(Sailors have their own idioms – my sailing reference is https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Glossary_of_nautical_terms)
A minimum of 3,500 nautical miles across the Atlantic Ocean from South Africa to Brazil is a lot of blue water to cover for any vessel, but at this moment I am up for a big, hairy, personal challenge. I’m fit, healthy, solvent, and most importantly, have a month free of commitments.
That said I would only undertake such a long passage if I had complete confidence in the boat and the skipper. My previous crossings across the English Channel twice on Provident and four days from Darwin to Ambon, Indonesia, too many years ago on my cousin’s yacht. I will be the least experienced person aboard.
Our week of fair weather day sailing with British co-skippers Em and Dan Bower on their yacht Skyelark travelling from St Lucia to Union Island and back in January 2016 was a far cry from an Atlantic crossing, but I got a good sense of their skills, temperament and the boat itself. Three big ticks! When I saw they had a spare berth from Cape Town that would get me to Brazil via St Helena in time for Carnaval In Rio plus some other exciting stuff I jumped at it. This would be adventure sailing with a capital A.
D-Day Minus Two/4 Jan 2018:
Skyelark and the rest of the World ARC fleet have been in Cape Town since before Xmas. Crews have been touring or flew home for family celebrations.
I joined the boat as arranged at 4pm at the V & A Marina, Cape Town. All but one of the four paying crew were already present. Number four returned from visiting Robben Island and we had the full complement. My shipmates were Tim, an Englishman from Wales, Hermann from Bavaria and Sjaak, a Dutchman from Utrecht. All experienced sailors, they were welcoming and supportive. 
Left to right Tim, Em, Sjaak, Hermann and Dan
Given the makeup of the crew I was lucky to score the forward port cabin. My only company were the small spinnaker and sail cover stored on the top bunk. ‘Sleep Anywhere’ Tim took a galley bunk, Sjaak and Hermann kindly shared the forward starboard cabin and Em and Dan had the aft double. A rare treat for them as they usually take galley berths. Sjaak, Hermann and I shared the tiny head in the pointy end. It had a door entry from each cabin. The agreed signal that it was occupied was to be the turning on the light. Fine in theory, but the door vents were high enough to give direct line of sight to the loo from the berths… I always locked both doors but taking my first shower on a very bumpy sea I bounced off the bathroom wall, crashed into my door, the door gave and I fell into my cabin. And would you believe everyone was on deck! I was much more circumspect thereafter.
Part One of our briefing, ‘Life on Board’ and orientation to the boat, was covered in quick time, allowing us to have a shower (to wash off Table Mountain’s dust and sweat BLOG) before attending the World ARC welcome dinner held in appropriately in the Portuguese Mar e Sol restaurant on the marina.
Almost all boaties present had been part of the same fleet since leaving Grenada exactly a year ago. One family were sailing with their two young, very blonde kids. Mum was home schooling them. I could see how happy and independent the children were and how much affection they received from fellow sailors. I later learned this same family had wrecked on a reef in the Pacific, necessitating a hiatus of a year while the boat was lifted out and repaired. My admiration for them increased considerably.
D-Day Minus One: I started taking seasickness meds and nipped off for breakfast and wifi at Cape Grace Hotel, an exceptionally well run five star hotel on the waterfront. By 9am our crew were queueing to take the minibus to the immigration and customs office to obtain clearance out of South Africa. It was worth being early birds as our paperwork took the better part of an hour and the line was out the door when we left. The administrivia was conducted relatively efficiently and only Dan and Em were quizzed.
Grace Hotel vegan brekky.
The Queue
Part Two of the briefing, man overboard, marine disaster management, life jackets, life boats etc. followed. The remainder of the afternoon we were free to do as we pleased. My priorities were to obtain pounds sterling for St Helena, (our only sto mid-Atlantic and British Overseas Territory), lunching at a waterfront terrace restaurant to people watch, and stocking up on vegan food and snacks to supplement what had already been purchased for the boat. A final crew dinner onshore and then there was just one more sleep before being irrevocably committed to a month at sea.
Day One: Another breakfast at Cape Grace Hotel, a chat with my husband Stuart back in Australia, and last messages sent to friends and family. On the way back to the boat I watched a multiracial dragon boat team of all women dressed in hot pink preparing for training. I asked them why they dressed in pink. They told me they are all breast cancer survivors and race under the name Amabele Belles. They’re the reigning South African women’s champions and next compete overseas in Florence, Italy, in July. I could see their male coach was visibly proud of them. Go girls!
Our crew had been ordered to assemble on deck by 9am for the 10:30am opening of the swing bridge to exit the marina, so I hurried back to the boat. Nine of the eleven boats of the World ARC fleet started with us. We motored to the start line, set our sails and on the start blast at 11am were in a good position to take off, straight into a fog bank. We could hear two separate loud fog horns belonging to container ships in the channel but could only see them on the computer AIS. Felt very ‘Pirates of the Caribbean’. Once we’d passed through the fog spectacular Table Mountain receded into the distance. A pod of dolphins suddenly appeared at our stern to farewell us.
Dan and Em took pity on the new chums for the first 48hrs, cooking lunches and dinners while we got our sea legs and settled into the round the clock three hours on and six hours off watch system. My watch partner for this leg was Hermann, while Sjaak and Tim paired up and Em did her watch solo. Dan was always on call and supervised sail or course changes.
We spotted our first whale blowing in the distance, then every half hour or so we’d see another one. One breached perfectly for us. As for seals, there were too many to count. Young ones sometimes approached the boat and leaped out of the water to get a better look at us. Mostly they just floated lazily on their backs with all four flippers in the air, gently waving to warm themselves.
Container ships use the same run line we were on so watching for vessels was a critical task for the first 48 hrs. Thank god for AIS.
We have several of the other yachts in sight, they look lovely with jib and mainsail up and heeling over.
Day Two: We’ve had to motor sail a fair bit to keep to our course and when we do sail it’s usually by auto pilot. Weather is variable with some rain squalls, shifting winds and three metre waves. The dark night starry sky with a half moon was glorious. It’s cold at night, I wear three layers under my waterproof jacket, waterproof trousers over leggings and a beanie.
By Day three we settled into our watch routine. The wind moved round behind us so Dan poled out the jib with the mainsail set as a goosewing and we clipped along at a boat speed of 8-9 knots.
We won the fleet 4pm daily quizz over radio which meant we had to host next day.
Next night watch was pretty scary for me with rain, an oily high sea and strong gusty winds up to 24 knots. There was also the small matter of continued shipping traffic. At one point we had six ships to watch out for.
My view for 1.5 hours per night watch.
The corkscrew wave action is a real bugger, it put me on my back twice in the galley. I’ll have some interesting bruises by St Helena. My bunk has a lee cloth, a piece of canvas that clips onto the cupboard by my head to stop me rolling out of bed. Much needed. On my first 3am watch I woke to my alarm, sat up in bed and cracked the bridge of my nose on the bunk above. Eye wayering pain.
But chores continue. Hermann and I were on dinner duty and managed a passable sausage, mash and veg meal. My mini falafels were delicious. Every third night we cook dinner before a 6-9pm watch and when we come off a 3-6pm watch we clean up what the cooks have done to the galley. There is some good natured ribbing about how many pans and stuff the cooks mess up. Dinner is served in bowls on deck. Amazingly the rain holds off to allow this. It’s the one sure time in 24 hours when we are all together.
Day Four conditions were still gusting 25 knot winds SSW. Happily it eased off, the sun came back and it was pleasant sailing. We spent a lot of time preparing our 20 questions for the quizz as without internet we have to rely on our own group knowledge rather than google or wikipedia. It’s quite interesting (nod to Stephen Fry) to determine all those different facts our motley crew holds that are unassailable. Lexington won this round easily and was therefore proclaimed the next quizz master.
We lost visual contact with all the other boats some time ago. The twice daily fleet scheds at 10am and 7pm serve to plot everyone’s positions, request assistance and catch up on gossip. We can see the fleet are really spread out now.
Conditions in the night were the strongest winds and highest seas to date. Not comfortable at all whether at the helm or below deck. Surfing some big following waves was a little more excitement than I needed. During our night watch we had to reef the mainsail in further which meant Hermann and Dan standing at the mast and me at the helm. We still use auto pilot which I much prefer, Hermann likes to helm. Don’t care to repeat that night watch. On the upside we made 29 miles on our shift, the highest to date.
Day Five was a perfect day to fly the kite. The small spinnaker is ideal for these south, south east Tradewinds.
Dan’s trawling line finally hooked a fish, a small bluefin tuna. All the men ate tuna sashimi and ceviche. Quite a few sail changes were needed to keep us above seven knots. Tout l’Amour won the quizz convincingly so they host tomorrow. The northerners, Hermann, Tim and Sjaak, enjoyed the sun but it’s too strong for me without full clothing coverage. Ships are rare now as are birds. Only one or two frigate birds buzz us.
We were on dinner duty again. I cooked hot, wet rice, otherwise known as mushroom and pea risotto, in the pressure cooker according to Dan’s recipe. It was quite tasty. Hermann cooked the accompanying roast chicken thighs for the carnivores.
Day Six Our ‘halfway to halfway’ day started cloudy with light winds so down came the jib and up went the small spinnaker again. Hermann has conjunctivitis. Dan will ask one of the onboard doctors during the daily 10am fleet sched which topical antibiotic is best so Hermann can start taking something. At the moment he is stoic but most parts blind and in some discomfort.
We celebrated reaching the halfway to St Helena milestone with hot showers. The rest of the time it’s a quick, cold wash or when it’s really rough, a French shower (baby wipes). I was excited to be able to wash my hair which had attained the texture of matted straw.
We won the daily quizz which means we host again. Much time is spent devising quizz questions.
Nothing eventful on our night watch apart from a large flying fish landing in the cockpit. It was pitch black and all I could hear was a slapping sound. The fish was as long as two of my hands. Took me two attempts but I got it safely back over the side. They are the fishiest of fish, requires two hand washes to remove the smell
Day Seven I managed the longest sleep so far, five hours. Exhaustion is the best soporific. I heard nothing of another blue fin tuna being landed, or the new, colourful, larger spinnaker going up. The winds were fickle, as low as nine knots necessitating the bigger kite to keep us moving. At one stage we had to change from port to starboard tack, quite a task as the spinnaker had to come down, be stuffed back in its bag then flown once again.
Hermann’s eyes are clearing up well thanks to the topical antibiotic cream.
Today is Dan’s 36th birthday. We celebrated with South African bubbles, carrot cake baked and iced by Sjaak, a clever card drawn by Tim (who is also our resident blogger on the Skyelark site) and signed by us all, and a new sketch book that Tim happened to have spare. I contributed a yellow ribbon. Tim cooked Dan’s favourite dinner of roast lamb and roast potatoes and a party atmosphere prevailed.
Our quizz questions seemed a bit too hard for the contestants today, but Lexington was the clear winner. I suspect they somehow manage an internet connection as there’s almost always about a 45 second delay before they respond correctly to the harder questions. Hmmm….
Up until today I’ve been a bit apprehensive about how exposed to the ocean I am. Even lying on my bunk, which is well below deck, I hear an unnerving loud rush of water passing my ears just a few centimetres away. I’m acutely aware that I am one tiny person on a small boat on a vast expanse of blue nothingness. When those feelings hit me I talk sternly to myself, reminding myself that I chose this adventure precisely to stretch myself.
Night watches are still confronting, but today I started to relax into the emptiness a little. Hermann and I have established an easy routine which we conduct almost entirely in silence. We’re aware that Dan and Em’s cabin window is only centimetres away and they deserve their rest. Either Hermann or I sit behind the instruments lit up for ease of reading, monitoring the wind speed, direction and our course like a hawk. We have standing orders from Dan and if we hit those limits we are to wake him. The other one sits well in front of the instruments constantly scanning 360 degrees for lights of other vessels and approaching squalls.
Every half hour one of us goes below to the chart table to check the AIS for problematic vessels then we change posts. After three hours on duty we hand over to the next watch and take turns writing the ship’s log. And so on and so on. Time passes neither quickly nor slowly, it just passes.
Day Eight Another good night’s sleep, five and a half hours between midnight and 6am and a further two hours after coming off watch at 9am. More sea creatures leaped into the boat overnight, a tiny flying fish and a small squid with a huge blue eye. Both sadly expired by the time we realised they were there. Bright green fluorescent patches pass in our wake. Dan tells me these are clumps of tiny, luminous squid.
I don’t mean to jinx myself but I think I truly have my sea legs. I’ve dispensed with the acupressure bands and the Scopolomine skin patches will have worn off. I can sit below reading and writing this in the constant side to side rolling motion caused by the goosewing sail set up.I am hopeful this is the case as the medications cause dry mouth and make me a little dozey.
I heard a flurry of activity when I was showering. A shackle broke on a guy and had to be replaced. Conditions are good with a fairly steady Tradewind behind us. Dan later calculates there was a period of four days without a sail change!
The temperature is warming to shorts and tshirt by day now we are north of the Tropic of Capricorn, but we still need full kit for night watch.
Owl hosted the quizz today. Our crew won convincingly with everyone contributing winning answers. Nicely done team!
Day Nine: During midnight watch two more flying fish landed with thuds in the cockpit and when the sun came up we found another two expired on the deck. This only happens at night so I deduce it is a night vision problem. This little fellow lay unnoticed by all except Em who has an aversion to fish of all kinds. 
It’s now less than 500 nautical miles to St Helena. Dan received an email from Stuart (this service is to be used for emergencies) with some good news about Tristan’s house and Stu’s request for my itunes password. Some things never change!
Our brains trust blitzed the 4pm fleet quizz hosted by Solo. We have a clear numbers and diversity advantage. When Em is on the radio mike she often guves the other boats a ten second advantage before she answers for us.
The rest of the day passed uneventfully. I am not sure I will ever totally adjust to the severe sideways rolling motion. The wind is too strong to fly the spinnaker which would stabilise the boat considerably. Despite the rollicking motion Hermann and I cooked his favourite meal for the carnivores, steak with potato gratin. I had baked sweet potato, baked beans and peas.
Day Ten: Our 3am to 6am watch was especially gusty, with wind speeds up to 24 knots. We made 26 nautical miles. Em always takes over from us. Poor woman got smacked in the face by a flying fish as it leapt on board. Of all the people to hit it chose the one most likely to freak out!
It’s started dull and grey. Apart from our fleet zero vessels have been visible on AIS for days. As we’re only a day and night away from St Helena (Tradewinds willing) we’ve started reading up on the island and planning our activities ashore for the three days we hope to layover. We won the quizz prepared by Arabella, but several of the questions set by its Russian crew were too hard. Justifiable revenge for all our Anglo Saxon-oriented factoids. We’re currently in second place on this leg behind Arabella, however have yet to factor in the hours we motored early on.
My preferred sail config.
Day Eleven: Uneventful night watches except that this time it was Hermann who got smacked by a flying fish in the cockpit. He doesn’t like picking them up so I do the necessary. By midday we can make out the outline of St Helena island, one of Earth’s most remote places. Land ho!
As we got closer the sea became more unsettled and the wind picked up, especially when we came into the acceleration zone. Down comes the mainsail and we sail with only jib for the final two hours. The boat’s motion is all over the place and my seasickness returns with a vengeance. Too late to do anything about it so I nap off watch and nibble dry crackers.
With Dan and Em’s blessing I’ve decided to spend the three days we have at St Helena on shore in a Jamestown hotel. With the prospect of another ten or eleven days of ocean sailing to reach Brazil I am in dire need of a complete night’s sleep and a bit of pampering. Plus I can experience the island more fully staying ashore. The rest of the crew will need to take a water taxi from the anchorage every time they want to come on land and back.
We arrive in Jamestown Harbour at 1:45pm local time (we gain two hours with the time difference) and pick up a mooring line next to Arabella. On adjusted time we beat them! I quickly pack my overnight bag, we tidy the boat and have a celebratory tot of rum (except Em who only drinks Bubbly) before two smartly uniformed St Helena customs and quarantine officers arrive by water taxi. They introduce themselves as Dell-Marie and Jerome. They could not be more pleasant and the paperwork is done swiftly. Once they’ve dealt with another yacht that came in just after us (not on the World ARC) the officers return to give us a ride to the wharf.
Solid ground feels far from solid as I lurch about like a drunken sailor. I’m not sure which is worse, the tossing of the boat or this discombobulating sensation of the earth rising up with each step.
Our first stop is immigration where another kindly official checks our passports, landing cards and medical insurance documents. St Helena is the only territory where the latter is a condition of entry, understandable given that is one of the most remote places on the planet. I’m cleared for entry first and am thus free to take off on my own. I am off the clock after eleven days at sea!
Never Ending Gap Year 