Log of the Island Spirit – La Palma to Mindelo (Cape Verde Islands)

Sunday 27th November, 2016. Mindelo

Marina Mindelo from Floating Bar

First, Dear Reader, apologies for the delay since my last posting. The reasons are various, but mainly due to back to back crises, throwing up a series of new and vexing challenges. The first of these actually came to light before our arrival in La Palma, when I spotted a steady drip from the engine, which I assumed to be from the cooling water system. Regrettably, on closer inspection, this turned out to be a fuel leak from the vent on the lift-pump. This was later diagnosed as a ruptured diaphragm in the pump assembly, requiring replacement of the entire unit. The necessary part was eventually located in Barcelona, and it took a full week to ship to us, causing our planned week in La Palma to stretch to a fortnight.

So here we are in Marina Mindelo, a lively haven for yachts in transit, on the edge of a post-colonial (Portuguese) town on the small island of Sao Vincente. These past days have been busy but intensely enjoyable; in arguably the most sociable and atmospheric watering hole this side of the Big Pond. Apart from the lively interaction with fellow “Atlantikeers” in the busy floating bar, our visit here is punctuated by quirky little incidents that you’d find hard to credit elsewhere. Take, for example, my constitutional visit to the shore heads this morning, which I undertook pre-armed with my own toilet paper against the inevitable absence of such necessaries in the horsetrap cubicles. Mid-strain, my grunts were interrupted by a perfectly manicured female hand holding two rolls under the door. “Paper for you, Sir”.

But I’m getting ahead of myself. First let me recount the highs and lows of our passage here (a supposed six-day passage that turned out rather longer) and the last days in La Palma leading up to our departure. By the way, in this and future posts, my crewmate Nigel will participate with selected comments from his own diary. I’m sure you’ll find the alternative perspective interesting and enlightening.

Nigel bought a white panama hat In Lanzarote, which makes him look like Geoffrey Boycott, so you may hear me refer to him occasionally as Geoffrey. In retaliation, he’s dubbed me “Obi wan Kenobi”

Geoffrey after a successful forage for the elusive PG tips

Sunday 13th November 2016
0805 Departed Santa Cruz harbour into a formidable south-westerly swell, running before a lively sixteen-knot wind.

Our two-week stay on La Palma was pleasantly restful but largely uneventful. The one exception was the day we hired a car and drove up to the lip of the volcano. Wow! The pictures say a lot, but I’ll leave Nigel to tell you about that experience.

Nigel: It’s Monday morning, and I’m driving a little old white Fiesta all the way to the top of the volcano to get to the west coast. The drive up the mountain is spectacular; it’s so lush and dense with native woodland trees. The road up is all twists and turns; hairpin bends for about 80km that make for fun driving, although Mike is at times white knuckled and grimacing at the more precipitous drops on his side. “Use the Force, Obi Wan,” I tell him.

We stop at a viewing point by the observatories. The caldera is partially choked with swirling, turbulent, cloud, though this does little to diminish the sheer drama and scale of the view; looking across the two-kilometre void to the jagged rim that falls away steeply into floating white nothingness.

1138 – 28 26.4N 17 44.3W Co 215 Sp 6 kts
Autopilot stubbornly refuses to hold a course – something wrong with the drive belt, I think, but could be the motor on the way out. So, hand steering for the next week or so. Not a pleasant prospect. For me alone, this would be a turn around to get it repaired, but with two of us, it should be do-able. However, it is a definite “nogo” item for the crossing, so we need to find someone in Cape Verde to fix it. Meanwhile we’re resigned to our fate, with two-hour watches on the helm.

1615 – 27 59.0N 18 05.0W Co220 Sp 6kts
Running engine to charge batteries, and getting ready to face a wearing night.

Monday 14th November 2016

Spectacular morning moonset...

...As the sun lights up the sky astern

0802 – 26 49.0N 18 48.6W Co 215 Sp 4kts
Made a cooked breakfast to boost crew morale. Slackened wind this morning reducing us to a disappointing four knots.

Morning Watchman Relieved

Nigel (coming on watch):
“What the hell have you done with the wind, Mike?”
“You steer, Geoffrey,” says he, “I’ll go and make us breakfast” 
We got bacon, egg, mushrooms, and beans, and even toast. Plus of course, a mug of steaming PG tips. UHT milk isn’t so bad when you get used to it. (That’s the only thing about this trip I wasn’t looking forward to).

1700 – 26 17.5N 19 08.3W Co 215 Sp 5.2kts
Motoring due to lack of wind.

Nigel: Sails down and motoring 1600 rpm, doing about 4.5 knots, plus a bit of help from the Canaries Current. Spirit transformed into a stinkpot.
1946 – 26 06.5N 19 16.5W Co 250 Sp 5.1kts
Decided to make ground westwards, hoping for better wind further into Atlantic.

Tuesday 15th November 2016
1053 – 25 29.7N 20 23.8W Co220 Sp 5kts
Following another tiring night of two-hours about, at last we have wind. Now making good progress under full sail, and without the monotonous throb of the engine, that and the diesel exhaust wafting into the cockpit on the following wind.

1510 – 25 19.2N 28 38.3W Co225 Sp 4.2kts
Wind dropped again. Motorsailing under a sulky sky, towering cumulous all around, some ominously dark at their flat bases, with rain cascading beneath. Astern we watch a twisting tube emerge from a cloud as it tries unsuccessfully to reach the surface to form a waterspout.

2016 – 25 01.3N 20 50.6W Co 210 Sp 4.1kts
Continuing squally conditions with heavy rain from time to time. Decide it prudent to douse the main and rig the spinnaker pole for the genoa. It’s the first time we’d used it in anger, so quite a bit of trial and error before the genny is happy and settled. Nigel thinks it still is not right, and this continues to be a bone of contention over the next few days. Eventually we discover the error and fix it, more of which later.

Wednesday 16th October 2016
0752 – 24 17.4N 21 10.7W Co 210 Sp 4kts
The wind dropped away completely overnight, but we were cheered by a pod of visiting dolphins. Motorsailing under a grey, sultry sky.

1615 – 23 39.7N 21 17.2W Co 210 Sp 5kts
Nigel spends the day fishing. Wind picks up, but from the south in this unseasonal low pressure system; not expecting it to last, but now enjoying a spell of lively close-reach sailing.

Spag Bol for Dinner

Nigel: Could be worse – at least the tea was good. Mike cooked. Afterwards he took the watch and said: “Before you go and do the washing up, you’d better bring in the fishing line.” I got two thirds of the way reeling in and got a huge take. FISH ON! This huge green/blue/yellow fish leapt out of the water trying to dislodge the hook. Then… bang. Nothing but a slack line. Another had taken the weight, trace and swivel. Bugger!!!”

2230 – 23 19.5N 21 35.4W Co 190 Sp 2.5kts
We have a problem! Went to start engine. “Click” and nothing more. Try again with extra power from house batteries. Nada. With sinking heart, we try several more times, even rearranging battery wiring to add the auxiliary AGM battery. Starter motor jammed? Or something more serious? Either way, we’re stuffed for normal cruising. Desperate measures needed. Fridge off, all lights off, heave to, and get some sleep. Hopefully, when daylight dawns, we can fix the pesky thing.

Thursday 17th November 2016
0812 – 23 18.4N 21 44.4W – Hove to
I’m down below getting breakfast when an almighty shout issues from the cockpit. “Oh No! Now what?” But then I catch the high exuberance in Nigel’s continuing cries. Turns out our stationary condition has attracted a flotilla of large pelagic predators who seem to think we might be breakfast.

“Let’s go fishing” screeches Nigel. (Now he’s Robson Green). So I get us underway while my distracted crewman feverishly busies himself with hooks and lures.

1556 – 22 55.4N 22 06.5W Co230 Sp 3.4
We’ve been sailing goosewinged most of the day before a half-hearted following wind. Nigel’s attempt to land his catch of a lifetime has so far yielded mixed results, with several lost rigs and one near-success; a big dorado almost gaffed, but managed to jump the hook at the last moment.

1940 – 22 42.4N 22 12.2W Co200 Sp 3.1kts.                                                                                          Caught our first fish, and Robson is ecstatic. He played it well, the beast leaping high from the water, then trying to dive deep, and under the boat. I left the wheel to help (which caused Spirit to heave herself to most prettily) and eventually brought our quarry to heel under the stern, where I gaffed it and hauled it inboard. Much blood and gore splattered us and the cockpit as the 40-pounder thrashed about trying to avoid my winch-handle blows to its conk. I eventually subdued the monster with a shot of Bombay Sapphire into its gill. Unfortunately, without a working fridge, there’s no way to save much of this enormous dorado, so I take off a sizable filet and consign the remaining carcass to the deep with a whispered thank you.

Nigel: Wow! My biggest fish...ever!

Friday 18th November 2016
0002 – 22 20.5N 22 16.6W Co 190 Sp 3kts
Slugging along on a mithering breeze. Our second night without charging batteries, after a dull day with little coming in from solar panel or wind turbine. All lights off, (including nav lights) to conserve power. Sailing on minimal instruments (anemometer, log, and compass light), and taking fixes from my phone. We both have headlights glued to our heads to light our way through the boat. 336 miles to go; another long night ahead.

0613 – 22 01.3N 22 26.3W Hove to
Yeah, long alright; two hours on feels like five, two off, a scant five minutes. Both too tired to think straight, with grouchiness close to the surface, so decided to heave to and get some sleep.

1553 – 21 34.6N 22 29.1W Co 190 Sp 4.3kts
Barely made twenty miles today, but the wind has started to pick up; struggling back to its prevailing north east, where it surely belongs. Nigel on watch while I prepare some of that dorado for dinner.

1919 – 21 23.3N 22 35.0W Co 220 Sp 4.5kts
Oven-baked the dorado in foil with olive oil, butter, fresh lime, and capers; served with butternut mash and sautéed mushrooms. The fish came out just right; juicy and tender. But alas, it seems the great fisherman prefers catching dorado to eating it. He liked the butternut squash though. I look at the other half of the filet in the fridge and wonder how to cook it next.

Er... not sure.

Er... Nah!

After reviewing our sailplan, we re-rigged the spinnaker pole, giving us a more encouraging turn of speed.

Nigel: We’ve been using the spinnaker pole a lot. It certainly tames the headsail; makes steering a lot easier. Still can’t get used to ploughing headlong into the pitch black at 90mph – well 7-8 knots anyway, but it’s hell of a fast.

Saturday 19th November 2016
Nigel on heaving to: We just had another couple of hours hove to. It makes a huge change to the motions of the boat. You’ve got the headsail and the rudder working in opposition, so you only move forward really slowly, leaning over a bit with the wind. The sailor’s motorway station I suppose, but you don’t have to wait for one to come along, just park up where you like, as long as you’ve got sea room. A quick look outside every ten to fifteen minutes to watch out for shipping, but it’s really restful.

0917 – 20 25.2N 23 00.5W Co 219 Sp 6kts
Not liking the sky much, and the glass is falling (albeit not a lot), so unrigged pole and shortened main to two reefs. Wind gusting 18 knots with prospect of more to come.

1539 – 19 50.2N 23 13.7W Co 205 Sp 6-7kts
Creaming along nicely but awkward increased swell making steering tiresome. Reduced to half genoa. Sky still overcast, but batteries seem to be getting something from whatever u/v’s are getting through. Tonight, I’ll pan-fry the rest of that dorado.

1928 - 19 34.0N 23 21.9W Hove to
So, this time I cut up the dorado into 2 inch cubes. I melted some butter in a frying pan, and dropped in the pieces of fish, gently browning them all over. I then added salt, pepper, and a sprinkle of dried star anise, and finished it off with a good dollop of UHT cream, then served it up with new potatoes and green beans. Nigel’s verdict: The potatoes were nice.

Wind dropped away again – getting some sleep while we can.

2215 – 19 27.9N 23 27.5W Co 215 Sp 4.8kts
Enough wind now to goosewing poled out. Making reasonable speed.

0428 – 19 04.4N 23 40.3W Co 215 Sp 7kts

Not my best moment! An hour later, after dark, the whole rig collapsed.

An hour ago the pole topping lift jumped out of its carabiner, dropping the pole crashing into the water. So, while Nigel battled to hold her downwind on main only in by now heavy weather, I managed to furl the genny and struggle forward to recover the dangling pole. Twenty minutes of high adrenalin rush sees the job done, and by now I agree with Nigel that something is seriously amiss with our pole arrangement. I’ve discarded that treacherous carabiner for a start, replacing it with a conventional bow shackle. But that’s not it. I now agree that having the pole fixed out at right angles when reducing the genoa is not the right solution. There is far too much play in the sheet, causing the violent shivering that loosed the topping lift from its fixture. We now agree that we should use the pole itself to reef in, bringing the whole rig forward as we furl in the genoa. There is also the matter of the foreguy, which I have led directly from the block, under the bottom guardrail out to the pole. This has been causing an alarming creaking in Nigel’s forepeak cabin, disturbing what little sleep he could get (and causing me severe ear-ache from his mithering). I look once again at my friend, Dave Morait’s, drawings and notes, and realise the foreguy needs to go through the forward fairlead to give it lateral, rather that vertical, load. This works much better; gives the sail stability, stops that awful noise below, and even improves the steering. Well done Nigel for sticking to your guns. I’ll say it again; you never stop learning on a boat. But really, I shouldn’t have missed that important point about the foreguy lead.

How it should be done!

1002 – 19 03.3N 23 54.1W Co 240 Sp 3.5kts
After a particularly gruelling night we’ve just got underway again from hove to since 0720; A chance for a leisurely breakfast and a short nap.

1238 – 18 57.5N 24 01.8W Co 223 Sp 7kts
The wind has veered once more to the south, but Nigel the cat-sailor is loving the feel of Spirit in close-hauled mode. For the sheer thrill of sailing you can’t beat a mono-hull upwind.

1635 – Stationary.
Becalmed, dammit! Lolling on a grey ocean, under a grey sky, the rain pattering on the bimini and speckling the water. Yawn.

2222 – 18 30.6N 24 17.6W Co215 Sp 5.6kts
Got underway at 1700, and since then the wind has gradually backed northeast and strengthened. Now less than a hundred miles to go, and time to start planning for a daylight arrival. Need to be sure we can get assistance to berth without engine.

Monday 21st November 2016
0720 – 17 59.3N 24 31.5W Hove to.
Yes, to get some rest again, but also to avoid getting too close, too soon. 83 miles to go – only 16 hours with this favourable wind. Want to arrive mid-morning tomorrow.

Tuesday 22nd November 2016
0222 – 17 06.5N 24 50.2W – Hove to
Merely changed position, and here we are hove to making around 1 knot towards our destination – perfect. Only 20 miles to go.

0705 – We get underway as the mountains of Santo Antao loom out of the murky morning.

1003 – A blistering twenty five knots of wind in the harbour, sailing in far too fast on just a docker’s hanky of genny showing, made more precarious by the score of anchored yachts between us and the marina. But made it safely to the pontoon, aided by a man in a little dinghy tied up alongside; “You just steer, Captain – I am your engine.”
Booking in:

Okay, We're both tired and desperate for our first shower in ten days. But first I need to check in to the marina office. I pay a week in advance for mooring fees, complete all the necessary paperwork in about half an hour. Now immigration. It’s a mile walk to their office. I fill in more forms and pay five euros to get entry stamps in our passports. Now I have to visit the National Police. More forms, questions, passports scrutinised. They keep my boat registration card. “You come back de day before you leave and we return your card – for dis you must pay 7 Euros. Then you go back to immigration and get exit stamps in your passports. Den you are free to leave.”

Two hours later I find Nigel sitting in the cockpit wondering if I’ve been kidnapped. At last we get our shower, then being sailors of strict priorities, stumble into the floating bar and sink two pints each in short order. By now, Nigel has a wide grin etched on his face: “What a fantastic place!” he beams.

Yes, Dear Reader, it really is that good. The charm and buzz in the floating bar is instantly infectious – the shared excitement of the great Atlantic adventure is something that needs to be experienced to be understood. Sailors of twenty nationalities, some with families, small (but well behaved) children, some with dogs; gnarled old sea-gypsies rub shoulders with young sporty types on their first crossing, ideas swapped and sea-stories told; the talk is about the oceanic weather, downwind techniques, water and provisioning, hairy mishaps, the hilarious state of the material world we’ve all left behind, Trump, Brexit, Putin, Marie Le Pen, Berlusconi. In fact, just about anything. Above all, it’s happy, friendly, and ringing with a cacophony of languages, spontaneous laughter, and the clink of glasses. It’s no great wonder Nigel walks about with that stupid grin all the time.

That’s all for now, Reader. I’ll try to update you on our stay here before we leave (planning for 1st December), and of course those vital repairs. Please remember to leave comments below, and thanks for following.

Scenes from downtown Mindelo