Cabo Verdes islands

29 March 2015 

We are sitting in the Caribbean as I post this, as we did not have internet for quite some time, I am back peddling a bit.

From Santa Luzia, we had a brief sail to the bustling town of Mindelo on the island of Sao Vicente. Mindelo is the big city of the northern islands and as we knew Anneleize and Jabez's friends, on an English sailing boat would be there, we spent a few days in Mindelo before heading to one of the southern islands of the Cabo Verdes, Fogo.

Anneleize in the sailing dinghy, 'Bear Necessities' in Mindelo

 
 Anneleize, Jabez and their friend Lochland rowing to Lochland's boat in the harbor of Mindelo, Sao Vicente, Cabo Verdes islands

Lochland in his sailing dinghy with Jabez, the two boys, and Anna in 'Bear Necessities', competing with the boys : who has the fastest sailing dinghy

 The children had some good playing together and sailing in their sailing dinghy and we tried to get information about the island of Fogo. We knew there was a volcanic eruption on the island the end of November, 2014, but were unable to find anything more current on the internet to tell us if the island had been evacuated or if we would be able to stop and show Anneleize and Jabez a volcano. None of the locals I quizzed in Mindelo knew much about it.

I went to the Red Cross in Mindelo to ask if there was anything we could take on our boat to help with destruction from the volcano but they told me they didn’t need help, and were quite confused as to why I would want to do anything like that. A woman from the local sailor’s bar told us a Red Cross boat went to Fogo with supplies and aid, apparently overloaded, and sank in the harbor of Fogo, killing 15 people.

Armed with that pile of information, we sailed overnight to the island, seeing its conical shape against the backdrop of  a golden sunrise.

Fogo in the distance, with a golden shadow sunrise

As we get closer, we see more definition of the island and more clouds

 We anchored in the tiny harbor, a local guy swimming to the boat to take a stern line ashore. The next day we made the trek to the volcano.

We had two young guys driving us in an old beat up van. Creole is the favored language of the Cabo Verdes and we didn’t have any to use up. We tried for conversation in Portuguese and English, but the two guys were not that interested in conversing.  We drove for an hour or so, around the southern side of the island and then began climbing. The road was a mix between being newly tarred and old cobblestones, and at times dirt.

Cobblestones

and fresh tar road

We drove until we couldn’t drive anymore because a large lava flow had passed over the road, covering it.

 

The  lava flow covers the road

Volcanic lava, 4 months fresh

 We got out of the van and walked to the flow, feeling the heat still coming through at places. Standing on top of the lava, we could even see many heat shimmers in the distance, though the rock had cooled enough to be solid. We walked up one of the hills to get a better idea of the destruction.

Layers of lave

Newly formed rock, a bit rough

There was a village that was completely wiped out, nothing but a few roofs were visible. A local man told us his government knew the volcano was going to erupt, but didn’t inform the public. He and his family were luck y to have gotten out when they did but they lost everything they had.  We handed out clothes that the children had outgrown and an old second hand bicycle was well received.  It seemed there was not much more we could do.

Roofs of houses in the distance, underneath lava

Inside the crater

Walking around the lava flow

We sailed the next day for Ilha Brava, the western most of the islands and our last stopping point before heading for the Caribbean.

Brava provided us with a lovely anchorage, steep hills surrounding it with a small fishing village peeking over the top of one of the hills. Again, dusty, barren, rocky and brown, I wonder how these hardy people can carve a life for themselves out of this desolate and harsh ground. If you didn’t know greenery existed, you wouldn’t long for it.

Arriving in the anchorage of Brava

Philip put into action a diving course for Anneleize and Jabez and after studying the dive books, they had their first open water practice, going to 15 meters.

Philip and the children take the dinghy for their first 'open water' dive

One of the fisherman from the village took special care with us, Jose, introduced us to his family, spoke to us about village life, we had a few meals together. He rows 2 or 3 miles around the corner, between Brava and Fogo, to do his fishing, and then rows back again. His wife takes the fish to the main village to sell it.

Jose and his family

We had 3 almost 4 days of a sirocco wind coming through from Africa. Because of the steep hills of Brava, when the winds finally reached our anchorage, having picked up speed coming over the island, the winds would race down to the water and whip it up, bringing more than 50 knots of gusts at a time.  We sat with Abracadabra for this, not wanting to drag anchor, and even dug out our massive stern anchor, from the depths of the boat, and deployed it to keep us more secure.  

The winds coming, roughing up the water

Philip sits on the boat with the winds pushing the boat against the anchor in Brava

When the sirocco comes, it brings with it sand and dust from the Sahara. It also obliterates the sun, making it a surreal disk in the sky.

These photos are from Gran Canaria, when we were also buffeted by the scirroco winds

To try to show how the sand and dust gets into the air and atmosphere and lays a find cloud between the blue sky and you

When it would have been a stunning day, with the scirocco winds, the skies turn grey

During this time we had a local fishing boat from one of the other Cabo Verdes islands, Santiago, that came into the anchorage to sit out the bad weather. We watched them anchor and re anchor over the course of 3 days. We also watched ourselves, checking where they were during the nights, so they didn’t bump into us.

They anchored with rope and we anchor with chain, and because of this the two boats swing differently. We swing in a fairly tight circle around our chain, while the Santiago fishing boat, well it is as if they swing hither, tither and yon. They were all over the place.

We were all ashore, at the rocky beach with Jose, we were watching that fishing boat moving around, and they were coming to close to Abracadabra. Philip jumped in the dinghy and raced out to the two boats, but arrived only after they had collided with our starboard side, putting a nice scratch into our brand new paintwork.

I did mention that we painted Abracadabra for the very first time, while we were on the hard in Portugal? It was a bit traumatic to go from gelcoat to paint, and we spent hours and days coming to this momentous decision. She is a 38 year old boat and the gelcoat was becoming a bit thin. So to have an old fishing boat make fun of our sleek new look, putting a reminding mark on the side of the boat, it was distressing and more than a little disappointing.

We were able to get fresh vegetables from the local gardens, a stalk of bananas as well, and Jose helped us to top up our water tanks before we began our crossing to St. Martin in the Caribbean. 

Arriving in Santa Luzia, So happy to put the anchor down.

 Not a bad sunset

 Only boat in the anchorage

 Anna and Jabo off for a day of adventure on an uninhabited island

 Jabez on the mountain top

 Lunch...

 And the chef preparing the lunch

Full moon sneaking over the hill

Our sail from Las Palmas, Gran Canaria to Santa Luzia in Cabo Verdes islands was a trip of 850 miles in a straight line and we were 5 days (and of course nights!) at sea.  If you do the math, we averaged 170 miles in a 24 hour period, which for us, was pretty speedy. I can also say as each mile south passed, we sensed warmer temperatures and slowly began taking off layers of fleece and wet weather gear.
Two occasions of note transpired while we were sailing. The first,  we crossed the Tropic of Cancer, another indicator that we are getting closer to tropical waters. We did not see a sign at sea that said we had crossed it, but we did take notice of the latitudinal line on the GPS.
The other GPS induced fun was a moment when we marked 21 degrees, 07 minutes north and 21 degrees, 07 minutes west. This doesn’t happen often, and we are not always watching the GPS, so it was an instant of excitement to have both the latitude and longitude be the same numbers, and to have been looking at the GPS to be able to notice it. We do end up creating our own entertainment at sea!
Anneleize and Jabez were excellent on their night watches, looking for ships, checking our course, making sure the sails don’t flap. We divided the night watches into 2 hours slots, during which someone was awake and usually sitting in the cockpit. We watch for ships, but also see the night sky, observe the ocean and the boat’s progress.
For this trip, the ocean moved in all directions, making for an uncomfortable ride at times. When we had swell with us, the motion of the boat was more consistent and easier for all onboard, and occasionally we had a side swell that would twist things up and change the flow from a fluid one to a lurching one.
An entry in the log book,  55 miles from arriving in Santa Luzia reads, “29 Jan 2015, 08hr50, 17 degrees, 27 minutes north, 24 degrees, 07 minutes west, wind direction NE, wind strength 10 – 20 knots, barometer 1025, boat speed 7.4 knots, sailing direction, or course, 225 degrees, soupy, lugging, bucking, wallowing, messy, confusing; these all describe the sea state and the movement of the boat.”
We had phosphorescence often at night, sparkling the waters around us with light. For a few nights we also had what I call lightening bug phosphorescence. These were random lights that would flash, under the water. Just one flash, almost like Christmas lights, but never in succession, or in a line, more like lightening bugs, random. And those lights we could see in the distance too, not just around the boat. I cannot remember seeing this phenomenon before, in more than 22 years on and off the sea.
The absolute best though, the adrenalin rush at night time, is a visit from dolphins when there is a lot of phosphorescence in the water. Night watch in the cockpit, the noise of the ocean in my ears, the sky dark but for the stars, and all of a sudden a “pthooo”, abrupt and out of nowhere, right next to the cockpit. I jump at the noise, then realize I have visitors, and it is my signal to watch the waters around the boat.
The luminescence comes alive with the dolphins movement, I can see torpedos of light through the water, a blaze of brilliance moving alongside us, coming toward us, bullets of light heading for the bow of the boat. It is one of those special moments that is difficult to describe. To watch the water light up as a moving projectile, aimed at Abracadabra, it is funny, scary, thrilling and joyful all in the same moment. Perhaps it is the idea that I am not alone on night watch, there is someone else awake and with me. Perhaps the dolphins caught me unaware, frightened me with a sudden sound that gets my heart going, and then, when I realize who and what made the sound, I am exhilarated with the display of lights accompanying their visit. It’s not an everyday occurrence, or an every night occurrence, so when phosphorescence  and dolphins combine, it makes my night watch an occasion.

When we arrived and dropped anchor, we felt, somehow, we earned the right to put the anchor down and sit back for a moment. We  recounted our feelings and experiences, we spoke of the challenges of the passage,  and most assuredly, we appreciated the stillness of quiet water. A passage, any passage, but especially a passage like this one where we worked hard to arrive, is a humbling moment.