Badger Heads South Again

We left our winter berth in Skippool Creek, Fleetwood on the May Bank Holiday weekend. There was a gale-force warning in force, but then there usually is, and anyway, the tides would be falling soon, and we wanted to get off while we could. Twelve hours later, we were hove to off the Isle of Man in a steady force 8. The sea was reasonably flat, being in the lee of the island, but I am pleased and still astonished to be able to report that our brave little junk beat into it and tacked when required.

Attempts at anchoring proved a failure, so we ran back into the Irish Sea and hove to until the worst had passed. We made sail again the following morning and dodged a dirty night of it by anchoring under the Mull of Galloway and then made our best speed up to the Isle of Arran.

Another Gale was chasing us, and we spent an entertaining couple of hours beating up and down in an effort to find somewhere to anchor, the only available space being occupied with moorings. Eventually, we managed to find a spot amongst the moorings where we could drop the hook and lay gratefully to two anchors while another force 9 blew itself out.

We spent the summer exploring the Inner and Outer Hebrides. The sunny skies coincided with a noticeable lack of wind. Anchored in Loch Leurbost, Isle of Lewis, we were lucky enough to be joined by Ron Glas. Needless to say, we hurried over to our guru’s lovely schooner and Jock McLeod and his cousin, John Dent made us very welcome.

Jock was interested to hear about our new mast wedging system. On the subject of battens, Jock said that he had broken quite a number, usually on a quartering reach in plenty of wind. He has a low-aspect-ratio rig and thus quite long battens. Ron Glas is apparently very stiff, too, and Jock reckoned that the loading on the battens was extremely high. Badger is quite tender and has a high-aspect-ratio rig. Perhaps that explains why we manage to keep our battens intact.

A few days later, we were anchored in the South Harbour of Fladday Island, which was reported kelp-free in our CCC directions, but as we discovered, it now has kelp growing. Whilst there, we had the misfortune to be hit by the worst Summer gale in living memory, and we dragged two anchors back through the kelp like they didn’t even exist. We had endeavoured to get a large folding fisherman's anchor that we had seen on the Plastimo stand at the Boat Show. The 20-kilo anchor had large flukes, but unlike most fisherman's anchors had arms that folded as well as a removable stock.

We had sent off our cheque but had received no anchor by the time we left Skippool. Apparently, they were no longer making these anchors, and the chandlers were more than a little tardy about returning our money. The upshot was that we had no decent fisherman on board; thus in Fladday, we were now drifting backwards towards the rocky foreshore.

Fortunately for us the larger rocks had been cleared and a mussel bed had been constructed. It was a close thing though. Badger grounded literally six inches from the mussel bed, where she sat for four hours while the tide went out and came back in again. Our guardian angel was keeping an eye on us that day though, for sharing our anchorage was an ex RNLI lifeboat.

He floated a buoy down to us, to which we attached every piece of nylon line we had on board, a good few hundred feet. The skipper was superb and pulled Badger off like a fisherman playing a salmon. With the two lifeboat anchors down, he wasn’t going anywhere, and his hydraulic winch made nothing of Badger’s weight. As we turned through 90°to be pulled off the rocks, there were the most unpleasant grinding noises and an ominous snap, but we didn’t appear to be making any water. We eventually came off, and the skipper suggested we stayed tied to him for the night. We gratefully accepted.

Poor Badger had been sadly mauled by the rocks so we found an excellent little boatyard at Balvicar on Seil Island, near Oban where Nick and his wife Sheila could not have been kinder. Badger was hauled out, and we were hauled off for hot baths and meals. Nick lent us tools and a generator, ferried us back and forth to Oban, gave us some anti-fouling that was ‘left over’ and charged us very little for all that he did. She had two bad holes gouged into her topsides. Neither had gone right through, though the centre of one of the holes had just one laminate of wood left to go!

We worked our way South to Falmouth to prepare for our crossing to Portugal. We had the Shell Guide to the South Coast aboard (bought for us incidentally by Aubrey Hinchliffe). Examination of this made us think that we could probably find somewhere to anchor up the River Fal. We screamed up the River like a scalded cat. Once into the River proper the wind dropped away, cut off by the banks, and we rounded a bend to be confronted by the sight of huge ships laid up. We anchored and waited there a couple of days while the tail end of Hurricane Charlie rampaged about and then went North. Returning to Falmouth, we heard that those on moorings had a most unpleasant time, while we had been comparatively comfortable. Thanks Aubrey.

Charlie was sitting in the North Sea sending North winds down, so we decided to take the opportunity and set off towards Portugal on 28th. August at 14.15. We carried our fair wind all the way to Lagos, where we anchored at 03.00 On 5th. September, 890 miles later. Badger’s best passage yet.

We stayed in the Algarve until the 6th October and I can’t recommend it highly enough. We found lots of delightful anchorages along the South Coast, most of which had only a few boats in. Vilamoura was very hot and sticky and the formalities the worst we’d experienced. Clearing in and out of every harbour was a little tedious, but good practice, as it seems to be the rule in a lot of countries.

We had the wonderful experience of sailing up the Guadiana River, the highlight of our stay in Portugal. One carries the tide up the river and chooses a spot to anchor for the night. We went up on Spring tides and even this had its advantages as it enabled us to select some stout bamboos for our awning! I would suggest that anyone going near the Algarve should go there and visit even consider it as somewhere to winter.

From Portugal, we decided that we ought to sail off to Morocco, never having been to Africa. With Tangiers as our destination we set off on 8th. October and got becalmed. However, we eventually arrived intact and found that the officials were, once again, quite charming. We’d been warned that they expected a little present, but ‘our officer’ was so impressively correct that I would never have dared even to suggest it, and it obviously never crossed his mind to ask for anything.

The Harbour area of Tangier is a closed area, and only those holding passes are allowed in or out. The whole area is patrolled by armed police and your yacht is perfectly safe there. There were only about half a dozen yachts there when we arrived. Once out of the harbour gates we were accosted by touts and had a continual struggle to convince them that we didn’t want their assistance and had no wish to visit their father’s/brother’s/cousin’s/uncle’s shop - no not even to look - “it costs nothing to look”.

We did some shopping and left. We anchored in Arrecife Harbour, Lanzarote, at 23.15 on 18th October. Arrecife was windy and crowded, so we sailed down to Playa Blanca. Whilst there we saw an 83’ yacht coming out of the marina to anchor near us. Two people got into the inflatable and headed towards us. “Perhaps they’re coming to visit us”, we joked. To our astonishment, they came alongside. “Hello!” they said, “We’ve got a junk, too”. They turned out to be John and Lana Campbell, who were acting as Skipper and Cook on the 83-footer, earning some money while Papilio Rojo waits for them in Baltimore. I think they are looking forward to getting back to their own boat. We followed their progress through some friends who listened to them on a ham radio. Due to light winds, they had to motor all the way across the Atlantic.

From Lanzarote we sailed to the fish harbour near Santa Cruz de Tenerife. The last time we had been there was in October 1975, when it had been full of Korean fishing boats and oil. Now it is completely transformed. Instead of a rough breakwater, there is now a smooth concrete wall along which yachts can tie. The water is fairly clean and there is not a single Korean fishing boat to be seen. Apparently, they have now fished out the waters around the Canaries so have gone to despoil elsewhere.

The harbour is pretty well ideal for yachts. It’s sheltered from most directions and on the bus route to Santa Cruz, where the supermarkets are only too happy to deliver your provisions back to your boat. As ever, when alongside there is the risk of invasion from animals of one kind or another, but in a smaller boat like Badger, chances are you’d be outside a larger boat anyhow. What’s more, they are the poor devils who will take all the dust and grit as well as having to bear the brunt of fending off the wall. There’s a lot to be said for small boats. As ever in the Canaries, there is a wonderful feeling of friendliness among the “yachties” .

We moved down to Los Christianos which was appallingly overcrowded. In the 14 days that we spent there we anchored a total of seven times in an effort to be right for the wind, the other yachts, the swell and the commercial traffic. Arriving the next day in Santa Cruz de la Palma was like coming home. Unhappily, the yacht club no longer welcomes foreign yachts. A new wall has been built so that some yachts can go alongside. The area in which one can anchor in comfort is somewhat restricted now. Being fairly small we wriggled into a nice little spot, put out three anchors and sat smugly watching the big yachts struggle to find somewhere.

We left the next day, relieved to be going to sea and away from the awful congestion that is the Canaries in the Autumn. The fact that so many boats are so big these days exacerbates the problem, as the harbours fill up even faster. Shoal draft might help a little, but there doesn’t really seem to be a solution to the problem, which is basically too many boats. Still, we had a lot of fun there and met a lot of fine people.

We set off in ideal conditions, with mainly easterly Force 3. The first day's run of 125 miles was followed by one of 140 and we were on our way. The worst day's run was 110 miles and the best 160. We did the passage to Granada, 2842 miles in 22 days. Indeed, Badger would have done it in less than that but her crew decided that enough was enough and we reefed down to keep the speed below six knots in order to stay a little more comfortable. The Trades set in early this year, and we’d have done well to have taken the rhumb line rather than our usual Southern detour to ‘find the Trades’; apparently they were less vigorous further North, whilst we had the occasional Force 6.

We arrived in Grenada on 14 December and spent a pleasant time there over Christmas and the New Year, day sailing back and forth along the South Coast. We found Grenada friendly and uncrowded, except in Prickly Bay and St. George’s. Even so there was plenty of room to anchor. Theft sadly, is a problem. However, we are amazed at how many people will leave their boats unlocked; although one can never justify thieving leaving one’s boat wide open does nothing to discourage it. Inflatables and outboards seem to be target number one.

From Grenada we set off to Venezuela. We sailed from Grenada to the islands of Los Testigoes off Venezuela. We had obtained our visas for Venezuela while in Grenada but as there is a consulate in Grenada it is perfectly feasible to make a last minute decision to visit the country. We went to Pampatar on Margarita in order to enter, visiting the Customs and Police. We were then told to visit the Port Captain and Immigration, who were about a mile and a half away on the other side of the town. We did our visiting in the right order, which is essential in Venezuela, as the Customs give you a piece of paper which has to be given to the Port Captain.

Our Portuguese experience helped us along with my rudimentary Spanish. Generally speaking, the Venezuelan Officials speak no English, so that it is more than advisable to learn a little of their language. Once again, the officials were extremely pleasant. Whilst we were there, we heard that some people had been asked for bribes, but our own experience was that everybody just seemed to want to do the job that was required of them.

Margarita was quite an introduction to Venezuela. At the time there were about 33 Bolivars to the pound sterling, 22 to the dollar. Prices are just mind-bogglingly cheap. We took a “por puesto”, a mini cab that stops on demand, into Porlamar, a trip of some 5 miles for 9p and walked round the town, reeling at the realisation that we were suddenly rich.

From Pampatar we sailed to Coche and found a wonderful beach full of shells. Then we worked our way towards Laguna Grande in the Gulf of Cariaco. We stayed there for a week, enjoying the beauty of the amazing desert landscape and, more prosaically, getting the varnishing done. We climbed up the nearby hill and gazed around at sea and desert and sea again. It was a wonderful spot and we decided to return.

From Laguna Grande we went to Cumana and then worked our way down to Puerto Azul near Naguata. Puerto Azul is an amazingly exclusive yacht club. Strictly speaking, I suppose it is a social club with restaurants, cafeterias, four swimming pools, tennis courts, basketball courts, private beach and marina - just like a typical English Yacht Club!!!

We were permitted to anchor off this club and leave our scruffy dinghy at their pristine dock and flip-flop our shabby way through the exotic grounds to the main gates and out into the town. As this meant that our dinghy was perfectly safe, as was the yacht, we really appreciated this gesture. We were issued with a pass for re-entry, which was examined by an armed guard who subjected it, our passport and ourselves to the most searching scrutiny before allowing us back in. We left the yacht here while we travelled the 25 or so miles to the airport to collect our friend John. He was suitably impressed with the anchorage we had chosen.

From here we sailed to Los Roques, a group of islands off the coast. It was the only fair wind John was to get and unfortunately, he was too seasick to care. Los Roques was lovely, although the water is a little cool and the snorkelling not up to the usual standard for the Caribbean. It knows how to blow here too, and the continual wind can get a bit wearing. However, the anchorages are good with firm sand and little swell. We explored the islands and then sailed down inside the reef, the wrecks on which provide a sobering reminder that one is in poorly charted and badly lit waters. Indeed, the light on Sebastopol Point, the only thing to stop you from going onto miles and miles of reef, was unlit while we were there. The other lights we saw in Venezuela were apparently illuminated by a 40-watt bulb behind plain Glass!!

From Los Roques it was a beat to Tortuga. The first tack took us fortuitously to about the only possible anchorage on the coast in this area, so we stopped there for the afternoon before tacking back again for Tortuga. Then on to Puerto Cruz, where we stayed for a couple of days doing a bit of shopping and eating out again (courtesy of our generous guest). The market here is an old one, unlike the purpose-built ones in many of the places we visited. One of the great things about shopping in Venezuela is that everything has a maximum fixed price. This means that all processed food such as tinned butter, or tomato paste, will have its price stamped on by the manufacturer, so that the big supermarket and the small shop will charge the same price.

We eventually worked our way back to Laguna Grande and John’s delight in the place made the long beat back worthwhile. From there we crossed to Cuman, from where John took a plane to Caracas, about 250 miles away for £7.00! John’s departure came not long before our visas expired, so we decided to leave as well.

We sailed for Samana in the Dominican Republic and had a perfect sail there. As we were entering Bahia de Samana, we were privileged to witness the courtship display of a number of humpback whales. These enormous leviathans - 90ft. long and weighing up to 35 tonnes, were leaping out of the water and doing a half roll before crashing back into the water with a noise that could be heard several miles away. It was the most awe-inspiring sight and one that we could never forget.

We stayed only a couple of days in Samana, a very lovely anchorage, before sailing towards the Caicos islands where we are now at anchor. We plan to spend about a month in the Bahamas before setting off back towards the UK.

For anyone interested in sailing in Venezuela, and we would give it a high recommendation; one or two words to the wise mightn’t come amiss. Charts are available from the Admiralty for Venezuela and also from the US Hydrographer, who does some large-scale ones. Apparently, it is difficult to buy Venezuelan ones. The charts, while not good, are necessary.

Donald M. Street Jnr. does a cruising guide to Venezuela. We had his guide to the Lesser Antilles, which we have always found reliable. I’m afraid to say the Venezuelan one does not come up to the same standard and some of the errors are quite dangerous.

We entered an anchorage at the SE end of Totuga at 6.00pm, having been delayed by light winds. The chart showed a perfectly clear and simple entrance. Fortunately, we dropped two or three reefs in the sails before bearing away towards it on a broad reach. Fifty yards away, we spied coral heads just breaking in front of us and managed to gybe round away from them. With another rig in the Force 5 that was blowing, we’d probably have done a lot of damage. We had another look at the channel and found that, in fact, only the eastern third of it was clear, the rest having well-established coral across it. Later, we met a couple who had actually lost their boat there. So treat the Cruising Guide with great Caution.

Our engine burnt out its valves in Venezuela, so Badger is doing her fourth Atlantic crossing, as she did her first, without an engine.

Pete Hill - Annie Hill