Cape Verde – HandsOnDeck

*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:

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.
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!
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!
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.
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.