Category: Africa

*Dream, Believe, Achieve

*Title accredited to Bruce McLaren and Brent Esler

On the day of our departure to start the long passage across The Atlantic, we ate breakfast outside and talked about what lay ahead of us.   Neither of us were nervous, just excited about starting the biggest challenge of our journey so far and we, and the boat, felt ready.  We had prepared several meals which would be easy to heat up or eat cold during the first few days on passage so we could get used to being at sea again.   At 9.30am we pulled up the anchor and headed out of Mindelo Bay, leading a flotilla of other yachts who were also leaving to start their crossing, which gave us even more confidence in our decision to go on that day.  We pulled up the main sail while in the shelter of the protected harbour, thinking that, apart from shortening the sails, we may not be taking them down again until we reach our destination in 14-20 days time.

It seemed appropriate to be starting our passage on our second wedding anniversary so we celebrated with cake as we slowly left Cape Verde behind us, enjoying a gentle sail with the wind on our beam (side).   The sea was calm, the sky blue and that night we had a full moon to light up the flat sea as we headed south west.

The forecast was for light winds for the rest of the week with a dead spot forming over the weekend, so we continued on our course south to try and pick up more wind.   For the first few days we were in the company of a few boats, but seldom physically saw them, just their location on AIS (our GPS instruments) and always radioed them to have a quick talk.   We noticed an Aussie boat we had seen, but not met, in Mindelo coming up behind us, so called them on the radio and had a good talk to them.   As soon as our call finished we heard the dulcet tones of Iain on Ruffian calling us.   They were not showing on AIS as they were still too far away, but had heard us chatting on the radio.   We then, amazingly, continued to sail in their company for the next four days as they headed to Suriname and us to Grenada.  

We have a Single Side Band (SSB) radio which, different to the standard VHF radio which all yachts are required to have on board, the SSB allows us to talk to other users who are much further away from us.   While in Cape Verde we were able to talk to a friend over 1500NM from us, so the SSB is very useful when on a long passage and we had set up a daily schedule to talk with others also crossing the Atlantic.   Once we were out of VHF contact with any other boats, the regular schedules were our only opportunity to talk to anyone else, so became something we looked forward to each night, while we all tracked each others progress and heard their boat news.

Steve and I soon developed a routine around sleeping and cooking.  Steve took the first watch from 2000hrs to 2300hrs while I slept and then we would play tag team all night, sleeping every 3hrs.   This worked out well and suited us, with both of us taking a nap during the day to make up for any lost sleep. I had, what I considered to be, the best watch from 5-8am when I watched the sky slowly change from black to grey and then blue as the millions of bright stars slowly faded as the sky lightened.   Watching the sun slowly creep above the horizon and the blue of the ocean and sky intensify as the western horizon turn to orange and red as the blazing sun slowly became visible and rose into the clearing skies was a wonderful way to welcome each day.   The wind tended to increase a little at night and the seas flatten out, so often our best speeds were achieved after dark, so as the sun came up the wind dropped away a little and the waves picked up.

Cooking was normally done in bulk.   On calm days it was much easier to prepare food than if you are being thrown around the galley, so we made the most of the flat seas and prepared three or four dinners which we stowed in our big chiller until they were needed.    This worked really well, particularly when we were taken by surprise one early evening when a thunder and lightning storm developed in front of us with winds increasing from 8knts to 30knots in a matter of seconds.   We had seen the ominous looking dark clouds forming in front of us so altered our course to try and avoid the lightning that started flashing in the distance.   I had seen something similar a few years ago when sailing with my sister, Bea, and Andy in Croatia, so knew the worse of what could happen.   We reefed the main, even though there was still no wind, shut all the hatches and stowed all electronics in the microwave.  As we watched the storm develop on our radar screen, we noticed lots of other pockets of weather developing all around us and on going up on deck and seeing the lightning all around us, realised we had no escape.    The sea changed dramatically and turned grey in colour with flattened out waves, resembling a beautiful liquid satin under the heavy dark skies.  Fortunately I had just taken control of the wheel from Hilda, the hydrovane, when we were struck by the first squall.   I hand steered as Steve scanned the radar looking for an exit path for us to get away from the fast moving pockets of storm.   In the middle of all this, he fed me pieces of pizza, prepared earlier and the perfect “fast” food to eat while handsteering through strong wind and heavy rain!   

Before leaving Mindelo we had stocked up on fresh fruit and vegetables, knowing from past experience what lasts best.   Our chiller, bilge and hammock was full of pumpkin, cabbage, courgettes, apples, bananas, oranges, unripe avocado, carrots, courgettes, papaya, tomato, potatoes, onions, chillis and watermelon.   We ate the fruit that would not last first, so ran out of Papaya quickly, but as the bananas were a mixture of green and almost ripe, we were still eating them 16 days after starting our passage.   Everything else lasted really well and remained fresh, finishing the last of the courgettes on arriving in Grenada.

We stayed busy each day with regular boat checks – ensuring there was no new wear and tear or breakages.   This included inspecting the deck for screws, broken pieces or evidence of wearing/change.   The biggest issue on a long passage is chafing – ropes or items constantly rubbing together until they eventually break.   We could check at deck level, but not further up the mast, so every day we loosened or tightened the sails a little, just to ensure the halyards (ropes holding the sails up) were not rubbing through.  We also cleared the decks of any flying fish each morning which, attracted by the cabin lights, may have unwittingly jumped on board during the night.    We regularly checked the engine, generator, sails and other equipment for any changes or wear and tear.   We had serviced the engine ourselves prior to departing Mindelo, so knew we had covered the basics but, as we were not intending to use the engine much during the passage, we wanted to make sure it would start when we needed it on arrival at our destination.   The stores needed to be checked every day too.   As we were about to leave Cape Verde, I discovered some nuts I had bought at a market were infested with little bugs.   We had been so careful to try and avoid bugs getting on the boat by removing all paper labels on tins, not having any cardboard boxes on board, transferring eggs into boxes we knew were free of cockroach eggs and separating out flour and rice so if one store gets infected, they don’t all have to be disposed of.   Fortunately our infestation seemed contained but we put down lots of traps and regularly checked all the food containers for evidence of bugs.   Steve also let me have another go at cutting his hair as he figured if I did a terrible job again, it would be grown out by the time we met anyone else.  Fortunately I redeemed myself and gave him a cut he was happy with!     

It constantly amazed me how strong boats and sails need to be.   The huge amount of pressure the hull, rigging and sails have to endure is incredible.   When a gust of wind hits the sails, everything goes taut and, in the case of the sails, can bang as the force of the pressure hits them and the sheets (lines) tighten.   The rigging keeps the mast from bending and moving while the hull holds the pressure of the mast and rigging.   As the boat bangs down a wave, you can feel the boat shake and strain but we never had any doubt in her strength and what she is capable of.

We didn’t have much luck fishing.  We did manage to hook a big fish and we both got excited when we heard the fishing rod spool unravelling at speed.   I jumped up and, unable to lock the spool, decided to grab the fishing line which resulted in my finger being sliced quite deeply.  The sight of a big angry fish leaping in our wake spurred us on, but sadly our line broke and the fish won that battle, sort of.  It does now have a rubber fish in it’s mouth and is trailing a long line of nylon line but, as Steve said, it could ‘ve had a worse day and ended up on our dinner plate.   We had one other successful hook, but again the fish got away before we could land it.  The rest of our fishing attempts ended with us just catching weed and, as the amount of floating weed increased dramatically, we gave up putting the line out.    

Yellow floating sargasso forms large islands of weed in the Atlantic.   It surprised us how much of it there was and we had to keep clearing our hydrovane rudder of the long strands.  We were informed the amount of weed had increased dramatically due to the sea getting warmer due to Global Warming.   If someone can come up with a good use for this weed, they would make a fortune!  We also started noticing pink and purple things in the water and, at first, were unsure if they were animal, vegetable or mineral.   It later transpired they were Portuguese Men of War jellyfish and what we were seeing was their “Sail” that sits above the surface of the water and allows them to easily get blown across the ocean.   Ingenious! 

On day 10 we found the trade winds.   The trade winds blow from the NE and usually bring 15-20 knots of wind.   We had hoped to have these winds all the way from Cape Verde but our crossing was particularly light and others, who had crossed before, commented on the unusually flat seas and lack of wind.  Our spirits lifted along with our speed and we enjoyed the last week of our passage cruising at a comfortable 6-7 knots in a constant breeze which meant we set the sails, set up the  hydrovane and let the boat take care of itself while we did other things.   This meant we could go for days without changing our course or adjusting the sails.   As we entered our second week at sea we started a sweepstake on date and time of arrival and when we would see our first boat on AIS.   Steve was more optimistic than me but as the days ticked by and the distance reduced dramatically, I started to believe that Steves prediction of a Friday daytime arrival was achievable and we became focused on getting the boat to perform at her best, covering over 150NM each day.

On day 15 we were contacted on the radio by another boat which we were passing over 5 miles away and hadn’t noticed.  They were a kiwi boat called Sunflower who were also heading for Grenada.   Fortunately Steve answered the radio call, as Sunflower were really pleased to hear a “real” kiwi accent!  They were making slower progress than us under reduced sails as they had torn a sail in bad weather while on passage so we were soon well ahead of them, although we hope to catch up with Phil and Helen (from Christchurch) in Grenada.

When we were about 300NM from land we started being more vigilant on our watches  As we had seen very little activity over the previous two weeks we had become a little casual about keeping a looking out for other shipping, relying on the alarms we had on our instruments to tell us if other boats were nearby, but now the amount of commercial ships crossing our path was starting to increase and many small and fishing boats, don’t use AIS.    There was one scary moment when, still over 200NM from land, a small motorboat came into view.   They were within a mile of us, which is very close, and then suddenly altered course towards us.   The closest land to us was Trinidad and we had just been reading a 15yr old cruising guide which warned of pirates operating off the coast of the island, so I once again jumped into my “this is not a drill” mode while Steve shook his head in despair of me.   The boat came close to us – within 300m – and continued on its path east but made no attempt to contact us or come out on deck to acknowledge we were even there.  We both agreed it was strange behaviour and I had to do something about my lack of faith in human nature!

We had one final gybe to do so we could alter course for Grenada.   As we gybed the vang (holds the boom down), which had been making funny noises for most of the passage, broke.   Our options were to drop the main, but this would mean we would slow down considerably, or find a solution to prevent the main sail from lifting up.   We decided to do the latter and jury rigged a vang system which could get us through the night.  We had already decided to remove the vang and service it as we were concerned about the stress noises, so we were not too fazed when it broke.   We put two reefs in the main and one in the jib as a precaution and headed for Grenada.  

We enjoyed our penultimate night on passage in perfect conditions as we made fast progress with Hilda performing magnificently again, keeping perfect track as we drew closer to land.  As it got light Steve and I were continually scanning  the horizon for the first sight of land in 17 days as our path took us within 30NM of the small island of Tobago.  At 2pm on Thursday when we were 40NM from the small island, we got our first sighting of land.   I can’t describe the huge sense of achievement and joy that flooded through me.   I stood for a long while on deck, mesmerized by the faint outline of land in the distance and thought about our amazing two weeks at sea to get here. We had done it.  We had sailed to The Caribbean and achieved a lifetime dream which I stubbornly always believed I would do one day.

Sailing across the Atlantic has been everything and more that we had imagined it would be.  We both agree that, apart from our incredible children, this experience has been both of our greatest life achievement to date and we are already starting to think about our next major passage in 13 months time when we cross the Pacific, but there are lots of adventures, learnings, discoveries and new friendships to be made before that as we start the next year exploring The Caribbean.    For now our next challenge is to check in to Grenada as we try and talk our way around the prickly issue of why we did not have a PCR test done before leaving Cape Verde – a requirement for all those arriving in Grenada…….

Footnote:

In sport, players are often given Most Valued Player (MVP) Awards,  Here are our nominations for the MVP’s that shone on this passage:

  1. Hilda The hydrovane – what an amazing piece of kit!   Easy to set up and a power-free way to steer the boat while following the wind.   We often set it and then didn’t touch it for days while Hilda sailed the boat for us.   It meant we didn’t use precious battery power, particularly at night, and we knew that if the wind changed direction, Hilda would adapt and steer us on the right course.
  2. Comfort Seats – we purchased these chairs while in Portugal at significant expense, but they have been worth every penny.   We use them every night on watch and every day when we’re outside.  If they get wet they dry out quickly, dirty they clean easily and the sun has not faded the fabric.   We can adjust the back and move them around the boat if we want to have sundowners on the bow.   Best investment we made since leaving UK!
  3. Louie, the lighter – ok, confession time!   We had three lighters we used to light the gas cooker.  Before leaving Cape Verde we discussed how good the lighters had been and we needed to get some spare ones.  Steve went out in search of some and came back with two boxes of matches (we’re both a little confused why he only bought two boxes….).   We stowed the matches away in a dry place as an emergency.   Two days into our passage, two of our lighters failed and the other lighter was an unknown quantity as we hadn’t used it and didn’t know its history as it came with the boat.   We calculated we could use four matches a day if Louie failed us and then made sure we limited the number of times we used Louie to try and extend her life.   This meant some planning around food preparation so we could co-ordinate the use of the lit ring and oven!   She never failed us, lighting first time, every time and became a treasured member of our crew!   Love you Louie!
  4. The crew!   We worked together really well with seldom a cross word but lots of encouragement, discussion, joint decisions and confidence in each other and the decisions we made.   There aren’t many couples who could stand spending 24hrs in each others company let alone 17 days in isolation in a small boat!   We did it and loved it, enjoying every step of the incredible journey we shared together.  Steve won the player of the match award when he climbed the mast 1000NM from land, to retrieve a lost line.
  5. The boat – there’s hardly a day goes by where we don’t comment on how lucky we were to find Cerulean.  She really is the perfect boat for us and for crossing oceans.  She has kept us safe and comfortable, and sailed beautifully both downwind and on a reach.   When the boat was built there was no expense spared in the quality of the products used and we are reaping the benefits of those decisions made by Peter, who commissioned Cerulean over 25 years ago.

An ill wind

Sao Nicolau was an overnight passage and we enjoyed flat seas again as we decided to head round the north of the island.   We decided to try 2hr watches instead of the normal 3hrs, just to ensure we both had opportunities to sleep in case there was a need for both of us to be on watch as we approached the island.   As it happened, the wind dropped and we had a very lazy, relaxed sail to Tarrafal.   As we came close to the small harbour, the wind picked up, funnelling down the tall hills that were a backdrop to the picturesque town.   We anchored away from the harbour in an area we felt was more sheltered, and jumped into the dinghy to go ashore, calling in on friends who were anchored in the bay close to town.    We had first met Peter and Inge in The Canaries and then we met again in Gambia.  They are sailing their fossil free boat, Ya, around the world to promote environmentally friendly sailing and businesses (www.fossilfreearoundtheworld.org).

After checking in, we returned to Cerulean to make sure our anchor was set.   The winds had increased considerably and after our recent dragging incident, we did not want to risk another incident with us off the boat!     We watched a large loggerhead turtle swim around the boat in the clear blue water and attempt to climb up onto the boarding platform of the boat next to us!   Amazing to watch these beautiful creatures in their natural habitat.

The next day Ruffian surprised us by joining us in the bay and we happily went ashore together to have one last walk in the hills – and it really was an “Epic” (Iain’s words) walk.    We took an aluguer (minibus) from Tarrafal and were dropped off at the top of a steep hill.   We then walked down a stone pathway to the small capital of Sao Nicolau, Ribiera Brava, which is near the centre of the island, nestled in a valley surrounded by high hills.    The town has a Portuguese feel to it with well maintained parks and impressive buildings from the 1800’s colonial-era with the narrow cobbled streets clean and rubbish free – unusual for West Africa!    

We met the same aluguer driver who had dropped us at the top of the hill and he greeted us like old friends as we climbed into his van to get a lift back to Tarrafal.  The drive back was a wonderful experience – the journey took us down windy cobbled streets, steep gravel roads, through banana and papaya plantations and small hillside villages and roads with incredible vistas over the jagged hilltops.   Every so often the minibus would stop outside a house where a pre-arranged pick up had been organised and some friendly banter would take place before people or packages were loaded into the van.   Our experience cost us 2 euros each – well worth the 40 minute drive!

Next day, with fond memories of our farewell dinner with Ruffian fresh in our minds and tummies, we parted again as we continued our journey to Mindelo. We were keen to get there for a couple of reasons – first being strong winds were forecast for the next couple of days and second being we had jobs we needed to get done before leaving to cross the Atlantic the following week.     As we sailed the 50NM, we created a few more jobs, as if we needed them!

Once safely in the exposed marina, we headed to the floating bar for a meal and start to get a feel for the place.    The marina is like a piece of Europe in an otherwise African town.   Mindelo is much more “modern” than other places we have visited in Cape Verde but still has a distinctive African feel with fish unloaded from small boats at the beach and processed before being taken to the neighbouring fish market.   A couple of well stocked vegetable and fruit markets selling locally grown produce are in the town and a number of supermarkets with limited choice and selection, but enough for us to replenish our stores with the essentials.

We contacted BoatCV who we were reliable told could help us fix most of the items that needed repairing – namely, broken sprayhood frame, mainsail luff car solution, replacement bow navigation light and replacement engine anodes.   Their moto is: “If it’s man-made, we can fix it…” and they certainly gave excellent service, coming to see us immediately and understanding all our requirements straight away.   We were really impressed, but sadly their enthusiasm did not match their actual delivery…..

Since arriving in Mindelo, Steve had been struggling with ill health, feeling washed out and exhausted.   When this was followed by a cough we decided to get him tested and frustratingly but not really surprisingly, it came back as positive to Covid.   We had managed to dodge this bullet for two years and now, a few days before our imminent departure for a three week sail across the Atlantic, it had finally caught up with us!    We both isolated on the boat, letting those people we had been in close contact with, know about our situation.   At least we had food on the boat and lots of work to keep us occupied!   On arrival in the Caribbean we have to show we had a negative covid test prior to leaving our last port, so now, to avoid extra costs, we had to wait until we felt confident we were well enough to deliver negative results at the official testing station in Mindelo.    Over the next few days I started developing symptoms too so we stayed on board and continued working on the boat, getting through the long list of jobs we had identified and then adding more once these jobs were complete.   We even managed to wash the boat to get rid of some of the Senegal dust which still coated everything.  

Still feeling under the weather (no pun intended!), we extended our stay in the marina for a few days eventually anchoring in the bay overlooking Mindelo on a sunny Friday afternoon.   With no news of our parts arriving, we now had to wait for a number of stars to align:  my health to improve, the parts to arrive and the wind to be right for departure.    A large hole of no wind had settled over Cape Verde and we needed to practice patience before starting on our long passage.   All this waiting was making me angry!   I was angry at everyone and everything – the people on neighbouring boats who talked too loud, the men who didn’t deliver our promise parts, the company that stills owes us money from the UK, the local phone company for making it so complicated to buy extra data, the unknown person who gave us covid, the people who don’t respond immediately to any email I send and mostly with myself, for feeling the way I did!     As my wise uncle said to me – “smoke some weed and chill the hell out…..!”   

Saturday dawned and, with my health 100 times better, we set off early to start chasing down our missing parts.   It took all day, but by 5pm we were back on the boat with the parts in hand and re-installing our mainsail and sprayhood.   To be fair, the work and solutions were excellent, it was just the timeframe and service that was poor.  At last we were making steps forward and the boat jobs were almost complete – although being a boat, the job list seldom gets shorter, just different!   The weather window was still looking good for a Tuesday departure so we decided to spend Sunday off the boat and enjoy the environment we were lucky enough to be in.

We caught the first ferry to neighbouring island Santo Antao.   The island is the second largest in the group and for us, the most stunning scenery we have ever experienced.   We took a minivan to the north east of the island, driving up narrow cobbled roads into the lush centre with the landscape gradually changing from baron plateaus to lush dramatic valleys and mountainous scenery with terraced hillsides growing sugar cane, bananas, papaya and coconuts.   The views quite literally took our breath away.   Steep cliffs plummeting to the blue clear sea, patchwork fields and jiggered hilltops – it was a feast for the eyes and heart.   Just when you think you’ve seen everything you can take in, you turn a corner and there’s another stunning vista to absorb and appreciate.  

We stopped in Paul for lunch and noticed a group of people in an empty section across the road.   I saw they were all busy picking up litter and filling a large wheelbarrow with discarded cups and bottles, so went over to talk to them and offered to help.   They eagerly accepted my offer and explained the land was going to be used to grow produce for the community as the price of fresh vegetables and fruit was too high for many to afford.   When there is an abundance of fruit, they will make juice for sale in the local shops.   I loved the project and they were so appreciative and happy that we helped them – it felt good to be able to give back.

We had spent the last 18 months preparing the boat and ourselves for our next challenge and the time had now arrived for us to take the leap and cross the Atlantic – our biggest passage to date.   We expect to spend 14 to 18 days at sea, arriving in Grenada at the start of February.    We felt ready and excited to begin the journey and the weather was looking good for a Tuesday start.    Next stop The Caribbean.

Fair winds, following seas and fishing boats

A few years ago, when asked whether I enjoyed night sailing passages, I would have answered in the negative but now my answer would be quite different.   I enjoy the one-night short passages more than the three night ones, purely because the latter is not long enough to get into a good routine and for the former, you don’t need a routine.   If I don’t sleep for one night, it’s ok and I can recover quickly.   A three-day passage on the other hand, is too long not to sleep and too short to get into a good sleeping rhythm of three hours on, three off.    Our trip leaving Gambia for Cape Verde was a 420 mile journey and, as the winds were forecast to be light, would take 3-4 days, so fell into the “not so enjoyable” ranking, but I was still looking forward to it as we were both keen to start our long journey West and this was the start of our Atlantic crossing.  

We pulled out of Banjul as soon as it was light, navigated around the many wrecks in the bay and followed Ruffian out of the shallow channel into the Atlantic Ocean.   The Cape Verde Islands lie NW of Gambia and we had plotted a course which took us 50 miles off-shore before heading north in an attempt to avoid the many small unlit fishing boats we encountered on the passage from Dakar.   Other yachts had told us horror stories of hitting small fishing boats in the night and running over unseen fishing nets, so we wanted to get as far away from the coastline as possible before it got dark.   By nightfall we were 50 miles from land and starting to head more north but there were still small wooden pirogues with about six men on board in the open, low level boats cooking over a small charcoal burner which you could often smell before seeing the fishermen bobbing around in the sea.    At about 10pm I was on watch when a large boat suddenly appeared out of the darkness very close to us on our port side.   I only saw it when it lit up like a Christmas tree with powerful red and white spotlights pointed at us, blinding me in the darkness.   I turned on the engine and hoofed it but the boat then started following us.   I jumped into action, doing everything we had talked about in preparation for an uninvited boarding.   I then called Ruffian on the radio and gave them our position and letting them know what was happening and then, lastly, woke up Steve with a “This is not a drill” comment!   The bright lights continued to blind us before the boat turned to starboard and powered off into the night.   I was relieved to say the least and stood everyone down, sending Steve back to bed.   My heart still pumping with adrenalin, I continued with my watch when the same thing happened again – another boat suddenly appeared on our port side shining green laser lights directly at me.   It was really hard to tell how close the boat was to us but it looked very close, so I once again turned on the engine and tried to speed away by turning to starboard.   With the lights blinding me, I looked to starboard and saw another green light and realised I was about to run over their fishing net.   I put the engine in neutral to try to prevent the net getting caught in the propeller and felt the boat slow as the strong ropes caught on our rudder.   Fortunately we had enough momentum to carry us over the top of the net and I turned to see another boat appear from nowhere, coming towards me, so I threw the engine in gear and once again accelerated out of there.   Due to my loud cursing, Steve was now also wide awake so joined me on deck as I gathered my composure and tried to get the boat sailing again.   

Fortunately that was last of the fishing boats we encountered, slipping through the shipping lane with no drama and at daybreak the seas were flat and we had perfect sailing conditions all day.   Dolphins joined us for a while, playing in our bow wave, we hooked a fish but it broke our line and took our precious lure with it, I made delicious fresh bread and we enjoyed the hot day at sea.   As evenings fell it started to get damp and cooler than we had experienced in Africa which was a welcome relief and made sleeping easier.   

The unfortunate flying fish must be the unluckiest fish in the World as several of them found our boat in the middle of an empty ocean and met their demise flopping around on our deck.   We were able to rescue some of them before they died, but only the ones that virtually jumped into our lap as we were doing our nightwatch.   The result was a mixture of elation for saving the life of a beautiful blue fish that look like they are in the evolution process of turning from fish to bird, quickly followed by regret as the fish scales left on your hands leaves a lingering pungent smell long after the fish has thanklessly flown away!   We had moonless skies for most of our night watches with an orange slither moon rising at about 4am each morning providing little light for us to sail by.   The nights were long but beautiful with clear star filled skies for us to sail under.  

On our third morning we saw land as the sun rose and the island of Sal came into view.   After exactly 36hours at sea, we were arriving at a new country following one of the best passages yet experienced, shared with Ruffian who had once again matched us for speed the whole way.   

We had been told we needed to have a Covid test on arrival and this took place at 1300hrs each day.   We wanted to see if we could arrive in time as it was New Years Eve and if we missed the deadline we would need to quarantine on the boat for at least two days until the testing centre re-opened.   We also had to complete check-in procedures before the 4pm cut-off and as it was a Friday, one of the offices would be closed over the weekend.   Our tracking device told us we were due to arrive at the port of Palmeira at 12 noon providing we maintained our average speed, so we knew it would be tight.   Then Fi radioed to remind us that Cape Verde was on a different time zone, so we gained an hour but it was still going to be a race to get there, anchor and get ashore in time.   Challenge accepted!

In fact, we arrived in Palmeira at 11:20am after an incredible passage feeling tired but elated.   That soon turned to frustration when we anchored three times and were told to move after each occasion due to being too close to the channel.   With limited space and lots of yachts already anchored we could not see where there was space until a man in a dinghy approached us and gestured for us to follow him.   He rowed his small inflatable dinghy through a narrow gap between two large boats and expected us to follow.   I refused as the wind had set in and was not confident that either we, or the two boats we were squeezing through, would not suddenly swing and close the narrow gap.    Eventually we made it through to where the man was waiting close to a small mooring buoy.   He indicated that we could use the buoy but I was not overly happy as we were extremely close to a neglected looking boat behind which was on a mooring with a half submerged buoy and as we swung, we went over the top of it.   With few alternative places to park up, we changed the lines on the mooring buoy to shorter, stronger ones and kept a watch on how close we were getting to the boat behind while the man in the dinghy insisted we were fine and not to worry about the boat behind.   I took some solace in thinking he was the local harbour attendant so he should know what he’s talking about……   Although uncomfortably close, we were not going to hit the boat behind, so felt confident we would be ok to leave Cerulean for an hour or so to get tested and check in. 

The Covid test was done quickly and with our negative results in hand, went to the police station to start checking in.   The police insisted that they hold onto the originals of our boat papers until we check out – something we were not happy to do but, again, had little choice.   We were then asked to return the next morning to have our passports stamped and complete immigration procedures.  

Back on the water, we celebrated New Years with team Ruffian, all of us struggling, and failing, to keep awake to midnight after four days of non-stop sailing so when we crashed into bed, I was asleep before my head hit the pillow and heard nothing of the loud celebrations from the French boat close to us that we were told about next day!      On 1 January we went ashore, along the way we collected the man who had guided us to our mooring as he was asking for a lift from a boat near to us.   We told him we were intending to leave today so needed to pay giving him half of what he was saying we owed, but he disappeared without thanking us for the ride and looking a little disgruntled.   Later, after deciding to stay for one more night and as the sun was going down, we discussed how we were going to a) pay for the additional day on the mooring as we had not seen the man we had given a lift to earlier, return to the boat and b) how we were going to manoeuvre in such a tight space when we left in the morning, when two men in a large wooden launch came alongside.   One of them explained that we were on his mooring and asked who had said we can stay there.    It transpired that the guy we had paid, was a con artist and we had been sucked right in!   We had to pay for the mooring again, hoping this would be the last time!

Sal is a low, flat barren island with a growing population which seems very young.  Boys aged from about 8yrs old rushed to be the first to “help” when dinghies appeared close to the beach or dock, on one occasion racing to be at our dinghy before we were in shallow water and having to swim beside us to make sure he was the first to communicate with us.   They wanted money for “taking care” of the dinghy while we were away from it and we gave them a few escudos worth about 20Cents, which they seemed happy with.  

We were anchored in Palmeira, a sleepy, dusty town with lots of partially built houses, stray dogs and a very sleepy feel to the whole place.   The quality of the new builds had alot to be desired, even from this untrained eye, and I would not have been happy spending one night under their roof, let alone live in them unfinished, as many people do. We caught an aluguer, which is a minibus that has no schedule but drives around, beeping at people until the driver is happy he has enough passengers to make the journey worthwhile!   We headed for the capital, Vila do Espargos in the centre of the small island.   As it was New Years Day, the town was very quiet and few shops were open so, armed with a sim card and cash from the ATM, we returned to Palmeira.

Next morning we left very early, before the wind picked up and at slack tide.   We had checked out the day before as we need to check in and out of each island we visit in the Cape Verdes.   Getting off the mooring buoy was less painful and easier than we had imagined so we both heaved a huge sigh of relief when we were back in the channel and once more heading out to sea.   This time it was just a very short distance around the headland to Baia da Mordeira – a wide bay with beautiful sandy beach where loggerhead turtles come in August-November to lay their eggs in the sand.   The surf was thundering onto the white sand and strong winds were funnelling through the bay.   While waiting for Ruffian to join us, we decided we would only stay for the day, and leave for Sao Nicolau in the late afternoon for an overnight passage to cover the 90NM.   Sao Nicolau is a small fertile and mountainous island in the north of the archipelago and was our next stepping stone to reach our jumping off point for when we cross the Atlantic.   

We were keen to keep moving and were very focused on what needed to be done before we left for the Caribbean in less than two weeks.  Iain and Fi on Ruffian had decided to spend time exploring the Cape Verdes and were not in such a hurry to move on, so it was time to say goodbye.   After four fabulous months cruising, exploring, laughing and playing together we were now heading in different directions for a while.   The promise of sailing together again in the near future made the farewell a little easier, but not much.   Fi and Iain have been our rocks, guiding lights, mentors and friends.  They have enriched our cruising experience and have brought laughter, wisdom and experience into each day we spent together – which has been almost every day in the last 16 weeks.  

As we pulled up the anchor we sailed passed Ruffian as Iain and Fi stood on the deck waving us off.   None of us know what lies ahead but I strongly believe that if you want something enough, it will happen so I’m confident we will be cruising together again in the foreseeable future.

Animal Magic in the Gambia

Gambia is an experience we will never forget – beautiful, dirty, happy, sad, calm and wild, it is a country of contrast that is rich in so many things, but poor in wealth. Read on as we discover more about this small, friendly country.

When we first met Fi and Iain they shared with us their plans to explore Gambia and, after a few days of meeting, suggested we join them on the adventure.   We were completely unaware of what Gambia offered and, I have to admit, even had to look up on a chart to see where it was!   Iain and Fi told us about the amazing wildlife up the river and how it was their intention to go and find the hippos and monkeys they had heard about from a small number of other sailors who had ventured to the upper stretches of the river where the salt water turns into fresh and the big animals live.   We were sold the dream and we lapped it up and swallowed it, hook line and sinker and now our ability to be spontaneous and have flexible plans was being rewarded in spades.  

Our experience so far in Gambia had been fantastic and we had reached the point that our senses were almost in overload after the time we spent at Bombale school, the amazing birds we had seen and, of course the crocodiles, monkeys and sea otter at Lamin Lodge.   Now, as the river water turned fresh, we were entering hippo country and even if we saw nothing, we would still have had a truly memorable visit to this beautiful country.  

We were heading for Deer Island and after motoring for about 7hrs, we anchored in shallow water in a gap between two island.   That night we had our first experience of hippos, with a couple close to us making deep noises that sounded like horses blowing out through their lips and then deep groaning sounds.   It was a surreal experience to sit in our cockpit, enclosed by a large mosquito net which looked like a middle eastern princes’ harem tent as it fell in folds from the bimini (cover over the steering wheel) and protected us from mosquito’s, tsetse flies and other horrible tiny biting things!    We had a bright moon but could not actually see the hippo’s, just hear them.

Our journey continued up the river, which was now completely fresh water until we came to the small settlement of Kuntaur.   As we approached loud music was blaring from the settlement side of the river, amplified by a large music system and speakers although we could not tell where it was coming from.   As we circled looking for a good place to anchor, away from the noise, Fi came on the radio and reported she had seen a hippo on their starboard side.   We were not far behind them and, sure enough, the hippo emerged from the depths of the muddy river and looked at us.   We were about 30m away from it, so we spun around and found an anchorage a safe distance away so we could observe him.   It was incredibly exciting to not only hear, but see the hippo as it ate, swam and wallowed in the mud.   At one point he almost dried out in the low tide and allowed the afternoon hot sun to dry the mud on its back.  It was a huge privilege to watch this magnificent animal and that night, despite the loud party across the river, it stayed close by, at one point coming between us and the river bank to feed further down stream.  

The next morning we discovered, while walking through Kuntaur, that the music was a naming ceremony for a new born baby – a celebration that occurs at least twice a month, so the hippos must be used to the noise!   We landed the dinghy at a lodge and was surprised to find a baby baboon tied to a tree.   Apparently the lodge had found the baby and “saved” it, although the poor thing was terrified and obviously did not feel it had been rescued.   The lodge had called a ranger from the animal sanctuary and by the time we returned it had been collected.  Apparently the mother had been killed and the baby would not survive on its own.    Very sad to see, but we later found out it had gone to Baboon Island which will release the baby back into the wild once it can fend for itself.   Apparently the Baboons are a common sight, coming into the town each morning to scavenge food at the markets. 

Close to Kuntaur are Wassu standing stones, dating back to between 750-1000AD.   Built of locally mined laterite they were burial circles for royalty and warriors with the tallest stone marking the king’s grave.   It is believed that his wife/wives were also buried at the same time, regardless of whether they were already alive or dead, along with all his possessions.   Warriors were buried clutching their weapon also with their worldly goods surrounding them.   It was an interesting place, located in a field outside of the town and has not been developed, or protected for that matter, but feels just like it must have felt thousands of years ago.   Locals still come to the site and place small stones on top of the standing ones when they want a dream to come true. 

While on the walk we saw lots of birds which were later identified as Bearded Barbet, Abasin Roller, Senegal Cuckal, African Jakara and a night heron, which looked just like a flying penguin!   Walking back to the boat with beautiful fresh tapalapa we met a farmer tending his field of rice.   He explained that this rice is native to Gambia and provides two crops per year.  The field is flooded naturally by the river at high tide and all work is done by hand as they can’t afford machinery.    A hippo can destroy one paddy field in one night, so farmers are not too keen on the large population of hippos that live in the vicinity.

On the dinghy ride back to the boat the hippo popped up very close to Cerulean which forced us to retreat rather quickly to Ruffian until we felt it was safe to try again!   Once on the boat we had a spectacular view of the hippo, until we became a little blasé about having a wild hippo as our neighbour!   The hippo lay on the muddy bank and baked in the hot sun, just a few meters from us.   A couple of monkeys came down to the river bank – but not too near to the hippo – and sat cleaning themselves and each other for a while.   It was a fabulous display of wildlife in the comfort of our mosquito netted cockpit!

We motored on just a few miles to the furthest point up river we were going, Baboon Island which marks the start of The Gambia River National Park.   Baboon island in the middle of the river is about 2miles long and covered in dense native forest.   A chimpanzee sanctuary has been established here and the breeding programme has been very successful.   The programme started with 8 and there are now 125 chimpanzees on the island, not all were bred there as some were rescued from other countries.   We met one of the eight rangers who look after the national park with very limited funding from the government.   Modo was a lovely young guy who was obviously passionate about his role and the animals he looks after.  It seemed an impossible task for such a small number of rangers to police, care for and manage the park and animals, as well as educate local children on the importance of looking after the safety of wild animals and their environment.    Each night they feed the chimpanzees and monitor their health and development, knowing each one by name but they are by no means tame and can be very vicious.   Some interesting facts we learnt about Chimpanzees:

  • Their lifespan is approx 50yrs
  • Once females are 14yrs they can start reproducing
  • Gestation period in 9 months
  • Multiple births are very rare and only one off-spring in 3 years
  • They build a new nest every night in the trees for the babies and females while the males keep guard.  Each morning the nest is destroyed as they do not like mites.
  • They eat meat only once a week, maximum – like fish and chip Friday, but in their case it is the Red Colobus monkey which is in good numbers on the island and we were lucky enough to see one.
  • Other monkeys and apes swim, but a chimp does not.

Modo took us for a walk up a nearby hill, identifying numerous birds as we climbed to the vantage point and looked over the meandering river and islands.   We looked down on a wet paddock where hippo often wallow in the mud, although not that day but we were not complaining as we had seen, and heard, plenty of hippos.   As we motored along the river several popped their heads above the water to observe us as we glided past.

It was not possible for us to go any further up the river, for many reasons.   There are cables across the river that we could not pass under, the river shallows although is still navigable and time was ticking on our visa, so we needed to start the journey back down the river to Banjul.    Over the next few days we enjoyed some lovely sails as we made our way downstream towards the dreaded bridge.   This time we would have the tide against us, but current with us at low tide, which meant if we had the calculations wrong, we would find it difficult to stop the boat before hitting the bridge.   Once again, Steve went up the mast and we progressed towards the bridge.   The water level markers we had photographed on the way up, showed the tide was lower than when we had previously been under the bridge, which gave me some confidence, however as we were approaching Steve commented that it looked really close and was touch and go whether we would get under.   Not wanting to look up but doing it anyway, my sense of judging height v’s clearance was completely our of whack and it looked like Steve was going to end up on top of the bridge.   Fortunately we both held our nerve and we made it under without damaging Steve or the boat! 

We stopped in the small settlement of Albreda which is close to James Island where we anchored on the way up river.   Albreda is believed to be the place where the author of Roots ancestors came from.   It has a very interesting slave museum and we were guided through the village by Lamin who was very helpful and informative.   As we came out of the museum we noticed Cerulean was not where we had anchored her and she was still dragging her anchor heading towards a fish farm.    Steve and I jumped into Ruffian’s fast dinghy and Iain expertly steered us at high speed in strong winds and bouncy waves as we chased Cerulean across the shallow harbour.   My heart was bounding as we watched our home being tossed about, out of control.    We knew we had been lucky – it could have been so much worse and my toes curl when I think about it.   We re-anchored, although it took a few attempts to get the anchor to grab the bottom and while Steve went back with Iain to finish lunch, I stayed on board.

We sailed back to Lamin Lodge and was welcomed back like old friends by Momodo (Manager of Lamin Lodge) and Karim (our wonderful boat helper).   We spent a very special Christmas at Lamin Lodge with Karim taking us shopping for fresh fish on Christmas Eve – an experience all of us will remember for the busy roads, crowds of people, small street stalls, colourful clothes of the women and a big sign which read, “Be Covid Aware.  Avoid large crowds!”  below a very busy street scene!   Although the country is mostly Muslim, Christmas is a public holiday and everyone seemed to be making the most of the festivities. Our Christmas day was spent with Iain, Fi and John, all fellow sailors and explorers. Lunch was on board Cerulean and as the sun beat down on us, we talked, drank and laughed until dark.

On Boxing Day Fi and I met Momodo for an early morning walk through the nearby market garden and rice fields to the Elephant Tree – a beautiful large tree that stands in a small wood with large roots that cascade down the trunk and a hollow centre which has been made into a shelter.   The tree is a Kapok or Cotton tree as the seed pods produce a fluff which locals use to make pillows.   The seeds are used for soaps and fertilising the gardens and the flowers are a rich source of nectar for bees.    

As we walked, Momodo pointed out the various birds we saw, which were many, varied and colourful.   We passed women working in the fields, bending over, keeping their backs very straight and bottoms up, as they planted, weeded and tended to the fertile gardens.   A man was collecting juice from a palm tree, using a hoop made of bark to hold him as he climbed to the top of the tree.   The tree had been tapped and bottles collected the precious liquid which is used to make a local drink.   On the walk we saw Papaya trees, wild chilli’s growing and lots of local rice in the fields.  The rice is picked, smashed and then separated out from the husks by throwing the grains in the air from a large round container and allowing the wind to blow the husks away.   We had seen an old woman expertly doing this when we were up river but, because everything is still done by hand from sowing to picking to filtering out the husks, it is a slow and time consuming process for a country whose stable diet is rice.   Gambian rice is excellent, pure and unbleached but they import huge amounts of rice from the USA to ensure there is sufficient food for the population.   This has led to rice fields being left unpicked as farmers can not compete on price.

After the walk we met with Senna who had agreed to give us a lesson on cooking Gambian food.   He took us shopping for the ingredients in the dusty streets of Lamin where people greeted us with a friendly shout and children came running out to see us.   Back at the lodge Fi and I worked with Senna preparing the food over a charcoal fire in a big cast iron pot.   We made Domada – a traditional peanut stew with fresh fish and whole chilli’s.   There was enough to feed all the workers (and a lot of people who just hangout there!), which we did.   After eating the “brothers” had huge respect for us and greeted us warmly with huge smiles.  

We had been closely watching the weather and a good window was being forecast for us to leave Gambia on Tuesday 28 December.    We motored back to Banjul the day before departing to complete the check out procedure with Mahmoud, who had helped us check in.   After a slightly rocky start with customs refusing to stamp our clearance form without us paying them 500 Dalisi per boat, we proceeded to immigration without being separated from any of our cash!   Immigration were lovely and pleased with the huge supply of pens left them by Ruffian!

It was time to do the final preparations to leave and start heading west, first to Cape Verde to reprovision, and then to the Caribbean.   As we prepared the boat we reflected on our three weeks in Gambia and month in West Africa.   It had been an experience which will probably change the way I live, think and prioritise things for years to come.   In a country full of beautiful people from the babies tightly bound to the backs of their mothers, to the old men who are tightly bound to the politics of this country – whether religious or otherwise.   It is a country on the verge of either great things, or disaster and so dependent on those in power making the right decisions, not just for them but for the people they represent.   This nation lives off the fish they can catch, the food they can grow and the herbal medicines they harvest from the forests.   If one of those building blocks falls over, the whole lot will topple.    I will miss the cheerful smiles and waves as we pass by, the children clambering to hold my hand, the still anchorages in the mangroves, the amazing birdlife that surprised me every day, the opportunity to see rare animals up close, the daily tapalapas delivered to the boat fresh each morning, the regular calls of “Boss Lady” from familiar faces at Lamin Lodge, the colourful sunrises and sunsets and the dawn chorus that greeted the day.   I have loved Gambia and, although I know I will not be back, I hope that Gambia stays with me for years to come.

Photo credit – most of the amazing animal/bird photos were taken by Ruffian. Check out their fabulous blog on Ruffian.uk

The Gambia River – A rich tapestry of life and nature

Gambia became independent of UK in 1965 under the rule of Dawda Juwara, the elected prime minister.   He ruled for many years, becoming President in 1970 when Gambia became fully independent of UK, mainly due to the success of tourism and the rise in cost of groundnuts, grown in abundance in Gambia.  There was some unrest, an unsuccessful coup and then in the 80’s the price of groundnuts plummeted at the same time as the IMF reduced levels of subsidies to farmers.  This hit the economy and the people hard and resulted in a bloodless coup in the early 90’s led by a 29 year old lieutenant called Yahya Jammeh.  Jammeh was later elected President, an incredible rise in power from lieutenant to leader of the country in just a couple of years!   Under Jammeh a new airport, roads and schools were built and he remained popular by the rural sector, until he was voted out in 2016 in a democratic election.   The most recent general election was held three days before we arrived and, when we had driven through Gambia to measure the bridge, it was clear that the previous President, Jammeh, still had quite a strong base of support even though we was living in exile in Sierra Leone.   This was apparently due to him being responsible for building the roads and infrastructure while forgetting about the mass killings he instructed of anyone that opposed him or his policies!  

The history further back is not a happy one – most of the slaves sold to USA and Caribbean came from Senegal and Gambia and there is a terrible legacy of lost families, rape, murder and total dehumanisation of these beautiful people. They are now so generous with smiles, love and inclusiveness it is hard to imagine that many of their ancestors were subjected to such cruelty.

I’m not sure whether it was us embracing Gambia, or Gambia embracing us, but as soon as we arrived, we knew this was a special place.   It was not as dusty, or as busy, as Dakar, and the people were immediately more welcoming and relaxed.   That’s not to say they won’t try hard to overcharge you or attempt to shame you into giving them things – in fact a lot of the time they are very direct about their lack of money and our apparent wealth, but we were all staunch in our belief that we would pay a fair price for items, but not be seen as charity or give money away without exchanging it for goods or service.   It is hard though when someone won’t tell you a price for a service and tells you to “give from the heart”……!

When we left Lamin Lodge we motored, in no wind with a current to help us, stopping at James Island for the night.   James Island has a ruin of an old fort, built when this was the main British Trading point in West Africa before Banjul became capital.      It was also where slaves would be held before being bundled onto British, Spanish and Portuguese ships bound for the New World. We explored the small island, which we had to ourselves in the early evening, leaving on the incoming tide the next day.   Although the tide changes, the current keeps flowing for about 2hrs after the tide turns, so it gave us plenty of time to prepare for a long day of motoring in no wind.

Further up the river, we encountered our first dolphins which initially stayed clear of us, but we could see them jumping and feeding from a distance.   A large flock of pink flamingos took flight following the mangroves on the far shore, and then the dolphins came to play!   It’s funny how dolphins seem to react when there is human interaction and appreciation of their presence.   While we applauded and laughed at their antics they stayed with us, but as soon as we stopped watching, they disappeared. 

We had wanted to get close to the bridge by the end of the day, but as the light started to fade, we were still over 20 miles from it so dropped the anchor in some shallow water on the south side of the river close to the mangroves and listened to the sound of the birds in the thick trees.   We slept really well and awoke to hear Ruffian pulling up their anchor as we rushed to get ready to leave!   The calmness of the river and the intense heat during the day, had a soporific effect on us and deep sleep came easily to us both.

As the bridge came into sight, we anchored on the south side of the river in 5m of water to wait for 5pm when the tide would be low enough for us to attempt to go under the bridge.   While we waited, Steve went up the mast to remove our radio aerial, masthead lights and wind instruments to avoid them being damaged, just in case we had the calculations wrong!    While Steve was still up the mast and I was manning the winch to ensure he was safe and able to descend when he wanted, we noticed a long fishing net drifting down the middle of the river and moving rapidly with the current and tide.   One end of the net was attached to a small wooden fishing boat and we were alarmed to see if getting closer to us.  I contacted Ruffian on the radio to alert them of the fast approaching nets and they attempted to warn the fisherman with a long blast of their foghorn.    Sadly, the fisherman reacted too late and too slowly and it was with horror and helplessness we watched the net wrap itself around Ruffians anchor chain and then ours, surrounding both boats with netting – and all while Steve was still coming down the mast!     Ruffian were anchored just ahead of us, so they caught the fishing net first and with the weight of it wrapped around their anchor chain, started dragging backwards.   In between shouting at the fisherman to pull in his net and trying to stop their boat heading down stream with the fast current, Ruffian turned on their engine and immediately got the propellor fouled with fishing net.   It was an awful situation, not helped by a very casual fisherman who then turned on Ruffian for damaging his nets and started blaming us both for anchoring in front of his nets, even though we had been there for several hours and he was nowhere to be seen when we arrived.   We all felt terrible as we tried our best to warn him and the unhappy outcome could so easily have been prevented.   As it happened, Ruffian then had to spend the next few hours untangling fishing line from their propellor and we missed the window to get under the bridge. 

With the propellor working as well as Iain could get it, we set out to go under the bridge at the next low tide which was at 7am.   It does not get light until 6:45am so when we started to make our way towards the bridge, it was still quite dark.   Steve went up the mast so he could tell whether we had enough room to squeeze under, and we led Ruffian towards the bridge.   We had current against us and approached the bridge in the very centre, dead on 7am.   Steve and I talked to each other through headphones, Steve giving me a running commentary on how we were looking and whether he felt we would make it under the bridge.    It was with huge relief that he confirmed we had space and as we went under, Steve put up his hand and touched the underside on the bridge!   I let out an echoing whoop as we were swept under and spat out the other side, ready to explore the upper reaches of the river!

We motored on side by side with Ruffian, who has a shorter mast than us so easily slipped under the bridge, dodging fishing nets strung across the river.   We approached one group of fishermen and bought a nice fish from them – so fresh it was still twitching!   The four men were from Mali and lived on board their small wooden boat.   We haggled the price down from 1,000 Dalasi (17 Euros) for two fish, to 200 Dalasi (3.50 euros) for one large one.   We gave them a bar of chocolate as well, and they were very happy.  

We motored up the river to a Bombale, a small village in the mangroves, opposite Elephant Island, an uninhabited island covered in thick mangroves.   We took Ruffians dinghy to shore and stepped out onto rocks near a new road that was being built.   A group of men and women were gathered near a hut on the waterfront and one of the men offered to guide us to the village.   We walked along the red track that will become a new road, paid for by the Chinese, between large rice paddy fields towards the village.   As we came close to the houses children started joining us, until we had a large group of children and adults walking infront, behind and beside us.   We were introduced to the village elder – a man dressed in muslim clothing with a beard and very warm smile.   We explained we were headed for the school and he asked if he could join us, and we responded we would be honoured if he did.    We were met at the school by more children, the deputy principal, Kaifer, and the master, Momodou who gave us a warm welcome and tour of the school.   The school had 250 pupils, split into morning and afternoon sessions.   The classrooms were completely bare – no furniture, nothing on the walls except a blackboard for the teachers and no equipment.   Children start school at the age of 7 in yr 1 and primary education continues until yr7, usually at the age of 14yrs, although if a child is not at the required level, they will be put into a year group that meets their needs.   There has been a big campaign to encourage parents to educate girls and it was encouraging to see the number of girls was almost equivalent to the boys.   However, although the national legal age for marriage is 18yrs, the various tribes follow different traditions, and some girls are married as young as 13 years old, so attendance numbers for girls in years 6 and 7 tend to fall.    The school had recently started a new horticultural project, teaching children how to grow and look after plants.   They had prepared a number of beds to plant vegetables in January, once the school returns from their “winter” break.   It was incredible to watch the girls fetching water from the pump and carrying it on their heads to wet the dry soil.   In the morning we saw girls walking with goat droppings in big bowls, carried on their heads and taken to their allocated garden to feed the soil. 

We had brought a number of gifts for the school, including garden equipment, a good football, notebooks, pencils and crayons.    They were greatly received, but felt inadequately trivial when we saw how desperate they were for basic items.   The football became a coveted resource with the teachers playing with it for some time before the children were allowed to kick it around.   Steve set up a skills training session with some eager and happy children and I loved hearing their laughter and seeing their enthusiasm as they listened intently to instructions.  

Classes take place in English, although most of the time instructions were given in their native tongue so, although we were able to communicate with the children, it was at a basic level.   There were about 13 teachers at the school, most of whom live in small dusty rooms overlooking the big yard, dominated by a large Baobab tree, which can be found all over West Africa and doubles as a place to meet, due to their large canopy and thick trunk which provides lovely shade from the fierce midday heat.    We were asked to share lunch with them, which consisted of a dish of chicken on rice, or fish on rice.   We were given spoons each (although there were not enough to go round so others used their right hand), and we all ate from the two pots put on the ground at our feet.    It was an honour to share that time and food with them and, although it was 4pm and we were already thinking about the big fish we had waiting for us back on the boat, we loved the opportunity to spend precious time with these lovely people.  

We invited the teachers to visit our boats, and one evening we hosted 10.   On Cerulean, we hosted the teachers of, maths/English, science/horticulture, home economics, pre-school and French.  Three of the teachers were women and one brought her 6 month old baby.   Steve went ashore in the dinghy to collect them and as she was climbing on board the boat, I was thrown the baby as she tried to keep her balance.   The poor child took one look at this frightening looking white woman and screamed – I think I must’ve been the first white person she had seen – poor girl!    We loved having them on board although, to get to our dinghy, they had to wade through thick mud, so we ended up having a very dirty boat and dinghy!!!

It was time to leave Bombale and continue our journey up the river.   We left early, leaving behind the call for prayer and shouts of “Two-Bob” from the children – a nickname for white people which becomes derogatory if a grown person uses it! 

We wanted to get into the upper reaches of the river and we were on the hunt for hippos!

Note: Some of the photos, (including the drone shots) were taken by Ruffian. check out their awesome blog at www.ruffian.uk

Also, if any sailors are interested in visiting The Gambia, we are producing a handy information sheet with useful information about check-in, money, anchorages, what to bring and other things we would have loved to know before coming here! If interested, send us a message.

The Gambia – A bridge too far, or too low?

We arrive in Gambia for the start of a truly magical few weeks in a country full of smiles, wildlife and experiences which will remain as a last time of memories

We left Dakar in no wind on a Tuesday early afternoon, and motored south.    We soon hoisted our sails and enjoyed some gentle downwind sailing, making our way through a long line of anchored tankers and fishing boats.    We noticed a number of large Chinese trawlers anchored in the entrance to the harbour and my heart sank again!    Letting the Chinese in to a poor country like Senegal, where fishing is done in small boats and poor people rely on their daily catches to survive, reaps disaster for these communities and the incredible birdlife.  

On the advice of Zig Zag, a French boat we had met in Dakar, we stayed 20NM off shore to avoid small, unlit fishing boats along the coastline.   As it was, the sail was memorable for so many reasons – lots of fishing boats, strange blue laser lights flashing, bright spotlights directed at us from unseen boats, no boats on AIS (our GPS tool that shows large boats) and a wonderful sail under bright clear skies.   We had to slow the boat down as we did not want to arrive at the entrance to Banjul before light and on an outgoing tide, so sailed under jib only for most of the night, still making over 5knots.  

As the sun rose, we were outside the entrance to the Gambia River and the tide had just turned.   We entered the wide harbour to Banjul which had several wrecks of long deserted ships, scattering the shallow areas.   It did feel a little like Pirates of the Caribbean as we dropped the hook in shallow muddy water beside Samsara, a boat we had met in Gran Canaria and, on hearing of our planned passage to The Gambia, John decided to change his plans and join us!    John rowed over with Muhammed on board.  We had decided to employ an agent to help with the check-in process as we had heard it was money well spent to avoid a lengthy process and requests for back handers.  

Together with Ruffian, we started the process at 11.30am and by 4.30pm we were sitting in a restaurant with Mohammed enjoying a Fish Yassa and cold drink.    Check-in was confusing and we were very glad to have Mohammed guide us.   We visited immigration (several times), health officer, customs (twice) and an office which issued us with a river permit.   Mohammed worked as a security officer at the port so knew all the right people which meant we were checked in quickly and with no demands or requests for extra money.   Once checked in, we went to the ATM to get some local currency.  The only back that accepts visa/mastercard withdrawals is the GT Bank and we were only able to withdraw 2000 Dalasis each time, but allowed to make three transactions a day.   1 Dalasis = 58 Euros, so we had to return to the bank a number of times before we had sufficient cash to last for our river adventures, as there are no ATM’s further up the river!  

Sey Samba is the OCC Port Officer based in Banjul.   We had been in regular contact with Samba since The Canaries and, together with Ruffian, were keen to meet him.   He gave me his address and headed to his home.   He lived next to the busy port in a small community of tin houses that were built around a dusty courtyard opposite the mosque.   A man at the corrugated iron gate gave us a warm welcome when we asked for Samba and he excitedly led us into the house.   Samba called to us from his downstairs window and we were invited into his home.   We felt hugely privileged to be given such a warm welcome and we sat talking for a while.   Samba has never been married and looked after his elderly mother until recently when she was moved into a nursing home.   His mother had sold the house to the Port many years earlier with the agreement that they could continue living there until the Port were ready to expand.   Sadly, that time had now come, so Samba and his extended family were waiting for eviction notices to arrive but had no idea where they would move to.   What probably seemed like a lot of money 30 years ago, has long gone and the family have very little to survive on.    It was a very humbling experience to be in their company.   They asked for nothing and gave so much to us in kindness and time.

We returned to the boats and, while watching a large flock of pelicans on a nearby wreck, we pulled up the anchor and headed SW of Banjul, negotiating shallows and meandering rivers, to the infamous Lamin Lodge.  

Lamin Lodge was built by Peter, a visiting German sailor in the 1980’s.  He later married a local woman, Anna and when Peter died a few years ago, Anna took over running a managing this Lodge and two others up the river.   We were welcomed to the anchorage by Mahmood and Karim who rowed out to meet us and direct us where to anchor.   There were already about 10+ boats on moorings and anchor in the quiet river, lined with mangroves on both sides.   Mahmood runs the Lodge and is Anna’s second in command when she is not there, while Karim is a Boatman, looking after visitors needs from water to laundry, delivering bread in the morning and helping arrange tours.   Both were lovely, gentle men with warm smiles and open hearts.   Mahmood was incredibly knowledgeable on birds, local customs, native animals and was a great source of information.  

While with Samba we had talked to Anna over the phone and arranged to meet for drinks that afternoon.   Mahmood ushered us to the top floor of the wooden lodge, to an area that felt like a treehouse, sitting above the canopy of the mangroves.    Anna had wonderful poise, intelligence and a very considered way of speaking.  She talked to us about her late husband, Peter, her son, her plans for the Lodge and organising things for us.  

A new bridge has been built over the Gambia River, funded by the Chinese, and the height above water level at low tide, is hotly contested.   The information we had received suggested anything from 17m to 20m and, as our boat and mast is 19m high, we needed to know whether it was possible for us to get under it!   Sadly, the exciting part of the river starts after the bridge, so it was important for us to know before making the 60NM passage up stream only to find we could not get under it!   

Anna arranged a car and driver for us the next day and then produced a plate of freshly made donuts to share with us.   No sooner had the delicacies been put down when a mother and baby monkey appeared on the balcony and, faster than we could react, she had jumped on the table and snatched one of the donuts before retreating to a nearby table to devour her ill-gotten reward!    After that we were a little more careful, consuming things quickly or, in Fi’s case, throwing a donut across the table when one monkey came too close!    We were told they were Green Velvet Monkeys and they feed off the fruit of the mangrove trees.  They also have an ingenious way of catching food, by putting their tails in crab holes in the mud, waiting for the crab to bite it and then whisking their tails up with the crab still attached, to enjoy their catch.   As Mahmoud said to us, first they need to feel pain before they eat!

Oysters grow up the river, fixing themselves to the roots of the mangrove trees.   The season starts again in January so they are waiting for them to get a little bigger before the women wade in the water, collecting them.  They shell and sell the oysters to restaurants and locals, saving the shells which are burnt and the ashes mixed with seawater to form a fine powder which is used to whitewash houses, or mixed with dirt to make a cement like substance which is used in building.  

The next day we all piled into the hire car and drove for 3hrs through the heart of Gambia to get to the Sena-Gambia Bridge – the new bridge across the river that links Senegal and Gambia.   As we drove we watched in fascination as the countryside changed and temperatures increased.   We went through numerous checkpoints where the police checked drivers papers, although we were waved through every one as the driver had four white people in the car!   We did feel a little like royalty as we sped through small villages and people stared at the four of us crammed into a small car!   When we reached the bridge, we explained to the chief guard what we wanted to do, and he happily gave us permission to walk across.    We found the centre of the bridge and dropped a weighted rope over the side while Serco, our driver, leant precariously over the side to see when it touched the water.   Once we’d established the length of the drop, we needed to measure the height of the concrete from the top of the arch of the bridge to the point we had measured from.   We did this by Iain sending up his drone and telling us when the weighted end of the line was level with the top of the arch.   Then, having got that measurement, we looked up the state of the tide and calculated how much lower the water would be at low tide.   Having established all this, we worked out our 19m air draft would have a clearance of 800mm, providing the water level was no higher than the low tide on the day we measured.   Fortunately, we were not at Spring tides, where the high and low water levels are more than usual, so we felt very confident we would be able to get under, and back without scraping our mast along the top of the bridge!   For those interested, the bridge (centre arch) measured 22.5m from road level to water; the height of the concrete from road level to bridge arch was 3m.   The low tide on the day was 0.8m and previous high tide, 1.7m.  There was still 2hrs until low tide so we calculated another 0.3m of depth, giving us, giving us 800mm to wiggle room!

We returned to Lanin Lodge, very happy with the outcome and now confident we would be able to explore the further reaches of the river.   As we returned we saw vultures, paddy fields, a herd of donkeys being driven to market, goats on the road and many colourful sights of rural Africa.   We stopped in a small town called Soma and had lunch at a small shack.   They only had one dish – Fish Yassa, which was excellent and we enjoyed watching the every day life as we waited for the food.  

On our last morning before departing to go up the river Gambia, Fi and I joined Mahmoud and Karin for a birdwatching trip.   They collected us in a wooden boat which is very low to the water at 7.15am, just as the sun was coming up and the birds were most active before the heat of the day set in.   We paddled a very short distance around the corner of the river, with thick mangroves on each side, and were surprised to see a large crocodile on the bank, remaining stock still.   This was a huge bonus for us as we continued to see a variety of beautiful birds which Mahmoud expertly identified for us while Karim paddled us to the best locations.   As we returned back up the river at the end of the tour, we went passed the crocodile again to find a sea otter just along the bank from it.   The sea otter was out of the water and scavenging on the bank for food.  I have long wanted to see these otters as I remember watching them from an early age on a nature programme, where they were filmed floating on their backs with a shellfish on their tummy, using a stone to break open the shell.  They are one of only a few animals who have mastered the technique of using a tool for their benefit. 

It was time to leave Lamin Lodge – a place it would be so easy to spend all your time in Gambia.  We wanted to explore the more remote parts of the river.   Sadly the Chinese are making a presence here and we saw some large trawlers in the river – a place they had agreed not to venture.   I don’t believe the local fishing industry can survive if the Chinese exploit this agreement and, once they discover the abundance of oysters up the river, the Chinese are going to want to take these to, leaving families and communities without any source of alternative income.  It is sad to see this exploitation happening before our eyes – first the Europeans take away their freedom, and then the Chinese take away their resources.   Gambia is known as the “smiling country”, which is presently a very accurate description of the beautiful people, but I think this will turn into a grimace once they realise they are being cheated of their wealth, yet again.

Note: All drone shots provided by Ruffian – Check out there excellent blog www.ruffian.uk

Dakar discovered

West Africa is an interesting mix of cultures and traditions.   Muslims and Christians live comfortably alongside each other although, judging by the number of large mosques, it appears the greater population of Dakar are Muslim.   Clothing is varied from women with beautiful brightly coloured and heavily patterned long dresses with matching headwear, to the more modest long clothes and scarves of the muslim women and modern day western clothing.   The men mostly wore western style clothes of jeans and t’shirts, although older men wore traditional long tunic with baggy pants, all more subdued than the peacock coloured women.   In the same way I felt like I was being pulled in two directions by the mixed messages we were hearing and experiencing.   On one hand you have the small communities that welcome tourism and international visitors, but then on the other you have a stone wall of inflexibility and lost opportunity.

We started our day early, catching the 8.30am water taxi ashore and having breakfast of egg and onions inside a fresh baguette, bought from a street food stall across the road from the Yacht Club.   We had the usually cheerful morning greetings from the group of men who were gathered outside Djago’s sail loft as they waited for him to throw them a scrap of work.   They were a mix of lovely men – one who was blind in one eye, another with the biggest smile you can imagine, another who was tall, strong and a little sullen.   There was a lovely feeling of trust, although they were also keen to fleece you for as much as they could get away with!

We jumped into a beaten up yellow taxi and headed into town.   It was Saturday but the roads were still busy.   Our driver, Barsau, drove fast and determinedly!   We had booked him for half a day and he seemed to want to get us to as many places as possible, as quickly as possible!    When we arrived at the Victorian central station, he appeared surprised that we wanted to stop and get out!    The day continued with stops at a couple of mosques, the catholic cathedral, Place de l’independence, The Presidential Palace and finally to a national monument to recognise the suffering caused by the slave trade and the West Africans who were forcibly taken from Senegal and neighbouring countries, to start a life of slavery in the US, Europe and Caribbean.  I ended up buying a painting from an artist who approached us on the street and was drawn to both him and his art!

One of the places we had wanted to visit was the Marche Sandaga, a large street market which sells everything from fabrics and gold watches and anything in between!   As we approached the market our taxi (which earlier had a flat tyre), started misfiring and Barsau pulled over at a busy intersection to check under the bonnet.   Having four white passengers in a broken down taxi was like a magnet for all sorts of hawkers to make a bee-line to us.   We were sitting targets – literally!   One man, dressed in camouflage clothing was particularly persistent and, even though Barsau kept telling him to go away, tried convincing us to get out of the car and walk with him to a large fabric and clothing factory.   We refused and, as soon as Barsau could, we drove off with the man shouting behind us.   We reached the market and Barsau pulled over to let us out, telling us to be very careful, when suddenly the man appeared beside us having ran down the road chasing our car and yelling at other men to follow him.   We all made the decision to stay in the car and asked Barsau to drive off, which resulted in more banging on the car roof and loud shouting as we didn’t dare look round to see what was happening behind us!   

When we stopped at the Presidential Palace we were dropped off at a side road opposite the main gates to the building.   The gates were guarded by a man wearing a smart red jacket and red cap with white gloves.  He stood outside the ornate iron gates with the large imposing white building of the palace behind him.    The road was surprisingly quiet so we walked to the pedestrian crossing in front of the gates and started crossing the road.   Two burly policemen suddenly started shouting and gesticulating at us, telling us to turn back and directing us further up the street.   We dutifully followed their instructions, only to be turned back again a few minutes later.   It appeared we were not allowed to approach the gates or stop and look at the palace.    We turned back and noticed we were standing next to a very nice, lush park with iron fencing around it but we were beside a large open gate.   We wandered in to look at the green sanctuary in an otherwise dusty city.   Once again a large policeman appeared and, although we didn’t understand what he said to us, it left us in no doubt what he meant and we turned around and retreated yet again!    As we made our way back to the taxi we noticed a large bird with a long tail and big curved red beak, sitting on the railings – later identified as a red billed hornbill (thank you Andrew, and thank you Ruffian for the picture!).   This, along with the small red finches, flocks of black kites, stalks, herons, cormorants and even vultures made the day memorable.    The kites are similar in numbers to pigeons in other cities.   They sat on ledges of tall buildings, circle overhead, sweep over the sea and sat on roadside wires.   The vultures were sitting on rooftops in the city giving us an almost foreboding feeling as we made our way back to the boat.

The last place we visited was a huge sculpture of a man, his wife and child which depicted the families who were torn apart by the slave trade.   The statue faces West, towards the Statue of Liberty and is the second biggest sculpture in the world.   It was commissioned by a past President of Senegal and stands alone, above the city which stretched out in a hazy, low level sprawl below us.  

The museum, within the structure was an interesting example of an exhibition which had been cobbled together by someone who had no experience in telling a story or a solid plan in mind!   The guided tour took us through rooms of displays which included life-sized clay figures of men and women pre-slave trade to what the future may look like after human Genetic Engineering was permitted…….?   We were also taken to a room which displayed a range of gifts presented to the President, we assume when the monument opened, but this was not explained, ranging from ornate carvings and spears to a woven handbag, very similar to one I owned many years ago.   We then went into a room which was completely empty accept for a small stage, which the guide told us was built for meetings and was soundproofed….?   We all dutifully filed out again and into another room which displayed clay pictures of people from Martin Luther King to Barrack Obama and various Presidents of West African countries…. for what reason, we have no idea.    Then it was time to take the lift up to the 15th floor to a viewing platform which was inside the hat of the man.   There were about 30 of us on the tour, but the lift could only take three people at a time and the viewing platform could only hold six, so the wait was long and the visit at the top, quick!    To say it was a shambles is a little unkind, but sadly, accurate!

Isle de Goree is accessible by ferry from Dakar and is the place where most slaves from West Africa were shipped to Europe, USA and the Caribbean.   We visited the small island after we had gone to the police to complete our check out procedures so we could leave the next day. The island has remnants of the old structures, many of these were once grand buildings but now falling into disrepair and, it appeared, used for housing. The island was clean in comparison to the rest of Dakar, and had a large community of artists and craftspeople living there.   The somber and sobering history of the island was very much felt, although the constant barrage of hawkers trying to sell us touristy items detracted from the over powering sadness and shame I felt as a privileged white mid-class European.  It seemed a little odd that here was a place where white people harassed and captured blacks and, as we tried to fight our way out of the small shops, the same was happening to us in reverse – but we managed to get away with most of our dignity and money in place!

Driving the streets of Dakar we saw sights that are engrained in our memories – lines of women washing clothes and hanging them to dry beside the dusty street, row after row of street stalls selling expensive looking couches, beds and heavy wooden furniture, tired looking horses pulling heavy two-wheeled carts ladened with items, numerous disabled beggars with sad, pleading eyes asking for money, women carrying their beautiful babies strapped tightly to their backs and people going about their daily lives to survive.  The day was fun, tiring, eye-opening and humbling.   We often take for granted the life-lottery we won being born in a wealthy, civilised western country.  Steve and I are now seeing first-hand what life looks like for the majority of those people less fortunate than us, and it’s not an easy life – it’s dirty, unforgiving, relentless and hard but through all this hardship there is beauty, laughter and hope.

Back at the Yacht Club, we collected our beautifully dressed dinghy from Djago, bought some new shorts from Mama Bijou, stocked up with fresh fruit and vegetables from Mama Legume, bought some nuts from Mama Nuggat, filled our gas bottles from a lovely one-eyed man who always greeted us with a beautiful smile each morning, said goodbye to Sajio and prepared to leave the next afternoon for our sail south to Gambia.   As the call for prayer echoed around the bay, we bade goodbye to Dakar.   We were leaving Senegal with a lifetime of memories and half the Sahara Desert on our boat but unlike the dust, Senegal will stay with us for the rest of our lives!

(Some pictures provided by Ruffian)

Senegal – First impressions

We arrived in Dakar, Senegal in the middle of the night, us leading the way with Ruffian following about 2 miles behind as they gently nursed their torn sails on the final leg of our long journey together.    Nearly 900 miles sailed in six days and we arrived on another continent within half an hour of each other, having experienced some great sailing, some no wind, big 5m seas and strong 30-40knot winds!  In addition to that, we had sailed to Africa!   I kept repeating this over and over in my head – we’ve sailed from England to Africa!  A continent neither of us had ever visited before and I, for one, had wanted to for as long as I could remember – and we had sailed there in our own boat.  To say I was excited and proud of what we had achieved, was an understatement – even though I was sleep deprived I was bursting with energy and wide-eyed wonder!

We wove our way through boats anchored outside the busy port and dropped the anchor in shallow water at the northern end of the bay at 4am with the sound of the call for prayer from the many mosques on the waterfront.   It was a relief to hear the anchor drop and allow myself to relax a little.   As Steve indicated the anchor was down I put the boat into reverse to bed the anchor into the sandy bottom…… except there was no reverse.   We tried again with the same result and checked all the cables were still in place.   Feeling tired we decided to let the wind, which was still blowing at 20 knots, carry us back and hopefully secure the anchor.   We put the anchor alarm on and went to bed after alerting Ruffian of our predicament and ensuring they didn’t anchor too close behind us, just in case our anchor dragged.  

In the morning we woke to find several fishing boats around us, casting their nets from small colourful shallow boats.   They heaved the large nets over the side and then teams of men pulled them back on board as birds of prey circled overhead.   Bird life was intense, with the skies full of birds of different varieties – stalks, herons, geese, birds of prey (Black Kites), crow-like birds.   I was in awe of the variety in a short amount of time and then, when going ashore, the noise from birdsong was quite overpowering.   The beach we were anchored in front of was bordered by low level buildings that looked derelict and the sounds and smells coming from the nearby houses gave us no doubt we were going to have a bit of a culture shock!   

Before we could start exploring or doing the necessary paperwork to check-in, Steve jumped overboard to have a look at the propellor.   What a guy!   As he turned the propellor by hand, it loosened up and when we tested the reverse, it worked.   I repeat – What a guy!  He appeared to have dislodged whatever we had caught in the propellor and now we were free to move again.

Ruffian had already motored over to another part of the bay which was closer to the Yacht Club and found a lovely community of visiting French sailors.   We joined them and had to move quickly to catch a water taxi to shore so we could start our check-in process.  This procedure varies from country to country and in the more remote places, you can expect it to take a full day to find, wait and move between the different locations to make sure all the paperwork is in order.   We were lucky as we met a beautiful French family who helped guide us through the process and even organised and negotiated a taxi driver to drive us to the various destinations once we had first checked in at the Yacht Club.  We then proceeded to the bank, police station, customs and to buy a SIM card, all for 10,000CFA = 15 euros shared between the four of us.    The taxi drive alone was one none of us will forget.  We dodged horse drawn traps to goats, a large turkey, people, scooters piled high with items (even eggs!) and cars as we sped down busy, narrow roads which was incredible in itself, but mix in the colour of the clothing the women wore, mothers carrying young babies strapped to their backs, people carrying heavy loads on their head, the street stalls selling huge watermelons and coconuts, young guys jumping on and off moving pick-up trucks as they negotiated narrow streets seemingly collecting passengers along the way, the dusty potholed roads, men dressed in brown uniforms directing traffic in the middle of the road with nothing more than a whistle and white gloves to protect them as people sped past with no central lines or apparent road rules.  We were driven at high speeds, squeezing through impossibly narrow gaps and it was a truly incredible introduction to a West African city.    We felt like we were on a movie set sometimes as the street scenes unfolded in front of us and we started to get familiar with the noises and smells.

Checking into the Yacht Club cost us 5000CFA = Euro7.50 per day.   This gave us permission to anchor,  access to the showers and toilets (not something we were keen to try), free wifi in the Yacht Club bar and, even more important than that, free water taxis from the boat to shore so we did not have to worry about the security of our dinghy while we were off the boat.   Sajio, the water taxis driver, came by at a pre-scheduled time each morning to see if we wanted to go ashore.  Return trip times were displayed on the Yacht Club bar door and Sajio was always there with a warm smile and eager to help, testing my high school French as I tried to make conversation!  

The words “Yacht Club” may conjure up the image of colonial Britain with people in blazers sipping G&T’s from a terraced bar over a pristine beach.   This may be the case in some places, but in Dakar you need to adjust your thinking!   The reality is a concrete shack located off the dirtiest white sandy beach I have ever seen.   The beach is so littered with rubbish, fishing gear, rotting fish and carcases of old boats, I’m not sure where anyone would start in tidying it up.  It broke my heart every time we went ashore and got dropped off at the broken wooden jetty to walk across the smelly beach, through the maze of old fishing boats and stray dogs.  

There was a makeshift camp beside the Yacht Club, where several tents had been pitched around a central gathering space.   Old buses, trailers, boats and some more modern house trucks, created a community of colourful people.   At night the sound of drumming filled the air and it was lovely to experience the relaxed comradery of the men and women that gathered in the dusty space, sheltered by some raggerty looking trees.

Mamma Bijou ran a clothing stall on the street outside the entrance to the yacht club.   She was always cheerful and friendly trying to sell us an assortment of clothing she had made with bright motives on them.   We commissioned her to make a couple of courtesy flags for Senegal and Gambia.   We agreed a price of 10,000 CFA = 11 Euros – probably expensive but when we heard how Mamma Bijou relies on visiting yachts for her trade and there had been no tourists for the previous 18 months due to Covid, we wanted to support her.   The flags were presented to us a few hours later and were beautifully made with good quality material. 

Our sprayhood suffered damage while we were on passage due to the boom rubbing against the top of the hood as we had left everything too tight and the heavy seas caused the boom to swing a little, which gradually wore a small hole in the canvas.   We wanted to get it repaired and strengthened before the damage got any worse.   Iain and Fi also had some more significant repairs to take care of and were recommended a sailmaker name Djago who was based at the Yacht Club.   Djago was a tall, quiet, gentle man who had an air of confidence and authority about him which we immediately warmed to.  He was making dinghy chaps (covers for an inflatable dinghy to protect the PVC from UV damage, which can destroy a dinghy in the tropics very quickly) when we arrived.   His work was excellent and, on seeing the damage to our sprayhood, recommended a solution and said it would be ready later that day costing 20,000CFA (30 Euros), a fraction of what we would pay anywhere else.    It felt good supporting people who desperately needed the work.  When we collected the sprayhood later that day it was ready for us and we were so impressed with the quality of the work, we decided to commission some dinghy chaps as we knew we would need them in the Caribbean.   It had been my intention to make them but Djago quoted us 250 Euros and delivery within four days which, when compared to the cost of a new dinghy or me buying the material and struggling to make the damn things, was a fraction of what it would have cost us in money, time and effort!  

For two days the taxi drivers were on strike, so we were not able to leave the area around the Yacht Club.   The strike was to protest about the police demanding large payments from the drivers which had increased substantially recently making it almost impossible for taxi drivers to survive on the small amount they earned.   Although Dakar is within walking distance, we had already seen some of the neighbouring settlements and did not feel it was wise walking through them without more local knowledge.   Instead Steve and I decided to walk to the nearby fish market that we could see each morning taking place on the beach.   A constant flow of pirogues (small fishing boats) made their way through our anchorage to the market each day to off load their catch.    We had also been told there was a place we could buy fresh baguettes and had been given one by a kind Frenchman on another yacht, the day before.   The walk took us along a dusty road, over an open sewer that ran out to the beach, down a wide track and into the market.   Men carried large trays of fish from the colourful pirogues that had been driven into the shallow water, and on to waiting trucks or stalls on the beach.   They carried the heavy trays on their heads, using a sandbag, tied around their chin to protect their head.    The flow was constant with loud chatter.   Men were sleeping on tables under the market stall canopies, groups of men were crouched together in huddles smoking and talking, people were scrubbing large, freshly caught fish, women hustled us as we passed, children approached us asking for money and others just stared at us as we walked by.   I have to admit that I did not feel particularly safe as we wove our way through the mish mash of stalls.   It was obvious we had sailed on boat to their country and compared to their lives, we were billionaires.   Most of the men were friendly with beautiful welcoming faces, but there were others that looked at us with distaste and loathing – it was these few that scared me.   We left and went in search of bread and we had been given vague directions of where to find a baker.   We walked past a couple of men guarding a modern home in the dusty street.  The men were eating a baguette so I asked them, in my best school-level-French where we could buy bread.  They directed us to keep walking straight on, which led us into a type of market, although it was, in truth, a ramshackle selection of crowded huts.   We were directed again to a small, falling down hut made of corrugated iron and sacking.  A toothless man was squatting on a mat with his young son sitting beside him.   We asked for bread and he threw back a blanket over a wooden bucket to display a bundle of fresh baguettes while swatting at flies in a failed attempt to keep them off the bread. 

Life in West Africa, like the fabric worn by the women, is colourful and varied, and we wanted to see more so, together with our fellow musketeers, Iain and Fi, we booked a taxi for the day to see the highlights of what Dakar could offer. 

Out of Europe and in to Africa

The relaxed friendly vibe of Estaca marina was an easy atmosphere to get used to, so it was not surprising to have met several people who had decided to stay long-term there.   Not wanting to wait another week before starting our next passage, we decided to commence the seven day journey south to Bajul in The Gambia, leaving ahead of some nasty weather which was due to hit El Hierro in three days.   We felt that, providing the forecast was correct, we could stay ahead of the strong winds and lightening that were predicted to arrive from the north on Saturday.

Several people came to say goodbye and wave us and Ruffian off as we slowly made our way out to sea.   It felt good to be moving again and we were excited about the 900 mile passage that lay ahead of us, our longest non-stop sail to date and a good pre-cursor for crossing the Atlantic in a few weeks.   We were ladened down with full diesel, water, food and anticipation, happy to be in the company of the experienced team on Ruffian again as we prepared to share the seas and next adventure together.  

We were soon under full sail heading due south with clear skies and flat seas in a comfortable 10-15 knots of wind.   We watched land disappear from sight, preparing for the next six to seven days of seeing nothing but water, skies, passing ships/boats and whatever wildlife we may chance upon!    The first few days were spent getting used to being on the water as the sea state became a little rolly and sea legs were certainly tested as we adapted to life on the lean and being bounced around.   Nothing was easy.  Making a hot drink would have broken every health and safety guideline in NZ as moving from the galley to the cockpit took courage, dexterity and determination to avoid spillage or scalding!   Eating on passage in rough seas, also comes with new skills and fortitude.   Fortunately we had prepared several meals beforehand but getting the food out the fridge was a challenge in itself.   We have a front loading fridge and a big top loading chiller.   Opening the fridge when the boat was leaning with the fridge on the top side, meant food could, and did, tumble out no matter how well we had stored it!   It became a challenge between the fridge and us as to how quickly we could grab what we needed before the contents deposited themselves on the work surface!   Our chiller presented different challenges.   As we were at the start of a long passage it was very full, so containers were stacked on top of each other.   We had tried being organised and having things like our butter, yoghurt and cheese stores at the bottom so we could re-stock the fridge as needed later in the journey.   On top of these we had our pre-prepared dinners and fruit and vegetable stocks while drink bottles were used as fillers to prevent containers moving around.   The problem came when we wanted to get an item that wasn’t immediately accessible and containers needed to be removed, balanced and returned in the correct order, while wedging yourself in and trying to stop the containers flying onto the floor with you closely following them!  We both have a number of bruisers caused by us being flung across the saloon by an unexpected wave which hurls the boat over to one side, and us with it.   Eating can look like one of those crazy Japanese game shows where contestants are told to do impossible tasks for the sake of entertainment.   For us it was saving the food from ending up in your lap, on the floor or scooting across the table and acting like a missile as it is hurled towards a head/chair/floor.  

After three days at sea we were still within sight of Ruffian, which was both comforting and unexpected.   The stronger winds of up to 20 knots, was in our sweet spot of sailing and the wind direction was ideal for Cerulean to kick up her heels and give us some memorable sails.   On day three the wind died completely so we decided to try different downwind sailing options – the cruising chute came out but that did nothing to increase our speed or lessen the frustration as it filled and emptied again, requiring constant adjustment and attention.   The chute came down and we changed direction to go directly downwind and poled out the jib.   This worked better but the sails were constantly flogging as the swell hit us.   With dusk approaching we thought we’d try changing direction again and seeing if we could find any wind on our side to pick up speed.   This failed too, so wanting to keep ahead of the weather system that was heading south, we turned on the “iron sail” and stowed away the sails.   We decided to change our direction and head south east which was where Ruffian were heading and we were now over 25 miles apart due to our unsuccessful attempts to find speed while Ruffian seems to love the lower wind conditions.   We motored through the night and I have to admit, it was the most restful and best sleep I’d had yet!  Usually while on watch, we sit outside under the protective sprayhood and enjoy being under clear skies, particularly with a bright moon to guide us through the long dark nights.   We look out for traffic as not all boats appear on our GPS, make sure we stay on course and the sails are trimmed correctly.   With the engine on we can’t use our hydrovane so we put on the autopilot, which frees us from having to handsteer the boat.   Surprisingly the temperature dropped as we continued south and it was getting quite damp in the evenings so being outside at night was not as pleasant!   We are lucky on Cerulean as our deck saloon layout gives clear 360 degrees vision from below so we can stay dry and comfortable, while keeping a good lookout and having access to all the instruments needed, including being able to alter course using a remote control for the autopilot.    I was down below looking at the empty seas around us when I saw a sudden movement beside me.   Much to my surprise, another bird had flown into the saloon, this time a very confused Storm Petrel.   I’m not sure who was more shocked by the unexpected company but I’m guessing it was the bird, as the poor thing sat with its beautiful blue/black wings spread out on our internal engine console looking around with a look of “Well this is new…. What now?”.   It allowed me to gently pick it up and place it outside where I hoped it would do a running start and fly away.   When the bird just wobbled and sat down I thought it had been injured but then discovered that Storm Petrel’s can’t support their weight on their tiny legs and feet, usually spending all their time on flight or in the water.   I moved it closer to the side of the boat and that was enough for it to get the energy to slip off the boat and fly away.   It was a lovely, brief distraction!

At 4.30am on day four, after about 10 hours of motoring, the wind started to pick up so we hoisted the sails and had one of the best sails of my life!   The sea was flat and I happily hand steered as the sun came up and wind built throughout the day.   We were flying at 8knots in great conditions and soon caught up with Ruffian again.   The wind continued to build, as we downloaded an updated forecast, using our satellite phone, to discover the wind and seas were going to continue to increase in strength and height over the next few days.  The weather system we were hoping to keep ahead of, had caught us up.   As the wind speed increased to over 25knots, we took down our main sail and reefed the jib to prepare for an uncomfortable night sailing downwind with confused seas and growing waves.   

That night was the first, and worst of three nights riding out the strong winds and big seas.   We were now heading south along the west coast of Africa but still over 100 miles from land.  Shipping traffic had increased with very few other sailing boats as most yachts head further west to Cape Verde.  Waves were crashing into the side of the boat, sending water flying into the cockpit and over the top of us, so we put the autopilot on and hunkered up down below.   We sped along at 6 knots under one small sail, talking to Ruffian on the VHF and maintaining regular contact with our friends on Zen Again on the SSB radio which allows us to speak to people much further away than on the VHF.   In fact, Zen Again were on passage from Madeira to Lanzarote so it was amazing we could hear them clearly and have a quick catch up.  

After enduring the strong winds and big waves for over 24hrs, Ruffian contacted us and suggested we break our journey in Dakar, Senegal and wait out the weather system.   We were all tired and concerned about the stresses we were putting our boats under after having waves bounce into and over us for many hours.    We agreed and slightly altered our heading to pass closer to the headland at Dakar.  Ruffian were about five miles ahead of us, always on sight on the GPS but not visible, as a haze was engulfing us, restricting visibility to about two miles.   We think the haze was from a sand storm in the Sahara which was only a few miles north of where we were.    We continued at pace estimating we would arrive at the identified anchorage in Senegal in approx 36 hours.    We had broken our previous record of distance sailed in 24 hours, which now stands at 165 miles and, to be honest, I’ll be happy if we don’t break that again, if it means avoiding the heavy conditions we experienced on this passage!

Each morning we did a number of checks on both the inside and outside of the boat.   One of those was looking for flying fish which had come to their demise on our deck overnight.   We managed quite a haul of these fish but were not tempted to fry them up for breakfast, as had been recommended by another sailor.  By the time we found them they were stiff with salt and looked very unappetising so threw them overboard in the hope that a bird or dolphin would enjoy them more!  

Through all of these testing conditions, Steve has once again amazed me.   He remained positive and happy, throwing himself into a project to make a new food hammock.   It became as addictive as doing a jigsaw puzzle and he spent his downtime creating a knotted string masterpiece – we calculated he had tied one knot for each mile we sailed on this passage, so a great memento of our first seven day passage!    Steve copes better at sea for the first three days than I do.  He has no problem being below and preparing food, drinks etc, where as it takes me a couple of days to get my sea legs and not feel ill when focusing on anything other than sailing!  

When the heavy weather had abated a little, Ruffian let us know they had experienced a number of issues and gear failure which they needed to sort out before the next long passage.  They felt they had no hope of getting repairs done in Bajul, but Dekar in Senegal, just 100 miles north of Gambia, could be an option.   We agreed to alter our course and head to Dekar, wait out the bad weather and see if they could cobble together repairs or even get replacement parts.   As the sun went down on day six, we approached landfall, sailing side by side.   It was amazing that we had sailed over 800 miles together and were arriving in a new country on a new continent, at the same time.   Cerulean had looked after us well with only a few minor repairs to be done before the next big passage.   Senegal had not been on our radar to visit but we were intrigued and excited to make landfall and start exploring.