Someone once told me that on the Atlantic the waves are powerful, but very long. We haven't noticed anything of that yet. The waves are much higher than in the Mediterranean and mostly come from northeast to southwest, but due to the many squalls in the tropical zone off the north coast of South America, this swell is overlaid by wind waves coming from all directions. The result, a mad witch's cauldron of waves up to four meters high, at six to eight second intervals. Coping with 18 to 25 knots of wind is usually no problem, but enduring such a wave for almost five days requires mental strength, because there is practically nothing you can do about it.
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| Les Hatters Maroni River |
But back to the starting position. We are off Les Hatters in the Maroni River, about five nautical miles from the open Atlantic. The channel is buoyed because the river is very shallow at the mouth. Numerous fishing boats are the death of the fish, and if you're not careful, the sailor as well. I think it is called a maneuver of the last moment, when you avoid an obstacle at the very last second. In our case, the obstacle is a fishing net about one nautical mile long, in the middle of the 100-meter wide channel. It is unmarked and can only be recognized by the floats on the water surface. With the water running out, we let ourselves be pulled out to the open sea. Since the channel is very narrow we run under engine. Shortly before noon the sun is already quite high and the light is glistening. At the last moment, more out of the corner of my eye, I see a float, like the ones on a fishing net. I still think to myself "now you see white mice already in broad daylight. A fishing net in the middle of the fairway, that can't be." The eye wanders from port to starboard, discovers two more swimmers directly in front of us. So no white mice but bitter reality. I throw the rudder around and make an almost 360° turn. Driving along the net I have to leave the fairway and get further and further into low water. According to the plotter this can even be problematic for our catamaran. We find the last float and head for the open sea again. Barely a mile further, the same game. Again a net blocks our progress. Again we sail almost a mile along the net until we finally reach open water. First we head for Barbados to avoid getting too close to the Venezuelan coast. This is a 100 mile detour, but since we have read about pirate attacks, we want to avoid this part of the coast. We also hope to avoid the fishing boats by keeping a greater distance. Since the coastal waters off South America are very shallow, the fishermen have to go far out, so boats keep appearing on our course line, especially at night. Due to the piracy problem, on almost the whole crossing, the AIS and the tracker are switched off. Thus we are not recognizable as a sailboat even for the fishermen at night, which means double attention for us. At the beginning the wind is still at a moderate 15 knots, during the night it freshens up and never drops below 18 knots during the 5 days. In the peak we are with 25 knots, which helps us again to a new etmal record. With an Etmal of 169 nautical miles and an average of 7 knots of speed over ground, we achieve a new best performance. Only the wave brings us physically and mentally to our performance limits, which brings me to the realization that boats that get into distress and drift for years on the sea were not abandoned because of the wind, but because of the wave. This is a not insignificant aspect, because we sailors always give more importance to the wind than to the wave in weather forecasts, and wave forecasts are also much more inaccurate and imprecise. In any case, we have learned again during this crossing and will give more importance to the wave in the trip planning. Annoyed by the waves slapping against the ship's side again and again and the extremely unpleasant ship movements caused by them, we set course for Carriacou 50 nautical miles before the planned waypoint. The island under the wind belongs to Grenada, but is much smaller.
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| The Costa Guard visit us |
On the fourth day a ship stops directly towards us. It is the Coast Gard from Trinidad and Tobago. A stone falls from our hearts. Questions about the ship and the crew are answered over the radio. Also the question about the expected arrival to the destination is checked again the next day. Somehow this visit has given us a safe feeling. We reach Carriacou after 109 hours and 40 minutes, having spent two days in the tropical rainforest. For the 664 miles covered, the average speed over ground is 6.1 knots, which would have been much higher if we had skipped the jungle, but we are not participating in a regatta.
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| Tyrell Bay Carriacou |
In Tyrell Bay we look for an anchorage in the northern part, according to the harbor master's instructions, and wait for the clearance for tomorrow. How it all works you can read next week in our blog on www.glenswelt.com. Until then, we wish you all, fair wind and keep a stiff upper lip. We would like to thank all of you who have accompanied us throughout the year and read the blog from time to time. We wish you all a merry Christmas. Stay healthy and have fun in life.
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