– Coco, we are dragging anchor, Sorin wakes me up calmly, like Mehalah having drifted about a mile away from where we had dropped the hook that afternoon was no reason for concern.
It was coming to 12am. I had only gotten about an hour sleep when Sorin walk me up. I was confused. I went on deck.
The wind was howling. The gusts were rocketing out of control. Spells of rain made sure to fully wake me up.
We motor sailed back. We took the chance to pick up a buoy that was free in the bay and I resumed my sleep. Sorin was on and off all night. Not ideal, just before setting off sailing on the 3 week passage to the Azores.
As fellow Romanian, Jimmy Cornell puts it in his ‘World Cruising Routes’, leaving the Caribbean Islands is the most challenging part of the 2,400 nautical miles arched passage to the Azores.
Once we left the Caribbean Islands behind we picked up a ride on the back of an Azores high, extending all the way across the North Atlantic Ocean.
Sailing east, I had a few moments of profound sadness at the realisation that on our imminent return to Europe we would not be reunited with my father, as planned on setting off in this sailing around the world. I had to chase away thoughts of ‘if only this, and if only that’…It was what it was!
On the crossing, we experienced the usual…and the unusual. One fine day, with Sorin busy with the engine whilst I was on deck, Mehalah was suddenly and violently thrown off balance, like some hidden force tripped her.
Out of the blue, sails went absolutely mental. A sudden revolutionary upheaval. The excessive heal got me screaming. I was in shock before I could see on the water surface the unsuspected culprit, that was now sliding away like a thief amongst the crowd. We had just been struck by a waterspout, a mini-tornado swiping the water surface in a haste.
Luckily, except for the unbearable heat to start with, nothing was at an extreme level. Some gently howling winds, some distant thunders, some waves occasionally breaking over Mehalah, some sunshine, some rain…The latter was brought about by the omnipresent squalls.
Thankfully, the squalls in the North Atlantic at this latitude and during this time of the year, were nowhere near as vicious as the squalls we experienced on our way west across the Atlantic from the Canaries, 7 years ago.
We recalled with much pleasure our crossing west, our pit stop back then in La Gomera Island, where Columbus was picking his blessings from his beloved, just before setting off discovering the New World.
Having picked up a high pressure system on leaving Guadeloupe, we had favourable winds for more than a week. Then, on reaching the centre of the high, we had to mostly motor for a few days before we could move with the wind once more.
When, further west, we reached the windless centre of another high pressure system, fuel consumption became a concern. We decided to make landfall in Flores Island instead of Horta on Faial Island, cutting the overall passage time by a day or so.
Same current used by Columbus on his epic voyages back to Spain was giving Mehalah a soft kick up the bum, helping us forward even when winds were light. However, the current was not always a friend. The days the current happened to be contrary, with the wind behind, Mehalah was bouncing around like a cork, to her crew discomfort.
Slow and faster days followed one another at a calm pace, each and every day bringing us closer to landfall.
Towards the end of the passage our zen was disturbed by the autopilot misbehaving. It would disengage out of the blue more and more often. We checked it, we turned things on and off, we debugged it, we rebooted the system, tried everything we could and nothing worked. It actually got worse and we had to live with it.
When temperatures dropped from 30 to 17 degrees Celsius a state of emergency was called aboard Mehalah. PJs were dugged out. Hoodies were worn whilst we were staying in line for a cuppa.
As usual, ocean life accompanied us along. Numerous flying fish and a baby squid were thrown onboard by foaming seas. Pods of dolphins, initially distant, eventually warmed up to Mehalah, even fell in love with her as, to our delight, they would not leave her and when they did they would make sure to quickly return. A couple of big puffing whales sightings.
In contrast to the oversized cetaceans, we moved along the cutest, yet the deadliest creatures – the Portuguese Man of War. We had seen these miniature ship shaped creatures for the first and only time washed on an Ozzy beach. A local, then, explained that their sting was a killer.
It was interesting to see the Portuguese Man of War on the waters leading to the Azores, that is a Portuguese territory. However, the oceans inhabited by these creatures are borderless. So, why are they Portuguese, then? This ship shaped water creature is named after the 18th Century armed Portuguese sailing ships, as they looked like one at full sail.
We also sailed past what would have probably been the remains of some ocean life mass killing devices.
We cooked. We read books. We debated various topics. We watched movies. We improved our Spanish – an imperative, given our final destination. We contemplated the uniqueness of this form of travelling. Moving across oceans, with an unbound feeling of freedom and responsibility accompanying us along. Us and our vessel in a symbiotic relationship, gliding across this blue vastness towards new horizons.
In the rare moments when ‘all stars aligned’ there was a magical feeling that freezes time and space. The murmuring sound of Mehalah cutting gently through the shinning surface of the big blue, under the protective embrace of the foresail from the soft morning sun, was nature marrying matter on a waltzing rhythm.
Mother Earth carrying Mehalah in a warm embrace. Mehalah’s perfect movement through time and space, freezes both dimensions in eternity. Dancing sun-shinning stars are filling the blue ocean sky. Fine wind feathers are caressing the bare skin. Wished this waltz would last forever!
Making landfall in the Azores, we were with a foot in Europe. Another 1000 nautical miles gargantuan step to land the second foot in Continental Europe and we are back ‘home’. Grateful!
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We were asked what now? Whether we would keep going…”Keep going”? Where to? And why? Although we believe that the feeling of freedom whilst ocean sailing is unmatchable by any other life context, we also believe that there is more to life than just sailing. We are looking forward to discovering how ‘this more’ looks like, with sailing remaining an important part of our life.