Dena Hankins's Blog, page 5

Fuertaventura, Canaries, to Santiago, Cabo Verde, Day 7

Tuesday, July 9

James’ 1400-1500 watch

In the first 15 minutes of the new day, our average speed was 5.5 knots. By 1400, it was down to 5.1 but I’m still glad we reefed when we did.

James is both on watch and engrossed in a book

I don’t know why I keep checking the forecast that is now 7 days old. If it is right, we’re going to be out of the worst of it tomorrow by sundown. Today is going to be an inconsistent worsening, and tomorrow will be intense.

The part I’d like to see turn untrue is the doldrums for the last 100 nautical miles. Where there’s a bit of wind, it’s in the wrong direction. Motoring 100M and arriving with sufficient reserves for the unexpected in Praia would take a long time, even with a ton of very bright sun. We’d go very slow, right when we’d also be coping with increased traffic and islands to not-hit.

If it’s bad enough, we can anchor somewhere quiet. Since the whole problem is lack of wind, it opens up usually-untenable spots, places we would want to be away from before the winds came back. We’ll see about that!

James’ 1800-1900 watch 

The wind has backed down from the late-morning high. I feel relieved that the onslaught is delayed. I was really bracing for impact.

Which is weird. I’m going to control outcomes as much as possible whenever I can, but I don’t usually anticipate the future with quite so much investment. I naturally believe that there’s no way to know what’s coming, so prepare for a range of probable events. These moments of having put real energy into a possibility are pretty rare, thankfully. It’s easier to act quickly and decisively when I have an awareness that I might need to but being poised for that action, tight like a swimmer on the starting block, is too much investment.

Dena’s 2100-2400 watch

The moon is back! Makes me want to celebrate. I’ll watch it drop and set, swaying in the companionway or reclining on the downwind side in the cockpit. It won’t look like a party but I’ll have a good time.

Oh, and ship traffic is nowhere near us! It takes a load of stress away when we’re only required to choose our course for getting where we’re going as comfortably as possible, rather than playing ship dodge ball. With the information we get from their AIS, it’s a slow game…but the stakes are death.

Wednesday, July 10

Dena’s 0900-1000 watch

Welp, didn’t save that one. 

The morning comes with news of flying fish death and a need to go out of the cockpit to give the poor deceased a respectful burial at sea. It’s important to get that somewhat dangerous and mildly icky task done before the sun dries the fish to the deck, when it becomes apropos to remove the “mildly” from the “icky”.

While I was out there, clipped onto the boat via tether of course, I got a picture and a video. Wind noise is a real problem in these situations.

We’re still sailing strong, averaging 4.9 knots under double-reefed main. The wind isn’t overwhelming but the sea state is busy. James and I have both ended up where we didn’t mean to go in the last few hours, without hitting our heads or otherwise really hurting ourselves, and we’re taking all care in moving from place to place. It’s easier to be careful and clear-headed when I haven’t just woken up.

Noon position: N 18° 36.482’ W 021° 10.889’
Distance noon to noon: 117.0 NM
Average speed: 4.9 kn
Trip distance covered: 737.0 NM
Distance to destination: 263.8 NM

Fuertaventura, Canaries, to Santiago, Cabo Verde, Day 6

Monday, July 8

Dena’s 1200-1230 half watch 

Looking at the monotonous pale dome of the sky, I remembered that, last night, it looked like the sky of a big town. Only the brightest stars made it through the curtain of dust hanging over us. Streaming, I’m sure, rather than hanging about in the atmosphere right here, but it’s too fine a dispersal to provide a show of traveling in the fast-moving upper air like clumps of wetter clouds do. 

Dena’s 1400-1500 watch

I’m kicking myself right now. I rapid-grabbed a bottle of sunscreen at the Continente in Praia da Vitória, and it’s heavily scented. I mean, I may actually prefer sunburn to the way it’s making my throat feel. I’ve become unexpectedly sensitive to scent, simply by eschewing scented products for years. I leaned away from strong chemical smells naturally and friendship with some people with MCS hastened my switch to unscented products.

In better news, I’m enjoying my boat improvement planning kick. Today I measured for a prep-and-serving tray. The plan is to slot it into place on the counter next to the fridge tops. Anything we need from the fridge goes in there and then stays put while we make the meal. At this point, we are using the stove one burner at a time so we can put things on the other side where the gimballed action keeps the bottles and cans from leaping to the cabin sole (via unexpected and messy routes more often than not).

The -and-serving part is that we can get a second set of receivers for whatever tab-type thing will hold it to the bulkhead. Mounted inside the space behind the folding table, we’ll be able to put all our sauces and condiments and spices in it while it’s attached in the galley, pick it up full, and move it to the bulkhead next to the table. Again, no more chasing bottles of hot sauce that flew off the far edge of the table!

This is especially exciting for times when we’re underway, but it’ll get more use than just that. Often, at anchor during a storm, we want a nice soothing meal. Rough and rolly conditions don’t just occur on ocean passages.

Dena’s 1900-2100 watch 

Time for a cockpit wash up! It’s more satisfying than the bowl bath, which really is just a wipe down.

Dena’s lower leg bruise collection

Getting naked let me see all my bruises. Being day 5, some are well-faded. Plenty will be with me a while.

Aaaaand…another dusty sunset.

Gold is nice, but I miss my rainbow skies

Tuesday, July 9

Dena’s 0600-0900 watch 

I napped through a rather shocking amount of my last watch, plus I slept well on both off-watches. Right now, I’m not tired!

The stars are back to sparse but earlier tonight the sky was scintillating with all the different magnitudes of brightness. I forget that the complexity of the star field is part of what I love. It fascinates me how distance and size affect how they appear to a human on Earth and I pondering how little I can know from my single vantage.

Beluga Greyfinger is a good sailor

It’s now 7:45 and the sun is supposed to have just come up. Nothing. I mean, there’s more light in general, but…I miss the beautiful monotony of the Bermuda to Azores passage’s sunsets and sunrises. 

Noon position: N 20° 08.032’ W 019° 58.959’
Distance noon to noon: 97.6 NM
Average speed: 4.1 kn
Trip distance covered: 620.0 NM
Distance to destination: 376.8 NM

Fuertaventura, Canaries, to Santiago, Cabo Verde, Day 5

Sunday, July 7

Dena’s 1200-1230 half watch

Dena not-so-hard at work

When I logged day 4, I hit the bottom of the page. That’s when I add those travels to the total distance we’ve traveled aboard Cetacea (since there isn’t an odometer on a boat like on a car). At 9631 nautical miles traveled and at least 566M to Praia on Santiago, Cabo Verde, we will be celebrating 10,000 nautical miles on this passage!

I think it might come right as some intense winds die down, which sounds wonderful. It will be nice if we can have a special meal. We have no alcohol aboard, so it won’t be a toasting occasion.

Maybe we’ll celebrate again when we get to Praia!

Dena’s 1700-1800 watch

I spent the two previous watches putting ideas on paper. Actual paper! I sketched out the new instrument panel I want to build and made all my measurements. I now know how big a piece of thin plywood we’ll need. It will only have three things on it…

Bulkhead mounted compass with inclinometer Chartplotter Motor display

These three instruments are all largish and they’re going to take up most of the aft bulkhead to starboard of the companionway. Only the chartplotter is there now. The other two are in the footwell where they’re well-nigh useless.

They are plugging holes, though. The motor display is where the diesel engine’s instrument panel used to be and the compass is where the engine’s stop pull was. 

The stop pull space is a recess molded into the fiberglass and I think it’s a good place for a hard point, as we say in the trade when we are in the mood for sexual innuendo and even the word hard will do. With proper backing support, a solid eye bolt will be a good tether attachment while underway. Nomad had two in the footwell but not recessed and I got too many bruises from those things. This seems better because it will be impossible to bump into.

The bigger hole is a puzzle. It’s also a recessed space but that doesn’t mean we can’t just slap something over the whole expanse. I’m thinking…decorative cover? Speaker? Whatever we do, it’ll have to be watertight. James cut a piece of plywood (torn out in the head cabinet demo) to cover the gap but then put a cable hole through that for the motor monitor. The screen on that thing is impossible to read at any great angle, so reading it means dipping your head most of the way into the footwell. Ugh. 

Regardless, we don’t need those answers to move forward. There are makeshift fixes (big bolts in the two holes) we can start with, now that we know where to start at all!

Dena’s 2100-2400 watch

I’m flabbergasted. This is the smoothest fast downwind run we’ve ever had. We’re averaging 5.0 knots since noon, and there’s no chop at all. The true wind speed must be about 15 knots, so the friendliness of the sea state is surprising.

Alternate idea…I know there’s a favorable current in the area. I wonder if we picked up a nice strong boost. 

I had the very great honor of saving a life…finally! The flying fish had no boats in their environment as they evolved and, it would seem, they haven’t caught on as a species to the tragic consequences of landing on a boat’s deck. We’ve had one or two a day the whole trip, noticed long after it would do the creature any good. We send them back to the bottom of their food chain with a sad farewell.

This one made itself known with buzzing flutters of its wing-fins. A pinch, a toss, and I got a neurochemical prize for doing the right thing. Hardly seems fair, but I’ll take the mild buzz.

Monday, July 8

Dena’s 0300-0600 watch 

I woke a little, thinking we were off course because the boat’s motion had turned herky-jerky, confused. It wasn’t hard to drop back to sleep, knowing James would handle it. Now I know, it’s the feeling of ocean swell erased of wind waves and a boat that’s barely moving under sail power. 

When I went below at midnight, our average speed was still 5.0. Now we’re doing 2-2.5 with better and worse intervals. We’re already 70M into the day so a respectable distance has already been achieved but I’m not sure we’ll make it to 90M. I enjoyed logging those 100+ days.

At this speed, a little more attention is needed. LoveBot is steering with impressive precision given that all it’s force begins with enough wind to tip the air vane. While broaching in these conditions won’t roll us over and sailing/drifting off course won’t take us far, I’d prefer that we point and go in the right direction.

An hour and a half into this watch and at least I’ve kept busy. The stars are hidden by clouds again, so I’m glad for the entertainment. I pulled the second reef in that counterlogical need to have less fabric up there to waste itself flopping around. I also brought it inboard a little so it wouldn’t beat against the shrouds. Then I set up the tiller pilot, having reached the lower limit of what windvane self-steering should be held responsible for.

Now I’m keeping an eye and ear out for the time when the motor is required. Once the sun is up, I imagine we’ll use it to boost our speed and steerageway, but I’ll put it off as long as we’re going the right way.

Half-hour later…nah, fuck that. We installed this motor for a reason! It’s almost 0500, the sun comes up at 0739, we should be making significant solar power by 0900, so 4 hours on battery alone. This battery is so full, it’s begging to be put to use. No problem!

Noon position: N 21° 31.797’ W 019° 10.510’
Distance noon to noon: 97.8 NM
Average speed: 4.08 kn
Trip distance covered: 522.4 NM
Distance to destination: 471.9 NM

Fuertaventura, Canaries, to Santiago, Cabo Verde, Day 4

Saturday, July 6

Dena’s 1600-1700 watch

The weather’s settled a little or, more likely, getting a little distance from the rapids of the continental shelf at a cape has improved the character of the waves.

Sunburns

On my last watch, I finished Iain M Banks’ Look to Windward. The idea of remorse and despair so deep that oblivion is preferable got me crying a bit there at the end, so I put my book down and pulled my sunglasses off. As I rubbed the tears into the skin of my cheeks, I looked across the water and a flock of flying fish hopscotched past going the other way. Life and death.

After the heart-wringing display, I was left thinking, hoping quite fervently, that I never do anything that I feel such remorse about. And then backed up another step and hoped that I never hide from remorse if it’s warranted.

Deep thoughts on the deep ocean. 

Dena’s 2000-2100 watch

I just shook the second reef. The apparent wind has become pretty light, especially when the waves push us faster. If the 4 day old weather forecast is correct, this will work until Tuesday.

A nice flattening of the wind waves doesn’t change the fact that we have two different swell directions. One is nearly perfectly astern and we ride those nicely. The other is about 60° west of that, so it hits us pretty broad on the starboard quarter. The times when they multiply each other’s forces…yikes.

Basically, we’re at sea. We shouldn’t set random objects on flat surfaces and expect them to stay put. On the other hand, nestling a couple of eggs I’m about to scramble for fried rice in a towel and then having them leap across the counter because of a big combo wave? Yeah, frustrating. 

In the case of this true story from about an hour ago, I grabbed them almost perfectly in time. One cracked but didn’t spill and I was going to cook it anyway. No harm, no foul, just another reminder that we’re in constant motion.

Sunday, July 7

Dena’s 2400-0300 watch 

With only a few ships showing up on the chartplotter, tonight is a breeze. Good steady wind, not stressing about being hit, and stars in the sky. 

A bit of warm light from the VHF and the electrical panel

I’m lying on my back to watch for falling stars and for comfort in the continuing swells. My phone, useless for connecting to the world, is still a jukebox (and camera and notepad and alarm clock). I’m listening to music both to stay awake and because I so rarely do nothing but listen. This art deserves to be focused on, at least now and then, rather than used as background.

Dena’s 0600-0900 watch 

I came abovedeck and decided to let myself nap. No one within 20M and those two boats running parallel. Twenty-minute alarm on and…go!

I kept that up, checking for boats visually and electronically each time, until about 0720. The sky-color change that enchanted me last time I had this watch happened without my attention until then. 

Of course, some sunrises are easier to ignore than others.

Beluga Greyfinger had such a good first day but has been hiding and barely eating or drinking since things got rough. Last night, that seemed to break. I added some more wet food to his bowl and he went right after it. 

Dena’s 1100-1200 watch

I suddenly remembered that we didn’t have a stupid ICE outboard in the way anymore and one of my favorite vantage points was available again. There’s a bit of cockpit coaming at the stern that’s a nice place to sit and survey the action.

Noon position: N 22° 57.523’ W 018° 25.599’
Distance noon to noon: 106.3 NM
Average speed: 4.4 kn
Trip distance covered: 424.6 NM
Distance to destination: 566.9 NM

Fuertaventura, Canaries, to Santiago, Cabo Verde, Day 3

Friday, July 5

Before I even got the previous 24 hours logged, James ruptured…a fingernail-bed cyst. Whew. This kind of medicine we can handle. Wish I’d gotten a picture of the odd amber bead of protective gel his body had created for whatever unwelcome material had made it deep enough to be noticed.

Bodies, wow.

James’ 1800-1900 watch

It’s been gloomy all day and rough. Takes a toll on my mood. We did a double gybe to let a tanker pass safely and by the time we were settled back on our original tack…the sky had cleared!

Dena’s 2100-2400 watch 

I got a sunburn on my face and neck by ignoring sunscreen on a cloudy day. On my last watch, the sun was low enough to peek under my hat brim so I turned up the collar on my flannel shirt and used that top button I always thought was vestigial.

No worries now. A good washcloth cleaning erased the too-late layers of sunscreen and I won’t see the sun again until 0900 tomorrow. I can be lax about washing up but, on a passage like this, any little way to make my body feel good is worth the effort.

Dena can still smile after a rough day

The same weather conditions continue…winds in the teens with increases and decreases that are pretty easy to keep up with. All that’s required is the occasional adjustment of the Monitor control lines on the tiller, allowing for increased or decreased weather helm.

The waves are still taxing. James wrote an article about the reasons following seas aren’t all they’re cracked up to be. These are pretty steep because of the continental shelf poking out at the cape we just passed. Here’s hoping that they get easier to take when we’re back in 3000m of water.

We did a lot of heeling

Saturday, July 6

Dena’s 1100-1200 watch

James is napping like a champ after a long night’s work. I definitely slept better than he did, but it was an exhausting couple of darkness watches passing and being passed by dozens of ships. Maybe more than a hundred, since we regularly had twenty AIS signatures on the screen at a time.

I had weird dreams and the strangest experience waking up that I have ever experienced. I had no memory. It took a while to piece together who I was, who I was with, and the where took longer than all the rest put together. I started feeling mildly panicky before I remembered that we were underway between the Canaries and Cabo Verde.

I suspect it has something to do with the completely unusual smell in the forepeak. We’ve used unscented laundry soap since we discovered it was a thing, but the laundromat in Yaiza is the type that includes the soap and softener. They’re strongly scented (reviewers love the smell so not everyone is unhappy with the service) so we dried the clothes extra trying to get rid of as much as we could.

Still, the cabinets on either side of the bunk are full of smells I associate with short stay rentals and hotels. It seems possible that my confusion stemmed from that. It’s also possible that my marbles have been shaken so hard over the last three days that I had to go looking for them.

Here’s hoping I haven’t lost any.

Noon position: N 24° 11.019’ W 017° 08.271’
Distance noon to noon: 109.3 NM
Average speed: 4.6 kn
Trip distance covered: 318.3 NM
Distance to destination: 666.6 NM

Cooking at sea

So yeah, wow, the Canaries!

Sunset on Yaiza

We got here and anchored off the island of Lanzarote on May 10th, got chased out of a marina for rowing, pulled up the hook two days later, went about a kilometer south, plopped the CQR in one place…baaaaad, the ferries were all over us like cops on a Dunk’n! We reset about 100 meters back north and we’ve been here ever since.

North of the ferry terminal at Playa Blanca

Well you know us, we’re going around the world in the smallest electric sailboat in history but we’re not in any big hurry to get there…wherever there may be.

Not in a hurry

We started provisioning for the next leg of the adventure as soon as we could get the dink off the bow and almost immediately ran out of cooking gas. We broke out the spare tank, hooked it up, and went to work on our new article for Practical Boat Owner magazine “How to Rebuild a Monitor Windvane Self Steering System While Underway.“

Dena at work with Gatolicious

We got the article written and submitted. We then wrote a piece for Spinsheet on having been underway for a year with an electric motor. We scored an interview with the publisher Imray on writing a new Brazilian cruising guide, got the gig. Scored another handful of articles for Spinsheet (the Latitude 38 analog for the east coast of the US) and, all the while, we were cooking on the daily.

Wrinkly Taters and yummy sauces

When we show up in a place, we research the veggie or pesce food people are eating locally. We try to replicate at least one dish on the boat, just to see if we can add something to our cuisine that we can take with us. Just like any island chain, the Canary Islands have different cultures with different foods and beverages with each of the islands within that chain.

In the Azores, it was the cheese and butter…in Madeira, it’s that famous sweet wine…and on Lanzarote, it’s the papas arrugadas…wrinkly potatoes…with mojo rojo and mojo verde! Wow, that shit rocks!!!

Walking in the desert

Lanzarote is a desert island situated 72 nautical miles from Africa’s northwestern Sahara Desert and their crops are limited, to say the least. The winds are almost constantly from the northeast and have an unsettling lack of moisture for ocean breezes. The main food crop that thrives in Lanzarote is a small yellow waxy potato that, when cooked in ocean saltwater, is absolutely delicious. We’ve done it a few times since we got here. Oh my Gato, it’s so good!

Dena rowing

Like most folks, every once in a while we like to pay people to cook for us and the Indian food here in Yaiza is particularly good. There’s even an Asian buffet-ish where the sushi is self-serve and the hot stuff is made to order. We haven’t been cooking every meal…but it’s been pretty damn close. And when we cook, we use cooking gas.

Cool Mohawk on the soy

For years, we’ve been searching for alternatives to cooking gases such as propane and butane, but the only options out there, at this point in history, are cost and power prohibitive. Electric induction cook tops are nearly there, but the lack of direct current (DC) options keeps them just out of our (cost-and-power) budget reach. Just like with our electric propulsion system, though, when we discover a viable alternative to the evil petroleum industry…we’ll jump on it. Until then, we have five options: propane, butane, solid fuel, diesel, and alcohol.

Alcohol is awesome and you can get it anywhere in the world but it’s slow and marine alcohol ovens aren’t a thing. I (James) saw one once in a cabin in the Colorado mountains but it was home-built and the owner absolutely hated it because it cooked so slowly.

Solid fuel is awesome because you can burn almost anything in it and it gets hot as hell, like our cabin heater. The problems with solid-fuel stoves, like the sexy pot-belly types, are storage of fuel, gimbaling, and temperature control. It cooks like crazy but good luck finding a place on a 30 ft boat to store a year’s worth of wood next to all of your food and water.

Coal, are you kidding? There’s no fucking way we’re going to use coal for anything on this boat, ever.

Diesel, never again!!!

We settled on propane about 25 years ago because it was easy to stow, lasted a good long time and there are so many gimbald marine stove options out there that it’s easy to find an efficient stove/oven combo for the marine environment…In the US!

Our galley is totally awesome

S/V SN-E Cetacea came with an awesome propane stove/oven combo that works just like a land-based system. It has valve controls for the stove-top burners and a thermostat that controls the temperature in the oven to some close approximation of the setting on the knob. It has never let us down and we totally love cooking with this machine. Going from three (on Nomad and Sovereign Nation) to two burners (Cetacea) required a “settling in” period where the dance of fried potatoes, hollandaise sauce, fried (not poached) eggs, and oven-toasted english muffins (or bolo levado on Terceira) seemed daunting but, yes, it can be done with two burners and an oven.

AYFKM Yummy!!!

When we ran out of propane in the Azores, we started filling our propane tanks with the only cooking gas we could get in the islands: butane. They filled our existing tanks with the lighter gas, we hooked it up to our existing system, and, sure enough, that shit worked. We have a totally awesome isolated cooking gas locker that has a totally awesome overboard ventilation system so, even though it leaked (a little), we could still cook our totally awesome food and rock that totally awesome coffee in the morning. The only problem? What used to be a four-month tank suddenly turned into a two week tank. WTAFO?!

We started shutting the tank off manually between uses, even in the interminable Terceira rain, and went back to lasting much longer between tank fillings, but who knows how much butane we vented into the atmosphere in that time? Ugh! That’s not what we’re about at all. We hate using any fossil fuels but buying them and venting them in the environment without using them is even worse.

Drop biscuits with herbs de Provence are incredibly delicious with white gravy and garlic-butter mushrooms

Our last haul of butane took us from the Azores to Madeira and for a month in the Canaries before the flame started running orange instead of blue. We were running out on the second tank.

The galley manager approves of the tomato-pesto ravioli, but only with Azorean-butter toasted bread. He loves the smell of hot butter.

Reluctantly, we decided to take the information on Noonsite (lies, lies, lies) at face value and did four hours of bus rides on four different buses for a total cost of 20 (fucking) euros…having loaded an empty tank into the dinghy and then carried it, slung between us in our laundry bag, to the bus station and to the depot…only to be told by those bored or irritated or just simply lazy workers that they ‘couldn’t’ fill it for us. It was supposed to be the only place that would put actual propane in our propane tanks. The sign on the door gave the current price for propane. Yet somehow they just couldn’t. Or wouldn’t.

The main job there is industrial and household propane: leasing big tanks to people with buildings to put them in (well, near) and sending a tanker truck to refill them periodically. We were gnats, fleas…the sand in the ointment of a smooth workday. Maybe I get it but… TFG!

This is, weirdly, in one of their maps pics and you have to wonder…

It was time for us to engineer and rebuild the system to support any kind of fuel that was available to us in whatever environment we happen to be in and we were up to the challenge. Two days of reconnoitering got us invested in the Plan. We bought a tank (and carried that son-of-a-bitch three miles in that same laundry bag), a regulator, a short length of hose, and a couple fittings that we thought could make the project happen.

Pile-O-Parts

I (James) got up at 0500, made coffee with the old leaky system, rebuilt the entire shit-show, and now we have two empty propane tanks and a regulator/pigtail getting no action, but the new plastic butane tank and regulator are firmly on the safe side of the solenoid, which allows us to make sure no gas of any type can flow into the cabin unless we want it to.

Fin cooking system

We sailed and walked, and bused, and walked and walked and walked and ultimately we engineered and built a system that would feed gas to our cooking system without venting that evil shit into the environment without burning it first. Sure, it’s horrible and antiquated but it’s absolutely as efficient as our affordable technology can sustain and for now that has to be enough.

Next!

In our Ocean of Blue

After the news that James’ sister was recovering from her heart…issues, we were determined to keep on moving forthwith. The internet access at Santa Maria gave us weather forecasts and we were sure we could sail, with relative comfort, to Madeira. If that was too much upwinding, we’d just skip the anchorage and travel on to the Canaries.

Sailing away from the setting sun

Meanwhile, distance creates perspective and one of the things we pondered on the next leg of our life’s journey was the following proposition: Human people are anchors.

In Praia, we met a M/F couple that said some things and made some moves in the direction of friendship that ultimately turned out to be the same old ‘Merican bullshit. Ill will, fake chill, and lies…just like the accumulated history of the country we ran away from. These old and old school propagandists of a past that never existed, who came to a place they don’t belong, to do an antiquated appropriation… Oh, never mind. We were hurt because we trusted those assholes. Fool us again if you must, but we can’t give up the entire concept of friendship because we believe in the ongoing evolution of our species. No, really, we think that someday we’ll grow out of this cycle of petro-evil and ultimately we, the humans, will find a life of balance on this planet that so generously supports our kind. A kind of human who can see a future without a military base in every paradise.

LoveBot rocking the course

Our time in Santa Maria was spent getting loose of the ties we wanted to shake and newly establishing the ones we wanted to maintain. It’s not always easy to make sure we keep people we like in our lives while letting the others fade away.

Anchored in the morning

Being at anchor, we were at home. The surroundings were bizarre, but inspiring.

Volcanic inspirations

We did a repair on the cracked tiller and on the starboard handrail that broke while underway, and then we left.

Checking the ground tackle

We left Santa Maria and the Azores chain for the uncertain welcome of further European-claimed islands of the Atlantic flow.

Dude with a double-reefed mainsail

Even exploring the landscapes of the islands of Madeira was less attractive because of the ant-lines of tiny humans lacing each trail from before dawn to well after sundown, but our distanced view from the anchorage provided all the stunning views we could have wanted.

Ocean rocks

There was no going ashore in Madeira being as though it’s a Portuguese territory and over the past winter we’d outstayed our welcome in that country. The plan was to put the hook down, sneak ashore, provision up and get some weather data at the nearest free wifi hook up and then get back to the boat before the local Policia noticed us. Well, the cops rolled up on us before we could even launch the little boat and asked a bunch of the wrong questions so we opted out of plan-A and moved on the next day.

At sea again

It was an offshore adventure to be sure, the “Big Blue” kind of shit.

Living crotch-warmer

We headed east and south over our ocean of blue and didn’t see a single vessel on AIS for the first 24 hours out of Medeira Grande but, as we made our approach to a certain civilization, the traffic practically exploded on the screen of our navigation-technology. At one point I (James) actually saw, with my own eyes, 12 AIS signatures around us with 8 of them being ships in excess of 200m (600ft) traveling at 12 knots or more.

One night (I can’t remember which one), I got to sail in 25 knots of wind with a double-reefed main and a hanky-yanky while a 1000ft tanker came at us at 13 knots in the dark. I called them to let them know we were the radar return that didn’t have an AIS signature and they thanked me profusely and changed their course ever so slightly to avoid killing us.

“A sailor’s delight”

The next day we made our approach to the Canaries. The math implied that, given a not-even-remotely-certain continuation of the wind we had then, we might arrive before dark.

Coming in cool

The acceleration zones around the islands balanced the wind’s usual diminuendo while nearing sunset, and we sailed strongly into the Playa Blanca area, the land side of which is called Yaiza.

Before dark, we had radar-measured and visually scoped the anchorage area and identified the spot most likely to give us a reasonable row into the marina while staying safe among the other anchored boats, the rock wall wings of the resort swimming area, and a batch of unexpected yellow buoys, which we later learned delineated the rental jet ski boundaries.

With the hook down and the pasta a-boil we reveled in our off shore achievement that once again we did it right!

logging the adventure

So much sleep and so much love. The trip ended in pleasure, the way it had begun in our ocean of blue.

Madeira to Lanzarote Day 4

Friday, May 10

The wind is gentler again but I hold out hope of arriving before full dark, if not before sundown. For a while there, the chartplotter was tossing up times in the late afternoon but, as I said in the last log, I’ll sacrifice a little speed for a comfortable, low-stress ride.

Today I let my feet burn a bit so I’m suddenly very aware of my skin. After these last outdoorsy 18 days, I’m feeling a little crunchy. James says I have “good color” which I think means I’m browning up. My freckles never take over my face completely but they are definitely robust. 

Too bad my phone won’t stop touching up my face. It smooths wrinkles and texture, which means it fades out my freckles. I’d rather enjoy the spectacle of crow’s feet splaying from my pushing-50 eyes and keep the freckles. I remember vividly the store clerk in Beebe, Arkansas, who told 8-year-old me they were sun kisses.

1955

Anchored! Not loving the location, but it’s alright. 

Anchored position: N 28° 51.577’ W 013° 49.325’
Distance over 7 hrs 37 min: 31.8 NM
Average speed: 4.2 kn
Trip distance covered: 289.3 NM

Madeira to Lanzarote Day 3

Thursday, May 9

James’ 1200-1230 watch

The wind is growing and we’re talking about how to prepare for the acceleration zone off Lanzarote. The Canaries have these zones of higher winds where the steady tradewinds are funneled by the islands. Winds can be 25 knots faster there, though that’s unlikely off the southwest end of Lanzarote. Regardless, we’ll be coming in on a broad reach so we don’t want to get caught with too much sail up. It’s harder to reef going downwind because there’s no way to spill the wind from the sail (luff up) as you lower it.

Dena’s 1400-1500 watch

Holy shit is it busy around here! There are a couple dozen AIS signatures in range and 5 on screen, zoomed out to 30 nautical miles. Two are coming up from behind at a 30° angle, more or less, and will be passing pretty close to us. This may be the first time I would prefer to have an AIS transceiver rather than the receiver we actually have.

Twenty minutes later, I have pulled the second reef and brought out about 80% of the yankee for balance. I have a feeling I’ll be rolling some of that back in before long. We might even end up striking the main if this wind continues building.

The cruising guide says it usually calms after dark and that was true last night, when I was wishing for a little more wind to keep us moving over the swells. I have a feeling I won’t be wishing for more wind until, maybe, we round the southern head of Lanzarote and get in the lee of the island.

James’ 1700-1800 watch 

James made nachos. It was epic. He hadn’t realized how much we were rolling in the waves hitting us on the port quarter, but putting that dish together was a fabulous feat.

A ship is passing us only a couple miles away, but it was going to be really close. I slowed us down by rolling in the yankee, though LoveBot struggles to steer with just the main up, downwind. Since it’s James’ watch, when to add some headsail is up to him. I’m chilling below, comfy on the starboard settee with a couple pillows behind my head.

Friday, May 10

Dena’s 2400-0300 watch

The traffic hasn’t been so bad. Since the one we slowed down for, nothing has come within 5 miles.

I struggle with getting wrapped up in the math of it all. At x speed, we’ll arrive at y time but a half knot more… It’s more than a little ridiculous to count on the wind doing anything in particular.

I guess it helps me keep my math brain limber for basic arithmetic. I use my phone calculator for almost all other math just to reduce the likelihood of errors.

Dena’s 1000-1100 watch 

The waves are not so fun to watch, though we’re riding them well. This is the kind of sailing some people live for: F5, picking up speed on every wave face and sliding down the backs without losing the wind in the sails. I can see that it’s powerful, that Cetacea is good at this, but it’s stressful enough that I’d rather give up a knot or two for a less abrupt sea. We could lose a little speed and still arrive before dark after the fresh night we had.

Beluga Greyfinger has a water fountain and it was splashing over on the 30°+ heeling moments. Back during my 2400-0300 watch, I turned it so the high side was down but that was worse because the whole thing dumped over. James found the carpet drenched when he came down to wake me for my last watch and had images of water shorting out the house batteries. That would be really bad…I’m glad it didn’t happen!

Noon position: N 29° 13.759’ W 014° 10.374’
Distance noon to noon: 105.1 NM
Average speed: 4.38 kn
Trip distance covered: 257.5 NM
Distance to destination: 31.1 NM

Madeira to Lanzarote Day 2

Wednesday, May 8

Dena’s 1300-1400 watch

Sailing at about 2.5 knots is no hardship with the new, calmer sea state. We’re on a close reach, making up some of the easting we lost in the dead air this morning. The sky is overcast and has me feeling sleepy. Maybe I’ll nap on my next off-watch.

Yesterday, I tried to rush below to grab the camera and I jammed my second toe on the companionway sill. It hurt enough that I iced it, and I’m glad. I avoided the swelling I may have gotten. The bruising rings the whole toe, probably the effect of gravity but still rather impressively painful looking. No pain at rest, so it’s not bone.

Dena’s 1500-1600 watch

Not only did I nap, James didn’t rouse me until 10 minutes into my watch!

We’re now on a beam reach, or just behind the beam, F2. It’s an easygoing 3 knots. We’re still clouded over and not making much solar for propulsion, but both house batteries are full.

Dena’s 1700-1800 watch

James spotted a dolphin just before my watch started. It was alone, oddly, and he’s sure it was a spinner so that’s unusual. It paced us, surging ahead and falling behind a few times, for about 15 minutes and then dropped astern, dove, and was not seen again. The cool part was how close it came. I wonder if fishers throw bait to dolphin around here…

Dena’s 2100-2400 watch

I love this. The sound of water on the hull like surf, the stars and even the clouds that cover them. The wind that sends us rocking across the miles and the belief that we’re here in relation to there. I’m so glad we left Terceira. I needed this.

Thursday, May 9

Dena’s 0900-1000 watch

Week after week of watching the North Atlantic weather (starting in September when we were still trying to get to the Mediterranean) gave us a sense of “normal” for different areas. Part of the reason we blew off Europe for this summer’s destination was that ”normal” was pretty terrible between the Azores and Ireland. No gaps big enough to slip north between enormous storms. And then once in Ireland, it looked a lot like the winter we’d just had…blustery, rainy, even similar temperatures.

Down here, though…the winds looked almost steady and, while sometimes strong, not cyclical storm winds that lasted for days and came from multiple directions including, inevitably, on the nose. Leaving Madeira without any weather forecast at all would have been far more nerve-wracking without that basic understanding of the wind patterns in the area.

And we’re getting what we hoped for so far. Another two days of this and we’ll have relaxed our way to Lanzarote. If it pipes up and we have to handle bigger waves, well…we will.

Noon position: N 30° 41.274’ W 015° 10.688’
Distance noon to noon: 85.5 NM
Average speed: 3.57 kn
Trip distance covered: 152.4 NM
Distance to destination: 133.1 NM