Thunderstorms, heavy rain, and strong winds accompanied by uncomfortable swell showed no signs of letting up, and life on board became a bit harder. On the other hand, I had started meeting regularly with the two harbor masters, Martín and Pedro, and the boatswain of the rescue cruiser, José Manuel. These encounters were always fun and interesting, and I learned more about the Canary Islands and job opportunities there. José Manuel was so enthusiastic about my shortwave radio that he immediately ordered a used one with all the accessories on eBay the very next day.
I also got French neighbors, with whom I hung out quite a bit. After two evenings at the bar and some great conversations, however, the part of my brain that is responsible for articulationbecame so confused that my French hadn’t really improved, but my Spanish was now filled with French vocabulary. The more beer we had, the more fluent the conversation became, and we understood each other anyway. I felt very at home here and could have stayed forever.
In the meantime, however, the orcas had headed north, and the area had suddenly become a hotspot. Everyone was on edge, and I couldn’t help but get nervous again . An Italian sailor on a catamaran had come in with a bitten-off rudder. It was already his second one this season, but he remained calm nonetheless. I spoke with Rui from the Portuguese authorities and decided to motor straight west to the traffic separation scheme, cross it, and then head south. The depth sounder would remain disconnected. I went on one more day hike, did some shopping, and on Monday, August 31, I set off around noon. I even had a farewell committee at the dock. It was really nice, and with all the emotions and nervousness, I forgot to untie one of the stern lines. My French neighbors, Inès and Sylvain from the Callimorphos, quickly helped, and so we were finally on our way.
I had to pass by a lot of fishing vessels, which, according to the orca avoidance guidelines, you should absolutely avoid 🙂 The trip to the TSS took about five hours, and there were still some very unpleasant high waves left over from the previous storm. I was extremely tense. Once we arrived at the TSS, we had to cross at right angles for another 5 hours. The four shipping lanes (two in each direction) are very busy, and I had my hands full. By then we were under sail, so we had to circle and wait at times, slow down, and make regular radio contact to let the big ships know what our plans were.
Once we had left all that behind us, we headed southwest with lots of swell and little wind, so we soon reefed the sails to keep them from getting flapping themselves to death. Twice a day, I was able to check the weather reports via the SSB radio. The forecast had actually been ideal the whole time, but it was now becoming increasingly gusty, though all still within harmless limits. I had actually wanted to be a lot more active, just like on my last trip—cook more interesting meals, read, film, maybe even start the blog, edit videos, and so on. Very little of that actually happened. I don’t really know why. I did cut my hair and fed my stowaway, a pidgeon that had somehow made it on board and was now holding on for dear life.
The waves were getting higher and more unpleasant and were breaking almost constantly. The gusts never much exceeded 30 knots and were usually no more than 25 so the wave conditions didn’t really fit the wind conditions and there must have been some swell out of some storm system that added itself to the wind waves. Suddenly, water was constantly pouring into the boat and at an impressive rate. By the time I figured out where it was coming from (through the cockpit drain pipes) and was able to fix the problem, 24 hours had passed. I felt as though I’d grown infinitely older and less fit over the past two years. Everything was somehow exhausting.
I caught a beautiful small mahi-mahi. Just the right size for me. That was a success, and I ate fish for breakfast, lunch, and dinner for two days—as sashimi and as a pan-fried fillet.
Unfortunately, for the last 48 hours of the passage, sleep was out of the question. Not even the usual 20 minutes. The waves had gotten so steep by then that I could only see other ships when Amy and the other vessel were riding the crest of a wave. My AIS receiver wasn’t picking up any signals either, and the other ships couldn’t see me anyway. So I didn’t spot some ships until we were only 2 miles apart. That was extremely stressful, because with the goosewinged sails, I could only change my course by a maximum of 30–45° in either direction. In one instance, I got so close that I had to radio the freighter and ask them to change their course. It’s amazing to see how quickly and without hesitation the watch officers react when they realize that a tiny boat with a solo sailor who is about to pee his pants is on a direct collision course. I’ve had similar experiences a few times before. In a case like this, I tell them which direction to change course and by how many degrees, and they do just that. It looks very impressive to see the huge bow turn to starboard in the swell, with both lights heading toward us initially, and then continuing their turn and passing behind our stern.
We were making very good progress and had to reef the sails even further during the last 12 hours so we wouldn’t arrive in the dark. The weather was gloomy and eerie, and everything was completely different from my last trip here. I didn’t see the lighthouse until 10 miles out. But I still shouted “Land Ho” because it would have felt incomplete without ist.
I had assumed that the strong wind would die down immediately once we rounded the corner of the island. Unfortunately, that wasn’t the case, but at least the swell had subsided.
I radioed the harbor and was asked to wait outside until the ferry from Madeira had docked. They had a spot for me in the harbor, and I was overjoyed to finally be able to get some rest. But there was no one there to help, so I went in and out of the alley four or five times, waiting for a moment without a gust of wind that would have pushed into the other boats without being able to do anything. In the end, everything went smoothly, but for my taste, it could have been a little less exciting. After the (for Schengen Europe) rather complicated clearance process, I slept the rest of the day, woke up in the dark, went out for a large beer, and went back to sleep.
The next few days remained very gusty, and I realized that the spot in the harbor was anything but calm and relaxing. Despite the shock absorbers, the ropes jerked so hard that one of them snapped and one of the cleats on the dock gave out (and Amy is a very light little boat). I got another cleat, fixed it to the dock, and by then had doubled or tripled most of the lines. The gusts grew stronger, and sleeping became increasingly difficult and restless. After five days, I decided to head out and stay at the anchor. That was a good decision, and for two days, everything was fine. I went on a very nice hike, played pool with the other sailors, met people at the harbor café, and saw some acquaintances from three years ago again. I also met Beth and Gary from the U.S. and England and Helga and Herry from Germany and Gary, Herry and I played guitar, and last Tuesday there was a concert on the breaklwater. It was all really nice.
Strong winds were expected to return starting Wednesday. It seems that here, when the wind in the north of the island exceeds a certain speed, it manages to creep over the mountain and race back down at a much higher speed. So when the weather report calls for an average wind speed of 18 knots and gusts of 25 knots, in the harbor it’s more like 4–5 knots with gusts of 35–40 knots. The gusts come every few minutes, so you don’t get much rest in between.
I had seen this coming and had actually planned to set sail for Madeira or the Canary Islands beforehand, but I also really wanted to do a little more exploring on the island. Even though I’d already been here a week now, I’d spent more time worrying about the ropes and the anchor and Amy’s condition than actually doing things. Besides, the annual Columbus Festival was about to take place. Everyone said it was definitely worth it, if only to see the Santa Maria dock and Columbus arrive on the beach. So I decided to stay.
I haven’t slept properly since then (five days ago). If at all, it’s just been short naps here and there during the day. It was worst at night. The downbursts mainly hit Amy from the side. It felt like a collision with a truck rolling toward us at 70 km/h. Then Amy would pick up speed, jerk into the anchor chain, spin over to the other side, only to be hit there by the next gust—and the whole thing started all over again. This went on for almost five days, but since noon today, it’s been fairly calm, and I’m extremely relieved and looking forward to a good night’s sleep. It’s been very hard to concentrate on anything on board, like reading, writing my blog, or doing anything productive. So I’ve only been doing the bare minimum—checking bearings, wetting the lines, checking the anchor chain, etc.—and I’ve been feeling extremely down. By now, everything was red from the Saharan dust, and one morning I had sand in my nose and eyes and didn’t even realize what was going on at first.
The Santa Maria with Chris Columbus on it couldn’t land because of bad weather. However, the man was towed from the harbor to the beach in a historic rowboat, where he was supposed to go ashore and the boat then capsized in the surf. The festival was nice, but I was constantly worried about having left Amy alone. The music for Columbus’s landing and the dance events was all AI-generated, which darkened my mood even further.
Now I’ve decided to stay a little longer, enjoy the peace and quiet, and take it easy doing things on the island. I’m really looking forward to it, and my spirits are lifting after being at an all time low for days—especially since I haven’t been ashore for a few days now. Beth and Gary, my neighbors, came by today and asked if all was ok and if I needed anything. That felt so nice. Zissi had to put up with my whining every day, and she helped me see things in a more relaxed light.
I just had some eggs and beans—leftovers from the cupboard after I’d polished off all the cookie packages—and now I’ve updated the blog and am heading ashore, hurrah!
