Harmon and Randall's Voyage…

Madeira Cape Verde Leg

Day 3

Wednesday, July 9

Noon Position: 25 55.1N 18 21.9W

Course/Speed: S 7

Wind: NE 9

Sail: Motoring

Noon Miles: 150

Total Miles: 416

By now we are starting our fourth day of the leg to Madeira, and as this is my first post of this leg, a little catch up is in order.

This segment to the Cape Verde Islands, due south and a little west, will be just over 1000 miles. On Mo such a leap should take a week if we can keep our mileage to 143 or greater per day, quite doable in average winds, but average winds we do not have. In fact, it appears we do have a usual year for winds.

A quick summary of days…

July 6

1330 Depart Calheta Village harbor, Madeira Island

In Madeira, we hadn’t been allowed to berth at the Funchal Marina just below the island’s major town. The marina is small and others had beat us to the punch. Instead upon arrival we were directed to an anchorage area just beyond the breakwater where ten other boats of similar misfortune heaved and gyrated on the admittedly minimal Atlantic swell. I balked at leaving Mo for more than a few hours in an open roadstead, though others did routinely, and so after a day, moved her for the duration to the village of Calheta, two hours westward and a berth behind a concrete wall.

From here we departed at 1:30pm, three hours behind schedule, for the leap to the Cape Verde Islands.

The delay was due to an autopilot malfunction. In the early morning and over a cup of coffee, I had switched the unit on to make some changes only to find that the rudder sensor (a small device attached to the rudder that tells the autopilot computer of the rudder angle) had failed. This had happened to us just outside Homer, Alaska in 2023, and after days of trouble shooting with a technician there, during which the only positive result was the disqualification of the rudder sensor as the problem, a solution was finally reached by … replacing the entire autopilot computer. That is to say, we never found the issue. Imagine a case where your car’s alternator fails and replacing the engine is the only solution anyone of knowledge can offer.

On this morning I went through the same troubleshooting procedures (including swapping in a new rudder sensor) and came to the same repair conclusion: new auto. New auto installed from spares and we were underway in the early afternoon.

Wind around the island is fast; behind it is nil. After a few hours of motoring in flat calm to get our wind, we were in 25 knots on the quarter and making 7 – 8 knots in a big blue sea.

July 7

Noon Miles: 122

Winds lasted until noon the next day, slowly easing from near gale force to 10 – 12 knots from the NE and on the quarter over those many hours. A breeze of 10 knots is plenty to sail on except in a fast, following sea of 5 – 7 feet. High wind off Spain and around the Madeiran Islands delivered to us boulder-garden waves of such proportion that sails beat and flapped like a fish in its death throes.

In the log I wrote, “rolly polly slap and bang” as I reached for the engine key. Switching the engine on always feels like failure. That said, on these trips, we are glad we have it.

July 8

Noon Miles: 144

Total Miles: 266

We motored all that day humming, whistling, and twigging the rigging for wind to no avail. My friend Vincent wrote that morning that “at this time of the year, the Northerly winds are typically not yet well established in your area of the Atlantic. Nowadays even later they appear to lack the consistency of earlier times. Of course, proximity to the Canaries doesn’t help.”

The Canaries came in sight early and we were passing La Palma to the east by 10am. Like the other islands we have visited, these are high, volcanic and thoroughly peopled. Thinking the Canaries the most tourist-bound, Harmon and I decided to pass them by, but I think we both regretted this a little the nearer they grew.

Rain from heavy squall clouds blocked our view and then melted away to fresh tropical sun. Fast ferries between the islands making way at 30 knots.

I had decided on a path between the Canary Islands because there we could pick up some wind in the vortex created by the land masses. Engine off at noon and Mo was wing and wing with a big genoa billowing out from either bow. By evening the last of the Canaries, Hierro, was well astern, and Mo plowed steadily on…

July 9

Noon Miles: 150

Total Miles: 416

Sailing lasted until midnight. The moon is just past full now, but under heavy cloud the blackness of night was total. Harmon and I in a world lit by headlamps slowly took in the big sails and with heavy hearts switched the engine on again.

By morning wind 9 knots at NE. The sky was heavy with stagnant cloud nearly as dense as what we will find later in the doldrums. At least the sea had settled down so that we can now fly sails without beating them to death.

We are but half a day’s sail to the south of the Canaries and how oddly abandoned this area of ocean feels. Only four flying fish seen. By morning, Mo’s decks scooped up only two, to their utter, open mouthed regret. Petrel sightings, rare. No dolphins seen since the first day.

The cabin is infernally hot and hit 100 degrees just before lunch. On deck it’s only 80 degrees, so the sweltering below is due to the engine heat radiating up from the floorboards–so welcome in the arctic, so inescapable here.

Harmon made hamburgers for dinner and went to bed. On my watch, the sun set quickly between a distant slit of cloud and the horizon–a fire-orange wink and gone.

And with that, you are up to speed.