Before leaving Barbados, I met Norman on the beach as I rowed in. A diplomat of sorts for Guyana and local journalist, he was intrigued about my trip, and did a small interview onboard for the Caribbean Compass newspaper - So, if you find a copy over the next few months, maybe I’ll be in it!

As scheduled, I left for St Lucia, with my Australian passport in the hands of the US embassy, to be posted on to the Castries DHL office. I think I mentioned the trip from Barbados was only 67nm, which was a mistake. I had punched in the northern most waypoint given by a 2006 St Lucia Imray chart, without first plotting it to get an idea of the distance, and it read 67nm… When I did do a proper sail plan, I plotted the waypoints and noticed the provided waypoint was a printing mistake, with the true distance being 104nm! I was a little disappointed at the mistake, having timed my journey based on the first figure. Nevertheless, I left anyway at 5pm, hoping I could arrive in under 24 hours, so I wouldn’t be stuck anchoring in the dark, or without customs clearance.

Little happened on the trip across, except a strange vessel mid-way that was lit up like a Christmas tree. It was at anchor, but showed no signs of life other than the vast array of lights. Headed straight for it, Merv the Mer-Veille, (a new addition to Constellation) picked up the vessel several miles out. I failed to mention that just before I left Las Palmas, and one of the reasons I was a few days late in leaving, was because I received a generous present from my Uncle, which performed really well across the Atlantic. Merv picked up several vessels I’d missed doing visual checks, and picked up all the ships I’d seen myself along the way. It’s not a fail-safe means to just going to sleep all night without looking around, but it does give an added sense of security. And if it’s good enough for all the French singlehanders, it’s good enough for me!

Constellation also seemed a little confused on the trip, thinking she was a catamaran, because we flew the entire way! Past Deep Water harbour in Barbados, a ferry was about to cross the Atlantic, with a few passengers waving to me in the distance, as I seemingly headed back into my old habits of sailing towards the setting sun. I was a little queasy with seasickness, but munched on a stick of ginger I had, and lay in my bunk as we averaged 5.5kts to Rodney Bay:

While the above anchorage is rather pretty, I decided to stay in the inner lagoon, as there was quite a wind blowing, and my anchor setup is less than perfect. Also not having an outboard makes it hard to row around in the bay itself, especially when the wind is up. I’m quite certain I could be the only person in the entire Caribbean still out here paddling about with oars… I try hard to pretend I’m an old tough fisherman from Maine with steely arms, as I slowly venture past the charter boats and other assorted expensive vessels in the lagoon, but I’m only kidding myself. The charter catamarans are the worst, with 20 beautiful people from Martinique, drinking rum punch with a pumping stereo, waving to the guy rowing into 25kts of wind.

Constantly nervous about the rusty 6mm chain on my anchor, I splurged on buying 35ft of new 8mm chain from the local chandlery. It was all I could afford, and less than adequate, but it’s better than what I have, and the idea of dragging backwards into an expensive boat gives me nightmares. I’d have to sell up to pay for the damage.

Thanks to Matt & Karen aboard S/V Where II, I received some new photos of me departing Las Palmas to cross the Atlantic - Thanks guys!

A few more on the photos page.

Tomorrow I hope my Visa will have arrived from Barbados, and so I’ll keep trucking north, possibly on Tuesday or Wednesday. Martinique is around 25miles (but don’t quote me!) so I think I’ll stop there for a day or two on route. I have some housing difficulties back in Berlin, with a suprise bill from the electricity company I’m trying to sort out, before it drains every last penny I have, and I have to start selling Guava from my dinghy…

nick

Well, I think I’ve posted enough about the Atlantic - It’s time to move on!

Arriving in Barbados after Europe was a culture shock - I did very little research on the country, (other than how to sail to here), so everything was a suprise; when traveling, I always think it’s best to have zero expectations, so you can never be disappointed! Upon docking in Port St Charles, I had to see Customs, Health and Immigration. This was all a big deal in comparison to Europe, where if you are an EU citizen it’s quite literally plain sailing (except for Portugal, who like paperwork…). Everyone was incredibly friendly, and I guess that set the tone for the rest of my stay. The Immigration department insisted I drink plenty of Rum, meet a local girl and party hard. He said you only live once.

In Port St Charles, they have a small marina with private berths, and a few ‘visitor’ berths. Of course, they really only want visitors who sail enormous yachts (ie. greater than 100feet). Naturally, Constellation didn’t fit that criteria, but fortunately she fit the ‘Oh my God, you sailed the Atlantic in THAT?’ criteria, so I guess you get a little bit of respect, for insanity rather than the size of your wallet. The dockmaster was however fairly adamant that ’small boats stay in Bridgetown’ (which is secret code for: Please leave, your size is hurting the look of the superyachts!). So, it was a gentle sail down to Bridgetown, where I anchored out the front of the yacht club.

To travel throughout Barbados, there are several choices. If you have money, you can take a taxi. If not, there is the public bus system and the private bus system. The public system run ordinary blue buses, but the private buses are slightly smaller and yellow, or there are the mini buses, called ‘ZR’s’. If the slowness of my voyage had been less than thrilling, the private buses made up for it. To describe a typical journey: As the private buses work on commission, they race each other for customers. On one bus, they purposely blocked traffic so a competing bus couldn’t overtake! Sporting Magnaflow exhaust systems, graffitied dash boards, the drivers wearing racing gloves and spoilers, these guys get you places, quick. The stereo system blurts out banging hip hop, the school kids sing pitch perfect to the lyrics, and the grandmas nod their heads, syncopated. The radio station they play is also interesting, the DJ insisting on singing over the top of the current track, and dimming the song to exclaim ‘yo yo, let’s party till luncheon’ or something similar - I’m just imagining a station in Melbourne with one of our horrible breakfast radio DJ’s singing over the top of Hotel California… An awful thought. The smartly dressed school boys (their uniform obviously still around since British rule) wear insignias reading ‘Fear God, Think Clean, Aim High’. As you can imagine, I alighted for the beach bar with WIFI, thinking with cleanliness, but fearing rain over other things of a higher nature… Besides, I don’t think God ever intended us to fear much of anything, but it was a complex argument to pose to the kid sitting next to me, while the reggae was turned up so loud.

Upon first impressions of the Caribbean, it really does seem everyone is quite simply, cool - I’ve been transported back to being the dorky kid at school… Even the old men have an aura of coolness I could only aspire to. I guess here I’m the dorky white guy, and that in itself is interesting. With the majority of ‘native’ Barbadians coming from a lineage of sugar cane slaves (of African lineage), it’s a new feeling being well in the minority after Europe. The last time I felt like I was being looked at as a curiosity, was an accidental tour of some less than intelligent places to be walking in Bronx during 2004. The difference is, everyone here is immensely friendly and open. It’s difficult to get used to people saying hello to you on the street, and not wanting anything. Coming from a culture where you don’t get anything for free, the ‘Bajans’ are on the whole lovely and friendly people. Just yesterday while I was out ‘exploring’ the countryside near the Airport, I had ran out of change - A man at the bus stop insisted he give me the exact coinage for the fair (they don’t accept anything other than the correct money). Not to mention Martin who I had been conversing with via email who provided a lot of pilotage info for my arrival, and handed me some money before departing on his own Atlantic voyage, exclaiming ‘a donation for your trip’ - Thank you kindly Martin.

After marveling at the colour and warmth of the water (this took a few days…) I proceeded onto the more bureaucratic aspects of my stay here, namely my requirement for a US visa. I visited the embassy, and was told to fill out a form online… I did that, and went back the following day, spending two hours waiting in various lines and sitting in offices waiting for my number to be called. Eventually number 62 was called up, and I had the opportunity to talk to a real person, at which point I was told I needed proof of employment, and a bank statement showing I had sufficient funds to enter the country! As you can imagine, I’ve been sailing since August of 2007, and employment is not really my forte. Neither is sufficient money. With the help of a former employer, I procured a letter and a bank statement, which magically did the trick… I also needed to provide a form because I’m male, and between the age of 16 and 45, which has something to do with terrorism. I had to list all the countries I’d visited in a tiny box within the last ten years; a list extending off the side of the page… Eventually I soldiered back to the embassy with all my paperwork, and arrived at 0730, exiting at at lunchtime, with my visa approved, being sent on to St Lucia early next week. Great day! Next time I decide to sail into Fort Knox, I think I’ll better prepare my entry - For example, getting this visa months before, ie. when I was meandering through Europe or getting myself stuck in various places for lack of cash.

After my embassy delights, I had to extricate a Sonim XP1 mobile phone that was generously donated by Sonim Technologies, from customs at the Airport. After providing a commercial invoice stating a demo value, the cheeky people at customs opened the package, and Googled the phone online, and took the duty value from the most expensive retail value they could find! The duty was calculated at 20%, even though the package stated ‘yacht in transit’… Personally, I think it was illegal of them to charge me duty, but I couldn’t find specific documentation to say I was essentially ’stateless’ and exempt - I tried the ‘I don’t have to pay duty on retail items, why should I pay it on items posted to me as gifts’? They didn’t get it. Thankfully Sonim fronted the duty bill, which is most appreciated - Thank you to Angela at Sonim Tech in San Mateo for the phone, and also for all the assistance in actually getting my hands on it! Having destroyed one phone in the North Sea, I think the XP1 is better built for the task of sailing and being constantly dropped!

My second real gripe with Barbados, and something that kind of tainted the nice stay I was having here, was being told I had to pay $50 to leave the country, when I went to get my paperwork stamped at customs. No one ever told me of this charge, and it certainly isn’t documented anywhere (there is one place it mentions a $25 charge if you’re over 5 tons). I spent a lot of time petitioning the clearance fee, spending four and a half hours at the customs office. I know, $50 doesn’t sound like much, and I’ve paid much more for marinas in Europe, but nowadays I just can’t afford it, and that money could be a week or two of food… Even though this all really annoyed me, the customs guys made me coffee, and even fed me cake! So, what can I say… The people are fantastic, but rules maybe not so much, especially for small-time sailors. Barbados is a convenient place to stop if you need a US visa, but due to the clearance fee (and this is really only applicable to poor small cruisers), and general cost of things in Barbados, I would have to recommend that people continue on the 70nm to St Lucia. This is a disappointing recommendation, but the Barbados government don’t really seem interested in small cruisers entering their country, and I guess that’s what’s going to eventuate: Already I’ve met several people who’ve said fewer and fewer people are arriving via private vessels (except the super elite).

So today, I head off to St Lucia! I’ll leave at night to sail in the cool of the moon, and arrive with plenty of daylight as I sail into Rodney Bay. Below are a few photos (a hard reset on my screen-less digital camera brought it back to life!)

Sunset, Carslile Bay, Bridgetown, Barbados

Luckily ‘Constellation’ has a good ‘Constatution’…

Constellation, at anchor in Bridgetown

Carslile Bay, Bridgetown, Barbados

More photos at the usual place.

-moby nick!

Thank you very much to Rafael of Tenerife, for phoning me numerous times, SMS’ing, calling Madrid and Las Palmas, as well as dealing with difficult postal and customs employees who claimed they knew nothing - All just to help some Australian he’s never met! Thank you also toPedro #1 and Pirata Paul for walking all over the city with me, working as my private translator; I can’t wait until I can get an automatic translation implant.

Today, I climbed deep into the mountains to find the secret Canarian Customs bunker, containing my long lost solar panels. Hidden like a Norwegian NATO base, I found it, my spirits peaked and the Caribbean glimmered on the horizon. I was escorted by security into a large building, to a small desk in the corner. I showed my DHL receipt and begged the staff to find my parcel amongst the brown cardboard boxes. The Customs staff tried to charge me Canarian Tax, but thankfully my marina receipt and Australian passport was enough to convince them I was genuinly ‘In Transit’, and they handed the enormous box over with ease. I was nearing breaking point, as I started asking friends where I could launch tactical weapons from Constellations bow, in a strike against Spanish Post. I tried everything to calm my nerves, from drinking rum (a present from one of the marina staff), to excessive walking, swimming and yoga breathing. I can stop all that now, and concentrate on doing a lot more of the following:

(thanks again to Daniel & Eva or Ornette.de for the great photos! More here.)

I have some stories about sailing for 40 hours under reefed main and storm jib from the south of Tenerife back to Gran Canaria, working on my tan in a holiday resort, and tales of real Vikings, but as of today, I have a lot of work to do, and no time for story telling! I will try to leave on Monday, weather pending: If you are a weather expert, and have any special thoughts on a Monday departure, please leave a comment or contact me. I have not had a chance to look at the pressure charts, but I’ll begin to over the following days. As for my planned route change, I have contacted the Bermudan embassy, who will not issue me a new Visa. So, I’m off to Barbados, where there is an embassy capable of issuing new Visas. It’s a race against the clock!

Thank you again to Andre of Intertoys for providing the sponsorship of these Solar panels. Thank you also to Eckhard of Soltronik in Hamburg
for helping out with the price and postage. If you’re interested in panels, he’s your man - Very helpful, English speaking, and prompt. The failure for the solar panels to arrive was in no way his fault, but I would suggest never having expensive items posted to the Canary islands, as they are not a ‘normal EU country’ like mainland Spain.

nick!

P.S Thanks to all those who wished me happy birthday! I guess 27 isn’t so bad… I feel pretty much the same as last week, when I was 26 - Maybe my joints are a little stiffer, and my posture bent forward a bit more, but what can I say.

Firstly, a very special thank you to Richard & Carole from the UK, who generously donated a sextant, chronometer, almanac and celestial navigation book for Constellation and I. I met Richard & Carole while they were on holiday Gran Canaria, where they also took me out for lunch and gave me a bag of provisions. With this additional navigation equipment, I will finally be able to learn how to navigate like a real mariner, and greatly further my marine education! Thank you so much for your kind and thoughtful generosity. Thank you also to Wim from Holland (the Dutch shine again!), Joel from Australia, Charles from Ireland and Pedro #2 (again!!!) for sending through some cash to keep me going. As you’ll see below, it’s becoming a dire situation down here, and this show of generosity helps so much, both practically and also as a show of support.

This waiting is really getting me down… A lot of people are emailing and asking ‘when are you leaving’ or ‘why haven’t you left yet’, and while I know people are just curious, I’m feeling the pressure from this website and the public nature of the entire project bearing down on me. I’m doing my best guys, you’ll know when I leave, and I’m doing everything I can. I thought a lot about why I’m feeling this way, and frankly, the Atlantic is one of the major pinnacles of this journey, and it’s like I’m sitting at the bottom of Mt Everest as winter approaches, waiting to make my ascent, and it’s the only thing I can think about. I’m mentally paralysed by the coming challenge.

To try and alleviate this state of mind, I decided to see some of the other islands, and also visit Pedro #1 who landed in Tenerife last week, looking for work and sun. I left Las Palmas at 2pm anticipating an overnight sail, wanting to arrive at the anchorage during daylight. The sail was more or less textbook, and while I suffered a little seasickness, I did ok, nibbling ginger in the cockpit with the stereo turned on full. The stretch of water between Gran Canaria and Tenerife must create a funnel effect, as the conditions increased during the night, with several waves crashing into the cockpit. It was nothing dangerous, but I wasn’t really anticipating it. For a brief and somewhat scary second, you hear a cresting wave approaching the stern, while you hope it’s not too big, only able to see the white of the wave tops at night, as it dumps into the boat. In fantastic tradition, ‘Windy the Windpilot’ kept a perfect course as Constellation skidded around under Genoa, the boat rolling in typical stern wind motion. We made it to the anchorage with no problems, where I tried to get a few hours sleep after keeping watch all night. Pedro arrived later in the day, and I rowed into shore for the pickup, swimming back to the boat with ‘Bob the leaky duck’ overloaded with luggage:

As you can probably guess, the solar panels seem to be eternally stuck in Madrid, and I don’t know what to do… I received an email from a new friend (Rafael) in Santa Cruz yesterday, offering to help with contacts at DHL, which is really my last hope. Because of this entire postage disaster, I am now pushing it to arrive in the Carribbean outside of hurricane season. As you know, my initial plan was to arrive in St Maarten, and work for a couple of months before heading north to resume my New York City ambitions, however this plan is now essentially useless - I would arrive in St Maarten in May, and have to leave a week or so later. My money is running so low, I have now genuinly had to consider whether this Atlantic crossing is even viable. I’ve spent many hours walking and considering my situation, but quite simply I’ve come so far, I cannot possibly throw the towel in. I really only have just enough money to provision the boat, and with this all in mind, I have redirected my course to straight to Bermuda. This is a somewhat unusual course to take, however it is entirely possible, dipping into the tradewinds as if I were heading to the Antilles, and then steering directly up into Bermuda without stopping. This course change buys me a little extra time before I have to leave the Canaries, and is also en route to where I need to go (NYC).

For this plan to work, I must now wait another two or three weeks in order to correctly time my arrival in Bermuda with the seasons. This strategy also enables me to give my solar panels a bit more time to arrive - However, if they fail to show up in the next few weeks, I will be forced to leave without them, as it seems rather pointless to abandon my crossing over their disappearance. Possibly a friend in Gran Canaria could pick them up in 12 months time, when the lazy and slow bureaucrats in Madrid finally decide to look into that box sitting in the corner with all the dust on it… And then forward the package on to the USA. At this stage, I am anticipating an early April departure.

Last but not least, I turn 27 on Friday, which doesn’t help at all…! Every year is closer to the inevitable, and I had dearly hoped to spend my birthday in the middle of the ocean, or in the Caribbean, sitting on the beach, drinking rum with crushed lime and sugar in celebration of great distances…

And speaking of birthdays, Happy Birhtday Mum! I hope you had a nice day, and I’m so sorry to have missed yet another March 12.

nick.