Poor Mike. What a night! The wind stays with us so we can sail all night but so do the fishing boats and container ships. He spends his whole watch zigzagging through a veritable armada, changing course all the time. He even sees one of the large container ships go in a complete circle before it goes off in a slightly different direction. Goodness only knows what was going on there!
By the time he feels it is safe to leave his position, it’s nearly 3 am and I’ve had an extra hour of sleep. Good job too. I still feel lousy but it’s just my throat and the hot flushes now.
Feeling really guilty I have to wake Mike a couple of times when fishing vessels come too close but we are not under power, and whizzing along at over 7 knots with full main and genoa out, I am reluctant to alter the course very much in case I screw up.
I am standing in the galley cleaning my reading glasses (please note this, Victoria darling, it does happen eventually) when the wind dies down completely. Then I notice the genoa flapping ominously against the mast and rush over to check the instruments which confirm my suspicions – bloody Samantha, our autopilot, is also having a menopausal hot flush and has gone into standby. I rush outside but by this time we have turned a full 180 degrees and are heading back the way we have come so I drag Mike out of bed and start the engine, leaving him to bring us back on course. Why does she do that every now and then? Once it is all under control, Mike trots off back to bed when his job is done leaving me feeling useless once more. At least I notice immediately this happens now – I just wish I had the courage of my convictions to do something about it rather than running to Mike in a blind panic.
Good winds mean that we sail well during the day getting up to 7.5 knots which is great although we get a nasty squall which brings loads of rain with it when we are about 20 miles south of Recife. After that the wind dies down altogether and we have to motor sail the rest of the way.
I fill the water bottles up while we are still in water that looks clear and clean as I have no intention of doing it nearer civilization. It’s a good job I do – the closer we get to Recife, the murkier the water gets, going from blue, to green to a rather brown colour.
We get the sails down and enter the long channel which leads to the marina. Behind us rain clouds let rip.
The channel down to the marina is probably not the most salubrious part of town. The water is a foul colour (and there’s rather a curious smell which I don’t want to think about) and the shores are lined with derelict buildings interspersed with beautiful churches and colonial buildings just behind and modern high rise apartment blocks. We can see that carnival is beginning to wind down for the day although fire crackers are still going off. Boats come streaming down the channel filled with lots of very merry people, waving and blowing whistles while jiggling around to Brazilian dance music.
Although it’s only 4.30 pm as we arrive in Recife, the skies are so overcast that it feels much later. The channel itself is about a mile long which gives us plenty of time to put the fenders on and attach the hurricane lines which will be needed to hold us in place in the marina. As we approach the marina, I can see huge high rises still being built with a favela on the shoreline just in front, occupying prime real estate space. I bet the occupants of the high rises just love that!
We enter the marina and are directed to the end space next to Basia. There are marina workers in two small boats waiting to take our lines. Paul shouts to me to throw the lines on the starboard side over to them. Throw them over? If you could see our hurricane lines you would know that ‘throwing’ is not an option for me. They are enormous and unbelievably heavy. I hoist one up and manage to roll it over the guard rail where it falls in an ungainly heap in the waiting boat. I nearly go with it!
We do the same with the port line and then they take the final line from the starboard bow over to the pontoon. Jim from Ocean Jasper ties the lines onto the pontoon and we pull them all in tight. We’re in! Back with the family, as Maggie calls out to me.
It’s a strange arrangement here. We are strung out, bows to, 20 feet from the dock. To get to the yacht club you have to get the dinghy down and ride over (although the facilities are meant to be great once you get there). The marina is tidal, and Mike from Basia tells us that once the tide goes out we will be sitting on the bottom in the mud! Mmm. Hopefully that will help coat the bottom in an organic layer of anti fouling!!!
We can see REALLY nasty storm clouds approaching and within minutes the wind starts to howl – then the rain arrives. Leaving Basia’s hosepipe stuck into our tank (the water pressure here is so pathetic it will take hours to fill the tank), we close up all the rain curtains and scuttle inside for a cup of tea. We have no intention of going anywhere tonight.
I change the bed linen, we both have showers, then it’s fillet steak and black truffle infused rice for dinner and a couple of Amarulas. Two episodes of Gavin and Stacey later and it’s bye bye time for Skiplah and me!
Tomorrow, carnival here we come!
Our position is: 08 deg 04 min S, 34 deg 53 min W
Distance so far: 22466 nautical miles
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