Tuesday, May 9, 2023.
At 12:30 this afternoon we unfastened the lines holding Windsong to the dock, motored out of the marina, out of the harbor, turned due west to sail underneath Ilha de Santo Antao to head north toward the Azores.
We had been ready to move since last Wednesday, but with no appropriate weather window in the forecast until this afternoon, we sat tight and listened to the winds howl through the rigging and played countless games of backgammon in the marina’s floating bar.
This morning we filled our water tanks at two euro cents per liter, filled the fridge with fresh produce, gave away our last money on the street, and said goodbye to the people we got to know here during our 16-day stay. That’s it for Africa, love you and leave you, it’s on to Europe.
We raised the main sale, more for balance than propulsion, but stayed on the motor for the first little while. We thought we’d get pummeled by waves between the islands, but although uncomfortable, it wasn’t too bad, and much sooner than expected, we had our staysail accompany the main and could turn off the engine.
It took almost four hours of sailing west, 20 nm, sailing a mile off the coast of Santo de Antao, the island northwest of Vicente, before we could start heading north. The island’s makeup is just as Vicente but much more prominent, a massive display of big volcanic rocks and volcanic domes, with occasionally a tiny settlement at ocean level with fishing boats moored out front, primarily painted in the colors of Cape Verde’s flag, blue, white, gold and red. Some had added a little green to the mix, that must be that ‘Verde’ bit.
These are fishing boats the size of big rowboats, either skillfully rowed or propelled by outboard engines, in often heavy winds and big waves. Today, however, calm waters, much taken advantage of by sport fishing yachts based out of Mindelo.
We met an English farmer who was going fishing on the yacht tied up next to us called the Dogs Bollocks. Seriously! A high flight deck, where the skipper steers the boat, and a lower level where a multitude of big fishing rods stick out from the sides and back. As soon as a fish bites, the client gets to sit in the centrally located chair on the aft deck, with the possibility of getting harnessed in and is given the rod to reel the fish in. Big business here in Cape Verde, people come from everywhere and pay fortunes to do this.
At about five, we’re on the island’s west side on our course north. Ken calls me up on deck, sounding a little distressed. I put down the knife I use to cut up vegetables for tonight’s stir fry and go up the companionway to join him on deck.
We have a hole in the main sail. At first, I don’t see it, but then, it’s there. My heart drops. In my mind, I can just see the whole sail rip to pieces. How can this have happened? It’s a next to new sail.
Ken’s main sail is on a furling system inside the mast, unlike the more traditional method where the sail lies on the boom, the spar perpendicular to the mast, and is hoisted with a halyard to the top of the mast. Efficiency-wise, the latter is a far superior system, it allows for the sail not to be flat but to have a curve in it, as well as to be able to use battens to give and keep shape to the sail. Reefing, however, is far more problematic. The sail needs to be lowered, hooked onto a gooseneck, and the bottom part, now hanging loose, must be tied down.
With Ken’s system, just a few turns of a winch and the sail rolls up inside the mast, nothing to hook onto or tie down, but it can’t have battens in the sail or much of a curve.
Ken’s system is excellent for short-handed sailing when a knot, or half a knot, makes no difference. The ease of operation outweighs the cumbersomeness for that extra bit of speed.
The hole in the sail is about two-thirds up the mast, meaning we had rolled out the sail two-thirds of the way.In this case, It’s very fortunate that we have this in-mast system, as we give two cranks on the winch, and the hole disappears inside the mast. An additional crank wraps some more sail on the furling system inside the mast, and all strain is off the area with the hole. Obviously, the downside is the limited use of the main and the need to have it repaired.
Thursday, May 11, 2023.
We’re making good time, although we had to turn the engine on last night a couple of times. Ken’s rule of thumb is to turn the engine on when the speed falls below three knots. We still averaged five in the last 24 hours.
It is back to long pants and jacket on watch at night, and that only gets worse the further north we go. Still just shorts during the day.
Well, hello there, mr or mrs whale. Just lazing in the cockpit, I mean actively being on watch, and I hear a strange sound beside me. I look out, and there is a whale no more than ten meters away on our port side, quickly disappearing behind us. No spouting, no broaching, just passing by, going in the opposite direction, and only seeing its back and dorsal fin. I dive down below, and with the book Whales and Dolphins of the European Atlantic by Dylan Walker & Graeme Cresswell, I confirm my suspicion it is indeed a Minke whale. A pleasure meeting you.
Talking about whales, off the coasts of Spain and Gibraltar, there are orcas attacking small yachts. Very scary, particularly as one, I believe, a sailboat, was sunk only less than two weeks ago by these mammals. How does one defend oneself against that? Interesting to see what my friend Alan Niles, a whale-watching boat captain in the San Juan Islands with a vast knowledge of killer whales, has to say on the subject.
Three hours on, three hours off, during the night, and two and two during the day. I think we have spicy vegan potato curry for dinner tonight. If I’m not mistaken, that was the topic of my first blog post five years ago.
