EBAY TO RODNEY BAY
spinning around in circles. My stomach
churned as I prayed it was only the drive
belt that had failed.
The moon and the sun seemed to rise
together bringing light by which to regain
my bearings. I’d been steering in total
darkness for three hours but it seemed
much longer. I didn’t want to wake Jan
with bad news but eventually I had to.
The wind was brisk but the waves had
settled, making it easier to hold course.
Jan took the bad news well but pointed
out we still had 900 miles to go. Our
autopilot drive is fixed directly to the back
of the steering wheel. To get at the belt it
had to be removed.
As Jan steered, I unscrewed the
brackets securing the pilot and managed
to separate the case to reveal the belt,
which was intact and obviously not the
problem. I then had to remove the wheel
to remove the drive mechanism. This
needed the emergency tiller, a
cumbersome contraption fixed directly
onto the rudder stock. I stripped the motor
and gearbox and this revealed the
problem. Bits of gear-cog fell into the
waiting tray. It was irreparable.
With little wind and the engine at
1,500rpm to conserve fuel, we motor-
sailed at 3-5 knots. Our ETA at Mindelo
fluctuated from eight to 20 days. We tried
our best to stay positive. Our watch routine
had to change and Jan was thrust into a
new three-hourly regime. Pitch blackness
and strong currents made steering virtually
impossible but we honed our skills. The
predictor line on the plotter was always
behind real time, adding to the over- or
under-steering, which took us off course.
Jan worked out that the compass was the
best instrument to steer to.
It was good that we were sailing
downwind but as each wave passed the
stern picked up and dropped to one side.
We then had to straighten up ready for the
next wave. Time after time this happened
until we’d blink for a moment and find
ourselves 90° off course. It was torture and
we had 900 miles of it ahead of us.We headed further east and eventually
found wind, allowing us to conserve what
fuel we had left. We’d been at sea for a
record eight days with just over 40 miles
to go. An eerie haze caused by sand from
the Sahara hung in the air.
Once certain we had enough fuel we
started the engine. As we approached
Mindelo night was falling, and the sand
cloud denser than ever. Our AIS showed
the ARC+ boats in the marina but we
couldn’t see the entrance. We called on
VHF and were allocated a berth. As we
circled in the bay checking our paper charts
a sudden blast from a foghorn shattered the
silence. It was followed by other horns,
hooters and shouts from the dock. Were we
about to hit some unseen vessel? I jumped
up to look out over the cabin. Torches
flashed and hooters blared as we heard
‘Twenty Twenty’ echoing around the bay.
As we followed the marina RIB in, the full
extent of our welcome committee could
be seen and heard. Almost every boat in
the marina joined in the fanfare. Stern-to
berthing again, we pulled off a perfect
landing as the crowd of well-wishers
cheered us in.
We stepped onto the pontoon looking as
fresh as the day we’d left Las Palmas to
the amazement of the other crews who
were expecting a pair of tired, broken
souls. It was truly humbling being greeted
and hugged by everyone. We’d made it
just in time for the prizegiving ceremony
with food and drink in abundance. We
won the honourable prize of last boat to
arrive, receiving a bottle of champagne.
We may be one of the smallest boats but
we got the biggest cheer.Transatlantic
Mindelo is an amazing place but we had
work to do, with one job standing head and
shoulders above the others – the autopilot.
Whilst at sea we’d emailed our friends on
Tairua via sat phone, and I already knew
the part was available before we arrived. I
was not about to be caught out again. I
struck a deal with the agent and purchased
two gearboxes. I asked if he could supply
the motor as well but he assured me ➜Jan spruces up
the woodwork
with teak oil,
three days out
of Mindelo‘Las Palmas tested our night navigation
skills. What could be seen on the plotter bore
no resemblance to the picture before us’