The Atlantic voyage-from Canaria to Cape Verde

In life some things happen without the benefit of elaborate planning and these are the occasions that give the most satisfaction and feeling of achievement. The outcome of unintended happenings that extend beyond the hours of the day create all kinds of feelings, anxieties and excitement over one´s dear life.

Our Atlantic sailing voyage from Gran Canaria to Sal in Cape Verde was not a grand ambition to prove our ability to do better than others. It was going to be the start of a long holiday in a new place in West Africa where my life partner and I intend to spend half the year in residence. We want an easier lifestyle after many years of working and of being contributive members of the human community. We discovered Sta. Maria in Sal - one of Cape Verde's ten populated islands in West Africa last January and we knew right then and there that it would be a home for us. It is a piece of paradise, so achingly beautiful.

To go to Sal by sailing was not planned at all. In the beginning it was the thought of starting an inter-island shipping that sent us looking at cargo boats in Sweden and Norway. We also looked at several motorsailers but to sail from Sweden to Cape Verde was going to be one hell of a challenge.

After searching for vessels of various sizes and brands, I found an Ericson 36 cruiser moored in Las Palmas, Canary Island. It was owned by a Canadian who sailed her single-handed to New Zealand and the Caribbean. The yachting company who was selling it is infact a dear old friend of my partner who moved from Sweden and settled down in las Palmas. I thought it was some Divine intervention that led me to find the perfect boat to take us to our paradise island.

We stayed 15 days in Las Palmas preparing the boat - then called Afriki, for the Atlantic voyage. The boat was moored in the marina called Muelle Deportivo in the heart of Las Palmas' popular harbour. Three days prior to our departure, I had the Afriki name removed and I myself painted the boat´s new name, Sheilah. Finally in Nov. 12th, we sailed out of Canaria on a bright sunny day. We found a third crew member Steven, a Danish who was looking for sailing adventure as well.

After the 6th hour, we were out of the tip of Canary island and had now been almost alone in the huge Atlantic ocean. It was a humbling experience to feel so small in the midst of such an infinity. Then we felt that although the wind favoured our course, the ocean swell was building up in strength. The first three days were extremely difficult because the main sail was ripped in the middle and the tear got bigger. Then the boom's shackle got loose from its hook. It was swinging to extreme sides. I was helpless to help as I was battling with nausea and sea sickness.

On the third day, I wanted the call SOS to pick me up and take me to any nearest port. I had the bad luck of an accident on the first evening. I was down the saloon when the boat dipped suddenly to one side throwing me against the kitchen edge. I thought I got a fractured lower rib. I nourished the bruise for the whole trip's duration unable to breathe without pain. I could not eat for 5 days. I drank only water and juice and even that was an ordeal. We forgot hunger and appetite. It didn't help that we were fully stuffed with food. I subsisted on meager bites of hard bread. The mere thought of food made me vomit.

It was about the 7th day when I had a real meal, we three actually. Steven cooked some rice and sausages. I found it difficult to eat as I felt like having gone through a hunger strike for a week. On the 8th day - after so much trouble with sails and the continued rocking motion, I braved myself and cooked pasta with meatballs. So, on that day we eat together all three of us, in the cockpit - our spirits buoyed by the thoughts that we were only one day away from land.

It was Sunday morning when we sighted Sal, a tiny shadow from a distance. We were so happy and so relieved that we were going to be fine finally. We arrived in Sta. Maria at around 17.00 p.m. It is hard to describe how we felt at this moment. Words are not always enough for great emotions. Sal was, is beautiful. Its turquoise waters a comforting sight for eyes grown tired from seeing only the hard swells of the ocean.

Having gone through this voyage is for me the best test in endurance and spirit, in not losing hope amidst tremendous difficulty and in staying close with the power greater than all men. My
belief in my guiding saint has never been stronger and I felt that She never abandoned me when I needed her most. My life companion - who apologised profusely for taking me on this trip instead of flying direct to Sal without trouble, said that the experience could only strengthen the feelings we have for each other. Hopefully, this is going to be the worst we shall have to face. #