Close Call
Madeira – Lanzarote
October 10, 2024, 8:30 p.m
Madeira’s lights start blurring into the hillsides until they look like fireflies. The sky is pitch black already and the water is, too. At 9.4 knots we rush through the Atlantic, close to the wind, on the port side. 28 knots, at altitudes over 30, put pressure on the sails. Wearing my safety vest in the cockpit, I brace my feet against the table. And my head against the bimini, which billows like a third sail on my neck.
A Manta ray on the Pier
September 28th, 2024
As we disembark in Porto Santo, colorful logos greet us. The harbor pier is covered in ships and sea creatures. Ornate paintings, graffiti of boat names. flags and dates cover the wall. Colors burst from the concrete. Images that have been painted over. By crews at a special point in their lives, before or after a long trip. I wonder where their path has taken them. Whether they found what they were looking for and what they are doing today.
Close to the Fort
Berlenga Grande
September 19th, 2024. 3:00
15 Meters below us, our anchor moves across the rocks. It scratches and drills into my ears. Breaking away is not an option as the cliffs of the Berlengas are within reach. And the wind, although weak, blows constantly towards the island. We don't get much rest that night. At three o'clock, Daniel goes on deck again. He adds a few meters of chain, adjusts our anchor alarm and continues to sleep outdoors for a faster response.
Sailing the Orca Alley
Camarinas - Ribeira
September 6th, 2024. 12:40
The sky is overcast at our anchoring in Camarinas. Rain is hammering on the dusky-grey ocean and on our Bimini. It’s only 15 degrees Celsius outside. We are surprised how cold it’s in Spain in the beginning of September. In my raincoat, I lift the anchor of our sailboat Asja and hope that she’ll get through the day without any trouble. It’s not a given, as we are sailing Orca Alley.