At the scheduled rendezvous time, Tony showed up in his boat. I sat in my cockpit, expecting a sail boat to appear at the Coney Island anchorage, but low and behold, a twin hulled powerboat showed up, and Captain Tony was at the helm. Who is Tony? There are so many great characters who I meet along the way, you’re forgiven for not following this sailing soap opera’s list of top celebrities! Tony helped out with Commanders Weather forecasts, and also sent through weather updates and eddy coordinates (remember him? I do.) so I could actually make landfall, instead of spending my time as flotsam in the Atlantic, when all I really wanted was a bagel with cream cheese in New York.

So for the first time I met my weather saviour, and he’d now just offered to dedicate a day to following me into Manhattan to photograph my approach. As you can imagine, photos of yourself sailing when you’re singlehanded are most always impossible, normally achievable only by sitting in the cockpit and pointing the camera at yourself, which always makes me feel like Narcissus re-incarnated. As we motored along, I did 3.8kts, which is ‘August the mighty Yanmars’ current top speed (I think there must be something wrong…), and poor Tony in M/V ‘Sea Lion’ idled their twin 140hp engines and snapped a lovely set of photos, which I am incredibly thankful for:

Of course the highlight was anchoring outside of Liberty Island, which I thought would be impossible, but the reality is, you can get really close, and if you don’t mind the swell, drop the anchor and get the best view in town. As my plan was to go up to the 79th St Boat Basin, we didn’t stay too long, as it’s first come first served, and I really wanted a mooring for the night. I jokingly mentioned that Tony could more easily just tow me to Manhattan, to which he showed a funny grin and setup a tow rope. Constellation then proceeded to be hauled up the Hudson River at 8kts, the wind vane bracket disappearing under water, and Constellation creating a surfable wake.

At the Boat Basin, I was entitled to a mooring as far away from dinghy dock as possible… As I heaved my rowing oars back to land, a(nother) Canadian boat took pity on my back, and towed me in with an outboard. In a single day, both Constellation and Bob the Leaky Duck had tows! On land I managed to get myself so lost in the subway system, I nearly ended up back in Coney Island. My brother gave up on me, as I kept buying packets of gum for quarters, so I could try and call him. As my luck continued, I met an aspiring actress who loaned me her phone, and I eventually found my brother, who came all the way back to pick up his silly sibling who couldn’t navigate the subway (no GPS signal so far underground, and the stars are blocked out… That’s my excuse anyway.)

On Saturday friends came down to see the mighty Constellation, whom I brought into the marina for show-and-tell. Friends from Australia were in town, my uncle & cousin and my ‘mates in the states’ all came down to visit, which was most exciting; such social excitement after the great voyage!

Captain Tony wrote all my tides down for the next days voyage, and I set off with a ripping Hudson for Hell Gate. I met Phil again who had also sailed up from Atlantic Highlands, and we departed together. I was terribly lazy and just decided to follow him until we got into Long Island Sound; what a mistake. By the time I’d reached the Brooklyn Bridge, what can only be called a squall of gigantic proportions arose. I was so lazy, I hadn’t even bothered to look at a chart, as Phil disappeared in a dense fog, and I couldn’t figure out what was up, down, left or right. Eventually after numerous trips into the cabin, awash with rain after each trip dumped the water caught in my wet weather gear, I pinpointed where I was, as our speed mysteriously increased. By the time we’d reached mid-Hell Gate, Constellation and I topped out at 9.4kts over the ground, skidding from port to starboard in the currents, the tiller going back and forth to keep us going in roughly a straight line. A super yacht approached from the stern, doing the same ‘dance of Hell Gate’, overtook and honked in mutual appreciation for the British ensign (which she was also flying). (At least I think it was a honk of appreciation… It could have meant ‘get the heck out of my way!’)

By Long Island sound, a breeze showed signs of intensifying, and I launched the genoa. Ten minutes later a squall blew through, took the wind with it, and I motored along, in search for Tony, who had again offered to come out and meet me. We eventually crossed paths, and hooked up the tow rope again, it being 4pm with still another 12nm in front of us. Back under the power of tow, we powered through the fog, and arrived at Stamford Harbour, conducting a creepy fog-bound entrance, for which I was glad to be with someone who knew the area. I couldn’t see a thing, but Tony motored on, and eventually I was tied up at the Brewers yard – A very special thanks to Janie for providing a slip for two nights.

I spent two nights in Stamford with Tony and his lovely wife Eva, who showed such generosity, I’m still literally stunned when I think back to how wonderfully they helped me out. Provided with a comfy bed, delicious food, new clothes, provisions, parts and funds to keep me going, I’m humbled and indebted: Thank you so much Captain Tony and Captain Eva for your kindness.

As I left Stamford, I motored towards Port Jefferson, anchoring in the harbour for the night, refusing to pay $40 for a mooring. I was far away from town, but there was no way I could justify wasting so much money for a ‘permanent anchor’. It’s quite amazing how much ‘transients’ pay in America for overnight stays – I still don’t quite understand the economics of it when compared to Europe… I only paid that kind of money once, and that was in Dover, England, for a berth no less! The next day, I decided to cross the Sound for Duck Island, and motored across on a windless day. By the time I’d reached the middle, ‘August the mighty Yanmar’ blew a great plume of white smoke, coughed, spluttered and died. He was not to come back to life, and I proceeded under sail, incredibly annoyed to be stuck in another motorless situation. I dove overboard to check for rope stuck in the prop, yet there was nothing but a bit of plastic and a bunch of red jellyfish.

Proceeding under sail, the God’s shone down on us, and the winds increased. I had no idea what I was going to do should it die altogether… Sailing into Duck Island Harbour at night under sail, we managed to find other boats at anchor, and promptly dropped the hook. Excited by the thrill of sailing around without an engine in unknown parts of the world, I slept and waited until 12pm the following day for the winds to pick up. The sails up, anchor hauled in, we proceeded under sail for Greenport. Reaching ‘Plum Gut’ at a favourable tide, fighting for three hours against a SSW wind to get through. Eventually it was deemed impossible, and so the long route was taken around Plum Island, skirting the edges and risking passage through shallow waters to make up for lost time. Tacking back towards Greenport, a line squall showed it’s nasty head, and I refused to reduce sail in defiance. I wanted as much speed as possible to make up for this ridiculously annoying and lengthening passage. It wasn’t long before the rail was touching the water, and a gust almost knocked us over before I managed to release the mainsheet. As I made a tack, the boat seemed to de-power, as the sun drenched and tired genoa tore in three places. Slapping like crazy, caught on the port spreader, I had to knife the sail down and pack the remains into the forward hatch. Launching the #2 genoa, we got back under way, and slowly tacked all the way up to the Greenport breakwater. It was midnight, and we set course to sail right into the marina, sans everything (including an understandable chart of the tiny entrance). By great luck, a friend called, and shortly showed up with a powerboat, quite simply out of nowhere, hunting around for the Ghost ship Constellation, who had by now a fused bow light, and only the stern lamp still functioning. With all cabin lights on, I hoped we’d avoid collision and be found, which we were, and kindly towed to safety.

I haven’t really explained what I’m doing in these parts, but the fight for Greenport was made because I have a slip here for summer. I’ll be hanging about trying hard to figure out what’s next: Do I go back to the Caribbean for Panama? Or do I go through with the crazy plan to tow Constellation to San Francisco? Time will tell!

For now, I’m enjoying great company, and am ever thankful for making the right decision to come north. America has been fantastic to me, with so much generosity and interest in my trip, I can barely walk up the pontoon without someone wanting to talk to me, offering help, or offering to make me dinner.

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!

This is the post I’ve been dreaming of writing since the day this project became a reality, when I signed the paperwork for Constellation in August, 2006. I literally cannot believe I’m here, sitting on an island off of Africa, departing for the Caribbean, tomorrow. I’m speechless, which is why I’m writing.

I won’t be speechless forever though, because while I sail across the Atlantic, I’ll be dropping updates back to the site as an audio podcast. Which means, you’ll be able to hear my silly voice telling you all about my adventures via satellite phone, from the middle of nowhere! The podcast will be available to play within each post update over the following month, or you can subscribe via iTunes. Read more about it all on the new Podcast page. Remember, while I’m out there sailing, it’s possible I will be closer to orbiting satellites than I will be to land! Chew on that for awhile…

While you’re chewing, I’ll explain what’s happening, where I’m going, and what I’m doing it all for.

Each voice podcast will be an un-rehearsed update on my trip, including our current position. I expect it will be quite different from my posts up until now, as I will have limited airtime, and speaking is quite different from writing! Very special thanks to Marty at Autosystems for assisting with my satellite communications costs, and also for agreeing to coordinate and manage the technical aspects of website while I’m at sea. If you’re enjoying the podcast, leave a thank you comment for Marty, I know he’d appreciate it! I will leave an update roughly every 4 to 5 days, so if you do leave any comments on the posts, maybe he can even read a few out to me, to keep me going! If you’re feeling really keen and have the time, it would be great if someone felt like transcribing each podcast as a blog comment. This will allow people who can’t listen to the update still keep know what’s going on. Also, if updates suddenly stop, keep in mind there is a far greater chance of technical problems than anything more serious (ie. phone failure, electrical system meltdown, aliens attacking satellites etc).

Within each post, a player will show up which looks like this:

Subscribe to the podcast here (cut and paste the url into the podcast subscribe box of the latest version of iTunes)
Or get notified of new updates via email here.

The most important thing of all though, is what I’m hoping to support via my crossing. For a long time now, I’ve wanted to try and do something good with my trip. So, it is here that I will announce my attempt to raise money to help Oxfam Australia build bridges in Cambodia. I will call this project ‘Bridge over the Atlantic’, and you can read exactly what I’m talking about, how to help, and more on my new Fundraising page. I will not double-post everything here, so I urge you to read the full details of my fundraising campaign via the new dedicated area, if only because I think you’ll quite like the idea! With each significant ocean passage over 1000nm, I will attempt to raise funds for a unique and interesting cause, each one being different and taking part in another area of the globe. You all know I rarely have a dime to my name, but, for this crossing, I would like to forget about my own problems, and use my crossing to generate goodwill for others. If you run a website, consider linking to my new fundraising page, or alternatively, if you have a printer and a large workplace, think about printing off one of these flyers to rally support!

Unless there is an unscheduled stop in Cape Verde, I’ll be back to my normal post routine in some 30 days, live from Barbados – For now, each post will simply be titled ‘Bridge over the Atlantic, Day X’.

Thank you so much to everyone who takes the time to read this site, to all the wonderful people I’ve met in the Canaries, and to the sponsors who continually get me out of a jam! Thank you to Martin & Loopy in Barbados for the local pilotage info, Fudgie for everything, and Rich for the weather routing assistance. And last but not least, a big HELLO to all the 3rd graders at Rippowam Cisqua in New York!

Till the Caribbean, 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.

So, what on earth have I been waiting for? Or is it all a big farce, so I don’t have to cross the Atlantic? Actually, no. I’ve been patiently (rather, impatiently!) waiting on two solar panels (yes, two!) and a regulator to arrive from Hamburg, courtesy of the very generous Andre, from ‘AJ van der Weiden thodn Intertoys De Symfonie‘, in Nieuw Vennep, Netherlands. Yes, truly, a Dutch toy store is helping me out! We discussed the options, and while a boatload of toys would have definitely kept me occupied on my crossing, what I really needed was some way to generate energy (other than with the engine) to keep things running on my long passage. Remember, I have an enormous home entertainment system, including Playstation, Desktop PC and 82inch plasma TV onboard – ‘August the mighty Yanmar’ simply couldn’t keep up with it all… But seriously, generosity out of nowhere astounds yet again. While I am actually waiting for the panels to arrive (for some reason they’re still in Madrid…), you can see it’s all been for a good reason, and I’m very humbled for the generous assistance from Andre, who approached me and has been very fun to deal with. For the boat sticker, we decided to make something a little different. Remember, the tag-line of the website is ‘Bigoceans, Tiny Boat’? – So we made a modified version:

If you’re in Holland, be sure to stop by and say hello to Andre in his store, and don’t forget to say hi from me! Thanks Andre.

I also had the opportunity to to put an Autosystems sticker on the hull, which was long overdue – Their support has been instrumental from the very beginning of my trip, and still continues today – Thank you so much!

Other than hanging off of the side of my boat trying to put decals on in strong winds (not recommended), my days have been passing rather quickly. I’ve been swimming a lot, and spending time with ‘Pirata Paul’ and friends (Sabrina in the middle, Hector on the right)

Paul has been at the core of making sure I don’t die of starvation, regularly inviting me over for breakfast and dinner. If he’s not being called Pirata (Pirate) Paul, he is otherwise known as ‘Master Chef’, and always manages to produce a veritable feast of home cooked food. Our conversations have also morphed into a very strange combination of languages. Beceause Paul is half German, and therefore speaks the language, we mix everything up to converse. So, with my limited German, and the (very) few Spanish words I know, we converse in a rather curious manner, where a sentence may be linguistically confused in three different languages. As an example, “I would like the boat in the corner” may become “Ich möchte (German) the (English) barco (Spanish) in the (English) ecke (German)”. I’m often the let-down in languages, and of course that sentence is actually broken in every language, but we still manage to communicate by all means necessary! Thanks Captain Paul!

Several days ago I met The American again. Remember him, the guy with the cargo ship which is used as a private vessel? Well, he invited me for dinner, and of course, I jumped at the invitation – Not only because it meant home cooked food, but because I knew it was going to be a night with many a stories to remember.

To begin with, I got the grand tour of his cargo ship. Inside was what one would consider a ‘normal’ kitchen. It was full of standard appliances – Microwave, fridges, freezers, gas oven and cooktop, including a large sink, bench and pantry. Coming from a boat where I can’t stand up, the kitchen alone was worth a visit… The captains room was of course… Just like a normal room, but instead of seeing trees when you woke up, you see a great expanse of ocean, or in this case (being in a commercial harbour) enormous tankers and ferries, only metres away. Down below in the engine room, was a 400 horsepower Detroit Diesel, large battery bank and hydraulic system to run the crane, all in a space larger than my entire ship. Inside the forepeak of the vessel, lay a full workshop, with plasma cutters, welding equipment, air compressors, workbenches and a three phase diesel generator. As you moved forward on the port side, there was an entrance into the cavernous cargo hold. As you descend the railed stairs, the enormous hold opens up, full of boxes and shelves, with what must have been a years supply of food. It actually looked like a mini-market, with rows and rows of tinned cans, and 20 litre containers of sugar and flour. At the very rear of the cargo hold, lay a Ford Fiesta, which is craned out on suitable occasions. Next to the Fiesta was a Ducati motorcycle, and a four wheel motorbike, surrounded by ten brand new washing machines, five sewing machines, boxes of boots, TV’s and other assorted appliances. It was phenomenal, and I was mostly speechless.

Basically, The American is a rogue trader. There is apparently a limited supply of whitegoods to the Cape Verde islands, and he takes advantage of the situation by importing these items on his own, which in turn funds the operation of his ship (the fuel alone costs 200euros/day). Wherever he is, if he sees a bargain, he’ll buy everything in bulk, with the possibility of selling it sometime in the future. While taking all this in, the water was on the boil in the kitchen, and we moved back up the maze of ladders, where he prepared bolognese sauce from scratch, and told me of his adventures.

As we finished the dinner, he had some ‘things’ he wanted to show me. After a brief minute, The American returned with an enormous stainless steel machete, and what looked like a black pistol. Excuse my French, but holy shit, for a brief second, I wondered if I was going into the huge deep freezer directly behind me. He took the machete out of the sheathe, handing it to me while commenting on the quality of the stainless blade. I was as you can imagine, somewhat taken aback; I’d just helped this guy feed dough through a hand-cranked pasta machine, and now there was a machete and a pistol on the table. After looking at the machete and agreeing it was nice stainless (actually, I have no idea what constitutes nice stainless… But I wasn’t exactly going to argue), he handed me the pistol. Now, I’ve shot .45 and 9mm handguns in a shooting gallery before, and this black pistol had the markings of a Beretta and was well built and heavy in the hand. The weight of a weapon is always what strikes you first, and this thing had all the hallmarks of a real gun. I was relieved to find out, after requesting to see the ammunition, that it was a ‘Luftpistol’, made in Germany to exact Beretta specifications and dimensions. In essence, it was an air powered BB gun. Relieved that I would live another day, his next ‘thing’ was a book of photos, which I thought would be a much calmer show-and-tell, full of photos of his former sailboats and dogs.

As the picture of his Dobermans on the next page showed up, he grabbed my upper arm with great strength, to which I nearly fell off the chair. Unsure of what on earth he was doing, he began explaining how a Doberman bites. As I relaxed my shoulder, he grabbed it again, scaring the crap out of me. Apparently, this second demonstration was to show that Dobermans were smart, and after biting the first time, wait until the victim relaxes before continuing their assault. Thankfully the Doberman experiment ended rather quickly, as I redirected the conversation to a pretty picture of a boat in his photo album.

Still with the pistol on the table, and the photos finished, he turned around and showed me a scar the shape of a small circle on his neck. “What do you think that is?” He asked… I said it looked like a bullet hole, which is exactly what it turned out to be. An attempt to rob The American in Bolivia, had resulted in him being without a doubt, the luckiest man alive. A headshot had smashed through his teeth, and continued on through the back of his neck, missing both his jaw and anything vital.

In normal circumstances, I would have thought he was pulling my leg. But there is no doubt in my mind, that The American was truly shot in the head by Bolivian muggers, and is by all rights the most insane individual I’ve ever had the pleasure (fear) of meeting.

nick.

Firstly, I’d like to welcome Airnavsystems.com onboard, as a new Bigoceans.com sponsor! AirNav build flight spotting software and products, and are releasing a new ship spotting product called ‘ShipTrax’. It seemed like a very fitting partnership, and AirNav are assisting with additional funds, which is really what I need at the moment. I seem to be going through what little money I have at a great rate, buying charts, parts, and provisions. Very, very special thanks to Andre for approaching me with the idea, being so fast to help out, and for believing my trip is a worthy idea to support.

It’s been a very busy past few days – I sat around sick for too long, and then when a good forecast came my way, it was all panic to get myself ready. As you can see from the above sponsorship, I haven’t just been sitting on my laurels. I’ve also spent over a week waiting on another partnership which would have provided some neat communications potential for my trip to the Canary Islands, however nothing has come of it yet, and it’s time for me to leave. If you missed it, there is a photo of the article regarding my Cape Horn aspirations (!!) located here.

Yesterday I provisioned the boat with supplies, which turned out to be an epic job. To begin with, I had exceeded my daily transaction limit at the bank, and only had 140euros in my pocket. I thought this would be enough for 15 days of food, but apparently I was wrong. By the time I was done shopping, my trolley was about to break, and I could barely push it. I tried to get money out, but it was futile, so I hid my trolley in the honey isle, and high-tailed it out of there, feeling really guilty about some poor kid having to re-pack everything because of my stupidity. It was with great luck that S/V Aquamarijn were able to loan me some money, and I ran back to see if my trolley was still hiding. Thankfully it was, and I caught a taxi back to the marina with a boatload of provisions. Putting all this food somewhere turned out to be a new experience, and I know for a fact, I will be finding food purchased in Lisbon, hidden around the boat for many years to come.

So my route now, is direct to the Canary Islands, not stopping anywhere. This is an 800nm trip, which I expect to take from anywhere between 7 and 14 days. I’m not going to mess up my expectations on maintaining a 4kt average like I did across Biscay, which put myself under a lot of pressure to arrive within three days, to tell friends and family that I was ok, and not to send helicopters. I expect to take around 10 days, but up to 14 I think is still quite possible. I have a decent forecast from Commanders Weather, but I’ve been waiting around today for reasons I’ll explain some other time, so already I’m 9hrs behind where I should be. I will be heading 1degree east of a direct line to Lanzarote, anticipating a wind change in a few days to South, which means I will hopefully be in a good position to tack back onto course for the Canaries, without sailing directly into the wind.

‘August the mighty Yanmar’ has new oil, and I never found an explanation for the overheating. Today I ran it in gear (in the marina) at a decent pace for 30mins, and ran an infrared heat gun on the block, but there were no signs of overheating. Fingers crossed the issue was a bag around the inlet or something simiarly temporary.

I spent last night having another wonderful dinner with the Hooligans et al, and then had a second dinner and drinks with Pedro #1, Pedro #2 and Ana, which was really nice. I’m still in absolute awe at the generosity of everybody around me. Last night I came into my boat, and sat down, and I must admit (I don’t get called Mr Toughguy for nothing!) I almost felt a little teary at everyones generosity and kindness towards me. I’m just some guy with a little red boat, trying my best to do my thing, and people are helping at literally every turn. Remember Pedro #1 saved me from a lonely Christmas, invited me into is really great family, fed me, gave me a bed, introduced me to his closest friends, and really showed me a side of Portugal people rarely see. Pedro #2 took me out for dinner and lunch everyday, showing me what amazing food the Portuguese produce, let me sleep in his house while I was sick, took me to the maritime museum, the planetarium and even parted with a bag of food and some extra money, citing I would need it for the marina in the Canaries! The Hooligans (plus Ton & Petra) have been really wonderful company in La Coruna, and here in Lisbon, and packed huge bag of extra Dutch provisions for my trip, and even loaned me a satellite phone (one of the reasons todays departure is delayed, finding a new SIM card) so I am able stay in contact, and hopefully maintain web-based position reports on my 800mile journey. I will miss everybody so much… I wish my boat were 15 times larger so I could just bring all the incredible people I meet along with me. I cannot necessarily return this kindness directly to the people who have helped me, but be rest assured, I will do my very best to ‘pay it forward’ and help others whenever I possibly can.

Thank you so much Portugal. The Canaries are Spanish territory, so this is the end of Portugal for me, and also the end of continental Europe. I cannot believe I am leaving Europe, after being here for almost two years. What amazing experiences and people I’ve met, from Berlin, Sweden, Norway, Denmark, England, Belgium, France, Spain, Gibraltar, Guernsey and Portugal. This is my longest solo non-stop voyage so far, over doubling my Biscay distance. I can’t wait to reach the Canaries, and look forward to telling you all about my biggest passage so far.

See you in a couple of weeks, and check back when you can, because there is every chance I may be able to get some news up on this site from somewhere out there in the Atlantic. More than likely updates will come via Twitter or onto my tracking page.

-moby nick!