Yacht Boat Plans | Dominica 14th February 24 th February 2009

Yacht Boat Plans

We had a lively sail over to Dominica and arrived in the capital of Rosseau at 1430. Dominica is one of the poorer islands of the Caribbean and so we were expecting to be accosted by hundreds of boat boys on our arrival. In fact we were met by just one, Jason, who helped us to the mooring opposite the misleadingly named Dominica Marine Centre (because although its in Dominica its not a marine centre). As with St Vincent anchoring is almost impossible due to the depths right up to the shore so a mooring at $10US was actually quite handy. Jason was noticeably pleasant compared to the Martinique locals.

The decision as to whether to pick up a mooring can be a tricky one. In the UK and Europe a mooring is probably more secure than anchoring because of regular checks (and liability) by the owner; in the Caribbean the inspections are infrequent and the moorings are notoriously unreliable. A snorkel down to check the mooring is worthwhile but of course the places where you most want to pick up a buoy are where depths preclude anchoring and therefore it’s too deep to check them by snorkel. We know of several boats that have drifted off due to problems with moorings. Some friends we first met in Tenerife, drifted, in their yacht Tigress, past fifteen or so boats in a very busy Bequia with the whole mooring and base still attached; they were fine and miraculously hit no one but it was a good example. We know of several more first hand examples so always ask the boatmen whether the moorings are OK … and always get the same predictable response - ‘dey good mon’. We had the same positive response from Albert, one of the guys in Portsmouth, just up the coast in Dominica, but nonetheless someones mooring failed while we were there. The yacht drifted, unmanned, the length of the anchorage before it could be grabbed by some of the owners of the boats it was bouncing off . It was fortunate that a quick minded yachtie frantically rang a bell to alert people to the problem. During the incident, which Selma and I were comfortingly unaware of, I did comment that it was unusual to hear a bell ringing on a boat. Albert and the other boatmen were unrepentant - after all they’re not their moorings they’re the governments!

We stayed in Rosseau for four days. The town, which was the capital, was better off than we expected and the locals were welcoming and friendly. The provisioning problems that had been building up over the previous few weeks (no diesel left, no petrol, running low on water, no milk, eggs, pasta etc.) were quickly sorted. In fact Dominica rapidly became a favourite island.

A few days after our arrival we went on a tour of the south of the island with Jason; well it should have been with Jason but Jason was in court. As ever the Good Ship Brimble and the Brimblettes had wandered or more accurately sailed into the middle of a minor drama. It transpired that Jason was a newcomer in the Rosseau boating community and a power struggle was on-going between the old hands and this new upstart. The situation was becoming a little fruity to the point that they were ramming each other in their enthusiasm to greet new business and the police and courts were now involved. We bumped into ‘Roots’ and ‘Pancho’ (some of the competition) on the dock … ‘he’s a crackhead mon, you not safe wid him’. Despite the poor references we liked him and booked our land tour with him but ended up with his good friend, ‘Fat Boy‘.

The tour of the island was incredible. Dominica unlike many of the islands enjoys rain pretty much everyday and is covered with lush tropical rainforest. High mountains capped in clouds are the source for many of the 365 rivers which cascade down to the sea forming spectacular waterfalls on their way. Everywhere you look is a new bird, insect or fruit, so much so that after a short while there’s simply too much new to absorb. Mahogany, teak and nutmeg trees, tobacco, pineapple, turmeric, tamarind, cashew, cocoa and coffee were just some of the less obvious plants together with more recognisable oranges, lemons, banana and plantains, papaya, mango, lime, breadfruit, sugarcane, coconut, bay and on and on the list goes.

After half an hours drive we arrived at the village close to where ’Fat Boy’ lived and as we drove through the square he shouted out to some of the locals sitting outside a rum shop. At this point it’s worth describing the curious habit that drivers in the Caribbean have of talking to each other as they drive past. This is done to pedestrians and fellow motorists alike. As two cars, with windows open, speed past each other, drivers regularly toot and then have a brief conversation with each other. No attempt is made to reduce speed as the exchange occurs and you seldom know whether a message was sent or received. The process is made even more interesting because as the vehicles close on one another they simultaneously draw into the middle of the road (presumably to improve message exchange) and then at the last second the driver lets go of the steering wheel so that he can wave his hands at the same time as yelling the message. Clearly, this allows the bus or van to roam freely during the exchange and adds to the excitement for passengers as they not only try and work out what was said but also consider the likelihood of a head-on collision.

As we approached Fat Boy’s village mobile message exchange reached a level where the vans steering wheel seemed superfluous. Despite this, we arrived safely in the square of the local village and Fat Boy shouted in Creole to some of the locals. It transpired that in a few seconds he had arranged a tour of a rum factory with one of them and we duly screeched to a halt and one of the men jumped in. The rum factory was not what we expected. We met the lad’s father and were then lead up a winding path to a shack where the ‘bootleg’ rum was fermented and distilled. Three men proudly talked us through the process culminating in the ‘still’ which was a 40 gallon drum sitting on an open fire with a pipe coming out of the top and running through an open tank of cold water. The rum produced is lethal and the bottle we bought for £2 is now kept for emergencies or to ward off unwanted guests but the little factory was a real window into local life.

We then went on a hike to a waterfall with our guide, Lion. The hike up the white river was breathtaking. It took about an hour and half of walking through rain forest, crossing the fast flowing river 4 or 5 times (up to thigh deep for us and neck deep for Jack) before we reached the Victoria Falls. The isolated location and the jungle scenery created one of the most spectacular sights we have enjoyed on the trip so far. Having enjoyed seclusion and

isolation we then drove to a recognised tourist spot, the Emerald Pool, and were quite shocked by the numbers of people. We swam in the pool but the numbers of people undermined the natural beauty of this crystal clear pool of water in the jungle. We continued round the southern half of the island seeing other local factories and plenty more views - it was a memorable day.

We moved 25 miles northward from Rosseau on 19th February and arrived in Prince Rupert Bay, Portsmouth which is the most northerly anchorage in Dominica. The standard of living in Portsmouth, essentially a rural fishing village, was far more what we had expected in the island with most people living in small wooden houses perhaps 12 by 16 feet with water collected from an outside standpipe (the size of houses is determined by the standard width of a sheet of plywood from which they are made). As with Rosseau the people were incredibly friendly and the town had a great atmosphere so we decided to stay a few extra days for the annual Carnival.

In the meantime we toured up the Indian River with Albert who had met us when we arrived in the Bay. We were joined by our new friends from the S/Y Tigress, Pete and Anne from Somerset. Both Anne and Pete took real time with the children which was really appreciated by adults and children alike and they soon became Ella and Jack’s favourite grown ups as well as good friends for Selma and I. We enjoyed their company and have spent several enjoyable nights on each others boats; the fact that Pete is a retired underwater bomb disposal expert with stories to match gave him immediate super-hero status. The children were very excited to be travelling in one of the boatmen’s boats and enjoyed speeding through the anchorage. As we headed to the Indian River we passed by several wrecked ships washed up by hurricanes Lois and David. The cost of removing the wrecks is simply too much so as with most of the islands they just sit there and rot, providing a hard reminder of the awesome power of the wind and sea.

The Indian river was an amazing experience. The river starts in the hills of Dominica but runs down to Portsmouth where it has become a wildlife sanctuary. By the time it reaches Portsmouth it’s slow moving and completely overhung by huge swamp blood wood trees with massive buttress roots on both sides of the river. The roots spread out above the soil and then run down into the still water, twisting and turning to create a tangled carpet of branches with fresh water crabs leering out from the nooks and crannies.

Albert, who has been taking people along the river for the last twenty seven years, really knew his stuff and pointed out many sights that we would have simply missed without him. Parrots flew in the tree tops, green necked herons sat observing yet another load of tourists rowing by and hummingbirds whizzed in and out of the undergrowth which in many places dropped into the river around you.

Iguanas sunbathed precariously on the top canopy of trees and fish leapt out of the water presumably being chased by Barracuda which hunt in the brackish water. A large part of the swamp has also been made famous as another location for The Pirates of The Caribbean which reflects the spectacular and vivid natural environment. We had hoped to see some Boa constrictors here by the waters edge but it was not to be. The two and a half hours we spent on the river flew by and yet again showed us how rich in vegetation and wild life Dominica is, we loved it.

We stayed an extra few days for the Carnival which began at 4am on the Monday morning! Carnival means ‘without meat’ and was originally meant to be at the beginning of Lent, Dominica still hold their Carnival at this time every year! We did not manage the 4am start due to a rather late night at Big Pappa’s but rowed ashore and made it into town at 7am. By this time festivities were in full flow. The carnival was dominated by an old truck with a reggae/rap band playing music at a volume which was physically hair raising - the earth shook as the truck went by. Ahead and behind the truck people danced, drank and collapsed - it was like a English village fete on acid. The clothes worn were not quite those in the pictures of other carnivals it was more of an anything goes approach - the man in the full bridal outfit appeared particularly popular but we were not sure whether this was the outfit or the fact that he kept falling over.

The last thing we managed to cram into our visit to Dominica was a walk to Fort Shirley overlooking the bay where Brimble was at anchor. The view was fantastic and we were able to take the obligatory photo of our boat as fitting reminder of our now favourite island.

We left Dominica on 24th February bound for the French islands of Iles de Saintes, just south east of Guadeloupe.

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Boat Plans Aluminium Australia | Viana Do Castello 14th 16th September 2008

Boat Plans Aluminium Australia

Viana Do Castello was new to Selma and I and well worth the visit. We were welcomed into our first Portugese marina as if we were long lost friends of the harbour master. The marina is tiny with next to no visitor spaces and despite our diminutive stature there were no berths available. We volunteered to stay on the waiting pontoon outside the marina but our new friend was having none of it. You are very very small ... very small ... it would be very dangerous out here for such a small boat, at one stage I thought he was going to ask how we possibly got there but he didnt, he simply relocated a police launch to make way for us and a few minutes later we were all snugged up in Portugal.

Viana Do Castello is a typical Portugese town with the wonderful blend of old churches, squares and fountains with totally out of place, modern, EEC funded public facilities which dont quite operate as intended all wrapped up with lovely weather and an overiding waft of raw sewage ... it really is our kind of town.

Portugals idiosyncracies were illustrated by the marina facilities. Our mate showed us the enormous shower block which was quite fantastic, everything you could possibly want ... showers, loos, washing machines, driers ... the works. Unfortunately there was only 4 keys so for access you had to track the harbourmaster down and the lone key was then handed over with great ceremony ... Selma popping up to the loos for a quick pee was definitely not on the agenda. The picture got even better because when we did borrow the key almost all of the facilities were out of order with the exception of one shower in the ladies and one in the gents. Still one was better than none so girls and
boys shared. It was not until we were fully lathered up .. and I mean fully lathered up (Jack looked like a mini abomnible snowman) that another little quirk of the marina struck ... the hot water simply stopped. At the best of times I am a bit of a softy when it comes to cold but quite frankly compared to Jack Im a superhero. We both stood there to consider the problem and then stood there a little longer and a bit longer; in fact our prevarication was such that just before we were going to risk hypothermia and jump under the cold shower the hot water returned. It transpired that the hot water alternated between the Gents and the Ladies ... absolutely classic Portugal and really great fun, once Id got the froth off.

Lessons continued and Selma decided that one of them should be Capn John teaching navigation. The kids were sent the challenge of using the tourist map to track round the town; in truth they did a better job than either Selma or I. A notable spot that we visited was the Church of Santa Lucia which is located on the top of a hill overlooking Viana. The church is pretty spectacular but the view from the church is breathtaking and was quoted by National Geographic as one of the best panoramic views in the world; it certainly looked pretty good to us.

From Viana we took the 40 minute train ride down to Oporto which is a real favorite in the area. A free tour of a porthouse plus free sampling (all port comes from Oporto) was essential so we made for the hill on the side of the River Douro where all the port houses are located and visited Taylors. The kids were surprisingly interested in the process and slipped down half a glass each; well recived by Jack but less popular with Ella, still plenty of time yet. The history of port is a great tale and shows that some good can come from the taxman. The creation of port was stimulated when the taxes on French and Spanish wine were artificially increased due to our not being too chummy with said countries at the time. This made Portugese wine a bit of a bargain. The trouble was that it didnt travel very well so they whacked a drop of brandy in to help the wine last and hey presto ... port.

The sites in Porto are too many to mention but personal favourites are the fish feeding frenzy at the raw sewage discharge point in the Douro and the Eiffel Bridge which transfers pedestrians, trains and cars across the same river. Either way the sights, smells and culture of Portugal are unforgettable.

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Boat Plans Canada | Porto Santo 8th October 14th October 2008

Boat Plans Canada

Porto Santo is a tiny island located about 27 miles NE of Madeira. It is a bit remote and a bit desolate relying entirely on income from Madeiran’s who visit Porto Santo for their holidays. In stark contrast to Madeira the island is rocky and barren which is as a direct result of the introduction of rabbits and goats to the island in the late 15th Century who rather annoyingly ate everything and continue to do so … oops.
What Porto Santo lacks in terms of greenery it makes up for elsewhere, notably the 6 mile stretch of beach with only two people on it … Jack and Ella.


Although life in Lisbon was anything but fast when you arrive in Porto Santo the world pretty much comes to a standstill. No job is done without three people watching, nothing is done fast and I’m pretty sure that the word ‘urgent’ has been struck from the local vocabulary due to lack of use; all of this was fine by us!

Life centres around he capital of Vila Baleira about 20 minutes walk from the boat; the town is small, clean and stuffed full of shops that are of absolutely no use. By way of illustration I decided to fit an additional 12v cigarette lighter socket to power up the cool box. When I asked the local
ironmongers whether he sold them he said, with a slight smile, that in Portugal they always come with the car; you can’t fault his logic.
The search for paint was another epic where Jack and I
traversed the whole Island to search for paint. I can confirm that if you want a white or black house in Porto Santo you’re in luck, otherwise don’t hold your breath!

We visited Porto Santo 12 years ago and perhaps not surprisingly little has changed. The exception over and above a few extra buildings is that you can no longer anchor in the harbour and now have to pay for either a marina berth or a mooring; both are quite expensive which is a shame. The walls of the harbour are painted or graffitied by boats who have marked their visit; these paintings range in quality from just a name in a box to a full blown masterpiece. The painting that we had put on the wall when we were with Songbird was still there albeit a little worse for wear - it was strange having the children sitting by the picture we had made before they even existed. We decided to let nature take it’s course and didn’t repaint it but did put a new one on for Brimble.

We also decided to hire 2 quad bikes to tour the island, great fun as a fair bit of the road network is unpaved. Once we were away from the main town and off tarmac we let Ella and Jack takeover driving. As luck would have it we were immediately passed by a police car stuffed full of what I can only assume was the whole of the Porto Santo police force; anyway they waved and thought the kids driving was great fun; we agreed and waved back with perhaps a little too much enthusiasm. Whilst in Porto we discovered a great new bread called Bolo do Cao. Shaped like a thick frisbee it’s very light and airy and the best bread we’ve tasted since leaving home. Portugese bread is strangely sweet and despite repeated attempts couldnt really get a taste for it so this discovery was all the more valuable. We have feasted on Bolo ever since.

In Porto Santo we had a chance to meet Poul and Jan on board their 42 ft Ketch, Pi. They had overtaken us as we left Lisbon and were kind enough to take our ropes when we arrived in Porto Santo. The following night we went round for a beer and as ever a new friendship sprung up. The kids loved Pi because they were able to play hide and seek on board! Poul, the owner and skipper, was working his way south and westwards towards Brazil, but other than a vague idea to stop at Las Palmas to pick his wife up his plans were fairly fluid, something which is typical for most yachties we meet. Some of the more hair raising trips people report is when they have rushed to pick people up, drop them off or meet flights. The other point of interest is that without exception so far we are the only family staying together for the trip. In all other cases the wife and kids are flying which Selma and I think would take the edge off the experience … we’ll let you know who’s right in 3 months!

Having traversed the island by foot in search of paint and several times on our quad bikes by the 14th October it was time to crack on and so we set sail for Madeira, sailing in tandem with Poul and Jan in Pi.

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Boat Plans Bartender | Transatlantic Solo Passage 14th May 11th June

Boat Plans Bartender

Selma and the kids left the USVI’s on the 12th May; it was really tough. The fact that we had spent the last 10 months living both physically and mentally in each others pockets and knew that we would be apart for at least 2 months created a somewhat eye watering environment. Stiff upper lips were maintained with moderate success but I must confess that as I bid final farewells to the gang there was a slight catch in my throat. Selma maintained an impressive level of decorum until just after I’d left at which point I understand she handed parental responsibility over to Ella and disintegrated. The children were well briefed on how to deal with the situation and approached the problem with enthusiasm by repeatedly instructing Selma ’to just completely forget Dad, not just for a few weeks but forever … he’s gone, completely gone’ they said. Whether this approach was entirely helpful is a moot point but it was a good effort by both of the children and reflects a natural empathy of which I’m quietly proud.

I walked the 4 miles or so back into town from the airport and felt miserable - not so much lonely but just missing something - I kept thinking that any second I would hear the kids shouting at each other or that Selma would pop round the corner; but of course it never happened. The feeling of something not being quite right, sort of like youve left your coat behind in the pub or not locked the door as you left home, didn‘t go away for quite a few days, it‘s funny what living on a 28ft boat does to you.





I cleared customs later that afternoon. They were their normal officious selves and when I explained that I was sailing on my own to the Azores in a 28ft boat they thoughtfully boosted my confidence by declaring me a ‘lunatic‘ and giving me the contemptuous stares that presumably they normally reserve for drug smugglers and illegal immigrants. I left.

The Good Ship was almost ready to go but there were a few odd jobs that simply couldnt be done with Selma and the nips on board and in any case I needed a couple of days to quieten down and get in the right frame of mind. The weather forecast for the next day wasn’t great so despite having cleared out I decided to stay one more day and leave on the 14th May which I duly did.

A couple of friends, Gordon and Jacques, waved me off and at 1117 local time I set off on my first ever single handed passage. Up until this point I had never sailed on my own anywhere for any distant - I was in seriously new territory and it was rather exciting.





The blur of emotions that I felt as I motored out of the marina were the most complicated and vivid of my life. Worry about the boat, whether I could cope with sleeping for no more than an hour at a time for 3-4 weeks, the weather, provisioning, the risk of falling over the side and watching the GSB sail off without me; excitement at fulfilling a longstanding ambition; sadness at saying goodbye to Selma and the kids; happiness tinged with a bit of guilt to be on such a great adventure and so on. All of these thoughts swelled up inside my mind as we unobtrusively left the cosy environment of the marina and headed out to sea. Ahead of us were 2600 miles and 3-4 weeks of ocean sailing. 2 hours later I was feeling moderately sea sick as we crashed, headlong, into 3-4m waves with a 25 knot headwind and heading in roughly the wrong direction - all pretty much business as usual.

The first night was really quite boisterous with strong winds of 25 to 30 knots from ENE. This meant that we were bashing headlong into the sea and waves but making no significant easting, in fact we were heading straight at Bermuda 750 miles to our north. This said, it was early days and to make the best of wind and current on the passage we wanted to head north to begin with anyway so although not ideal it wasnt a big problem. Cooking wasnt high on my agenda so that night I wolfed back a pot-noodle-thing just to get something warm in me and had little else to eat for a couple of days.





We sailed through the night with triple reefed main and heavily reefed foresail but despite this were taking a fair amount of water on board both in the cockpit and on occasions down below. I mentally congratulated Selma and I on our decision to fly the kids home - it would have been awful for them; a few days like this and the wonderful memories they had gathered up from 9 months of sub/tropical sailing would have been rapidly destroyed by the crashing, wet and nauseating environment that we were now exposed to.





Although a little miserable the good ship was sailing like a witch and critically my concerns around getting enough sleep whilst maintaining an adequate watch proved unfounded. During the night I used an egg timer to wake myself up every 45 - 60 minutes to check for shipping, track and sail trim; this worked well and once I was a few hundred miles away from land I increased the length I slept to 60 - 90 minutes depending on weather and traffic.





After a few days the wind moderated to 20 kts but was still right on the nose and the good ship stayed somewhat bouncy-bouncy but by now I had my sea legs and was getting into the rhythm of the passage.

On 16th May (Day 2) I noticed that one of the self-steering lines was almost worn through; this was a big concern because although I had some spare rope it wouldn’t be enough to replace it all every few days and without the lines I would have to hand steer the whole time. I tightened up a couple of loose blocks which could have been causing the chafe, changed the lines and kept a close eye on it. Whatever I did worked because it lasted to the Azores

The wind stayed between E and NE for the first week and with a slight current pushing me to the west I was really struggling to pass Bermuda to the east. I could have tacked but the thought of heading south of east and therefore backwards was too depressing so I cracked on northwards and hoped for a wind shift. I clearly didn’t hope hard enough.

On Monday the 18th (Day 4) I encountered the first signs of the Sargasso Sea which is a bed of floating seaweed that drifts on the surface around this bit of the Atlantic Ocean. The patches are quite large, many of them extending 30 or 40 metres square. It’s a bit like sailing through a very wet lawn and makes a rather unpleasant scraping sound as you pass through it. This causes a rapid clenching of the buttocks on the first few occasions as you try and figure out what the hell is happening.

At dusk on the evening of Tuesday 19th (Day 5) I turned the masthead tricolour light on which flickered and then died. I tested the circuit inside the boat and at the deck fitting and realised that the fault was at the top of the mast - bad news. I briefly considered trying to get to the top to fix it but rejected the idea as I recalled a story doing the rounds as we left. A couple crossing the Atlantic had had some sort of problem which required the husband to go up the mast which he duly did. In accordance with good practice he locked himself on and when secure he promptly had a heart attack and died - his wife could not lower him down because he had tied himself up there, so she had no choice but to complete the trip with her husband dangling and presumably gradually decaying at the top of the mast. With this in the forefront of my mind I was buggered if I was going up the mast. Anyway I had a Plan B. The alternative to the masthead tricolour light are three navigation lights mounted at deck level. They use far more electricity (big issue) but considering I was alone were better than nothing. I begrudgingly turned them on only to find that one of them was faulty as well! (I might add that I checked all the lights before I left). I changed the bulb in the starboard side but had to replace with a traditional bulb which uses about 10x the current which was a showstopper - we simply didnt have enough power to run these lights every night. Still I had lights for the moment and went to bed to sleep on the problem. That night we used as much power in 8 hours as we had on the whole trip so far - an alternative was required or we would have to operate in unlit stealth mode. In the end I only marginally improved on this but did set-up a make shift all-round white light out of an old LED lamp we had in the stores and hung it in the cockpit. The flaws with this were that it was only visible about 5 boat lengths away, was invisible from anything coming from ahead because it was masked by the sails and because it was an allround white light any vessel that saw us would assume we were either anchored or they were seeing our stern irrespective of what they were looking at! As I slept that night I briefly considered whether the light problem invalidated my insurance but then realised that I hadnt got any so that was allright.

At 1430 on Friday 22nd May (Day 8) and to avoid an embarrassing collision with Bermuda I tacked. It was really rather strange. Having been on the same tack for over a week it was all a bit surprising to be heeling over the other way - I even had to sleep on the other side of the boat.
It took a further 3 days to clear Bermuda with progress made even slower by light easterly winds This said the weather was quite lovely with clear skies great visibility and plenty of dolphins.

Clearing Bermuda was a bit of a milestone. I had been tempted to go in to fix the light and get some more line for the steering gear but just couldn’t bring myself to do it. Partly because I don’t really like Bermuda and partly because I was in the groove and didn’t want to have to stop and then start again.

By Sunday the 24th May (Day 10) the wind had reduced to next to nothing and I barely maintained steerage making only about 2 knots. My progress was already hideously slower than planned I began doing sums on water, food and gas - all of which were OK although only because I had grossly over provisioned. If the family had been on board we would simply have run out.

On Monday 25th May (Day 11) I had had enough of sails slatting in the swell with no wind to fill them and started the engine. We donked along the next 24 hours until 1230 the next day when we managed to get sailing again. That night I celebrated the return to sailing with a Brimble Mega Special Fried Rice comprising everything I could find mixed with rice and soya sauce; I suspect it would be pretty unpleasant onshore but on the good ship is was just the ticket. I intend to cook for friends and family at the earliest opportunity.

On Thursday 28th May (Day 14) the wind at last moved round to the south and aft of the beam. I celebrated with a nice cup of tea.

Progress from here on in was better with the wind between 5 and 15 knots. Occasionally We were badly hit by up to 2 knots of adverse current but was normally managing a respectable 100 mile day. We started to head further and further north gambling on picking up stronger winds but also risking an increased chance of a gale.


The gamble paid off and by the time we reached 38 degrees North on Thursday 4th June the winds were freshening and still coming from the right direction. For the next few days we made good progress and even managed one day in excess of 140 miles.

By now I was really noticing the cold and had taken to sleeping in a hat. I used my lucky hat which is so incredibly lucky that I can’t wear it outside in case I lose it over the side - in fact it’s usually put safely away and not used at all but I felt it was justified on this occasion - the first night I slept particularly well such is its mighty power.



On the 8th June with just 400 miles to go the wind started to increase to a bustling 25 knot westerly which meant I could drop the main and sail fast with just the foresail. Good progress was made to begin with but we slowed a little as the swell picked up to a few metres. For the next few days we had between 15 and 30 knots of wind and made great progress - I could see and feel the end of the journey approaching but was worried about tempting fate, relaxing and then making some cock up.



By now traffic was noticeably increasing and every other day we were seeing a yacht or a merchant vessel; nice to see them but not so nice when I thought of my somewhat inadequate and slightly illegal lighting system.

At dawn on Thursday 11th June we sighted land for the first time in just under a month. I remembered from the last trip that it appeared lush after the arid islands of Caribbean but I was amazed. Seeing such a breathtakingly beautiful island after so long at sea was simply shattering. I just love the Azores.

As we sailed along the south coast of the island we felt that a wash and brush up was the order of the Day. I cleaned up below, shaved off a months beard and then spent an hour or so with a jumbo pack of baby wipes cleaning and scraping myself as far as was possible - some of the dirt was sort of embedded and irremovable but I think most came off. We felt both smart and casual as we sailed into Faial although for several days after you could see people searching for the toddler who must be the source of the strong smell of baby wipes.

At 1020 on Thursday 11th June I moored alongside Aquilibra, a 45ft catamaran, and stepped onto dry land after 28 days at sea. The log simply said ’1020 Arrived Horta. Delighted’ - which in hindsight was a bit of an understatement. Twenty minutes later (thank god I’d had a good go with the wipes) Jim from Starblazer arrived, the sun shone and we cracked open the first beer for a month and the most memorable I have ever tasted. I surveyed the harbour with a warm, quietly proud and satisfied feeling and for the first time in a long time started to relax.

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Boat Plans Nz | Porto Santo to Madeira 14th October 14th October

Boat Plans Nz

One of the reasons for stopping in Porto Santo is that the marina in Funchal is almost always full, the anchorage is not secure and moreover charge a fortune for the privilege. This said we were keen to visit. Charlotte and Alasdair had recommended a marina called Quinta De Lorde on the east coast of the island which we headed for.

A short trip of only 30 miles with a following wind, bright sunshine and the company of Pi made for an enjoyable passage.

We arrived at Quinta De Lorde at 1600 and were welcomed by some seriously passionate marina staff who welcomed us, directed us to our berth and instructed us on where to steer, how to steer and when to stop. Incredibly helpful … perhaps a little too helpful but nice to be in Madeira.

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Boat Plans Arch Davis | Baiona Viana Do Castello 14th September to 14th September 2008

Boat Plans Arch Davis

We had a pretty relaxing time in Baiona, re-exploring some of the old sights from 12 years ago and finding plenty more. Big Jack was with the Good Ship until 12th September and as ever provided a constant stream of entertainment for all concerned, much of it was intended. We really enjoyed Jacks company, the children in particular have learnt alot. As a result of Big Jacks careful tuition they now know how to cross a busy Portugese or Spanish road simply by charging at the oncoming traffic to the cry of ´leg it`. This skill was finely tuned whilst in La Coruna when every few minutes when trying to catch a bus someone would shout ´leg it´. This was done irrespective of whether there was a bus in sight or, if there was one in sight, whether it was the one we wanted to catch. On those occasions when there was no bus to be seen there was also no target to focus on. The result was the formation of a sort of Halsall star-burst where members of the family would simultaneously fly off in every direction. No doubt from a seagulls viewpoint this was an impressive sight, however, local motorists were less keen as they struggled to avoid various members of the family running in front of them. Jack also taught the children how to speak fluent ´dolphin´. Thanks Jack; having the children making high pitched squeaking sounds everytime the word dolphin is mentioned only slightly undermines the delight of seeing these wonderful mammals in their natural environment! The kids were also able to learn a number of useful words and phrases. For example they no longer say thank you for my dinner, they say awesome, that really took the egde off´.

You would not expect Jacks departure to have been smooth and of course it wasn´t. The bus was due at 1400 but we hadn´t quite worked out which stop, so we located ourselves at a bar where we could see several likely looking bus stops at once and moved to red alert status. Our eyes were pealed looking for a bus that might be going to Vigo Airport. At 1355 Jacks bus went by, or at least we think it was. The familiar cry of leg it went up and Jack was off. Sadly, whilst this initial stage went comparatively well, Jack subsequently stayed on the bus a little too long and went past Vigo Airport, he then had to catch a taxi back to the airport to catch his plane arriving just in the nick of time. Its hardly a surprise that Jack took the Bay of Biscay in his

stride when you live life like he does ... awesome.

We were all sad to see Big Jack go but at the same time pleased to be together as a family and alone for the first time since July. We stayed for another couple of days in Baiona and I think that for the first time we really started to fall into the rhythm of ´liveaborad´life and get down to some serious family enjoyment. The race to get down south was pretty much over and for the first time we were not worrying about weather or crew.

The kids had there first lessons, other than those provided informally

by Big Jack and we began to get a little bit of routine.

We sailed south to Viana De Castello and Portugal on the 14 th September. It was a pleasant 35 mile mooch down the coast. No night watches, no strong winds, no hassles, just a nice sail, with loads and loads of dolphins and a mackerel lunch ... and you said I wasnt a fisherman, Jack!

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