|
Sapphire is riding quietly at anchor in Port Stephens, West Falkland and I am nursing a glass of mulled wine, relieved and thankful to have just beaten yet another depression, after a boisterous overnight crossing from East Falkland. As of February 2005 my wife Theresa and I are midway through a two year cruise from England to Australia via Cape Horn aboard our Oyster 42 Sapphire of London. (Our voyage from London to Salvador was described in a previous Newsletter.)
Brazil
After leaving Salvador we sailed across the bay to the Rio Paraguaçu, which was very lovely with lush rainforest and deserted beaches. We arrived in Ilhéus to the smell of chocolate (this being a cocoa growing area) after a 24 hour sail. After a couple of days, we set off for the Arquipelago dos Abrolhos. This turned into the first of our five Character Forming Brazilian Passages. Brazil has some wonderful cruising grounds but there are three significant problems which potential visitors should bear in mind:
1: weather forecasts are sparse and the most inaccurate I have come across; 2: there are large tracts of inhospitable coastline between shelters, especially in the south; 3: Brazil (again, mainly in the south) experiences some awful weather, in the form of the regular pamperos. We had force 7 on the nose and lashing rain, and the sea seemed filled with tiny fishing boats, none of which showed any lights or produced a radar echo. However, we eventually arrived in light winds, to the sound of whales singing, and had a delightful few days. For the passage to Vitória we had strong following winds and averaged over 7 knots under main only. We also saw many humpback whales, which came very close to the boat. Vitória itself was a disappointment, however – most things were closed and Sapphire became covered in a film of black oily dirt from the docks. (We ended up by having to clean right up to the top of the mast, to stop black rain falling into the cockpit!) On passage from Vitória to Cabo Frio our forecast force 4–5 quickly became force 8–9 but once again, thankfully, it was behind us. We had great difficulty avoiding a huge fleet of fishing boats and picked up a discarded net around our rudder, which caused us some anxiety. Cabo Frio provided a very pleasant anchorage opposite a white beach, made all the more relaxing for me when Theresa volunteered to go swimming to check on the damage caused by the fishing net. After a gloomy day sail to Rio the clouds lifted and we had a great view of the city’s magnificent setting, with the statue of Christ and Sugarloaf Mountain prominent. We spent a week there, and then headed to what is probably the best cruising ground in Brazil – Baía de Ilha Grande. Our first night was spent in Saco do Céu (Sky Cove), which is almost totally enclosed and steeply wooded on all sides. Another highlight was Paraty, which was made rich by the slave trade and where many of the old buildings have been beautifully restored. One could easily spend many weeks sailing in the protected waters of this area.  Old buildings on the waterfront at Paraty, Brazil The wind headed us shortly after we left Ilha Grande bound for Paranaguá, so we anchored off Ilha dos Porcos and toasted our crossing of the Tropic of Capricorn. Next day we had light winds, which then filled in to become another force 8 on the nose. We persevered under storm jib and had a fairly rough time of it, but were compensated by watching a lunar eclipse with a clear sky. We spent a few days in Paranaguá, a small town with a friendly yacht club, before clearing out of Brazil. Again the forecast was for force 3–4 from between southwest and northwest (which was what it said all the time) as we left for Enseada do Pinheiro, about a day away. The barometer started to drop when we were about halfway there, and we just got in as the wind hit force 8 out of the north. While we were nursing a bottle of wine at anchor the wind whipped around to south 7 in a few minutes, accompanied by a spectacular lightning display. We also saw a few fishing boats heading out to sea... The next leg was a long one, 500 miles to Uruguay. Shortly after leaving Enseada do Pinheiro we noticed that the starboard primary winch was slipping, so we took this apart on the hoof and re-oiled the pawls and springs. We motor-sailed most of the night as it was calm – there were insects everywhere. Meteorology for Mariners, by the British Meteorological Office states ‘... Other signs of the approach of the pampero are said to be a rising of the water level in the river [Plate], an increase in the number of insects in the air ...’ – good advice, as it turned out. We had finished a delicious steak and I was contemplating tucking in a reef (it was pitch black and only force 3, but the wind was increasing) when the next minute 35 knots of breeze hit us like a train. Sapphire shuddered horribly under full sail and there was sheet rain. We furled everything apart from a scrap of main. This was our worst pampero yet and we ended up hove-to for 30 hours. Halfway through this we were amused to receive the latest Brazilian forecast offering southwest to northwest force 3–4 and concluding with “help HELP quit help quit Marinha Marinha!”. Our sentiments exactly! The following day we had a very rapid sail with force 6–7 from astern. We noticed a double halo around the sun and were dismayed to see the pressure begin to drop yet again. (According to the Marine Observer’s Handbook, again by the Meteorological Office, the first halo – at an angular distance of 22° from the sun – is due to the refraction of light through hexagonal prisms among ice crystals in cloud, whilst the second – at an angular distance of 46° – requires crystals with faces at right angles). However, all was well as we entered the River Plate a day later. The wind was only force 3 though it was pitch black once again. We should have had the radar on, however, as another squall hit us without warning with force 9 winds. Theresa was on watch and did very well to get the genoa in, but the wind then got behind the (prevented) main, breaking the vang. We limped into La Paloma, where we stayed for a few days as a pampero went through, and then had a fast sail to Buenos Aires with force 7 behind us. This was pretty lucky, as we were under genoa only due to the broken vang. Argentina We stayed at Puerto Madero in Buenos Aires for nearly three weeks and loved it. The marina could not be better situated, right in the middle of the rejuvenated docks. My parents flew out to stay with us for a week and we watched the tango dancing, ate steak and ice cream, drank gallons of wine and generally had a ball. We also visited the Global Challenge yachts – solid as rocks and most impressive. Leaving Buenos Aires, we sailed upriver to San Fernando to have Sapphire hauled to service a suspect propeller, a delay which probably ruled out our planned trip across the Drake Passage to cruise the Antarctic Peninsula. We took with us as pilot a German friend we had met in La Paloma and were very glad of his help. We ended up taking the deep water route, as the northwesterly winds had blown too much water out of the river, yet still had as little as 20cm under the keel. We stopped briefly in BA on the way back downriver and were treated to dinner by some Argentinian friends, Roberto and Cecilia. They took us to an extremely upmarket Italian restaurant (one of two which Roberto owns) and we were spoilt with the most delightful meal, washed down with a shockingly expensive bottle of brandy. To cap it all they presented us with a case of Fabre Montmayou Malbec* to remember them by and we said our goodbyes, greatly in their debt. * Courtesy of the Flying Fish proof-reading team, whose erudition never ceases to amaze me, I can add that Fabre Montmayou is a French owned Argentinian bodega in the Mendoza region, and that the red Malbec grape is the most successful variety in Argentina. As of late April, Fabre Montmayou Malbec 1998 was available in Oddbins for £5.99, said to be great value! Ed. We enjoyed a fast sail to Mar del Plata, where we met Avril and Graham Johnson, OCC, on Dream Away and rejoiced in the pleasure of speaking English! On Christmas Day, the outstanding hospitality of the Argentinians continued when we found a note on the boat – from people whom we had never met – inviting us to dinner at the yacht club. We had a cracking evening and my dismal Spanish showed fractional improvement. We managed the 470 mile passage to Golfo Nuevo without incident and drank an uneasy toast to our arrival in the Roaring Forties. We beat up to the anchorage off Puerto Madryn in force 4 and flat water, accompanied by dolphins, Magellanic penguins and an elephant seal – magical! New Year’s Eve saw us with a prime view as fireworks exploded around the bay. That night we neglected to hoist the tender out of the water and awoke to find a female sealion in residence. This was fine for a few hours until she was pushed out by her much larger mate, who first threatened to break the transom, then defecated everywhere when I tried to shoo him away. Definitely a lesson there somewhere!  Squatters! A bull sealion claims the dinghy The next day the wind picked up and blew onshore, so we tried to anchor in deeper water. However the anchor refused to set, so we set out into the bay to ride it out. Before long we were hove-to in a northeasterly force 7. This was bad enough, but much worse was the most dramatic front I have ever seen, marching towards us against the wind. Theresa asked me why there was fog below the front – unfortunately this was actually a wall of spray! I got all sail in and the boat’s head around as the wind slammed into us, and saw 55 knots on the anemometer as I clung to the wheel, blinded by the spray. Within half an hour it was gone and we returned to anchor and a stiff drink.  A front overhauls us – against the wind The next leg was 150 miles to Puerto Santa Elena. The first 130 miles were fine, but the last 20 miles took us ten hours as the wind headed us and fluctuated wildly between 10 and 40 knots, leaving me exhausted from countless sail changes. From there we sailed on to Caleta Sara and took a long but worthwhile walk out to the Magellanic penguin colony. From Caleta Sara we only had 16 more miles to Caleta Horno. The wind was so light that we motor-sailed, but four miles from shelter the wind blew up to 40 knots. We made it in okay and marvelled at the bomb-proof anchorage. This was our first attempt at mooring with lines to the shore, which went well apart from one moment when a line (which was shackled around me) went taut and nearly plucked me off the rock to my doom! The wind howled all night but, for once, we were totally unconcerned.  Sapphire at anchor in Caleta Horno Leaving Caleta Horno we anchored for the night at Caleta Sur, following another passage with force 8 winds, then set off for Puerto Deseado. We roared along at 10 knots over the ground with force 8 and lots of favourable tide. After a fine old battle tacking into the entrance against the gale we were given no option but to tie up to a ‘pontoon’ (basically, a floating raft made of metal barrels and planks) whilst being blown on by 30 knots of breeze. There was a huge spring tidal stream in the river which made anchoring impossible. We scratched the topsides somewhat, but eventually tied up securely. Here we cleared out of Argentina. Despite the strong winds we both loved the country and feel that it is seriously underrated as a cruising ground. The sailing is often arduous but the anchorages, people, scenery, and food and drink more than make up for it. Falkland Islands Next came a serious offshore passage – 400 miles to the Falklands. We rocketed along with a gale from astern and did 180 miles over the ground on the first day. We almost made it in after a great sail, but blew it with 20 miles to go. Once again we failed to see a squall coming at night, and this time the wind got behind the main and snapped the preventer. The boom slammed across (though thankfully held) and the mainsheet ripped the instrument console off the deck. This killed all our instruments, including the depth, so we were back to swinging the lead to get into Stanley. We eventually managed to fix the instruments, partly through the generosity of OCC Port Officer Carl Freeman who welded the steel for us. 
Stanley – calm after the storm We have both revelled in the Falklands. Quite apart from the pleasure of speaking English, drinking in pubs and buying Marmite (!), the scenery is wild and dramatic – reminiscent of the Scottish islands – and the wildlife unparalleled. To give just one example, we spent a day meandering alone along a beautiful beach with a colony of several hundred King, Gentoo and Magellanic penguins, plus petrels and skuas etc, for company. However, the place is truly windy. One storm saw us fighting to save the boat whilst anchored off Stanley in force 11. We dragged and, as it turned out, were only saved when the anchor was fouled by some chain on the seabed. 
King penguins, quite unruffled by human company From here, we plan to cruise southwest through the Falklands before tackling the 200 mile passage upwind, back to the Argentinian mainland. You can follow our progress at http://sapphireoflondon.org/ or e-mail us at sapphire@sapphireoflondon.org. |
