HELLO FROM THE WEST COAST OF IRELAND

Lin and Larry Pardey

For the first time in almost ten years we can no longer see the Southern Cross. I do miss it, but since crossing the Equator on our rush towards Ireland I have been enjoying getting re-acquainted with constellations such as the Big Dipper* and Scorpio.

Although we had originally planned to visit the Ilha Grande area just south of Rio de Janeiro for a just month or two, we ended up making that lovely island-filled bay our base for almost nine months. There we made friends who took us right into their lives and by the time we left it was like leaving family. We spent three months in the US doing seminars and fixing up our publishing life, then returned late to Brazil, so felt compelled to rush our voyage preparations in order to reach Ireland while there was some summer left. So three weeks to the day after we arrived by aeroplane from the US -- with almost 400 pounds of luggage including charts, books etc -- we set off from Ilha Grande, loaded with Brazilian food for the trip north.

We followed the ancient sailing ship route and headed south-east for almost 300 miles, even though there were sometimes fair winds that would have let us head north-east towards our goal. But because we persisted, we reached the trade winds and favourable currents predicted in Ocean Passages for the World. We made a relatively fast passage to Fernando do Noronha, 200 miles off the north-east corner of Brazil, taking fourteen days nine hours for 1600 miles. Considering that Brazilian sailors hugging the coast expect to take twenty-five to thirty days for this trip with a few overnight stops we had no complaints, laying just free of close-hauled in seas that were steady and rarely over 3 metres. But what a wet trip -- ten to fifteen squalls every day. We discovered a few leaks in the boat, mostly porthole gaskets that had, after twelve years, perished. So we had a lot of green spots where we had applied children's modelling clay to stop the leaks.

We stopped at Fernando do Noronha for six days to patch up the leaks with proper sealant, apply some varnish to peeling cabinsides, and wait for the supply ship to come in with fresh vegetables. This isolated island usually has a supply ship in every two weeks, but it was delayed for three weeks due to engine failure and not an onion was to be found on the island. When it arrived I joined the rush of islanders to grab fresh vegetables at horrific prices -- onions $5.00 a kilo, tomatoes $7.00, cabbages $5.50 each.

I was concerned about the doldrums and the equatorial calms that lay between us and the Azores. Two boats stopped at Fernando heading south and one, an American 50 footer, had had over 400 miles of calms and light winds with big lumpy seas and heavy rain -- it took them four days of powering to get through the ITCZ (inter-tropical convergence zone). Another, this one a German catamaran, suffered the same conditions for twelve days of very slow, non-engine assisted sailing. I looked at their tracks, we read Ocean Passages, poured over the pilot charts and decided to make our crossing as the old square riggers usually did in late May, at about 30°W. With fresh south-east winds and very little rain, we rushed towards and across the Equator, often surrounded by dolphins. At 2°N, when we expected to find the ITCZ, the south-east winds continued to blow, the seas were a bit lumpy, ITCZ clouds formed, the barometer continued downward and we continued sailing quite nicely. At 5°N we found the ITCZ in full force -- rain fell in torrents and the winds grew fickle. We hid out below in the heaviest rain, then went out on deck to set the nylon sails and catch each wind that rippled past us. Twenty hours later we picked up the north-east trades -- and blessed our luck -- three days only from the hypothetical start of the ITCZ to the definite end of it.

After that we had a nice close reach northward towards the Azores, concerned only about getting across the Azorean high to reach the islands. We found the horse latitudes 200 miles south of Horta -- very light winds, but we never stopped moving for more than a few hours at a time and zephyrs carried us an average of 50 miles a day. So twenty-four days out of Fernando, having crossed two notorious light and non-wind belts, we arrived in the Azores 2660 miles out from Fernando.

Horta was lovely as usual and we met some very nice cruisers -- several from England, two North American couples, had some good cockpit parties and refilled the fresh veg locker with excellent produce. We could have spent a month here -- could have enjoyed cruising the Azores, but Ireland was our goal -- so five days later we set off north when we saw a weather forecast with the Azorean high ending only fifty miles north of us and no major fronts crossing the Atlantic.

I'm sure glad we jumped at that chance. We took twenty hours to cover the first forty miles, then caught the edge of a small frontal system and never stopped moving, broad-reaching at times close to hull speed, one day under only storm trysail but most of the time under lots of canvas. Lay into Dingle Bay, on the south-west coast of Ireland nine days out of the Azores. The weather cleared and for the last twenty-four hours before our landfall we had sun for sights, and a fair current set us along so we arrived early enough to get tied up in a lovely small marina (sixty boats including local fishermen) and go out for a great Saturday night at the pub, which had excellent traditional music. To our surprise we learned that twelve of the fifty-two pubs in this town of 5000 souls have music every night of the week. This was almost our undoing as we spent ten days there, enjoying different music and pubs on eight of them, staying until closing time with both Irish friends from the town and with people from the visiting yachts.

One special thing about Dingle (other than the amazing pubs) is Fungi, the dolphin who lives in the entrance to the harbour and greets sailing yachts with exceptional joy. For twelve years he has been the official greeter. It sure thrilled me when he leapt out of the water only three feet from where I was swinging the lead to sound our way in the relatively narrow entrance.

Now we have celebrated our arrival we are heading slowly north to explore around Galway. Today we are anchored in the quiet bay of Ventry while rain and a south-westerly front pass over. General plans are unrushed and leisurely, to explore this coast north first, then south and east towards Cork. By mid-October we hope to be in Falmouth, England where we plan to winter -- move ashore off Taleisin and give her the twelve year interior refit she definitely deserves.

* The Plough to us Brits