Crossing to the Canary Islands - Day 1

In the early afternoon we leave the marina in Lagos and make our way to the Canary Islands. The goal is first of all Lanzarote, which from our point of view is the first of the Canary Islands. In addition, there is more space in the marinas than, for example, in Gran Canaria, from where the ARC will start.

The perfect wind blows us on the target course at 6.5 knots. For about half an hour we are around the cape and the wind eases. Everything is as always. Sissi slows down to 4 knots and the swell from the Atlantic begins. We are in good spirits because we are finally back on the road. As long as the telephone network is still available, we joke with our friends and exchange messages. After three hours it's over, the web radio goes silent, the cell phones are put aside and the sun goes down quickly. Everything is as always.

“Don't tell the Chapos!” Jens told me when he shared his lunch with Neptune. "Otherwise you get scared." Apparently we have been lying in the same place too long, his stomach can no longer stand rolling. Everything is as always.
So I just make a light dinner, canned pasta Bolognese. More is not worth it, Jens does not even manage to eat his plate completely empty. In addition, the rolling is so brutal that the fresh ingredients would have flown through the salon. Otherwise he's the pastatier. Jens goes to bed at 7 p.m., I'll take the first watch. Everything is as always.

No pasta for Jens - the spaghetti monster looks critical

At first it looks exciting on the AIS. We cross several lanes for cargo ships and there is a lot going on there. A fisherman keeps aiming at Sissi for an hour, I can see his red and green position lights all the time. But he fishes slowly, we escape him thanks to the slightly freshening wind and do not have to make any corrections to our course. Around midnight, the screens calm down and a well-tended boredom spreads.
It is our fifth multi-day ocean passage. We crossed the North Sea three times, once the Bay of Biscay and are now on the blue water again for several days. The North Sea is comparatively entertaining, you can engage in the oil rig slalom and regularly see cargo ships and fishing boats. Nothing is going on here.

I listen to Sissiphonie No. 5 in Atlantic minor and at first don't miss the kettledrum from the water tank. A slight hum from the wind generator, plus the creaking of the interior with every movement of the ship. Dull beats of the wave drums clapping against the ship's side are rhythmically underlaid by the clinking glasses on the glass shelf. This tact also applies to the stove, whose semi-cardanic suspension calls for a drop of oil. The bread pan has torn itself loose and is beating back and forth in the lasagne bowl, a couple of tea towels can help. I'm lying on the couch, the tins dancing the tango beneath me in the supply load. I am re-sorting them. The cutlery in the drawer beats its soft beat, the cauliflower is much louder, drumming out of its net on the storage jars for the flour. With a thud, the heeled Porsche falls to the floor in the forward bunk, the exit ladder behind. A poorly secured, open packet of tagliatelle spreads gracefully in front of the stove.

Glass shelf - cleared!

After the moonset, the night is clear with stars. I turn off all lights on the Sissi for half an hour and enjoy the infinity above me. Stars I have never seen in my life. In the middle the band of the Milky Way runs through it. Every now and then a falling star falls. I would like more wind. Around half past three I wake Jens, who always rolled from side to side in his bunk and didn't get much sleep. But his indisposition is blown away. Very well. Everything is as always. I too am rolled around and cannot sleep for a long time.


The four meter high waves are not bad at all, Sissi simply drives up and down on them. The problem is the small waves that are hidden in it. They tilt, turn and shake Sissi, keep us off course and let the sail flap and pop.

The kettledrum from the water tank is back now. We made 120 liters of water, the tank is now almost completely full. Our sissiphony orchestra is now complete again. We will probably need the rest of the day to get used to the situation at sea. Everything is as always.

Current position (at 2:30 p.m.): 35 ° 49'N 9 ° 40'W
First Etmal: 93.2 miles (at 3.7 kn slower than a DHL package)
Remaining distance: 450 miles

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