April 9, 2016

Land ho! St Helena



Every landfall is magical, but coming across a storied island in the middle of the South Atlantic is especially wondrous.


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April 8, 2016

Day 8 - 2 milestones

The very light winds have increased slightly so the spinnaker is down after some 40 hours and 1-1/2 nights of sailing with it. We should be in to St Helena sometime tomorrow afternoon. Today's lunch was coleslaw. The green "keep veggies fresh" bags we found in South Africa are doing their thing because the cabbage is keeping well.

Yesterday we marked two important milestones. We crossed back into the Western Hemisphere by crossing the Prime Meridian. We are now West of Greenwich again. Haven't been in this hemisphere since 2011 near Tonga, when we crossed the Pacific. We also saw that we passed 30,000 miles on the GPS odometer. That's more than the circumference of the earth, but we have done a few detours along the way...

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April 6, 2016

Back to the West



48 hours of squalls have given way to calm seas and moderate winds.  Later today we'll sail across the Prime Meridian and back into the West. Bubbles are chilling for our celebration (well one wee bottle of cider to be divided by 3).

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April 4, 2016

Day 5 to St Helena

Sure miss those settled seas. 3 metre swells and lots of wind for the past 12 hours.

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April 3, 2016

Sunset night four

The kind of night you sail around the world for. 

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Sailing the Beautiful Blue

When you are surrounded on all sides by water--it's easy to lose track of the hours. Have we been out 3 days? 4 days? When we changed time zones did the clock go forward or back? There's a timelessness to passages that last more than 3-4 days. Days are divided into meals, watches, naps, sunsets, moonrises and dawn. It reminds me in some ways of having a newborn. The rest of the world recedes; small things catch my eye. The colour of the water for instance--close to the coast it was a nutrient rich murky green. And it was cold. We slept under big blankets and drank litres of hot tea. Now the water is a brilliant tropical blue--but the sea birds are gone. There are no more albatross, kites and terns. We haven't looked out to see seals floating head down with only their flippers reaching to the sky. Surprising seals and making them leap is remarkably entertaining in our small, ocean-bound world. Visits by dolphins have also dropped off making the ocean seem vast, empty and endless.
Even the stars seem bewitched. The Milkyway is bright enough to illuminate our decks. The seas light themselves with bioluminescence. Each day seems like the one before--expect for these small moments.
If it weren't for the charts showing our steady march of progress toward a tiny speck in the sea it would be easy to imagine that we're not actually going anywhere.

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April 1, 2016

St Helena Bound--day two

It's always a treat when a passage that promises good sailing lives up to the hype. We've been averaging just over 6 knots in winds that are 10-15 from astern (though breezier over night). Feels like we earned this passage after all the adventures of getting across the Indian Ocean to Simon's Town. We're all enjoying the mellow weather and Maia, Charlie the cat and I have only been bothered by mild seasickness. Maia even managed to bake a batch of muffins today.

Once again in this journey around the planet we find ourselves following in Captain Cook's wake. Happily while he was getting "Squally, with Rain; Latter, fresh Gales and Cloudy" on April 25 1771, we have what he likely would have called "gentle breezes and clear weather. Having his log is an interesting way to race him across the ocean almost 245 years later. His best days were about 168 miles--which is similar to our good days in the trades. We seem to do better in the light winds though.

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March 31, 2016

Namibia's Skeleton Coast

The bones of more than a thousand ships are said to be scattered on the shores of the coast we're following north. Before the days of GPS, when the daily fogs rolled in, the navigators aboard ships were easily disoriented. I can see why. The roar of the surf is omnipresent, it seems to come from all directions as it bounces off the thousand foot high dunes.

We tucked into Hottentot Bay last night to let a heavy swell roll through (though it rolled right into the anchorage) and to take in some of the dune-scape. Even if the surf on shore weren't as high as houses, I'm not sure we'd venture onto the beach. There are the bones of an old ship, which would be interesting to explore, and miles and miles of sand. But as gorgeous as it is, it seems forbidding.

I doubt many of the old ship wrecks have ever been explored. The treasure here is diamonds. We saw the diamond boats preparing to go out while we were in Luderitz. Setting off for weeks on end-each small boats had a diver aboard and a vacuum-like device. The boats search out signs of ancient river beds on the ocean floor and then the diver goes down and starts to vacuum up the gravel.

If a diamond of more than a carat is found in the sample-they vacuum up all the gravel and eventually return it to Luderitz for processing. This way no human hands touch the raw diamonds and try to secret them away. The diamond divers earn about $6 US per carat on these high quality conflict-free diamonds. The fishermen here earn more.

Diving for diamonds might seem like an interesting way to feed the cruising kitty-but beyond the fact the water temperatures are 12-14C, the diamonds are found in restricted areas with huge buffers and well-armed guards. There's no fun family fossicking here. One local told us that in the desert in the restricted area "diamonds are as common as bird shit". He speculated that if outside eyes saw just how common they are their value would have to go down.

Having never been a real fan of diamonds, I'll continue to concentrate on the other treasures of this coast. Yesterday we were surprised by a pod of monster-sized dolphins. They came into Luderitz like a team of commandos. You could hear their wakes from hundreds of meters away as they spread out through the anchorage catching fish. Later-a monster-sized seagull caught my eye as it floated near the boat. I called Ev and Maia out to see it as it spread its giant wings and soared off as an albatross.

Hopefully this version comes through properly. Images will come separately.

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Namibia's Skeleton Coast


The bones of more than a thousand ships are said to be scattered on the shores of the coast we're following north. Before the days of GPS, when the daily fogs rolled in, the navigators aboard ships were easily disoriented. I can see why. The roar of the surf is omnipresent, it seems to come from all directions as it bounces off the thousand foot high dunes.

We tucked into Hottentot Bay last night to let a heavy swell roll through (though it rolled right into the anchorage) and to take in some of the dune-scape. Even if the surf on shore weren't as high as houses, I'm not sure we venture onto the beach. There are the bones of an old ship, which would be interesting to explore, and miles and miles of sand. But as gorgeous as it is, it seems forbidding.

I doubt many of the old ship wrecks have ever been explored. The treasure here is diamonds. We saw the diamond boats preparing to go out while we were in Luderitz. Setting off for weeks on end—each small boats had a diver aboard and a vacuum-like device. The boats search out signs of ancient river beds on the ocean floor and then the diver goes down and starts to vacuum up the gravel.

If a diamond of more than a carat is found in the sample—they vacuum up all the gravel and eventually return it to Luderitz for processing. This way no human hands touch the raw diamonds and try to secret them away. The diamond divers earn about $6 US per carat on these high quality conflict-free diamonds. The fishermen here earn more.

Diving for diamonds might seem like an interesting way to feed the cruising kitty—but beyond the fact the water temperatures are 12-14C, the diamonds are found in restricted areas with huge buffers and well-armed guards. There's no fun family fossicking here. One local told us that in the desert in the restricted area "diamonds are as common as bird shit". He speculated that if outside eyes saw just how com mon they are their value would have to go down.

Having never been a real fan of diamonds, I'll continue to concentrate on the other treasures of this coast. Yesterday we were surprised by a pod of monster-sized dolphins. They came into Luderitz like a team of commandos. You could hear their wakes from hundreds of meters away as they spread out through the anchorage catching fish. Later—a monster-sized seagull caught my eye as it floated near the boat. I called Ev and Maia out to see it as it spread it's giant wings and soared off as an albatross.






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March 29, 2016

Into the Atalntic



After six countries and nine months we’re departing Africa and heading toward South America. It will be hard to say goodbye to all the great memories—and the seal that’s been living under our boat for the past two weeks—but we’re excited about the voyage to come. We’ll get to visit St Helena and Ascension, two of the most isolated islands in the world, then make landfall in a still to be determined country in South America

At 4,400 nautical miles, our voyage across the Atlantic will cover the fewest miles of the three oceans. But we also get the fewest places to stop. So rather than spending months and months crossing an ocean—we’ll be on the other side in a matter of weeks (6-8 of them—depending on how long we stay on St Helena and Ascension).

Despite that, we’re well-provisioned. Unlike Captain Cook, who took aboard a combination of salt beef, flour, ships biscuits and wine, when he was in Cape Town, preparing to depart for St Helena, our stores are much more diverse, and contain quite a bit more fresh produce.

 We’ve been brushing up on our cabbage recipes (Rumbledethumps have been joined by Sri Lankan dry cabbage curry), tucked away some treats, and stocked up on a diverse range of tinned and dried foods. Today we’ll head off on our final fresh shop and see what the town has to offer (the day before Easter the pickings were pretty scant—so our fingers are crossed).

We’ll say goodbye to the yacht club—where Maia’s been working on her pool shark skills and we’ve been getting to know a few locals, and then explore an anchorage or two up the coast before turning more west and heading out to sea.