Gone *with* the wind

Farewell to Porto Santo

As was very often the case on the Atlantic islands, the decision to depart came suddenly with a fresh weather forecast with the destination likewise a surprise: Baiona, instead of Santa Maria. A week of southwesterly wind was simply too good an opportunity to pass up and so we have catapulted to Galicia, giving us the prospect of an entire summer in the Rias of northern Spain.

Finally the fellowship of Fettler and Roede Orm was forced asunder, with the Orms peeling off to the Gulf of Cadiz, but happily the Kodiaks were going our way, having likewise altered their planned Azorean route to suit the weather.

The day of departure was sunny and breezy and once we got clear of Porto Santo, with 700-odd miles of open ocean ahead, the pace was set for the rest of the voyage. Apart from a couple of half-day windless spells, the wind held true to the southwest, F5-6 - more or less tradewind conditions. The seas were moderately boisterous, forcing us to stick to a sail plan of poled-out working jib alone. Not the best setup for speed, but no worries about backing mainsail or jib and easy for the self-steering to deal with. It did make for a very rolly ride, and though no seasickness was suffered we didn't have much of an appetite either.

The rolling made everyday tasks, including cooking, awkward and we stuck to a stomach-friendly diet the entire time. What a healthy life we lead at sea - no alcohol, no tobacco, no coffee, small portions. We would start with a hot bowl of gofio in the morning, then have an apple, an orange and half a banana during the day, with maybe some dried fruit. Lunch would be crackers or crisp bread - with avocado until they ran out - and dinner a potato-based dish. We ran out of our favourite, instant mashed potato, on the fourth day.

It was mostly grey, with a fair bit of rain and rather cold by night (cold weather gear including the duvet and our Fladen immersion suits were dug out for the first time since the passage from England to the Azores).

The main excitement was provided by frequent dolphin visits. Every day but one we had good long sessions with highly energetic and acrobatic Atlantic white-sided dolphins. They were surfing down waves in formation and leaping out in synchrony, doing back flops and belly flops and of course porpoising and bow riding. They came by day and by night, showing off fantastic displays in the powerful luminescence during the darkest hours between sunset and moonrise. I have rhapsodised about glowing dolphins before but it really is one of the most amazing sights there are to be seen. The closest thing to magic there still is in this dull old world.



So long as we kept well offshore (100 mile minimum), we encountered very little shipping, maybe a ship a day. This changed dramatically when we turned in towards the mainland on the last day and crossed the shipping lane approach where they feed in and out of the traffic separation scheme around Finisterre. Then we were dodging ships from 0500 to 1000, with 6 to 8 of them showing at any one time on the 10-mile range of the AIS. The wind, of course, was dropping off steadily at this point, leaving us completely just as we were approaching the inner edge of the lane and forcing us to motor through the last bit to safety. Just at this point we were fortunate in dodging a bank of fog hanging about nearby. We could hear the fog horns of the big ships as they disappeared into the gloom.

Thereafter the last day was lovely, even though we had to motor, with the first warm sunshine since Porto Santo. We had stuff out to dry and sunned ourselves with wild abandon until - dah dah daaahh - the heavy fog bank rolled in. From hunky dory, things instantly turned to chill, drab and damp. From being able to see our destination, we were left to feel our way in for the last 5 hours in the fog and dark. A bit more excitement than we were really looking for at that stage.

Fortunately we are equipped for such conditions. On with the radar, on with the AIS, on with the chart plotting software on the computer! Also, on with the coffee. It was quite an absorbing task to keep an eye on all these devices, as well as a pair peering the boat length or so we could see into the fog. Visibility was zero. It was interesting to see how the radar and AIS still complement each other. Usually a passing vessel would appear on both but there were cases when we could see a target only on  one or the other.

It was only when we entered the bay that visibility was finally restored, much to our relief, and we happily made fast to the pontoon at Baiona at half past midnight, local time, after six and a half days at sea.

Flying the flags in Baiona.

On a 'tapas crawl' with the Kodiaks.

The ramparts of the fortress of Baiona.

Looking out to the Islas Cies.

Peaceful Porto Santo

The path up Pico do Castelo

Perfect picnic spot

Moledo - a nice level walk around the largest hill

White poppy

After the tourist hordes of Madeira, its quiet little sister island Porto Santo is balm for the soul. It is definitely the off season here, with only a few visiting yachts and most of the holiday homes shuttered up. The island is much drier than Madeira but also has some fine pine forest. Nobody had mentioned to us what a good hiking place Porto Santo is, so we were in for a pleasant surprise when we climbed a couple of its volcanic hills yesterday. There is abundant bird life in the hills - plenty of Canaries (!) and other as yet unidentified song birds, a glimpse of a golden oriole and some quite large birds of prey.

View towards the harbour

Flame-like plants

Climbing the highest hill on the island 

The view from Pico do Facho to the east

From Machico we took along a young Portuguese couple, Sara and Sergio, whom we'd met on Nacho's boat, first for the quick hop to Quinta do Lorde and then on to Porto Santo. It was the first time we had accepted boat hitchhikers and we had a nice time together, though the cockpit feels a bit crowded with four people, especially if two of them don't have sailing experience! It also reminded us how much there is to learn in terms of seamanship before you can safely take a boat out on the ocean.

Machico

Quinta do Lorde was a strange place, a very sheltered harbour surrounded by an entirely new-built town, still under construction, complete with church and lighthouse - and yet unoccupied. We very much enjoyed the luxurious hot showers (the marina even has its own heraldry on the shower curtains), but it's really targeted at the luxury market and isn't a spot we would would choose (or could afford) to linger.

The ghost town of Quinta do Lorde

The forecast for our 30-odd mile passage to Porto Santo had been Force 3 winds from the northwest. In fact, we experienced everything from Force 3 to Force 6, with one rain squall, reefs taken in and out and a few headsail changes - good experience for Sara and Sergio - but all in all a good sail with two dolphin visits. In Porto Santo we were happy to be reunited with the Roede Orms, though unfortunately this is our last common port as they are bound for the Med and we want to continue to Santa Maria and then back to Sao Miguel. The wind is blowing straight from the Azores at the moment so it looks like we will get a chance to do a lot more hiking on Porto Santo.

Cross country back to the beach

Towards Capela de Nossa Senhora de Graca

Welcome find in the rucksack: a bottle of Madeira wine

Crowded and deserted islands

Rugged terrain.

The central highlands.

North coast.

Madeira is indeed a beautiful island, but it's also at (or even beyond) its tourist capacity. Every day, the cruise ships dump 5-10,000 well-heeled passengers into Funchal and they join the thousands already here in being bussed around the island, crowding the more beautiful of the walking trails, viewpoints and every sort of attraction. There are souvenir stands in their hundreds and Peruvian pan pipe bands all doing their utmost to extract a few more euros from this mobile bounty. One always has to be on one's guard to avoid being ripped off here. Sonja was stung in the fruit market by exorbitant maracuja prices and we once found ourselves paying €2.50 for a coffee (normally €1 or less in these parts).

Tasty but dear. 3 types maracuja, custard apple and melon pear

Still and all, we were able to make a pretty good go of it, banding together with the crews of Frigg and our old friends the Roede Orms to hire a 9-seater minibus for a couple of days and see some quieter parts of the island, as well as the more popular.

The view from the world's second highest sea cliff.

The famous levadas - tough to get a shot with no other people!

The 25 fontes.

Marina prices are in proportion to everything else here and we didn't dare stay longer than a week in Funchal before taking off to the Islas Desertas, a nature reserve about 20 miles to the southeast. These are lonely and beautiful, populated by quite a number of rare or endangered species including monk seals, several varieties of storm petrel and tarantulas (!). There is a research station on Deserta Grande where the park rangers live, next to the one and only anchorage. It's fairly marginal, as anchorages go, with a stony bottom and being wide open to the southwest, but the shelter from the prevailing northeasterly swell is good. The wind fairly whistled through though and it is with some relief that we can confirm the statement in the pilot book to the effect that the holding is 'better than you'd expect'.

The anchorage

Unfortunately we didn't see any monk seals, but we were very warmly welcomed by the park rangers who showed us a fun and interesting time.

Sunset at Deserta Grande.

And it kept getting better.

We only stayed the one night, due to deteriorating weather, and had a bit of a slog to get back up to Madeira the next day. Because of the high cliffs, conditions were very gusty near the Desertas. One gust of 30 knots or more pulled the slider at the clew of the mainsail right out of its track on the boom! A belated reef took care of that until it could be properly mended and we bashed our way on up to Machico where we plan to lay at anchor a few days while waiting for a parcel delivery expected in Quinta do Lorde marina. We can't afford to wait there though as it is outrageously expensive (€23 per night AFTER the 20% OCC discount).

Machico is a nice town, once the island's capital, and much less busy than Funchal. No loud bars, no pan pipes.

A chance encounter with fellow OYCOA member, Nacho
on his Halcyon 27, Xebec.

Back to Green

We sailed from Ponta Delgada for Madeira on the 30th of October last year. Little did we think that it would take us over 5 months to get there, but here we are at last after a moderately strenuous three and a half-day passage from La Graciosa.

But, just before we leave Graciosa, and luckily just after we scrubbed the hull, the harbour was invaded by a plague of medusas:

A discouraging forecast on Monday morning left us thinking we'd be there for another week at least so on Tuesday morning we visited the small supermarket to stock up on beer. On the way back to the boat we paused near the internet cafe to check the weather once more, for form's sake. An unexpected window had opened, for immediate departure. The laundry was soaking in its basin on deck, so it was with clothes still hanging to dry down below that we set sail five hours later.

Shakin' out a reef. Also, spot the dolphin!

The first night was moderately lumpy, bashing away into a steep head-sea but we were cheered by our first sighting of Atlantic white-sided dolphins and a sea turtle. The following day (Wednesday) the wind edged around, forcing us to tack away to the northeast. That night we found ourselves in the main shipping lane from the Med/Europe to Africa which was a bit of a pain since we were forced to dodge cargo ships as well as rain squalls. Thursday the wind swung back around in our favour but that night it picked up quite a bit and things got a bit unpleasant for a while. These things never look like much on the GRIB files - just an innocuous wee yellow area on the map that only lasts a few hours. How bad can it be? On the ground (so to speak) the picture looks a little different. There was nothing on the menu for dinner that evening, not even instant mashed potato - the new 'Smash' hit easy passage food on board (bit of an in-joke there for British readers).

Bashin'. But at least the sun was shining.

Friday morning, things are starting to settle down.

Friday, after things settled down again was a good genoa-sailing day all day, especially when we were in sight of Madeira. From about five miles off we could smell the sweetness of lush green land. Musky incense, flowers and a touch of wood smoke.

Land ho! The Islas Desertas.

And Madeira itself.

Imagine our delight, when pulling into Funchal at midnight, to find our friend Stefan (of Roede Orm) waiting for us on the reception pontoon to take our lines and offer us a glass of Madeira wine.

Madeiran rope trick. Amazing what a bit of salt can do.

Funchal marina, right in the town centre.

Easter island

Easter on board! Eggs decorated with the Roede Orms.

Hopefully no one will mind seeing yet more photos from Graciosa!

Over Easter, this normally sleepy island was transformed into a noisy, crowded(ish) party place as fery load after ferry load of tourists were deposited. Happily, most of the visitors simply spread around the beaches, leaving the volcano tops to the more intrepid. We took the opportunity to complete our collection of Graciosan volcanoes.

The largest and least climbing-friendly.

View from the big one.

We climbed one of the peaks a second time with the Roede Orms to enjoy the view at sunset:

Great visibility, great light - Alegranza in the distance.

Sonja and the Orms.

We were hoping for a green flash but no dice.

And moonrise...

Der Mond ist aufgegangen.

Still waiting for the right Madeira wind. Maybe this week, maybe not. Anyway, we've given the hull another clean and will be ready to go when the moment comes. Sadly, the Roede Orms are feeling the pressure of their homeward bound deadline and sailed/motored north yesterday. We hope to catch them up again in Madeira.

It's Easter Sunday and the island is getting back to normal, the crowds departing and last night was peaceful once more. Happy Easter!

I'd like to be...

It's time for another photo blog. The wind is still holding us in Graciosa and we're taking full advantage of the good snorkelling and hiking here. There's also a surprising amount of bird life on this dusty wee island. Notables include: Berthelot's pipit (loads of them), Trumpeter finch, Hoopoe, Southern grey shrike and the Barbary falcon.

A couple of days ago eyebrows were raised by a highly unusual heavy shower of rain! Those of us under shelter were looking around delightedly at the rare sight. It also served to dampen the spirits of the bongo 'players' on the campsite.

Playa Cocina, from Montana Amarilla

Raven on the heights

The yellow in the yellow mountain

Preparing to snorkel

The view from below

Reef

On the bottom

School's out

They look a bit old for school...

Hosing down