Position 16:56.64N 026:54.95W
PASSEPARTOUT
Christopher & Nirit Slaney
Thu 23 Dec 2010 14:46
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I had long imagined how it would be the day we finally
set off for the long trans-Atlantic leg. I could picture the scene on the dock
as we took on board last minute fresh provisions and fuel. I could picture the
weather. Perhaps some sailing friends would be there to see us off. But how
would I feel? Would I be confident or apprehensive?
In the end our last morning in Mindelo was very hectic
and none of us had much time to examine our emotions. Nirit and Gabriella
set off early for the market while Shmulik and I made a circuit of
every bolt, screw, split pin and shackle above decks, most needed some degree
of tightening. We then went ashore to look for a gaff or net with which
to land all the big fish we hope to hook. The two fishing equipment stores
we were directed to had nothing. Shmulik then noticed a fellow selling
second-hand shoes and cheap watches on the sidewalk, he appeared to be
guarding the entrance to a room where we could just make out some huge
floats and rope. We made our enquiries and he sent us to a nearby
bar, 'The door is locked but knock, my friend has what you look
for'.
We knocked but no-one came. A green and yellow monkey
watched us from the roof. Someone must have seen us and sent for the owner who
ushered us inside to a small well stocked bar which also displayed some fishing
tackle between the Johnnie Walker and the espresso machine. We conversed in
a poor French but only when I drew a diagram of a gaff did we get on
the same wavelength. It seems gaff in Creole (or French?) is 'crook',
which is interesting as this is an old English word for a stick carried by a
shepherd which looks pretty much like a gaff.
However, he had no gaff nor did he know where to find
one.
I drew a fishing net attached to a hoop on a handle.
"Wait five minutes," the bar owner told us and took off on a mission. He
was soon back carrying a length of good quality net which we agreed to
buy. But what about a hoop, and how would we fix it to a
handle?
Back at the second-hand shoe seller we rummaged
through his dark room full of junk until we found a metal hoop used to
seal the top of a polyurethane drum. For a moment I thought I'd
also found a spare fan belt for our generator, such was this Aladdin's cave,
but it was just a few millimeters too wide.
Armed with net, hoop and running out of time, we stormed
into an ironmongers, confident he would have some type of handle and a clamp.
The ironmonger had neither interest in our plight nor enough sense to
recognize two fools on a mission imagination with more money than
sense. But luck, or the patron saint of fishermen, sent someone our way.
Another customer in the shop beckoned us to follow him and we ended up in
some kind of public building, perhaps a theatre, undergoing a major
refurbishment. Stepping carefully through the brick dust and plumbing supplies,
we shook hands with a young man in dark overalls; a welders mask by his
side announced his trade. I showed him the net hoop, diagram,
mimicked landing a hooked fish and he got the message straight
away.
The welder rummaged about in the debris of the building
site until he found some metal pipe. We agreed it was good pipe but needed
shortening. Within minutes the pipe was cut, the sharp edges ground down
and welded to the hoop with a couple of strengtheners. What
I would call a proper job.
Back on the dock Nirit and Gabriella had
organized additional fresh water and were getting paperwork in order for the
Cape Verde immigration authorities. Passports stamped, goodbyes exchanged
with other crew, I made a short speech about safety on board and then we
were at the fuel jetty.
The last outsider we saw before setting off for the
Caribbean was a friendly young Cape Verdean in charge of the fuel pump. He
helped us tie up, turned up the gospel music and waited patiently while we
took on a quarter ton of diesel and added careful measures of biocide. He was
sporting a smart back baseball cap emblazoned with "Valkyrie" and a maple
leaf which I recognized as having come from a beautiful Canadian yacht we'd
seen up close in Las Palmas a couple of weeks ago. I wished I had
some memento from Israel or the yacht to give him. In the end I thanked him
with a can of ice cold beer.
We waved, he smiled, and we shot out of Mindelo harbour
into the 25 knot wind funnel that seems to be a constant feature of the
channel between Sao Vicente and the neighboring island of San Antoa. Nirit and
Gabriella hugged, Shmulik was at the helm and I just wanted to look back at
Mindelo in the late afternoon sun. It was a memorable visit and I would
recommend the Cape Verdes to anyone sailing
this route.
Twenty four hours later and all is well on board.
The night was a little uncomfortable as current meeting swell made it difficult
to stay in the bunk. The wind is a brisk breeze from the north east
and we are being gentled along at 5.5 knots. Today we are still settling
down into the routine of passage making, tomorrow we try out the
net!
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