The Last 1000 Miles

We had spent nearly exactly a month exploring the 5 major Azores islands and had departed Sao Miguel 3 days earlier to explore Santa Maria and wait for favorable weather. The forecasted conditions for the stretch between Santa Maria and the mainland had been in the 30 plus knot range and ahead of the beam for a week, doable but we waited for better as we were in no hurry to leave the islands. For some reason this last stretch had caused me some angst and for no reason that really made sense, we had already sailed close to 3000 miles since leaving St Thomas over a month ago but this last bit in my mind was anything but anticlimactic. I have sailed maybe 16 times across the Gulf Stream and around Hatteras, too and from the Caribbean as well as Bermuda, several of these trips single handed. But the weather had been well, shitty and the Orcas were scoring daily hits on sailing Yachts off the Portuguese and Iberian Coasts and on to Gibraltar, plus did I mention we didn't know where the hell we were going….east. So yeah a bit of angst.

The morning dawned with a gusty norther near 30 said the weatherman but we were shielded by the island and few signs of the wind, only a piercing morning sun. frosted cobalt waves and sidelong shadows retreating over the craggy beach. The wind tomorrow was supposed to abate some and then a few days of decent conditions. Waiting until 10 or so to let the worst blow out we pulled the hook and slid down the beautiful southern coast to open water.

I, initially picked Lisbon as a notional destination because it was midway between Galacia and the southern tip of Portugal, above the worst of the Orca activity and… you have to point the boat somewhere. When we cleared the eastern tip of Santa Maria the wind went from a variable 10 or so to gusting 30 in an instant, compressed a bit as it rounded the island. We dropped the traveler and ran a bit south of course at 12 to 13. In a few minutes the wind dropped and steadied and we came up to course for Lisbon.

After sailing an uneventful but boisterous couple of days, it became clear that the best winds as we closed the coast were going to be well north of Lisbon, this became the decision maker, sail north or motor south, an easy decision for Parallax. I always wanted to sail the Rias of Galacia so a few degrees north dialed in to the autopilot put us on a course for Vigo, at last we had a destination. I still had some angst with closing with the Spanish coast at night because of the fishing fleet which we found soon enough a far piece offshore, but well lit and most if not all broadcasting their position, it wasn't too hard to stay oout- the- way. We slowed a bit to wait for dawn and a bit of fog but we sailed into the Ria just past first light and found an anchorage off the beach near the quirky little town of Cangas. That first foggy sight of the point at the entrance to Vigo gave us chills more than the foggy morning warranted. We had crossed an ocean. Trips to the Caribbean and South America weren't middling at all and all told near the same distance but this was different.

All that angst wasted, now I could spend it on figuring out how and where to check in. As we soon learned, waltzing with the 90 day Schengen limit for foreign travelers to the EU made good use of the angst wasted on the crossing. It would be a constant dance until we reached Gibraltar

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Horta

Entry into a new county is always fraught with a bit of anxiety even as the case here, where we had been told that the officials were welcoming and accommodating. With the awesome Pico in the background, the administrative office a hundred yards away housing immigration and customs officials, sailors and sailboats of every stripe and nationality laying happily to their anchors, it certainly didn't look that foreboding. I have sailed into enough different venues to say that is not always true but I will have to say other than bureaucratic stuffiness read Britt, I never really had a horrible experience. But the EU is known for regulating the regulations and we did have a dog to get through customs. We had radioed in on arrival and the marina business office had said take your time, sort it out, come on in after lunch. Welcome to the Azores. Nothing like a good start?

Stashed the passports, ships papers and all the documents that could be imagined covering Willie neatly in my satchel . Climbed into the dinghy and away I went. And really unsurprising, the marian folks and the immigration and customs people were friendly, helpful and informative. This was sailing country and we were sailors. I was nervous at customs clearing in Willoughby, and had so many damn “Dog” documents I couldn't sort through them all. The official at customs said “here” reaching for my mound of documents, “all I need,” she made a copy of the rabies vaccination certificate and that was it. The immigration official and I had chatted about the weather while waiting and he remarked the sun hadn't shown in 2 weeks and this was highly unusual. They were waiting for the real spring to arrive. In fact we learned it was a cold rainy spring in what we were to soon find was a verdant semitropical paradise. There was a very small anchoring fee, 20 Euro I think, but I was glad to pay it for the hospitality and excellent harbor. A spot in the marina, especially for a cat, was weeks away and we didn't want to be in a marina anyway. So formalites painlessly completed, and the delightful Portuguese officials welcoming us to their island it was time to grab a beer at the famous Peter’s sports bar, take a deep breath and just take it all in.

THERES AN OCEAN TO BE CROSSED

The Atlantic was there to be crossed and the Azores beckoned. It was in the air and in the good Bermuda sundowner. But the global weather models were in tight agreement, a blustery norther was brewing with 35 knot gusts and worse still, a bit ahead of the beam. The tough old monohulls and grizzled sailors left for the bashing, it is their pedigree. Parallax chafed at her anchor. But a better pattern revealed itself, purchased with only a couple days delay. So we hit the White Horse bar one more time, at 24 dollars a burger once might be enough, and readied for a 30 May departure.

Customs and immigratiom… exit formalities completed, passports stamped. Bermuda Radio after a short hold for a passing ship cleared us to exit St Georges cut "Fair seas Captain" and we were off! 1800 nautical miles as the crow flies, somewhere to the East and North lay the Azores.

After a less than glorious start, I had forgotten I now had TWO reef lines to release. We avoided the surrounding rocky reefs and a public chastisement from Bermuda radio. (though im sure they were entertained) The three stooges counting Willoughby the Pom were off.

I had of course studied and compared the ever changing and often argumentative major weather models, and in the end relied on Chris Parker’s advice tempered by what I thought we could do. The first few days all weather models were in tight agreement which usually portends a reliable forecast. We left Bermuda at 32 degrees north latitude , the plan: sail North East around and over a patch of dead air and then find wind to sail along 34-35 degrees North for a few days until a predicted norther drove us south to as low as 30 degrees.

The first couple days we sailed generally northeast and had good wind to average 8 to 9 knots. We headed more eastward as we approached 34 North and yes, cut it too close and sailed directly into no wind. Loath to use much diesel so early in the trip we took a day to lounge in the sun, swim a bit in the cobalt waters and let the wind come to us, but after a day of frolicking we did use the iorn genny a bit and sailed to the new wind... we were off again.

The next few days great wind and we sailed along at good speed without pushing much. we begin to fade south too avoid the worst of a strong front and northerly winds dropping from the North as the system went east. That of course was giving ground (or sea) as the Azores lay around 38 degrees North. The question how far South, depended on how much of the norther did we want to encounter. After mulling over the models, consulting with the weather router we decided not to drop all the way to 30 but stayed along the 32/33 degree north. The wind and sea indeed get a bit blustery but we sailed along with reefed main and for the next few days made good time. The trouble with getting to low or losing too much distance was once the system passed, the wind would back to the west then south west and go light.

That would put lighter wind directly on the stern after a day or two and thats certainly not the best for a sailing vessel. But for the first coulple days after the system passed it was a broad reach, which the screecher sail made good use of. When the wind lightened and went further aft we considered setting the spin but the wind hung on and we were able to push it forward enough to keep decent 6 to 7 knot boat speed so we left the spin in its sock.

Meanwhile tropical storm Alex had been festering its way up the US coast and was predicted to turn the corner and in combination with a system off Newfoundland Alex was reborn and predicted to race through the north atlantic on a course that would take it directly over the top of us and within shouting distance of the northern most Azore Island, Flores. We had plenty of head start and it was likley to be far enough North of us that even if it caugt up, other than a real stiff kick in in the a## for a few hours not too bad, but we had to get North still and the wind was not cooperating, There's all ways the chance that the storm track is off a bit and instead of roaring over the top at 40 degrees it might take a slant to the south lace up its sneakers and run right over us, full on, if we were dallying around. So theres that.

We sailed a gybe angle North to keep the wind up but after a few hours decided a little diesel and direct course on the ruhmb line would put us too Faial before she could catch us and even if she did go a bit south of the predicted path we would be in the Horta Harbor. This might not be the best place to be if Alex dropped all the way down but I really didnt see this happening and you have to make a call. The alternative would be to stop the boat well south with plenty of open sea and wait 3 days for her to pass, leaving us still 2 days from Faial. So we motor sailed on and as we approached Faial got some favorable wind and sailed the last 12 hours for a very early morning land fall.

Land Ho!!!! the feeling is really indescribable and it never gets old to me after a long crossing. There lay Horta harbor past the bluff and the magnificent Volcano of Pico south and east, what a vissage. The harbor was crowded and the marina control urged us to go as deep in the harbor as we could , a lot of boats, more comming, this was after all the atlantic crossing season so we did find a prime spot directly across form the marina and administrative buildings well in the harbor. Alex was still out there closing fast so I was glad to feel the hook take a solid bite.

I put out ss much scope as I could get away with in the crowded harbor and after settling a bit, backed down pretty hard, as Jack Nicholson would say you cant be afraid to know the truth. And there we were, under the spell of Pico when Alex roared North of us that night on the predicted Path and on schedule. The winds hit 50 plus for a brief time and I could hear and barley make out some confusion as a few boats in the back of the harbor broke loose.

But if your in that harbor anchored, chances are you know how to cope and in the dim light a bit of shouting and S'Load of wind they all got it sorted rehooked and after 10 minutes it was done. Welcone to the Azores