Arrived 2 Dakhla from fuerteventura today- tied 4 longest time @ sea. Great, steady winds and following seas meant we had 2

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Arrived to Dakhla from Fuerteventura today- tied 4 longest number of days @ sea with our 1st leg from Israel. Great, steady winds and following seas meant we had to actually slow down so as not to arrive at night. We did that by reefing the main and heaving-to at one point. Sailed wing-on-wing for hours at a time which was both beautiful and very comfortable. The boat is nice and steady like that and there’s less pressur on the rig. Our new spinnaker pole showed itsworth mant times over by keeping the jib out during the w-on-w. We easily set a record for most time on sails alone, well over 24 hours!

Our new crew member, Erik, is doing nicely. It’s a relief to have him aboard because it makes the shifts at night and all of the rest of the work easier.

Officials here came on board after we tied up to a sketchy concrete wall in this industrial fishing harbor. We had been anchored out, but they came to get us in a zodiac just as I was taking a shower on the transom. No marina here, folks. They were all very nice and we were soon joking with them. We’re the most excitement they’ve seen in a long time, I imagine.

Came into Dakhla today (Sunday). A dusty, mostly concrete-block town, but very cool in that it’s here on the edge of nowhere. but they have croissants!

We leave soon for Noudibhor and then Cape Verde. If these winds continue as they have -steady and unabating at night- we should have another terrific sail out there.

We left Lanzarote two days ago. It was hard to leave that little marina that was so welcoming to us. We left on Sunday afternoon, as the ARC was getting under way. We weren’t going quite so far, however. It was a nice little sail of 13 miles to Fuerteventura. We pulled into Corralejo marina where we squeezed ourselves into a small spot only to be told that we had to go elsewhere by the night guard. It was frustrating because this guard, who works for a private security firm, could have signaled to us at any time as we were doing circles, but he didn’t.

We spent one night there and then headed over to Islas de los Lobos. It’s named after the fur seals that used to live there, but now it’s a popular surfing spot. We motored by the surfers catching beautiful waves beneath the volcanic crest of the island. Then we headed further South.

We’ve been in Puerto Castillo for one night already. We had to get some fiberglass and gelcoat work done after we “kissed” the pontoon in Corralejo. The work is being done by Olaf, a happy German with a shock of blond hair and a disturbing tattoo on his calf.

Today, the 24th, we explored the island by car. We headed up to the mirador at Morrovelosa and then went down to Gran Tarajal. The latter is a fishing village that has an even bigger, and better-protected marina.

From Castillo we are going to set off towards Dakhla. It will take about three days to get there, our longest sail so far. After we rest up there we’ll head over to Cabo Verde. That will be another six days at sea. We are well stocked up with groceries and supplies from the Cash and Carry in Lanzarote. I’m looking forward to eating on the boat again. It’s definitely better than the food in West Africa.

We should be stopping at the island of Sal in Cape Verde before skipping over to Sao Vicente by way of the other islands in the chain there. We’ll leave Cape Verde from Marina Mindelo to make our crossing of the Atlantic. That will be about the beginning of December, assuming all goes well in the meantime.

If you’re interested, you can follow our progress at the link on the right. I may or may not be able to update the blog again before I get across. We know that there are a lot of people out there thinking of us. Trust that we will be sustained by that and thinking of you in those long, blue-horizoned hours.

Arriving in Gran Canaria after five weeks in West Africa was like a breath of fresh air. I slept for a bit in the airport because my flight was too short and the hours too small to do anything else useful. I then went south to Puerto Mogan. We had planned on going there to leave the boat while we travelled in West Africa, but were dissuaded by Wes at Puerto Calero. I’m glad we talked to him; the place was a weird tourist enclave tucked into a cove backed by barren mountains.

Later that day I returned to the Telmo neighborhood of Las Palmas. There is a nice little pension there called Pension Perojo on Calle Perojo. Nearby is a little pedestrian area with shops, bars and restaurants. I went out for dinner and then breakfast the next day to very Spanish places. It was awesome being back in a place where everything made sense; the language, the customs, the cleanliness.

After a day and a half there, I flew back to Lanzarote. Another round of Binter Canarias flight attendants with sexy little black gloves and horrid, grating accents in English. Wes picked me up from the airport. I met a girl from Gran Canaria who was going to an ultimate frisbee competition in the next town over, so we gave her a ride. I was blown away that there was a ultimate tourney that weekend.

It was great to be back on the boat. Andrew was still in the U.S., but I got to hang out with the regulars in the marina. I had a great time drinking with the guys (and gal) who worked on the boat on Friday night.

That weekend, J came down from Madrid for a whirlwind visit. It was great seeing her again. We hit up all the restaurants that Puerto Calero has to offer. On Sunday we snuck into the private beach of the nice hotel in Puerto del Carmen and did some swimming. Sadly, sh was only there for about 26 hours and I had to send her off to the airport on Sunday afternoon.

Andrew came back the Tuesday after (the 17th) and we concentrated on tying up all the loose ends on with the boat. We hit up the chandlery, talked to Jan, the electronics guy with a surprisingly funny sarcastic wit, and kept Wes and Clive busy for days. We tested the rigging, had a stanchion welded and re-installed the mainsail with the new reef. We’re set to cross the Atlantic in style now!

We also welcomed Erik, our newest crew member. He’s literally learning the ropes on Tocayo. We’re happy to have him on board as it will make the Crossing safer and more enjoyable. Also, he’s a good enough guy to have around anyway.

After Timbuktu, we hiked in Dogon Country. Lonely Planet calls it “an experience that borders on the divine” and “like taking a toke of I and I Jah’s own kind buds using the Heraclitean fire as a lighter” or something to that effect.
It was nice but not spectacular. Basically it is a bunch of villages beneath, on top of
and on the face of a huge escarpment that looks like it could be in
the Southwest United States. The villagers look like other Malians and the villages themselves only hold a finite amount of interest. We had better hiking in Guinea and we didn’t want to pay them to se a “traditional” dance.

We had been looking forward to that hiking for almost the whole trip. After that disappointment we returned back to Bamako. We had dinner again at Soukothai, the best restaurant, perhaps, in all of West Africa. Certainly the best Thai food on the continent.

Andrew left early to fly back to the U.S. to take care of some business.

I went from Bamako to Dakar after being forced to buy another ticket for my Ethiopian Airlines flight. The Bamako airport, in case you couldn’t guess, sucks. I’m normally not so harsh nor blunt, but there you have it. Imagine an airport that sucks and that’s what it was like.

At least, I got out of there to Dakar. I enjoyed it the second time around. The hotel I stayed in was quite nice and cheaper than the other “midrange” place we stayed in last time. The next day I walked over to a patisserie that was very, very nice, but had no seats, so I couldn’t stay there. It smelled delicious and I got a pain chocolate for the next morning.

The next day I ate at the amazing restaurant of the French Cultural Center. It was the nicest, but not necessarily most expensive, place I had eaten at in Africa.

Then I took the ferry to Goree island, which is famous for its connection to the slave trade. I walked around some, but didn’t feel the whole “witness the horros of slavery” vibe. The place was too pretty and cheerful with its multicolored historical buildings. Lonely Planet says that not many slaves ever passed through there anyway.

I grabbed the local bus towards the airport- a long, hard, sweaty ride. Got off to buy a beer at a most accommodating supermarket that gave me a chair in which to sit while drinking said beer. Then I took a shared cab the rest of the way to the airport with a guy who helped me change money illegally (through one of the moneychanging guys standing outside rather than the change bereau) and then turned out to be a police officer working the security checkpoint.

FInally, I boarded the plane and left West Africa for good.