Log #38i La Palma, and a heavy sail to La Gomera Written at: Baia de Mordeira, Ilha do Sal, Cape Verde Islands Jan 17, 2006 Hi Folks, We are still stuck here at this exposed anchorage of Baia de Mordeira on the west side of Ilha do Sal for the sixth day now, experiencing constant force 8, 9, and even 10 ( 35 to 55 knots) NE winds howling across the low lying plains in front of us. The anchor is holding us well, into the wind and minor waves created in this short fetch. We are afraid to weigh anchor and leave, as we will not be able to find a less exposed anchorage on this flat island, and we may not be able to set the anchor as securely as it is set now. To head down to the next island would mean a 36 mile sail, including a 20 mile passage across the strait to Boa Vista, beam on to the wind and probable 4 to 5 metre swells. We do not want to risk that, so we will wait another day or more for things to settle down. None of this was forecast and all our pilot books indicate winds seldom exceed 25 knots this time of year here. Hah! There has been no suggestion of these gale force winds lasting for 5 to 7 days as this seems to be doing. Even our wind generator which was doing well, generating up to 16 amps in high gusts and averaging over 100 amp hours input per day, has burned out from the constant high winds. There are no boats in VHF range, and for some reason our mobile phone does not connect with local numbers. We actually phoned one of Judy’s cousins in England to look up a weather site for us and call back to let us know when this crazy weather might end. Otherwise, we are fine. Judy whimpers a bit in the 55 knots of howling wind, but she knows we are safe. It is giving her ample time to read some of the books she has stored on CD with her laptop, while I am getting caught up on my logs on mine. We hope the crossing will not be marred by such outlandish winds. This time of year the NE trades should have stabilized to a more comfortable force 5 hopefully all the way across. We’ll see. All the best, Aubrey Log #38i La Palma, and a heavy sail to La Gomera Boxing Day found us back at the Yacht Club Pontoon (28 40.70N, 017 46.04W), but this time we went out to the outer end to avoid the pesky kids who were fishing off the dock and pelted Veleda with wet bread and fish hooks when we were there before. Next day we went into town and rented a car to go back to the Caldera de Taburiente in good weather. It was a beautiful day and we had a fantastic trip up into the mountains and the pine forests of the caldera. This biosphere reserve is well taken care of, with hiking trails galore, controlled camping areas, and well groomed roadsides leading up to the upper ridge of the world’s largest caldera, 27 km in circumference. I took some lovely pictures overlooking the crater through the pine forest, with clouds drifting below. There was unfortunately ample evidence of the destruction Storm Delta had on many of the trees up there, some trails being closed and others with trees torn up by the roots and with their tops broken with bleeding scars of raw wood and coagulated resin. We stopped for a delightful meal in a local bar/restaurant high in the mountains where after seeing a herd of goats crossing the road, we ate grilled kid. Mmmm, but bony! From that mountainside location we went even higher, past the astrophysical observatory for another fantastic view over both sides of the island on this barren, rocky, ridgeline, so high there were still icicles dripping from the rock faces and ice in the shaded puddles at the side of the road (and I was just wearing shorts and a short sleeved shirt). I always get a kick out of looking down on clouds or driving through them. I had ample opportunity this time, especially on the drive back as we had to go slowly and drive with lights on as we meandered down the narrow roads, clouds wafting up and over them, as we made our way back down to Santa Cruz. In town we visited with Ruth and Leif Halse, a retired Danish couple who had a nice top floor condominium up the hill. Leif showed us some of the damage done when Storm Delta roared through, loosening wall panels and lifting plexiglass panels from their balcony. We returned the car in the evening rather than keep it until the morning, even though we had a difficult time finding a parking space for it in the very crowded larger car park across the road from the office. From there we went to an internet café to check the weather, on one of our favourite sites, https://www.fnmoc.navy.mil/PUBLIC  where we found heavy weather was to come for the next several days. We did not want to spend New Years Eve on the lonely Yacht Club dock, and so decided to leave right away at 2100 for an overnight 55 mile passage back to La Gomera before the bad weather came in. When we left, it was a quiet motor sail for the first two hours, then the wind started to pick up and went from a light force four to a heavy force six in ten minutes. We had a double reefed main from our previous trip, fortunately, as within another 20 minutes we were experiencing fantastically strong force 9 and 10 (40 to 50 knots) constant winds and increasing waves from our port quarter which continued for the rest of the entire trip. The overtaking waves were too much for our self steering and so I helmed Veleda all through the night with only one hour relief from Judy between 0400 and 0500, as I did not want Judy alarmed at the 50 knot winds speeds, and I felt responsible for making the decision to leave. It was one of the worst conditions that we have been in for the past 8 years. We were experiencing the wind acceleration zones between Tenerife and La Gomera and the waves were piling up. Because it was a dark moonless night, I could not assess the size of the swells, but I would estimate them at 3 to 4 metres, overtaking on our port quarter. For the first time since we have been sailing Veleda we had waves bash into our cockpit, flooding it with four inches of water on two occasions that night. Normally, Veleda is a very dry boat, rising above overtaking waves, but these just bashed against our port quarter, soaking me and flooding the cockpit. We have four cockpit drains which allowed the water to swill out after a few minutes. I was steering a compass course as there were no land references ahead of us, just La Gomera off to our starboard, and Tenerife to our port. A ferry or cruise ship was overtaking to port, but not closing us. It was probably heading for Tenerife. It looked so frustratingly stable, its row of lights placidly gliding along a few miles away, while I was struggling to keep Veleda on course and not let her slew beam on to the waves every time a roller crashed on my quarter, while getting soaked with the wind driven spray. As I rounded the northwest coast of la Gomera, I knew I would have to head more southerly, and had to have the main over on my port side. There were two ways of doing such. The most direct way is to jibe the main whereby the stern swings across the direction of the wind and the main swings violently across to the opposite side, a very risky manoeuvre in these heavy conditions, as it can put a fantastic strain on the rigging and risk a snapped aft stay or shroud, or break the tackle controlling the main. The other way is to do a 270 degree tack into the wind (to port) and then run downwind on the new course. However, this latter move would involve heading into 3 to 4 metre waves and 40 knots of wind as we come about. I got Judy up to shorten in the main sheet and centre the traveler preparatory to the jibe so the main would not have as far to swing when we put the helm up. The main clunked across with a sudden jerk, and then was eased rapidly out as we completed the jibe onto the more southerly course Whew, that was over! We were now only a few miles from the breakwater into San Sebastian de La Gomera, and the winds were still between 30 to 40 knots, curving around the island rather than giving us a sheltered lee. As we approached the breakwater we furled the reefed genoa, leaving the reefed main up until we were in the lee of the breakwater, as we do not have lazy jacks for our fully battened main, and it takes a few minutes on the cabin top to get it lashed to the boom. Inside the harbour the water was smoother, but the winds still blew across, but at a reduced speed of about 20 knots, as we got the main down, and then circled a few times as Judy got lines and fenders ready to go alongside the reception pontoon of the marina in the inner harbour. As we motored into the narrow opening into the marina, there was a large motor yacht with its overhanging bow that I had to be sure to stay clear of and not be blown into it by the now fluky winds. Inside the breakwater, the reception pontoon was occupied by a large Russian ocean racer. As we cleared into the camber, I saw a pontoon on our port unoccupied and thought we should head for it instead. I started to alter towards it when we were hailed by the Russian boat and invited to raft alongside. By then I had changed course and could not maneuver in that restricted camber to go alongside it, and so with a few expletives, I headed back out into the outer harbour to make another entrance, lining up to go alongside the Russians. They took our lines and had their fenders out, and we were finally rafted alongside (28 05.23N, 017 06.55W) by 0630, the finish of an exhausting hand steered nine and a half hour, 55 mile grueling sail at an average speed of 5.8 knots, a bit above our hull speed. It was an arduous trip, one of the heaviest we have experienced in our 8 years of cruising, but unfortunately it was only a foretaste of what we were to experience on our way the 800 miles down to the Cape Verdes just after the New Year. Next log