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An informal log of our
passage from the Azores to mainland Portugal.
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Entry Date |
Position |
Comments |
| July 18, 2004 |
Cascais, Portugal |
We are now happily tied up in the
seaside port of Cascais. A cozy and artful beach resort, with
narrow lanes paved with black and cream colored stones, polished
daily by the steps of those who traverse up and down the gentle
hills of the town. The feeling is warm, welcoming, and ever so
slightly exotic in a latin sort of way. Red-tiled
rooftops, young couples kissing, refreshingly original, if not
somewhat flamboyant architecture, and an abundance of green.
An astounding schedule of music over the next few weeks, here and
nearby - including a concert with one of my favorites, French
soprano Veronique Gens next weekend. The tiny
little (and surprisingly inexpensive) restaurants that dot the town
have served us up some wonderful and memorable meals already.
And I'm not sure I have yet let on, but the Portuguese really have a
way with desserts. Bev arrived early yesterday morning to rejoin
the gentlemen on Valiant Lady and we had the pleasure of welcoming
the crew of S/V Triumph to the continent this morning.
Tomorrow we will most likely make our first trek to Lisbon, the city
of Vasco da Gama and Henry the Navigator. And our transmission
parts should arrive soon.
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| July 16, 2004 |
39N 09', 010W 17' |
Approaching landfall, especially at
night, is always something that requires extra vigilance.
Especially on a foreign coast. Around 11 last night, as I was
cleaning up from dinner and getting ready for a brief rest as Mark
watched, a target began to approach on radar. We know as we
near shore, that we will once again begin to encounter significant
numbers of other vessels, from shipping traffic to local fishing
boats, which around here have a reputation for running with
incorrect or at times no lights. English is the official
language of the high seas, but we are now once again approaching
shore. We were flying along and the target was approaching
fairly quickly. A light appeared, but it was hard to make out
exactly what it was, no obvious port or starboard lights. It
was not a small boat. Another faint light - maybe it was a
cabin light or a deck light of some sort. It seemed to be
racing ever closer and not noticing us and not giving way.
Maybe he was fishing. Mark hailed him on the VHF. A
voice responded, asking for a repeat of the position. He said,
no that is not me. He continued to approach. It was
obvious that it was indeed him, but what can one do. Mark
hailed the vessel at his position again, highlighting our converging
courses. No response. Ivan, just 1.5 miles to our left,
chimes in with his best sportuguese. The gruff voice comes
back and acknowledges that it is indeed him and he does see both of
us, and will turn towards the coast if he needs to. He is 4
miles off and closing fast. We watch and we wait.
Screaming along under sail in this sea we have limited easy
manoueverability. Three miles. Two and a half. He is not
a small boat and is certainly not running with proper lights
according to the international safety at sea treaties. Ivan
calls him again. After a bit more broken Portuguese, one asks
if the other speaks Spanish, ahhhh. Conversation begins to
flow rapidly, first seriously and then with a few laughs. He
reiterates his course (which we have been trying to deduce on our
bouncing radar), states he is not fishing, and agrees to turn off.
We are still 60 miles from the nearest point on the coast.
We steel ourselves for an anxious night with lots of local traffic,
whom likely won't speak english, and for more fast sailing.
Happily, over the course of the night, Neptune seems to have
intervened and turned the wind down a notch or two and we did not
encounter any more improperly lit vessels intent on bearing down on
us.
At 4:55 am, Bou-bou, as I affectionately call my dear orange cat,
appears at the top of the companionway with big eyes. I scold
him for being an hour late as he jumps up beside me and assumes his
watch position just under the radar and the hand that caresses him
until dawn. He is such a creature of habit, sometimes.
Who would have thought he would adapt so well to life at sea?
Looking forward to our arrival later in the day...
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| July 15, 2004 |
39N 50', 011W 33' |
The wind picked up yesterday and after
beating in to it for as long as we could stand to hold our northing
along 41N, we made the turn southeast toward Lisbon at 6pm.
Overnight a solid 25-30 NNE and often higher. Very impressed
with the sailing prowess of my little chip's cat. Last night
he appeared on deck just 20 minutes after I began my watch (usually
he does not arrive until 4) and was completely unphased by the
hissing wind and loud wooshes of water as the boat rocked and rolled
through the darkness of the waves. Maybe he was even less
apprehensive than I, but in any case he has come a long way from his
first passage down the Saco river last spring, when all his time was
spent crouching, shaking and hiding in or under anything he could
find to make the bad dream go away.
Valiant Lady is back in sight after zooming ahead of us a few
miles yesterday - couldn't believe how well they were doing, beating
in to the building breeze and waves. Turns out that the key
broke off in the ignition while they were charging their batteries
and they decided to keep pounding into the sea until they found the
spare and managed to get the broken remains out. And then only after
an ok from Herb did they let go of the precious northing and turn
south. It is comforting to have them back, it was beginning to
get lonely out here.
The wind dropped
slightly today (under 25), but it seems we will have 20-30 again tonight which
will make for an early afternoon or at 8 knots over ground a
mid-morning arrival in Cascais. Sailing with just the yankee
and mizzen at this moment, but at this wind angle might have to reef the mizzen to
slow down so we can make our final landfall on this, the other side
of the Atlantic, together with Valiant Lady.
My voice has still not
returned to me. A low sulky grovel is all that I can get.
I think I've have to give up speaking for a while, but that be even
more difficult than usual these next few days.
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| July 13, 2004 |
41N 04', 17W 38' |
I can't believe we've been at sea for 5
days. The sailing has been easy as we tracked north to firstly
set ourselves up with a good angle with which to cross the northerly
Portuguese trades and south-setting current, and secondly wait out
some rather strong winds that invaded the coastal waters.
We've been sailing hand in hand with Ed and Ivan, rarely straying
more than 5 miles apart. It looks now as though the wind and
seas ahead are starting to lighten. Probably tomorrow we will
put the wind on the port quarter and set a course directly for
Lisbon. Actually we will make landfall in the resort town of
Cascais, at the mouth of the bay, just a short hop on the train to
the city center.
Hopefully our transmission rebuild kit will be awaiting us there
(we were delayed a day leaving Horta when our transmission refused
to go into forward as we were casting away from the dock wall -
founder of MAYS, Duncan Sweet, originally from our homeport of
Portsmouth NH, and his team at Atlantic Yacht Services went above
and beyond the call of duty in coming to our rescue, working late
into the night and early again the next morning to take it all
apart, tune it up and give it a few more hours of useful life so we
could get on our way). They really made our day.
I got hit with a bad cold one day out, completely losing my voice
on top of it all. It is still not back to more that a scratchy
grovel. I think I must have spent too much time with Ed before
departing Horta. Losing one's voice at sea is really not a
good thing. I've adopted a whistle to wear around my neck in
case I need to get Mark's attention when he is not right next to me,
as my voice is so not there I cannot muster anything even resembling
a yell. And trying to hail our friends or a passing tanker on
the radio with a whispery deep voice has not proven particularly
effective. But it's coming back, if ever so slowly. Been
resting and sleeping quite a bit, in an attempt to get over it
before the sailing gets challenging again, hence the lack of
convivial log entries.
A very grey morning here, but the sun is now returning, just in
time for my afternoon watch...
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| July 7, 2004 |
Horta, Faial, Azores |
The Azores do not disappoint. One
could spend a very long time exploring these flowering volcanic gems
in the middle of the sea. It is with sadness that we tear
ourselves away, but we must press onwards. We're planning to
leave in the morning, in the company of Ivan (S/V Valiant Lady) and
his sidekick, good friend, and crew Ed, who is filling in for Bev on
this leg (she is busily flying 747's around the world and will meet
us all in Lisbon when we arrive). |
| May-June 2004 |
passage from Antigua, via Bermuda, to
the Azores |
Ships
Log Archive |
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