CHICHESTER TO MADEIRA CARIBBEAN TO AZORES AZORES TO IRELAND AND HOME | Atlantic Diary Chichester to Madeira (Part 1) Saturday 24 August 1996 We left Chichester six days ago, 18 August amid bucksfiz, cheerio's and blazing sunshine. Ma, Pa, Liz, Paul, Patrick and Magali saw us through the lock gates at Birdham. On the Monday we raised the anchor from the mud in Newtown Creek and set sail for the Needles Channel. Not much wind wavering from the SE to N we motored and sailed out past the Needles, Anvil Point hovered in the mist. The tide was against us when Portland Bill light began to wink at us across a glassy calm sea. The sun went down. The night was black. Wind and rain came together from the NW around midnight. Mairi Sona sailed fine, the beam wind pushing her along. Dawn broke grey and dull on Tuesday morning. The wind died and the rain kept off. We sat in the cockpit, our eyes closing from fatigue as the misty Devon coast became clearer. We tied to some pontoons on the Dartmouth side of the river at about 0930. On Wednesday ma and Pa came down and we began to fit the wind generator. It was a long job. Thursday, we came along the wall to dry out. We finished the generator. The rudder was a problem,, jumping on its shaft on the top of a wave. A problem that could not be ignored or easily solved. It rained on and off all day. Going to bed feeling that Spain could be a long way off. Friday morning was brighter. The generator was pumping power into our batteries and the boat was drying out again against the wall. Up to my knees in water I slapped on paint around the rudder shaft and put in some rope in the hope that this will jam things up a bit. We floated off at midnight. Today, Saturday we are resting and hoping for better weather. Ma and Pa went off yesterday and now we hope to begin the trip for real.
Friday 30 August 1996 Position: 45º 42'N 8º 50'W We left the River Yealm on Tuesday at midday. Hard on the starboard tack we left the Eddistone Light astern and set course as near to the Lizard as possible which wasn't very near. It wasn't until Thursday that we began to feel human. We had spent Saturday and Sunday night swinging to a buoy up at Dittisham. A long walk on Sunday to Totnes and a ferry ride back. On Monday sick of the expense of mooring in the beautiful River Dart we sailed to the Yealm where it is only slightly less expensive. Two long tacks against the wind, 11 hours and 30 miles later we came to rest. Before evening came on Tuesday 27 August, the wind was on the beam. We tied in a reef in the main and prepared for our first night at sea. Cold. Many layers of clothing. A fishing boat came dangerously near and I had to motor to get us clear. We watched turn and turn about but didn't sleep much. Wednesday 28 August dawned, the wind still gentle on the starboard beam. Still feeling sick. Managed to down some breakfast. Heading 240º or nearly! At midday we were somewhere off the Breast peninsular. 110 miles in our wake. Exciting! We had been going like a steam train during the night. Sickness wont go away although Helen seems fine and keeps cooking great food despite the rockin' and rollin'. Thursday 29 August 1996 Just after breakfast a small aircraft buzzed us, flying low over the water I think the pilot was someone we knew Helen waved to him. Cloudy sunny days yesterday and today. Only 85 miles run by noon we've been dragging our feet. The night made up for it. All went calm at midnight, rocking and rolling so noisy and uncomfortable little sleep. A fleet of fishing boats passed by must be Spanish as they're the only ones allowed to fish these days. Drizzling rain, black clouds obscuring our lovely full moon that's been smiling down on us these past nights. At 2am we were back on the roller coaster, the wind had come up again from the N or NE, letting us sail free at last still heading 240º magnetic to get as far west as possible. So easy to get stuck in the Bay and end up in some horrible place with no way of getting out again. At 4am we removed the main, it was all getting too much. Genoa alone pulling us on and on. A big ship went by slowly like a ghost. This morning is calm and a bit grey. We've poled out the genoa and are goose winged. It's a close run thing but will hold I hope. Feeling so good and happy the main is still reefed despite the light wind you can't be too careful we are moving well. After breakfast Helen cleaned up the galley which was beginning to look like the "Kitchen From Hell" spilled coffee, curry, you name it, it's down there. For the first time we had the energy to try proper navigation a sun sight no sun, clouds, clouds everywhere what we did get was way off. DisappointingÉ back to the ol' GPS ah, there are 105 miles in 24 hours not bad. 180 miles to Camariñas if that's where we're going. Since Wednesday night two days ago and the first night we didn’t need oil skins it’s been getting warmer. Now it's warmer than ever. I’m still wearing my thermals which I haven’t removed since Tuesday, but I’ll consider removing them tomorrow. A sure sign that the breeze is blowing us ever southwards. Tuesday 3 September 1996 The last few days are a blur. On Saturday (31 August) we were 80 miles from Galicia. 16 more hours and we would have been tucked snugly away in some cosy fishing village without a care in the world. Instead the wind began to blow hard from the NE and the sea began to rumble turning into great mountains and valleys of froth and foam. We ran before it, the genoa rolled down to a tiny triangle. By early evening it was a full gale and thoughts of land soon faded as we were blown out into the Atlantic. The night came and the waves broke over us. Noise. Movement. Holding onto our bunks. The cabin full of flying objects. A wave bigger than the rest. The cockpit is full and swirling. Open the hatch, harness on, out into the darkness, hatch closed, start pumping. The seats are floating around me. Crouched down, white water gushing by at head height either side wonderful and terrible. It all feels a lot worse below. Every bang, crash, rock n' roll. We hang on. Another wave. Outside again, pumping. A bigger wave almost a knock down? Everything moves nothing stays were it was stowed. A long black night. No sleep. Towards morning we doze. Is it getting quieter? Just a little but still the gale blows and the sea is BIG! At least the sun has returned. 120 miles at noon! All that with hardly an inch of sail up! We remain below too wild on deck. The life belts and dan-buoy went in the night, and the deck brush too. Anyway, we are happy to still be here. We pass the day in our bunks listening, playing cards and blocking out the horrendous noise with music. We're not looking forward to another night of it. It was quieter in the evening. A motor boat passed us at dusk going the other way a silent blur of lights and we are happy not to be so alone. The night comes and I sleep. I can't help it. Helen keeps a look out it's OK, she can't sleep and I have to. In the night something changes. The wind still blows hard but it comes from the NE now, not the E like the last two days, and it is much warmer. The sea has gone down a lot but we still roll. At least we are heading for Madeira now. No chance of making Spain. Sop Monday 2 September came and the wind dropped away. At noon we had covered 135 miles in the last 24 hours Good going. It took all day for the sea to level out but we were over the worst. We could begin to live again a great day! A meridian sight at noon agreed more or less with the GPS although it took one hell of a long time to work out. Only 520 miles to Porto Santo! The wind dropped completely at dusk and we spent the night rolling noisily on the swell. I slept well again Helen didn't! Our watch keeping has gone to pot there are no ships out here anyway. Today (Tuesday) is calm. No wind. We roll horribly to the swell and everything still shakes rattles and rolls despite our efforts to stop it all. I make pancakes and squeeze fresh orange juice for breakfast. Time to wash clothes and ourselves in a bucket. Beginning to feel human again. At noon only 90 miles covered in the last 24 hours. Helen is cooking an omelette. It's so calm. The boat is rolling uncomfortably on a glassy swell. We swim and take the opportunity to air out and clean the boat a bit she needs it! We replace a steering line to the self-steerer it had all but frayed through during the gale. The night is so quiet. Something tugs me out of sleep. There is a breeze the genoa is aback. I haul it round onto the starboard tack and raise the main. We are moving again. But the wind is from the SW! The direction we wish to go typical! Wednesday 4 September 1996 In the evening the wind is quite strong still from the SW. Where are the NE trades? Two bolts that hold the wind generator have fallen out over the side. Not serious but I think we have only one replacement. We are thumping along into the swell. I drop the main to make things easier. Just after midnight Helen calls me on deck. A ship on our horizon! The first since Sunday. WE change course to avoid it. There are two or three more in the night. There stars are fantastic, only matched by the phosphorescence in the water. The first of the whole trip. It's still cold. Thursday 5 September 1996 It's so calm again. Barely a breath. Mairi Sona sits still as she hasn't done for 9 days. Gentle rocking on a barely perceptible swell. It's hot. At lunch we saw the brown shiny back of a whale just above the surface, a couple of hundred yards away. I heard its blow hole first then Helen saw it. Camera! Quick! Then it was gone. 115 miles since noon yesterday. 235 to go! Evening is calm. The sun is going down yet again. A ship passes by silently on the horizon. A moth flutters by and tries to land on the genoa. We eat risotto for dinner. Passing bits of flotsam are always of interest. We need something to look at. Something dead ahead is coming nearer. An old tyre. No! A turtle! Lazily swimming across our path, all orange and brown. I turn the boat to avoid it and leave it close to port. At first it ignores us, then it startles at our approach and dives and is gone. The sun is almost gone. Still very little wind. I hate to be impatient but I've had enough. I don't want a gale but I would like to get there one day! 9 days is long enough thank you! There are clouds in the sky and wind can't be far away. Friday 6 September 1996
Rain came at midnight along with a little breeze from the S. So frustrating! Our course is little better than ESE. Not to worry, the wind didn’t last long. Neither did the rain. It lit the ocean with pin pricks of phosphorescence. A few ships passed far away from us yet they made sleep difficult. The sun comes up. Still no wind and we have done 45 miles since yesterday noon. Time to get out the ol’ iron spinnaker, as they say in the pubs in Cowes. The engine is pulling us at 4 - 5 knots in the right direction at last. It feels good to move, if you can put up with the noise. We have played with the GPS and have programmed a way point at the NE corner of Porto Santo. The little arrows on the screen keep telling us to turn left then right then left ... The course of 210º I set at the beginning is about right. Still 200 miles to go. Nothing to do but read Funeral In Berlin. The sea is a mirror. Saturday 7 September 1996 Dolphins visited us briefly in the early hours. Their grey shadows gliding beneath the surface. They didn’t stay long. Another day of glassy hot calm. The engine drones. In the afternoon a light breeze pulls us helping the engine. The full sails increase our speed to 6 knots at times. Without the engine we’d barely make 2.5 knots. I made bread in the morning. Nice n’ fruity. Then pancakes for breakfast. One has to do something apart from read books. Again cocoa cheers us at sundown. Sunday 8 September 1996 I come on watch at 0100 and listen to Tom Waits and the Pogues on the Walkman. At 0300 I check our position. Barely 30 miles from Porto Santo. Just within range of the Ilhéu de Cina light. I put my head out of the hatch and look ahead. There it is! Dim but definitely there. One, two, three and fifteen seconds. Helen comes on watch at 0400 but I can’t sleep. At 0600 the light is bright and strong. I can’t deny some relief that we are exactly where we hoped we’d be and at the right time too. As the sun rose, the grey form of Porto Santo became clearer. By 0800 when the sun was really up, the rocky island was shining golden on our starboard bow. Dolphins came to welcome us in. Six of them both sides of the bow wave, they raced us, weaving and jumping, so full of joy. We turned off the engine for some peace and quiet. 4.5 knots with the wind on the beam. It goes down to 3.5, 2.5. Who cares? We’re here! A dolphin leaps several times in greeting then they are gone. What a display.
Slowly we round Ilh´ú de Cima and the harbour walls open out to us. The wind has become fickle again and right in our faces. On with the engine for the last couple of miles. We drop anchor in 25 feet of clear water between a French and a Dutch boat and 500 yards from the surf laced beach. For the first time in 12 days Mairi Sona is completely still. Nothing moves. Bliss. Wind gusts down from the mountains and sweeps across the bay. We lay out a second anchor to make us feel more secure. It’s a mile walk into town. My legs wobble and the ground is less stable than the deck. A marching band goes by. The streets are a mass of coloured streamers. All in our honour, I guess. Helen swims back to the boat. We deserve a meal out tonight. Fish. I don’t know what fish but it is good, as is the red wine. We’ve barely drunk any alcohol in 2 weeks. It goes to my head. A disco is playing in the square. Lights sparkle in the trees. Old and young cruise the town. Big yellow Merc taxis wait for fares. We row back to the boat and fall asleep. Monday 9 September 1996 The wind blew hard all night. The dinghy flipped over so many times I brought it aboard and deflated it. The anchors are holding well but still, we didn't sleep much. It rained hard too. Tuesday 10 September 1996 Wednesday 11 September 1996 "We are leaving today." He just couldn't be bothered. What a waste of time and effort. I go back to the boat. Beyond the island the sea is confused and a huge swell is running. The wind is moderate on the beam from the NW. Madeira, although only 25 miles away is nowhere to be seen. It is too hazy. Helen lays off a course and at 2.30pm we see a grey out line of rocks. Squalls rush down from the hills. Madeira is abeam of us and we lower the mainsail. Soon the wind lightens so the mainsail goes up again. Soon after that the squalls return so we put a reef in the mainsail. At 6pm we round the final headland and the wind dies altogether. We do the last 4 miles under engine. Funchal is a huge commercial port and the town sprawls across the hillside in all directions. Many yachts lie at anchor outside the marina wall and it is difficult to find a spot to drop anchor. At last we are OK between a white French ketch and a beautiful red ketch from Falmouth. We rest. Egg, chips and beans, then ashore to taste city life for the first time in ages.. The city lights sparkle across the hills. Traffic roars, horns hoot, music pulses, the boat rolls on the swell. Thursday 12 September 1996 Friday 13 Tuesday 17 September 1996 On Saturday I decided it was a good day for changing the engine oil. Bad decision. So hard to get to the nut at the bottom of the did stick tube then the oil dribbles out slowly black and thick. It's everywhere. Then comes getting the nut tightened up again. It just refuses to mesh. I try again on Sunday morning. Lying on the floor all crunched up, covered in oil. We go for a walk. The swell in the harbour is terrible. Rockin' and rollin' all over the place. Evening comes and we go to the cinema to see "Señora Parker". What a great film! The cinema is air conditioned and my teeth are chattering by the time we emerge onto the streets. Back to the dinghy. Fledgling has come into the marina and is lying only five boats from the wall. We go aboard for drinks and consume much Madeira. Even the dry stuff is sweet. The weather is on the change. The swell outside is terrible. It is 1am and the Madeira is good. We row like a rocket back to Mairi sona. Pour oil into the engine (leak or no leak), on with the oil filter. Up with the anchor. It is so quiet in the marina. We are five boats deep from the wall and very comfortable here. On Monday Brandeth Harvey came paddling over to fix the mess I'd made of the engine. The thread had burred and needed filing over. All done in a very short time. Off with the dip stick tube. File, file. On again, hey presto! And a change of fan belt into the bargain. Tuesday 17th and the strange strong wind of yesterday has gone. We've run the engine with new oil in it and feel much happier now. Plus! This afternoon we borrowed a hose to join to ours and now we have two tanks full of fresh water and clean decks!. Keeping the boat clean is a never ending job. A long night of entertaining Brandeth, Pauline and the kids from Fledgling kept us up drinking and talking till the early hours. Put paid to our plans to go walking on Wednesday. Thursday 19 September 1996 Friday 20 September 1996 Saturday 21 September 1996 There is no wind. We head out to sea. Just beyond the harbour a squall hits us. We are reefing down immediately. The wind is on the nose. The sea is choppy. WE have gone soft in harbour. This is no fun. The sky is grey and the wind is squally. How far do we go to leave this weather behind? Two hours into the trip we turn around. Fledgling is on channel 6, still at anchor. WE put them off leaving. We sail into Funchal and drop anchor. It doesn't hold. We try again. It holds all too well. We pull up on the chain with one hell of a crack. It wont come up. It's well and truly caught on something. The winch wont budge it. Eventually it comes with persuasion and motoring around it. Soon we are anchored safely and are eating curry aboard Fledgling.
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