The Log - part 4                            

The new moon is still just a narrow crescent, giving very little light, also for the extensive cloud cover in the sky, so the night is still pitch black. You cannot even distinguish the horizon, so it is very easy to loose your bearings and sense of direction, as you feel the movement of the boat going up and down and around. Towards the end of your night-watch, you are tired and fight to keep your eyes open; the chewing-gum no longer works in keeping you awake and the music on the I-Pod is stale, having heard it a milion times.

You start to imagine things: the boat is sluggish, it is slowing down, it seems heavy; it is low in the water; maybe there is water in the bilges! the glow from the instruments momentarily illuminates the foam of the waves breaking next to the boat and you see that it is above deck level! Sh-t! We are sinking!! You rush down to inspect the bilges with a torch.. and .. they are dry as a bone! So you sheepishly climb back to the cockpit and see that the boat is merrily sailing along, happily bobbing up and down and wondering what the heck Captain is fretting about and it says to him: ”Hey Captain, why don’t you just let me do my job and you just think about looking out for ships? OK?”

 
The Skipper at the helm and busy at the navigation station

May 18^th The wind was still constantly from the SW all night and also in the morning. Great sailing! I had three early morning visits from different families of dolfins, two large pods of the same midget variety and a group of four normal big dolfins, seeming to say “hello”, as they stayed by the stern where I was positioned alone on my watch waving to them.

We took out the last reef, as the sea had settled to moderate and then we decided to gybe and head north on a slightly more favourable tack, hoping the wind will veer, as foreseen and put us on a direct course for Horta, which is now “only” 600 miles away (equivalent to the distance between Sardinia and Crete).

We spotted other dolfins and more whales, as well as the odd lonely turtle. However in the evening the wind dropped to 10 knots and the swell made our sails flap allarmingly, so I reefed them and started the motor. It looks like the high pressure arrived early, with a warm, damp breeze that left all the cockpit cuscions uncomfortably wet and us with grim prospects of having to motor all the 550 miles to Horta. Calculate and re-calculate, I concluded that if we motor very, very slowly, we just might have enough fuel to get there; the prospect of a slow trip depressed the whole crew.

Fabio putting our position on the map

May 19^th. However, at 3am, the tail-end of a depression overtook us with cooler and dryer winds from the NW, which increased to 12-15 knots, allowing us to shake out the reefs and proceed on course at a respectable speed of 6 – 7 knots.

There is a tanker passing us on the horizon, probably also going to the Azores. We have encountered a bit less than one ship every 24 hours so far, which is about 0.75 ships a day (if that makes sense to anyone).

Oh dear, what a bore, more whales and dolfins! This time a group of whales swimming slowly, all close together – maybe that’s their way of sleeping. Then dolfins, some jumping out of the water in perfect unison in twos, threes and even sixes.

I have previously mentioned “lee-cloths” which might require explaining to the inexperienced blue-water sailor. These consist of a rectangle of canvas fixed on one side under the mattress of the bunk and the other side, hung vertically to the ceiling. Its purpose is to prevent the sleeping occupant from falling out of bed on the down-wind side (the lee side), when the boat lurches violently from side to side. The sleeper (let’s call him that if he can actually manage to sleep) will be held in place between the wall and the lee-cloth and will not crash onto his companion’s bunk on the other side of the cabin.  

Now you may ask: How does the skipper manage on his comfortably large double bed? Well, he has suitably fixed a board vertically in the centre of the bed, literally dividing it into two, which keeps him in place and with cuscions on the other side, he is comfortably hemmed in.

(Of course, all these unsightly additions will have to be removed well before Mme Mabi returns on board)  

At long last, a bright half moon illuminates the first half of the night before setting in the west, doing us the great favour of eliminating the gloom of total blackness and thus instilling a more cheerful and optimistic outlook to all of the crew. The waves are now sprinkled generously with silver, permitting us to make out their outline as they approach us and to evaluate that they are not so menacing after all, as when perceived in total darkness. In fact it does wonders to be able to see what is happening around you and to see where you are going at night-time. Thank you Moon!

In the moon’s abesence or when hidden by cloud cover, there is a strong phosphoresence in the sea in this area, with a fireworks display of sparks dancing in the water alongside of the boat. You see a star-studded night-sky repeated upside down on the water’s surface – bizarre.

I taught my night-watch companions to view the “fireballs” as I call them, that shoot out from under the stern of the boat (you simply cover with your hands the white navigation light at the back of the boat to have total darkness) and you see these phosphorescent “cannonballs” bursting out from under the boat – a phenomenon I have no explanation for. They are just another of those mysterious, beautiful phenomena just waiting to be discovered and admired. Who knows how many other wonderful marvels lie hidden to us in the depths of this enormous and most deep Atlantic ocean?

The abundance of phosphorescence is probaly explained by the massive presence of plankton, which is reported to be the cause of this luminous phenomenon and this probably explains the abundance of whales we have seen in this area, which are notorious for their predilection for plankton on which they thrive. Question: why don’t whales glow in the dark?

May 20^th. This morning the wind has shifted to north, which is still a favourable direction for us to keep on course for Horta. Early morning it blew at 20 knots, sending us briskly along at 8 knots, but later levelled off at 14 – 16 knots and we nevertheless sail pleasantly along towards our destination in a fairly flat sea and a sunny day.

A north wind is an indication of an approaching high pressure (remember? – clockwise movement), so we may be getting lighter or even no winds later today and tomorrow, while possible storms are held at bay, at least for the moment.

A few hours later: that last comment seemed idyllic but things changed a bit, as the anticlockwise winds of a distant low pressure suddenly mixed in with the northern winds of the high pressure, strengthening them, so forcing us to quickly abandon our morning tea with freshly baked bread-rolls and hurriedly reef the sails. We proceeded at a very high clip and have continued all day. The forecast is for continuing favourable winds, though they will weaken considerably and perhaps require us to motor the last bit into Horta (only 280 miles away). We will see.

Studying the grib files to see what weather we have in store

The other day we encountered a fishing trawler ship right on our path at 340 miles from the Azores, which is pretty well in the middle of the Atlantic. Makes you wonder at how far from land these ships have to go to find fish, as everything has been fished out close to their home shores. Also the fact that we havn’t had a single bite in over a thousand miles is quite significant on the poor state of the ocean’s edible fish population. The conclusion would seem obvious, that Man is overfishing the seas of the world, which also means that Earth is just not big enough to support such a big population of humans, as his overall population has exceeded by far Mother Earth’s capacity to feed him.

We must therefore start to re-think about our compatibility with a world that once seemed so vast and endless, but has now shown its critical limits.

Man should therefore think about reducing his total population figure, perhaps by as much as half, a first step could be limiting the number of children each couple should be allowed to have. This would, in the long run, ensure a more abundant food supply for everyone, without depaupering the natural resources of the world, meaning no famine, no poverty, no polution, no terrorism and a better lifestyle for everyone of the future generations.

On a lighter note, I am pleased to report that the Atlantic Ocean is relatively clean, compared to the Mediterranean Sea, with only the occasional plastic bag and bottles, probably thrown overboard by inconsiderate members of the sailing community. From my boat I permit only organic matter to be discarded, whereas all tins, plastic, batteries, glass etc. must be carefully stored on board only to be properly disposed of once we arrive in port.

I regretfully have to concede that the British crew, Dave and Rob, have beaten by far the Italian crew at preparing excellent, delicious meals, so Ragazzi, it's back to the drawing board! I have however warned the Brits of the insidious dangers of tea poisoning, as they consume monstrous quantities and have even enticed me into their exaggeration. I have never drunk so much tea in my life!  

May 21^st 4pm. We have 148 miles to go for Horta and at an average of 6 knots it will take exactly 24 hours to get there, by 4pm tomorrow. If we go slower it will mean arriving after nightfall, which makes it more difficult and dangerous, but if the wind keeps up we should make it quite comfortably. There is a very high volcano on Pico, 2353 metres and according to the traditional formula all we sailors should know (square root of something), Fabio worked it out to be visible at 102 miles. But it will be dark by then, so we will have to wait for sunrise to get our first glimpse of the Azores.  

May 22nd. Land ho!! Because of the rising sun in our eyes and for the cloud cover, we managed to first see the island of Faial, our destination, only at 24 miles away. Then the sister island next to it, Pico, with its highy conical volcano peak capped by clouds, an awe-inspiring sight.

We finally sailed into the harbour of Horta at 4pm, but not without suspense, because of a whine from the engine and the propeller that seems to lose power under throttle, something that will have to be urgently attended to. After harbour and immigration formalities, off for our first beer on shore, then dinner at Pete's bar, the traditional meeting point of all trans-Atlantic sailors arriving at Horta. 

Horta is the arrival point for all sailors returning to Europe, some 1400 boats a year. There you see a most varied assortment of weather-beaten faces with unkempt hair, of hardy sailors, both male and female. In this town, no-one is bluffing, as everyone has gotten there the hard way and just by his presence has given proof of his mettle and worthiness as an oceanic sailor. The only notable absentees, were Popeye and Peg-leg Pete and parrot, but perhaps they were lost in the crowd.

The traditional meeting point has always been Peter's Cafe Sport, a colourful bar on the waterfront, adorned by innumerable flags and mementoes of countless epic voyages. Needless to say, much beer and also good food is consumed here, and at very reasonable prices. Upstairs is a fascinating whaling museum, with an impressive collection of scrimshaw, delicately carved and etched whale teeth.

I looked up Giuseppe, the single-handed sailor of the ketch Phedro, with whom I conversed over the radio in mid-Atlantic and was relieved to find him safe and sound in Horta, having arrived two days after us. A German couple who arrived the day after us, experienced 50 knot winds on the crossing and limped into the harbour with a rope caught in the propeller (almost colliding with us).

As happened in Sint Maarten, we arrived on Saturday evening, with everything closed on Sunday and also on the Monday, being a public holiday, so we had to wait for Tuesday to do provisioning. The terrifying whining noise from my engine as we approached Horta, seems to have been resolved with a simple tightening of the engine belt, much to my relief.

On Tuesday evening, after having completed the traditional painting of the boat logo on the marina pier (there are thousands everywhere) and group photo, we set sail for the island of Terceira, passing between Sao Jorge and Pico, with its majestic perfectly conical volcano which towered above us for hours, arriving at destination at sunrise. 

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