High Seas and Hiccups, Surviving the Atlantic, One Wave at a Time.

Ahoy there, dear readers! So, here we are again – it’s time for the second leg of the Atlantic crossing. How exciting, right? Except… it’s me we’re talking about, so naturally, nothing is ever that simple. But buckle up (or tie your lines?), because this is going to be one heck of a ride. Let’s dive into the chaos, the tummy aches, and yes, even some killer whales (no, seriously).

Day 0 – Friday the 17th: The Calm Before the Storm

Oh, Cape Verde, you lovely lot! What a send-off! It was absolutely spectacular – you know, the kind of farewell that makes you feel like royalty sailing away from the throne. Our friends were out on the water, sailing around us, waving like we were in some nautical parade. Spirits were high, and so were our hopes as we locked into our shift patterns, ready for 14 to 19 glorious days of ocean bliss… or so we thought.

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Day 1 – Saturday the 18th: Flap, Flap, Flap

And then, it all went a bit… wrong. The night was an absolute nightmare. The wind had a personal vendetta against us, the sails were flapping around like a toddler in a tantrum, and nothing – I repeat, nothing – worked. We tried every sail configuration known to man: wing on wing, conventional, you name it. Still, all we got was a boat full of cranky, sleep-deprived sailors with sails that refused to cooperate. To top it off, my tummy (Dee´s Tummy) decided to turn into a washing machine on spin cycle. I blamed it on nerves, but honestly, who knows at this point? I wasn’t eating, and when I did, well… let’s just say it didn’t stay with me for long. I managed to drag myself through my watch shifts and then promptly crashed. Day one: not a winner, folks.

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Day 2 – Sunday the 19th: The Parasailor Rises!

Sunday arrived with a little gift from the weather gods – perfect conditions for our parasailor. Up it went, soaring like a majestic bird, giving us a stable sail and smooth cruising. Finally, something was going right!

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Except for me. Still weak, still not eating. There’s nothing glamorous about being ill on a boat in the middle of the Atlantic. I slept, I drank water, I did my shifts… and I slept some more. Day two was basically a blur of misery, punctuated by the beauty of a parasailor doing its thing. Hooray for small wins?

Day 3 – Monday the 20th: Cake Therapy

Good news, everyone: I kept some food down! 🎉 It felt like a miracle. Granted, I was still feeling all the emotions – sad, frustrated, you name it – but I wasn’t on death’s doorstep anymore. I even managed to bake a cake! 🍰 Not that I ate much of it, mind you, but I’m pretty sure my crew appreciated the gesture. After all, cake makes everything better, right? Right?

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Day 4 – Tuesday the 21st: Motoring and Masts

Woke up feeling human again! We lost the wind, which meant motoring – but motoring means sleep! Fewer sails flapping about, fewer people at the helm during night shifts, and a much-needed mood boost for all of us. And hey, on the plus side, everyone got a good snooze. Win-win!

Sailing brings you close to people in unexpected ways, and Lotta and Henrik, the owners of Hilma, became friends we truly cherished. We first met in Las Palmas, sharing laughs and getting to know each other better in Mindelo. So, when a message came through the ARC+ WhatsApp group on November 21st, saying Hilma had been dismasted, our hearts sank.

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Dismasting in the Atlantic is a serious emergency, but what followed was a testament to the incredible camaraderie of sailors. Thanks to Starlink and YB satellite tracking, nearby ARC+ boats quickly reached Hilma and offered support. With fuel canisters provided by others in the fleet, Hilma began the challenging journey back to Mindelo, staying in contact throughout. It was a rough ride against tough currents, but they made it safely.

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This incident was a sobering reminder: one moment, you’re sailing smoothly; the next, you’re in survival mode. The experience reinforced the strength of the friendships and teamwork that carry us through, even on the vast, unpredictable Atlantic Ocean.

Read Henrik and Lotta´s story HERE: Dismasted yacht arrives safely in Gran Canaria

Day 5 – Wednesday the 22nd: Killer Whales, No Big Deal

Picture this: Peter yells that Ian’s fishing off the stern. I’m standing there, gaff in hand, like, “I’m not grabbing anything until I see something, thank you very much.” And the whole crew, in unison, responds with, “That’s what she said!” Cue the laughter. We were basically a floating comedy club at that point.

But then… killer whales. I was reeling in the hand line when I spotted two fins. My heart skipped a beat, and I yelled, “Whale! Whale!” And what do you know – a killer whale surfaces, with its distinctive white line over the eye. I’m pulling in that fishing line like it’s my lifeline, while this massive beauty swims around us, probably just curious about my very colorful lure. I mean, I can’t blame them – it was a pretty snazzy lure.

Day 6 – Thursday the 23rd: Social Butterflies

What’s this? Human contact? After days of seeing no one on the horizon, we suddenly have not one, but two boats to chat with! We helped one of them troubleshoot their satellite email issue, which made us feel like oceanic IT support. You’re welcome, boat people. Also, Michelle made banana muffins from some rather questionable bananas, and let me tell you, they were chef’s kiss.

Day 7 – Friday the 24th: English Breakfast, Sort Of

To mark one whole week at sea, I whipped up an English breakfast. It wasn’t exactly Michelin-star material, but the thought was there. Plus, it’s the Atlantic – we take what we can get. Toast a little burnt? Eh, just pretend it’s “rustic.”

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And that, my lovely friends, brings us to the end of week one. Still alive, still (mostly) sane, and looking forward to what the next week+ of this Atlantic adventure has in store for us. Stay tuned, and may the winds be ever in our favor… or at least not completely against us!