Racing to Lanzarote

25 October

82 miles to go to Lanzarote and we need to slow down, so we don’t arrive in the dark.

But in truth, there are three other sailboats within sight, as we all converge on the Canaries, and Annie is on the helm. Annie: Olympian; champion; America’s Cup contender. So it’s a race. We put up the big white Code Zero – “Beluga” and pull a mile ahead of Hakuna Matata II to our stern; and start to reel in the Mystery Boat on the bow (they have no AIS beacon), ignoring Archipelago to starboard, as they are motoring.

The wind shifts: Beluga down, Stella up. Wind too far forward. Stella down, Beluga up.

Annie is timing us on the sail changes. TIMING US. Even though our current VMG will get us to the anchorage near midnight. All the while they are comparing notes on sail performance and polars, best wind angles and speeds for each sail, getting to know them.

The wind lightens up. Reluctantly – after hand steering the boat about four hours – she surrenders the helm to Otto (autohelm) and we douse the headsails, and crank on the iron genny. Game over, Annie heads off to the shower and a nap.

It is some of our only ‘excitement’ for the day, but that’s just fine. All systems are running smoothly, everyone is feeling good, and we’re in great spirits. Eric has been busy replacing the lifelines with hand-spliced “dynema” lines. While Annie raced the unsuspecting competitors, I cooked the remainder of the dorado - making fish tacos with the mish mash of stows onboard. It’s my creative outlet: making meals that get ‘oohs and ahhs’  - particularly as we try to eat first the foods that are about to ‘go off.’ It’s sort of like my own version of Iron Chef ;-/

When pigs fly

23 Oct 0100

 

A sail change kills an hour, most welcome at 1am.

EL GATO has some new sail inventory, so we experiment with our debutants, to determine the optimal conditions, angles and speed. “Stella” (every sail has a name, and this one – a sunflower yellow asymmetrical kite with a white star in the middle) has been floundering as the breeze has gone right, forcing us to head further west than desired. Annie and I get her down – this involves locating and running all the proper lines, in the pitch dark, making sure nothing’s foul, all while clipped onto jacklines that run across the boat aft, and up to the bow. Annie goes up to the bow, I alternately watch the sail, and the glow of her red headlamp, to make sure she’s still onboard. We snuff Stella, ease her down onto the deck, and jibe the main – all very measured and controlled; then determine we can unfurl “Gordo” (the fat Genoa) on this board, and commence that process.

Unlike racing, where everything is rushed (and you have a larger crew) every action is measured and cautious. Then we assess vmg, and settle in.

It’s odd what you can do in the middle of the night. Annie’s not sleepy yet, so she reads a book – ADRIFT – taking a break from the various manuals and tutorials. I clean up the dinner dishes, popping out on deck every 10 minutes to check the sails and traffic. One lone container ship passes astern 3nm; there’s a great deal more traffic going in and out of Casablanca, but we’re well outside of the shipping lanes so that’s moot.

 

23 Oct 645pm

Finally I slept a sweet peaceful slumber, not the fitful sleep of crazy boat dreams. I snuggled up across my bunk, leaned on my mountain of pillows and read, then closed my eyes, listening to gentle music. The motion of the boat was so calm, it felt like we were at the dock. The sky dull, making my otherwise bright cabin dark enough - I took a long lazy nap, until 530, when I roused to get ready for watch.

The sky is whitewashed gray, the water flat. It is sprinkling. Annie is making oatmeal cookies. I’m on deck til 9, but will find time to make some dinner in that time.

We have been following a pretty simple watch of three hours on, six hours off. With just three of us, it works well – no-one get stuck with the same watch. When Lewie joins us in the Canaries, we’ll mix it up.

I’ve done several watch schedules – 2 on at night, 3 at dusk and dawn, 4 during the day. 2 at night, 6 during the day. Or a straight 2 on, 2 off. And so on. Even so, we have tried to coordinate meals so we have at least one common (hot) meal ... today we decided to try to make lunch our ‘big’ meal of the day, and we did: we had curried chicken with rice and veggies. But then we had happy hour snacks ... and made pizzas for our dinner ... and Annie made cookies ... FAIL! We have all eaten tons of food – it seems a common theme on boats – which is good, I suppose. It means the sh*t isn’t hitting the fan. Sometimes you just need to eat, and sleep, in preparation for those times when eating (urp!) and sleeping (chaos) is impossible. But so far, that’s not our issue. We are just pigs!

 

Oct 22 "Non plus ultra"

22 October         

"Non plus ultra"

At 630pm El Gato entered the Atlantic Ocean, for the first time in her existence. Previously owned by Italians, she had been a Mediterranean girl all her (known) life. And now, abreast the fabled city of Tarifa, she poked her bows into the Atlantic. Although it kept pushing her back with a strong current, forcing us close to the green, pastoral coast of Spain, with its rugged bastions and alabaster estancias; dodging the smaller fishing boats to starboard, while a cavalcade of ships converged, to port.

The wind, as opposed to the forecast light easterly, was on the nose; the seas choppy. When I finally took a nap I was mostly airborne and the waves smacked angrily against the hull. As if that wasn’t enough, shipping traffic at this confluence of commerce and culture was bedlam. The AIS chimed incessantly, we had to turn it off. We cruised under headsail and main but kept our engines running for maneuverability. Ships were coming and going from all points, squeezing toward the shipping lanes, and for several hours it was a corridor of hell.

In fact, for centuries charts indicated here ‘non plus ultra’ (nothing further beyond): a warning to mariners to go no further. Plato referred to it as the edge of the unknown. This was where Hercules, intended to cross a mountain, instead smashed it in two, hence the Pillars of Hercules – Gibraltar, on the north and Monte Hacho* on the African continent to our south – opening the Mediterranean Sea to the Ocean of Atlas. (*although some lore says it's Morocco's Jebel Musa)

The significance of Tarifa

Gibraltar had fallen astern, and a plume of clouds trailed off Monte Hacho, as we approached Tarifa.

Many years ago – 17, in fact – Susan Colby had bid me up to San Francisco to interview at Quokka Sports. “Get your ass up here, they’re hiring writers and paying real money,” she urged.

One evening another interviewee, Neil Stebbins, Susan and I went to the massive bookstore near the hotel, to muse among the literature (that’s the sort of thing writers do for fun). Neil and I decided to select something from the enormous inventory, for the other to buy. We looked at volumes of books and listened to scores of cds. I can’t remember who chose what, but one of us selected an exotic album “Radio Tarifa” and by some quirk, the other chose the book “The Alchemist” – part of which is set in Tarifa. Although I never knew where Tarifa was, the coincidence was ominous, and to me it has remained a mystical place. And last night, there I was: off Tarifa. We sailed close, and even tucked in to the lee of the ancient fortress to raise our main. The lighthouse flashed repeatedly astern, late into the dark morning, bidding us adieu.

There were other portents on our trip as well. A brilliant rainbow burst from the powder puff clouds over Sierra de Cabrito. And a small bird flew into the main salon, fluttered around, and flew out ... but kept us company some of the way. Little love notes from God ;)

Currently we are motorsailing in very light breeze, beneath hazy skies, some 60nm off the coast near Casablanca.

Lanzarote - eternal springtime

 

Lanzarote - eternal springtime

 

Is Betsy There Yet?

Is Betsy There Yet?

From the look of this at 18:12 Pacific time today, they appear to be cruising down the eastern coast of Lanzarote heading to Arrecife.

Check it out live at http://forecast.predictwind.com/tracking/display/ElGato

Note from Betsy...

Text posted for Betsy

23october 2045. 

60 nm off the coast of Morocco  . We are 3 days at sea having left Gibraltar on a sunny Wednesday afternoon, passing through the pillars of Hercules ( Gibraltar and Monte Hacho  in no. Africa) an area Plato referred to as 'the edge of the unknown' -  entering the Atlantic at the fabled city of Tarifa. Our departure was memorable -wind on the nose, churning current, absolute bedlam with ships converging on the strait from every conceivable direction. But that is all behind us - we are mostly motor sailing in light breeze, and it has just begun to rain. All is well aboard ElGato - we are heading to Lanzarote first DTF just 300nm. Love to all.
Check our track at http://forecast.predictwind.com/tracking/display/ElGato