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Author Archives: Leonie
From Dakhla to Dakar – arriving in West Africa
Dakhla, our last stop in Morocco/Western Sahara, turned out to be a far cry from the touristic hotspots of Essaouira or Agadir further north. First, we were greeted by no less than five different authorities boarding our small sailboat: the civil guard, the police, the customs, the military and the port authorities all wanted copies of our ships papers, passports and various other documents. Once these obstacles were surmounted we briefly explored the town, a short taxi ride away from the harbour. Walking through the long, dusty roads our little Jack Russel “Sparrow” sought shelter from the merciless sun wherever one of the artificially watered little shrubs would allow it, whilst Patrick and I longed for a cold beer – a rare refreshment in this Islamic town. Strolling amongst men in long dresses and women in long floating, colourful scarfs skilfully wrapped around the whole body, we felt like we once again entered a different world. However, the obvious presence of Moroccan military and UN soldiers, paired with one of the most hostile climates we’ve yet encountered, also made us feel slightly uneasy. Indeed we were almost a bit relieved when after a couple of days we set our sails once again to head further south.
To reach our next destination, Dakar in Senegal, we had to cover the distance of over 600 nm, more than 110km, which is the furthest non-stop passage of our trip yet! The most comparable journey took us from Svalbard to Jan Mayen across the North Atlantic. In comparison, the present crossing can only be described as benign, with the biggest challenge being posed by the burning midday sun. Low to moderate winds from the North gently pushed us further south, flocks of shearwaters and storm petrels accompanied us for much of the way, and occasionally a pod of dolphins jumped around our bow. One day we even spotted the big blow of a giant rorqual, possibly a fin whale, from a distance, the first big whale we’ve seen since leaving Iceland. Not much later a pod of large, black pilot whales briefly followed us, waking memories of cold Norwegian fjords, the last time we’ve come across this species.
During the third night Patrick suddenly cried out: “Léonie, come up, quick!” Sleep-drunkenly I stumbled on deck, to be told very enthusiastically: “Look, the Southern Cross! We’re on our way home!!”. Indeed, hovering just above the horizon were the five stars that make up the symbol of the southern hemisphere’s sky. We were definitely on the right track!
Two days later our chart told us that the “Cap Verde”, the green cape that Dakar is built upon, lay only a few miles ahead. It took some time to penetrate the haze that lies over the African continent but finally the ephemeral silhouette of the westernmost tip of continental Africa appeared through the shimmering air.
Shortly after we dodged around small, buzzing banana boats, uncharted ship wrecks and a handful of sailboats on anchor, until we finally dropped our own anchor in front of the “Cercle de la Voile Dakar” yacht club. Once we stepped on the rickety jetty leading ashore we received the warmest welcome of our journey yet: located between flowering bushes, acacia, papaya and palm trees lay the picturesque buildings of the yacht club, with a big terrace overlooking the bay crowded with a cheerful mix of yachties, European ex-pats and locals. We were quickly offered a cold beer, all arrival formalities were postponed to the next day, and after a cold shower we felt more home than we had anywhere for a long time.
But talking of home: back in Switzerland another very important event is taking place: my nephew turns five years old today! Dear Maxim, we wish you all the best and hope you have a fantastic birthday! This little video is just for you!
Posted in At sea, Morocco, Senegal
Tagged Fin whale, Long-finned Pilot Whale, Shearwater, Short-beaked common dolphin, Wilsons Storm Petrel
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Beslama Morocco, hola Lanzarote!
When our propeller finally arrived with more than a month delay, it almost took us by surprise, having waited for so long. Even more astonishing was the quick installation: after having a good thought about it, it took Pat only half an hour under water to exchange our one bladed woe for a three bladed bliss. And suddenly nothing kept us from moving on! Well, except for roaring sea which had built up to five-meter waves outside our sheltered harbour. Then again, we had been locked down for so long, another few days really didn’t matter so much …
Soon the sea calmed down and we found ourselves on the road again! Our next destination lay 250 nautical miles to the south-west: Rubicon, a small town on Lanzarote, one of the Canary Islands. As usual, we divided the sailing between the two of us in four-hour shifts, one person on watch, the other cooking or sleeping. That is, if Sparrow allowed any rest! She was not happy at all to leave Agadir behind – after all, she’s never been at any other single place for longer. To sooth her sulky mood she was allowed to sleep on the berth with us – at the foot end, of course. Which worked fine, until one awoke from a paw poking into one’s neck. Apparently the little rascal could only sleep with her head on the pillow …
Otherwise it was all smooth sailing. The winds were moderate and from behind, the sea was calm, and the sun hot on our backs. What a difference to sailing in the Arctic! No more down jackets, big mittens, beanies and winter boots, just shorts and t-shirts and, best of all, no shoes! The sea warmed to
over 20°C, shearwaters and terns soared overhead, and the occasional loggerhead turtle told tales of the tropics. At night, no moon lit the clouded sky, and the only light came from below as the breaking waves on Widdershins’ hull stirred the plankton to emit their otherworldly fluorescent glows. To add to our own shimmering wake, the sea was suddenly illuminated by converging streams of light. As our eyes struggled to comprehend these sudden comets of light a pod of dolphins broke the surface, racing briefly along our boat only to disappear into the blackness of the sea again.
As the second night came to an end, the horizon was finally illuminated by an additional glow: Lanzarote lay ahead! As we approached the island in the early morning, bleak volcanic hills devoid of any vegetation greeted us. A few hours later we pulled into the harbour of Rubicon, and here we are, back in Europe again! No more mosques, veils, men in long robes or donkeys pulling carts, instead the place is bustling with tourists, bars and bowling clubs – quite a change of scenery. Tomorrow we’ll hopefully head on to Gran Canaria, to sort out further African visas … and to finally leave Europe behind for good!
Posted in Canary Islands
Tagged Loggerhead turtle, Plankton, Shearwater, Short-beaked common dolphin
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On Tajine, travel, and the blasted blades
After our grand entry in Essaouira (i.e. being stuck in the middle of the harbour and becoming the daily entertainment for residents and tourists alike) we soon left our embarrassment behind and met the locals on more congenial terms. While Sparrow befriended the numerous stray dogs, cats and camels on the beach (alright, she was more interested in their droppings) Pat and I were soon besieged by the vendors of the countless little stores lining the narrow alleys of the Medina. 
I must admit, between all the bric-a-brac and the omnipresent sunburnt tourists we did feel a little bit forlorn, and where about to turn our backs to this too-busy harbour town, when the captain of the coastguard boat, our neighbour in the harbour, invited us to dinner at his place. After accepting the gracious offer we were delighted to find ourselves in an amazing traditional house with swallows winging through the open courtyard! We had a great time, a delicious dinner and as a bonus learned how to cook traditional Tajine, a great addition to our growing recipe book.
When the weather forecast predicted a few calm days we decided to head for an anchorage further south. A local diver had confirmed that around Cape Tafelney we’d find some suitable sites for conducting some more reef life survey dives. However, once we slipped into water we soon discovered that not only was the visibility less than two meters, but we also failed to find any reef. Quite frustrated we paddled back to our boat and heaved our heavy equipment back on board.
While Pat was still in the dive gear he figured that he may as well check out the bottom of the yacht. We had been losing power under motor recently and thought there was a chance our propeller had caught one of the countless fishing nets encountered along the coast, but when Pat resurfaced from his inspection the news were much worse. For some incomprehensible reasons two of our three propeller blades had simply disappeared! Of course this does not only render the propeller close to ineffective, but also places a huge stress on the engine … alas, the first major breakdown since we left Iceland!
To get out of our gloomy mood we decided to take our dinghy for a visit ashore. The only route to land was via some big, breaking waves crashing upon the beach of a picturesque fishing village – and of course our tiny outboard was not strong enough to escape the swell! Before I knew what happened I was washed out of the dinghy and found myself flailing in the surf. Well, at least now we know that our dodgy Spanish life jacket inflates when you find yourself under water! Sparrow was likewise unimpressed by the sudden immersion, but fortunately the beach was close and soon all three of us scrambled ashore with the flooded boat in tow, earning a few funny looks from the locals. We later watched as they pulled their small fishing boats up at the same beach in a much more graceful manner … oh well.
To warm our soaked selves we went for a stroll up the hill. While I scrambled on all fours trying to follow Pat and Sparrow up the steep slopes I discovered that the whole terrain was covered in fossils. As Pat had always dreamed of discovering a dinosaur, we spent the next few hours turning every small rock upside down. 
Although dinosaurs were not amongst the fossilized fauna, we did find some small seashells, brachiopods and snail shells – finally some sea life despite our unsuccessful diving attempts!
After a couple of nights at this anchorage the weather turned windier. While standing on deck in the raising swell and contemplating our onward route with our broken propeller in mind, we were suddenly startled by a big blowing sound to starboard – then we could hardly believe our eyes when a big, lone male orca surfaced just meters from our boat! The closest encounter I ever had with this deadly hunter!
A very uncomfortable and bumpy night later we finally pulled up the anchor and set our sails to head further south again – next stop: Agadir.
Under the weather in Wales
It has been a week now that we’ve left Ireland and arrived in Wales. Although the weather was a bit colder and greyer here than it had been in Ireland, we were cheerful and excited to be further south again and soon on our way to England or even France.
But being back in civilization has its unexpected drawbacks. While it is invigorating to have an early mornings shower at the marina facilities, very handy to have electricity on board and the next supermarket a mere five minutes walk away, one drawback are the people. Don’t get me wrong, it’s always a great pleasure to meet new people, new cultures, and to share some of our adventures. But people also carry germs. And while neither of us has been sick during the long, cold Arctic summer, here in Wales the microbes caught up with us, fastening us to our bed for the last few miserable days.
We only left Widdershins, our boat and home, to take Sparrow, our ever joyful, energetic and slightly mischievous Jack Russell puppy, for her well deserved walks. However, we’re both on the mend now, and hopefully we’ll find a suitable weather window soon that can take us to where palm trees grow and the sun shines hot on bare skin … or somewhere along the way, at least.
Posted in Wales
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Faroe Islands
When we initially arrived in Iceland in the beginning of September, we planned about a week in this beautiful country, because we felt the icy breath of winter at our back and we needed to move south quickly. However, our engine had other plans, and Iceland held us in a firm grip for over a month as we tinkered with various misbehaving mechanical monsters. Consequently we had to abandon our plans to sail to Newfoundland from here – by the time we were remotely mobile the autumn gales were roaring with their full might across the south of Greenland … Suddenly the European route looked a lot better! Thus we have now been pressing east in the hope that we could escape winter again, which by now had clearly overtaken us (with snow on the deck in the morning being a clear 
sign). After we fixed our last engine hiccups in Neskaupstađur we finally left Iceland in our wake and made for the Faroe Islands. We hoped to cover the nearly 300 nautical miles (about 550 km) in about 2.5 days, but the icy winds pushed us faster than expected, and we got here within 48 hours.
But what a journey it has been! The winds were from the perfect angle, straight from the North, so heading South-East we could sail the whole stretch on a reach (basically the wind pushes from the side, which allows for almost maximal speed). However, the waves were of course also coming from the side, constantly deterring our ship from its course. Steering was extremely hard work, which was not really facilitated by the heavy rain, driving sleet, and the occasional big swell. I’ve never given the stories about “freak waves” much thought, but being suddenly smashed by a huge breaker in the middle of the pitch black night, and being left standing knee deep in gurgling, ice cold sea water while various loose items make a break for freedom over the side and other items (such as the log book!) end up a soggy mess swilling around your feet makes you wonder … no harm done, but the experience certainly left me feeling a bit tense!
The second night we found ourselves almost in sight of land. It was another extremely dark night so we had the radar on, just to be on the safe side … thus the radar display provided an occasional distraction from the display of stars overhead. Suddenly however, there was this big, seemingly solid object on the screen, where according to our map no land or anything that size should be. Slightly bewildered we tried to steer out of the mysterious objects way as the looming shape seemed to inch closer and closer. I have to admit that my mind did turn to little green men stalking us in a craft that pulsed in various forms as it pursued their prey … in this instance us. Finally they overtook us, yet rather than a flurry of laser death-rays we were instead merely drenched in the downpour of a solid wall of heavy rain accompanied by roaring winds. Leaving us soaking wet once again. Oh well, not that our clothes ever really dried during this trip …
Finally, just with the first light of the morning, we reached steep cliffs at the north of the Faroe Islands. Notoriously known for their dangerous currents, we were a bit anxious as we hit the narrow fjord between the islands, hoping our newly repaired engine would endure the challenge. There were indeed roaring tidal streams, all with maelstroms and swirls and gurgles, but our engine behaved at its best and we made it safely to the town of Vestmanna. Now we are happily sitting in the first real “pub” we have encountered on the trip, sipping a local beer and planning how to further escape the clutched of the approaching winter.
Posted in Faroe Islands
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Patched up and ready to roll
The last few days have seen us (alright, mainly Patrick) bent over the motor and welding convoluted steel parts in an attempt to repair the broken mounting brackets of our motor – a result of us catching a rope in the propeller. Being in the high Arctic (still in Longyearbyen, Svalbard) only makes things more complicated, but people here are extremely helpful and inevitably the locals went far out of their way to fulfill our bizarre requests for strange parts. Yesterday we finally succeeded in fixing the motor and are now ready to head off for a few days diving in Isfjorden, before we resupply and head towards Greenland.
While this is all good news, it seems that the days with our puppy dog are coming to an end. Unfortunately he only very recently got his vaccination against rabies, and it seems to be pretty much impossible to import a dog from Svalbard (rabies realm) into any other countries on our way without him being at least micro-chipped. This in turn requires a blood test (results take about a month) conducted by a veterinarian who only visits Svalbard twice a year … by the time we had all the papers ready we’d be well and truly stuck in the winter ice! While we’re both really struggling with the idea of giving our little monster away, we’re also very proud of him – during the last few weeks he’s changed from a dog who shied away from any human interaction to a curious, cheeky little rascal loved by every tourist (ooh, so fluffy, so soft, and the eyes, the eyes! Photo, yes? Bellissimo!). There will be no problem finding a loving home for him here – many of the locals have already begged to have him (some have threatened to steal him!), but for two in the blue it will be a very sad parting.
So the next few days will be our last with the little Shy Monster (getting rapidly less little) and also our last moments in the spectacular scenery of Svalbard. However we are excited to spend some more time underwater now and get to know the marine life of the far north – stand by for more photos of the aquatic arctic!
Longyearbyen
After an amazing first day at Hornsund with Polar bears, ringed and bearded seals we explored the depths of the fjord, where four big glaciers tumble down to the sea from various valleys. Steering through the maze of smaller and larger bits of ice in front of the glaciers was quite a challenge, and I ended up bent over the bow of the ship trying to push away larger bergy bits. Luckily Widdershins is a tough steel yacht, so fortunately the pieces I missed didn’t do any damage.
After an over-“night” trip we arrived in Longyearbyen, where showers, toilets and laundry almost seemed like luxury to us. Finally we were also able to go ashore – as long as you’re in a village you don’t need a gun in Svalbard. Luckily our papers were all in order, so registering and renting a big rifle was no problem. Longyearbyen has developed in the last few decades from being a small mining town to a more touristy center with cruise ships arriving regularly (then the population explosively doubles or triples), a large range of shopping opportunities, and there were even some pubs with nice arctic beer.
Now we’re almost ready to set off into the wild again – except we got ourselves a little additional challenge. We’ve been thinking about getting a dog for the journey for a while, and as it so happens we came across this puppy husky from a big dog-sledging farm, which was extremely shy and did not mix with the other dogs at all. So we decided to give it a try and provide him with a new home on Widdershins. So far this is a trial period, we will be back in Longyearbyen in four weeks, and if “monster” (that’s the name given him by his owner) does not like us, the yacht or the sea we’ll have to give him back. But we surely hope that he’ll open up and be our companion for the adventures to come!
Midsummer in Bjørnøya
After exploring the southern parts of Bjørnøya, we raised our sails and made our way around the wild, rocky shore to the north of the island to visit the Norwegian Meteorological Institute. Despite the wind howling through the rigging and big waves crashing on the rocks all around us we decided to put down the anchor and left Widdershins, our yacht, alone and quite exposed to the elements, while we went ashore at Herwighamna. The welcome at the station was very warm, and after spending so many days without showers and proper heating we felt quite out of place in the cozy, warm living room, being served coffee and cake and shopping for souvenirs. And of course we also hadn’t paid any attention to the date and were quite surprised to hear that it was the 23rd of June, Midsummer, the longest day of the year.
To celebrate this appropriately the crew of the station (seven men, two women) had completely demolished their old garage and put together a huge bonfire. The roaring fire was accompanied by a lovely, very Arctic barbecue, beer and cake. What a nice way to say goodbye to the bear island!
My first passage
After more than 80 hours of sailing and over 260 nautical miles we finally made it to Bjørnøya, a rugged, surreal rocky island between the European continent and Svalbard, our northernmost destination. For me this first passage was quite the experience – of course I spent the first day leaning over the railings feeding fish and looking green. Poor Patrick had to sail all by himself until my stomach and legs decided that a rolling ship is an acceptable place to be. After that routine soon settled in – either 4 hours on the watch, keeping the sails in position and the ship on course, or trying to catch some sleep despite constant healing and rocking of the ship and strange rattling and gurgling sounds all around you. But after my mind had finally settled in, I started to notice all the small wonders around me. The faithful fulmars which kept us company for the whole journey, the curious kittiwakes circling the windex and trying to land on deck, the vicious skuas pirating food from other seabirds, and of course the whales! Pchuuuuuh, big blow just 20 metres off the ship, massive black back, and then the tail of a huge male humpback whale disappearing in the abyss of the northern seas. And after what seemed forever, we finally spotted the land we’ve been striving towards: huge, vertical cliffs, rocky pillars, slopes covered in snow, and buzzing birds all around us. Bjørnøya!