Crossing an ocean
470 miles to first waypoint
Well, despite the fact that I spent the first day throwing my guts up and the second day not eating anything, I feel much better now. It’s like I usually tell people when they ask about the sailing and seasickness. I’m sick for about the first two days and then I feel much better. I just have to get into the motion of the boat.
Mind you, the first day was horrible. I didn’t eat at all or drink water because it wouldn’t stay down, and the less there is in your stomach the less there is to come up, right? No, not really. It’s a very horrible feeling, and I don’t recommend it for anyone. When I was younger, I couldn’t control myself very well, and I would lie in the cockpit, moaning and crying and feeling miserable. Now, however, I just do that inside my head so I don’t bother Dad.
We’ve been doing some good mileage though; the first day was a lot of wind so we were averaging 7-8 knots of speed per hour with about 18 to 20 knots of wind. We should be crossing out of the tropical degrees soon, not too happy about that. By the way, the tropical degrees are 27 west, so after you pass out of those lines on the chart, well, brrr. I’ll miss the warm sea, that’s for sure.
There have been a few lines of Sargasso following the currents, but its thinning out considerably. The ARC will be starting in a few days so I’m sure there will be some other boats heading the same direction as us. I’m going to go back outside now, to sit in the wind a bit. –AS
Still the same day, its May 4th by the way
Its afternoon now, about 5.30 and we have had a nice day, Dad just finished up some boiled cabbage in the pressure cooker, yum. I have a very strong hankering for some roti, which lord knows I’ll be hard pressed to find out here. I finished reading our current Jacky Faber to Dad, it being the second one, and now if I can just remember where exactly I put the damn third one we can continue. I actually felt well enough today to change into clean clothes, and it feels nice because after 3 days in the same shirt, well… I’ll just stop myself there. We have a rotation of 3 hour watches between the two of us during the night time, and during the day time, it’s just whoever is the most tired sleeps and the other one reads outside or just sits. I’m off to my bunk now to my book, more later. –AS
Day 4 (technically, as it is 2.30am you know)
5th of May
I am rather tired, and it’s becoming quite bothersome. Now some people, coughArdencough, can have good reason to stay up til 2.30 at a party or something fun like that. But when you actually have to stay up, looking for ships, well, I keep nodding off.
The moon was a very pleasing golden color earlier, before it set and left me all alone with only the darkness of the clouds and the faint bio-luminescence in the wake of the boat. I was thinking on my reading of the Jacky Faber’s to Dad, and how I do delight in the telling of it, so much so at times, that I simply froth at the mouth or become so overexcited that I have to stop and just laugh for a while. I suppose madness is a part of exhaustion, and perhaps a slight edge of boredom? Who can tell? We have 382 miles to our first waypoint left, and hopefully the wind direction will shift as we haven’t varied from our course of 65 west and we do need to shift quite a bit east to bypass that first milestone. I find myself anticipating our arrival with much… anticipation? Don’t get me wrong, it’s a huge journey, but I miss my mom, as all children are wont to do, not that I really consider myself a child much anymore, and I picture tying up to the dock in Flores, and simply flopping down on the cement like a sack of bricks. Breathing in, and smelling green, and earth, and feeling steady land under me. Ah well. It seems the wind has begun to pick up a bit, so I shall go and observe outside for a while. By-the-bye darlings… -AS
More of Day 4 though at a much more reasonable hour
I’ve had the song ‘Renegades’ by X Ambassadors stuck in my head all day thanks to Kieran’s playlist, but it’s better than Wrecking Ball and don’t even get me started cause I will give you a whole list of ‘em, count on it. The boat smells yummy, as I have been using our abundance of pears to make a pear crumble.
Now Stanley I do apologize, but seeing as you are in Washington DC and I am in the Atlantic, well, it just wasn’t destined to work out. Also the fact that you are a sausage dog, and I’m sure there are more than enough pears to satisfy your hunger might have something to do with it as well.
We also seem to have a lot of mangoes. Like a serious amount. You don’t even want to know how many. I’m experimenting with drying them in the sun and I am eager to know how it’ll turn out because that could be a use for them, besides the delicious mango chutney I make. It’s divine. –AS
Almost the 6th but not yet
10.30 p.m. ish
Just to make it perfectly clear to those landlubbers and persons not affiliated with the sea in any way, those numbers up there are latitude and longitude, and they are simply there because it makes this whole thing look rather important. Also if you wanted to know where we were exactly at the point that I wrote this, you can go right ahead and google the coordinates. I am on watch again, as it seems to be the only time I actually become interested in being inside. If you have sailed long distance at all or even just overnight passages, have you ever noticed that when it’s your turn to be on watch, you tend to nod off all the time, and the second you get off watch and into your bunk, it’s like your brain goes sorry no sleep for you! I’m not the only one this happens to, right? I marked our progress on the paper chart and we’ve finally started to shift more eastward. This is good as we were more or less on a direct line to Bermuda, and the wind has now shifted more favorably to the south east and we’ve broken past the 65 degree line. We have another 270 miles to our first waypoint, and then I think Dad said the next one is 1300 miles. Oh boy. Well the miles do tick by, and we do not lack for things to do. I shall now excuse myself to venture outside and attempt to stay awake. –AS
It smells so good in here! Dad is making chicken and rice and gravy and roast vegetables. Also it’s Saturday.
We are getting jostled around a bit, but that’s nothing
new. Tomorrow is supposed to be much less wind, so Dad is hoping to bring our 2
plantain trees out on deck for a bit of sun.
|We both look frazzled at this point|
|His Majesty the plantain|
Back again. I have realized that it takes a good deal of equilibrium, grace, skill, and a body for movement not to bruise yourself whilst doing dishes. This I did realize through trial and yes, a few bruises. I don’t mind doing the dishes when we are in port or at anchor, but it just aint fun out here. There are about 152 miles to our waypoint, and that is nice. I believe we started with 720, so we’ve done quite well. I had a few TEDTALKS stored on my iPad so Dad and I were watching them, which was a nice respite from the usual, which is sit and do nothing. How scintillating. I find the days aren’t so hard; it’s the nights that sneak up and kick you in the pants. You can be just fine for your first hour or so, but then you start to fall asleep, and you have to find ways to keep awake, like reading or writing. It’s more difficult when it gets colder because your natural reaction is to curl up and reserve body heat, which then leads to… you guessed it, sleep. –AS
No writing yesterday. It was quite jerky and I couldn’t spend more than a minute inside before I started to feel bad. Oh well. It was definitely colder yesterday, as evidenced by the cloud bank that sat on the horizon yesterday afternoon. I think it’s that cold front coming off the East Coast. Whatever it is, I don’t mind so much grinning and bearing it, as it is giving us very good winds and we are really plowing along. As you can see above, we have finally broken the 60 degree mark and are moving steadily east. I set the GPS to our last waypoint, it being right in Flores harbor, and joy! We only have 1476 miles to go. Now I know that seems like a lot but right at this moment I don’t care, because it’s only so many days and so many miles and I simply can’t wait! Dad has been doing all of the cooking and pretty much all the cleaning as well, and I feel kind of bad, but just about any time I get in the kitchen, well it’s basically a washing machine and it’s not fun getting repeatedly slammed into walls and things, as I’ve no doubt previously mentioned. However, I am going to fry up some eggplant and mince, to make moussaka later.
I was just outside, and saw a little black bird, possibly a petrel, flying up and over the swells. He made me feel marginally better about the distance still to go and how far we’ve already come.
(If you are Deliberating the meaning of marginally, it means a little bit) –AS
If you are wondering whether 4 and a half hours is a long time to be on watch, then you are correct, but the truth of the matter is I really wasn’t tired, and I figured why not let Dad sleep longer if I could still be awake? So at 3.30 in the morning when I was due to get off my watch, I didn’t, I kept on going, listening to music, and reading a book. Eventually it started to get lighter and lighter until I finally didn’t need my headlamp anymore. At 5 am I decided I had been awake long enough. I was yawning and could barely keep my eyes open long enough to write in the log book and then collapse gratefully into bed. I think that’s by far the longest watch I’ve ever done. Now 4 and a half hours doesn’t sound like a lot, but when you get woken up at 12.30 in the pitch dark, and you sit shivering in the cold in your fleece and scarf, well, the time doesn’t exactly fly. But I had my book to keep me company; a new one I picked up in Culebra, called Orange is the new Black, which I’m sure most people have seen the TV series on Netflix or whatever, but I’m slightly old fashioned, I generally prefer the book more. Anyway, we have now officially been sailing a week. 7 whole days out here, and still quite a few more to go. In another week, Mom and Jabez will start driving down to the port to look for us, that would make it the 16th by which time I think we’ll be about two or three hundred miles out still, depending. Hey, maybe we’re lucky and get there on the 16th, who knows? 1317 miles to go and counting…
Day 8 or is it 9?(10 May 2017)
|He went straight into the pan and then Dad ate him. Blehh|
We have officially done 1000 miles, only another 1000 to go! This morning’s sunrise was glorious, and the only one so far that I have been 100 percent conscious for, truth be told. Generally I am so tired by that time that I’m either asleep or pretty damn close.
About a half hour later there was a bank of grey clouds
rolling in from the South West and I stood up to check and on our port stern
there was a ship, about half a mile off. I watched him for a while, and when I
saw that he was getting mighty close I woke Dad. We sat and watched, and pondered
on where he was going,
because he was certainly in a hurry to get there. As he
got closer and closer we realized he wasn’t passing behind us. Honest to god,
he pulled up next to us and slowed down a bit. I had tried hailing them on
channel 16 earlier, thanking them for making way, and there had been no
response, and of course as soon as they got close enough Dad called them by
name, and the captain responded with only ‘I see you’. He was hanging out there
about 200 or 300 feet off our port side. I think the captain and crew were
probably a little bored and thought it might be fun to cruise with us a bit. He
hung around for maybe 10 minutes, and then powered his engine back up. It was a
strange sight, no doubt, this little sailboat and this huge squarish shaped car
ferry, cause that’s what it was, a large car ferry, kind of like a cardboard
box in looks, pitching through the swells. It’s the first time I can remember a
ship coming that close. It was called Arabian Seas and it was probably on its
way to the Suez for car delivery. I was tempted to ask them for a weather
forecast, but I had the feeling they weren’t all that chatty. Ah well. My feet
were freezing so I went inside and put a blanket on and promptly fell asleep.
When I woke up, the engine was running, and joy of joys, there was hot water!
You see the way it works on our boat is that when we are on the hard (meaning
our boat is hauled out of the water and put up so we can paint the bottom and
work on it) or connected to shore power in a marina we have a water heater, but
we don’t make enough power just us to use it normally, so if you want hot water
for dishes you boil a kettle and for showers generally you use salt water with
a rinse of fresh. However, when we run the engine, the water sits near it and
heats up, so we can use it for delicious showers. Also we have water pressure
that we switch on and off, for obvious conservation reasons, so for this
morning it was on. Lord, it was sinfully good, to have hot running water to
wash my hair. Another thing I’m looking forward to in Flores is the bathtub. I
haven’t had one since we left in January. As for hot showers, well those are
also few and far between. One of the arts of boat living is the salt water
shower, which I have mastered having the longest hair aboard. My brother used
to be a contender, til he cut his hair, though the funny thing is now that he
has short hair, he washes it more than I do. Now it’s just Dad and me, and
since our hair is relatively similar in thickness, we both wash it the same
|Not very appealing|
|Yes he is very close|
The wind left us at 1 am this morning. Dad woke me up and we sat outside and then it shifted and shifted until it was from the North West and between 4 and 6 knots. After an eternity of flapping sails, Dad started the engine, and we started moving again, but at a much slower rate of 4.5 knots compared to 6.5 and 7.0. I was unhappy because we had slowed down, but we chugged along and after Dad went down to sleep, I sat and watched the sky, which was clear as day. The moon was up and round and very bright, its light making the ocean shimmer like quicksilver. I sat and read until the moon went down and the sun came up and when I couldn’t keep my eyes open another second, I woke Dad up.
When I woke,
the engine was still running and the sun was high in the sky. The sea was still
almost like glass, there was so little wind yet it still managed to bounce me
around when I went down to make breakfast. Thanks be to god it wasn’t another
burrito. I swear on all that’s holy, if I have to eat a burrito again for
breakfast I will puke. I can hear you say, aw it’s not that bad, but if you eat
the same thing for 7 days in a row you too will be sick of it. We spent the
afternoon reading and motoring along, and at about 3 we got wind again. We have
put the spinnaker out and are goose winged sailing almost directly downwind.
the non-sailors that means our boom with the main sail is put out perpendicular
to the boat and we set up a spinnaker pole which is kind of like a smaller secondary
boom that holds the head sail to the opposite side as the main sail.)
Hopefully, (knock on wood) we can keep the wind. In other news we have 1017
miles to go and have almost broken the 50 degree line. We are so close!! I’m
getting more and more excited… -AS
|Dad at the wheel|
|Goosed winged and making time!|
10 days at sea. It doesn’t feel like it’s been a lot. Of course, last night I came downstairs to read for a bit and my book fell out of my hand and I couldn’t keep my eyes open after 2 minutes! I guess the exhaustion was just catching up with me from the rest of the trip. Oh well, it had to happen sometime! Great news, 855 miles to go! Now the real countdown begins, as every day the miles tick down, like a clock til we get there. We have about 18 knots of wind still from the South West, but are back on the port tack, though our spinnaker pole is still up.
With this wind we are doing an average of 8.0 knots, even with a
reef in the headsail. I was sitting on the high side of the boat earlier when a
nice wave saw an opportunity and took it, managing to soak my fleece pants.
Luckily however, a few minutes before, I had decided I was too cold and put on
my wet weather jacket, which is waterproof, so my fleece jacket, scarf and t
shirt were dry. I’ve hung my pants in the bathroom, in the hopes that they’ll
dry, but we shall see. So far, my nights have been strange. Whenever I’m asleep
I have the most vivid and weird dreams, with people running in and out of them,
and when sleeping in the middle bunk, here on the couch in the galley, which
has been set up with memory foam, so you can’t roll, the sheets work their way
around my body, and I wake up feeling like I’m being strangled. It’s not the
nicest way to rest, trust me.
|Nice day with blue water|
Alright we’ve had the log update for the day, now we are going to talk about Weevils. Yes, the bugs.
So if you’ve ever lived on a boat in the tropics, you probably know all about weevils, but if you haven’t, it’ll be my pleasure to enlighten you. Weevils are little black bugs that live in grain, and rice, and hatch when it’s warm enough. Now, some of this grain is made into pasta, with the eggs still in it. Also, just so you know, you have eaten weevil eggs before. They are in all pastas, rice, grains; they just don’t hatch unless it’s warm enough. If you leave the pasta, they will hatch. And let me tell you how not fun it is to pull out a bag of pasta or open a container of rice and see black bugs crawling around in there. And that’s all I’m gonna say about that.
36.23.015 N 43.09.087 W
Yesterday, to put it simply, was hellish. The barometer dropped 5 points, and then another 5, and before we knew it we were in the middle of a howling gale. First the horizon behind us got hazy, then a huge bank of clouds rolled in, bringing with it 30+ knots of wind, gusting to 40 at time, monstrous swells that were terrifying I can’t even explain it, and sheeting rain. Dad had to hand steer for hours because the autopilot just couldn’t handle it. We were surfing down those waves, going 9 and 10 knots, the sails reefed and reefed again, shivering even in our wet weather gear, long johns and jackets, the cold seeping into everything. I stayed outside with Dad because I knew the company was wanted. We both wore harnesses and clipped in even though it was daylight. I do NOT want to think about someone going over the side in those conditions. It was a very, very long day, but on the bright side we had a large pod of dolphins come and play in our rather frothy bow wave. There must have been at least 20 to 25 of them, showing off, surfing with us, and jumping clean out of the water. There were even mothers and children, I saw. It was a bright spot for me, laughing and watching them. One thing I hadn’t counted on was being lonely. I had Dad and he is wonderful, but I felt like they came along to give me some cheer. Imagine that, one pod of dolphins finding their way to us 735 miles from Flores. I couldn’t get my camera out to take photos of them or the canyon-like swells because rain and cameras generally don’t mix. Let me tell you though, those waves, with those waves I understood what people were talking about when the say the North Atlantic has big waves. You look and see them rolling in front of you, breaking next to you and you get this feeling of apprehension, and it’s not a good feeling. Towards dark, I went down to try and grab some sleep, knowing I’d need it later in the evening. After maybe an hour of hearing the winds roaring through the rigging, Dad called my name. Now there are times when you can tell that it is important, and this was definitely one of those times. I hurried into my gear, not caring that it was freezing and damp, shrugged on my harness and went outside. The swells were rolling us around and the wind was screaming. We needed to do a sail change. I got on the wheel, while Dad went on deck to try and get the head sail to furl. See, because it’s a brand new head sail, when we sail with a lot of wind, the part that’s furled tightens up, so when we try to furl the rest we run out of sheet line and there is still an amount of sail out. I turned us into the wind, and felt the icy spray on my face, squinting past the deck lights which were pouring forth light; I saw the moon start to rise, round and orangey-red. The wind started blowing harder and Dad was still on deck. The mainsail was all the way furled and it was just the stubborn head sail. The boat viciously rolled and I couldn’t see Dad. I got a sick feeling in my stomach and ice cold fear ran through my blood. My mind immediately started going through the scenarios. What if he fell over the side, how will I find him? What if he gets hurt? Finally I saw him hanging on the rails at the bow, fixing the head sail sheet lines, and a sense of relief coursed through me. He started coming back to the cockpit. “Dad,” I called out, “I’m gonna be sick”. “It’s fine,” he said. I curled up on the bench in the back, my hand clenched around the steering wheel even after Dad locked it all the way to starboard. We sat there. We were successfully Hove To. (For those who don’t know, Hove To is when the wind is too strong, or you are too tired or something, you pull in all but the barest scrap of sail, lock your wheel, and just drift) I went below, having controlled my roiling stomach, and stripped out of the wet weather gear, and crawled into bed. I spent a very long night there, being bounced by the waves, listening to make sure nothing was wrong. Dad immediately fell asleep which I can’t blame him for, he’d been up half the previous night, and then the whole day. He slept almost through. I kept waking up every few hours, and just lay there, worrying. Dawn came and the only casualty was a lost sail bag for the storm sail, which was laying on the fore-deck. No doubt it filled up with water and ripped off. Dad brought the tie back to the cockpit later. We got under way and I was so thankful we were safe. I don’t think I’ve ever been that scared. All in all, we drifted 10 miles back South during the night. Not too bad. Today was quiet which was fine by me. We have 592 miles to go and once again I can’t wait! I have no doubt Mom was watching that storm on the weather sites, and worrying about us. Its ok Mom, we’re safe and absolutely ecstatic to be out of that storm! See you soon. –AS
37.21.417 N 40.49.825 W
Well the weather gods decided to take the wind away. We’ve been running the engine since last night. The wind has been between nonexistent and 6 knots, not nearly enough to make a difference. We are currently moving at a measly 3.4 knots, but the seas are very calm and Dad is resting. God knows he needs it, we both do. It’s rather hard to look fabulous after nearly two weeks at sea, though I do my utmost best, sin of pride and all. Both our eyes are bloodshot, and since the barometer has moved up to 1030, which is marked as very dry, well, so are my eyes. Lovely. The downside of the doldrums is we’re not really making enough progress for my voraciousness to achieve our goal. True, we only have 471 miles to go, but with no wind in sight, they are dragging by. The sun came out today and I took advantage of it, stretching out like a contented cat, relishing the warmth after these past few days of rain and storms, and delighted to be out of my damp wet weather gear wherein I had been coexisting for 48 hours. Dolphins graced our presence, this time in much calmer seas.
I did get my camera out
this time, and watched them playing. They were quite naughty, as I would wait
with my finger on the button for one of them to pass into the lens, and when
they did, I would get off a passable shot, and then there would be a perfect
opportunity, like a clean jump or a fine fin slicing the water, but of course
my camera was pointed the other direction. The scoundrels, they did it on
purpose. See, go to sea for two weeks and you start to believe the dolphins are
playing tricks on you. Oh boy. It was a nice day, a day of relaxing, but long
nonetheless. In the evening, there wasn’t a breath of wind, the sea was clear
as glass, and we could see all manner of jellyfish, including tons of
Portuguese-Man-Of-War and box jellyfish, neither of which I’m too fond of,
myself having been stung by the first one and Dad by the second a few years
ago. There was also a great deal of red plankton in the water and we wondered
over it. I know we are getting closer to whale grounds, they are very partial
to the area around Faial and Pico, so maybe the plankton was on its way there,
traveling with the currents. I was standing on the bow looking down into the
water and seeing darkness, and it was disconcerting. To know that there is
nothing beneath you for a good few kilometers… Well, let’s not go there, shall
|The best shot I have|
The sky is clear, there are no clouds tonight. The stars look like millions and millions of fireflies twinkling up above. The sea is calm, and dark, and there is faint phosphorescence in the small waves of our wake. It’s a pity it can’t be caught on camera; it really is the most beautiful thing you can imagine. –AS
38.01.382 N 38.29.730 W
Two weeks at sea. Not bad. We’ve got 353 miles to go owing to the loss of wind yesterday, but we got a nice breeze today pushing us at 6 knots so we have made some mileage. If we keep this wind it should be about two and a half, maybe three days til we get there. I’m getting quite nervous! The sea has changed color a bit, for most of the journey it’s been a deep cerulean blue, but now its greener, like a shiny emerald.
The dolphins came again, and played, but these looked more like bottlenose, and after they left, I took a short nap in the sun, so relaxing, and was woken by Dad calling my name. Well whatta ya know, whales! There were two or three, I think, and they stayed under the water til we passed, smart of them, and resurfaced behind us. We got a look at some dorsal fin and a few spouts. Today was nice, with the wind. Granted yesterday was nice as well, but it’s good to have the wind again, pushing us to our final destination.
|A molten sunset, urging us on our way|
Outside, behind the boat, is our wake and the phosphorescence is amazing. It’s like a trail of light green, a comets tail of little sparkling stars, shimmering like tiny green diamonds. I tried to take a photo, but the light is too little, it’s more something you experience and it’s hard to explain or show someone who hasn’t seen it. During my watch, I sat outside in the back, behind the steering wheel, listening to music on my iPod, and just staring behind the boat, watching the sky shining in the water, the line beneath the boat from the speed of water passing by our keel, feeling strange, as if this is a gift for me and me alone, and knowing no one else is awake and I am alone out here with only the wind, sky and sea as company. Deep thoughts, yes, but what an amazing sight, to sit beneath the stars and revel in the brisk breeze and be thankful –AS
Day 15(17 May 2017 by now)
38.41.835 N 35.26.593 W
Another day bringing us closer to home. I cleaned up the boat a bit, considering how it felt like we were wallowing, walking past things on the floor, not making beds, that sort of thing. I suppose after so long, you become a bit zombified, and it is just habit for your eyes to glaze over. But it feels much better to have a clean boat now. We are making very good time and at this speed should arrive early on the 19th so another full day and two nights. That’s really not so bad. I keep expecting it to all be a dream, that we are this close, like I’ll wake up and we’ll still have 1800 miles to go. So I keep telling myself
“Don’t over think it. Just take it one day at a time, nice and easy, relax. We’re almost there. Only 203 miles to go.”
Oh man, I’m fairly bouncing up and down with excitement. I can’t wait, I can’t wait, I can’t wait! I’m picturing coming in, tying up and flopping down onto the dock, or better yet the concrete, and just NOT MOVING. I wonder how long it will take for my body to get accustomed to not rolling back and forth. That’ll be interesting, I’ll wager.
Day 16(18 May 2017)
39.27.688 N 31.58.208 W
Abracadabra has become quite anxious in her race to get closer to Flores. I don’t think we’ve gone under 6.5 knots all day. Last night the dolphins came back and were surfing the waves next to the boat, making little torpedo wakes behind them. The first time I saw one of them it scared the crap outta me cause I thought it was a shark or something big. Silly me. It was kind of magical, seeing these trails of light from beneath the animals. Well the excitement is palpable aboard this here barky now, us being 37 miles from Lajes, the main port, and our destination… I hope. See the swell is coming from the South and when it’s like that it really isn’t comfy in the marina, so hopefully, it will settle down the closer we get. The sun went down about a half hour ago and one of the reasons I’m so excited is ‘cause I can see the flash from the lighthouse already! In the book it says it only goes 27 miles, but what’s another 10 between friends, eh? There’s another boat out here, a fisherman I’m pretty sure, he’s only got a small light, low to the water. If the swell won’t cut out, we’ll head for Faja Grande, on the North West side of the island. Normally, it’s the worst bay (and the only one besides Lajes) to anchor in, what with the wind direction and the swell, but it might be good enough for us. I really hope we can go into the harbor though, it would be so much easier.
Guess I’ve gotten soft.
|Land at last!!|
Throughout this entire journey, this odyssey, I learned so much, about responsibility, about trust and having faith that, yes, we will get there, no you won’t die from exhaustion, and yes, it was the most amazing experience. I am so lucky and honored to have done this with my Dad, the two of us, crossing an ocean.
Who would’ve thought? I just now realize that, yes,
that’s exactly what we’ve done. We have crossed an ocean, and we did it
|Land smelled like rain and fresh water and soil and cows. Amazing after so long at sea.|
We arrived in the port of Lajes das Flores on May 19th 2017, at 9.00 am in the morning after 16 days and 18 hours, covering 2200 miles across an ocean. It was an experience I’ll never forget and at times I can’t believe I really made it. Thank you Dad, my watch buddy, my cabbage making man, you are my hero. I love you.
To my mom and brother, thank you for the opportunity. I know it wasn’t really your choice, but sometimes life decides to take things into it’s own hands and our worlds and plans might change, but as is most times the case, usually it makes you a richer person. I love you both.
To all my friends who sent me messages wishing me luck and to be safe: I love you guys, you helped get me through the trip.
And finally to my home, my one and only, the beautiful boat that is S/Y ABRACADABRA, you got me through the storm, and across an freaking ocean! I love you, you’re everything. Thank you.