Atlantic adventure
Mirela Dokkedal finds paradise across the Atlantic Ocean and is left wanting more...
Igrew up in Romania, far from the Black Sea coast, and when I moved to Denmark I didn’t know a single thing about sailing. I couldn’t even swim. My passion for sailing and the wish for a real ocean voyage came gradually. My husband, Mikael, built us a boat in our back yard – a six-ton LM32 motor-sailer called Blue Dane – and we have been sailing her for the last 20 years.
For our first long cruise we sailed and motored through the European canals and inland waterways to Paris and back. This was in 2000, when our daughter was four years old. From then, we used all our summer vacations and free time to cruise to London, Poland and around the Baltic. But we still longed to cross an ocean.
Time was always the biggest impediment. As we all know, everyday life gets in the way of dreams: work, kids, mortgage and so on... It can be difficult to find the right time to cast off on a long adventure.
Taking action
One rainy, windy and cold November day in 2015, we sat together in our living room with a cup of coffee talking about work, everyday problems and the bad weather outside. We felt tired of the autumn in Denmark, of the triviality in our lives, so suddenly, I asked: “How about sailing across the Atlantic Ocean?”
After a half a minute, my husband said: “You mean now?”
“No. In one and a half year’s time.” “OK,” my husband said. “We have an agreement.”
First we asked our workplaces for permission and were granted one year’s unpaid leave. Next we looked at our boat. Was she ready for a transatlantic crossing?
There’s a view among many sailors that you must have at least a modern 40-footer full of new equipment in order to cross an ocean. On our small home-built motorsailer, the most extravagant equipment was a Pacific Wind Pilot (wind vane steering system), a satellite phone and a
Navionics navigation app installed on an old iPhone 6. As with other interests, you can buy lots of fancy equipment only to find that you cannot afford to leave. Happiness is about following your dreams.
We set sail on 15 July 2017, a cold and unpleasant summer in Europe. It was not until we reached the coast of Spain and Portugal that the weather warmed up, and it wasn’t until we reached the island of Porto Santo, close to Madeira, that we could swim in the sea. I can vividly remember the night watch – two days into the four-day crossing from Portugal to Porto Santo – when the extra layers of clothing and blankets came off and the breeze felt warm. From that night on, we didn’t use our jackets or long trousers for eight months. Just incredible for a Scandinavian!
Before this long voyage, we’d only sailed through the night a couple of
times. But that all changed from the start of this voyage with a 27-hour run down the North Sea, then 72 hours across the Bay of Biscay before spending four days and nights on the Atlantic going to Porto Santo.
Unfortunately, we both got seasick for two days out of the four to Porto Santo, so it was very unpleasant. Thank goodness for the good and stable weather. It’s not fun to get seasick at the same time, especially on night watches but we only had to worry about ourselves and to try and survive. We didn’t feel like eating or drinking. We just wished to wake up in a steady bed and for coffee to taste good again.
Atlantic engine crisis
We were due to set off on our first Atlantic crossing from Cape Verde to Tobago on 29 November 2017, after 12 days in Mindelo harbour. But on the morning of our departure, we discovered that the engine, Fat Bertha, was full of saltwater and snorted like a sick elephant seal when started. I felt so helpless and close to giving up. It’s tough preparing for something so big, such as an Atlantic crossing, only to have to return to port.
Fortunately, after we drained 16lt of oil blended with water from the engine, Mikael discovered and solved the problem, then changed the filters and put 4lt of fresh oil in. The next day we again said goodbye to our new friends in the harbour, and prayed that the engine would behave. It did! We had no more problems from Fat Bertha.
In spite of the unpleasant bout of sickness at the beginning of our journey, I gazed up at the moon and stars and felt total freedom. We’d put our faith in Blue Dane and now a whole world awaited us on the other side of the ocean. The first two to three days after we left São Vicente, Cape Verde, are blurred in our memory. We still felt thrown by the engine problem and extremely tired. We had to get used to life on board, to the boat moving up and down the three or four metre high waves – and to accept that there would be no land in sight for at least two weeks. We couldn’t eat, sleep or settle down, the adrenalin pumped our blood and it was difficult to believe everything was real: we were on our way to crossing the Atlantic!
A long slog
After four days at sea, we saw on the chart that Africa was still very close and felt disheartened. It is a long way to the Caribbean! There was almost no wind for first three days. But like in a fairytale, on the third night, the wind came in, blowing from the right direction with 11-16 knots, and suddenly the spirits lifted on our small boat. With an average speed of five knots, we covered 120 miles per day, quite alright for such a small boat.
After a week of pitch-black nights, the moon rose sending a silver shadow down. I have never seen so many stars, the moon was just amazing and suddenly I felt that we were not alone. There were shooting stars and the atmosphere felt magical.
Our night watch routine saw Mikael go to bed from 8pm until midnight, then I slept until sunrise, when Mikael went back to bed before we ate breakfast together.
I just loved the mornings, especially the hour before sunrise, sat with a cup of coffee and enjoying the birth of a new day. The only sound was the waves breaking behind us and the boat’s hull ploughing through the water.
During the long hours we read books, listened to podcasts or audiobooks, played different games and listened to music. It may sound strange, but it was a little bit boring at times: it was really hot and there was nothing else to do but check the sails, the deck gear and the course, cook and gaze over the ocean.
The highlight of the day was the
‘Each island was unique and their beaches were as wonderful as we’d imagined’
afternoon, when both of us would hunt out something delicious to eat. During this coffee time, sometimes our appetite was not that great, but the ritual was important and took one to two hours, just because we could! We had all the time in the world and kept discovering things we'd forgotten: bags of mixed nuts or chips from Spain; boxes of chocolate cookies from the Canary Islands or cans of pineapple from the Cape Verdes.
After 14 days we ran out of fresh fruit, so canned fruit, chocolate chips and whipped cream from a can tasted like heaven.
The windvane steered the boat so we just had to watch out for other ships, whales or unpleasant things. Especially at night. Fortunately, we did not encounter anything or anybody at all. We were very thankful for the Pacific Wind Pilot, it was our third crewmember and the best piece of equipment we ever invested in.
The boat rolled on every wave, and there were a lot of them, in all directions. Sometimes it felt like living in a tumble dryer and made it difficult to cook, balancing with different ingredients at the same time, pots and pans, then trying to eat properly at the table. We always ended up eating from a bowl using a spoon.
Dancing in the rain
Finally, after 17 days at sea, we caught sight of land just as a rainstorm hit us – the first proper rain we’d seen for several months. It washed yellow sand from the boat, while we danced naked on deck – nothing beats the feeling of fresh water after three weeks of salt baths, stiff hair and baking sun.
We anchored in Pirates Bay near Charlotteville, Tobago, 18 days and 10 hours after leaving the Cape Verdes. What joy and relief! Now, safely anchored to the seabed, with the rainforest close to the beach, it was almost impossible to believe: we had done it! Blue Dane had brought us safely to the destination and I was so proud of my husband for all his hard work in getting us here. We celebrated by jumping in the water, kissing on deck and toasting some questionable red wine that we’d kept on board for this moment.
We celebrated Christmas on Pirates Bay and New Year’s Eve in Grenada. After that, we cruised from island to island from south to north in the Caribbean Sea over the next four months. Each island was unique and their gorgeous beaches were as real and wonderful as we’d imagined.
Among our favourite places were the small islands of The Grenadines. We visited most of them, but will always remember Mayreau, with the most amazing Salt Whistle Bay. When we arrived, we’d been away from home for exactly six months
and felt so lucky to meet some of our sailing friends from Denmark and to celebrate on the beach together.
We decided to have lobster barbecue with cold white wine on an idyllic beach among the tall palm trees looking out over beautiful turquoise water. We bought freshly caught lobsters at a reasonable price and spent the whole evening talking and sharing sailing stories with our friends.
When you are so far away from home, every sailor becomes your friend. Everybody is in the same boat and even though we did ’t sail the exact same route, we met each other several times and shared some wonderful times.
Tobago Cays also has a special place in our hearts. It's a beautiful archipelago of dry reef islands that are very popular – visited by yachts of all sizes. In our LM32 we were able to anchor in just 3m of water and swim ashore to enjoy the uninhabited islands. It is a true paradise for diving and swimming along with sea turtles and beautiful fish. The archipelago is a national park now, and people are not allowed to stay ashore overnight. A few locals come by boat every day and sell food, drinks and souvenirs. They also collect a smaller fee from every anchoring yacht.
Martinique was also special. Most Caribbean islands are independent today, but several French-speaking islands are actually still part of the republic of France.
So three months after crossing the Atlantic it felt a bit surreal to be back in ‘Europe’, able to buy freshly baked baguettes, cheap and fresh meat, cheese, eggs and yoghurt. Suddenly we could use Euros again and the prices were generally more affordable.
On most of the independent islands we were required, upon arrival, to visit two or three offices in order to clear our papers with immigration, police and harbour authorities. This normally only took a few minutes, but due to erratic office hours, sometimes we had to wait for hours or even days to clear in or out. And the costs could be quite unexpectedly high. But on Martinique, the process of checking in or out only took five minutes on a PC (usually placed in a bar or shop by the beach) and cost just r5.
Heading home
We were sorry to leave these wonderful places, but we had to head back to
Europe before the hurricane season started: so on 4 April 2018, we weighed anchor at Marigot Bay on St Martin and headed for the Azores.
Unlike the trip west, the winds and the weather are not as stable and reliable on the return journey to Europe. This time we were at sea for 21 days and during the 2,100-mile voyage to Fajal we encountered calms, gales and everything in between.
Becalming was our greatest worry – being forced to start the engine. Even though we’d bought extra diesel and had 330lt in all, we only had enough engine power for approximately six days. But the weather gods were kind to us and after little wind that first week, we spent the rest of the time sailing with full sails, looking forward to seeing land again.
The north Atlantic in springtime is cold and we experienced one low pressure system after another. The rain started to bother us and suddenly on our way from the Azores to England, a deep depression emerged and the good old Atlantic Ocean greeted us with a two-day storm.
It was three days before we reached the coast of England and I can remember thinking that perhaps we needed reminding that there is more to sailing than peace and quiet, sunbathing and turquoise waters. The dark clouds were heavy, the waves as tall as three-storey houses. The rain whipped down for hours and hours. The boat heeled well over and it was close to impossible to find a place to sleep. Mikael slept on the port side in our single bed, while I tried to sleep in our double bed wrapped up in our extra sail, which acted like a stop block.
Every time I closed my eyes, I saw myself sitting in a western stagecoach, while the wild horses galloped at top speed. I dreamed that I had fallen, unable to reach the reins and stop the horses. The loads, the noises from the ropes and the creaks and groans came from all over the boat at the same time to create a true cacophony. I hoped with all my heart, that the boat would be strong enough to resist the sea.
Then, after a second sleepless night, the sun rose from a calm sea and Mikael went to bed for a long-deserved sleep, while I found a comfortable corner to sip coffee and watch the lonely dance of the waves.
A new record
The storm passed, the boat survived and we were surprised to break our own speed record: 147 miles in one day!
After 11 days on open sea, England came into sight and the only thing we dreamed about was a long, warm bath in Torquay marina.
Yes! We’d made it back to the English Channel and soon we could say that the circle was completed and our year-long adventure was at an end. Now we dream about sailing to South America and maybe around Cape Horn to visit some of the Pacific Islands. If not in our own boat, maybe as crew on another ship.
‘The boat heeled well over and it was close to impossible to find a place to sleep’