Posts Tagged ‘Abrolhos’
At Sea Again
Friday, March 25th, 2011
Friday, 18 March 2011
Left Vitória early yesterday morning in drizzling rain which rapidly became an impenetrable downpour. Why? You might well ask. The elusive southerly wind was blowing again and I was running out of legal time in Brazil. So a little bit of rain didn’t seem too much of a problem. 6 hours later I was beginning to have my doubts. But then it cleared slightly. I could peel off the oilskins which had become soaked right through anyway and things started to look up. The wind was south-westerly as promised by Passageweather.com and we were skimming along at 6 knots. How wonderful!
The repairs and adjustments I had made to the sail were looking good. The sail really needs to be taken right off and patched properly. The acrylic cloth I used to make it is chafing badly.
A nearly full moon made for a beautiful night. The wind had eased a bit and the sea was flatter. It doesn’t get much better.
Sunday, 20 March 2011
I arrived at the Abrolhos islands just as the sun was coming up yesterday morning. A gentle SW breeze kept us moving smoothly along. It seemed a pity to waste the good sailing weather but I went in to have a look at a possible anchorage off one of the islands which might give some protection from the swell running up from the south. It didn’t look very good. I hung about for a while and decided to keep moving. There are extensive coral reefs all around and I needed to be a bit careful. Once again the free Brazilian digital charts were a godsend. The water was crystal clear and we had picked up a biggish fish that was swimming along waiting to gobble up anything edible that might be tossed overboard. It looked like a small shark. I warned Sinbad to be extra careful. The depth was down to a fairly steady 10m with a blinding glare from the low sun making it impossible to spot coral heads. I made for deeper water and pressed on towards Ilhéus. If the weather changed I could stop in Cumuruxatiba or Cabrália.
The day turned out to be one of the best that I have ever experienced sailing. The sea was a clear sapphire blue with no big waves. The wind a steady F4 from the south. We were gliding along comfortably at 5 knots. Lunch was a perfectly ripe and juicy mango. I rigged up my sun awning and lounged in the cockpit. In the evening I was treated to one of those miraculous simultaneous moonrise-sunsets. Even the warm beer tasted good.
Later…
The sea has built up a bit now and we are starting to roll uncomfortably. Still making good progress.
I noticed that the seam at the leading edge of the third panel was coming apart. Decided to reef down to prevent it tearing further. I’d just sorted everything out when we were hit by a vicious squall. Rather good timing. The rain only lasted for about half an hour. Sea still rough. I went below to take a little break. Just getting comfortable when I heard a nasty ‘whumpf!’ and realised that the sail must have gybed.
When I got up on deck it was a bit of a shambles. The gybe must have happened because the wind had gone light again but the sea was still rough and we were being tossed about a bit. I ought to have raised the full sail again before taking my break but had preferred to leave it reefed to protect the broken seam. During the gybe the reefed panels had flared up and now I was faced with the aftermath of a classic Chinese gybe with the aft end of the yard caught high up in the lazyjacks and the foreward end stuck low down on the wrong side of the mast. Nothing seemed to be broken so I had a little think about how to sort out the mess.
Managed to come up into the wind and heave-to. The boom was still swinging about too much to be able to work on things so I clipped on and struggled to bowse it down by attaching a rope to a handy loop near the centre of the boom. The boom had originally been the mast of a Hobicat and this was a leftover from those days. I successfully lashed the boom to the handrail on the windward side and went forward to have a look at the problem.
By raising the sail a bit I managed to free the end of the yard that was stuck in the windward lazyjack but it immediately swung over and hooked itself neatly and immovably on the leeward side. Too high up to reach. I messed about a bit trying to move the forward end to the right side of the mast but was getting nowhere. Went back to the cockpit to slacken off the sheet so that it might be easier. Back at the mast I successfully freed the forward end of the yard but my elation was short-lived. A nasty ‘craackk’. Oh dear! Something must have broken. Mast OK. Battens looking good. But the boom had snapped at the point where I had so effectively tied it down. Right.
Now we were really in a mess. Luckily I was wearing the T-shirt that my son, Pete, had given me years ago with my motto: ‘Don’t Panic!’ silkscreened on in luminous ink. I mentally added my favourite Brazilian expression: ‘calma, calma’ (normally said with an accompanying slow up-and-down movement of hands with palms down).
My options were:
1. Battle it out and try to effect some sort of jury rig by lashing the bottom batten to the boom as a splint.
2. Secure everything as well as possible and head for the nearest harbour.
Option 2 won hands down. I was about 30 miles offshore but Baía Cabrália was practically abeam and seemed to offer good shelter from either north or south winds. Ilhéus was still 100 miles away which seemed an awfully long way to motor. It was only 10:30 in the morning so it might be possible to reach Cabrália before dark.
The engine started first try and off we set. The top two panels of the sail were fortunately quite well positioned to help us along with the wind on the beam. I might have been able to manage without the engine but that would have meant another night at sea approaching a tricky coast. Lots of reefy bits. Set up the electric autopilot and put a few waypoints in the GPS. I was feeling fairly optimistic about Baía Cabrália as it was one of the anchorages that Lennart, my Swedish friend in Piriápolis, had recommended. I had a detailed chart. We were averaging about 4 knots and it looked like we should make it before dark.
The entrance to the bay is very wide but still a bit scary as there are reefs on either side which were invisible in the heavy rain and the fact that it was high water nearly spring tide. Again putting all my faith in the GPS.
Once inside the swell was still rolling in and I was beginning to wonder just how good an anchorage it would turn out to be. Motored doggedly on for nearly 5 nm to get to the southern end off Coroa Vermelha. As soon as we were tucked in behind the reef the water calmed down beautifully. I dropped the anchor in 4.5m, untied the lazyjacks to allow the sail to fall down and had TWO beers while watching the moonrise.
Next morning the rain had set in again. Not much wind. I connected the GPS to the computer to check our exact position as the water seemed rather shallow. It was a bit unnerving to see that we had stopped in a small clear patch between a submerged reef and a sand bank. That explained why the other boats were anchored so far away. We were safe at the moment but I decided to re-anchor further out with more room to swing if the wind changed.
I spent the rest of the day just relaxing and listening to the rain. As soon as the weather cleared the plan was to move across to the village of Santo André tucked in behind the reef where I hoped to get things repaired.
Tuesday, 22 March 2011
The entrance to Santo André looked a bit tricky. The weather had cleared up and I was ready to move. Low water at 11:30. It seemed like a good idea to wait till then when the rocks and sand banks would be mostly visible and if I did get stuck it would just mean waiting for the tide to lift me off.
I started motoring across at 10:30. The bay is 5 nm across and as I emerged from the southern corner which is sheltered by Coroa Vermelha reef, the swell rolling into the bay made for an uncomfortable trip. Without the sail up the boat rolls horribly. At last we reached the shelter of the reefs at the north end just in time for slack water. I lined up with the isolated house on the hill as per the instructions and headed in. It seemed perilously close to the beach with crowds of people fooling about in the water. After turning again to run parallel with the inner reef there were some breaking waves one of which drenched me in the cockpit. My view ahead was badly restricted by the crippled sail bundled up on deck and coachroof. I passed within a few metres of people fishing on the rocks. Worried about getting their lines caught in the rigging. An enormous double-decker tourist boat jam packed with revellers was slowly moving out from the beach further restricting the narrow channel. I became a point of interest for the crowd and they waved and cheered as I passed by. Loud music and dancing on board. I was definitely back in Bahia.
The water was calm now that I was in the river and I could see where the anchorage was a little way ahead. Just the big sand bank to be avoided. No more rocks. I dropped my guard and relaxed then realised that we weren’t actually moving anymore. Must be just touching the bottom. I put the anchor down so that we wouldn’t get pushed further up the shoal patch when the water started to rise and waited for the tide.
It didn’t take too long and soon I was able to move across to where I should have been in nearly 3m of water. I had just settled in to what seemed like a reasonable spot when the man on the closest local boat came over in his kayak and said it wasn’t a good place to be as the schooners and tourist boats used it as a turning place. Showed me where to go a little further up and closer to the shore. I thanked him and moved on finally positioned fairly close to an Argentinian yacht.
Looked around me and it was a beautiful place.