The South Atlantic is not normally considered a hurricane area, but this is no longer entirely true. The first South Atlantic hurricane ever hit the Brazilian state of Santa Catarina on March 28, 2004, when it is autumn south of the equator. It is normal for hurricanes to form when the water is at its warmest.
The fact that hurricanes now occur in areas that are traditionally hurricane free is one of many signs of global warming. Water temperatures are rising, causing hurricanes to develop all over the world – even in areas that are normally hurricane free, but also in hurricane belts off season. Naturally, this makes sailing more dangerous. You can no longer trust the hurricane seasons and belts. This is why it is important that our weather program spots a hurricane in our area immediately. One good thing about them is that they are limited in size – around one hundred nautical miles – and that they move slowly, at a speed of approximately 10 knots. If worst comes to worst, you can always get away if you discover one in time.
Before I began to take a closer look at the weather forecasts, we were planning on going west of Cape Verde. There were several reasons for this. One was that the doldrums belt gets smaller the further west you get. The doldrums is an area around the equator characterized by hot weather, bad winds and heavy thunderstorms. At this time of year they normally affect a six hundred nautical mile wide belt. Since Yaghan is equipped with large diesel tanks – she has a range of almost 1,500 nautical miles – we can motor all the way through. The other reason was that it is wise to stay well clear of the African coast and Cape Verde because of the pirates that occasionally operate in these waters.
The hurricanes and tropical storms that later move in over the West Indies and the US are born in the doldrums. However, they are not normally bad enough to be given a name until they are about half way there.
When I began to take a closer look at the weather I quickly discovered something unpleasant. One week before we were due to sail, a tropical storm immediately west of Cape Verde had been named. It would pass our planned route on August 23, one week before our departure! It was called Debby. This was an eye-opener. We had seen a named tropical storm cross our route with our own eyes.
We decided to change course and go east of Cape Verde instead – that is to say between Cape Verde and Africa. We assumed that no new tropical storms would have time to grow to a strength that merited a name. One drawback was that the doldrums here cover a wider area – perhaps up to one thousand nautical miles – and that there was a greater risk of encountering pirates. However, we had to set this against the risk of encountering a full tropical storm, so the decision was easy. Thanks to our large diesel tanks, we would be able to motor through the doldrums even if it grew to cover an area of one thousand nautical miles. Spending two extra days in this area is best avoided, however. Even if you miss a fully developed tropical storm, the area is full of nasty squalls with terrible thunderstorms and short periods of extreme winds.
Thunderstorms are unpleasant at sea, especially for boats with a lot of electronic equipment on board. A flash of lightning can easily knock out your electronic equipment, and then you are in real trouble. That is why there is good reason to worry about thunderstorms at the same time as you cannot avoid encountering them when you are crossing the equator. You have to do whatever you can to avoid them, but you also need a bit of luck.
Before we left Sweden, we tried to find out what we could do to protect ourselves from being hit by lightning. Naturally, there were many ways of looking at it. After consulting a number of experts we finally decided to connect the mast to the keel bolts. We were told you need a spark gap between the down conductor and the keel bolts in order to counteract galvanic currents. We are not entirely certain whether this really does protect you against a direct hit. If you want full protection you need to install the lightning conductor during construction.
Moreover, we had not yet received our SPOS weather software upgrade, which would provide images of forecasted thunderstorms. It arrived when we reached Brazil and turned out to be very useful to us during the rest of our voyage. We had to make do without it for the time being.
Weather faxes are not even worth mentioning here. The technology is old and has no place on a modern boat. When we left, we thought we could use the weather fax as a backup for SPOS, but it cannot even be used for that. There are many places in the world where you may not even be able to receive any weather maps at all, and if you do they are difficult to use. This becomes blatantly clear once you have got used to programs with efficient route analysis tools that can plot the optimal route.
We did another last minute change. We were planning to go via the Fernando de Noronha islands to Salvador, but after taking a look at the weather maps we became uncertain.
Fernando de Noronha is so far west that you need to plot a southerly course to reach Salvador. The prevailing wind on this stretch is south-easterly, but tends to turn southerly along the coast. As a result, many boats get a hard time tacking. If you skip Fernando de Noronha you can choose a course that allows you to reach your destination in a single reach. We were not completely sure that we wanted to give the islands a miss since they offer good scuba diving. Then one day another sailor told us that you now need a permit to go there, so we asked Ulla Fredrikzon, my secretary in Stockholm, to apply for one from the Embassy of Brazil, but she was told that you have to apply in the country itself. This was our first contact with South-American bureaucracy. It meant that we had to sail past the islands, travel several hundred nautical miles to the mainland and then several hundred miles back to Fernando de Noronha! It was of course completely out of the question, and we decided to give it a miss after all. We could always go back on the way from Cape Town to the West Indies during the second half of our circumnavigation. We later learned that the permit is only a façade. You go there, pay a “fee” and everything is fine. We have found that much of the bureaucracy in South-America is based on this system. We had not yet realised the full extent of it, we were still adhering to the Swedish tradition of always following the rules, however stupid they appear to be.
During our stay at Puerto Mogán we came into contact with several other boats. One of them was an American 40-foot catamaran, the Mohini. She had sailed from the United States to the Canary Islands and, like us, she was en route to Salvador de Bahia, setting off from Puerto Mogán two weeks ahead of us, but with smaller diesel tanks, so they would be forced to sail through the doldrums. On the day before our departure we noted that they had not even made it half way to Salvador. They followed the same route as we did between Africa and Cape Verde. The doldrums east of Cape Verde covered a vast area, and the winds in between the thunderstorms were extremely unfavourable. We were again grateful for our large diesel tanks. We were beginning to think that we would reach Salvador at about the same time as the Mohini, even though she had started two weeks ahead of us!
The Atlantic Ocean
We left Puerto Mogán on August 31, 2006. We paid the seventy dollar a day harbour fee, which was slightly higher than what we had to pay on average during the first part of our voyage.
The most expensive harbours so far were in Portugal – Lagos and Cascais, which cost around a hundred dollars a day. I believe in a free market economy, and, unfortunately, I have come to realise that harbour fees are one of the few things in life where price stands in no relation to quality. The two best harbours so far, Veerhafen in Rotterdam and La Coruña in Galicia, cost about fifty and forty-five dollars respectively. La Coruña is a particularly good example. It is one of the nicest and best equipped harbours we have ever visited, and it is situated in one of the nicest cities. It is also one of the least expensive harbours we visited during the first half of our voyage.
It was time to leave. The sun shone from a clear, blue sky and there was a pleasant north-easterly wind. We motored out of the harbour and continued for another few miles until we had passed out of the lee of Gran Canaria. We were well and truly on our way! So far, no leg had been lo
nger than four days, which we were used to. We were now setting off on a 3,000 mile crossing that would take between fifteen and twenty days.
We wanted to sail after spending over a month in the Canaries; and we were soon forced to. The nights were pitch black and twelve hours long, and during the first couple of nights the wind was very strong. Our first two days were strenuous. Each morning we had to clear away the flying fish that had landed on deck. At night, we were in danger of being slapped in the face as they came flying. It nearly happened to me on several occasions. It is a very frightening experience.
SPOS is our main weather software. We were very pleased with it even though the important upgrade had not yet arrived, but during tougher passages we were planning to complement the SPOS with weather routing provided by some suitable firm. We were not at all confident whether weather routing would be at all useful, and we did not know which company provided the best service. We decided to try the Swedish SMHI service for the Atlantic crossing. We had used them before, so we phoned one of their meteorologists to get some information. We were receiving daily e-mails from SMHI as a complement to the SPOS, but we soon found that they had little to add in terms of thunder forecasts. They were probably right in that these are very hard to predict in the doldrums. When it came to other types of forecasts, the SMHI did not provide any information that we could not get from SPOS, but their forecasts covered a bit more than five days. The SPOS upgrade would later provide us with nine-day forecasts. Since weather routing via SMHI costs almost a hundred and fifty dollars a day, it was not an option.
Even though we could see no other boats, we forced ourselves to keep constant watch. The waters south of the Canary Islands are infamous for the boat refugees that try to get from Africa to the Canaries in inferior and overcrowded craft. Several incidents had occurred during the month we spent in the Canary Islands. We knew from experience that these craft are very hard to spot on the radar, and it is not an attractive prospect to have to take part in a rescue operation at sea in the dark.
We did not head directly for the strait between Africa and Cape Verde since it would have taken us too close to the African coast. We wanted to keep a respectful distance of a hundred nautical miles in order to avoid pirates, and we were constantly keeping an eye on the radar for any approaching boats at night.
The Doldrums
The trade wind started to drop already at nineteen degrees north, and the climate was getting warmer. We were only two days away from Puerto Mogán. The wind kept shifting; we were surprised to find that it dropped at such an early stage. On our third day we occasionally had to start the motor. The sea was completely deserted; there was not a boat in sight. As we were getting closer to the waters between Africa and Cape Verde, squalls and thunderstorms were beginning to form. The squalls were most frequent in the early morning and looked like amoebas on the radar. They came from Africa and travelled west across the Atlantic.
When we passed in between the African continent and Cape Verde, the sky was often lit by violent thunderstorms over the islands. I found it frightening. I have never liked risks that I am unable to control. When it comes to wind strength and direction you can always make accurate forecasts, but this is more difficult in the case of thunderstorms. They are very much subject to chance. In other parts of the world there are ways of avoiding thunderstorms. This became clear after the SPOS update, which registers areas where the likelihood of thunder is greater than twenty-five per cent. When you are crossing the equator and travelling through the doldrums, however, thunderstorms are so frequent that this kind of information is of little use. Lightning could strike, causing major damage and injury.
This constant cause of worry, the increasingly hot temperatures and the fact that this crossing was longer than any other we had ever undertaken before was a major cause of suffering for me. Heléne coped better. I slept badly. The temperature below deck was never less than 35ºC, there was a constant risk of thunder and the air was close and humid. The only way to survive was to walk around stark naked at all times of the day and night, but we were close to heatstroke.
I was looking forward to the day when we would come out of the doldrums and encounter south-easterly trade winds. It would be some time, however. Already at this point, we realised that we would have to spend a long time in the doldrums. We would not encounter trade winds until we arrived at 3 degrees north, that is to say right before crossing the equator. Since the doldrums began at 19 degrees latitude this time, we would need to travel a distance of about one thousand nautical miles, or five days in these atrocious conditions. Even if I was the one who suffered most, we both agreed that we would never attempt to cross the equator in a boat without the capacity of motoring all the way through. We thought of all the sailors of old who were forced to stay in the area for weeks or months. The suffering must have been dreadful.
It was nice not to have to use the sails too much. We were able to change course as soon as a squall appeared on the radar. We often did just that in order to pass behind them. The person on watch could manoeuvre any way he or she wanted now that we were not sailing. If we entered a squall with rain and strong wind it was nice not to have the sails set.
Our radar/plotter started to play up again in the heat. This was not good. We had decided from the start that all important functions had to be backed up, but we had not followed it to the letter. We did not have two radar systems on board since we had never experienced trouble with the radar before. We now made up our minds to look for an extra unit in Brazil. Sailing without fully functioning radar equipment is too risky. When you are circumnavigating the world all important onboard equipment needs to be backed up. We were now beginning to understand the full width of this fact.
South-Easterly Trade Winds and the Equator
On the eighth day we reached latitude 3 degrees north and south-easterly trade winds. It was liberating. We were able to set sail and it was cooler on board. Everything started to feel a bit easier. There was still some thunder, but the storms were much less violent. The weather during the day improved and the air was less close.
Two days later – on September 10, at 1048 hours UTC – we crossed the equator at longitude 26.22 degrees west, and we celebrated with a glass of champagne. All alcohol is normally banned at sea, but when you cross the equator for the first time in your life you have to make an exception. One of the glasses was knocked over when a wave hit the boat, so we did not get a lot in the end, which was probably just as well. After ten days of disturbed sleep you do not need much to feel the effect.
We were in an excellent mood. We had travelled 2,000 nautical miles, the most difficult part of our voyage. We had to go another 1,000 miles, or five days, before arriving in Salvador, where it would be early spring. We were sailing by the wind, and life on board kept improving. Even I was feeling all right. Heléne definitely did not look like a girl that had spent ten days at sea. She looked just as fresh as she normally does. The final thousand miles from the equator went like clockwork. Good wind makes all the difference.
All that happened in the last few days was that we noticed that the kicker mount was giving in. We tried to solve it temporarily by changing the bolts, but we realised that it would have to be changed in Salvador. The tension on the flapping sails and rigging is considerable when the sea is high and the wind speed low. A little more wind is also preferable in terms of wear and tear.
On the fifteenth day we sighted the coast of Brazil. It was a fantastic feeling, almost unreal. We would not reach the harbour until after dark. The sun set over Salvador de Bahia and the shimmering lights came on. We were not worried about approaching Salvador in the dark since we have all the necessary equipment, including very powerful search lights. We moored in the Bahia Marina at 2130 hours local time. This is a high-end marina that costs about seventy dollars a day for boats Yaghan's size, which is a lot in a country like Brazil, but the facilities were excellent, the restaurants nice and, not least, the security was good.
Salvador de Bahia
The following morning we sat on deck, taking in the surroundings. Many different types of houses were climbing up the slopes around the marina. Nice, neat houses were sitting alongside real shacks.
Salvador was the first capital of Brazil. It has a predominantly black population of two million. The level of development in the country becomes higher the further south you get, which means that Salvador de Bahia is situated in the less developed northern part of the country. The African influence is strong.
We were to stay for two weeks in Salvador before continuing our voyage. We wanted to get to know the city and we had a list of things that needed fixing. Mending the kicker mount was at the top of the list together with mending the radar and installing a spare unit; and the boat needed cleaning and polishing.
One of the first people we met on arrival was Francisco. He was cleaning a large motorboat, and he told us that he had worked with Swedish boats visiting Salvador before. He also spoke good English, far better than most of the others. We soon realised that he would form an important part of our infrastructure here. His main job was to look after a large Azimut. After his duties were done, he was permitted to work on other visiting boats. Nearly every boat in the marina employed people full time to clean and polish their boats, which is something that Swedes find very unusual. It is a sign that the price of labour is low. But Francisco was a great support. We would be needing his services sooner than we imagined.
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