A swell time! (South to the Verdes)

 It’s day one of our BIG voyage today, and also day one of a brand new year. We wake early in the Marina at Las Palmas after a sober(ish) New Year’s Eve the night before. Breakfasting as the sun starts to warm the edge of the horizon. We pull in our lines from the jetty, the morning sky lightens, and just like that, with little ceremony, we’re away. We head out into glass clear water showing barely a ripple as we weave our way through waiting tankers. Sprawling Las Palmas gradually fades in the hazy morning glow behind us.

As I write this - some hours later - we are still just off the coast of Gran Canaria, the land about to drop off in the next few hours. Our required course.. for the next week or so... is 220 degrees - which Chez, at the helm, advises we’ve just turned to.

Wildlife spotted today (so far) 2 seagulls, and 2 flying fish.

Now it’s sunset day 1, the sky is clear blue, and we’re gliding along under sail alone and feeling the ‘Serenity Now’. Later in the evening the wind dropped to an annoying flap level, so we relented and reverted to motor to ease the rolling.

Day 2:

Awoken by the night duty staff (Chez) coming off watch at 9am.. that’s a good 6 hours sleep for me - the others fairing slightly less well, but we all managed to get some sleep. No signs of seasickness yet from any of us, hoping that’s a bullet we’ve been able to dodge.

The breeze, and it is just that for the time being, picks up as I come up on deck. I’m able to set the sails on a beam reach to have us travelling along at 6ish knots for some hours.

Martin seems settled to boat life - enjoying the occasional nap in the sun and offering help at every opportunity.

Sky is clear - as it was last night, with the stars out in all their glory in the absence of any moon. It’s gonna be a good day

We made good speed all day under sail, then adjusted at sunset to try and get an overnight sail setup that won’t flap too much. After a failed goose wing we settled on flying the main alone, wide out on the starboard beam pushing us along nicely. Unsure why at this stage, but I can’t set the hydrovane to this set of sail - After two frustrating turns off course into large swell and jibing boom (with Chez trying to sleep), I decide it’s a job for daylight hours to work that one out.

Two hours later, I re-setup the Hydrovane and she performs beautifully.

I’ll not mention names... but some of the crew have been mumbling...

It’s as if some unknown tropical malaise has afflicted the captain’s reasoning, for after two long thirsty days at sea, the men are yet to see a single tot of rum.

I know she’s a busy gal with her charts and all, but it’s almost as if the Captain has completely forgotten our rum ration.

It’s not good... I’m not saying there’s mutiny talk, but its a black day indeed when good men are kept from their rightful liquor.

I dare to hope that the Captain may relent upon reading this humble journal. Or perhaps she won’t, instead flying into a black rage and keelhauling the whole slovenly lot of us!!

Garrrrr! It be a hard life.

Not much happening in wildlife news; Chez was troubled by a mosquito in the night, and a very occasional seabird flys by - saw a petrel and a gannet today. Other than that, there’s no ships and just lots and lots of blue. Or, as I write this at 10pm; lots and lots of black.

Day 3:

After finishing up my watch at 2am (still no moon) I woke from a good deep sleep at 8am. Martin is taking his first watch - we’re easing him into it with a nice short one around dawn to start with. This should coincide with when fish are usually biting - but sadly no evidence of that just yet though...

It’s looking to be another cracking day: Sun is up and shining, the swell and the wind are behind us in a very favourable way, and still with just the main out, we are gliding along nicely around the 6 knot mark. ...and then we added the genoa - all good. ...and later took it down again...oh what exciting lives we lead. Did a bit of drawing in the afternoon pre-nap then up again around sunset to settle in for the evening and night until 2am.

Day 4:

Wind raised to a ‘troubling’ level (that’s one down from alarming in my book) early on in Chez’s late (2am-6am) watch. We spent until 4:30am just monitoring the ride - and while not quite so troubling as it had initially been, in the pitch black moonless dark, a windy, swelly sea is a quite a daunting experience.

I returned to bed, Martin up at 6 and was soon sadly ‘yawning’ over the back of the transom - jury is still out whether this was a short bout of mal de mare or the inevitable result of eating dinners cooked by me on two consecutive days.

We’re reliant on electricity for lots of things on board. The ‘house’ batteries are getting low, so our mid morning is ruined with the noisey drone of the generator for an hour or so.

Other than that - lots of sea, sun out and not another ship in sight - we’ve now been sailing continuously without engine for about 60 hours. Checked the rigging, checked the bilges - all tight and dry respectively.

Life is good.

Oh...and we jibed, I say we: Martin jibed and did so well, (so well in fact that the skipper dished out the long awaited tot of rum to all hands to celebrate). Martin also set up a goose wing, but as with our previous attempt at that sail config it was just too flappy for comfort, so soon back to only the mainsail, wide out on the Portside.

I think we’re nearly into the rhythm of watches naps and meals and all seems to be working well.

Sunset today was a whispy clouded peachy affair.

Nearing midnight something went seriously awry with the swell/wind/hydrovane combo that saw me (on watch) joined by Chez in her nightie both trying to wrestle some control back from the confusion of darkness, unresponsive rudder and strong wind and spray coming from all sides. Martin (as ever) offered his help.

Thankfully by 1am, after some fraught activity, the sail is away (for now), the motor is on and we’re back on course charging batteries as we go.

Around 2ish I had to repatriate a small fish who’d jumped onto deck out of the darkness - horrible little thing: all teeth and jaws.

Day 5:

I woke with Chez next to me during Martin’s early shift. I go topside and join him.

Up on deck as the sun rises we once again manage to turn off the engine and setup the main and hydrovane to keep us sedately rolling along - a task that seemed utterly impossible during the dark of the previous night. The cabin below is a mess from the rolling - tools on the floor, maps strewn everywhere, but thankfully no harm done. Martin admitted that during the boom banging and howling wind in the night he thought he was going to die... but he also said he thought he was Jason Bourne so he may just be starting to hallucinate (apparently it happens on long passages from lack of sleep and limited stimulus)

Mid morning while reeling in the lure, a massive what we think was a swordfish took the bait. From what I saw I thought it was a long shark (+2m) with two long curving fins on its back and tail. Martin saw a swordfish style ‘beak’. The excitement sadly didn’t last long - the rod being bent full then nearly snatched from my hand at one point, and the line screeching before snapping shortly after - couple of points to note: we wouldn’t have been able to land such a monster (I realise this sounds like sour grapes), and secondly: there are fish out there despite no nibbles for the first 4 days.

Well it turns out day 5 is fish day!

Not half and hour later, Martin hooks into a gorgeous Mahi Mahi (dolphin fish), he skilfully dances it in, we drop the stern life lines ready to hop him onto deck. ....but wait: the fish utters a beseeching cry to the God of Death: “Not today!”

...it gives an all or nothing leap and bucks out of the water in all its shiny green and gold glory - the lure and line going one way, and Mahi Mahi the other.

For me this is an all round win:

Martin got a fish, an excellent new nickname “Mahi Martin” & a good story to tell.

The Mahi, a good size and a glorious vividly coloured looking fish in the water, apparently loses its colour when caught - add to this that they hang around in loved-up male/female pairs - I was actually quite glad he got away to go and spend some more time with his missus.

Day turned to night, my late shift (until 2:30am) went without issue - just dark and cold. The Utterly Butterly is still yet to melt.

Day 6:

Yet more unrelenting following wind and large rolly swell pushing us along - we’re still making good time (possibly too good...we may be arriving into Mindelo as it gets dark), we’re still under the power of a reefed main sail alone.

Highlights of the day - today was a predetermined spa day on Serenity Now! What that actually turned out as was that both Martin and I trimmed our finger nails. The Xmas decorations came down. ....and we cleaned out the poo tank.

Whilst possibly not what you were hoping to read, this really is what a life of adventure on the high seas looks like!!

But wait... after a windy and swelly but altogether pretty uneventful night-watch I headed off to bed at 2ish, soon to be woken by waves crashing into our beam and bow signalling a shift in our course. Joining a shaken Chez (she’d take a tumble that’ll leave a bruise or two) up on deck we once again had to wrestle back control in nasty conditions. All good within half and hour and back to bed. The same combination of freak wave and strong gust soon combined again - back out of bed and reset the course and Hydrovane. Martin popping his head up at one stage to check on us - suspect not much sleep going on in his cabin tonight it being directly under all the action. I did manage a few good snatches of sleep in between times. Martin’s shift succumbed to the same situation of us turning off the wind into the swell. I headed up again a couple of times to help out as various clutter banged and rolled round the cabin below.

The wind is probably in the mid 20 knot range - usually very pleasant, but adding the unpredictable large rolling swell it’s been a challenging few days and hours.

With a dark grey dawn, our overtired mood on the boat wasn’t the best.

As we’re blown down parallel to Mauritania on the African coast, Chez tidied and Martin made a brekkie of toast with PB, Nutella and banana.

In better news, mid morning the rod gave a satisfying squeal, and after an ‘easy does it’ coaching session from Martin, I was able to land a decent sized Mahi Mahi - its an absolutely gorgeous fish, and I struggled with the keep it/throw it back as it was meal for 3 sized. Well it was Mahi’s lucky day, and he did go back in, after staying around for a quick photo shoot - this is an activity we need to work on.

As we’re nearing land again (57 miles away), thought I’d try and sum up the trip:

Days have flown, we’ve sailed more than expected and in sail configurations we hadn’t planned. The sea has been quite uniformly large and unforgiving, not the journey we expected, but a memorable one that has been a true adventure so far. The constant rolling makes everything we do so so hard - but ‘good for your core’ as we’ve told ourselves often. Sleep is a scarce commodity but we all get a sustainable amount albeit in snatched dribs and drabs. All in all... a cracking sail!

Day 8:

As I write this, morning of day 8, we’re all up on deck within sight of the dark ruggedly imposing outline of the Cape Verde islands. We’re motoring in the last few miles under cloudy skies. Last night saw 5 flying fish using the boat as a landing strip - 3 smelly slapping fish returned to the water, 2 didn’t make it back to squadron HQ. I’ve just raised the yellow Q flag and a brand new red Aussie standard up the mast in anticipation of our arrival into the anchorage. I had drawn a Cape Verde courtesy flag in felt tip - but it’s not my best work, and could possibly be seen as an insult by an immigration officer having a bad day, so leaving that one down for now.

...if you’ve got to the bottom of that: Well done! You’ve made it to Cape Verde - a long rolly 920 nms from Las Palmas. I’m calling it a day there for now, further adventures will have to wait until after we’ve all had a little sleep without the waves slapping, the wind howling and the bed trying to shake us onto the floor every five minutes.

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