The life of a solitary sailor… It’s all on film….
I finally have an answer for those of you who’ve often asked…
What’s it like to leave it all behind and sail off into the sunset in your own boat?
Google has unwittingly provided it… Click on this link to see what I mean…
If the link doesn’t work just type “ifno.info/blog” (including the inverted commas) into google and then press images
Iles de Salut, French Guiana
It’s one thousand sea miles to the Iles du Salut (which includes the infamous Devil’s Island) in French Guiana! Time to sail the distance I’ve postponed by taking my Brazilian shortcut across the Atlantic.
No big deal. It’s a comfortable sail (with both favourable current and winds), provided I stay in deeper water (100 nautical miles out from the Amazon). At this distance, I’m not likely to hit any stray tree trunks or other Amazon jungle debris, I need only worry about the occasional squall or cargo vessel.
As it turned out, I had good cause to worry about both, especially when a mighty squall hit on the 7th day out from Fortaleza.
Rolling under stay sail alone
Let me share the details with you….
I’d had to weather a couple of uncomfortable days (with gusts to Force 7) on days 2 and 3, but was generally pleased with the progress I’d made since leaving Brazil. Especially when you consider that I’d logged 120 nautical mile daily runs (a new record for Eileen)! This was sufficient motivation to tolerate any discomfort and while the distances travelled were considerable (for a small boat under stay-sail alone), in future, I’ll think twice before running before the wind without my mainsail. Why? Because incessant rolling is liable to turn the stomach of even the hardiest of sailors, and I’m hardly hardy!
What followed were 3 days of gentle breeze so I opted to burn some fossil fuel and maintain my 100 nautical mile average to day 5. Eileen can easily manage 100NM in a 24hr period when motor sailing. Even if the winds are under 10kts. And since she consumes just over half a liter of diesel an hour (with her new 10HP Beta engine), I rarely feel compelled to wallow about for days on end in the tropical heat for the sake of conserving fuel.
That night more gale force winds arrived. Well, I assume they were gale force, but I did little to verify this empirically. Too busy concentrating on feeling sorry for myself (a touch of sea sickness coupled with a migraine headache can have that effect). Plus, I’m not to fond of braving downpours to measure wind speed with my portable ammeter, (though I did note a consistent 8 knots on my GPS).
Fancy that! No sails and Eileen of Avoca is making way at top speed with comfort and ease. No more rolling either! I’d have confidently gone to bed if a Chinese freighter hadn’t chosen this particular moment to play chicken with me.
Guess I’ll give them a call over the VHF radio…
“Motor vessel Sunny X (X to thwart potential defamatory action)…. you are within 3 nautical miles of my current position and closing. Are you currently tracking me by radar?”
I know they aren’t because my radar detector is uncharacteristically silent….
“Yesh, I shee you…. your SSI number ish…..”
“No, that’s not me. I don’t have a transponder so you will not see me with your A.I.S. The ship you are referring to is 6 miles to port. I am a small sailing vessel currently 2 miles ahead of you…”
At last my radar detector starts to sound. At least they are now really trying to look for me…
“I don’t shee you…Two miles? You shtay away from my ship….shtay clear….. you hear?”
“I’m trying… please maintain your course as I’ll adjust mine so that we pass port to port.”
“rOK I adjust my course 10 degrees to port….”
“Not that way!!!! You’ll run me down!!!”
At this point I started Eileen’s engine and leapt (or rather crept) to the tiller. A close call. In appalling visibility (due to the worsening downpour), the cargo vessel passed within three cables! Much too close!
Lesson learnt…. Dodge before talking….
Evidently English isn’t as widely or well spoken on commercial vessels as I’d thought, so contacting a vessel via VHF might at best turn out to be counterproductive as it was in this case… or at worst…. well…. I’d rather not think about that….
But why didn’t they seem me on radar?
That mystery was only solved upon arrival in French Guiana. My over sized reflector had apparently “Gone with the Wind”…
A friend from the Amazon
Fortunately, the remainder of the voyage was pleasant enough. I picked up a hitchhiker…
I-pod? Nah… I listen to d-pod….
Listened to my d-pod all day (that would be a dolphin pod) as they whistled, clicked and whirled about playfully….
Worms with your dorado?
Caught my biggest catch of the day yet…. But didn’t get to eat any as it was full of parasitic worms… Yuck!
To finally find tropical paradise….
Catching up with old friends!
With two of my South African buddies (from the old Fortaleza gang) minding a spot for me at an idyllic anchorage (how had they known I was coming?). 
Tourists take the cat from Kourou
Time to join the day tourists and explore… but only after I make myself a little more presentable… After all, there are certain standards to uphold, and the “wild man from Borneo” look hasn’t been too well received of late…
The wild man from Borneo?
Yes… the beard and long haired hippie look will have to go. I’m in France now… how odd… never really realized that France extended to South America…
So it’s back to European prices, the Euro, and speaking French… I’m not complaining…
It’s also back to good wine, more than one sort of cheese and bread that doesn’t disintegrate when you touch it…
My taste buds are already celebrating in anticipation!
Vive la France!
Camaret sur Mer
My night approach to Camaret in light mist and flat seas was also uneventful. With no moon, it was too dark to see the events!
But never fear… the hand-held chart plotter is here…
Ah, the wonders of chart plotters. Just follow the dotted transit line and you arrive safely in port despite not being able to see a thing.
Somehow I can’t help but think of it as cheating, but chart plotters really do make for ultra safe sailing. Now if I can add an AIS receiver to my list of electronic goodies I might be able to do nothing but sleep while passage making. 
And why stop there? Hook up enough of that modern electronic gadgetry (as seen on many larger yachts) and I can even stay at home watching TV (not that I have either one or the other at the moment), while Eileen safely sails herself to wherever I fancy…
But then I’d have to mow the lawn again on weekends….On second thought, perhaps I’ll draw the line at just installing an AIS receiver and keep playing sailor.
The crew of Erimar
Eileen of Avoca featured in Camaret for one night only!
I came, I refueled, I loaned my harness to the crew of Erimar (who were unsuccessfully playing piniata with a boat hook and wayward halyard), I checked the weather, I bought a few bottles of French wine, I drank a bon voyage glass of Zoco with the aforementioned crew of Erimar…. I left…
Weather west of the straits
Just 5 miles west of Barbate I found myself sailing around the many shoals off Cape Trafalgar. Yes, this is the site of the famous, or infamous, (presumably depending on your nationality), 1805 naval battle between Villeneuve and Nelson.
I’d checked my almanac and Imray pilot to time the departure for a complementary tidal stream, but after an hour of speeding west at 7.5kts I realized my northerly stream was not altogether northerly! If only the disclaimer printed beneath the tidal stream extract was given more prominence, I might not have taken it as gospel. Lesson learnt.
The wind was now gusting to twice that predicted in the “windguru.com” and “windfinder.com” web site forecasts and the direction was anything but favourable. I was obviously in for another rough trip. A brief glance at the brevity of my ships log (one entry 6hrs after departure) is testament to this.
So why was I stubbornly heading North toward the bay of Cadiz instead of just heading out to sea on a direct route to Portugal?
For several reasons:
Ugly but functional
By sunset I was bouncing my way into the bay of Cadiz. No torn mainsail this time, but the bronze rail at the end of my boom (tensioning the mainsail), was dramatically ripped from its fastenings. For now, I have decided to do without it, and have come up with this (see photo) elegant solution. OK, I’ll admit it isn’t pretty, but it does work!
Of Rota, I saw nothing but the refueling pontoon by night. Fascinating. So much for the argument of heading north to play tourist.
Church in main square, Barbate
My Atlantic Spain and Portugal pilot refers to Barbate as a practical stopover in a somewhat soulless town. The marina certainly isn’t packed with nightclubs and restaurants. It has two of the later and none of the former. More distressing, for any slothful sailor like myself, is the 2km hike into town to buy provisions. Despite this, I wouldn’t go as far as calling Barbate soulless. I’d settle for a tad dull.
I wandered aimlessly about the town for days, took the obligatory snapshot of the white sandy beach, church and town hall (all very nice if you frame the photo well), and loitered suspiciously for hours at venues offering Internet access (both restaurants at the marina have WiFi, and in town there are two “cyber-cafes”. The coin operated one near the beach is probably your best bet).
Despite enthusiastically delving into the myriad of touristic offerings (attempt at dry humor here), I couldn’t quite get accustomed to Barbate and eagerly awaited an opportunity to depart.
The regular jogger set, dog and power walkers, passed by frequently as they made their daily pilgrimages between downtown and the marina. I lived in fear that they’d move beyond our now customary brief nod of recognition, and stop to converse.
For someone as poorly versed in Spanish as myself, (my conversational repertoire is currently limited to boat talk and the weather), the mere thought of engaging in serious small talk is traumatic! Mind you, I did plan to take it in small steps… starting perhaps with a few words to the dogs and slowly working up from that.
Barbate beach in March
I needn’t have worried. No one ventured to go beyond the briefest “Ola”. Perhaps I’d already outstayed my welcome. This paranoiac notion grew as staff at El Espigon, (where I visited daily for a morning espresso and tostada), suddenly appeared reluctant to provide me with Wi-Fi access (it’s mysteriously switched off when customers linger for more than the briefest of sessions).
Even the restaurant at the other end of the marina has started using the “silently switch it off” strategy to ration Internet usage. It’s a Barbate conspiracy. True, I’m no big spender, (I can only drink so much coffee), but I’m also very unlikely to seriously impact their bandwidth quotas by writing my blog.
To add insult to injury, they’ve only given me one packet of jam with my toast today! Simply outrageous! It’s clearly time for me to move on, but where is that weather window when you need it?
Sailing in rough seas
I took care that evening to check up on the weather forecast using my personal SMS weather service and double checked this against NAVTEXT transmissions (via my laptop and HF radio receiver).
I find I can only trust the forecasts on Internet web sites for two days, and sure enough, the situation had changed considerably from my three day old predictions. The heavy rain in what should have been fine weather was what tipped me off , though F5 to 6 instead of 3 should also have given me a substantial indicator.
Near gales despite the weather predictions? Not as unusual as one might expect.
Another forecast check, first thing in the morning, assured me that the conditions would rapidly improve and smooth seas with F3 winds in just the right direction would prevail. I should have paid more attention to what my eyes were telling me and not just what was in the idyllic forecast. It took a full 24 hours before conditions approached what was forecast, and there I was merrily making my way to Tarifa in what turned out to be increasingly turbulent seas.
Here is a copy of the full transmission:
ZCZC GE41
21 0710 UTC MAR 10
WEATHER BULLETIN
NR/ESTF8707/10
ROUTINE
SPANISH METEOROLOGICAL AGENCY
WEATHER AND SEA BULLETIN FOR HIGH SEAS ON 21MAR10
1.- NO GALE WARNINGS FOR OUR ZONES
2.-GENERAL SYNOPSIS AT 00 UTC AND EVOLUTION.
LOW OF 982 SOUTH OF ICELAND ALMOST STATIONARY LITTLE CHANGES.LOW OF 1014 AT 35N 45W MOVING EASTWARDS AS FAR AS SW OF AZORES.NO CHANGES.HIGH OF 1026 CENTERED BETWEEN AZORES AND MADEIRA, MOVING NORTHEASTWARDS AND DECLINING.HIGH OF 1028 CENTERED IN N OF LIBIA MOVING SLOWLY EASTWARDS AND DECLINING , SPREADING AS FAR AS WESTERN MEDITERRANEAN, AT FIRST WITH 1022 BUT 1018 AT THE END.
3.-FORECAST VALID UNTIL 21MAR10 AT 2400 UTC.
SAO VICENTE:IN NW , N 4 TO 5 ELSEWHERE VARIABLE 2 TO 3 INCREASING TO NNW 4 LOCALLT N 5 BY AFTERNOON.SMOOTH INCREASING TO SLIGHT .SHOWERS.
CADIZ:VARIABLE 2 TO 3 BUT IN EASTERN SE 3 TO 5 AT FIRST, DECREASING TO VARIABLE 2 TO 3.SLIGHT TO MODERATE IN EASTERN AT FIRST DECREASING TO SMOOTH IN ALL THE AREA.SHOWERS AT FIRST.
ESTRECHO:E 3 TO 5 DECREASING TO E 3.SLIGHT DECREASING TO SMOOTH.SHOWERS AT FIRST.
CASABLANCA:N AND NW 4 TO 5 BECOMING NE, WITH VARIABLE 2 TO 4 IN NE UNTIL NOON.SMOOTH TO SLIGHT.SOME SHOWERS.
AGADIR:N AND NW 4 TO 5 BECOMING NE INCREASING TO N 5.SMOOTH TO SLIGHT INCREASING TO MODERATE.
ALBORAN:NW 3 TO .&&)0/+**.8*(*SHOWERS.
PALOS: VARIABLE 2 TO 4 BECOMING WBY AFTERNOON AND INCREASING TO W AND SW 4 TO 5 AT THE END.SMOOTH LOCALLY SLIGHT.MODERATE IN SHOWERS.
ARGELIA:VARIABLE 2 TO 4 BECOMING ELY BY AFTERNOON AND SLY AT THE END.SMOOTH LOCALLY MODERATE.
Things went slightly amiss just past Punta Carnero. There is a cardinal marker approximately two miles offshore from the aforesaid headland, and rounding this, under stay-sail and double reefed, my mainsail gave way, unexpectedly tearing itself to shreds.
There is a hole in my mainsail...
Well not quite shreds… two big shreds is perhaps a more accurate description, but not to belabor the point, I can assure you that the sail (in two large shreds or several) was as effectively out of commission. Surprisingly, I wasn’t that bothered by the loss of the sail, (I’d normally be in tears…), after all, it was almost ten years old, and besides, I had a spare… but I really would have appreciated a more opportune time for its demise.
Auxiliary on, new trysail hoisted (it sounds so easy when I write it…), I bounced my way back to Gibraltar.
Below decks, everything that could, had dislodged itself, littering the cabin sole. Outside was no better, as Eileen of Avoca was ‘slipping it green’ and I in turn was slipping all over the place and turning blue from the cold… make that blue-green as I was also feeling decidedly queasy.
Still, matters could have been far worse, I reasoned that all the mess would be sorted out in Gibraltar and since I didn’t have far to go (10 miles at most), I’d soon be ashore finding someone to mend the sail and sourcing parts to repair the now defunct reefing system… Four unpleasant and thoroughly sopping hours later I found that this was an erroneous assumption.
Queensway Quay Marina sent me away, stating they had no room for boats of my dimensions (all taken by permanent residents) and Marina Bay wouldn’t or couldn’t acknowledge my frequent calls over VHF.
So be it… Back to the anchorage at La Linea, where I set about lacing my reserve mainsail and putting matters on board in some semblance of order.
I’ll just give it all another go tomorrow…
Gibraltar from La Linea anchorage
An 8am start on yet another misty day. Apart from checking the almanac for high tide (in order to catch a complimentary tidal stream), there was not much preparation required (from a navigational standpoint ), to reach Gibraltar. I aimed for the big rock to the south and tried not to get hit by, or run into (as vessels are mostly anchored), any shipping.
Taking the compulsory snapshot of ‘the captain’ with Gibraltar in the background, I then headed for the anchorage at La Linea, bypassing Gibraltar to forgo clearing customs.
I don’t like the smell here… What with the Spanish refinery to the west, the airport jet-fuel vapors to the east and an armada of tankers surrounding Gibraltar, it’s no wonder the air and water is thick with the scent of odoriferous chemicals.
The view of “the rock”, is, by contrast, superb.
Sailing near Denia
I spent the next two weeks sailing down the Costa del Sol and Costa Blanca stopping at Denia, Altea, Alicante, Torrevieja, Cartagena, Almeria, Almerimar, and Benalmadena.
With a steady land breeze, the sailing was exceptional. Eileen of Avoca sped effortlessly along the coast, often passing within a cable of bizarrely shaped headlands with dramatic cliffs and abundant bird life.
Dolphins visited frequently, swimming beside us with ethereal splendor for hours on end. At night, their intricate performance (illuminated by the agitated bioluminescent plankton), prompted rapturous applause.
Almeria
The cities I’ve visited are the antithesis of this natural splendor. They appear excessively contrived and soulless. The further I travel south, the more feigned it all becomes.
With the exception of a handful of historic buildings, period architecture is abandoned to make way for the construction of theme park styled apartments and brand name shopping centers. What has happened to the real Spain? Tourist traps and real estate agents can’t be all that’s left!
Everything is for rent or for sale. Did the recent boom come at such a cultural cost?
I put these questions to the older sailors berthed for winter in Cartagena. They assure me that the real Spain still lives but it is not to be found further south among the plastic covered landscapes and marina developments of Andalucia.
Benalmadena
I am certainly not impressed. The scarcity of berths for visiting yachts at intended destinations (Almerimar excepted) made landfall a chore, and the frequent questioning or searches by port officials did little to make me feel welcome.
Perhaps misinformation from my outdated Mediterranean almanac was to blame, or I’ve just been in the wrong frame of mind.
I decide to break my journey and leave Eileen while I return to Belgium for a white Christmas. I’ll take up where I left off in the new year.
Seasons Greetings everyone!
With the sea calm once more, Gianluca and I were captivated by the night approach to Mahon Menorca. It had been a magical crossing. We’d caught three Dorado (though one managed to get away while lifting it out of the water), had a prolonged visit by a tired little avian friend, and even spotted whales (yes this time I’m not joking. There really are whales in the Mediterranean).
Despite the mention of a tsunami affecting the Balearic Islands in 2003 (originating from the Zemmouri earthquake in Algiers), my Mediterranean almanac and electronic charts showed a safe, well lit, approach to Mahon.
Menorca
Tying to the public quay opposite Isla Pinto we were surprised to find the port relatively empty. Where were all the yachtsmen? We invited a curious passerby aboard and exchanged a portion of our latest catch for some local news and gossip. Evidently the sailing season ended in September. Looks like the Spanish leisure boaters take their toys out only two months of the year (just like the Italians), and the last of the cruising set (heading for Gibraltar and beyond), passed by at least a month ahead of us.
I’m late! I’m late… and before long the fine weather will surely deteriorate!
After a whirlwind tour of Mahon, resupplied and well rested, the not so dynamic duo said farewell to the hoards of locals gathered to witness our departure…. would you believe a hoard of two elderly couples and one child in a pram? How about a stray dog and two seagulls? OK, we slipped away before anyone would notice and set our sights on reaching Palma de Mallorca (120NM away) by the 1st of November.
Tuna steaks
Sailing directions in brief:
Take a heading of 240º from the southern tip of Menorca, then turn right before you hit Isla de Cabrera. Easy. Moreover, catch sizable tuna à volonté while on route, slice into steaks and eat to your hearts content.
A tiny avian visitor
By dawn, I’d managed to pass the southern tip of Sardinia and after setting a course of 228º taking us between Isola del Toro and Isola Sant Antioco, I handed over the GPS to my trusty crew and went below for some sleep.
I usually sleep exceptionally well in my Yarmouth23. Whether it be in the forward v-berth or with my feet in the trotter box of the settee, but not this time!
A disagreeable pounding on the hull accompanied with the pounding of my head against the bulkhead, tore me from my slumber.
What was going on? Why was Gianluca setting such a punishing pace against the unfavourable winds and increasing swell?
Overruling his landlubber logic of “we’ll get through it faster this way”, I set the throttle to a more comfortable speed before returning below to grumble and make sandwiches.
Despite what my friends and family say, I find that my irritable nature is often tempered by a full stomach…