“Dolphins
converging
towards
the bows
and playing
there, like
cheeky
children”98 CLASSIC BOAT FEBRUARY 2018Sternpost
T
he calms we ran into in the Sargasso Sea were like
none I had ever experienced before. For days at a
time there was absolutely no wind at all. The sea
and sky merged at the horizon into a continuous silky
blue that heaved slowly with the fading echoes of distant
weather systems. Without wind to disturb its surface the
sea became translucent, the life forms near the surface
clearly visible. I soon stopped being irritated by the lack
of progress and got absorbed by the sea itself, and its
creatures. I saw many very small fi sh playing around the
hull, including those which seemed to glow like LEDs
just under the surface, and on several occasions
beautifully coloured dorado fi sh broke surface nearby.
There were several species of jellyfi sh, including small
mushroom like ones with deep brown bodies and tails,
and the ubiquitous Portuguese men o’war, of which I
saw many.
No matter how far offshore we were, there were
always seabirds. Leaving the tropics meant fewer and
fewer of the magnifi cent frigate birds, which are so
numerous there, but other species took their place and I
was always amazed how they could thrive so far from
land.
Just after bearing away from Bermuda a strange bird
turned up, which from his plump form and white striped
wings I thought was a great skua. He fl ew around the
boat for a while, then settled in the water a few hundred
yards ahead and watched as we sailed by. Then he took
off and repeated the same manoeuvre. This went on for
half an hour or so, then he vanished. Next day he
re-appeared and did the same thing again. The third day
I was below and heard a loud squawk; it turned out to
be him, calling me out for the next, identical
performance. He came again for two more days but on
the fi fth and last day a curious thing happened. After the
usual show he fl ew away aft, then turned and
approached the stern slowly, matching his speed to ours,
and drawing level with the cockpit where I was sitting
with my hand on the rail. Keeping this station he eyed
me closely, the way a child would, with unselfconscious
curiosity. Then he inched closer and slowly reached out
his beak towards my hand. He took hold of my little
fi nger and gave it a long gentle rolling squeeze, without
hurting me. Then he released my fi nger, winked at me
and fl ew away; I never saw him again. Well, I may have
imagined the wink, but the rest of the story is true.
The fi rst time I saw a whale was in a dead calm; I
heard it blow from close by before I saw it. The shock of
seeing such a massive creature rising up from the sea and
gracefully going down again enthralled me. Even thoughI saw many more, at various distances off, I never got
used to it; every occasion was truly spectacular.
Nearly every day we were visited by dolphins. They
seemed to know where to fi nd us and would crowd in
quickly on both sides, converging towards the bows and
playing there, like cheeky children; often I imagined I
could hear them chirping to each other. Then they would
suddenly be gone, as if nothing had happened. Flying fi sh
were always present in tropical waters, often taking off
in large numbers as if pursued by predators, and
re-entering the water after a fl ight of several hundred
yards. I often found a few of them on deck in the
mornings but was never interested in eating them.
In the early evening of 23 May I received a VHF call
from the German yacht Ann, Stefan Wendl and family,
approaching from astern, bound from Bermuda to the
Azores. Stefan, with the sun behind him, could see us
clearly but it took a while for me to pick out his sail
against the sunset. Throughout the whole voyage I met
many other sailors, in ports and anchorages all along the
way. It was one of the many pleasures of voyaging,
meeting interesting people in exotic places, forming
instant and often lasting friendships based on a shared
attachment to boats and ocean sailing. The crossing with
Stefan and his family was unique in that we did not
actually meet, just exchanged a few words (including
email addresses) over the radio and across the short
distance between us as we passed alongside. I am
grateful to him for his sunset photos of Sally B.
The yacht Ann fared better in light winds than Sally B
and soon slipped away into the darkness. We kept in
radio contact for a while during the night, but by
morning the horizon ahead was clear, and we were alone
again. I hope one day we will meet again, close enough
next time to shake hands and share stories, as sailors
always do.David Sycamore on meeting wildlife and boats
while crossing the Atlantic solo on his gaff cutterANNE BEAUGÉMid-ocean encounters