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May - 9thSeptember 2004
country to country following the seasonal weather from Europe to the Caribbean and on, with the
challenge of the big ocean passages enhanced by competing in the ARC Trans-Atlantic rally.
In the space of a few short months we managed to find and buy a suitable ocean-going yacht,
refit her, rename her, got all the extra Yachtmaster training and certificates we needed (radar,
VHF radio etc), and set off… early September finds us in the Algarve in southern Portugal,
having sailed 1500 miles from England, living (and loving) the cruising life. That said, cruising isn’
t all easy: there’s not too much down-time and there is always another 50 things to do on our
action-list… but it’s beginning to payback the effort. By current reckoning it’s about 10% planning,
20% hard work, 40% maintenance and repair, 20% adventure and exploring, and the last 10%
is the good life!!
So here is a summary of the adventures so far.
We bought ‘Skardu’ in June; she is 15 years old, 41 foot long, sleeps 6 comfortably, 8 at a
squeeze, has already circumnavigated the world, and is kitted out with a suitable array of vital
long-distance safety equipment (that you wouldn’t find on your average charter yacht): everything
from radar to self-steering gear, a watermaker to wind-&-solar powered generators, long-range
communications equipment to offshore safety kit. Nonetheless it took us 2 months of consistently
hard work from purchase to prepare and refit her ready to launch. We did most of the refit work
ourselves, thereby learning her technical systems so that we can troubleshoot along the way.
We bought new sails, replaced all the running rigging, serviced the engine, the plumbing, the gas
system and the electrics, replaced through-hull fittings and repainted the anti-fouling on the hull,
bought a new full-spec Offshore Liferaft and upgraded the emergency survival equipment… we
did a 100 other things too, but you get the idea! The final provisioning was also a serious affair – a
months supply of cans in the bilge, a years supply of the finest home-made English marmalade
(courtesy of Q’s Mom) in the hold, drinks cabinet stocked, a second-hand ex-Russian Naval
(!!) sextant for astro-navigation, spare shackles, engine parts & a full-blown tool kit that would
make Bob the Builder jealous,the obligatory beers in the fridge….then we were ready!
After a suitable re-christening ceremony – champagne across the bow, eulogies for fair winds,
steady seas etc – we set off from the Hamble River (near Southampton) on 3rd August for our
sea-trial and shakedown cruise down the coast of Hampshire, Dorset, Devon and Cornwall. Not
wanting to miss out, we were accompanied by a well-wishing crew for the first leg: Gerald
(Hinxman Senior), Tristan (Hinxman Junior), and Martin Scivier, (our befriended mechanic and
diesel engine expert, who provided assistance on a fair proportion of the more technical refit
jobs). Fine August weather blew us down the coast and gave us the opportunity to test out
Skardu’s equipment and sailing ability: ‘Lucy’ (the Autohelm), and ‘Scarlet’ (the Hydrovane) had
been aptly christened, and by arrival in Falmouth in SW England, the shake-down cruise had
compiled a 100-point action list, but our confidence in Skardu was rising.
The dinghy’s were less impressive: under the cheering gaze of a boatload of schoolgirls we
nearly sank our small (inherited) dinghy in Salcombe harbour on it’s first outing. Then Tristan
created our stiffest test by choosing to leave along a stretch of the coastline where there were no
adequate harbours, while it was blowing a gale out to sea, on a lee-shore, with both a rough swell
and 25knots blowing onshore!!! Oh, and it was pouring and foggy, with visibility down to under ½
a mile! For those of you who aren’t sailors, these are exactly the conditions in which you stay
clear of the shore for fear of being swept onto the rocks!! Nonetheless, we picked an unsuitable
looking piece of sand that was probably an excuse for a beach in sunny weather, circled
gingerly in the swell twice, agreed we were mad, then chucked the anchor out and reversed
towards the beach!!!! With the hook dug in well, we launched the second big dinghy, Mark,
Martin and Tristan headed for shore wearing wet-weather gear (oilies), wetsuit and regular
clothes respectively, only to be unceremoniously lifted and flipped in the breaking surf! Martin’s
wetsuit didn’t seem so silly afterall! Tristan was last seen squelching up the hill towards a nearby
village in search of a pub fireplace in front of which to dry out.
This proved to be the beginning of a sequence of storms that passed through the Bay of Biscay
and lashed the Scilly Isles and West Country - our intended route for the next leg! I believe
these even made news in the US. Martin sadly had to return to work – he would have continued
on to Portugal had the gales not delayed us – so that left just the two of us. We sat out the gales
for 11 days in Falmouth, using the extra time to undertake various repairs: a faulty VHF radio, a
twisted Hydrovane rudder, and a replacement Binnacle Compass, which the local Compass
Adjuster found was ‘sticking’ badly enough to show an error up to 8 degrees – just ok for coastal
sailing, but a liability crossing oceans. If trigonometry serves us correctly, over a 3000 mile
Atlantic crossing, 8 degrees might put you off course by more than 420 miles!
Finally a forecast that didn’t predict gales – not perfect, but we’d had enough Cornish pasties, and
were keen for a bit of chorizo! So by late afternoon on Friday 20th August we were en route for
NW Spain. The Bay of Biscay has a fearsome reputation for bad weather, not least summer
gales, and we were giving it major respect. Our route took us some 300 miles west (way past
the Scilly Isles) before turning south for Spain, thereby going out into the deep Atlantic, but
avoiding the notoriously roughest part of Biscay. With a low depression still coming in towards us
we had some very lively days pounding into 4.5 meter seas and 30 knots head-on wind, but
despite plenty of water over the decks Skardu made good progress. Dodging oil tankers and
containers ships proved hard work: near the main shipping lanes there are often five or six ships
within your ‘horizon’ at once, all moving bloody quickly. If you tack to avoid one, your bound to
steer into the path of another – it makes watch-keeping very dramatic and real indeed,
particularly at night. Fortunately our radar proved it’s worth ten times over! Fog and sea-mist are
the worst of all: on one occasion we have found ourselves with visibility down to less than 100
meters: you can hear their engines, and see them on the radar, but it is really scary when they
suddenly loom out of the haze that close by! Meanwhile we were getting used to the watch-
keeping system: (alternating 3 hrs on watch, 3 hrs off to eat & sleep, 24 hours a day) and dealing
with various degrees of sea-sickness (Mark’s leading the ‘feed-the-fish’ contest 3-0, although
his hatrick was all scored in the first 2 days in Biscay…) Then on day two, 200 miles from land,
we lost steering during a manoeuvre to avoid another too-close-for-comfort steel bow closing
quickly out of the night sky… our steering chain had snapped, and was beyond our ability to
repair at sea, leaving us drifting with the wind, with the weather building. Fortunately the Autohelm
was connected directly to the rudder, and so we decided to press Lucy into full-time duty and
continue heading for Spain. This left us limited manoeuvrability at close-quarters, so as a
precaution we readied the emergency tiller, and slept off-watch during the night in our full oilskins
and boots ready to jump back on deck as needed! As we headed south the weather improved,
and we finally made landfall as planned at a little group of islands off Bayona on the Atlantic coast
of Spain, and dropped anchor by emergency steering in the lee of Islas Cies a little before
midnight on our sixth night, having covered 762 Nautical Miles in 125 hours… quite a journey!
By contrast we had a delightful couple of days decompressing at anchor at the lovely nature
reserve islands of Islas Cies where we finally found clear blue seas and white sandy beaches,
and then spent a couple of days fixing the steering in the elegant surroundings of the Bayona
Yacht Club. The town was perfect and unspoilt: cloistered little streets with great restaurants and
local bars: tapas, paella, chorizo and rioja were much appreciated, and an inland trip to the old
city of Santiago De Compostela reacquainted us with civilization. Onwards to Portugal: finally we
were downwind sailing and this gave us the chance to try out our asymmetrical spinnaker. It
took a bit of setting up but we finally got the hang of it, and it makes a great sight. Next stop Porto –
where Maria (Mark’s family housekeeper in London for almost 25 years) fed us until we were fit
to drop, and gave us a tour of the (very picturesque) city. We obviously had to make time to
sample some of the many Port wine caves in town, and stock up on plenty of Late Bottled
Vintage. Then Lisbon, where we sailed right in along the main historic waterfront. It’s a lovely
town, especially the bohemian area called Barrio Alto. Unplanned, we had a very fun night there
with an eclectic crowd. It involved a Dutch group who were in town for a photoshoot, an Angolan
Rasta, a bar that turned out to be gay (how should we know?), more passes than we’ve had in
years (but from the wrong sex!), a Salsa instructor and her Canadian husband, and being
convinced by a tired street vendor at 4am to buy 2 dozen roses, which we promptly handed out
to all the women left in the bar ……all while still in shorts and carrying groceries from the
afternoon's sightseeing!!
Next morning during departure we enacted a yachtsman’s classic nightmare: smack dab in the
middle of the main shipping channel into Lisbon we ran over one of the thousands of small fishing
buoys attached to lobster pots that we dodge every day along this coast: unfortunately this one
wrapped its line tight around the propeller, bringing us to an abrupt halt in the worst possible
position. VERY fortunately there were no ships immediately closing in on us, so Q jumped in,
dived under the hull and cut the line to free us… not one to be repeated in a hurry, but a sure way
to clear a hangover!
A real highlight of the trip so far has been the huge number of dolphins and porpoises that have
come and played with us. We used to mention it in the logbook every time we saw them, but it's
now too common an occurrence - sometimes hourly! It's so cool when >20 of them follow the
boat and swim in the bow wave, or jump clear out of the water in the distance as the sun is setting
(just like in the movie poster for Le Grand Bleu: http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0095250/posters). We’
ve generally only seen them when we are out of sight of land or other boats, and this makes it all
the more special an experience.
So where are we now? Well, we just arrived in Lagos last night. We found a beautiful anchorage
yesterday for lunch to celebrate our arrival in the Algarve, and had the sort of lazy afternoon we
had been thinking about for the last few months: lunch, a couple of cold beers, siesta on the aft
deck, swimming in clear water into a sandy beach. Lagos itself seems very nice; the swankiest
marina we’ve seen anywhere, and free ‘cos were ARC competitors!. Made famous in the 15th
century for being the seat of Portugal’s slave trade, it’s now overrun by Aussie surfers!
So far we’ve logged ~250 hours sailing, including quite a few night passages to make up time
(eg Porto to Lisbon was 32 hours straight) and have covered about 1500 miles. Sadly, we have
to keep moving down the coast to make it to the Balearics on schedule, so not too much time to
hang out in the Algarve.
