From our last quick fuel stop in Cherbourg, it took us four days to cross the Bay of Biscay and reach the small fishing harbour of Cap Finistere, Spain, on November 5. We made a brief stop of just two hours there. Though the harbour was as picturesque as one would expect, we had to set sail again quickly to stay on schedule for Tenerife.
The south-eastern winds stayed steady and smooth (at least for this day), allowing us to make decent progress, but the next hurdle didn’t take long to show up. Just before 11 o’clock that night, our autopilot became a bit too autonomous, forcing us to continue the journey without it. For a two-person crew, that meant the concept of "shifts" went straight overboard.
With the winds increasingly decreasing, this leg turned into a round-the-clock shuffle: setting the sails, taking them down again, firing up the engine when things got too quiet, and then getting the sails back up... It wasn’t until the night of Sunday, November 9, that the winds finally showed some mercy and picked up. Shifting to a north-easterly breeze at 3-4 Beaufort, it let us settle into some steady sailing. A much-needed relief, to say the least!
After ten days of almost non-stop sailing (aside from our two quick stops in Cherbourg and Cap Finistere), we were absolutely wrecked. Running on just 3-5 hours of sleep per day, we were feeling completely exhausted. At that point, seeing the island of Porto Santo on the horizon, rising out of the sea between the clouds, lit by the moon and city lights, felt almost like a Fata Morgana. It looked so surreal, like a mirage of relief floating before us.
It took us a while to realize that what we were seeing on the horizon wasn’t a celestial transition, where the moon and the sun set and rose almost simultaneously. It was the moon rising, accompanied by the city lights of the small island in the Portuguese archipelago of Madeira, shining over the few thousand inhabitants.
We docked at the only port Porto Santo has on the island’s south-eastern side at midnight. To our surprise, the harbour was completely packed with boats. At first, we tried to dock sideways at the only empty spot on the pier, but the winds were so unfavourable that our fenders would probably have lasted less than a few hours before popping, which is why we ended up docking sideways on the leeward side of a bigger sailing yacht.
Despite our best efforts to dock as silently as possible and avoid disturbing other sailors, the skipper of the boat we were tying up next to woke up. Still in his boxers, he stormed out, yelling and threatening to cut our lines if we didn’t move away. We politely ignored his threats, explained that we hadn’t had proper sleep in days, and headed straight to our bunks for some much-needed rest, leaving Captain Grim Boxers to shake his fists at the moon.
Who would have thought that this beautiful little island, mainly reached by ambitious sailors leaving their little fingerprint stamps on the concrete harbour walls - embellishing them with colour and their hidden sailing stories - would surprise us with such a negative encounter?
The drama didn’t end with our midnight encounter, though. Oh no, our dear boat neighbour, showing zero regard for the journey we’d just completed to reach this port, returned in the morning with reinforcements: the boat’s owner and her self-appointed “bodyguard.” Their grand entrance, complete with more shouting and threats, shook us out of the little sleep we’d managed to grab. Trying to calm them down and explain that we didn’t have much of a choice only made things worse, escalating to the point where we had to involve the local police. That must’ve been quite the show for this otherwise quiet little harbour!
The one day we had decided to take for some rest ended up being a mixture of autopilot-fixing attempts and arguments. What a perfect way to spend our "day off"... In any way, our stop in Porto Santo was the epitome of failure - no autopilot fixed, no proper rest, but hey, not everyone is blessed with an understanding of good seamanship. At least we got a nice and cheap cup of coffee for 1,10€.
On the morning of Monday 11, we decided we’d had enough. Since we were missing some key parts to fix the autopilot, we needed to head to a larger port with access to supplies. So, we set sail again, steering a course of 180°, straight for the port of Santa Cruz de Tenerife.
Being back on the water, sailing away from all the negativity we’d encountered, brought some tired but genuine smiles to our faces. No hard feelings, Porto Santo, we’d definitely pay you another visit. Next time, though, we might even consider reserving a spot in the port to avoid any other dramas.
First, though, let’s head straight to Tenerife to meet the rest of the crew and get everything shipshape for our Atlantic crossing. Stay tuned, pirates!
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