Cape Verde to Antigua

Apologies for not writing sooner. I’ve mostly been sleeping and eating. I’m also anchored out in the middle of Falmouth harbour, with no internet or mains electricity, so opportunities for computing are limited. I haven’t felt the loss particularly, but I thought I should get something posted after being here a week or so.

It isn’t going to be possible to do it justice really. I might have another crack later, although I suspect that the longer I leave it, the more dreamlike my memories will become, and I might already have left it too late. I filmed bits and bobs while crossing, and it’s possible that these might see the light of day at some point, ruthlessly edited of course. I also have some notes in front of me now, although most are incomprehensible gibberish.

I left Mindelo on Friday 2 February. Roaring down the channel between Sao Vicente and Santo Antao at a steady seven and a half knots, I couldn’t resist the temptation to work out how long the 2000+ miles would take to cover at that unheard of speed. I promptly turned west too early and got becalmed. Santo Antao is very mountainous, and casts a long shadow. I spent a frustrating night catching and losing light winds, running the engine intermittently and, preferring to suffer the consequences of my latest poor decision alone, swearing at another boat that seemed intent on following me around in the dark.

Once we got out of the shadow, I headed roughly south west for a few days. There wasn’t any firm strategy behind this. Partly I wanted to sail with the wind and waves for an easier life, assuming that both would come more from the east as I worked my way west. Partly I wanted to avoid the strong winds that had been forecast. My friends had sailed the direct route and suggested I should head a lot further south to avoid the bad weather that they encountered. Mostly I think I was still attracted by the romantic idea of giving the boat her head and letting the wind’s natural path guide me. But I’d left the crossing very late, and was keen to make up for lost time. I had the quarantine and courtesy flags out and ready on the first day. So eventually I got impatient and switched to my usual approach, setting a direct course. I wanted every mile I sailed to bring me a mile closer to Antigua. I still had close to 2000 miles to cover, and was roughly 100 miles south of the direct route.

The weather was reasonably good. The seas were fairly choppy but the winds were strong so I made good speeds. As I was sailing on an angle to the waves and under foresail alone, the boat rolled a lot. I had to brace myself across the cabin at all times, making life below a challenge. Initially I didn’t look forward to night, but after a few days I preferred night sailing, as the seas were calmer and we made better speeds. I could set the hydrovane up, leave it all night, and rely on it to steer a pretty accurate course, allowing me to get reasonable sleep. I slept for an hour at a time, getting up to check the course and look out ahead. Probably my most vivid memories of the whole trip are of night sailing – the sensation of hurtling across a dark ocean with the cockpit lit dimly by the chartplotter, often with an amazing view of the stars overhead and always with the strange, animal noises of the sea all around.

At some point, the Hydrovane started to move sideways more than I thought healthy, which prompted reinforcement with a block and tackle arrangement on advice from Will at Hydrovane. He was extremely helpful and thankfully it survived to steer virtually the entire way. The day after contacting him, when I was considering stopping and trying to retighten the bolts holding it to the stern, I noticed I was being followed by a shark, and opted for discretion.

I did relatively little fishing in the end. On the first day I put my line in the water, I caught a nice mahi-mahi, but in general I found I didn’t have the time or inclination. At one point I did get a very large bull mahi-mahi on the line, but he ended up pulling himself off the lure as I was trying to pull him in. Probably for the best, as killing him, let alone eating him, would have been a struggle. Shortly after he escaped, I saw another shark, lit up beautifully in the crest of a wave, his pectoral fins an impossible luminous blue. Thankfully he was too crafty to take the lure. I found it easy to see why sailors are so superstitious. Putting the fishing line in the water, and pretty much doing anything other than sailing the boat, seemed a sure-fire way to get the wind to increase and the seas to get rougher. There was also an awful lot of sargasso weed in the water, which made fishing impractical most of the time.

The flying fish were a constant source of entertainment. Evolution has given them the ability to soar gracefully, sometimes for amazing distances. It hasn’t given them the ability to land gracefully; they suffered brutal headlong ditchings every time. Every night some poor unfortunates made the mistake of landing on my deck. I saved a few larger ones that I heard flapping, but the smaller ones, some impossibly tiny, died, and every morning saw the same sad procession round the deck as I committed their miraculous little bodies to the deep.

I’m generally happy in my own company, but the total solitude wasn’t always easy to deal with. I haven’t checked the log, but I’d guess I didn’t see another boat for close to two weeks, and I didn’t speak to any of them. My mental state became fairly odd. I made lists. I talked to myself a lot. Occasionally I had conversations with friends or family. If I wasn’t talking I was singing. A lot of Beatles, even though I haven’t listened to them much since I was much younger. I sang ‘simply the best’ and ‘you’re still standing’ to the Hydrovane several times a day. Other parts of the boat and certain events had their own songs. In the middle of the ocean, it struck me that I could possibly be the most isolated person on the planet. I emailed my dad and brother. Naturally, neither replied.

Around that point, after days of clear skies, perfectly regimented rows of almost identical cotton wool clouds heralded a squally period, which lasted a few days. Thankfully the squalls came during the day, with plenty of warning. I was sailing under genoa alone, so I rolled most of it up and ran before the wind and rain, often in only approximately the right direction. One squall brought the strongest winds I have sailed in. Another the heaviest rain I have ever seen, flattening the waves and shrouding them in a blanket of silver mist. The sea got noticeably warmer.

The best weather came in a period of a few days after those squalls. I finally hoisted the mainsail, with part of the genoa poled out to windward. However, as we got closer to Antigua, stronger winds started to come at night and I found it harder to sleep. I took the mainsail down on the last full day, as it was clear I wouldn’t be able to arrive before sunset. That night, I had to heave to in a strong squall, and then again a few miles outside the harbour to wait for sunrise. There is a large reef at the harbour entrance, Bishop Shoal, and the lights don’t always work apparently, so I didn’t want to come in at night. After the sun came up, I headed in, but was caught by another big squall at the entrance. Even hiding my head under a canvas awning, I had to scoop rainwater out of my eyes in order to see where I was going. Fortunately, my friends Adrian and Sam had been keeping track of my progress, so they radioed me and guided me to a good anchoring spot.

In all, the trip took about seventeen and a half days. The boat held up very well. Aside from the Hydrovane issue, which I should be able to fix easily I think, I had some problems with my batteries and reefing lines, but nothing major. Thankfully, Falmouth has a good chandlery, so I should be able to sort these out too. I’ve already bought myself a brand new Tohatsu outboard. I’ve found I am unable to say Tohatsu normally, and must bellow it like a Samurai battle cry. It also already has its own song, probably the first of many.

Falmouth and English Harbour next door are laid back, villagey, with some interesting historical buildings. They are also, incongruously, packed with superyachts – mostly great monuments to their owners’ lack of taste, although there are some J-Class yachts that I need to have a closer snoop at. I’ll probably stay here for a month at least. Antigua is a small island, so I should be able to cover most of it on the bike, and I’m planning to move the boat at least once while I’m here, possibly to Jolly Harbour. I haven’t decided what, if any, other islands I may visit yet. I wanted to visit Barbuda, but apparently it was severely damaged by the hurricanes and might be best avoided. As you can imagine, the pace of life here is pretty sedate. I may find I decide to take it easy here for a couple of months before crossing back to the Azores, probably in early May.

Here’s a picture of the middle of the Atlantic Ocean: