Atlantic Crossing / Travesía del Océano Atlántico

(Español debajo)

Maybe I was deliberately avoiding what was already blindingly apparent because I was chicken! Afraid that is, to make an Atlantic crossing, but not willing to admit it. But if that is not so, then the alternative, that I was too stupid to see the answer staring me in the face, is hardly any more appealing, (at least not to me!!!).

For some time recently I had been saying that, since the return Atlantic crossing to Ireland cannot be done with the degree of safety I reasonably want before May, and since Catherine must be home on the 1st April 2011, and since the hurricane season runs from June, then to cross to the Caribbean this season would simply be a dash over only to have to turn around and dash back immediately, with no time to experience the Antilles, and just not worth it.

However, all this time, nagging away at the back of my mind, was that clawing our way back to Ireland against the Northerly Portuguese trade winds in Winter, and worse, an equinotical crossing of Biscay, is a journey that I am absolutely not afraid to admit that I am too scared to attempt.

So finally the answer came bursting through with such force that whether it was cowardice or stupidity, my excuses were flicked aside like insects. For the return trip of Aragorn is not dependent on the presence of any one member of the crew, not even Catherine. I can just as easily; albeit not as contentedly; bring the boat home with a different crew in May 2011.

And so, with this inspired realization of the obvious, the last of my excuses joined its equally elusive colleagues, floating out the window.

We cross in February, we are looking forward to a year in the Caribbean, and there is plenty of time in the interim to arrange crew for the passage home in fifteen months.

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Travesía del Océano Atlántico
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Para todos, losiento para mi mal Español, soy alumno, o, al menos, era alumno, he termanado en la escuela de idioma en Las Palmas esta semana, pero solo a nivel Cervantés “A2”, es nivel básico, y este es mi primero intento a escribir alguna vez. Este es en particular para mis profesoras y amigas, Marta, Ana, y Rita.
Espero que ustedes lo disfruta, pero, si no, posiblemento no es muy bueno in inglés tambien!

¡Quiza, evitaba intencionalmente la obvia por que era una cobarde! ¿Tengo miedo travesía del Atlántico, y no puedo admitar? Pero, si no es verdad, la alternativa, que soy demasiado tonto a ver el solución que es aparente y claro, no es mejor, (para mi!).

Para mucho tiempo recientemente, he dicho, no puedan volver allende el océano a Irlanda con seguridad justo antes mayo, y Catherine tiene que volver a trabajo al 1 de abril 2011, y la estacione de los huracánes empeza en junio, tanto que traversar al Caribe este año sería un arranque, y tan pronto que aribamos, tendríamos otro arranque para volver a Europa, y no tendríamos tiempo para disfrutar los Antilles, y no vale la pena.

Sin embargo, para todo este tiempo, acosando en lo más recóndito de mi memoria, era peliéndo nosotros camino con el viento de cara en el invierno, y la traversía del Vizcaya, es una viaje que tengo miedo absolutemente!

Finalmente, llegé a la solución obvia a pesar de o mi cobardía o mi imbecilidad. Para el regreso no dependiente de alguien, ni siquiera Catherine, y puedo volver con Aragorn y otra tribulaciónes in mayo 2011.

Entonces, he inspirado con el realización del claro, el ultimo de mis excusas desaparecio. Traverseriamos in febrero, esperamos con ansia a un año in el Caribe, y hay mucho tiempo para arreglar tribulaciónes para la viaje a casa desde quince meses.

Christmas /New year

Just to fill in the blanks, we brought Aragorn into the marina to leave her here over Christmas while we were home. And we are staying in the marina until February, agonizing over where to go next - stay in the Canaries, cruise back to Europe or the African Med coast, or go west.

We got home at Christmas for 2 weeks, but got to see too few of you as we were weather bound for much of the time. We left in the nic of time (on 5th Jan), before the really bad weather came from 6th of Jan on. As we were staying in Catherine's Mum's outside Blessington, I wouldn't have been too optimistic about making our flight if that weather had come in a day sooner.

In the meantime we have been getting our bits and pieces fixed, and continued our Spanish lessons, until we finished them on 22nd January.

Ahora, ablamos un pocito más.
Hasta luego!

Update November 2009

Just an update of where we're at. We were home 26/10 to 16/11, had a hectic time trying to catch up with everyone, but we got around to most. We had Aragorn tucked up in "Darsena Pesquera" (Fishermans harbour) just outside Tenerife's capital, Santa Cruz. Came back & got ourselves reprovisioned and organised. We wanted to go to Las Palmas in Gran Canaria, but waited for the ARC (Atlantic Rally for Cruisers) to leave before coming, or as someone cruelly put it, waited for the sheep to leave the pen!!

We are now in Las Palmas, which apparently has the most "comfortable" anchorage in the Canaries, inverted commas because we've had a light southerly breeze the last couple of days & are rolling in the resultant swell. The trip over was a motorsail into wind, but with the wind 30 degrees off the nose it wasn't too uncomfortable, and we did get some value from it.

We have signed up for Spanish lessons while we are here and we are "ablo"ing away. Has us in school for 9 am every day, so no more lazy breakfasts, and the To Do list is grinding to a halt. And we are not planning any more trips this side of new year.

We're home again for Xmas on 19/12 to 5/1. Plan to be in D&Ns for pints on 24th if anyone interested.

Hasta luego!

Something lost, Something found

26th October 2009

Hi Folks,
Greetings from Santa Cruz, Tenerife. We’re flying home from here on this morning, so the boat is all tucked in for our three week absence.

After Stuart & Ann left (see Circumnavigating La Gomera) we got the local mechanic in the boatyard to take a look at the windlass, and after much trial & error he got it working again, (or said he did) but didn’t charge us exorbitantly for it, still it took a few days nonetheless.

We anchored for a few nights behind Montana Roja, near the airport once we had the windlass back. We only intended to stay a night or two, but then an Irish boat came in & anchored beside us and we invited him over (solo sailor) and we all got pissed. So next night we had to go to his boat and get pissed again. It’s a tough life! Catherine reminds me to tell you that the beach there was a nudist one. Not that there was much to get excited about, the vast majority of inhabitants were of the wrinkley variety. There was the occasional tourist that braved going topless, and one German girl that went cartwheeling bollock naked once a day up and down the beach .

We finally hauled the anchor (using the windlass) and went back to Santiago in La Gomera, the place on the S coast that we’d skipped while Stuart and Ann were here. That proved to be a rolly anchorage, but we stuck it out for two nights, it is a pretty town. Once again the revived windlass motor did the business, but, when we were leaving my straw hat blew off, into the water, and sank before we could recover it. This was disheartening, I'd bought it in Tavira when we were there with Ron and Grace from "Flo" back in April, and it had served me well all Summer, and bore the scars, battered as it was including a distinctive splash of antifoul.

Before we came back to the North of Tenerife to leave the boat, (the place here has no water or electricity - we won’t need it while at home), we decided a couple of nights back in the Marina in San Sebastion to clean up the boat was in order. I finally caught up with the Irish guy on Jilliana, (Kevin Pender), so he came over for a few bevvies, and we all got pissed. The second night we went to his boat and got pissed again! Recognise a theme here?

Next day I was strolling down the pontoon nosing at the boats when I spotted a pink flip flop left out for the owner to find it. Yes, “that” pink flip flop, of course she’d dumped the other one in the meantime!

On the way up here we overnighted in Abona, the place where the heads blocked and the windlass broke on the way down. Our curse was broken, as nothing further broke, and in the morning the windlass motor made it three out of three, so I’m now beginning to have confidence in it.

Hasta luego!

Circumnavigating La Gomera

Sunday 27^th September.

Our visitor Ger, had gone home the previous day. Catherine had gone to the airport with her for the bus ride. We were expecting more visitors, Stuart and Ann, on Friday night, and we were hoping to do some long sailing passages with them.

We had intended to stock up in the Supermarket, but they close for the Sabbath in this part of the world, so we spent the day getting the boat ship shape, and remained in Santa Cruz's Marina Tenerife until Monday to stock up.

Monday evening we left the marina to anchor for the night off Playa de Teresitas, the beach off the pretty village of San Andrés, just north of Santa Cruz, so that we'd get an early start on Tuesday. Teresitas is unusual in the Canaries because it has golden sand imported from the Sahara, rather than the normal black volcanic sand that appears naturally. The anchorage is protected from the North, but it is wide open to any other direction. However, it was a calm night, the little wind there was was off the land, and there was not much swell.

Our destination on Tuesday was Baia de Abona, a more sheltered bay about twenty miles to the South, protected to the Northwest by the village of El Porris, and to the Southeast by the Punta de Abona with it's conspicuous lighthouse.

We spent three nights here, mainly because we developed a problem with the heads that we had to fix. However, this didn't prevent us from having a long swim every morning. We used our snorkels, but the sandy bottom did not give us a lot to look at. Still I was reassured to see my anchor solidly dug in, and there were plenty of fish to entertain us in the crystal clear water.

Finally, by Thursday evening we had the problem fixed, and on Friday morning we weighed anchor. I have always been intrigued by this phrase, but I came a lot closer to understanding it over the following week, as the electric motor on the windlass, which lifts the anchor, failed. Our anchor weighs twenty five kilos, and the chain weighs another two or three per metre, so lifting it manually was going to be hard work. Fortunately for the next week I'd have a 6 foot 3 Scotsman on board to share the grunt-work!

We met up in Marina del Sur in Las Galletas, a new marina on the Southwest tip of Tenerife. Las Galletas itself is an unattractive modern tourist town, but the harbour and marina are attractive and colourful. However the pontoons are fingerless, and this means we had to berth “stern-to” in Mediterranean fashion, not something I am practiced at, so coming in was quite stressful, although thankfully without incident.

Our original plan had been to do three long over night passages, visiting the Canaries' two westernmost islands, El Hierro and la Palma, but the forecast was for light winds all week, so rather than spending the week motoring, we opted instead to a circumnavigation of the island of La Gomera twenty miles West of Tenerife. La Gomera is a roughly circular shaped island, about 12 nautical miles in diameter, and therefore, about forty in circumference.

Saturday, 3^rd October, we left Las Galletas and had a comfortable sail, the highlight of which was spotting a group of pilot whales about half way across. Although we'd sailed the whole way from Ireland, and spent quite a bit of time cruising here and there, these were our first whales.

We anchored that night in Baia de Abalo, just north of La Gomera's capital San Sebastion, a snug little bay on the East coast of the island. Ashore, there were several camper vans and cars, and a small shop. On Sunday morning we went swimming, and I went ashore, but there was little evidence of activity, and walking barefoot on the sharp volcanic stoney beach was not too enticing so I returned to the water promptly.

Stuart and I humped up the anchor and we set sail for Baia de Hermigua on the North of the island. Here the bay was rather more open, and there was some swell, but it was manageably comfortable. There was a bar and some buildings overlooking the bay, and the pilot book promised a town just one mile inland, we decided to pump up the dinghy and explore before dinner.

I should have remembered that swell and the steep shores of the Canary islands are a mix that are not entirely suitable for landings on beaches. As we approached the shore under oars, a moments lapse of concentration and a wave turned us sideways and deposited us on the beach with an inch of seawater in the dinghy, and leaving the four of us more than a little splashed. Before we had a chance to get out, a second wave broke over us, filled the dinghy, and left us all thoroughly soaked.

Catherine and I rowed back to get dry clothes, with just two up the dinghy rode the waves, somewhat precariously, but we made the round trip to Aragorn and back without a further ducking. However, later on, having sampled the beer in the town, with four on board the dinghy returning to Aragorn, it didn't manage the surf so nimbly, and we took another drenching as the waves broke over the bow of the dinghy and it was full of sea water by the time we got past the surf. Another change of clothes required before dinner. It would have all been in the spirit of fun, except Stuart's camera sustained what appeared to be terminal damage in the drenchings.

Not surprisingly, the next morning there wasn't the same enthusiasm for a swim, so once again Stuart and I lugged up the anchor the old fashioned way and we sailed for Puerto Vueltas in Valle Gran Rey on the West coast.

I have already said that the forecast was for light winds, however, in the Canary Islands, because of the effect the land has on the wind, there is often a stiff breeze near the shore even on calm days. This particular Monday morning it was blowing from the West, the direction we wanted to go. I figured that if we sailed Northwest until we cleared the island we could then sail South. Unfortunately, the wind was following the coast rather than simply blowing from the West, my tactic simply made our journey ten miles longer, and when we turned the wind stayed on the nose so we had to motor anyway.

It was evening when we reached the crowded anchorage of Puerto Vueltas, and we managed to anchor in a spot squeezed between the harbour, the rocks, and other boats, with a kedge (a second anchor off the stern) preventing us from swinging into anything hard. No sooner were we done but harbour security were telling us we were blocking the ferry and had to move, but that we could tie up to the harbour wall for free. Neither statement was true, as another boat soon afterwards occupied our spot unmolested, and we were billed the next morning at marina rates for our night on the wall. Still the convenience of being able to come and go ashore without risk of a soaking, especially after the previous evening, was worth it. Except that Stuart and I now had to go man-hauling up the two anchors that we'd just put down.

Just as we had finished tying to the wall a Clubsail training boat came in and berthed in front of us. As the crew were tying up I heard the unmistakable sound of Cork accents, and sure enough, we met Grace, Gary and John, who were taking a sailing course. Then, just as we were getting ready to go look for a restaurant for dinner, I hear Stuart say “Pat, you're not going to believe this”, and I look out to see another sailing boat arrive flying the Wexford yacht club's ensign. Of the three lads on board, two were German, and although they told me their names twice, I could not get them. The Irishman on board was Ian, and I asked them to take my bast wishes back to my pals Dermot Greer and Jackie Connick in their club.

Tuesday morning, having spent the night tied to the wall we thankfully had no anchor hauling to do. We left at 12:45, bound for San Sebastion, the capital, on the East coast, and the completion of our circumnavigation. The wind was blowing once again along the coast, but today, mercifully, it was blowing from the North, i.e., behind us. Better, as we rounded onto the South coast it backed westerly, staying behind us, and as we turned North for the final leg it again backed and followed us all the way. Our speed varied with that of the wind ranging from a pedestrian four knots up to a screaming eight and a half, but we covered the thirteen miles in two and a half hours.

Once in the marina, I did what most sailors would do, and had a good nose around the boats. It must be quite a haunt for the Irish, because I counted no less than six other Irish boats, that's the most I have seen in the one place since leaving Dun Laoghaire. These included Jilliana of Galway, whose graffiti we had already spotted back in Porto Santo, however there was no one on board that I could see while we were there. I got back to the boat to find Catherine had lost one of her pink flip flops overboard.

Early on in the week, I had suggested without much enthusiasm that we could spend two nights in San Sebastion and rent a car to explore the island by road. Stuart had jumped at the idea, and now I was glad that he did. The interior of La Gomera is a lush green rain forest. Having circumnavigated the island, and seen nothing but harsh volcanic rock with little or no vegetation, this was a sight to behold. We also saw up close where the hills had been carved into terraces by generations of farmers creating small patches of green in the steep barren hills of rock.

Stuart and Ann's flight home was on Friday early afternoon, so we planned to be back in Tenerife on Thursday. For some reason, I had gotten the idea that the distance back was only about twelve miles, where as in fact it is twice that. As a result, I was quite laid back about time of departure, and we ate lunch before we left. When we eventually did leave we were under some pressure to arrive in Las Galletas by dark, but we made it alright, despite stopping en route to watch the pilot whales again.

Saturday, 10^th October, visitors safely back in Scotland, and faced with the prospect of having to manually haul anchor without a big lug of a Scot to share the work, I decided to have a go at fixing the windlass motor. I worked up quite a sweat as I struggled with my head and one shoulder squeezed into the chain locker to detach the motor, eventually I got Catherine to have a go. When neither of us had any success I rang Clubsail (them what had the sail training boat in Puerto Vueltas, according to the pilot book they have a good reputation for yacht repairs, plus our new Cork friends were full of their praises). So I booked their engineer for Monday morning and spent the weekend writing up my blog!

Monday morning came and went with no sign of the Clubsail guy and no one answering the phone I had booked him on. Some enquiries led me to the mechanic in the local boatyard, and he's working on it now (Tuesday). Here's hoping it will be sorted soon. I'll let you know.

In the meantime, Hasta luego!

Using your buckets

I have mentioned a few times that the anchorages in the Madeira Islands are "rolly". By this I mean the swell, or more simply the waves, cause the boat to roll side to side and pitch forward and aft.

The pitching is usually not as uncomfortable as rolling, because the boat is three times as long as it is wide, the same wave travelling the width of the boat will be three times as abrupt. Still, because we sleep at the back of the boat a largish swell from directly aft can give us a fairly sleepless night.

However, it is the waves travelling across the width of the boat that give us the most discomfort. Of course, if we were millionaires we could stay in marinas all the time, but that not being the case, we decided to try to do something.

Once anchored we hung a large twenty litre bucket off the end of the boom and let the boom out as far as it would go, with the top of the bucket level with the water so as it would fill. We put a second bucket out on the other side at the end of the spinaker pole. The idea is, when the boat rolled, one of the buckets would be lifted, as it would be full of seawater it would dampen the effect of the roll. The rope on the other bucket would simply go slack, so there is no see-saw effect. When the boat rolled back the buckets simply reversed roles.

It is hard to know whether it improves things, but at least we feel we are fighting back, and it does create some bemused questions from our neighbours in the anchorage.

Madeira

Leaving Porto Santo, it was only a matter of hoisting our sails and pointing Southwest, the wind providing us with all the transport energy we needed. After an easy downwind day sail we arrived in Baia do Obra, a small bay to the south of a crooked finger shaped peninsula at the Eastern tip of Madeira Grande.

Although we had the anchorage to ourselves, the area is popular with hillwalkers and land based sightseers. The bay is sheltered from any wind with a Northerly component, which at this time of year is any wind at all. However despite assurances to the contrary, the swell came in and we had quite a rolly time of it. “Rolly”, we were soon to discover, applies to every anchorage in the Madeiras. After a couple of nights we decamped to the nearby marina in Quinto do Lorde to provision and “check-in” with the authorities.

We were impressed by the friendliness of the marina staff, the courtesy bus to and from the supermarket in the nearby town of Machico, and the cleanliness and standard of the showers. But that was it. The fairways were too narrow and the pontoons too small, so much so that only a single boat could be moored in each marina bay, and all the berths on the opposite side of our fairway had to be left empty to avoid a blockage. In addition, aside from a half dozen or so completed buildings in the immediate vicinity of the marina, the place was a building site. However, the worst of it is what they are building looks like a pathetically twee dinky town, perhaps suitable for the lowest common denominator tabloid tourist market, but not great for cruising boats.

Enamoured as we were by the marina we left the next day to sail the fifteen miles to the Islas Desertas, three small uninhabited islands to the South, a privelage we had to get special permission for. However our two day pass only allowed us access to a short tourist trail within the rangers' compound. We were escorted around by a polite young student, however he had very little knowledge and the rangers themselves seemed unenthused by visitors.

While there we explored some of the caves by dinghy, and I made my first attempt at snorkelling. The crystal clear water was ideal and we could plainly see the rocks on the seabed. But I confess, I couldn't quite master breathing with my face under the water, and I eventually settled for swimming without the snorkel.

The return trip to Madeira Grande was a Northwesterly course to the capital Funchal, about half way along the South coast. With a tiny bit of East in the Northerly wind we were able to sail close hauled, bashing into wind it was not the most comfortable of sails, but at only twenty five miles it was still an easy trip. As we approached Funchal I called up the marina on VHF to see if they had room, but as I expected they were full, so we anchored outside.

You might think from what I have written thus far that Madeira failed to impress. Up to our arrival in Funchal, you'd be right. Rolly anchorage or not, Funchal is as pretty a city as I have seen. The land rises steeply up the 1500 metre mountains which are almost permanently in cloud; the cloud provides the city, indeed the island, with shade from the ferocity of the sun; the damp climate cloaking the mountainside in rich green; the suburbs snuggling into the vegetation; and from the anchorage in the middle of Funchal's crescent shaped bay the panorama that surrounds you is Tolkienesque.


We arrived in Funchal on Sunday 30th August, our tenth wedding anniversary. We celebrated in some style, finding a classy little restaurant beyond the tourist zone, where we dined on kid and duck.

Another day we hired a car and drove around and through the Island. Near the tops of the mountains the clouds rolled and tumbled and flowed. One minute we'd be driving in fog, only to emerge suddenly in bright sunlight, to an amazing view of a mountain valley, or the steep cliffs of the coast. The hills were so steep that our car frequently struggled, sometimes even in second gear. The rainwater from further up the mountains ran in fast little streams by the side of the road, we speculated what it would be like in rainy season later in the year. But don't be put off by all this talk of rain, for in the heat it evaporated so quickly that frequently the ground remained dry.

One day we travelled by bus and cable car to the suburb of Monte. This is the final resting place of the Emperor Charles, the last of the Hapsburgs, who died in 1922 barely six months after arriving. Monte is also peculiar for its road sledges, literally sledges that slide down the steep roads, contolled by two drivers standing at the back, the punters pay about €15 a head for a five minute ride.

Other days we just walked the town, or sat in the cockpit reading, and glancing up from time to time at the beautiful view.

One final thing, that in my opinion encapsulates the friendliness and generousity of the local population. The marina here is tiny, with only a handful of visitors berths, so most visitors are obliged to anchor outside. The plus side of this is it's free. But, even if anchored off and not paying a penny, the marina facilities, including showers and water, are available free.

We'll be leaving in a couple of days, but Madeira, and especially Funchal, is already on our places to come back to list.