Speedwell of Hong Kong

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Tuesday, January 17th, 2012

Cacha Prego

Saturday, 7 January 2012

Cacha Prego - boats for hire

After returning from Jaguaripe I spent Friday night anchored at Catú. One needs to keep fairly well away from the beach as it is shoal near to the coast. Even in the strong afternoon wind it was a comfortable anchorage as the wind was across the current rather than directly opposed. Nevertheless I made a point of bunging up the exhaust. A new year’s resolution.

Blue crabs for sale

This morning I motored down to Cacha Prego, a popular beach town about a mile away very close to Barra Falsa at the entrance to the Itaparica Channel. It’s possible to anchor really close to the long beach as there is nearly 3m right up to the shore. But it was crowded with small boats for hire so I stayed a decent way off. Rowed ashore and did my shopping and Internet stuff. There are a few small but well-stocked supermarkets with good fresh fruit and vegetables. I was able to buy the weekly steak treat for Sinbad. The shops were quite crowded as it was Saturday morning. Live blue crabs and shellfish were on sale near the central Praça. Getting the dinghy ashore had been tricky with the wake from passing boats creating waves against the beach plus the complicating factor of hoards of bathers. Kids playing with inflatable dinosaurs and dolphins. Big people sitting submerged to the neck. I had just managed to stay clear of the kids when a bump and a shout told me I’d hit a sitter. It was taken in good nature and no harm done.

Had a refreshing ‘coco gelada’ at a beach bar before rowing back to Speedwell. I returned to the peaceful and more comfortable anchorage at Catú for the night.

Wednesday, 11 January 2012

On Sunday morning I had a long row over the muddy shallows between Catú and Cacha Prego. People were foraging for crabs and shellfish. I spent the rest of the day on board and made a new plastic curtain for the companionway. The old one was getting a bit tatty. It comes in very useful when the wind tries to blow rain down the companionway as it’s so quick just to roll it down.

I was busy measuring up for it when I heard a loud buzzing overhead and a microlight seaplane came low overhead and landed on the water nearby. It motored up to the beach and rolled onto the sand on small wheels. Very neat. Strange to see it parked there next to three dugout canoas.

The sign is not encouraging

Monday I sailed back to Tororó to do some washing and Tuesday returned to Itaparica. Able to sail all the way with the wind mostly forward of the beam but very variable. The sail was working well despite not being able to fully raise the bottom panel. Maybe I’ll just leave it that way. At one point we were hit by a short but torrential rain squall. Sinbad sheltered under the dinghy. I got soaked. Soon we were back with the fleet anchored at Itaparica.

Itaparica

Friday, 13 January 2012

On Wednesday I crammed myself into a minibus with about 18 others and headed for the big supermarket at Bom Despache for some serious shopping. It’s about a 20 minute drive and passes some popular beaches on the windward side of the island. There were many stops along the way. As I was sitting up against the side door, each time we stopped for a passenger interchange I needed to get out on the road so that my seat could be folded back to allow access.

Dried out at the bottling factory wall

At the supermarket I loaded up with all the things that are hard to find in the smaller shops. Italian pasta, drinkable wine, etc. The kerosene was R$16 per litre so I gave it a miss. I’ve become quite good at judging how much I can load into the trolley that will be able to fit into my backpack plus big shopping bag. There was an impossibly long queue at the checkout but eventually I found myself on the road again staggering along with my bags to the corner where the minibuses wait for passengers for the trip back to Itaparica.

Finished - just in time

Yesterday I was able to move Speedwell over to the stone wall at the old water-bottling plant near the marina. It dries out at low tide and is a good place for a quick antifouling job. Brian and Ron lent me some monster fenders as the wall is rough. They were there to take my lines when I arrived and helped me to tie up. We took a line from the top of the mast to a nearby tree to make sure that Speedwell didn’t fall the wrong way when she dried out. To be on the safe side I also moved the sail bundle as far over to the landward side as possible. I was a bit worried about tipping forward so I hauled the chain out of the locker in the forepeak and laid it along the side deck. As the water level started falling I floated alongside in the dinghy and started scrubbing and scraping the hull clean. It wasn’t too dirty. But the single layer of antifouling paint that had been applied in Goió was wearing very thin and patchy. By the time both sides of the hull were clean the water had ebbed a long way out. I started painting from the bottom up hoping to manage two coats. It worked, but only just. Towards the end I was holding the paint tin above the water which was lapping round my knees. The dinghy came in handy as my floating workbench but got very dirty in the process. I still had to fit the new anode to the prop shaft. Being very careful not to drop anything I screwed it on with 10cm to spare before the prop was submerged. Tidied things up a bit and went for a desperately needed hot shower to get the paint off myself.

Tags: cruising, Drying out
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Catú to Jaguaripe

Saturday, January 14th, 2012

Catú

Tuesday, 3 January 2012

When I woke up on New Year’s day I noticed that the big catamaran had dragged quite a long way down the channel. They all still seemed to be asleep. The anchor must have reset itself as they had stopped moving. The wind had picked up and was fairly strong NE. Passageweather had forecast an offshore gale not far south of here. Glad I’m not out there.

The Bridge

After breakfast I decided to move around the corner of the island and explore the anchorage just before the bridge. The chart showed the water shelving rapidly from 20m to nothing. I rounded up in the centre of the bay in deep water and edged cautiously shoreward dropping the anchor in 5m. It still seemed a long way from the water’s edge. It was more sheltered than Tororó and I sat down to enjoy a mug of coffee in the cockpit. I had a good view of the bridge that connects Itaparica to the mainland. Lots of road traffic. As I watched, a catamaran with tall mast approached from the other side. It would be interesting to see them sailing under the bridge. I had read that there is enough room for a 17m mast (at low tide). The catamaran seemed to be waiting for the water to ebb. Before long a fleet of about 8 or 10 other yachts arrived. Must have spent the weekend at Cacha Prego. They started negotiating the bridge. For the smaller ones it was no problem but most seemed to have only inches to spare. After passing under the bridge they still had to clear the powerlines that appear to droop lower than the bridge. Most boats moved diagonally to where the curve of the drooping cables was higher above the water. I had been assured that the power-lines are higher than the bridge but they give the impression of being a lot lower. All the boats got through safely. I admired their panache.

I spent the day pottering about and now and then thinking that I might make some New Year’s Resolutions. Maybe next year. It was too windy to row about the bay as I had hoped to do.

A cottage in Catú

Next morning the north wind was still blowing but the tide was right for the short run down to Catú. I had noticed that the incoming tide runs with one as far as the bridge and then its against you for the rest of the way to the entrance to the Itaparica channel. The ebbing tide does the opposite of course. It’s quite strong at times and is worth taking into account. Getting under the bridge was no problem for Speedwell as we don’t need much more than 10m. Keeping to the middle of the channel I found deep water all the way. When I rounded up to drop the anchor in 4m off the little village, I realised that the wind had really picked up and the water was quite choppy. Put out 30m of chain and went below for a cup of coffee.

Microlight seaplane on beach at Catú

Later I rowed ashore and found a small grocery shop which had a last one-litre can of kerosene. I make a habit of picking some up whenever I see it as it’s not that easy to find here. The price varies wildly from R$7 to as much as R$14 per litre. This was in the low range so I snapped it up. My Primus uses a bit less than a litre a week so it’s not a major expense.

Catú is tiny village with a scattering of bars and restaurants along the shore. My search for an Internet connection was not successful. I was happy to forget about it and wandered along a pretty path through the trees. Some free range horses grazed peacefully in the open spaces.

Jaguaripe

Wednesday, 4 January 2012

Dawn on the Rio Jaguaripe

The wind had dropped over night and it looked like a good day to head down to Jaguaripe. Only about 7 nm from Catú but it involved a slightly dodgy unmarked route through the shallows near the entrance to the Itaparica channel. Pete had given me some waypoints and I was eager to have a bash at it. I waited till half tide and started out. The rain that was threatening held off. Still in deep (6m) water, I passed close to the big green buoy marking the main channel and headed across to the Rio Jaguaripe taking a gentle curve round the big sandbank that extends off the SE corner of Ilha da Carapeba. The tide was rising and I was motoring slowly against the current. The waypoints were good and I had 4-5 m all the way to the entrance of the Rio Jaguaripe. From there it was an easy run up the middle of the river in about 6m most of the way.

Ferry dock - Jaguaripe

There was a scattering of fishing buoys in front of the town and it was tricky trying to find a good place to drop the anchor. I ended up a bit too close to a cluster of plastic bottles acting as a buoy. Just before sunset two men paddled over in a canoa to tell me that I was on top of their net. I hadn’t realised that there was a submerged net connecting the float close to me to another one far away near the opposite bank. The tide was ebbing strongly now and they said they would be back at slack water to sort things out. When they came back I tried to raise the anchor but the net had floated over on top of my chain and it was impossible. After trying for about an hour, in the dark, to pull the chain past the net we were getting nowhere. I offered to buoy my anchor and drop it then re-anchor with the Fortress which was ready to go, but the fishermen very kindly decided to untie the net from their buoys and haul it in.

Thursday, 5 January 2012

resetting the net

This morning I saw the net fishermen again and offered to move to a different spot. They said I should stay where I was and they chose a new place further away from the town.

When I went ashore a little later I discovered a good free wifi spot in the main Praça and was able to catch up with emails and a new book to read. It’s a neat and tidy little town. Very pretty with it’s big church perched on a hill, it’s glittering onion-shaped dome sprouting some green foliage round the edges. Neatly clipped shade trees in the central square. There was no fresh meat for sale so I bought two small fish for Sinbad.

When I got back on board I made some breadrolls as the ones they had for sale in the town looked a bit tired. Full of enthusiasm for getting things done in a fresh new year, I also got the sewing machine out and made a sturdy bag to hold the 10m of chain that belongs to the Fortress anchor. It also had 80m of rope in a separate bag. Too heavy to move if I put the chain and rope in one bag. I used to leave the chain loosely bundled behind the mast but it had a nasty tendency to slide about.

The church

Every afternoon on onshore wind blows strongly from the east. At Jaguaripe the river runs in an E- W direction which means that if the tide is ebbing (which it does at a rate if 2-3 knots) in the afternoon it creates a very uncomfortable anchoring situation.

Friday, 6 January 2012

I left Jaguaripe a 7am. Flat calm with an ebbing tide. Stopped for breakfast at the pretty beach near Pta Garcia and waited for the tide to start coming in before heading back to Catú.

Tags: cruising
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Itaparica to Tororó

Saturday, January 7th, 2012

Wednesday, 28 December 2011

When I got back on Sunday I was happy to see that Ron and Brian were still here. I anchored, as usual, on the far side and rowed over to Brian’s ketch to say hello. Ron and Ewan were also there. Coffee. Told them about my engine problems. Was advised to get hold of a workshop manual. Should be fixable.

This morning I was thinking about it and am not totally convinced that the head gasket is causing the problem. The water in the oil is clear and obviously not the coolant liquid. How is it getting there? A crack in the engine block? Was the new gasket fitted on BsAs a waste of time? Will I need a new engine? There have been so many unexpected heavy expenses lately – it’s a bit alarming. I think I might abandon my plans for the north coast and head as quickly as possible to Trinidad for a major refit. The boat and myself (I’m thinking teeth and hearing aids) could certainly do with it.

08:09

Just had a session with Visual Passage Planner and this is the worst possible time to head north up to Cabedelo in a boat that is slow to windward. Looks like March or April would be worth waiting for.

Thursday, 29 December 2011

No more water up the exhaust

I managed to find and download a PDF file of the workshop manual for my engine. It should be a help. I did some reading and thinking about the problem yesterday and have convinced myself that the water must have got in via the exhaust system. Those rough wind-against-tide days that I had quite a few of in Cachoeira could have done it. Wind blowing the waves up against the stern. I will try to get the tap I installed near to the exhaust opening working again. It’s corroded and seized up, fortunately (or maybe unfortunately) in the open position.

17:43

After breakfast this morning I scratched around and found the sikaflex bung I had made to plug the exhaust outlet before leaving Port Owen. I had never used it. It seemed like the easiest way to prevent water splashing in. I can reach the hole by leaning over the stern so it will be easy to get it in and out. I attached it with a string to the Navik mounting in case it falls out. I feel so much better about the engine now. No need to rush away until the weather is good for heading north. I think I’ll move along to Catú tomorrow as Itaparica is getting too crowded for me.

Ron met me ashore and walked with me to show me where to find the local sail maker. I’m hoping to be able to lay the sail out and get the shape right. No one at home, but now I know where to go. Picked up some essential supplies on the way back including some freshly caught prawns from a fisherman on the jetty.

By now the dock and anchorage at Itaparica had become nightmarishly crowded. Powerboats and jetski’s jostling for space. Rowing back to Speedwell was rough with their careless wakes ripping up the normally calm water. I decided to waste no time in getting out of there.

Saturday, 31 December 2011

The little grotto at Tororó

I had a gentle sail down to Tororó yesterday. No one else there. It was a beautiful evening. After a quick swim I made a delicious moqueca with the fresh prawns and ate in the cockpit, enjoying the peaceful surroundings.

Very early this morning I put the dinghy back in the water and rowed ashore with a bucket and jerry cans. Sinbad decided to come along. The tiny waterfall was a fairy grotto in the early light. I filled the jerry cans and rowed back to the boat to fetch some containers for sand. The beach was clean and white, perfect for Sinbad’s litter box. After about an hour the cat had done enough exploring and made it clear that it was time to get back to the boat. Back we went with clean water and sand. Time for breakfast. We had just settled back on board when the first of the weekenders started arriving in speedboats and jetski’s. We were anchored far enough away not to be too bothered.

Sinbad was ready to go back to Speedwell

Quite a few boats visited the waterfall during the day – some only staying for a quick swim and then moving on. By late afternoon we were on our own again. Went ashore for a sparkling shower under the waterfall. I had a whole bottle of champagne to get through, so started at sunset. I was just enjoying the first glass with a bowl of popcorn when a massive catamaran with about eight people on board arrived. They searched about for a place to anchor and thankfully chose a spot really close to the shore and not too close to me. It took them a few attempts to set the anchor.

Sitting outside in the cool of the evening time passed quickly. I was totally engrossed in the book I’m reading, ‘Samuel Pepys: The Unequalled Self’ by Claire Tomalin. A wonderfully accessible way of appreciating his diary. It gives a fascinatingly intimate and familiar account of a tempestuous chapter of English history. Crazy mingling of his somewhat messy home life and momentous affairs of state. An irresistible quote: I know nothing that can give a better notion of infinity and eternity than the being upon the sea in a little vessel without anything in sight but yourself within the whole hemisphere.

A few minutes before midnight the fireworks started. The little town across the river put on an impressive display. A happy end to a wonderful year.

Tags: cruising
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Ilha dos Coelhos

Friday, December 30th, 2011

Friday, 23 December 2011

Saveiro coming round the corner

I had planned to go ashore and follow the trail to the waterfall this morning. My hair was badly in need of a wash and the lush rainforest looked inviting. But the weather turned nasty with gusty rain-showers. I decided to head back the short distance to Maragojipe to do some shopping as I didn’t seem to have anything fresh to eat. When I started the engine I noticed that no water was coming out of the exhaust. Switch off quickly. Hmmm. What now? Impeller in fragments? It had been working fine before we stopped. Must be something blocking the inlet. I started the engine again hoping that whatever it was might have fallen off, but no such luck. So find the mask and snorkel, hang the rope ladder over the side and go and have a look. The water was clean enough and a comfortable temperature but too murky for me to see more than 10cm in front of my eyes. I couldn’t see the cooling water inlet and battled to locate it by feel. It seemed alright but I scrubbed away with a brush and climbed aboard to try again. To my relief water started pumping out of the exhaust. I’d hate it to happen again in a really cold place or where the water is like a sewer.

Cottage next to the ruins

When I reached the anchorage at Maragojipe I found that I was the only cruising boat there. I suppose most people are staying at Itaparica for Christmas. Looks like I’ll be on my own again. Last year it was me and a bottle of reasonable Argentinian champers at Paratí. This year me and a dubious bottle of the Brazilian equivalent. All that was obtainable in Cachoeira. I should have thought of it earlier and stocked up in Rio.

Tuesday, 27 December 2011

On Saturday I did my shopping at the Maragojipe Market so now I had plenty of fresh stuff. The new fruit bowl overflowing with bananas, mangoes, custard apples and a pineapple. The weather had cleared up but I decided to spend the night there and head back to Ilha dos Coelhos in the morning. Christmas Eve was quiet. I had expected the usual exuberant Brazilian display of fireworks and loud music. I suppose that will happen at New Year.

Ruined aqueduct in the jungle

Christmas day I motored back to Coelhos – only about 2 miles downriver. It’s a pleasant anchorage tucked in behind a small privately owned island. What used to be a sugar or tobacco farm on the mainland has now been almost completely restored to enthusiastic rainforest. A small cottage at the water’s edge is dwarfed by the towering ruins of an old aqueduct. I had been told that there is a rather good waterfall nearby, so rowed ashore to try to find it. Unfortunately it was very low tide and getting ashore would have involved a long trudge through knee-deep sticky black mud. I gave it a try but it was just too messy. Some kids came out of the house and waved. I shouted that I’d come back later when the tide was in. Back on Speedwell I had a fruity Christmas lunch and a healthy dose of the Brazilian champagne which was pretty good actually. It would have been even better if I’d had a bucket of ice to cool it off.

By 2pm the water was high enough for a second attempt to get ashore. I was able to beach the dinghy on a small sandy patch. The house was closed up – the family must have gone off for a Christmas family gathering. Five or six dogs rushed out barking at me. They were wagging their tails and didn’t look like trained guard dogs. Two cats observed the proceedings from a discreet distance. The dogs quietened down while I tied up the dinghy. Then as I started walking along the path beside the aqueduct, leaving their territory, they started to become more aggressive. Luckily there was a big stick lying nearby. I picked it up and waved it about in what I hoped was a threatening fashion. The dogs backed off with tails between their legs. I hung on to the stick in case it might be needed again and headed off along the jungle path.

The path

I had hoped to get directions to the waterfall from the people in the house. No one around so I just followed the path. It was green and damp and virulently alive. I clutched my stick and wondered how effective it would be against a boa constrictor. I was just wearing my flip flops so looked carefully where I placed my feet. I hardly ever wear shoes these days and my boots give me blisters. The path split a little way past the ruins. I turned off to the left and soon was startled by some very loud screams. Was it a bird? I stopped and listened with my one goodish ear. There it was again and some rustling high up in the branches made me look up. A crowd of monkeys. Maybe howlers. I stood quietly and tried to spot them. They were high up and difficult to see between the leaves, unless they moved.

Monkeys in there somewhere...

It seemed that they wanted to get a closer look at me and as I watched they started moving closer. Springing in mad leaps from branch to branch. I stayed quite still and now and then was able to spot a small bewhiskered face with bright inquisitive eyes before it’s owner took off in another gravity defying leap landing lightly on the next available slender branch. Never staying still long enough for me to get a good photo. Soon they grew bored and leapt and scrambled on their way. I trekked on along the path which didn’t seem to be approaching any waterfalls. Eventually I turned back to try the right-hand option. This was more promising and I came to a lovely shaded pool with clear water cascading over a series of rocks. But I wouldn’t have described it as a waterfall. A nice place to sit and cool my feet before heading back.

Tags: cruising, Rio Paraguaçu
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Coqueiros – Saveiros and pottery

Friday, December 23rd, 2011

Thursday, 22 December 2011

Saveiros parked at Coqueiros

On Wednesday the tide was big enough for me to head back downriver. I had enjoyed the enforced delay as Cachoeira is an interesting place and São Felix which lies on the opposite bank is a gentle unassuming little town with some decoratively run-down old buildings. On the odd morning when I was feeling energetic I would take a healthy walk across the bridge and stroll to the end of the promenade. I had admired a crumbly two-storey facade draped with green creepers which faced the main road next to the river. Next time I passed it, all that was left of the second storey was a pile of rubble cordoned off on the pavement. I don’t even think that a particularly strong wind had been blowing. All those graceful arches and iron filigreed balconies. Rather sad.

Kinks in the masts are obligatory

So, at about 11:00 when the tide was halfway up I set off bravely. It was much easier getting back of course, as I had my track saved on the GPS. If it got me there, it should get me back. It was a pity that I hadn’t marked the places where I got stuck. Fortunately as the tide was against me on the return trip I wasn’t racing along almost out of control and had no problems nudging my may past the two tricky places where some sharp turns were needed.

This time I planned to stop at Coqueiros for the night. I got there just at the top of the tide so the timing was good.

Dona Cadu pottering away

Two interesting things about the place: it’s the home of many saveiros and there is on old lady who has spent most of her life (I’m told that she is 95) turning out pottery bowls which are fired stacked at the side of the road. I paid her a quick visit and hoped she had some small bowls for sale. Unfortunately she had been concentrating on larger ones. So I acquired a nicely glazed terracotta fruit bowl. Ideal for the chart table display. She has been happily turning out her pottery since she was ten years old. Always in the same spot in her little house overlooking the river.

Loading sand

When the saveiros come home for the night they arrange things so that with a final flourish, the sail comes down as they turn up into the wind and gently slide to a halt on the muddy riverbank. With a falling tide. Anchors are also set out in the mud. This way regular maintenance is easy and the hull can be kept free of weed. No need for a dinghy.

As the tide ebbed an extensive sandbank in the middle of the river became exposed. A saveiro that had anchored on top of it at high tide was now aground and the crew were shovelling sand on board to be transported to a building site.

I waited until it was floating again, now heavily loaded with sand with only a few inches of freeboard and decided it was time to leave. Raising the anchor involved first hacking away the enormous heavy lump of weed that had floated downriver and become entangled with my chain. I slashed at it with my breadknife.  It took two hours of motoring against the strong current to negotiate the channel through the shoals and then on to the anchorage at Ilha dos Coelhos. I found a good place to anchor NW of the small island then relaxed in the cockpit with a mug of coffee. It was quite a relief to be back in the deeper and more easily navigable part of the river. I decided to leave my trip ashore to see the waterfall for tomorrow.

Tags: cruising, Rio Paraguaçu, Saveiros
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Cachoeira

Tuesday, December 13th, 2011

Sunday, 11 December 2011

Interesting local boat

On Friday my top priority was to buy a new camera. After asking around, I managed to locate a few shops selling electrical goods and one of them had a selection of three reasonably priced digital cameras. My luck was in. Soon I was the happy owner of a neat little ‘Lumix’, offering 12 megapixels, 4x optical zoom, wide angle lens, face recognition, anti-shake, and on and on. A nice Li-ion rechargeable battery and complimentary 2G memory card. I could start happily snapping away again.

dinghies in the mud

Using the small floating dock to get ashore needs a bit of planning as it settles in the mud at low tide. There is an interesting local trimaran on a permanent mooring close to shore. It sits lightly on the water looking like an extraterrestrial visitor. It’s owner comes down regularly to tidy things up and take it for a short sail up and down.

Busy market

The Saturday morning market spreads over an enormous area, extending into side streets where the produce is laid out on the ground. There was an even better selection of wonderful fresh fruit and vegetables than in Maragojipe. I tried to be unaffected by the subdued clusters of chickens, feet tied and huddled together waiting to be selected for someone’s dinner.
I reminded myself of how much better off they were than the millions of poor unfortunates in more ‘civilised’ batteries,who had lived their sad lives debeaked, overfed and crowded, waiting to be hygienically wrapped in clingfilm and tastefully displayed to fastidious supermarket shoppers.

A beautiful evening

Cachoeira is well known as an important centre for the African adaptation of Catholicism known as Candomblé. Originated by the slaves who were banned from worshipping their traditional spirits.

I wandered into a small shop with an interesting display of Candomblé paraphernalia. Delicate white lacework dresses. Some, very elaborate in embroidered satin with beads. Fantastical headgear with bead fringes to cover the face. The shopkeeper noticed my interest and asked if I’d like to attend a Candomblé session that night. It seemed like a good idea. To show me where to find the place, she very helpfully escorted me to the ‘terreiro’ of Mãe Madalena in a narrow sidestreet near to a church on a hill.

Candomblé dancing

We waited a while for someone to come to the open door. Eventually a woman dressed all in white approached us bent over with hands fluttering. In what appeared to be a trancelike state. The shopkeeper also bent at the waist with hands outstretched for the traditional embrace. This involved much gentle patting and hugging. A second woman (also in white of course) came out and the greeting ceremony was repeated. I quickly gathered that I was expected to join in. No problem. A long gentle discussion followed which I wasn’t able to hear properly but I came to understand that it would be fine for me to come and observe. They planned to start at 21:30. While they were talking I had a chance to look around the room. The walls were covered with framed pictures of legendary heroes.

Around the totem pole

A big carving of an eagle with wings outstretched was perched on top of a totem pole garlanded with brightly coloured artificial flowers. The floor was strewn with leaves and petals. Grasses and fluttering pennants hung from the ceiling. The drums and a carved wooden throne on one side. The remaining walls lined with a row of chairs and stools for lookers on.

The moon was big

On the way back down the hill Rosangela explained that the participants spend about a week preparing themselves for the ceremony. Fasting and meditating. Hoping to achieve readiness for their possession by the spirits. And so on.

I had a snooze in the afternoon as I was told that the rituals continue right through the night. At nine-thirty I found my way back to Mãe Madalena’s. It was a beautiful night and the waterfront was crowded with strollers and families enjoying the cool of the evening. I joined the small group gathering outside the terreiro. The lane had been decorated with artificial flowers and fairy lights. Stringing-up of lights was still in progress. Women dressed in their white frilled and embroidered finery were arriving in dribs and drabs and disappearing inside. Soon the men arrived, also in fancy white gear. I also moved inside and found a small foot-stool to perch on. The proceedings started. The men have the job of beating out a rhythm on the drums which will hopefully draw down the spirits. They went at it with a will. The ladies, and a few men, started a slow shuffling and twirling dance round the flowered totem pole in the centre of the room. Carefully dodging lit candles which had been placed in symbolic positions on the floor. The music was mesmerically repetitive and It was easy to understand how it could be trance-inducing to a receptive mind.

The dancing continued...

The dancing continued on into the night. The full moon looked down from above. Every now and then there would be a short break for refreshments. Then they would start again with renewed vigour. As the pace accelerated the occasional dancer appeared to become possessed and would start to shake and twirl about. When this happened three of the calmer folk would hover around protectively. Wiping sweat off the face. Adjusting clothing which threatened to fall off. Showing much tenderness and caring. At about two in the morning there was a long break while new, brightly coloured and more elaborate costumes were put on. Now the fancy headgear and straw fringed face veils were assumed. Things became more frenetic. And it went on and on. I was starting to get drowsy as my normal bedtime is about 10’ish. During the next break I slipped away and walked back by moonlight to Speedwell and the cat. It had been an interesting experience and I was grateful for the generosity and welcoming openness of the group.

Tags: Candomblé, cruising
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Upper Paraguaçu

Monday, December 12th, 2011

Wednesday, 7 December 2011

Which way is up?

Just before half tide yesterday I set off to attempt the channel through the sand banks that start just off São Francisco. I had chosen to leave the sun awning up as the plan was to use the engine to negotiate the narrow and shallow track. I was thankful for the shade. Scores of fishermen were setting nets from their dugouts as I passed north of Ilha dos Franceses. Piled up, snowy cumulus clouds reflected brilliantly in the smooth water. A wide expanse opened out ahead. Most of it too shallow to be navigated by anything other than the canoas.

Passing São Francisco do Paraguaçu

After passing the ruins at São Francisco, I turned towards the start of the marked channel. I was following a set of waypoints and they corresponded very nicely with the markers. By now the depth was averaging about 2m. Speedwell has a draught of 1.5m so it was easy enough. The bottom seemed smooth with no unexpected shallower bumps. I passed behind Ilha das Garças and started thinking about finding a place to anchor as the tide would soon be turning. I mistakenly wandered out of the channel a bit too soon and felt an awful sickening sensation as the boat lurched to a halt in the mud. Luckily we had been moving very slowly. I tried unsuccessfully to reverse off but we were stuck. Nothing for it but to relax and wait for the water to rise a bit more. After about 20 minutes I felt some gentle movement and soon we were on our way again. I backtracked very gently to the marked channel and this time stayed in it right to the end which is very close to a small floating jetty near to a restored church. Here the water was a comfortable 3m. The tidal range is about 2m so I moved a bit further on and found 4m to anchor in. It was tempting to press on but I felt I needed a rest.

All that could be rescued from my broken camera

Sitting in the cockpit with a mug of coffee I marvelled at the beautiful surroundings. In the distance a fleet of saveiros was approaching on the downwind home run to Coqueiros. A magnificent sight. I grabbed my camera and snapped away. Some came almost close enough to touch. A few contrary souls were tacking against the current in the opposite direction. Still making good headway. When most of them had passed I went below to check on the results of my picture-taking. To my great disappointment I discovered that my camera was on the blink. All I had were a few lines and blotches. What an unfortunate time for this to happen.

While waiting for the tide to turn this morning I rowed a short way downriver to a small floating dock which looked like a good place to get ashore. It was low tide and two women were collecting oysters off the rocks. Prising them loose with their machetes. They opened one and offered it it me. I wasn’t sure if they expected me to slurp it off the shell, but there was no lemon juice around and it looked rather muddy. I politely declined.

There was a big notice announcing that this was private property, etc. But there was no real fence or proper gate so I took a quick walk up to the prettily restored church at the top of the hill. There was a wonderful view looking down on the river with Speedwell anchored nearby. I cursed the broken camera. The facade of the church had been covered in a glittering mosaic of broken glass and fragments of azulejos. It sparkled in the sunlight. At night a light comes on in a little turret on top of the cupola and shines through coloured glass. It looks very welcoming.

Back at the boat it was time to set off. I left the dinghy in the water thinking it might be handy in case I should need to set out a kedge anchor after going aground.

For a short while we were in comfortably deep water and I started to relax. Too soon! Suddenly the water shallowed alarmingly and we ground to a muddy halt. That was when I realised that the saveiro which looked as if it was floating was actually hard aground and stern-to the current. Not a good sign. I tried reversing off but gave up and waited for the tide which was running in strongly. The saveiro started to swing and line up properly with the current. And soon we were also on our way again. I resolved to pay closer attention to the waypoints and not rely on my erratic personal judgement.

I had had to wait for half tide to have any chance of getting through the shallow areas and the current was pushing me along a bit too fast for my liking. With the engine barely ticking over to give me steerage way we were charging along at nearly 4 knots which is not a good speed to suddenly bang up against an unexpected sand bank. We passed Coqueiros to port. I had planned to stop there and visit the old lady who has spent her life making clay pots. I could see the fire for the kiln being stoked up but decided to carry on as I wanted to take some photos and hoped to pick up a new camera in Cachoeira. The visit would have to wait for the return trip.

About half a mile further on I had to make a very sharp turn to avoid a submerged sandbank that runs almost all the way across the river. I made the turn successfully but then turned too soon to recross on the other side and wasted a precious half hour getting afloat again. A bit further up I found some blissfully deep 4m and decided to stop there for the night. Another shallow patch was approaching and I had no desire to be left high and dry at the top of the tide. We were in a quiet spot with only the occasional fisherman paddling by.
The saveiros stop at Coqueiros so I wouldn’t be seeing any more of them for a while. The wind had picked up and was funnelling down the river valley kicking up quite a chop against the now strongly ebbing tide. Speedwell didn’t know where to turn. Even with the tiller lashed to one side we were wandering about around the anchor. At one point I re-anchored as we had swung over to a shallow patch and I didn’t want to be there at low water. As soon as the wind dropped which it usually seems to do round about sunset, things calmed down. I watched the flocks of white herons flying home to roost. I cursed my camera yet again.

Thursday, 8 December 2011

Waiting for the tide. Many fishermen setting out nets. Four canoas moored to stakes some way off the opposite bank while about 10 men stand waist deep in the water shovelling sand off the bottom and onto the dugouts to be taken ashore for some construction project. I rowed across to them and asked where the deepest water was to be found. They pointed out the general direction which seems to agree with my waypoints. Maybe I’m getting a bit paranoid. Maybe not. When the tide bottomed out I could see scores of people and canoas on an enormous sandbank about half a mile further up. They were paddling about less than knee deep. A few patches of sand were actually visible. I rowed up to them and found where the deeper water lay. It was a good move to stop where I did yesterday.

By midday I was getting impatient with all this waiting and decided to start feeling my way along. The water was still rather low and we touched the bottom a few times at the start but managed to keep moving. I was very grateful for some extra waypoints that had been given to me by Jaqueline and Christiane who I met in Maragojipe soon after they had returned from a successful trip up to Cachoeira. Their boat, Maris Stella, has a lifting keel which leaves them with only 1m draught but their waypoints helped tremendously in a number of tricky stretches. There is no proper chart so it’s a little bit hit and miss.

The banks of the river are mostly lined with thick mangroves with lush rainforest behind. Here and there a small clearing with clay-tiled dwelling, donkeys and cows. The water was busy with fishermen setting nets or crab traps. I would have liked to be able to spend more time admiring the truly beautiful surroundings with enchanting new vistas opening up round every turn in the river, but I had to keep a very careful eye on the fishfinder and try to avoid being inadvertently swept along by the strong current onto the odd passing sandbank. Sinbad was reclining in the forepeak. The engine was grumbling along in very low revs. It prefers to purr at slighty higher revs but my nerves weren’t up to 5 knots. So we rumbled along at a cautious 3 to 4.

Anchored at Cachoeira

We slipped along in the narrow channel beside a small island and then under some very high power lines. Now the town was in sight with it’s ornate old buildings. A striped blue and white beacon marked a big rock midstream. I wasn’t sure on which side to pass it, but kept my distance from the rock and left the beacon to port. Now I could see the railway bridge that crosses the river making any further progress impossible. Not to mention the enormous dam a little further up.
Soon we were anchored not too far from a convenient, small floating dock. Loud music was thumping its way across the water from the bars on either side. Time to crack open a warm beer!

Tags: Cachoeira, cruising
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Rio Paraguaçu

Monday, December 5th, 2011

Wednesday, 30 November 2011

Tie-dyed saveiro

I waited until noon for the tide to turn and then left Itaparica heading for the mouth of the Rio Paraguaçu about 14 nm away in the NW corner of the bay. My patience was rewarded and I enjoyed a wonderful, fast sail up to the lighthouse at Alembique with wind and tide rushing me smoothly along at 4 to 5 knots under full sail. A scattering of stately saveiros were going casually about their business. Some with perfect white sails, others, motley blue or green or tan. All moving smoothly along. My course followed a wide curve leaving the extensive shoal area to port. Always a wary eye on the fishfinder. The wind had strengthened a little by the time we arrived at the entrance and we raced past the anchorage at Praia da Barra and on up to the massive boatyard with oil rigs under construction. A sobering reminder that life carries on regardless in the real world. I dropped the sail and motored in to the secluded little anchorage behind Ilha do Monte Cristo. It seemed like a good place to spend the night. I had a quick cooling swim and then relaxed in the cockpit enjoying the surroundings. The view of the boatyard nicely hidden behind my towel which I draped over the rigging.

Thursday, 1 December 2011

Ruined monastry at São Francisco do Paraguaçu

Yesterday I waited until after lunch to have the tide in my favour for the next hop up the river to the anchorage at São Francisco do Paraguaçu. The wind was blowing fairly steadily from the east. I raised the sail and set off. Three saveiros were also heading up river. It was quite a thrill to be sailing alongside them. They gave me the thumbs-up as they slowly but inexorably drew ahead. Much more adept at handling the vagaries of river currents and wind shifts.

I had recently made a stop at the old ruined church/monastery of São Antonio with a friend who had come out from England for a short visit. We had been given a very interesting guided tour of the site. This time I was content to stay on board and enjoy the scene while sipping my sundowner.

Swallows and Amazons?

Sipping had just started when I was shaken out of my reverie by the raucous arrival of a small dugout canoa with raggedy sail and 5 or 6 small and enthusiastic kids partially in control. Sinbad watched with interest from his safe refuge under the dinghy, which was still on deck, while I tried to answer their questions. Soon enough they were swept along by the strong current. I kept an eye on them and was happy to see that they had no trouble getting back to their little beach.

Handy new floating dock

My plan had been to spend the night anchored off the ruined church and then set out early this morning at about half tide hoping to make my way through the shallows leading up to the narrow upper reaches of the Paraguaçu and so on to the town of Cachoeira. However, after a closer look at my sketch chart with it’s scattering of spot depths I realised that with the neapish tides currently prevailing, it was going to be rather too uncomfortably close a thing. I really ought to be sensible and wait a few days for the full moon and a generous tidal range.

The slippery, old concrete landing place

So instead of ploughing on into the mud I backtracked slightly to Maragojipe to wait patiently for the right conditions.

Landing at the pier in Maragojipe with it’s slippery concrete steps used to be quite an exciting exercise, but now to my delight, I found that they have built a wonderful floating dock which really simplifies getting ashore.

Sunday, 4 December 2011

The market in full swing

I rowed ashore at 7am yesterday to go shopping at Maragojipe’s famous Saturday morning market. I’m sure that on previous visits it took place in and around the old buildings close to the jetty. Now it has moved into a partly undercover area in the centre of town. A wonderfully colourful and confusing display of fresh fruit and vegetables.

I wished that I had a big boatload of people to feed so that I could justify buying more of the deliciously tempting and sometimes mysterious things that caught my eye.

The wheelbarrow rank

Everything seemed very cheap. Luckily I had managed to exchange a R$50 note into a bundle of more negotiable 2’s and 5’s. Most things seemed to be pegged at R$1. I was soon heavily loaded down with bags of oranges, mangoes, pineapples, bananas, cashew nuts, some earthy-looking roots which were sold with a lip-smacking, live demonstration of how to peel, cut up and cook. Small sun-ripened tomatoes and a big bunch of basil for a delicious salad. An artistically laid out selection of many different varieties of chillies had to be sampled. I was wilting under the weight of my backpack and big shopping bag. A juicy watermelon couldn’t be refused. I staggered to the wheelbarrow rank and began bargaining with the barrow boys who started by demanding 10 Reais for the trip to the jetty but immediately backed down to 5 when I expressed shock and horror. A bright young kid soon had my shopping loaded up and we trundled jauntily down the cobbled street to the boats. I was at leisure to enjoy looking at the colourful buildings along the way.

Interesting buildings

Back on board I got the stuff stowed away as well as possible, hanging the bananas out on the stern where any creepy crawlies would hopefully fall off into the water. Then a quick cooling swim in the river and I settled down to read my book for a while. ‘The Worst Journey in the World’ by Apsley Cherry-Garrard, describing the unbelievable hardships experienced on Scott’s last Antarctic expedition. His description of the ‘winter journey’, a six-week side-trip taken by Wilson, Barrows and himself (Cherry-Garrard) to visit the Emperor penguin rookery is awful beyond all imagining. Pulling sledges in perpetual darkness, trying to avoid crevasses in temperatures down to -77 deg F with clothing frozen solid. It puts any little discomfort caused by the heat where I am at the moment into perspective.

Tags: cruising, Ilha do Monte Cristo, Maragojipe
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Itaparica and Ilha do Bom Jesus

Friday, November 11th, 2011

Wednesday, 2 November 2011

Morro de São Paulo astern

I left Gamboa early on Sunday morning and had a pleasant sail to Salvador and on to Itaparica. The weather followed the usual pattern with very little wind in the morning and then a useful onshore breeze starting at about 1130. The last 10 miles inside the Baía de Todos os Santos running along the coast of Itaparica Island was magnificent. I easily dodged the ferries and was soon rounding the scattering of markers that define the degaussing area on the northern point. There were about 15 cruising boats in the anchorage and I found a good spot on the outer edge. As I was setting the anchor, a friend whom I’d met in Rio motored over in his dinghy to welcome me. When I had a chance to look around I realised that the two boats either side of me were also familiar. One, a Swiss boat, that I had met before in Mercedes up the Rio Negro in Uruguay and the other an Argentinian last seen in Ilha Grande. Later when I went ashore I passed an American boat, Restless, belonging to a single-hander, Ron, whom I’d last seen years ago in Mar del Plata. And Vanoc, last seen in Colonia. So this is obviously the place to be.

The donkey was camera shy

Unfortunately when I picked up the weather forecast it seemed that we were in for a few days of strong southerly wind and rain. I felt a bit exposed in my place on the outer limit of the anchorage with minimal shelter from the SW, so after a quick provisioning trip ashore on Tuesday morning I set off for Ilha do Bom Jesus about 10 miles across the bay where I’d be able to find a more sheltered spot to anchor. The weather was still good and soon I was passing the big red buoy marking the sand bank at Coroa Grande. The channel on the north side of Bom Jesus is very deep and then rises steeply close to the shore. I dropped the anchor in 6 m but was a bit too close to a little islet covered in mangroves and by the time I’d let out sufficient chain I was swinging into the shallows around it. Anchor up again and try once more. This time it looked better and as predicted the weather suddenly changed. Strong wind and dark looming clouds. But I was in a well protected spot and felt secure.

Narrow muddy lane on Bom Jesus

The wind raged all night and this morning there was no sign of it letting up. It was too nasty to think about getting ashore. Peering out from under the shelter of the spray dodger I saw a scarlet ibis battling along to windward. A stray sunbeam highlighted its brilliant colour shining like a fantastic jewel against the gloomy clouds.

Friday, 4 November 2011

It carried on blowing strongly all of yesterday ranging from SW to S. The island provided excellent shelter and flat water. I spent the day doing odd jobs and tending my water-collecting system as the rain poured down. Soon all the tanks and containers were full. I felt obliged to do some washing. The forecast predicts more of the same until after the weekend.

This morning I ate my last half papaya for breakfast and decided to go ashore for some fresh fruit. It was low tide and the concrete jetty that the ferry boats use was high out of the water with nothing for me to grab. Luckily there is a small patch of sand at the root of the jetty which looked like a better idea. As I rowed up to it I could see big slabs of rock on the bottom and then the muddy shore which was littered with small stones and some broken glass. But thankfully it was firm and not the slushy sort of mud where you sink in up to your knees. I dragged the dinghy safely up to the corner and tied the painter to a handy railing. A donkey looked on, mildly interested.

Bom Jesus is a small island but quite densely populated. The usual big church and sociable village square. I was soon quite disoriented in the labyrinth of narrow muddy lanes. There are no cars. Suddenly there was a break in the houses and I emerged at another popular stopping place for the ferry boat. In fact, a tiny harbour, although as the tide was right out, there was very little water. Lots of activity with sacks of stuff and building materials being offloaded having been carried over from the big town of Madre de Deus on the island of the same name, which is where the locals do all their shopping. I soon discovered that there are only one or two very basic ‘mercadinhos’ on Bom Jesus with limited stocks. I managed to get a green papaya and a bunch of bananas.

Saturday, 5 November 2011

The ferry dock

This morning I took the ferry across to Madre de Deus to do some shopping. The boat arrived while I was still hauling the dinghy up the beach and by the time I started jogging along the jetty it was already pulling out. Someone ashore noticed my problem. He shouted to the ferry boat driver who obligingly turned back and helped me aboard. It’s just a short hop across the channel to town and I could have done it in Speedwell but I rather enjoy using the little ferry boats and my dinghy was safer on the Bom Jesus beach than tied to the busy town dock.

Walking along the jetty after we arrived, I watched two fishermen jubilantly carrying an enormous ray draped over a pole between them. Later, on the pavement outside the supermarket, they were selling it cut into strips to many keen takers.

It had taken a while to find the shopping area but at last I had everything I needed and headed back to the boats. I had a heavy load to carry and rather missed the eager barrow boys of Camamú.

Bom Jesus small boat dock - Speedwell in the distance

It started to rain again as we approached Bom Jesus and I had to get the dinghy sorted out in the downpour. Funny thing is, this is supposed to be the dry season. Two kind on-lookers helped me by carrying the dinghy down to the water.

Monday, 7 November 2011

The wind moderated a bit yesterday morning and I grabbed the opportunity to motor around to the other side of the island. I found a wonderful secluded place surrounded by small mangrove islands. The tide was coming in but there was still enough mud surrounding them for the wading birds to be foraging for breakfast. They looked like long-legged sandpipers with long curved bills. From here the oil-refinery on Madre de Deus can’t be seen. Just some small fishing boats and an apparently deserted resort complex on one of the bigger islands. The bad weather had obviously discouraged the weekenders. Although later in the afternoon a solitary schooner made it’s merry way through the narrow channel between Bom Jesus and Frade heading for Loreto.

I went for a row around the islands this morning. Sinbad decided not to come along. It’s good to know that he’s not desperate to get off the boat. On the way back I saw two crazy strawberry neon pink ibises. I had begun to think that I might have been hallucinating when I saw the one fly by a few days ago. But these were real enough. There must be a brooding place for them on Ilha de Frade.

Tags: cruising
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