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Old Diesel Never Die

Thu, 12 Jun 2025 01:22:00 GMT

It's been a while since my last post so I will try to give you the highlights over the past few months.

My boat, Anjea, is laid up in Makkum in Friesland (Netherlands). She is out of the water for a new dodger to be built and a few other jobs. I had planned to spend some time in the Netherlands while the work was being done but then I got a call from Yayo, a friend who lives in Suriname, about a new boat he just bought and needed help with. He was just after some advice and a chat about the boat, but I thought it would be a good opportunity to get on someone else's boat in the tropics after a long northern winter so Helen and I decided to fly out and help him sail the boat back to Europe.

Marlijn is a 42' steel cutter. The hull was built in a Polish shipyard 25 years ago and the boat was finished by a Dutch watchmaker. It's meticulously fitted out with lots of interior woodwork. But it's been built by someone who knows nothing about sailing. The watchmaker has put a lot of effort into the finish but it is still a watchmaker's boat and not a sailor's boat! For example, the boat has a nice engine with plenty of room around it but someone has installed a watermaker right above the engine. Watermakers need to be serviced and are notoriously leaky and it drips water all over the engine. And it is the only boat I've ever been on with a septic tank. One of our projects was to replace that with a good old standard Jabsco. Who wants to carry around a septic tank on a boat? Madness! Yayo bought it because he wanted a boat that would appeal to Fabien, his wife. She is not really a sailor and he thought that a boat with a good interior would be more appealing to her.

The Dutch watchmaker forgot to check his susceptability to seasickness and it turned out that he became very seasick. He and his wife made it from Netherands to Suriname where the boat has sat unused for a decade. No boat likes sitting unused for a decade, especially in the tropics, so there was a lot of work to do to get it back into shape.

So Helen and I got roped into installing new electrics and electronics, new plumbing, some new rigging (although most of it is in surprisingly good condition, including the sails) and endless cleaning and painting, most of which was done by Yayo and Wim.

We arrived in Suriname in early May and spent a month working on the boat. In between we've managed to sail it 900 miles thru the Caribbean to St Martin where we are now. There are four of us: Yayo, Wim, Helen and myself. Were a good team. Not hugely experienced but I have sailed with all of them before and I trust them.

As we pulled into Marigot Bay I said "what's that noise from the engine?" Yayo said "I don't know, I thought it was something else." I said "No, it's the engine, it's making a knocking noise." He said "Oh, that's normal, it always does that." I said "No, it's not normal, it sounds bad" That was over a week ago. It's very hard to get a mechanic here in St Martin. We've had three guys look at it so far and played recordings of the noise to a few more. Right now it seems it is either a valve or a leaking turbo. The valve should be adjustable or replacable but the turbo is a bit more of a problem simply because we cannot find any leak. The good news is that nobody thinks it is a big-end bearing.

As I write 'Tom' is here on the boat looking at the engine. He is a young French mechanic with a boat here near us and seems to know his way around engines.

Once the engine is sorted we'll look for a weather window to sail the boat to Europe. Its about 20 days sail to the Azores and then another 8 days or so to Portugal. We are hoping to get to the Azores before the end of June so we can spend some time there before heading to Portugal. I will then head back to Anjea in Makkum.

STOP PRESS

Tom has just looked at the engine and discovered a broken conrod. Hooray! Yayo and Wim have gone ashore to find a new one. At worst it will be a few days delay getting one shipped in. Tom says it is no problem fitting it and the engine should be good as new once it is done. Old diesels never die.

Dinner courtesy of Helen

Helen with her favorite Frenchman, Michel

Yayo & Faby

Wim and Yayo

Where is Your Happy Place?

Fri, 10 Nov 2023 16:56:00 GMT

Have you ever felt angry, depressed, or frustrated with your life? Do you wish you could escape to a place where everything is calm, peaceful, and joyful? Well, you can. And you don’t need to travel far or spend a lot of money to do it.

After a moderately good sleep last night here on Anjea, safe in the Cahersiveen Marina despite the storm that raged most of the night, I awaken early feeling somewhat groggy, not quite engaged or awake enough to deal with the world. Thinking it will pass I scan my email and delete most of it, look at the weather forecast (it’s good for a walk) but after an hour or so I’m still struggling so I weaken and make a jug of coffee. I’m trying to stay off the tea and coffee because it aggravates the tremor in my right hand but today I figure I need the chemical stimulation.

I’m just about to pour the first cup when I somehow manage to spill half the coffee over myself, the galley and the floor. I still don’t know exactly how I achieved it but it had something to do with my hand catching unexpectedly on the pouch in front of my hoodie as I leaned over the galley, trying to open the top-loading fridge. Anyway, it was annoying but easy to clean up.

I finished the last wipe and opened the fridge again to get some cold water — I like to lower the temperature of my first coffee. With water in hand I straighten up and bang! My teeth rattle as my head hits the overhanging cupboard that I have forgotten about once again.

I see red. Blind rage rises in me. I curse aloud — just one expletive and then silence. But the anger inside is not quelled and continues to rise. I am driven to lash out. My first desire is to demolish the overhanging cupboard. I do nothing. Then I want to throttle the designer of this boat for such a stupid feature — there is no need for that cupboard to be so large and brutal. Still I do nothing. Next I just want to destroy something, anything! Again, I do nothing. The anger slowly loses its edge and degenerates. Red fades to black. I’m depressed.

Usually, I am happy on Anjea. It is my home. But now the boat feels like a prison so I decide to go for a walk early. It is on my agenda for today anyway.

Ten minutes into my long walk a woman is dragged towards me by her fluffy little white dog who is behaving as if I’m her long-lost best owner ever. Of course I’ve never seen the dog before but she does look like Helen’s dog Molly with more hair. I can’t help but laugh.

"Oh! She just wants to play!" exclaims her frustrated owner. I dare not stop or I’ll be licked to death. However, the curse is broken and life is good again.

A few minutes after that I get a WhatsApp from Helen who is suffering a wet and windy day in Sligo, and fantasizing about azure blue seas and pods of playful dolphin to keep sane. "What is your 'happy' place, Dave" she asks?

I think about it for a while. Certainly, I love sailing and dolphins playing in azure seas, but somehow that’s not where I go when I need a lift. Instead, I treasure a small part of me that’s just me and not part of some relationship or postcard or classic fantasy. My happy place is inside, which is probably a selfish thing to admit, but it’s true. Right now, my happy place is right here, walking the roads around Cahersiveen in (almost) sunshine.

St Martin

Tue, 05 Sep 2023 11:51:15 GMT

The computer has died so I'm tapping this out on a tablet and it will be a short note. Arrived St Martin on 16th April after a good fast sail to windward from carriacou. Fixed many things, bought new outboard picked up new code D sail, and greeted Oisin at the yacht club on 25th, and Merel on 28th. On 29th we sailed north from Simpsons Bay to Grand Case to get some French culture. Very, little wind but we hoisted the new Code D. It's a huge blue furling gennaker — a lightweight nylon sail for sailing downwind. 'Big Blue' is gigantic: it's the same size as the main and genoa together and should keep Anjea moving in light winds.

Carriacou

Mon, 20 Mar 2023 12:33:00 GMT

Leaving Trinidad I am tired after a long day preparing Anjea and Bollemaat. The final task is to commission Bollemaat's Autopilot. It does not go well. I have redone the actuator wiring, which had twisted itself so much that it physically broke, and done the dockside calibration. Now we are trying to complete the final calibration in the water. Yayo steers the boat in circles while I check the autohelm. It seems to complete successfully but when we try it out Bollemaat wobbles about and then steers way off course. Finally, at about 5 in the afternoon, I declare failure — they will have to hand-steer. Bollemaat drops me back at Peake's dock and sets out for Carriacou. They are three onboard and it's an easy boat to helm, but I am perplexed by that Autohelm.

I hurry to prepare Anjea to follow them. I leave my visit to the little grocery shop too late and they are closed. No matter, I have plenty of canned food, just not fresh. I need to leave tonight because there is weather coming. If I get away before midnight I'll outrun it. Otherwise I'll be stuck in Trinidad for several more days.

Just after sunset I finally cast off and follow Bollemaat for Carriacou. There is a strong breeze right on the nose as I motor out but I am not concerned as the wind will no doubt change when I get clear of the Mouths of the Dragon and out to sea.

I am tired but pumped. I want to get to that open sea and relax a bit but I still must put the dinghy up. I was unable to do it before leaving because Anjea was stern-to the dock. So I stop beside the channel and spend 20 minutes getting it up. This is the first time I've hoisted this new-to-me dinghy and the straps are the wrong length and I am missing a bridle. I finally get it up and secured. The only problem is that I can see no way to put the bike in the dinghy now that it's up, so it will live in the saloon, getting in my way.

With the dinghy up I am exhausted, hungry, tired, strung out, and not looking forward to an overnight sail. I start preparing to hoist the main but cannot find a single headlight. I need a headlight to see that the head of the sail doesn't get tangled in the lazy jacks as I hoist it. The more I look for a light the more frustrated I get until I just give up and resign myself to motoring for a while.

The 'while' turns into overnight. I take short sleeps of 20 minutes but then as we get clear of the coast I increase that to 30 minutes. I do not actually sleep but it is still a relief to lie down for a while and it's really hard getting out of bed each time. I don't have the energy to cook or do anything else, let alone put up the main.

Around dawn the engine stops. No warning, just stops. Ahh, I think, its run out of diesel in the day tank. I check the level and there is plenty left. I top it up anyway and try to start the motor. No luck. It turns over without the slightest hint of starting.

At least there is enough light now to work on deck so I hoist the main and set the genoa. We are close-hauled, as always when sailing the Windward Isles. There is nothing I can do about the engine until I get to Carriacou. I mentally rehearse my technique for anchoring under sail. I have done it quite a few times but that was years ago. Anjea under sail is taking plenty of water over the windward bow. The seas are not big but they are short and sharp and every hour or so I get one that passes over the saloon top. I can't leave any hatches open and inside is hot, sticky-wet and unpleasant.

As we approach the headland before Tyrell Bay in Carriacou the wind drops to nothing and then blows from the opposite direction. I anticipate it and am hoping to drift thru the wind shadow but a blast of wind from the opposite direction sets me spinning around back the way I've come. Then MY autohelm stops working and starts beeping and flashing something about the rudder sensor. This is the worst possible time to deal with a sick autohelm so I switch it off and resign myself to hand steering. I sail out further away from the headland and try again. Better, but still couldn't quite get thru the shadow. Third time lucky -- it is touch and go but we make it into the breeze in the other side of the shadow. Now to anchor.

There are a lot of boats in Tyrell Bay — over a hundred I guess — and I decide to go in past an old moored tug. It's awkward, with the wind blowing hard now, limited room, no engine and no autohelm. I get past the tug and go forward to drop the anchor but I'm still travelling fast and badly misjudge how far I've gone before I get the anchor down. When I look up I am just a couple of meters from the yacht on the far side of the tug and we are about to collide.

There is a sound of crunching solar panels as my rear solar wings collide with the bows of the other yacht, some yelling and swearing from my side, and then the two boats are locked together with Anjea's boom caught behind their forestay and my anchor holding it all in place. The owner of the other boat, which I later find out is called Alimar, is on deck in a flash calling for fenders. I am too stunned by what I have done to be much help. It takes a minute for the situation to sink in. The boats are wedged together but with the fenders not much more damage is occurring. Boats arrive from everywhere wanting to help, offer advice, or just enjoy the entertainment. The coast guard arrive and I take a line from them to Anjea. The owner of Alimar and I are now working together to find a solution that doesn't involve creating further damage. Suddenly there's a yank and more crunching of solar panels and the coast guard have hauled us apart. The other boat's forestay goes twang as my boom is hauled past it, but no further damage.

Unfortunately, my anchor chain crosses Alimar's chain. I am preparing to drop all my chain and get the coast guard to tow me to a mooring. At the last moment there's a joyous yell from Alimar that they've untangled the anchor chains and I am now actually anchored, free of encumbrance. Wow! I wasn't expecting that to happen!

It seemed like hours but I suspect the whole show was over in 30 minutes or so. Total damage to Alimar is a forestay that needs replacing, and Anjea has lost a solar panel and has a bent rail. I was expecting much worse.

My position is not great as I am too close to another boat behind me, but I am too tired to worry and can do nothing about it without an engine. It's a fuel problem for sure and after fiddling about I can see that the new fuel pump fitted in Cape Town has died. Replacing it will be an easy fix but I need rest and so I go below and crash.

Next day I collect my friend Roy in the dinghy and we go ashore in search of a new fuel lift pump. Close to shore the outboard engine dies and refuses to start again no matter how enthusiastically I haul on the starter. It is almost certainly dirty fuel and I know that if I get it started it will only stop again. I hand paddle the short distance to shore.

Budget Marine have a store here which has two fuel pumps on the shelf. I buy one and we hitch a ride with the Bollemaat crew to Anjea to fit it. With all the delays the owner of the boat behind me is now irate. Anjea is dragging very close to his boat and the last thing I want is a second collision! We work fast to replace the fuel pump but by the time the job is done the other boat has upped anchor and gone. We get Anjea's anchor up and move further into the bay. It's tight but we find a spot near Roy's boat and re-anchor.

If this was a typical sailing day I would long since have given sailing away as poor entertainment. Stuff goes wrong on boats all the time but I have never experienced such a run of problems and bad luck, made worse by tiredness. With help from friends, some quick thinking by the owner of Alimar, a big yank from the coast guard, and some luck, we muddled through without too much damage to anything but my ego.

Trinidad

Mon, 19 Dec 2022 18:14:00 GMT

Bollemaat is in Trinidad. We have come here in search of a new GPS, a toilet, and a new dinghy. We need more parts but the boat shops here are surprisingly basic.

Arriving here we calle North Port Radio and contacted Jessie James, the local yacht liaison guy ... and then my phone goes dead. No more credit. We proceed into Chaguaramas and drop anchor amongst the moorings. It's then we discover that our dinghy hanging on the davits at the back has been ripped to shreds as it rubbed against the back of the boat, so we cannot go ashore. However, we discover that we can inflate one side of the dinghy and that it actually floats well enough for Yayo to make it ashore to search for a solution. He comes back with a secondhand flat-bottomed dinghy that he bought at a reasonable price.

Yayo suggests that he wants to be 'captain' for the formalities. I have no objection and we go to Immigration to sign in where we discover that we must get clearance from Health before they will allow us in. We are referred back to Jessie James for the Health Clearance.

I catch a bus into town, to West Mall, where there is a phone shop, and buy a SIM card and some phone credit. Now we contact Jessie James again and he organizes a Health Clearance for us.

At this stage we have been here three days. When we go back to Immigration there are some questions about that but we are eventually cleared in. Next stop is Customs and we are done.

But Customs have other ideas. They do not like that we have been here three days without clearing in and so we are now 'under investigation' and have had our passports confiscated. We must report to the office in Port of Spain on Monday at 1000 and are stuck here for the weekend, and that is going to make it hard to get to Marie Galant in time for Christmas.

---

Trinidadians are warm and welcoming people. I had no local currency when I arrived and needed some for the bus to town to get a SIM card. Max, the guy who sold Yayo the dinghy, gave me two bus ticket and TT20 cash with a smile that said something like 'thankyou for giving me the opportunity to help you'. It was really something. That attitude is everywhere here. When I do not have the right change the girl in the shop grins and and waves her hand "No charge" she says.

The harbour is large but packed with boats of all sorts. There are several full-service marinas for services, repairs and maintenance and prices are reasonable too, but there isn't much stock in the chandleries so you have to order things in.

---

It is now Monday and Yayo and Wim have gone into town to see Customs about getting our passports back while I get the boat ready. They have been away several hours and I'm starting to be concerned...

Finally, I hear from Yayo. He had to appear before a judge, sign a confession and pay a fine for not completing the clearance in time. Ooops! The good news is that we are free to check out.

Next stop Marie Galante, Guadeloupe! Track us here: https://share.garmin.com/bollemaat

Bollemaat

Sat, 10 Dec 2022 11:05:00 GMT

I am feeling down since Merel left the boat in Paramaribo. She made me feel young — until she told me I was too old. So I signed on to a project boat owned by Yayo, a local character.

Bollemat is, I mean was, a great yacht. I was inspired by her construction, which is aluminium like Anjea, and her heritage as a 50 year-old sailing yacht. Yayo bought the boat for very little from a deceased estate after it had been adandoned here in Suriname for several years. She was built by Royal Huisman in the Netherlands, and sailed all over the Atlantic by at least two previous owners.

I've joined the project with the aim of rebuilding the power and control systems before sailing her to Marie Galant in the Caribbean. On my first visit to the boat I decided on the spot to completely redo the power systems, install solar, replace the charge controllers, battery management system and batteries. I kept it as simple as possible using Victron components and it has worked out very well.

Most of the instruments were shot, so they've been replaced with new sensors and a wifi-based information system.

Yayo is a confirmed hippie. He is Dutch and came to South America to avoid the draft in the early 1970's. He's traveled all over and now has restaurants, property and hotels in Suriname, French Guyana and now Guadeloupe where he wants to settle. His idea with Bollemaat is to sail between these countries, both for pleasure and as a means of transport. He has some sailing experience on a wooden barque that he owned and ran with a crew of ten and a full-time captain. Some time in the 1980's he ran Golden Harvest aground in the Marony River in Saint Laurent and built a very successful restaurant around the boat called La Goelette, but he has limited experience sailing a boat such as Bollemaat.

The Golden Harvest is now a restaurant called La Goelette

The project has been good medicine for me. Yayo is an inspiring leader with a small group of helpers and we are a good team. Wim is an exceptional timberworker who fitted out powerboats and sailing vessels in Holland before he came to Suriname. Fino is another Dutch expatriate with good all-round mechanical skills. Between us we've made huge progress and the boat now basically works, although there are many outstanding problems such as no working toilet, no water, no fridge, no autohelm, no wind vane, and worn rudder bearings that make a horrible chatter when we sail fast. But she does sail and she sails beautifully!

Bollemaat drifting downwind

The plan now is to sail her to Saint Marie for Christmas, where Yayo's wife Fabian is waiting.

Still in Suriname

Wed, 16 Nov 2022 19:23:47 GMT

I'm still having fun in Suriname. A local here (Yayo) has tapped me to fix up his old sailing boat up and take it to Guadeloupe so I'm working on that. We leave in a few weeks.

Unfortunately I've not been able to get an appointment with the US consulate here for a visa. I've now visited quite a few countries but never one as rude and incompetent as the US, although I hear from others that Australia is right up there. I put up with it for several months but have been unable to secure an appointment at a time that I can meet. The last offer they made was February 14th 2023 by which time I will be long gone from Suriname. So, no US visa and sadly, I will not be visiting the US.

On a happier note I do like this country of Suriname even though it's an economic basket case. It is not without issues, especially around corruption and drugs, but the locals are friendly and relaxed, there is a rich diversity of cultures, and it's just a short sail to the Caribbean.

I will sail 'Bollemaat' (Yayo's 'Big round friend') to Guadeloupe in December and then back again in January. Back on Anjea I will then cruise the Caribbean for a few months before friends join me for the crossing to Europe. I hope we will be three on board for that. It's a good number because everyone gets a proper 8-hour sleep, which is not possible with just two.

The climate here is the most humid I've known. It rains 4 days out of 7 in the dry season. In the wet season it rains every day. It is supposed to be the end of the dry but the wet has kicked in early.

The Suriname River is a great anchorage. Safe and secure and mostly calm, except before a squall when it blows a bit.

The Suriname River is quiet and calm but with a strong current, especially after big rains.

I went to Saint Laurent for a birthday party. It is 30 years since Yayo turned his boat 'Golden Harvest' into a restaurant 'La Goelette'. Below is Yayo (no shirt) with 'D'Orkest, the band. The band was really great. You can listen to them on YouTube or Spotify.

Yayo on his 'new' boat Bollemaat, with Wim. These are my crew for the trip to Guadeloupe and back and they are solid, competent people with great attitude.

I replaced the electrics on Bollemaat. Hope it works!

There is much work left to be done on Bollemaat before we sail. My main issue just now is getting the rope so we can replace all the running rigging. It is apparently somewhere in transit. But I do enjoy mucking about in boats, even in 40 degrees and 95% humidity!

Flying to Anjea

Sun, 07 Aug 2022 15:32:00 GMT

For several weeks now I've been working on a replacement for the clunky old PredictWind tracking page that I used before the Iridium Go sat phone went overboard. At first I tried Leaflet, then Google Maps and then I discovered Mapbox, and that changed the game. Mapbox is just fabulous. It will do everything I need. What I've implemented so far is just a basic track display and some fancy 'flying' to animate the globe, but there is much more to come.

The new tracker is here.

It's just me on Anjea in the river now, with Merel having settled in town. I'm enjoying having the boat to myself but I miss her very much. With just me it seems like I am having half as much fun. I spent a bit of time with Austin, another solo sailor, but he's now left to catch up with a girlfriend in Grenada. I cycle most days and then get something to eat at the restaurant where I have met some interesting people. Other than that I work on the boat, write a bit, and read a lot.

I am currently rereading James Lovelock's Gaia. His recent death (at 104) prompted me to dig it out. I am blown away at how relevent it is today. He wrote it more than 40 years ago and it's received a poor reception from scientists because it isn't 'scientific' and a panning from greens who hate his view that Gaia is robust and his advocation of nuclear energy. Nobody loved it. But I think his views and attitudes and his non-scientific approach are already vindicated. It's a fabulous read.

Another book that impressed me recently is M Scott Peck's The Road Less Travelled, although I can't see why he resorts to religion in the end. It doesn't follow from the first part of the book at all, which is a very careful and intelligent psychological analysis, mainly of himself but applicable to everyone. Written with great love and care.

There was a storm the other day:

The back roof of the supermarket flipped over the front roof and landed in the street. You can see at the top where the roof has torn off.

And the carpark at the marina turned into a lake:

Anjea was just fine.

Holland gone Troppo

Sun, 10 Jul 2022 23:14:00 GMT

We arrived in the little village of Domburg yesterday after a boring trip from French Guyana. What wind there was blew mostly from ahead so we just motored.

First impressions of Surinam are Holland with spice. There's water everywhere. It falls in great shower every afternoon and there are huge rivers, small rivers, creeks, drains and gutters everywhere, just like Holland I imagine, but here the rain is warm.

Merel is enjoying conversing with the locals in Dutch but most people seem to speak at least a bit of English.

Immigration here is handled by a company called VFS who, in South Africa, are the most incompetent idiots I've ever had the misfortune to be forced to rely on. My heart sank when I discovered that they handle immigration here too. In the end we filled in a form, waited for it to be stamped and returned to us, took it to the Military Policy in Paramaribo, paid the small fee so they could stamp our passport and it was done.

The Border

Mon, 04 Jul 2022 19:59:00 GMT

We are now in the Maroni River after a wonderful overnight sail of about 120nm to the Northeast of Iles du Salut. The weather and sea combined to make this the best overnight leg we've ever done. The sea was flat and Anjea cut thru the water on a reach at up to 7 kn in the 10 - 15 kn breeze. Add to that the 1 to 1.5kn current and we traveled at 8 to 9 knots under a clear sky and a sliver of moon. Dolphins came out to make phosphorescent trails in our bow wave and Merel even saw a whale breach. The only downside is that I caught no fish!! I put out a brand new lure and when I hauled it in the lure was gone, so clearly a BIG fish got away and we have rice porridge for breakfast instead of fried fish.

The town of Saint Laurent is about 20nm upriver and the tide is against us so we motor hard from mid-morning to mid-afternoon, crawling along at 4kn. On arrival I expect to anchor but there are moorings and Helmund, from one of the yachts already there, comes out in a dinghy to help us hook up just as the sky turns black and the rain comes bucketed down. Helmund and his partner stip and take a shower on their deck while we have a celebratory glass of plonk and eat a quick evening meal before crashing.

The border between Suriname and French Guyana runs down the east bank of the river. Since we are anchored in the river itself we are technically in Suriname, but when we row the 50 yards to shore we'll be in back in French Guyana. It will be interesting to see how this all works in practice since we are currently cleared in to no country!

Des Képis Blancs

Sat, 02 Jul 2022 01:09:00 GMT

Literally, des képis blancs translates as 'the white caps' — a nickname for the French Foreign Legion, whose unofficial guests we are today.

This morning Merel returned from her night in the jungle with a grin on her face. She had a good night with the monkeys and agoutis. It was just a bit warm, she says, as it was here on the boat. Dry weather equals warm temperatures.

After breakfast we row over to Ile St Joseph, the second of the three islands. Anjea is anchored off Ile Royal, and the third island, Ile du Diable, is out of bounds. It is a hard row with the current against me for the first 200m and then a strong cross current through the channel between the islands. A good 20 minute workout.

As we walk up the jetty a very thin but fit looking dude dressed in just a pair of shorts asks if we would like coffee. We are a surprise, but we say yes of course and follow him past a sign that says Public Interdit (Keep Out) thru an old stone house and out onto a veranda overlooking the bay, with Anjea at anchor in the distance. The house is his home while he is posted on the island, he explains. He is in the army and his job is to run the small resort militaire, the resort for the French military based at the European Space Center.There are armchairs and couches,a very comfortable looking hammock and we are greeted by a friendly little short-legged dog, Polka. The coffee is excellent espresso, as I like it best. Philippe speaks very little English and my French vocabulary is doubling every day from a base of zero, but whenever I say something in French they look at me blankly for a few seconds before exclaiming 'Ahh you mean "a bien tôt"', or whatever. Yeah, well, that's what I said isn't it? OK, so my pronunciation needs a bit of work...

Also present is Michael who is Malagasy and his English is much better than my French. So I explain to him how I sailed past Madagascar but could not stop because of the Covid restrictions and that leads to a big geography lesson for us all as we each explain where we have come from, how we got here and where we are going. The guys are French Foreign Legion and their official job is to run the holiday resort for the European Space Center. Yes, I am serious. Every month or so the rocket guys come over from the mainland for a party and a holiday. In the mean time Philip maintains the island — cutting grass, cleaning the beach, maintaining tracks, getting rid of coconuts. But when it's party time he becomes the host and the chef. Michael's job is waiter and general help to cleanup after the most recent party. He is only here for a few days, but Philippe has been here for a year. We are offered a fruit punch but decline and leave them for a tour of the island. They make us promise to return for lunch!

The island is smaller than Royale and takes about 40 minutes to circumperambulate, says Philippe. It takes us about 2 hours with stops for photoshoots and simply to admire the beauty of the jungle and just how it is reclaiming what it once owned. In the 1860's the island's first substantial building was erected -- Philippe's house. Over the next half century France exported its worst criminals to these islands and they constructed their own prison at the top of the hill, complete with guillotine. It is a huge, dark, heavy, floorless, roofless, crumbling stone weight that would give a sensitive person nightmares, but which we tramp around in, looking for fabulous colors in the washed-out lichen-covered walls, spiders in their webs, rotten timber window frames and doors still hanging from hinges so rusted it's a miracle they still hold anything, and thru it all the jungle reclaiming everything.

The jungle reclaims the old prison.

On our return a copious amount of Cuvée des Képis Blancs, Côtes des Provence is poured, courtesy of the French Foreign Legion. The nearest Australian equivalent I can think of is a good medium body warm climate Shiraz. We sit at the dining table on the verandah overlooking the bay and are served a big helping of delicious potato cooked in butter and a generous dollop of sliced beef in a red wine sauce. It is simple food but delicious, and is followed by a desert of goat cheese and fresh pineapple. How do I join the Foreign Legion?

Well, says Michael, it is very easy. You must meet certain physical requirements of health and fitness, both physical and mental, then you sign up for a 3 month probation and if you pass that they offer you a three year contract. You do not even need to be French, but you will be after you complete your service. And you will also know your French wines! Unfortunately there are only two countries outside France where the Foreign Legion still operates: Mayotte and French Guyana.

Philip sleeping it off after lunch

Merel and I leave after lunch. Merel wants to complete her circuit of the island and I want to return to the prison for more pictures.

On our return we ask them to visit with Anjea tomorrow evening and they accept! Tonight, Merel has returned to the jungle to sleep with the monkeys and agoutis. Philip warns that the monkeys can be aggressive and that they have sharp teeth!

Monkeys can be aggressive and have sharp teeth.

Rainforest Agouti.

Merel searching for a place to sling her hammock in the rainforest.

Tonight we have a sliver of New Moon rising into a starry sky.

Prison

Sat, 02 Jul 2022 00:05:09 GMT

Today we splashed around in the jungle surrounding Ile St Joseph in whose lee we are anchored. I forgot my shoes and rowed back for them while Merel continued on. When we finally caught up it was on top of the hill where the main 'museum' is located. The museum is a collection of buildings in various states of disrepair. A very few have been restored, like the restaurant and hotel. We had coffee and then went shooting. I generally dislike photoshoots but with Merel we go our own ways. The Nikon died and most of my shots are broken up bands of random colors. Later I work out that it's just the SD card. I put a new SD card in it this evening and it goes again.

We took the lower, less used track around the island and Merel wore a grin. This is where she will spend the night! I'm not such a seeker of jungle sensations and will sleep on the boat. She has found a grove of trees and will come back later to string her hammock between them with the monkeys, peacocks, agouti's and iguanas. We saw no snakes, I'm pretty sure there are no jaguars and the tiger sharks are long gone. I think her main problem will be insects.

Back on the boat Merel cooks up a feast (last supper) and I lie down to digest it. About 1600 she wakes me up to say goodbye. She won't take a light or the hand-held VHF because she's now Jungle Woman -- impervious to all natural danger and friend to all the island animals. I take a deep breathe, tell myself she's a grown woman and calmly wave goodbye as she rows off.

What a Blast!

Fri, 24 Jun 2022 11:41:10 GMT

We walked out to Mont Carapa, a hill on the outskirts of town, to watch an Ariane 5 rocket put two communications satellites into orbit for the European Space Agency. It was a very relaxed affair with about 500 people on the summit overlooking the space center. There were kids and space buffs as well as a great turn out of yachties, most of whom are frustrated astonauts anyway.

Click here to see pics in the Gallery.

Kourou, French Guyana

Tue, 21 Jun 2022 15:41:00 GMT

We leave Cayenne on 20th June about 1000 on the turn of the tide. There is very little wind and what there is is on the nose so we motor. Once we're out of the channel and have turned north-west the breeze is in our favor and so we reach. It's still very light so we are motor-sailing.

Kourou is a major space center because it is near the equator. The James Webb telescope was launcged from here, and it is used by many European countries, Russia and China. I want to see the launch of an Ariane V rocket carrying Galileo satellites into geostationary orbit. Apparently there are several a good places here from which to watch the launch, although it can be seen and heard as far away as Cayenne.

At 1700 we arrive at the head of the channel into Kourou and start towards the port. It is very shallow, less than 3m, and it's obvious that we are at the bottom of the tide. The chart shows minimum depths of 1.1m. Two catamarans overtake us. They will be ok but there is no way we will make it with our 2m draft so we anchor and wait for the tide to turn. The sea is calm, the breeze is just enough to cool us and we wait for the tide to rise 1m.

At 2000 the tide is now 3.1m -- that's 0.9m higher than when we arrived and should be enough so we're off.

At 2100 we anchored in the Kourou River just off the marina in 6m.

Next day we look around and decide to anchor on the other side of the river so we cross over and re-anchor further upstream. I tell Merel we are in the channel, but she ignores me. In the row boat on the way to shore Red Boat tells us we are in the channel and should move before the locals complain. Merel listens. So we move the boat and anchor behind Yellow Boat. On testing the anchor we drag. We get told by White Boat that we need 50m chain, and I think we are too close to him anyway. Merel doesn't want to anchor in the only safe place, which is a long way from the jetty, upstream from all the other boats. So we re-anchor once again behind Yellow Boat, this time further towards the bank. I am uncomfortable. We are too close to the bank and don't have enough chain out. So I decide to stay on the boat to see how it behaves thru a tide cycle. Maybe I will have more confidence then.

Cayenne, French Guyana

Wed, 15 Jun 2022 11:16:00 GMT

We arrived in Cayenne on Sunday 12 June after a great sail from Lencois, which we left on 8th. We motored into the wind until we reached open sea and could turn north, and downwind. From there on the sailing was great and the sea quite subdued. We’d been warned about an uncomfortable beam swell on this route but it was fine for us.

Cayenne is French and expensive! But it is great to be able to get some internet again and hear what the rest of you are up to! Drop us a line any time.

Check out the latest pics of Sao Luis on the Gallery

Ilha dos Lençois

Sat, 04 Jun 2022 23:14:00 GMT

We arrived in the early hours of 1st June after a gruelling sail into a wind that was much stronger and more northerly than forecast. The seas were not big but short and steep and we had several waves over the saloon and Merel discovered just how badly the front hatch leaks!

But Lencois is wonderful! We are now anchored off the village in the channel between here and the next island. It is very peaceful with a bit of breeze off the sea, flat water and a big tide over 5m with a correspondingly strong tidal current.

Merel set a cracking pace around the island yesterday. We walked almost the entire island in bare feet as it is mostly sand. It took us about 4 hours and we both got some dramatic shots of the dunes, forest and puffy white clouds, towering cumulus and deep blue sky. After, we ate at the smallest restaurant imaginable: one table and a few chairs on a bare concrete porch. The fish was magnificent and the array of traditional side dishes filled our bellies with rice, beans, spaghetti, a flavored ground corn, and a green papaya salad, with beer to wash it down. The tide came in and the dinghy was a long way from shore by the time we left. I just managed to reach it without having to swim.

Today I have internet! So I have uploaded some photos to the Sao Luis Gallery and the Lencois Gallery

We leave tomorrow (Wednesday 6th) for Rio Oiapoque, about 600nm northwest, on the border of Brazil and French Guyana. Maybe we will meet up with some Frenchies there! They seem to be the main nationality of yachts cruising this coast.

Much love from us and please enjoy the photos.

Leaving Sao Luis

Mon, 30 May 2022 23:14:00 GMT

We have made friends here and will be sorry to leave them. Merel, of course, wants to spend the rest of the year exploring Brazil, and it’s tempting – it is a vast rich country that would reward many months of exploration. So why not stay? Well, I expect to return one day to explore further south on my way down to Ushuaia, but that’s a long way in the future.

Tomorrow we extract Anjea from her mud bath at the Marina Avena and make our way back to the anchorage in deeper water just a mile or so from here where we will prepare for the overnight trip up the coast to Ilha dos Lençois, a small settlement between here and the mouth of the Amazon. I expect there will not be any phone or internet, so you will probably hear from us next when we reach Cayenne, French Guyana, in a few weeks time.

Arrived Sao Luis

Tue, 17 May 2022 03:06:00 GMT

We just dropped anchor in the pale light of dawn off the island and city of Sao Luis on mainland Brazil after a good crossing from de Noronha.

Last Post (for a while)

Tue, 10 May 2022 04:01:00 GMT

We lost our Iridium Satellite device overboard on 1 May so there will be no further posts or tracking updates for a while. Sorry about that. Otherwise, all is good and Anjea is in Fernando de Noronha, a laid back tropical resort island about 200nm off the coast of mainland Brazil.

We will be leaving for the Amazon around the 12th and hope to be there around 20th May. More then.

The Alternative Story About How We Lost the Iridium

Tue, 10 May 2022 03:30:00 GMT

On the first of May 2022 things were still going smoothly as ever. On the second of May however our situation took a turn. This is how the story went.

Merel was making pancakes that afternoon while Dave was on his laptop getting ready to send out our daily voyage message and checking our up coming weather. Merel cracked an egg open for the pancake mix but smelt it was a bad one so she threw it out the hatch. Some of the egg slime landed on the deck. Soon after, Dave as normal, puts the little device that keeps us connected to the world on the deck to search for a better signal but it came into contact with the egg slime. He felt something slimy and wet on his fingers while he put the device down. It was the egg slime that caused it to slip. At that moment Dave jumped out of his seat and was on deck in a slit second, just in time to catch it from falling into the sea - he thought.

Right at that moment two flying fish approached at full speed, one hits him in the face and the other hits him on the hand holding the slimy device. The impact distorts his concentration, he losses his grip and once again it falls. He tries to reach for it, it’s only inches away so he calls - Merel, take the helm and stop the boat, I’m going in… He dives in swimming as fast as he can, deeper and deeper into the ocean. He is always just inches away but can never quite reach it.

Suddenly he starts feeling dizzy and very disoriented because he knows he is swimming too deep, much too deep for a human being but he nearly has it in his hand, he can see it so close, so one more time he reaches as hard as he possibly can. He’s got it - He thought. He lets out a big sigh that creates a few big bubbles while he’s coming up to the surface.

Merel has already made a pile of pancakes and is waiting patiently as he comes up beside the boat. He has a tired but happy look on his face and says - I got it! He lifts up his hand to show me but it’s a baby shark looking very confused and a bit ticked off. Dave apologizes profusely and says - please tell your mother I made a terrible mistake…

Gently letting the baby shark go he quickly gets safely into the boat - Phew.

And that is how our situation took a turn. How our Iridium Go gps device ended up on the bottom on the bottom of the middle of the South Atlantic Ocean.

We went back to using our good old fashioned telepathy, our instinct and prayers to Huey the Australian wind god.

The end