Jacaré to Natal
Saturday, May 26th, 2012
Thursday, 24 May 2012
I was ready to leave. I had made a last little sightseeing trip to Tambaú. The boat was fully provisioned. Water tanks topped up. Loads of diesel. The plan was to head directly to Iles du Salut in French Guiana about 1400 nm away. New horizons beckoned. All the weather forecasts and grib files looked good. Days and days of steady 10 to 15 knot SE winds. No reason to wait any longer.
On Tuesday I headed out with the tide enjoying a smooth sail down the river. I wondered when, or if ever, I would see Cabedelo or Jacaré again. Many fond memories attached to these places. But for now, on on.
When I reached the buoyed channel through the reef the tide was on the turn. Slack water. So for once a smooth sail. We were on our way. I raised another panel and headed NE. Wind on the beam. It was looking good. Sinbad seemed happy enough. At this rate we should be in French Guiana in 2 weeks. But of course it’s never that easy.
There was no moon and soon the stars also went out, hidden behind black clouds. The darkness was complete. Then the rain started. Solid water. OK. Just a squall. It can’t last. The Navik was doing a great job and there was no need to get wet. I switched on the AIS hoping that it would help me to spot ships. It was a good opportunity to test the new antenna. Sure enough, a short while later two dots appeared on the screen. About 8 miles away. One either side of me. I looked out and could see nothing. The AIS told me it was waiting for more data. 10 minutes later one of the dots disappeared. Another wait, another un-identifiable dot. Ahh, that one has a name! But what is its heading? To cut a long story short, this farce went on for half the night. At one point I looked out and an enormous ship was passing us close on the starboard side. It had not been picked up by the AIS. I decided to switch off the infernal gadget and revert to my old system of the 20 minute kitchen-timer alarm and a good lookout.
Now the wind was really picking up. I reefed down to three panels and we were speeding comfortably along at 5 to 6 knots. But the Navik seemed to be struggling. I needed to keep adjusting the position of the chain on the tiller to keep us on track. The rain had really set in now and I was trying to avoid getting soaked. The beautiful, state-of-the-art foul weather gear that I’d bought in the US still looked beautiful but was behaving more like a wetsuit than a waterproof. Still pitch black out there. I was getting tired. The wind was getting stronger and the rain wetter. For the first time in months I was actually feeling chilly. Steering was becoming a problem. By now we were a safe distance offshore so I decided to heave to until the rain stopped and get some rest and something to eat.
At last there was a glimmer of early morning light and the rain had eased off. I clipped on, as the sea had picked up a bit and went aft to try to find out why the Navik had been misbehaving. Oh dear. Well, that explains it: the entire paddle/trim-tab assembly had simply fallen off and was no longer with us. Hmmmm… It seemed like a good idea to turn around and head directly back to Jacaré for a replacement. Hand steering all the way to French Guyana was not an option at this point. However, getting back to Jacaré proved to be wishful thinking. The strong current that had been helping us along was now working against us. As was the wind. And it was raining again. I got the engine going and hooked up the electric tiller pilot. We were able to make slightly better progress but at the speed we were doing it could take 4 or 5 days to get there. A sudden very heavy downpour sent me scuttling below. When it cleared I came back out to find that the Tiller Pilot had got swamped and given up. It was emitting an indignant, high pitched electronic squeal and the boat was heading off where it would. I bundled the poor wet thing thing up and stowed it below. Back on deck I tried to get us heading in the right direction again. But the recent floundering about had caused the beautiful repair to the boom that I did in Santo Andre last year, to come adrift and it was bent at right angles. I hove to again to have a little think and tidy things up. It was still raining. I was very wet.
It was time for a good strong caffeine fix. I got the espresso pot fired up. Had a look at my new android chartplotter gadget. Which had been a great success. I had put it in a well sealed, clear plastic box to keep it dry. As I gazed at it, wondering at the marvels of technology and watching the little arrow that represented our small world making its way across the chart, I was amazed to see that we were drifting on a direct course to the port of Natal. Normally when hove to we make slow but perceptible progress to windward. And the boat was pointing to windward but we were reversing crabwise to Natal at a rate of 2 knots. If it stayed this way we would be there at dawn tomorrow. Perfect. No need to get cold and wet hand steering. I could stay below and let Speedwell take care of things in her own steady way. I poked my head out at regular intervals to check for traffic but things had quietened down. I was able to get some sleep. Sinbad was looking more relaxed. The Jacaré option was scratched out.
By 2 in the morning we were about 10 nm off and had slowed down to less than a knot. Obviously less current in the shallower water. The tide would start running out of the entrance to the port at 6:10. It was still dark but if I started motoring now we should arrive there at about 5 and have light and tide to help us in. And the plan came together.
I had never been to Natal before and the little tablet chartplotter made it really easy to approach. Once there the channel is well marked with lit buoys. An enormous bridge crosses the river close to the entrance. It must be quite new as it doesn’t appear on my charts. Or on Google maps. As we passed the breakwater three or four jangadas were making their way out under sail. I took a picture of them and they waved. A bright and sunny morning. How quickly things change.