19 Januray- 3rd February 2025
Finally on the afternoon on the 19th of January our little boat was nearly ready to leave. The plants strapped to the table unknowing of the coming ordeal, every loose was object secured, the only issue now was that a catamaran had anchored about 5 metres infront of us making it impossible to pull up our anchor. When we finally did pull the chain, it was stuck. The poor visibility made it hard to identify the issue so Niels had one last swim and manually removed our anchor from an enormous chain lying lonely on the sea bed.
Over the last weeks we had watched many boats leave, people blew horns and it was a jovial atmosphere every time watching families and groups of sailors young and old choosing the long journey across the ocean in all kinds of vessels.
Nobody knew we were leaving as we slipped away from land and into the channel between the islands. It was quiet and undramatic. We called our parents and just before losing signal realised there was an issue with the Garmin Inreach which Niels spent half an hour scrambling to sort out.
The only sailboat we saw during the following 2 weeks was on that first moonless night as we sailed out into the dark swell. Their course was very confusing having turned and suddenly gone south. We pondered their reasons for this but went on ahead before sailing straight into the wind shade of the island. It was incredibly frustrating and we rocked and flapped about unable to get going which we were so ready for by now. Niels slept the first shift and when he re-awoke chose to roll the sail in and just drift to protect the fabric from pointless chaffing.
20th Jan, Finally the wind picked up to a comfortable 15 kts and we too headed south to avoid the next flaute that was approaching on the weather map.
Niels wrote in the logbook “I found a little squid on the deck this morning, left it there to show Rumi”
We pulled up the mainsail, ate curry and watched the new wind generator, hopeful that the long instalation process would pay off with a nice amount of charge that we hadn’t the luxury of on previous journeys. Unfortunaterly it was only just charging at this point as the wind was quite unstable.
21st Jan, 2:12 am, The wind picking up a little, gales of 20kts. We watched and interpreted the clouds for a long time and studied our little weather book. Niels started fishing when it got light and had the first bite within 5 minutes. It managed to get off the hook, as did the next, and the third bit off the hook entirely. Niels fixed the line and since then nothing bit. Wind and waves picked up and I made pancakes, Niels sharpened knifes and I repaired some trousers while we lay and listened to an audiobook since we knew the conditions would get worse and we had to make to most of the good weather.
We were low on power again and had to motor a for a few hours on the first days.
Jan 22nd, The wind got more steady overnight and the wind generator was doing well. Niels put out the fishing line and got out the cloud book as he wrote “there is allot going on since yesterday, but I couldn’t really make my own predictions yet”
That afternoon he sent an “all ships” on the VHF, as we sailed right next to a large submerged object, round and dark with blue underneath. He thinks it could have been a huge mooring for big ships which had broken loose but couldn’t be sure. No one heard the call.
I was woken by Niels excitedly shouting that we had a fish, but by the time I got out of bed it had gone.
In the evening a big wave splashed through the boat, soaking the bed and submerging the normally waterproof GPS messenger which at this moment was on charge… Then while eating spaghetti Niels saw a big rain cloud and to avoid the squall we took down the mainsail and went downwind for a while. We measured gales of 26 kts and watched the waves really pick up, their foaming heads spitting and splashing at us. The wind steering is doing so well, but I feel very distrustful of the clouds that so often bring bursts of wind and rain.
We saw a cargo ship and a little later a green plastic bottle floated past the window. The fishing line was empty, of both fish and hooks. No wonder we’d caught nothing all day.
On the 23rd, we wrote nothing in the logbook. The wind had picked up during the night and remained strong and unpredictable so we ended up using just the Genoa. We tried to play battleships but at some point Niels felt sick and went to bed. That night we rolled in the genoa and sailed with only the jib so we could rest without changing the sails for each squall. It rocked an awful lot.
Every time you went outside you’d get soaked, somehow even with waves supposedly from the back there would be a stray that slapped the hull and showered over the sprayhood sometimes straight into the boat which was sad because it didn’t dry for days. It was worth wearing as little as you could for manoeuvres so we would dry quicker.
24th, Finally some clear skies! The Genoa came out again and I investigated a hissing noise in the bilge which turned out to be a can of lemonade and baked beans making love, otherwise known as galvanic corrosion, mingling into a fizzy bean bilge soup. Niels was mixing epoxy and flour in an attempt to steady the mount on the tiller where the chain from the wind steering was attached, and which up until now would jerk dangerously from side to side each time it moved. Unfortunately, it only got worse with the repair and eventually we tied it on tightly with a rope. We continued listening to our story and eventually reefed the genoa for the night. As we did this a fish flew straight into our fish bucket which provided some much appreciated humour.
The 25th was a slow day punctuated by rain and gales of 25/26 knots. The Genoa was our only sail and in the smallest reef. I wrote in the log, “its really rocky, the boom spending allot of time in the water, everything is very loud in the boat’
I saw a container ship in the night and at 5am the wind dropped and we rocked like hell.
26th “Today was really bloody hot!” The bilge was full of water which started to rise up above the floorboards as the pump under the engine was off. The last few days our course was a bit off and we’d been heading more in the direction of Panama rather than Barbados, so we took the sails on the other side which helped massively and reduced the rocking. There are long patches of sargasso sea weed that float in organised lines and look bright and golden in contrast to the dark blue sea. It’s a reminder that sea is very much alive despite our lack of fish. It’s still galey and we are going 5-7kts with the genoa only, and in the smallest reef.
Niels says when we are home he will bake loads of doppelkeks. I hope he does.
On the 27th he wrote “both didn’t sleep very well, the boat rocked allot”.
Finally the wind was steady enough to put out more than just the genoa in its smallest reef, and we sat reading our books and seeing how the boat responded. I was very much enjoying ‘The Old Man And The Sea’ while Niels was very much enjoying ‘The Boat Owners Electrical and Mechanical Guide’.
The plants aren’t doing well, the second basil is dying and everything is yellowing. On the upside, we each found a ripe banana this morning for the first time since leaving.
That evening I wrote “The night is really dark, no moon, no stars.” The wind definitely dropped a little, but the gales being sliced by the blades of the wind generator were loud and creepy, and the sail losing then gaining tension when a wave pushes us off course is horrible.
28th Jan, an Atlantic birthday! Niels gave me an unfinished wooden spoon and I can’t complain because he only got a feather for christmas. He then made pancakes for breakfast with tinned peaches and cream and fresh bananas that have all ripened at once. It was great fun receiving messages from my family and the sea was calm enough to have a bucket shower in the cockpit. That night I made curry, we drank mango juice and watched prison break.
The 29th brought calmer seas and a relaxed day, Niels read his ‘Sailing For Future’ book and I played around with oil pastels. The full Genoa was out and we were going between 5.2 and 6.6kts. When we surf down a wave we are going between 10 and 12kts. Only 735 miles left. In general the sailing is getting more relaxed, miles are flying past and we are rocking less. I even set up a sourdough and Niels was thinking about fishing again…
30th Jan, a beautiful sunny day. Niels put out the jib and the sails are in butterfly. The waves are from directly behind and finally the windows can be opened!! I sat in the shade of the sail at the front and enjoyed the up and down. Niels tried to fish but lost another hook and gave up. We think we are too fast, consistently over 6knots all day. At 21:08 we saw our first bird since day four or five of the journey.
31st, I wrote “Last night Niels stayed up until 4am UTC reading up on how to make our new position lights and playing around with LED’s.
I had to run the engine again since we were down to 40% capacity and not charging. Today the waves are bigger and seem to come from all directions.”
While the boat was breaking speed records again, we were breaking records of how many bananas two humans can eat in one day.
A tangle of colourful rope
Pull this - the sail tightens I hope
Let go if you dare, canvas soars in the air
Like wild birds on the elope
The following day I baked a banana cake, we finished our second audio book and took recordings of some boat sounds. Niels had a saltwater shower, tried to improve our course with the windvane and made it much worse. Only 300 miles to go!!
2nd February! A really really long day. The final days always drag out like a snotty nose you just can’t shift. Niels slept allot. I made a Bolognese and sorted out our horrible fridge. We’ve finally recieved a cryptic message from Frifararen, the ship from our friends who have arrived in Barbados but we aren’t sure when, it said, “Hallo hallo hallo, ich wiel spreche halló, du bist ein Otto, Eine kliene kissen, Otoooo xoxo (Barbados)”
This morning we have a 6.7knot average and are doing haircuts in the cockpit.
Time is a confusing thing. To stay less confused we stuck to writing only UTC in the logbook and the further south we sailed the further back in time we went, but the days were also getting longer as the winter loses to the spring. We anyway slept when we were tired, and that pretty much always coincided with nightfall. Most nights were shared into three sections of three hours. One would sleep around 9pm and take over shift at midnight, then come back out from 3-6 and sleep again until 9am. During the day it was quite relaxed. We took it in turns to check outside but mostly sheltered indoors from the constant sea spray and sunshine, resting and listening to stories.
The third day of February and the final day of our journey.
Niels did some calculations of how close to land we have to be to see the first mountain, he recons 50 something miles, but by 6pm (UTC) we were only 24 miles away and still couldn’t see anything. Finally at 6pm Barbados time, 4hrs later, the blue outline of land transformed from a suspicious looking cloud into mountains, houses trees and green fields of all things.
It was quite an unbelievable feeling that it was over and the little capsule of our experience was about to burst into normality without warning or ritual.
Through our binoculars of course the first boat we saw was Frifa, and after anchoring next to her we used the last of the light to get to land. To feel some concrete under our feet and download the next episode of our series which was a real cliff hanger and we had had to wait days to find out what had happened! By chance we found Otto and Tamara who initiated us into the Caribbean with a coconut which we cracked open on a lamp post and drank the sticky sweet water while exchanging stories and experiences from the longest sail of all of our lives so far.
Over 15.25 days we sailed 2079nm. Our fastest 24 hours was an average of 6.5 knots covering 156nm, our record.
Overall our average speed was 5.7kts.
And just like that we fell back into routine and socializing, plans and food and swimming. Writing several months later It feels like grasping for smoke, remembering the absurdity of time, facing the huge expanse of water and knowing you will take whatever it gives. It was not a dare, it was with the utmost respect.
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