Cape Verde
16º45.076' N
22º58.868' W
The passage from Nouakchott to Cape Verde was quite demanding. It was a nearly 500-mile sail, and on the evening of the second day, we began having stormy weather with 25- to 30-knot winds, varying in direction from the northeast to slightly southeast. Since we were travelling southwest, this meant that we had to pay close attention to the sail at all times, lest we jibe uncontrollably. The batteries were low, and there wasn't much sun to charge them, so one of us was always steering by hand.
We had the mainsail tied to protect against a jibe, but early that second night, we were sailing very close to the wind, when it suddenly changed direction and pushed the sail to the other side. I was below deck finishing my dinner, and the first thing I heard was the sound of shattering glass, followed by the noise of the sail flapping violently. The boat slowed down and began rocking heavily from side to side.
When we got out on the deck, we could see what had happened. The sound of glass was from a lightbulb that had fallen from one of the portside shrouds, but it wasn't a big deal, except that we needed to watch our step. The important issue was re-rigging the sail and getting the ship back under control. Since it was still tied down but had been blown across, the mainsail was basically pinned on the wrong side of the boat.
We tried turning to let the wind push it back over to the right side, but even though the sail was reefed, the wind was simply too strong for the manouevre, and we couldn't get enough momentum to complete the turn. Our only option was to lower the sail and raise it again. This required Robert to go to the bow, while LouLou and I held flashlights for him, pulled the lines, and steered the boat, all with force 6 winds blowing by and ten-foot waves crashing down around us.
In the middle of this mayhem, a flying fish jumped out of the water and hit me square in the chest, then fell into the boat, flapping around next to my feet. Since it was so dark, it took me a few seconds to realize what it was. My hand was on my chest, feeling around for a gunshot wound or something, when I finally processed what had happened. I wanted to laugh and tell the others, but there was too much stuff to tend to for the moment. I didn't even remember it happening until the next morning, when I saw the dead fish in the cockpit.
We managed to get the sail down, and we decided to stick with using only the genoa for the rest of the voyage to avoid any more potential jibes. The weather remained pretty rough for the rest of the sail, but thankfully, we didn't have any other problems.
We arrived in Sal island in the afternoon of the fourth day. Much celebration ensued.
Here are a few pictures from Sal:
Panorama of the salt mine:
22º58.868' W
The passage from Nouakchott to Cape Verde was quite demanding. It was a nearly 500-mile sail, and on the evening of the second day, we began having stormy weather with 25- to 30-knot winds, varying in direction from the northeast to slightly southeast. Since we were travelling southwest, this meant that we had to pay close attention to the sail at all times, lest we jibe uncontrollably. The batteries were low, and there wasn't much sun to charge them, so one of us was always steering by hand.
We had the mainsail tied to protect against a jibe, but early that second night, we were sailing very close to the wind, when it suddenly changed direction and pushed the sail to the other side. I was below deck finishing my dinner, and the first thing I heard was the sound of shattering glass, followed by the noise of the sail flapping violently. The boat slowed down and began rocking heavily from side to side.
When we got out on the deck, we could see what had happened. The sound of glass was from a lightbulb that had fallen from one of the portside shrouds, but it wasn't a big deal, except that we needed to watch our step. The important issue was re-rigging the sail and getting the ship back under control. Since it was still tied down but had been blown across, the mainsail was basically pinned on the wrong side of the boat.
We tried turning to let the wind push it back over to the right side, but even though the sail was reefed, the wind was simply too strong for the manouevre, and we couldn't get enough momentum to complete the turn. Our only option was to lower the sail and raise it again. This required Robert to go to the bow, while LouLou and I held flashlights for him, pulled the lines, and steered the boat, all with force 6 winds blowing by and ten-foot waves crashing down around us.
In the middle of this mayhem, a flying fish jumped out of the water and hit me square in the chest, then fell into the boat, flapping around next to my feet. Since it was so dark, it took me a few seconds to realize what it was. My hand was on my chest, feeling around for a gunshot wound or something, when I finally processed what had happened. I wanted to laugh and tell the others, but there was too much stuff to tend to for the moment. I didn't even remember it happening until the next morning, when I saw the dead fish in the cockpit.
We managed to get the sail down, and we decided to stick with using only the genoa for the rest of the voyage to avoid any more potential jibes. The weather remained pretty rough for the rest of the sail, but thankfully, we didn't have any other problems.
We arrived in Sal island in the afternoon of the fourth day. Much celebration ensued.
Here are a few pictures from Sal:
Panorama of the salt mine:
posted by james at 2:00 PM
1 Comments:
On the contrary, poor fish! What’s the chance of dying like that??? Flying of the water to hit james’ chest??? How big is his chest?
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