Swapping Mainland Europe for Island Life

I’ve already mentioned the enjoyable social side of sailing, often repeatedly meeting up with fellow sailors in different locations, but there is also a huge selection of very good social media sites dedicated to sailing and, as Steve will confirmed with a huge sigh, I am an active member of most of them!   Through these groups we have been fortunate enough to meet some inspirational and lovely people, including Fi and Iain who we met up with in Culatra and then again in Portimao before leaving mainland Portugal with them to sail under the same skies to Madeira.

I had also been in contact with an Australian guy, Mark, who was heading to Madeira at the same time, but leaving from Lisbon.   We were in touch several times to organise daily radio checks, discuss weather windows as well as touching on the recent spate of Orca attacks and sharing advice.   Mark let me know he was leaving Lisbon 12hrs before we were due to leave Portimao so we should be arriving in Porto Santo at around the same time.  

The number of Orca attacks has intensified recently with four boats being involved in incidents close to Lagos and Portimao in one day.  These attacks usually resulted in the boats rudder being bitten off or partially broken while the yacht is spun around by a group of orcas.   The reason for these attacks is unclear, with whales only targeting sailing boats in a frightening display of force and violence.   There are two active pods of orca who are involved in this behaviour, which first started in early summer 2020.   Since then there have been over 100 incidents off the coast of Portugal and Spain, with so many in The Straits of Gibraltar that a restriction zone was created to encourage boats to stay close to the shore when passing through the area.  

We left Portimao with Fi and Iain on Ruffian, the two boats cutting through the still, flat seas as we headed SW towards a bank of fog.   I made use of the last of our internet to check on Mark’s progress from Lisbon and was surprised to see it looked as if he was making very slow progress East close to Sines, instead of a SW course to Madeira.   I sent him a message as we continued motoring in no wind with Ruffian a short distance behind us.   The fog thickened and we lost sight of Ruffian through the thick, damp mist.   Suddenly there was a break in the fog and we noticed a large school of fish jumping out the flat water beside us, skimming along the surface.  My heart went in my mouth as I realised this meant one thing – they were being chased.   My first thought was Orcas – I had a minds eye of a cartoon whale with a nasty grin and big teeth looking at me with a, “Here’s Johnny” evil look in it’s eye!   Fortunately, when the fins broke the water it was a large pod of dolphins which greeted us, so it was with relief that I radioed Ruffian to let them know about the dolphins.   Iain said he had seen something behind us and was also very worried but had heard there had been another Orca attack near Sines this morning.   My heart dropped as Iain proceeded to tell me it was an Australian boat that had been damaged.   When I told him the name of Mark’s boat, he confirmed that was the one involved.   I felt terrible for Mark who was now trying to get to Lagos with a broken rudder.   We later discovered his rudder had been completely removed by the Orca, and in a message to us describing the 2 hour attack in darkness at 2am, with one very large whale and several smaller ones playing with the boat, sounded like the most frightening thing you can imagine.

As the fog lifted the wind increased enough for us to sail and, with Hilda the Hydrovane set we settled into a relaxed routine on board.   The wind was very light and Cerulean felt like an old heavy bus, not performing as well as we had grown used to.   After a frustrating couple of hours Steve and I agreed that, if the light winds continued as forecast, we needed to evaluate whether it was worth continuing to Madeira as something was obviously amiss and maybe we should consider turning around.    We radioed Ruffian who were well ahead of us.   Iain suggested we take his GoPro and look under the boat, so we turned on the motor and caught up with them, catching the GoPro in a throwbag they hurled across to us.   Hero Steve, attached to a line, jumped into the deep, still waters and pointed the camera under the boat to try and understand why we were making such slow progress.   Fortunately he could not see anything tangled around the keel but there was plenty of furry growth on Cerulean’s bottom from weeks of inactivity on anchor.   We decided to keep going and deal with her dirty bottom once we arrived in Madeira.   It was the right decision.  

We crossed the busy shipping lane that is the main thoroughfare for ships entering and leaving the Mediterranean, finding a perfect gap in the traffic for us to slide through, avoiding a tug pulling a large oil rig (we had a discussion on what lights would have been displayed, if we’d seen it at night!).   The wind increased and we enjoyed some lovely sailing in flat, calm seas for two days.

At 3am early in the morning of day three, we turned the engine on as we were wallowing in no wind making 2knots with sails flapping.   This followed a glorious day where we had flown the cruising chute with Hilda steering beautifully throughout the day.

We saw very little wildlife during the passage – a few dolphins, a shark and, on day three we were joined by a little bird that hitched a ride with us for a while.   It’s funny because the same thing happened when we crossed the Bay of Biscay.    

My mum was a keen birdwatcher.   She had a bird table in front of the dining room window and she took huge pleasure watching the many and varied birds that visited the well-stocked bird feeder.   When mum was bed-ridden we put her bed beside the window so she could still see the birds and, when she passed away, we had the window open.   A little bird came and sat on the windowsill and looked in at us all standing around mum’s bed, trying to come to terms with what had just happened.   The bird sat for some time observing the scene and my sister, Judy and I took comfort in thinking this was mum looking in on us.    When the bird came to the boat and found its way inside the cabin, three times (even when we put netting across the entrance way), it allowed me to pick it up and take it outside each time.    When it flew away, it did a circuit of the boat, returned and landed on my head, before eventually leaving us for good.     I took comfort thinking of mum and knowing how much she would approve of this adventure we are on.

All day on day three we motored.  We took advantage of the engine being on and made fresh water so enjoyed showers.  As we headed further south, the temperatures increased and even wearing clothes was too much during the day!    At night we made up a bed in the forward cabin and took three hour shifts sharing the sleeping while the other stayed on lookout in the cockpit under the huge moonless sky of stars.   At one point we were both in the saloon, talking while the autopilot steered us towards Porto Santo.  The large chartplotter was in between the two of us as we sat either side of the chart table chatting.   At some point I decided to adjust the autopilot course and picked up the (seldom used) remote control unit, adjusting our direction by just a couple of clicks to port.   As I had turned it on to make this adjustment, I then turned the remote off again and continued our discussion.   About ten minutes later I looked at the chartplotter and saw with dismay that we were tracking in completely the wrong direction.  I rushed on deck and realised that, instead of turning off the remote control, I had turned off the autopilot and we had been doing circles for the last ten minutes!      Later that evening we had a catch up with Ruffian on the radio and, just as we were finishing, Iain commented on the two circles we had performed earlier.   I hung my head in shame – even when 200 miles from land, there is no hiding from stupid mistakes!

Steve decided to have a haircut while we had no wind.   He powered up his electric razor and proceeded to give himself a number 2 while hanging over the transom.    When he had completed the front he asked for help as he could not reach the back of his head.   By the time I joined in the fun he had a perfect Mullet which, after much hilarity and threats if photos being taken, I set about trying to complete the coiffeur.  Sadly, I am no hairdresser and just mastering how to use the razor properly proved a long and tedious task which resulted in me shaving Steve’s hair above his right ear, clean off!    First I was mortified when I saw I had given him half a Mohawk, quickly followed by me dissolving into fits of laughter which was not matched by a pissed off looking Steve!     Needless to say, he took the razor from me, vowing never to let me near it again and not allowing any photographic evidence of the event!

By the evening of day three the wind had started to pick up, all be it from the wrong direction, so we decided to turn off the engine and start tacking into the wind.   The peace and quiet after hours of hearing the motor was a huge relief and we made reasonable progress for a while, giving ourselves targets and rewards when those milestones were reached.    Our aim was to get within 50 miles of land and then, if the wind was still on the nose we would motorsail again.    With about 70 miles to go we noticed a big flash on the horizon.   Lightening.    Lightening fills all sailors with dread.   Being a singular metal pole in the middle of an ocean is similar to walking down the middle of a busy motorway and hoping not to be run over!    As the lightening intensified and moved towards us, we put all our electrics into the microwave to protect them and turned off as many electrical items as possible.   With sheet lightening flashing all around us we continued sailing with a reef in the main and smaller jib only.   The boat was not performing well and I was getting really frustrated as I tried to work out why she wasn’t responding in the way we have become used to.   The sails were trimmed, but Cerulean felt like she had a handbrake on still.  

Eventually the storm passed and, with the high volcanic peaks of Porto Santo in sight and only 20 miles left, we turned on the engine.   The sea was rough with wind against us, blowing upto 28knots, so progress was slow!    We were both tired, were not enjoying this last part of the passage, had not eaten properly as trying to prepare food while the boat is being lurched from side to side is not easy and we were hot and dirty after two days of heat and no showers!     To say it was a relief to round the tall, rugged Ilheu de Cima and see the small town of Vila Baleira with its long sandy beach, was an understatement!   We turned into the protected harbour and dropped our anchor next to Ruffian.  Tall barren, rugged mountains formed a backdrop to the small marina and it was with huge relief and a sense of achievement that we turned off the engine, made a decent meal and collapsed into bed for a much needed, long and peaceful nights sleep after a four and a half day passage covering 522 miles!