Being awake at night from the christmas eve celebrations and the assorted meal and wines leads to thinking.
It's been six months since my return and I'm still trying to cope with coming back. The realization is slowly seeping in that I am perhaps seriously altered from the experience. At first, nothing much seemed to have changed from who I was before. I did behave a bit differently, but then I had just come back from a year off, so nothing quite out of the ordinary there. Upon completing the much wanted journey, I ended up not wanting much. It was as if wanting itself had ceased, although I didn't realize this right away. I was just content, happy with how it had turned out. I didn't really do an evaluation, partly because it's simply rather impossible to attribute any one conclusion to the assessment of such a vast body of experience.
But of course, I did make an appraisal of what went on. It was one of deep satisfaction. Not just about something defined or even any one thing in particular, but about everything. About life. About my existence. It went deep.
Six months hence, and I see that this led me to some complacency but also a temporary suspension of dissatisfaction. I was no longer looking for more, like I've been doing for the last 12 years or so. It must have been strange to see someone who was always looking to do the other thing, the thing not many people sought after. Even though I have always been convinced it isn't such an odd thing to do, and still am, it is an unusual course to lead. I now see that the path traveled came from wanting, and a profound dissatisfaction with my existence. I wanted to travel the journey less taken, and see where that got me.
The astonishing thing is, it got me where I wanted to go. It got me there in such an unexpected way, I never realized I went there until long - well, six months- after I got back. When I came back early July 2011, coming back seemed a relatively normal thing to do. I was glad to be back. I was very happy when I was underway, returning was just part of that. It wasn't like I was emigrating, the return was always part of the journey. Coming full circle allowed me to do just that, to end what I'd begun about ten years ago.
So this is where I stand now, and that satisfaction hasn't really gone. Only now I'm getting perhaps less reward from it. I'm starting to want to go back to that first feeling of deep satisfaction and seeing it isn't a permanent state. I know I can revisit this state of mind if I stay open to it. Not allowing the mind to seal away that experience, keeping it alive, will preserve what I've gained by having gone away and returned. This will be my challenge. There will be no room for complacency.
Sunday, December 25, 2011
Thursday, September 1, 2011
My life story
I've just ordered the first photo album of our trip. I started with a selection of photos from the Caribbean islands. The amount of pictures is staggering - over 2600 all in all. Making a selection is interesting, to use an understatement. All of the images are available on my Flickr page, but making an album is like telling a story for me. You leave out certain things, and amplify others.
As we got together with friends over the past few months, I've been telling these stories. Any of those 2600 pictures has a story attached to it. The amount of things that happened, the number of little tidbits of knowledge I gained, the experience gathered is just staggering.
And it isn't just stories. It's everything, life itself, things you know, it all just seems to have.. altered. Reality is different, and this trip, like all longer trips I have taken in the past, has altered my reality. I realize again how diverse the world is, how many possible views of everything exist with different people al over this vast globe.
I now see that the past year has turned me into a large container of stories. So much has happened that I doubt I'll ever be able to tell even the most typical or striking ones. Writing a blog has certainly helped, but there is so much more waiting to be told or written down. It'll take a lifetime to digest the experience and turn it into my life story.
Thursday, August 18, 2011
Choices
Perhaps I will know some day. I'll know what exactly happened to me last year.
It's a question I still get a lot, but how can I tell what traveling for a year has done to me, when I'm still coming to terms with it? At first I thought, well, that's that. I'm back, and now I'll live the rest of my life.
But then, I started wondering. Do I still look at things like I did before? Thing is, I've been working on this project for so long, I've been changing along as years went by. Especially the year before I sailed off, there was so much going on, I couldn't keep track of it all. While at the same time working hard on getting everything ready, I finished a work project as I planned on taking my year's leave.
I even handed control to my successor without the slightest hesitation - which is not to say I'm not proud of it. But it's a different kind of pride. Some other could have done the same. This is not so with the sailing trip. I'm always the first to accede to the fact that thousands do this every year. I don't mind being one of many. I'm pretty sure no one did it the way I did. I find I've got something to say about sailing now, not because I crossed the Atlantic twice. It's because it all worked out, and I'm the one who made that happen.
Looking back on the things I can remember at any given moment, I'd say I came away pretty much changed. Not fundamentally, only more crystallized. Doing that has made me more aware of the amount of possibilities ahead.
Choosing one possible option is just that: choosing one, for a while.
It's a question I still get a lot, but how can I tell what traveling for a year has done to me, when I'm still coming to terms with it? At first I thought, well, that's that. I'm back, and now I'll live the rest of my life.
But then, I started wondering. Do I still look at things like I did before? Thing is, I've been working on this project for so long, I've been changing along as years went by. Especially the year before I sailed off, there was so much going on, I couldn't keep track of it all. While at the same time working hard on getting everything ready, I finished a work project as I planned on taking my year's leave.
I even handed control to my successor without the slightest hesitation - which is not to say I'm not proud of it. But it's a different kind of pride. Some other could have done the same. This is not so with the sailing trip. I'm always the first to accede to the fact that thousands do this every year. I don't mind being one of many. I'm pretty sure no one did it the way I did. I find I've got something to say about sailing now, not because I crossed the Atlantic twice. It's because it all worked out, and I'm the one who made that happen.
Looking back on the things I can remember at any given moment, I'd say I came away pretty much changed. Not fundamentally, only more crystallized. Doing that has made me more aware of the amount of possibilities ahead.
Choosing one possible option is just that: choosing one, for a while.
Monday, August 8, 2011
We made it
This ocean is more than water.
When I first read the theory of how the oceans were made, it struck me as a wonderful thing. Not the continuous rain which diluted the acidic first seas, amazing and apocalyptic though it may be, but the Gaia theory in which bacteria enhanced their environment by making water.
So when I sailed the ocean it was more than transport by water. It was an ancient technique for arriving at new lands, perfected by the sailors through the centuries. The aborigines perhaps pioneered this sometime 60000 years ago, to arrive in Australia. Countless other species and tribes have done the same.
Studying charts while traversing the Atlantic ocean, one gets some notion of the unbelievable amount of water all the way to the bottom. When swimming in the water with goggles, the deep blue goes on and on, suddenly lending a very mysterious quality to ones surroundings. While the sun sends its rays through many layers of waves and water, the dark prevails deeper down.
And even though it looks like water, it's so much more. It's a collection of dreams, dreamt by people on both shores. It's planning, sometimes obsessing, about getting across. Most of all, it's impossible to imagine.
Even now, after living all of it, the ocean for me retains its violent and hostile quality, while simultaneously calming me. It's not hostile towards us, it just is. We are the ones maladjusted to its qualities. With our boats, our devices and our techniques, we are so ill equipped for dealing with it.
We master technology, but we never master more than a tiny piece of ocean at a time. We sail across, but only if our technology doesn't let us down. We cover great distances, but it's only when in harbour, protected by land, we can truly say: we made it.
When I first read the theory of how the oceans were made, it struck me as a wonderful thing. Not the continuous rain which diluted the acidic first seas, amazing and apocalyptic though it may be, but the Gaia theory in which bacteria enhanced their environment by making water.
So when I sailed the ocean it was more than transport by water. It was an ancient technique for arriving at new lands, perfected by the sailors through the centuries. The aborigines perhaps pioneered this sometime 60000 years ago, to arrive in Australia. Countless other species and tribes have done the same.
Studying charts while traversing the Atlantic ocean, one gets some notion of the unbelievable amount of water all the way to the bottom. When swimming in the water with goggles, the deep blue goes on and on, suddenly lending a very mysterious quality to ones surroundings. While the sun sends its rays through many layers of waves and water, the dark prevails deeper down.
And even though it looks like water, it's so much more. It's a collection of dreams, dreamt by people on both shores. It's planning, sometimes obsessing, about getting across. Most of all, it's impossible to imagine.
Even now, after living all of it, the ocean for me retains its violent and hostile quality, while simultaneously calming me. It's not hostile towards us, it just is. We are the ones maladjusted to its qualities. With our boats, our devices and our techniques, we are so ill equipped for dealing with it.
We master technology, but we never master more than a tiny piece of ocean at a time. We sail across, but only if our technology doesn't let us down. We cover great distances, but it's only when in harbour, protected by land, we can truly say: we made it.
Wednesday, July 20, 2011
Islands
In a year, we visited 64 islands. After a while, it became a kind of gimmick, where I sometimes just touched the ground if the island itself was impossible to land on. There are a couple of places which I stepped on this way, without actually getting out of the water. This is a list of all the islands:
near Europe: Jersey
Berlenga (Portugal)
near Africa: Porto Santo
Madeira
La Palma
La Gomera
Tenerife
Gran Canaria
Sal
Sao Tiago
Fogo
Sao Vicente
Santa Luzia
Boavista
Sal Rei (Boavista)
Sao Nicolau
Carribean: Grenada
Carriacou
Sister Rocks (Carriacou)
Sandy Island (Carriacou)
Petit St. Vincent
Union
Petit Rameau (Tobago Cays)
Petit Bateau (Tobago Cays)
Baradal (Tobago Cays)
Canouan
Bequia
Saint Vincent
Young Island (Saint Vincent)
Duvernette Island (Saint Vincent)
Martinique
Dominica
Guadeloupe
Terre-de-Haut (Iles des Saintes)
Ilet-a-Cabrit (Iles des Saintes)
Terre-de-Bas (Iles des Saintes)
Antigua
Red Head Island (Antigua)
Rabbit Island (Antigua)
Lobster Island (Antigua)
Galley Island (Antigua)
Long Island (Antigua)
Nevis
St. Kitts
St. Eustatius
Saint Martin
Scrub Island (Anguilla)
Anguilla
Rocher Creole (St. Martin)
Sandy Island (Anguilla)
Virgin Gorda (BVI)
Beef Island (BVI)
Tortola (BVI)
Peter Island (BVI)
Salt Island (BVI)
Anegada (BVI)
Europe again: Flores (Azores)
Faial (Azores)
Sao Jorge (Azores)
Terceira (Azores)
Bryher (Isles of Scilly)
Tresco (Isles of Scilly)
Saint Mary's (Isles of Scilly)
United Kingdom
People ask me all the time which was the best place. With so many of them, it's plainly impossible to choose. I would go back to many of them, given the opportunity. Let that be my answer.
Night watch
I have never slept like I did the first week we were back home. I'm not the soundest sleeper and on a yacht I wake up regularly. At anchor this can be useful, because whenever I feel a movement which is new or different from before, I can check things out. With our new Manson Supreme anchor, I have never had the necessity to re-anchor at night, even though I've had to add a second anchor from time to time because the wind turned or some current swept us too close to another boat. Especially in the Caribbean, using both anchors was often necessary.
While underway, waking up from this, usually I ended up having to wake up anyway because of some necessity to help the helmsperson. Only occasionally, this proved unneeded.
Only in marinas do I sleep very deeply, so I like marinas. Sleeping in short bursts has been a habit the last year, and I've managed to get enough sleep this way. But the stationary bed I have at home made me sleep undisturbed for hours after sunrise. This effect wore off after a week or two. So now I'm back to waking up occasionally at night. The first night on the boat last Friday, made me realize it's really been a year of living on a boat.
A year can be a long time indeed.
Getting used to sleeping on passage is always a challenge, and as our crossings got longer, my routine got better established. I've now established a routine of sleeping most of the night in a system of watches where I stay awake most of the day, only to take an hour of rest sometime in the afternoon.
I'm just not very good at keeping night watches because my biological clock doesn't adapt itself very well. So while waking up regularly is no trouble, I have to get my sleep during the dark hours. During the crossing to Madeira, I still took up a daily nightshift and ended having severe sleep deprivation, up to the point where I saw a wonderful eighteenth century wooden square-rigger one night, about to cross our path just ahead.
This hallucination tought me that I can handle lack of sleep, but a skipper should not let it go that far. So for the other crossings, I tried to avoid long watch shifts at night, if my crew agreed to this. The nights are very long for everyone, but as skipper it's a problem if your judgement gets impaired by lack of sleep. In that sense, a year of cruising can be made up of long nights indeed.
Still, the things one sees at night every now and then do provide exceptional spectacle. Staying awake is the price I willingly pay.
While underway, waking up from this, usually I ended up having to wake up anyway because of some necessity to help the helmsperson. Only occasionally, this proved unneeded.
Only in marinas do I sleep very deeply, so I like marinas. Sleeping in short bursts has been a habit the last year, and I've managed to get enough sleep this way. But the stationary bed I have at home made me sleep undisturbed for hours after sunrise. This effect wore off after a week or two. So now I'm back to waking up occasionally at night. The first night on the boat last Friday, made me realize it's really been a year of living on a boat.
A year can be a long time indeed.
Getting used to sleeping on passage is always a challenge, and as our crossings got longer, my routine got better established. I've now established a routine of sleeping most of the night in a system of watches where I stay awake most of the day, only to take an hour of rest sometime in the afternoon.
I'm just not very good at keeping night watches because my biological clock doesn't adapt itself very well. So while waking up regularly is no trouble, I have to get my sleep during the dark hours. During the crossing to Madeira, I still took up a daily nightshift and ended having severe sleep deprivation, up to the point where I saw a wonderful eighteenth century wooden square-rigger one night, about to cross our path just ahead.
This hallucination tought me that I can handle lack of sleep, but a skipper should not let it go that far. So for the other crossings, I tried to avoid long watch shifts at night, if my crew agreed to this. The nights are very long for everyone, but as skipper it's a problem if your judgement gets impaired by lack of sleep. In that sense, a year of cruising can be made up of long nights indeed.
Still, the things one sees at night every now and then do provide exceptional spectacle. Staying awake is the price I willingly pay.
Monday, July 18, 2011
Cherish the memory
The most asked question we've been getting from friends and relatives pertains to what we've seen. I started by answering "everything", because it's just too hard to tell anybody everything we've seen. It would take months to tell, and then still they wouldn't get exactly what we've seen.
But the question remains, what have I seen?
I've taken a lot of pictures, about 2400. A lot of those are on my flickr site, and a lot of them also end up here. A lot of what I saw, though, isn't on it.
We saw the famous green flash, I actually saw it five times. I saw it twice one day, which is supposedly impossible. This happened when we were sailing between Martinique and Dominica. There was a nice big Atlantic swell running, and we were sailing on a close reach. The sky was bright and open, and I was looking into the sun as it set. The first green flash was on the down slide, in the trough of the wave. Then we were lifted and I saw it again, just as we were dipping down the next wave. It was just moments apart and I perhaps doubted seeing it the first time, the second time just confirmed what I saw.
After that, we saw it again, usually at sea, the last time as we were leaving the BVI on our crossing back to Europe. Sometimes it was bright green, then it was more emerald. I have seen other things which my mind clearly was making up, but this is something I won't easily forget.
It's also something I wouldn't even want to try and photograph, to not risk missing it. Some things are too important to take a picture of.
It's like that mountain I climbed in 1997, on top of which I spent the most lonely and difficult night of my life. After I got off it, I resisted taking a picture. Sometimes it's just like that.
Another thing I saw and the rest of the crew with me, was a night rainbow. On our first crossing, the moon was so bright and we got some rain in the distance. So we saw a rainbow from the moonlight, with all the colors, only much fainter and blueish. It's the first and only time I've seen this, and it seems to be rare enough to make me doubt I'll ever see it again. It was beautiful and eerie and I've almost told no one about it. There are things which I'll now carry with me for the rest of my life, cherishing the memory and perhaps feeling lonely sometimes because they're so hard to share.
But I'm grateful there were always people with me I could share these moments with, the good as well as the bad. I hope they will carry them along and cherish the thoughts they might have about us, about taking the trip, about being there.
But the question remains, what have I seen?
I've taken a lot of pictures, about 2400. A lot of those are on my flickr site, and a lot of them also end up here. A lot of what I saw, though, isn't on it.
We saw the famous green flash, I actually saw it five times. I saw it twice one day, which is supposedly impossible. This happened when we were sailing between Martinique and Dominica. There was a nice big Atlantic swell running, and we were sailing on a close reach. The sky was bright and open, and I was looking into the sun as it set. The first green flash was on the down slide, in the trough of the wave. Then we were lifted and I saw it again, just as we were dipping down the next wave. It was just moments apart and I perhaps doubted seeing it the first time, the second time just confirmed what I saw.
After that, we saw it again, usually at sea, the last time as we were leaving the BVI on our crossing back to Europe. Sometimes it was bright green, then it was more emerald. I have seen other things which my mind clearly was making up, but this is something I won't easily forget.
It's also something I wouldn't even want to try and photograph, to not risk missing it. Some things are too important to take a picture of.
It's like that mountain I climbed in 1997, on top of which I spent the most lonely and difficult night of my life. After I got off it, I resisted taking a picture. Sometimes it's just like that.
Another thing I saw and the rest of the crew with me, was a night rainbow. On our first crossing, the moon was so bright and we got some rain in the distance. So we saw a rainbow from the moonlight, with all the colors, only much fainter and blueish. It's the first and only time I've seen this, and it seems to be rare enough to make me doubt I'll ever see it again. It was beautiful and eerie and I've almost told no one about it. There are things which I'll now carry with me for the rest of my life, cherishing the memory and perhaps feeling lonely sometimes because they're so hard to share.
But I'm grateful there were always people with me I could share these moments with, the good as well as the bad. I hope they will carry them along and cherish the thoughts they might have about us, about taking the trip, about being there.
Saturday, July 2, 2011
Ostend
On July 1st, at noon we arrived back home in Ostend.
After a swift sail from Nieuwpoort in a North Westerly force 4, we got into our slip at the Mercator Marina. A few friends and family joined in our welcome home meal of Zeeuwse mosselen (mussels) with Belgian fries.
We finally covered 12600 Nautical Miles in 360 days. We sailed non-stop for about 100 days and we did about 3500 Miles over the shortest distance of 9000 NM as originally projected. The highest sustained wind we got was 26 knots and the highest wind gust was 34 knots. This means we evaded all gales in a one year trip, which is one of the aims of my weather routing.
We're all very happy to be back. Thanks for all the encouraging e-mails, comments, messages we got from you, all our friends and relatives!
After a swift sail from Nieuwpoort in a North Westerly force 4, we got into our slip at the Mercator Marina. A few friends and family joined in our welcome home meal of Zeeuwse mosselen (mussels) with Belgian fries.
We finally covered 12600 Nautical Miles in 360 days. We sailed non-stop for about 100 days and we did about 3500 Miles over the shortest distance of 9000 NM as originally projected. The highest sustained wind we got was 26 knots and the highest wind gust was 34 knots. This means we evaded all gales in a one year trip, which is one of the aims of my weather routing.
We're all very happy to be back. Thanks for all the encouraging e-mails, comments, messages we got from you, all our friends and relatives!
Thursday, June 30, 2011
Meeting old and new friends
We should be able to get to our home port tomorrow. That will conclude a year of traveling, voyaging, visiting, seafaring. We met dozens of interesting people, we got to know some of them quite well from visits to bars and pubs.
So after a year of socializing with perfect strangers, the experience which made it all the more worth wile, thank you Bernard, Jeanne, Nicolas, John, Gerry, Sam, Alex, Miguel, Robert, Quentin, Gabrielle, Frederik, Tomas, Lars, Carol, Frits, Marleen, Lulia, Dorival, Catarina, Matt, and many more whose names escape me right now. Also thanks to all the crew and friends who participated in the journey.
After tomorrow we'll see the start of a new adventure, in which we'll move on to new horizons, but perhaps we'll also meet up with some of the people we met along the way who invited us to come visit if we're in the neighborhood. A new page may well be written in the history of Victor Too after this trip.
So after a year of socializing with perfect strangers, the experience which made it all the more worth wile, thank you Bernard, Jeanne, Nicolas, John, Gerry, Sam, Alex, Miguel, Robert, Quentin, Gabrielle, Frederik, Tomas, Lars, Carol, Frits, Marleen, Lulia, Dorival, Catarina, Matt, and many more whose names escape me right now. Also thanks to all the crew and friends who participated in the journey.
After tomorrow we'll see the start of a new adventure, in which we'll move on to new horizons, but perhaps we'll also meet up with some of the people we met along the way who invited us to come visit if we're in the neighborhood. A new page may well be written in the history of Victor Too after this trip.
Saturday, June 25, 2011
Final repairs
We've gone through three belts for our old Autohelm. The last one was nearly giving the ghost so we desperately needed a new one. As we sailed from St. Mary's, the autopilot wouldn't hold course after the wind got up to force five and the waves started building.
So we were in the market for a new belt. We'd asked Matt if he knew someone who could help us out and we were in luck! In Falmouth marina, a small chandlery happened to have just the belt we were looking for. Obsolete, hard to get, but now at least we can let the boat steer itself all the way to Ostend. Still 300 Miles to go, and only five more days to do it.
But lucky for us, the wind will turn North West starting Monday, so we're all set to go for our last stretch through the English Channel.
So we were in the market for a new belt. We'd asked Matt if he knew someone who could help us out and we were in luck! In Falmouth marina, a small chandlery happened to have just the belt we were looking for. Obsolete, hard to get, but now at least we can let the boat steer itself all the way to Ostend. Still 300 Miles to go, and only five more days to do it.
But lucky for us, the wind will turn North West starting Monday, so we're all set to go for our last stretch through the English Channel.
Friday, June 24, 2011
Scilly
In just two days, we managed to visit three of the Isles of Scilly. Unfortunately, on Friday night a Force 7 South Westerly was predicted with gusts up to 36 knots, so we decided to head for Falmouth on Friday morning.
The first day was after our early morning arrival, we set off to see Bryher as we were anchored close to it in New Grimsby Sound. This is a very small island with less than a hundred inhabitants, mainly pastures, and one hotel.
It is windswept as it's exposed to the Westerly Atlantic swell and wind, and there are a lot of barren rocks on that side.
We had a pint of Cider in the only bar and went to bed early in a freshening North Westerly breeze.
The next morning, I had opted to leave early on the rising tide to make the shallow between Bryher and St.Mary's. We anchored off Tresco for three hours and visited Tresco Abbey and its wonderful gardens.
After a quick lunch in the Gardens' restaurant, we headed out to St. Mary's where Chris took a ferry out to the mainland, and we ate at the Atlantic Inn.
Afterwards, we went for a nightcap in the Mermaid where I had a Guinness last time I visited St. Mary's with the Aquafit. We had just stepped outside when Matt of Safe Arrival came rushing out and called after us. He'd just gotten in from his own crossing and was having a drink with two friends of his.
Needless to say, more drinks were had by all until the dinghy ride back proved to be a real challenge. Thanks to Matt, we found Victor Too among the moored boats, as we forgot to bring a flashlight. Next morning, getting up was a tough proposition but we managed to depart for the mainland a bit after nine.
The first day was after our early morning arrival, we set off to see Bryher as we were anchored close to it in New Grimsby Sound. This is a very small island with less than a hundred inhabitants, mainly pastures, and one hotel.
It is windswept as it's exposed to the Westerly Atlantic swell and wind, and there are a lot of barren rocks on that side.
We had a pint of Cider in the only bar and went to bed early in a freshening North Westerly breeze.
The next morning, I had opted to leave early on the rising tide to make the shallow between Bryher and St.Mary's. We anchored off Tresco for three hours and visited Tresco Abbey and its wonderful gardens.
After a quick lunch in the Gardens' restaurant, we headed out to St. Mary's where Chris took a ferry out to the mainland, and we ate at the Atlantic Inn.
Afterwards, we went for a nightcap in the Mermaid where I had a Guinness last time I visited St. Mary's with the Aquafit. We had just stepped outside when Matt of Safe Arrival came rushing out and called after us. He'd just gotten in from his own crossing and was having a drink with two friends of his.
Needless to say, more drinks were had by all until the dinghy ride back proved to be a real challenge. Thanks to Matt, we found Victor Too among the moored boats, as we forgot to bring a flashlight. Next morning, getting up was a tough proposition but we managed to depart for the mainland a bit after nine.
Speeding home
On the 22nd of June, at 5:30 in the morning, we arrived in the Isles of Scilly. Wonderful islands of birds and rocks and beautiful gardens.
But a storm is pushing us forward, as there aren't many safe anchorages in Scilly we continue sailing home.
But a storm is pushing us forward, as there aren't many safe anchorages in Scilly we continue sailing home.
Saturday, June 11, 2011
Another day, same ocean
First it was repairs that held us in the Azores, now it is weather. A violent storm coming from the South West is battering us right now with 36-knot winds and heavy rain. We are waiting for it to subside to start on our crossing to the Isles of Scilly.
The good ting is that in its wake we will get favorable winds. The drawback is the possibility of more depressions getting through because of the weakening of the Azores high. This should normally protect us from heavy conditions in June, but this seems not to be the case this year.
So we sit inside while the winds buffet the boat and the rain prevents us from wandering outside. We read, talk and use the internet for weather updates and blogging.
Yesterday was good, with some sun and the first warm weather in a while. We walked around the town, to Monte Brasil and the fortress. Later we went to the bull run in the streets of the old city. A lot of people, many tourists and four bulls made up for two hours of local folklore.
Today, however, the conditions are nasty for venturing outside, so we wait, sleep a bit and try not to get too bored. The temperature outside is only 18°C, the humidity 100%. I am waiting for a handyman to bring us a fabricated spare part for the autopilot, so even if I could, I wouldn't get out. We've got some laundry drying inside so humidity here is also helping get the experienced conditions feel worse than they are. We may have to switch on the heating later, which is the first time since we are in the Azores.
Later today we'll fill up with diesel and water and get some last minute shopping done, so that when the weather does improve, we're ready to go for the 1100 Miles back to Europe.
The good ting is that in its wake we will get favorable winds. The drawback is the possibility of more depressions getting through because of the weakening of the Azores high. This should normally protect us from heavy conditions in June, but this seems not to be the case this year.
So we sit inside while the winds buffet the boat and the rain prevents us from wandering outside. We read, talk and use the internet for weather updates and blogging.
Yesterday was good, with some sun and the first warm weather in a while. We walked around the town, to Monte Brasil and the fortress. Later we went to the bull run in the streets of the old city. A lot of people, many tourists and four bulls made up for two hours of local folklore.
Today, however, the conditions are nasty for venturing outside, so we wait, sleep a bit and try not to get too bored. The temperature outside is only 18°C, the humidity 100%. I am waiting for a handyman to bring us a fabricated spare part for the autopilot, so even if I could, I wouldn't get out. We've got some laundry drying inside so humidity here is also helping get the experienced conditions feel worse than they are. We may have to switch on the heating later, which is the first time since we are in the Azores.
Later today we'll fill up with diesel and water and get some last minute shopping done, so that when the weather does improve, we're ready to go for the 1100 Miles back to Europe.
Thursday, June 9, 2011
Boat and crew - and wind
Weather windows are a difficult subject among sailors. Do you need an entire period of safe sailing or are forecasts worthless after five days?
I've always tried to hang on to forecasts as long as possible. Even when the actual conditions weren't the way the forecast predicted, I've always used them to understand what was going on. It helps to study weather fenomena extensively, of course. I've been watching weather develop for ten years now, and I've got a decent idea where it's all coming from and what the effects are.
But the most difficult part of understanding weather is trying to get a grip on the medium term forecast three to five days on, and devising strategies to handle what it throws at you in the middle of the ocean.
Being without detailed forecasts for ten days in the middle of the Atlantic did my interpreting skills a lot of good. With just a general synopsis, limited to the hazards to shipping from Bermuda Navtex, I drew my own little maps and tried to devise what the wind would do next. The best I got from that were short term forecasts, and they couldn't account for everything we got in those days.
I realized the relativity of long term forecasts even better than I already had in the past. They depend heavily on up-to-date information, something we couldn't get without satellite phone. But at least it didn't get us into trouble, like when we evaded the Easterly gale with a three days out of date forecast.
So we come back to the weather window. Is it good up to three days into the future, or is only the next day forecast dependable? It of course depends on the area you are in. In the Western Europe waters, the weather is highly unpredictable. Today we're getting a forecast for a gale passing tomorrow, and its position has shifted by a couple hundred Miles in the past few days. When we leave tomorrow night, we'll get a second, smaller depression to provide us with good winds for the first three days. Or so the forecast says. But it could be more, less, or from a slightly different direction.
So does this help us make a good decision on when to leave - and where to?
Well it helps, but if it will turn out to be adequate for a good crossing, is something that remains to be seen. With good continuing weather updates, we will hopefully escape the worst and get the best wind for a fast crossing. But that gale that's still lurking on the East coast of the U.S., might get us in the end, just before we reach the Isles of Scilly. Because that is ten days on, and no forecast can predict the weather in a certain location that far into the future.
So for that gale we might come to depend on our fallback position, which is a very sturdy boat and a hardened crew.
I've always tried to hang on to forecasts as long as possible. Even when the actual conditions weren't the way the forecast predicted, I've always used them to understand what was going on. It helps to study weather fenomena extensively, of course. I've been watching weather develop for ten years now, and I've got a decent idea where it's all coming from and what the effects are.
But the most difficult part of understanding weather is trying to get a grip on the medium term forecast three to five days on, and devising strategies to handle what it throws at you in the middle of the ocean.
Being without detailed forecasts for ten days in the middle of the Atlantic did my interpreting skills a lot of good. With just a general synopsis, limited to the hazards to shipping from Bermuda Navtex, I drew my own little maps and tried to devise what the wind would do next. The best I got from that were short term forecasts, and they couldn't account for everything we got in those days.
I realized the relativity of long term forecasts even better than I already had in the past. They depend heavily on up-to-date information, something we couldn't get without satellite phone. But at least it didn't get us into trouble, like when we evaded the Easterly gale with a three days out of date forecast.
So we come back to the weather window. Is it good up to three days into the future, or is only the next day forecast dependable? It of course depends on the area you are in. In the Western Europe waters, the weather is highly unpredictable. Today we're getting a forecast for a gale passing tomorrow, and its position has shifted by a couple hundred Miles in the past few days. When we leave tomorrow night, we'll get a second, smaller depression to provide us with good winds for the first three days. Or so the forecast says. But it could be more, less, or from a slightly different direction.
So does this help us make a good decision on when to leave - and where to?
Well it helps, but if it will turn out to be adequate for a good crossing, is something that remains to be seen. With good continuing weather updates, we will hopefully escape the worst and get the best wind for a fast crossing. But that gale that's still lurking on the East coast of the U.S., might get us in the end, just before we reach the Isles of Scilly. Because that is ten days on, and no forecast can predict the weather in a certain location that far into the future.
So for that gale we might come to depend on our fallback position, which is a very sturdy boat and a hardened crew.
Sunday, June 5, 2011
Faial
After being in Horta for nine days, we managed to escape the repair cycle and actually visit something. We only had one day and the rental car was due in the next morning, so we made the most of it.
We started out early morning, and the roads were pretty quiet as it was a Sunday and most Portuguese don't do much before noon except go to church. So did we:
A very nice ruin in Ribeirinha, left from the last big earthquake in 1998.
The new peninsula in the West after the eruption of Capelinhos also merited a visit, so we walked around the old light house and read the signs depiction the cataclysmic events of 1958. Since the visitor center wasn't open until the afternoon, we walked around the area covered in volcanic ash for a while and then sought the trail to the cauldron from a previous eruption. Unfortunately, we couldn't find the end of the trail so we coudn't visit the cone.
The old light house, partially covered in ash.
While driving up the volcano, we did come across the Levada trail, whit its nice meandering water conduit in very good order. It reminded us of Madeira and the excellent trails we have taken whilst visiting that island.
Next up was the Northern coast, where we drove down to the ocean and visited the destroyed harbour of Porto da Eira. It's amazing how the fishermen could have used this port over hundreds of years, when it was always just a small indentation in the coast, without any protection from the ocean swell. It was destroyed by a winter storm and doesn't look like it will be used for anything else than bathing anytime soon.
Whilst driving back to Horta, we passed the Botanical Gardens, and even though the sign at the gate indicated they were open, there was nobody there. The gate itself wasn't shut though, so we could walk the gardens at leisure. We didn't however get to buy the T-shirt, because the souvenir shop was closed.
Back in Horta, a parade was underway for the ascension festivities, so we visited the Monte de Guia cauldron as we couldn't get through town. Next to it is a nice little museum in an old whaling factory. It has some interesting displays as well as documentaries about Faial's past as a whaling station.
As the big Continente supermarket was open until nine p.m. - and this on a Sunday! - we did our shopping for the crossing to the Isles of Scilly.
We started out early morning, and the roads were pretty quiet as it was a Sunday and most Portuguese don't do much before noon except go to church. So did we:
A very nice ruin in Ribeirinha, left from the last big earthquake in 1998.
The new peninsula in the West after the eruption of Capelinhos also merited a visit, so we walked around the old light house and read the signs depiction the cataclysmic events of 1958. Since the visitor center wasn't open until the afternoon, we walked around the area covered in volcanic ash for a while and then sought the trail to the cauldron from a previous eruption. Unfortunately, we couldn't find the end of the trail so we coudn't visit the cone.
The old light house, partially covered in ash.
While driving up the volcano, we did come across the Levada trail, whit its nice meandering water conduit in very good order. It reminded us of Madeira and the excellent trails we have taken whilst visiting that island.
Next up was the Northern coast, where we drove down to the ocean and visited the destroyed harbour of Porto da Eira. It's amazing how the fishermen could have used this port over hundreds of years, when it was always just a small indentation in the coast, without any protection from the ocean swell. It was destroyed by a winter storm and doesn't look like it will be used for anything else than bathing anytime soon.
Whilst driving back to Horta, we passed the Botanical Gardens, and even though the sign at the gate indicated they were open, there was nobody there. The gate itself wasn't shut though, so we could walk the gardens at leisure. We didn't however get to buy the T-shirt, because the souvenir shop was closed.
Back in Horta, a parade was underway for the ascension festivities, so we visited the Monte de Guia cauldron as we couldn't get through town. Next to it is a nice little museum in an old whaling factory. It has some interesting displays as well as documentaries about Faial's past as a whaling station.
As the big Continente supermarket was open until nine p.m. - and this on a Sunday! - we did our shopping for the crossing to the Isles of Scilly.
Monday, May 30, 2011
Peter Sport
Sailing to Faial was as hard as sailing across. We needed wind as we didn't have the engine to help us along. We got 20 knots and after 24 hours we were close to Faial but 20 Miles to the South of our destination due to a stubborn East-North Easterly wind that went up to 25 knots as we approached Horta.
Finally on the second night, as we were tacking to the island, the wind started turning North East. This allowed us to get closer in on each tack.
Near the morning of our third day out, we got close enough to sail into the channel between Faial and Pico. A short hop into the harbour and we anchored close to the marina entrance. A bit too close to a superyacht also anchored there, which proved our rescue later.
As it was now Saturday, we couldn't get a tow into the marina. But the agent of the superyacht complained and an hour later, we got a tow in from a quickly roused marina employee.
Later we did what every sailor does after arriving in Horta, so we visited Peter Sport Cafe, comitted to sailors since early last century.
Finally on the second night, as we were tacking to the island, the wind started turning North East. This allowed us to get closer in on each tack.
Near the morning of our third day out, we got close enough to sail into the channel between Faial and Pico. A short hop into the harbour and we anchored close to the marina entrance. A bit too close to a superyacht also anchored there, which proved our rescue later.
As it was now Saturday, we couldn't get a tow into the marina. But the agent of the superyacht complained and an hour later, we got a tow in from a quickly roused marina employee.
Later we did what every sailor does after arriving in Horta, so we visited Peter Sport Cafe, comitted to sailors since early last century.
Wednesday, May 25, 2011
Flores
The first island we made landfall on after our ocean crossing, proved to be the right choice. Flores is beautiful, has only kind people and the pleasantest tiny marina.
We had a few days to relax after we settled down a bit, so we rented a car and drove around the island. Visiting lovely towns, crater lakes and taking walks on the hillsides proved the perfect antidote for ocean tiredness.
There are a lot of people doing handicrafts and we got some nice souvenirs from them that I'm sure the people who receive them will be thrilled with. Lace, paintings, crafted objects and shells make very good gifts after long travels.
We met tons of kind people, from the couple looking for the wedding party they flew in to attend to the numerous sailors getting into the marina to Paula who catered for our every need, from cars to excellent birthday cake.
Flores has a limited surface, but it goes very deep indeed.
We had a few days to relax after we settled down a bit, so we rented a car and drove around the island. Visiting lovely towns, crater lakes and taking walks on the hillsides proved the perfect antidote for ocean tiredness.
There are a lot of people doing handicrafts and we got some nice souvenirs from them that I'm sure the people who receive them will be thrilled with. Lace, paintings, crafted objects and shells make very good gifts after long travels.
We met tons of kind people, from the couple looking for the wedding party they flew in to attend to the numerous sailors getting into the marina to Paula who catered for our every need, from cars to excellent birthday cake.
Flores has a limited surface, but it goes very deep indeed.
Saturday, May 21, 2011
The log entries
So, what happened?
Well, we set out all very happy and content, with a good weather forecast and in high spirits. The first few days were nice and quiet, a bit light on the wind side but making quite good progress otherwise.
From the log:
Saturday May 23 - We covered 111 Miles in the past 24 hours. Still 1790 to go. We got the tail of an active thunderstorm over us last night, without any serious consequence. The wind is now South East 8 to 10 knots.
Then a high established itself on our path, giving strong Easterlies. The log gives an impression:
Monday April 25 - We have had to sail North West yesterday in strong winds up to 30 knots - a tough nut to crack! We covered 140 Miles in 24 hours but only gained 7 Miles Eastward. Still 1731 Miles to go.
After the high passed, we got light winds once more, but from the South East, so we got some Easting done.
But then our luck ran out. From the log:
Friday April 29 - Where to start? We can't use the engine because the gearbox has jammed. We were lucky to replace the shroud chainplate connector after we found out it almost broke in half, but we've had to jury rig the baby stay as already 7 wires had parted. A couple of awkward moments passed while the mast was swaying around only supported with the top shroud whilst getting the baby stay connector in place of the broken one.
1460 Miles remain to be covered under jury rig.
We were still making relatively good progress, until a forecast depression forced us South:
Saturday April 30 - We have advanced beyond expectation - 101 Miles in the last 24 hours. Unfortunately a depression is going to pass us down to 34° North and in order to avoid strong Easterlies we will have to head South East again by at least 60 to a hundred Miles.
A few days later, our satellite contract got reset due to a miscommunication between the phone and the provider. We still had Navtex-forecasts from Bermuda, but we very much missed the detailed forecasts.
The next week, we got mainly light Easterly to South Easterly winds. Crackers were rationed on May 1st.
It took us until May 8th to get going in the right direction again:
Monday May 9 - First day of week 4, 899 Miles to go. We covered 93 Miles in the right direction yesterday. The bad news is that the barometer is rising, 1013 mb right now and the wind is already in the North East. If we don't get any closer in the next two days, I'll call a MAYDAY to get 2 crew off and new food supplies.
The high pressure blocked our way, we were becalmed for two days. Food and water were running low for 5 crew, we would run out of breakfast and lunch in 10 days.
The log account of May 10:
21:30 Eastern US Time (23:30 local). Mayday transmitted when a ship came into view to the South of us. GMC Fort St. George replied. Transfer succeeded of 2 crew at 1 a.m. Food supplies were received but we made contact a couple of times due to no propulsion available to us. Luckily we managed to fend off and no obvious damage to us or the freighter.
The day after, the wind picked up at 2 p.m. and we sailed straight for the Azores the next 6 days.
Then the high North of us started moving toward us and the wind went East again.
The log turns dramatic:
Wednesday May 18 - At 14:00hrs we were 222 Miles from Faial. We won't make it. We will try to get to Flores, at 132 Miles distance tonight at 18:00hrs.
We ran out of wind 5 Miles West of Flores harbour. After a panpan message Flores port authority organized a tow and at 21:10 local time we were secured in the new marina of Porto das Lajes.
Despair and Joy
33 days, 3089 Miles, 1 Mayday, 1 Panpan.
We got towed into Flores just after 21h10 today after 33 days at sea, with 3 of our initial 5 crew. We are all sound and healthy, and soon will be fast asleep after over a month at sea.
I decided to call a Panpan to get us towed in when the wind died less than 5 Miles from Flores, and current sweeping us past the island. The tow went perfect and now we're in the new marina waiting for wind to set sail for Faial and repairs to rig, engine and genoa.
Thanks to all who contributed to our succesfull crossing, you are the best!
We got towed into Flores just after 21h10 today after 33 days at sea, with 3 of our initial 5 crew. We are all sound and healthy, and soon will be fast asleep after over a month at sea.
I decided to call a Panpan to get us towed in when the wind died less than 5 Miles from Flores, and current sweeping us past the island. The tow went perfect and now we're in the new marina waiting for wind to set sail for Faial and repairs to rig, engine and genoa.
Thanks to all who contributed to our succesfull crossing, you are the best!
Monday, April 18, 2011
Across again
Our last stop in the BVI is Anegada. Low island of sand and brush, paradise of birds, sea and sun.
No messages for three weeks, so perhaps we can dream of what we leave behind...
Tomorrow we're off for Faial, 2200 Miles on, to Europe!
No messages for three weeks, so perhaps we can dream of what we leave behind...
Tomorrow we're off for Faial, 2200 Miles on, to Europe!
Wednesday, April 13, 2011
Rhone diving
It was a dive I'd read about and it was supposed to be special, so after some inquiries I went with BVI Dive to the wreck of RMS Rhone. We had to get a permit to use one of the national park moorings, so I went to the park office and handed over my 12 dollars to a slightly disorganized but very cheerful lady at the counter. We anchored over at Peter island and in the morning motored over to Salt island, where the Rhone was wrecked about 150 years ago.
The dive was very well organized, and we went down two times, first for the bow section in about 25 meters and then the stern section, a bit shallower next to the rocks where it floundered and about 300 passengers met their deaths.
And it was awesome. Barracuda, sharks, huge lobsters, huge coral reef fish, it has it all. Two swim-throughs into the wreck with fish and lobsters hiding inside. And endless parts strewn across the ocean floor, some recognizable and some just coral encrusted bits of metal.
Just before the second dive, rain had started pouring so we went in and stayed just below the surface for a minute or two, watching the rain splashing down in the water above us. It is a very nice sight, especially in such nice warm water at 27° C.
So the diving in the BVI proved first rate, as the snorkeling already had. It was an excellent diving experience to conclude an already wonderful cruise in the Caribbean aboard Victor Too.
The dive was very well organized, and we went down two times, first for the bow section in about 25 meters and then the stern section, a bit shallower next to the rocks where it floundered and about 300 passengers met their deaths.
And it was awesome. Barracuda, sharks, huge lobsters, huge coral reef fish, it has it all. Two swim-throughs into the wreck with fish and lobsters hiding inside. And endless parts strewn across the ocean floor, some recognizable and some just coral encrusted bits of metal.
Just before the second dive, rain had started pouring so we went in and stayed just below the surface for a minute or two, watching the rain splashing down in the water above us. It is a very nice sight, especially in such nice warm water at 27° C.
So the diving in the BVI proved first rate, as the snorkeling already had. It was an excellent diving experience to conclude an already wonderful cruise in the Caribbean aboard Victor Too.
Friday, April 8, 2011
Goin' home
After the lonely beaches of Anguilla, we've come to the last stop of our Caribbean circuit. Very touristy, with hundreds of charter boats. We manage to squeeze into anchorages, albeit sometimes a bit awkwardly. The beaches are fine, the sailing excellent.
The first items on a list of things to do before we leave for the Azores are being tackled. It isn't a very long list, we've been doing this for a while now. Just a few more days of cruising, relaxing and sampling the local cooking and we'll be heading across the big pond again.
The crew has smoothly filled up and we'll be crossing with the five of us. We're preparing for the extra people on board. The last few bouts of snorkeling and some more turtles, rays, lobsters and barracuda. One evening snorkel with my dive lights we had an eagle ray whizzing by at very close range.
The BVI is a very nice cruising ground, something to come back to. So many bays to be explored, so many islands. They'll have to wait for us to come back one day, perhaps chartering out of Road Town or a nearby place.
So we head for Village Cay Marina, where we'll pick up our crew and get supplies, and seek that weather window that sets us off across to yet another string of beautiful islands, much closer to home.
The first items on a list of things to do before we leave for the Azores are being tackled. It isn't a very long list, we've been doing this for a while now. Just a few more days of cruising, relaxing and sampling the local cooking and we'll be heading across the big pond again.
The crew has smoothly filled up and we'll be crossing with the five of us. We're preparing for the extra people on board. The last few bouts of snorkeling and some more turtles, rays, lobsters and barracuda. One evening snorkel with my dive lights we had an eagle ray whizzing by at very close range.
The BVI is a very nice cruising ground, something to come back to. So many bays to be explored, so many islands. They'll have to wait for us to come back one day, perhaps chartering out of Road Town or a nearby place.
So we head for Village Cay Marina, where we'll pick up our crew and get supplies, and seek that weather window that sets us off across to yet another string of beautiful islands, much closer to home.
Monday, April 4, 2011
Routine
It's a bright morning and we decide we want to be Somewhere Else. The boat has been tidied and nothing will fall over if we heel. Ingrid takes the anchor winch stick while I start the engine.
I walk forward to help with the anchor chain safety. We always attach a hook to the chain to prevent the forces from being transferred to the anchor winch.
I take the rope with me to the cockpit to secure it. Meanwhile, Ingrid has started winching the anchor in. I help her by motoring forward slowly.
After the anchor is up and secured, we sail off for our next destination.
After a hard sail - the Caribbean, you know - we arrive and Ingrid walks forward to prepare the anchor. She stands ready while Paul positions Victor Too.
The anchor goes at the right spot and we let out 10 meters of chain, then wait for the wind to make the anchor grab. We let out more scope and secure the chain.
Then, sometimes I snorkel to check on the anchor. But when we can see the sandy bottom, this isn't necessary. Only once we've had to re-anchor, and once I have had to reverse afterwards to make the anchor dig in. So we're quite pleased with our Manson anchor.
After all the cruising, we deserved a drink!
I walk forward to help with the anchor chain safety. We always attach a hook to the chain to prevent the forces from being transferred to the anchor winch.
I take the rope with me to the cockpit to secure it. Meanwhile, Ingrid has started winching the anchor in. I help her by motoring forward slowly.
After the anchor is up and secured, we sail off for our next destination.
After a hard sail - the Caribbean, you know - we arrive and Ingrid walks forward to prepare the anchor. She stands ready while Paul positions Victor Too.
The anchor goes at the right spot and we let out 10 meters of chain, then wait for the wind to make the anchor grab. We let out more scope and secure the chain.
Then, sometimes I snorkel to check on the anchor. But when we can see the sandy bottom, this isn't necessary. Only once we've had to re-anchor, and once I have had to reverse afterwards to make the anchor dig in. So we're quite pleased with our Manson anchor.
After all the cruising, we deserved a drink!
Friday, April 1, 2011
Snorkeling
Awe
First I was stunned. I was looking at a huge fish. It was 1.5 meters long and it was floating in the water. We were snorkeling off Creole Rock in French St. Martin. There was a good deal of coral and many schools of fish, angelfish, sergeant majors, surgeonfish, the works. Then I stared at its head as I circled it slowly. It was a barracuda.
Anxiety
It was not just a barracuda, but the biggest monster I have seen to date. It was floating about 30 cm below the surface and it was so big I squeezed Ingrid's hand and whispered "barracuda" in my snorkel tube. We positioned ourselves to its side and a bit further away, to get a good look and also not to attract attention to ourselves.
Escape
The head of this fish was so big, my whole hand would fit in its mouth effortlessly. I imagined it was pure luck that it wasn't feeding or we may have suddenly become prey. We watched it intently for a good ten minutes as it seemed to rest between the coral heads and apparently unaware fish swam around it. After a while I figured it wasn't going to attack us, or it would have already done so. So I started backing away slowly, holding hands with Ingrid as we exchanged glances while keeping an eye on this monster of the seas. We successfully got away and regretted not having brought the underwater camera Ingrid's brother had bought just the day before.
First I was stunned. I was looking at a huge fish. It was 1.5 meters long and it was floating in the water. We were snorkeling off Creole Rock in French St. Martin. There was a good deal of coral and many schools of fish, angelfish, sergeant majors, surgeonfish, the works. Then I stared at its head as I circled it slowly. It was a barracuda.
Anxiety
It was not just a barracuda, but the biggest monster I have seen to date. It was floating about 30 cm below the surface and it was so big I squeezed Ingrid's hand and whispered "barracuda" in my snorkel tube. We positioned ourselves to its side and a bit further away, to get a good look and also not to attract attention to ourselves.
Escape
The head of this fish was so big, my whole hand would fit in its mouth effortlessly. I imagined it was pure luck that it wasn't feeding or we may have suddenly become prey. We watched it intently for a good ten minutes as it seemed to rest between the coral heads and apparently unaware fish swam around it. After a while I figured it wasn't going to attack us, or it would have already done so. So I started backing away slowly, holding hands with Ingrid as we exchanged glances while keeping an eye on this monster of the seas. We successfully got away and regretted not having brought the underwater camera Ingrid's brother had bought just the day before.
Sunday, March 27, 2011
Honey Pond
Our stay in the dutch part of St. Martin wasn't very long. A couple of days in Philipsburg watching the cruise ship crowd, and then a day in Honey Harbour - or make that Oyster Pond. Anybody who has ever gone to Canada may know Honey Harbour. It's right off one of the tributaries to one of the Great Lakes, Georgian Bay.
We did a trip to Canada a while back and we once visited this place and while the scenery must have been wonderful, a room in the only hotel was 300 US$ a night. A bit steep, certainly for our taste. Never mind it had a private bubble pool. I then delivered my since famous line "All right, I'll go get my wife in the car". After which I hopped into our rental car, drove off swiftly and we checked into the cheap motel we'd seen on the highway 15 miles back. We've never seen Honey Harbour in daylight.
This time round, we went to the marina office only to be told the private mooring we were on was 46 US$, actually exactly the same amount as we'd be charged berthed in the marina. But if we came into the marina, we might get a discount.
So we slipped the rope of that mooring and tucked into the farthest corner of the pond, after first snorkeling to look for hidden dangers on the bottom.
We met a Canadian guy later that night whilst having a drink in the bar who we told we were anchored. He was incredulous, only believing we'd actually anchored there after I also told him we'd already crossed an ocean. He'd chartered from there and hit bottom three times while getting into the marina. He wasn't paying the berthing fees, and he was impressed we'd gotten away with it.
We used to refer to ridiculously priced accomodation as "Honey Harbour" since our trip to Canada. Now, we have renewed that habit to outrageously priced marinas and half the time refer to Oyster Pond as... Honey Harbour.
We did a trip to Canada a while back and we once visited this place and while the scenery must have been wonderful, a room in the only hotel was 300 US$ a night. A bit steep, certainly for our taste. Never mind it had a private bubble pool. I then delivered my since famous line "All right, I'll go get my wife in the car". After which I hopped into our rental car, drove off swiftly and we checked into the cheap motel we'd seen on the highway 15 miles back. We've never seen Honey Harbour in daylight.
This time round, we went to the marina office only to be told the private mooring we were on was 46 US$, actually exactly the same amount as we'd be charged berthed in the marina. But if we came into the marina, we might get a discount.
So we slipped the rope of that mooring and tucked into the farthest corner of the pond, after first snorkeling to look for hidden dangers on the bottom.
We met a Canadian guy later that night whilst having a drink in the bar who we told we were anchored. He was incredulous, only believing we'd actually anchored there after I also told him we'd already crossed an ocean. He'd chartered from there and hit bottom three times while getting into the marina. He wasn't paying the berthing fees, and he was impressed we'd gotten away with it.
We used to refer to ridiculously priced accomodation as "Honey Harbour" since our trip to Canada. Now, we have renewed that habit to outrageously priced marinas and half the time refer to Oyster Pond as... Honey Harbour.
Sunday, March 20, 2011
Alternative destinations
First I'd planned to visit Saba to dive there. Then the wind was consistently from the North East which made mooring in Saba pretty horrible so we changed plans and aimed for St. Barths instead. When we left on Saturday morning, the wind didn't do much, but later rose and changed to the North, and in the afternoon veered North East. But by then, our target was too far to windward, so we opted for Statia instead.
All of these are pretty close together, so no trouble getting from one to the next. Our next hop was meant to be Oyster Pond in St. Martin, but the North Easterly wind combined with the late hour made us go into Great Bay on St. Martin. Just six Miles closer, but 4 Miles more Westward. It took us 3 days of waiting until the wind had changed enough to finally make it into Oyster Pond.
The upshot of all this is of course the continuous changing of cruising plans and destinations as we go along. We're having a lot of fun exploring different options and I've long started putting in alternate routes into our navigational software so we're never without an alternative.
But tomorrow we're headed for Anguilla, and since we're picking up my brother in law, we'll make that. At least that's our aim and weather permitting, it doens't look impossible. But we have already had to put people on a ferry so as not to rush too much, so our cruising lifestyle remains leisurely. No point getting stressed with deadlines or having to beat to windward if the wind isn't favorable. There's always ferries, planes and cars to get others to come to us.
But we try. It's just a far cry from my trip to Portugal in 2006, when we ended up taking the rough route to meet folks. But I believed then, and do still, there is always an alternative destination on the horizon. It should be every cruiser's motto.
All of these are pretty close together, so no trouble getting from one to the next. Our next hop was meant to be Oyster Pond in St. Martin, but the North Easterly wind combined with the late hour made us go into Great Bay on St. Martin. Just six Miles closer, but 4 Miles more Westward. It took us 3 days of waiting until the wind had changed enough to finally make it into Oyster Pond.
The upshot of all this is of course the continuous changing of cruising plans and destinations as we go along. We're having a lot of fun exploring different options and I've long started putting in alternate routes into our navigational software so we're never without an alternative.
But tomorrow we're headed for Anguilla, and since we're picking up my brother in law, we'll make that. At least that's our aim and weather permitting, it doens't look impossible. But we have already had to put people on a ferry so as not to rush too much, so our cruising lifestyle remains leisurely. No point getting stressed with deadlines or having to beat to windward if the wind isn't favorable. There's always ferries, planes and cars to get others to come to us.
But we try. It's just a far cry from my trip to Portugal in 2006, when we ended up taking the rough route to meet folks. But I believed then, and do still, there is always an alternative destination on the horizon. It should be every cruiser's motto.
Saturday, March 19, 2011
St. Kitts cruise ship Mecca
We didn't spend enough time in Nevis. It's a shame, but when we tried to get to the most Northerly bay, the wind made it impossible to get there. So we sailed immediately to St. Kitts, across the Narrows.
The stay in St. Kitts was nice, very relaxing and calm. We stayed a couple of days in Whitehouse Bay, where we met Sam and Alex and got together for a drink and some snacks. We snorkeled the bay to see some old wrecks and saw some old cannons lying on the sea bed right below Victor Too, and a Manta Ray swimming next to one of them.
In the capital Basseterre we got into the marina for water and fuel and to get six weeks of laundry done. The laundry cost was a bit of a shock and very badly folded on top of that, the price of water was a joke (15 US$) and the fuel never materialized. But apart from that, it was a nice marina and a pleasant town. But it also shows that if you put enough cruise ships in a port, prices become a joke while service not necessarily benefits. We had a similar experience with customs and immigration officers, which we wouldn't rate as high as our sacred guide (Doyle's) does. Perhaps bad luck, but perhaps they just don't need yachts that much anymore with up to 5 cruise ships in port at the same time.
Anyway, the people in town were very friendly and helpful, as everywhere we've been. We didn't go see a lot, being victims of the inflated prices (64 US$ per person for a train ride), but I did two dives at very good sites in excellent visibility.
I prefer smaller islands to bigger ones, but with too many cruise ship passengers in town, sometimes the larger islands with more remote bays provide more alternatives to escape the crowd. So far, we've had plenty of everything not to decide either way. We still have a couple of islands to go, each different. Plenty of opportunities along the way!
The stay in St. Kitts was nice, very relaxing and calm. We stayed a couple of days in Whitehouse Bay, where we met Sam and Alex and got together for a drink and some snacks. We snorkeled the bay to see some old wrecks and saw some old cannons lying on the sea bed right below Victor Too, and a Manta Ray swimming next to one of them.
In the capital Basseterre we got into the marina for water and fuel and to get six weeks of laundry done. The laundry cost was a bit of a shock and very badly folded on top of that, the price of water was a joke (15 US$) and the fuel never materialized. But apart from that, it was a nice marina and a pleasant town. But it also shows that if you put enough cruise ships in a port, prices become a joke while service not necessarily benefits. We had a similar experience with customs and immigration officers, which we wouldn't rate as high as our sacred guide (Doyle's) does. Perhaps bad luck, but perhaps they just don't need yachts that much anymore with up to 5 cruise ships in port at the same time.
Anyway, the people in town were very friendly and helpful, as everywhere we've been. We didn't go see a lot, being victims of the inflated prices (64 US$ per person for a train ride), but I did two dives at very good sites in excellent visibility.
I prefer smaller islands to bigger ones, but with too many cruise ship passengers in town, sometimes the larger islands with more remote bays provide more alternatives to escape the crowd. So far, we've had plenty of everything not to decide either way. We still have a couple of islands to go, each different. Plenty of opportunities along the way!
Tuesday, March 15, 2011
Azores in sight - but where's my crew?
The return crossing is drawing nearer, and so far we are three crew strong. When I had to disappoint a lot of people on the crossing to Grenada, the trip to the Azores is drawing much less positive response. Not that I don't get inquiries, but a lot of people are perhaps looking for something else.
By now, I've learned never to count on anyone, so I always try to get some back-ups. This time, however, just getting 4 crew is hard work. I've had to answer dozens of text messages - all by the same person - just to arrange a Skype-session only to hear he wouldn't be joining us. In the end, I may be cheaper off just hiring paid crew. But I'm confident we'll get enough crew for the crossing by the time we reach the BVI.
After all, who wouldn't want to sail to the Azores? Those mystical islands in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean have always lured me and many other sailors. It's certainly a special target of this trip and we've got some good friends coming over once we're there.
So getting to the Azores may be the end of the Caribbean part of the journey, it's also a long cherished dream coming true. I'm answering about 2 e-mails a week now inquiring into the crossing, but so far only one positive reply and one crew are certain. And that's if all goes well.
By now, I've learned never to count on anyone, so I always try to get some back-ups. This time, however, just getting 4 crew is hard work. I've had to answer dozens of text messages - all by the same person - just to arrange a Skype-session only to hear he wouldn't be joining us. In the end, I may be cheaper off just hiring paid crew. But I'm confident we'll get enough crew for the crossing by the time we reach the BVI.
After all, who wouldn't want to sail to the Azores? Those mystical islands in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean have always lured me and many other sailors. It's certainly a special target of this trip and we've got some good friends coming over once we're there.
So getting to the Azores may be the end of the Caribbean part of the journey, it's also a long cherished dream coming true. I'm answering about 2 e-mails a week now inquiring into the crossing, but so far only one positive reply and one crew are certain. And that's if all goes well.
Monday, March 7, 2011
Antigua
Leaving Guadeloupe was harder than getting there. We left for Antigua on Monday morning. The wind decided otherwise though, and we had to turn back or spend an uncomfortable night in Montserrat.
So after two hours we were back in Deshaies for another attempt the next morning. This time, the wind was more favorable, although it turned again in the afternoon and the last hour was again spent motoring.
But we got to English Harbour before nightfall and anchored in the mangroves. Next day was spent clearing in, shopping, and having a nice time in Falmouth Harbour in the next bay.
The third day in Antigua we left for Jolly harbour after an excellent lunch in Johnny Coconat's bar. The Island atmosphere was getting a firm grip on us again, so we stayed for two nights with a shopping day in between in the Epicurean super market. The name says it all, no need to elaborate on the fine foods we bought.
Another day and an hour in the pouring rain to reach Deep Bay with our anchor dropping just as the rain stopped. Well, no good continuing now, there's some good snorkeling on the wreck of the Andes freighter.
Then onwards, to Boon Channel and the North East. A maze of reefs, islands and perfect anchorages. Three days and we're not thinking of leaving, although...
The next day we're still anchored at Redhead Island where a large colony of pelicans is nesting and a lot of young are making a racket every morning. We already spotted a large Sting Ray while snorkeling the reefs on the East side of Redhead island, and the numbers of lobsters, lambi shells and coral fish are staggering.
Finally, we're starting to feel there is more to explore and we head for Parham harbour to clear out. A last night at Long Island and perhaps tomorrow we'll head for St. Kitts and Nevis. But who knows what tomorrow brings?
So after two hours we were back in Deshaies for another attempt the next morning. This time, the wind was more favorable, although it turned again in the afternoon and the last hour was again spent motoring.
But we got to English Harbour before nightfall and anchored in the mangroves. Next day was spent clearing in, shopping, and having a nice time in Falmouth Harbour in the next bay.
The third day in Antigua we left for Jolly harbour after an excellent lunch in Johnny Coconat's bar. The Island atmosphere was getting a firm grip on us again, so we stayed for two nights with a shopping day in between in the Epicurean super market. The name says it all, no need to elaborate on the fine foods we bought.
Another day and an hour in the pouring rain to reach Deep Bay with our anchor dropping just as the rain stopped. Well, no good continuing now, there's some good snorkeling on the wreck of the Andes freighter.
Then onwards, to Boon Channel and the North East. A maze of reefs, islands and perfect anchorages. Three days and we're not thinking of leaving, although...
The next day we're still anchored at Redhead Island where a large colony of pelicans is nesting and a lot of young are making a racket every morning. We already spotted a large Sting Ray while snorkeling the reefs on the East side of Redhead island, and the numbers of lobsters, lambi shells and coral fish are staggering.
Finally, we're starting to feel there is more to explore and we head for Parham harbour to clear out. A last night at Long Island and perhaps tomorrow we'll head for St. Kitts and Nevis. But who knows what tomorrow brings?
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