Passage – HandsOnDeck

The Final Push Home

Imagine this – you are riding a wild bucking bronco, in your beloved home, on a steep incline and you are told to cling onto the saddle for four days, holding your best china in one hand, without breaking anything. Now add to the mix the need to prepare food, wash and perform other duties without falling off the horse! That’s what it felt like for us on the passage to NZ. It all started quite differently……

We left Fiji early in beautiful sunshine with very little wind having prepared three days of meals, completed all the necessary pre-arrival requirements for NZ and carefully stowed things away for the anticipated nine-day passage. Our weather router, John, sent us a synopsis of the weather we could expect for the next couple of days and provided us with lat/long co-ordinates for points we should try to aim for based on the forecast wind direction. Each morning we were to send John our updated position via email, with details of the conditions we were experiencing, and he would then confirm our new waypoint or tell us how we were tracking and what weather we could expect over the next 24hrs. It was a service we were glad to have bought, as John was able to predict windshifts and strength before some of the weather models had updated their data. Also as a fellow sailor who regular sails between Fiji and NZ, John was a great knowledge bank we could draw on.

As soon as we were through the reef which borders Fiji’s main island of Vitu Levu, we were in the wind and heading for the first waypoint. Our friends on SV Diva, Chris and Jenn, were following us but we had no doubt they would soon overtake us in their beautiful 60ft Deerfoot yacht. This proved to be the case as the wind turned as we arrived at our first waypoint 24hrs later and they slid past us making the most of the gentle breeze and flat seas. For the next few days, we remained within 10nm of each other, talking on VHF even when we couldn’t see each other on AIS and it felt comforting knowing another boat was close by if either of us needed help.

Over the first few days we had to motor as the wind was fickle with the constant swell taking any wind that was in the sails and we soon grew tired of the constant banging of the main and jib as it filled and then was emptied again! The weather was still warm, and we took it in turns to keep a watch out for any other boats or dark ominous clouds on the horizon, making the most of any wind that appeared and turning the engine off as quickly as we could. The wind was always in front of us on our port side so, when the wind increased, we had to get used to living on a permanent lean!

Each night we participated in a SSB (Single Side Band) Net run by Gulf Harbour Radio. Patricia and David provide a nightly monitoring and communication service, free of charge, for any boats heading to NZ, Australia or anywhere in the Pacific. They are fellow sailors who love to pass and receive information to help other sailors on passage. It is a fabulous service, run from their home in Gulf Harbour with Patricia offering encouraging comments and taking position reports while David comments on weather. Each night we were able to follow other yachts’ journey and get information from those not far ahead of us regarding the conditions they were experiencing so we could understand what we may expect as we approached their location.

By the fourth day we were starting to head south west towards our third waypoint provided by John in strong winds and short sharp seas. As I look back at the emails I sent and comments on the nightly Net, I was getting increasingly concerned about how far west we were heading. At one point it looked like Australia was a more viable option than NZ as the south east winds continued to batter us. In addition to the winds increasing, the waves were also building as we bashed into them on a continuous seesaw. So now we were not only dealing with healing over, but we were also having to contend with the boat bashing into 3m swell every couple of seconds making the boat, and us, shudder each time we slammed down on a wave. I needn’t tell you how unpleasant and concerning it was as we remembered a number of friends and fellow cruisers who had experienced rig issues recently!

The weather was getting considerably cooler and in the evenings we wrapped up in warm clothes, woolly hat and a blanket to keep watch under dark, moonless skies while the one off watch snuggled under a duvet in our aft cabin. Two of the features we love about Cerulean really came into play on this passage – our lovely cabin in the back of the boat and our deck saloon which meant we could stay warm and dry below when the weather turned for the worse. Having our comfortable bed in the back of the boat meant we slept really well without the noise and bouncing at the front of the boat as Cerulean slammed down on a wave.

On day eight, as if by magic, just as we were approaching the waypoint provided by our weather router, the wind turned more east, so we were able to start turning towards NZ. With the change in wind direction came squalls and we contented with 30knot gusts right on the nose which, believe me, is not pleasant! Steve had been feeling unwell for a few days and had developed a nasty cough and runny nose. He was slowly starting to feel better when we noticed that the two strops that hold the bottom of our jib furler in place, had become loose and there was no alternative but to go forward and repair it. With the boat crashing down on building winds we stopped the boat by heaving-to and letting Cerulean sit side on to the wind with the main sail filled but the jib backed. Steve edged forward and worked stoically under huge pressure and in the worst conditions while feeling unwell. He once again saved the day, and we were soon back sailing again.

The wind started to die at midnight on the eighth day and the calm and quiet of the boat moving through the water at 6knots was fabulous after the craziness of the last few days, however with the drop in wind, the direction had also changed so we were no longer heading east and, if we continued on this course we would now be heading down the west coast of the North Island! However, the wind died a lot faster than we had anticipated so by 4am we were motoring, and this is when the advantage of having an aft cabin is cancelled out! The noise from the engine is loud and trying to sleep with the constant drone of the motor and whirl of the prop is a challenge. Our forward berth was filled with stowed items, so it was currently not an option to decamp to an alternative cabin. We still had just over 200nm to get to Opua and this meant almost two full days of motoring, so our hope now was that, instead of just a few hours earlier when we hoped the wind would abate, we now wanted to have some more wind as we can usually sail faster than motor! To make matters worse, as the sun came up, so did the waves so now the gentle rocking had become more intense as we continued our journey closer to land.

By mid-morning we were sailing again heading south east at a sedate but comfortable speed until the wind died in the late afternoon and on came the iron sail again! We motored throughout the night in a glassy sea, where the millions of stars were reflected in the water we cut through. It was a magical last night at sea after a challenging passage, even if the motor was on.

The wind increased a little during the day but not enough to turn off the engine while still maintaining speed to ensure we arrived in Opua in daylight. We motor sailed, enjoying good speed, and cleared Cape Wiwiki on Purerua Peninsula and passed the historic town of Russell making 7knots under full jib, charging towards Opua in fading light. As we furled the jib and continued motoring towards the dock, we heard a “Whoop Whoop” and cheering from the shore. Steve and I were both surprised and over-joyed to see Steve’s mum and sister, rugged up against the chilly wind, standing on the bank close to the marina, waving furiously as we chugged by on our way to the quarantine dock. Sadly we were unable to hug them as the quarantine dock is separated from the mainland and we had to remain there until check-in formalities were complete, which would start in the morning.

We had arrived. Over 20,000nm under our keel, 37 countries visited and a lifetime of memories created. As we stepped onto New Zealand soil for the first time, a huge sense of achievement and emotion overwhelmed us. This marked the end of an almost four year adventure and we had achieved what we had originally set out to do, but now our future is uncertain except for the certainty that more long distance sailing will continue to be part of our lives with many more adventures to come!

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.

Swapping Mainland Europe for Island Life

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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