September 18, 2022

Our second crossing of the Bay of Biscay was, well...more of the Bay of Biscay. So, our first day in Galicia, we did nothing but relax and enjoy a long tapas crawl.
We also tried not to think about the Orcas we would soon hope to evade. Yes, these Orcas.

The following day, we explored more of the town and the nearby nature.



AZ from the Cedeira outskirts.

 


The woodsy surroundings are beautiful, as is the coastline of the Rias Altas.


  From Cedeira, we set off for Ensenada Ares. It was a lazy sail with just the yankee. We were more concerned about being on high alert for Orcas. We made it in without a hitch and set about some boat jobs. We replaced the carburator on our new-to-us 8HP Yammy outboard and tested it out. We flew two miles away to Pontedeume in the dinghy. We're loving the new range!


  

Pontedeume was super cute.





  The kitties have it good in Murros.




After a couple days in the Murros area, we decided to go into the Ria de Arousa, which we missed last year. It started out as a nice, calm sail. But when we turned into the Ria, the wind picked up and was on the nose. We tacked our way in with the staysail and anchored in front of a lovely beach next to Dutch and German boats. The town was super cute. So was the paddle-boarding Dutch girl who couldn't have been older than 8. She hung around our stern and in great detail told us about the German boat's knock down while crossing the Bay of Biscay. They must have crossed at the same time we did, we thought to ourselves. We considered ourselves lucky that we made it across with only a bent stanchion.

A couple days later, we moved to the other side of the Ria, on the south side of the Isla de Arousa.
The dinghy ride to Cambados was quite a hike, but we were determined to see the capital of the world of Albarino. It was adorable and worth it.






Unfortunately, we didn't get a chance to step foot on Isla de Arousa and its beautiful beach. It rained and misted through the night and the entire next morning. When the rain finally stopped, we moved to the Ria de Vigo. The wind was low and the swell was big--yuck. Luckily the anchorage in Moana was calm. From Moana, there is a convenient small ferry to Vigo, so we decided to rent a car and explore the area. Santiago de Compostela and Pontevedra were especially charming.






Our last day with the car, we toured Baiona.






If there's a next time, we'll definitely anchor here. Talk about an interesting town.
It's where the Pinta made landfall back in Europe and therefore the first place to learn of the "discovery" of the Americas.
 






We were surprised to see how small Columbus's caravels were. This one is a replica of the Pinta.

Our last stop was to Isla Cies. It was just as beautiful as we remembered it. We hiked to a rock that resembled a throne overlooking the Atlantic. Also cool--we had anchored near an American aluminum boat that we saw on AIS all over Norway and had seen in Scotland last year. Small world! If there is anything negative to say about Cies, it is a bit strange that the anchorage (a protected marine nature reserve) gets visited by lots of fishing boats in the mornings. But we're sure it has something to do with traditional practices, and it didn't bother us.




  October 5, 2022


After over two weeks in Galicia. It was finally time to head to Portugal and slowly make our way to Cascais, where our new mast would be installed. First stop was Leixoes. The wind was light so we flew the spinnaker and the main. We made it just before dark. It was an industrial harbor, so we weighed anchor early in the morning.

Leaving the harbor, we knew we were going to love Portugal and it's seafaring culture.
We motored out of the harbor with a couple fishing boats laden with friendly fishermen. As the first, huge swells hit us, they let out a war cry. It was exhilarating. Seafarers to the fight!

It was just a 3.5 mile hop to Porto. The entrance to the Duoro River was crazy, but we made it in fine. It took us a while to decide where to anchor in the narrow area outside the channel.
There was a swift current in the river, but Monsieur Spade (our anchor) set on the first try. We were glad to have picked the right spot, as other yachts (all Dutchies) were shooed away by the coast guard, who pointed at us when telling them to move.

Excited to explore the city, we dinghied to town and immediately fell in love.



Can we move here?

We couldn't stop snapping photos.


   






We peered at the beautiful Azulejos tile.



We wondered if they painted first, or cut first.




Ornate carvings were everywhere. We just love the appreciation for beauty only found in European cities.



Then, the fog set in. For two days, we could hardly see the shore. But we still hadn't visited Vila Nova de Gaia, on the other side of the river. Determined not to leave without dedicating a day to port, we booked tastings and set off in the dinghy armed with lights (also in preparation for a night arrival at the mothership). The fog wasn't too bad and completely dissipated as we navigated the river further inland.



 

 

The port was delicious. We got to taste and see some really old stuff. Of course, our favorites were the most expensive.



 





We even got to see a Fado show. We'll post a video soon.

At the anchorage, we made our first ever YouTuber friends (confirmed that you can actually make money from it!), a young couple from the UK.
We had a lot of fun sharing sailor talk over a bottle of port.


A couple days later, it was time to weigh anchor for Figueira da Foz to pick up some guests.
From there, we took the train to Coimbra. We marveled at the old cathedral, which was built in the 1100s.

 




Back in Figueira da Foz, we enjoyed the most delicious soup ever. We rank it just as high as the fish soup we had in Brittany.




 
  October 13, 2022



The time had finally come. A bucket item for many years, we sailed to Nazare. Yes, that Nazare.
We had a fabulous sail there, with still no Orcas in sight. The wind and swell was absolutely perfect for flying The Beast, and we even saw a enormous pod of dolphins. Our guests were elated. And no, we were not in danger of running into the monster waves. In fact, according to the (super friendly and awesome) harbormaster, Nazare is one of the only harbors on the Portuguese coast safe to enter in strong onshore wind and swell. And it can get pretty bad on the coast of Portugal. The Portuguese authorities actually close harbor entrances in certain conditions and vessels that don't obey are fined. Still, we can't imagine entering if there are 80-foot waves just a mile up the coast!





Yes, that says, "Welcome to the biggest waves in the world."



 

With the moon in view, you could see the fog starting to roll in from the ocean. It was very dramatic.

 
  


No, that sign is not a joke. And yes, the waves rise above that building. Way above that building.





The visit to the shrine of big wave surfers was super cool.


   


We fell in love with the town, and the vibe at Praia de Norte felt like home for Da Admiral. We had a great time with our friends and were sad to see them go.




  October 15, 2022


From Nazare, we made a pit stop in foggy Peniche before finally arriving in Cascais. If it weren't for all the fog, the sail would have been wonderful--down wind in 14-19 knots. Somehow we managed to anchor in the crowded harbor without getting too close to or hitting anything. Thank goodness for radar. Oh, and we didn't get attacked by Orcas--yay.

Once in Cascais, we decided to play tourist for a week before settling in for a few weeks of boat jobs.
First, we visited the mysterious town of Sintra and surroundings, a UNESCO World Heritage site.
The enormous quintas were right out of the Da Vinci Code or Eyes Wide Shut.














Don't wanna mess with that guy.



  After Sintra, we visited all the area UNESCO World Heritage sites, including Mafra, the Alcobaca Monastery, the Convent of Christ in Tomar and the Monastery of Batalha.



































  We also  stopped in beautiful Obidos.
















  October 25, 2022



While we waited for the mast, we also visited Lisbon.





We couldn't decide if we preferred Porto or Lisbon, but finally decided on Porto.







This guy wasn't shy.


In Cascais, we also did tons of Atlantic crossing prep/boat jobs, made friends in the Marina de Cascais, and waited for the mast. And waited...and waited. Thank goodness for our new friends. Spending time with them was a huge highlight and kept us from going crazy waiting for the mast. Getting to know the crew of s/v Sargo (almost) made us want to have kids. Their kids are such great kids. But after further reflection, we decided we would be terrible parents. Yes, the parenting should be left to folks like them, with super-human emotional intelligence, curiosity, and self-control. And we knew we would get along famously with the crew of Athena when the skipper said, "Oh, you're just like us." (He's Danish and she's American.)





  November 21, 2022

  The day was finally here--the rigger arrived from France and the new mast (also from France) would arrive in the next day or two.

The rigger wasted no time, climbing up the mast steps (with no lines at all) to loosen some of the rigging in preparation for the mast unstepping. You gotta love the French.




The next day, the mast came down. We kept a close eye on the weather, because the swell can get bad in Cascais. At times, the waves would crash over the breakwall into the basin. It got so bad that we had to close the hatches because there was salt spray everywhere. (We'll post a video soon.) Big swell = no mast unstepping or stepping.



The day after that, we spotted the mast pulling into the Marina de Cascais. Hooray!




It was more difficult than expected to get the necessary hardware. After a frustrating week, the mast was finally on. If there's a next time, we'll opt for Portimao. As we later found, you can get everything and anything more easily in Portimao. Surprising for us, given that Cascais is just 30 minutes from Lisbon. Oh, and no swell in the Portimao inner harbor. But the new mast looked fabulous. Several sailors stopped by to comment on its beefiness. Thank you, Marechal!




December 1, 2022

 



  Cape Saint Vincent was a purring kitten, unlike during our first rounding the year prior.


After a long week, we were finally off for the southern coast of Portugal, our jumping off point for the Canary Islands. With light northeasterlies forecasted, we hoped to have enough wind to fly The Beast. It ended up being a close reach from the ENE, so it was a great upwind sail for most of the day. But as the sun set, the wind died. During the night, some very large dolphins escorted us for a while. We couldn't see them, but their blowhole blasts sounded unusually loud. Were they Orcas? We'll never know. During De Captain's watch, he noticed we were on a collision course with a tiny sailboat with very dim lights. It passed uncomfortably close. Then, at 02:25, a bright white light fell from the sky. An enormous shooting star? With the light wind now coming from the southeast, we ended up motoring around Cape Saint Vincent and into Portimao.

The next day, we learned from Sargo's skipper that two boats had been attacked by Orcas, sustaining serious damage, just after we left Cascais.
Right where we had been. Maybe those were Orcas escorting us down the coast...

We enjoyed a couple days of good weather in the Portimao anchorage, then everything went to hell. The forecast called for big southerly winds and swell for the coming future. We were stuck. The swell in the marina was almost untenable, and we winced with every yank of the lines. It was worse than Cascais. Day after day we checked the weather, but the conditions were never favorable for more than 36 hours. The passage to the Canary Islands would take a minimum of 3-4 days. We started to get desperate, fearing we would be stuck for the winter. It didn't help that all the yachts around us were wintering, with most of the owners long gone to their homes in the north. So we brainstormed and checked the weather, checked the weather and brainstormed. Day after day after day. We decided that the Azores high was gone for the year, and that we would be hit by lows until spring. If we didn't make a run for it during the next 36-hour favorable conditions slot, we would be stuck for the winter. We decided we would have to leave during a windless lull and stop in Morocco before the next low hit.



December 17, 2022


We set off at sunrise, engine on and 1.5-2 meter leftover swells hitting us from the west. We tried to fly the spinnaker, but it was just too rolley. That night, we found that our starboard navigation light was flickering, the mixing elbow hose was leaking slightly, and Mr. Yanmar's engine odometer was garbled. Great. On the bright side, the next morning, the wind picked up just enough to allow us to hoist all three sails. The swell had diminished to barely half a meter, there wasn't a cloud in the sky, and the temperature was absolute bliss. We even camped out on the front deck and replaced the navigation light while sailing along at 4 knots. The new mast was looking good, too.




Fabulous upwind sailing.




That night, a big flying fish startled Da Admiral by landing on the poop deck.
It bounced its way down to the swim platform and under the dinghy, where there was no saving him.
The poor soul.

During the night, the wind turned too far to the south, so we had to turn the engine back on for a few hours. But it was off again in the morning. At approximately 13:00, a series of events from which we will never recover began to unfold. To sum it up, we were involved in the rescue of a migrant raft by a ship. We're still processing it and will write about it when we're ready. But what we can say now is that the crew aboard one of the MSC's (Mediterranean Shipping Company) ships are heroes for saving the lives of five exhausted migrants while risking their own. Especially since the first two ships we hailed either couldn't or wouldn't assist. Unfortunately, a 6th migrant died upon reaching port.

After getting back on course, we checked the weather and learned we would be able to continue our sail south. We decided to continue on to the Canary Islands instead of stopping in Morocco. As if to cheer us up, a dolphin/porpoise welcoming committee greeted us as we neared Spanish waters.  They had a very long conversation with AmzerZo under the water. It was fascinating.  The waves did get floppy for a while, and we experienced some "vertical acceleration." Ugh. But the last day was sublime. We flew The Beast in the light downwind conditions. 18 miles out, another dolphin welcoming committee arrived. At 17:59 Da Admiral saw THE green flash, with Lanzarote and Isla Graciosa in sight. A most unforgettable experience. After so many extreme emotions over the last few days, she didn't know whether to laugh or cry. An easy entrance in the dark, the anchor went down behind Isla Graciosa at 21:00. The next morning, we were glad to confirm that we had positioned ourselves perfectly between the other boats in the anchorage.




This is what it looks like just before a green flash.


We spent a fabulous three days in paradise, with the caldera in the background. The weather was perfect, and De Captain swam for the first time in a year.
We had fun making friends with a French couple on the catamaran next to us.



The locals at the anchorage were gutsy.




Isla Graciosa has a cool, desert feel, with dune buggies as the main form of transport. We didn't want to leave.

 








 




Unfortunately, we couldn't stay forever, as the wind was predicted to turn, making the anchorage untenable. We would have to spend Christmas in a marina, if only we could get a reservation.



  December 24, 2022

 
Unable to get a reservation at any marina within a day's sail, we decided we would have to beg our way in. It was Christmas eve, after all. We tacked our way along the coast of Lanzarote, hailing marinas until almost dark. We spotted a well-known Dutch sailing yacht, Guppy, on AIS. Finally, just after sunset, we pleaded to the dockmaster of the nearest marina that it was getting dark and we had nowhere else to go on Christmas eve. He relented, under the condition that we leave first thing on Monday morning. We had no choice but to figure it out later.

We ended up staying at the end of the Puerto Calero fuel dock until the 28th. The dockmaster and marina staff were super friendly and welcomed Da Admiral, who is a native Spanish speaker, like a local. It pays to know the language. We did a few boat jobs and spent a day at El Grifo winery and vineyard. The wines were exceptional, their methods and history intriguing, and the landscape unforgettable. It was one of those perfect days. And after our experience with the migrant raft, we cherished it even more. Life is fleeting.




Like being on the moon, but with palm trees.



Once again, the most expensive ones were our favorites.



We also survived our first calima, the notorious Saharan dust storm. Luckily they are well forecast, so we avoided the worst by covering anything with moving parts (winches, furlers, etc.) with plastic garbage bags. We were the only boat to do so and suspected a few boats were probably chuckling at us. Well, for two months we had brown dust coming down the rigging to deck level every time it rained. Talk about a pain to remove. We think we had the last laugh! (Wink, all in good fun.)

Fuel prices are surprisingly low in Lanzarote, so our last day at the marina we filled our 1,000 liter fuel tank nearly to the brim (ouch) in preparation for the Atlantic crossing. Not intentionally. We figured 700 liters would be enough, but the pump was too far away to read and friendly attendant sort of forgot to tell us when the meter reached the agreed upon number.
Meanwhile, poor Guppy, who had also pulled into the marina, wanted to fuel up as well but had to wait for us to finish.

It was a bumpy downwind overnighter to Tenerife. So rolley that we waited longer than we should have to tack, and made our trip longer than necessary by getting too close to Gran Canaria. We had exhausted ourselves trying to find the most stable sail setup. We flew the main, yankee and pole; then the main only; then The Beast; and finally the yankee only. It didn't help that our fuel tank was almost full. With each roll, all the sloshing made a terrible sound down below. It was nonsense and rolliness. Rolliness and nonsense.



It never looks bad in the pictures.



  Unfortunately, there are not a lot of good anchorages in the Canary Islands. Most of the anchorages are for the most settled weather (in other words, summer) only. But marina reservations are hard to come by. In Tenerife, it was the same story as in Lanzarote. We had been trying to get a reservation at Marina Santa Cruz for weeks, to no avail. So we pulled the same stunt and first went into a small marina just a few miles away. The gracious office manager at Radazul said we could stay until after the new year.





We did some boat jobs and found a delicious Italian restaurant on-site at the marina. On New Year's eve, we took the bus into Santa Cruz and fell in love with the city.

 







We couldn't wait to be able to step off our boat to go into the beautiful town. Plus, we needed to be near the chandleries and services to finish prepping for the Atlantic crossing.
Every day we called Marina Santa Cruz, until somebody took pity on us and radioed the dockmaster while we were on the phone to ask if there was a spot. Sure enough, there was a spot.
"We'll be there in an hour," we exclaimed. We quickly checked out of Radazul, untied the lines, and motored to Santa Cruz.

For the next two weeks, we continued to worked relentlessly to get the ship shipshape for the crossing. Our motto is "redundancy and overkill," so you can imagine how hectic things were. Luckily our friends from Athena were there, so we enjoyed a couple nights of downtime with them. We also made wonderful new friends on the dock and got to experience the luxury of one of the newest and most popular catamarans on the market.
A young, large French crew on the small sailboat next to us also provided some warmth and entertainment to everyone on the dock.
 


We won't go hungry on this boat.








We're not a big fan of biminis, but now out of the high latitudes, there's no way we can cross the Atlantic without sun protection.
The inox (stainless steel) welders were under strict instruction to make the frame easily removable and disassemblable.

Given the upcoming weather, we probably should have left once the bimini was ready, but it would have been a shame to leave without seeing the island.
So, we took some time to play tourist. We're glad we did, but we certainly paid for it on our Atlantic crossing.

Tenerife is a spectacular island. We can see ourselves living in the Canary Islands one day. The photos say it all.




El Teide

    

Los Gigantes



The road to Masca Valley is not for the faint of heart. But it is one of the most spectacular places we've visited.





Did we mention how beautiful the Masca Valley is?



Meet El Drago. He's a famous dragon tree. He's very old.




We were super psyched to learn that the El Cano was in port. The Spanish navy's training ship, it has sailed more than 2 million nautical miles--more than any other yacht in the world.



With the bimini and sightseeing done, the ship was ready to go. If only the weather would cooperate.



  January 21, 2023

We signed up with Chris Parker to help route us  across. We had been doing pretty well with our own weather forecasting, even in the Arctic. But on an ocean crossing, we weren't taking any chances. We at least wanted a second opinion. We're glad we did. The forecast called for big winds and big seas. No, it would not be a milky way run for us.  Plus, there is no way around the acceleration zones off Tenerife. Also, even if we sailed very close to the Cape Verde Islands, the wind was forecast to die completely for 2-3 days just as we would be in that area. Wouldn't want to start an Atlantic crossing by using a quarter of our diesel. So we decided to go with the recommendation of Chris's team and make a short pit stop in Mindelo before continuing on across the Atlantic. It almost felt like cheating, but not really. Plus, it would be interesting to see a new place and we could always continue on if conditions changed under way.



We hate to leave in stiff conditions. But there was no way around it. At least it would be down wind.

 

As always, the anticipation is always worse than the actual conditions. Sure the seas were messy and occasionally breaking, but AZ handled it like a champ.
She was probably wondering what all the fuss was about. "This is what I'm built for," we could almost hear her saying.

It took us just under six days to get to Mindelo. Two days out from the Canaries, the conditions much improved. We had northeast or ENE wind at about 15-20 knots. The seas calmed to just under 2 meters, and we flew along with just the main and staysail. Still a little rolley, but we made pasta nonetheless. At night, we were treated to an amazing light show under the water. It looked like the milky way. We think it was bioluminescence along with thousands of squid. Sure enough, the decks were littered with dead squid in the morning, as far inboard as just in front of the mast. Also during the passage, De Captain finally figured out how to quiet an annoying clicking floorboard, dolphins visited us, and we made water despite the roll. As expected, the wind decreased as we closed in on Cape Verde. We raised The Beast with some trouble (the roll again) and settled into a slow 4.5 knots. But we weren't in a rush.

We saw our first fishing floatie 36 nm from Mindelo and made landfall just before noon.








The anchorage was crowded, but we managed to squeeze between other yachts and a sunken ship behind us. Unfortunately, we were chased away by a small ship whose Captain decided AZ was too much of an obstacle due to her size, although smaller sailboats were more in the path to his approach. Firm believers in deference to decisions that a Captain makes for his ship, we moved to another spot without complaint. Our new spot was a bit closer to the marina than we would have liked. Luckily, a British yacht we met in Lanzarote was anchored just behind us and suggested we take their spot once they leave. They were leaving for Brazil that afternoon after a quick trash run.

Unfortunately, while moving that just one spot back, we had a most unfortunate encounter with a British sailboat. Just after weighing anchor and turning toward the spot, the sailboat starting racing toward that very same spot. We couldn't believe what was happening. I mean, we could have literally lifted the anchor and drifted back some meters. "What are they doing?," we thought to ourselves. Although not the best of seamanship, they still had plenty of room to maneuver, so we turned into the wind and started dropping our anchor before they reached the spot. Unnecessarily, the skipper decided to play chicken with AZ's stern, and their bow came within a few feet of us as the woman on the bow yelled out, "are you guys leaving?" Our anchor had been hovering just above water, we had stuff on deck, the hatches were open, our dinghy was in the water. It was obvious we weren't leaving. Taking a few moments to cool our boiling blood, we regretted not being the "bigger person." We began politely explaining the situation and noted there was still room for them to anchor behind us due to their smaller size. Well, the skipper, still overcome with "road rage," did not accept the invitation to anchor behind us. Not so politely. We like to respect and befriend all others in the cruising community and expect the same in return, so the encounter left us with a very sour taste. We reflected on what we could have done differently.

We spent the weekend in Mindelo doing some last minute provisioning and checking out the town. While there, we saw the young French crew from Marina Santa Cruz.
The weather forecast was spot on, and just three days after landfall, we were off on a wild ride across the Atlantic.




January 30, 2023

 


Not wanting to run the watermaker in Mindelo, we stopped for a few hours in the Sao Pedro anchorage to top off the tanks. We set off at 17:00. The forecast was for decent conditions for the first five days, followed by stiff winds. The initial 5-day forecast was correct but the wave period was uncomfortably short. It was a bumpy ride. Again, we exhausted ourselves. First we tried The Beast, which did control the roll, but then the wind started building and we had to take it down. We had waited too long, so we had trouble getting the sock down over the sail because there was so much wind. We tried the yankee only, but that was too floppy. We settled with the yankee poled out to windward and main. Not ideal, but as good as it was going to get. It was difficult to sleep. Two days into the passage, we tried to hoist The Beast again, and found there was a tear in the sail. It must have happened while dousing it the first day. Great. Our Atlantic crossing sail blew out on the first day of our Atlantic crossing. Not that we could have used it for most of the crossing. Too much wind, for the entire crossing, we would soon learn.

Adding to the fun, our Nanni generator started malfunctioning about three days in. It was cloudy, the freezer was on for the first time in years, and the auto pilot was working hard in the rolley conditions, so we needed it. We could charge the batteries up to 80 percent, but after that it would malfunction, raising the voltage dangerously high. De Captain diagnosed the problem. It was the alternator. We had a spare alternator under the bed. It would be fun to get it out and replace it in the roll. We were literally being knocked around below.

Every morning we found flying fish on deck. There were even scales on the bimini top. There was bioluminescence in the water and dolphins at our bow. We tried to enjoy it but weren't getting enough sleep. Da Admiral, being the worrywart, couldn't stop thinking about the forecast. Before we left, we knew we would have a few days of boisterous conditions about 5-6 days in, but we soon learned that after only a day's lull, the conditions would return for the second week of the passage. Basically, our entire Atlantic crossing would be in the high 20s, gusting 30s, with 3-4 meter waves, and no sun. We don't mind it for a day sail or even a short passage, but on an Atlantic crossing, you are living in those conditions. Not fun.

One of the interesting things about voyaging is that you get to learn how people react and behave in conditions of extreme stress. Da Admiral is usually the positive go-getter, believing anything is possible with enough determination. Obstacles are something to overcome and she has no patience for folks who like to point out problems without proposing solutions. Crying is unacceptable. De Captain is more pragmatic, calmly pointing out the roadblocks in an attempt to be more practical. (And definitely never crying.) But when the going gets rough at sea, it is De Captain that exhibits positive calm and provides convincing assurance that things will be fine. Luckily, neither of us are the type to shut down or completely freak out. Da Admiral is still good at making and barking out observations in an emergency. And De Captain can show the determination of a lion crossed with a mule in hairy situations, climbing up rigging under way and fumbling with tools and making repairs in a huge swell.

As expected, things started getting wild the night of February 5. We're glad we prepared the previous day. We had jibed, moving the pole to port, to get further south and away from the worst of the weather. We took showers and tried to relax while we could. At least we were finally getting enough sleep.
Only later did we realize that, in all the anxiety, we hadn't noticed we had nice conditions for the couple days before the blow.

As the wind increased to 30 knots and the waves to 3.5 meters, we changed to the staysail. AmzerZo handled it like a champ. Down below, we were getting knocked across the boat, but it wasn't so bad in the cockpit. So far, the anticipation had been worse than the actual conditions. We could almost hear AZ once again saying, "I told you this is what I was built for, dummies."

It was fun to change the clocks every few days, and to marvel at the earth's curvature. We also wondered why the sea appeared to be so devoid of life out there. We know there's tons of stuff under there, but we saw nothing. Not a fish, nor a whale, not a bird, and not one ship. We decided it must have been all the wind and big waves.

On the 7th, it got precariously rolley in the 4 meter swell. AZ's stern would slip and slide as we surfed down the huge waves.

Here's a video we took once it calmed down enough to be able to film (click on the photo):





Luckily conditions improved after 24 hours. It was almost lovely. On the downside, conditions probably improved because we had gone so far south. It was almost closer to go to Brazil! (Okay, not really.) But we're glad we did so to avoid the worst. Thanks for the advice, Chris Parker and team.

The diesel in the full tank was of course sloshing around like crazy all passage. Wanting to ensure we could motor without incident during landfall, we turned on the fuel polishing system. It was at that time that we realized we had left "Ticky Ticky" on. Ticky Ticky is a little fuel pump that we turn on only when we start the engine. We had just replaced it and had gone without it for a while when the old one broke, so it's probably unnecessary. Still, we use it since it doesn't hurt anything. Until then. When De Captain tested it by turning it back on, it started smoking. Great, a fire during an Atlantic crossing. That's all we needed. Luckily there was no fire. We'll replace it later.

The last few days of the passage were annoyingly squally. At one point the wave period shortened to 7.5 seconds. Yuck. The nights were windy, but we had a decent 20 knots during the day.
We knew we were getting close to land when the seas became confused. We also started seeing airplanes, but still no ships. Of course, the wind died the last day of the passage, just when we started salivating for all the good food we would soon eat and all the cold beer we would soon drink. And of course, conditions were perfect for The Beast, which was now out of commission.

We didn't see Martinique until we were 20 miles away. It was eerily quiet on the radio. We joked that perhaps we were lost. If we hadn't seen a few fishing skiffs, we would have gotten worried. It felt like it took forever to round the southern tip of Martinique into Ste. Anne. The anchor went down on February 14 at 19:30. We had made it from Mindelo to Martinique in 15 days, even with a deviation to the south and then back north. Not too shabby, AmzerZo! We celebrated with a bottle of champagne.



 

Thanks to a tip from the crew of sailing yacht Henry, during the crossing we cut up all our smelly plastic trash and put it inside a large water bottle. The anchorage at Ste Anne was busier than ever. But there was still room to spare.



  February 16, 2023

We left for St. Pierre after two days in Ste. Anne. We sailed past Le Diamant as we had so many times before on our previous boat.
We snapped photos that look exactly like our previous photos of the rock, just in a different boat. Funny.



It was typical Caribbean lee-sailing, with periods of gusts and calm, depending on the landscape. Just as we remembered it.

Between Martinique and Dominica, we were reminded of how exhilarating Caribbean sailing can be. We had 20-25 knots, with gusts up to 28 from the northeast.
AZ flew at a constant 7.5 - 8 knots. We passed two catamarans and the brightest, most spectacular rainbows ever.

We had similar conditions between Dominica and Martinique. 22-27 knots, with gusts up to 32. In a squall, we saw 36 knots. There was salt everywhere. It was awesome!
What a difference from our Atlantic crossing. Same wind strength, but different direction and much lower wave height.

In Riviere Sens, we ran into our YouTuber friends from Porto. Unfortunately we couldn't stay long because the clock was ticking. A friend was getting married in the Netherlands in late March--an event we wouldn't miss for the world.

In Bouillante, we checked out the carnival festivities and tried unsuccessfully to snap some photos of the turtles in the anchorage.
We met a geologist working up the mountain. He explained that the hot river was basically runoff from the nearby geothermal plant.



Spectacular scenery outside Deshaies.

 

In Deshaies, we prepped for an overnighter to the U.S. Virgin Islands. On AIS we saw a boat we saw several times in Europe; unfortunately we were too engrossed in passage prep to dinghy over.






We left Deshaies at 06:30. We flew past Montserrat and St. Kitts, hitting 9 knots a few times. Conditions were ideal during the day, but it got a bit bumpy and squally overnight. On the bright side, we made such good time that we continued on past the USVI and anchored in Culebra. We had gone a bit out of the way to avoid the Saba bank, but still anchored by 15:00.
Checking into the U.S. was a cinch, even now that we have a Dutch flag. We submitted a report via an app, and within minutes a nice CBP officer called De Captain, asked him a few questions, and welcomed us home. No need to report to the airport.

We spent a glorious few days in Culebra and were elated to find that Mamasitas put mofongo back on the menu. Of course, we also spent an evening at the Dinghy Dock. Just like old times. The last couple nights, we anchored out behind the reef. It was magical. We're glad we got to enjoy a breather before setting off on another passage. It was time to hit the Bahamas.



February 26, 2023



Farewell, beautiful Puerto Rico. We'll definitely be back!


The anchor was up by 07:00. It was a beautiful, calm day, and the forecast called for the same conditions for the next week. The seas were not predicted to rise above 5 feet. It was glorious, with 9 - 15 knots from the ENE during the first three days. We settled in, relishing the calm passage. Since we didn't get it during our Atlantic crossing, this would be our "milky way" passage. At first we flew the spinnaker, then switched to the full main and yankee when the wind picked up.  It was sublime.

A small bird also thought it was sublime. He rested on AZ's solar panels and later outboard for over 24 hours. He didn't even budge when Da Admiral went into the locker just below him to grab the guys for the spinnaker pole. He just sat there and watched us during the entire pole-raising procedure.

On the third night of the passage, we saw what we believe was a shuttle launch. It looked like it was over the Navidad Bank, but it must have been from Florida. At first we thought we were too far from Florida to see a launch. We wondered if it came from Cuba. But we later learned it must have been a SpaceX launch.
It was completely silent and looked like an eery death angel in the sky.





On the last day of the passage, we saw 16-21 knots. The bird finally left us, and we passed a few boats as we were cutting between the Plana Cays. We anchored in Atwood Harbor, Acklins Island at 16:30. Just like last time, we would have the whole place to ourselves, or so we thought.  A German boat came in just after sunset.
Oh well, guess we can't always keep paradise to ourselves.



Secluded bliss. We love the out islands. Yes, it is better in the Bahamas!




March 3, 2023


From Acklins we flew the spinnaker to Pittstown, Crooked Island. It was beautiful but rolley. Even the catamarans were bobbing around. The nonsense got really bad a 2 am. We hardly slept a wink. We left before breakfast at 06:45.









From Pittstown, we literally flew to Clarence Town, Long Island. We flew the spinnaker and somehow beat two of the catamarans from the anchorage--downwind. We told AZ to stop showing off. A third, larger performance catamaran (also in the anchorage with us) even had trouble catching us. He was only able to catch us during the last 2 miles into Clarence Town. Now, we probably should have doused the spinnaker once the wind starting gusting 18 knots, but our competitiveness got the best of us. Plus, after so much time in big waves, it was nice to be reminded how fast AZ moves in flatter seas. After anchoring, the French skipper of the larger cat promptly dinghied over to ask what kind of boat AZ is. He couldn't believe how challenging it was to overtake a monohull! He was super nice and interesting and invited us over for aperitifs. That evening, we had a great time practicing our French and chatting with the folks from all the other cats in the anchorage.




AZ styling it in Clarence Town.



We only had 7-10 knots of wind during the sail to Calabash Bay. But we moved along at 4 knots until we finally had to turn on the engine for the last 15 miles into the Bay. The Bahamas is not somewhere you want to be fumbling around in the dark with a 7 foot keel.




There were tons of boats in the bay, but nothing could ruin the beauty of a perfect sunset combined with a beautiful moonrise above a pink sand beach.





After checking the weather, we decided we would need to skip the Exumas and head north. A series of fronts were developing, and we needed to get across the Gulf Stream before it got gnarly.
Although we looked forward to anchoring in one of our favorite spots, we later heard from other cruisers that the Exumas were quite crowded this year, so it worked out for the best.

We left Calabash Bay at 08:00 and sailed under spinnaker in flat calm for the entire day. It was like being at anchor. We made it through the Highborne Cay pass at first light and slack tide--perfect. Unfortunately, we had to motor across the Yellow Bank, as we had light wind on the nose. We anchored behind Salt Cay, Nassau the following afternoon, sharing the anchorage with two empty "tourist adventure" race boats.

The next day, we sailed to Little Harbour Cay in the Berrys. There were lots of squalls around, but they cleared by the time we reached the beautiful Berry Islands. We were reminded how beautiful they are and how much we love the Berrys. We were bummed we couldn't stay longer. We shared the anchorage with a super yacht and two other sailboats. We prepped for an overnighter across the Gulf Stream. In just over 24 hours, we would be back in Florida with AZ! We couldn't believe how far we had come.



One last sunset aboard.

March 9, 2023

We checked the weather one last time and set course to Ft. Pierce. We were glad we had positioned ourselves in the Berrys when we did. There would be no more suitable weather for a Gulf Stream crossing in the foreseeable future. For the first 7 miles, we beat upwind in 11-17 knots with gusts up to 20. After that, it was a lovely close reach to beam reach, riding the back of a cold front. Overnight, there were lots of cruise ships and other traffic around. They were all very attentive, making a point to stay at least 2 miles away. Right on cue, the wind turned and settled in the wee hours, just before we reached the Gulf Stream. The Stream was pretty calm, and we rode it at 8-9 knots. We were at anchor in Ft. Pierce, De Captain up the mast to turn the antennas upside down, by 11:45. We are happy to report that our new mast did not hit the bridges (we measured like 4 times but were still nervous with only a couple feet of clearance), and we arrived safely in the marina by 15:00.

We look forward to relaxing, traveling landlubber style, and spending time with friends and family until it's time to take the boat north for hurricane season. And of course, more improvements to AZ. Most exciting--we will be installing a new LeisureFurl boom. For once, our plans are fluid. We're hoping to reach Cape Cod and Maine, but if we putter around in the Chesapeake Bay all summer, that will be fine too. After that, who knows. All we know is that we want to make it to Patagonia and the Chilean fjords one day. So perhaps the Viking Route back across the Atlantic, or maybe a sail from Nova Scotia to the Azores and on from there. But we also hear that rounding Cape Horn from west to east is lovely. So maybe a transit of the Panama Canal and then around. Hanga Roa anyone?


Continue to Summer 2023