The last day of the year is also our last day in Mindelo. We want to start around noon. Diesel has to be refueled beforehand. Marc from Gentoo wrote me a warning not to use the petrol station in the marina. Three ARC boats would have refueled there and had problems with the diesel. We don't want to take that risk, we carry 130 liters of diesel on board from the nearest road filling station. The Marina gas station attendant laughs at us because the diesel costs 1 euro cent more on the street. I'd rather be laughed at than get stuck with diesel plague somewhere later.
Then we leave the marina. Completely unspectacular, we just drive out. Nobody stands at the jetty to say goodbye. Who else? Everyone else is already on their way. We will see them again in Barbados and Martinique. I make us a roast pork with fresh peppers and Canarian potatoes that want to be eaten slowly. We ate them quickly. I thicken the sauce for the roast pork with a little flour so that it doesn't jump off the plate immediately. It works. Despite the rolling, the sauce remains on the plate. We build potato dykes.
At midnight, Jakob usually takes my place at the watch. This time I also turn on the foghorn at midnight, ring the ship's bell and turn the radio to high volume. We have our own New Years Eve party. Because it's all so much fun, I decide to change the time zone we're in right now. The Cape Verde Islands protrude inappropriately far into the next time zone anyway. We are now at UTC -2, three hours behind Germany. We also have the turn of the year ahead of us, which we promptly celebrate at midnight - with a foghorn, ship's bell and loud music. Unfortunately the sky is overcast, we cannot see any stars.
Jens and I then go to bed around two o'clock. Jens still has his watch ahead of him, I mean behind me. Everything as always, everything routine. Sissi creaks, the water rumbles in the tank and the dishes rattle in the cupboards. It runs!
Oh yes, one more thing: This time too Jens did not share his dinner with Neptune. He's slowly getting used to life at sea.
1. Etmal: 92 nm Position at 12 o'clock: N15 ° 58 W26 ° 04 1954 nautical miles to Barbados.
The wind forecast for the coming days is not really great. We try to make as much of the stretch under sail as we can on our way to Mindelo before the wind dies down strongly. The afternoon passed without any further damage to the material, we relax. And we start to spin. As if Mindelo weren't just 200 miles away, we talk about shore excursions, sightseeing, and the meals we want to buy. Despite the rather rough seas, we all manage to take a cold shower. Refreshing!
Jens fishes a nice piece of meat from the fridge. This is cut into goulash. To do this, he processes all the vegetables that can still be processed. Now we are without fresh goods. After a week at sea, the things were partly in marginal condition. However, we only had to throw away very little. In the evening program I show the rough version of a small film that I am currently cutting about our passage to Sao Vicente. Then we watch a film from the on-board video store.
Jakob and I take out the genoa before he goes to bed. The wind is slowly easing, five hours earlier than the forecast promised. As I handle the tree, my eyes fall on the foredeck. It's hard to believe we caught a fish! Our first flying fish is lying there waiting to start stinking. The flying fish rot very quickly, especially when the sun is shining. From now on we have to check Sissi regularly for flying fish. As if we didn't have enough to control already. I'll get a bag of chips.
As I am being rolled to sleep, I notice every muscle in my arms, my upper body, even my fingers. It hurts. For a week now I've been busy holding onto something. Or I turn a winch handle. Or I'll hold on to something while I turn a winch handle. That is exhausting. Decades of neglecting my muscles as a mouse push at my desk are noticeable. Jens and Jakob don't have these problems. Jens has been in climbing halls a lot, Jakob is just young. In this situation I feel really, really old.
The following day greets us with sunshine. We have no new defects on board. I've never had December 23rd like this in my life. Inside the ship it is a pleasant 24 ° C, outside a refreshing breeze blows. Every now and then we see a school of flying fish passing by and the sail of another sailing boat on the horizon. Life is Beautiful.
7. Etmal: 117 nm Position at 12 o'clock: N17 ° 50 ′ W23 ° 55 ′ 79 nautical miles to Sao Vicente (Mindelo). 2081 nautical miles to Barbados. The total distance traveled is now 827 miles.
Ouch ouch. Sore muscles and bruises. Nobody told me that before.
Back and forth. You need wind to sail, and wind makes waves. That is trivial. We are not on the IJsselmeer or the Baltic Sea, we are sailing the Atlantic. It's easy on the IJsselmeer or the Baltic Sea. When the wind is there, the waves are there too. When there is no wind, the water calms down quickly and the waves are gone again. This has something to do with the depth of the water and the distance the wind can blow over the water. If the water is a few thousand meters deep and the wind has several hundred or even thousand miles of approach in each direction, then the waves are not gone immediately. They get weaker but stay there. This is called swell - or old swell. A storm near Iceland can mean that here, 300 miles north of Cape Verde, there are still waves several meters high. But now there is the local wind, which also causes waves. They are not that high, but they come from a different direction.
Back and forth. So we drive up and down the old swell, while the new waves of the local wind push us up and down again. Up and down again and again. Sometimes they run across under Sissi, then it goes back and forth. It rocks. Up and down and back and forth. Again and again. Every minute, every hour, all day. Sissi is dancing in the waves.
Back and forth. We live with it in our floating apartment with a sea view. Eating, drinking, cooking, baking, washing up, cleaning, showering, sleeping, doing handicrafts and occasionally checking out other ships, checking the position of the sails and monitoring the course. But mainly what people do in their home on land. The flat on land does not shake so much that the person is thrown from the stove onto the living room couch. We chose it that way. Up and down and back and forth. Sissi sways in a carnival-like manner.
Jens, Jakob and I have decided that we want to make a stopover on Sao Vicente in Mindelo from around Christmas Eve to New Year's Eve. The general weather situation looks like that from Christmas Eve there will be hardly any wind in the area. On the one hand, it's a shame because we would have liked to have been to the Caribbean earlier. On the other hand, we see the opportunities. Maybe we'll get a new spifall after all. And none of us have been to Cape Verde so far, so we can still insert some sightseeing. Then there is the supply of fresh meat, fruit and vegetables. Here there is still the possibility to replenish our supplies at one point or another. Sissi dances the Viennese waltz.
We see a turtle swimming towards Cape Verde. What is she doing so far out there? Where does she come from? A few hours later we see a turtle that is heading in the same direction. We can also see a few dolphins, they jump out of the water about 200 meters behind Sissi. It goes back and forth, up and down. Sissi dances the tango.
Until then we slide over the waves. Always up and down. And we're being pushed back and forth by the waves. The mood on board is relaxed. We feel good. We only notice the larger disturbances in the wave pattern, we no longer feel the normal waves at all. This will be fun on land, especially on the first shower. It then goes up and down and back and forth. When she sleeps, Sissi dances the pogo. Jens and I wedge ourselves in our beds with the help of the seat cushions from the salon.
Up and down. Back and forth. The almost obligatory repair takes place in the morning. The wind vane no longer steers properly, Sissi searches her course according to her mood. This time a screw on the wind vane broke. Probably a late consequence of the lost screw on the way to Lanzarote. With the help of brain wax, the Dremel and the screws we bought at the Optimus hardware store in Arrecife, we can fix the problem. We are still on the move quickly. The waves don't change. Sissi dances rock'n'roll. 000
6. Etmal: 127 nm Position at 12 o'clock: N19 ° 24 ′ W22 ° 44 ′ 192 nautical miles to Sao Vicente (Mindelo). 2149 nautical miles to Barbados. The total distance traveled is now 710 miles.
A day on the Atlantic has a light and a dark half. Without television, without radio and without internet, without street lights at night, without traffic noise, without news and without newspapers. On-board routine has set in, as always on the long sea passages. Only this passage is now longer than the longest we have ever had - not in miles, but in days. We are only at the beginning, most of the route is still ahead of us.
A light and a dark half on our spaceship, which glides through the endless expanses of the ocean. The light half begins with coffee, homemade bread and the daily conversation between Jens and me about the weather. Not the discussion of the weather as we know it at home. Not the grumbling about too high or too low temperatures, about too much or too little rain, but the discussion about the wind and the best choice of our route. As a result, we jibe today, are now driving a somewhat more westerly course, which still has enough southern components to be able to reach Mindelo if necessary. Maybe we can skip this layover. It depends on the weather.
The light half. Halse goes like this: First I climb onto the foredeck and dismantle the tree with which we boomed the genoa. Then I climb back into the cockpit. Jens changes the course that the wind vane is steering by about 60 degrees. Sissi slowly changes direction. I throw off the port sheet, Jens pulls the starboard sheet on. Jakob is filming that. I want to cut a film across the Atlantic. There won't be that many jibes. Finally I go back to the front and reassemble the tree. Finished. It takes about a quarter of an hour from start to finish.
The light half. Jens discovers that we have once again lost a screw on the wind generator. I glued the last one carefully. So I climb up and glue a new screw in. This time with a different glue that hopefully holds better. This is the third screw at this point that we have lost. We are not filming this action. Sitting on the radar four meters above the ocean, I don't want to be filmed.
Finally, there is another highlight of the day - we shower. The water is still really cold, the Atlantic is not at the bathtub temperature. Anyway, it feels good. The last action in the light half is to prepare the dinner that Jacob will cook today. The sea is calm enough to allow a beginner to cook. There is canned goulash with fresh leek, which must go. With rice. A simple, tasty meal. When consumed, the dark half of the day begins.
A light and a dark half. The first guard in the dark half is mine. It always was, even before Jakob came on board with us. Jacob is on the middle watch from midnight to four in the morning. Then it’s Jens’s turn. Thanks to our hitchhiker, we both have two hours more sleep each. That feels good. In that regard, having a third man on board paid off. I put on a Leonard Cohen record, sit down in the cockpit and, like almost every evening, am amazed by the great starry sky. The dark half is really dark here.
We still expect at least 20 light and 20 dark halves, at our strolling pace we do not expect to arrive in Barbados earlier. The slow pace is faster than we can drive the machine. A cyclist would almost fall over from slowness at this speed. These lines arise during the dark half of my watch, while the communication tablet tries to download a new weather forecast, which I will discuss with Jens tomorrow. In the bright half of the day.
The dark half. I am tossed to and fro in bed. The wind has picked up. We should actually have to reef. Jens decided that he would rather not do any work on the foredeck during the night, so he lets me sleep and fights with the wind vane. We have too much cloth outside, we keep luffing, I keep rolling from the left to recehts and back. I'm too tired to torture myself out of bed and reef together with Jens.
The light half. We can no longer put it off in front of us, we have to reef. Jens dismantles the tree, Jakob operates the winch, the sail gets a little smaller. Then Jacob begins to bite his teeth. His strength is no longer sufficient. Further reefing is no longer possible. The Furlex is blocked. Fortunately not at the top of the mast, but at the bottom of the rope drum. Again I have to work, I have to go to the foredeck. A defector prevents us from reefing the sail any further. Brain teaser: How do we get the defector out of the reefing line that is under tension? After solving this problem, I dismantle the entire cladding of the rope drum, then we relieve the reefing line and I can untangle the line. Shit fumbling. When I get my hands on the designer of this Furlex, I wrap him around the forestay with the reefing line, then I thrash him with a large slat until it's green and blue. The dismantling is n oh easy, the assembly a real dirty job. Then we open two cans of chilli and bake bread.
The light half. We discussed the weather and made a decision on where to go next. In tomorrow's post I will announce the decision. If you want to guess, please visit the relevant weather pages. Windy.com or Windfinder.com can provide crucial information. Another dark and a light half.
5. Etmal: 137 nm Position at 12 o'clock: N21 ° 16 ′ W21 ° 47 ′ 315 nautical miles to Sao Vicente (Mindelo). 2217 nautical miles to Barbados. The total distance traveled is now 583 miles.
Actually, I wanted to relax while sailing and not work so much. Puff cake.
In the middle of the Atlantic we found him, lonely floating next to Sissi and part of a community of hitchhikers stranded in the Marina Santa Cruz. There are hitchhikers a dime a dozen in Santa Cruz. You stroll across the jetties, find the long-haul boats with a connoisseur's eye and ask, ask, ask ... You also wander haphazardly across the jetties, besieging every new sailing yacht at the most impossible of times - right after mooring. When a crew needs everything, a beer, a shower and at least twelve hours of peaceful sleep at a time. But not the question of whether the yacht continues to sail into the Caribbean and still needs crew.
So he attacked us too. On his search for a ride across the pond. "Do you know where your towel is?" So I should have asked. But I haven't. The people in Tamsweg (Austria) have probably been waiting for a contribution of this kind for days, because we have had a third crew member since Santa Cruz.
If you don't understand the towel and the 42, please go to the library or buy the book “The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy” by Douglas Adams from your trusted bookseller. Worth it.
Jens and I have long considered whether we want to do the passage in pairs as usual or take a hitchhiker with us. “No, we don't need another crew member, we are complete,” we said. Then we let all of this go through our heads for a few days. On the one hand, another person messes up everyday life on board. On the other hand, a third person can also keep watch and we get more sleep. The latter was the decisive factor.
We asked him to come to us on board and tested it. Can we talk to him? Are we getting annoyed after just five minutes? Does he have any idea what to expect in the coming weeks? Does he have the necessary papers with him? An Italian with an expired passport actually asked us if that would be a problem in the Caribbean. Does he have allergies? Does he have eating habits that are diametrically opposed to ours? Is he willing to take on work on board as well? What kind of work can he do? His sailing experience at that time was a catamaran crossing from Gibraltar to the Canary Islands. The evening was pleasant. After he left, we went to sleep first. We discussed it on the following day and we unanimously decided that we would try it with Jakob Pfeifer, 21 years old. If it doesn't work, we will wi it in Cape Verde eder kick out.
That's why he hasn't appeared in the blog yet. I didn't want to write it into our story until we got to know Jakob better the first few days behind us. We now know that things are going well here on board, including with the new crew member. So it was high time to get it out there.
Otherwise everything is going as usual here. The wind is blowing, Sissi is rolling, the water tank is rumbling. Since the Parasailor accident, the genoa has been pulling us forward again, we have expanded it. That makes life easier. Last night the wind picked up, we are now no longer at three to four knots, but at least five to six knots.
Fine beef fillets from the market with sweet potatoes and a delicious tomato and pepper sauce (refined with mojo) were served for dinner yesterday. For a few hours late in the evening on the AIS, due to overreaching, we saw a dozen ships, all at least 100 miles away from us. And we saw a fantastic starry sky.
We have the Iridium Lotto under control, we can now conveniently download the 14-day forecast for the entire Atlantic in just three to four hours. Go then!
Unfortunately the calm seems to be faster than Sissi. If nothing changes in the forecast, we will be in Mindelo on Sao Vicente on Christmas Eve and have to sit out there for a week until New Year's Eve. If we got a new spifall during this time, it would at least be worth it. Let's see. Wait and have a coffee. There are still a few days left until Christmas Eve and the weather can always change. Tomorrow we will probably jibe and take a more western course.
4. Etmal: 114 nm Position at 12 o'clock: N22 ° 18 ′ W19 ° 44 ′ Another 366 nautical miles to Cape Verde, more precisely 430 nautical miles to Sao Vicente (Mindelo). From now on I will be giving the miles to Sao Vicente because we would go there. There are only 2,335 nautical miles to Barbados. The total distance traveled is now 446 miles.
Stefan von der Roede Orm took the picture for this post a few minutes before our departure.
We play the Iridium Lotto several times a day. We have an IridiumGO! Satellite phone and this runs with a phone contract that is currently on a data flat rate. So we can send emails as often and as much over the phone, and one or the other picture in the blog posts is also possible. However, they are mutilated beyond recognition if I can believe the pixel collection in the sent folder. I've changed the settings so hopefully the pictures won't be so garbled. Let's see. Other sailors have told us that they bought 600 prepaid free minutes for their Iridium phone, i.e. 10 hours. You definitely don't get across the Atlantic with that. It doesn't even get to Cape Verde, even if you just check the weather.
The phone shows the signal strength with 0 to 5 bars. You can only transfer data with 4 or 5 bars. So in the morning we start downloading the new weather forecast. The transmission breaks down regularly and then has to be restarted manually. Sometimes the signal strength is five for five minutes, but the download attempts stop anyway. After maybe 10 or 15 tries (if it goes well) we will draw the main prize in the Iridium lottery and have a new weather forecast.
Then we transfer the emails. In contrast to the weather program, the mail program tries again and again to transfer data. We have stopped 99 attempts. Usually a mail like this blog post with a small picture is transmitted after 50 to 60 attempts. Prepaid minutes would simply rush through space. I am happy to have listened to the telephone freaks and to own the flat rate. In the Caribbean, we will turn this feature off again when we sail from WiFi hotspot to WiFi hotspot.
Around 2 p.m. the wind is back. Timid at first, we see a few knots more wind on the wind instrument. Then a little stronger, we take out the genoa. The engine is still running, the additional genoa brings half a knot more speed. Then we can reduce the speed of the engine, it only supports the genoa a little so that it doesn't pop in the rolling water. At 3 p.m. we finally park it. The situation stabilizes, so we switch to Parasailor at 4 p.m.
Then there is dinner. Various vegetables that would otherwise soon perish, baked with cheese in a pasta casserole. I love our oven, especially the gratin function. The French know how to build kitchen appliances. Yes, the first vegetable will break after just two days. We are now checking it out regularly and will process it according to perishability.
The Parasailor now pulls us into the night. From the eight to ten knots of wind we get five to six knots of speed. Much better, however, is that this sail completely dampens Sissi's rolling movements. We feel like we're lying on the pier. In some marinas we were more restless. Admittedly, the Atlantic has calmed down a lot overall. It wasn't much of a starry sky today, the sky is quite cloudy.
When I go to bed the wind picks up a little. I readjust the wind vane, we are now galloping over the waves at seven knots. Sissi drives calmly, continues to lie in the water as if on the jetty. I snuggle up in the blanket and quickly find my sleep. Then I find myself next to the mattress. A gust of wind caused Sissi to take off, we are more inclined. Nice, I think, we got even more wind and turn to the other side. I get knocked off the mattress twice, then suddenly I hear a shrill call: “Jööööööörg !!!!”
Jens calls me, the Parasailor is next to Sissi in the water. The spifall is broken. We need three quarters of an hour to recover the wet cloth and convert Sissi back to Genoa operation. After that I need a beer, I have to get rid of the adrenaline. I can't go to bed like this anymore.
What options do we have? They haven't changed. Sissi is just as seaworthy as before. Just slower. We can go to Cape Verde, but there is no shipyard there that could move us in a new Spifall. We could move it in ourselves, but according to the port manual, the supply situation in Cape Verde is not good. They probably don't have the ropes they need there. The next Spifall will probably only be in the Caribbean. Wait and see what else the Atlantic has to offer us.
The next morning the SY Toboggan (MMSI 316038262) from Canada overtook us. We have a short chat over the radio. The Canadians are on their way to Cape Verde and will get there days before us. They also fished a mahi mahi in the morning. But we still have delicious steaks in the fridge.
3. Etmal: 97 nm Position at 12 o'clock: N23 ° 54 ′ W18 ° 49 ′ 471 nautical miles to Cape Verde and 2,404 nautical miles to Barbados. The total distance traveled is now 332 miles.
I never thought that Iridium was so shitty. For the next world tour I buy internet from Mr. Musk.
In the early afternoon the genoa begins to strike. The wind is no longer enough to let them stand properly in the Atlantic swell. Knatter, knatter, rrrrummms. Knatter, knatter, rrrrummms. Sissi trembles from the blows. It's easier to sail at 30 knots of wind than at 13 knots. We think about measures. One measure would be the engine. Another measure of the Parasailor. After only an hour of work on the foredeck and in the ship's catacombs, the large sheet is ready to sit.
Think! When the funnel is pulled up, the port and starboard sheets are found to be crossed. It will not work like that. So again down with the funnel, uncross the pods and up again. Fine. This time we only needed two attempts. We continue sailing with the Parasailor for a few hours, then it falls into the water. There is simply no more wind.
So down with the big cloth. Convert the pods back to genoa operation. Start the engine and continue. Hopefully we will get to the Passat Zone in time so that we don't have to refuel in Cape Verde.
I reward myself for the sweaty work with a shower. We are so far south that the water from the tank must be warm. Think! Brrrr ... but feels so good. And of course fresh clothes that don't stick to salt. And as it should be on a sailing boat - everyone or nobody takes a shower. The little joys of everyday life.
For dinner there are pork chops with Canarian potatoes, Canarian peppers and mojo sauce. Before that, a lobster soup, you don't indulge in anything else. Jens crawls into his bunk, I have the first watch as always.
Nothing happens here. Absolutely nothing. No other ships have been seen for 20 hours, nor can you see any on the AIS. There is also radio silence. The sky is clear with stars. Once again I am breaking all the good rules of seafaring and turning off all the lights. To do this, I throw Tchaikovski's Concerto No. 1 for piano and orchestra on the record player and turn the music up a little. That's nice. Below the diesel beats us through the slack. I'm trying to forget that. The music comes to the fore, the stars shine.
When Jens takes over the watch, the diesel is still humming. Even when I wake up in the morning. In the course of the morning a little wind is slowly rising. Not yet sailable, but from the right direction. Still under 10 knots, but getting stronger all the time. Jens has been comparing the ship's position and the weather data all night and says that we will have sailing wind again around noon.
It is noon in Germany. We have no sailing wind. It is noon in the Canaries. We still have no sailing wind. It is now noon on the Sissi (Cape Verde time, two hours behind Germany). The engine hums.
2nd Etmal: 114 nm Position at 12 o'clock: N25 ° 16 ′ W18 ° 04 ′ 570 nautical miles to Cape Verde and 2450 nautical miles to Barbados. The total distance traveled is now 235 miles.
Soon it will be noon somewhere and we can sail. I am confident.
Somewhere in the depths of the internet I read a text about optimizing the wind vane control in light winds. I can't remember where that was. Therefore I do not want to register a copyright for this patent, but would like to recommend copying it.
At the moment we have a light wind without end that whistles at seven to nine knots. That is just enough to make the Parasailor three to four knots of speed. With this low wind, the wind vane has a hard time responding quickly to the ship's turn. With the small plastic bag, the response has improved significantly.
What we are missing now is a few knots more light wind.
Big “goodbye” on the jetty. We are bid farewell to Roede Orm and Grace with a great deal of tumult. Even when leaving the port, gusts of wind at 40 knots from the mountains over Sissi. We stow all lines and fenders far away, knowing full well that we won't need them for the next few weeks. A few hundred meters behind the port exit, we set the genoa, turn off the engine and wait for what is to come.
Due to the high mountains, Tenerife protects us from the storm that rages on the west side. However, according to the weather forecast, the storm should subside in the course of the evening, become easy to sail at night and a nice sailing wind should remain on the following day. We want to drive away from the lull area that will slide south over Tenerife in the next few days. But now the wind is very variable. Everything is included between 15 kn and 35 kn. We reef the genoa, reef it up again, reef it up again and stick with it for the time being. The swell is difficult to keep within limits, so far we have planned the start well. The Chapo sends us messages from Lanzarote. There it blows at 50 kn. But they're also on the other side of the mountains, where the storm hits them right away.
There is light food for dinner. Chicken curry with rice, carrots and peas. It pays off. For the first time (!) Jens does not share his meal with Neptune on the first day at sea. As always, he goes to bed early, but he has his normal complexion. Nice. This is how it was planned, this is how it should be.
We reach the slipstream of the Teide. The genoa beats wildly, there is no more sailing wind. The gusts only reach 8 knots, otherwise there is calm. So the iron genoa is made clear, we burn the first affordable liters of diesel. After two hours the wind is back, with 20 knots also in the right amount. Only now, instead of coming from the north, he suddenly comes from the southeast. I pull out the genoa on the other side and turn off the engine. That works fine for half an hour, then the wind slowly turns east. Then northeast. Then suddenly it blows at 30 knots, the wind vane no longer holds the course. I have to reef. I've just finished reefing, then the wind is completely gone again. ScheiXX Teide. Engine on, genoa gone.
Messages from Germany are still sporadically received on mobile phones. We get a lot of congratulations and a warning of six meter high waves when we leave the slipstream of Tenerife. Six meter waves don't scare us, they come here with a long frequency and are easy to sail. Once again from here many thanks and best regards from the Sissi crew. Then we leave the area of the cellular network. Slowly all the rattling cans and plates have come to a standstill, the glasses on the shelves no longer clink. Most of our pillows have disappeared in some closet where they keep things quiet. Always this stupid rolling under engine.
Then the wind comes again, this time again from the north and at a comfortably sailable 15 knots. Genoa out, engine out. From 15 knots to 20 knots, then 25 knots, then 30 knots and finally 35 knots. Meanwhile, the reefing is really annoying. I just leave the genoa unreefed and watch Sissi plow through the waves as a high-speed regatta yacht at just under 9 knots. They are less than six meters, maybe four. The wind vane is well adjusted, this time it can handle the wind and gusts. It runs. It's going really well. It is a good feeling. We are now doing a real stretch.
There is always a splash of Atlantic Ocean in the cockpit, but the water temperature is pleasant. I have to turn off the wind generator, the batteries are so full that it can only burn off the excess electricity in its resistor. Our plan to drive away from the doldrums is working well for the moment.
Jens wakes up without my having to wake him up. He's fine. We turn on the radio, put on Alestorm and turn up the volume control. You can still hear that in Tenerife. Then I go to bed, I get tossed around again and again and only find my sleep late. As always on the first day. In the morning Jens has to start the engine again because the wind is broken. He'll come back later. We are now sailing at 3-4 knots and are trying to get out of the calm zone. This part of the crossing was not planned that way.
We have enough fresh water, so let's desalinate the whole cockpit. We desalt all the handles that we have touched with our salt hands. We desalt the stairs into the salon. This is real luxury. The sun is burning on the solar panels, so the watermaker can refill the tank right away. The batteries are almost bursting with electricity. This part of the plan is also ongoing. With the weather forecast, there are now two options for our onward journey, as a slack band is now pushing south from Tenerife.
Option 1: We get out without a lot of diesel consumption, then we drive straight through to the Caribbean. Option 2: We now need the engine for two more days, then we have to refuel again on Cape Verde.
1. Etmal: 121 nm Position at 12 o'clock: N26 ° 58 ′ W17 ° 26 ′ Another 700 nautical miles to Cape Verde and 2500 nautical miles to Barbados.
Now I lie down on the couch a little longer, before I eat a homemade bread with delicious liver sausage from Bonames. We never felt better after the first day at sea!
Dieter Bohlen wrote a bad song with a similar title decades ago. I wish the inclined reader a lousy catchy tune. Nobody will call SOS with us. We are on the way. The lines are loose. Crazy.
In the morning we ransacked the fresh market, then we broke into the supermarket. Graze everything like a swarm of locusts. The refrigerator and bunker are filled to the brim. Yesterday our shopping list got longer hour by hour. What we have forgotten today we will not get any more.
The marina is paid for. We have declared. We said goodbye to the friends of Roede Orm and Grace, who also want to start in a few days or weeks.
The wind really cracks. The average wind is 18 knots, gusts of 35 knots keep coming in. Demanding offshoot. Santa Cruz shows itself in the most beautiful sunlight.
Atlantik is calling… lalala… we are on the way… lalala… We are excited, excited, happy with anticipation. End of transmission.