After over 4 weeks of lockdown on the boat, sitting on a mooring buoy in Fat Hog Bay, the curfew was finally eased a little on 27th April. We had been able to get some groceries delivered in the last week of lockdown by the supermarket, but still had a shopping list as long as your arm to get before we could depart.

We needed more cooking fuel, more diesel and some fresh veg. Curfew lifted at 0600, we were at the shops queuing at 06:15. We were expecting a real bundle to get stuff but actually it was pretty civilised! Having got our supplies we had to pack up the boat and get her from static caravan mode back to lean mean sailing machine. We took the anchor off and stowed it below, cleaned a months worth of marine flora and fauna off the bottom of the dinghy and put that in the forepeak, then squirreled away and extra 140l of water in jerry cans in various locker below.

By John´s birthday (29th) we were ready; everything was stowed, we had netflix and books downloaded and had a great looking weather window to get on our way. However, the immigration official we had been told to contact was not answering our emails. A few phone calls, some mixed message and a very cheerful SAR man later and we were informed that we did in fact need to check out in person from BVI, the only place to do that was 10nm west in the wrong direction and the earliest we could do it would be in 2 days time- thus completely missing the good weather to leave. Still, needs must so off we went to West End.

We spent 2 frustrating days watching the Customs and Immigration officers twiddling their thumbs  and refusing to process us before we finally got underway on May 1st. Still we had fresh bread and cake and got some of the last low priority jobs done in the time so it wasn't all a waste. We blasted out of the lee of the islands on a tight reach in 20 knots, please to be sailing at last even if the weather wasn't ideal. We had a big hole in the wind to negotiate, but we had splashed out on a weather router so were hopeful they would earn their keep.

Drifting North Eastward

Our optimism in the weather routing service turned out to be completely misplaced. Our first waypoints were 130nm apart each 24 hour period, with winds between 5-10knots. Alcyone's best days run to date was 139nm with a good force 7 from behind and a knot or so our favourable current. We had filled in the questionnaire for them with our boat details, typical speed and available fuel quantities (about 48 hours total motoring)- it appears this information was never passed on as we were told to motor excessively until we put our foot down and refused. After that we were told to "drift north or north east" until we reach 30 something degrees latitude and got into the low pressure systems coming off the US coast.

Fortunately for us Alcyone is a proper sailing boat and we packed the 150% genoa (aka the Big Boy). This means she will keep sailing pretty well at 3+ knots in anything above 5 knots of wind. When the wind did stop completely we dropped the sails and went for a swim in 6000m of water- it was 38º C, while Ellie swore never to do this, the alternative of melting alive seemed worse so we risked the Kraken's wrath and jumped in! Then scrambled out again pretty sharpish!

Another highlight of this bit of the passage was seeing humpback whales breaching, jumping near fully out of the water and flopping back down! They were about 300m behind the boat which was plenty close enough if you have seen this photo. Seeing this was 6 year old Ellie's dream come true, who am I kidding- it was 33 year old Ellie's dream too.

By a week in we had given up using the weather forecaster and were downloading GRIBs to route ourselves. Being short handed means too much wind is almost as bad as too little as sleeping off watch gets tricky and life onboard just gets a bit too much like hard work. We planned a route to skirt round the bottom of the low pressure system in moderate winds. This worked really well and other than the odd front we had nothing to worry about. By now the sea temperature had dropped, the thermals were out and we had the constant company of millions of Portuguese Man of War jellyfish.

Alcyone's First Gale (with us at least)

We were in our 3rd week of sailing and were pretty happy with our route choices and speeds. It became apparent at the beginning of the week that a low pressures system would get pretty big and track quite far south across our course by mid week. Looking at it we were expecting 20-30 knots, gusting 35. The system was so large, and the preceding winds so light, that we couldn't out run it to the south to keep clear. So we used the calm weather to prepare the boat for the worst; from our experience the GRIBs normally underestimate the wind a bit.  We stowed everything below so nothing could go flying, locked locker tops so they couldn't burst open and dug out storm sails, warps and the drogue just in case. All of this was much easier in flat calm seas.

While making these preparations we crossed paths with a large cruising catamaran "Tabee". We had chat on the VHF about our plans for the bad weather, he was in the process of motoring south at 6 knots to stay out of the worst of the wind, however he did clarify that his crew consisted of a 2 year old, a 6 year old and his pregnant partner. Really sometimes you do have to count yourself lucky; at least we had always planned to be doing this crossing about now!

We knew the wind would build in the night and expected the peak to pass fairly quickly during the day. We sailed on a run with just the 3rd reef in the main, a set up we had used on the previous transat, and the auto pilot was handling the conditions well while we slept. In the morning the wind picked up more, as expected, and shifted  more northerly- this gybed and back the main which was held to windward by the preventer. By now we were seeing gusts over 40 knots and sustained 35 knots, we decided to take the cue from the boat and heave-to, stopping the boat and waiting for the wind to pass.

This was the first time we had hove to in anger, and it was interesting to try it out. We knew Alcyone wouldn't sit bow to the wind in a traditional arrangement, but soon got her settled at 60 degree to the waves with the main sheeted in and the engine at 800-1000rpm. We took turns in the cockpit keeping an eye on things and occasionally giving a little spurt on the engine to hold the bow up in big sets of breaking waves. This felt so comfortable down below that each time the skipper went below for a rest she suggested we start sailing again! (Only to look up top and change her mind again).

We stayed like this for 8 hours until the wind had eased to 30 knots, we probably could have started sailing again sooner but we were comfortable and safe so decided to stay as we were. By the evening we were reaching in 25 knots with dolphins leaping and frolicking in the waves- clearly they were enjoying the conditions.

The Last Hurdle

Having weathered the storm we had hoped to get far enough North to be in westerly wind for the few hundred miles into Horta. This wasn't to be, and we ended up beating into easterlies. To  add insult to injury the forecast was pretty inaccurate with much stronger winds than forecast. We were also expecting a favourable wind shift quite early on but that didn't turn up till 12 hours later! This drove Ellie to near mutiny, although how to mutiny against yourself is unclear!

Luckily angry Ellie went to sleep at 0900 on the 23rd May, 3 hours later the world was a much better place. The south easterly winds had filled in, the boat was sailing well and Horta felt in spitting distance- if you could spit some 400nm.  From here on out it felt like a race to get to the finish- as all our long passages seem to end! We put the big sail up and charged along brilliantly. Even when we tried to slow the boat down to get to port in the morning, rather than risking getting in in the dark, the boat was having none of it and charged on at 6-7 knots boat speed. Since she was so keen to get in we stuck the engine on when the wind did eventually drop and arrived at the harbour entrance at 8pm. We had enough time to enter and anchor in the light, but had to do our check in admin the next morning. We were very please to be in with a full nights sleep ahead of us after 25 days 7 hours and about 30mins at sea!

More nerdy stats and figures to come, we have been a bit busy fixing a few things on the boat- but more on that in the next blog post.

Yesterday the curfew was eased in the BVIs. We're now allowed out between 6am and 1pm, with only essential shops open. During the past week we managed to both make and receive an online food delivery - no mean feat! Which meant that we only had to make a dash for green stuff in the supermarket.

We'd been held up by a lack of methylated spirits for our alcohol stove. The prospect of 20+ days at sea with limited or no cooking really didn't appeal. Burning the rum was considered - but there are better ways to warm up with a bottle of rum than burning it! So we waited and hoped that the curfew would be lifted. Fortunately for us we took delivery of 15l of stove fuel yesterday afternoon - which should be enough to see us home and far beyond.

We hope to leave at sometime on Wednesday (tomorrow) afternoon. As always there are a few jobs to do before we can leave. A trip to the laundrette, rig check, fill the water tanks, get the cabin into passage mode, and call the police to get a curfew pass. There is a ban on any private boat movements - we'd rather not get arrested trying to leave.

The weather has been looking more and more helpful with each forecast this week - so we're hoping that this trend will continue and we'll have a 15-20 knot beam reach all the way home... It's good to dream!

We're heading for the Azores, in Horta we'll be allowed to anchor in the protection of the breakwater and also take on provisions, water, and fuel. Although we'll no be allowed off the boat. The famous sailors cafe, Peter Cafe Sport, have switched modes they are now re-provisioning yachts and offering takeaway meals. We're debating pizza or burger and chips as a first meal in, or maybe lasagne?

From the Azores we're still weighing up the options, around the top of Scotland or through the channel. We're assuming that we won't be able to stop in the UK or Ireland and want to make it back to Stavanger as soon as possible. The top route puts us in the path of Atlantic lows, but offers secluded anchorages out of the way. We'd be able to wait out any nasty blows. Through the channel there should be better weather, but fewer safe anchorages we could use. We'd rather not have to lock into a port or marina if we can help it. If there is anything more futile than second guessing the weather 5 week away, it's second guessing various countries responses to this crisis. Either way we'll have something to talk about - and after 30 consecutive days on a boat already anything new to talk about is welcome.

So, that's our plans. Seeing as we'll be at sea for 17th May, an early "Gratulerer med Dagen" to all our Norwegian friends.

After vowing to come back to Dominica we set off for Guadeloupe as the sun was rising over the mountains of Dominica. Our destination Deshaies, or better known to some as Honoré on St Marie, it’s the set for the TV series Death in Paradise. We had an easy sail from Dominica past some highly rated cruising grounds and up the leeward side of the island. We managed to sail all but the final few miles as we raced the setting sun. With good weather forecast and friends (we’d been chasing since Portugal) to catch up with in Antigua we only planned a short stay in Deshaies.

The obligatory raid on the bakery for croissants, supermarket for rum and visit to the film set. We squeezed in a snorkel on the reef and found an octopus living under the boat. After only staying a day, we set off again at first light for Antigua. The conditions were perfect, flat seas and enough wind to make good progress. So good, that we arrived considerably earlier than expected. The J class super yachts were out training on our run into Jolly Harbour. Amazing boats to see in the flesh, especially as they bear down on you with the kite flying!

Jolly Harbour was a strange place; it was as if someone had dropped a Floridian retirement complex into the lagoon. Ellie caught up with some more friends from dinghy sailing. It was nice to compare notes with other people sailing a 34footer, and first time atlantic crossers to boot.

After 2 days of hanging about and one excellent fried breakfast we made plans to cross to the BVIs, a 36hour sail. We were keen to arrive by the 14th of March so we could have some time to prepare the boat before our flights. So we left Antigua as the sun was setting and had a fantastic night sail, deep reaching under a clear sky. The outlines of St Kitts and Nevis visible on the horizon. Again we made better time than expected and in the morning dropped the main. The wind had shifted to a run and this was a quieter way to sail the boat. We carried on, watch and watch travelling smugly in our little bubble. Happy for once to be able to stick to the plan we’d set out. During the second night the wind dropped. We did the usual motor-sailing, trying to sail, motor sailing, trying to sail for a few hours, until an hour or so before dawn the wind returned. Ellie sailed the boat into the anchorage at Virgin Gorda at 9am. Bang on time for once! After breakfast she rowed in to fill our the customs forms and get some fresh supplies.

After a snooze and a swim off the boat we moved to a quieter anchorage. Just before dinner Ellie saw that her phone had connected to some free wifi in town and downloaded some very confusing WhatsApp messages from family. “Sorry your trip the US is cancelled” was the gist of it. We were very confused, we had no access to the internet so had to resort to 140 character text messages on our satalite tracker for an update.

When we left Antigua, we spoke to the customs guys on clearing out. They had plans for isolation procedures for C19, cruise ships had extra screenings. People were worried about it, but there hadn’t been that many cases in the region. By the time we emerged from our bubble in the BVI’s the world had changed: WHO had declared an pandemic, the travel ban to the US had been announced, the BVI’s had banned cruiseships and the next morning closed all ports of entry expect those on Tortola - for enhanced screening. We made getting internet a priority the next morning. Every time we looked at our phones it seemed everything was changing. So did our plans. Eventually we settled on not going to visit family in the US.

With our new found days and mooring already booked for the boat we decided to get on top of the boat jobs we’d neglected for a few months. We kept an eye on the news and the disappointment of cancelling our trip was superseded by the worry of how we were going to get home with country after country closing their borders. Measures in the BVI’s became stricter, borders were closed to non-residents and eventually a night time curfew was introduced. As the charter fleets returned to base, the anchorages emptied and we took full advantage while we could. We enjoyed snorkelling, swimming with turtles and rays in pristine clear water. Out of the way was best for us, anchorages that were jammed packed 2 weeks before were now lucky to have 1 or 2 boats in them.

The inevitable happened and a 24 hour curfew was announced as soon as the first local case of C19 appeared. It was supposed to last only a week. We returned to Penns Landing, we needed a water supply and internet to see us through what could be a very long curfew. Penns Landing also had the advantage of showers!

Curfew started on the 28th March and we paid for a mooring for to the end of April. The earliest we’d feel comfortable leaving to return home. No one really believed that this lockdown would only last 7 days. Curfew didn’t seem that daunting, like being on passage, but with the advantages of a still boat, no night watches and (semi-reliable)internet. So we joined in the billions of other people confined to their homes. Books and Netflix at the ready. For the first few days we laid low, no leaving the boat for showers, no swimming. We wanted to see how it played out, and didn’t want to be made examples of! By day three it seemed fairly relaxed, people fishing from the cover of the mangroves. The odd boat going out in the middle of the night with no lights. So we headed in for showers. We occasionally did a bit of maintenance, but mainly lounged and discussed what to make for the next meal.

At the end of the first curfew a new one was announced. To last for 14 days, no leaving the house for any reason. There was a 3 day period of limited access to the shops to get provisions. Your day at the shop was dictated by the first letter of your last name. Carnage ensued, lines in Road Town for the supermarket were 9 hours long. We got off lightly with 3.5 hours at the local supermarket. With the shelves half empty we were pretty pleased to have reprovsioned so comprehensively in Martinique.

What to say about 2 weeks stuck on the boat? Probably the same as most other peoples experiences. Dumbfounded at the Tiger King, a bit grumpy, a little too bored, plenty of cakes baked to make up for it.

As it stands now the BVI’s are opening up internally on the 20th at 6am. With only a night curfew and social distancing enforced. The first week there is limited access to shops to ease the pressure as everyone relishes in this new freedom.  The borders remain effectively closed until September. We’re hoping to resupply with a few bits that took a hit - sweets, crisps and some fresh supplies during the week, then we’ll look for a weather window to start our trip home. The government here have just announced an extension to curfew - details to follow, at some point. What a fun game this is!

The Azores(for the time being) are allowing private vessels to stop for water fuel and deliveries of supplies. No one is allowed on or off the boat though. The UK and Ireland seem off-limits for the foreseeable future. So we’re facing 20-25 days to the Azores and then 18-23 days to Stavanger. By that time who knows what the world will look like. Will we have to quarantine for a fortnight when we get home? Can we do it at home or do we have to stay on the boat? Will we even be able to cope with having more than 10sq meters to roam in? Will we have lost our minds after so long cooped up with only each other for company?! So yes, the next post about the up coming crossing may be very ‘interesting’, check back in a couple of months…hopefully we will have made it home by then!

p.s. more photos to follow when the internet speeds up.

We were keen beans to leave Martinique waiting for the checkout computer to open in St Pierre at 7:45am. Despite some queue-jumpers getting in the way we were ghosting out of the anchorage by 8:30am. The two queue jumping boats slightly in front of us. There was hardly any wind and we picked out the largest genoa we have on board.

The forecast was for light winds and we had places to be (and queue jumpers to catch)! In the lee of the island the wind was flukey, and we played a game of snakes and ladders with the other boats that were trying to sail out of the anchorage. Everyone heading the same way on opposite tacks, or one boat sailing as a few hundred meters away another boat sat with limp sails. Eventually one by one everyone turned on their motors and made it out to the consistent easterly breeze around the top of the island. Still in front were the two boats that had jumped the queue at immigration. As the breeze built, we didn’t want to face the prospect of changing headsails, the 150% genoa is far to bulky to pack away at sea. So instead we took a reef in the main and marvelled at Alcyone as she zipped along at 7knots rail in the water. Halfway to Dominica the wind moved forward of the beam, we tighten sheets and Alcyone did what she was built to do — sail fast up wind — much to the skippers delight. With better boat speed and better pointing angles we left all the other boats behind. Possibly maybe we were slightly over canvassed... a few days later another cruiser told us their mantra “Don't race the house”. Wise words, but old habits die hard.

Arriving first in Dominican waters we ghosted up past Roseau to a small quiet anchorage we could use for the night. Roseau had mixed reports and is generally a deep anchorage so it’s wise to use a mooring. We didn’t fancy the hassle of sorting that, and preferred our anchorage at Canefields. Our view of a concrete factory and scrap yard didn’t bother us a bit. The water had crystal clear visibility to 5 meters below the surface, we watched as the anchor dug in.

The following morning we sailed the last few miles to Portsmouth. Much smaller, warmer and prettier than its name sake. There is an association of local river guides (PAYS) that have installed moorings and general infrastructure for visiting yachts, like a water hose that runs to a buoy in the middle of the bay. So we filled up the tanks and took a mooring. Dominica has mixed reviews in the cruising world but we absolutely loved it, the folks at PAYS were really friendly and helpful and nobody hasseled us at all. It was the best place we visited!

We walked the 2km to the customs office at the commercial port and the 2km back. Collecting cash and a delicious late lunch of rice, meat, macaroni cheese and provision (boiled cassava, plantain and potatoes) along with some token salad.

We were on a schedule to get to the BVI’s by the 13th for some flights we had booked to the USA, so we decided to maximise our tourist time on Dominica. Following some tips from the locals and with our walking shoes in hand we set off to see the restored english fort and national park that overlooks the bay. Fort Shirley has been wonderfully restored and we spend a good few hours looking through all there was to see. There was a little exhabition on the pre-colonial history of the islands and the carribean which touched on some of the local history that is often ignored, especially by ex-colonial powers such as Britain.

The walk up to the headland and the old gun emplacements was a fairly hard going in the heat. The path was covered in smashed crab shells, the remains of a seabird banquet. Hermit crabs scurried away from us and thousands of lizards narrowly avoided being crushed as we disturbed their sunbathing. John valiantly put Ellie between him and the ‘harmless’ snakes that had also been sunbathing.

Next up on the tourist checklist was the Indian River, rather than being rowed up the sinuous river, we decided on walking to the bush bar (voodoo queens lair in Pirates of the Caribbean) instead. The trial started in a concrete or brick yard and we dodged dump trucks and industrial cement mixers to get to the raised walkway through the mangroves. The trail beyond the bar was impassable in flip-flops with debris from the hurricanes of 2017.  We partook in the PAYS beach BBQ that evening, and made use of the free flowing rum punch. The poor dinghy survived an unstable launching from the beach at the end of the evening, survived but not unscathed by the occasion.

For our last full day on Dominica we hired a small car to see a bit more of the island. Our alarm went off at 5:45 and by 6:30 we were on the road with a trusty flask of strong coffee. First stop were the Trafalgar Falls and we arrived just after opening- the only car in the car park.  We quickly made our way to the viewing platform then the slightly slower scramble up the river to the hot pools, surprised to be the only ones there! The water was bath-hot and not too sulphurey: we spent over an hour relaxing in the hot pools before John had to drag Ellie out, still not another soul in sight.

We stopped off in Roseau proper to pick up a copy of “The Dominica Story”, a good substantial read for the trip home, and some breakfast. Our next destination was the north east of the island. Due to a slight mishap with the sat-nav we didn’t make it to the main road. Rather, a smaller back road. It all started so well, on a nice new tarmac road in pristine condition, then around a bend in the road we were in a worksite. Either side of the road the drainage was being being dug, rebar bent and concrete poured into shuttering. Further on we overtook a bulldozer clearing rocks, and the interrupted the site surveyor and assistant busy with a theodolite. It seemed as if the road was still open, so on we drove, slightly apprehensively and expecting to be shouted at at any moment. No one batted an eyelid. Beyond the worksite, the road returned to single track, but the views were spectacular. Eventually we ended up on the main road and drove through rain forest that was recovering from the 2017 hurricanes. Only the strongest tree trunks remained covered in leaves. All the branches and tree tops had been blown off in the hurricane. Whole hillsides were like this, except for an occasional nook that had obviously beed sheltered enough for the trees to survive. This only reenforced the dramatic effect.

We quickly toured a chocolate factory and filled up with a few of the more exotic flavours for ships stores. Nearby the red rocks were calling out for a visit, the tropical version of the seven sands of Alum Bay. Only without the tat shops and under a  blazing tropical sun. So maybe not that similar to the Isle of Wight after all… We sat and watched the Atlantic rollers crash against the coast, there were blow holes to wait for and the expanse of ocean the we had crossed to contemplate for a while.

Our drive back to Portsmouth took us along the Norther Link Road. A name that invokes images of traffic jams on rainy dual carriage way around the back of some nameless industrial estate. Instead we were treated to stunning vistas, sinewy mountain roads peppered with work gangs turning the eroding tarmac back to concrete roads after the last rainy season. All too soon we were back at the car rental place. We walked the 3km back to the boat while eating a chicken lunch.

We’d been looking forward to visiting Dominica, it had been one of the main attractions of the Caribbean for us. It didn’t disappoint, the scenery is beautiful, the people some of the most friendly and the history interesting. Looking back, it seems such a cruel joke that we had to cut our time short to get to the BVI’s for flights that we’d never be able to take. At this point, we were just about becoming aware of the seriousness of the pandemic. This was the first week of March, and until now it had been hard to judge, in our semi disconnected state, what was media hyperbole and what was serious reporting.

We arrived in Martinique with a list of jobs. First we needed to restock the boat with cheap tinned goods for our return crossing over the Atlantic. Tinned sausages and beans or cassoulet? The VHF had been playing up and we had heard that there was a good workshop in Le Marin. Le Marin had every single type of boat related trade you could imagine.

After a day at St. Anne we headed into Le Marin to take a slip at the marina and do "productive stuff"... Also showers. As we slowly motored towards the marina the heavens opened and we had a complete white out. Our oilies had been needing a thorough rinse since the night sail to St Lucia, and showers suddenly didnt seem so urgent. Being a small boat we ended up at the far end of the marina right out of the way and close to the mangroves. Martinique was in the middle of a Dengue outbreak — we were immediately keen to move on considering Ellie's irresistible appeal to mozzies.

After proper showers we headed out to scope the supermarkets and what not. The VHF workshop gave us some tips on troubleshooting (in an incredulous way that suggested we were idiots and the fault was our batteries). Having trouble shooted as suggested and reach the original concusion that the radio was at fault we headed for an evening at the laundrette where we made our grand plan of attack for the supermarkets. Early the next morning we started to tackle the list of jobs. At this point if this was a Vlog we would have an exciting shopping montage with stupidly large amounts of tins and nicking a trolley to get stuff back to the boat...but it isnt so you will just have to imagine it like an all day supermarket sweep.

In the evening we sat down to a much deserved celebratory meal out. The boat was sitting an inch or two lower in the water, and we probably have enough food to last until Christmas- which considering current circumstances is very good!

Having convinced the electrician that the VHF was really broken we left it with them to fix , but that wouldnt be until after the weekend. We decided to head up the coast and into a nicer anchorage opposite Fort-de-France where we could catch a ferry into town. A small reminder of home. On the way we stopped off at Anse Noire, one of two small anchorages next to each other, one with a white beach and Anse Noire with a black beach. That evening after the charter boats left we had a good snorkel. The next morning we dived in to try and see more, but an influx of rather stingy things had arrived over night. We didn’t last long in the water!

Bright and early Monday morning we caught the ferry into Fort-de-France. It was slightly confusing, the majority of shops were shut. Eventually it dawned on us that it was Carnival, one too many shop assistants with glittery body paint gave it away. We were kicked out of the Hypermarket at 1pm and the whole of Fort-de-France was getting into the party mood and everything would be shut for 3 days. We hadn't really factored this into our planned stay in Martinique.

During carnival we moved to Casse Pilot, a small beach town on the west coast of Martinique. It was one of the first french settlements on the island and hasn't been invaded by tourist or resort hotels yet, it was lovely and peaceful! Carnival goers would gather for the afternoon ferry in various flamboyant outfits normally including a TuTu, it was fun to watch but neither of us fancied braving the crowds in town.

The day after Carnival we caught the ferry, then a local comunal taxi back to Le Marin to collect our now working VHF. We breathed a sight of relief that it was only €75, and not a whole new radio. That afternoon we visited a few museums that were now open, and the magnificent Bibliotheque Schoeler, a beautiful victorian cast iron framed library, looking very much like a temple to knowledge. The Casse Pilot ferry took a detour on the way back, and circled a pod of dolphins hunting in the sunset, a very good end to a good day.

Friday, we sailed up the coast to St. Pierre with the intention of checking out the following day. Our plans were thwarted by the restaurant owner going on holiday with the keys to the checkout computer. We’d have to wait for Tourist Information to open on Monday morning. Such a hardship to have to spend another two days with easy access to fresh baguettes, croissants and pain au chocolate. We saw the sights and visited the museum dedicated to the devastating volcanic eruption in 1902 which flattened the town and killed some 30,000 people. The church bell gave an idea of the force of the explosion, it was squashed flat and torn like a bit of playdough.

We were queuing up at the Tourist Information at 7:45 Monday morning keen to get cracking. Martinique had started off as a bit of culture shock, France in the middle of the Caribbean. With the combination of carnival and boat work we left feeling like we had spent far longer than planned there but we’d hardly seen any of it. Still at least we got to the Decathon.

We left Petit Martinique and headed to Clifton on Union Island, with only a brief stop in Petit St Vincent to change courtesy flags. Clifton was very crowded with laid moorings and with the wind blowing a good F5/6 we took the closest mooring to shore. After rowing in, clearing customs and buying an incredibly over-priced beer from the supermarket, we took advantage of having every bucket full of water. Hand washing our laundry in the cockpit and hanging it out all over the boat. What a glamorous lifestyle this is! Being close to shore the passing dinghies provided some distraction from the buckets and dirty laundry. All of a sudden screams of delight and incredulity from both a dinghy and the foredeck, as Ellie recognised some old friends from dinghy sailing in the UK- Pat and Jilly Blake.

They returned later that evening to give us a lift to the bar on the reef. Being up wind of us and our little dinghy we didn’t think we could get there under oar power alone. Everyone caught up over a rum punch as kite-boarders peacocked for the eager the crowds, jumping near clear over the island and applauding crowds!

Having cleared in at Clifton there wasn’t much to keep us there, especially with the lure of Turtles, Rays and good snorkelling just a short sail away. We set off the next morning for the Tobago Keys, with the wind still blowing a hoolie. We tried racing two other cruising yachts, a 56 footer and a 65. All was going well against the 56 until they cottoned on and trimmed their sails. We both decided that we would have won on corrected time. Around the top of Mayreau the wind was funnelling and blowing 30 knots, so we turned tail and spent the rest of the day in Saline Bay.

Saline Bay had some pretty good snorkelling along the cliffs bordering the southern edge, we had tucked right in and it felt like we had our own private bay. After an early morning snorkel we set off in calmer conditions, we made it into the Tobago Keys on two tacks. We decided to anchor close to the inner reef, a little exposed to the wind, but it allowed us to swim over to the reef. The reef was fantastic for wildlife, scores of rays and turtles, coral and tropical fishes. John even caught a glimpse of a shy shark as it threaded its way back to sea and away from the prying eyes of nosey tourists.

Photos from Carriacou through to St Lucia.

As the afternoon progressed the wind built and we decided to anchor between two of the islands in the group. Swimming on the anchor we noticed that there wasn’t much clearance under the keel. Looking at the tide tables online it seemed as if we were at low spring tides, so everything should be ok… By 9pm we had a kedge anchor out holding us in deeper water, and by 10:30pm the tide was pushing us side on to the wind and waves. We were pointing in a different direction to everyone else. On closer inspection the tide tables were for another island, some 60 miles away — always read the small print. John sat up until 1am in the brilliant moonlight keeping an eye on the anchors, the wind and the holding (and the rays which we could pick out against the sand bottom as the moon was so bright!). By then everything had settled down, the boat was pointing in the right direction and the tide had risen enough that we could sleep! In the morning we swam while we waited for enough water to pick the anchor up again. We managed to scare three squid and watch a turtle breakfasting on turtle grass.

We left for Bequia, which would be our longest passage since the trans-at. We spent the whole day on the same tack, easing or tightening sheets as the wind curved around islands. We sailed pass Cannouan - which according to The Times is where the billionaires go to get away from the millionaires. Not having showered in a real shower for a week or so, we’d probably not have been that welcome, despite having almost a full boat of clean(ish) laundry.

We passed Mustique, a semi-private playground for the rich and famous apparently. It is supposed to have good walking trails on the undeveloped parts of the island, but moorings are charged for a minimum boat length of 60ft. We had better places to go! Around the top of Mustique the waves had become horrible as they bounced around the islands and off the shallow ledge that we were sailing over. We eased the sheets to make it more comfortable, but it did mean motoring the last few miles in to Friendship Bay, our intended anchorage. Friendship Bay had a rather unfriendly set of waves that were creeping in, and in need of a good nights sleep we turned around, hoisted sails and sailed down wind round the corner and into the usual yacht anchorages of Admiralty Bay in the lee of the island. Admiralty Bay was a good spot to anchor in. We were recommended the southern end of Princess Margret Beach, close to shore and close to the point. There is a resident octopus who lives on the reef under the point, so it was nice to be so close to good swimming.

Bequia turned out to be a fun island to spend a few days on. We walked the 3 km back to Friendship bay to look at the whaling boat museum. Stocked up on fresh veg and some stores. Then we did holiday things like eating ice creams, drinking sundowners, swimming off the boat. We ended up spending 5 days in Bequia, the wind was still strong and it was really nice to be in a sheltered anchorage. Ellies friends had anchored near by and we went to dinner onboard their cat on our last night in the anchorage.

The next morning, bright and early we pulled up the anchor and set off for Martinique in one big overnight hop to make up some time. We made excellent time during the first part of the day and nearing the northern end of St Vincent decided to pull in for a siesta and set off again during the night, when we hoped the wind would be down a little. The drinks consumed the night before had no bearing on the captains decision what so ever.

Chateaubelair was a lovely spot to anchor, just off a beach lined with palm trees. Black sand on the bottom for good holding and crystal clear water. Halfway through the afternoon we started to get hit by gusts falling off the cliffs. They were pretty fierce and would flatten the water while also making a thin layer of mist above it. A local fisherman was caught out and ended up leaving his boat on the beach after trying to row against it for the better part of an hour and getting no where. The wind died down overnight and we left a very placid anchorage at 1am. Motor-sailing out of the lee of the island with the 3rd reef, in anticipation of the wind compression around the volcano at the northern tip of St Vincent. The forecast had been for 20knots gusting 27, sustained 30 as we poked our head out wasn’t a surprise. However it never dropped off, and by 6am it was gusting 40+. Being on watch was miserable in the dark, with big waves on the beam soaking you on a regular basis. The only consolation being that the sea was 27°C not 7° that it would have been in Norway. The rest of the day was spent fighting the current, wind and choppy waves so we could drop he anchor in St Lucia and have a rest. So much for making it to Martinique in one hop! In all the fun we’d had overnight combined with using the engine we’d let the fuel tank get low. As we approached Anse La Raye the engine started to drop revs. We’d managed to clog the filters, a classic mistake when you let the tank get low in bumpy conditions. We did make it into Anse La Raye without the engine cutting out completely, we tidied up and went to bed early.

The next morning we set about cleaning the pre-filters on the engine. Stupidly though we thought that we could get away without bleeding the fuel system. A 20 minute job became 2 hours of hand priming the engine and bleeding various inaccessible hoses. In the end a quick squirt of WD40 in the air intake pushed the engine back into life. Another lesson learned the hard way on Alcyone. We opted for a second good night sleep and a manageable distance to make the final passage to Martinique. So we set off up the coast on a short sail to Rodney Bay. Along the way we fell into a tacking duel with a sporty cruising cat, who were delightfully well matched and would have to duck each other on opposing tacks. We won the race by virtue of keeping our sails up further into the bay (thats how it work, we dont make the rules...well actually we do...but...).

Most of the cruising guides have large sections on security on the boat, we have to take fewer precautions as our dinghy really isn’t that attractive to thieves (though it is attractive) and we don’t have an outboard. However, when a local lad came up to the boat and claimed to have a Gambling 34 on the hard it all seemed a little dubious. Only 50 or so were built and they’re rare enough now in Norway - let alone St Lucia. Not wanting to be rude we kept on chatting about his boat, and it turned out that he did have a Gambling on the hard being fixed up. When you can discuss in detail the strange inner forestay tie down from deck to hull — you’ve got some experience of these boats. His boat was one of the originals from KMV too, having 4 drainage points in the cockpit.

We left Rodney Bay early and set off for Martinique, hopeful that we’d be able to make the 21 miles in a day. The wind was blowing a good force 5 and built through the morning as we closed on Martinique. During the passage we were routinely overhauled by bigger faster yachts, including another Alcyone. Eventually by mid afternoon we’d anchored in St Anne, sick of sailing in strong winds. We dinghied ashore to clear in, drink a cold beer and raid the Patisserie for baked goods. Priorities!

St. Davids turned out to be a great and terrible choice to make our landfall in. We tied-up at the dock and marvelled at how steady and still it was. After gathering our papers we made our way to the deliciously, icy, air conditioned office. It was mildly disorientating to have to interact with other people and simultaneously try to take in surroundings that were far more complex than the expanses of ocean we’d become accustomed to!

From the office it would have been rude if we didn’t head directly to the bar for a cold beer… Bursting with condensation it tasted exactly as one could have hoped for. Showers, dinner out, a victory cigar and some rum, a whole un-interrupted nights sleep. All of it novelties. The next morning we set to cleaning the boat, checking in with immigration getting cash and more bug spray to keep off the mosquitoes from Ellie. It turned out that mozzies found her delicious. Oops.

We’d arrived late on Thursday and by Saturday afternoon we’d finished cleaning the boat, doing our laundry, topping up the fresh water and moved out into the anchorage - hopefully away from things that could bite. We’d even found time to catch a bus into St Georges and do some re-provisioning. Such a flurry of productivity after 18 days of snoozing or reading left us ready for a day off!

We hired a small car to do the must do things on Grenada.

• Rum distillery ✔
• Chocolate factory ✔
• swimming in a waterfall ✔
• nature reserve in the mountains ✔
• doctors, because someone picked up a tropical fever from the mosquitos… ✔

So, St Davids was a beautiful location, quiet and a great place to re-introduce ourselves to civilisation after being away. We could have done without introducing ourselves to all the locals wildlife though. Under strict instructions from a strict doctor Ellie was forbidden from doing anything for at least a week. John spent his days making sure there was enough cold water in the fridge and fruit in the fruit bowl.

Seeing as we were in a place with extensive workshops etc. we took the opportunity to get bits fixed that hadn’t survived the TrasAt. There are worse places to be stuck than a boat yard, next to a pristine beach and 28 degree water to swim in. There was always an interesting boat to have a look at. Even one of the Classe 40’s we’d seen in Quinta Do Lorde was hauled out, with it’s massive 3m draught.

Soon enough Ellie was feeling better, we’d gotten away with it relatively lightly! We moved on doing gentle day sails for 2 or 3 days. We even managed to slide our way through the tail end of the Grenada Race Week fleet. We stopped at the main anchorage in St Georges and it was nice to be out of the murky waters of the mangroves into the crystal clear azure and turquoise waters of the west coast! After a quick provision and raid on the cash machine, complete with air-conditioned booth!, we set off for the underwater Sculpture Park.

The sculpture park was fantastic, jumping into the water to check the state of the mooring there was a large school of Sargent Majors swimming under the boat. From there on it got better, the sculpture were eerie concrete casting of humans with strange coral growths coming off them. Think the crew of the Flying Dutchman in Pirates of the Caribbean. There was a huge amount of coral, fishes and even the odd turtle that we terrorised by trying to take a photo of it. This is what we’d traveled 6000miles for! The last party boat left before sunset and we had the place to ourselves - except the jumping tuna. After breakfast the next morning we went for our third swim and finished just as the first tour boat arrived - time for us to leave.

Off we set for Carriacou - but with an over night stop in Ronde Island - white sand beaches and uninhabited hard to say no really. The sail up was a bit of a slog as we’d not anticipated as much current and the seas were a little more lively than we’d expected. So many days in quiet anchorages had left us a little rusty at getting the boat ready. Soon the floor was covered in anything we’d not stowed. It was a treat to be sailing again - Ellie on the helm and John crewing, racing anything that had a scrap of sail up. Chalk and cheese compared to the Atlantic crossing - where the auto pilot did all the hard work and our sails were always set on the conservative side.

We gave Kick ‘em Jenny a wide berth, didn’t want to be involved in an unexpected volcanic eruption and arrived in the anchorage at Ronde just before sunset. With enough time for a quick swim, tidy up and sundowners before the sun set. We’d been spoilt at the sculpture park and the underwater life at Ronde was not enough to keep us there, especially as the wind had shifted during the night, going slightly south of east. This gave us a much gentler sail to Tyrell Bay in Carriacou in one tack. We nudged our way into the crowded anchorage and found a scrap of space within rowing distance of the beach. Being a Sunday not much was open - one bar with wifi and a cold beer - but back to the boat before the mosquitos came out!

The main attraction at Carriacou was on the other-side of the island at Windward where they still build traditional boats on the beach. The 70ft sail-trading sloop there was to be launched in a month - she was fully planked and decked with the capping rails going on when we visited. Fascinating to see such a big boat being built on a beach between mango trees! Life in Tyrrel Bay was slower than on the main island of Grenada, life at Windward was little more gentle than Tyrrel Bay. Even the dog snoozing under the tree on the beach contemplated not getting up for the scraps he was offered from our Rotis.

We checked out of Grenada the day before the 3 day weekend and headed around the top of Carriacou to the anchorage at Petit Martinique. The wind had built and we had a rolly nights sleep. In the morning it was blowing a fair whack through the gap between Petit Martinique and Petit St. Vincent. So much so that we added a few more dents to the water and fuel dock as we took on more water. Not feeling happy about leaving the boat at the dock in these conditions we decided to skip a visit to the island. Opting instead for the 300m motor over to the lee of Petit St. Vincent. Like that our visit to Grenada was over - it to has joined the list of places we need to come back to!

Our transatlantic seems an age ago now. It was such a massive hurdle but actually ended up being a bit of a breeze…which is exactly as I like it. People have asked how it was, and the only response we have is, well a bit boring. We didnt see very much, certainly very little sea life or shipping, and we sailed the boat so conservativly that most days there was nothing to do!

In total it was 18 day 3 hours, 2202 nm and an average daily run of 121 nm. Our best day was our last at 139 nm in 24 hours, our shortest run was on day 8 below, at 96nm. Not bad really for our little boat!

This is Ellie’s diary notes from the crossing typed up. So from the very cutting edge of transatlantic sailing…

Day 1

Spent the morning busily getting the boat ready with the last jobs, the previsous night we had a concert at a hotel 100m from us, we did not sleep well. By 11am we were basically ready to go but had to wait for our tiller pilot pins to arrive from the workshop. We both had our last showers, and at 12:15 a technician working on the boat next door pulled the pins from his pocket. The problem was the marina office shut 12 til 3pm. We went to the Irish pub for a leasurly dry lunch and lots of downloading. 3pm we were in the office checking out, by 3:30 we had slipped the lines, smoothly reversed out of the berth without any drama and were hoisting the main in a jiffy.

Now we are sailing wing on wing out of the bottom of the St. Vincent channel in 10-15 knots, it’s a glorious start to the passage, and John is cooking dinner. Smooth seas and happy sailors.

Day 2

Pretty easy conditions over night a bit of a light wind patch, probably the wind shadow of St. Antao. By dawn we were reaching in 10-12 knots to the west. John’s a bit sick and had a sore throat so I’ve done most of the watches. 1 sailing boat to the north sailing parralel.

Day 3

The wind had gone around to a run and has built over night. 1 reef in the main and very good boat speed. Expecting a good days run. We’re hearing lots of yachts on the radio chatting. Peanut stew for tea yum.

Day 4

0300 - tiller pin sheared, where the cut thread causes a stress concentration. We hand steared until daylight, 2 hours each - it was hard work. Dropped the main at 0500, and it has stayed down all day. We fitted the spare pin at 7am when the sun came up. We have bodged a 2nd option if this pin fails. The bracket had also had issues but these were quickly fixed.

New Years Eve tonight, we might have a port at midnight watch change. No boats sighted today, but lots of chat on the radio, especially Karma, a dutch boat.

Day 5

No boats overnight, lots of strange chat from the longline tuna fishing boats. We just heard them talking with another yacht - the lines are 60miles long! Sailing with just the #2 up and poled out. It’s a bit rolly but we’re going ok. The spare pin in the tiller is holding - we might also have a way to use sheet to tiller if the whole bracket goes.

Overnight we saw a fishing buoy on AIS and two ships over 20 miles away. Ellie washed.

Day 6

Still running under just the poled out #2, boat speed is still good, boat is still rolly. Spent most of the day listening to the Isdalen podcast (Ice Valley on BBC). We caught a Skipjack tuna in the middle of John’s shower and had Tuna Niçoise for lunch - it was alright. We need to learn to bleed the tuna properly. Other then that not a lot to report - ships clock went back an hour. Tow generator was making a worrying noise so we didn’t use it over night.

Day 7

Gybed the #2 to the starboard side. The wind was 15-20 overnight but has dropped off now. We tried to service the tow generator, but can’t get into the body without a set of gear pullers. In short - can’t fix it don’t want to risk breaking it by using it again. Fiddlesticks

Saw a ship called Alcyone passing astern of us on AIS - over 20 miles away. How exciting. Also started to see saragosa seaweed - so maybe we wouldn’t have been able to use the generator anyway. Burritos for lunch - tuna and sesame for tea - fridge will have to go off overnight. We had to alter course for some fishing floats, we might have had some weed on the keel as overnight was quite slow. We watched The Laundromat - very good.

Day 8

Hot weather again, Ellie washed. All went ok with turning off the fridge overnight - still had 12.3v in the morning. Not sure the battery monitor is always keeping up. No ships on the radio - saw one or two on AIS. It rained overnight - John saw our first raft of Saragosa seaweed - he woke me up for it. The wind was pretty calm in the afternoon, so we sat on the foredeck in the shade, read and chatted, it was lovely.

Day 9

We had cheese and pickle sandwiches for lunch! Delicious. Airing the bed cushions in the cockpit. We’re both tired. The engine isn’t charging batteries - but we should be ok. Put the tow generator out this morning (night) even though it was making a worrying noise - low batteries because of yesterdays clouds. Now we’re both in the cockpit reading, a very leasurly life! We passed the halfway point over night! Eaten less than half the chistmas cake.

Day 10

Sent a message home. Now planning the house layout, how to build a library corner / decorate the lounge. John made delicious bread for lunch, very stroppy about kneading conditions, but the result was amazing. Elena thinks all the effort was worth it. After lunch we very smoothly swaped headsails for the small jib (#3), as the wind is filling in for the rest of the trip. Now watching “How to Live Mortgage Free”.

Day 11

The wind has filled in now, we had a pretty rock and roll night. We’ll have to find a way to pad out the pans in the cupboard. Also changed the clocks another hour. It’s hot. Might have seen a Man of War Jellyfish. We’re now rationing Netflix and fresh veggies. Called up “”Professor Logachev” as they’re stationary and in our way. After a few moments thought they confirmed a 2 mile exclusion zone. Hanked on the storm jib just in case.

Day 12

Pretty breezy today, seen 27knots apparent on a dead run, dropped the jib, and going under 3rd reef in the main only. Big seas but fewer steep and nasty waves, one did just try and land in the right in the cockpit on top of John. A day for doing not very much, finished a book, popcorn and a film, Anahilation - not a very happy one.

Day 13

Still pretty windy over night, so wasn’t very restful. I had to hand steer in a squall with 29 knots apparent - I guess about 35 true. Waves are big and boisterous we switched to the #3 jib as the wind had dropped. Both a bit bored now and would like to get there. 6 days to go - loads of Saragosa weed swooshing against the hull.

Day 14

Christmas cake for breakfast, we took the jib down, and put up the main with 3rd reef. Other than that pretty easy. Having listend to so many podcasts we think we could do a good one - just deciding who to interview. Both had a wash and feeling nice and clean. The moon last night was phenomenal, saw a mad o’war jellyfish! Listened to some music - started reading the second Discworld book.

Day 15

Not much to report the wind didn’t fill in as much as forecasted but the waves are pretty big.

Day 16

Wind and BIG seas seem to have arrived, sailing with just the 3rd reef in the main all ok, though it is a bit like a bucking bronco at times but hey ho. 400miles to go.

Day 17

Dolphins! John let me have a lie in. First dolphins of this leg of the trip. Putting the jib pole on, John fell against the shrouds. He now has an almighty bruise on his arm, thats’s 6 out of 9 sea-cat lives gone for him. Hoping we can get in Wednesday afternoon, we will need Alcyone to do her flying thing - she has shown her colours before.

Day 18

Breeze is back up a bit today but we have got summit arrival fever so we are leaving the jib up and poled out for now. It was pretty breezy over night so might have to go back to only the 3rd reefed main over night tonight. We have 147miles to go at 15:45 ships time, so it’s touch and go if we will make it Prickly Bay before dark (sunset 17:50, nautical twighlight end 19:05) let’s see. We might have to go to St Davids instead which is a bit closer.

Day 19

Arrival Day! We raced, we put lots of sail up, we averaged 7 knots, we went into St Davids to get in during daylight. It was excellent - record days run! Alcyone flew.

To entertain us for the duration we got through a good handful of books. For posterity here is the list:

Ellie:

• Why the west rules for now: The patterns of history and what they reveal about the future
• Coral: A pessimist in paradise
• Three seas stories; Typhoon, Falk, The Shadow-line.
• Seabirds Cry: The Lives and Loves of Puffins, Gannets and Other Ocean Voyagers.
• The Colour of Magic
• The Light Fantastic
• Equal Rites

John:

• The Blood Never Dried
• When We Ruled
• Seashaken houses
• The Colour of Magic
• The Light Fantastic
• Equal Rites
• Papillon
• How to Store Your Home Grown Veg

8th - 28th December

The night crossing to Sao Nicolao was unexpectedly fast - we arrived at 4am to a coast that was so dark there was no discernible difference between sea, land and cloudy sky. We kept a safe distance from shore and sailed past our destination - opting to heave to and gently forereach offshore to get a better angle to sail in on first light. The passage had been rough with a boisterous cross seas.

At first light we headed in to Carrical - a tiny fishing village on an otherwise uninhabited South East coast. As were were about to chicken out of anchoring in the tiny slit of a bay some local fishermen directed us to a spot to anchor. After checking transits it was off to bed for a nap.

Carrical turned out to be a hidden gem. Despite accidentally paying €50 instead of €5 for a lobster we had a good time. (50 CVE = 5 euro, if you multiply instead of divide in a sleepy haze then you end up with 500CVE, 50€…) Happy fisherman got a Christmas bonus! Even with our generous hand out the locals didn't pester us, they just regarded us with a friendly curiosity of people getting on with day to day life: a nice change from the more toruisty islands to the east.

We spent a few days wandering around the martian landscape and the green ravine that make up this end of Sao Nicolau. Not much was happening, there were a dozen or so small fishing boats going out everyday to fish for tuna by hand. No rods, no reels just handlines! In the abandoned tuna factory someone was sheathing a wooden fishing boat in fiberglass, the delicious toxic smell of resin wafted over to us occasionally. We frequented a new restaurant that had been set up to cater to visiting boats. It seemed a good way to support this small village (apart from overpaying for lobster 🤦‍♂️).

Photos from Carrical...theres quite a lot! A sure sign we had a nice time :)

There wasn’t potable water, or a cash machine - so with liquidity being an issue, we set off for bigger towns. Not before attempting to explore some of the smaller coves on the southern coast. There were strong winds blowing over the island, bringing with it a fine red dust from the Sahara. These winds tumbled down over the hillsides and hit the water with a splat before running out of steam a mile or so offshore. Our first attempt at anchoring in a bay wasn’t so good, the steep drop off gave us no where for the anchor to bite even if we were out of the wind under the cliff. Onwards with the pressure of sunset we moved a mile up the road, so to speak, and crept into a tiny bay with room for one.

The wind was funnelling out of the gorge that led into this horseshoe bay, and stopped us from swinging at all. Ellie barely waited for the anchor to be set before diving in to check out the underwater world. The anchor was dug deep into the black sand, with John refusing to leave the boat Ellie had to make do with swimming, although the ravine was tempting to explore. Having been spoilt for snorkelling in Boa Vista we’d missed swimming off the boat in Carrical. This bay did not disappoint, Ellie happily would have spent days here, but we were down to our emergency water - so had to press on after only one blustery night, despite wanting to stay for longer.

The sail to Tarrafal was fast, right up to the last 3 miles where we were caught in a wind hole behind the mountains. We put the motor on anchored right off the black sand beach at Tarrafal. We had a good view of the tuna factories Christmas decoration being constructed. A conical pyramid of bright yellow, 25ltr jerry cans. In the early evening the partially constructed monument was lit up with arcs from the welders fashioning the re-bar supports. Beautiful, surreal and strangely festive.

Photos from Soa Nicaloa after Carrical

Our priorities in Tarrafal were cash, water, food , checking in with the police (honestly she is just a slow boat and it took 4 days to cover the distance from Boa Vista...not that they asked where we had been!) and getting out of there back to what looked like an idyllic bay a few miles further south. We got the number for the man with a bowser and with the help of Google translate and wild gestures unseen by either party on the phone managed to fill up our tanks, every jerry can or bucket and soak ourselves in the process!. Food and veg were purchased from the shops and 48 hours later - we were anchored in our idyllic spot. A pure white sand beach, crystal clear waters, two small reefs to chose from for snorkelling on, and no one else to be seen! Perfect.

Looking at the boat from the bow we realized that it had taken on an orange-pink hue from the Saharan dust. Any forward facing surface was being caked in a thick layer of fine dust. Rainfall being non-existent in the Cape Verde islands we’d have to wait for the Atlantic crossing for a wash off.

In this bay we spent 3 days snorkelling until we were cold through, basking on deck to warm up and then jumping in again for a second round. Life was good. We left too many small bays on the south coats un-explored and headed back to Tarrafal conscious of the march of time - and the need to prepare for our Atlantic crossing. Once again we vowed to be back and even checked out charter boat options in Mindelo...

We took a day trip to Ribiera Brava, Soa Nicaloa's capital nestled in the mountains. Built close to water and safely away from pirates or anyone else looking to make a quick raid it made for another exciting Alguer adventure cramed in like sardines watching the stunning sceanery wizz by! We picked up armfulls of fresh fruit and veg, some delicious local jams from Papaya, Passion fruit and Guava.

We set off for Mindelo on St. Vincent late in the morning - having no intention of making it the whole way, we planned to anchor overnight and possibly visit St Luzia an uninhabited island about half way there. We’d been trying to trace the boats tendancy to give us a little electric shock when the decks were wet for a few weeks. Just a little tingle that wasn’t enough to know for sure what was happening. This sail was breezy (20-25 knots), on the wind, and with big waves and chop: our decks were soaked. The lifelines were giving us a proper belt every time we touched them, you had to chose between getting a zap or potentially falling off the boat… Suddenly finding the stray current became a bit more of a priority!

We arrived at St. Luzia an hour before sunset and found a spot that was out of the worst of the breakers and in as much of the lee as we could find. None of our charts, paper or electronic had a small oflying island in the right place! Sadly the surf was too much for our tiny inflatable so we stayed on the boat. Only diving on the anchor to make sure it was set quickly and hoping the pod of dolphins that accompanied us into the bay didn't want to investigate the stranger (incindently, a squeeky winch sounds alot like a dolphin squeek under water- Ellie had never swum as quick as she did to get back onboard)

Photos from the sail to Mindelo, including beautiful St Luzia

The next morning we set off, sighting another yacht to the south making towards the St Luzia chanel as well. True to form, Ellie decided that we probably didn’t need to reef as much as we had the previous day. The wind was blowing the same strength… The hand bearing compass was dug out of the chart table and we made sure they didn’t make any ground on us.  In the channel we dodged several small open fishing boats, some moving surpisingly fast with only a lateen rig. After clering up which headland we should be rounding all was good onboard and we barreled in to Mindelo harbour taking a slip at the marina.

After the joy of having our first real showers in over a month, the reality of being cooped up in a marina was a disappointment. Still, we had jobs to do and this was the place to do them. We handed off our broken bow platform to the machine shop for repair (this collapsed in Curral Velho as we hauled up the anchor in the nasty short chop) . Washed the boat, inside and out. Took an inventory of stores and planned christmas dinner. It was go go go.

We had wanted to visit the southern islands of Fogo and Brava, but with no place to checkout and conscious of having enough time decided that a weekend trip to Santo Antao would make up for it. There are no good anchorages for small boats, so we booked into a small hotel and took the ferry. Ellie, true to form sat near a liferaft ( recently serviced she pointed out), and John smugly read his phone as all around us people quickly fell seasick as the coastal sized ferry traversed an ocean sized swell in the channel between the islands.

We took a local minibus to Ribiera Grande on the north of the island, and halfway there the arid martian landscape gaveway to lush green valleys with farmers terraces hanging over them. Our overnight stay was in a villa with pool which was  surrounded by a small fruit farm. Bananna trees, almonds and breadfruits surrounded the house. We slept in a real rectangular bed that didn’t move and had hot running water from the shower that we didn’t need to keep pressing a button every 30 seconds for. Truly luxurious living. In the evening we ate pizza and drank poncha (cane rum, sweetened with mollases) and took another shower because we could!

Photos from Mindelo and our trip to Soa Antoa

For the trip back to the ferry we hired a taxi and went over the mountains through all the farm land stopping regularly for photos. The roads were ballance precariously on ridges and curved round the preciptous drops like some kind of fairgroud ride. The sceanery was truely breathtaking and all the more spectacular for it's contrast to the south of the island. Another island added to the ever growing list of places we want to go back to!

Back in Mindelo we cracked on with the list of jobs to prepare for our Atlantic crossing. Christmas was a pleasant distraction - and the much anticipated Christmas cake was taken out of storage! After an english breakfast we headed off to the beach, our Christmas day swim was probably a bit easier than anyone braving it in the UK!

The following days were filled with a desperate search for Meths for our stove and multiple trips to the markets and supermarkets to fill the boat up with as many provisions as possible. On the 28th we were ready to leave by 10am. Ready except for one small part from the machine shop, which had been on it’s way to us for few days. It turned up eventually and we spent our last Escudios at the bar with good wifi, calling home and filling up on podcasts and films for the crossing.

At 3:30pm we slipped our mooring lines and left Mindelo harbour, the St Vincent channel was delightfully tame compared to our last visit. We set off on the longest leg of our adventure to date - destination Grenada 🇬🇩.

We made landfall in Cabo Verde at Ihle do Sal in the North East of the island group, anchoring at the small town of Palmeira. Here we could check in, re-provision and top up our water from the town Fonteria (the communal tap piped from the desalination plant that the whole village seemed to use...for a fee). Our hunt for more fuel for the stove (meths/denatured alcohol) took us to the "big town" of Espargos,transport was the back of a pick-up  truck Aluger (communal bus/taxi).

Espergos had a bit more going on, and had clearly been tarted up a bit for the tourist groups who visit in large groups from the resorts on the south end of the island. Apparently these tourists are warned not to wander off on their own for fear of muggings etc, but we never had any problems other than people enthusiastically trying to sell us tat. The biggest pain was these groups turning up at the cafe just before you have ordered lunch so you had to wait for ages for them to be served first!

Palmeria was a pretty crowded anchorage so after a couple of days sorting ourselves and the boat out we headed south one bay to anchor, swim and relax. The challenge of CV is that the police keep you boats paper work in the first town you arrive at on any given island, so you in theory have to return to that town to collect your papers before leaving any island. This makes for some interesting logistics, but we later learned we could push this a little within reason. Anyway, having collected our papers we headed south to Boa Vista: the neighbouring island.

Photos from Sal:

Like Sal, Boa Vista caters a lot to European tourist who want a beach holiday in the sun. Boa Vista seemed to be more for the active set, with kite surfers and wind surfers bombing about in the anchorage. With a shallow reef extending a long way out from the town of Sal Rei we had to anchor a fair way out. Still the inconvenience of a long and wet (in the chop) dinghy ride was compensated for by the good swimming from the boat and the gorgeous reef just 150m away! In Boa Vista we found a great little museum which had just opened a few weeks earlier, with load of information about the early Portuguese settlements, defences against pirates such as Sir Francis Drake, and the importance of the islands for the slave trade and sailing ships carrying these poor people from Africa to the "new world". Having handed in our papers to the Police we upped anchor and went to explore some of the coast of the island.

It seems Boa Vista's coast is just one long continuous white sand beach. With chart data limited and often dating from the 1800s we had to rely on our cruising guide for recommended anchorages and then use satellite maps for the fine detail. This worked surprisingly well provided the satellite photos were taken on good day! We ended up anchoring off the beach at Curral Velho and had a pretty rough nights sleep in the waves. In the morning we swam ashore, as a strange southerly swell made a dinghy landing ashore impossible. On the beach we were the only souls in site with no towns or resorts about and only the odd fishing boat motoring by to the fishing grounds. We walked up the beach to an abandoned settlement and salt pan we had seen- apparently the well had dried up so life had become impossible without a water supply. We certainly learnt the value of water in the Cape Verdes, where the climate is so arid that most of the islands rely on desalination plants and water is paid for by the litre.

Photos from Boa Vista:

After our adventure to the bouncy anchorage we headed back to Sal Rei to  collect our papers and move on. With the south coast anchorages so rough we didnt feel it was worth staying. Our next destination was the island to the North West, Soa Nicolau, with lots of bays and inlets to explore We hoped to have more luck here!

With an (ex) tropical storm set to swing past Madeira it was definitely time to leave. The swell had started to enter the marina and it was getting a bit lively. We spent a few days buying food, generously discounted wines and basically filling the boat up. For once we felt prepared and ready to leave, if not a bit apprehensive about our biggest passage to date - especially after the crossing to Porto Santo... Still the boat had had plenty of work and new bits to make her better prepared for passage making - and we could bail out at the Canaries if we needed to.

All geared up, everything stowed and in full on passage mode, we set about leaving. Only for the engine not to start. Out came "Marine Diesel Engines" chapter 2, "Trouble Shooting" with greasy thumb prints from the last time we had a few issues. We narrowed it down to the solenoid, starter or start battery - the only one we'd not replaced in Portugal. 2 trips in a taxi to the top of the hill, it turns out you can't buy a car battery in Madeira without taking the old one to be recycled, and we had a working engine. Phew!

We set off deep into the wind shadow of the island hoping to pick up the wind on the eastern side, and for the first 6 hours we motor sailed, by sunset we had just enough wind to sail and we were off, on a bouncy ride towards the Canaries. Those first two days we basically slept, ate and kept watch, it takes a while to get used to being confined to 18 square meters or less. We scooted past the eastern side of La Palma, to the north of Hierro in what we hoped would be a clever routing to keep us in the wind for longer. Still not fully accustomed to being at sea it was more than a little tempting to stop and have a good look at these islands. We resisted the sirens call and pressed on, ever further south.

Video: sailing through the Canary Islands at sunset.

It was a welcome novelty to be doing night watches without wearing every item of clothing that we owned. Definitely what we signed up for! As the Canaries slipped over the horizon the seas settled down to a long languid swell from the North East, looking back behind the boat the sea would open up into a gentle rolling valley of deep ocean blue. Life on board became easier, nothing as far as the eye could sea - and no ships within 30 miles. Occasionally one would pop up on our AIS (ship locations over the radio) screen, and maybe it would be close enough to see the loom of lights at night.  Under these conditions we kept a slightly more relaxed watch - making sure to check the horizon every 20 minutes at least . By the third day at sea we were well into the routine. Breakfast and the person who had done the 4am - 8am watch would sleep a bit more, the other would keep watch with a book in the cockpit. Adjust the solar panels and keep an eye on the new tow generator. The next major event of the morning, deciding what to have for lunch, then lunch. More reading of books, maybe watch a film, then by mid afternoon the person doing the 8pm-12am and 4am - 8am watches would have a nap. Dinner and washing up done before sunset and then night watches, napping in the cockpit, reading, taking a look around. After sun set we'd set the towing generator, that way the fridge and the autopilot could work all night. What luxury we live in! A highlight of the night watches, watching the ghostly shape of dolphins marked out by the phosphorescence in the sea.

After recording some decent daily mileage for the first few days the wind started to go light. The sea became smoother and smoother. We marvelled in the fact that we were at home, but also in the middle of no where. As long as the sails were filled we didn't mind only doing 2 or 3 knots - the boat was perfectly behaved and lounging in the sun reading a book was not exactly a hardship. We did occasionally think about what it would be like at home - standing on a quay waiting for the ferry, pitch black at 6am in the sleet or rain. Yeah - drifting about the Atlantic in 23°C is no hardship at all. To add to the enjoyment not only was John not seasick - he was able to basically function as a normal person above or below decks.

Midway through the passage with barely enough wind to fill the sails we started to see what looked like old fishing floats, or large pieces of rubbish. Staring through the binoculars we couldn't make out what it was, so we decided to turn on the motor and have a closer look. It turned out to be a sleeping turtle, floating in the sun. After waking it up, we were given an incredibly indignant look from the turtle as it dived to safety(photo included). We'll know better next time. For the next day we passed hundreds of sleeping turtles visible in the glassy smooth seas. In one 4 hour watch we made a good 3 miles by the log, and when the sails started to flog, we did turn on the engine for 2 or 3 hours to find a little breeze. By nightfall we were sailing again, slowly but that was OK.

Day 6 of the crossing we'd passed out of the light "patch" and the breeze had started to fill in again. It was nice to have had the slow days to relax and recharge. The new whisker pole that we bought from the rigger in Quinta Do Lorde came into it's own. The #2 jib was poled out and the main set back as far as it would go. Surprisingly like this we didn't roll as much as expected - life was still comfortable on board. The daily runs started to pick back up from a low of 57miles to 90, 105, 111. Much better. John managed to finish reading "Capital in the 21st Century" a book he's been "reading" for 5 years.

The closer we got to the Cape Verde islands we started to hear more boats on the radio, see more sailing boats on AIS and things started to feel a little crowded when a french boat radioed asking for a wind reading as their anemometer was dead. (15knots NNE in case you were wondering). During the last 2 days at sea we were wondering of we'd need to slow the boat down, so we could enter port in the daylight. There were various reports on the internet about lights not working at Palmeira, our destination. For the final night at sea we stood full watches - nervous about fishing boats around the island, and as it turns out didn't see a thing other than kamikaze flying fish throwing themselves into the cockpit.

By 9am with the island of Sal clearly visible we saw two other masts on the horizon, one coming from the east one from the west. Ellie turned off the autopilot, the race was on. After 10 days of being very casual with the sail trim, every bit of speed was trimmed from the sails. The westerly boat was gaining on us, but come the self declared finish line - we still had a comfortable margin, in fact we were in, anchored and enjoying out anchor dram before they popped their nose around the breakwater.

We'd anchored in 4m of water that was clear enough to still see the bottom, on a different continent, 9 days 23 hours and 1052(1950km) nautical miles since leaving (by GPS, the log was 908 miles.).  We averaged 4.4 knots(8.1km/h), our worst days run was 52 miles our best 112,  and just 9 hours of motoring.

After an easy, if protracted, sail from Porto Santo we arrived at the eastern most harbour in Madeira, Quinta do Lorde. It seemed a far more manageable target than our other option Calhetta on the western end of the island given the light winds.

Porto Santo was rather basic, a municipal marina built as a tease to attract investment - there are glossy renderings of what might be in the office. From one extreme to the other, Quinta do Lorde is multiple star hotel resort with a marina, built to look like a traditional Madeiran fishing village. I’m not sure how traditional the sea water pool and bar are… but we definately spent plently of time there considering their authenticity…

Fortunately for us and our list there is a good rigging shop in Quinta do Lorde. the list included; a more managable whisker pole (the weighty 1970’s pole we have would make an excellent replacement boom…or mast), some way of generating a bit more power while underway and a thrid reef in the main. Being the weekend when we arrived the shop was shut. It opened breifly as two Classe 40’s competing in the Trasat Jaques Vabre pulled in for repairs. Being used to seeing only cruising boats - gawping at these throughbred racers was fun. The crews pulled in and got to work immediately, given there is a 4 hour minimum stop for repairs, disappeared as soon as humanly possible. Bish Bash Bosh.

We decided to take a more genteel approach our boat work. Instead of cracking on with it we decided the best preparation was to play at being tourists. There was a day spent in Funchal wandering the streets, we found an interesting photography museum and a VERY touristy market that was no use at all. We spent a day attempting to ride bikes on the island, which wasn’t very successful, the roads were horribly steep and at times utterly unrideable. After the farce that was the bike ride, we hired a car, only to discover that half the roads the satnav sent us on we balked at taking the car up or down. Some of them when on the crest, disapeared so steeply beyond the bonnet we couldn’t see any indication if it was a road or just a cliff. Still we managed to visit the highest point of the island, not via the conventional route, but by a back road that you could only drive up in first gear. I suspect importers of clutches and brakes are filthy rich in Madeira. Our second day of car hire we decided to be a bit more sensible and stick to the main(ish) roads. The north of the island was much greener - the mountain sides pocked with irregular sized terraces. Up in the mountains we wandered along a levada, and passed a rainbow trout hatchery. Fish farms seem to get everywhere. Being up at 1500m above sea level, in shorts and light coats, we needed post walk fireside hot chocolate to warm up! It was quite koselig!

Eventually though we realised that the boat work wouldn’t do it’s self. So we book the main sail into the sailmakers, saw the rigger about the whisker pole, and quizzed him about some failings in our original baby stay design. While mooching about in the shop, we discovered a brand new Aquair tow genrator, long since out of production. The shop had ordered it for someone who left before it arrived. After a round of negotiating via email with it’s owner, we had a tow generator.

One of the not so nice features of all the marinas that we had visited in Portugal (there aren’t many anchorages on the exposed coasts of Portugal) is that swell always seems to work it’s way in eventually. By the time we’d spent a week at Quinta do Lorde the boat was never still, constantly snatching at the mooring lines. It’s a horrible situation, the irregualr movement, the fear that cleats or fairleads or even whole pontoons(as we saw in one marina!) will fail. The offshore waves had shifted direction and were somehow entering the marina, it looked like we’d be visiting Calhetta afterall.

Our day sail to Calhetta started with an exciting sleighride down wind. We ignored the tow genrators instructions to first try it in calm conditions and with the boat romping along threw out the propellor as soon as our depth sounder stopped reading the depth. With the wind bending around the island our course of south becoming west was all down wind. We passed Funchal, jib up, tow generator charging the batteries, grins on our faces. We were very happy with the state of the boat. Eventually the wind died in the lee of the mountains and the engine was started. We breifly tried sailing in the new wind from the western side of the island but the 90° wind shifts going from 2 to 20 knots coming off the mountains wasn’t really helpful, especially when you’re trying to get somewhere before dark.

Calhetta is an interesting port, it sits at the bottom of a sheer cliff squeezed between two hotels. It’s been wise to avoid it for a the past few years. A couple of years ago there was a  rock fall that damaged some shops and retaurants. Since then extensive work to stabalise the cliff face have been on going. It consisted of pnumatic drills running from 7am to 6pm. Not a relaxing prospect. During our stay it was much quieter, several rope access guys were dangling about fixing netting and wire to the cliff face. Something to watch when you’re lying in the cockpit contempating what to do for the day! The marina and artifical beach next door are just breakwaters built into the sea using big rocks and massive concrete blocks. During a winter storm in 2017 the waves tore apart the walls, leaving the swimming area exposed to the sea the old wall scattered on the bottom, it made excellent snorkeling . We watched a youtube video of the storm, it’s a sobering testament to the power of waves to see a them moving 3cubic meters of concrete like it’s nothing.

We ended up mooring next to our old neighbours from Porto Santo. In Calhetta we spent our time socialising, running around on a scooter, enjoying the only sand beach on the island and generally having fun in the sun. We kept an eye on the forecasts for an oportunity to get to Cape Verde, for a week it was blowing 30 knots with 3m plus significant waves. But the weekend after we arrived we had our break. After some sound advice from the good neighbours (the ones with 20 years criusing experience) we filled the boat with provisions, including a not insignificant quantity of good Portugeuse wine - whatever was on special offer. This was super easy as the supermarket was 500m from the pontoons and you could just wheel your trolly right up to the boat!

And with that is was time to leave Madeira. With a big storm brewing in the Atlantic and heading our way so it seemed every boat in the Marina was leaving to head south on the same day. The Good Neighbours were the first to go, we hoped to be just behind them but the engine had other plans. Everything was stowed, sails were readied, and excess mooring lines removed- we were ready for an unofficial race to the Canaries! Ellie went to turn on the engine….nothing….out came the engine manual and “Nigel”… an hour later, 3 taxi trips and 70 euros later we had a new starter battery, the only one that hadnt been replaced in Porto. The engine started, we sighed a sigh of relief and motored out of the breakwater for 10 days at sea- sailing direct to Cape Verde.

After the somewhat traumatic trip from Portugal it was a relief to be tied up in the marina and surrounded by such a friendly and welcoming bunch of fellow sailors. We spent a day or so tiding the boat up and making repairs to the main sail which had ejected a batten from its pocket on the first day out from Portugal. You always get chatting to people when you work on the boat, and this was no exception. We had arrived ahead of a wave of boats (who obviously waited for our front to pass before leaving) and it seemed we were not the only ones to have a bit of a rough crossing. The rain squalls had taken a few people by surprise; that was the easy bit for us!

We eventually dug the bikes out. Another couple had road bikes and assured us it was worth the effort. Out came they came in bits and pieces, a wheel or two, saddles, the frames all askew with the handle bars at an awkward but exact angle to fit in the locker. An hour or so later and we had two bikes ready and waiting for our adventures, much to the astonishment of our neighbours.

The next day we set off to explore the island, taking some small roads, then the "main road" out and around the mountain that makes the highest point. The roads were quiet, well paved and mostly an acceptable gradient- although the heat was a bit much at times and we did stop at village water taps for a dousing whenever we passed them. The island is  quite arid, not being tall enough to catch the rain clouds as neighbouring Madeira does. The north coast was a bit greener but not much, what greenery there was was cacti and pine trees.

Another ride took us out behind the airport onto quadbike tracks that criss-cross the dry plain in the middle of the island. This was a bit like cycling on Mars (I imagine), loads of red dust, gnarly rocks and steep gullys to play in. It was really fun,  and fortunately nobody broke a clavicle! Hurrah!

A highlight was to ride down the length of the island along to Calhetta on the western point. Here we would stop for a coffee, a pastel de nata and a coke (because we were far too hot!). The waitress knew our order by the second day and we became regulars. After our post ride refreshment it would be back along the straight road to the marina at the eastern point with a sprint finish for a road sign just before the road ran out. If we were feeling super keen we went up to an abandoned go kart track and did a few laps of that in homage to our Dunkerswell racing days of past. It's good to test your cornering every now and then, I still have it.

We had 10 days at Porto Santo, we never planned to stay that long! But the cheap marina rates and fabulous cycling were really hard to leave. We had a good routine of getting up and going for a ride or doing a boat job before it got too hot. Then in the afternoon we would head to the beach and mess about in the sea to cool down. It was really quite a step change from Portugal where the winter chill was making itself felt. This is, I guess, why people do it! The question of carrying on to the Caribbean had been lingering after the tough trip to Porto Santo. After a bit of time out, relaxing and assessing our options, as well as talking to people who had 20 years cruising experience and who assured us it was "easy from here" and absolutely worth it, then we both felt a bit more confident to carry on...but we did have a list of thing we wanted to fix before we crossed the Atlantic. Little did we know, but we sorted most of it out in our next port of call on Madeira. Sometimes it just feels like everything is going your way at last, and Porto Santo was that tipping point for us!

PS: Sorry for our washed out photos- on the bike we use our waterproof, knock proof camera which has a problem with exposure in sunny landscapes. Its the same on passage, and normally the lens is filthy too....bad camera.

How we managed to get it so completely wrong is a question we're still pondering. The morning we left Nazaré the weather forecast we downloaded gave us maximum 15 knots all down wind to Madeira. The first day potentially a frustrating 5 knots of wind. Almost enough to sail in.

Imagine our surprise when leaving the harbour there was 15 knots on the nose. Still a bouncy headsail change and we were all set, maybe it was a sea breeze...? Not long after, I (John) discovered why the seasickness medication said not to drink alcohol - the cheeky lunch beer before we left was deeply regretted as I hung over the side of the boat exorcising lunch and breakfast. 24 hours in we got a message that a cold font would pass over the next day. Maximum 15 knots down wind all the way? No chance.

Saturday morning, the main came down to 2 reefs, the #2 headsail was swapped for the #3 and eventually the main came down completely. By midday the jib was wrestled down and  storm jib was set, we slowly reached backward on our track waiting for the front to pass. It seemed a little excessive to have only the storm jib set in conditions that didn't seem to require it completely. Until a squall saw our rather unreliable wind gauge read a steady 38 knots:  The sea flattened, rain drops the size of peas soaked the boat and long streaks of rain and froth  lay on the surface of the sea. The storm jib didn't seem so unnecessary then. Eventually with the front came the wind shift we were promised for the whole trip. Only a tad more wind than we'd anticipated.

Early Sunday morning in the new wind we started to set a bit more sail, first the #3, then a double reefed main. Like that it stayed for the rest of the trip - reaching in 20 knots towards our destination. The only excitement was the occasional thundery rain squall that saw us dropping the main and running off with the wind. The boat log rarely gave us speeds above 5 knots, but the GPS was regularly over 7kts: we'll draw straws in Porto Santo to see who gets to go for a dive and clean the bottom.

With the boat ripping along the Wednesday morning arrival soon became Tuesday night, we contemplated slowing the boat down neither of us fancied another night time arrival. As the sun rose on Tuesday morning the faint outline of Porto Santo could be seen between rain clouds, if the boat hadn't already been at hull speed we would have shaken the reefs in the main to get there before sunset. 20 miles out, 1 bar of phone signal, the modern mariners sure fire sign the land is near. The boat blasted on, we all wanted to get in before nightfall!

By 1700 we were neatly sandwiched in a very snug berth in Porto Santo marina, having been directed in by the fellow cruisers. The boat, us, our clothes and all the lines were caked in salt from the wild ride. We quickly tidied the deck, ate dinner and slept until 5am. When the body clocks decided it was time to eat and go on watch... good job the snack box hadn't been put away.