ARC Day Six

After six days of fast but boisterous sailing we have covered over 1200 miles, averaging almost 200 miles per day. This evening the sea has calmed, the wind has dropped a little and we are reaching at around 8 knots through the starry night in relative comfort. Occasionally a gust hits us and we heel as we take the punch, then surge forwards before settling back into our long legged stride.

ARC Day Five guest written by Paul Windsor

Five days in and we hit the 1,000 mile mark, a minor milestone and well ahead of our best expectations. The wind has been delivering 25 knots, often more, since we left Las Palmas and we have been converting this into average speeds over 8 knots, morning, noon and night. 

ARC Day Four

It is dawn on Sunday morning and we have had a great night’s sleep. We have been on a broad reach all night, charging along at between 9 and 11 knots in 25 knots of wind, with 30 knots in the gusts and the motion of the boat has been much more comfortable.

ARC Day Three

It is 7.30 pm and I am sitting at the cockpit table in the dark wearing my head torch and writing on my laptop.  The wind has dropped to 20 knots, the sea is calmer and Juno’s motion is rhythmic and soporific as we roll through the darkness at a gentle 8 knots. Pools of bright white phosphorescence glow in our wake and then fade as they are consumed by the dark water. 

ARC Day Two

It doesn’t get better than this. Standing at the helm I can feel Juno alive under the wheel as she surfs along at 9 knots in 20 knots of wind.  From horizon to horizon there is nothing but sea, sparkling white crests tumbling over inky blue. The sea conditions are easier today as the dominant north easterly wind lines up the waves in formation and they parade under us on their journey west, pushing our stern off course and requiring a gentle touch on the helm to correct our turn and send Juno surfing down the back of the wave, her bow nosing forward, eager to respond to the demands of the rudder. I flex my fingers to keep my touch light on the wheel, feeling the wind on the back of my neck. 

ARC Day One

This is our first full day at sea since the start of the ARC and in the last 24 hours we have covered exactly 198 miles. A 200 mile day is considered a very good pace for a yacht so we are really pleased with our progress. Andrew is helming and he has a great feel for the boat, I wonder if it is because he has soft hands developed from riding horses. 

ARC night before the start

At last we are leaving, tomorrow morning at 11am. We have had a relaxing couple of days and everyone seems rested and well prepared for the start. We had drinks on board Fabiola this evening with Gill and Lisa and their family and then went for an early dinner. In the middle of supper the heavens opened and we had a torrential downpour as the cold front passed over and now it is blowing from the northeast, perfect for tomorrow.

ARC Pre-start

For only the second time in the history of the ARC the start has been delayed due to bad weather. We are now leaving on Tuesday 27th November. Nothing too alarming, but the weather forecast today is for 20 knots from the South gusting up to 30 knots with heavy rain as the cold front comes through at dusk this evening. As the ARC is primarily a rally for cruisers and family boats the start has been postponed to Tuesday when we are forecasting 20 knots from the North East, perfect conditions for a downwind start. The Racing division will be starting this morning and anyone else who wants to start today is allowed to go, but we have decided to stay until Tuesday, along with most of the fleet.

Las Palmas

We are in Muelle Deportivo, the large marina in Las Palmas, Gran Canaria, where the Atlantic Rally for Cruisers starts on November 25th at midday and ends around 17 days later in Rodney Bay on the island of St Lucia in the Caribbean. There are 150 ARC boats already in the marina with another 100 or so still to come and there is a buzz in the air. The pontoons are covered with assorted paraphernalia in varying stages of assembly ranging from outboard motors and engines parts to bicycles, push chairs and life rafts.

Fuerteventura

The sun is setting over the western horizon and the lighthouse on the rocks sternly points its finger of light which intensifies as the minutes pass and the darkness gathers. Fatty is in the galley and I am sitting in the warm glow of the saloon lights, San Miguel in one hand, keyboard in the other. The Canary Islands are a barren group of volcanic rocks, dropped into the deep Atlantic Ocean off the coast of Africa. The Canary islanders by contrast are delightful and friendly almost as if to make amends for the aggressive geography that they inhabit.

Lanzarote

It is 9.30 pm and I am sitting alone on watch in the cockpit. Everyone else is asleep or reading in their bunks down below. We are 50 miles off the Coast of Morocco, well into the Atlantic, and I can feel the long Atlantic swell lift us gently and then lower us back into the inky sea. We are motor sailing again because the wind has died down and we are making good progress with a little assistance from the current which is setting to the West.   When I switch off my head torch to do a 360 degree scan of the horizon, I can make out a faint red glow over the African coast but above me the sky is black and alive with stars.

Gibraltar

We continue our cruise down the Costa del Sol in flat water stopping first at Almerimar then Marina del Este and Puerto Banus on our way. Puerto Banus has a reputation as the glitzy harbour on the ‘Costa del Crime’ where wealthy roués who have escaped from northern Europe come to display their new found wealth. It lives up to its billing. We find the port looking slightly tired, but crowded with expectant visitors who gaze longingly into empty expensive boutiques which would be more at home on the Boulevard St Honore than in this Spanish amusement park.

Cartagena

October 7^th and we are motor sailing in warm sunshine along the Costa Blanca. It is around 27 degrees and a gentle wind is blowing on our bow. The sea temperature is down to 25 degrees now and the sea breeze feels cool on the skin after the scorching temperatures of the summer. There is a definite feel of autumn in the air, although the days are still hot and the nights are mild, summer is over and boats are making their preparations for the winter. The port of Cartagena, a favourite winter destination for cruisers, is busy with boats checking in for the winter. We feel smug because as the weather cools from the North we are heading South, following the sun towards the equator.

ARC Preparations

Since Caroline (nee Fatty), Jamie and Sophie left Palma I have been working through all the big items on the List that I want to attend to in Palma before we leave for the Canaries and it's been a very busy two weeks. This blog is about all the technical matters that I have been immersed in and therefore you may find me wallowing self-indulgently in subjects such as forestay tension, life rafts and oil pressure senders, without apology or brevity.

Formentera

We have returned to Espalmador, the island we first visited almost exactly a year ago on our passage from Ipswich. It is still as we remember: a low spit of sand running north to south, turning west around the bay, almost meeting the reef and creating the perfect protected anchorage with just a narrow gap that allows us in, with only a meter under the keel. Once inside the bay, the water deepens and turns aquamarine as it washes over the white sand and rolls onto the beach and beyond, the dunes covered with pampas grass sway in the warm air.

Palma at 39 degrees

Palma is hot and busy. The shopkeepers and bar owners who were so friendly and attentive over the winter are losing their cool. It has been over 30 degrees now for the past few months and the Mallorcans are calling it the hottest summer for over ten years. My taxi driver taking me to the airport fans herself and points to the temperature gauge on her dashboard which reads 39 degrees. I remind her that in February I woke up to find snow on my decks and she laughs and tells me that it was also the hardest winter in 50 years.

Alghero

The harbour lies low on the horizon behind a huge stone breakwater to protect it from the Mistral which blows directly into the Golfo del Corallo. However, today the wind is still, the water is calm and we have called ahead and made a reservation with Frederico, the owner of the marina who is on the quay to catch our lines. Fatty is becoming yet more dextrous with our warps and this time she casts the line like a lasoo and a coil of rope drops neatly over Fredericos head and hangs from his neck, causing him and fatty to both roar with laughter. We have arrived in Alghero.

Reflections

As we work our way back west towards Mallorca we stop off at a beautiful anchorage in one of the Magdalena Islands in the Costa Smerelda. There must be 100 boats in the anchorage when we drop anchor but as the afternoon wears on, most of the power boats and ribs run for home leaving a handful of yachts to enjoy the sunset. The water is so clear that even in the moonlight we can see the ocean floor beneath us.

Elba to Corsica

As we approach the point, ripples on the water race towards us like a shoal of fish as the wind is deflected around the headland and whips up the sea. Once clear of the protection of the cliffs, Juno heels in the gusts that blow off the hills and white capped waves smack against the hull throwing a fine spray over the bows. We are entering the Golfo di Campo, a large bay on the south side of Elba where we plan to anchor, sheltered from the northerlies. There is a large natural harbour on the western side of the bay and yachts are anchored all around, while on the shoreline is a wide beach with a swimming area cordoned off by a string of red buoys.

Tuscan Islands

The sun is still bright and hot although it is seven o'clock in the evening. We are with Sarah and Steven Rose in the cockpit and Juno is docked in the harbour in Portoferraio on the island of Elba. An hour ago the inner harbour was empty; the town quay had a smattering of boats gently straining against their mooring lines as the wash from the ferries rolled in. All around this horseshoe shaped natural harbour high buildings in shades of pastel create an elegant amphitheatre where the action is about to begin.