind and we are back into the twenties. At 07.23 the DTW was 1965, the year I became a teenager when Rob was 7!
We find it best to sit on the high side of the cockpit at present so we cannot see the approaching waves. The motion is not too uncomfortable and we have slept well. Zoonie is single reefed at present and making over 6 knots. Our first 24 hours should give us 130 odd miles in exactly the right direction.
At 11am on day 2 the DTW was 1958, Rob’s birth year – ok I won’t do any more of those. All is well on board except I broke the 12v Computer charger when Zoonie took a big roll, so blogs must be short to save power. Zoonie is sailing really well on reefed genoa and main. Days are now spent mostly below deck and night watches kept in the cockpit if possible or standing in companionway, it can be a bit wet out there! Motion reasonably comfortable.
On the third day Rob told me he had a burning feeling when he passes water and the urge to pee all the time. So he started taking my cystitis remedy, Trimethoprim and it seems to alleviate the problem until, in the early hours, he woke me up with, “We have a problem, I’m now passing blood.” I reassured him that all his symptoms, including the blood are typical of the uncomfortable complaint but when he started to complain about a lower backache I wondered if the infection had spread to his kidneys so I rummaged in one of our medical boxes for the anti-biotics and he started taking a week’s course.
The days took on a pattern of taking in and letting out reefs depending on whether the wind was above or below 25 knots, meals and snack times and then periods of escapist rest, reading and games on the tablets or sleep, blissful sleep.
The nights on watch sitting in the cockpit, losing oneself in thoughts while, off watch down below, the other one would be lifting and rolling gently on the saloon berth, securely held in by the leeboard, snatching minutes of dream-filled sleep.
We both suffered briefly from withdrawal headaches, Mindelo’s 5% Strela beer! While Zoonie sailed beautifully on a broad reach as comfortably as we could expect in the moderate sea. At the height of the swell I glanced around the distant horizon for other yachts, seven were due to leave after us, but not a sight. We picked up on the AIS an oil tanker crossing our stern bound for Philadelphia but we never saw her.
By day 4 Rob is a little better. The 100s of miles are being knocked off the counter quite quickly (not quickly enough for Rob at this point) which is just as well as there are rather a lot of them, 16 left to go.
Earlier Rob had commented that we probably had enough fuel to get back to Mindelo for him to see a doctor. “In these seas babe, we’d be head to wind pounding into moderate seas for days and use a lot more fuel than normal. It would be horrendously uncomfortable for you me and Zoonie’s gear. Sorry Hun, but this is a one way street.”
I was rapidly forming a list of essentials for this kind of passage-making,
- Find a position where one does not need to brace against the motion – then relax all muscles. 2. Drink lots of water and take plenty of deep breaths as lack of water and oxygen quickly lead to headaches. 3. Sleep whenever possible. I always used to tell my watch members this and they soon realised the need for sleep. 4. Incorporate social times into the day otherwise the essential routine becomes monotonous and we become automatons, or ‘bots.
It was during one such quiet time that I remembered reading Travels with Charlie by John Steinbeck. He was touring North America in a camper van with his pet standard poodle called Charlie. Well the poor dog suffered from prostatitis and John resorted to an aspirin tablet each day to relax Charlie’s muscles and allow him to pee freely. Yep you guessed it, Rob went on to a daily aspirin which really did help matters. But I was getting a little concerned that it was taking so long to get better.
The Autopilot displays were also showing there was some play in the rudder when the wheel was fixed stationary and Henry was working. If wheel is fixed rudder should not move. I had visions of my trying to sail Zoonie rudderless as we had done with Wayfarers when I did my dinghy Instructors course at Calshot years ago. Don’t think my flinging my weight around Zoonie’s foredeck to influence the roll of the hull would have quite the same turning effect it had in a dinghy!
We were surrounded by slate grey ocean seas, waste seas of undulating waves heaving south westwards under the force of the motherwind. As far as the eye can see white cresting tips and troughs, bubbling and surging ever onward. Flying fish fire like arrows to escape their killers ducking and diving before they crash with a tiny gossamer splash back into their sinister and frightening underwater world.
Rob and I have retreated inside, out of the searing sun, for most of the day to enjoy living. We spend time together, like we used to, sitting hand in hand on the windward settee chatting and planning. We pop our heads out into the day every now and then to check the horizon. It’s different at night. With the windows closed and darkness all around it is very nice to sit in the cool of the cockpit, on lookout, stargazing.
The Trade wind is so constant in direction we set Henry the Hydrovane 4 days ago and have hardly touched him since. We have almost become passengers on this mini sailing cruise liner where the steering, navigation and electronic lookout is all done for us.
For the first time we put the engine on for a couple of hours to charge the batteries. The watermaker is sending fresh water into the tank now thanks to Rob activating the switch with the manual override and the tank fills quickly. We add a new switch to the list of things to do when we reach the other side.
17:13.50N 34:35.13W Atlantic first quarter done.
520 miles done, 1557 Miles to go. All is good.
Zoonie surfs toward Guadeloupe.
The wind is now gusting up to 30 knots and the rising swell and Grampian waves have built somewhat and tell us this mini gale is set to continue. The brilliant blue sky and searing sun make it all look magnificent rather than fearful and we are quite happy getting on with our lives down below.
Smoked goats cheese and tomato sandwich with Roquefort cream followed by cold oranges from the fridge are the day’s midday fare. Chilling the oranges like this not only makes them delicious in the hot weather but also brings out their sweetness.
16.30pm 1500 miles to go and 577 done! 23.8 knots of wind and Zoonie getting 6.1 knots from it. All systems are go. Then suddenly,
IBUDUM – a mighty wave hits Zoonie’s rear starboard quarter and in less than an instant she is shot from her heading of 271’ to 345’. She shudders, all things vibrate from top to toe, just like Adena, the Istanbul bellydancer at the close of her act. Henry works in his own steady way to gradually bring her back around in the almost apologetic lulls in the wind that follows the gust. 339, 327, 321, 305, 291, 289, 284, 289(!), 278, 275, 271 there, all is well again.
By seven in the evening we decide to put in a third reef and her speed drops from 7.3 knots to 5.8. Although Zoonie handled the situation we reefed to protect her gear. Frustrating because in the non-lull period she could cope with only two reefs, so we are reefing in the event of a gust.
As the night wore on the wind continued its rise to 32 knots. Occasionally waves come and play with her, lifting her stern high and then pushing hard and forward under her, she frequently surfs at over 8 knots. She loves it. ‘Should we take the main in, set the storm jib?’
Zoonie replied in her calm progress, ‘No thank you’.
We did 125 miles that day (our best 24 hour runs were 135 and 138 miles) and were now one third the way there.
A good sized flying fish joined the eggs and tomatoes in the pan for breakfast. Four or five would have been more worthwhile but beggars can’t be choosers. Besides we both had slightly odd tums, due I think to the Mindelo beetroot being past its best. The wind is dropping and the cockpit has become a more sociable place to be without the risk of being drenched by the odd, promiscuous wave slatting her hull and then leaping vertically before soaking everything and everyone around.
We think the disturbed water as it passes underneath us is carrying a lot of air with it, so the watermaker is not getting pure sea water, resulting in it losing pressure as it operates. Hope that’s it anyway.
On the 5th January we crossed the track of the Stavvy bound for Barbados on 27th January 2004 full with her crew of, by now, well settled and relaxed trainees enjoying a gentle crossing of light winds and starry nights.
We had taken off the central section of the bimini roof so we could get a good view of the night sky. With the Sky Walk app on the ipad we were finding new stars and the location of ones whose names we knew already. The very bright star we thought might have been the space station is more likely to be the combination of Saturn with Venus just behind it.
On day 7, I reported a very roly sea state which happens after a windy spell as the sea takes longer to settle when the new system is upon it. The wind was gradually veering to the east as expected since the North Atlantic system is a clockwise turning circular system. Soon we will be running with it dead behind us.
If we continue on our very broad reach the sails will continue slatting. As they are attached at the top of the mast, every time Zoonie rolls and the mast head cuts an arc across the sky it shakes the wind out of the sails. The boom preventer is holding the boom securely out on the leeward side (opposite to the windy side) but the genoa can slat and bang and make us jump to its hearts content.
Not anymore. Two mere mortals can be seen on her deck. One, the taller is at the mast pulling on a length of rope attached to a pole. The other mortal squats at the outer end of the pole attaching up hauls, down hauls and preventers to it so it cannot swing forwards and backwards, then threading the genoa sheet through the end like cotton through a giant needle, then out it goes. The pole is fixed in its horizontal position, the genoa pulled out and it fills in gratitude and our speed increases from 5 knots to 7.2 with the occasional surf thrown in as a bonus.
Fabulous weather, getting hotter by the day.
That night heavy rainshowers washed Zoonie’s decks and rigging clean from the last vestiges of red Cape Verde grit and dust and sea salt and she gleamed in the morning. By which time we needed to correct her heading and so went back onto a broad reach with plenty of wind.
In fact the squall watches started. So far the squalls had been mild, even giving us a nice extra force of wind in otherwise light airs. But now some were dark, their skirts sinking to the horizon and we have learned from experience that these can increase wind force dramatically and cause gear damage. So early reefing is a must. The good thing about using Henry is that because he works by keeping Zoonie at a set angle to the wind, if the latter changes Henry follows so the risk of an accidental gybe is reduced. Then when the squall passes and the wind returns to normal, back around comes Zoonie too.
So we are now reefed and ready for the next squall. Weather getting warmer by the day. Rain showers again washed Zoonie’s decks and windows last night. Rob and I identified numerous stars and planets from the Ipad Star Walk App.
The fresh food is keeping well, like us and the Mindelo oranges from the fridge are delicious. 937 miles done 1140 to go.
It is proving to be a long slow climb to the half way point, with squalls pushing us off course and Henry slowly restoring our heading. We are back in washing machine mode, an Ariston I think, because this seems to go on and on and on, but we will come out smiling!
But then all of a sudden a mighty squall passes through and they are gone and as if Zoonie knows time has been wasted she picks up her skirts and we are off, downhill and speeding along at 7.00 to 7.5 knots all night long, she’s on the level with just a gentle rise and fall and very slight roll. Bliss.
We love the night watches when there is a clear sky. As we spend hours out there at different stages of the night we can study the circular movement of the celestial sphere around the North star, or Pole Star, Polaris as it appears to hang alone in its own space and is easy to find between Cassiopeia and Ursa Major, The big dipper. The Phoenicians of the eastern Mediterranean, used to steer by the North Star, keeping it over their right shoulder as they went westwards. Rob and I identified numerous stars and planets from the Ipad Star Walk App.
Off night watches the sleeping comes easy – after all what’s not to like about being gently rocked from side to side in a wooden cradle!
6.00am 1040 miles done and half way there.
17:24.55N 46:05.80 Thief aboard, could it be the fridge?
9th January 2016.
The passage is passing quickly and we are well and happy. Yesterday we had a 119 mile run and today is our 74th day at sea since leaving Plymouth. We have covered 1210 Miles and have 867 to go.
Grey skies today, we hope there’s plenty of wind underneath. Passed the 3/4 point just before midnight.
NE wind again 8 – 20 knots in slight to moderate sea.
The Watermaker is working well and we shower every few days so Zoonie smells ok!! Rob feels much better.
The Diva is on stage by 8.00am and we are on the countdown from 999 miles DTW and Zoonie is still powering along.
Preparations are underway for me to take a Polaris sight this evening during the twilight time as the sun descends to 6 degrees below the horizon and there is still enough light to see the horizon. Its a nice easy one to calculate because as Polaris, aka The Pole or North Star, is almost due north or 90 degrees from the equator anywhere in the northern hemisphere, so our Latitude is practically the same as its reading on the sextant, the SA or Sextant Altitude. But not quite, so some calculations have to be done using the Astro Tables, of which I have to use my 2015 ones as I haven’t yet got the 2016 book. This is possible by applying a small addition to the equation.
We are also having a look at the charts of the Caribbean and Pacific to see if there are any more we need and might be able to obtain in Guadeloupe and I am preparing and putting in soak vegetables for tonight’s sweet and sour supper.
During the day the solar panels and windcharger if it has enough wind, keep up with our electricity usage but during the night something is taking around 10% of the battery power and we suspect the fridge. So from now on we will turn it off at night and see how the batteries hold up.
Oh for a drone with a camera, and the knowledge of how to use it. All around is blue sky and mid-Atlantic blue sea (a colour I have never been able to perfectly match on the camera) blue spray hood and genoa edge. All around is white puffy clouds, shimmering white hull, acres of white foaming water being pushed away as Zoonie rushes westwards, racing the wind at almost half its speed, partners in progress, pals in passage-making. I’d love to be able to film her and send the result home.
At night greedy wind guzzling squalls pass over us giving us a welcome 24 knots max wind and we have to reef for them which slows us and sends Zoonie wandering off course.
The next morning we gybed onto a broad reach on the other tack, port tack with wind coming to Zoonie’s left side for the first time, to regain our track line. A pair of white Tropic birds visit us and I wonder if their long tails are made of one or more feathers, they are elegant and exotic.
Nocturnal squalls are tiring, and I slept all morning. With renewed energy and mindful of making use of the little wind we had we set the Diva cruising chute in the afternoon, keeping a close look at the horizon. She gave a fine performance for four hours before we sent her offstage for the night. Instead the full main and genoa gave us a lovely gentle sail on a calm sea.
I sat holding the iPad and aiming it all over the sky to find Sirius, the bright jewel in the Big Dog’s collar. I had already brought Polaris onto the horizon at around 7.34pm the evening before and would do the workings later.
Spurred on by her performance yesterday and the need for speed in these light airs the Diva was back on stage before 8.00am the next morning and gave a magnificent, endurance performance until 18.00hrs. We have covered 1210 Miles and have 867 to go.
I remember when we were on the Stavvy in 2004, not far from here and in similar conditions, a mood of contentment spread across many of the ship’s crew. Off watch people relaxed on her spacious afterdeck in the sun, reading and chatting with new friends and at night permission was often sought from the Officer on Watch to go aloft. From our position at the wheel we would look aloft at the folk sitting on the yards, chatting quietly, silhouetted in the silver light of the moon as Stavvy rolled and heaved gently towards Barbados. Time almost stood still and the present was so delightful the arrival became unwanted.
The fishing line was out astern on Zoonie now the sea was a little calmer. The front deckhouse windows are open and a cooling breeze passed into Zoonie making living below really pleasant. The watermaker is also working well now as it is mostly airless water that is passing under her and the Port tank is soon full once more.
To my genuine amazement the Polaris sight worked out well in relation to the Chartplotter latitude at the time using a 15.1 correction for the present year. We finished the last of the lettuce, tomatoes and hard boiled eggs at lunch today.
The evening brought a wind change and drop as our air was being stolen by a big low pressure system to our north which was speeding towards Europe. The wind soon filled to a sailing breeze but it was bang on the nose, so our choice was motor on course or sail well off course and recover later. We took the first choice and motored for 19 hours.
11th January.
By now we were passing through patches of keel clenching, propellor strangling, mats and skeins of orange Sargasso weed knitted together sufficiently to support objects and we decided to take avoiding action if confronted with a big area of the hard stemmed little plants in case any was taken into our engine and water-maker intakes. This of course meant no motoring at night. At one point I came on deck in time to see Zoonie about to cross an area that extended 30 metres both side of her hull and at least another 30 metres ahead. Avoiding action was needed instantly as the engine was on so I didn’t manage a photo, but I’m sure the image you have pictured in your minds is not far from the reality.
Whirrrrrrrrr the fishing line spins out astern. Fisherman Rob is there in an instant and I dash for the vodka and pliers. Hmmm this is one we haven’t seen before. He’s not in our books. He/she is grouper in shape has sharp barbs on his back and belly, teeth, humanoid protruding and revolving eyes, is charcoal in colour with pale blue spots and parallelogram shapes all over his sides. I have a problem at these times. To kill or return. With sadness we despatch him and I take his fillets and promise to make good use of them (!) as I return his remains to his home. (He turned out to be a Trigger Fish and we were lucky because some are poisonous.)
At lunch we shared the last of the delicious oranges as we continued on our round of sail off course, gybe and sail back to the rhumb line we set on the chartplotter between Mindelo and Guadeloupe with rain – no wind – up to 20 knots wind and back to rain and no wind. We knew this was coming from the weather forecast we had downloaded so just set our minds to make the best of it.
Mercifully, during the night the trade wind returned but then……disaster struck!
I awoke feeling as fresh as a daisy when Rob greeted me with, “Disaster, the main is torn!” (He does like to add a sense of drama to a situation doesn’t he!)
“What, the fabric or a seam?”
“Well I’m not sure I can’t really see in this light.” To prevent further damage we reefed this new in September 2014 sail into the mast where it would be protected until we reached port.
A good sized flying fish was added to the fish stocks and I decided a thai green/white curry would do for two nights suppers. As a precaution we decided to test the mystery fish on our lips and under our tongues. Unlike Idres Elba he didn’t make me tingle so I cooked him with his friend the frying(!) fish and then tasted a little of the cooked flesh, thinking if I were to die early then of course I would not be able to put the fish in the curry and Rob would not eat it.
So as I’m alive to type this here’s the recipe: – Onion, garlic, white cabbage (hence the green/white curry) canary potatoes, tinned peas and the cooked fish in a sauce of: – peanut butter, Paul’s Thai Green Curry Paste which he brought to us in Tenerife, lemongrass and coconut butter to cook with.
This 13th day of the passage brought weather more like the vigorous start but a little gentler and we welcomed it with a full genoa and ‘reefed’ main. The trade wind brought 8 – 12 knots of power on the beam in slight to moderate seas with a decreasing swell of 3 – 5 metres. Zoonie is happy and on course and below is comfy and around 33’ in the saloon.
Lunch comprised the last of the smoked Cape Verde goats cheese with Branston pickle followed by Mindelo ring cake with tinned fruit and custard. Now all the fresh fruit has gone my imagination is at work to create puddings using the ring cake and good old Birds custard powder.
We had our Mystery Fish Curry for supper and it was tasty. Shortly afterwards the wind rose to 20 knots and as we sped beautifully to the three quarter mark just before midnight I was listening to Rod Stewart’s Human album. Perfect.
Let’s Rock and Roll
There is not enough wind to push Zoonie along at a speed to overcome the confused sea-state. We are now so used to all the different motions I think after a night sleeping in a switched on tumble dryer we’d come out smiling.
As I sit in the cockpit on watch one night the bright day screen on the Chartplotter comes on and illuminates the saloon. I start to scan the horizon when the ship alarm starts sounding, giving us 24 minutes to take any necessary action to avoid a ship that is on a bearing into our safe zone.
There he is, an oil tanker bound for Angola at 15 knots speed. No wonder my last horizon scan didn’t pick him up. In the first two of my 24 minutes I turn on the engine, disconnect the auto pilot and take up my steering position, bringing Zoonie to starboard (right) and aiming at his stern as he crosses our bow. For the remaining 22 minutes I monitor his progress by eye from my position at the helm and Rob keeps an eye on the Chartplotter. He passes within 200 meters, our second ship in an ocean over 3000 miles wide!
The next day marked our fortnight out of Mindelo and we were rolling along nicely with our Trade wind friend pushing us steadily on a broad reach in moderate seas. We mused on our changing response to the wind force. A few days ago we might have reefed the genoa foresail at 18 knots, but now we let her have her head as she is so comfortable. Apart from the odd irregular roll provided by small waves hitting her stern, the motion is a gentle rise and dip with the hiss of passing water all around. Rob sleeps and as you can see, I write.
Before leaving La Gomera in the Canaries we had done a big shop for food and included in the stock were three pre-cooked and vacuum packed Spanish tortillas. They keep perfectly and each one provides two evening meals. I cut one in half and return half to the fridge for the next night. Then I gently fry the other half until it is well cooked on both sides and we have it with pots or pasta and whatever veg is hanging around. Well now we came to the last half of the tortilla that had been in the fridge for over a month. The well tried sniff test said it was ok and indeed it was with fried pots, peas and gravy. One of the best gastronomic discoveries so far from the “Let’s keep the fare varied” point of view.
We had late teenage trade winds all night (13 – 19knots) and progress was good. Even the squalls that came with the dawn just gave us a little extra wind and another knot in speed for a while. So as the seas were smoothing down Rob set the fishing line astern and within minutes it whizzed out. The pull on the line was strong and we looked at each other, “What on earth have we got here,” Rob says. A little, but very strong bonito flops onto the deck. As Rob wrestles to get the hook clear it takes a dive into his finger and lodges there.
Fortunately the pliers have a cutting edge so he cuts the barb clear of the lure, and then pushes it on through the fold of skin so he can pull it clear. Ugh, makes me cringe just to type the words. There is no blood and savlon cream goes on straight away and Rob now feels he has passed his initiation into the world of ocean fishermen!
Lunch on this penultimate day of our crossing comprised the last avocado with cole slaw and a slice of Mindelo ring cake laced with Jamesons and topped with some of Sandra’s amazing home-made mincemeat and custard. Supper included the fried bonito with Canary potatoes and carrots in Bergensk Sauce.
We did an overnight reef just in case of a strong squall and worked out that on our last day we would need to keep it in as the present conditions would have us arrive in the dark. We also had a good look at the charts, both paper and plotter to note the position of the visible rocks and we are ready, showered and with full water tanks, to meet our landfall.
At Sundowners we ask eachother certain questions: – What was the worst part of the trip? Rob- Cystitis, me – coming to the last orange. What was the best part? Rob – Sailing, me – the way of life. What are you most looking forward to? Rob – A meal in a nice restaurant, me – walking.
Rain and rain clouds shrouded the land as we sailed up between the butterfly wings that are Grande Terre on the right and Basse Terre on the left, comprising Guadeloupe, the Papillon Island. The clouds clear eventually and we arrive into the sheltered lagoon under sunny skies with black frigate birds wheeling overhead. A marinero uses his sturdy boat as a tug to help us back into our berth and secure lines after 2124 miles over the ground and 1958 through the water, so we had 66 miles help from Equatorial Current. The voyage had taken 18 days.
