Category: Passage sailing

Vava’u quick stop. Bula Fiji!

Twelve years ago, just after the first Christchurch earthquake, I chartered a catamaran in Vava’u with seven friends. I remembered it as a very special time and particularly significant as it was the first time I had chartered, or captained, a yacht bigger than 22ft! My return to Vava’u would be the first time since leaving the UK that we were sailing in a location I had previously visited on a boat, so I was excited about going back.

After spending a week on the small, friendly island of Nuiatoputapu, we entered the pass through the protective reef at 10am on a Saturday morning, ready for the 180nm sail to Vava’u, a group of islands to the south of us.   The conditions were pretty sketchy with Cerulean slamming into the heavy seas, until we rounded the northern most part of the island and were able to head south.   We were once again sailing in the company of Freya and we kept in regular radio contact with Susan and Todd throughout the passage, which turned out to be in perfect weather conditions.  After a fast and enjoyable overnight sail, we arrived at the entrance to Vava’u on Sunday morning, dropping the sails as a large whale breached beside us with a now very familiar heavy breathing sound, and headed up the well-marked channel to Neiafu where we picked up a mooring close to the dinghy dock.  

The next day we checked in to Vava’u, a quick process as we were already checked into the country.   Other boats arriving in Tonga from another country have to first head to a fisherman’s dock near the container terminal, aptly nicknamed the “Dock of Doom” as there is a sunken vessel at one end of the wharf and a shallow patch at the other which need to be avoided on approach. We were thankful we were able to miss out on that adventure, for now!   

Very little had changed in Neiafu over the 12yrs since I was last there. It still had the feel of a sleepy town while being the main centre for people living on the surrounding islands. The low level structures along the waterfront were mostly commercial buildings with small houses further up the hillside. A large church, selection of schools and produce market seemed to be the main focus of the town. The cheerful children were dressed in smart school uniform, with the boys wearing a tupenu or sarong, giving us a cheerful “Malo e lelei” as they past us.

Surprisingly, the once bustling charter boat business now comprised of only two boats, both of which were not being used for the period of our stay.  Covid had destroyed the charter boat industry and, together with the erratic and unreliable flights from Nukualofa, had made the business untenable.  Such a shame, as the area is a beautiful cruising ground, but a bonus for us as it meant the anchorages were empty except for our friends! 

The anchorages have been given numbers by previous charter boat companies, and this system of naming them has continued with even locals referring to the number when identifying them on the busy daily cruisers radio Net. We headed out to a nearby bay with our Swedish friend, Tomas who had been joined by his son, Daniel. They picked us up in their dinghy and we headed to Swallow Cave in the early afternoon – the best time to visit to allow the lowering sun to emphasize the blue water while swimming through the tall cave entrance.   We waited for tour boats to leave before jumping in the deep water and swimming through bright sun rays as they played with the blue of the clear water.

One afternoon we took a long dinghy ride with Tomas and Daniel to find Mariners Cave, an underwater entrance to a large cave hidden in the cliffs.   We had a vague idea where the entrance was, but Steve boldly swam close to the rocks to find it.  He found a dark hole about 2m below the surface, so Tomas and Daniel joined Steve in the water to investigate.   I stayed on the dinghy as diving into a dark hole through an underwater tunnel into a cave, not knowing how far you had to swim, was way beyond my comfort levels, so left it to the boys to tell me about it afterwards!   I watched as first Tomas, then Steve and finally Daniel all duck dived and didn’t reappear for several minutes.  I could only assume they had found the way into the cave as I sat watching fruit bats soar above me!   Finally they appeared again, all full of excitement and satisfaction at what they had achieved.  

We were watching the weather again as we were meeting my sister in Fiji in 10 days time and wanted to make sure we allowed plenty of time to make the two and a half day passage.   One afternoon friends on SV Diva told us they were leaving the next day for Fiji as the weather was going to close in by the end of the week.   We had arranged to go swimming with whales with a group of friends in two days, so were reluctant to consider leaving before that, but on looking at the weather it started to look clear we would need to leave the next day too otherwise we could be stuck in Tonga for a little while – not a bad thing normally, but when family is visiting, it does become a problem.    We talked to our weather router and made the decision to leave that afternoon so spent a busy morning preparing food, us and the boat for the 417nm passage in between friends calling by to say a hurried goodbye.   We were told we needed to take the boat to the “dock of doom” close to where immigration has an office in a large warehouse.  We aimed for the middle of the dock, putting lots of fenders in place while we rushed to check out, hoping the process would be quick as Cerulean was blown against large black tyres on the dock.   The officials were in no hurry and trying to make them increase their speed is futile so we had to practice patience in between Steve running back to check on the boat!  It appears the reason they want the boat at the dock is to ensure you leave as soon as the check out procedure is complete and no amount of reasoning, and we heard a number, seems to make any difference! Eventually we were free to go and the warm smiles from the previously sullen officials, made our early impatience seem petty as we headed back to Cerulean and pushed off the dock.    SV Diva called us on the radio, surprised to see us joining them as we both exited the pass out of Vava’u together.   We were sad to leave but also happy to be starting our last multi-day sail before our final journey to New Zealand.

Leaving Tonga behind us we were keen to get into a rhythm as quickly as possible.   This passage was straight forward accept for navigating through a group of small islands about 80nm from our destination in Fiji, Savusavu.   We had calculated that, if we averaged 5knots, we would arrive at the first island in the dark and have to navigate our way through the shallows and small islands in very little light.   If we could increase our speed and arrive in the late morning, instead of early evening, we would be able to get through the worst of the obstacles in daylight.

The wind was perfect and we set our two headsails, gathering speed as we left behind the shadow of the islands, racing SV Diva as we slowly overtook them.   It’s always very satisfying to see how well Cerulean performs when pitched against another, bigger boat.    The wind and conditions continued to be excellent and we broke our record for distance covered in a 24hr period, making 170nm on our first day.   We were now sure we would make landfall at the islands in daylight and on the morning of the third day we spotted the first island in the Lau group.   We would have loved to have stopped here but it is not possible to check into the country in The Lau islands and many boats have been handed heavy penalties for spending a few days exploring before checking in at Savusavu and the thought of a heavy fine was a big incentive to keep going!

On our last night we had to slow the boat down to ensure we arrived in daylight.   We rounded the headland close to Savusavu with SV Diva beside us as we sailed up the harbour together.  

Our friends on SV Carina, whom we had met in Nuiatoputapu, called on the radio as they spotted us approaching the mooring buoys.   They gave us sound advice about the strict immigration process, waiting until we are properly processed before leaving the boat or allowing anyone to visit, warning us that the customs official are very proactive in ensuring boats comply with their process and heavy fines are administered for those who ignore them.   We had already completed an extensive 13 page pre-arrival form, complete with photographs of the boat and boat papers, so hoped everything was in order to speed up the process.   Four boats, including us, waited for the officials to come on board, using the time to tidy up Cerulean and ourselves!   It didn’t take long for customs, health and immigration to visit and, after taping up our honey and garbage (with instructions not to dispose of it until we reached Nadi or Suva, we were given permission to leave the boat. However, our cruising permit would not be available until three working days and, as we had arrived on a Friday, this meant Tuesday would be the earliest we could leave SavuSavu.   

We moved into Nawi Island Marina as we had some repairs to organise and needed easy access for the tradespeople. The marina was so new it was still being built. so we were one of just 15 boats able to enjoy the facilities including fabulous showers which were quite luxurious, while waiting for my sister, Lynn, and G to arrive – and boy did we make use of the long showers!!   We snorkelled “Split Rock” with friends, feeding the fish stale bread and were amazed by the number of Soldier fish that surrounded us, nipping at our limbs as we quickly fed them!   In the evening we ate out, trying many different places including one that came highly recommended by a number of friends, as it was cheap and excellent Indian cuisine.   We arrived with friends and quickly ordered from their extensive menu.  While we were waiting for the food to arrive a rat ran across the roof rafters over our heads.   Sadly it was all over for me after that as I am terrified of rats in any shape or form – alive, dead, squashed or tame!  I could not take my eyes off the hole in the roof that the rat had disappeared into, its vial tail making several appearances as I squirmed in my seat, desperate to get out of the place!   

Over 34% of Fiji’s population is Indian.   A military coup in 2006 removed the democratically elected PM who was of Indian decent.  Frank Bainimarama led the coup, which arose due the fear that Fiji could become less “Fijian”,  and declared himself PM soon afterwards.   He has remained in power ever since, although ‘democratic” elections have taken place they are heavily favoured to the large political parties, making it extremely hard for those of Indian descent to win an election.   You get a small sense of the cultural differences when walking around the large produce markets, as the Polynesian Fijians have a very laid back approach to sales, welcoming you with a friendly “Bula!” and warm smile while allowing you to make up your own mind whether you want to buy anything from their stall. In contrast, those of Indian descent are, in general, alot more proactive in ensuring you spend your money with them, often going out of their way to be helpful, while ensuring sales are made with them, or within their community of market stalls.

At last it was time for Lynn and G to arrive. We had added them to our crew list and sent them all the relevant forms so they would not have any issues arriving in Fiji on a one-way ticket. They had spent time sailing in Fiji on their boat pre-covid so we were looking forward to having, not only experienced sailors on board, but family who knew the country and the challenges of navigating in Fiji waters. It was time to start exploring!

Tonga – it’s not all plain sailing!

We had anticipated a fast sail with winds from the ESE and a point of sail that Cerulean enjoys, so left early with Freya a short distance ahead as we motored out of the harbour.   The wind stayed light until we rounded the western most point of the island when a beautiful easterly wind welcomed us and we put out our full sails and headed as far east as we could.   The conditions were perfect and I enjoyed hand steering for a few hours with a wide grin as we watched the miles melt away and even discussed the possibility of having to slow the boat down if this speed continued.   At around sunset we put a reef in the main, followed about an hour later by a second reef as well as a couple in the jib as the wind increased and swung more to the south with building waves.   When night fell conditions were worse and the sea had started to build, with waves crashing over the boat as we slammed into the rolling surf.   It was a horrible night.   I was seasick and we were slowly getting pushed further and further west.   As day dawned and conditions continued to deteriorate I suggested we give up on Tonga and head straight for Fiji.   Our weather router informed us conditions would remain the same for the next few days so we would be better continuing to our original destination.   As the day progressed we realized we were not going to make Niutoputapu in daylight, so we tacked and, as evening fell on our second night, we hove-to under the shadow of Tafahi, a perfectly proportioned island with a triangular shaped mountain rising up from the sea.   As we hove-to and stopped the boat, peace and quiet reined down!   It was almost magical how we gently rocked, instead of slamming, in the waves and the wind seemed to abate as we very slowly drifted.   We took it in turns to sleep and both of us had good solid rests between keeping an eye out for Freya who was doing the same as us a few miles west.  

As it started to get light, the sea had calmed and we continued sailing towards Nuiatoputapu which we could see about 7nm away.   As we drew close we started to see lots of whales – just the puff of water from when they breathe out, at first and then more of the whale’s body until we saw a pod of about seven heading straight for us.   I altered course so we cut infront of them and then changed back to our original track so they continued on their way behind us.   All of a sudden one of the humpbacks lept out of the water, twisted onto its side and splashed down sending a cascade of water over us!  

The entrance into the harbour is well marked but quite narrow and large rolling waves were breaking on either side of the pass as we entered.   Once in though, the waters are protected and sheltered with a large bay where one other boat was already anchored.    Shelly and James on SY Carina came over to introduce themselves and let us know about the check in process.   Shelly kindly made a phone call to arrange for immigration, health and customs to come at 3pm as well as organizing a sim card to be delivered to us on the dock the following morning.   As there is no ATM or means to exchange money, on the island we were asked to offer goods in exchange for the SIM card.    Promptly at 3pm we saw a couple of cars pull up on the dock as Steve and Todd headed out in the dinghies to collect the four officials.    Apart from one of the health workers, all the visitors were on the large size and helping the three women onto the boat, wearing long black skirts and woven overskirts as they hauled themselves out of the dinghy onto our small stem platform and then climb the steps to get into the boat was an interesting exercise!   All the officials were very formal until documents were completed and papers stamped and then they became warm and friendly smiling widely, showing their gold capped teeth.   We were asked to pay 200 pa’anga to cover the cost of the health workers visiting the boat, which we reluctantly paid, handing over US$70.   As the two officials had done nothing more than get a ride in our dinghy it was quite perplexing what we were actually paying for!    Needless to say, we completed the process and were now officially in Tonga.  

The next morning we met Shelly and James at the dock and went to meet Tiu who worked for the local mobile phone company, at her house.   As we walked along the road, pigs greeted us as they roamed freely each sow having numerous piglets chasing after her as she foraged for food on the beach, in gardens and on the roadside.   Thin, unloved dogs also scavenged for food being chased by hoards of painfully thin puppies – it seemed like every female dog we saw had a brood of puppies and we heard that, like the pigs, these often end up on the dinner table, making me very glad I don’t eat meat!   

Tiu lived in a home with a cluster of small shacks – one for sleeping in, one for cooking and one for eating in.   The dusty yard housed an outhouse and washing line where pandanus were drying in the morning sun.   Pandanus are the long leaves used to weave the traditional and formal clothes worn by Tongans, as well as the beautifully woven bowls and mats seen in markets around Tonga.   The leaves are cut from plants grown on the island, wrapped in bundles and taken to the beach where they are left in the sea to be bleached for a week.  The women then collect them, leave them to dry in the sun before cutting them to size and coiling them into packages to be sold in Nu’kulofa when the supply ship arrives.    

Tiu was a happy, hard working woman with two young girls she was raising on her own while her husband worked in Australia on a fruit orchard.   She exchanged a SIM card and 10GB of data for some items of food and a few old tee shirts.   She was happy with this trade and we were happy to be plugged in to the World again!    Tiu drove us to the dock and, on learning they had never been on a boat, invited them to jump in the dinghy and join us on board.   The children were very excited about being on board and looked all over the boat, asking lots of questions as they opened doors and cupboards with eyes getting wider as they took in everything!  

Later that day the dinghies from the three boats were dispatched to collect our BBQ hosts from the dock.  With Madam O in SV Carina’s dinghy, her niece, Fahia perched with Freya in their small wooden tender and Fahia’s 11yr old son, Mal in our dinghy, we headed in convoy for the small uninhabited island close to the reef.   We had to negotiate a number of shallows to reach a small beach, haul ourselves and all the food onto the beach and set about finding firewood under instructions from our hosts.  With Mal swinging a large machete, Steve was worried about how many limbs he would return with as they collected coconut leaves to weave our plates and food platters.   The fire was lit and lobster, crab and sausages loaded on to a grill while Madam O sat weaving a large platter from the fresh coconut leaves in between sipping from a can of beer mixed with rum!   It was a lovely afternoon spent in good company with the occasional whale making an appearance on the other side of the reef!  

We spent a week on Nuiatoputapu enjoying the company of the very friendly and generous locals. We spent a lovely afternoon at Fahia’s home being taught how to weave and later headed to Tiu’s home to teach her how to make pizza. I shooed the pigs and puppies out of her kitchen and, using the limited ingredients available, showed Tiu and her daughter how to make a simple pizza dough, topping it with anything available! Her only kitchen knife was so blunt the onion was more squashed than cut! I returned to the boat as it was put in the oven – a very old gas one that didn’t seem to get very hot! I left strict instructions to wait until it started to get brown on top, but it appears this was lost in translation as the photos Tiu sent me showed a very undercooked pizza that she shared with family and neighbours, all who seemed to love it and were still alive the next day…! It was a fun experience with various members of Tiu’s large extended family coming to watch. We later prised the blunt kitchen knife out of Tiu’s young daughter’s hand and sharpened it, giving it back to Tiu but fearing we had just left them with another potentially lethal situation!

It was a wonderful week and we felt privileged to have had the experience on this small Tongan island.   When it came time to leave Madam O came down to the dock and checked us out of the island while Tiu gave us a large parcel of pandandus we had offered to deliver to her cousin in Neiafu, our next stop.   We waved goodbye to Tiu on the dock and pulled up the anchor in the morning, following Freya out of the pass.

Maupiha’a – life on an isolated atoll

Spending three months in French Polynesia was a dream.   There are not many people who are able to travel as freely as we have in some of the most beautiful and remote places on earth.  We know how lucky we have been to have the time to enjoy and explore over ten islands and numerous atolls in our time here, but that doesn’t take away from the feeling that we have only scratched the surface and, in hindsight, I wish we had decided to apply for the longterm visa while in Panama as having that extra time would have made all the difference, exploring more, visiting more atolls and really getting to know each place we visited.   French Polynesia covers such a vast area, it is impossible to do it justice in three months!    One lasting impression was how wonderful it is to see a region that has not allowed major development to detract from the natural beauty of the place.   Big hotel groups are limited to single level chalets – usually built over the water, offering exclusive accommodation to those able to pay US$3000 per night, but we also saw a number of failed operations with chalets being left to decay over the crystal clear waters that once attracted wealthy guests.    Towns are kept very traditional with no big stores or multi-national fast food places dominating the landscape.   I think the only place we saw a MacDonalds was on Moorea and that was a sad sight to see!

It felt like The Society Islands were not ready to see us go as we made very slow progress in light winds, taking almost all day for Bora Bora to fade out of sight.  The wind picked up as the sun sank below low cloud on the horizon in front of us, as we picked up speed and headed west.   It turned out to be a lovely sail with flat seas and a beam reach in about 10-15knots of wind – the perfect conditions for Cerulean and us!    We were headed to a small atoll, still just in French Polynesia, called Maupiha’a where eight people live, farming copra (coconut).   They are completely cut off from civilization, apart from visiting yachts who bring supplies and help where possible.   A supply ship comes once a year to ship the cobra to Tahiti for processing, but will only come when there is 14.5 tons to collect.   Eight adults work six days a week to cut, collect and dry the cobra and have a satellite phone to call the main administration centre on Maupiti, a small island 100nm east, to request the ship comes to collect.   (We later discovered there had been a fallout and one family had been ostracized by the other three couples, meaning only six adults were collecting coconuts and processing them). In the meantime, the eight residents live off fish, coconut crabs, coconuts and fruit and vegetables grown on the island.   We had been told they would welcome certain items so had stocked up on flour, sugar, mayonnaise, instant coffee, rice and onions to give to Norma, the Mayor of the island.  

The low lying atoll is hard to see and we didn’t get a sight of it until we were about five miles from the most eastern point.   As we approached the narrow pass into the atoll, it started to rain, making visibility hard, so we waited for the cloud to clear before attempting the narrow, challenging pass.  

With Steve on the bow and talking to me in the headphones, we started our approach, keeping in the middle of two visible white sticks which mark the edge of the reef.   Waves broke on either side as we motored through the channel with large eddies trying to pull us to one side of the channel.  We increased the revs on the engine as the outgoing current increased at the same intensity as my stress levels!   We crawled through the pass at about 3knots, weighing up going faster to have more grip in the water v’s being cautious incase we hit the reef!    We made it through and Steve was able to see obstacles below us to guide us into deeper water – a huge relief to be in the calm blue waters of the atoll.   

We headed to the north where we could see one other boat anchored and a few houses hidden in the trees.   Along the way terns screamed their welcome and brown boobies attempted to land on our pole which we had left out, seemingly believing it would be a perfect perch for them to view unsuspecting fish we disturbed in the water below.   It was very amusing watching them attempting to land and, when they won that battle, trying to stay on the slippery pole as they had to continue to fly to stay still – obviously not what they were expecting so soon disappeared with a disgruntled squawk!

The other boat in the bay belonged to Elaine and Crawford from the UK and later, on board their boat, we met Mayor Norma and Harry who were using starlink to call their daughter in Maupiti.   It was lovely seeing the delight on their faces to have a rare conversation with family and then receive photographs of grandchildren they have not seen for some time.  

The next day was Saturday and, as Seventh Day Adventists, it was their day of rest when they stop harvesting coconuts and preparing copra, so they invited us to visit their home.   It felt like they were real life Robinson Crusoe’s as we approached the small tin shack they call home, with internal walls of mesh hung from rafters, decorated with shells.   The kitchen is outside with the sink and workbench facing the blue clear water of the lagoon – a view that would be hard to beat anywhere!  

Harry guided us through the coconut trees to the other side of the narrow stretch of land they live on, to the wild windward side where the deep ocean crashes on a small reef and coral beaches.  The sound of the sea moving washed up coral was only drowned out by the screech of hundreds of Sooty Terns that had been disturbed by our appearance.   The Terns spend most of their lives at sea, returning to land only to breed and lay their eggs on the ground, sometimes not bothering to attempt to make a nest while others had gone to great efforts.   Eggs and chicks were scattered everywhere so we picked our path carefully as we followed Harry along the beach.   It felt like we were in a scene from a horror movie as birds filled the sky above us, screaming at us as we moved through their nesting area.   I was relieved when we left them in peace to raise their chicks, chicks that when full grown would return to land in a few years – it was an unforgettable experience.   One Harry does most days as he collects their unfertilized eggs as part of their regular diet – if placed in water, fertilized eggs will sink.   They explained that a dog killed all their chickens so now Tern eggs are the only kind they eat.   I mentally added eggs to the list of provisions I would give them! 

Returning to the house, Norma showed us a huge coconut crab they have been fattening up for the last three weeks.   The underbelly was blue with a sac Norma excitedly called Froie Gras so must be a huge delicacy.    Later we returned to Norma and Harry’s for dinner with fellow cruisers, Elaine and Crawford.   Norma had decorated the table in her house with beautiful flowers and proudly welcomed us into her home as we sat down at a table ladened with food – some we had brought, but most included ingredients foraged from the environment we were in.   The coconut crab we had met earlier took pride of place on the table as it easily fed six of us, cooked in coconut milk and spices which was delicious.   After clearing the remains of the crab off the table, Norma took the lid off a large pan with a flourish and proudly presented us with a whole lobster each.   It was delicious and we felt very honoured to have been invited, not only to share the wonderful food, but to be in such a stunning location as we watched the sun go down over the lagoon.   

There is a tenuous link to my home town of Lyttelton on this small atoll.   There is a wreck on the outside of the reef of notorious German first WW warship Seeadler that ran aground in 1917, captained by the colourful Count Felix von Lucknor, who was later imprisoned on Ripapa Island in Lyttelton Harbour.   He has an amazing story which is too long and unbelievable to write about here, but worth reading about – why has no movie been made about this man?   He was the real German equivalent of Hornblower!

We decided to extend our stay for a few days as our friends on SY Freya were arriving and the winds looked quite light – it was not a hard decision to make!   On our last full day a humpback whale came into the lagoon and entertained us for a while.  As night fell we heard the now familiar sound of a whale surfacing close by and the black shape of a large mammal in the calm water behind the boat.  It was a wonderful final gift from this magical atoll!  

A full moon sank in the clear morning sky and, as we watched the sun rise, we pulled up anchor before heading towards the pass with SY Freya.   We waved to Harry and Norma as they stood on the beach watching the last two boats in the anchorage leave.  Now they would be on their own again until the next adventurous cruisers arrived, hopefully bringing more supplies and speaking better French than any of us!   This was a perfect farewell to The Societies as we headed out to our next destination, an even more remote uninhabited atoll 600nm NW in the middle of the Pacific!

The Passage of Pain – Aruba to Colombia

The passage to Colombia is noted as one of the most unpredictable and potentially difficult sails on the cruisers circuit.   The high mountains on the headland close to Santa Marta often cause winds to accelerate down the steep slopes and sailing can be treacherous, or at best, uncomfortable with high winds and rolling waves.   The weather forecast is only a considered prediction and things can change very quickly, so several things needed to be taken into account before we left the safe and sheltered anchorage of Spanish Waters.   First and foremost, we needed to make sure the boat, and we, were ready for the three day passage – tick!   We then needed to ensure the different models of wind forecasts we looked at were starting to align and predicted lighter winds than we would normally choose for a short passage.  This is because we’ve found the winds are often more than forecast and we didn’t want to risk strong winds close to Colombia.   Finally, we needed an alternative plan, in case things turned to custard and we needed to escape somewhere for shelter or wait for a better weather window. 

Zen Again had led the way out of Spanish Waters followed a little while later by us and our single-handed octogenarian, Fred who was still unsure if he wanted to go but was being ruled by the company being offered – an unwise thing for a seasoned sailor as its important to make your own decisions when sailing!    Aruba is an 80NM sail from Curacao and we found wind keeping close to the Curacao coastline, opting to take the northern route around Aruba, while Fred had already told us he was going south of the island as it was a shorter route.   He came on the radio and once again voiced his intention to stop in Aruba as he felt the winds were too light.    By this time, we were making good progress and felt confident we could arrive in Santa Marta before a forecast weather system was due to hit in a couple of days.  

From a sailing point of view, the passage was perfect!   We had excellent wind conditions – all exactly as forecast – and only one squall to deal with in the middle of night one.  Sadly though other things didn’t go so well…… Steve had a boom v’s head incident in the middle of the darkest moonless night and ended up with an enormous egg shaped lump above his left eye.   This later developed into two black eyes, but at the time caused a painful bruise and pounding headache.   Then, the next day as we changed our course and started heading straight towards Santa Marta, I started to feel very unwell.  I spent the whole day curled up under a makeshift sunshade on the cockpit floor only moving when I had to vomit or have a drink!   If it was seasickness, I have never experienced it as badly as that with a headache that must have matched Steve’s!    Fortunately Hilda the Hydrovane was on top form and she steered us all day without even an adjustment needed.  

As we approached Santa Marta on the northern coast of Colombia, we heard Fred on the VHF radio trying to raise the Port Authority to ask permission to enter the harbour.   We listened with some amusement as Fred, who is as deaf as a post, with his gruff American voice, tried unsuccessfully to communicate with the port and the port tried unsuccessfully to communicate with him!   We called the port and received an immediate response so Fred decided to just slip in behind and follow us into the harbour, repeating the same procedure as we contacted the marina to request a berth.   After spending about 20 minutes drifting in the port while the marina found us a couple of suitable spaces, we made our way into the small marina with limited information on where we were supposed to go!   Once safely tied up and the check in procedure had started, using the very friendly and hard working marina staff, we set out to explore the town!  

Santa Marta is a popular destination for Colombians to visit for a few days as the city is small, lively and picturesque.   The narrow streets are on an easy to navigate grid system, which are meant to be one-way but we soon learned that traffic rules seem to be optional in Colombia and we frequently had to avoid motorbikes or bicycles careering up streets the wrong way.   We soon found the “High Street” lined with busy shops and market stalls set up on the roadside and pavements.   A four piece mobile band walked down the street playing beautiful music as they joined the busy afternoon bustle, fruit carts ladened with bananas, oranges and mangos were being pulled by tired looking men while taxis and buses wove their way through the chaotic streets, beeping their horns continuously as they looked for business.   It was a senses overload for us as we had not been in a busy city for some time and we were still in awe at the thought of being in South America and tired from the passage, so we soon wound our way back to the marina to have a celebrational drink with Fred and Zen Again who had just arrived. 

Over the next few days we explored the city, taking a guided walking tour to learn more about Simon Bolivar, the revolutionary leader born in Venezuela and died in Santa Marta in 1831.  He fought the Spanish and led the movement for independence, having a huge influence in several countries due to his leadership qualities and ability to pull people together from different backgrounds and tribes.  His dream was to create a “United States” with what is now Colombia, Venezuela, Panama, parts of Brazil, Peru, Ecuador and Bolivia to form a region known as the United Provinces of New Granada or Republic of Gran Colombia.  Gran Colombia did not exist for long as it was dissolved in 1831, but for a time the Republic was among the most powerful and influential regions in the western hemisphere.  Not everyone shared Bolivars vision of a centralised government and it is believed by many in Santa Marta that he was in fact poisoned as he died at only age 47.   Interestingly, his statue in the main square in Santa Marta has him riding a horse with two legs raised, a symbol of a soldier that died in battle while statues we saw of him riding a horse in other Colombian cities do not have the raised legs.  

We enjoyed many cups of delicious coffee and tasty food, running the gauntlet of hustlers and street hawkers as we chose a restaurant in the main dining streets.   Eating out is so cheap it was hardly worth cooking on the boat and was a great excuse to socialise and experience the vibrant early evening atmosphere of the central areas.  

We set a plan with Zen Again to explore inland Colombia and soon realised that we needed to be very selective in our choice of places to visit – there just wasn’t enough time to do everything we wanted to experience in the country we were fast learning, was a jewel in the crown of South America.  

Colourful Curacao

We pulled out of Bonaire mooring field, waving goodbye to friends in the warm morning sunlight.   Zen Again had left already and we could see the fading triangle of their sail as they headed towards a large bank of cloud on the horizon.   After a year of island hopping on both sides of the Atlantic, we were now heading to explore our final island nation in the Caribbean.

We quickly set our sails and turned off the engine as we picked up speed on a nice reach, heading south west as we edged passed Klein Bonaire and gave a mental wave goodbye to the fabulous snorkelling and underwater paradise that is hidden below the shallow blue waters.  To avoid using the steering as much as possible, due to our failing bearing which had caused our wheel to jam a day earlier, we set up Hilda the Hydrovane so we could lock off the wheel.

We were only about five miles out when lightning and thunder started crashing in front of us and, on looking at the radar, it was clear we were not going to avoid it if we continued on the same course.   Zen Again had already gybed to avoid the heavy black cloud that loomed ahead and we followed suit, heading north west to try and get infront of the storm clouds and avoid the bolts of lightning that lit up the mid-morning darkness.    When we were about halfway between Bonaire and Curacao on our 40NM journey, we gybed again as the clouds disappeared and we made good speed to our destination on the south west coast of the island.   Zen Again were not far behind us as we turned into the narrow entrance leading to Spanish Waters, a protected area of bays offering excellent shelter in several different bays in a relatively quiet setting. 

We anchored in the western most area and shared a celebratory sundowner with Zen Again who anchored next to us.   We had arrived on Independence Day – 10/ 10 (10 October) the day that Curacao became a nation inside the Dutch Kingdom in 2010 when the Dutch Antilles were dissolved after a referendum.   Everything was shut so we didn’t attempt to navigate the 7kms into the capital, Willemstad, to check in, but decided to wait until the next day.  

Early the next morning we set out to start the process of checking in by first finding the immigration office which was well tucked away in a small non-descript building with a temporary looking sign on the door giving the only clue what was inside.   We were processed quite quickly and then walked into the town of Willemstad to complete the customs clearance, crossing the long floating swingbridge that opens on request for all traffic going up the river towards the port and marina.   As we walked across the bridge, the colourful, historic waterfront buildings on the eastern side of the river reminded us of a child’s drawing of houses as the picturesque tall, coloured rectangular buildings dominated the waterfront.    Once cleared in with customs the check-in procedure was complete and we enjoyed a coffee and cake at a waterside café before wandering through the narrow streets and exploring the town.  There are two things that immediately stand out in Willemstad, the colourful houses on the waterfront and the beautiful street art that adorns alot of the walls and shops in the town.

Curacao has a population of approx. 150,000 and Willemstad is the capital with the majority of the population living within the confines of the city.   It is the largest of the ABC islands and has a very different feel to Bonaire, not only because of the colour of the water in the anchorage, but the size of the town and general Hussle and Bussell of being in a larger community.    The history of Curacao is interesting with the original inhabitants coming from South America hundreds of years before the first Europeans arrived.   The Spanish arrived in Curacao in 1499 and enslaved most of the natives, transporting them to other Spanish colonies for forced labour.   The Spanish used Curacao as a bridge for exploring northern South America and eventually built a settlement in 1527 which was then governed by Venezuela as the Spanish continued to colonise South America, eventually abandoning the island in favour of building communities on the mainland.    The Dutch took over the island in 1634 following the Eighty Years’ War of independence between The Netherlands and Spain.   They used the island as the main centre for slaves, transporting them to Curacao before selling them elsewhere in the Caribbean and South America.  Many Dutch colonists prospered from the slave trade and built the colourful houses on the waterfront in Willemstad.

We decided to rent a car for a couple of days and explore the northern parts of the island that are hard to get to by bus.   After attempting, and failing, to find a place to purchase our required bearing, we headed north, first to Santa Cruz and then on to Playa Lagun.   The small beach was quite busy with restaurants accessed by steep steps on the northern side of the bay.    It was a hot day, so we all went for a snorkel before lunch.   There were lots of turtles feeding, surprisingly on fish, which I’d never seen before, and as I swam into the rocky shallows, more turtles were lazily scavenging in the rocks, not bothered by my presence as they occasionally pushed themselves up to the surface and took two breaths before continuing their leisurely swim.  

We walked along the coastal path in the National Park and watched the waves break on the rugged coastline, sending water high above our heads from the viewing platform.   Lizards scurried for shelter as we continued our walk to a small beach which, in season is a turtle laying reserve.   It saddened me hugely to see the beach covered in rubbish.   I’m not sure whether it had been washed up there or whether visitors had dropped it but it certainly looked as if it had come from the sea.  What frustrated me further was that we had paid an entrance fee into the park and rangers were parked at most of the areas identified as “of interest” yet they did nothing except sit in their cars playing music and giving visitors a cursory nod.   Why could they not start picking up the rubbish???

Back at the boat we ordered our new bearing and casing from the UK and, after a false start where the bearing ended up in Exeter and then didn’t move for a week, we waited expectantly for our parcel to arrive.   While we waited we visited a slave museum in Willemstad and the oldest synagogue in continuous use in the Americas which was in an inconspicuous looking building but hidden behind the walls was the lovely Mikve Israel-Emanuel Synagogue which was built in 1732.  The most noticeable feature was sand on the floor which depicts the Sinai Desert.  It also remembers those who put sand on the floor of secret rooms so early Jews in Curacao could continue to worship and the sand helped muffle the sound of their service.  

With our parcel still days away we explored a few dive spots close to our anchorage and snorkelled over a wreck of a tug boat which was now home to new coral and lots of colourful fish and conga eels.   One evening we tried our hand at dance lessons, attempting to learn one of the many beautiful (when done properly!) South American dance styles.  

Eventually our courier parcel arrived and Steve immediately set to work installing the new bearing – it was a huge relief when it slid into place relatively easily – well, nothing a bit of banging wouldn’t fix – and we took the boat on a test drive around the crowded anchorage to make sure the steering felt good and everything worked as it should!   Fortunately all went well, which was just as well, as we planned to leave the next day.   There had been very few weather windows for our passage to Colombia while we had been waiting for our parcel, so we wanted to take the first opportunity as we knew bad weather was coming and there would not be another window for at least a week. 

On a very wet morning we set off to complete the check out procedures with our planned sailing passage posse of ZenAgain and Seraphina.  By the time we reached immigration we were all soaked through and crammed into the small busy office to await our turn.  The people infront of us were asking if they could check out on behalf of a captain who had broken both his ankles attempting to perform a backflip on land – it hadn’t ended well!   Friends had met him a few days earlier when he was literally crawling back to his dinghy to return to his boat.   Immigration would not concede and instructed the two attempting to check out, that they needed to bring him in a car to the office and then the officers would kindly allow him to stay in the car while they completed the paperwork!   We had been told of a number of boats that had been turned away by immigration when they had attempted to check in.  Two boats had visited Venezuela prior to arriving in Curacao and one South African boat who did not have the appropriate visa.   Fortunately Bonaire are much more accommodating!   Our check out went smoothly for the three boats, and we were soon back in the rain heading to customs to complete the procedure.   Now we were checked out and soaking wet, we all contemplated whether it was a good idea to leave that afternoon, as planned, or wait until the morning.    Fred, an 81 year old solo sailor who was on his 3rd circumnavigation, announced he was going to wait until the morning while ZenAgain and we continued to discuss the merits of the best time to leave.   Steve and I were still trying to decide when ZenAgain pulled up their anchor and motored over to say goodbye.   We decided to wait an hour and follow them out, letting Fred know so he could follow behind us.    We were expecting rain and wind for the whole passage and when we heard Fred on the radio about 3hrs later stating he was considering stopping in Aruba as there wasn’t enough wind, we started to question whether the forecast was going to be accurate after-all.  

Learning the ABC’s

Bonaire – the bluest water and best underwater scenery we have yet experienced, add to this a visit from my sister to make Bonaire one of our favourite destinations.

I feel I should emphasize that we love our boat – despite all the breakages, problems and challenges we have had, we don’t believe this is anything more than usual when undertaking a journey like ours in a 28yr old boat, although the type of things that have failed have been a little more challenging!  Sadly this is just part of the adventure and we have learned to understand that this journey is 10% sailing, 10% exploring and 80% maintenance.   Our regular servicing and checks have definitely prevented us from experiencing more issues but there will always be things that break or wear away that are hidden – only a boat that stays in one place stays in one piece so we just have to find a way to repair things and sometimes be creative!

We left Grenada mid-morning and headed North West, catching sight of Tokimata, our buddy boat, as we rounded the south western headland.   This was the first time we had buddy sailed with another NZ boat and it felt like we were in good company as we heard Peter’s familiar kiwi accent coming over the VHF radio!  

We had decided to try a different sail combination and had rigged another large jib to a removable forestay before leaving the anchorage in Grenada.   With clear air, we hoisted the hanked on jib and then unfurled our poled out yankee, leaving the mainsail in its sailbag.   The boat immediately responded, picking up speed and cutting through the Atlantic roll, giving us a fast and comfortable sail away from the green hills of Grenada.   We watched some large rain clouds pass either side of us as we continued our sail North West and into the night.   Our plan was to stay about 60NM north of the Venezuelan coast as we had read reports it could be unsafe to sail too close due to piracy, although we had not met anyone who had experienced any problems.

The moon was ¾ full and shone brightly until it set at about midnight on the first night as we tried to get into the slow routine of passage making and sleeping on cue!   Steve always takes the first 3hr watch from 8pm while I rest in our cabin.   Hilda, the hydrovane, was set and working perfectly as we continued on our 400+NM passage to Bonaire, meaning we could turn most of our instruments off and save on power consumption.   During passage our solar in-take is reduced due to more shadow on the panels so we carefully monitor the level of our batteries to make sure we are not letting them run down too low.    Steve had been on watch for about an hour when a large squall hit us.   These squalls are hard to see at night but can be monitored on radar, which we regularly scanned, particularly at night and considering most boats, like us, had turned off their AIS so were not as easy to keep track of.   We knew there was a weather system approaching but it sped up and hit us a lot quicker than anticipated.   I rushed up on deck to help reef one of the jibs as the rain fell in torrents, lasting only five minutes and giving us both, and the boat, a refreshing shower, cooling us down from the tropical evening heat!  The boat settled down again, still with our two headsails working well as the night passed quickly with very little traffic while I spent most of my watch stargazing and in quiet awe of the vastness of the ocean and sky around us.   I’m often amazed how I can sit and do absolutely nothing but observe the light on the water or look up at the millions of stars above me and feel at total peace.  

Each night we talked to our friends on Tokimata, Escapade of London and ZenAgain on SSB Radio to give position reports, weather updates and news on the day’s events!   Tokimata were following a similar track to us about 20NM behind while Escapade and ZenAgain were still in Grenada and it was comforting to know they were keeping track of our progress!   

We were still making great headway with Hilda keeping us on course at speeds of upto 8knots.  On day two our dreams of catching another Mahi Mahi were realised and we hauled a beautiful fish on board which Steve masterly bled and filleted so we could have a wonderful dinner that night and for the next couple of dinners.  By now we had altered course so the wind was more on our beam and we stowed the second jib and pulled up the main.   On our last night five swallows joined us on board, four perched on one line and one on another rope facing them.   The four kept vigil all night, swaying as the boat rolled until the morning when we discovered the solitary bird had died.   We gave it a burial at sea and watched as the remaining four birds took flight and headed out across the ocean.

On the morning of day three the faint outline of the lowlands of Bonaire slowly came into view until we could finally make out the glaring white pyramid shapes of sea salt mounds on the shore line.    A large pod of dolphins played in our bow wave as the morning sun accentuated the clear deep blue waters we were cutting through.   The three day sail had been one of the best passages we had experienced with some real champagne sailing, calm seas and clear nights.   We felt rested and happy as we made our way towards the next island adventure.

Bonaire is the second largest island in the Netherlands Antilles, a group of three main islands located 50NM off the coast of Venezuela, comprising of Aruba, Bonaire and Curacao, generally known as the ABC’s.   Each island has its own distinctive flavour with Bonaire being known for its world class diving, due to a protected reef that surrounds the island.   The island is small – only 285sq km and about 40km long with a population of around 20,000 – the same size as Ashburton in NZ.   A number of the population are descendants of slaves who were brought in from Africa to work in the salt fields.   After the abolition of slavery in the mid 1800’s the island, and the people, were largely forgotten with the salt production closing down.   All this changed after the war when the salt fields were re-opened and the tourism boom started. 

Today the island is a mix of black, South American and Dutch, in fairness it is mostly white Europeans who have moved here on a free Dutch one way visa and this seems to have contributed to a building boom and a huge increase in the cost of housing.   The island became a municipal of The Netherlands in 2010 which means a Principal or Governor from The Netherlands, oversees the elected local council, while the two other islands in the ABC’s – Curacao and Aruba – chose to go independent, probably because their population base allowed them to do this.

After securing a mooring buoy, and helping our friends on Cushla (who we knew from Grenada and arrived just after us) and Tokimata do the same, we visited Customs and Immigration to check in.  This proved incredibly easy and quick with no mention of the US$70pp tourist tax we believed we would need to pay on arrival following it coming into force a couple of months earlier.    We were now free to explore the island and get familiar with our new surroundings.

We hired a car with Peter and Rachel from Tokimata and spent a couple of days exploring the south and then the north of the island, snorkelling from recommended beaches, bird watching, driving the unsealed, potholed roads in the National Park and befriending large iguanas who circled around us looking up at us expectantly!    Peter and Rachel were on a tight deadline so left Bonaire after a few days and just before the first of the nasty weather started!    As Bonaire is a protected area, anchoring is forbidden so picking up a mooring buoy in the shallow waters of Kralendijk (the main town) is the only option, apart from taking a marina berth.   For 95% of the time, this is fine, as the prevailing winds blow from the east giving great protection on the buoys on the west side of the island.   The problem comes when the wind blows from the west, known locally as a “Reversal” and suddenly the shallow protective mooring field becomes a messy, dangerous place with boats bouncing on buoys very close to the sea wall with an on-shore wind.   This happened three times while we were in Bonaire, not including another night which was very uncomfortable as Tropical Storm Julia formed overhead!   During one of these Reversals one boat ended up on the rocks after breaking their mooring lines but amazingly it was not badly damaged and we watched it being refloated the next day.

My sister, Judy flew out to join us on board for a very special week of exploring together.   We snorkelled some great spots together, but none were as good as the fabulous coral and fish on Klein Bonaire where we felt we were flying above a forest of brightly coloured trees.   The purple fan coral gently waved in the clear water while the incredible rounded shape of the giant brain coral mesmorised us as our eyes tried to follow the maze of the large head structure.   Large brightly coloured fish guided us through shallow water as we sometimes had to suck in our stomachs to avoid touching the coral that was just below the surface.   Beautiful angelfish, parrotfish, large schools of tang and goatfish swam amongst the underwater garden with a loggerhead turtle silhouetted against the darker blue of the deeper water as we swam over the coral shelf.   It was an experience I am so happy I shared with Judy as we both emerged from the water with big eyes and huge smiles!

Our mooring buoy was next to a dive school and on the edge of a coral wall so we were treated to an array of sea creatures every day.  We had an octopus visit us one evening, alerted to it by our neighbours on Beez Neez, and we watched it change colour as it moved from coral head to sandy seabed in search of food.  A small spotted stingray flew past us with a long tail and a large tarpon took shelter against Beez Neez keel.   Each day we swam and snorkelled around the boat to see what new visitors we had amongst the brightly coloured fish that hovered under and around us.

Judy left after a week and our friends on ZenAgain joined us after an equally good sail from Grenada.   We discovered other snorkel sites with Mike and Nicki, using a truck that was made available for cruisers to hire, to try out 1000 steps and CandyLand – both excellent snorkel spots.   We then headed to Salt Pier and swam with a couple of feeding turtles in the shallow water before experiencing the underwater beauty of an above ground ugly structure, as brightly coloured coral grew from the foundations of the pier.

Our last few days in Bonaire coincided with a sailing regatta which included lots of on land festivities.  Streets were closed, large stages erected, and food stalls lined the main street.   People came in large power boats from neighbouring Curacao and the town came alive with children and young families.   Together with ZenAgain and Cushla, we enjoyed some of the music and festivities as we bade a long farewell to Bonaire.   The day before we were due to leave, we took Cerulean over to Klein Bonaire for a final snorkel, inviting Mike and Nicki to join us.   As we approached the mooring buoy on Klein the wheel jammed and would only allow me to turn to the left.   Fortunately we were close to the buoy and Steve was able to secure us on the mooring before we started investigating the problem.   We discovered a partly shredded bearing casing was catching in the steering mechanism and once cleared we once again had full movement of the wheel.   There had been no early indication of the bearing failing – no scraping, friction or catching, so it was a little disconcerting that our steering could be so silently affected!   Fortunately it did not happen while at sea and we were able to resolve the problem, all be it temporarily.   

We decided to continue with our plans to leave Bonaire for Curacao where we felt we would be able to find a solution and get the parts we needed to make the repairs before heading off on a longer passage.   The sail to Curacao was only around 30NM and with a good breeze forecast we bade farewell to beautiful Bonaire, our home for the last month, with its clear blue waters, incredible reefs, colourful fish and good friends.   We set our course west, just as angry clouds were forming on the horizon ahead of us.

*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.

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.