The Azores is really a nice place. Green, dramatic cliffs, nice people and old architecture. However, it is easy to be the Azores, when you have just spend over three weeks at sea, any place would be nice, now wouldn't it?!
But really, the Azores is a nice place, even though I only spend my five days in the main town, Horta, on the island called Faial. And it was cheap there... and then again, I have spend six years in the Caribbean where it is not really cheap. But really, I liked the Azores and it was a bit of a shame I couldn't be there longer to go more around the island. The time was spend fixing up my sailboat after the journey from Turks and Caicos across the Atlantic Ocean to Faial where, surprisingly, not many things broke and get ready for the next journey towards Spain. It was also the place where Kenneth and Thomas were stepping off the boat, to fly back to Denmark and a new crew member would come along, for the last third of the crossing of The Atlantic Ocean towards The Strait of Gibraltar to southern Spain.
Horta Marina was filled up with sailboat from all over the world. At the dock up to 6 boats where fender to fender so when you were going to shore you had to step over the other boats. Where I was, I only had to step over two but the two other boats next to me had to cross Solitude and the two other next to me. This sounds really irritating but it wasn't at all. The Azores is far from any other land, it takes time to get here with a sailboat so everyone, including my self, are more than happy to talk to other sailors.
I was fender to fender to a 42 foot catamaran with a couple, Julie and Steve and Steve's brother Dave, all from South Africa. Really nice folks I spend a lot of time with sharing experiences, beer and food with.
The new crew member on Solitude was Mathias and he, like when I started sailing, had never been on a sailboat before. I knew him from Copenhagen where we worked together in the carpenter company, Wood Enterprise.
Grocery shopping were made for the next 10 to 12 days it would - hopefully - take to get to Spain. On June 5th 2012 we said to the two boat on my side, we were leaving in a couple of hours. We went eating in a not fancy restaurant across the street from the marina. We both ordered a hamburger, 'cause how hard can it be to fuck a hamburger up....? They did a fantastic job on doing exactly that, fucking it up. It was by far the worst meal I had had in years. Afterwards we both felt a bit sick but we were still standing up right and had no excuses not to go to the high seas. Later that day, about one hour into the journey, Mathias got rid of his "Horta burger". He sacrificed it to King Neptun and the good sailor he wanted to be, he looked in the mast, where I had just installed a windex telling us where the wind is coming from. Mathias, the good sailor he wanted to be, misunderstood this and thought the arrow was pointing the way the wind was going. When you puke into 27,4 knots winds, you have to do a lot of effort not to get the vomit onto your self. Mathias did not have the energy to do so and got puke all over his pants. I was struggling the hardest I have ever struggled not to laugh my ass off, you can't really step on a dude when he is lying down. After this little accident, Mathias, as the good sailor he became, never doubted where the wind was coming from. And if it was hang-overs, seasickness or the "Horta Burger" that did it, we don't know, but the burger definitely had it's part.
Before we would leave the marina I had to check out and get diesel but that was easy done and all of a sudden we found our selfs at sea with the sails filled with air, doing around 8 knots, getting further and further away from Faial. We were going really fast in the beginning and went north of Pico, the 2300 meters high volcano. The wind was hauling down the sides of it but we were going fast. At some points a bit too fast and we had to roll in the genoa.
It was beautiful to sail in between the islands of Pico and Sáo Jorge, very green and once again, very dramatic nature with steep walls of rock coming straight from the sea bottom 1000 meters below us and into the air for another 1000 meters.
The horizon was pulling the sun towards it self, tuna fish were jumping in the water around the boat in the now 2 meters waves and hauling wind and we were going fast towards Europe. The island of San Miguel was on our starboard side all night after the horizon had swallowed Pico and Sáo Jorge until it also left us alone in the vast Atlantic Ocean. The wind was coming from south west and blowing around 30 knots all night.
Portuguese Trade Winds
As the horizon left its grip on the sun pushing it up the following day, the wind came down to 20 knots from west and we were cruising 5 knots in comfort. This continued for the next three days and I kept telling Mathias, enjoy this, it is rare to have such an easy sail. And maybe I shouldn't have warned him, 400 nautical miles from Portugal the wind changed to come from the north. It was a cold wind, it was The Portuguese Trade Wind. I had a t-shirt, two sweatshirts and a jacket on plus rain pant and jogging pants under, and I was still cold.
At first it was fun to sail fast with this wind but when it took it up a notch to 30 knots, and then again another notch to 35 knots, it was not funny anymore. The waves got to around 3 meters and kicked Solitude violent around making it extremely difficult to prepare any meal. When you were just sitting down, you were using all you muscles to stay in the same position, it was stressful. A day of this shit we could take but next day it was the same, big waves with small interval, we were really tested by nature. Just sitting in the cockpit was difficult. The mattresses were constantly being thrown to the floor, the doubled reefed main sail - and only sail we had up - were flapping violently now and then when we were in a valley of a wave and then got lifted 3 meters into the air by another. It was stressful to go below to boil water for coffee or tea.
At some point on day two of this mayhem, Mathias was in the galley heating water and trying to hold on really good. Yet another wave came from the cold north hitting Solitude on the port side but this one was a bit faster than normal. The railing of the boat was fully in the water and the lower deck was filled with water, pushing the spreaders on the mast close to the water. Mathias, still trying to heat water, was thrown from the stove in the galley towards the navigation table two meters away. Luckily he took the hit with his elbow and his tailbone and not his pretty face. I was picking up various things in the cockpit which had fallen on the floor again and looked if every thing was ok below deck. Mathias had an expression on his face, that it was unnecessary to ask if he was doing fine. A small black cloud above his angry, gas blue and I'm-about-to-blow-up face, answered my question.
All night it was high waves and lots of wind and still very cold making it hard to get sleep and to be on the boat. We were really worn out on the third day. The waves were 3 meters plus and the wind up to 40 knots hauling in the rigging. At some point I was heating water trying to make coffee when a wave sent Solitudes railing in the water once again. In this position another wave hit port side pushing all of the ship. With Nescafé in my hand, still open because I was trying to pour it into my cup, I was thrown towards the navigation table, which the other day had put Mathias to a count. This time I was the one to protect my pretty face and decided that my ribcage, easily could take my body weight plus the open Nescafé in my hand. The pain came 1 second after the hit, putting my head between my knees and a strange growling noise came from my, at this moment, not so pretty face. The open Nescafé was still open but the contents was all over the table, floor and walls. I cursed the wind, the waves and this stupid ocean as much I could, while the pain from my rib got worse. Navigation table: 2, Danes: 0
On the fourth day we almost gave up. But how do you give up in the middle of an ocean? You don't have a white towel - they are all dirty - to throw in the ring, you don't even have a ring. You have no choice, you just have to continue and get the best out of the shit you are in and so we did. We were 70 nautical miles from Cabo San Vincent, the southwestern corner of Portugal where the trade winds, according to various books I had, should die down, but it didn't happen. The wind continued to be 35 - 40 knots and the waves were now around 4 meters. Solitude was still being thrown around in the waves and the sail was still flapping like crazy. The waves were still washing over the deck leaving all of the bow underwater and splashing cold salt water into the cockpit making everything wet. I could hear in the distance various people say to me, "It must be so nice to sail around the world and so peaceful at sea!" ... I have four words: SHUT THE FUCK UP! ... at this moment, in between The Azores and Portugal, after four days of high winds and seas, I would like everyone who has a romantic idea of sailing to be with me on the ship. If you put all the hells together in all the religions in the world, you are not even close! This sucked, times eight!
- Later I discovered The Volvo Ocean Race had gone through the same low pressure system on the leg from Lisboa in Portugal to Lorient in France where they sailed around The Azores. On this leg they did record breaking 24 hours miles with all boat doing more than 550 nautical miles in 24 hours. On the good days on Solitude we were doing 120 nautical miles in 24 hours and everything above 100 miles were considered very good.
Goodbye Atlantic Ocean
The following morning we could feel a bit of change, the wind came down to 30 knots and we could heat water on the stove with out getting nailed on the navigation table. All day it became calmer and calmer leaving us with one of the most beautiful days I had seen while sailing. We were now in the leeward of Cabo San Vincent and under the south coast of Portugal. There was not a cloud in the sky and the visibility was beyond clear. Mathias and I dried clothes, mattresses, the floor below deck, towels... you name it, everything was wet and we were beaten, bruised, cold and tired but we survived.
Towards The Strait of Gibraltar we encountered more and more large ships. Tankers and freighters with their big cranes sticking out like arms capable of grabbing anything in their reach. All night we saw more ships than I had seen for the past 4000 nautical miles from Panama.
The closer we got to The Strait of Gibraltar the more ships and the more excited we got. Four in the morning we could see the northwestern corner of Africa and the land of Marroco in the dark. It was my turn to sleep but I wouldn't miss this moment and stayed in the cockpit with Mathias. We were leaving The Atlantic Ocean to go into The Mediterranean Sea. At this moment I didn't realize that I had crossed the second largest Ocean in the world in a 44 foot fiberglass shell some call a sailboat.
With sunglasses on to protect us from the low morning sun, we motored into the waves towards The Strait. The Levante wind had decided to blow with around 25 knots, nothing we really counted for anything but it was still irritating when it came straight on the nose. We were going really slow. As we got closer to the entrance of The Strait, the waves and wind came down a bit. All of a sudden I heard a big blow 15 meters from us and saw a huge whale showing it's dorsal fin and all of it's back, just to dive into the deep again. 10 minutes later Mathias saw the same thing and it was only 20 meters from Solitude. We jumped up and down like little kids, it was amazing to see a 10 meter whale come up so close to us.
The ship closing in on us was light blue, enormous and filled with containers so the captain could barely see anything. From the colour of the ship, I knew it was a Mærsk ship from Denmark. I called them up on the VHF, not to hear where they were going, the weather or anything related to sailing. The EuroCup in Poland and Ukraine had started a week ago with a very important game, Denmark vs. Holland. The captain I had on the VHF was from Denmark and told me the greatest news I had heard in a long time: Denmark had beaten Holland!!!! Mathias and I were yelling and screaming from joy. I couldn't wait to talk to my girlfriend and my friends from Holland.
Huge ships continued to overtake us as Tangier in Morocco became visible. Pilot whales were playing only 50 meters from us and sunfish were cruising at the surface with their top fin out of the water. It was fantastic! About 25 years ago, when I was a kid, my parents and my brother took the ferry from Gibraltar to Morocco. It was just for the day but then we could say we had been in Africa. From the ferry, 25 years ago, I saw my first dolphins and to this day, I can still remember this moment. Now, as we were cruising through The Strait of Gibraltar with three dolphins on the bow, it was like I had completed a circle I did not know I had started, it felt like I had come home from the longest journey in my life and was now done. it felt like some sort of relief.
The Med
We continued through The Strait with Europe to port and Africa to starboard. Whales were playing, sunfish came up and ships were passing by. With open mouths we sucked everything in to keep this moment forever in our minds. The Rock at Gibraltar was towering as we passed it and then the wind died completely leaving the sea like a mirror. We motored into The Mediterranean Sea zick-zacking between container-ships, tankers and fishing boats. More dolphins were cruising in the distance as the sun sunk below Spain. We turned off the engine to see the sunset from this completely flat sea. It was so silent to sit there. Not a sound for miles and miles, the sun coloring the surroundings orange behind the black mountains. Then Mathias farted!
In The Caribbean you can see bright green light in the water at night. It is a one cell organism that makes a chemical reaction when it is being moved. In The Mediterranean Sea there is the same deal but not so bright green as on the other side of The Atlantic but more white-ish. Shadows, like ghosts in the water, came cruising around Solitude. It was dolphins cruising in the dark night. What a sight. You could follow every movement they did. When they jumped out of the water, they would lose their fluorescent light just to get it back a second later when they were under water again. This happened a few time during the night. It was very calm, the stars would reflect in the water and we steamed into the night with the main sail up to stabilize the boat, going east along the Spanish coast.
We were surrounded by a light haze that left everything wet on Solitude. It was like morning dew, the sail was dripping like it had rained and all morning the haze continued. More dolphins came playing around the boat during the morning, as the sun burned away the dew. Spain glided by our port side slowly but steady. Still no wind but we had diesel enough to make it all the way to our final destination, Cartagena, south of Alicante. The Haze got burned away leaving the beautiful mountains in a sunbath. We chilled out, played Balut, read a book, lied in the sun and took our second shower in 10 days, the wind stayed away. And it was really easy now to prepare food in the galley when we were not leaning in a 25° angle.
Around 7 pm, right after dinner a bit of wind came from south west. We rigged the main sail, put the whisker-pole on the genoa and sailed for about 30 minutes, then the wind died again. However, it was so nice to hear the boat move through the water with out the roam of the engine. 30 minutes was all we got of the silence, then we turned the engine back on and continued the last 70 nautical miles towards Cartagena in the dark night, filled with the million stars above us. Dolphins came to play again, still with the fluorescent white light around them. A school of fish cruised by in the dark water looking like a big white carpet. The moon rose just after 4am in the east but only with a small orange stripe. In the dimmed light from the moon a group of 8-10 dolphins played at the bow. I smiled to my self, enjoyed the moment to its full extent. The journey from Panama to Spain, 5500 nautical miles or 10.000 km was about to be over. I had brought Solitude to Europe!
The facts and numbers:
Start / finish:
5th June 2012/ 17th June 2012
Nautical Miles covered:
1409,7 nm
Days and hours:
11 days 20 hours (283 hours)
Average speed:
5.0 knots
Highest miles in 24 hours:
133,7 (day 11)
Lowest miles in 24 hours:
103,9 (day 5)
Average miles 24 hours:
117,6 nm
Diesel consumption:
264,1 liters/ 69,5 hours
Engine used of total time:
24,55 %
Longest engine use:
41,5 hours (day 10, no wind)
Longest run with no engine:
4 days, 6 hours
Storms:
2
Most wind:
35 - 40 knots
Longest storm:
4 days
Shortest storm:
16 hours
Highest waves:
4 meters
Number of dolphins:
58
Number of whales:
17 (sperm whales & pilot whales)
