Whaddawewant? We want a mahi mahi or Dorado or something else blue and shiny, and we want it now. All we ever seem to do is lose bits of our lines. Many multicoloured squid and wobbling thingies have we lost and nary a tiddler to show for it. Tuesday 29th was pretty kind to us and allowed us to trundle on at 6 to 8 knots with our trademark 3 white sail rig. We could have tried harder and hoisted a large floppy coloured thingy but we had learnt not to trust that fluky little 20 knot tailwind. Or perhaps we're just lazy. Anyway today consisted of more sock drying, a bit of one armed sunspanner wrestling, cured spanish jamon and cheese, fruitcake and earl grey tea, and a bit of frantic midday battling with a burst of 25 knots with 2.5 metre swells. David discovered that pasta jars don't bounce and that gravity causes the red stuff inside to get everywhere. His tuna pasta gunge was pretty good all the same.
AM Weds 30th
Overnight last night the wind fell lighter and became more fluky, and a big crossing swell and sea gave us an uneasy corkscrewing motion which required constant helm and sail trimming. All a bit tired this morning and looking forward to our 2nd ever bacon and egg brekkie. The whole day has been declared 'half-way day' as its impossible to define exactly what half way is (time, log distance, straight line distance etc). Nick says he will have a seawater wash on deck and then bake bread and 'stick bits in it'. David says he would like a mid Atlantic swim. Difficult in a 2 metre swell....but we'll have a look this evening. Still pootling along under our strange rig, but perhaps we'll regain courage today to put up one of the coloured beasties so we can gain a few more miles. Anyway must go as brekkie preps and daily radio net calls.
Position 16d 49.4 N; 36d 8.1 W
Tootle Pip
Mike, David, & Nick on RAPAREE
Wednesday, 30 November 2011
Tuesday, 29 November 2011
29th November - Windy and Rolly Dhobey Days in the Trades
28 & 29 November
Monday morning, all bright eyed and bushy tailed today after a peaceful night's trading under a starry sky. We haven't managed to catch any whales to keep the crew occupied with scrimshaw yet, so skipper creates job list as diversionary tactic. Sock and smalls washing, loo cleaning, sleeping bag ionising, that sort of stuff. We have now cut deep into trade winds territory so a gybe to the west is needed. A 30 min fumble of poles and lines. At least nothing stuck aloft this time. Skipper would love the chute up but ruefully regards his bruises and chickens out. 6.5 knots under white sails will have to do instead. Morning radio report shows our position in the fleet to be pretty good, although one 44ft boat which had managed to achieve about the best handicap in the fleet (better than the small boats and on a par with a gaff rigged coalbarge towing a parachute) was mysteriously flying along in front at 8 knots. Hmm....
Nick instructing David on the mysteries of noon sights with the Ebco Special plastic sextant. The boat looks like a Kowloon dhoby wallah's rickshaw...draped from end to end in socks and M&S shreddies. No sign of any fish whatever, apart from little flying jobbies. One boat in the fleet has caught so many dorados that their freezer is full. Freezer...who needs one?
As I write, our eminent surgeon is washing out the loo floor wearing his surgical gloves, a matelot t-shirt and a straw boater. David, by the way, was instrumental in using tendon repair techniques to sew together our spinnaker halyard yesterday. Obviously surgeons are after all more useful on boats than naval officers. Clocks back 1 hour today as we have crossed the 30 deg W line. Although it confuses us, we have to keep doing this as the wretched sun won't stay still.
The working day turns into a very bouncy and black night with huge surf topped rollers cork-screwing us along on our beam ends. The wind gets up to over 25 or so and stays there. We have a full main, and genoa, and also a large staysail out to windward. The foresails are boomed out and preventered. Every sheet and guy has anti-chafe running blocks and lines and the main is pressed hard into the lower backstays. The new running backstays seem to be working hard to keep the mast from flexing, but, in short, we are over-pressed and the rig is twanging like Vanessa Mae's fiddle. Getting a reef in the main and genoa is a 30 min muscular struggle but once done, Raparee settles into a fast ungainly and bumpy ride. Our speed during surges between 7 and 9 knots and each phosphorescent sprayed surge is loud and furious.
Early AM Tues 29, time to lick our wounds and decide strategy for the day. We are getting in 160 mile days, and are 140 miles from our halfway point, but overpressed and still not quite going in the right direction. Our autopilot is working hard, but is continuously on full load, so a change of course and rig is essential. But fast downwind sailing course changes also mean complicated rig changes and we are all a bit whacked and bruised. Maybe if we wait a bit, the sunshine will solve it all and anyway the wind might change more in our favour......?
Monday morning, all bright eyed and bushy tailed today after a peaceful night's trading under a starry sky. We haven't managed to catch any whales to keep the crew occupied with scrimshaw yet, so skipper creates job list as diversionary tactic. Sock and smalls washing, loo cleaning, sleeping bag ionising, that sort of stuff. We have now cut deep into trade winds territory so a gybe to the west is needed. A 30 min fumble of poles and lines. At least nothing stuck aloft this time. Skipper would love the chute up but ruefully regards his bruises and chickens out. 6.5 knots under white sails will have to do instead. Morning radio report shows our position in the fleet to be pretty good, although one 44ft boat which had managed to achieve about the best handicap in the fleet (better than the small boats and on a par with a gaff rigged coalbarge towing a parachute) was mysteriously flying along in front at 8 knots. Hmm....
Nick instructing David on the mysteries of noon sights with the Ebco Special plastic sextant. The boat looks like a Kowloon dhoby wallah's rickshaw...draped from end to end in socks and M&S shreddies. No sign of any fish whatever, apart from little flying jobbies. One boat in the fleet has caught so many dorados that their freezer is full. Freezer...who needs one?
As I write, our eminent surgeon is washing out the loo floor wearing his surgical gloves, a matelot t-shirt and a straw boater. David, by the way, was instrumental in using tendon repair techniques to sew together our spinnaker halyard yesterday. Obviously surgeons are after all more useful on boats than naval officers. Clocks back 1 hour today as we have crossed the 30 deg W line. Although it confuses us, we have to keep doing this as the wretched sun won't stay still.
The working day turns into a very bouncy and black night with huge surf topped rollers cork-screwing us along on our beam ends. The wind gets up to over 25 or so and stays there. We have a full main, and genoa, and also a large staysail out to windward. The foresails are boomed out and preventered. Every sheet and guy has anti-chafe running blocks and lines and the main is pressed hard into the lower backstays. The new running backstays seem to be working hard to keep the mast from flexing, but, in short, we are over-pressed and the rig is twanging like Vanessa Mae's fiddle. Getting a reef in the main and genoa is a 30 min muscular struggle but once done, Raparee settles into a fast ungainly and bumpy ride. Our speed during surges between 7 and 9 knots and each phosphorescent sprayed surge is loud and furious.
Early AM Tues 29, time to lick our wounds and decide strategy for the day. We are getting in 160 mile days, and are 140 miles from our halfway point, but overpressed and still not quite going in the right direction. Our autopilot is working hard, but is continuously on full load, so a change of course and rig is essential. But fast downwind sailing course changes also mean complicated rig changes and we are all a bit whacked and bruised. Maybe if we wait a bit, the sunshine will solve it all and anyway the wind might change more in our favour......?
Monday, 28 November 2011
27 November - firmly in the Trades and battling (South)west
All up for early start untangling stuff. A crazily busy morning. Pull spinnaker halyard out of mast by sewing another halyard to its tail. This in order to replace the smashed head block. Multiple painful mast ascents. Skipper goes aloft and swearing at the waves 50ft below as he clings on with teeth while assembling and mousing 3 shackles and block at crazingly gyrating masthead (cliche warning). Job finished at 1330 with all crew feeling thrashed. Time for cheese and fruitcake. Desperate to get some revs on to improve our speed but too knackered to face up to another hoist of that devil's bag of tricks called a cruising chute. Decide that as its Sunday aft we should be happy to do some dhobeying and trundle along at 6kts under twin jibs and main. Skipper slightly pained at possible loss of rankings but tired crew make painful mitsakes for little gain. Next debate is when to turn west (which could be a slow dead downwind run) as we are now keeping the wind on the quarter to maintain speed. Sooner or later this will turn to handicap rather than gain. We've got to work out when to turn.
Still trying fishing but nowt gained except for loss of 3 traces and lures. Plenty of flying fish, but no big scary creatures. They are being kept at bay by the dreadful smells emanating from the boat. Stale bodies, rotten clothes, sour milk, cabbage, old fruit, bodily waste etc. A bit like an old bungalow in Eastbourne or Bournmouth I suppose, and when did you see any whales there? Now that reminds me, where did I put that Stenna Stairlift for the mast?
Mike, Nick, David, on RAPAREE
Still trying fishing but nowt gained except for loss of 3 traces and lures. Plenty of flying fish, but no big scary creatures. They are being kept at bay by the dreadful smells emanating from the boat. Stale bodies, rotten clothes, sour milk, cabbage, old fruit, bodily waste etc. A bit like an old bungalow in Eastbourne or Bournmouth I suppose, and when did you see any whales there? Now that reminds me, where did I put that Stenna Stairlift for the mast?
Mike, Nick, David, on RAPAREE
Sunday, 27 November 2011
26 November - Into the trades, and a spot of bother (again)
26 November - Into the trades, and a spot of bother (again) We just managed to scrape in our daily 144 miles over the last 2 days, ......we need to keep up our 6 knot average. Progress is helped by our magic rig. Boomed out staysail to windward, well forward and fairly flat so it feeds wind into the genoa to fill it at all times even well offwind. This rig is almost as fast as a cruising chute and is safe and stable. We had hoped for quiet Saturday at sea, and so it started. First signs of tradewind clouds and a little less swell. Temperature definitely on the up. Getting in our stride and taking on little jobs on board. We see other boats about every 2 hours and sometimes chat on VHF. There is a big HF SSB chat session amongst the cruising section at noon daily so we can get the weather, and positions and swop banter.
Crusising chute up each afternoon once any overnight chaos has been cleared. This a very large and sometimes troublesome sail which we fly with pole, sheets, and guy, as an asymmetric spinnaker. Pulls like a trooper but a bugger to launch and recover. Up today at 1300 and crack along all afternoon. Cross 20 degrees North at 1500.
As evening arrives, our troubles begin. Time to get 'the thing' down. David is the bowman, with Nick in the cockpit and skipper faffing on deck directing. Guy and sheet slipped and the halyard run, but the sail stays firmly up while its bits begin to wrap up everything forward of the mast. Panic ensues and darkness arrives. Skipper dons his climbing gear for bumpy ascent. Ropes everywhere. Up aloft the problem is obvious. Spinnaker block mangled and halyard jammed in the remains. Skipper clinging onto 30ft arc of swing and wishing he was elsewhere and 30yrs younger. Once released, the chute falls far below into our bow wave. Battered descent to deck with mangled halyard block. Deck looks like aftermath of tsunami. Crack on with getting out big genoa and boomed out staysail. Leave the junk till tomorrow. Must keep speed up. Crew make skipper go below to cook Chili as he is getting in the way. Beer all round. All totally knackered and bruised after 3 hours of mayhem. (Fastnet race anyone?). Not looking forward to tomorrows mast climb to reinstall spinnaker halyard and block. Crossed tracks with 2 boats tonight. At least we managed a 146 mile day despite the knockbacks, and tomorrow we crack 1000 since the start.
Not looking forward to further mast-climbing.
M, D, N on RAPAREE
Crusising chute up each afternoon once any overnight chaos has been cleared. This a very large and sometimes troublesome sail which we fly with pole, sheets, and guy, as an asymmetric spinnaker. Pulls like a trooper but a bugger to launch and recover. Up today at 1300 and crack along all afternoon. Cross 20 degrees North at 1500.
As evening arrives, our troubles begin. Time to get 'the thing' down. David is the bowman, with Nick in the cockpit and skipper faffing on deck directing. Guy and sheet slipped and the halyard run, but the sail stays firmly up while its bits begin to wrap up everything forward of the mast. Panic ensues and darkness arrives. Skipper dons his climbing gear for bumpy ascent. Ropes everywhere. Up aloft the problem is obvious. Spinnaker block mangled and halyard jammed in the remains. Skipper clinging onto 30ft arc of swing and wishing he was elsewhere and 30yrs younger. Once released, the chute falls far below into our bow wave. Battered descent to deck with mangled halyard block. Deck looks like aftermath of tsunami. Crack on with getting out big genoa and boomed out staysail. Leave the junk till tomorrow. Must keep speed up. Crew make skipper go below to cook Chili as he is getting in the way. Beer all round. All totally knackered and bruised after 3 hours of mayhem. (Fastnet race anyone?). Not looking forward to tomorrows mast climb to reinstall spinnaker halyard and block. Crossed tracks with 2 boats tonight. At least we managed a 146 mile day despite the knockbacks, and tomorrow we crack 1000 since the start.
Not looking forward to further mast-climbing.
M, D, N on RAPAREE
Saturday, 26 November 2011
25 November
A busy day, but well-fed day starts at 0700. A dawn struggle on the foredeck , but after an hour all hands have fixed and untangled the wrapped cruising chute and genoa. David discovered stbd upper spreader steadily making its way through the Mainsail. 3 foot long seam split. We heave-to to reef the mainsail to bring the damage below the upper spreader and to flatten the sail to keep it off spreaders. Deployed furler genoa to stbd with boomed out no.1 staysail to port.
After David's amazing grilled cured Spanish bacon on brown bread breakfast our working day continued with reassembling the cruising chute and its bits and lowering and repairing the mainsail. Not brave enough for stitching yet so big patches were cut from a bolt of sticky-back dacron, and stuck on either side of sail. Difficult to do as even with sail lowered the job was 8 ft up and much effort was needed just clinging on to the boom.
Fishing tried again today by Nick, who is now into his 3rd lost trace, still with no visible reward. Obviously something out there bites. We probably couldnt handle it anyway even if we caught it.
First proper all sit down at table type supper this evening, for Mike's pork, beans and potato casserole.
Night watch with Orion and his friends. Counting Jupiters moons by binoculars. Rolling along in a phosphorescent spray under our strange hybrid 3-sail rig. No-one else in sight. Snoring, and other noises, and red lights below.
M, D, N
After David's amazing grilled cured Spanish bacon on brown bread breakfast our working day continued with reassembling the cruising chute and its bits and lowering and repairing the mainsail. Not brave enough for stitching yet so big patches were cut from a bolt of sticky-back dacron, and stuck on either side of sail. Difficult to do as even with sail lowered the job was 8 ft up and much effort was needed just clinging on to the boom.
Fishing tried again today by Nick, who is now into his 3rd lost trace, still with no visible reward. Obviously something out there bites. We probably couldnt handle it anyway even if we caught it.
First proper all sit down at table type supper this evening, for Mike's pork, beans and potato casserole.
Night watch with Orion and his friends. Counting Jupiters moons by binoculars. Rolling along in a phosphorescent spray under our strange hybrid 3-sail rig. No-one else in sight. Snoring, and other noises, and red lights below.
M, D, N
Friday, 25 November 2011
24th November............later that day!
PM 24th
Well weren't we smug today. After our Orca sighting and crossing into the tropics, things went swimmingly well. Proper Spanish lunch from our honorary spaniard, Nick. Attempted fishing for Dorado (loss of trace and squid lure thingy). Successful hoist of big asymmetric cruising chute, flown as a spinnaker. Flew straight and level until sunset and opened out the miles. Then came our problems. Never leave things too late. It gets dark very quickly very early in this here parish, and we weren't ready. When it came to lowering, boy did things go wrong. We got most of the sail down but the halyard and snuffing system took great delight in tying knots at the top of the mast so that a mess of lines and haliards now decorate the forestay trapping the genoa and leaving us a tangle of loose and flapping sail around the bow and forestay. We rig the inner forestay and struggle to raise our No1 staysail which we pole out. It pulls, but not as well as the real thing and so we limp along for the rest of the night at a more sedate pace. We stare forlornly at the mess on the foredeck and wonder grimly which eejit goes up the stick tomorrow to attack the tangle aloft.
M, D, N on Raparee
Well weren't we smug today. After our Orca sighting and crossing into the tropics, things went swimmingly well. Proper Spanish lunch from our honorary spaniard, Nick. Attempted fishing for Dorado (loss of trace and squid lure thingy). Successful hoist of big asymmetric cruising chute, flown as a spinnaker. Flew straight and level until sunset and opened out the miles. Then came our problems. Never leave things too late. It gets dark very quickly very early in this here parish, and we weren't ready. When it came to lowering, boy did things go wrong. We got most of the sail down but the halyard and snuffing system took great delight in tying knots at the top of the mast so that a mess of lines and haliards now decorate the forestay trapping the genoa and leaving us a tangle of loose and flapping sail around the bow and forestay. We rig the inner forestay and struggle to raise our No1 staysail which we pole out. It pulls, but not as well as the real thing and so we limp along for the rest of the night at a more sedate pace. We stare forlornly at the mess on the foredeck and wonder grimly which eejit goes up the stick tomorrow to attack the tangle aloft.
M, D, N on Raparee
Thursday, 24 November 2011
Raparee Days 4 to 5 (23/24 Nov) Nearly Tropeeecal
Busy couple of days rolling along, still under main and poled out genny. Speeds between 5.5 and 7.5 knots. Daily runs so far between 140 and 168. If poss we'd like to keep at least 144 (6 knot average). Amazingly starry night last night and nicve soft evening breeze. Time to get out the books and study the star pointers. Spagh Bol last night, and our first beers since leaving. Crossed VERY close (feet) from another yacht in pitch blackness (in silence). We very slowly left him astern...the conditions suited us, so he may well catch us later.
Nick got a shock during the morning watch as he heard this snort and saw a huge fin only feet away ahead of us. It was over 20ft long, and an Orca, according to the guide pics. It turned away very quickly just in time and we missed him by inches.
This morning's celebration was the crossing of the Tropic of Cancer, at 0730 ships time. Tiny tots of Cap'n Morgan's Rum were knocked back and phots in cockpit.
From Nick:
There was an old boat in the ARC
Whose crew were partial to shark
while on a dead run,
they landed a big one
But its bite was bad for their barque
David has entered a one man beard growing competition and has taken to wearing a mediaeval doge's hat.
Mike B
Nick M
Dr David Mc
Nick got a shock during the morning watch as he heard this snort and saw a huge fin only feet away ahead of us. It was over 20ft long, and an Orca, according to the guide pics. It turned away very quickly just in time and we missed him by inches.
This morning's celebration was the crossing of the Tropic of Cancer, at 0730 ships time. Tiny tots of Cap'n Morgan's Rum were knocked back and phots in cockpit.
From Nick:
There was an old boat in the ARC
Whose crew were partial to shark
while on a dead run,
they landed a big one
But its bite was bad for their barque
David has entered a one man beard growing competition and has taken to wearing a mediaeval doge's hat.
Mike B
Nick M
Dr David Mc
Wednesday, 23 November 2011
All boomed out and plodding along.
Yesterday evening ended with a squall and showers, right in the middle of our boomed out goosewinging experiments. Also enjoying the ride was a large family of striped dolphins keen to show off their surfing skills, with the more extrovert ones taking to the air right over the bow. Manage our first decent 'all settled in all crew together' type meal (tuna and pasta gunge) since leaving Las Palmas. Skipper manages first all over wash using only eggcup full of hot water. Also put our clocks back, so now we're more confused, as the concept of creating our own time zones whenever we like is weird. I think we should go forward 6 hours on alternate days.
Mike the Skip
Dr Dave Mc
Nick the (ex) Pongo
Mike the Skip
Dr Dave Mc
Nick the (ex) Pongo
Tuesday, 22 November 2011
22nd November - Day 3: Rolling about a bit
Here we are miles from anywhere. 3 men in a boat. Shambolic I can tell you. Not in keeping with naval tradition. Some of the crew failed to wash to day. One hasn't even washed this month. Very rolly out here on the briny. Difficult to keep up with my knitting. We have a competition on board to make welcome mats out of beard hair and baggywrinkle out of another type of curlier hair. This is in total contrast to the rest of the fleet who are surging ahead under double poled parasailers while catching 30ft Dorado for filleting for their freezers. We are so far behind that we are thinking of joining next years ARC as well. David keeps cutting himself. I think its accidental although it could also be a cry for help. Nick was sick a few times but this might have been a direct result of my mushroom and red pepper casserole. I have only slept fitfully in crumpled positions wherever I last fell over.
Must go as the front sail keeps wobbling a bit and the back one looks very tight. Waves here are very big and wet but the water inside them is mostly fairly warm but it doesn't go with the carpets.
Skipper Mike
+ Dave + Nick on RAPAREE
Must go as the front sail keeps wobbling a bit and the back one looks very tight. Waves here are very big and wet but the water inside them is mostly fairly warm but it doesn't go with the carpets.
Skipper Mike
+ Dave + Nick on RAPAREE
Tuesday, 15 November 2011
5-15 November at Las Palmas
Working away on boat at snags of all sorts. Fridge and main SSB radio playing up. Fridge is old and can't get spares or support. Radio engineers on the island are all busy with mega yachts right until we are due to leave. Radio is a must for the ARC so its all a bit of a pain in the butt. If I can get the radio working then I will be able to post simple messages on the blog via an HF Radio/Web service provider called SailMail. Alternatively, I may get someone ashore to put blogs in and I will try and get basic text to them via SSB.
Las Palmas is very busy for the ARC season. About 250 extra boats and 1500 extra yotties crammed into the marina. The little cafes and bars are crammed as hell. Its all a bit like the Anchor Bar in Cowes week. There are some huge beasties here, and I don't mean the womenfolk of this manor. There are Oyster 80's, Discovery 90's, and Swan 75's, and thats just the small ones. Some of the more bling boaties have ickle underwater floodlights for the mullet to see where they are going.
Its been a damn busy 10 days or so and the boat down below looks like the aftermath of a tsunami. Haven't had a chance to get any tourist stuff in. Prob have to come back in the future. Seems a nice place, although I hadn't realised Las Palmas is a world transgender/transexual hotspot. Read into that what you like. You do see an unusual type of dress sense out and about on the streets.
1st of noo crew joins this PM. David Mac the Irish surgeon. 2nd new crew joins Thursday. Nick, experienced sailor and ex-pongo chappy now living in Spain. Should help with the lingo over the last few days I guess. Anyway must get o as busy fings to do. Sorry once again about the photos. No time and no facilities.
Will try and do one more before transatlantic arc departure on Sunday.
Las Palmas is very busy for the ARC season. About 250 extra boats and 1500 extra yotties crammed into the marina. The little cafes and bars are crammed as hell. Its all a bit like the Anchor Bar in Cowes week. There are some huge beasties here, and I don't mean the womenfolk of this manor. There are Oyster 80's, Discovery 90's, and Swan 75's, and thats just the small ones. Some of the more bling boaties have ickle underwater floodlights for the mullet to see where they are going.
Its been a damn busy 10 days or so and the boat down below looks like the aftermath of a tsunami. Haven't had a chance to get any tourist stuff in. Prob have to come back in the future. Seems a nice place, although I hadn't realised Las Palmas is a world transgender/transexual hotspot. Read into that what you like. You do see an unusual type of dress sense out and about on the streets.
1st of noo crew joins this PM. David Mac the Irish surgeon. 2nd new crew joins Thursday. Nick, experienced sailor and ex-pongo chappy now living in Spain. Should help with the lingo over the last few days I guess. Anyway must get o as busy fings to do. Sorry once again about the photos. No time and no facilities.
Will try and do one more before transatlantic arc departure on Sunday.
Monday, 14 November 2011
5-6 November. Morro Jable to Las Palmas GC
Apologies for the delays everyone. This is about my 10th attempt to update the blog. Unfortunately getting consistently reliable wifi has been a pain in the butt. I've got lots of photos but pretty difficult to find the time to edit and download them.
We (myself and Min, my sister, from Dublin) left Morro Jable at the bottom of FuerteV at 0530 last Sat morning, after spending an hour unshackling our chains and snubbers. It was forecast to be a 4.6m swell day, but at least the wind was to be in the right direction. It was a dramatic dawn with cold katabatic winds sweeping down from the barren hills and a lowering dawn sky and a pale ghost of a moon. As we needed to keep well south of the lighthouse and final headland to avoid offlying rocks we carried on motor-sailing until well after dawn. The first few hours of this little 55 mile trip were a rough old ride with a mighty big swell up the stern. Finally by late morning the sky cleared, the sun came out, and we found ourselves rolling along under single reefed main at 7.5 kts towards the N coast Gran Canaria.
Land-ho by 1230 and the rest was a bit of a routine ship avoidance and coasting exercise.
Las Palmas is a big bustling busy harbour with lots of stuff at anchor and much movement of container ships and cruise liners. The yacht marina, muelle derportivo, is tucked into the inner left hand side of the harbour.
We got in just in time to see the harbour office closing for the day so we were left to our own devices at the reception pontoon along with some mighty fancy big yachts. In fact Las Palmas is full of ginagorous superyachts. Swan and Oyster 80's are just so 'now' at the moment. Must get one.
Anyway its 0049 now and I'm falling asleep so back later.
We (myself and Min, my sister, from Dublin) left Morro Jable at the bottom of FuerteV at 0530 last Sat morning, after spending an hour unshackling our chains and snubbers. It was forecast to be a 4.6m swell day, but at least the wind was to be in the right direction. It was a dramatic dawn with cold katabatic winds sweeping down from the barren hills and a lowering dawn sky and a pale ghost of a moon. As we needed to keep well south of the lighthouse and final headland to avoid offlying rocks we carried on motor-sailing until well after dawn. The first few hours of this little 55 mile trip were a rough old ride with a mighty big swell up the stern. Finally by late morning the sky cleared, the sun came out, and we found ourselves rolling along under single reefed main at 7.5 kts towards the N coast Gran Canaria.
Land-ho by 1230 and the rest was a bit of a routine ship avoidance and coasting exercise.
Las Palmas is a big bustling busy harbour with lots of stuff at anchor and much movement of container ships and cruise liners. The yacht marina, muelle derportivo, is tucked into the inner left hand side of the harbour.
We got in just in time to see the harbour office closing for the day so we were left to our own devices at the reception pontoon along with some mighty fancy big yachts. In fact Las Palmas is full of ginagorous superyachts. Swan and Oyster 80's are just so 'now' at the moment. Must get one.
Anyway its 0049 now and I'm falling asleep so back later.
Friday, 4 November 2011
2-4 Nov 2011 - Puerto Castilio to Morro Jable
Amazingly starlit evening at Puerto Castilio. Jupiter so clear and bright thats its moons can be seen with the knackered eye. Even better with binos. As we're now only at 28 or so North most stuff is in unfamiliar positions to our Northern eye. Anyway I digress. Call the hands 0430 but slow start. Pitch black. Squeeze our way out. Sea lumpy. Bloody wind on the nose. Typical. This part of the Canaries is famed for its steady N'ly winds. What do we get?. Bloody SW'lies...and fresh as well. This coast is a long and exposed one in this wind direction. We start a long and tedious day of motor-sailing-tacking. The land hereabouts is very dramatic. Great sandy seeps and dunes with huge volcanic backdrop. Little white med-style villages clinging to sun scorched rocky headlands. Here and there huge ugly anglo german holiday splurges of concrete and towel bedecked sun loungers.
The plan was to head for the Southern end of Fuerte, the cat's tail, and find shelter for the night before taking on the 60 miles of rather exposed open ocean between us and Gran Canaria. This would not be a problem in the normal prevailing airstream, but for us I saw problems ahead. Not that I let on to Min. All the advertised anchorages were exposed with a big surf running. The swell forecast was for 4 metres. The only nearby harbour, Morro Jable, was a commercial one. The scant information I had was that yachts could only use it if they had applied to a central government agency 2 weeks in advance on a special form. A not unusual procedure for some of the lesser ports in the Canaries.
We didnt have much choice, we would either have to run back up the coast or chance our luck to the harbour authorities. I was getting tired and night and darkness were nigh. It didnt help my state of mind that there were 2 huge ferries in the harbour rising and falling on the swell. Their tail ramps were banging and scraping up and down the slipways making violent bellowing sounds like those of huge distant minotaurs, leviathans, dinosaurs, and scary things of that ilk. Anyway in we swept on the entry surf and thankfully found ourselves some space amongst some raggle taggle pontoons of local boats. By heck was it bouncy though. The boat was dancing around like Michael Flatley dying for a wee. Hundreds of springs, chains, bicycles, bungee, tyres, warps etc would be needed to keep us within jumping ashore distance of our pontoon.
Anyway once we had recovered it was off to see El Capitano in the Port Offices. Briefcase bulging with every piece of paperwork on board. He turned out to be a pleasant and welcoming chap, and our fee was only about E11. Min thought he was a very handsome chap indeed, in his taut well tailored crisp ghardia theevil type uniform. In fact I was so relieved I even thought he was as well.
Off to town 2kms over the hills to the biggest Eurospar I've ever seen. Bulging with everything.
Really great meal ashore in the big dockside fisherman's cooperative cafe/bar/restaurant. Amazing mix of grilled fresh fish.
VERY bouncy night alongside. Much chafing, rubbing, and snatching. Up lots of times to adjust our bits. I realise these activities might seem a bit strange, but rest assured they were not the results of us inviting the George Cloon-alike Port Captain to spend the night on board.
Friday 4th Sunny and blowing with the odd rain squall. At least its 28 degrees. Awaiting a weather window for the crossing. Forecast for 20 kts on the nose with 4 metre swell. Going down later to 15 knots on the beam so I think we'll pay El Capitano a bit more and bide a wee while in our bouncy jerky berth.
TAFNF and TTFN. MB & crew on RAPAREE at Morro Jabel.
The plan was to head for the Southern end of Fuerte, the cat's tail, and find shelter for the night before taking on the 60 miles of rather exposed open ocean between us and Gran Canaria. This would not be a problem in the normal prevailing airstream, but for us I saw problems ahead. Not that I let on to Min. All the advertised anchorages were exposed with a big surf running. The swell forecast was for 4 metres. The only nearby harbour, Morro Jable, was a commercial one. The scant information I had was that yachts could only use it if they had applied to a central government agency 2 weeks in advance on a special form. A not unusual procedure for some of the lesser ports in the Canaries.
We didnt have much choice, we would either have to run back up the coast or chance our luck to the harbour authorities. I was getting tired and night and darkness were nigh. It didnt help my state of mind that there were 2 huge ferries in the harbour rising and falling on the swell. Their tail ramps were banging and scraping up and down the slipways making violent bellowing sounds like those of huge distant minotaurs, leviathans, dinosaurs, and scary things of that ilk. Anyway in we swept on the entry surf and thankfully found ourselves some space amongst some raggle taggle pontoons of local boats. By heck was it bouncy though. The boat was dancing around like Michael Flatley dying for a wee. Hundreds of springs, chains, bicycles, bungee, tyres, warps etc would be needed to keep us within jumping ashore distance of our pontoon.
Anyway once we had recovered it was off to see El Capitano in the Port Offices. Briefcase bulging with every piece of paperwork on board. He turned out to be a pleasant and welcoming chap, and our fee was only about E11. Min thought he was a very handsome chap indeed, in his taut well tailored crisp ghardia theevil type uniform. In fact I was so relieved I even thought he was as well.
Off to town 2kms over the hills to the biggest Eurospar I've ever seen. Bulging with everything.
Really great meal ashore in the big dockside fisherman's cooperative cafe/bar/restaurant. Amazing mix of grilled fresh fish.
VERY bouncy night alongside. Much chafing, rubbing, and snatching. Up lots of times to adjust our bits. I realise these activities might seem a bit strange, but rest assured they were not the results of us inviting the George Cloon-alike Port Captain to spend the night on board.
Friday 4th Sunny and blowing with the odd rain squall. At least its 28 degrees. Awaiting a weather window for the crossing. Forecast for 20 kts on the nose with 4 metre swell. Going down later to 15 knots on the beam so I think we'll pay El Capitano a bit more and bide a wee while in our bouncy jerky berth.
TAFNF and TTFN. MB & crew on RAPAREE at Morro Jabel.
2 November 2011 Marina Rubicon Southward
Hup and away early to shake orft the marina cobwebs. Took about 100 hours to unshackle the Houdini like web of warps and odds and ends holding us on. New crew Min still nervously learning her clovehitches from her mainbraces as we pull away. Great waves from our neighbours and blown xxx's from the Columbian bar landlady with the big tankards. Clear of the breakwater and its a quick MOB evolution for Min who gets her man after N attempts. Always do that with new crew as its also tests out the boat as well. Course for Islas Lobos across the narrow straits to Fuerteventura.
Narrow little anchoring area on the south of this little island just off a rocky pier. Dropped the pick. Must be out of practice as ended up only a few yards from (probably rightly) grumpy couple in steel Belgian yachty. Put them right off their sausage frites and strudel, probably. Anyway SHE kept her back to us and refused to smile. Dropped back a bit more and all was well. Not enough time to get the rubberdubby up and explore as need to get away to get a safe refuge for the night halfway down the rocky Fuerte coast. Quick scramblers and bacon for brunch and up anchor. Leaving the anchorage Min discovered the colour of adrenaline. She was driving and heading straight for a sailing school bateau lying peacefuly at anchor. She had a sudden fit of lapin gelee dan les phares not helped by my casual shout from below of 'oh pass it either side, but just make sure one side is not too shallow'. Scream of anguish from helm, and startlement on the deck of the opposition.
Eventually off we went hurtling down the coast of Fuerte. Varying conditions iron topsail to 1 reef wind on nose. Zilch wildlife or fishy creatures.
Amazing indigo and purple sunset. Dark very early and this is a poorly lit coast, with few safe anchorages for our unusual mostly onshore wind direction. Eventually we find the little port of Castilio for which we have only out of date and conflicting info. However, all the info says 'difficult and dangerous, fringed by reefs, do not enter at night'. What few lights there are are supposed to be visible 3 to 5 miles but we see none. Gingerly (never sure what that means but seems appropriate) we approach where we think the entrance might be. Eventually we find a tiny red buoy lit by a Woolworths 1.5v battery and torch bulb. Soon after a green ditto. Inside the tiny port there is barely room to swing a lamp so we squeeze alongside a ramshackle finger pier. Probably an illegal berth but the harbourmaster has long gone home. MB's legs still shaking with the adrenaline pumping tension of it all. Short but welcome rest afer a chicken curry gunge ready for callthehands@0430orso.com (just made that one up). TAFNF. spk l8r. MB
Narrow little anchoring area on the south of this little island just off a rocky pier. Dropped the pick. Must be out of practice as ended up only a few yards from (probably rightly) grumpy couple in steel Belgian yachty. Put them right off their sausage frites and strudel, probably. Anyway SHE kept her back to us and refused to smile. Dropped back a bit more and all was well. Not enough time to get the rubberdubby up and explore as need to get away to get a safe refuge for the night halfway down the rocky Fuerte coast. Quick scramblers and bacon for brunch and up anchor. Leaving the anchorage Min discovered the colour of adrenaline. She was driving and heading straight for a sailing school bateau lying peacefuly at anchor. She had a sudden fit of lapin gelee dan les phares not helped by my casual shout from below of 'oh pass it either side, but just make sure one side is not too shallow'. Scream of anguish from helm, and startlement on the deck of the opposition.
Eventually off we went hurtling down the coast of Fuerte. Varying conditions iron topsail to 1 reef wind on nose. Zilch wildlife or fishy creatures.
Amazing indigo and purple sunset. Dark very early and this is a poorly lit coast, with few safe anchorages for our unusual mostly onshore wind direction. Eventually we find the little port of Castilio for which we have only out of date and conflicting info. However, all the info says 'difficult and dangerous, fringed by reefs, do not enter at night'. What few lights there are are supposed to be visible 3 to 5 miles but we see none. Gingerly (never sure what that means but seems appropriate) we approach where we think the entrance might be. Eventually we find a tiny red buoy lit by a Woolworths 1.5v battery and torch bulb. Soon after a green ditto. Inside the tiny port there is barely room to swing a lamp so we squeeze alongside a ramshackle finger pier. Probably an illegal berth but the harbourmaster has long gone home. MB's legs still shaking with the adrenaline pumping tension of it all. Short but welcome rest afer a chicken curry gunge ready for callthehands@0430orso.com (just made that one up). TAFNF. spk l8r. MB
Wednesday, 2 November 2011
28 Oct - 1 Nov mostly at Marina Rubicon Lanzarote
Marina Rubicon is also a 'yachtsman's marina', perhaps more so than Puerto Calero, with plenty of liveaboards, and world travellers. The 'One Bar' is the must place for beer quaffing and the spinning of sailors yarns. Its run by a Columbian woman with a delightful smile and a zest for partying. The bar is frequented by all nationalities with a sort of english/dutch/german hybrid as the lingua franca.
For us the Friday 28th was a recovery day after too much beer and too many late night tales. Sadly, this was also Sean's departure day so he was whisked away by taxi at 0930, leaving me for the first time for a long time alone with the boat and my endless joblists and a hangover.
I now had a long weekend to tidy up the boat and catch up on jobs before my sister Min from Dublin joined on Monday. Was I industrious in this time?....Did I achieve much?..... Well no. A kind of indolence set in, tinged by self pity and wanton highly focus inefficiency. I did some walks, drank some beer, assembled and rode my bike. I tinkered around the frayed edges of my endless job lists. A bit like life really.
I also spent some time and money fighting the swell in the harbour. The harbour is prone to surge when the ocean swell is high. We are starboard side to and I have an anchor chum on the stbd bow line, big metal coilsprings on the main fore and aft spring-lines, and rubber snubbers on the aft and port bow lines and a large snubber on a midships port line pulling us off the berth. We still creak and groan away all night like a down channel galleon.
Close neighbours are Colin, a live-aboard environmental journalist, on an Ovni 40, and Matthew on his very smart and sleek new 45 foot Cruising X-boat.
Over the weekend I eventually manage to deploy my various homemade covers and bimini over the cockpit and although its only the prototype held together by bungee and masking tape the whole ensemble looks rather smart.
On Mon 31st Colin and I help Matthew take Pau Amma out of the water by travelhoist so he can do some minor epoxy touching up work and scrubbing.
Min arrived by air as planned on Monday PM. She is rather tired out by the pressures of work so I decide to stay here an extra day before heading south to Fuerteventura. Plan then is to leave here early Wednesday morning 2 Nov to anchor off isla lobos at the top of Fuerteventura before then progressing down the E coast of thsat island.Possible make the long passage from Fuerte to Gran Canaria on Friday or Saturday.
Nothing else exciting to report except that Min's finger was bitten by a parrot on Playa Blanca waterfront, and that the mullet here are even bigger and more numerous than elsewhere. Also a chinaman in an Indian shop sold me a straw hat. Much more in keeping with my air of impoverished gentility than the standard British yachtsman's 'wally hat'.
I would really love to post photos but its really a pain in the proverbial. Most wifi signals so far have only been fast enough to allow the passage slow and halting text. I've now got a huge backlog of photos to put on. But how when & where?
Speak soon old things.
For us the Friday 28th was a recovery day after too much beer and too many late night tales. Sadly, this was also Sean's departure day so he was whisked away by taxi at 0930, leaving me for the first time for a long time alone with the boat and my endless joblists and a hangover.
I now had a long weekend to tidy up the boat and catch up on jobs before my sister Min from Dublin joined on Monday. Was I industrious in this time?....Did I achieve much?..... Well no. A kind of indolence set in, tinged by self pity and wanton highly focus inefficiency. I did some walks, drank some beer, assembled and rode my bike. I tinkered around the frayed edges of my endless job lists. A bit like life really.
I also spent some time and money fighting the swell in the harbour. The harbour is prone to surge when the ocean swell is high. We are starboard side to and I have an anchor chum on the stbd bow line, big metal coilsprings on the main fore and aft spring-lines, and rubber snubbers on the aft and port bow lines and a large snubber on a midships port line pulling us off the berth. We still creak and groan away all night like a down channel galleon.
Close neighbours are Colin, a live-aboard environmental journalist, on an Ovni 40, and Matthew on his very smart and sleek new 45 foot Cruising X-boat.
Over the weekend I eventually manage to deploy my various homemade covers and bimini over the cockpit and although its only the prototype held together by bungee and masking tape the whole ensemble looks rather smart.
On Mon 31st Colin and I help Matthew take Pau Amma out of the water by travelhoist so he can do some minor epoxy touching up work and scrubbing.
Min arrived by air as planned on Monday PM. She is rather tired out by the pressures of work so I decide to stay here an extra day before heading south to Fuerteventura. Plan then is to leave here early Wednesday morning 2 Nov to anchor off isla lobos at the top of Fuerteventura before then progressing down the E coast of thsat island.Possible make the long passage from Fuerte to Gran Canaria on Friday or Saturday.
Nothing else exciting to report except that Min's finger was bitten by a parrot on Playa Blanca waterfront, and that the mullet here are even bigger and more numerous than elsewhere. Also a chinaman in an Indian shop sold me a straw hat. Much more in keeping with my air of impoverished gentility than the standard British yachtsman's 'wally hat'.
I would really love to post photos but its really a pain in the proverbial. Most wifi signals so far have only been fast enough to allow the passage slow and halting text. I've now got a huge backlog of photos to put on. But how when & where?
Speak soon old things.
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