Obelisk Circumnavigation '08

Updates have been few and far between these last few months so we would like to start this one by saying thank you for all the emails seeking to know more about our progress.  Despite being received warmly at every port of call (with one notable exception), support from friends and family goes a long way this far from home.   But as the miles slide under the keel and ports disappear over the horizon, we can only reflect fondly on the amazing experiences we’ve had and the lifelong friends we’ve made.

This update comes from Ushuaia in Argentine Tierra del Fuego but covers our route since leaving Gibraltar.   A link to the pictures from each leg of the journey comes at the bottom of each paragraph or can be found on the right-hand column of the site.  This is a big update and the legs are organized from most recent to oldest, so it is best to begin at the bottom of the page and work up.  Thanks for checking in and the rest will be up as aoon as possible!

 What should have been an easy day sail from Rio de Janeiro to Bahia Ilha Grande turned out to be much longer—there was not enough wind to keep the sails filled and we had to motor much of the way.  Night fell when we were still twenty miles from our anchorage at Ensenada das Palmas on the island of Isla Grande.  It was an intimidating feeling since there were no navigational aids in the area and the anchorage was set in a jungle cove with no lights to guide our approach.  Indeed, when we entered the mouth it was pitch black—no shorelines were discernable and we had to rely on our GPS and depth finder (our radar was disabled at the time) to ease toward our anchorage at the head of the cove.  Essentially blind and not wanting to take any chances, we decided not to push too far towards the beach and dropped anchor.  In the morning, we woke to find ourselves in the middle of a cove that was much wider and longer that it appeared on the charts.  We felt a bit silly anchored so far out but it was best to be on the safe side.  After breakfast, we moved in and anchored closer, just a short swim from the beach.

The next two days were a mix of work and play.  The bottom was in desperate need of scrubbing so we attacked that first.  Feeling like we had accomplished something, we set out to explore the island.  It was only a short walk over the island to a gorgeous ocean-side beach with crystal clear water and decent surf where we spent a relaxing afternoon.  The next day, we followed the path to the town of Abraao on the bahia side of the island where we spotted a crocodile, several monkeys and enormous 18” earthworms squirming across the path.  Abraao was such a charming fishing and regional tourist destination, with many small cafes and shops on the beach that we pulled anchor and sailed around to its harbor the next day.     

After several days in Abraao and one unsuccessful attempt to find a hidden waterfall, we sailed around the northern tip of the mountainous island, settling in a small cut on Ilha de Macacos or Monkey Island.  We enjoyed a day of swimming and snorkeling but failed to find any trails on the island to look for monkeys, though we were able to hear them howling around sunset.

From Ilha de Macacos we motorsailed the short distance to the main city on Bahia Ilha Grande, Angra dos Reis.  All reports from other cruisers and guidebooks was that Angra was a quaint backpackers’ town and not to be missed.  Maybe we expected too much, but we found dirty and quite average. Several days were allotted for its exploration but we decided to accomplish our business—picking up our repaired autopilot—then head to more attractive surroundings.  However, waiting in our boat’s email account was a message informing us that there had been a problem with customs when the repair parts were shipped from the United States and that the unit would not be ready for at least another couple weeks.  Uggh, more frustration with Raymarine!  Oh well, we had survived an entire ocean crossing without its help, short sails in Bahia Ilha would be no worry.  The decision was made: head southwest to the end of the bay to a town called Parati and the surrounding fjords to kill some time. . .but not before we found some much needed showers.

Sailing to Parati, Obelisk passed some unbelievable tropical islets and we had fine wind the entire way.  We arrived at former slave trading center and gold loading port early in the afternoon in time to explore the city a bit.  We also loaded up a few provisions for a three-day excursion to Ilha de Coita in one of the adjacent fjords. 

It was a holiday weekend and boats were out en masse but we managed to find an uncrowded spot across the fjord from the crowded anchorage on Ilha de Coita proper.  Lush, jungle covered cliffs plunges hundreds of feet straight into the green water and the full moonrise over the fjord was truly spectacular.  In the mornings, local fishermen came by the boat offering their catches of fresh oysters or fish and we watched other fishermen work their nets along the shoreline.  Once again, we passed the next couple days swimming, reading and relaxing before heading back to Parati.

Back in Parati, we stopped at a café for an Itiapava beer (we must credit the Brazilians for their ice cold cervejas—it was a wonderful change from the lukewarm brew in Gibraltar and the Canaries) and overheard the people at the next table speaking English.  We struck up a conversation with Jessica and Sarah who were working on a schooner anchored in the harbor and through them we met Veronica who lived in the Historical Center of the city.  A testament to the friendliness of Brazilians, after knowing us less than an hour, we were all invited to her vacation house on Mamangua fjord two days later.  Plans to depart for points farther south went on hold.   

We piled four days worth of groceries and five people’s g ear into our dinghy and ferried it all out to the Obelisk.   Mamangua fjord lies on the opposite side of Ilha de Coita so immediately we found ourselves in familiar territory.  When we dropped anchor in front of the house two of Veronica’s friends from Rio, Arthur and Vinil, were waiting in their sea kayak—they had paddled the kayak along the coast from Rio over the course of five days. 

[insert vinil photo]

The rustic house offered no electricity but was perched on the side of the mountain overlooking the fjord and really was ‘paradise.’   Immediately, Veronica put us to work setting the fish nets catch dinner for the next day.  Arthur, Vinil, Matt and I set about deploying the huge net by traditional means: two people in a dugout log canoe with huge paddles.  Suffice it to say it was extremely difficult and I now have a much deeper respect for the local fishermen we saw who made the feat look easy!  The nets brought us a great haul the next morning and we discovered that pulling the nets in was every bit as difficult as deploying them. 

[insert net pics]

While the girls stayed at the house, the guys paddled two of the traditional dugout canoes up Mamangua fjord to hike a mountain (also called the Pao de Azucar, or Sugarloaf) overlooking the entire fjord and surrounding mountains.  The view from the top did not disappoint; Bahia Ilha Grande and the Atlantic ocean stretched as far as we could see in opposite directions. 

[sugarloaf pics]

After four days in ‘paradise’ we returned to Parati.  Jessica and Sarah needed to fly back to the States and we needed to catch the bus back to Angra to retrieve our autopilot.  The hour long bus ride through the countryside offered us a glimpse of what life was like farther inland—the area was dominated by dense vegetation with occasional patches of cleared land where cattle grazed.  Recently, we heard of huge mudslides in the same area that claimed the lives of over 50 people.

  This time the autopilot was ready and we picked it up without ceremony and hopped the bus back to the boat.  Reinstalling the unit took an hour and we were ready to sail, almost.  A month in the rich, warm waters of Bahia Ilha Grande had caused vegetation to flourish on the bottom of the boat making another scrubbing necessary.  Parati harbor was not the cleanest water in the area so Veronica suggested we head back to her house at Mamangua to repeat the scraping process.  This time we went at a leisurely pace, breaking the project up into two full days, while taking breaks to go spear fishing and relax.  On the third morning there was no putting it off, the project was done and we needed to make some progress farther south.  We said goodbye to Veronica, thanked her for all her hospitality and motored out of Mamangua for the Atlantic under the steady guidance of the autopilot.

The passage from Arquipelago dos Abrolhos ended up being a much more difficult sail than we expected.  Weather forecasts looked favorable but, in the end, we experienced a little bit of every condition from dead calm to blowing a gale.  Light winds and migrating pods of Humpback whales characterized the two days.  On the evening of the second day we faced a decision:  to sail inside or outside the Sao Tome oil fields off Cabo Frio.  Navigation is prohibited within the borders of the Sao Tome Bank which measures 100 miles long by 30 miles wide.  Initially, we opted for the offshore route but the wind shifted and made the inshore choice more attractive, so we gybed and headed west, just over the top of the northernmost drilling platform.   At the northwest corner of the field the platform was enormous—it covered an area of several city blocks and rose to the height of several hundred feet above water level.  There we turned south southwest and spent the next day with no wind, sails slatting and frustration mounting.  Several ports, Buzios and Arrial do Cabo, were relatively close but by shifting direction and dying altogether, the wind conspired to keep us drifting off the Brazilian coast. 

Finally, we made it to Cabo Frio, where the coast makes a 90 degree turn to the west running the 60 miles to Guanabara Bay and Rio de Janeiro.  There, our frustrations over the lack of wind switched quickly to cursing the completely unpredicted gale that blew up suddenly.  In order to set a course for Rio, first we had to sail 60nm to the south, then tack towards our destination.  Conditions were not dangerous and we handled them without incident, but we had not prepared ourselves mentally for this type of passage and the conditions began to wear on our nerves.  However, around sunrise on the fifth day out, we made a course directly for Rio with a strong following breeze and arrived in the early afternoon.

s/v Estrela, recommended that we forgo anchoring on the Rio side of Guanabara Bay and head to the other side, anchoring of the Club Naval de Charitas, where facilities were better and the location safer.   They also urged us to seek out Suzy, a live-aboard ex-pat cruiser, who would help us get our bearings in the big city.  The facilities at the yacht club were superb, cheap and, sure enough, the first person we met when we dinghied into the dock was Suzy!  She directed us to all the amenities and set a date to take us in her car to the top of the mountain a overlooking the harbor for “real view of Rio.”  We hopped on the high-speed ferry to the city, cleared customs (which must be completed at every port in Brazil, thanks to its passion for overbearing bureaucracy!) and set about exploring the city.

Two days later, friends Patrick Frankfort and Kerry Stuven, flew in from the US to join the trip for one month.  We met them at Copacabana Beach and spent the next five days touring the city, including a trip up the Corcovado to the statue of Christ the Redeemer and a South American soccer match (unfortunately, the favorite hometown team, Flamengos, was on the road at Sao Paulo so we had to settle for Flumense, a less popular team) and several museums. 

The next destination was the cruising capital of Brazil: Bahia Ilha Grande.  We made a run to the supermarket, fueled up and spent one last night anchored in the shadow of both the Pao de Azucar, or Sugarloaf, and the Corcovado with Christ the Redeemer towering over us.  At dawn the morning of 21 October, we headed out of Guanabara Bay for the short sail down the coast to Ilha Grande.   It was Pat and Kerry’s first real sailing experience with the Sugarloaf, Ipanema skyline and mountains in the distance providing a dramatic backdrop.  

The first two days out of Salvador were frustrating—the wind and swell were right on our nose and we had to tack back and forth at the entrance to Bahia Todos los Santos.  In 48 hours we managed to make only 62nm good towards our destination while sailing over 170nm.  After the wind freshened and we were able to set a course to our destination, we encountered another formidable obstacle: the Banco Royal Charlotte.  This tongue of relatively shallow water stretches out from the continental shelf for over a hundred miles and attracts huge numbers of local fishing boats.  Of course, we hit the bank just at sundown and were forced to thread our way through the numerous boats in the dark.  One cruising guide warned that the local boats were particularly dangerous because some carried no more than candles for light but we found them to be well lit, just incredibly numerous. 

The next morning a pod of Humpback whales appeared to the west and approached quickly.  Six or seven whales passed just off our stern, evidently unconcerned about our presence because they did not stop jumping or slapping their fins and tails as they passed.  The display was awesome, made much more so by being in their natural habitat and seeing them in person.  Several more pods passed before we reached Arquipelago dos Abrolhos but none as close as the first.

[insert video (whalevid4)]

The first glimpses of Arquipelago dos Abrolhos brought to mind cartoon images of desert islands—there were only four or five trees on the entire group and they were concentrated on a white sandy beach.  We dropped anchor under the glow of the lighthouse next to an American boat, s/v Estrela, from Woodstock, VT.  The Hopkins family, mother, father and two young daughters, was on the home stretch of a seven-year circumnavigation and was eager to converse with someone else in English.  We made fast friends and they invited us on a snorkeling trip to an adjacent islet the next day.  It was easy to see why the island group was designated a marine reserve.  Under the crystal clear water was the most diverse array of coral and sea life we had seen since snorkeling at Well’s Bay, Saba in the Caribbean.   During our excursion, the six of us floated motionless, directly over a four-foot Green turtle as it munched on the sea grass, apparently indifferent to our presence.  We also got to remember how nice it was to have a Mom to hold our sunglasses, provide sunscreen and issue cookies and chocolate snacks after the snorkeling was done! 

We intended to clean the bottom again at the Abrolhos but learning that it was a marine reserve and seeing the teeming sea life, we did not want to pollute the water with sloughing bottom paint.  Instead, we put or snorkeling gear back on and headed to a cove that the lighthouse keeper, Felipe, said was frequented by Lemon sharks around sunset.  The cove did not disappoint—we swam with three lemon sharks, glimpsed eels and floated face-to-face with huge, ugly grouper.

Arquipelago dos Abrolhos was a great stopover but we needed to head southwest to Rio de Janeiro to meet friends Pat and Kerry, who were flying in from the States to spend some time on the boat.  Under a following breeze and to waving hands and snapping pictures, Obelisk headed out of the anchorage and pointed her nose toward Rio.

Were we ever happy to arrive in Salvador!  The preceding 15 days tested our mental toughness and physical strength, pushing both toward the limit.  Our anchorage off of Salvador in Bahia Todos los Santos was not the most protected or convenient but at five in the morning after a trying passage it was perfect.  We had forgotten how satisfying it was to sleep for more than three hours in a bed that does not rock and roll!

However, we wasted little time initiating the arduous process of clearing into Brazil.  Completing formalities there was every bit as difficult and exasperating as people had warned; we spent the better part of two days tracking down the appropriate offices, receiving bogus information from government sources and getting shuffled from one authority to another and back again.  However, once the process was completed, it cost us nothing more than a little vexation and a lot of walking.

Salvador’s culture is distinct from other areas in Brazil due to heavy African influence as a result of the former slave trade.  Reports we read warned that the city was unusually dangerous for foreigners and that recently several cruisers had been mugged at knifepoint just outside the marina gates.  However, our experience could not have been more pleasant—we explored the historic centers of the Cidade Atla and Cidade Baxia, found a great (and extremely cheap) corner restaurant in a local neighborhood and toured much of the surrounding city on foot, making sure to ride the famous Lacerda Elevator between the Lower and Upper city and visiting their modern art museum.  But while taking in the colonial architecture and visiting the attractions was great, we found that it was meeting and experiencing people of a vastly different culture that we enjoyed the most.  Exploring was confined to daylight hours and we stayed out of neighborhoods that looked suspect, but never once did we feel threatened or uncomfortable.  On the contrary, everyone we met was friendly and helpful. 

Surprisingly, after the Atlantic crossing, the Obelisk needed very little repair work, with the autopilot the glaring exception.  Raymarine maintains its South American offices in Sao Paulo and after a (not so brief and extremely frustrating call to customer service) they provided us with a shipping address and a warranty RMA number.  We arranged to pick up the repaired unit in Angra dos Reis, several hundred miles down the coast, pulled anchor and headed to Arquipelago dos Abrolhos, a marine reserve off the coast of Bahia state.

Self-steering gear is standard equipment on a blue water sailboat because it effectively adds an extra crewmember.  Units come in two forms: wind vanes and electronic autopilots.  Vane gears use the force of the wind and a series of lines and gears to turn the boat’s existing steering wheel, keeping the boat sailing at a constant angle to the wind.  They are simple, require no battery power and can be repaired at sea, if necessary.   Electronic autopilots are typically mounted below deck and are attached via an independent quadrant or tiller arm to the boat’s rudder post.  Instead of keeping the boat at a certain angle to the wind, the unit follows a course programmed by the user.  They are huge power draws and usually need to be serviced by a technician with specialized tools. 

When outfitting, we considered fitting a wind vane but the costs seemed to be too high.  There was an existing autopilot that needed to be replaced, however, and the mounts and dedicated steering quadrant were reusable.  We elected to replace the old Neco autopilot with a Raymarine unit and forgo the wind vane.  Raymarine was the only company producing a mechanical rotary unit suitable for our setup, so once we decided on an autopilot, we had little choice as to what brand to buy.  The unit only made it half-way through the Caribbean before starting to issue troubling noises.  However, it did hold out all the way until Cape Verde before dying two hours after leaving Brava on a trans-Atlantic passage!  Cape Verde offered nothing in the way of marine services so we were forced to undertake the 2500nm passage to Salvador, Brazil, steering by hand the entire way.

Hand steering 24 hours a day’s greatest problem is the lack of sleep and wariness it entails.  There were only two of us on board for the passage so it meant 3 hours steering and 3 hours sleeping, around the clock, for 15 days strait—the only time we spent together was dinnertime.  By the time we approached Salvador, at 5 o’clock in the morning on 22 September we were utterly exhausted. 

Aside from the steering problems, the passage itself went exceptionally quickly.  Because we left in the middle of the tropical depression (which became Hurricane Fred and made landfall in the US), we were able to ride the associated winds due South to the Equator and avoid the area of little or no wind known as the Intertropical Convergence Zone (ITCZ) or, more commonly, the Doldrums.   In fact, our first time crossing the Equator was windy and cold until 5 degrees South latitude.

After crossing the Equator, the Trade winds picked up and carried southwest us straight towards Recife, where we turned south to Salvador.  In all, the 2547nm took just over 15 days at an average of 165nm per day, or just under 7kts.  A Czech couple we met in Praia and ran into again in Mar del Plata, Argentina made the same passage in 35 days!

The following breeze that saw us out of Las Palmas continued most of the way to Cape Verde. The passage was quick with the only excitement coming at 7am the morning we arrived.  Just before daybreak huge thunderheads formed brought heavy lightening.  This was the first intense electrical storm we encountered since leaving the Chesapeake Bay five months earlier.  Soon the thunder claps were right on top of us, the wind blew up to 50 knots and the sky opened up with the heaviest rain of the trip but it lasted only an hour.  It was our worst squall to date and it all happened before morning coffee!

When the clouds cleared and we dried out, Praia was only 30 miles to the west southwest.  We set a course and were nosing into the harbor at lunchtime.  Immediately, we began to wonder if, maybe, it would have been safer to sail to Dakar instead!  Praia, the capital, is a city of 100,000 people, most of whom live in rough unpainted, cinder block houses without windows.  As soon as we anchored in the harbor, we attracted the attention of everyone.  As soon as we stepped ashore, throngs of people surrounded us wanting everything from money to the shirts off our back.  We learned very quickly that it was prudent to pay a dinghy “minder” several Escudos to guard the dinghy from theft, and there was no shortage of people vying for the position. 

Upon seeing the surroundings, we wasted no time finding the Brazilian embassy and applying for visas.    Several sources had told us that obtaining a visa was a very difficult process and to be prepared to wait for up to a month.  However, we did hit the Brazilian visa jackpot in Praia.  The man that helped us spoke fluent English and apparently had nothing better to do because when we picked up our visas 48 hours later, they were stamped with the same date as our applications! 

The visa question settled all we needed to do before heading southwest across the Atlantic was refuel, top off our water tanks and scrub the bottom of the hull. We could not reach the fuel dock in the Obelisk because the water was too shallow, so we had to ferry jerry cans to and from the boat in the dinghy.  It took all afternoon and attracted a lot of young children who regarded the dinghy as a playground.  At one point 6 children swam up to the inflatable, grabbed on and refused to let go, even as we motored away.  Just as we finished, huge thunderheads were building in the area.

The heaviest rains fell in the mountains surrounding the city and soon created flash floods through the streets and culverts.  For a city that has poor sanitation practices at best, this created a huge problem.  The floodwaters picked up every piece of trash that had accumulated on the ground and washed it down a culvert, right into the harbor.  Any plans we had of scrubbing the hull in Praia harbor were immediately scrapped—a layer of trash so thick that it appeared solid flowed out into the water and surrounded the boat.  Though safely in the boat, just the thought of floating in something so vile made us nauseous.

A fouled bottom costs a sailboat a great deal of speed and can lengthen passage times considerably.  There was no question it needed to be done before heading to Brazil; we just needed to find a clean place to do the work.  We settled on Bahia do Tarrafal, a bay on the north of the island of Santiago and set sail.  The next morning we sailed into a much cleaner, even picturesque bay surrounded by a fishing village.  It was a much welcomed change after Praia.  Not being in a hurry, we took two days to clean the bottom and then moved on to the island of Brava to fill our water tanks.  At Brava we attracted the same amount of attention as in Praia but everyone was extremely friendly and respectful.   Some friendly locals helped us carry our water tanks and came with us to the customs agent (who was his brother!) to facilitate the process. 

Brava was so welcoming that we wanted to stay longer but a tropical depression was bearing down on the island and would make the harbor unsafe.  Locals recommended that we leave and that we waste no time doing it because the swells would already be building outside the entrance.  Heeding the warning, we left as soon as possible but already found ourselves crashing into huge waves with 45kt winds.  Sailing under a reefed main alone we pointed the bow south to clear the islands and headed toward Equator. 

Not two hours out of Brava our autopilot gave out with a terrible grinding sound.  Without looking at each other, we both knew we were going to continue to Brazil without self steering because to turn back to Cape Verde would do us no good—there was not a chance of getting service or a replacement anywhere in the islands.  Thus began the most exhausting 15 days of the trip.

 

 

 

Entering or leaving Gibraltar is tricky under the best of circumstances--tidal streams reaching 5 knots combined with heavy commercial ship traffic and the ever present threat of a Levanter, a fierce easterly wind which blows up suddenly and makes the Straits impassible in a sailboat, make timing either one difficult but extremely important.  We negotiated the Straits in the dark when we entered and were not eager to repeat the feat, however, tides would not allow us to leave in daylight and make Cape Espartel Morocco before sundown.  Instead, we elected to sail the shorter distance to Tarifa, Spain nearer the western end of the Straits and use that as our departure port.

We only intended to resupply fruits and vegetables in the city but found its mixture of Moorish and Spanish flavor so appealing that we remained for four days.  There were bullfights in town but the high admission price drove us away from them.  Instead, we walked up the coast to see the kite surfers.  The southernmost city in Spain, Tarifa is windy, so windy that it is deemed the kite surfing capital of Europe.  The scene that unfolded as we came nearer the beach did the title justice:  the beaches were packed and hundreds, if not a thousands, of kites floated high overhead.  We met some folks that offered to give us a shot but in the throng we could not locate them again!  Kite surfing had to wait but we were eager to move on to the Canary Islands and towards Brazil.

Negotiating the entrance to the Straits of Gibraltar was hectic--they come one after the other and they do not yield!   Once the commercial traffic thinned out, the wind became fluky and that characterized our entire passage.  Sometimes the sailing was fast and comfortable, other times the sails were slatting and the rolling uncomfortable.  Despite unpredictable winds, the 1050nm passage took only seven days and the rich waters supplied us with several Albacore Tunny for our dinners. 

We knew that Las Palmas was a larger city than anything since Point-a-Pitre in Guadeloupe but we were not prepared to just how big it was. It was huge and since we needed to obtain Brazilian visas before crossing the Atlantic, the Brazilian consulate at Las Palmas seemed like a great place to take care of them.  It was only a short walk to the address listed on the website but when we arrived we found only an auto repair mechanic’s shop.  After asking the hotel concierge next door and attempting to phone the number listed we almost gave up. . .then we spotted a travel agency across the street.  Luckily, the ladies inside knew where the consulate was located and offered to take us there—it was just a few doors down.  We walked straight up to the mechanic’s door, through the shop and up a dimly lit set of stairs in the back!  When we entered the windowless, mildewed office stacked to the ceiling with bundles old records and one sickly plant in the corner, we knew that the cause was hopeless.  Our fears were justified.  The consul was unable to issue visas and said that we needed to visit Dakar, Senegal or Praia, Cape Verde for that service.  

Considering that both of those countries were much poorer than the Spanish Canaries, we were less than eager to sail to either one without confirmation.  Calls to both locations got us nowhere so we decided to risk Praia, Cape Verde, thinking that it would be the safer of the two alternatives.

After installing a new 90amp Vetus alternator on the engine, we provisioned and headed out.  We decided to set the spinnaker at the harbor mouth and the preparation attracted the attention of a small racing catamaran.  It pulled up alongside and watched as we readied the chute.  Usually there is a twist in the sail that takes some time to work free when the sail is first deployed but, when we pulled the sock up and released the giant sail, it filled perfectly to cheers from the catamaran!--we were off for the Cape Verde Islands, some 1000nm to the South, with a 20kt following breeze.

Things have been quite hectic since leaving Gibraltar and more pressing matters have overshadowed our website.  However, updates on the Canary Islands, Cape Verde Islands and Brazil will be up soon.

The Azores were fantastic but, after 16 days, it was time to press on.  Originally, we planned to make straight for the Cape Verde islands or Dakar, Senegal, secure Brazilian visas, and head west across the Atlantic for Salvador.  Plans have a way of changing.  Several days before departure, Rob found a single, parted strand on one of our lower shrouds.  There is a single rigging shop, Mid-Atlantic Yacht Services, in Horta and it was unable to fix the problem.   The owner gave us two recommendations:  Lisbon or Gibraltar; and he suggested a way to minimize stress on the damaged shroud during the passage.  Considering the duty-free fuel and easier route, Gibraltar won-out.

We looked at the weather forecast and determined that we would probably be on a port tack most of the way to Gibraltar.  On a port tack, the starboard side is the leeward, or �lazy� side of the boat, whose rigging is under the least stress--to minimize chance of failure, we moved the damaged shroud to the starboard side.  Stiff northeast breezes prevailed, making the passage exceptionally fast, until we reached Cabo Sao Vicente, Portugal, where the wind died.  We spent the next two-and-a-half days crashing, slowly, into a steep swell from the east.  Progress was slow and frustrating.  

Making matters worse, we hit the Straits of Gibraltar at the worst combination of time and conditions:  nighttime and in the fog.   Using radar as our eyes, we hugged the coast of Spain, no more than � miles from shore, to stay out of the outbound shipping lane.  Adding to the stressful situation were the booming foghorns, which sounded constantly from unseen cargo ships.  Just after sunrise, Matt spotted a hilltop in Spain poking through the fog and, several minutes later, it lifted enough to glimpse the Moroccan coast to the south.  An hour later, we passed the Rock of Gibraltar and treaded our way through anchored freighters on our way to the anchorage at La Linea, Spain.

La Linea, which means �the line,� refers to the Spanish siege line from the Great Siege of Gibraltar from 1779-1783, and lies just north of Gibraltar, in Spain.  The anchorage, which is protected and, more importantly, free, is just a short walk across the airport runway from Gib. 

We spent several days running around Gibraltar and La Linea looking for rigging shops to fabricate a new shroud and searching out a suitable inflatable replacement for our fibreglass dinghy.  It took a week but we accomplished both and even managed to climb the Rock.  The famed Barbary apes, which inhabit the upper reaches of the Rock, did not disappoint:  when we broke out to candy bars at the top, one rushed at me and tried to swipe it.  He kept coming back aggressively until I was forced to hand over the wrapper, which he licked completely clean! 

Before leaving for Taffies, Spain and the Canary Islands, we sailed the 15 miles across the Strait to the autonomous Spanish city, Ceuta.  We spent two nights at the Marina Hercules, located on the alleged location of the southern Pillar of Hercules of Greek mythology.  One afternoon, we caught a bus to the Moroccan border thinking we would cross over and explore the border town on the opposite side.  The joke was on us when we discovered that the nearest town, Tetouan, was 40 km distant and taxis were the only mode of transportation!  We finished clearing customs into Morocco, walked down to the beach, then turned around and walked back across into Spanish Africa. 

We made a brief trip back to Gibraltar to meet some cruisers we befriended in the Azores, and then headed for Tarifa.  We plan to spend a couple days anchored in the tiny harbor, then head south, finally.

Gibraltar photos:  http://s374.photobucket.com/albums/oo184/svobelisk/Gibraltar/

Obelisk dropped anchor in the harbor at Horta on the island of Faial, Azores just before midnight June 28 after eighteen days at sea--we were all extremely glad to see land again!  Our crossing, from the Caribbean went smoothly, with no extended runs of bad weather, but some frustrating periods of light winds.  We endured six days with almost no wind to speak of after the Bermuda-Azores High set in and left us rolling in the ocean swell.  Tempting as it may have been to crank up the engine and motor towards our destination, we resisted, opting to wait for wind (At that point we had nearly 1500 nautical miles remaining and we only carry enough fuel to motor about 700 miles, plus fuel is expensive!) 

We were amazed by the amount of ship traffic we encountered in the middle of the ocean, as we usually passed several ships a day.  Regrettably, other signs of human impact were also present; an alarming amount of trash of every variety collects at the edges of opposing ocean currents. 

The calm days offered plenty of time to read, relax and create projects to entertain yourself.  It was during one of these sultry afternoons that we hooked-up the biggest and most impressive fish yet:  The drag on the reel started screaming out, faster than we've heard yet, and everyone raced to the deck where Matt had just pulled the rod out of the holder.  Several seconds later, an enormous Blue Marlin, in the 400lb range, jumped out of the glassy water, twice, before snapping the line.  We were all in awe!  It was the most impressive sight that any of have ever seen fishing and just how majestic this fish was is hard to convey.  After the adrenaline died down, it was back to waiting for some wind.

After arriving in Horta and clearing customs, we made the obligatory trip to Peter Cafe Sport, a world renowned cruisers bar on the waterfront for a cold beer and a steak.  After 18 days of canned food, a hearty meal lifted all our spirits.  We've spent the last ten days enjoying Horta and the surrounding island.  We had plans to climb Pico, a 7700ft volcano on the neighboring island of the same name, on the Fourth of July, but the weather took a turn for the worse and we called to expedition off.

We've made friends with a  number of cruisers here, especially the crew of Gracie, a 69' custom Concordia that we are rafted to at the marina.  They are heading to the UK for the Rolex Fastnet Race in mid-August.  We wish Skip, Desmond and the rest of the crew the best of luck and hope that Jenny's arm gets better soon!

It's safe to say that we've enjoyed the Azores more than anywhere yet and we could spend several more months exploring here, but we need to head on.  Our next destination is Dakar, Senegal in western Africa.  There we will visit the Brazilian embassy and obtain our visas before heading back across the Atlantic to South America. 

Azores pictures:  http://s374.photobucket.com/albums/oo184/svobelisk/Azores/