On the 21st of November we hoisted sail again leaving Mindelo astern and a journey of two-thousand and one-hundred nautical miles across the Atlantic ahead of us. There was excitement in the air and the ARC+ fleet was a spectacular sight when we all left together the natural harbour of Mindelo. The dramatic volcanic mountains rising in the background and the vast eternity of the sea set as our destination, programmed in the autopilot and marked on the compass.
Although it was sad seeing Cabo Verde sinking in the ocean after a few hours of sailing in light winds between the islands, I was also happy to start the second leg of the adventure and return to life at sea after all. The most frequently asked question by most people not familiar with the matter of ocean passage sailing, is concerning the duration of such a crossing. Therefore I shall now find out and report to them how long it took us to reach our destination in in the Caribbean.
We were not blessed with fish on the first leg and had big hopes that this would change on the second part of the rally; therefore we could not believe it, when only a few miles out of the harbour, the first bite was on the hook. Günter who is a passionate fly-fisherman and had many good catches in the Mediterranean sea in the past, immediately started to pull in the forty-five centimetre Bonito. About a day later the rod bent again and we caught a beautiful sixty centimetre tuna, from which we made delicious sashimi with only a lack of wasabi paste and Georg prepared a ceviche with fresh cilantro, limes, lemons, garlic and chilli. For dinner Günter put the fillets on the grill and made a most delicious tuna salad for the next day. We were in fish-o-licious heaven. Three days later we put the rod back out and Georg had his first bite with a thirty centimetre Dolphin fish, which I had to gut and prepare the fillets from. This little guy was only the herald for Georg's second catch, a most beautiful ninety-eight centimetre golden green and blue-blackish freckled Dolphin fish. This time I spent about an hour preparing the meat and we had plenty of fish for another few days.
After a few days out on the ocean we were suddenly confronted with a sea coming in from the side and waves in a different dimension. We had to take down the gennaker and sailed with the genua only. The sea was at least a six and the winds between twenty-five and thirty-five knots. I was attracted and repulsed at the same time to the conditions and was curious how long we would be sailing like this. Whether the winds were calming again or getting even stronger over the next few days. I was on galley duty that day and had to cook a green-Thai curry with rice, holding on to both pots at all times, because I was afraid of hurting myself whit the hot pans and sizzling foods slipping of the stove.
After a day and a half, the winds started to calm down again and the waves were getting smaller and smaller too.
We kept sailing, sailing and sailing and days came and went by, similar to the rhythm of the cosmic constellations appearing during days and nights. Dawn was called in by the morning star, of which I have no scientific name in mind at the very moment and no Google at hands to find out. Breakfast followed after sunrise and we kept sailing, sailing and sailing. After a few jobs on board and washing dishes we were lazing about, and I set up my watercolour studio on the table. Water in a plastic jar, brushes, watercolours, ink, pencils, a rubber and a sharpener, all in place on an ARC newspaper to protect the surface from my creativity. Hours went by and we kept sailing, sailing and sailing. Somehow my hands and brushes kind of adjusted to the waves and the movements of the catamaran, but at times I was also frustrated that my paintings were behaved and not free and loos as they should have been.
Sometimes we changed or trimmed sails and after a night with winds up to twenty-six knots we changed from the gennaker to the genua plus a small jib. A combination that we enjoyed sailing, but also knew that it was not the fastest. We replaced the sails again by the gennaker and in the brightest of a full-moon night at sea it snatched again. Not because the winds were too strong on it, but because the UV light must have taken its toll on the particular part where it ripped.
In the morning we set the spinnaker again and as a consequence we set course more and more south as we kept sailing, sailing and sailing more and more down wind. Sometimes we were afraid to hit Brazil instead of the Caribbean and position reports were most interesting, because when we compared ourselves to some other catamarans of the fleet and realized that we are by far the one closest to the equator.
However we kept sailing, sailing and sailing west, as I kept drawing every day a few pieces and the cosmic constellations appeared around us. There is something surreal in this, together with the night shifts and repetitive duties, all worries, that we have on land seemed disappearing in the vast wave filled landscapes.
Polaris appeared in the north and is perfectly fixed, with the whole ballet of stars spinning and turning around and about it. The Orion was rising out of the sea and was climbing high above the mast, with its shield pointed westward similar to our spinnaker.
My imaginations and fantasies wanted to carry me away every night as we kept sailing, sailing and sailing into the west. My thoughts kept rattling around perception of distance and relativity, as my world all of a sudden expanded and became large again. The two continents were drifting further apart than ever before in my subjective perception. I once lived in America and I once went home after three years in the Americas on a cargo freighter from Jamaica to Rotterdam. I remember the engines kept going, going and going for eleven days and eleven nights before Europe came in sight. But this time I was under sails in the opposite direction constantly carried by the trade winds with an average of six to seven knots, leaving behind a feeling of eternity.
I cannot recall how many time I jetted between the continents and how close New York City feels to Basel, Paris or London sometimes. But this time the planet has gained its gigantic size back as we kept sailing, sailing and sailing between the two worlds.
At some point we adjusted our spinnaker and created new lines for the barber-hauler. With this installation we were able to sail more up-wind in order to climb back to the fourteenth latitude. We were dependent on our spinnaker and sailed it day and night for the second half of the distance. Halfway at one-thousand and forty-five nautical miles, we smoked a cigar from the Canarias and gave a first smoke sacrifice to our foresail. We opened a bottle of semi seco champagne and celebrated as if we had climbed a peak on a Swiss mountain.
However, that night I listened to the beautifully melancholic melodies and the dark words of Thom Yorke`s latest release Suspirium, the million stars rained out of the pitch blue sky like tears of giant whale orbiting through our galaxy. That night a shadow crept up inside my mind and I remembered a pitch-dark chapter of human history and entrepreneurship entangled to the ocean passage that we were on.
Packed like sardines, layered on top of each other, traded in for glass pearls and cheaply woven cloth. Human beings displaced from the heart of the continent by gangs. Driven together like beasts towards the coasts of West Africa and then deported to the islands from where they were brought as slaves to the new world, using the exact same winds as we did.
These poor souls did not enjoy any of the sailing across the Atlantic and disease, hunger and pain must have tortured them every single day at sea. They must have been scared to death by the waters, by the winds and by the eternity of the journey they were put on.
The cruelties of slavery have happened everywhere and when I worked in Tanzania, I was living in Bagamoyo, which is sixty kilometres north of today's commercial capital and metropolitan area of Dar-es-Salaam. Historically Bagamoyo was the Swahili capital of Tanganyika, from where the slaves were deported for many centuries to China, Arabia and India.
Bagamoyo is hunted until today from its past and the old Boma is still there. It was the last place where the slaves were kept before they were brought to the slave markets in Zanzibar. Therefore the slaves were told the night before departure" to lay down ones heart", which is literally translated to "Bwaga Moyo" in Kiswahili.
Slavery has never ended, but the current tragedy in the Mediterranean sea is no better at all. For several years young men and women from African countries are putting themselves onto rafts and boats, which are dangerously overloaded and people are packed like sardines in a tin, trying to cross into Europe. All in search of a better life, some work and some hope to send back money to feed the families and villages back home. Poor souls, deported and steered by gangs through the deserts, affected by infectious diseases they would have not gotten if they did not have to take the burden of leaving their land, families and homes behind.
In the light of these thoughts I am even more thankful for my privilege to have experienced such a cruise, explored life at sea and parts of the world under sails. There were moments that I won`t forget quickly and if I am lucky I can keep them to the end of my days. Maybe I will become the uncle, the father or some other story telling figure, with soon legendary tales to tell to children and friends, about the sea voyage that I once encountered.
I am glad no stories of pirates, sea monsters, mouldy diseases and emergencies have sneaked into our reality. However, I am certain that the mermaids I met were real, and so were the small fin pilot whales that visited us and the countless shooting stars, that I have seen.
But the happiest memories are those of the nightshifts, when I listen to music and stared into the universe. I felt that Max Richter and Jonny Greenwood orchestrated the symphonies of the world, only for me and the billions stars above. Also unforgettable, was the feeling when Mon Reve surfed down the waves and the spinnaker was full blown and danced to either side of the hulls. Further I won`t forget the Gin Tonics at sunset, the many delicious meals we prepared together as a crew, the golden and silver fishes that we were given by the waters, the endless blue horizon, the cloudscapes and the squalls that broke loose out of nowhere. Landfall in Mindelo was a true highlight, together with the ARC crowed and the good spirit in the marinas they provoked. A revaluation was the surreal perception of the endless rush and gurgle, the relativeness of time and distance, depending on the speed of travel, the eternal winds and waves, and how this composition might has adjusted my inner compass in a new direction, as I kept sailing, sailing and sailing west.