Crossing the Pond - Part 3

After spending four days exploring the solid ground of Faial we decided it was time to pull anchor and start again before we lost our sea legs.  Plus, the boys had somehow managed to both get into trouble so it was none too soon to depart.  William had a bounty on his head after knocking over a light post in the city park during one late night of drunken amusement.  It may have been me but we all agreed to blame William.  And Filip was blamed for impregnating 2 women, a goat (male), and a post office box all in the same night.  Aside from the seemingly scientific marvel he had pulled off, we found it best to leave at once.

We left the cramped docks of Horta on June 1, 2012 just around noon with about a weeks worth and 1,300 nm of sailing ahead of us which felt like a mere day trip after the 2+ weeks it took to get to the Azores.  Our sail back to the open ocean started under blue skies as we passed Pico, the island just east of Horta and probably the most picturesque with its perfectly conically shaped peak and just a feathering of clouds drifting lightly across its top.  Below is a short video proving our whereabouts, that being the ocean, and that I was allowed to helm the boat as long as Paul's watchful eye was nearby;)

The sail east kept the wind to our backs but it was still shifty both in speed and direction forcing us off the rum line and to run the motor more than we would have liked.  Both before the Azores and after we were accompanied by large pods of dolphin which was always a delight and got everyone up on deck.  They played in front of the bow teasing the boat onward as we looked them in the eye letting them know we were happy for the visit.  Once they had had enough, they were gone just as fast as they arrived.  One day instead of a pod of dolphins, we were surrounded by a pod of massive tuna, almost the size of dolphins.  Obviously not as playful as the dolphins but they stayed with the boat for a good while however not long enough to catch one.

Probably the most memorable encounter, for Paul at least, occurred one early morning just as the sun was rising and he was alone towards the end of his shift.  A hump back whale came up just meters from the side of the boat unnoticed until it exhaled from its blow-hole giving Paul quite the wake up call before it dove back down to the depths below.

With time on our hands during slow days I wrote a message in a bottle and tossed it overboard about 32  N, 61 W so if you are in the area keep on the alert.  There may be a reward if found and by 'may' I mean there isn't.

Unfortunately there is no audio but we were playing 'Message in a Bottle' by Sting.
At least I was in my head while trying to not fall overboard.

At times there was no wind at all and Paul cut the engine so we could have a dip and say we had swum in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean with thousands of feet of water below us.  The 18 C (64 F) water temp was a big difference from the 28 C (84 F) water temp we last enjoyed in St Martin so we didn't stay in for too long.

Filip holding on to the boat since he can't swim.  The swim mask is for his sensitive eyes.

We all felt like old hands on the boat and everyone knew their part well.  However a story about crossing the ocean wouldn't be a good story without at least one problem.  Our's turned out to be the forward toilet.  For a few days we had noticed it wasn't flushing correctly and actually backfilling.  Luckily we were on downwind with the boat flat.  Had we been on upwind heeled over even the slightest it would have made quite the mess.  We began to trouble shoot the problem and to my great fortune all the plumbing for the forward toilet lies behind the panels in the v-berth, where I had taken up residence.  There had been a slightly foul odor I had noticed on occasion but Filip and William were both in the small room next to mine so I figured it was just from them.  However, after taking apart most of the v-berth we found our problem.  The overboard pipe had a small outflow of black water at one of its fittings which meant we had a clog somewhere in the system.

On a side note, whoever designed a boat to have so many small screws holding on so many large panels obviously never intended for them to be taken off, much less while at sea.  This should have been our first sign of what was in store.

Well after we banged on every pipe, fitting, and tank in sight we also realized that the clog had been there for some time because the holding tank was also filled to the gills hence the leakage from the fitting and the back flow into the toilet.  We all stared at the pipes for a good while hoping they would say something like, "Well boys, we can see you have put in a good effort already to find the problem so we will go ahead and fix ourselves otherwise it's going to get really messy."  Unfortunately not a word from the pipes was to be heard.

Once realization struck us as to what had to be done, we looked around for any volunteers.  None were to be found.  Fixing this on solid ground would have been a job in itself but on the forward end of sailboat while underway in the middle of the ocean added an entirely new level of consternation.  So Filip and I donned gloves, masks, life jackets, and any other protective wear we could find while Paul oversaw the operation and William was at the helm all the happier to extend his shift while we did the dirty work down below.  To do this we had to disconnect a meter long hose which had one end connected to the holding tank that was full and the other end that went overboard through a hole in the floor well below the water line.  Both ends posed severe problems.  The end connected to the holding tank we knew was back filled and would be extruding extremely black water as soon as we disconnected it.  The other end we had to make sure wasn’t damaged as it was below the water line and we would have had a 6 foot high water spout inside the boat.  In case you aren’t aware, any type of water spout is bad inside a boat while at sea or otherwise.  The only things that should have water spouts are narwhales and hot thermal geysers, neither of which should be inside a boat.

At this point, I think everyone gets the picture so I'll leave out all the gruesome details.  We managed to get the hose off, get the clog out, get the hose back on, empty the holding tank, and restore the toilet to its nominal working condition without sinking the boat or turning the v-berth into a sewage treatment facility.  Luckily we had filmed the entirety of our operation and sent it off to Phoenix College online where Filip and I were awarded honorary degrees in plumbing at sea.  Definitely going on my resume.  Now all that was left to do was sail the boat to Gibraltar and not clog any more toilets.

As we drew closer to the Straight the ship traffic picked up immensely and the sailing became a bit rough but soon enough land was in sight.  The tide and wind were both with us as we sailed on through the Straight of Gibraltar with Europe to our north and Africa to our south.  For the ancient Mediterranean sea-farers sailing west, this straight marked the end of the world and was known as the Pillars of Hercules marking the farthest west Hercules traveled to perform his twelve labors.  For us it marked the completion of our eastward journey across the Atlantic Ocean.  We hugged the Spanish coastline and soon had the Rock of Gibraltar in our sights standing alone like a welcoming centurion.  We arrived safely in the calm waters below Gibraltar on the morning of June 9, 2012.  Twenty-seven days and 3000 nm after leaving St. Martin our transatlantic crossing was an unforgettable success.

Cheers to Filip, William,  and Paul for an amazing journey.

Both local and foreign boats fill the docks under the protection of Gibraltar.

Unfortunately this was the getting off point for William and myself but not the final resting spot for New Dawn.  We said our goodbyes knowing we had made the trip of a lifetime together.  William went to catch a plane while Filip stayed on for a few more days and helped Paul get the boat to Mallorca and then he had to jump ship as well.  The only one who had time and leisure enough to sail New Dawn to her final destination in the South of France was her owner and skipper, Paul.  After spending some time in Mallorca getting a few things fixed up, he made the final few day-sails alone in somewhat rough conditions until both boat and captain were settled in at their home port.

Back at Gibraltar, the timing also worked out well as Crystal was en route to Nigeria to start her Doctors Without Borders work and was able to stop in Spain on her way there.  Somehow with just the not so accurate gps location from my Spot Tracker she was able to locate where our boat was anchored and was waiting on shore all smiles when our dinghy pulled in.  It was great to see a welcoming face and warm smile on the other side of the pond.

Crystal and I just a had a few days together in the area before she departed so we spent most of the time exploring Gibraltar.  You would think that it wouldn't take that long to explore a large rock but to our pleasant surprise there was much more to see there than expected.  Those are my favorite kind of places.

The Rock of Gibraltar is a pinnacle of limestone that juts 1,400 ft above the sea below it.  As one would assume it gave a mighty advantage for military dominance to whomever commanded its precipice being that it guarded the entrance to the Mediterranean and has changed hands countless times throughout history.  The final country to lay claim to it  was Britain in 1704 although their authority over the Rock was not without contest.  During the 18th century both French and Spanish forces tried unsuccessfully to reclaim Gibraltar as their own with their 14th and final attempt known as the Great Siege lasting from July 1779 to February 1783.  The tunneling and vantage point of the British forces were too much for any imposing force to overcome.

This was not the last of the tunnels to be carved through the Rock.  At the peak of World War 2, in preparation to defend Gibraltar from a German invasion that never happened, enough space was carved out to hold 16,000 men.  The British military brought in Canadian miners who specialized in removing limestone to dig out close to 36 miles of tunnels most of which are abandoned and off limits today but nonetheless an amazing feet in size and scope.

Just the beginning of endless tunnels some large enough to fit easily fit an 18-wheeler.

Crystal saluting her fellow country men who were really good at digging holes into rocks.

While these tunnels were being dug out, the miners stumbled upon a vast natural cave system that became known as St Michael's Cave.  So large and beautiful that a full concert theatre has been built in one of its chambers that holds the annual Miss Gibraltar Beauty Pageant along with weddings, concerts, parties, and in the past duels.  Reservations must be made years in advance to book this one of a kind venue.  No refunds on duels no matter the outcome.

The amphitheater of St. Michael's Cave.  I am somewhere in this picture .... I think.

No matter how one gets to the top of Gibraltar, whether it is by car, foot, tram, of hot air balloon, you are immediately greeted by a welcoming troop of Barbary Macaques.  These are the only primates that are known to reside in Europe.  (I could insert a joke here about the French or Italians but I will refrain.)  Their numbers have fluctuated drastically over the years however thanks to a legend that reads if the Macaques should ever die out completely, whoever controls Gibraltar shall lose it, Winston Churchill set up a nature reserve in 1942 on top of the Rock to ensure the declining population again proliferated.  Now the Macaques are so thick and have become so accustomed to tourists that the later are used as playground equipment when the monkeys are playing about.    

The British Flag, Gibraltar Flag, and Barbary Macaques greet you at the top.

The primates - takes one to know one.

Pondering the swim back home to Africa in the distance.

Two tourists take advantage of the view from up top with Spain spanning the horizon to the north.

Once we had our fill of monkeys, caves, and breathtaking 360 views, we headed back down into town where there was even more going on.  Apparently it was the Queen's Diamond Jubilee year.  I'm not really sure what that meant but it seemed to have thrown the citizens of Gibraltar into quite a frenzy.  They were quite keen on having the town decorated in so much British decor that it appeared the buildings had vomited a flag, banner, or anything with blue and red on it, underwear included, out of every high-rise window and taped on every store front.  We weren't getting a visit from the royal highness herself but from what I understood the just slightly less royal Earl and Countess of Wessex were coming in her place.  Once they arrived and toured the narrow streets, the town went off in a crescendo of excitement only to be compared to something one would see at a monster truck rally championship in America.  It also seemed to give the local Brits a reason to dress their children up and wear even odder clothes than usual.

I assumed their was somebody famous in this photo.

 Hopefully it's obvious who dressed for the occasion. 

One-sies are acceptable in wrestling, figure skating, KISS,
and apparently if royalty is in town.

After these few days, we felt we had conquered most of Gibraltar including a fantastic meat pie and were both ready to begin the next leg of our journey into Africa.  Crystal to Nigeria and myself to Morocco.

Cheers,
JB

Looking across the Straight to our next destination, Africa.

Post-Script:  Here is the proper way to wear a one-sie if dressing up as KISS for Halloween or any other festive occasion including trips to the grocery store for doughnuts and sun tan lotion.