Cape Verde
Break in Mindelo and crew change. Katha and Alex leave us and Kristian joins us. After this night at anchor, I need some rest. Another great dinner with loud background music and off to bed. The next day we have the opportunity to explore Mindelo and soak up the African atmosphere. However, this changes in the evening. Due to the tour operator's description of the trip, which advertises the whole of Cape Verde in the best light, most of the crew want to go to the southern islands. I think this idea is extremely ambitious, but if we all agree to sail another night or two, it seems feasible to me. However, I also realise that we will have to sail a very long way. Given our experience on the cross towards Mindelo and the minimal height gain, this might not be a good solution after all.
Fortunately, Carsten points out that he won't be joining us on this journey. It's clear that we're not splitting up, and without him the team will be too small to take on the challenge. After long discussions until shortly before one in the morning, we agree to abandon the idea of the long route to the south. However, the mood on board has taken a big dent. And I have to admit that it really got me down.
Shore leave and other problems
I had tried to clear in during the day, but the police station referred me to the station at the ferry harbour. Following the motto "no stress", I postpone this until Saturday. However, I am finally able to top up my CVmovel card and no longer have to rely on the hotspot kindly provided by Carsten. Eight gigabytes of data for 10 euros seems fair.
I also delay checking in at the marina according to this motto, and Nunu, the friendly marina employee, laughs about it. But when I finally arrive 5 minutes before his office closes, he is already in his jacket and ready to go. So there's no lack of punctuality, only what it applies to varies. The end of the day is demonstrably one of them.
Before we cast off, I go to the Policia Maritim. An employee in the "emergency service" makes it clear to me that it is possible to clear in, but that it is not possible to clear out at the weekend. But I would have such a nice T-shirt on. Seriously? My memory of an organised regatta and my former employer. Anything is fine, but I want to keep the shirt. I won't get the boat papers back. Great. So what to do? At short notice, I decide that we could travel to the westernmost point of Africa, the island of Santo Antão, for one night, return to Mindelo on Sunday evening and clear out on Monday morning. That's what we do.
Need for change again
We head south quickly through the strait and the jet. In the cover of Santo Antão, the wind shows us that it can also blow gently and, above all, from all directions. After a few attempts to head for the cape under sail, we briefly start the engine until we are back in sailable winds.
My great support from afar accompanies us and warns us not to climb any further up the west coast than the village of Tarrafal. Wasn't there one on the island of São Nicolau? That's right, almost every island here has its Tarrafal. No experiments, advises skipper Marko, who has sailed this area several times and can give me valuable tips.
The harbour of Tarrafal, which again only offers anchorages, has an impressive to frightening surf. 5 nautical miles further north there is another anchorage. Monte Trigo is the name of the place. Navionics gives us another clue: With luck - buoy. Shall we put our luck to the test? No question, I want to give it a try.
What happens next almost brings tears of joy to my eyes. After all the excitement of the past few days, I can see 2 or 3 large mooring buoys in my binoculars. A rowing boat is also heading in our direction. After taking in the sails, I realise that two mooring lines are swinging from the buoy. This guarantees a quiet night. The two men in the rowing boat would like to have paid a fee for this. The way they look at each other after asking the price, it's a negotiated deal. Or we are the first to ask them such a question. We pay the equivalent of 10 euros and are offered a transfer to the town.
We are then picked up again almost on time by rowing boat and taken ashore. Not easy in the surf, but nothing compared to what we saw in Tarrafal. Welcomed by the villagers, we go ashore and are immediately given a detailed tour of the village. The geographical location is very impressive. The village of Monte Trigo rises up from the beach on a slope whose mountain peak is almost 2,000 metres high. Only an adventurous path leads out of the village. It seems to be completely cut off from civilisation. We are shown large solar panels that supply the village with electricity, a school and a small guesthouse. A truly enchanting place. On the way to dinner, which we eat in a large two-storey house on the roof terrace, we cross the village's football pitch. And I get to hit a ball rolling towards me in the direction of the goal. A game on the most westerly football pitch in the whole of Africa - what an uplifting moment!
Dinner tastes delicious, the sun sinks into the sea, fishing boats lie on the beach. These moments seem almost kitschy.
The westernmost town in Africa: Monte Trigo
We want to circumnavigate Santo Antão so that we don't end up in the problematic cross to the south again. We leave the anchorage in the best conditions. But once we are out of the cover, the Atlantic shows us what it is capable of. We motor against it and torment our sailing yacht with a few blows in the oncoming waves. We pound against the waves for a few hours, sailing is out of the question, and the breakers that crash against the coast and form metre-high fountains document the power of the sea. I have to abandon my idea of sailing on a north-easterly course. The high mountains right on the coast deflect the wind so much that we always get it on the nose. We finally reach the northernmost point of Cape Verde, Ponta do Sol. It's said that you can see the most beautiful sunsets here, but luckily we're not that late this time.
A little more rocking, then we can finally pull out our cloth and give the engine a break.
The wind is tame, but by now I know that this is sure to change in the gulf between the two islands. Before long, that's exactly what happens on an astern course. We have a reef in the main, but the genoa offers its entire sail area and we rock to our destination with winds of up to almost 40 knots, always around 10 knots on the speed indicator. I'm amazed at what our Prosecco can withstand, it doesn't look as if she's resenting the sails.
Before we set off on a half-wind course, the genoa is generously furled, otherwise it would be far too much of a good thing. Back in front of Mindelo Marina, my radio messages on channel 72 go unanswered this time. So we look for a berth suitable for these winds and I ask other boat crews to help us moor. After a short time, however, a marinero arrives, having heard me but not answered. Anyway, we quickly tie up to some mooring lines. It's literally banging again.
Two more sailors come into the harbour with the same communication problems and try to tie up. One of them is Johannes Li, who has just started his circumnavigation. Unfortunately, I don't get the chance to talk to him further, which would certainly have been exciting. I read some interesting things on his website. He is autistic and is taking on the challenge of dealing with the problems that such a journey entails on his own. Respect. Big.
David accompanies me to clear out. If there are any attempts at bribery, it's better to travel in pairs. I announce the name of the boat and suddenly Big Daddy from the police station comes and tells me that we were in Santo Antão yesterday. BIG PROBLEM. I should have cleared in there. I'm surprised that we're being tracked so carefully here. And I try to make it clear to him that there's no way we could have cleared in where we were. Monte Trigo doesn't have a police station. The harbour where this would have been possible is on the other side of the island. It's illusory to make a detour there, not have a harbour and only look for the station for this stupid clearing in.
After 10 minutes the huge problem suddenly no longer existed, we got our papers back together with the clearance form and were finally able to leave.
I thought. The gusts hit my back again and an uneasy feeling spread through my stomach. I spoke to a few skippers about how they assessed the weather situation.
Return journey with official permission
The tenor was critical. And when I spoke to a local sailor on a really small boat who said that today was better than tomorrow, the decision was made to plead for another day in harbour. Windy also indicated deep red gusts. But you could feel them even without a digital assistant. The next morning, however, we had to leave in order to arrive in Sal on time. Unfortunately, the weather had only improved slightly.
The start with a stern wind was pleasant, the wave less so. But in the southern cover of São Vincente, the rocking decreased significantly. As we sailed along south of the smaller island groups with a strong reef, I could already see what was coming towards us... White threads of foam on the sea, rough gusts. It was starting to get borderline.
The worst phase lasted about an hour, significantly again behind Ilhéu Branco. The weather often seems to get rough there. The closer we got to our destination, the more I wished for calmer seas. But then it came so abruptly! From one moment to the next, the wind was as if it had been switched off, no more waves, really fascinating. We motored the last few metres to Tarrafal on São Nicolau and I looked for the yellow buoy in front of the harbour, next to which it would be easy to anchor, as skipper Marko assured me.
Unfortunately, a fishing boat has already settled there. So I calculated the Schwoj circle and dropped anchor. After the many successful anchor manoeuvres, I was confident, but the anchor chain jerked across the seabed. So that still didn't work. And there was something on Navily... Don't anchor in front of the green wall. In the meantime, we had pulled the anchor so far that we had almost reached the green wall. I shout "Abort", and at that precise moment the anchor took hold impressively. It is now secure. But the fact that we had now parked in front of the green wall did not bode well. But only our ship was level with the wall, our anchor was further to the east, as the anchor fender documented.
The big ride to the eastern islands was planned for the next morning. Again well over ninety nautical miles, depending on the course we set, even over a hundred. Getting up early was a must, we were ready to weigh anchor at 4 o'clock. Where is the fender, have we been going round in circles like this? After a 360-degree look round, it was to be feared that we had lost it. I had tied the knot to the anchor shackle myself and I'm sure that the water cleat was properly attached. Well, let's get the anchor up first. It was clear what had to happen - with a violent jerk, the anchor told us that it was stuck. Great. It was the first time this had happened to me after many anchor manoeuvres. And right at that moment, the safety line is no longer there. To relieve the strain, I put a thick line through an anchor link and used a little force to free the anchor. After a few attempts, another line broke with a bang and snapped in two. I tinkered with it again and tried again.
In the meantime, 3 crew members have gathered at the bow for a consultation, and I'm disillusioned as I sail a few more circles backwards. Was there something there? Probably my imagination. I was already thinking goodbye to the anchor when the men at the front experimented a little and an "anchor coming" sounded. It was a huge relief, I hadn't expected that.
Three quarters of an hour late, we were now able to set off into the dark night. I stayed at the bow for a while with the torch, who knows if there were any buoys or fishing nets laid out so close to the coast. Safety was quickly restored and the wind picked up again, so I set sail up the southern headland. As usual, the wind indicator quickly jumped to over 30 knots. Will it be another ride like the day before? The route is much longer and takes us across the open Atlantic.
As if the difficulties of the journey had suddenly been cancelled, we make excellent progress, don't have to sail close to the wind as feared and have to deal with a reasonable wave.
The wind now becomes more predictable and blows at a steady 25 knots, just right for the Prosecco. After a few hours we are joined by dolphins. Several dozen of them, and finally I see what I've been waiting for so long. The dolphins jump off the crest of the wave and come completely out of the water. As a farewell, there are two more jumps a little further away that seem almost unbelievable. We drive off into the evening with a big grin on our faces.
Just as dusk sets in, we reach our anchorage on the island of Boa Vista. Very close to our buoy position at the start of our journey in a bay, we lay down in the second row of anchored yachts. This is a completely new impression, as we had previously been almost or actually alone at our anchorages. The bottom in Sal Rei Bay has a sandy bottom and therefore provides a good hold for our anchor. This time we don't use the anchor fender.
Return journey eastwards to Boa Vista and Sal
The penultimate leg takes us to Santa Maria on Sal. The first time we were still impressed by the surf, this time we're going for it. After a beautiful cross and my reaching the first 10,000 nautical miles, for which I take the helm for a few minutes, we reach our anchorage in the early evening. Here, too, the sandy bottom offers a safe night. However, the swell here is remarkable.
After we weigh anchor the next morning, we sail past the beautiful sandy beach of Santa Maria. There is something in the water in front of us. Two divers are trying to attract our attention. However, the escort boats are too far away to notice them. I have already prepared myself for my first sea rescue mission, but they refuse our help. I hurry down and get the gas horn. A loud sound comes out, but how you're supposed to make any sound signals with it is a mystery to me. At some point, however, a skipper becomes aware of the two of them and picks them up.
The grande Finale
We interrupt the last leg of the journey with another swimming stop in the Baía da Murdeira. The anchor doesn't want to grip quite so well here and we slip back a few metres. But as we only want to stay here for an hour anyway, we put up with it. In any case, the exclusion zone must be observed here, where anchoring is prohibited.
As my time at the helm was more than limited, I want to take over for one or two nautical miles. I've been keeping a close eye on our log for the last few minutes, and after checking it several times, it's clear: I'm finally going to pass the 10,000 nautical mile mark. Others will certainly achieve this in a much shorter time. But not every holiday cruise offers as many nautical miles as the Cape Verde Islands. Perhaps the experience should also be measured against other things. A salt ridge that has sailed across the Atlantic a few times must first manage as many mooring manoeuvres as I have behind me. In any case, I'm delighted to have passed this mark during this extraordinary trip.
Our tour ends in the evening, we are allocated a buoy and my faux pax of running the line over the railing is quickly rectified. An impressive and impressive journey comes to an end. We have defied the wind, especially the gusts and the rolling seas of the Cape Verde Atlantic and are proud of the almost 550 nautical miles we have travelled in the two weeks.
Epilogue
My plane doesn't leave until Sunday night, so I still have a day off on Sal. I was overconfident and offered Samuel from Alboran Charter the chance to fix the small defects and get the boat up to scratch with him. He's already waiting for me on Saturday morning. Well then, let's fix the reefing line - it's always exciting to see where you can run this line. We have to go ashore a few times and act as a taxi boat for arriving fishermen. I feel very much at home, a great way to end the day. Especially now that we've ticked off the penultimate item on our to-do list and there's only one thing left to do: bar! In the evening, I have to pull myself together a bit to catch my plane. But I can hardly tear myself away from the many great and friendly dogs that join us. Later, Udo from the crew of our trip joins us, we go for another meal in Espargos and then Samuel drives me to the airport.
An eventful trip with many experiences and moving impressions comes to an end. Next time it will be "Welcome to the living room, the Baltic Sea, off to Törehamn and the most northerly buoy in the Baltic Sea!".
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