Tag Archives: Gran Canaria

A week sailing to Cape Verde

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On my way to Cape Verde

I managed to escape from Gran Canaria on the 11th of December, without any cockroaches or newborn baby stowaways. Ha!

While the forecast winds were in the right direction, they were too light for anything other than motor sailing, but that was fine with me because another monster low pressure system would reach the Canary Islands within 4 to 5 days, and I intended to be at least 400 miles further south to avoid its influence.

Isolated thunderstorms to the east and north made for an ominous departure but I needn’t have worried, winds stayed at under 10 knots for most of the journey and the seas were accommodating enough.

Sailing to the Cape Verde islands, there’s nothing to it…

Except, I’m really quite alone out here in the Atlantic.

When was the last time you can remember being totally alone, unable to see or talk with another person for days at a time?

While a few ships were visible on the horizon (or as dots on my AIS receiver) during the first half of my voyage, nothing, nada, niente, not a soul was in sight from the moment I reached Mauritanian waters. Perhaps it had something to do with the travel advisory for the country that read:

“We advise you to reconsider your need to travel to Mauritania at this time due to the unpredictable security situation and high threat of terrorist attack including kidnapping.”

With the right technology you can always cheat loneliness by sending text messages to your friends, updating your facebook profile, calling mum or checking out prospective dates at your next port of call with satellite Internet broadband, but I don’t have any of that on board. I’m old school… ( a synonym for poverty stricken). The best I can do is listen in to other boats on my cheap Target HF radio receiver. So, how did I manage the isolation thus far?

To set the scene, I suggest the computer savvy follow this link for appropriate background music as I recount how I managed to do without all the modern conveniences used to make solo sailing merely single-handed sailing.

Rusty tack and water stain

Let me start by saying that there really isn’t much to do sailing wise on long passages. You set your sails, occasionally check your course, and watch the weather, but that still leaves plenty of time to fill. Time I passed entertaining myself by staring at the water stains on my ceiling lining and reminiscing.

It’s amazing what you can dredge up from the past to amuse yourself given enough time. I wonder if this is this how I’ll get to spend my twilight years while incarcerated in a nursing home…

I filled one day just reciting the TV advertising jingles absorbed as a youth in Australia.

Anyone out there remember….

“It was an extra big, extra large, sizzling hot, family size, ham and pine, extra fine, pepperoni, big salami , dripping cheese, if you please, super duper pizza, oh yeah…”

Or how about…

“Today’s the big surf carnival, so Ted’s big breakfast plan, are all those sweet sultanas in Kellogs Sultana Bran… well the race is on but there goes Ted… Hey where’re you going man….. Back for more sultanas in Kellogs Sultana Bran”

Or:

“Everybody loves a better biscuit,,, so Westons make them good as they can be… Young will puts them to the test, to make sure that you get the best, from the Westons better biscuit bakery…”

Don’t panic, I’ll spare you the rest of my comprehensive recital which includes an international and multi-lingual repertoire of television advertising trash.

Then of course I have time to ponder on all those things I might have done differently given a second chance. All two of them! 😉

French Toast

Memories become my treasured companion at sea because in truth, looking at clouds drifting by only manages to hold my attention for three to four hours at a time.

Snack time inadvertently becomes the focus of my day. Hobbit style, it makes for at least seven meals in a 24 hr period, and depending on the success of my culinary experiments, (bounded by strict rules such as: everything must be cooked in a single pan), varies from the simply delicious (French Toast for pre-breakfast), to almost inedible (a mash of choriso sausage, sauerkraut and powdered potatoes for a midnight snack).

And here’s what I look like after seven days of solitary confinement!

Going quite mad!

Makes you wonder what I’ll be like once reaching Brazil.

I tried to catch some fish on route but my only success was thwarted by a shark (honest!). I know it sounds a bit like the excuse that “my dog ate my homework”, but it’s true, “a shark ate my dinner”, just as I was hauling it aboard. I hope my favourite lure gives it indigestion, and so much for my idea of stopping Eileen for a refreshing swim!

But the most dramatic event on route has nothing whatsoever to do with me. On day 5, I decided to tune in on my HF receiver to the weather routing given by Herb daily on 12359kHz at 20:00 UTC. The idea was to eavesdrop on any boats in the vicinity receiving weather information. Sure enough, two yachts were within 40 nautical miles of my current position and one (called Connect4), was in trouble.

I listened as a very concerned father sought information on the best options for reaching an airport or medical facilities as his daughter was suffering extreme abdominal pain and suspected appendicitis. Nobody could give him a definite answer on whether Mauritania was a feasible destination to seek assistance, and as far as the other HF users were aware, only Mindelo in Sao Vincente or Dakar had appropriate medical facilities.

I had done my homework and as mentioned earlier, knew of the travel alert for Mauritania, but as I am only equipped with a VHF transceiver, I could not tell him. I was effectively mute, confined to my line of sight transmissions and unable to assist. What a relief when I heard that he had decided to opt for Cape Verde, but if only I could have told him that Isla Sal was a closer prospect and had equal if not better facilities at hand. I did try, repeatedly calling on VHF 16 for several hours, but to no avail. They were just too far away.

In later transmissions I heard that the girl was improving with antibiotics and that after consulting a doctor on another boat, appendicitis could be ruled out. I hope to hear if she made a full recovery when I reach Mindelo.

 

Arriving on Sal, Cape Verde

At sunset on Saturday the 18th of December to the sounds of music and merrymaking I finally arrived in Porto de Palmeira after seven days at sea. Just in time for another party!

PS: I did make myself considerably more presentable than the above photos suggest before rejoining civilization. 🙂

Ready to leave Las Palmas Gran Canaria

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I’ve stocked up on fuel and am now as heavily loaded (200L of Diesel, 100L of water) as I have ever been with Eileen. Surprisingly, she doesn’t seem to find the extra weight a bother. Now if only we all could put on so much weight and still look so handsome! One more item to add to my newly compiled list of why Eileen of Avoca is better than a real girlfriend… 😉

I’ve met a very diverse group of sailors while in Las Palmas and admittedly it is not easy leaving the last bastion of Europe behind, (Eileen has stayed 20 days, 7 of which I used to take a cheap flight back to Belgium). With everything so handy, it’s no wonder many sailors spend inordinate amounts of time dithering here before making that last step to head south or west. Not that Las Palmas Gran Canaria has much to offer and it certainly gets no special recommendation from me. Quite the contrary., and here’s why:

  • The marina has the rudest, most inconsiderate and arrogant ‘marineros’ I, and most other crews here, have ever had the misfortune to encounter.
  • While the chandlers are handy they are certainly not cheap! Do your final preparations before reaching the Canaries or pay the price!
  • With so many boats having been in the marina because of the ARC rally, the water is absolutely putrid. I hear there is an effort to gain blue flag status for the nearby beach. Not a chance…
  • The cockroaches are everywhere. Stay long enough and you will surely be invaded, and I’ve already highlighted the social stigmata that accompanies this misfortune.
  • Provisioning is inconvenient here and socializing hindered by locked gates separating sailors from both the public and crews on other pontoons.

I could carry on for quite a while here but I’ll spare you some of my habitual endless ranting… 🙂

The crew of Corner Muse

On the positive side, a little extra effort (climbing around the locked gates) and you are suddenly free to play social butterfly with a vast variety of boats and crews of all nationalities and walks of life.

I had the crew of the Swedish boat, Fot28 over last night for drinks and a bite to eat. I thought Eileen might have difficulty with storing provisions for a month but if the requirements for a crew of four (one extra ring-in for the Atlantic crossing) can be crammed into a 28ft boat then I have room for at least anther two crew. You can follow their adventures here.

http://www.28fot.com/

While on the subject of sailing Swedes, the young but experienced crew of Mazarin (briefly mentioned as my neighbors in posts from Lanzarote, and my frequent companions over coffee at the Sailors Bar), were also busy making final passage preparations here in Las Palmas.

If you think crossing the Atlantic isn’t enough of a challenge, why not try it with your one year old child in tow? Click here

http://translate.google.com/translate?js=y&prev=_t&hl=en&ie=UTF-8&layout=1&eotf=1&u=sy-mazarin.se&sl=sv&tl=en

to get a translation of their website.

See, it can be done! An inspiration for all those would be sailors making all manner of excuses for not leaving home.

Keeping the “baby and no excuse not to be out there sailing” theme running, pictured above is the intrepid Belgian (the girl) / Portuguese (the dog) crew of Corner Muse, making an unscheduled stopover in Gran Canaria as her baby is due in just 5 days.

And just one more link to my neighbor while in Las Palmas (for my extensive German readership… lol).

http://balu-auf-reisen.de/blog/

A few odd jobs then on to Gran Canaria

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My collection of radar reflectors

Before leaving Lanzarote I bought and mounted a biggest ugliest radar reflector I could find. Short of hoisting my pots and pans there is little else I can do at this point. Fingers crossed that it’s enough to make me visible to radar.

I also installed a much sexier, but considerably more expensive solar panel in the space covered by the companionway hatch (when it is open).

Not too shabby if I may say so.

Behold!

New solar panel

Nothing like a few boat chores to suppress the heart and stimulate the mind. Besides, there’s no more whiskey aboard.

It took me 24 hours to sail to Las Palmas, Gran Canaria. My plan was to arrive once the ARC rally fleet had left so I could be sure of a berth but I had not counted on the marina being closed. Yes, closed! But I’m getting ahead of myself here.

Just as I rounded the breakwater (at approximately 11am), I ran into the entire fleet of ARC participants as they made their way to the starting line. Looks like my timing was a little off. No matter, I’ll just join the festival, take advantage of the photo opportunity and watch the procession from the comfort of Eileen.

The 2010 ARC Rally leaves port. Trouble is, there's no wind!

I spotted the young Swedish crew of “Wind” (who I’d met in Nazare). Music blared from their boat as they waved to the crowd gathered along the marina breakwater. I also found myself alongside “Summer Song” (the only other ARC entry I’d met on my travels), and exchanged a warm greeting.

In the following hour or so I watched just about every other boat in the fleet file out and head to sea.

With only a few stragglers remaining, I made a dash for the marina entrance only to have my first attempt at landfall thwarted by an angry “marinero” in a RIB.

I could see the veins bulging from his temples as he shouted… “The marina is closed, go away, you come back tomorrow, leave now…”.

“Closed? Who cares if the office is closed! I just want to tie to one of the recently vacated pontoons and sleep.”

The official seemed to be getting increasingly agitated at my reluctance to leave, so rather than be responsible for triggering a brain embolism in all the excitement, (those veins on his forehead are really popping out!), I reluctantly complied, motoring to the extremely crowded anchorage on the other side of the breakwater.

See mum, I can be magnanimous on occasion. 😉

What all sailors do in Gran Canaria, wait...

Five hours later I made my second attempt, and as it was probably Mr “not so sociable’s” coffee break, I made it to a pontoon unmolested.

I’m now in Las Palmas Gran Canaria doing what all sailors do here (unless of course they are part of the ARC); hanging out at the Sailors Bar waiting for the elusive trade winds.