Back at the helm - sailing the Yaghan to Antarctica, Patagonia and the South Pacific

by Martensson, Helene

  We went jogging every other day along the beautiful shore, which gave us an idea of the layout of the town and hopefully improved our muscle tone.

  We found a supermarket that had everything. It was great just to see all the well-stocked shelves of fruits and vegetables after five weeks of wilderness. Consumer society has its good points. My shopping lists were very long indeed. We needed to stock up on many things before crossing from Chile to Polynesia, especially since we could not be sure when we would be able to go shopping again. We were planning to sail to Gambier Islands and from there to Tuamoto Islands. We did not expect to find any food shops in either of these places – at least not any that would be stocking fruits and vegetables. So I counted on having to buy enough to last us for three months, or about one hundred days. That means one hundred breakfasts, one hundred lunches and one hundred dinners without access to a shop!

  Chicken, mincemeat, meat, fish, shellfish, ham, sausages and bacon to last us for hundred days, and yoghurt, eggs, butter, pasta, rice, fruit and vegetables, spices, flour, UHT milk, water and Coca Cola for one hundred days. I estimated that we would need 2.5 kg flour a week for baking bread, buns and cakes, which equals 37 kilos! Three litres of milk per week meant that I had to buy 45 litres of UHT milk. I estimated we would need one hundred eggs and twenty 900 gram cartons of yoghurt. I wanted to buy eggs that had never been in the fridge, they keep a lot longer. I was buying eggs to last us for three to four months.

  We made many trips to the supermarket, five in all. Some of them we did together, the rest I did on my own. A few days before our planned departure I suddenly got worried about whether we had enough food, so I went back to buy a few extra kilos of peaches, more milk, several cartons of yoghurt, more pasta, and then the boat was full up. The fridge was groaning under the weight of all the food. Our spare head had to serve as a larder. I stored vegetables that did not need to be kept cool in a net wardrobe bought at IKEA. I counted on being able to keep the small window in the toilet open while we were at sea in order to keep the vegetables fresh.

  All we needed to do on our final day at Puerto Montt was to fill up our diesel tanks. Then we were ready to set off. We had 2,400 litres of diesel on board, plenty of water, food and supplies for a hundred days. We were ready to sail across the Pacific to Gambier Island – a total of 3,300 nautical miles, the longest leg of our lives!

  Thursday March 22, the day of departure, arrived with sunny weather. We had to wait for the tide to come in before we could leave the marina, but at 11.30 we left Marina del Sur. It was a great marina. We had enjoyed our three weeks there. Heidi and Eivind waved goodbye to us.

  We would meet again, probably in New Zealand, but not until much later.

  We were given some fishing equipment as a farewell gift. Eivind thinks that we do too little fishing, which is true, we never fish, and we probably never will. We had filled up our freezer with Chilean farmed salmon, a delicatessen that we would have for several of the many meals we would be enjoying in the Pacific.

  The first few hours we went under power. Then we set sail and left Puerto Montt and the snow-capped Andes behind. We were happy to be on our way and that our stay in South America would soon be over. But before we left the continent completely we would stop off on Isla Robinson Crusoe, six hundred miles, or three days, away. It is part of a group of islands that has belonged to Chile since 1818.

  Just before we ventured out on open water we passed Canal Chacabuco, well aware of the fact that you can only pass it during slack water or fair tide. We were catapulted into the Pacific on a current that at its most forceful travelled at a speed of 7 knots. Now and again we were doing 15 knots. Dolphins cavorted around our bow, causing much joy on board. We were even happier when we, in the light of the evening sun, discovered ten or fifteen whales that were blowing, diving and smacking their fins against the water surface some fifty metres away. It was a magnificent display, and we thought it a good start. The Pacific seemed to be full of “whale fountains”.

  The weather turned colder towards the evening, and we tried to turn on the heaters, but they were not working. They started, but produced no heat. It soon turned out that a plastic hose in the engine room had snapped. Arne, the great handyman, fixed it, and a little later than usual we could eat our dinner in the dark. We had spaghetti Bolognese like we always do when we are setting off on a long leg. The cook herself considers this to be an especially delicious Bolognese, made with cinnamon and sambal, lots of garlic and onions and, above all, grated carrots and whole and crushed tomatoes. Leave to simmer for a good while. When we eat this meal on board Yaghan we know that we are yet again setting off on a long sea voyage. The whales had disappeared, and we did not see them again. But the dolphins followed us all night like little illuminated torpedoes surfing around our hull.

  There was a good wind all the way to Robinson Crusoe island, a 20–25 knot freewind, and we did between 9 and 10 knots. The only problem was the Chilean fishing vessels that came out at night. During several hours of the morning I had as many fishing boats around the Yaghan as we had whales earlier. I think whales are nicer, and they feel a lot safer as long as they do not get too close.

  With the evening sun warming our faces on Sunday March 25 – the first day of summer in Sweden and the arrival of autumn down here – we approached Isla Robinson Crusoe and dropped anchor in Cumberland Bay off the village of San Juan Baptista.

  The three Juan Fernández Islands were discovered in 1574 by a Spanish navigator with the same name. Isla Robinson Crusoe was first named Más A Tierra (closer to land). In August 1704, a British ship, the Cinque Ports, with the Scottish seafarer Alexander Selkirk on board, arrived in the islands where Selkirk, after a dispute with the captain, asked to be put ashore on Isla Màs A Tierra. He lived there alone for over four years until he was rescued in 1709 by a British ship, the Duke. Selkirk sailed home to Scotland on the Duke where he became famous. Later Daniel Defoe based his book about Robinson Crusoe on him. In Chile however, the name was not changed to Isla Robinson Crusoe until the 1960s.

  After we had anchored up and were sitting down in the cockpit we noticed it was a cold place. We realized that Alexander Selkirk must have been feeling very cold for long periods during his four years on the island. The climate was more like the Faeroe Islands than the tropical islands associated with Robinson Crusoe. We went below deck, closed the hatches and turned on our by now well functioning heating system.

  We celebrated our arrival in this Chilean outpost, seven hundred nautical miles off the coast of Chile and west of Valparaiso, with fillet of beef, potato gratin and a bottle of Argentinean Malbec. Then we slept soundly, but not in a boat that was lying still, rather in one that was gently bobbing up and down in the strong swell, which did not disturb either the captain or the first mate.

  We only stayed for two days, but we had time to look around. We went for walks in the small village where not only stray dogs, cats and chickens ran about, but also little foals. We were wearing jeans, jumpers and jackets, and we thought of poor Selkirk who must have been freezing in his cave. We met a local lobster fisherman who promised to deliver two lobsters to Yaghan later that afternoon. Not only had the Explorer's former captain, Hasse Nilsson provided us with information about the Falklands and Antarctica. He also offered tips of a more culinary nature: he told us that the best lobsters in the world are caught around the Juan Fernández islands.

  We spent the afternoon boiling lobsters and mixing pre-dinner drinks. Arne mixed a Brazilian capiriñha based on Absolut Vodka, real Brazilian sugar and lime. After thirteen years on the board of Vin & Sprit, he considers himself to be the only crew member who can be trusted with preparing the drinks. We boiled the lobsters for twenty minutes and then put them on deck to cool down. When it was time to eat, the lobsters were still warm. As an accompaniment we served toast, mayonnaise for Heléne and Chilean sparkly wine. There is nothing better than a fresh, warm lobster tail with a glass of champagne. It was a memorable meal, and
we had plans for another. We had ordered a lobster to be delivered the following day too.

  The Days Come and Go

  At 11.30 on Wednesday March 28 we weighed anchor and slowly motored out of Cumberland Bay, pointing our bow at Gambier Islands. We had a 3,300 mile leg ahead of us. We expected to arrive on April 17 or 18. We motored for an hour, and a lobster pot almost got caught in the propeller. Then the wind picked up and we set sail. We were on a north-westerly course to start with in order to go north of a major high pressure, profiting from the tailwind. For lunch we had chorizo omelette with salad and bread that I had made the day before. After lunch Arne went down to take a rest while I listened to Pavarotti and slowly sailed in a 13 knot wind. In the afternoon Inmarsat C warned of falling debris from a space shuttle over the Pacific, but not anywhere along our route. You expect storm warnings, but falling space debris! This is a new hazard at sea, but you cannot worry too much about everything. The lack of wind was quite enough. Hopefully, it would arrive soon.

  During the night of March 30 we had been making between 8 and 9.5 knots during my watch. The moon had been up, it was on its way down, and it was only half past five in the morning. It had been a lovely, calm night and we had made good speed. The swell and the waves seemed longer here than in the Atlantic. There were still a few hours to go before I had to wake up Arne. Everything was fine, and it felt good to have a long period at sea to look forward to. Sailing a whole week or longer is more relaxed. I get a chance to enjoy being at sea and life in general. When we are only out for a few days I often think about our arrival, and I count the days until we get to our destination. I never do that during a long leg. I take each day as it comes, I live from day to day and I enjoy it. I look forward to these night watches with the starry skies above, Mozart or Ulf Lundell on the sound system, the sails billowing in the wind and the water gushing along the sides of the hull – I am the only one awake.

  After leaving Isla Robinson Crusoe we spent five days at sea, covering eight hundred nautical miles with 2,700 miles left to Gambier Islands in French Polynesia. The total distance increased to 3,500 miles since we needed to go six hundred miles further north to find favourable winds. This meant that we would be passing six hundred miles north of Easter Island. We had not planned to go there. We had been warned that there were no sheltered anchorages, which means that someone always has to stay on board. I was still hoping that we would be passing close by, and that we would see the fantastic stone figures. Unfortunately, we would not be passing close enough.

  We had a period of plain sailing, so we spent a lot of time reading books. Arne was completely absorbed by Jan Guillou's The Templar Knight. I was equally absorbed by the first book of the trilogy. The days passed at a leisurely pace.

  After a week we had covered 1,300 nautical miles at an average speed of 7 knots, which was less than we would normally expect. The reason for this was that the trade wind was weakening. The wind was much weaker than we had anticipated, and we were wondering whether it had something to do with the small El Niño we had noticed back in 2006 – who knows? The SPOS suggested that we should make another wide arch to the north, which would have meant ending up on the fifteenth latitude, i.e. the same latitude as Tuamotu Islands. SPOS is our weather software, which receives two forecasts a day. Based on this new information we were provided with a new, optimal route that would lead us to our destination at maximum speed. The question was, should we change course and go straight to Tuamotu, giving Gambier Islands a miss? We decided to defer our decision until after had we received the next forecast. In the meantime I listened to Haydn's piano sonatas and made a chicken casserole with curry powder, carrots and onions, which I served with Basmati rice.

  We made up our minds, changed course and headed straight for Tuamotu Islands. The wind was still weak and the forecasts were taking us further and further north. Our estimated average speed, according to SPOS, would not exceed 6 knots, which meant that we would not arrive until the end of April! We were sad to miss Gambier Islands, and surely the islanders must have been sad too, since they do not normally receive many visitors in a year. On the other hand, we would spend more time in Polynesia. We cannot control the wind and the weather, so there is not much we can do but sail with the wind, which was northerly at the time. The trade wind was behind us and we were sailing with the main, staysail and genoa – a total sail area of 270 square metres.

  By April 9 we had spent twelve days at sea, covering 2,000 nautical miles. After another 2,200 miles we would be entering the Ahe Atoll, our first stopover in Tuamotu Islands, before continuing to Rangiroa another eighty miles away. So far, we had been travelling at an average of 7 knots, although at times the sails were just flapping idly. An hour later we would be moving again at three to 4 knots. The only ships we saw were two freighters, but only on the radar. They were too far away. No whales, no dolphins, nothing but the intensely blue ocean. The sea was sometimes a dark grey, or a silvery grey at dawn, but in day-time, in sunlight, it was bright blue. The Pacific is of a deeper hue than the Atlantic.

  So far, we had been following the Lord Nelson watch system with four hour watches over a twenty-four hour period, but we had found that if you spend more than four weeks at sea it becomes tiring in the long run. For the first time we reorganised our watches and split the night watch in two. Arne did the 1900–2400 watch and I took the 2400–0500 watch. Then there are two four-hour watches in the morning. In the afternoon the system is more flexible, which means that the one that is most tired can go to sleep or have a rest. Then we take a shower and I make dinner. We eat together in the cockpit at about six while Yaghan glides forward in the dark.

  Every other day, or night to be more precise, I made bread under the, mostly, starry skies. I would lie down on my mattress in the cockpit, waiting for the dough to rise, listening to music or just watching the night sky and the stars. It was pitch black, but the full moon was rising on a clear sky. The Milky Way shone as if lit by spotlights. It was hot; a T-shirt was all you needed to wear.

  On nights like these all tiredness is gone, or, rather, you simply do not get tired. Arne can sleep as long as he likes; I do not want to go to bed.

  We each made our own breakfast when we felt like it. It depended on your watch schedule. Since I went to bed at five in the morning I normally ate when I got up at nine to start my morning watch. There was still some yoghurt left and we had fresh bread every other day. I cooked lunch and dinner. We would normally have a salad of some kind for lunch, as long as there was lettuce or scrambled eggs, omelettes or leftovers from yesterday's dinner in a new guise. Dinner tended to be more elaborate. I always plan the menu a few days ahead.

  On Good Friday, April 6, we had salmon with asparagus and mashed potatoes; on April 7 we had Italian chicken casserole, i.e. chicken fillets with sun-dried tomatoes and spinach in herb sauce and different kinds of cheese to round off the meal. On April 8, I had made a lasagne that I served with Greek salad; on April 9 we had fillet of beef with fried potatoes and lettuce; on April 10 smoked salmon with creamed spinach and egg halves; on April 11 we had fried chorizos, pasta and Chilean pickled beetroot. The last day of the week I made a casserole with fillet of pork and mushrooms in green pepper sauce, which I served with rice and tomato salad.

  Because we have both a fridge and a freezer we can eat roughly the same food as we do at home. But the fruits and vegetables had started to rot, despite the open window in the toilet. The air temperature was well over 30°C and the water temperature 28°C, so it was not surprising. We transferred whatever was left to the fridge, which was bursting at the seams, so it was almost impossible to close the lid. Only apples and oranges keep. The peaches, mangos and papayas would have to be eaten during the first few days at sea. Bananas always mature all at the same time, so they can only be eaten during a short period. The sea receives everything that is not consumed.

  Leftover food and ordinary paper are thrown overboard. Plastic containers, all types of plastic, aluminium foil a
nd bottles are stored in black bin liners, which are stowed in the booby hatch. We throw them away in the next harbour we get to. During a long leg such as this the keelson tends to fill up, but if we run out of space, we can always remove the two fenders that are stored there and hang them on the outside to fit in a few more garbage bags.

  We also needed to change the clocks on board to fit in with the movement of the sun. Before we did that it got dark at four in the afternoon, and the sun rose at four in the morning. It was strange. So we started to adjust the time, and continued to do so throughout our voyage. We began at UTC –3 and ended at UTC –10. During our crossing from Chile to Polynesia the time difference was seven hours.

  On the seventeenth day we had covered two thirds of the 4,200 mile long leg across the Pacific, and we estimated to arrive at Ahe Atoll on April 22. We were now travelling at a steady 7 knots. The wind speed was between 20 and, for the past two or three days, 40 knots, which meant that we had made better speed than our average 8 knots. Unfortunately, the wind was expected to drop over the coming week.

  Days came and went at a surprisingly rapid pace despite our somewhat monotonous routine, but this is restful for the soul. We read, fixed things, slept, analysed the weather, listened to music and got lost in thought. Your mind tends to wander when you are travelling on the ocean, watching the stars and the moon at night. Then you have these beautiful sunsets when the sun suddenly disappears from the face of the earth like a red fireball, only to reappear at dawn to light up the sky and the sea.

  We noticed that the sailing and the fact this was a long haul, 4,200 nautical miles, resulted in a lot of wear and tear, especially to our genoa sheet, which had to be cut several times because it was rubbing against the whisker pole. The first time it happened was only two days off Robinson Crusoe Island. We noticed that it was hanging by a couple of threads. We replaced it by a brand new sheet that we had bought at Las Palmas in the Canary Islands. To our dismay we noticed that it was worn out already the next day. This time we cut a bit off and reinforced it with tape. We had to repeat this procedure several times before we arrived at our destination. In the end, our new genoa sheet was turned into a spare for the staysail, and we had to dig out a thirty metre mooring line to replace it.