2004 Malta, Italy, Spain, Morroco and Atlantic crossing

2004 was another busy and exciting year for me, I hope it was as much so for you. My travels took me from Malta to Barbados, a straight line distance of 5034 miles. This included the crossing of the Atlantic, 2009 miles from the Cape Verde islands. I am now within eighty four miles of having gone once around, that milestone will need to wait for 2005. I am glad to be in the Carib, where warm water, coral and fish can be found, right under the boat.

I have had fourteen crew, friends, guests and women aboard to make this a year of little time alone. The longest guest was two months. I enjoy the time shared with others on the boat. It provides some company and lightens the work load. Most of these people are well received and friendly, some are not, one of the most challenging ever was with me this year, her husband made up for it. While I want everyone to feel welcome I am amazed at how some people come into my home then proceed to do everything they can to irritate me.

Email has been difficult this year. Malta was first world with great access, after that it was all down hill, Tunisia was really tough, Italy was challenging, hard to find and often would not allow the use of a disc, Spain was difficult to find and often would not allow the use of a disc, many of the internet sites in Spain were combined with a Casino. Go figure, the youth that need to become familiar with computers are not allowed to use them because they are too young to go in. Surprisingly, Morocco was not that difficult, course I did not stay there that long. Disc failures and computer problems combined to make staying in touch a challenge.

I spent five enjoyable months, December 03 to April 04, in Malta. English is spoken, the people are friendly, it has mild winter weather so it is a tourist destination for much of Europe, it provides a winter home to many cruisers, it is well supplied with chandleries for parts and it is pretty expensive.
Given that everything is closed over the holidays I could accomplish little, so sailing around the islands of Malta and Gozo with Sandy for eight days made sense.
Malta has been the subject of two sieges, in each of which the Maltese did not yield. The first was in 1565 and lasted for five months. This battle was between six hundred Knights of St John, with three thousand Maltese and five thousand mercenaries battling with thirty thousand Turks arriving on one hundred eighty ships and lasted until the defenders were reduced to six hundred men and the attackers were subjected to extremely heavy losses. The end came when reinforcements from Sicily arrived causing the Turks to leave the job unfinished.

Valletta holds most of the things I want to see, the museums, castle walls, old buildings, churches. Much of Valletta was leveled during WWII by Italian and German bombers. Because of it's strategic location along the shipping lane from western to eastern ends of the Med and consequently the supply lines for north Africa, Malta was subjected to more bombs that any other country during this war, yet it did not yield. The locals dug caves in the soft sandstone close to homes and work, when the airaid sirens would sound everyone would go to their cave to wait out the attack, then when the all clear was sounded bakcto work. Many of these caves are still evident, some have been boarded up or converted to garage or storage. Many resupply convoys were sunk before one finally was able to break the blockade. The Maltese were suffering starvation, out of fuel, and the three biplanes, Faith, Hope and Charity, they had to battle the German Stukas were ill suited for the job. The convoy also brought Spitfires which were launched from an American Carrier and flown in empty, arriving with little fuel and no arms to save weight. The Germans knew about the arrival of these planes and coordinated an attack to catch the Spitfires on the ground. Little did they know that the ground crews were able to refuel, arm and get the planes back into the air in only six minutes each. The German Stukas did not stand a chance against the modern, faster and more maneuverable Spitfires. This change of equipment signaled the end of the siege of Malta.

Marsaxlokk Bay is sectioned into three bays, one of which is a large commercial container transfer facility and oil port, one is the fishing village and the other a larger town at St George's Bay. Malta has set aside this corner of the island as a Tax Free Port where international shipments can be taken off one ship and reloaded onto another ship for further shipment. Yes, most countries charge duty on this type of operation.

The fishing village at Marsaxlokk is said to be the most picturesque in Malta. The many local fishing boats lying to moorings are painted in nearly identical color schemes, alternating blue, yellow, orange, red stripes make them very colorful, each displaying the Orisis eye on each bow. I find the use of this eye to have been consistently used in every part of the world on the fishing fleets, how did that get around all those thousands of years ago. The town was not notable. Like many others in the Med, it is wrapped around the coastline of the bay, then narrow winding streets leading up the hill, always a hill.

Hofra Bay provided a remote stop, no town, with high walls of eroded sandstone towering a couple hundred feet above the water the shelter was good. The locals sit on the bank with Huck Fin type long poles trying for the small fish that hang around the shallows.
The west side of Malta provides no shelter, therefore it must be done in one move. The only spot of interest on this coast is the Blue Grotto, a place the tourists pay a local to take them by boat to a spot where the wind and waves of winter storms have undercut, hollowed out, washed away massive rocks. Leaving a place of arches, holes, echoes and pinnacle rocks thrusting out of the sea. The water was too deep to anchor but I was able to move in very close to get a look. The west coast is only about twenty five miles, which is no big deal if the wind is right. When I last checked the weather forecast the wind was to change to the west, a great direction for the northward move along the west coast. Did it happen, no, the wind was light from the north the whole way. When I turned east, on the north end of the island I was able to get to Gozo with little daylight left.

Gozo is a step backward. A small sister compared to the island of Malta, it has four larger towns, many old ruins, including Ggantija Prehistoric Temples, reputed to be the oldest, man made, free standing structure in the world, built in about 3500 BC. Older than the Pyramids and Stonehenge. Neolithic remains have been found in the caves around Malta suggesting cave men were here. Gozo is also the home to the Citadel of the Knights of St. John. It was built in the center of Gozo and was so late in being built it was never tested as the Turks had been chased out by then. Weather is now tearing it down, one gust of wind at a time.

The Blue Lagoon on the island of Comino is just that, a well sheltered, sand bottom cove where the water is a turquoise blue. This is one of the major attractions for the tourists in summer. The island of Comino has only one hotel, yet dozens of day tripper boats bring out tourists to enjoy the blue water, laying naked on the beaches and rocks. Some stay the night and become floating discos with booming dance music till the late hours. During winter it is remote and quiet. In previous times Comino was a stronghold for pirates that ravaged shipping in the area until the Knights built a Bastion, complete with cannon, and manned by thirty men, to keep the pirate ships away. I used this calm water to get into the water and scrape my speed reducing, lump covered bottom. No the water is not warm even in a wet suit.

St Paul Bay is reputed to be where St Paul and St Luke were shipwrecked while being transported to Rome as prisoners. The ship lost its way in a storm and crashed onto the rocks in this far off bay of Malta and was beaten to pieces by the waves. The crew was here for three months, in which time St Paul was able to heal and convert Publius, governor of Malta, who was later to become the first Bishop of Malta. He was then sent on to Rome where he was beheaded, St Paul not Publius. The Church of St Paul Shipwreck, in Valletta, is suppose to have the wrist bone of St Paul and half of the column on which he was beheaded.

Malta also claims the third and forth largest unsupported domes in Europe. These people were very religious and support massive churches, each town trying to outdo the other in the size and opulence of the church they built, still use and maintain. The third largest dome is in the town of Xewkija on the island of Gozo and was built between 1951 and 1971, much by volunteers. This is not ancient times and the people are still willing to make the financial sacrifices necessary to support such a large church. The most fantastic sites are the churches, the one in Mosta, round, ornate, beautiful was in full service during WWII, when a five hundred pound German bomb came through the ceiling, bounced around inside the church full of people but did not go off, not one person was injured. I think I should be a member of that church.

Most of the time while moving I drag a fish line or two, I am convinced there are no more fish in the Med outside of the many fish farm enclosures found in many of the bays where the water would be shallow enough for anchoring.

Ma gives many reminders that she is the boss, one day in January the wind started to come up, so I set additional lines, and doubled a couple that I need to keep me off the wall. The next day the wind began in earnest, blowing moe than twenty knots on the side of RPhurst, so I released some lines, changed others to turn the boat ninety degrees, bow into the wind and swell, using the same lines to shore and my anchors. Even this small bay can build white caps and sizeable waves in high wind. Add to that the swell that is running outside the bay, some of which drives itself into the bay and it is an interesting ride.

Anytime you are tied to a wall you have reflective waves, the energy in the wave does not disappear when it hits a wall, it just reverses and moves the other direction. When a wave hits a beach, the energy is dissipated by rolling up on the shallow, much as the tsunami in the Indian Ocean. So here I am, sitting in a fully sheltered bay, wind blowing over thirty knots, with three to four foot waves rolling under me and those reflection waves coming at a slightly different angle, interesting.

Knowing full well that the rain will follow the wind I set out my laundry buckets, the next morning they are full of brown looking, very dirty water. The system that is causing all of this is centered over Africa, which is less than two hundred miles away, picks up desert sand and carries it away to combine with water droplets that begin the rain. Last year in Turkey I noticed the same thing, when the wind blew from the south, the rain was like mud, after a rain I needed to wash the boat.
All of this blowing and raining kept me on the boat for a couple of days watching the waves explosively break against the distant rocks at the entrance to the bay, sending towers of spray and foam fifty feet in the air.

With the hope and intention of finding a lower priced haulout, Malta will be the highest priced, by double, previously paid, I left Malta Friday, 6 Feb, heading for Tunisia. I had arranged crew for the passage, a woman that was interested in longer term cruising. I need crew and she wanted to sail, a win win situation. Ursula returned to the UK from Monastir after we arrived in Tunisia as arranged.

Emails over the previous weeks had identified the lower charges I could expect in Tunisia. Like many other vendors, American included, replies were sporadic. I had discussed the Monastir area with other cruisers, had accessed their web site and exchanged messages, they assured me that they could haul RPhurst. I had additionally contacted one other new facility, to which I had not received a reply. I had also been told, by other cruisers, that the fishing ports also haul yachts.

The distance to Monastir is less than two hundred miles, nearly straight west. A distance I should be able to cover in about forty hours, or less with good wind, from the right direction or longer if the conditions do not allow. I had watched the weather forecasts which told of a couple of days of light north winds, diminishing and backing to the west. I felt the window of opportunity for good wind was there.

As is often the case reality does not match expectations. The wind was moderate, mid twenties, however it was out of the west northwest. This allows me to sail, but puts me hard on the wind for the first twenty four hours, it also shifts me south of the heading I want. What was not expected was a south setting current, which moved me even farther south. On the opposite tack I was making back my northing, but a lower speed was the price. The actual time was more than I would like. I left mid day on Friday and arrived Monastir early afternoon on Sunday. Yes, I was due some sleep.

The first disappointment was the yard at Monastir is not wide enough for me to enter their lift slip. I had told them my width, they had replied they could handle that width, fact is, you can not put a twenty foot width into an eighteen foot slot. The next step was the fishing port near Monastir. They have plenty of room, a huge lift that has been off and on broken down for six months. Do I really want to be hauled at a place that could abandon me on shore for a long period waiting for the lift to be repaired before I can be launched. Next I called the yard that had not replied, they could haul me, have room and are not busy, they also charge nearly as much as Malta, plus they do not allow me to do the work. Next I took a louage, a mini-van-bus, to the fishing yard down the coast. They have a huge travelift, have plenty of room and could haul me in a few days. They are three miles out of town, security is minimal, feeding myself will be difficult, email will be impossible. I am thinking about this possibility, it has many disadvantages, yet it can be done. The same day I continued down the coast to the next larger town, Mahdia, where a large port and fishing fleet calls home. They have a large lift and plenty of room. After an entire afternoon of searching for the office, finally I was able to find the people in charge. The price was right, the lift is large enough, but, they will now begin to haul the fishing fleet and could not look at me for three weeks. This is not workable.

The following day I packed a bag to go to Tunis, the capital of Tunisia, jumped on the train, which is two different trains, and made the trip. This will include a site seeing trip to Carthage, the ancient power of the south. The day I arrived the Tunisian soccer team won their semi final game in the African Cup Tournament. The city was wild, till late in the morning, the youth, and not so young took to the streets to party and demonstrate loyalty to their team. If they win the Cup, on the coming Saturday, the city will be nuts. They did win and they were nuts, good for them.

Tunisia is very Arabic, very Muslim, very French and not very advanced. The villages resemble all of the Arabic towns and villages in all the other Arabic countries I have seen. Those pictures of rubble, damage and garbage shown in the Iraqi footage are not evidence of war, all Arabic areas look like this. They never finish a building, never take away the rubble from building, no roof is common, no stucco over the building blocks or paint on the second floor, is normal. If the builder finishes, a tax is applied, so why finish. It makes all of the rural areas look like a war zone.

Many of the young ladies wear the head scarves that are so much in the news these days. Most do not. I have not seen a Barka yet, women are allowed to drive, clearly are allowed to work and do not seem to be a lower class. The train trips have revealed only one group of camels, is that a herd.

The trip to Carthage was a disappointment. After having seen the sites at Athens, Delos, Delphi, Ephysis and Rome, Carthage does not measure up. Little has been excavated, none has been restored, yet, all of the valuable items have been taken into the museum in Tunis, the best to Paris. The museum with it's many statues, mosaics, carvings, burial chambers is worthwhile, Carthage was a big deal, the remains are not. The best preserved building in the area is a Catholic Church, erected by the French in the second millennium. The day I was there a commercial or promotional event for Nokia was in progress, seems to take away from the antiquity to have spot lights, colored lights cast onto a stage, large speakers for a sound system along with cast and crew, this all seemed out of place.

Tunisia has endless miles of sand beaches built over the years by blowing Sahara dust. As a cheap place to visit, it has built hundreds of large beach hotels that welcome hundreds of thousands of tourists every summer. Prices are far less than Malta, about the same as Croatia last summer.

The national language is Arabic, the spoken language is French, I speak neither. Language is a barrier. The bus fare to Tunis, a couple hundred kilometers, is seven Dinar, one dollar buys about one point four Dinar, a room in Tunis was forty Dinar. Email is four Dinar per hour. Fuel is point four five Dinar per liter. American cigs are less than a dollar a pack, kind of makes you want to start again. Check in is free and has no hidden charges, nor did the officials ask for Backsheesh, bribe, or any other payments. At the market most fruit and veg are of low quality. Meat is hung all day without much cooling, so do your marketing early.

In the next day or so I will decide whether to go to one of the fishing ports, or go back to Malta for the haulout. I am running out of time. Another cruising couple staying at Monastir had been ripped off in the market, twice. Once someone cut their canvas bag but did not take any of the winch parts carried inside it, the next time he had his wallet taken out of his pocket. Apparently they work in threes, one or more bump or distract you while the other does his thing. I was told that when another cruiser saw a young man steal the coin cup from a blind beggar, he grabbed the young man and held him until police could be summoned, when the police arrived they criticized him for stopping the young man. The end result was I could not be hauled there, or not in a place that is convenient or safe for me. Perhaps I will just carry all of the parts and find a place along the way. The problem with that plan is that it interferes with the cruising season and I will have crew onboard that do not want to spend time in a boat yard.

The crossing back to Malta was great sailing. The wind was on the beam or aft of the beam, the current was in my favor and on the way over I discovered three Italian islands, actually I did not discover them, they have been there for years, at about the halfway point where I could stop for a few hours and get some sleep. While the coarse going to Tunisia was bent, crooked, off heading, the return was straight as an arrow. I had little to do, no tacking, no wondering when to tack, no dangers, I had time to read part of a book.

Now back in Malta I am finding life is not so settled here either. The preferred yard with whom I had spoken is now five weeks behind, the second has raised their price, they were too high to begin with. Boat work is not supposed to be this difficult. I guess I have been spoiled by having hauled out in areas more accustomed to working with cruisers. This seems to be more dedicated to the local cruising fleet.

With extra time on my hands, waiting for parts that should have been here last week, I have been working on some of the small projects, many of which have been put off for far too long. I will need to put off the haulout until later. There are not many wood pieces on the exterior of RPhurst, some of those I have allowed to go to weathered wood. The few I try to keep varnished were well past due, so dig out all of the sanding and varnishing tools. Open the half used cans of varnish, or course I have been hauling around dried up, skinned over and worthless varnish. I had bought a new can last summer, when I saw a familiar brand. I need to go through all of my cans of paints, I am sure many are well past their use by condition.

The cockpit tables are the pieces of wood that should look good. They are one of the first things most people see when they get into the cockpit, those damn first impressions can be lasting. Next the grated board over the scuppers, Then the trim around the entry door and steps on the sides of the cabin top. Sand, sand, varnish, sand, varnish, sand, varnish. The experts say fourteen coats are the right amount, I have never used that many, normally ending after four or five. One of these days I need to get at the interior wood, which is a much larger job.

I have been meaning to change the rudder quadrant leverage for some time, hoping to correct over steering. That means taking off each of the two quadrants, measure and drill a couple more holes to increase the movement of the quadrant with the same movement of the wheel. This is a good time to grease all of the pivot points. Before this job can be done the rudder compartments must be cleaned out, where to put all that stuff for a few days, as long as I am at it I can wash them too. Hope it works. I believe an improvement is shown. Still, I do not have any problems steering RPhurst, nearly all new crew do. It is a matter of not steering, less is more in this case.

The engines are back together and they even start. The place that did the service on the injectors and injector pumps tried something different. The original spec on the injectors was not working. I have had them checked and cleaned several times without improvement. This time they increased the opening pressure of the injectors by twenty percent, like magic, the engines start like they are supposed to. I will not know the underload performance until I lift anchor and get out of the bay. The end result was smooth running engines that take twenty five percent more fuel. As long as I was in the engine compartment I replaced the broken motor mounts with the new ones I ordered. Cleaning the oil residue is a big job, it seems that diesels like to cloud their vapors everywhere in the engine compartment when they are running, this makes a big mess and smells when the engine compartments are opened. My stainless should be the next project. I keep telling people that I do not have time to work, keeping this boat floating, clean and shiny is work enough.

To make sure I had plenty to do getting ready, another cruiser added his contribution. A couple of weeks ago Ron came in with a fifty foot catamaran and tied next to me. As he was alone and I always try to help everyone out, or in, as the case may be, I did not feel he had set his anchor very well. He was so appreciative for the help that he loaned me his folder of DVDs. I enjoyed movies for more than a week.

My concern about his anchor is that if he breaks loose in the strong winds that sometimes occur from the east he will slide into me, perhaps taking my anchor with him. Two nights before I was due to leave Malta the wind turned to the south and picked up, then began to turn to the east. Having seen a few of these over the last couple of months, I turned my boat ninety degrees. In this way I am using equally only one of my two anchors along with the docking ring on the quay to hold the boat, this also puts me bow into the swell making for a much more comfortable ride, it also reduces windage, my bows catch a lot less wind than my side.

The most severe wind in Malta is known as a Gregale, which blows from the northeast. While reading a book in the evening I heard a crunch, I did not feel it, which is good, to hear and feel the crunch is very bad. When I rushed out I saw that his boat was blown against the quay and was repeatedly being driven into the concrete by the waves. I jumped into my dingy and paddled to shore, tied off and ran to his boat, assessing the situation as I went. He was not there. I untied the downwind dockline from the quay, took it well upwind and tied it to a different docking ring, went onto the boat and adjusted the line I had tied and threw off the upwind stern line. The boat immediately began to turn the bow off the wind. While the boat was turning I found fenders to put on the side that would soon be on the concrete.

While I was doing all of this a passer by on the quay asking if he could help. I pointed to the bar across the street and asked him to go over there and ask for the Ron, tell him his boat is in trouble, which he did. More passers by stopped to offer help, I had them try to keep the boat off the wall, keeping the fenders below the top of the wall, in waves they tend to work out the top and stay there.

When Ron arrived he could not believe his eyes, his boat had a sizable hole in the stern and it was pounding against a wall that would love to make more holes. He instantly jumped onboard to start an engine and try to hold himself off, this may have helped if he had started the right one, all he was doing was drive the bow into the wall and tighten already strained lines. After calming him down a little, I was able to get him to help. Telling him everything I wanted him to do would have taken far too long, nor was I certain he would have understood, so I gave him small projects, one at a time.

He needed to use his dingy, which was full of water, from being tied in the swell, to take a line to one of the tourist boat moorings. These are large, they hold large boats, we would use it to hold his boat off the wall for the night. After he secured the first line to the mooring and returned the other end to me I put the line through the midship cleat and back to the a winch and began winching the boat off the wall. I could winch a few feet, then needed to slack the dock lines, winch some more, slack the dock lines, winch again until when about fifteen feet off the wall I began to look for Ron. He was sitting in his dingy at the bow, trying to pull his boat off the wall, using his dingy in reverse. I was able to convince him that he was off the wall. Now he needed to run a second line to the mooring, which I told him to tie to a different place on the mooring, because of the chance of wear, a part breaking or a line fail he needed two lines. When he returned this line I belayed it to a cleat on the stern. His boat was now safe.

We looked at the damage, which was considerable, talked about his need to check the aft compartment, which would now be filling with water, thanked all of the people that had offered help and I went back to my boat. It was nearly midnight and the exercise had taken nearly two hours. Ron went back to the bar.

The security of his boat was of great concern to me so I did not fall into deep sleep. Sometime later I heard my lines tighten, I hurriedly stole a peek out the hatch while I put on my shorts and tee shirt, of course his boat was leaning heavily on my bow line, I was holding him off the wall, the problem was, how long would my anchor take the strain of two boats. By the time I arrived at his boat he was out of bed and ready to go to work. While I was paddling over to his boat I could see the problem, his two lines from the mooring were loose. At this time I did not know why. His boat was being held off the wall by my bow line and his dingy, which was being crushed between his boat and the wall, he needed to use his dingy to replace the lines. We were able to haul the dingy out between the waves that were driving his boat into it and pinning it to the wall. As I hauled in the first line I noticed the knot at the end that should have been tied to the mooring. I gave him this line and told him to do the same thing he had done the first time, but to a different place. While he was doing this I hauled in the second line, it also had a knot on the end of the line, something had broken. When I had the first line back I gave him the second and told him again, tie it to a different place, then I again ran the first one through the midship cleat and back to the winch and began to winch the boat away from the wall, good thing he had left the fenders in place. When he returned with the second line I put it back on the stern cleat, again he was secure. I asked what he had tied to the first time, he thought to one of the lines holding the tourist boat. I suggested he go back and look. They use three lines to each mooring, if he had broken one of their lines, not likely, they are huge, their boat could come loose.

The next day he arranged help and asked if I would assist to re-anchor his boat. When this wind and swell dies, the tourist boat will again go to work, giving the tourists a boat ride, for a price of course. He had me drive the boat while one of the other guys was in the dingy and Ron and another on the bow. He had already picked up his anchor with the windlass, it was not holding anything.

We cast off the dock lines and motored out to where he wanted the anchor, dropped it and I backed away from the anchor and toward the wall. When he reached the end of the chain we stopped, before he placed the snubber in the line I suggested we give a better pull on the anchor. When I did, it broke loose. We moved forward, picking up the anchor, when it broke the surface it had a large piece of chain attached. The chain did not seem to be attached to anything because after several minutes of struggling to get it loose and they were able to drop the chain off the anchor we had drifted away from where we had picked it up. We will try again. This time when we reached the end of the anchor chain, I applied more engine and the anchor held fast. The first time it was the weight of the chain that had stopped the boat, it would not have held in a wind. After putting the dock lines back we were certain he would hold.

The crossing from Malta to Sicily was uneventful, good wind, fast passage and is only sixty miles.

Land travel is an important part of cruising. Ports and harbors can be seen from the boat while at anchor. Other sites, towns, farms, mountains, rivers and all of the other interesting things to see require some land cruising. It is also a shared activity with crew and having someone with whom to share the cost, driving and navigating helps. Having Pam, one of my favorite crew, here for a couple of weeks offered an opportunity to see some of the island of Sicily. Renting a car on my own will usually keep me in the buses, so when I have the opportunity, I will usually go. We drove one thousand seventy one kilometers over five days. The sites were wonderful. The timing was good because nearly all of Syracusa closes for the Easter Holiday, from the Wednesday before to the following Tuesday, including email. Italians will do anything that will keep them from working.

Most Italian roads are two lane, narrow with minimal signage. At one point we needed to stop and ask a gas station attendant for directions, something that real men never do. He answered the question before it was asked, possibly it has been asked too often. Which way to Syracusa. The next sign was six miles down the road and after three unmarked turns, no wonder we could not find the way.

The Italian drivers are very nearly the worst I have seen anywhere in the world. They are aggressive, inconsiderate, demanding to the extreme. Passing on blind curves is the norm, you must assume that on every curve a car will be coming toward you, in your lane. No, they do not pull back in, they expect you to move over. Three lanes of traffic on a two lane road is not uncommon.

Anytime traffic stops, because of a wreck, pedestrian, letting another car into traffic or to get into or out of a parking place will cause horns to blow, often starting five or six cars back in the pack. Gridlock is expected, everyone that can get into the intersection does, they will jam it with cars coming in from each road, all blowing their horns. If you wait until the intersection to begin your turn, you will have one or more cars or motorbikes passing you on your left, cutting you off from turning. When room for parallel parking is not available, they pull in diagonally, with the rear of the car taking the whole traffic lane, when there still are not enough parking spots, then double parking is used, when that does not have enough room then diagonal double parking is the key, OK, so now there is not room for traffic, no problem, just drive on the other side of the road and honk your horn. The guides say that Italians believe that everyone knows where they are, if needed someone will come to get them. Enough bitching about the driving, I did not see a single accident, yes, lots of smashed up cars, but no accidents.

Perhaps they are so angry because they pay more than four dollars per gallon for gasoline, one of the real bargains in America.

Sicily has participated in and undergone the same conquest and control that has affected all of the Mediterranean. The Greeks, Romans, Carthigians, Byzantines, Normans, Ottomans, Spaniards, Venetians, French and British to name but some of the invaders who took turns with the coastal pirates to make life difficult for the locals. Each town has a grand church or churches, extravagant affairs, with fifty foot high ceilings, gilding, paintings, statues, wonderful overbuilt memorable sites to see. I can not say enough to describe the churches, they are fantastic.

The other power that has controlled Sicily is Ma, nature that is. This is the place where two tectonic plates collide. Mt Etna is one result of that incredible force, eruptions and earthquakes are a way of life. Nearly all of Sicily was destroyed by an earthquake in 1693, so most of the buildings date from that time. Lesser quakes have changed or destroyed many smaller areas. The Tyrrhenian sea, the north coast of Sicily, has several active volcanos. Stromboli is known as the first lighthouse. From ancient times, a constant flow of lava into the sea has been a guiding light to mariners, showing the way to the Messina Strait.

Many of the towns were built on the tallest, most inaccessible hill around, then the defensive fortification was built on the tallest rock on that hill. One detail I found to be very interesting, much of the sandstone used for building material or the exposed hillsides, is interspersed with fossilized seashells. A thousand or more feet up a hill you can find many pieces of seashell, amazing. Most has been pushed up there by the action of the tectonic plates.

We began from Syracusa, moving clockwise around the island, first stop Noto. Much of Sicily was destroyed in 1693 by a huge earthquake, many towns rebuilt over the destruction, others moved the town and started over, Noto was one of these that rebuilt a few miles from the original location. Baroque is the style of architecture of most of the modern towns. Large, square buildings of the local sandstone, cut into blocks and piled up. Many of the buildings are eroding away in the wind. Many of the buildings are a city block square, enclosing a decorative courtyard in the center for social space and also provided some measure of security from robbers and thieves.

As last year, I am convinced, a great business in Italy is scaffolding and construction crane rental. Nearly every church, statue, ancient site, along with many government buildings is surrounded by scaffolding, most of which has been there for years. Often a sign has been erected to advise this project is brought to you by a grant from someone else, usually including a completion date, often expired. Rarely is a worker seen working. It seems the money runs out before the scaffolding is all up, so none is left to do any of the work. The guide books advise that many of these projects are awarded to mafia construction companies, where the funding merely disappears.

Each of the towns includes a most spectacular church or two or three or more. The size and opulence in these churches is unbelievable. Clearly a competition was established that when you built a new church it must be more, larger, better, richer than someone else’s. Seems to me there should have been a conservative church somewhere that could be the measurement standard, just build better than this one, but no, larger, taller, better, brighter than all of the others. This means that in small towns an enormous church dominates the skyline, often without the maintenance required to keep it up. Many have been left to deteriorate into prideless ruin, a real shame.

Agrigento is a layered, terraced city hanging from the side of a cliff with the most narrow, crowded roads occupied by the quickest horn blowers in the whole country. It also overlooks the Valley of the Temples, the largest, most complete Greek ruins in all of Italy. The valley is a few miles in length and contains at least twelve Temples set along the crest of the ridge, in various states of ruin and reconstruction. Some have not been excavated beyond the necropolis, burial places, where the good stuff was found. The modern day archeologist lament that grave robbers have cleaned out the burial sites, before the archeologist, of course.

Selinunte was another Temple site, at least as good as the Valley. Here I saw a motor home with an Alaska sticker on the back. When I inquired whether the couple had been to Alaska I found they were German, had been in Alaska and spent a year and a half land cruising America. They gave us a ride back from the last temple, saving a half hour walk, then insisted that we join them in toasting the day, the sites and travel, their brandy was excellent.

Marsala, home of the wine by the same name, is a large medieval style town, complete with large ornamental churches, narrow winding streets paved with blocks of basalt and is a major port city. This is where we found our first Easter Parade. Marsala was the 1860 landing site for Giuseppe Garibaldi and his thousand red shirts, the peoples army that liberated and consolidated Italy, from the Brits who protected from the Spanish, who protected from the French. Everyone wanted a piece of the action.

The Misteri is a Catholic celebration of Easter where icons of the life and death of Jesus are shoulder carried by twelve or more men of the congregation, rotating between two groups that relieve each other at the sound of a wooden paddles striking each other, similar to the ringing of a bell, from the church to another site and back again, getting larger and longer for each of the four days of holy week. Each icon is accompanied by a band and large organized groups of the congregation. On the last day the celebration lasts all night and is enjoyed by the towns' entire population. This tradition, which began in Trapani, is practiced by most of the larger towns, giving us many opportunities to view the processions.

Trapani is a large port and the origin of the Misteri. We were able to get into the church, Chelsea del Purgatorio, where this celebration began in the seventeenth century. It is also the off season home to the twenty icons and where the parade begins. We watched parts of the parade as they walked around with those heavy icons on the shoulders of the men accompanied by marching bands and many spectators, as the procession passes the people watching from the sidewalk, many of those people join in making for a huge procession. This is also where the Tyrrhenian and Mediterranean Seas merge. The old town built on the tip of a peninsula is another spectacular example of baroque excessiveness. So many different enormous churches to serve so few.

Erice is an hour up the hill from Trapani and the views from the medieval town are spectacular. A castle was built in the twelfth century, over an older Temple to Venus which was built in eight hundred BC, hangs on the side of the highest rock, on top of the highest hill with only one way up. On a slightly lower tall rock is the mother-in-law apartment, accessible only by the drawbridge, which the Spaniards destroyed, now it would be a difficult rock climb. The castle has been used by the Normans, Spaniards, prostitutes and now tourists. The cistern into which the bodies of the children born to the prostitutes were thrown is still open. Erice is the culmination of the Misteri with a crowd of one hundred thousand.

Monreal is the site of the great cathedral erected by Roger, the Norman, again, huge, bigger and brighter than the others.

Cefalu' is another old town, built on the point of a peninsula, protected by a wall, then expanded inland. This is a tourist center, drawn by the sand beaches and the closeness to Palermo.

Piazza Armerina has the oldest Roman Villa found on the island. Built in 400 AD, abandoned for several hundred years before it was covered by a mudslide in the twelfth century which protected it's mosaic floors from damage and vandalism until it was rediscovered in 1880 and excavated, which continues today. I assume the guy that had this built was living off tax dollars, there seems to have been no shortage of money.

Clearly tourism is a large contributor to the economy of Sicily, agriculture is much larger. Perhaps if only to feed the tourists. Everywhere hot houses are made out of a wood frame and covered with plastic sheeting. What happens to the plastic after the sun rots it and it begins to tear. Early season fruits and vegetables do not need to be imported, grape vines produce the next harvest of wine, citrus, first brought in by the Arabs, are doing very well, almonds and pistachios are world famous.

We saw no evidence of the mafia, except the unfinished building projects. The people were smiling, seemed happy, except while driving, and well fed, they were only too happy to try to help out. The darkly dressed characters in the Sicilian movies are accurate. Everyone wears black or near black, at least very dark. Only tourists and the under twenties wear anything of color. A word of caution, each Sicilian we approached with a question replied with a long conversation, often the content of which was lost on us. Conversation among the locals is not to merely exchange information or a thought, it is a social event to be shared.

Many of these sites are listed as UNESCO Heritage sites. They allow us to view history as it was made.

In times of old seamen everywhere have feared Straits. The Messina Strait was feared by seamen of the Mediterranean Sea. The multi-headed Scilla on one shore and the Charybdis on the other. The Scilla would reach down and pluck unwary seamen off their ships, swallowing them, gives that a whole new meaning. The Charybdis would suck in water for six hours and regurgitate the same water over the next six hours. Of course we now know that the Scilla was the rough water caused by strong wind over current, which could toss men right out of their ship and the Charybdis is whirlpools created by the movement of water over an uneven bottom, reported to be strong enough to pull down a ship, of course their ships were small, powered by small sails or rowed. Both dangers are as evident now as then. An earthquake in 1908 altered some of the bottom structure on the Sicilian side, lessening the effect of the whirlpools. Now the serious whirlpools only showed up during spring tides, the largest of each month. Now is the time of the month for spring tides.

Anywhere that water moves in one direction, with wind blowing in the opposite direction a short, steep and confused sea results. Water flowing through the strait for six hours in each direction, then reversing for the next six hours, is the effect of the tides. The wind is funneled to blow along the strait, NE to SW or the opposite, by mountains on each side, if you have wind, it will be against current for part of the time. Rarely does the wind blow from the south. When it does it is called a Scirocco and blows like it means business. The normal in the strait is NE which accounts for more than half of the winds in the strait. I hoped to use the southerly flow for my passage through the strait.

With four hundred miles of Italy on one side of the strait and a hundred miles of Sicily on the other, this narrow outlet carries all of the water moving from the Tyrrhenian to the Ionian Sea. With the change of tide the amount of water flowing here is large, causing the resultant current. To compound the problem the water in the Tyrrhenian is warmer than that of the Ionian, perhaps having to do with the volcanos pouring lava into the sea. The mixing of these two different temperature waters causes stratification and contributes to the rolling effect of the waves. To the north of the strait the approach is wide open, Sicily being straight across here and Italy angling away to widening the gap. On the southern approach the lands converge from several miles away, like the taper of a funnel, getting smaller and smaller until it is barely a mile and a half wide. It is this narrow area that can create problems.

May 3rd, sitting in the harbor of Reggio de Calabria with Linda, waiting for a good time to pass, south to north, through the straits, I was able to consult with the Coast Guard for the times of the water flow. He advised the north bound flow would begin at 1500, three o'clock in the afternoon, he even wrote this number down. This means I should start out from Reggio, which is six miles from the narrow part of the strait, at about 1400, to have little current, in either direction. The wind had been mid to upper twenties from the south all day, with a forecast on Italian VHF for force 7, 28-33 knots. This should make a painless passage through the strait with wind to my back.

Having cast off the lines and sticking my nose out I found the wind was still twenties from the south. I set about half of my headsail. With only ten miles to the first anchorage on the other side of the strait I did not need any great speed. Within an hour of getting underway the wind had built to low forties, now I was nearing the strait and it was clear the coast guard guy did not understand the question of the current, or I his answer, I had four knots from behind me, that must be about maximum, far better than against me. I reduced the headsail to triple reefed, about a fourth left out.

I was doing more than nine knots over ground and would soon be in the narrowest part of the strait. The wind was now gusting to nearly fifty knots, blowing water and foam off the waves and tumbling it down wind. Small whirlwinds were passing by, picking water off the surface and carrying it high into the air, then letting it fall, like rain. I was glad I had not put up more sail, the problem now was steering. The boat wanted to heave to, using the hull as the mainsail. The small headsail was not enough to overpower the windage of the side of the boat and bring the bow of the boat downwind. First I tried changing the trim of the sail, I did not want to let out any more, the trim change did not help. Then I started an engine to create a water flow over the rudder for steerage, this worked well. During the times of gusts with the sail pulling harder I was able to slow the engine and during the lulls I would speed up the engine to maintain steerage. I wanted to hug the east side of the strait, which becomes the south side, for protection from the strongest wind. Also, when I exited the strait I wanted to turn to the east.

The next obstacle was the ferries that continuously cross the strait, with cars, trucks, people, I have been told they do not give right of way to anyone, I did not find this to be true. They were having as much trouble with the wind as I, perhaps more as they had it from the side, I had it from behind. The wind actually curves through the strait, it was always on the quarter, just off to the side of behind. The ferries were plainly visible from a distance, the ones I could not see were the ones coming out of the terminal. As I approached the terminal a ferry exited, if he continued straight across we were on a collision course, as it turned out he turned into the wind for easier steering and this gave us both room. I am not certain he did this for my benefit, but I thanked him anyway because I had little control over my direction.

As I approached the northern side of the strait the wind was gusting over fifty. I was concerned about protection at the anchorage I intended to use. There was not enough daylight to go to the next one, so if the protection behind the large rock at Scilla was not good enough I would stay offshore and heave to. My concern was unfounded, the shelter proved to be very good. This is behind the tall rock known in old times as the home of the Scilla, hence the name of the small town. There was not room for me in the marina, nor had I intended to use it. So I set two anchors, both set very well. The next morning I could see better and found the anchors had caught on large rocks, I did not need to worry about holding. Yeah right, I always worry about holding. The wind began to die down after 0100, so I went to bed.

After the Messina Straits we moved north along the Italian coast. I wanted to see the Iolian islands, north of Sicily and an active area of seismic activity. The island of Stromboli, with it's nearly constant flow of lava running into the sea was known in antiquity as the guide to the Messina Straits. Working southward through the islands, spending time to stop and investigate ashore. These islands are volcanic cones, very steep to and anchoring is difficult. Cruising the Iolian Islands is recommended only during settled weather, which we had. We continued to the town of Millazo on the north coast of Sicily where Linda will go home, taking a very sick Otto Pilot with her, and Mary Helen, a repeat form last year, will join me. The saga of Otto's trip ends in Gibralter in October. Millazo was where I saw the tuna long liners come in with their catch. I have concluded that the Mediterranean Sea is sterile, not so, these guys are bringing in up to six per boat, four to seven hundred pound Yellow Fin Tuna. All are sushi in Japanese snack bars within thirty six hours. When I questioned the fishermen they said the fish are caught on the west side of Sardinia. Mary Helen and I moved north through the Iolian Islands, then on to mainland Italy.

What trip along the coast of Italy would be complete without a stop at Pompeii, quietly resting in the shadow of Mt Vesuvius. This name is well set into my mind from childhood. There is not enough room in this writing to adequately describe the sites to behold in Pompeii. It is a must see.

The tourist books claim that the Amalfi coast is the most beautiful coastline in the world. It is very nice. This is an area of steep cliffs falling several hundred feet from the summit to the sea. Small, picturesque towns hang precariously to the cliff side, connected by a road that was quite literally carved out of the cliff side. We left the boat at Sorrento and rode a bus to Amalfi. The ride is fantastic.

After the Amalfi coast we stopped at the Isle of Capri, one of the least awe inspiring, overpriced, crowded places I have been. It's only claim to fame is that years ago the rich and famous went there to hide from their endearing public. I was not impressed. The island itself is interesting in that it appears to have been a high island that had it's center cave in. It is high on each end and low in the middle. One of the most impressive roads in the world is located on Capri, at least as curvy as that one in San Fran, is it Lombard St, I can not remember, a brake pads nightmare. We next visited the small island of Proceda, another tourist trap where the locals can not afford to live. I found a real bargain here. As my outboard motor is old, it often requires parts which are difficult to find. While walking the docks looking at the charter boats I noticed a place where three outboard motors, one identical to mine, were apparently discarded. When I inquired about them I was told that they were no good, had been brought in tax free and therefore could not be sold. However, if I wanted any of the parts I could help myself. That was like a kid in a candy store, all I needed to leave was the casting with the serial number. Mary Helen left shortly after this to visit friends cruising in Croatia.





Edited





An annual, or as long as you can stretch it out, haulout is necessary for all boats. The marine growth needs to be removed from the hull and new anti growth chemicals painted onto the hull to deter new growth for another year. I had put off the work far too long, did not get hauled in Malta or Tunisia and the last time I was hauled was in Thailand, January 02. The last year I have been getting into the water with a scraper and shaving the heads off the little buggers. However, that is a bit like cutting your lawn, it looks great for awhile, then the grass grows right back. Other work under the water line always seems to creep into the formula. This was no exception. Last summer I had a gearbox fail. In Yanmar's wisdom they designed the gearbox so it can not be worked on, not even to change the oil, without hauling the boat out of the water. When the gearbox is removed it leaves an eight inch hole in the bottom of the boat and requires two thick gasket seals to keep the water out.

Over the winter, I checked in Malta for haulout and concluded that the price was too high. I then went to Tunisia in February only to find that the local fishing fleet was being hauled and I would need to wait. As I moved up the coast of Sicily, then Italy, I kept checking the prices. All too high. All of the old pirates now own marinas. They charge far too much. In May I made a trip to Rome to visit with my cousin Janet and her husband Scot who were touring Italy. During that trip I checked out the haulout facilities in the Rome area. What luck, I found one early on that was reasonable and able to take me when I wanted to be hauled. I intentionally asked for the middle of June. All of Italy goes on vacation for the months of July and August. So all of the local boats should be out of the yard by then.

When I arrived at the yard with the boat he gave me the run around for a couple of days. He was going on vacation after a couple of days and had some other work to do. Come back this afternoon, without the boat, I will give you a time. Come back in the morning, without the boat, I will give you a time. Come back this afternoon with the boat, we will tie you up and get you out of the water. Well I turned circles in the river, one that has a strong current and is not easy to just drive around, especially with only one engine, for nearly two hours, when I returned to where I had tied the boat earlier, then took the dinghy to the yard to inquire. Now he decided that he would not have time to haul me before he left for vacation, so sorry.

Cindy had been scheduled to arrive after the haulout, now with the delay the boat would be in a work yard for her visit. She was a real trooper, taking the bus or train into Rome for site seeing while I was working on the boat. She did get a small amount of sailing in during her visit and is still speaking to me.

The next few days were spent checking the other yards in the area, with the dinghy and walking. None were anywhere near reasonable. Finally I needed to choose one and get on with it. All of this wasted a week. Finally RPhurst was taken out of the water on June 22nd, at way to high a price, and I could get to work.

I knew of three major jobs to be done. The first was the gearbox. I had ordered all of the parts while I was in Malta. Still, you never know when something strange shows up. After disassembling the gearbox I discovered that I needed one additional bearing. This was where I was adopted by Giuseppe, one of the locals who had his boat in the yard. He spent three days driving me around town. To the paint store for resin, a different paint store for glass cloth, the mechanics for Yanmar parts. He was a real life saver with his local knowledge. There was no way I could have walked or found all of these places on my own, not in a month. After checking with the mechanics and the Yanmar agent I was told that parts would not be possible. Is Italy really a developed country. The best I could do was salvage the best of four bearings to reuse.

The next major project was the result of my own carelessness. While coming up the coast of Sicily I stopped at the city of Catania. I anchored off in a place set aside for anchoring. As in most other cities, the sewerage from the city is dumped into the harbor, making the water murky, dirty and difficult to see anything. In the anchorage I could see some stains in the water. I could only assume they were something under the surface. I assume one was the sewerage discharge pipe and a large concrete block to hold it in place. Knowing this I set two anchors, each to hold me off the stains with different wind directions.

After a couple of days of wind from one direction I felt I was too close, perhaps thirty feet, to the unknown obstacles. So when the wind shifted to the other direction, blowing me away from the nearest one, I took the dinghy to pull the anchor that was now loose and move it another thirty feet farther away. Well, of course, as soon as I pulled the anchor loose the wind shifted 180 degrees and blew me right into the stain. By the time I was able to get back to the boat I was already on top of one. They were the sunken frames of old fishing boats. Now I was on top of one and with a slight swell I was being lifted and set down on top of the wreck, soon to be one myself. Of course I could have, and should have, set a third anchor to hold me off while I reset the second anchor. I will in the future. The short of the story is that I cut several holes in one of my keels. A disadvantage of a catamaran is that they are made light, this means they are weaker and not made to be pounding on top of anything. An advantage of a catamaran is that the keels are separate from the hull and can be punctured without taking water into the boat. It took me an hour to set a third anchor and winch myself off the top of the wreck. This repair went pretty well.

The rest of this problem was damage caused to one of the rudders at the same time. The plywood core was damaged and after hauling out I could see that the stock was bent. When I could see the rudders clearly I knew I would need to rebuild both. Finding a shop to straighten or repair the stocks would be the problem. Giuseppe was instrumental in finding the best metal working shop and doing the translating. Then he took me to the place for marine plywood. I would need to cut laminated layers of plywood to approximate the form of the rudders, then sculpt them to the final shape before fiber glassing them. Here again Giuseppe was wonderful, he offered the use of his power tools, including a power planner for fast removal of the wood and a belt sander for easier sculpting of the rudder blade shape. After that my palm sander was able to do the finish work.

The remaining project was to renew the antifouling paint. I still had some of the paint I had bought in Malaysia, the same stuff that had been on since Thailand and doing a good job. I bought additional paint while in Italy. The project requires sanding off the old marine growth and roughing up the surface to give the new paint something to which to adhere. I use an airless sprayer for the purpose of applying the paint. This requires more masking and needs to be sprayed on relatively windless days. Still it is much faster than a roller, however it requires thinning. After thinning to the consistency for the sprayer, I sprayed the first coat on the waterline and leading edges, the first to wear off, so they get extra coats. For this I used the Malaysian paint, because I did not have enough to paint the entire hull with it.

The next day I was getting ready to paint the second coat. I noticed that the first coat had not completely dried so I waited for a few hours, doing other small projects. While I was cleaning and reassembling the sprayer I noticed that the piston pump was not moving freely. It is a small plastic piece, pushed from one side by a plunger and returned by a spring on the other. It should move freely through it's range of motion. I tried thinning the paint enough to pump it through the sprayer, it did not work. I finally gave up and started to paint with a roller, so much for all that time masking.

The next day while preparing to paint the final coats on the waterline and leading edges I noticed that the second coat had not covered well. The old color was bleeding through. When I checked the debris from the earlier work I discovered that the first coat was still not dry. This caused the colors to bleed. I was not certain what was going on here, but felt I needed to continue. It will dry, they always do. I did not have enough paint to completely paint the entire hull, so off to the paint store and buy enough paint for another coat. This time it covered well.

I was now ready for launch. The rudders could not be installed without lifting the boat, so that must wait until it was moved closer to the river bank where a hole could be dug under each rudder to gain enough height for the long stocks to be slid into the bearings from beneath. While handling the rudders I noticed that wherever I handled them the paint smeared, as though it was soft underneath, which it is. I assume this was an incompatibility between the paint and the thinner. Buying products with labels that I can not read does not give a warm fuzzy. I fear the thinner had something to do with the problems with the sprayer. Now I hope it will set while in the water. If not, I am not certain how to get that mess off the hull next time. Perhaps it will wash off over time, which is what it is suppose to do.

On July 10th the launch went well, pick up the boat, swing it over the water and let it down. I immediately went to the engine room where the gearbox had been removed. It had water squirting in through the gasket. I told the yard operator that the boat needed to come out again, which they did, set it on shore and went on with their business. If I was able to repair the leak I would be launched again. If not, I would be charged for another haulout and put back where I had been. In two hours I was able to remove the gearbox, replace the gasket and reinstall. Again ready for launch. This time all held well. It is still dry.

A couple of day sails tells me that to rudders are working well, the gearbox is working and a clean bottom allows the speed once enjoyed on this boat, eight knots is good. We should now be ready for the Atlantic crossing.

Sardinia could easily provide cruising for an entire season, it does for many Italian boaters from the west coast of Italy, offering many sheltered bays for anchoring. Still with the time pressure to get out of the Med this year we needed to make tracks. Andy and Deb joined me in Rome and would continue to the Balearic Islands of Spain. I was land touring Florence when they arrived on the boat. We had coordinated the key and other details by email. Our first move was an overnight to Sardinia from there we moved along the coast to Olbia the home of an exclusive resort facility catering to the rich and famous. Two hundred foot stinkpots appear small in this harbor. Andy and Deb were turned away from an outdoor bar one evening because they were not appropriately dressed. We continued to follow the coastline around the north end of Sardinia, enjoying the clear, even if a bit cool, water and very good sailing.

After sitting out a three day blow at La Maddalena we stopped at a small fishing village called Stintino, on the northwest corner of Sardenga. The high wind was well forecast by the cloud formations and the weather services. We had plenty of time to find a safe anchorage where we would have access to a town. We anchored outside the break wall, which would provide excellent protection from the expected northwest wind. I put two lines to big rocks ashore and used one anchor, in case we were swirled into the break wall. We were very safe.

When the weather settled we moved on to Spain, on the island of Minorca, the town of Mahon. The passage went well. We had a forecast of favorable winds, southeast. so of course it was on the nose, southwest, the whole trip, keeping us higher than our desired course. The last twenty miles the wind built to nearly thirty knots, which is only an inconvenience on RPhurst, from the direction we wanted to go, pushing us farther off course. We ended up twelve miles north of the island. Then by magic the wind stopped so we motored those twelve miles back south for our arrival. We ended up in a different bay than intended and needed to move the next morning to where we could check into the country. Today when I awakened and while writing this the wind is from the northeast, where was that the past couple of days.

The city of Mahon has another claim to fame. In earlier days a group of French dignitaries were being entertained by the leading politicians of Minorca. The chef had made his special sauce for the meal and everyone enjoyed it immensely. Course the Frenchman, being French, wanted the recipe for this wonderful sauce, which was gladly provided. It called for a combination of eggs, oil and seasonings, all whipped into a paste like substance. When the French used the recipe in France at least they acknowledged the source in the name, from the town of Mahon came Mayonnaise.

Andy was a real treat for the passage, doing all that was needed of him. Deb was more of a pain than she has been all along. She did not show up for a single watch, did none of the cooking and required Andy to wait on her, keeping him from keeping a good watch himself. Her time was spent in bed or sitting in the cockpit complaining. One of the requirements of crew for periods of passage is that they have done some sailing before. She told me that she had done several. I fear she did the same for those, sit back and bitch while others do the work. When I asked her about this she said that modern women do not take instruction from men, they want to read about it in books written by educated people that have won awards, clearly I do not qualify. Now I think I know the problem we have been having. The last straw was after she had dinner on the last afternoon, she had a beer. This was during the high winds and building seas. I told Andy not to give her anymore, so she went to the fridge herself. When I reminded her of our agreement to not drink while underway she replied that she had been allowed to drink on other boats, so I told her she could not have anymore until we were anchored, she looked at me and said, are you serious. I told her yes, I am, until we are anchored you can not be drinking, she put the beer back. Five minutes later she came out of deck with it, Andy tried to take it away from her and she put him down hard, then sat in the corner scowling, drinking her beer then staggering around on the heaving decks of the boat in moderate seas. Then she started on the rum. Is this another test of my patience. I later discovered that in her three weeks on the boat, three bottles of rum had evaporated.

For sometime I have known that the ProFurl and head stay needed attention. In 2002, while moving north in the Red Sea, I was doing a normal rig inspection and I discovered a broken wire, one wire out of a bundle of nineteen, on the head stay. I carry a part that is designed to repair just such a problem and was able to make the repair. I also needed to have a couple of stainless steel plates for the same repair. I wanted to have all of this repair replaced with new correct parts before the Atlantic crossing. Yet, it has held for three summers.

I decided to have it done in Palma, Minorca, Spain. What an expensive decision. The ProFurl did not need much for parts. The problem was a design flaw from the beginning. After I had a rigging shop take down the head stay and furler, it took two guys three hours at over fifty dollars each per hour, I looked over the parts and talked with one of the guys and we formulated a plan to repair my old one, he agreed. A small weld was all that was needed. Additionally it needed two grease seals. I checked with the shop a couple or weeks ahead of time to have them order parts, then they would be here when we take it down. I should have stuck to my guns. For several reasons they did not think we should order the parts ahead of time, we can have them in a day, is what they said.

I felt we could make up the new wire, I could put it on and take it down when the furler was ready. Finally after three days they agreed and made up the wire, the seal came the same day. Anyway, two seals were ordered and did not arrive in one day, or two days, or three days. The whole time I was without a head stay and a couple of halyards were holding up the mast. As I am too cheap to pay a hundred bucks a night for a marina slip I anchored out. Worried about every time a ship wake came by to rock the boat. The end result is that the parts arrived, the parts repair part of the work was done right at quitting time on a Thursday. Friday they had a big job that would require their entire workforce. So I was faced with putting the unit back up alone or wait until Monday for them to do it. I have had the head stay and furler down and back up by myself before so I was sure I could do it. I did the Red Sea repair alone while the French couple was land touring Luxor. Well an hour and a quarter later the unit was back up, holding the mast. Seems strange that it takes two professionals three hours to take down what a rookie can put back up in a bit over an hour, alone. Anyway well over six hundred dollars later I am back in business and ready to sail again.

Jan was scheduled to arrive in Minorca. After the repair I moved the boat to a bay a few miles out of Palma. This is an area of heavy tourist development, really all of Spain is. High rise hotels, bars that play all night, every other place along the street is a bar or restaurant, catering to the tourists that flock here year after year. I guess the sun shines more than at home, still I find it strange that Europeans will leave their home country during the summer to vacation on the Spanish coast, winter would make far more sense. Still those tourist developments offer most of what I need. I began provisioning the boat for the Atlantic crossing here. In hind sight I would have waited until La Linea, next to Gibralter. Jan and I spent a few days looking around Palma then set out for Ibiza where we were to meet Angela. Once we had the whole crew together we moved to the small island of Espalmadora, a lovely sand spit island with hot spring mud baths, lots of naked people on the beach, clear water and blue skies.

We next stopped at a place called Mar Menor, talk about a tourist trap. Mar Menor is a sand spit that connects two peninsulas and cuts off a large salt water lake. This spit is perhaps two to five hundred yards across, runs for perhaps ten miles and is covered with high rise hotels. As we approached I counted thirty two construction cranes putting up more hotels. Moving around in the area you see several partly finished and unused buildings, seems like some of these could be finished before any more are put up. We used this as a stepping stone to see Cartagena by bus. This is only a couple hundred miles from Gibralter where we were to be met by Deanna. After receiving an email saying she was ready to leave America we set out on a two night passage to get us into Gibralter ahead of her. I was very disappointed by the message I received from her when we arrived. She had a better offer, changed her mind and was jumping ship before she arrived. The problem was she had possession of my repaired auto pilot and two new G.P.S. units from America. Instead of flying directly to Gibralter to meet us 1 October, she joined another boat in Nice, France, after the date she should have arrived, then they sailed to Gibralter.

The rock of Gibralter is one of those sites recognized by most people, even non customers of that insurance company. It is a British colony, well developed, and priced for the comfort of the Brit tourists that frequent the place, which means high. Imagine living in a land where the sun rarely shines, would you not want to see someplace sunny and warm. The Rock has been much in demand over the centuries because of it's location overlooking the Gibralter straits. It and a similar rock on the Moroccan side were known as the pillars of Hercules, identifying the end of the known world. Outside was wilderness. The rock is honeycombed with 60 kilometers of caves, tunnels, caverns and rooms, some man made, others carved by Ma. One of the larger was converted to a hospital during WWII and is now an auditorium. The east end has been heavily fortified to keep out the Spanish invaders, who have been trying for the last two hundred years to get the rock back from the Brits. Now the ongoing attempts are being done politically.

When the Moors, Arabs, were in control they brought along a slice of home, the Barbary Apes, which still have a large community on the top of the Rock. A ride to the top and a wander through the different sites is a wonderful afternoon. You can hire a guide to take you into the caves and describe the origins and past uses of these caves.

As Gibralter is quite expensive and a work force is needed to do the work of a city many of the workers are Spanish, living in the city of La Linea. Sixty thousand cross the border each morning to go to work, then cross again at the end of the day. When politically important to do so, one or the other of the governments will close the border crossing for a few days. The crossing itself is a walking path over the runway of the airport. Gates will come down to keep the pedestrians off the runway if a plane is approaching. The landing times are given on the local news. La Linea is much less expensive, much more picturesque and far less developed than Gibralter.

Once checked into Gibralter the officials will keep an eye on you to be sure you are not crossing into Spain by dinghy. The anchorage on the Spanish side is said to not be safe and a network of cruisers all help each other with dinghy rides to shore and watching each others boats during absences for land travel.

While sitting in Gibralter we talked about trying to find a bull fight. When in Spain, you know. We first checked the tourist information booth and were told they do not know about bull fights. Then walking down the street one day I noticed a poster for a bull fight in a neighboring town. Taking a bus there on the day advertised we found a lovely small town of Tarifa. We did not however find the bull fight. It was not to be. With the problems of mad cow disease in Europe all transport of live animals is restricted. Hence no bull fight.

One of the needed parts we were waiting for was for the instruments. The wind display had failed after I left Italy, the manufacturer is in France so replacements should have been a piece of cake. I contacted the company in America that is their agent and they steered me in the right direction. That was the last time anything went right. I sent my white display and the control box to them from Palma, Mallorca and provided an address for the return. They returned a black display and tested the control box, which was working perfectly. When I contacted them about the color they replied that they did not have any white ones at the moment and would need to make one, a delay of one day. Given that the delivery was six days, I was now twelve days delayed in Mallorca.

I then gave them an address in Ibiza for shipment, it should have been there right after I arrived, it wasn't. Four days later and it arrived. Now when I hooked everything up I did not have depth, speed, log, water temp on the display, I did have the wind readings that were missing before. I called them and was advised that the control box was the likely problem. Of course I questioned the results of the testing done previously and was told that it worked perfectly while in their hands. So I provided an address in Gibralter for shipment and asked for expedited handling which is much more expensive but would arrive in three days. Five days later I called from Gibralter and was told that shipping to Gibralter was too expensive so they did not send the part. They asked for an address in Spain, just a walk across the border, which I provided by Fax. Seven days later the package had not arrived. This time they had provided a tracking number and I was able to trace the package, yeah right. An attempted deliver was made on Monday 18th October, after that no activity. I checked with the agent who was able to correct the address, I checked online, I called the customer service number, no one was able to tell me where the package was located. Each day of the last week was spent walking from one office, Fed Ex in Gibralter to the Spanish agent, then to the internet until finally on Thursday 21st it arrived. The problem was obvious, Frenchy had not addressed the package properly, or the way it was on the Fax. It was addressed to me in La Linea Spain. No wonder it was not delivered. Who could have found me with those directions.

After a couple of weeks waiting for parts that should have arrived in three days and the arrival of another crew that did not show up, we are finally ready to leave Gibralter and head out into the open ocean for the Canary Islands. The crew, Angela, Jan and Bruce seem to be working out well and we are getting along.

After all of that waiting in Gibralter for things to arrive we are finally underway. Only fifteen miles, this puts us at a place called Tarifa, Spain, through the Gibralter Straits and a straight shot SSE along the coast of Africa to the Canaries. For several months I have been contemplating a stop along the Moroccan coast. Places to see like Casablanca, Marrakech and Tangier bring thoughts of the exotic and inviting. We had met a few other boats going the same direction and agreed to meet on the SSB, long range radio, to exchange locations and other information of interest.

During our overnight stop in Tarifa while I was finding bread and produce for the week long passage ahead, the crew were in a bar, talking smart and getting in their last licks for a week. It was during one of these conversations where a young, Brit, woman, Doctor joined in with the information that she was going to begin a new job in the Canaries, the time frame was right and she had always thought about spending some time on a sailboat. They would need to await my return for the last details to be worked out. During the conclusion of that exchange another guy, Roy, a New Zealander, said I want to go also. Can you imagine my surprise when I returned to find I had two new potential, for a total of five, crew for the week long trip, both raw as a newborn babe. We were able to work through the details and agreed on a two pm departure the next day.

The crossing of the Gibralter Strait was not to disappoint us. Anytime you have tall land masses on both sides of a water passage you will find accelerated wind. During the night in Tarifa the wind shot up to 35-40 knots all night. In the morning I spoke with one of the other boats met in Gibralter that had already departed that the wind ends as soon as you are out of the Strait and moving south. This meant only about 25 miles of downwind high winds, RPhurst likes that kind of wind. Sure enough, when we rounded the corner and started south the wind died and we began a two day motor boat trip, putting up sail, taking down sail, trimming for the wind that would blow for an hour from one side then an hour from the other. I guess that is what is meant by light and variable.

The forecast and weather fax were showing a probable cold front about half way to the Canaries. This caused me to search the charts for a safe harbor to sit out the blow. We decided on Safi, a medium size fishing port. Did you know that Morocco is the worlds leader in export of canned sardines. On the way toward the coast we were repeatedly approached by local fishermen. Like fishermen everywhere, they do not have enough food, water, cigs or booze. I did give them water and food, no cigs or beer. They offered us sardines in exchange, they were great on the grill. We arrived after three days to find a pleasant, well protected harbor and yes, two days later we had the adverse SW wind predicted, glad we stopped. The wind speed was not that high, the sea would have been rough but not unbearable for seasoned sailors, which we were not. The worst part was that the wind was blowing directly from where we wanted to go. The decision to stop made perfect sense and we find ourselves with five other cruisers.

From Safi we were able to catch a bus to see Marrakech. It is a wonderful mix of old world Africa, Muslim, Arabic and a very poor people trying to hustle a dollar out of your pocket into his own. Interaction with women, except those sitting on an overturned bucket, small table in front of her with a few baked goods for sale or outright begging, is minimal.

The mosques are not as elaborate or grand as those in Egypt or Turkey, yet the people are very devote, attending to their prayers several times per day. Our visit corresponded with the month of Ramadan, a time when the Muslims can not eat or drink anything between sunrise and sunset, can not drink alcohol anytime, strange rule because alcohol is forbidden at all times, but they still drink, this is a bit like our lent with tighter rules.

The old walled city of Marrakech is a maze of very narrow, twisty streets, lined with two or three story residences on both sides often ending at a dead end. Many have been converted to mini hotels by well to do French investors. The real appeal is in the squares and the Souk, market. This is high density shopping at it's finest. Anything you could want. Fabric, hardware, water pipes, knives, large and small, clothes, new things made to look old, old things that need some care, food. You pick a live chicken and the guy makes it not alive and hands you the stove ready pieces. Small mosques are spread throughout the area. The largest square offers jugglers, snake charmers, story tellers, preachers, monkey handlers, orange juice sellers which is a traditional treat during Ramadan, after dark of course, dancing ladies covered from head to foot with fanciful clothing, finger cymbals dancing to the beat of drums and the sound of the horns. Now do not get your skirt in an uproar over the ill treatment of women in this society, these dancers are men and available to the men in the crowd. There is even a boxing demonstration, with boxers from five years old on up. Everyone wants a contribution to the hat, just remember to ask permission first, then negotiate the price, one to three dollars, then take the picture. The finale' is the siren, announcement from the minaret and the rush of people to the food stalls that demonstrates sundown and the end of Ramadan for another day.

Anywhere you go in Morocco you will find yourself tethered at the hip by a 'guide'. Want him or not he is there for the duration. They speak several languages, do know where things are found and are able to help you with directions and negotiations. They will also direct you to the shops that pay the highest commissions, read that as the highest price for you. The best is if you see something you like, go back without the guide for a better price, which is not easy to do because if he is not with you another will attach himself and not leave, whatever you say or do. Keep in mind the ten percent rule, you should buy at ten to twenty five percent of the asking price. At the end of the day he will expect a gratuity, if you are happy with the service five to ten dollars will do, if you are not happy with the service then offer nothing. No matter what amount you offer he will ask for more.

After four, cloudy, windy, rainy, yes it rains here occasionally, days we are about ready to leave, now I can only hope the crew all get back in time. Roy has been gone for three days.

After five days in Safi and Marrakech, the crew has returned with no visible wear, we are again underway toward the Canaries with two hundred ninety southwest miles to go. The time was spent exploring the towns which are made up of narrow winding streets filled to capacity with small shops, kiosks, shoppers, even small hand carts covered with a single layer of one fruit or vegetable. To be able to sell something is a form of income. When the rare car wants to drive down the street with much horn honking everything must be moved out of the way with a lot of shouting, gestures and flourish for passage. Motor bikes are able to navigate the crowd with few incidents with pedestrians. Given that the streets are full this is no easy task. As six o'clock approaches, the end of Ramadan, everything is packed up, put back, wheeled off, closed up in anticipation of the long awaited meal and drink, both of which are strictly forbidden during daylight hours.

The weather system that had caused our contrary winds, clouds and rain was reluctantly leaving. I had saved containers of rain water to be used for laundry and showers during the passage. The forecast was for variable winds and some cyclonic conditions. This all means the wind will not be steady. We left Safi at 1400 and motored the first six hours from Safi before the wind became northerly as predicted, the direction we wanted and we needed to run the water maker and charge battery so the hours of motoring were welcome. We were able to set the lightweight spinnaker at 2100 and turn off the motor.

A deep low pressure system in the north Atlantic, more than a thousand miles from our position, was giving us a constant moderate to large swell from the northwest. These rollers were up to four meters, twelve feet, large, round, gentle, several seconds apart and gave the boat a soft rise and fall for most of the passage. Then add to that the chop, which was being whipped up by the twenty knots of wind from the northeast that was providing the great sailing we experienced, with breaking waves sliding sideways along the large swell that would occasionally move us off course. All of this added up to conditions of less than perfect stomachs on a couple of the crew. No one was sick, just have felt better.

A good average mileage made good day for this boat is 150 miles, we averaged 145, so it was a nice passage. Never too much wind for the boat or me, may have been more than some of the crew would have liked. The reason I need crew for longer passages is that I can not stay awake for the second night and someone must always be on watch. I can only hope to educate crew during the day so I can get some sleep while I am off watch. Still the unavoidable sound interrupting my sleep, Bruce there is a light I can not identify, Bruce we are going pretty fast, Bruce I think the wind is shifting, Bruce I forgot how to ????. All of these are valid to the person asking them. Generally I only need to get up, dressed, on deck, look around and explain that if the light is too far away to identify then it is too far away to be a concern, that the boat is happy sailing at this speed it only seems faster at night, the wind is not shifting, just a gust or wave has pushed us off course momentarily, here is how this is done. Normally when the boat really needs something I will know it before the crew does. I will take in an extra reef in the sails before I go off watch and always set wind speed parameters for the sail we have up, these are not always passed on to the next watch.

As in other passages I try to be connected to a radio net, these will not give much help if needed but give comfort to some people. After leaving Gibralter we checked in each morning to give our position, conditions and receive weather information. This was how some of the boats decided to stop in Safi for the expected wind which would have made everyone very unhappy.

Each day of our passage showed warmer water temps. It is now seventy four degrees, seven degrees warmer than the Med. The days may be much warmer also, hard to tell as we have been here only one day.

The Canary Islands are not named for the bird; the bird was found here and known as the bird of Isla Canary, hence its name. The islands are located over an active volcanic area and evidence of recent eruptions is obvious. Rain is rare so erosion is minimal, leaving the rugged shape of the islands. The most recent eruption was in 1971. I understand the older, higher, greener and more stable islands lay ahead of us. Anchoring is difficult because of the depths, the angle of the underwater structure and volcanic ruble on the bottom.

The short term crew are gone, they only wanted a ride to the Canaries anyway. They left having sailed six hundred miles, learned a little and had a grand time. Alice, the young woman is a recent graduate and newly licensed Doctor is to begin work in the islands. Roy, a young traveler is hoping to catch a boat crossing the Atlantic much earlier than is advised. Surprisingly he worked in Minneapolis during the same years as I, small world. Angela has moved on also, she has friends with a place on Tenerife and will join them. She was fun and good crew although with very limited sailing experience. We will be joined by Hutch, a Brit, who intends to stay to the Carib.

The only reason to have a plan is so you have something you can change. For several reasons we are now in the Cape Verde Islands. The passage from the Canaries was not my fastest but was very good. We covered the nearly nine hundred miles in six days and four hours.

Before leaving the Canaries we had discussed the possibility of seeing the Cape Verde's. I did not wish to motor all the way here, it is about three hundred miles out of our way. Also, if the wind is blowing favorably, the way it is supposed to, northeast at fifteen to twenty is the normal trade wind, we would not want to waste any of that by stopping. Given all of this, and the fact that a deteriorated depression is laying in our path to the Carib, I felt we could make the additional stop. The boats that carried on to the Carib are experiencing rain, squalls, gusty high wind, heavy clouds and generally poor conditions. We are now seeing a place that can only reasonably be seen while crossing the Atlantic, from Europe to the Carib.

Our winds have been between fifteen and thirty five knots nearly the whole way, after the first couple of days that is. Our passage was not all that fast because we needed to motor, then motor sail, then sail the first two days out of Gran Canaria, the winds were light and variable. After that the wind filled in and we did two days of spinnaker, one day of standard main and headsail, then another day of spinnaker. Averaging one hundred seventy miles per day, after the first two, a very nice run indeed.

Wouldn't it be something if we do not need all of this extra fuel we are carrying. I have been gathering extra plastic fuel containers for the last several months for this passage, knowing very well that if I do not have enough fuel we will not have wind.

All passages are livened up and provide great stories ashore, by fishing. The passage from Gibralter to Safi produced a smaller Dolphin fish, no not flipper, about a two mealer for five of us, this passage produced a Wahoo, similar to a Mackerel, a very good eating fish. It weighed forty pounds and was five feet long, about a ten mealer. We gave away much of it to other cruisers, who are down on their fishing luck, on arrival at Mindelo, Sau Vincente. The water continues to warm; it is now eighty two degrees. During the passage we were faced with so much cross swell that on one occasion a larger than normal wave hit us at just the right angle and was high enough to slam into one of the side mounted portlights. These are non opening glass pieces mounted into a frame. The weight of the water was enough to burst the glass out of its frame and into the boat, followed by how many gallons of salt water. When I discovered this I knew I have the hardware pieces to make the glass solid in its frame, this will last until we get into the Cape Verde's.

The Cape Verde Islands are located at seventeen degrees north and about four hundred miles off the coast of Africa, are mostly volcanic, seem quite rugged, dry and barren. They are populated by a mix of ethnic groups, mostly African, with many oriental shop keepers. The islands were under Portuguese control for many years, the language is Portugese, with much of the population speaking English. It is said that this is the fifth poorest country in the world. Until recently the cruising community avoided coming here because you could not find provisions for the long passage after leaving here. This has changed and shopping is not that difficult, not much selection and the quality is poor, but then we can't have everything.

On arrival I was surprised when I started one of the engines to motor into the harbor and found that it had no push, still do not know why and will get into the water tomorrow and check it out. Another of the advantages of a catamaran is that you have two of everything, just start the other one. When we last used that engine, while motoring away from the Canaries, it was working fine. It turns out the propeller has fallen off, I dig out the spare and put it on. We expect to stay here only a few days, perhaps that depression and associated foul weather will abate and we can make a smooth crossing to Barbados.

We arrived Barbados at 1850, ten to seven pm for some of you, 28 Dec after sixteen days ten hours underway. This puts me within eighty four miles of finishing my once around. We will next go to St Lucia, there I will cross the latitude previously sailed. This is a milestone of sorts. I am proud of being able to make the claim to have sailed around the world.

Picking the time of a passage can be one of the most challenging of decisions. Several considerations enter into the thought process. Not the least of which are season, wind, developing pressure systems, timing for holidays and arrival times. After a quick and painless passage from the Canaries to Cape Verde we felt we could spend a few days exploring still another country and its peoples. One of the factors in deciding to stop at the Cape Verde Islands was the report of yachts ahead of us reporting squally, rainy, shifty and inconsistent winds in mid Atlantic. We felt these conditions should disappear in a few days. In hind sight we spent many days of good wind to see these islands. A boat is supposed to be able to rely on the trade winds when leaving the Cape Verde islands, it says so in all of the guides. Well read on.

The trade winds are created by a large high pressure system that develops and stays over the Azore Islands, hence it is called the Azore high. The circulation around a high in the northern hemisphere is clockwise. This means that in the area north of the equator to about twenty degrees north, between Africa and the Caribbean should have steady, reliable and consistent wind of fifteen to twenty knots from the NE.

Most world passages are done consistent with season. This means that many boats are moving in the same direction at about the same time. Often a radio net among the cruisers will be formed. This is where a few rotating volunteers function as net control, taking position and condition reports from different boats along the way. Once you check in with the net you are expected to check in daily. Weather forecasts and conditions are also reported by those of us that have access to weather fax. I made my contribution by downloading the weatherfax charts from the Miami Tropical Prediction Center in FL, this is broadcast by a station in New Orleans, LA., then broadcasting my spin on what the chart shows to the net listeners. While in Cape Verde and several hundred miles from there I could not receive these images, I had been relying on the charts out of England which end at Cape Verde, so it was nice to have them from someone else. These nets also provide a way to meet other cruisers and give the illusion that you are not really alone in your blue dot. We had about forty boats checking in each day with destinations of many different Caribbean Islands, some arriving most days, others beginning each day. One boat was dismasted during the passage, did not have enough fuel to motor to Barbados and was assisted by two other boats that diverted a hundred miles out of their way to supply fuel. There are also land based services which do essentially the same thing. The best known is Southbound II, more commonly known as Herb. He transmits out of Canada, Toronto I believe, has done so for years and is on every day. He talks to literally hundreds of boats in the north Atlantic, the Tropical Atlantic and Caribbean daily. Using high tech equipment, including computers tied to different meteorological services he dispenses information and advice regarding conditions, forecasts and routing. I do not regularly listen to him, it just takes too long.

Another consideration in stopping at other countries is the exposure to germs and other bugs to which we are not normally exposed. I picked up a bug in Safi, Morocco that settled in my chest and stayed with me through most of the passage, making sleep difficult with the coughing. Jan came down with a stomach upset shortly after leaving Cape Verde which lasted several days, Hutch began the chest congestion after a couple days into the passage. Everyone is fine, no one missed a watch and we seem to have few lasting affects. Still we were like the walking wounded for several days. Our watch schedule was four hours on and eight off with me assisting if something was needed or if the boat made noises it should not have been making. Each of us are expected to make dinner every third day. I feel everyone was well rested. It can be difficult to sleep in a boat that is moving quickly through the water because of the noise and motion can be disruptive along with the change in normal sleeping times. A couple of other boats in Cape Verde were treated to such stomach problems they delayed their departure because of it. Eating ashore is always interesting.

We enjoyed the few days in the Cape Verde islands. It is a very poor country. Still the people seem to be well fed, friendly and happy. The smiles are contagious.

We left Mindelo, Sao Vincente, Cape Verde at 0900, 12 Dec, with 2009 miles to go to Barbados. The wind was light. I felt this was merely being in the wind shadow of the island, hoping that with some distance the wind will pick up and be more consistent. No way, it remained light and variable for the first two days. We took a heading that was not directly toward Barbados, rather straight west along seventeen north, given the reports from other boats ahead of us reporting poor conditions closer to the equator I felt we should stay a bit north of the rhumb line. This proved to be a good choice.

While motoring we tried many different combinations of sails to catch what little wind was there. Nothing helped until the end of the second day. We were motor sailing in light wind at midnight, before 0400 I was reefing sails in twenty five knots from the NE. After that blow and sunrise we raised the spinnaker and left it up for the next six days, changing the halyard and guy positions daily to minimize chafe. A wonderful sail, we made regular one hundred seventy to one hundred eighty mile days, way too fast for fishing. When the waves of the different patterns would occasionally match each other, causing a larger than normal wave we would take off surfing down this wave often to speeds of ten and eleven knots. This is always fun in daylight, after dark it can be more intimidating.

After taking down the spinnaker for several squalls we discovered that the wind in the rain squalls was not more than thirty knots, so when we were overtaken by one we would leave the spinnaker up, turn away from the wind and by running away we were able to reduce the apparent wind to less than twenty knots. The moon was now beginning to make an appearance, so day or night we could see the clouds that caused the squalls coming. Often we could change course enough to have the cloud miss or just brush past. Few of them were more than a couple of miles across. During this time we had moderate cross swell, waves coming from different directions, caused by storms far away. The dream of passagemakers in the tradewind belt is to have a big gentle swell coming from behind, it rarely happens, when it does it will have a cross swell on top of the big waves. We often had the big waves, just not from behind. All of this is referred to as the washing machine, for obvious reasons.

On day seven we saw three small whales. I do not know my whales well enough to guess at the breed, only that they were about thirty feet long, light in color and paid us little attention. It was day eight before we caught a fish. A one mealer Dorado took our lure and we had him for dinner that night. They are one of the finest eating fish in the sea. Also on day eight we reached the half way point, the wind began to die and a low pressure area formed ahead of us. It was not a deep low but clearly it was going to adversely affect our wind. It first showed on the weather chart about one hundred fifty miles ahead and six hundred miles to the north of our heading. With the counter clockwise rotation of the wind around a low we knew it was not going to help us any, it proved to be a real pain.

The low was stealing our wind and detouring it a few hundred miles north of us before it would again head west so the next five days would be spent under a variety of sails, many squalls, some with lightening, shifty wind, we even had a day and a half of moderate SW wind, imagine that, SW wind in the tradewind belt where the wind blows steadily from the NE. At least it was strong enough to sail with instead of motoring into. This was slow. When the wind was behind us, while motoring we could raise the spinnaker for a little extra speed, every mile the wind moves us is a mile less the motor must push us. The problem was that with the moderate swell from far distant storms we would sort of surf down the wave and overrun the spinnaker, frustrating. We had plenty of fuel so I was not reluctant to run the motor to keep moving.

We then discovered that the small low, which did not belong there in the first place was following us west. This was to cause problems for several boats that were short of fuel. Once the low dissipated the trades filled in and the boats behind us were able to again sail. Unfortunately we had made landfall by then.

On day eleven Otto Pilot died. It happened late on Hutches shift, he did not wake me. He then Jan hand steered for her four hour watch and when she awakened me she informed me that Otto was gone. I merely said a few words for him, took out the backup unit and we again were mechanically steered. They were not overly surprised that I had a spare. The irritating part of this is that this is the unit I just received back from the service center, it did not last much over a month, disgusting service.

We celebrated Christmas underway. Jan outdid herself in the galley. We had enough food for ten. I did a turkey breast on the grill, cranberries that Hutch brought from the UK, dressing, mashed potatoes, cherry pie, a real feast.

As the wind began to fill in again we found ourselves dodging small squalls. With the moon nearing full we could clearly see them coming. Running an obstacle course of a steady stream of threatening clouds did slow our progress somewhat. We observed that again the clouds did not have more than thirty knots of wind, so if the spinnaker was up we would just leave it up and run off during the blow of just a few minutes before the rain started. In these squalls the wind comes first, then the rain, when the rain starts the stronger wind is finished. We caught water in buckets and did laundry the next day.

On the last day we caught our second fish. A four mealer Wahoo. We still had fish from the previous Wahoo so we had been not deprived.

The last thirty hours were a time for decision. We could sail slowly and stay out one more night, or run the engine and make it in the next day. Given that we had plenty of fuel combined with the failure of the backup Otto so hand steering was necessary, we ran the motor to make the distance for the next day arrival. While the wind was gusting we would easily make landfall before dark, when the wind would lull we would not. My normal thought is that I will not enter an unknown harbor after dark. The exception to this is commercial harbors where lights are working, no wrecks are allowed to block the fairways and some sense of order prevails. We were going into Port St Charles, a well lit commercial harbor, and arrived nearly one hour after dark, tied to the fuel dock where we were met by the officials and efficiently checked into the country.

Jan will be leaving the boat to join a friend coming down for a vacation, she intends to rejoin the boat in Grenada after a few weeks. Hutch left the boat to go snow skiing in Colorado. Jane joined the boat in Barbados. The plan is to be in Trinidad for Carnival in early Feb, then cruise around for the months until storm season begins, about June, then haul the boat to dry the hull, she has not been out of the water for more than a couple of weeks in eight years. I am not certain what I will do, possibly land tour South America, perhaps go back to the states for a time, will see.

So sorry if you are having cold and possibly snow, heh heh, we are suffering with ninety degree days of bright, clear, blue skies and gentle breezes from the east. Finally the water is warm enough, eighty four degrees, to jump off anytime, no shivers, no chills, no wet suit, a great way to cool off during the day. Put down the book and fall off the boat. Can you believe the government of Barbados does not allow public nudity, so no topless viewing on the beach, go figure.

Right after arrival here the computer failed. I took it into a shop and they pronounced it dead, the hard drive is not working. What a mess, all of my letters from the year, from which I write the annual letter, so many pictures, navigational programs with tracks, all gone. Being the stubborn person that I am, when I returned to the boat, I plugged in the computer and turned it on, one last attempt, it started, does not do everything it is suppose to do, many files have moved or can not be found, still I have access to my writing and have been copying them to a memory stick.

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Your friend,
Bruce Parnham