Sharon McGinty and Karen Slater joined the ship in Grenada.
There followed 16 days of holiday. After all the seatime and seamiles, we had free cruising, in one of the loveliest cruising grounds in the world, up to the ARC finishing line and end-of-rally dinner in St Lucia. The itinerary was up to each skipper, but in practice chummy boats stuck together and congeniality complemented wonderful geography.
We sailed on the 28th March up to Sandy Island in Carriacou for a night anchorage and beach BBQ; to Petit St Vincent for lunch, followed by overnight anchorage in Tyrell Bay; a repeat of Sandy Is and PSV; Clifton in Union Island; Chatham Bay, the other side of the island from Clifton; Tobago Cays, rainy and blustery but still beautiful; Saltwhistle Bay, always a favourite; Mustique, for two nights of gracious living and inhalation of the air of the super-rich; Bequia; remote Cumberland Bay in St Vincent, another favourite, Med moor with a stern line to a palm tree; Marigot Bay, from where a group of us climbed the Gros Piton; and, finally, Rodney Bay.
Our last day was the “Parade of Sail”, the 17 finishers sailing in line ahead from Marigot to the improvised finishing line in Rodney. Lots of photos were taken by the committee boat, where are they?
We had the dinner and prize-giving at Rodney Bay on the evening of Saturday the 13th, and then the great adventure was over. By Monday the boats were dispersing, and nostalgic emotion was order of the day.
As ever on a hard-worked boat, Murphy refused to stay behind. The steering wheel chain broke at Sandy Island, just a few miles from where it last happened three and a half years ago. The autopilot stood firm, and the emergency tiller worked well. As so often, Bones of Emily Morgan was a tower of strength and repaired the chain for me in Tyrell Bay. An electrical connection on the windlass, renewed a few days earlier in Grenada, broke as we were anchoring in Bequia and required repair, Bones again. The outboard engine continued its record of poor reliability. On the plus side, the generator, which was tweaked by an impressive young engineer in Grenada, worked impeccably. I still think of myself as a seaman and navigator, engineering problems ruin my sleep. As Simon Ashworth said in the Indian Ocean, salt water and electronics are poor companions. It worried me that Lydia was 13 years old when I bought her. But the reality is that she is a thoroughly seaworthy and solid boat, and her engineering problems have been no worse, and often less worse, than those of younger boats on the rally. The key is simplicity, accessibility, replaceability, and continuous maintenance. The bogey is a long lay-up, and having to start the whole litany again on re-commissioning.
Sharon and Karen left the ship in Rodney Bay, Sharon to continue home across the Atlantic in Emily Morgan, Karen to fly home to the UK whence to prepare new adventures. My thanks to them both for being a lovely crew and terrific shipmates. Girl Power rocks.
Back to the old single-handed game again. I sailed after lunch on the 15th and anchored at the mouth of Marigot Bay. Then a lovely beam reach, the first day down past St Vincent and on to Bequia, the second down past Union Island and Carriacou to the anchorage off St George’s, and finally, on the morning of the 18th, into Port Louis marina.
I’m now cleaning and emptying the boat. We’re due to be hauled out of the water at Grenada Marine early next week, and then home to the comfort of landlubbery for the foreseeable future.
More sailing next year?
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We sailed from Jacare on the high tide at 05.20 on the morning of the 8th March, up to the top NE corner of Brazil and round, into the ITCZ, commonly known as the Doldrums. So, some wind, some calm, numerous squalls of varying intensity, muggy heat, sails up, sails reefed, engine on, engine off. But on this leg we had one great advantage: the Guiana current, which helped us along with a strength of up to 2 knots. Daily mileages were 185, 175, 170 and similar.
This is an area with a reputation for aggressive fishing boats, not to say banditry and piracy. In consequence, three of us had decided to sail in company, heavy old Lydia with Pretaixte, a French X42, and Aranui, a Swiss X46. The two lighter boats set up a tough pace for Lydia to follow, and we were obliged to sail harder than had been our custom. But drama struck us when Niki, owner of Aranui, suffered a bad fall, broke ribs, and had to lie still and in serious pain. This left Karen, his crew, plus a young and inexperienced godson, to sail the boat. Karen rose to the challenge superbly. Pretaixte, whose owners are doctors, helped with medical advice and drugs. The three of us stuck even more closely together to make sure that Karen and Niki had moral support. We stayed well out to sea, and came across only the occasional fishing boat, one of whom came in close to have a look but broke off when he saw that we were a group.
We stopped for 24 hours at Ile Royale, alongside Devil’s Island or Ile du Diable, in French Guiana. Not much remains of the old prison buildings, but there is a brooding sense of unhappy history. Ghosts notwithstanding, we had an enjoyable stay at this remote location including dinner at the one small hotel/restaurant.
From there on we were over the Equator and into the NE tradewinds, sailing well on a beam reach with a good current still helping us along, daily mileages between 160 and 180. The American catamaran Cayuse joined our group, we had one approach by a fishing vessel, but it was not sustained. Before we knew it we were North of Tobago, approaching Grenada, and into Port Louis Marina on the afternoon of the 21st March.
In Grenada, Lydia crossed her track for the first time, circumnavigation complete!
Distances were 1382 miles from Jacare to Ile Royale, a further 726 to Grenada, 2108 in all. This took 12.5 days, so an average of around 7 knots over the ground.
Two days after arrival at Grenada Graham Stoddart-Stones left the ship. We had a terrific sail together, from Richards Bay to Grenada, a cool 7000 miles. I think that he enjoyed it, and I am very grateful to him for his help and his company.
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We took a bus to Olinda, an old colonial town and World Heritage Site near Recife, to witness the press of flesh at Carnival. The crowds, the noise, the colours, the music, are astonishing. There are times when you can’t move because of the density of the crowd, and staying on your feet is a challenge. It is all good humoured, no signs of aggro. That said, I failed to pay sufficient heed to our briefing, and this cost me my mobile phone. I think that I felt and saw it go, but could do nothing in that throng, it went from deep in my pocket to a new life on a Brazilian backstreet. Next time, I would welcome a more leisurely sightseeing visit to Olinda, low season would be fine.
The resort of Joao Pessao consists mainly of high-rise apartments, but it has a long and beautiful beachfront with excellent and reasonable restaurants where we had several dinners. There is a big Carrefour supermarket which is good for re-provisioning.
Then, suddenly, on the 6th March, it was Ash Wednesday. The music stopped. Silence came down like a curtain, well until evening at least. As I went through the village on my morning run, kids were going to school with their satchels. The party was clearly over.
We had an excellent ARC dinner at the marina. On the evening of Thursday 7th March, after a long day of passport and customs clearance (patiently handled by the ARC staff), the Rally sailed from Jacare. Four boats, including us, splinter-grouped away from a nighttime crossing of the fishing areas, had a last dinner at Joao Pessao, and sailed at first light on the 8th.]]>
Cabadelo is the port at the mouth of the Paraiba river. We came up the ship-channel on the morning of the 1st March, into the river where the water suddenly turns from blue to brown, and then a further three miles up, in between the mangrove swamps, to the marina in the village of Jacare.
462 miles from Salvador, a slow passage. ]]>
The old city is on top of a cliff facing the marina. One reaches it on the Lacerda elevator, a public lift which operates frequently and costs 15c, say 4p. We were advised not to use it after sunset, but we did so frequently and had no trouble. The buildings, the churches, and the cobbled streets are lovely. Unfortunately some of the squares and monuments had been fenced off in preparation for crowd control during Carnival. I suppose that Notting Hill is not much different in August. The restaurants are mostly excellent, the wine is good, the caipirinhas are delicious, the prices modest. The beat of Brazilian music in the evening penetrates the soul.
Graham went home to his family in Somerset for 10 days. Mark went with Sharon and Karen from other boats to the Chapada Diamantina Park for a weekend. Later in the week Mark and I took a tripper boat around the bay to visit Isla dos Fades, Itaparica, and a couple of the beaches.
So, Salvador is a vibrant city, we’re glad that we’ve been there and seen it, but it won’t be top of a list of World ARC favourites.
Graham returned at midnight on Sunday 24th February and we sailed for the North after passport clearance at mid-morning on the 25th. ]]>
The Pilot says “This route is generally a dead down wind run onto the coast of Brazil...Talking to those who have done this leg to Salvador, they all agreed these were some of the best sailing conditions they had met”. I join the agreers. The sun shone, the wind blew steadily from the East, the worry was that there wouldn’t be enough, never that there would be too much. We flew the classic trade-wind rig of poled-out headsails, an efficient and stable rig which comes at a price: you roll like a pig!
My previous record for flying twins was twelve days in the Pacific. We beat that this time. For thirteen days we didn’t change a sail, we didn’t use the engine for propulsion, we didn’t use the autopilot (the hydrovane was in its element), and we didn’t unroll the mainsail. The lowest daily mileage was 104, the highest 161. I had high hopes of not furling the twins until we were inside the Bahia de todos os Santos, but no such luck, on the thirteenth day the wind finally abandoned us, and we motored for 18 hours up to the Centro Nautico marina in Salvador da Bahia.
We had no excitements and saw disappointingly little wildlife. We got to know all each other’s stories, we cooked (mainly Mark), we read, we practiced noonsights on the sextant, we became familiar with the Southern Cross, the weather grew warmer.
The mileage from St Helena to Salvador was 1917, we arrived on the 13th February in just under thirteen days, an average of 6.22 knots.
So, in 37 days we did 916 miles from Richards Bay to Cape Town, 1718 miles from Cape Town to St Helena, 1917 miles from St Helena to Salvador, 4551 miles in all. Say 30 days at sea, an average of 151 miles per day.
Now for a caipirinha or two, and a bit of shore time.
Photo MC
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On the plus side. There is an hourly water taxi from the moorings to Jamestown, which is a sleepy but charming little colonial town in the cleft between two steep cliffs, with two roads winding out and up, and the redoubtable Jacob’s Ladder, a long and steep staircase, climbing out on one side.
The town itself consists of stone buildings and is reminiscent of a Port Isaac or a Mevagissey in Cornwall before the trippers arrive. There are a handful of hotels, bars, and restaurants, all thoroughly welcoming and excellent value.
We caught up with the half-dozen boats in the World ARC who have decided to split from the main fleet and sail to Brazil via Ascension Island and the Fernando de Noronha islands. It was lovely to catch up after our spell of independence, and to enjoy congenial company.
As tourists, we had an excellent tour of the island, driven by Keith Yon, one of two entrepreneurial brothers. The tour included a walk to Napoleon’s tomb, swathed in bougainvillea, and a visit to atmospheric Longwood House, where he was interned; a visit to the controversial airport which cost billions of British money, and which is still restricted to specially trained pilots on the weekly mid-sized Embraer aircraft from Pretoria; a drive around the green landscape at the top of the island which allows a little agriculture and farming; and a visit to the Governor’s House to see Jonathan the tortoise, who at 180ish is reputed to be the oldest creature alive.
The undoubted highlight of our stay was the adventure of snorkelling with whale sharks. Yes, whale sharks. These huge creatures, which are not much smaller than Lydia, are harmless, like basking sharks. They feed on plankton. But they are particularly beautiful, light blue with white spots, lithe, with a long tail and a fin that breaks the surface of the sea. They are closely followed by a number of parasite fish. Craig Yon took us in a fast RIB out to the feeding ground, and there chucked us overboard with snorkels into the clear blue water. The experience of putting one’s head under water and seeing one of these beasts a few feet away, coming towards with its mouth wide-open, is one that will live in the memory. Photos follow when we next get wifi.
Mark and I climbed Jacob’s Ladder (Graham had office work to catch up on). My legs hurt for days thereafter.
More problems. There was no fruit to be had, and little veg. Probably the ARC boats had got there before us. We’ll need a fast passage to Brazil in a race against scurvy. And the island was running out of beer, we may have to halve the ration en route. We were able to get some meat and frozen food.
In summary, I thought that this was a delightful two-day visit, at the top of my preference list for ARC stopovers to date.]]>
By morning the wind was down to 25 knots, and by the afternoon it was 20. The sea was still rough, but we were under control. Phew! These few weeks around the South African capes have been a meteorological roustabout, how about some gentle trade wind sailing from now on? In fact the wind steadied at 20 knots from the SE, we put the twin headsails up, and we had 3 days of good, if rolly, sailing, daily mileages 175, 171, 160. On the 24th we crossed the tropic of Capricorn, on the 25th the Greenwich Meridian, so we’ve been round the world (not an official circumnav, for that we need to recross the equator). On the 26th the wind dropped to 10 knots and backed to the East. By this stage we were 300 miles from St H, so were prepared to switch on the engine and motor-sail. We did so without the mainsail, because we discovered that the cuff which secures the mandril on the boom to the rotating spigot on the mast had sheered, probably during the gale. We ought to be able to jury-rig it, but will need to be in flat harbour water in order to try it.
And the generator? We had it running for 45 minutes on the first day out, and the same again on the third. I changed the fuel filter (this had been done in Richards Bay) and bled the fuel line. On the fourth day I ran the engine for 5 hours to charge the batteries, got fed up with the noise, switched the engine off, the generator on... and it ran! My only theory is that those 5 hours of engine burned off some of the dodgy diesel, leaving us with the better quality Cape Town stuff thereafter.
We motor-sailed for two days and picked up a mooring off Jamestown at 12.30 on Monday 28th January, 1718 miles and just under 11 days from Cape Town, average speed 6.5 knots of which most was under sail.]]>