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| Misty morning on the Guadiana |
OK,
to get you in the right frame of mind for the crossing from the
Guadiana to the Canaries you need to do the following. Install a sea
saw, connected to a malfunctioning motor. Instead of gentle lifting
you up and down it behaves erratically and sometimes dangerously
stopping and starting, twisting or turning with no apparent reason, a
close friend stands by armed with a sea water bucket which they
alternate with a fire hose and douse you at the most unexpected
moments. You must also install a wind turbine to ensure you stand a
serious risk of being blown off your seat and that the water hits you
with additional vicious force. Finally crank up Chris Rea’s
wonderful “Road To Hell” and settle down for the next 12 days. Or
so it seemed to us as we sailed slowly down to Lanzarote from Spain.
580 miles the distance between the two points on our charts turned
out to be a very real 983.
But
to start at the beginning. We left the Guadiana in company with Lilly
B one sunny afternoon. Both boats sailed away from the entrance and a
fine sight we will have looked, sun on the water and sails as we
reached out into the Atlantic.
The
forecast we had had gave us about 3 days to enjoy ourselves before a
small low appeared. In the event we had about 36 hours during which
tie we suffered a serious loss when our fly swat fell overboard.
Despite going about, and causing Lilly B to come galloping to assist,
fearing the worst, we were unable to find it and had to suffer the
misery of flies for the evening. By morning our companions on LB had
left us and we had the ocean to ourselves. That evening we witnessed
the gathering of heaped, huge and very black storm clouds. Out of
nowhere I heard myself say to Bee “I’m going to get the self
–steerer working” and within minutes I had. We were amazed as
Hannah responded to this simple gathering of stainless steel, plastic
and plywood. No event in history can compare to that moment! Sailing
with Hannah will forever be BS or AS and we can well understand how
people come to worship inanimate objects as Stanley came into being.
We were ecstatic as the drudgery of hours at the tiller would now be
a faint memory but little did we realise how much we were to thank
Stanley over the next week or so.
The
seas built up, the favourable wind swung round to head us, increasing
in force, leaving us unable to distinguish sea from sky and the
heads’ls were changed, the main reefed and slowly we headed toward
the Moroccan coast. At one point we were reduced to staysail alone,
as the wind grew stronger. At other times, under main and stays’l
we could sail either 150 degrees or 310 degrees. Our course lay at
220 degrees. It seems for several days we struggled over the same
piece of water, guided by Stanley, who not only did all the steering
but enabled us both to go forward to reef or change headsails. What a
difference! The whole job became much easier, almost pleasurable and
certainly much safer. Once, when we were both moving forward to take
the storm jib off as we were burying the bowsprit, we were hit by
tremendous squall, seas flattened and the crests were blown
horizontally in a driving spray before a wind that temporarily dumped
Hannah on her side. Absolutely frightening and yet there is an strong
element of exhilaration too, not of taking on the weather but simply
being part of something so powerful that it can literally leave you
breathless.
But
the days went on. We called up passing ships to ask for weather
forecasts and were told a low was stationary over Gibraltar, we
scanned the clouds looking, desperately, for any indication of a
change. We shook out sails, we reefed sails, we had all our headsails
lined up on deck ready for use and still we seemed to get no nearer.
Day after day we had seen the weather building, the seas growing as
evening came. In the end the effort of changing sail became too much
and we settled for a combination that kept us moving at 3+knots. One
yacht we spoke to, Running Bunny gave us a forecast and then rang
back 5 minutes later to say they had had an update from the States
saying the front would be coming through in 3 or 4 hours.
It did,
with a wildness that convinced us to heave to and rest. But that was
it, the weather began to improve and we gradually shook out the
reefs, hoisted the genny and roared on to Lanzarote. Land hove into
view for the first time since leaving Spain some 11 days previously.
Of
course we didn’t manage to arrive in daylight and we worked our way
into an anchorage for the night. And the gods left us with a final
snub by making us lay out the anchor 3 times before it finally held.
Sleep came as heads hit the pillows having almost nodded off into the
pasta bowl. Even Toots who had survived the journey more or less
intact slept long and deep. After getting drenched, confronting a
flying fish on her deck and then being carried through the streets of
Lanzarote for a rabies booster jab there is no truth in the rumour
she is digging an escape tunnel……..
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| you wouldn't put a milk bottle out in this weather |
So
we arrived, wrote out our list of jobs to do and began shopping for
the next stage. The tri-colour has been repaired, the solar panel
bought cheaply in Portugal keeps the batteries topped up and we have
bought, from the local copy shop, charts and a pilot book of the ICW
in the States. We’ve sealed the skylight that poured water down
onto a sleeping Toots when we shipped a greeny. Toots was not amused
and we hated the incursion of water below decks. But as ever in these
storm situations it is usually the crew that find the going hard
whilst the boat gets on with what they are designed to do. Hannah,
left to herself and Stanley’s touch, simply got on with the job and
kept us safe and for the most part dry.
So
Lilly B was here and had been for several days. They like us spent a
lot of time wondering how the other was doing. They, despite
suffering seasickness in most of the crew made good time and are
currently anchored in the next harbour up. Lanzarote hasn’t changed
since our last visit 10 years ago and remains a favourite. Having
sorted out the jobs and rested we will leave in a day or so to visit
a few of the other islands, Gomera, Hierro and La Palma before
heading south with the trade winds to the Cap Verdes.
A
week on from our arrival the legacy of Stanley’s intervention in
our lives is with me still. In all our previous sailing on Hannah I
have remained faithful to the tiller and directed Bee as to which
sails needed changing. She, of course, relishing anything physically
demanding simply got on with the job. Now with two of us working the
foredeck it is undoubtedly easier and safer but my hands have still
not recovered from the constant immersion, hard ropes and physical
effort involved. I’ve often said we have a role reversal in our
house but I was generally referring to Bee and sport, particularly
football. Now I find it is my hands that are dishwasher soft whilst
Bee, calluses an’ all just gets on with it. But it will pass no
doubt and we are looking forward to the next few months of reputed
trade wind sailing.
Toots has recovered, shows no inclination to go
ashore to concrete docks and spends much of her tine kipping in the
day only to race around deck in the evening. Boats are arriving, some
leaving and we often meet up with people we last saw 500 or 600 miles
north. As with any port we find those who have stopped, picked up a
mooring buoy and settled into the local community.