Kika sailing

Return to Falmouth

2009-08-11T09:02:00.018+02:00

We left Falmouth on 20th August 2005 a little apprehensive about what Biscay would have in store for us and still trying to persuade the wind-vane to hold a straight course. I arrived back on 8th August 2009 having almost mastered the wind-vane, though my respect for the ocean remains undiminished.

We almost had an uneventful sail back from the Scillies. I caught a small mackerel which seemed to emphasize the end (or temporary break) from my tuna catching, ocean sailing days. We were all set to arrive earlier than advertised when I steered directly over a fishing buoy. We eventually freed ourselves by cutting and rejoining the line, though a couple of metres remained caught in the vicinity of the propeller. I hoped the rope cutter on the propeller shaft might clear the final strands - instead the propeller locked solid, stalling the engine. Time to anchor in calmer waters and take a look. After a quarter of an hour, hacking at the rope, the propeller reemerged and I tried bring some feeling back to my extremities with the help of a warm shower.

I was still shivering as we entered Falmouth harbour, though quickly memories of the chilly Cornish waters vanished as we spied Will, Alyssa and Grace waving frantically from a small motor boat. We were then propelled by a whirl of reunions with friends and family, champagne corks popping, joining in the Falmouth week festivities and of course not needing the excuse of karaoke to perform our rendition of "home lovin' man" to the crowd in the Chain Locker.

I've just about recovered and despite the shock of the temperature (is it really summer?), it's great to be back. Falmouth is buzzing - my arrival coinciding with Falmouth week.

It's wonderful to watch the seamanship as the engineless working boats appear to sail effortlessly on to quays and on and off buoys. Falmouth feels like an international sailing cross-roads with northern European boats preparing to head south at the start of exciting adventures and slightly more weather beaten boats arriving with sun-bleached crews high on the thrill of landfall and full of tales of warmer waters.

I'm planning to stay in the harbour for a couple of weeks, sadly preparing Kika for sale and allowing myself to slowly adjust to a new land-based reality. It's been an incredible four years and I've really enjoyed the discipline of keeping the blog - thanks for the positive comments through the years. Now though it's back to reality and trying to fix the diesel heater to bring some warmth into the cabin.. THE END (for now...)

Anchorage in Falmouth: N50deg 09.2' W005deg 03.7'
Mobile: +44 (0)7759 819325

Scilly

2009-08-06T18:47:00.008+02:00

It's been a great couple of days with clearer skies and warmer weather; a welcome break from the unremitting grey skies that tracked our progress northwards. The other treat has been the increasing wildlife, with spectacular whale and dolphin visits coinciding with our crossing of the continental shelf. After seeing virtually no shipping for the first eight days, ship-spotting excitement remained up-to our arrival in Scilly. Other signs of life included VHF channel 16 bursting into life, picking up Radio 4 LW 2 days from Scilly and a sure sign we were approaching civilisation when 10 miles out our phones emerged from hibernation.

It was always going to be a race to arrive in Scilly before sunset. In the end we lost by three hours, but with the reassurance of the Bishop's Rock lighthouse and timely help from the stunning full moon we edged past the surf breaking on the rocks guarding the channel between Tresco and Bryher, dropping anchor a little after midnight.

Scillys ahoy

It finally felt like summer today, perfect weather for show-casing the best of Scillys. I've been questioning my sanity on the trip north as we've had to add thermal layer after layer to stop ourselves from freezing at night - I'm certainly going to miss gazing at the stars in shorts and tee-shirt (or less), but today, at times, the Scillys almost felt on a par with some of the best Pacific atols.

Matt's been very successful at discovering the more "cheesey" corner of my iPod music collection, with "Home Loving Man" becoming a bit of a theme for the voyage from the Azores. The chorus goes:

I'm going to miss the sand in my hair,
The roll of the tide and the salt in the air.
Deep inside it's true -
I'm a home lovin' man,
Comin' on home to you.

I'm going to miss the wind in my eyes,
The shimmerin' light when the seagull flies
And thought I've travelled far
I'm a home loving man,
Home is where you are.

I just hope for the sake of the locals it's not karaoke night in Falmouth on Saturday...

Anchorage between Tresco & Bryer: N49deg 57.7' W006deg 21.0'
Anchorage in St Helen's Pool: N49deg58.0' W006deg19.4'

Guest Blog

2009-08-04T18:06:00.004+02:00

After reading so many of Nick's and various crew's postings (and generally feeling pretty envious afterwards) it feels strange to be making my own contribution to his and Kika's story. We have been at sea since the 27th and the time has passed very comfortably. Nick is so familiar with Kika and everything appears to be effortless for him. He is so quick around the decks whilst I still feel I am just finding my sea legs. He is brilliant in the galley and Kika's kitchen rivals any West End restaurant. We have caught a couple of tuna and sashimi and seared tuna has featured on the menu as has tortilla and jambon serrano, Nick is sleeping with a whole leg of Spanish ham. I will say no more about that. In the morning fresh fruit and home made yoghurt whilst looking at a forlorn trotter poking out from under the table.

This is by far the longest I have been a sea. At times it has felt incredibly remote. We went for several days without seeing a sign of any other human life at all. It was a relief to see a satellite one night as a reminder that life was still out there somewhere. It is like sailing in the middle of a self contained disc of ocean with nothing disturbing it. The sun rises, tracks across the sky and sets, the moon comes up the stars shine and we carry on. We see weather coming hours before it reaches us and the sea is either deep blue or grey depending on the sky. It is one of the great things about sailing - this connection with the passing of natural time rather than the frantic forced pace of everyday life.

We have seen some great things. Today we had a visit from dolphins and they played around the boat for about ten minutes. Later we saw our first close up whales, a school of we believe pilot whales about ten in all, some very large 3-4 metres long, surfing towards us through the waves and playing around us for about ten minutes. I am afraid I got rather over excited, but it was lovely to see them. Now we are closer to land there are more birds, young gannets, fulmars as well as the ever present and wonderfully aerobatic shearwaters and petrels.

We have 150 miles to go to the Scillies and then 60 to Falmouth. We are already planning celebrations in the Scillies, beer for Nick and a pasty for me. It has been great to see Nick again and an honour to share a leg of his journey (and his jambon). It will be great having him back in England. But on those cold Winter nights won't we miss logging on to Kika Sailing and reading about warmer places and Nick's adventures at sea. Thanks for sharing it with us and thanks for a great couple of weeks. Mattxx

Matt takes the helm

Position at 12.15 on the 4th August N48 39' W10 41'
Daily run 127 miles distance to Scillies 181

Tuna at sunrise

2009-08-03T20:41:00.003+02:00

Yesterday our squid lure was out all day without a single bite. This morning without expecting much I let the line out at dawn. Less than a minute later the line went taut and few minutes after that I'd landed another small tuna. What a great way to start the morning. We both managed some sleep last night and though the conditions continued overcast and rough we were both in high spirits - boosted through the day by a whale sighting and dolphin visit.

The race is on to try to arrive in the Scilly Isles before nightfall on Wednesday evening. It's going to be tight. Despite careering along during the day, our speed dropped overnight and we've only once on this trip made more than 130 miles a day. Still it looks like the strong southerly/south-westerly winds will remain so figures crossed.

Position @ 12:00, 3/8/09: N47deg33' W13deg 23'
Distance to Scilly: 308
Daily run: 121

Grey Atlantic day

2009-08-02T11:12:00.000+02:00

If we were camping we'd have peered out of the tent at the enveloping gloom and decided to stay put for the day. On a boat it's not much different; we read, listened to music, tried to find the world service on short-wave, slept, but rarely ventured beyond the confines of the spray hood. The mixture of cabin fever and lack of sleep from another very roly night isn't a great combination.

Even Matt stopped cheerfully predicting sunshine after the current almost non-stop "clearing" shower. Still we're making progress, today marked by reaching the southern extent of the UK shipping forecast regions.

Position @ 12:00, 2/8/09: N46deg19' W15deg 45'
Distance to Scilly: 429
Daily run: 126

Calm before the wind

2009-08-01T21:02:00.001+02:00

Another squally night beating into the wind and bouncing over the waves, which thankfully moderated into a fantastic beam reach over a moderate sea with a clear sky. It's been one of the most enjoyable sailing days since we left the Azores. Matt's spotted lots of whales this morning - mainly in the form of a distant spout, but also an occasional glimpse of a dorsal fin. Not so many shear waters today though.

We finished the last of the tuna for lunch, and with no bites on the lure we've had to resort to our remaining stores. Matt dished up a fabulous white bean and chorizo stew. It's definitely stew weather - there's a real bitterness in the wind.

We're expecting a windy night and day tomorrow, so we're reefed down again, prepared for another roly night. As it looks as though we've a couple of days in hand to meet our planned Falmouth arrival date of the 8th August we're planning to stop first in the Scillys for a few days before making the final 60 miles to Falmouth for the 8th August.

Position @ 12:00, 1/7/09: N44deg 34' W17deg 38'
Distance to Falmouth: 607
Daily run: 121

Wildlife in the wild ocean

2009-07-31T21:04:00.002+02:00

It's been a wild night. Neither Matt or myself managed any sleep as a heavily reefed Kika crashed, rolled and wove her way downwind through a large sea. Thankfully at sunrise the wind moderated and veered to the west, allowing us to grab a couple of hours rest and emerge later to find a calmer sea and warming sun.

I've found a bag of yoghurt powder I didn't know I had, hidden under the spare pasta, allowing us to treat ourselves to yoghurt with fresh fruit for breakfast.
The morning continued improving when the line shot out and I finally I managed to land a small tuna, providing sashimi followed by tuna steaks for lunch and poisson cru for dinner. What a treat.

We passed over King's Trough today with the chart showing a maximum depth of 6324m - the maximum charted depth I can see on my NW Atlantic chart. It's probably coincidental but we've seen much more wildlife today. Lots of shearwaters patrolling the ocean and periodically circling the boat especially if they notice any lures out, then we have an occasional visit from stormy petrels darting close to the surface of the waves. And finally we've seen our first whales of the trip - just the spouts but unmistakable - hopefully if the sea ever calms down we'll be able to see more than just water plumes.

Currently we're beating into a rough sea. It's not the most pleasant sailing occasionally there'll be a loud crash as a wave breaks on the hull, followed by a couple of seconds delay before the spray immerses the boat.

Position @ 12:00, 31/7/09: N43deg 11' W19deg 41'
Distance to Falmouth: 728
Daily run: 135

Ship in the night

2009-07-30T23:59:00.003+02:00

This evening we caught a glimpse of the lights of another boat off to the south. The first humans to enter the disc defined by our horizon since we cleared the Azores - it almost feels like an imposition. It's a very empty ocean out here.
Fishing has been the focus for the day; we spent the morning reworking the lures and deploying three lines over the stern. It's not low maintenance fishing though, as the shearwaters dive on the lures, requiring hasty retraction to avoid an inadvertentbird snag. In the afternoon it looked as though our efforts would be rewarded when one of the lines started clicking out. Unfortunately I lost the fish - down to rigging failure. Still there's hope that we might catch something before we resort to the channel mackerel line.

While searching for some missing nectarines I dropped a box of eggs, resulting in an emergency lunch time tortilla - very tasty. The mystery of the missing nectarines remains....

It's much colder than I would have expected - hard to believe we're at the same latitude as the Portrugese/Spanish border. I've had to exchange my shorts for thermals - the first time since I left New Zealand.

Position @ 12:00, 30/7/09: N41deg 44' W22deg 00'
Distance to Falmouth: 863
Daily run: 118

Falmouth bound

2009-07-29T23:59:00.002+02:00

We left Ponta Delgada at 5pm on Monday. Checking out of the Azores with our next port specified as Falmouth - felt more momentous and final than the usual bureaucratic exit procedure.

Though exciting to head-off with the UK as the next destination, my enthusiasm was tempered by the weather charts which showed a succession of lows crossing the north Atlantic indicating "variable" winds for the 1200 miles passage home.

I'd promised Matt whale and dolphin sightings and a selection of freshly caught fish. The whale sighting didn't seem too much of a stretch with the daily whale watching boats reporting sightings of a variety of cetaceans including sperm whales. It looked as though I'd be able to keep my promise when a school of dolphins joined us as we rounded the western end of Sao Miguel. Since then despite Matt's dedicated scanning of the horizon not a single spout has been spotted. The fishing is as bad, we've two lines deployed without a bite, though our lures look enticing to the storm petrels requiring us to rapidly bring them in when one shows a more than healthy interest.

As ever food is a prime concern. Matt raised the cooking game with roast chicken on the first night, though he had to hand-over responsibility to the sous-chef when the sloppy motion meant he excused himself from the galley and reverted to whale spotting. Today in the absence of fresh sea-food we've started on cured leg of ham I procured in Spain. We're not going to starve - as usual it's a race to eat the fresh fruit and veg before it goes off - though it would be great to have at least one final fresh fish...

Position @ 12:00 29/7/09: N 40deg 30' W24deg 00'
Distance to Falmouth: 981

Sao Miguel

2009-07-21T18:38:00.000+02:00

I feel my Azorian landfall entry might have created the wrong impression about my visit to the islands - my week long stay in the islands has felt far too short; I've had a great time amongst the wonderfully, warm, friendly Azorians - but more of that later.

I left Santa Maria on the evening of my arrival. I'd intended to stay another day, and though conditions weren't ideal to leave immediately - rough seas, with a strong wind to beat into - the forecast predicted strengthening winds veering to the north in the following days. So despite having enjoyed some celebratory glasses of wine, it was time to head off into the squally evening. I optimistically hoped that the worst of the violent squalls sweeping through the anchorage would disappear as I cleared the high cliffs of the islands. However even an hour out with three reefs in the main each squall would pin Kika on her side. As I lay on the cockpit floor feeling a mixture of mild seasickness mixed with a throbbing alcohol induced headache, I pinned my hopes on the predicted moderation in the wind in the early hours. We seemed to spend most of the night crashing over the waves, but eventually the weather conformed to the prediction and allowed me to grab a little sleep.

Despite being in the EU, the Azores keep their entry formalities, with visits required to customs, immigration and port police - fortunately all in adjacent offices within the same building. There weren't any anchoring options close to Ponta Delgada so I opted to treat myself to a berth in the reasonably priced marina awaiting Matt's arrival at the weekend.

After so long amongst Mediterranean charter boats it was great to be surrounded by boats either returning from long voyages or about to set off on their adventures, resulting in a fantastically convivial time. Matt arrived on Saturday evening - it still seems incredible when plans hatched weeks or months in advance come together. With Matt onboard we were all set for the final leg to the UK, however first I was keen to escape the confines of the mosaicly paved Ponta Delgada and explore the island. Inevitably Sunday was the wettest day so far, and despite Matt's optimistic pronouncements that each approaching cloud would yield a "clearing shower" to be followed by clear skies, the scenic viewing places revealed little beyond the bounding wall. However even the heaviest of downpours couldn't prevent us from marvelling at the colourful verges lined with hydrangeas and bougainvillea. After multiple missed turns we eventually succeeded in winding our way up and into the caldera containing the spectacular Lagoa Azul and Lagoa Verde (blue and green lakes). Matt set a cracking pace as we explored the shore-line of Lagoa Verde, which really appeared green when the sun made a belated welcome appearance. With our appetites stimulated we set off in search of food, eventually arriving at a a small bar in Varzea on the west coast. We ordered a selection of mystery stews from tubs behind the bar and set about satisfying our hunger. One stew contained beans and meat which we quickly demolished, however the other proved to be chicken neck, heart and liver stew. Matt gamely worked his way through the bowl - however I decided I was suddenly feeling rather full.

It was festival day in Varzea. Flowers were laid along the roads in the village, two brass bands arrived, the villagers appeared in their "Sunday best", the firework man risked his right arm setting off large loud rocket bangers and eventually the local priest emerged from the church heralding the start of the procession. Villagers carrying a variety of religious icons set off, led by the bands, to process around the village on the recently laid carpet of flowers. After the modern infrastructure of Ponta Delgada, it felt as though we'd been transported to a film set of a period drama. It really would have been great to stay longer and experience more of the Azores...

21/7/2009: Marina, Ponta Delgada: N 37deg 44.3' W025deg

Landfall in Santa Maria

2009-07-20T21:41:00.001+02:00

Another day, another plan. A slip of a new moon rose just before dawn and illuminated what I'd feared, the waves were building from the rising head-wind and we were making tortuously slow headway west. I'm sure the Hiscocks or other hardened sailors of a previous generation would have hove-to or tacked towards the islands thinking nothing of another night at sea. I had other plans - I could see the outline of Santa Maria, I'd plenty of diesel in the tank and I'd serviced the engine in Gibraltar so I motored the last 30 miles. Still progress was slow, I considered changing destination again and heading off to Sao Miguel as at least I'd have a better angle on the wind, but eventually I decided on an anchorage on the north-east end of Santa Maria which looked perfect for strong westerly winds and saved me 7 miles over yesterday's planned landfall of Vila do Porto.

As I closed on Santa Maria I was mobbed by sea-birds. It felt like they'd mistaken me for a fishing boat - could I really smell that bad? Perhaps I've spent too long recently in the Greek islands and have begun expecting all islands to be similarly diminutive, so I was impressed with the size and scale of Santa Maria especially as it's one of the smaller islands in the Azores. Most of the island appears to rise vertically directly from the sea becoming forbidding shear cliffs above the water. As I approached I spied a couple of settlements clinging to a slightly less vertiginous slope, though the way the exit roads wind their way up into the interior quickly put an end to any idea of exploring by bicycle.

The most startling sights in the anchorage, are the gravity defying terraces surrounding the bay. Apparently they are put to use as vineyards producing a locally famous wine. The guide warned that a lot of the houses are holiday homes and although not expecting to be mobbed by Pacific islanders in dug-out canoes, I didn't find Sao Lourenco to be the social place where I'd hoped to make landfall.

Admittedly I only ventured ashore briefly between rain showers and my Portuguese is extremely limited, so not ideal conditions. Still the anchorage is well sheltered from the swell, although frequent squalls whistle down from the cliffs - at least the wind-generator is earning its keep. I should have a restful night then if the weather allows, I'll shift to Sao Migel tomorrow.

13:30GMT, 20/7/2009: Baia de Sao Lourenco, Azores: N36deg 59.2' W25deg 03.0'

So near and yet so far

2009-07-19T11:07:00.000+02:00

After the last few overcast days, today's been a real treat; warm and sunny over a calm sea. After an uncomfortable start, I've settled into the passage and it now feels like it'll be a shame to arrive. It's also hard to believe that the whole trip will be over in a couple of weeks.

I've changed destination. I was heading for Ponta Delgada, Sao Miguel, but the forecast indicated I'd have strong head winds for the final day, so I've altered course slightly to Vila do Porto, Santa Maria. I save 20 miles from this morning's position and it's 60 miles south which should give me a little more time before the strongest head-winds arrive. The little information I have on Santa Maria sounds appealing:

"Santa Maria is often called 'The Island of the Sun' as it tends to be warm and dry and has many fine sand beaches. The Island's traditional houses have white chimneys and blue bars which are a heritage of the first settlers here from Southern Portugal. The landscape is either dry and limestoned or luxuriant with vineyards. It is the oldest Azorean Island as well as the only one resting on the African geological plate. Famous for its handicrafts and pastry!"

Particularly interested in the mention of luxuriant vineyards and pastries.

The new plan is to spend a couple of days in Santa Maria before heading north in time to meet Matt in Sao Miguel on Saturday.

As I'm keen to arrive before the onset of the head-winds, I've been making judicious use of the engine. It was on for a couple of hours this morning - long enough to warm-up the water tank so I spoilt myself to two hot showers. Amazing what a shower can do - I became a different person - one who actually enjoys cleaning. In the course of the major spring-clean I undertook, I discovered that a couple of cans in my store of cheap Spanish beer had burst. The cans share a locker with a large sack of Indonesian flour and bag of Thai rice. What a mess - I've dried everything out as well as I can but there remains a tide mark on sacks of flour and rice.

Position @ 13:20 GMT 19/7/09: N37deg08' W22deg41'
Distance to go: 119
Daily run: 139

Things that go bump in the night

2009-07-18T23:24:00.001+02:00

Over time I've become familiar with the creaks, rattles and bangs generated by Kika as she makes her way across the ocean. However last night each time I was dozing off, I'd be woken by a irregular bang - a sound outside the familiar repertoire. I'd turn over and try to ignore it, hoping it would disappear, but fearing it wouldn't until eventually I'd be wide awake and forced to search it out.

I targeted the usual suspects; cockpit table, bottles of various oils, soft wooden bung in the engine compartment. Each time I thought I'd solved the problem only for it to reoccur when I was on the verge of sleep. Eventually I was exhausted enough to doze off regardless, though it didn't make for the most restful of nights. At daybreak I was in the cockpit checking all's well and saw the bucket on its side rolling freely and occasionally ramping into the side above my berth. Mystery solved, though I nearly threw the offending bucket overboard in frustration.

The weather definitely has a north Atlantic feel to it - there's a chill in the north wind and the sky has been generally overcast for the last few days. I fear the days of fast, effortless sailing, might end tomorrow. The forecast is showing the low to the north of the Azores starting to affect the wind tomorrow then on Monday which should be my landfall day, it looks like I'll have headwinds. I'm heading a little south of my rhumb line to try to ensure I can still sail even if the wind shifts to the west. Time will tell....

Position @ 13:00 GMT 18/7/09: N36deg58' W20deg01'
Distance to Azores: 273
Daily run: 157

Fast and furious towards the Azores

2009-07-17T22:13:00.001+02:00

It was with much anticipation that I waited until midday to calculate the daily run. We've been careering along for 24 hours and I was hopeful we'd make up for yesterday's miserable 84 miles. I choose not to peak in advance so that it would be a surprise. The result - 154 miles. What a difference a day and some favourable wind makes. Though Kika has felt a little over-pressed at times especially during the night, but through lethargy and not fancying a drenching in the dark, we've remained under full sail throughout the squalls.

The favourable wind is from the NE making for a relatively comfortable fast reach to the Azores. Unfortunately it looks like there's a low forming over the next few days to the north of the Azores which will disrupt the NE flow. Hence I'm going all out to make the most of the current conditions (though I was going at full speed before I saw the forecast). It's exhilarating sailing at 6.5-8 knots though somewhat bouncy.

The wind-steering has been doing a great job, it's been working hard; one of the steering lines chafed through with all the activity. Once I fixed the line I gave it a generous helping of oil - still much more reliable than the electronic pilot.
The wind's calmed down a little this evening so I'm looking forward to a more restful night.

Position @ 13:00 GMT 17/7/09: N36deg 30' W16deg49'
Distance to Azores: 430
Daily run 154

China rules the waves?

2009-07-16T22:20:00.001+02:00

I feel a little like a hapless spokesman announcing poor quarterly results: "A disappointing quarter but we're confident we'll be back on track soon...". So it is with the last 24 hours' progress; a mere 84 miles to show for my efforts. The wind remained weak for most of the day and when it finally increased overnight it backed so despite being close-hauled I made more progress SW toward Madeira than the Azores.

The outlook's improved today with the wind veering northwards and increasing; I'm once again able to lay a course for the Azores at a reasonable speed, though the waves have started to build again, which tempers progress. It should be straightforward sailing from now on, I've passed all sea-mount obstacles and now just have 500+ miles of clear Atlantic between me and my landfall. The exciting event today was catching my first fish for months. A reasonable sized tuna. Most of it's disappeared already as steaks and "poisson cru" - what a treat.

I'm missing not having a radio net, I've been trying to pick up the BBC World Service, but the information I have is that they've stopped shortwave transmission to Europe, so am having to rely on broadcasts intended for the Middle East and Africa. Not ideal; as I head further west the signal becomes weaker. Today I gave up and went in search of any English language broadcasts. The best I could come up with was English language service of Radio China International, broadcasting "live from Beijing". Sign of the times?

13:00 GMT, 16/07/09: N35deg 30' W13deg 51'
Distance to Azores 584
Daily run: 84.

Restful, but slow

2009-07-15T18:12:00.000+02:00

It's been a much easier, though slower 24 hours, the swell has become a gentle undulation from the repeated cliffs I dropped off in the first few days. It feels like I've escaped coastal effects and am slowly settling into the rhythm of life at sea. After the abundant traffic around the Straits of Gibraltar it's amazing how few boats there are out here. I might see a couple a day if I'm lucky. That said it's not completely desolate, I had to alter course to avoided the Gettysburg Seamount where the depth changes from 4500m - 50m in 20 miles and no doubt creates a nasty sea in its vicinity. To the south of the seamount were plenty of birds - I guess it was good fishing, though I actually took in the line, not wanting to hook a bird, so still no fresh fish onboard.

After far too much motoring in the windless Mediterranean, it's great to be sailing again, even if I'm not currently setting any speed records. I've full main and genoa up again, though most of the today I've been making under 5 knots.

The route from Gibraltar to the Azores is one of the few times I've seen a difference between the rhumb line course and the great circle course; 990 miles vs 980 miles. OK not hugely significant, though the course looks quite different when plotted on the chart. Explanation: a great circle course is the shortest distance between any two points; a rhumb line is a straight line on a mercator projection chart between any two points. It only really becomes significant at high latitudes. For example when travelling between London and New York. As I'm having to sail where the wind allows, this is all purely academic.

Position @ 13:15 GMT: N36deg18' W11deg50'
Distance to the Azores: 668
Daily run: 97

994 miles to the Azores

2009-07-14T16:13:00.001+02:00

I left Gibraltar on the morning of 11th July at 9.30am in time to catch the west flowing tide in the Gibraltar Strait. However once in the Strait, it was clear the tide wasn't as expected; I was making just over 3 knots across the ground with a 2 knots current against me. Had I lost the ability to read a tide timetable after so long in the tropics? I rechecked, no obvious mistakes - I'd even taken the two hour difference between GMT and local time into consideration. There wasn't much wind, so the water in the Strait clearly showed up disturbances caused by the current.

I noticed a significant difference in the wave pattern half a mile inshore so changed course towards it. The difference was amazing, I'd reached an inshore counter-current with my speed shooting up from 3 to 7 knots. However the Straits weren't going to let me go so easily; just as I was relaxing and enjoying the sights speeding passed, a thick fog descended. Good job I'd had a night to recover from the previous night's excesses, I needed to be fully alert. I rushed up and down the companionway trying to be in two places at once; matching the radar display with the chart, checking the radar image for boats ahead and peering through the fog to make sure I wasn't heading towards any fishing markers.

After nearly an hour in the gloom the fog vanished and I had a clear view of the wind generators above Tarifa - allegedly one of the windiest places in Europe, though not today. However the wind slowly picked up from the east and by afternoon I was speeding out of the Mediterranean on a run under full sail, accompanied by schools of dolphins.

With the Gibraltar Strait disappearing in my wake I thought I'd left the worst behind me. However as night fell; a confused sea built and the wind vanished, I tried to sail with the little wind there was, but decided it would be best to motor west and attempt to clear the steady stream of shipping heading for and leaving the Mediterranean. It made for a sleepless night trying to keep a good watch for constant flow of shipping around me.

Dawn brought a return of the wind, but unfortunately from the WNW. I sheeted in the sails and set the best course I could - SW. Although not my intended course for the Azores, heading slightly south seemed to clear me from the majority of the shipping and I could at last grab some sleep.

Throughout the day the wind and sea built, and though Kika was well-reefed we still sped along, crashing over and through the mounting sea. Sailing like this isn't restful - there are incredible bangs and crashes as we fall off a wave or a wave breaks over the boat. Even though I've learnt over the last four years that Kika can easily cope with such conditions, it's not easy to relax. Fortunately the forecast indicated that the wind would ease around midnight and sure enough, today bought a much welcome easing and veering to the NNW. The sea is still lumpy but it too is slowly calming down and after a difficult start I'm looking forward to an easier passage ahead.

Position @ 13:00 GMT, 14th July: N35deg38' W9deg53'
Distance to the Azores: 765

Circumnavigating and Gibraltar

2009-07-11T21:03:00.000+02:00

At 1am on 10th July, I dropped anchor in Gibraltar in more or less the same place we'd stayed nearly four years before, and thus completed my circumnavigation. The approach to Gibraltar had been taxing so my immediate celebration was a peaceful night's sleep.

I had mixed feelings about returning to Gibraltar. On the outward trip we'd made a significant detour to visit and felt that it hadn't lived up to our expectation. This time it was en-route so I was prepared to give "the rock" another chance.
As I approached Gibraltar the shipping density increased significantly with ships from all directions joining the great flow through the Strait and constantly surprising me when what I'd previously dismissed as a light on shore, proved to be moving rapidly in my direction. My last sunset in the Mediterranean was spectacular though with "the rock" silhouetted by the fiery setting sun and a large school of dolphins accompanying me for a farewell swim-past.

The following morning, I raised my anchor and I headed for where I remembered the customs building had been located. However I arrived at the fuel docks without spotting it. The fuel dock attendant, said that check-in was now only possible in the marinas. OK, no problem, I called the nearest marina on the VHF. 'If I hadn't booked in advance, they didn't have any spaces.' 'But could they check me in, so I could anchor legally'. 'No, they couldn't do that as anchoring was now prohibited in Gibraltar'. What a welcome. I could see there were places I could stay in their precious marina, but I wasn't going to plead, so motored out of Gibraltar and across the border to La Linea.

Why bother with Gibraltar when the anchorage in La Linea was reasonably protected, had good holding and contained about 10 other cruising yachts? My excitement increased as I recognised one of the boats. It was Nomad Life who'd stayed with me on the dock in Whangarei. Once anchored I "dinghied" over. Graham was back in the UK for a week, but Judy would be happy to help me celebrate my circumnavigation and got me off to a flying start with information about the nearest supermarkets, Internet cafes, where to leave the dinghy and how to cross the border. With my folding bike I headed off to the chandlers of Gibraltar and the markets of La Linea.

"Little Britain" as Judy had christened Gibraltar, was much as I'd remembered. To me it felt fake and gaudy, a parody of Britain in the sun, with theme park attractions making a passing reference to its strategic historical role. Apart from the helpful chandlery staff at Shepherds there was nothing to entice me to cross the border.
We headed into La Linea that evening for a celebratory tour of tapas bars. What a contrast. Great food, friendly people, a lively family atmosphere, they'd even organised a brass band in the town square to help with my celebrations.

The security guard at the small club where I left the dinghy sympathised the following day with my "dolor de mi cabeza". I struggled that afternoon, with my head-throbbing, to service the engine in preparation for my departure. Not helped when I belatedly discovered I was missing a water-pump gasket. I finally completed the job when I fabricated a replacement from a corner of my "Approaches to Suez" chart.
Thanks to all those who replied to my self-congratulatory email, apologies to those I haven't responded to - I'll look forward to checking my inbox in the Azores. To answer a few of the questions that came up:

* I've so far escaped being dowsed in tar and rolled in feathers.
* Francois's ancestral navy rulebook, now allows me to spit and pee upwind - though does the rule book mention what the consequences will be?
* In the absence of other crewing offers, unfortunately I ran out of time to check availability with the Gibraltar apes.

Anchorage in La Linea, 10th July: N36deg 09.7' W05 21.7'

Slow progress towards Gibraltar

2009-07-08T09:49:00.001+02:00

One week there's too much wind, the next there's not a breath and now the wind has returned but from the wrong direction.

I left Cartagena early afternoon - later than intended after confusion with the "automatic" diesel pump; it took the marina staff three attempts to fix the pump before it would relinquish some of its fuel store.

Once full of fuel, water and food, I headed south and just before midnight anchored off a roly beach for the night. The following morning the forecast reported strong SW/W wind expected soon. I headed off before the wind whipped up the sea and arrived in good time to an anchorage off the headland of Cabo de Gata. The anchorage was so good it was almost as though it was designed to shelter those waiting to head west. As the wind shrieked through the anchorage I was thankful I suppressed my bravado and didn't try to press on to Gibraltar. We had trouble reaching Gibraltar almost 4 years ago; then we were heading east and the wind was typically blowing strongly from the east.

The next day's forecast again reported strong westerly winds but easing the following day. I stayed put and worked on the autopilot - it might just be fully functional by the time I make it back to the UK.

This morning I set off with, amazingly, an easterly wind. Once I'd poled out the genoa and set the main, the wind, typically, shifted to the west. The forecast though has been largely accurate with light westerly winds and a slight sea. I'm hoping to make the 160 mile trip to Gibraltar in one hop - saving a 40 mile detour into Malaga and back. The autopilot is steering a good course with the cockpit repeater working again, useful as I've temporarily "disabled" the chart-table controller - one step forward, two back...

Open, roly anchorage N37deg 11.8' W01deg48.4'
Playa de los Genoveses: N36deg 44.5' W02deg07.1'

Spain

2009-07-04T11:44:00.000+02:00

I made it to Spain - only just though. I arrived with only 3 litres of diesel left in the tank and no reserve.

My last day at sea began with a decent southern wind. Perfect, I should arrive early evening after an easy reach to the coast. I began to anticipate my first tapas. Then the wind died. There wasn't a breath. I checked the forecast. It looked as though the wind would remain "light and variable" until the evening when it would pick up, but as a south-westerly head-wind. Time for a rethink and some chart perusal. I changed course to Cartagena. It was closer and I'd be able to sail when the evening wind arrived. Although Cartagena was only 50 miles away I only had enough fuel for 30 miles of motoring. I spent the afternoon motoring until there was any slight sign of wind then tried to coax the boat along with barely enough wind to ruffle the surface of the water. I finally stopped using the engine and drifted, so that I'd have enough fuel to motor into port. As the prospect of a celebratory tapas disappeared, I cursed my impatience when leaving Sardinia; if I'd filled my fuel cans, I'd be ashore rather than rolling around at sea.

The one benefit of the windless afternoon was the smooth water aided my turtle spotting. In the windy morning I hadn't spotted one. Do turtles spend longer under water when it's rougher or is it just easier to spot them in calm conditions? There were so many I started to speculate on how I could harness them to pull the boat towards land; a water equivalent of a husky pack.

The other event of the afternoon was passing through the Greenwich meridian. In fact it was so windless that I passed over the meridian multiple times; the current pulled me back and the little wind there was I harnessed to try to push me westward.
As forecast the wind arrived in the evening and eventually at 4am I dropped anchor in a small cove just to the east of Catagena; I didn't fancy heading into an unknown port with scant information in the dark. I awoke to see I'd anchored in the shadow of some impressive cliffs, no danger, just not what I'd anticipated when I'd anchored earlier.

Good to be back in Spain again. My Spanish is slightly better than my virtually non-existent Italian and I had fun trying it out as I explored the town, dividing most of my time between the three main supermarkets in town. It's great to be provisioning for an offshore trip again.

04/05/09: Anchorage in cove east of Cartagena: N37deg 33.4' W0deg 55.0'
04/05/09: Cartagena marina: N37deg 35.8' W0deg 58.7'

Light and variable

2009-07-02T22:20:00.001+02:00

I'm sure in the weeks to come when I'm battling against ferocious Atlantic squalls, I'll look back at this windless trip nostalgically. However right now I could do with a little more wind. I'm down to my last 30 litres of fuel and all the forecast can offer is "light and variable". Invariably a "variable" forecast means, I'll raise the spinnaker to try to catch any faint breath that deems to come in my direction, then half an hour later the wind will shift giving me 15 minutes of rope juggling on the foredeck to jibe the spinnaker and main. Once everything's settled down, the wind will die complete or shift in way that won't work with the current rig. More rope and pole juggling. When things settle down and I glance at the log I find I'm making 2 knots. With the energy I'm putting into barely keeping the boat moving, it feels like I could make more progress swimming with the boat in tow.

On the positive side, I've again seen a staggering number of turtles floating close-by and the occasional fish or dolphin jumping in the distance. It still makes me stop and marvel at the magic of the scene.

Position @ 10.20pm 2nd July 2009: N37deg 11.4' E00 46.6'
Distance to Spain (Cabo de Gata): 140

Tuna jumping in the moonlight

2009-07-01T08:24:00.001+02:00

Another day of motoring interspersed by attempts to sail. Still perfect for turtle spotting. I've seen at least five today. Are there are more turtles in this part of the Med or does the more usual wave-ridden sea prevent me from spotting them? It's so calm that their bobbing shells are easily visible in the distance.

The dragon fly is dead, long live my new dragon fly hitch-hiker. Would have loved to have a microscope onboard á la Darwin's Beagle voyage, my dead dragon looks like the perfect specimen; its compound eyes definitely deserving closer scrutiny. I have more Algerian stowaways on board - an aphid, a butterfly, at least three moths and the new dragon fly.

I'm definitely planning to stop in Spain. Depending on the wind I should get in either late Friday or Saturday.

Been studying my Atlantic island pilot and reading up on the Azores. Really looking forward to getting there now. It'll be my final mission.

For the last four hours, I've been sailing under spinnaker and full main, making 2-3 knots over a smooth sea. It's incredibly peaceful and fantastic to have time to make whatever progress the wind allows. Just hope the little wind there is lasts the night. I need wind, as I won't make it to Spain on diesel alone.

Still no luck with the fishing, despite having small tuna jumping behind and either side of the boat by moonlight. I take the line in at sunset but when I noticed the jumping fish I silently paid the line out into the middle of the school. The result: a single bite then nothing. Perhaps Mediterranean tuna are more discerning than the Indian ocean variety and turn their noses up at my pink and blue squid. I'll try a new design tomorrow

Position @ 10.55, 1st July 2009: N37deg 29.5' E02deg 24.1'
Distance to Spain (Cabo de Gata): 220

Dolphins at sunset

2009-06-30T11:30:00.001+02:00

So far the wind has lived up-to the forecast's billing of light and variable. That said when the wind arrives it makes for dream sailing - smooth progress over a flat sea, with just the faint sound of the water lapping around the bow to break the silence.

The light winds are the result of a high sitting to my north, I was hoping the high pressure would impose a stronger easterly flow; each time the wind picks up I assume it's here to stay unfortunately it seems to vanish within an hour. I raised the spinnaker to try to make the most of the little wind there is. It's ideal spinnaker conditions, with no swell to unsettle the sail. In this configuration we sailed all afternoon making 1-3 knots, In the lulls I was reluctant to lower the spinnaker knowing the effort required to raise it again if the wind returned, however I finally gave in when the log read 0.0 knots.

Plenty of shipping about - there's normally at least one ship or fishing boat on the horizon - but no collision courses yet.

I set off without my usual frenzied dash around the markets for fresh provisions. Consequently I'm already having to ration onions. I've eaten the delicious peaches I bought, the fresh basil has died, but the rosemary I took from Isola Marettimo is lasting well - I think I'll survive though.

Despite being 50 miles off I can see the hills of Algeria to my south - be great if they could send some wind my way.

Plenty of wildlife today, with initially a couple of airborne visitors; a moth and a dragon-fly. The dragon-fly choose to perch itself preciously on top of the VHF aerial and the moth sunned itself on the corner of the spinnaker until I was forced to remove it before I dropped the sail. A couple more turtles floated close by and as the sun set, a school of dolphins joined me. I never tire of dolphin visits and this was especially memorable, with the calm clear water I could watch their antics far beneath the surface.

Some of them would swim briefly on their sides, seeming to watch me, watching them. As I stood at bow marvelling at their display, another school headed over, leaping out of the air as they rapidly converged. If they'd arrived five minutes later it wouldn't have been so spectacular as a slight wind rippled the surface, but as it was the timing was perfect. To add to the magic, a group of small tunas mocked my fishing attempts by jumping out of the water to the north, a turtle raised its head just in front of the boat and the reflection of the sun on the clouds covered the sea in gold leaf.

The dragon fly has moved its perch to a stanchion - but it still looks precarious. I've left some water out for it. I wonder if scientists in years to come will debate how the Algerian dragon-fly managed to the journey to the Azores?

Position @ 11.30 30th June: N37deg 40.3' Edeg52.7'

Westward from Sardinia

2009-06-29T23:39:00.001+02:00

Firstly an apology for the lack of blog updates recently. The distractions inherent in coast and island hopping though Greece and Italy haven't lent themselves to establishing a regular blog writing routine. Also as the day rapidly approaches when I have to convince others to part with their money in exchange for my knowledge and skills, I'm spending time working out what those skills might be. /end-excuse.

I've been waiting for nearly a week in the Agate Islands off Sicily's west coast for the strong westerly winds to abate. Not that I'm complaining - any extra time in Italy is a bonus. The winds finally eased and after a quick dash to Sardinia, it was time to head on again especially with a benign forecast.

I left from an anchorage in the Gulf of Cagliari with a gentle northerly wind which rapidly morphed into a strong westerly. Not at all what the forecast had predicted, though given the changeable weather I've had so far in the Mediterranean it shouldn't have come as a surprise. Under doubly reefed main and genoa I tried to beat my way west as best I could, which turned out to be SW towards Algeria - not ideal but it felt great to be on my way again.

It's 715 miles to Gibraltar from my point of departure in Sardinia. My plan is to leave Gibraltar for the Azores on or before 13th July, which looks achievable, though a change in the weather could upset my timetable.

Unlike most trips, I set off not knowing exactly where my next landfall would be. I've the Balearic Islands to the north, and mainland Spain bordering the approaches to the Straits of Gibraltar. My initial unplanned SW journey makes a detour to the Balearic Islands unfeasible - besides which I don't have vast amounts of time left and I think I'd prefer to spend longer if possible in the Azores.

The strong westerly wind vanished after the first night at sea, so I've been motoring westwards with brief flurries of sailing activity. It's not going to be my fastest trip as I'm trying to sail as much as possible to preserve diesel even if it means I drift along barely making 2 knots. My latest plan is to make a landfall in Spain in Cabo de Grata - mainly to refuel and reprovision before pushing on to Gibraltar.

I've had an easy start. The autopilot has mainly worked - though there's still an intermittent problem, which has so far eluded detection. When activated the pilot only steers in one direction. After a while it "fixes itself" and in the meantime I've a work-around involving elastic.

The flat water has been perfect for spotting wildlife. I've seen a couple of turtles floating on the surface, had a brief dolphin visit and been through a field of small Portuguese man-of-war jelly fish, heading east with their sails up.

In an over enthusiastic bout of tidying-up I finally disposed of my rusty machete, which has provided coconut opening services throughout the Pacific islands. I guess I should exchange it for an olive de-stoner tool.

Another noteworthy change is that I'll be heading through the Greenwich meridian on this passage. I was confused for a while when my course to my Gibraltar didn't make any sense - I'd set the the waypoint as 2deg east rather than 2deg west.

Position on 29/6/2009 @ midnight: N38deg 17.1' E8deg 11.4'
Position on 30/6/2009 @ 2am: N37deg 52.8' E6deg 15.3'

Messina to Milazzo in a gale

2009-06-06T06:48:00.001+02:00

I awoke to strong southerly winds blowing through the marina and stirring up a confused sea in the strait. At last a favourable wind, though I wanted to ensure I timed my departure to avoid potentially nasty wind against tide conditions. I'd failed to predict the tidal direction the day before - I'd experienced 1.5 knots against me, though I'd anticipated that the tide would be with me. My Italian neighbours helpfully described the tidal regime - north until 2pm then south with a hour of slack water. I'd be going through 11.30-1 so all seemed good.

As the morning progressed, the wind increased. I can see why the marina insisted I berthed stern-to. Reversing out in the strong cross-wind would have been a challenge to the most experienced Mediterranean sailor, for me it would have been a disaster.
When I left the wind was a steady 25 knots with gusts to 30 knots. I arranged the the marina dinghy to keep my bow from falling off too soon and press-ganged a couple of other sailors to cast-off my lines. Thanks to the help my departure from the marina was without incident, almost professional.

I set off in search of the fuel pontoon I'd been assured I'd find along the shore a mile to the north. Sure enough I found it, but going alongside would be have been a disaster for the top-sides. I watched a pilot boat riding against the quay and decided that with the wind as it was, I'd manage without a refill. Instead I altered course for the northern entrance to the straits with nothing but a small genoa. I was making 7-8 knots over the water but only 4-5 knots over the ground, no wonder the sea was so confused. Not sure if I'd misunderstood my Italian neighbours, the tide certainly wasn't what I'd been led to expect, anyway I made it through though the tides in Messina Straits remain a mystery.

Once out of the strait I changed course to the NW expecting the wind to start easing the further I went from the funnel of the strait. How wrong can I be, with a tiny genoa on a reach Kika was heeling over as though we were fighting into the wind under full sail. The noise was incredible. Even though I was close to shore the fetch was enough to launch numerous waves over the side. It wouldn't have been pleasant further off shore. This wind wasn't predicted, though through-out the day, the radio broadcast updated forecasts each time increasing the strength.

I briefly considered heading downwind to one of the Aeolian islands rather than face a fine reach to Milazzo in the conditions. However I decided I'd press on and divert if I couldn't make my course. Fortunately the Kika took it in her stride and we made good time under a tiny genoa.

The Mediterranean weather is full of surprises, changing from a force 8+ to almost disappearing to a force 4 within 5 minutes. Then for the last hour it became highly temperamental, unpredictable and moody; dying and then returning with renewed vigor. Though it was hard work and at times deafening for me there's no contest between a tough sail and a long day's motoring.

I dropped anchor north of the main harbour in Milazzo, dried off and let my ears adjust to the evening sounds of the town.

6/6/09, Anchorage off Milazzo: N38deg 13.3' E15deg 14.7'

Rocella Ionica to Messina

2009-06-05T06:48:00.001+02:00

I reluctantly dragged myself away from Rocella Ionica, even before the end of my free stay period, as I had friends joining me in a few days time in Sicily.

It was 67 miles from Rocella to Messina so as ever an early start was required, not helped by another night's liquor sampling with Luc. The little wind there was kept teasing me. Promising I'd be able to sail once I rounded the next headland only to shift and remain resolutely from ahead. Even with a favourable shift, it wouldn't have been strong enough to allow me to make Messina by night-fall. I resigned myself to a day of motoring.

Unfortunately the autopilot had its own ideas; only steering in one direction, which forced me to hand-steer. One benefit of being stuck at the wheel all day is there's more chance of seeing wildlife, such as the large jumping dolphins that I spied close to shore as I rounded the toe of Italy. Also as I rounded the "toe", I caught my first glimpse of the impressive snow covered peak of Mount Etna, floating above the haze.

My knowledge of Sicily was based mainly on the rural scenes in "The Godfather", which in no way prepared me for the sheer scale of Messina, nor the quantity of ferry traffic plying the strait or the large number of cruise ships in port.

The marina was a little north of the main port, and despite having a marina boat to help position Kika for stern-to berthing, the cross wind proved too much and required some deft fending off from myself and fellow sailors before I was securely moored. I say securely, but I wouldn't trust the marina in a storm. I was moored on the outer floating pontoon which undulates with the wash from passing ferries and large waves kicked up by the strong tides in the strait. It looked like the cracks in the concrete had been filled with epoxy, almost like taping over the problem.

I'd arrived on a Friday which turned out to be party night in the marina. It was an invitation only launch party for a new car. I felt slightly out of place as I wove between the chic party goers on the way to a much needed shower. I should have realised that such a glamorous event would come at a cost, but was still shocked at the price - 60 euros for one night's berthing.

5/6/09: Messina: N38deg 12.0' E15deg 33.6'

Rocella Ionica

2009-06-04T11:34:00.001+02:00

As my first taste of Italy, Rocella Ionica wasn't a bad introduction. The marina was free for the first week, after the first day the staff greeted you like a long lost friend, the shops in the nearby town were well stocked and there was a excellent pizzeria close-by, who sold their pizzas by the half metre. I celebrated my birthday with my French neighbour Luc, half-metre of pizza and completed the evening with Luc insisting I help him work through his impressive liquor collection.

The wind had shifted to the south so I happily spent a few days exploring the town on my trusty folding bike and generally acclimatising myself to the fantastic produce and Italian way of life.

4/6/09: Rocella Ionica: N38deg 19.6' E16deg 26.0'

To Italy

2009-06-03T06:48:00.001+02:00

I left Meganisi sorry to leave Blue Marlin, but looking forward to the passage ahead and particularly my arrival in Italy.

As I set sail off the north of the island, the wind steering refused to steer a straight course. I'd reassembled the steering gear incorrectly. Fault finding is easy when you've made the same mistake before; the same thing happened leaving Panama. Half later after a detour into an anchorage and some spanner work and I was off again with the wind steering pointing me towards Italy.

As I headed away from the islands I left the large Ionian charter fleet behind and barely saw another boat until close to the Italian shore.

For a change the wind was initially from behind. It had been such a long time since I'd had a following wind that it took me a while to eliminate all the crashes from the lockers as Kika rolled from side to side. Later the wind shifted to the north giving a fantastic beam reach. What a joy to experience the bow crashing through the waves as Kika speeds across the sea without the drone of the engine.

The forecast reported favourable winds until the following day when they'd shift more to the west. Ho hum, can't have everything especially when I was sailing in a forecast area stretching to the southern Italian shore named by the Greeks as "boot"
Sure enough the following day the wind shifted to the west. First thing in the morning I had 111 miles to go to Rocella Ionica. By midday I still had 111 miles left to go. I was tacking to the north but as fast as I was making westing so I was heading north. The promised northerly shift,failed to materialise so by late afternoon, as the prospect of making landfall early for my birthday started to diminish, I decided it was time to take action - engine and electronic steering.
That night the radar kept me awake with its alarm, being unable to distinguish between approaching squalls and ships. I had impressive lightening storms to the south and very dark clouds overhead, plus the occasional fishing boat to contend with.

As night morphed into day, I left the dark clouds behind me, the shipping stopped, the sea calmed down and I could finally make an effortless 6 knots under sail on a direct course to Rocella Ionica.

I'd received a warning about the entrance to the port from Jasper on Antares - the approach had silted up and he advised giving the outer breakwater a wide berth - still it wasn't an easy entrance with the depth dropping rapidly and being unsure whether I should steer to port or starboard to find deeper water. Finally I made it in without the indignity of a grounding that Antares suffered.

3/6/09: Rocella Ionica: N38deg 19.6' E16deg 26.0'

Meganisi with Blue Marlin

2009-05-30T08:27:00.003+02:00

I received word via email that Blue Marlin were waiting for me 15 miles north in Meganisi "in a paradise". So once I'd filled up with diesel from a portable tanker that arrived especially for me and Nikolas the water-man had unlocked the tap on the quay, I was off in search of the Norwegians.

True to their word, they'd found a paradise and kept a space for me. The anchorage was in a small inlet in a wooded bay in the north of Meganisi. The inlet was 3 boat length wide; boats moored with their bow anchor forward and stern lines to olive trees ashore. Rune helped me secure my lines.

Kika in Megansisi "paradise"

Kika and Blue Marlin

Apart from our recent meeting in Aigina, I'd last seen Blue Marlin a couple of times in the Red Sea. One time we met on a beach to which I'd paddled my kayak ashore. The twins had looked covetously on - the kayak was perfect for them, they could lift it, paddle it, swim with it. So once I was safely moored I pumped up the orange kayak and sent it their way. Over the next few days I think it was used more than the rest of the trip combined. That evening Hedda and Marita asked what I'd called the kayak, apparently "orange kayak" wasn't a good enough answer, so I asked if they'd name it for me. The next day they gave me three options:

Nemo (from the animated film)
Glalaks (raw orange salmon)
Humo-humu-nuku-nuku-apoau (Hawian for a fish whose name is longer than the fish

They all seemed equally good, so we decided it should have a first, middle and last name and duly christened the inflatable: Nemo Glalaks Humo-humu-nuku-nuku-apoau

Rune and the twins had built a barbecue ashore, in amongst the terraced olive trees. It provided the perfect setting for our evening meals.

The local town was 30 minute walk away and would itself have been an attractive port to stay. Its numerous shops would allow me to extend my stay indefinitely - highly tempting. However time was pressing on with a rendezvous with my next visitors in Sicily in a week's time. I set-to preparing the boat for the passage to Italy, meaning I dismantled the wind-steering, temporarily destroying the tranquillity of the anchorage while I used a punch and mallet to dislodge a recalcitrant shaft.

My last evening I let slip that my birthday was in a couple of days time, before we parted for the night Idunn insisted that I come for breakfast before leaving the next morning. It seemed as though she's been up all night preparing a birthday breakfast. What a treat; pancakes, cheese, bread, cinnamon apple cake, vanilla sauce, even cards and presents - it was hard to drag myself away from Blue Marlin's wonderful company in such a beautiful setting.

30th May, Paradise in Meganisi: N38deg 40.6' E28deg 46.9'

Cruising the Ionian

2009-05-29T08:26:00.001+02:00

I'm always pleasantly surprised when a rendezvous comes together, especially one which is at the mercy of the elements. I'd only the water and fuel to take on when I was spotted by Rob and Joe. They'd cunningly timed their arrival just as Kika became reasonably presentable.

I was a little worried that Rob and family, not being used to life afloat, might miss home comforts especially when compared to the functional but basic facilities on board Kika. For example, although I have an indoor shower, I almost exclusively use the cockpit shower. I needn't have worried, everyone readily adapted, and the Ionian ports cater well for the requirements of their floating visitors with showers available in most ports.

It was an easy fun week exploring the nearby islands, stopping for lunch at an anchorage en-route and arriving late-afternoon in one of many attractive small port-towns. Quite a contrast to the previous week's dash across the Aegean. We even (nearly) perfected a Mediterranean mooring routine, with Rob letting out the anchor chain, Judy improving her warp throwing skills and I attempting to reverse Kika into the available berth. Joe and Grace provided encouragement where needed.

Rob brought lots of exciting technical "toys" onboard. An Arduino board was one, which we programmed to be a rudimentary oscilloscope. The idea being it would help me with autopilot fault finding.

The only slight boat related drama was as we left Astakos. The same burnt plastic smell began emanating from around the chart table. A few days before I'd assumed it was coming from the autopilot. This time it couldn't be the autopilot as I had plenty of steering helpers. There was a bay close by so we stopped ostensibly for a swim, but really it gave me a chance to locate the problem. It turned out to be a melted sparking fuse holder used by the wind-generator/solar panel. Isn't the fuse supposed to blow rather than the fuse holder melt? One mystery solved and I soon was in the water myself after wiring in a spare holder and fuse.

26th May, Kastos: N38deg 34.0' E20deg 54.7'
27th May, Kalamos southern anchorage:N38deg 35.9' E20deg 53.2'
28th May, Kalamos town: N38deg 37.4' E20deg 55.9'
29th May, Anchorage close to Astakos: N38deg 30.3' E21deg 02.1'

Astakos

2009-05-25T08:28:00.003+02:00

I awoke in Krioneri to find a heavy dew covering the decks. The unusual conditions continued when I ran into a thick wall of fog soon after leaving the anchorage. Rapidly my world was reduced to a 50m radius. I can see where J.K.Rowling's dementors might have originated. As the fog descended, blotting out the sun, a chill engulfed the boat. I even started to suffer from dementor-like hope sapping, starting to wonder if I'd ever see the sun again as it wasn't until midday when the fog dispersed.

Mark had subtly mentioned that perhaps it would be good idea to clean the ports, dust down-below and wipe out the lockers before my next visitors arrived. As I set to on the ports I saw he had a point. Fortunately I arrived in Astakos in the early afternoon. Plenty of time to clean-up, organise water, fuel and laundry. The laundry was particularly critical as my last load had been over two weeks before and my clean clothes locker was nearly bare.

Astakos was my first single-handed Mediterranean mooring attempt. It wasn't my finest hour. Eventually, with help from half the town, I was secure and able to take up the nearby restaurant owner's insistent offer of a late lunch, "eat now the launderette will be open at 4pm". Most surprisingly he didn't charge for my plate of calimari, "come this evening and invite the other yachts". A marketing technique that seemed to work, judging by the relative popularity of his restaurant that night.

I eventually found the launderette which turned out to be a dry cleaners and quickly realised there was no chance of getting my clothes washed for a reasonable price the same day. Somewhat dejected I returned with my bag of washing. The next door boat suggested I take up the local hotel's offer of a shower and wash my clothes at the same time. Brilliant - back on track. Unfortunately half way through my hand-wash, there was an irate knock on the door. The hotel manager burst in and clearly wasn't impressed. My mitigating plea that I checked with reception, before dragging my sack of clothes off to the room, clearly wasn't permissible evidence. I was guilty of using too much hot water, and using the shower for unintended purposes. I was sent packing with my dripping bag. No matter, I'd washed most of the clothes, just the sheets remained unclean. I needed some new ones anyway, and luckily found a couple of new white cotton sheets in a dusty corner of a general store - what a treat.

Astakos: 25th May: N38deg32.0' E21deg04.9'

Krioneri

2009-05-24T21:00:00.001+02:00

I left Kiato as soon as I'd tested the new circuit breaker in the SSB circuit. As I transmitted the breaker flipped. Nothing wrong there, and no visible sign in the autopilot of burnt wires. The mystery continued....

As I made my way up the gulf of Corinth I couldn't help but notice how much lusher the surrounding hills were after the unremitting scorched barren islands of the Aegean. It made a pleasant change.

I busied myself with boat jobs, while the electronic pilot worked its fragrant magic.
Excitement for the day was passing under the impressive Rion-Andirrion suspension bridge. It seems the Greeks are understandably proud of the structure - so much so that you have to call the bridge control on the VHF to request permission to pass underneath.

I arrived with a couple of hours to spare before sunset in Krioneri and anchored in 3m in the shadow of sheer cliffs.

24th May: N38deg 20.5' E21deg 35.6'

Aigina to Kiato through the Corinth Canal

2009-05-23T21:02:00.001+02:00

The day of Mark's departure dawned. It had been fantastic having him on board, I'd learnt a lot, Kika was better for the experience, I just hope it doesn't take Mark too long to recover from his "holiday".

As we walked round the harbour towards the hydrofoil that would be the start of Mark's homeward journey, I spotted Blue Marlin - what a fantastic surprise. Over coffee we briefly caught up and they tried to persuade me to stay another day and sail together through the Corinth Canal. It was a very tempting offer, but it would mean I'd be late for my rendezvous with Rob and family. Reluctantly I parted, with the hope we'd meet-up in the Ionian.

In a final shopping spree in the hardware shops I found a circuit breaker that I could substitute for the one on the autopilot. Rushing back to the boat I quickly swapped the old for the new breaker and set off. Wonders of wonders the autopilot worked. However I'm starting to learn it's better not to prematurely celebrate autopilot repairs and sure enough after an hour a burnt wire smell started emanating from the area around the autopilot electronics. I decided I should play safe and hand-steer towards the Canal, planning to investigate while waiting for my transit.

I tied-up at the waiting pontoon and bounded into the canal authority building. It was three o'clock and I was unsure if I'd be able to transit the canal that day. After the wait to transit the Panama Canal and the hassle associated with Suez, I couldn't believe how quickly the paper work was sorted; one form "sign here and here" and then was asked if a transit in 5 minutes time would be too soon for me. I couldn't believe what I was hearing. I was then offered a beer and some snacks - must have been dreaming. Back on the boat I waited and sure enough after a couple of minutes the bridge disappeared into the water and the lights changed to green. Too good to be true, but it was for definitely for real, as I made my way into the canal and was rapidly dwarfed by the 70m+ limestone sides. If I'd thought about it in advance I'm sure I could have recovered my canal fees with some paying tourists. The shortest, friendliest and most impressive canal so far.

I couldn't help but feel a little bit smug as I exited the canal and saw the long line of cars waiting for me. The day continued to improve with a decent wind on a flat sea, giving a great sail towards the bustling town of Kiato.

Kiato: N38deg 00.8' E22deg 45.1'

Aigina

2009-05-22T21:04:00.003+02:00

It was a pleasant change to wake-up without the howl of a gale disturbing my first conscious moments. The sea was still lumpy, but our hard fought northing proved worth-while as we had an easy reach to the southern tip of Aigina.

The passage wasn't without drama, when we nearly hit an uncharted, unmarked reef leaving Kea. I was busy at the mast hoisting the main, when Mark spotted a dark patch of water ahead. It was unmistakably rock-like and wouldn't have yielded if we'd continued in the same direction. Nothing on the chart or in the pilot guide mentioned it. Sobering.

We arrived early afternoon into the upmarket town of Aigina where it seems chic Atheanians go to escape the capital. It took a while sink-in that despite the some atrocious weather we'd made it and we found ourselves in the middle of a stunning Mediterranean town. The hardships of the last few days disappeared - it all seemed worthwhile again.

Not only was Aigina well provided with decent restaurants and boutiques but best of all it had a good selection of well equipped hardware stores. A replacement firling line was our top requirement. On Kika the original firling line had half its length of core removed so it could stow more easily on the firling drum. I was unsure how to modify a rope in this way, but fortunately Mark had replaced the same line on Freespirit and was happy to demonstrate. We initially bought some cheap line - you can tell it's cheap when it's sold by the weight rather than length. Mark explained the procedure and set about prizing the core out of an opening he'd made in the braid. After half an hour of frustration and only a battered line to show for it we decided that cheap line was a false economy - the core wouldn't part from the outer braid. Undeterred we headed back into town in search of a more up market hardware store and eventually found one who sold his line by the metre. It was significantly more expensive but allowed us to quickly complete the job and relax, finishing the day with a celebratory meal out.

22nd May, Aigina: N37deg 44.7' E23deg 25.6'

Syros to Kea

2009-05-21T21:05:00.001+02:00

The calmness overnight was replaced by another gale blowing through the anchorage. Enough was enough. We'd earned our right to an easy passage after fighting through the previous day's gale, couldn't the wind give us a break? The previous day's enthusiasm for doing battle with the weather deserted me. I just couldn't summon up the energy to head out into a gale again especially as this time we'd be close hauled over a larger distance (35 miles). What to do? There were other options, but they'd mean lose our hard-won northing. The sensible decision would have been to explore the island but Mark's imminent departure and the deadline of my next visitors kept me from making a decision. We worked out the latest we could leave would be 1pm and contrary to our experience of the previous day, with the wind increasing in the afternoon, the forecast indicated that the wind would decrease and the angle would improve later in the day. To mask my indecision we busied ourselves with boat jobs - a fuel filter change for the engine and an attempt to fix the previous day's damaged toilet seat supports. Thinking about something else was therapeutic, but the reality of our schedule meant that unless we made for Kea that day, I'd be unlikely to make to the Ionian in time to meet my friends as planned. Outside the wind felt harshly bitter, the sun was obscured - more like early season in northern Europe than summer in the Med. I was all set to call off the day's sailing when a small yacht entered the anchorage whose crew had cagoules covering bathing suits - could it really be that bad out there, perhaps I was going soft. We decided to leave.

We headed off tentatively with three reefs, but as we ventured out of the anchorage the wind died, so slowly we worked our way up to full sail. Perhaps after all, this would be a surprisingly easy trip. It was not to be; as we rounded the head-land the wind and sea increased and I reduced sail down to two then finally three reefs again.
When I left the UK, my waterproofs had already seen years of service and were loosing their ability to keep out the water, but I told myself I was off to the tropics with my years of apprenticeship to the sometimes harsh northern European climate behind me. I enviously watched Mark remain dry in his latest breathable oilskins while I became one with drowning rodents. Fortunately Mark saw the problem and stoically steered most of the way keeping up a great close-hauled course as the spray covered him, while I spent most of the time sheltered pathetically under the spray hood and busied myself with refreshments down below.

Halfway across the furling line dramatically snapped and the full genoa rapidly unfurled. We eventually managed to get the flogging sail under control, by rejoining the line and removing the blocks through which the knot wouldn't pass. It wasn't ideal, but it kept us going.

Finally drenched, cold and exhausted we arrived in the last light of the day at our destination - feeling more relief than elation.

21st May Kea: N37 34.7' E24deg16.7'

Mikonos & Syros

2009-05-20T21:06:00.002+02:00

Finally a decent wind allowed us to sail the 70 miles from Lipso to Mikonos. We celebrated our arrival just before dark, feeling that our ambitious schedule might yet be achievable. However all that changed the following morning when we awoke to the sound of a near gale blowing through the "sheltered" anchorage with the forecast indicating that the strong northerly winds would dominate for at least the next two days. The idea of leaving wasn't particularly appealing, neither was the prospect of being storm-bound for two days and ruining our plans. Postponing any decision we hiked across the island and spent the morning in the main town.

The packed tourist centre provided a stark contrast with the tranquillity of our anchorage in Ornos, with the narrow streets overflowing with visitors whose numbers had been multiplied by two large cruise ships in port. Still it killed a few hours and on the return trip we tried to convince ourselves that the wind was dropping - not easy when even swimming pools had white-caps - but despite the evidence we decided to leave. Our plan was make a short 20 mile hop to the next island, Syros. More modest than our original destination, but in the circumstances it felt like a good pragmatic choice.

Back onboard we were nearly foiled in our efforts to stow the dinghy by a couple of ferocious squalls which mocked our attempts at controlling the hoisted inflatable. Eventually we wrestled it onto the foredeck, having to shout to be heard against the howl of the wind. While we busied ourselves preparing the boat for sea, we both tried to ignore the self-evident truth that the wind had increased throughout the morning. How bad could it be? We'd both skippered boats across oceans and Kika felt in good shape, though as we struggled to raise the anchor in the teeth of the gale, I started questioning my assumption that the challenges of the Mediterranean would be trivial compared with the Red Sea. Mark later admitted to having second thoughts about leaving. Once the anchor was up it was a shock to realise that we were heading out of the bay making 5 knots under bare-poles and spray-hood and we anxiously watched the spray being blown off the waves in the squalls. Tentatively we raised a minimum of sail - a tiny genoa and three reefs in the main - Kika raced towards the south-western tip of Mikonos; easy sailing on flat water which lifted some of the apprehension we both felt.

Once round the headland we were exposed to the full fetch of the Aegean and our course brought the wind round to a close reach, however Kika came alive. She felt more like a dinghy than a 13 ton yacht; instantly reacting to the helm and bending to the squalls as they hit. It was a wet, but exhilarating sail as we headed at 7-8 knots in the gale towards Syros.

In no time at all we were dropping sails and negotiating our new anchorage. Unusually we had the bay to ourselves, normally something to relish but we'd hoped there'd be at least one other boat to be impressed with our achievement - like conquering heroes with no-one to welcome us home. The anchor dram of ouzo and water felt well deserved and gradually the waves of tension lifted as the screaming wind ceased and my ears adjusted to the shelter of the anchorage.

Damage report: One bowl shattered beyond repair (poor stowage) and both toilet seat supports fractured, though easily repaired with epoxy.

Mikonos 19/5/09:N37deg 25.1' E25deg19.4'
Syros 20/5/09: N37deg 23' E24deg56'

Lipso

2009-05-18T21:08:00.001+02:00

After Rhodes and Kos I longed for the peace and simplicity of an anchorage. We continued our northerly progress, with a relatively short hop to the southern shore of Lipso. I became caught-up in Mark's boat job enthusiasm and I worked all day fitting a cockpit anchor switch, which I'd decided had become essential if I was to attempt any single-handed Mediterranean mooring. I just failed to complete the job in time to drop anchor in the bay but felt that the new feature required a celebration. The guide mentioned a small taverna at the head of the bay and we ventured ashore enthusiastically only to have faith in the advice of the guide once again shattered with a settlement comprising a couple of boarded-up buildings. No matter we'd arrived in good time so decided to hike across the island to investigate the main town. It seems I set a rather impatient pace - Mark later said he thought we were on an enforced march - but once I'd spied life around the small harbour, there was no holding me back.

Rather breathlessly we reminisced about how much we'd both enjoyed tapas in the bars in Spain. Someone must have heard us, as once we settled down to celebrate Kika's new functionality, the landlady provided us with small plates of nibbles including barbecued octopus and salad. The system worked well as we ended-up staying in the bar, ordering larger plates of chewy octopus and Greek salad and spent a great evening watching life in the town pass-by. We even made it back across the island in the dark albeit at a slightly more sedate pace.

18/5/09 Southern Lipso anchorage: N37deg 16.9' E26deg 46.3'

The parking lot in Kos

2009-05-17T11:16:00.000+02:00

With the forecast predicting strong northerly winds for later in the week, we decided to make some northing while we could. The result - another early start and long day motoring to Kos. The pilot again put us off berthing in the old town - "This harbour is very crowded in the summer and it can be difficult to find a berth. Unless you specifically want to go here it is better to go to the marina". We should have investigated before squeezing ourselves into the marina as the old harbour had plenty of space and a great atmosphere. Still we left Kos, freshly showered, full of diesel and finally with the cruising permit the officials in Kastellorizo were unable to provide.

17/5/09, Kos marina: N36deg 53.5' E27deg 18.1'

A night in the underbelly of Rhodes

2009-05-16T21:09:00.003+02:00

A morning mist covered the water as we raised our anchor and sneaked out of Kastellorizo in the first light of day. Our Greek pilot guide states: "In all my sailing around Greek waters in every month of the year, I have encountered fog only rarely". Well despite that reassurance the early morning mist quickly turned into an impenetrable wall of fog. For a couple of hours we slowly edged our way through the bank, blindly navigating with the radar and listening out for other ships.

Apart from the early morning excitement of the fog the 70 miles to Rhodes was uneventful with no wind and engine taking the strain. Mark decided that Kika's cockpit could do with a polish and we both set-to with the rubbing compound and polish - what a crew!

The pilot guide put me off visiting the main harbour - "Madraki is hopelessly crowded in the summer, with charter operators zealously guarding their berths... fouled anchors are a common occurrence in Madraki simply because there are so many yachts." Instead we headed for the yet to be completed (or started) Rhodes marina; an industrial dock fringed by numerous scrap heaps including the last resting place for old Russian built inter-island hydrofoils.

The contrast with picturesque Kastellorizo was stark. One positive was the proximity to a "Euro Spar". My shopping methods still need to adapt to life in Europe. I have to stop myself filling-up the boat, anticipating long periods away from the next well stocked outlet and am still surprised and excited each time I find well-stocked shelves. Sadly extended periods with no use for a wallet seem long gone.

While we were shopping the only other yacht in the harbour guarded Kika from the local youth. Rumour has it that other yachts have returned to discover they have to negotiate a price for the return of their fenders and other removable items.

The next morning as we we sailed past other yachts moored in the well-located old town marina that didn't look particular full, Mark stretched his ability to find a positive with "at least our port wasn't busy, was close to the shops and was free". As our Germanic friends might say "and that was really something".

16/5/09, Rhodes: N36deg 25.0' E28deg 14.0'

Kastellorizo - first taste of Greece

2009-05-15T11:06:00.003+02:00

Our first destination in Greece was to be the small island of Kastellorizo. A Greek outpost off the Turkish coast. Friends on Lasse had written excitedly about its beauty and tranquillity. As we approached what looked like a barren rock I started questioning Lasse's judgement. However as we approached the anchorage a small attractive settlement appeared. It wouldn't have mattered either way as the enthusiastic welcome from Lasse was sufficient. Even though we'd seen each other recently in Ismalia there was still a lot of talk about. My trip home, Ben working on the island, their plan to stay a year in the anchorage and Neils' and Lisa's excitement at attending the local school - 40 pupils with 16 teachers. I don't remember being that enthusiastic about starting school - apprehensive perhaps. Could that be a benefit of four years onboard a boat. Once we'd briefly caught-up, Neils drew a map of the island showing how to find the customs office.

After all the trouble and expense we went to obtain our Turkish papers when I checked them I noticed the clearance stated our previous port as Girne (northern Cyprus) - ruining our attempted subterfuge. I needn't have worried it was one of the easiest check-ins ever, with humorous, self-deprecating custom officials - "we've had 3000 years to get it right, but we can't currently give you the document you require without a tax number ... so carry-on and I'm sure we'll sort it out eventually." Handing over 20 Euros cleared us into the EU and I hoped put an end to bureaucratic expensive check-ins.

Once we were legal it was time to explore the island. I could well understand Lasse's enthusiasm. There was virtually no traffic in the two small well-cared for settlements. We walked up-to the summit of the island amongst wild oregano, rosemary and thyme with great views across the sea to Turkey. The water around the anchorage was stunningly clear and to crown a perfect day that evening we saw a turtle swimming around the boat.

Sadly our plan dictated we needed to leave first thing the next morning for Rhodes, it would have been fantastic to spend longer with Lasse. We left with sprigs of wild herbs hanging the cabin keeping the memory of their small paradise alive.

15/5/09, Kastellorizo: N36deg 08.9' E29deg 35.9'

Turkish turn around

2009-05-14T21:10:00.008+02:00

With each successive haul-out, the job list mounts and it seems to become progressively harder to make it back into the water. Fortunately the prospect of Mark (of Freespirit fame) arriving still to find Kika unpainted and in-pieces focused my attention on the most pressing tasks. When the "top-end" sailor arrived he found a newly anti-fouled, polished hull, with new upholstery and sprayhood. OK so the decks had yet to be cleaned from the collected grime of the boat-yard and the dusty cabin remained true to the month in the sandy Red Sea - but at least we were more or less ready to depart.

Not only was it great to see Mark again after nearly 3 1/2 years, but as a bonus he also bought spares for the stove and a pilot guide to Greek waters. Mark set-to dismantling the stove and soon returned it to full working order with two reliably functioning burners rather than the one I'd be struggling with for the last few weeks. He also arrived with an embryonic cruising plan - something I'd been too busy too even consider. It would be a full-on two weeks - island-hoping through the Aegean Sea to the Corinth Canal then making our way into the Ionian Sea where I'd meet my next crew. Ambitious but achievable, especially with two ocean-hardened sailors onboard.

A slight complication was where to make our first port of call. Ideally we'd head straight to Greece but after consulting a few of the yard's old hands, it appeared that arriving directly from northern Cyprus would be a significant risk, with scenarios ranging from delays, fines, or even having Kika impounded. Greece doesn't recognize northern Cyprus as a legitimate country, and refers to the presence of Turkish troops in the north as an illegal occupation. The safe option is to head to Greece via Turkey. We decided to play safe and set a waypoint to Kemer Marina on Turkey's south coast.

Trusty crew

Three of us set off from Girne/Kryenia. Our third crew member, Oscar, joined us for the trip to Turkey. Oscar has learnt to sail in dinghies and his enthusiastic questioning reminded us of our first ventures onto the water. For example, Oscar was used to helming while holding the mainsheet so that it can be released the instant a gust hits the sail. On Kika the main is cleated-off and despite my reassurances about the keel preventing dinghy like capsizes, he kept close to the sheet should an unanticipated squall approach.

hard-working crew

Unfortunately we needed more assistance from the engine than emergency sail easing, although the calm conditions gave me an opportunity to reinstall the autopilot which had been re-engineered by northern Cyprus's finest machinist. After struggling with the pilot for the last-half of the Red Sea it was magical to see the wheel turning automatically again. Sadly my celebratory dance of joy around the deck proved premature as shortly afterwards the over-current protection switch tripped and Kika circled back towards Cyprus. Optimistically I reset the switch and crossed my fingers, but once again the pilot cut-out after a few minutes of holding a course. Time to rethink. The repair had replaced the worn Lucas motor (used as a windscreen wiper motor in Landrovers) and replaced it with a Bosch motor (used as a windscreen wiper motor in Mercedes cars). I measured the current draw of the new motor verses the original and sure enough the more substantial replacement drew almost twice the current. Time to rethink, it appeared my options would be to either use the gearing of the Bosch motor on the old motor, or upgrade the electronics to cope with the power-demands of the replacement. Swallowing spiders to eat flies or pulling threads and ending up with an unraveled cloth, started to cloud my optimism. Still at least the pilot would work for a few minutes, a marked improvement and could be used while cooking, putting the fenders out or climbing the rigging to check the path ahead.

The 28 hour trip to Turkey was uneventful, mostly motoring interspersed with a few hours of sailing. We did our best to give Oscar the full sailing experience the highlight being dolphins swimming off the bow but the excitement of the day must have worn him out as despite our best ship light identification tuition, he seemed quite happy to sleep through the night watches. I let him off as he'd praised my tortilla as even better than his father's (sorry Julian).

We arrived mid-morning in the marina and I hoped we'd be able to leave the same day for Greece. I explained to the marina official that we'd arrived from northern Cyprus, wanted to check-in and check-out of Turkey on the same day with the additional complication that Oscar would be leaving the boat. Her face dropped with horror at the thought of the endless forms and slow-moving Turkish bureaucracy she'd have to help us negotiate. "But why did you come to Turkey?" [and create all this work for me] "Ah northern Cyprus? I see..."

Half an hour later I headed into the marina office to check on progress and found the marina staff carefully studying a fax. As they saw me enter, they began to quiz me. "What were your last 10 ports of call, and dates", as I reeled them off, they checked with the fax and consulted each other. What was going on? I started to feel a little apprehensive. Had Interpol sent out a "reward for the capture of this vessel" bulletin? Firmly and slightly worriedly they said we all needed to head back to the boat, remain on the boat and if anyone asks we haven't left the boat. I racked my brain for any misdemeanour which might solicit such a change in tone, but although I was convinced of my innocence, couldn't help but feel anxious. Amanda arrived while we were imprisoned onboard, and fortunately soon afterwards a face-mask wearing port health official turned-up and the reason for our confinement became clear. One by one, we were invited off the boat, given face-masks and our temperature taken. Fortunately we were all within the healthy range, and deemed clear of swine flu.

I rushed around trying to organise the check-in/check-out, 3rd party insurance for Kika (which I'd learnt on the trip over was essential for Greek cruising), transfer money between accounts and take on water and food. Our first Greek anchorage was 75 miles away, perfect for a night sail, and our ambitious plan didn't allow for bureaucratic delays. Mark seemed slightly bemused by my manic activity and gently hinted that one option would be to relax and stay the night. Relax? Did he think we were on holiday? Reluctantly I accepted the inevitable and we planned instead to leave first thing in the morning.

Frustratingly it wasn't until mid-day that we finally left, replenished with food, beer, water, fuel and the all important Turkish clearance. We left with a head-wind which resolutely followed our course around each head-land. As the day progressed, the difficulties of a night entry into Kastellorizo become apparent, and my sea-legs started to feel shaky while I was down-below making raspberry jam steamed pudding. Scanning the chart I found an anchorage on the Turkish coast where we could rest and cover the remaining 20 miles in the morning. Mark enthusiastically endorsed the change of plan and we arrived with just enough light to see our way into the anchorage.

13/5/09, Kemer: N 36deg 36' E30deg 34'
14/5/09, Night anchorage: N36deg 12.6' W29deg 53.7'

Back in Cyprus

2009-05-10T17:08:00.008+02:00

It's been a long few days finishing off the work on Kika, but worth it. I'm now back in the water with a polished hull, fresh anti-fouling, new upholstery in the saloon, a new spray-hood, a happy engine, and hopefully I'll soon have a working auto-pilot (new gears are being machined as I write this).

Clean bottom

I foolishly decided I'd fly in the face of convention and go for a light-blue "to lighten the saloon". I've quickly realised why dark colours are preferred - I'll have to levitate all the way home to avoid the material taking on an uneven brown/black hue.

Cleaning ideas anyone?

Back in the water with the Saurins

Back in the UK

2009-05-04T17:05:00.000+02:00

One draw-back with low-cost airlines is that the flights tend to be at antisocial hours, resulting in a couple of days of jet-lag even with the shortest of flights. I arrived in Gatwick at 12.30am and by the time I'd made it to west London it was 3.30am. Rob and Judy had moved house since I was last in London and as I let myself in to the unfamiliar surrounding and disabled the alarm, I briefly wondered if I'd got the right house or had started a new career of house-breaking. If the house was unfamiliar the welcome the next day wasn't and I quickly felt at home. Over the next few days as I zipped around London on the tube visiting friends it almost felt as though I hadn't been away. Great to catch-up with friends, only wished I could have stayed longer and visited others outside London. Still plenty of time in August...

I'm not sure who was more excited at the wedding, my sister or me. Fantastic to catch up with immediate and extended family and finally meet my new brother-in-law.

Wow my grown-up "little" sister a bride

Family and extended family

I finished my brief visit back with a trip to Falmouth to see Will, Alyssa and Grace (Ragtime), and we were joined by Matt and Togs (Helene). My luck held with the warm Spring weather which accompanied me during my trip, bringing out a stunning show of blue-bells in the Cornish woods.

Amazingly my car-train-tube-train-flight-bus-taxi trip back went without a hitch, though I had to explain to customs why my hand-luggage contained a wind transducer, four engine glow-plugs, various parts for the wind-generator as well as hinges, wet-and-dry paper, paint brushes and rollers. In the end I was allowed through customs with only the loss of an innocuous pair of mini-pliers and a bottle of sun-tan lotion.

Northern Cyprus

2009-04-25T16:48:00.000+02:00

My first sight of Kyrenia included the spectacular castle guarding the old harbour. Unfortunately check-in formalities dictated that I sailed passed the beautiful old harbour and made my way instead into the non-descript commercial harbour.

Kyrenia castle

With no other yachts in the basin it wasn't initially clear where the marina was, however soon a couple of boat-yard staff directed me to moor Mediterranean style (stern-to) onto the wharf. The strong westerly breeze added extra challenge to my reversing attempts, and the marine life covering the laid mooring line (and soon my clothes and the deck) indicated that it had spent the winter unused on the bottom. Still with no damage done I was whisked off into the bowels of the passenger terminal to complete my arrival. I'd chosen Northern Cyprus as I planned to catch up with some old friends who had moved here and I hoped I'd find a good selection of reasonably priced flights back to the UK. Once checked-in, I wandered around in a daze mostly feeling exhausted but with a creeping sense of achievement at arriving in the Mediterranean in good time to make it back for my sister's wedding.

Amanda and family promised they'd be with me in 40 minutes and looking round the boat, I released it was in no condition to impress anyone but the roughest old salt. My energy returned as I tried to make Kika respectable and fortunately 40 minutes turned into 90 minutes which even allowed me to make some humous, though apparently I missed the dusting...

One disadvantage of Mediterranean mooring is the precarious route onto and off the boat. I found a gang plank lying around the boat yard, which helped a little, but the route onto the boat was still an awkward balancing act between the wind-steering, wind-generator, outboard and stern rail. The younger members of the Saurin family managed the moving obstacle course without drama but it proved more of a challenge for Amanda and Conne. Once they'd inspected my floating abode we all piled into the family transport to visit their slightly more solid home.

With plenty of time before the wedding I decided I'd take the opportunity to haul Kika out and give her hull a much needed clean as well as another coat of anti-fouling. The next day we headed back to the yard and manoeuvred Kika into the obstacle-lined haul-out dock. Even though the travel-lift was rated at 30 tonnes, it was by far the smallest lift I'd used and looking around the yard I suddenly realised I would be one of the bigger boats they had hauled. Still they weren't taking any chances and sent their best man into the water to check the positioning of the travel-lift slings. He decided to combine the safety checks with an octopus hunt and went into the water armed with a spear-gun, but surfaced without lunch though satisfied the slings were correctly positioned. My feeling about the relative size of Kika and the boat-yard was confirmed when I had to remove the back-stay to allow Kika to be lifted without taking-out the rigging and then once ashore, found they didn't have a cradle large enough for me, but instead improvised by welding two half cradles together around Kika.

The job list lengthens

Soon the list of jobs multiplied and my anticipated leisurely haul-out turned into the familiar boat-yard scrabble to complete the jobs in time. The deadline this time was the arrival of a friend, Mark, at the start of the second week of May.

In the end I boarded the flight back to the UK looking forward to a holiday from the holiday...

65 is the limit if you drive a car liable to blow-up

Ferocious squalls

2009-04-14T23:40:00.005+02:00

After an easy night of alternating calms and light breezes the benign weather abruptly finished at midday, since then I've had one squall after another, each one trying to outdo the previous one in its ferocity. I caught sight of the lights of Cyprus just before dawn and saw land briefly this morning before it rapidly vanished in a cloud of rain. My drunken track from Egypt tells the tale of the variety of wind directions I've had. Hopefully tonight the wind will behave as forecast and will blow me towards Kyrenia without overtaxing my doubly-reefed main and small genoa.

Drunken path

A couple of birds hitched a ride today, trying to find shelter from the worst of the weather. By the time I found something I thought might nourish them, they'd either flown off or been washed away - I hope it wasn't the latter.

Hitch-hiker

The radar alarm has been warning me of impeding squalls rather than other boats, though after a few hours of the alarm sounding every 10 minutes I silenced it - I didn't need radar to see the rain approaching.

So much for all my cleaning in Ismailia. I don't know if the spray is reaching parts I failed to reach with the hose, or if the northern wind is bringing sand from arid areas of Turkey. Whatever the reason Kika looks like she's spent the winter down-wind from a sand-blaster ... again.

I should reach Kyrenia tomorrow morning and not before time as tonight doesn't look like I'll get much of a rest.

21:45, 14/4/09: N35deg42' E32deg18'

Not setting any records

2009-04-13T18:04:00.001+02:00

I'm not setting any records for speed, but so far it's been a great reintroduction to the joys of sailing. The wind veered helpfully during the day allowing me to head further east towards Cyprus. Still plenty of boats around, the radar alarm has been busy alerting me all day. Hope it quietens down a little tonight.

I finished off my Egyptian delicacies in the first day, and they seem to have revived my sweet tooth. Today I converted some oats, butter, sugar, eggs, cocoa and various other minor ingredients into some chocolate oat cookies. Not sure they'll last until Kyrenia though.

Position @ 19:00 13/4/2009: N34deg36' E31deg30'

First day in the Med

2009-04-13T05:58:00.000+02:00

After the stormy start, fortunately the wind and seas have moderated. I've gone from heavily reefed main and genoa to the treat of full sails. My forecast indicates that the wind should be E/SE so far I've been close-hauled, beating into a NE/N wind, taking me west of my rhumb-line. Still even if the wind doesn't veer to the east, I can always tack and I'm still savouring my almost silent progress across the water after much too much use of the engine in the Red Sea.

Unsurprisingly the shipping was dense around Port Said, giving me a sleepless night. Yesterday the VHF was alive for most of the day, with NATO warships calling vessels (they're carrying out some kind of exercise in the area), the Israeli navy proactively calling any boats remotely approaching their waters and the usual banter between ships at sea. Fortunately the traffic on the VHF disappeared at dusk and I seemed to escape most of the shipping, allowing me to catch-up on some sleep.

As usual I left with the boat overflowing with fresh fruit and veg and it's always a challenge in the first few days to eat my fresh stores before they go off. Yesterday I stuffed myself with the kilo of strawberries I bought from the excellent market in Ismailia...

Position @ 6.30 13/4/2009: N33deg51' E31deg05'

300 miles to Kyrenia, northern Cyprus

2009-04-12T12:30:00.005+02:00

Aboda my pilot eventually arrived and after a brief tangle with a mooring buoy and some remedial help from the French fleet we were off on the second leg of the trip up the canal and into the Mediterranean. As we headed north, the weather reminded me of a northern European spring - cold, overcast with occasional rain. Such weather seemed at odds with the desert scenery on either side of the canal, but I guess it was useful acclimatisation for my trip back to the UK.

Aboda tried my tea, then asked for coffee and then politely refused all offers of refreshments. It seems I need to raise my beverage preparation game if I'm to meet with approval from discerning Egyptian pilots. I was worried he was planning to remain unhydrated for the remaining three hours, but eventually he succumbed to another tea. Food was a different matter. I couldn't tempt him with one of my feta cheese and tapenade sandwiches or the various fruit I offered but when I bought out some Egpytian sweet cakes I bought from one of Ismailia's fabulous patisseries, his eyes lit up. Finally I'd cracked his resolve. You may ask, why the obsession with feeding and watering the pilot? Well imagine being branded as the boat where pilots expire, rumours spread quickly and I might struggle to find a pilot in the future, never-mind scaring away my anticipated Mediterranean visitors.

Finally at 5.30 we arrived in Port Said, a pilot boat came alongside and whisked Aboda away and left me once again in charge of Kika. As I headed towards the entrance and my first glimpse of the Mediterranean, it seemed the fishing fleet was heading back in for the night. A couple of fishermen ominously mimed big waves and pointed in the direction I was heading. It was either big waves or large sea-serpents I suppose it could be either as I'm heading for Greek mythology territory. I decided to head out and see how bad the waves or serpents were, thinking I could always return if they proved too nasty. The entrance wasn't great with large breaking seas caused by wind against tide - almost as bad as Ramsgate in a gale. However I pressed on and eventually the water calmed down and left me to worry about the shipping, oil rigs and fishing boats. At 12.30 I escaped the fishing fleet, cleared the shipping lanes and set a course off the west of Cyprus.

Position @ 12.30 12/4/2009: N31deg56' E32deg14'

Ismailia

2009-04-11T08:55:00.002+02:00

Ismailia has been a fantastically relaxing stop. The town itself seems a lot more peaceful than Suez and is well stocked with all the essentials - a decent supermarket (though still no bacon), a wonderful fruit/veg/meat market with mounds of strawberries, numerous Internet cafés, good cheap restaurants, stunning patissaries and the invaluable wide range of wedding dress shops. I spent my time repairing and cleaning Kika, including a couple of trips up the mast with the hose to clean off the Red Sea sand and salt. The lines are pliable once again and the boat well-stocked, including my first strawberries since New Zealand. As well as enjoying my time with Lasse, the the marina slowly filled up with other boats I've met up the Red Sea, including Rino, Vagabond Virgin and Kristiane as well as a couple of boats from the French fleet.

I'd planned to visit Cairo and the pyramids and my luck was in as I met a fantastically helpful, friendly taxi driver, Mohamed (0121538185) who took me on a whirlwind day-trip to the pyramids, around Cairo, and the incredible Cairo museum for a very fair price, and only spent 10 minutes trying to convert me to his religion - apparently converting a infidel is better than gaining one thousand red camels - the best camels.

Mohamed and me

This gave me an excuse not to partake in the camel rides around the pyramids - why ride on a camel which isn't red, when you know it's not the best?

One of the oddities of Ismailia is the need to show your passport with Egyptian visa to the guards on the gate every time you venture into town. The guards also act to stop subsidised Egyptian filling-station diesel being brought back into the marina. However with no diesel available within the compound, I'm not sure if there is a legal way of obtaining fuel. One boat managed to bribe the guards and use a taxi to bring diesel from the filling station. However the guards caught another boat sneaking diesel in through the gate resulting in a substantial fine. We by-passed security and took a couple of dinghies across the bay, under a bridge and tied up by some party boats. The party boat hosts organised a tuk-tuk and we loaded our 18 diesel cans into the trailer and set off for the filling-station. The plan worked and undercover of dark we smuggled the diesel back onboard. Now if only we'd filmed our illicit trip, the resulting movie of our subdiffuse might have challenged "The Great Escape" for the slot of Christmas afternoon escape film.

Diesel smuggling with Julian from Rino

I'm writing this waiting for my pilot to arrive for the second half of the trip through the Suez Canal. Once I'm through I'm setting sail directly for Kyrenia - Northern Cyprus. The wind looks favourable so I'm keen to head-off ... where is a pilot when you need one ... ?

Suez Canal part 1: Suez - Ismailia

2009-04-06T22:00:00.001+02:00

Yesterday turned out to be a real treat. Though the day began at 5am with little expectation other than a eventful-free transit. The night before I was entertaining Paddy and Carolyn from Kristane. At 10pm while the wine was still flowing there was a knock on the hull from the marina staff asking for payment - apparently my transit would be at 5am, not 10am as previously indicated. Still no reason to bring a good party to a premature end, but it did mean I was operating on automatic when my cheerful pilot Ashraf arrived in the pre-dawn hours of the morning.

There's some rule about yachts not being allowed in the canal at the same time as military convoys. We'd watched seemingly half the UK navy steaming south the day before and on my transit day it was the turn of the Italian navy. From what I understood the early start was so we could make it through before the warships, but talking to others it seems that last minute changes and unexpected early starts are the rule not the exception.

Once Ashraf was aboard it was quick, quick, engine on, lines untied and we were off. He seemed a little upset that I insisted on no more than 2000rpm giving us just over 5 knots and repeatedly returned to the subject as the other boats in the convoy overtook us. Communication was tricky, his English almost as limited as my Arabic, but I think he finally understood when I mimed no faster than 2200rpm otherwise BANG. Later when the wind shifted to the west I indicated that perhaps we could sail. He followed my lead and mimed that if he let me sail his throat would be cut.

I remember my Panamanian pilot being justifiably proud of his canal and dismissive of the Suez canal as a "mere ditch". It's true there isn't the excitement of the huge locks of Panama or the jungle scenery complete with howler monkeys, but the "ditch" is still an impressive undertaking and being passed by laded container ships in a narrow channel surrounded by desert sand has its own unique excitement.

We left with a favourable 10-15 knots from the south, but true to Red Sea form, with little warning the wind suddenly shifted to the north and increased to 20-25 knots which with the 2 knot favourable current brought nasty wind against tide short seas, slowing us and reignited Ashraf's desire to increase the revs - I stoically resisted.

After nine hours Ismailia, my half way stop, loomed into view. As we approached the marina I could make out two people jumping up and down and waving maniacally from the quay. Who could they be? I racked my brain for anyone who would be so excited to see me - surely they must have mistaken Kika for another boat, but no, as I approach I realised it was Ben and Corola and their two children Neils and Lisa from Lasse. What an unexpected treat we'd last seen each other in Thailand and hoped we'd be able to sail together in the Red Sea. The most unanticipated and best welcome I've had anywhere.

The remainder of the day was spent trying to piece Lasse's adventures since Thailand from the excited snippets I gathered from the children. Looks like I'll be staying here a few days, to catch-up with Lasse, clean Kika and see a little of inland Egypt before heading off to Cyprus.

6/4/09: Ismailia yacht club: N30deg35.1' E32deg16.4'

Into Suez

2009-04-05T05:57:00.001+02:00

I've made it to Suez, arriving yesterday evening just before sunset. After the challenging weather so far, yesterday's trip was almost disappointingly easy. Enough wind for the wind-steering to work, but not too much to build up a nasty sea.

Good job I made it in when I did as I finished my last onions and potatoes while waiting for the weather to clear. Fortunately just as I was leaving the anchorage a fishing boat approached, promising to save me from my anticipated canned diet. I gave them some overly-sweet crackers, some baby milk powder that I'd bought by mistake and an old frying pan. In exchange I gained a dozen prawns. Spaghetti with prawns, garlic and (canned) tomatoes, kept the scurvy at bay for another day.

I'm currently stuck onboard watching the laden ships head north up the canal while I wait for a measurer, arriving anytime between 9am and 2pm - such precise timing! Once I'm measured the result will be fed into an opaque formula, which I believe includes random numbers and an assessment of my net worth to determine how much I owe in canal dues. So yet another chance to spend quality time with the engine preparing for the rigors of the motor through the canal and into the Med.

I'm planning to spend a few days in Ismalia, half-way through the canal. Apparently it's a good place to leave the boat while exploring inland. Almost as exciting is the news that mooring fees include water so I'll finally be able to properly clean off the Red Sea grime and allow my lines to soak so hopefully I'll have ropes that flex again, rather than the weather-worn pieces of leather they currently resemble.

Suez Yacht Club: N29deg56.9' E32deg34.4'

Suez slog

2009-04-02T18:54:00.004+02:00

So much for the benign weather. The Red Sea hasn't finished with us yet and seems intent on throwing its worst at me in a desperate attempt to stop us reaching the canal. I'm declaring round one a draw - I've put into an anchorage 60 miles from Suez, and I'll bide my time in here until I catch the weather napping then make another dash for Suez. So near and yet so far ...

I arrived in convoy with Kristiane we both wanted a break from the 25-30 knot head wind (forecast 5-10), but as progress against the wind and sea was so slow it looked like we wouldn't make it to the anchorage before dark. Fortunately there were boats ahead already snugly anchored and they gave us some way-points to follow and assured us it was an easy entrance. In the event the anchorage had a well-lit entry though once in we had no choice but to blindly follow the way-points, aware of the unseen reef either side - not ideal, but great to have a break from the incessant spray. At least Kika has had thorough wash!

The Gulf of Suez is much busier than I expected, especially at night. In addition to the ships in the traffic lanes, last night I had to contend with fishing boats randomly manoeuvring, shipping entering and leaving the lanes, pilot boats, brightly lit rigs with hypnotic bright flares, most but not all charted, as well as a confusing assortment of buoyage often differing from the chart.

Looking forward to a well-earned celebration in Suez - probably in a couple of days time as once the wind's whipped itself up into a fury - it takes a while to calm down.

Position @ 20:00 2nd April (Marsa Thelemet): N29deg 03.3' E32deg 38.1'

Into the Gulf of Suez

2009-04-01T19:44:00.001+02:00

I'm on the final leg of the trip to Suez - I've entered the Gulf of Suez.
It's a narrow channel (12 miles across in places) with shipping lanes in the centre and oil platforms dotted around the channel. There's definitely a petrochemical smell in the air that for a change isn't wholly coming from Kika's engine box.
Slightly concerningly the pilot guide advises giving the oil platforms a wide berth as some disused installations have hazardous pipes cut off just below the surface, making them impossible to see, deadly if you collide with them. Looks like a busy night ensuring I avoid mooring and navigational buoys, oil platforms, cut-off pipes and don't stray into the shipping lanes.

So far the weather has been more or less as predicted - perhaps a little windier, which has worked in my favour; my repairs to the electronic pilot haven't worked, but with a decent wind I've been able to use the wind-steering.

Distance to Suez: 135 miles
Position @ 21:15 01/04 N27deg 54.9' E33deg 35.4'

North towards Suez

2009-03-31T17:28:00.001+02:00

After being storm bound for three days, an almost too good to be true, benign weather-window has appeared, hopefully allowing me to make the 300 miles to Suez in light variable winds - fatigue and self steering permitting.

Port Ghalib was a strange place to be stuck. A massive new tourist development situated in the middle of otherwise "undeveloped" desert. The architects have placed the yacht moorings in front of a large hotel and I think we added more "colour" than perhaps intended. Shaggy sailors working on engines and carting cans of diesel, juxtaposed with northern Europe tourists on a winter-sun package.

On arrival it took us all morning to clear the customs berth so that by the time we headed over to the quay, a strong northerly had picked-up. The moorings were arranged Mediterranean style - stern to the quay. This was my first experience in Kika of a Mediterranean mooring in which berthing involves a precise reverse into the quay, between two other boats, with concerned owners looking-on, and the added challenge of a strong cross-wind.

Going astern has never been mine or Kika's strongest suit and adding precision and cross-wind into the mix didn't make things any easier. Fortunately the marina must have observed similar manoeuvring problems before and had a boat on-hand to aid, but still it wasn't one of my better efforts, though the only damage was to my ego.

I joined a fleet of six French boats, my New Zealand Whangarei neighbour, "Eric the Viking" on Vagabond Virgin, great to catch-up, and a couple of other boats, including my companions for the last few days Paddy and Caroline on Kristiane. It was a good sociable time between engine filter changes, numerous electronic pilot fixes, and diesel and water refills.

This morning I cleared my quay slot before the wind picked up and headed out to sea. As forecast there's a moderate north-westerly has picked-up and for a change I'm making good headway under sail. I'm very happy to postpone the trial of my fixes to the electronic pilot in favour of the wind steering and it's great to give the engine a rest - it didn't seem too happy to be leaving this morning - I've added "cold-start glow-plugs" to my ever expanding list of repairs - or perhaps it's just complaining about the excessive work it's had to endure over the last couple of weeks.

It looks like the hotel will be deprived of its colourful adornment as the whole quay is leaving today while the going is good - but I guess it won't be too long before a new batch of weather-worn sailors arrive to dismantle their boats besides the sun-bathers.

Escape from Dolphin Reef

2009-03-28T19:16:00.012+01:00

The wind kept me pinned within Dolphin Reef for three frustrating but enjoyable days. With Kristiane moored outside the lagoon I made a daily wet dinghy pilgrimage to meet them for sun-downers and invariably stayed for supper. The second night, I was well prepared, remembering to turn on Kika's anchor light, take a torch and hand-held VHF in-case of problems. Trouble was after a few too many drinks I watched in horrified slow motion as the VHF slipped from my pocket and disappeared into the dark waters around the dinghy. That'll teach me - or perhaps not ...

The days passed quickly with much weather punditry, boat jobs and snorkeling in the incredibly clear, but cold waters around the reef. I spent one morning cleaning barnacles off the bottom of the keel, where the anti-fouling hadn't reached when we painted the bottom on the careening grid in Darwin. They'd cemented themselves in-place making for slow but satisfying work. As I gradually chipped away at the organic layer, I was compensated for my labour by the many intrigued fish who remained close, presumably to see if the bits falling from Kika offered any kind of nutritious snack. The highlight were two huge Napoleon wrasses slowly circling underneath, completely unperturbed by my frequent graceless dives and vigorous scraping.

The reef was well stocked with large fish including some tasty looking grouper; unfortunately spear fishing is prohibited in Egypt, but fortunately not can-openers.

On the third day I made my way outside the lagoon and tied to a line used by the live-aboard dive boats; I relocated to permit our planned nocturnal get-away. After a few teasing lulls, at 10pm the wind had unambiguously dropped and we set off anticipating we'd have light winds for the 100 miles trip to Port Ghalib. I left with high hopes that the fix I'd made for the self-steering would save me from 20 hours fixed to the helm.

Soon we found ourselves in a large sea, making slow headway and by morning the wind picked-up again whipping-up the sea further and frequently halting our progress as we ploughed into the large waves. Fortunately the pilot showed an anchorage in the lee of a coral fringed sand split a few miles towards the coast. I'd decided I needed a rest after a busy night when the electronic pilot had packed-up within the first hour. Kristiane readily agreed and we picked our way between the bommies into the shelter behind the island.

North of Port Sudan the quality of the charts deteriorates significantly, with the chartlets in the pilot guide the only detailed source available. The chart is clear that it should not be relied upon for boats cruising the coast:

Due to the age and quality of some of the source information, positions obtained from satellite navigation systems may be more accurate than the charted detail ... Most of the area covered by this chart has not been systematically surveyed. Many depths are from miscellaneous lines of passage soundings, old leadline surveys or from other Governments' charts whose source material is unknown. Uncharted shoals and patches of coral may exist.

I spent a vexing afternoon in the anchorage battling with the autopilot and trying to fix a new problem with the down switch of the electric windlass which seemed to be short-circuited and caused the chain to run-out as soon as the windlass was powered. The double frustration was that the manufacturers (Lofrans) had fitted tamper-proof screws to the unit preventing me from even attempting a fix, short of drilling out the screws. The end result is that I can't solve the problem and have had to work round it by disconnecting the motor down connection. Then I invested quality time with the autopilot but despite deepening my understanding of its inner workings, I ended the afternoon no closer to a solution. However positively, the forecast showed the wind easing overnight we jumped at the chance to try again to cover the remaining 60 miles to Port Ghalib.

I studied the pilot guide and decided to try the passage north between the island and the shore, rather than retrace our path and add 4 miles to the journey. Kristiane agreed to follow behind me, though with the sun low in the sky it was tricky picking a route through the coral. After successfully edging my way round one large coral head I looked over my shoulder and was horrified to see Kristiane up on the reef. I was enjoying the challenge of the route, but in retrospect felt I hadn't sufficiently emphasized the dangers to Kristiane so felt some responsibility for their predicament. Just as I reached them, they scraped themselves clear, and somewhat shaken decided to take the longer route round. I pressed on a little more cautiously and found my way to clear water, my achievement tempered by guilt.

For most of the night my earlier shortcut kept me ahead, which was fortunate as just after 11pm the engine died as I unexpectedly ran out of fuel. Kristiane, who put their earlier mishap down to experience, quickly caught up to Kika, and saved the day by offering me their last two fuel cans - enough to make Port Ghalib and saving me from drifting helplessly in the windless night. I'd bought extra fuel cans in Aden, and thought I would have enough fuel, but had clearly underestimated the fuel consumption in previous days' heavy seas. For once the wind behaved as anticipated and despite another exhausting night glued to the wheel, morning revealed the channel leading to our first official port of entry in Egypt, with the chance to check-in, refuel, reprovision, clean-up and put back the clocks to a new timezone - GMT+2.

Ominous entrance to Port Ghalib

26/3/2009 (16:00) - Mooring outside Dolphin reef: N24deg 09.4' E35deg 42.65'
27/3/2009 (10:00) - Gezirat Wadi Gimal: N24deg 39.5' E35deg 09.4'
28/3/2009 (06.30) - Customs' berth @ Port Ghalib: N25deg 32.0' E34deg38.3'

Storm bound in Dolphin Reef

2009-03-24T17:50:00.003+01:00

The forecast indicated the wind was going to shift to the NW sometime between midnight and 6am. With my original cunning plan I would have arrived in Port Ghalib between 4 and 5am, which I naively assumed would be before the strong north-westerlies arrived. Last night I woke up at 2.30am to roaring winds and thanked my autopilot for scuppering my attempts to beat the weather - I would have been caught out in 30 gusting 35 knots of head-wind in nasty short breaking seas, probably unable to make headway towards my destination. Instead I let out more chain on my primary anchor and spent an hour readying my third anchor just in-case I started dragging; my second anchor was already set to the stern to stop me swinging as the wind shifted. Fortunately the anchors held and my third anchor remains on-deck unused. I guess this type of sudden change is the kind of weather that gives the Red Sea its fearsome reputation.

The wind is bombarding the boat with desert sand, plastering all leading surfaces with what looks like a layer of grime. It's a losing battle to try to clean it off, but it makes Kika looked very unloved - just hope there's freely available fresh water in Cyprus.

Amongst other signs I'm getting closer to a European spring is the decrease in the temperature of the water. Even in a wet-suit, it now takes me an hour or so to fully warm up after a session in the water. With the wind screaming across the reef today, I'm afraid I didn't make it into the sea and spent the day working down-below.

When I arrived last night there were four live-aboard dive boats moored outside the reef, dwarfing a solitary yacht. As I approached the reef I had a brief chat with Christian - the yacht - and concluded there weren't any available moorings and in any case if I was going to try to anchor in the reef's lagoon, I had no time to spare. This evening I made the effort to extract the dinghy from the forepeak, inflate it, and make my way over to meet the crew of Kristiane. A fun evening, but I'm glad I'm inside the reef, despite the sound of the wind, there's negligible swell making it across the reef, compared to the mooring outside. It looks like I'm going to be here for at least another day possibly longer waiting for a break in the weather, so plenty of time to explore my temporary home environment. From the sound of the various radio nets, the whole sailing community is temporarily halted in their progress north, waiting for a break in the weather.

Great push north: days 3 - 4

2009-03-23T18:00:00.003+01:00

I waited in the anchorage until last light to leave, hoping the seas would ease a little, but in reality they were much as before. However I knew the seas would calm down overnight and that makes a few hours of hard slog into a big sea bearable.
The cunning plan began to unraveled when the autopilot insisted on steering me in circles. I tried every trick I've learnt over the last few months to persuade this obstreperous machine into steering anything resembling a straight course - nothing worked. I hove-to and attempted to fix the problem. As I've done many times before I removed the chain linking the pilot to the rudder and put the servo drive unit on the chart table to fault-find. As I searched for tools in the stern, Kika healed over as a large wave passed and there was a crash from the saloon. The heavy drive unit had toppled over and punched a hole in the floor board. An expletive laden hour later the pilot was back in position after a "Nick fix"™ and ready for a trial. The result - larger radius circles, but not significantly better. Time to admit defeat. Hove-to, I was drifting slowly away from the reefs, yet still clear of the shipping lanes. I felt defeated and exhausted so decided that a few hours sleep would put things back into perspective. Once refreshed time to rethink; I was keen to make it across Foul Bay, but Port Galib was no long viable. Instead I settled on Dolphin Reef 90 miles to the north, just to the north of the bay, but just possible to make in day-light and do-able hand-steering

I'd forgotten the monotony of being stuck on the helm hour after hour unable to leave without the boat rapidly heading off course. I tried various options with the wind-steering, elastic and ropes but when I needed a break, I resorted to idling the engine and letting the boat drift.

Dolphins and fish brought relief to the tedium. It was impossible not be swept up in the euphoria dolphins seem to have as they leap out of the water when heading in your direction in what I imagine is joy at the excitement of a boat to play with. It seems Dolphin Reef is aptly named as I had four separate dolphin visits. The other excitement was the first non-barracuda I'd hooked in days. I eased the engine and slowly reeled the monster in. You get to know the type of fish on the line by how they behave. Tuna and barracuda largely seem to give-up and let themselves be reeled in as they skim along the surface, though barracuda fight the closer they get to the boat. Mahi-mahi stay under the surface and swim from side to side, sometimes jumping out to try to free themselves and put up an impressive fight the closer they are to the boat. By the way this monster was behaving, I'd hooked a large mahi-mahi - my digestive juices began flowing in anticipation. Male mahi-mahi have a distinctive hump above their head, as I carefully reeled in my food for the next few days I could see clearly that I'd hooked a female. However before I'd had a chance to gaff her, I noticed her mate swimming beside her. I hesitated entranced by the two fish swimming together; did I really want to bring fishy bereavement to such a loyal partnership? My delay was just long enough for her to leap out of the water and shake herself free of my hook. The decision had been made for me and I was relieved and happy with the result. Am I going soft?

I just made Dolphin Reef with enough light to ease my way into the lagoon between the patches of coral and dive to check the anchors in the fading light.

The "Great push north" is temporarily suspended here, while I wait for a break in the weather. Still I'm across Foul Bay and have entered Egyptian waters. Tomorrow I'm looking forward to some snorkeling on the reef before battling with the autopilot.

Anchorage in Dolphin Reef (18:00 23/3/2009): N24deg 09.7' E35deg 42.4

Great push north: day 3

2009-03-22T12:00:00.002+01:00

This morning the NW 10-15 knots forecast turned into NW 20-25 knots and a correspondingly nasty sea built. I hove-to and studied the options. It seems careful attention to the pilot book pays. Initially I only studied the overview chart which shows a dearth of good anchorages within Foul Bay. However on closer inspection the detailed sketches highlight a few reasonable options. I decided to shelter in an anchorage behind a bank of coral 18 miles to the west, it was the closest, best and most sailable option. Like a lot of coral anchorages the route is edged by hazards and I was a little concerned about simultaneously spotting the bombies and steering the boat. I needn't have worried - the large seas were very visibly breaking on the banks and with the sun behind me, the shallow patches and isolated coral pillars were easy to spot by the colour change of the water. I expected I'd have the anchorage to myself, as I assumed all sensible sailors would be tucked up in a secure haven waiting for the wind to decrease, however a third of the Scandinavian fleet seemed to be suffering from the same madness and had arrived a few hours earlier.

Once anchored in the calm waters of the reef's lee, what to do next? Would the "Great push north" grind to a halt in Foul bay? Pondering the options and formulating a plan is the kind of challenge I enjoy. The forecast indicated easing winds tonight, continuing light on Monday, followed amazingly by southerly winds Monday night, but suddenly the weather window slams shut with 25 knots from the NW on Tuesday morning. Another complication is that most anchorages are fringed by coral and when anchoring on the coast you need to arrive no later than 3-4pm, otherwise the sun is in your eyes and you can't spot the path through the coral. However it seemed a shame to waste half a day of light winds and the rare southerly wind in the night, by prematurely halting my progress north. Slowly a plan emerged that startled me in its cunningness. Port Ghalib is 180 miles from my Foul Bay anchorage, it has a lit entrance allowing me to arrive at night and make the most of the rare southerly winds and arrive before the onset of the strong north-westerlies.

Anchorage in Shab Abu Fendera (12.00, 22/3/2009): N22deg 53.4' E36deg18.5'

Great push north: day 2

2009-03-21T20:00:00.002+01:00

Today felt a little like the calm before the storm. The sea was flat, the wind from behind, making for very pleasant sailing. However the winds are forecast to increase and shift to the north, but not as strongly as normal so I'm taking my chances. I've been making the most of the calm day, by airing the pillows and sheets, baking bread, giving the engine a little love in the form of an oil change, and decanting diesel from the extra cans I bought in Aden that look like they're about to burst their contents at any moment.

The obstacle ahead is the aptly named "Foul Bay". A coral strewn bay with only tenuous or difficult entry anchorages meaning there's 130 miles between safe havens. Although the favourable southerly disappears overnight I can't see a better weather window appearing in the next week so rather than waiting an indeterminate time for the perfect winds, I'm motoring into moderate seas with a head wind. While sensible boats have found a beautiful secure anchorage on the Sudanese coast and are sipping their first sun-downer, I'm bouncing around in the dark. It's not pleasant, but I'm slowly making my way across the bay. The strong northerlies resume on the 24th so I'm saving my sun-downers for then.

Position @ 20:00 (21/3/2009): N22deg07' E37deg01'

Great push north: day 1

2009-03-20T21:15:00.004+01:00

I didn't quite make my planned 3am start, but thought 4.30am wasn't a bad effort. There's currently a little more moonlight later in the night which helped me very cautiously edge my way out of the reef-break leading into Suakin.

The anchorage in Suakin was busy with both Scandinavian and French boats who have opted to travel together. En masse the anchorage decided to make the most of the break in the prevailing northerly winds and head as far up the Red Sea as possible before normal conditions reassert themselves. With my earlier start I thought I'd get a head start on the other boats, but once clear of Suakin I noticed Blue Marlin following close behind, with the other boats emerging soon after at dawn. I soon left the other boats as I opted for a more direct route north outside the protective inshore reef. It seems my gamble paid off as there was little swell in the sea after a calm night.

Radio propagation in the Red Sea is surprising. Normally VHF radio range from yacht-to-yacht is 20-25 miles. However here it's possible to talk to other yachts on the VHF 100-200 miles distant. Great to hear familiar voices ahead, as sadly I seem to have left the pirate busting group behind. It was a relief to hear from "Helen Kate" yesterday who headed off along the Saudi shore from the Hanish Islands. They don't have a short-wave transmitter so it's been impossible for the rest of us to hear how they were getting along. It seems they sailed the east coast without being arrested and are now 90 miles ahead of me. Perhaps their gamble paid off..

Position @ 21:15 (GMT +3) 20/3/2009 N20deg17' E37deg32'

Suakin

2009-03-19T20:30:00.006+01:00

Water delivery

Today I felt like I'd entered a different era; donkeys suddenly became the main means to transport goods. Mules and camels also shared the burden and the twenty-first century occasionally intervened with a scattering of tut-tuts, Toyotas and Landrovers.

The ruins of Suakin indicate there was once an impressive city here, it's almost as though I'd entered a post-apocalyptic future, with the survivors scraping a living amongst the derelict buildings of the former advanced civilisation with no means, no use or no inclination of rebuilding their once great city.

The "hello mister, welcome to Yemen" greeting we received across the water, was replaced with a slightly more reserved, "hello mister, how are you?" though huge smiles met any response I offered. I restocked at the market, no need to worry about scurvy for a while. Kika has been refilled with diesel and the omens look good for a push north. The flow of strong northerly winds have been temporarily interrupted by a confusing combination of low and high-pressures giving light winds from a variety of directions. I'd hoped to leave this evening, but Mohammed was called off on some other business and I've only just received my passport (8.30pm). My new plan is to set the alarm for 3am, when hopefully I'll have some moon-light and cautiously make my way out of the port channel and set sail north for Egypt.

Into Africa

2009-03-18T17:19:00.003+01:00

After yesterday's monster barracuda incident, I was a little reticent to put out the line again. However I noticed Blue Marlin, one of the Norwegian boats, pulling in a small tuna and thus suitably encouraged I deployed the fishing gear. Ten minutes later I had what looked like a good sized tuna on the line. When I landed the fish, the poor thing was missing the last third of its body, someone had taken a meal from it in the time it took me to reel it in. It reminded me of the cautionary words I was given some time ago as I was preparing to snorkel, "remember when you go in the water, you're entering the food-chain and you're not at the top!"

There are two routes from Long Island, my overnight anchorage, to Suakin - today's destination. Normally I'd enjoy the challenge of the shorter tricky coral dodging passage, however it's hard to be up the ratlines and on the wheel at the same time so I opted instead for the easier slightly longer passage. It's a shame as given the stunning turquoise waters around the small coral islands I passed on the easy passage, I imagine the extra challenge of the inshore passage must have been easily balanced by its beauty. Sailing along the coast, my anticipation of the imminent landfall increased as I caught my first sight of the new continent; hazy desert running to the sea with mountain ranges painted on the background - like a film set.

Up until the end of the nineteen century Suakin was the principle port of Sudan. According to my pilot guide it was destroyed by the British military around the turn of the century and the shipping moved north to Port Sudan. Sailing between coral fringed sand-dunes down the long entrance into Suakin, it felt as though I was sailing into the heart of the desert. Eventually the channel ends at the ruins of the old city, apparently still in much the same condition as when it was destroyed over hundred years ago. I've never seen anything quite like it. It's one of those places were you can't wait to pump up the dinghy and get ashore - well actually most landfalls are like that - but this one especially so.

Sadly before exploring on land, you need to check-in. Mohammed (who else?) is a local agent and busied himself all afternoon taking five copies of the crew list, passports, crew photos, diesel orders and fees from every boat. In return we'll receive a shore pass and tomorrow can finally head ashore to explore.

2:30pm Suakin: N19deg 06.5' E37deg 20.4

East coast sailing?

2009-03-17T16:30:00.006+01:00

It's been a while since I've eaten a mahi-mahi, I treated myself to yesterday's fish for breakfast this morning and what a treat, I'd forgotten quite how delicious they taste.

From not seeing any boats for a couple of days, at 6.30am, as I passed the sheltered bay of Khor Nawarat, the Scandinavian fleet emerged from the various anchorages within and joined me for the sail to Long Island - 40 miles along the coast. The VHF came alive with melodic sounds of Norwegian and Swedish voices - haven't a clue what they were saying - but there seemed to be a lot to discuss.

After my delicious breakfast I had high hopes for today's fishing. Sure enough the line had only been out for 10 minutes and started screaming out - the sound of a big fish. I imagined filling the fridge with mouth-watering mahi-mahi steaks. Carefully I reeled in my catch, only to discover a monster barracuda - not what I'd ordered at all. They sit high up the food chain with the associated risk of ciguatera poisoning - to my taste they also smell bad. I had the best intentions of releasing my predator friend back to sea, but he didn't seem to appreciate my efforts to extract the hook from his vicious mouth, in-fact I think he could do with an anger management course as he seemed intent on extracting his pound of flesh from my hands. I eventually managed to free my fishing tackle, and return my unwanted catch to the sea, but he'll have a very sore mouth for a while.

The countries in this area make the cruising sailor's life a little easier by using similarly designed flags. The Sudanese flag is the same as the Yeman flag with the addition of a green triangle, the Egyptian colours add an eagle motif. So take some green fabric, contact adhesive and a Yeman flag and bingo an instant Sudanese flag. Wonder if Blue Peter would be interested in the idea?

As I arrived at the Long Island anchorage I could almost imagine I was on the east coast of the UK, sailing down the Twizzle with birds calling out from scrub covered low-lying sandy islands. UK - no coral in Essex and the waters a little colder, but how about a twinning campaign; Walton-on-the-Naze twinned with Shubuk, Sudan?

Long island anchorage @ 16:30 17/3/09 N18deg 46' E37deg 39.5'

Slowly north towards Sudan

2009-03-16T23:49:00.001+01:00

I'm slowly making my way towards Khor Nawarat, Sudan. I will have taken 48 hours to make the mere 140 miles to the anchorage from Harmil island. The winds have been light and ahead of me and my actual track tells a different story, of a busy zig-zaging northwards. Still so far it's easy sailing, none of the short-steep waves the Red Sea is infamous for and I'm clear of the shipping lanes so the radar has been silent all day.

I'm still finishing off the large tuna of a couple of days ago, but the fish have been taunting me, jumping out of the water around the boat - big tasty-looking fish. They gave me little choice than to put the line in again. In no time, I'd hooked a small mahi-mahi. Its size gives me an excuse for another go tomorrow.
Position @ 23:00 N17deg56' E38deg50'

A day in Eritrea

2009-03-15T18:56:00.005+01:00

The Red Sea has been showing its gentler side today - calm seas with 10-15 knots of wind, making for very pleasant sailing.

I managed to keep the spinnaker up until 4am, when the wind died and I motored the remaining 20 miles to Harmil Island. It was a good job I arrived in daylight as as I quickly found myself enmeshed in a maze of coral heads and had to bid a cautious retreat until using the ratlines I could make-out a clear passage into the anchorage. The pilot guide referred to Harmil island as uninhabited. Being king of an island for a day always appeals, even if it's a land with a little else than a few stunted mangroves clinging to its otherwise barren sand. However no time to loiter, I wanted to press on while the strong northerly wind remained further up the Red Sea. So after dropping anchor I wasted no time in heading up the mast to investigate the furling problem. As I manually unrolled the genoa at the mast-head a boat rounded the NE tip of the island and headed in my direction. I didn't like the idea of a boat load of strangers arriving while I was dangling helplessly from the mast so I made a record-breaking descent just as the local military arrived. Despite the threatening looking weapons onboard my first and only Eritrean visitors were all smiles and left once they'd received some "gifts" - a couple of old novels and some drinks. They had a base at the southern end of the island - so much for pilot guide's claim of uninhibited lands. Not sure they appreciated my effort flying their flag, it was only up for a day and has now been replaced by a Sudanese courtesy flag.

I've just feasted on ceviche (thanks to Danika on Mata'irea for the recipe). I caught a fat dog-tooth tuna yesterday and have been making the most of it all day.

The parable of the weed and the boat hook
-----------------------------------------
One day a boat was sailing through a sea dotted with floating weed. After some time the weed became tangled around the self-steering servo rudder and the skipper of the boat noticed the speed had dropped from 5 to 4 knots. "I must remove the weed so that I'll arrive in the next anchorage before the wind turns against me", thought the skipper. His first plan was to use the boat hook to pull the weed from the rudder. He hung over the back of the boat and struggled with the boat hook for over half an hour trying to remove the weed, but the thickest weed at the bottom of the rudder was the hardest to reach and he failed to remove it. Suddenly inspiration arrived. Instead of battling precariously off the back he simply stopped the boat - the weed fell free. Pleased with himself he felt master of all problems, rapidly solved the genoa furling problem with liberal use of boiling water and WD40 as well as finding a novel solution to reuse mast winches' head when hoisting additional sails. The moral: A restful night away from shipping makes troublesome problems vanish.

Hamil Island anchorage (8.30): N16deg32.9' E40deg10.1'
Position @ 20:00 (GMT+3): N17deg00' E39deg45'

Superstitous sailors?

2009-03-14T23:17:00.007+01:00

We'd studied the weather, debated our route and had decided unanimously to brave the conditions and leave our windy anchorage in Hanish Islands the following day. However, our resolve crumbled when we awoke to the same sound of the wind howling through the rigging, without a hint of the drop we'd been anticipating. Fortunately Ian came to the rescue with an excuse to allow us to temporarily postpone the decision - he was having trouble charging his batteries and wanted to investigate the problem. His alternator regulator proved to be the culprit and after some work we managed to rig a temporary solution with two switches and 12W and 24W light bulbs allowing him to set the charge rate to either 6A, 25A or 80A - almost as good as the real thing.

Preparing a Saudi flag: "There is no God but Allah and Mohammed is his prophet". Potential fines and prison sentances if you stray into Saudi waters and aren't flying the flag

The delayed gave us a chance to listen to weather reports from others further north. The omens looked good - 80 miles ahead of us the wind and sea had decreased. However then we downloaded a weather forecast showing the winds increasing. What to do? Gunner announced that he wouldn't be setting off as he'd noticed it was Friday 13th. Ian decided to give himself more time to get the boat in shape. Antares and Risho Maru, seemed happy to wait - but I'd built myself up to leave so decided to head off. My decision was based on the boat ahead reporting more favourable conditions and my concern that the strong southerly winds would die out in a few days leaving potentially light head-winds. I'd much rather put up with 12 hours or so of nasty seas, than motor an extra 300 miles. However I doubted the sanity of my decision as once I'd left the "shelter" of the anchorage the full force of the wind swept across the boat. I also hit a problem with the furling gear on the genoa - I could only unfurl a metre of sail. It gave me an excuse to turn back - but then I knew I would likely be stuck for another day so decided to press on and hoisted the hanked-on jib instead. Five miles out the worst of the gusts moderated, but then another 5 miles I was in a short occasionally breaking 3-4m seas. Kika coped fantastically and soon we were making a good 7 knots with only a small headsail set. I estimate the wind was 25-30 knots gusting to 40+.

In preparation I'd cleaned the hull, cooked and baked some passage food and managed to rig an alarm, loud enough to wake the dead (or sleepy), to the radar. Typically soon after dusk, I found myself in the midst of shipping transiting the Red Sea, but fortunately the radar alarm worked fantastically letting me know every 10 minutes if there were any ships within a 8 mile radius - which there were for most of the night.

Today as predicted the winds and seas moderated and I gradually increased the sail area, going from this morning's small working jib to full main and spinnaker by mid-afternoon. I seem to have become the temporary weather taster for the group, providing advanced weather information, though they're still calibrating my pronouncements of "little lumpy" and "quite a strong blow" with what it would mean for them in practice.

I'm planning a pit-stop at Hamil Island (Eritrea) tomorrow morning, to fix the furling gear, then if the wind holds I'll push on into Sudanese waters - just to continue the tradition of visiting countries at turbulent times. To date I've been in Thailand during the airport protests, Tonga with riots after the King's death and Gulf of Aden, during the escalation in piracy. Though I narrowly missed Fiji during the military coup and Martinique for the current round of protests.

Position @ 20.30 (GMT+3) 14/3/2009: N16deg08' E040deg52'

Out of Aden and into the Red Sea

2009-03-12T18:58:00.004+01:00

I'm writing this lying at anchor in the "shelter" of an island 80 miles into the Red Sea, with a steady 30 knots gusting 45 knots outside - I hadn't expected the notorious Red Sea weather to reveal its strength quite so quickly. Looks like I'm set for a challenging passage - seems to be a theme in these parts.

After a manic time in Aden, stocking up for the passage up the Red Sea, I set off on Monday at the same time as eight Scandinavian boats - including pirate convoy members Helen Kate. Swedish and Norwegian filled the VHF airwaves overnight, breaking up the little sleep I managed to grab, but tiredness was quickly forgotten as dawn revealed the entry to the Red Sea. Seldom has the transition from one Sea or Ocean to another been so pronounced. One moment I was sailing in the Indian Ocean, the next I rounded Bab el Mandeb ("Gate of Tears") and I was in the Red Sea. Initially the Red Sea, hid its true nature - the steep seas subsided as I rounded the headland, however an hour later and the strong SE wind was soon building a nasty steep chop. Our group divided, Helen Kate and I stuck to the east Yemeni coast, while the other boats crossed the shipping lanes to the western Eritrean coast. Our plan was to continue north while the southerly winds held, but by midday the heavy conditions were taking their toll and we both decided we needed a rest. A new plan quickly formed and we altered course for the Hanish islands, which we made just after dark with the full-moon guiding us into the anchorage. Bliss - an uninterrupted night's sleep in a protected anchorage. The next morning while we planned our next hop, the others from our pirate dodging convoy arrived, so instead we decided to be sociable and stay for a day. Our sociability might have been a tactical error as that evening the wind increased and we anxiously monitored the tension in our anchor chains as 45 knot gusts blew through the anchorage. You know it's blowing when you need to close your hatches at anchor to stop the breaking waves flooding the boat. The wind has continued throughout the day, delaying our departure - but we've decided to head off tomorrow and brave the steep seas as it looks as though 100 miles north (hopefully sooner), the wind is a much more reasonable 20 knots.

Helen Kate in Hanish Island anchorage

It's frustrating being storm bound as I feel time is ticking away - I have a hard deadline - my sister's wedding May 2nd. The plan is to fly back to the UK from Cyprus, but first I have to make the 1200 miles up the Red Sea with a wind that so far doesn't seem to share my urgency. Still I've been making use of the extra time in the anchorage to study the pilot guide - it's destined to become the most thumbed guide on the boat; engage in much weather punditry with the others and brave the wind and clean the hull. It's unbelievable how quickly the bottom has become fouled. I cleaned mussels, barnacles, weed and even found a small crab living in the space between the rudder and the skeg. Now if I was French I could have created a delicious "fruits de mer" topped with blue anti-fouling paint.

Anchorage @ 20:00 (GMT +3) 10/3/09: N13deg 46.8' E42.46.6'

Into Aden

2009-03-06T19:28:00.002+01:00

We arrived in Aden just after midday. After the having the anchorage in Mukalla to ourselves, it took some adjustment to have to search for a place to anchor in amongst the other yachts - but great to be reunited with friends again.

The last part of the trip was fairly uneventful except Antares picking up a DSC distress call from east of Suqutra island over 600 miles away - amazing when VHF is normally only line of sight. More worrying was that when he tried to relay the mayday to the collation forces no one responded!

Looking back on this last leg, it's been great to sail the whole way and compared with most other boats in the anchorage it sounds like we've been lucky with the wind. One downside of the wind, is the accompanying desert haze - the ropes, deck, and any flat surface is covered in a thin layer of sand that makes everything look instantly dirty and unloved. I guess beating into the Red Sea head winds should wash it all away...

Aden 06/03/2009 12:30 (GMT+3) N12 47.59' E 44deg 59.00'

Final night in pirate alley

2009-03-05T15:53:00.006+01:00

Another great day sailing - with spinnakers set and some close action between Kika and Antares.

Antares about to overtake Kika

Kika from Antares

I even caught a couple of small tuna; each giving two decent meals. They've been marinating in the fridge all day.
I've never used the spinnaker/cruising chute so much before. The boat seems so much more stable with spinnaker compared with goose-winging with main and genoa. Seems there's always more to learn...

Unless something catastrophic occurs we'll reach Aden tomorrow and tonight will be our final night in pirate alley. Perhaps a good opportunity to reflect.

Large ship piracy is clearly different from yacht piracy, with yacht piracy more armed robbery than hostage taking. Besides the actual piracy an almost larger problem seems to be the accompanying paranoia. This leads to a complete break-down in trust between ships in the Gulf and results in the danger of large ships moving unlit at night and being too frightened to respond to radio calls.

The literature implies that the pirates use fishing boats making the pirates initially indistinguishable from fishermen. Given some of the over-inquisitive fishermen whose motive remains unclear perhaps some of the reported incidents could have been opportunistic fishermen trying to make a quick buck - however this could be my own paranoia affecting me here. I certainly wouldn't like to sail these waters without other boats around, it's been more eventful than I expected and I think we've all felt reassured by the presence of others in our little convoy.

Position @ 12:00 (GMT+3), 05/03/2009: N13deg 26' E047deg04'
Distance to Aden: 128
Daily run: 122
Engine hours: 0

270 miles to Aden

2009-03-04T14:55:00.005+01:00

After an intriguing stay in Mukalla we're off again, for the comparatively modest 270 miles trip to Aden. The infamous five have become the depleted foursome; Helen Kate wanted to press on to Aden rather than spend time exploring inland - how will we manage without the protection of our Viking twosome?

Jasper made me feel better about running out of diesel on the previous trip, by running out of water the instant he left the port - it seems a common problem - misjudging the levels of fluids in our tanks.

After a slow start the wind soon kicked in and up went four spinnakers. It's been a manic morning - preparing for sea, recovering and stowing the stern anchor, securing the dinghy and then the seemingly continuous adjustment to the sails as we worked our way around the coast. There was little spare time to worry about the pirates. However, sixty miles west of Mukalla is an area renowned for numerous armed yacht robberies, so it was important to stick together. I've never worked so hard. Of course if you fall behind, you can always ask the others to slow down a little, but that's tantamount to admitting your sailing ability is below par. In fairness the four yachts have very different sailing characteristics, so in practice the faster yachts tend to reduce sail earlier or delaying hoisting their larger sails, but it still means the slower boats have to work hard to stay close. With much work Kika held her own, but it's been an exhausting day.

The sail through the night, past the piracy hotspot was notable in two ways. Firstly the wind continued blowing all night, and allowed us to sail; recently we've had to motor after the sea-breeze dies soon after dusk. Secondly, just before midnight, we came across a confusing array of lights. The radar showed three boats close together. Calling them on the radio, clarified the situation. It turned out to be a ship under tow with an armed escort - not met many of those before.

Position @ 12:00 (GMT+3), 04/03/2009: N14deg 14' E048deg57'
Distance to Aden: 250
Engine hours: 2

Inland to Shibam

2009-03-03T14:51:00.011+01:00

After some group decision making paralysis we let our helpful agent Maher organise a minibus and act as our guide on the trip to Shibam. As promised he arrived directly after morning prayers and we were off soon after 6.30am. Once we'd picked up our armed guard from the tourist police we were soon climbing the valley northwards and onto the arid highlands. There's little vegetation or population here, with the occasional sight of women (it seemed to be exclusively women) goat herders covered in black and wearing tall conical hats with the occasional camel roaming the plains.

Goat herding

After a good few hours drive the road began to descend into a deep, sheer, Grand Canyon like valley. At the foot of the valley was our first stop. Khaylata Bagshan - a pastel coloured fort from 1798 strongly built with impressively thick timber doors and windows.

Khaylata

Khaylata Bagshan

We continued along the semi-fertile valley, past towns built into the steep valley sides with houses blending in with the surrounding hills constructed from bricks made from clay and straw.

In many places recent floods had washed the road away but the slow pace over the unrepaired sections gave us more of a chance to spy scenes of daily life such as camels used to grind grains into flour and oil, with the camels walking around the mill in tight circles.

Rebuilding the road after flooding

Raboyn

Our stops included Al-Khriba - once home to the Bin-Laden family; Raboyn - a walled city built into the side of the valley; Seiyun the town where we stayed over night which included a museum in its fort. One of the exhibitions featured photos from 1930. From the photos it seemed little had changed; Toyotas have partially replaced camels and donkeys, children's clothing has adapted and sadly plastic rubbish now blows around streets, but it seemed little else has changed.

Our final destination was Shibam, known as the Manhattan of the desert. A walled city in the valley striking for its ancient high-rise buildings.

Shibam

Apart from meeting a group of Saudi tourists in dazzlingly bright white robes in Shibam we were the only tourists we saw over the two days. Incredible when you consider the amazing sights we've witnessed. It was a long drive home, speeding along the foot of the valley, just above the river bed with the latest Lebanese hits blaring from the stereo and the driver and guard chewing the small green leaves of Qat - the Yemeni national narcotic of choice. Allegedly Qat produces a mild stimulant effect - chewing a few leaves had no effect for me, but apparently I needed more persistence; by late afternoon most men have a ball of mulch filling their cheeks which they've been working on all afternoon. Fortunately our driver delivered us safely home just before sunset.

Mukalla

2009-03-02T14:47:00.003+01:00

Although I'm getting closer to Europe, my first taste of Yemen made me feel like I've never been further away. The time difference is only GMT+3 and yet it feels like I've entered a parallel world with familiar sights and sounds co-existing with, to my eyes, entirely alien scenes.

It's rare to be the only tourists in a city but in Mukalla we were the only yachts in the anchorage and the only tourists in town. As such there were plenty of men keen to practise their English with us. Men, as our interaction with women was limited to glimpses of their eyes from the narrow slit in their otherwise totally covered bodies.

On my first day's excursion, I was befriended by Mohammed, who helped me hunt down a working ATM, find some switches for the boat as well as acting as cultural guide, translator, negotiator and arbiter of good taste - he recommended Iraqi dates over dates from UAE ("much better flavour"). The shops are an interesting assortment of traditional with the floor full with sacks of flour, rice and spices, juxtaposed with more recent arrivals selling mobiles and electrical goods.

Mohamed and anchorage

The first couple of days I spent reprovisioning and making essential repairs - the toilet once again has a stable seat, but the main task was filling the tank with diesel. Our agent Maher, supplied the diesel in leaky 18 litre cans. Transferring 200 leaky litres via dinghy in a roly anchorage from shore to boat vied for pole position of worse boat jobs alongside clearing a blocked toilet after a curry pot-luck or diving into the waters of a smelly port to free a fouled propellor. I wasted half the next day trying to rid the dinghy and decks of the layer of oily residue left by the refill.

One of the many familiar and yet confusingly different aspects to life is the way the Arabic version of Windows functions. The interface is a mirror image to a "western" interface, menus are ordered in the opposite directions, web browser back and forward buttons are reversed - (you press "forward" to go "back") and progress meters progress from right to left - looking, to my eyes, like they're going from complete to unstarted.

In summary, it's been a great break from braving the pirate infested waters of the Gulf of Aden with friendly, helpful people, great food (particularly the delicious clay oven baked flat bread, though I'm not sold on camel meat) and much to learn.

Exploring inland

2009-03-01T17:51:00.009+01:00

Tomorrow I'm off to the old walled city of Shibam, known as 'the Manhattan of the desert'. It's already sounding intriguing as the tourist police (!) require that we take an armed guard with us.

Our guard

Arrival in Mukalla

2009-02-27T20:14:00.002+01:00

This blog is written in a sleep-deprived, post-passage, alcohol fueled celebratory state, so the usual cautions should apply.

Tonight the five boats in our convoy are all safely anchored in Mukalla. Our overnight sail/motor was through a beautiful calm phosphorescent sea. The phosphorescence, was so bright that the luminous green light produced, frequently lit up the sail and a couple of times had me scanning the darkness for the ship's light responsible for the sudden light.

We had one worrying incident during the overnight passage. Early in the morning Risho Maru were leading our group, which by that time was scattered over a mile. They called and asked us to close in on them as soon as possible. A fast motor boat had sped towards them, onboard were five crew armed with guns. They didn't look like coast guard officials and didn't respond to calls on the VHF. Antares was the first on the scene and as fast as the speed-boat had arrived it turned and disappeared into the NE. Later we learnt that we were sailing past an oil terminal and these were guards tasked with defending the terminal from terrorist attack. Worryingly the oil tankers heading for the terminal steam at night without lights. It was a tense 30 minutes which otherwise marred a straightforward passage.

As we approached Mukalla the port captain took our details and gave us the friendliest greeting I've experienced:
'Welcome to Mukalla, you are most welcome. This is your second country.'

Mukalla gradually revealed itself as we headed towards the city in the faint light of dawn. On a narrow strip of land between the sea and mountains is the small city of Mukalla with narrow streets fenced-in by five/six storey apartments, all finished in white. After anchor faff using bow and stern anchors to attempt to keep the boats facing into the swell, and soon after we'd anchored successfully, officials visited each boat in turn, pleasantly surprising us with the efficiency of the check-in procedure. The Kika boat stamp had another outing, giving extra validity to my signature on the multiple forms.

We'll probably stay here for 3-4 days, giving us a chance to explore inland.

Mukalla anchorage (27/2/2009): N14deg 31.7' E049deg 07.9'

Land ahoy

2009-02-26T19:13:00.009+01:00

What a difference a few hours rest makes. Yesterday's high drama seems a world away.

Last night we managed to remain remarkably close to each other throughout the night. This added its own challenges as some of us veered around more than others - at one point Astrid calmly called to ask if I'd seen the boat directly behind me - Kika's stern was 10m from Antares bow; the wind vane had taken me directly across Antares' path and we'd narrowly missed a collision. Apart from some other close-calls, though no other narrow misses, it was a quiet, calm night. We sailed half the night and motored the remainder over a flat sea.

Soon after dawn we caught our first glimpse of land and my first sight of the Middle East. Today's big adventure was to stop for a few hours at Palinurus Shoal, a sea mount eight miles off the Yemen coast. The chart showed a patch of 4.5m depth, on which we planned to anchor, snorkel and fish. As we approached the shoal, the horizon was filled with small wooden fishing boats - we estimated over a hundred. Soon each yacht had at least one inquisitive fishing boat greeting them.

Fishermen around Afriki

The fishermen were incredibly friendly and offered us decent size tuna and asked for little other than water and snacks in return. However after a while it was hard not to feel mobbed by them and our search for the 5m patch wasn't going too well. With local help Afriki found a 15m spot and anchored, but the rest of the fleet felt they needed a break from inquisitive fishermen so headed slowly off.

Risho Maru surrounded

Ian quickly fulfilled his blood lust and with a speared trevally rejoined the group. One reason for taking a break on the shoal was to ensure we'd arrive in Al Mukalla in the light. As our stay on the shoal had been briefer than anticipated we gave our engines a break and very slowly sailed SW. Early in the afternoon a sea breeze kicked in and we were treated to another perfect sail across calm seas.

Kika from Helen Kate

Helen Kate from Kika

A couple of times the radio has burst into life, the brief broadcasts carrying the fear of ship crew travelling along the patrolled corridor as they call the coalition forces for help with rapidly approaching small boats. I imagine most are false alarms, but some are undoubtedly real hijack attempts. After our positive encounter with the fishermen today, speeding fishing boats no longer cause as much concern as they did yesterday and the tribulations of big shipping feels less relevant; I hope it stays that way.

Acrobatic dolphins from Helen Kate

Tonight is our final night at sea before we reach Al Mukalla. We're motoring 10 miles off the coast, nearly far enough out to avoid most of the inshore fishing, but occasionally we'll have a boat in our path. I guess it ensures we'll doubly enjoy our first night at anchor.

Position @ 12:00 (GMT+4), 26/02/2009: N14deg 55' E050deg40'
Distance to Al Mukulla: 90

Dark shipping

2009-02-25T18:21:00.009+01:00

It's been an eventful 24 hours. At times stressful, certainly tiring, but ultimately enjoyable and has seen our little convoy at its best; reassuring, supportive and generally watching out for each other.

Yesterday evening there was much debate about our route. As we approached the security corridor much more focus was given to our intended course and its implications. Our original plan had been to aim for the north-east end of the corridor then run parallel with it keeping a couple of miles north. However recent reports suggested that Chinese shipping had their own lane 5 miles to the north of the corridor and the prospect of being sandwiched between the Chinese fleet, the shipping in the corridor and patrolling warships didn't appeal. So after weighing many options we decided to head for the Yemen coast keeping 10 miles off as we sail towards Aden. We'd received positive reports from friends already in Aden who had sailed this route without incident. With the decision made we set our spinnakers for the new bearing and pressed on into the night.

Antares has an AIS receiver which provides information about nearby shipping and can sound an alarm if a ship enters within a defined area around your boat. Just before midnight Jasper was alerted to a boat 10 miles off heading in our direction. However nothing was visible on the horizon even though it was a clear night - odd. So Jasper called the ship, and rather than answering they stopped transmitting their AIS signal. We could locate the ship on the radar, but it was running dark - not showing navigation lights. This happened a couple more times throughout the night; very unnerving to be heading towards a busy shipping lane with boats deliberately keeping their navigation lights switched-off.

One time Jasper managed to talk to the crew on a "dark" ship. They seemed anxious and initially unwilling to talk, but eventually Jasper managed to persuade them that we were harmless yachts and the radio operator confirmed that they'd spotted us, but thought we looked like pirates and had tried to warn the coalition forces! It seems everyone is suspicious or even frightened of everyone else out here.

Half way through the night the wind died, on went the engines and my first problem surfaced. I couldn't persuade the electronic autopilot to steer a straight course. Recently the pilot had become more temperamental, but I thought I could work around its idiosyncrasies. Not last night, the course swang violently from side-to-side, in circles, anything other than a straight line. Not a disaster, I would have to hand-steer, but for how long? I wouldn't be able to sleep until the wind returned and I could use the wind-vane.

While tired, worried and keeping a look-out for dark and lit ships the second problem hit me. The engine stopped. I radioed the other yachts, who immediately stopped while I investigated. I'd run the tank dry. Again not an immediate disaster, as I had two spare 20l. cans, but not enough to reach our destination with the current forecast and doubly frustrating as I thought I had enough. Somewhere my sums had gone very wrong. After decanting the spare fuel and bleeding the fuel system we were off again.

As the sun rose, we cleared the last of the shipping. I was a mile behind the other yachts when Risho Maru called to ask if I'd seen the fast craft heading towards me. I hadn't but immediately remembered reading about how pirates use disguised fishing boats with powerful engines, which fitted the description of the rapidly approaching boat. The other yachts had already stopped and started back towards me, my rev counter reached new highs as I motored towards the others. Quickly though the threat disappeared as the fast boat started running on a parallel course then turned around and quickly disappeared over the horizon. Phew, but was it a real threat or just us becoming suspicious and frightened of everyone else?

As we ended up within hailing distance of each other, Ian suggested we stop for a swim. A brilliant idea that relieved the tension of the night.

Ian looking after Kika while I take a mid-ocean plunge

With the other boats around I borrowed a couple more cans of diesel and Ian offered to "lend" me his crew Hugh, so that I could get some rest. I willingly took him up on his offer.

Mid ocean refueling

With Hugh onboard we set off again motoring into a flat sea. While Hugh helmed, I worked on the autopilot problem. The rudder angle feedback wasn't working so the controller would run the motor and wouldn't register any helm movement. Very confusing to its small brain. Eventually I traced the problem - two gears only intermittently engaging. After a few false starts I once more had a working autopilot.

It feels like the worst is behind us, even though we've only just entered "pirate alley" - we've certainly experienced more, in the last few days, than I was anticipating over the whole trip to Aden . We're planning to head for Al Mukalla on Saturday for a rest and refuel before pressing on to Aden.

As I write this we've just enough wind to sail, which after a small sail vs motor debate, came down in favour of giving us and our engines some rest. It's very relaxing to be sailing across a calm sea, in near silence with the reassuring mast-head lights of our little convoy all around. I'm even steering using the wind-vane...

Position @ 12:30 (GMT+5), 25/02/2009: N14deg 48' E052deg35'

Pirate radio

2009-02-24T22:21:00.001+01:00

After days of little or no wind, we're finally having a fantastic spinnaker run into the setting sun.

The day started with very little wind and some debate about whether to motor or try to sail. Those worried about diesel carried the day. Initially it wasn't looking promising, we were making 2-3 knots with a 2 knot favourable current, but as we'd motored through the night most were happy to persevere and have a break from the noise and heat of the motor. However by mid-morning you could hear the frustration on the radio as sails flapped impotently and recalculations were made to see how many hours motoring each boat thought they had left. Fortunately the wind slowly increased allowing a more respectable 5 knots though still with a favourable current.

There's been a definite rise in tension in the group as we approach "pirate alley". A couple of emails have cast doubt on our original plan and a ship called to advise us to minimise our use of the VHF, as there were a number of thwarted pirate attacks close to our position. The theory was that the pirates had a mother ship close by and we shouldn't draw attention to ourselves by using the VHF. After this sobering news we rapidly regrouped, our differing speeds had strung us out over 5 miles, which suddenly felt too much.

Although the piracy threat seems increasingly real, it should be tempered with emails we've all been receiving from boats who have made it to Aden without incident.

Our twice daily SSB net has developed a certain pattern. It opens with a musical introduction from Richo Maru and finishes with a poem from Afriki. This morning's crafted verse, alludes to difficulties with collaborative decision making:

Some want to sail; perhaps the majority,
Others want to motor; maybe the minority,
The problem on this ship,
With each extra day on the trip,
Means I need to keep coming up with new poetry.

Copyright 2009 Ian (Afriki)

Position @ 12:00 (GMT+5), 24/02/2009: N14deg 26' E054deg19'
Distance to security corridor: 77
Engine Hours: 16
Daily run: 57

Motoring in a flat sea

2009-02-23T23:59:00.001+01:00

With brief lookout snapshots of the lights of the other boats between bouts of sleep it took some time on each lookout to work out my relative position to the other boats; was I gaining, heading too far south etc? Even motoring our progress was slow as we were caught in a 1-2 knot adverse current.

Happily in the morning we were all still with sight of each other and over the next hour moved together. The wind had been non-existent through the night, but a gentle breeze picked up first thing in the morning. Antares led the way when they hoisted their spinnaker, so not wanting to be left out, I struggled with lines and the pole and eventually managed to launch the cruising chute as a spinnaker.

Unfortunately the wind started to die around noon and much talk over the VHF ensued about whether to motor or continue sailing. The collective decision was made more complex as the weather forecast showed little wind over the next four days and three of us doubt we've enough diesel to motor all the way. We opted to motor and hope for more wind later. As we motored we entered a area of brown water, I tried to convince myself it had a red tinge and perhaps this is what gave the Red Sea its name. The other weren't convinced, but denied pumping out their holding tanks. After an hour we escaped the brown water and adverse current - all very strange.

It's a shame that worries about diesel mar what looks to be a calm few days as we enter the Gulf of Aden. I finished the day catching a small mahi-mahi - I was starting to think I'd lost the knack.

Position @ 12:00 (GMT+5), 23/02/2009: N14deg 16' E055deg48'
Distance to new security corridor: 89
Engine Hours: 16
Daily run: 75

International Armada

2009-02-22T17:46:00.009+01:00

It's been an eventful day. All the boats started in a line spread over 20 miles, tonight we're motor-sailing within a couple of miles of each other.

We'd always planned to converge, but after two unsettling visits from a couple of over-inquisitive fishing boats, we decided it was time for a mid-ocean rendezvous. The fishing boats approached disconcertingly close, then stayed close-by even after course changes by the yacht. Despite the fisherman's reassurance "I fishing boat not terrorist", their behaviour put us on-guard.

Other ominous events today were a couple of VHF distress calls from the Gulf. Ian was particular spooked as he'd never heard his radio issue a distress alarm before and for a moment didn't know where the alarm was coming from and then didn't know how to cancel it.

Forming the convoy was an event. I quickly caught up with Risho Maru and finally "met" them in daylight, then we drifted together until mid-afternoon when three sails appeared on the horizon and gradually formed the distinct outlines of Antares, Afriki and Helen Kate.

In my excitement at seeing everyone again, I motored slightly too close to greet them and narrowly avoided severing two boats' fishing lines. Fishing and particularly quantity of fish caught has been one of the reoccurring topics of our radio net, so to sever a fishing line, could easily be misconstrued as a provocative act, analogous to the 1970s Icelandic cod war.

The English/Austrian/Dutch/Canadian/Norwegian Armada is complete and hopefully our numbers will discourage any piratical acts.

Tonight I feel like a child at Christmas, almost too over-excited to sleep. It's a beautiful calm star-lit night with four reassuring mast-head lights close-by; normally sailing is enough to keep me occupied, tonight I'll be busy ensuring I don't fall behind, race in-front, wander off to the south or become entangled in another boat. Hopefully we'll still be friends in the morning...

Position @ 12:00 (GMT+5), 22/02/2009: N13deg 57' E057deg03'
Distance to Gulf of Aden: 99
Engine Hours: 2
Daily run: 95

Dolphins in the sunset

2009-02-21T18:28:00.003+01:00

The moon isn't making much of an effort to raise itself during the night, making for very dark nights and stunning phosphorescent trails. I know I've mentioned phosphorescence once or twice before, but last-night was one of the most spectacular shows I've seen. Sometimes the boat seemed to cause a large "blob" of luminous organism to glow, leaving bright circles, a metre across, swirling in our wake. A recovered trailing rope was transformed into a magical glowing tube - definitely worth braving the pirates for.

The brisk wind overnight moderated to a gentle breeze this morning, requiring vigilance to keep the sails full and boat moving more or less in the intended direction. For the first time in many days, I was able to leave the hatches open and air the sheets and pillows.

The full rendezvous with the other boats hasn't happened yet - I'm ahead of them by about 20 miles - but it's the first time we've been able to talk over the VHF radio ad-hoc, rather than the HF radio (SSB) at the set times for the net.

I spotted Risho Maru, one of the members of the convey, just after midday. They've been slowly catching up all day and not that I'm competitive, but I've been busy tweaking the sails all afternoon to try to avoid being overtaken. Finally at 7.30 they caught-up and overtook. Great to see another boat briefly, and I'm looking forward to the full rendezvous in a couple of days.

Risho Maru bearing down on Kika

Just before sunset, I spied some dolphins jumping in the distance. It was the acrobatic troupe again performing cartwheels, back flips, high jumps and belly flops, though this time it seems they were doing it for their own amusement, not appreciative sailors - I was too far away to count. Perhaps they were having a practice session and they'll give the full performance off the bow tomorrow.

Position @ 12:00 (GMT+5), 21/02/2009: N13deg 30' E058deg36'
Distance to Gulf of Aden: 194
Engine Hours: 0
Daily run: 107

Converging

2009-02-20T18:59:00.003+01:00

The bumpy close-hauled sailing of the last few days has been worth it. Just after 2pm today I crossed the projected track of the other boats, 30 miles ahead of them and hove-to to await their arrival. It's been a wet trip to make the northing, but has its compensations; a couple of times last night the breaking waves brought some luminous drops with them, the phosphorescent blue splodges standing-out brightly in the dark star-lit only night - stunning.

The alarm on the radar worked fantastically well last night, alerting me to ships I could barely make out through the spray. Perhaps I should have opened the instruction book earlier; who said real sailors don't need instructions? I think I've made it to the north side of the shipping lane - there's definitely less shipping, though the radar is still checking for ships every 5 minutes. I'm hoping for a quiet night tonight.

We've changed waypoint - just as the previous one was in reach. The new waypoint is more down-wind, resulting in more relaxing sailing, so the change of course was agreed unanimously by the convoy committee.

I've finished off the last of the tuna with a large dish of cheviche. Tomorrow the line is out again with a new yellow/white/pink squid allegedly enticing to mahi-mahi, we'll see.

I'm experimenting with connection to different stations for sending and receiving emails. Today I received an email via the station in Belgium. This transmitter was the first station we used when we set-off, so it really feels like I'm closing in on Europe again.

The closest boat was 15 miles from my position at 18:00, I decided to sail through the night then meet-up with the others tomorrow, rather than risk missing or hitting the convoy in the night! It'll be great to be sailing in company - just hope their wind-vanes, hold a similarly "straight" course to mine. Time will tell...

Position @ 12:00 (GMT+5), 20/02/2009: N12deg 50' E060deg19'
Distance to Gulf of Aden (previous waypoint): 176
Distance to Gulf of Aden (new waypoint): 301
Engine Hours: 0
Daily run: 113

Signs of life

2009-02-19T13:17:00.000+01:00

The radar detector has been busy beeping today, but frequent scans of the horizon revealed nothing with a radar. Finally late this afternoon I spotted a container ship. The first boat since leaving Male' over a week ago. A little later the VHF burst into life, one ship calling another to negotiate who would give way. Confirmation that I'd reached the shipping lanes. It gave me the chance to experiment with the radar to make it sound an alarm if another boat is heading too close. I've rarely use this feature as I'm normally worried about the power drain on the batteries, and besides I don't want to discourage my crew from keeping a vigilant look-out. However without crew I might as well make use of all the technical back-up I can, and the combination of the solar panel and wind generator, especially as I'm beating into the wind, are providing surplus power.

I'm slowly making my way through the monster tuna. Hopefully with a midnight feast tonight and second breakfast tomorrow I might be able to put the line out again and hope for mahi-mahi.

I'm currently holding my own and keeping about 50 miles ahead of the convoy, there are still a couple of days to go before we converge, so plenty of time to slow down.

Position @ 12:15 (GMT+5), 19/02/2009: N11deg 27' E061deg41'
Distance to Gulf of Aden: 289
Engine Hours: 0
Daily run: 143

Delayed gratification

2009-02-18T17:34:00.004+01:00

What a difference a day makes; yesterday's tranquil sailing, overnight changed into a tiring beat into a sloppy sea. A couple of times Kika has flown off a wave causing a heart-stopping crash as the briefly airborne boat fails to defy gravity. One such moment seems to have caused the toilet lid to sheer off its plastic mounting studs. Normally a loose toilet lid wouldn't cause any major distress, but on this particular design the lid seals and is integral to the flushing mechanism. Until the wind calms down and I have a chance make good a repair with some trusty epoxy resin I guess it's going to be "bucket it and chuck it".

I'm still slowly converging with the others - I'm 50 miles closer to the waypoint than the fleet, though still over 100 miles from the closest boat.

Having quickly consumed all the pineapples I set sail with, I've been eagerly waiting for my mangoes to ripen and today I could wait no longer. What a treat, a perfect juicy tasty mango - now the race is on the eat the rest before they over-ripen.

On the fishing front it's been a day of much excitement. The first bite occurred soon after dawn just as I started downloading my email and discovered I had bumper inbox - thanks to all those who have written. I thought the fish could wait while I fussed over the slow connection, but by the time I'd finished downloading, the line was slack. With the second bite I must have hooked a monster; all the line raced out before I could make it to the reel and took the lure with it. Third time lucky. I'd just started giving my position on the evening radio net, when the line started whizzing out. Determined to not miss this time, I excused myself and landed a nice fat tuna, making it back to the radio in time to hear the weather and wind speculation.

Overall the day has passed surprisingly quickly, I guess when everything takes twice as long to do, time vanishes twice as fast.

Position @ 12:00 (GMT+5), 18/02/2009: N9deg 55' E063deg33'
Distance to Gulf of Aden: 432
Engine Hours: 0
Daily run: 113

Indian Ocean relaxation

2009-02-17T17:11:00.003+01:00

It is another beautiful sailing day in the Indian Ocean, though I'm not setting any speed records. The others in the convoy are slowly catching up, they've gained 10 miles over the last 24 hours, but I'm still 80 miles ahead; I figure it'll be easier to slow down, than to speed up if I need to.

I still seem to be south of the shipping - the radar detector has been incredibly quiet since leaving Male' - I've never known such an empty ocean. Even though my daily plots show I'm getting close to the Gulf, I feel like I'm so used to seeing nothing but ocean stretching out to the horizon, that it's going to be strange seeing land or even ships breaking into the otherwise flat vista.

Again no exciting fishing news to report - three days now without a bite - could be time for a radical rethink tomorrow.

Position @ 12:00 (GMT+ 5), 17/02/09: N8deg 40' E064deg 59'
Distance to Gulf of Aden: 545
Engine Hours: 0
Daily run: 92

Convoys

2009-02-16T17:56:00.001+01:00

I inadvertently broke my self-imposed puritanical ocean passage ban on alcohol today. I made a rice-pudding in which the recipe called for 1 cup of raisins pre-soaked in rum. When cooked, it turned out well, so one bowl led to another and before I knew it I was inelegantly groping for hand-holds out of keeping with the smooth sailing conditions. I ended up laying down for 5 minutes "rest" and promptly fell asleep, waking up an hour later feeling a little steadier. Talking of which, I've passed close to an area of the sea marked on the chart as the "Carlsberg Ridge" - could this be a cunning corporate sponsorship deal with mapping agencies designed to send thirsty sailors' minds spinning, or could it have been that the founders of the namesake brewery were incapacitated with seasickness in the vicinity and recognised similar effects from their brew..

It's been an easy sailing day. There's been a gentle trade wind blowing all day and we've been making 3-4 knots. The great news is the wind has veered to the NE, so I can ease the sails slightly and still make my course. All hatches are open again, and sheets aired. I'm not setting any speed records, but it makes for very relaxed sailing.

I've made contact with boats further north, who are heading in convoy into the gulf of Aden. I'm slowly converging with them, and plan to join the convoy before we enter the active pirate zone. So I've changed my waypoint to match the one they're heading for. The new waypoint is 300 miles closer so it feels like I'm making great progress.

As it was so calm I tried to resuscitate my camera after water leaked into the "water-proof" case. It seemed to work again when partially disassembled, but when a gust caused the contents of my work surface to shift dramatically to the side, I moved onto another project.

Position @ 12:00 (GMT+5), 16/02/2009: N7deg 23' E065deg35'
Distance to Gulf of Aden: 637
Engine Hours: 0
Daily run: 85

Return of the acrobatic dolphins

2009-02-15T17:22:00.002+01:00

The days are developing a pattern; check email, organize meals, tune into the radio net, perform boat checks, make essential repairs, listen into the BBC news, interspersed by reading and boat projects if there's enough time. The rhythm is occasionally punctuated by moments of excitement such as today's acrobatic dolphin visit or the whizzing of the fishing reel, announcing a potential change of menu. The dolphin visit was incredible, one dolphin performing back flips and tail slaps until finishing its stunning display with three cartwheels - amazing.

The sea and wind have eased a little making for some of the best ocean sailing I've had, although it would be even better if the wind would veer from NNE to NE or even better the E, allowing me to ease the sheets and sail at a less precarious angle.

Position @ 12:00 (GMT+5), 15/02/2009: N6deg 39' E067deg08'
Distance to Gulf of Aden: 990
Engine Hours: 0
Daily run: 137

Arrival of the wind

2009-02-14T12:16:00.000+01:00

What a difference a day makes. Gone is the lethargic wind of yesterday and in its place a 15 knot trade wind has finally established itself.

There are a few hours between dusk and the moon rising when there's only star light. What a fantastic display. The southern cross is still visible although it's tilted on its side and heading towards the horizon as I climb the latitudes. After marvelling at the stars for a while I decided I should try to understand my potential foes a little better and what better way than watching a DVD of "Pirates of the Caribbean". The almost total darkness outside and the slow rolling progress of the boat seemed to add to the atmosphere. Almost perfectly timed for the end of the film, the wind picked up and it was time to take the electronics down. Books can dry out - electronics and salt water aren't best of bedfellows as my newly dead camera can attest to after the "waterproof" case leaked.

The wind-vane steered throughout the night at a steady 3 knots and at dawn this morning the wind increased again since when we've been speeding along 6-7 knots almost in the right direction! It's a relief to be making decent progress again - even without a deadline to aim for.

The fishing line is out again as I'm finishing off the Tuna in Ceviche this evening (thanks Mata'irea for the recipe).

Position @ 12:00 (GMT+5), 14/02/2009: N5deg 47.3' E 69deg17.1'
Distance to Gulf of Aden: 1127
Daily run: 95
engine: 4 hours

Waiting for the wind

2009-02-13T14:15:00.002+01:00

Almost on cue, as I watched the sunset and pondered which can to open for dinner, out ran the fishing line. The result, a small tuna in the fridge - perfect for a couple of meals. Apart from this dusk excitement, it's largely been a day of inactivity; the wind has died, the sea is almost mirror calm and Kika has been drifting slowly West.

One benefit of flat sea is any slight disturbance in the surface is easily visible. A school of dolphins broke the calm some distance off, but they remained fishing and didn't seem interested in socialising with boats. As we drifted along lots of small green fish swam along with the boat I watched them for a while expecting to see some larger predators arrive, but their lives remained undisturbed and my fishing line inactive.

Although I don't have an immediate deadline, I could only take so much inaction from the sails and just after midday my resolve to avoid using the engine cracked and on it went. A few minutes later, ripples began to disturb the surface of the ocean. Ah wind at last. Off went the engine, and I set the sails and for a minute or so I had a satisfying sail, only for the wind to die and the sea return to its glassy hue. I repeatedly alternated sailing attempts with motoring, constantly being fooled by a flicker of wind disturbing the surface, and many optimistic attempts to sail only ending in disappointment and the engine. Eventually I'd had enough, I set the autopilot, ignored the fickle winds and let the engine take the strain. Life is so much easier with a working autopilot in light winds.

The little wind there is is blowing from the NNW, not the anticipated NE. The result is I am struggling to make enough distance to the north. If the wind continues in this direction I'll end-up on the east-coast of Somalia. After much effort I managed to download a forecast showing a slight increase in speed and improved direction over the next few days. Here's hoping.

One Maldivian fly survived all attempts at eradication. The spray ran out so I had to rely on more mechanical forms of pest control and finally cornered it in on the chart table. Perhaps I've found my new calling - pest eradication.

Position @ 12:00 (GMT+5), 13/02/2009: N4deg 49.8' E 70deg34.6'
Distance to entrance Gulf of Aden: 1222

Setting sail for the Gulf of Aden

2009-02-12T16:13:00.002+01:00

I set sail at 2.30pm for the 1550 nautical mile passage into the Gulf of Aden, with near perfect conditions; a flat sea, gentle breeze and clear skies. If the wind had been a little more from the North-East rather than the North the conditions would have been ideal. Still with the sails sheeted in tight, and a full moon guiding me, I cleared the north of Ari Atoll and the last of the potentially treacherous coral a little after midnight and headed into the empty expanse of the Indian Ocean.

I'd intended to set off first thing in the morning, but last-minute pre-passage preparations took up the morning including... spending the last of my Maldivian money, making yoghurt, engine checks, cleaning and stowing the dinghy, finalising a cunning pirate avoidance route, stowing the folding bike, securing all below deck, cleaning out the fridge, checking the weather forecast, emptying the bilge and final attempted repairs to the electronic self-steering. These were just the last minute items, I'd been preparing to leave over the last couple of days; restocking with food, refilling the water tank, downloading podcasts and checking out of the country with help from Amead our agent. As ever there were lots of items that fell off the list, including uploading photos to the blog and writing up our Maldivian adventures. I'll endeavour to complete the write-up over the next few days, but the photos will have to remain unpublished until I reach an internet connection, probably in Aden.

The only other item marring the start of the trip was a sudden infestation of flies as I sailed along the southern coast of Male'. Fortunately I was a little more prepared than last time and liberally fumigated the boat with my Chinese fly spray, reducing their numbers. A few robust individuals appear to have immunity to the spray so guess it'll take a few days until I manage to entirely eliminate my uninvited passengers.

Sadly for David the tourist diversions in Male' ran out after a couple of days and he found the time waiting for our return, trying. So much so that he decided to head home. So I'm starting this trip with a degree of trepidation; I'll be single-handed for nearly two weeks and heading into a renowned pirate zone. Still on a more positive note, the northern Indian ocean is known for its benign conditions, since I left the Maldives the radar detector hasn't located any other boats, and the navies of the world have defined a patrolled safe transit corridor through the Gulf of Aden. What most concerns me however is that I'll return to my feral ways, undoing two weeks of Kristin's civilising influence.

Position @ 12:00 (GMT+5) N4deg 37.2' E071deg 50.2'

Krstin arrives

2009-01-28T16:08:00.000+01:00

Incredibly the plan came together, I made it to the airport with time to spare for Kristin's delayed flight from Oslo. Kristin eventually emerged frustrated that the selection of the best of European alcohol she'd brought with her from Scandinavia had to be abandoned on the plane as she'd been given false information at the duty free. Maldives have strict laws prohibiting the import of alcohol, pork products and dogs. She was somewhat consoled when she realised the Kika alcohol situation wasn't as desperate as she'd imagined - with rum that's lasted since Panama and gin from Samoa.

Unfortunately my efficiency hadn't managed to overcome Maldivian or perhaps just Male' bureaucracy and we were still waiting for our cruising permit. Amead promised it the next day, but was himself defeated by the various government departments required to scrutinise such requests. The expensive permit finally arrived on Tuesday afternoon and disappointingly stated we were allowed to visit only resort islands within Male' Atoll. Not exactly the freedom I'd hoped for, but an indication of the control the government likes to extend to free-roaming yachts. Still there was plenty to do to fill our time while waiting, with Male' to explore, stores to take onboard and Kiribati's homemade pizza to enjoy. David had "volunteered" to stay in a hostel for the first couple of days after Kristin's arrival and we quickly decided we enjoyed having the boat to ourselves, so we negotiated to subsidise David's stay in Male' while we explored the islands.

We eventually set off full of the finest fruit and veg Male' could provide and having to commandeer areas of the boat never before used for fresh storage. I was unusually apprehensive - I hadn't managed to find much information on cruising the Maldives and the little I had found indicated deep anchorages off resorts requiring yet more permission to anchor off their island. That and the charts aren't terribly reliable. Our chart of Male' Atoll stated:

"The depiction of reefs and dangers within the atolls is based on satellite imagery and aerial photography. Depths within the atolls are taken almost entirely from lead-line surveys of 1835, therefore many uncharted dangers may exist. Mariners should navigate with extreme caution."

Still it was a relief to set sail again, although my carefully crafted coral dodging course to our first night's anchorage had to be immediately abandoned as the wind was blowing from our destination. When I meekly suggested we could motor instead of sail, Kristin wasn't happy - "isn't Kika a sailing boat, can't we tack". Not used to such enthusiasm from my crew, I happily agreed to beat into the wind while keeping a sharp look-out of coral in our path.

Our first night's anchorage was off the local industrial island of Thulusdhoo - not exactly an island taken from the tourist brochures of the Maldives, but a gentle acclimatisation to island cruising after busy Male'. With little information and unreliable charting we struggled to find the break in the reef surrounding the island until from a distance we spotted another yacht. There must be an entrance around there I confidently predicted, my surety rapidly crumbling as we closed in on the listing boat firmly aground on the coral. Fortunately not too much further north I spotted a couple of poles and was lucky enough to be able to follow a local ferry in through the reef and find a secure anchorage just before dark.

Thulusdhoo: N04deg 22.6' E073deg 38.9'
-------------------------------------------------

Arrival in Male'

2009-01-23T04:16:00.006+01:00

We had the perfect start to our last day at sea when a large school of dolphins swam with us for a good twenty minutes. It was as though they were an advanced welcoming party increasing our anticipation of our imminent landfall. We also saw large "flocks" of flying fish skimming across the water promising larger predators beneath the surface and for a while it looked as though we'd arrive with the fridge stuffed full of fresh fish. We lost the first fish as we reeled it in, the second was a monster, quickly running out all our line against a high drag and finally disappearing with the short-lived but successful squidski. Unfortunately re-rigging the line with a new squid failed to lure any more fish.

From a few miles off, Male' looked like a mini Singapore, densely packed high-rise buildings appearing to emerge straight from the water. The feeling was enhanced as we made our way to the packed anchorage on the more sheltered west side of the island; reminiscent of the busy anchorages on the south coast of Singapore.

With our tripping line readied we were prepared to try our luck on the 15m coral patch we'd learned was the only viable option for yachts, but as we approached the shallower water, we spotted another yacht further north in the anchorage. Hoping to glean valuable inside information about the check-in procedure we headed towards them. Unfortunately when they spotted us, they were hoping we might be able to help them! The Italians on Kiribati had arrived early that morning and were struggling to find an agent who would manage the check-in procedure for them. They'd tied themselves to the back of a large Omani fishing vessel and offered to take our lines.

Strung behind Kiribati

Once we'd strung ourselves behind Kiribati they filled us in on the situation. The next two days, Friday and Saturday were holidays, if we didn't manage to check-in today we'd have to wait until Sunday unable to leave the boat. It was now 4pm and as they'd been trying to wake up the bureaucratic machine ashore since the morning, the situation wasn't looking promising. We attempted to make contact with the authorities via the VHF, but couldn't raise any response. As we discussed the situation, over our first beer since leaving Thailand, the situation started to improve. With much Italian gesticulation Marco eventually contacted a couple of agents ashore via his mobile. Initially they quoted eye-wateringly outrageous figures for their services, but eventually we settled on a merely ridiculous price, although we doubted that they'd turn up as promised at 18.30. Incredibly the arrangement worked and after much form-filling and stamping - the Kika stamp being a requirement here to validate crew-lists and ship's papers copies - we were free to go ashore.

It was Marco's birthday, their dinghy had a puncture, so I offered to take the four of us (David staying onboard to catch-up on sleep) ashore for celebrations. It hadn't really sunk in before, that the Maldives are a strict Moslem country, so no alcohol is served, (unless in a tourist enclave) with the law appearing to be particular rigorously applied in Male'. Still we did our best to toast Marco's birthday raising our glasses of water over our Maldivian feast.

Position @ 15:00 (GMT +5) 22/1/2008: N4deg 10.7' E73deg 29.8'
Distance covered from Thailand to Maldives: 1550
Total time: 10days 0hours
Average speed: 6.45knots
Engine hours: 0.5hours

Squidski delivers

2009-01-22T02:05:00.002+01:00

It's been a perfect day's sailing. Decent wind, with an accompanying moderate sea; perhaps the much anticipated Indian Ocean "pleasant passage making" conditions have arrived unannounced. We caught a decent sized mahi-mahi in time for supper, my first mahi-mahi since crossing the coral sea to Australia. Supper was a real treat; fresh fish, accompanied by coleslaw and lightly fried potatoes. We have the ocean to ourselves, no fishing boats and the radar detector has remained quiet.

I spent the day researching and preparing for our landfall. We have a freshly painted Maldivian flag ready for hoisting, and some idea of the check-in procedure. Anchoring off Male' for check-in appears problematic with 50m depths. The trick seems to be to anchor off the west side on a coral head in 15m making sure the anchor has a tripping line attached. We'll see... We're hoping to arrive just before midday tomorrow. The Male' check-in sounds a little bureaucratic with most boats avoiding Male' and stopping instead at Uligamu in the north which appears to have stream-lined its procedures. We've been told we need to provide seven copies of the crew list. I naively thought the ten copies I made in Phuket would last me into the Mediterranean...

It's becoming harder to make a decent connection for sending and receiving emails. We're moving out of range of the station in Brunei 2108 miles east and the Red Sea station 2930 miles WNW isn't yet close enough. I guess it's not going to get any easier for the next 500 miles or so...

Position @ 23:00 (GMT +5) 21/1/2008: N4deg 24.4' E74deg 48.6'
Distance to Maldives: 78
Daily run: 154

Return of the wind

2009-01-21T02:05:00.002+01:00

With the genoa furled and the main secure, we let Kika drift through the night, while we caught up on some sleep. Just after 5am the wind returned and once again we could make decent progress towards the Maldives. Not only we were refreshed, but overnight the current had taken us 9 miles more of less in the right direction.

The wind and sea quickly built until by mid-morning we were once again careering along under a double-reefed main. It's amazing how quickly conditions can change from smooth windless ocean to roller-coaster ride in under four hours. It's hard to believe it's the same sea.

It seems that the waves sense when I've wedged myself in my favourite corner of the cockpit. No sooner have I started reading, than slap, a wave breaks over the boat and soaks me and my book. Today's drenching was the third in three days. I'm still searching for a new comfortable, shaded, dry location; perhaps under a tree somewhere!

In a slight change from the advertised plan we're heading further south towards Male' the capital of the Maldives, to pick-up "Kika Sailing Adventures" first repeat customer. Kristin is flying out on Sunday to join us for a couple of weeks cruising around the atols of the Maldives. If only I could persuade her to join us up the Red Sea...

Immodestly I'm awarding myself Master Chef honours today for a halfway decent loaf of bread I baked this morning. Unfortunately we finished the fresh tuna yesterday so we're back to being creative with the cans.

We've definitely escaped from the major shipping - the radar detector is silent and despite seeing a couple of fishing boats today, tonight there are no lights on the horizon, though as ever the sky is ablaze with another stunning Indian Ocean star spectacular.

Position @ 23:00 (GMT +5) 20/1/2008: N4deg 47.8' E77deg 21.3
Distance to Maldives: 232
Daily run: 127

Taunted by the wind

2009-01-20T02:45:00.001+01:00

The wind has been playing tricks on us today. Firstly it lulled us into thinking the fabled gentle NE monsoon had settled down to its advertised 10-20kn; instead the wind and sea built overnight and by the morning it was time to put a couple of reefs in the main. Then just as we were setup for the reality of 25-30kn of wind, it changed tactics and rapidly lost strength. So we were back to full sail trying to make the most of the dying wind in a sloppy sea. As if deliberately taunting us it then shifted to the west - a head wind - so the best course we could set was SW, taking us south of our desired course, although at least it's taking us away from the busy shipping routes. As I write this 23:30, the wind has completely died and we've furled the genoa, lashed the main in the centre and decided we'll drift and catch-up on some sleep until the wind changes its mind again.

The good news is that before the wind vanished we were making excellent progress and passed our waypoint off the southern coast of Sri Lanka mid-morning. We're now on the final leg of this passage 267deg to the Maldives.

David wins the Master Chef honours today for his sterling efforts in the galley creating sushi for lunch.

Time to adjust the clocks - it's been getting lighter later and later in the mornings. Looking at our longitude we should be on Indian time GMT +5½, but having a half hour in the timezone seems unnecessarily complicated so we've adopted Pakistan and Maldivian time of +5GMT. Slowly but surely we're getting closer to home.

Position @ 23:00 (GMT +5) 19/1/2008: N4deg 49.9' E79deg 29.2
Distance to Maldives: 359
Daily run: 143

Full sails again

2009-01-18T16:04:00.000+01:00

What a difference a day makes. The sea has calmed down, the wind has eased and for the first time in nearly a week, we've shaken out the reefs and are sailing along under full main and full genoa. It seems we've found the conditions mentioned in the pilot guide: "the NE monsoon blows at Force 4-5 (10-20kt) over most of the northern Indian Ocean making for very pleasant passage making.".

Now the ride less resembles a roller-coaster, we're able to contemplate activities other than mere survival. We spent the morning on repairs. David fixed the cockpit light and stern locker gutter, while I attempted to fix the log (speedometer) with some intricate solder work. All fixed, so now we can tell how much credit the ocean current can take for our record breaking progress. Answer: it's added between 1-2 knots to our speed.

With the easier conditions David disappeared in the galley for over an hour, emerging just before sunset with two pizzas - "meat feast" and "seafood extravaganza". They looked great and tasted even better. Then to finish a great day, the fishing line raced out, just as we were finishing our last mouthful of pizza. Finally our first catch of the trip - a small tuna. Fresh fish tomorrow...

The moon is rising later and later leaving the majority of the night to the stars, which are incredible. Surprisingly even though we're 5 degrees north of the equator the southern cross is still clearly visible. When the moon eventually appears it's a perfect half moon, aligned with the horizon.

Position @ 23:00 (GMT +7) 18/1/2008: N5deg 15.9' E81deg 50.2
Distance to Sri Lanka: 76
Daily run: 145

Nocturnal drenching

2009-01-17T09:58:00.000+01:00

For the last few days we've been sailing across the ocean swell. Once an hour or so, a wave will rear-up and crash against the side of the hull. You can normally hear the rush of water then the slap as the wave hits and have just enough time to duck before the resulting spray arrives in the cockpit. This evening I wedged myself behind the wheel, normally a dry location, at the start of my three hour stint on night-watch. I'd just started reading when, without the usual warning, the drenching commenced. This wasn't the usual spray, instead it felt as though someone had set a fire-hose on me and went on and on. Eventually the water stopped, I could take a breath again, and found myself knee deep in water still holding the now pulped remains of my book. The cockpit drains were doing their best, but still taking an agonisingly long time to clear the water. Fortunately most of the hatches were closed, so the cabin remained relatively dry, until I squelched down the companionway to find a towel and change of clothes.

It wasn't a relaxing night. All night boats crossed our path. Fortunately most kept a respectful distant, but there were a couple that felt a little too close for comfort and required a change in course to avoid.

At dawn we studied the chart - how to escape from what felt like a major shipping route. It appeared that the traffic was heading from the Red Sea via the south coast of Sri Lanka and making for the Malaka straight via the Great Channel we'd passed through a few days earlier. We could have chosen a pass further north in the Nicobar islands that I think would have kept us out of the traffic - still it's easy to be retrospectively wise. Instead we've chosen to head further south and so far the plan seems to be working; we see an occasional boat to the north, but no longer feel like a rabbit caught in the middle of a major highway.

So far we've had strong winds 25kt+ making for a fast, sometimes exhilarating, but also tiring passage. The conditions haven't been exactly as anticipated; the pilot guide describes: "This passage uses the NE monsoon to cross from SE Asia to the Red Sea. Mostly the NE monsoon blows at Force 4-5(10-20kt) over most of the northern Indian Ocean making for very pleasant passage making." Still at least we're not becalmed.

As ever, we've a bunch of bananas which have all over-ripened at the same time. Today's solution - banana cake with dried cranberries and pine-nuts. Delicious and it seems to be keeping the mutinous crew quiet about the continued lack of fresh fish.

Position @ 23:00 (GMT +7) 17/1/2008: N5deg 17.9' E84deg 15.5
Distance to Sri Lanka: 221
Daily run: 162

Mutinous crew

2009-01-16T19:38:00.002+01:00

Friday morning, the crew were looking mutinous:
"It's not happening like", muttered David.
"What", I replied, trying not to sound too apprehensive.
"We've had that squid out for three days and only one bite to show for it. It's not right!"
Relieved that David was only worried about our omega 3 intake, I decided it was time to act.

Fortunately I've never understood the meaning behind the phrase "A bad workman blames his tools", so had no trouble identifying tiger squid as the problem. However it's easy to identify a problem but acting on it can be tricky, especially when you have to tell someone they're not performing. I tried to break the news to tiger squid in a way which hopefully, after the initial shock, he can use to become a better squid. So I started by telling him how much we value his contribution, that he never complains just gets on with the job, but we'd been studying his productivity recently, and the current harsh economic climate, we can't afford any passengers. He nodded in agreement, unaware of what was coming. I went on, "sadly even though you've been a good reliable worker, and we value your innovative use of colour, we feel that it was time you looked elsewhere for someone who could better use and appreciate your skills." It was difficult to tell how he took it, as we were interrupted at the critical moment by a breaking wave. I think he understood, although he raised doubts that we'd do any better with another squid. I also heard him muttering as he went back into the box, "What more can your expect from me than offering myself up for daily slaughter, if only the captain had a clue what he was doing...".

Fortunately I've found some other willing workers - Squidski and friends from Warsaw, who assure me they'll have no problem bringing in the fish.

Apart from problematic fishing, the boat came to a juddering halt this morning. Then there was a bang, bang, bang along the starboard side and I raced to the stern to see a tree trunk emerge in our wake. No harm done, thought we've probably lost some anti fouling paint.

Despite our lack of success with our trailing line, flying-fish seem to be happy to land on deck overnight. This morning's count was four. We're not desperate enough to eat them yet, but give it a few more fish-free days....

Position @ 23:00 (GMT +7) 14/1/2008: N5deg 42.0' E86deg 58.4
Distance to Sri Lanka: 383
Daily run: 177.9

Acrobatic dolphins

2009-01-15T00:31:00.000+01:00

It's been an exciting day. We've left the confused waters of the Andaman sea well behind us and in exchange we've been surfing down the large swells in the Indian Ocean. Added to which we've had a decent wind and have been making great progress. It's not the most comfortable ride, but exhilarating, surfing down the waves and watching the speed frequently break the 10 knot barrier. So much so that we've beaten our 24 hour distance record, making 182.7 nautical miles in 24 hours.

We also had our second dolphin visit of the trip. Today's visit was special - I don't remember having wild dolphins put on such an acrobatic show solely for our benefit. Today's school entertained with synchronized jumps clear of the water, shooting out of breaking waves, tail stands and back flips. The show lasted for 15 minutes, with one straggler staying on after the school had departed for a final encore of back flips. Stunning.

David's brief period of seasickness is well behind him, with a tricky juggling act in the galley resulting in a couple of great salads for lunch. It's not quite "master chef" competitive cooking yet, but I'll have to make sure I deliver the goods after a couple of dubious dishes.

This evening the wind's shifted, we're now on my favourite point of sail - a beam reach. The motion is a lot easier - less rolling and we're still hurtling west.

Position @ 23:00 (GMT +7) 14/1/2008: N5deg 52.9' E89deg 56.5
Distance to Sri Lanka: 560.9
Daily run: 182.7

Farewell Andaman Sea, hello Indian Ocean

2009-01-14T18:28:00.002+01:00

It's been a day of contrasts as we've moved from the Andaman sea into the Indian Ocean. The day started with a rainy squall, requiring a couple of reefs in the main and a free shower in the process. As we approached the "Great Channel" between the Nicobar Islands and Sumatra, the concentration of shipping increased, we were seeing at least a couple of ships an hour - unnerving the way they suddenly loomed out of the rain. The Andaman roller coaster ride continued adding challenge to the couple of gybes we made to deal with the shifting wind direction in the channel.

As we left the Andaman sea, the seas became noticeably more regular and the wind increased - now at last some exhilarating sailing as we sped across the relatively calm ocean with a strong tail-wind leaving the rain behind us. The contrast in sea conditions and comfort levels is incredible.

Some excitement as the fishing line raced out this afternoon, only to lead to disappointment as we landed a large plastic sheet.

We continued our tastes of the World cuisine, moving to Mexico for lunch as we used the reminder of the spag-bol topped with coleslaw in Taco shells. Not convinced by Taco shells - far too fiddly and messy to prepare on a rolling boat. This evening we moved back to Italy for spaghetti carbonara - unfortunately I seem to have forgotten the tricks we were taught by Stephania in New Zealand. She taught us carbonara the Roma way - is there any other? Unfortunately this evening mine was more spaghetti with scrambled eggs and bacon - edible but not from Roma.

It's a star filled night, with plenty of shipping around adding interest to tonight's watches.

Position @ 23:00 (GMT +5) 14/1/2008: N6deg 01.9' E93deg 00.0'
Distance to Sri Lanka: 743.6
Daily run: 168.4

Andaman roller coaster

2009-01-13T16:35:00.002+01:00

David's gentle introduction is over, the wind has found us and we're speeding along on a dead run. The Andaman sea is full of surprises. One moment we're rolling along on regular ocean swells, the next we're being violently thrown around in a heavily confused sea - as though there's suddenly a large current opposing the trade wind. After 10 minutes or so, we sail out the other end with a well defined transition back to gentle ocean swells. There's nothing on the chart to indicate these abrupt areas of overfalls, it's all very mysterious. I'm afraid first thing this morning, it was a little too much for David, who had a second taste of his breakfast. Although to compensate he spotted a turtle while leaning over the rail.

Eventually I found an entry in the pilot guide which shed some light on this unusual phenomenon: "In the Andaman Sea there will often be upwelling currents producing a strange choppy sea in defined areas" - so now we know!

I'm sure the suddenly confused seas aren't helping, but it seems to be taking longer than usual to adjust to the rhythm of being at sea again.

The wind has been varying in strength; at times we're surfing down waves making fantastic progress, the next the sails are flogging as there's insufficient wind to keep them filled in the swell.

After an appropriate mourning period, pink squid has been replaced by tiger squid. It's early days, but already our new lure is showing promise with a single bite today. Once we finish of the remains of today's spag-bol, we'll be expecting tiger to deliver some fresh protein.

Position @ 23:00 (GMT +5) 13/1/2008: N6deg 51.6' E95deg 41.6'
Distance to southern Nicobar islands: 111
Daily run: 134