Sailing in the Trades

Puffy cumulus dot the sky and break up the uniformity of another bluebird day. The 10-15 foot seas continue to roll in from the northern Atlantic which DK climbs up and over like rolling foothills that stretch into the horizon. The wind blows from behind at 15-20+ knots, a nice broad reach sail, pushing us to the west just like Columbus and the old clipper ships did for centuries as they headed for the Caribbean and the Americas. Our Monitor windvane holds the course and our newly replaced KISS wind generator spins effortlessly trickling the energy juice into our batteries. We have finally found the trade winds.

It's the morning of Day 11 for us since leaving the Canary Islands. We are indeed back in the tropics. Clothing is minimal, sunblock liberally applied, and a cold drink always appreciated. Dead flying fish lie as casualties on our deck from last night's starry ride, a thick layer of salt covers our dodger, and lines seem to web through our boat in every direction connecting sails, blocks, and our telescoped whisker pole standing ready for action off our starboard side. The main is reefed, the staysail taught, and our genoa partially furled up, all in sync to find the perfect balance of comfort and speed.

We did manage a quick stop-over at Mindelo harbor, in the dramatically beautiful Cape Verde Islands. We sailed in the morning of Day 8 and after circling the fuel dock for 4 hours waiting in line for diesel, we finally squeezed in between 2 100'+ mega-yachts to top up our tanks. The luxury mega-sailing yacht in front of us put in over 6000 liters (1500 gallons), which took over 3 hours to fill and almost caused a riot with all the small boats like us trying to do a quick fill of 100-300 liters each so they could slip out and away quickly. No luck, and some boat captains were fuming. The whole ordeal was painful, but by the mid-afternoon we were successful, yet exhausted and sun-baked, and tied up safely to the marina dock for an early restful night's sleep.

The Cape Verdes...a French protectorate, but more of it's "own" country, similar to "Hawaii" in the U.S. The people are mixed African and speak a local creole language. The landscape is jagged and raw, volcanic in nature, with beautiful verdant hills and peaks rising up from the sea. Cinder cones dot the landscape and clouds hang motionless up in the heights with lingering rainbows and fog settling overnight in the valleys.

There is life here. The islands are sparsely populated and much subsistence living occurs. Even though pretty poor, the people seem friendly and in our quick, less then 24 hour stay, we felt very welcome. In the Sea, there are abundant fish and they still have sharks. Big sharks. Unfortunately, times are quickly changing, as we sailed away we saw two big Japanese long-lining fishing boats coming into the harbor...so the fish and sharks are probably on their way out.

From a water-man perspective the Cape Verdes are a gem. The islands are compared to Hawaii for it's legendary surf breaks, the kite surfing on some of the islands is supposedly world class, and underwater scuba diving you can see just about every big pelagic in the ocean.

It's a shame that we can't do these islands justice. It's the only place we have stopped for such a short time, but one of those special spots you are happy to have discovered. We'll keep it on the radar for another time and day.

We untied the dock lines in the early afternoon, along with our friends, Uwe, Anne, and their daughter, Kara, on the San Francisco-based sailboat, Magnum, who were tied up right next to us. We spent the morning with them perusing the local open air market filling up once again with some fresh green spinach, fragrant fresh cilantro and mint, carrots, a papaya, and more bananas. We enjoyed a tasty coffee (my first since the Canaries) and had a local lunch together of a Cape Verdean mix of spiced rice and chicken at a downtown cafe. Big early Xmas hugs all around, as we are heading to different islands in the Caribbean and most likely won't run into each other again until Panama, a couple of months down the road.

Nic and I have decided to make landfall at Bequia, in the Grenadine island chain of the southern Caribbean. As I write this, we have 1850 more miles to go and we have already travelled approximately 1200 since leaving the Canary Islands. If all goes well we should arrive on either December 23, 24, or on Xmas day. In the meantime, we'll keep spending our time watching the ocean, thumbing through another book, and eating and sleeping the hours away.

Day 7, Decision Time

Cumulus clouds march by in orderly rows. Their heads are fluffy and light, their bellies flat and gray, the color of sharkskin. Scallops of cirrus clouds line the sky to the west. We have finally stopped rolling over running hills of tall water, 15 foot swell pushed down here by a big low pressure system in the North Atlantic. The wind has all but deserted us, sucked up by the system in the north.

The ocean has changes colors again from a deep murky green to steel gray and at last to the color I love, that screams deep ocean. Deep sea blue that only shows itself when fathoms of water lie under our hull and the sun penetrates just right. It is the color of late twilight, just before darkness swallows the last tinges of blue from the sky.

Gar is tired today, yet unable to sleep. The sails banged throughout the night as DK rolled from side to side. At latitude twenty-three degrees it is hot. The cabin temperature is 80 degrees and we both have a thin layer of sweat permanently clinging to our skin. We are happy to be returning to the beloved tropics but it will take some adjusting to.

A mahi struck one of our new lures yesterday and sadly took it with him, flashing blue and yellow until he disappeared. While it rarely happens, it sickens me every time; hopefully he will be able to loose the hook.

Our mung bean sprouts our ready again, perfect for a lunch of hippy salad: quinoa tabouli with fresh mint and parsley, cucumber, and garbanzo beans with bean sprouts and feta and a slice of yummy german bread with creamy avocado on the side. We've eaten 20 mandarins and 10 apples. Our cilantro is gone and mint following close behind. We still have two avocados, green and red peppers, carrots, a few stalks of celery, and two heads of cabbage.

We've used about 40 gallons of diesel already and have decided after a bit of waffling that we will tuck into Mindelo, in the Cape Verde Islands to refuel, get some freshies, and see a bit of the place (depending on when we leave; the trades are supposed to kick in again in a few days). Our lives are dictated by weather and the functioning of the boat and her crew. While it is tempting to continue onward to the Caribbean without making landfall, it seems prudent to stop and top up our fuel supplies. This year is a strange year with weather patterns in the Atlantic and we aren't willing to bob around at sea for an extra week or two making two knots and hour if the wind deserts us for days. Some may say we're not pure sailors; it's the choice we make and we're ok with it.

So I'll be casting aside my romantic vision for a 25 day passage and replace it with a welcome night or three of uninterrupted sleep, full diesel tanks, an abundant fresh food again. Mindelo tomorrow morning if all goes as planned.

Let the Passage Begin

Well amigos e amigas, it's finally time...

We're finally off tomorrow, December 1, to start Leg 1 of our passage across the Atlantic Ocean!

As you can see in the weather file, there is another nasty low-pressure system rolling in later this week (the more color, the stronger the wind/seas). We are going to follow the route I laid out by the arrows and head south down the African coast to attempt to avoid the strong southerly winds...and then start heading west towards the Cape Verde Islands. We may have a quick stop-over in the Cape Verde's if we need diesel or just want a break. Then, it's time to head the next 2000+ miles towards the southern Caribbean Sea. Maybe we'll even make it by Xmas.

No internet for us for the next 3-4 weeks while we are out in the ocean, but we'll try to blog here as much as possible and fill you in with some stories.

Looking forward to finally getting underway and connecting with the big blue once again!

Send us positive energy whenever you think of us floating around in our little boat.

Much love to all of you from the Salty Dawgers