Never Leave on a Friday

X-ing File #2_Madeira to Canaries

For the second time this season we’d gone against nautical favour and deep superstition by leaving port on a Friday.  We wondered if Captain Cook, who also visited Madeira but in 1770 & 1801, would roll in his grave at our audacity!  Weather reports looked favourable, so we set sail after a somewhat challenging refuelling.  Katabatic gusts blew directly onto the marina fuel dock.  Thankfully, our bowthruster earned its keep, yet again.

Once away from the island, the seas were mild and winds light.  Our path took us past the dark and mysterious Ilhas Desertas, now home to endangered monk seals and a warden.  Deserted and desolate, we could only speculate on a lonely life.  On dusk we were joined by a convivial pod of dolphins ready for a little bow chasing.  After mum called them home, a pair of sea birds chased our wake combing the twinkling phosphorescence for tasty morsels.  We discovered a baby cuttlefish on deck the next morning…

How can you read at a time like this

Finally, decent winds set in and the Cap’n poled out the genny; even so we kept the engine on as swells were confused and unruly.  Conditions degenerated from there.  We sped past the Ilhas Selvagens (Savage Islands) rocketing along with both headsails wing on-wing (challenging on a B&R rig & set up by Cap’n Smarty Pants), rather pleased that we had not arranged for a permit to visit them.  There was no way we were stopping.  Winds changed again and the swell increased, so even if we had decided to head for the eastern group of Canary Islands (rather than a direct drop to Gran Canaria), it would not have been a pleasant bash.  It was not pleasant now.

Goose Wings

Life at Sea: with "James" steering_only Tahiti's off course this time

Finally, our third crew member, the auto pilot, decided enough was enough and left the Cap’n no option but to helm.  For 5 hours.  Dodging cruise ships and freighters off Tenerife in the dark added to exhausting conditions.  Finally, day broke and we had plenty of light to negotiate Gran Canaria’s vast man-made port complex, Las Palmas.  Luckily it was Sunday too, so traffic was minimal and we safely made it across the paths of monster ships into the one & only vacant, very snug berth in this vast marina.  It’s taken us two days to recover from the 2 ½ days at sea and we’re only just beginning to eat real food again.  GS can at last sleep without having a bucket within reach.

So, here we wait, at the mercy of the weather yet again, dreaming of idyllic conditions awaiting us in the Caribbean and wondering if a couple of tattoos (each at least, as they're supposedly talismans) might help get us there!  Or maybe I could just find a suitable ship’s cat?

A complete rainbow arc
Some things are nice at sea...