The Atlantic Passage
The Third Clown
A guest entry by Petter Martin Skjeldrum
Petter Martin Skjeldrum
Early may, I got a call from my good friend Henrik. He informed me that Brahawi Expeditions was closing in on a crucial, and perhaps the most difficult, stage of their nine month voyage. As a master knots man, they needed my aid on board, and they begged me to join the crew. I did not have the heart to turn down my colleague, and promptly accepted the offer.
The Captain (Peter) and crew (Sebastian and Henrik) gave me the warmest of greetings, and I could sense by their enthusiasm that they were greatly relieved to finally have a master knots-man on board. After enlisting another crewmember in Cavtat (one that the Captain became very fond of surprisingly fast), we enjoyed a fine meal.
The first day on our journey was demanding. No wind made the crew strange and edgy. I believe they resent the sound of the engine. The Captain, as the salty sailor he is, suggested that I could entertain the crew with some granny knots. He threw me a beer and a wink, and the crew was all the merrier. This would later become a routine; the captain, or sometimes the crew, handing me a beer, and then we would all laugh and cheer at my knots. We were all in high spirits/aquavit!
We could not have asked for better weather in the following days. Sunshine and blue skies and waters took us to the Zlatan wine ranks, were we were had reservations for wine tasting, which in the local tongue means drinking wine to a meal. Fascinating! Nevertheless, we enjoyed ourselves in beautiful surroundings.
From left: Peter, Petter Martin, Henrik.
As we pressed on in the treacherous waters, the Captain informed us that we would restock in Hvar. We were dangerously low on food and beverages, and I believe that Peter feared a mutiny if we were to run out. Hvar, known for the first public theater in all of Europe opened in 1612, is truly a beautiful place. The Island and city is also known for its inhabitants. A tribe of Brits who call themselves “Yacht Week”, rule the seas in the vicinity. One night we came very close to one of their rituals when we were anchored in a bay not far from Hvar, but we managed to stay low and not attract their unwanted attention. After a restless night of listening to their barbaric cries, we woke up to see the tribe on their way.
We quickly set sail for our final destination, with dangerous wind speeds up to ten knots. I suspected that the crew had grown reckless for some time now, and they proved it when they allowed me to take the helm. Despite almost giving Henrik a heart attack, all went well, and tears were shed when the sails were lowered for the last time in the expedition. The fine day of sailing, and safe journey, was celebrated with a feast beyond compare at the finest restaurant in Primosten, and later at the finest Irish pub in Primosten. Forgetting that we had to prepare and scrub CoCo the following day was perhaps unwise, but worth it.
Finally, I would like to congratulate the Peter, Henrik and Sebastian of S/Y CoCo and Brahawi expeditions for completing their impressive journey, and to thank them for being the best hosts a master knots-man (landlubber) could ask for. In addition to getting a new, red skin color, and a beautiful week on CoCo, the crew and my co-guest Elise, actually managed to teach me a thing or two about sailing. So thank you once again.
Petter “Knuta” Martin Skjeldrum AKA Skipsklovn III
Petter Martin at the helm. Peter is paying close attention.
While in Transit.
It has been a while since our last blog post, and we are very sorry about. The last month has seen a lot of sailing. We have by and large been in transit the entire time and there has, regrettably, been little time to keep all of our followers happy. Skimming through all the pictures on our cameras and phones we have found a handful of gems depicting our leisurely activities spanning from our stop on the Azores until our arrival here in Cavtat (Croatia) yesterday.
Sebastian and the Azorean cliffs.
Masters of the waves, Azores.
Norwegian Constitution Day celebration in Fuengirola.
We managed to squeeze in 18 holes before departing Fuengirola.
Cagliari, Sardinia.
In the middle of that 72 km bicycle ride that nearly killed us.
The highest peak on the island of Vulcano, North-East of Sicily.
They’re at It Again!
Once again we are at sea. This time it is the Mediterranean’s turn to get sliced up by Coco’s keel. Right now we are progressing along the Spanish coast line. After just about 18 hours of motoring we have raised sails and have been gliding along nicely since this morning.
As is tradition, Henrik served his soon-to-be world famous spaghetti bolognese for the first evening at sea. Sebastian and Peter were only happy to be served and quickly finished the meal, one giant piece at a time, as is tradition. What is not tradition is the show that ensued throughout the meal; a flock of killer whales surrounded CoCo for a while and did something we can only assume is a graceful dance.
The destination on this leg of sailing is Cagliari on Sardinia. We expect to arrive sometime during Sunday afternoon or evening.
Land Ho
It is around eight o’clock aboard CoCo. The crew has had their hunger extinguished by a giagantic lasagne prepared by Henrik. The sun is setting as Peter and Sebastian make ready for their night watch. Visibility is poor in what appears to become a misty, windless and starless night, but the lads nevertheless expect to spot signs of land at any minute now.
Sebastian is on the look-out as Peter finishes the last few pages of a novel by Jon Michelet about a young, Norwegian sea-faring lad. Fitting. Just when Peter has finished his book and is on his way from the galley with some hot chocolate, Sebastian spots what appears to be a single candle with a yellowish hue flickering on the horizon through the mist. It is the lighthouse of Sagres.
As the light grows stronger, a breeze picks up from the north-west. With it comes a scent that is strongly familiar, but almost forgotten after a week at sea. Dirt? Pine needles? Do they even have pine trees in Portugal? Peter and Sebastian fill their lungs with this landly odour as if it was their very first breath after a long and deep slumber. In a mere hours, CoCo will be making berth in the city of Lagos.
Somewhere Beyond The Sea…
… is she there waiting for me?
Just when you thought you had heard enough fom CoCo for a while and another blog post appears. Presently, we are more than halfway from the Azores archipelago to the strait of Gibraltar. We will not be heading straight through the strait, but are planning to stop for a day or so in the Portugese city of Lagos. The reason for our little pit stop is not because of an emergency or other reason for worry. We are just going to stop to wait for a bit of wind. Thursday morning some fairly decent north/north-westerlies will be coming our way and we can swiftly pop through the strait.
For almost a day now we have been having no wind at all, but the days before we have been cruising along at a daily rate of two hundred nautical miles. A tremendous feat!
Apart from sailing we have been eating well and spotted animals of both nautical and avian varieties. Schools of dolphin (not sure that they should be called schools, because they are mammals. Please correct me in the comments below), always have a good time playing around CoCo’s hull, and a large whale passed us at a distance of five metres. What is more, we have seen swallows and butterflies – not a very common sight this far from land. They probably found CoCo to be a nice place for a bit of rest.
Positive spirit! See you in Portugal?
VLOG Episode 08: Returning (Our Second Atlantic Crossing)
Our Second Atlantic Crossing – Day 14
DIST SAILED: 2074 nm
DIST TO GO: 186 nm
Most likely this will be our last blog entry from sea, as we expect to arrive in Horta just in time for lunch. For the last two days we have been making our way towards this detination in a very uneventful manner. We have barely seen blue sky or sun in over a week and we have therefore concluded that the universe now consists of nothing but infinite greyness.
As we have a constant situation of on-again/off-again rain, the nicest place to be is down in the belly of the ship these days. An entirely different world compared to Infinite Greyness (we will file a scientific report specifiying the parameters of this universe soon). Yesterday afternoon, Peter and Sebastian made popcorn and strapped themselves to the sofa in the saloon to watch a film. This was while Jon and Henrik took command up on deck in waves 3 metres high and with rain coming from all directions.
Infinite Greyness do have some tricks up its sleeve, though! This morning a swedish sailing yacht appeared out of the mist: S/Y ISMINI. It appears that we now have someone to race against for the last 186 nautical miles in to Horta.
Positive spirit!
CoCo.
Our Second Atlantic Crossing – Day 12
DIST SAILED: 1742 nm
DIST TO GO: 518 nm
The last day has, like many before, been a bit hectic. We have been making around eight knots with nothing but a reefed mainsail up. That is a tremendous speed! You can only imagine how strongly the wind must be blowing. Most of the hectic stuff during the last day happened while Peter and Sebastian where on watch between seven in the evening and one in the morning.
First, the mainsail had to be re-reefed, because the previous reefing was unsatisfactory. In order to do this one has to go by motor against the wind. When it is blowing around 25 knots, the difference of facing upwinds and downwind is huge. Any sailor can comfirm this. Additionally, we were moving against waves the size of houses. All in all a bit of a scary experience, but a relatively straight-forward and normal thing to do.
Second, one of the fastening points of the mainsail came loose. The mainsail runs on a rail up along the mast and is attached by small cars. One of these cars coming loose is not a very alarming situation in itself, but it needs to be fixed. Luckily, it was one of the lower ones. Peter resolutely climbed the mast with some wrenches and solved the problem. An interesting experience in the middle of the night, in 25 knots of wind and with waves the size of houses.
Thirdly, our “kick” gave out on us (we call it a kick in Norwegian, and I assume that the name is the same in English, but I am not sure. I am not talking of a Norwegian “sparkstøtte”). A kick, in our case, is a hydraulic arm fastened between the lower point of the mast and the boom. Its function is to keep the boom down as a sail filled with wind will try to pull the boom upwards. We have jury-rigged ourselves a new kick out of some straps and the gennaker sheet. For the time being this seems to be working well, but we are hoping to make proper repairs when we reach the Azores.
Apart from the above-mentioned incidents, all is well abord!
Postitive Spirit.
Caribbean Expedition 2015 