Steve and Ben Stokey have left a chilly January Dorset and arrived in the Canaries to sail with Sara and Phil across the Atlantic to Barbados. Check out Lochmarin's blog as they make their way across, expect no stories of clearing snow from the decks though - turn right when the butter melts !
http://blog.mailasail.com/Lochmarin/89
A Day Sail. 27th December 2012, day after Boxing Day. Morro Jable, Fuerteventura to Las Palmas, Gran Canaria
It was still dark when we got up; we wanted to be away from the wall before the low point of the tide, to make sure we could get clear into deeper water. So, kettle on the gas whilst we dressed: shorts, t-shirts, sweatshirt and deck shoes (as the concrete wall was very rough). Then a scramble up the rope ladder to free the springs, leaving the fore and aft lines looped through the rings clear to run when we let go, a good push off the wall and we were away.
We stayed inside the breakwater whilst we lashed the fender boards back on, coiled the lines and readied the sails, as there was a decent swell outside. Then, all ship shape, out of the harbour and into the lightening day. The wind was slight but the swell sent a solitary star swinging up... and down, up... and down through the porthole as I finished tidying the breakfast below. My sweatshirt had been discarded as soon as we got working, so, as soon as the sails were up, mizzen, staysail and jib, I let the warm morning light play on my arms and legs sitting on the side of the bridge deck. I looked down - brown! It still surprises me, I'm used to just about showing up against the paintwork by the end of summer, not being browner than I've ever been before at the end of December.
It was a good job that we hadn't raised the main as the infamous 'acceleration zones' started to come into play as we moved further down the coast. The Northerlies were slipping over the narrow promontory, sliding down the sides of the volcanoes towards us and we were soon racing along at 9 or 10 knots with no main.
It was a beautiful day. We watched the ragged slopes flowing down to silver beaches slip past as we sailed towards the headland, the lighthouse standing way out from the cliffs on the beach. We could see waves breaking on the reef and the rough outline of the race on the horizon so we stayed well out, even so it was a fun ride going through, standing on the bridge deck, feeling the movement beneath me, letting my knees give and rise as we leaned first one way, then the other, tipping forwards into a trough then climbing a peak.
The race behind us, we settled down to enjoy the sail, still bowling along, waves breaking over the bow and sweeping along the side decks. We had a 3 1/2 meter swell just forward of the beam. 'Here's a big one!' we'd remark, holding on as we were swung over, then relaxing as we righted, perhaps with a splosh of sea water onto the deck. But we all had a similar look of concentration on our faces, turned outwards to the sea, and, yes, "there's one!". Flying fish, sometimes solitary, sometimes as many as a dozen at a time. Often they'd get a good run, maybe 100m skimming just above the waves, using their tails as a sort of rudder that they dipped into the surface now and again, stiff wings beating wildly, but sometimes they'd come out to be greeted by a wall of water 10 feet away and crash headlong into it. But either way they never failed to entertain and delight.
As we left Morro Jable, another sail boat had slipped out after us, we could see it still, not quite keeping pace, falling a little behind but still there all the same. The high speed ferry loomed up from the horizon, changing from a little dot to a huge menacing beast rushing towards us, then shooting past in 15 minutes. Container ships appeared and disappeared in the swell, as they got nearer the superstructure remained in sight, but the hull would vanish as we dipped and peaked.
Lunch time came, appetites subdued by the motion but soup and rusks welcome all the same, and soon afterwards, a rare treat; a pod of dolphins joined us to play in our bow wave, elbowing each other out the way to get their turn, racing ahead then turning back to join us again, jumping and squealing. Rare because these weren't common dolphins or harbour porpoises, but Atlantic spotted dolphins, about 30 or so; small compact bodies with pretty dappled markings.
Phil won the Twix for spotting land first. Was it just the shadow of a cloud on the horizon? Hard to tell at first, but gradually the lines become clearer, darker and you can be sure it's there. The mountains resolve into view and see the lie of the land. As we approached it was hard to know where all the other shipping was going, especially when a container ship went past us then took a u-turn around us. They were waiting for a pilot boat, but it did feel like having missed us first time they were heading back to try again! So we threaded our way in, dropping sails as soon as we were in the lee of the breakwater and motoring into the anchorage. Before long we were hook down, sail covers on, and beer in hand as we looked around at our new home for the night.
Sara Xavier and Phil Smith
Submitted on 13th January 2013