After 7 days waiting, preparing the boat, surfing and visiting beautiful Cadiz, a favorable weather window appears. Early morning on the 17th of January, Happy Days and its crew of four: Cédric the skipper and owner, Jason, Gwen and I leave the old continent behind and engage in a long-held dream of mine: crossing the Atlantic Ocean. Our first stop: Gran Canaria, the biggest and most populated island of the archipelago. It took us five days to get there, offering a great test distance before we engage in the longer crossing. We faced all kind of conditions, from completely flat to rough 4m waves / 30kts of wind type of weather. Life on the boat in these type of conditions is quite different from what it is on land. First, you spend your days dancing, not only to the music of our boat tune compilations but also to keep our balance in this heeling home. Every task becomes more complicated: getting dressed, showering, cooking and even sleeping, which in the end drains quite a lot of energy out of you. Secondly, our sleeping habits are modified in order to have someone awake at all times on the bridge. It requires you to shorten and divide your sleep into a rhythm of small resting naps. Getting that new cadence running properly took a few days in my case. However, none of that affected the beauty of that first crossing. It offered everything I was hoping for: good company, ocean and time. No distraction of the internet to interrupt our thoughts, instead friends, books and 360° of infinite ocean to rest and enjoy. In the end, land was not that missed even if joy was evident onboard when Gran Canaria showed it shadowy face in the morning of the 23rd of January.
We spent four days in Gran Canaria, long enough to enjoy the stability of solid ground, celebrate the successful arrival and to fill the boat with 4 weeks of provisions. We even had time with Jason to spend a day visiting the inside of the Island, realising that it was bigger than expected and forcing us to run during our hick to be back on time for the last bus to the city. Cédric also had time to fix and prepare the last things on the boat and Gwen went to spent time with friends she has on the island.
Before getting too much used to life on land again, it was time to head to the other side of that big blue pond of water called the Atlantic Ocean. We left on the evening of the 26th of January. Our present for the rip was a beautiful 4kg tuna, the first fish we caught since we left Cadiz. Life on the boat reorganised itself and the crossing mode was reactivated. We got ourselves in some kind of a pleasant routine were days actually go by fast. A usual day looks like that. Depending on the watch schedule which shifts every day by one hour, you wake up during the morning four hour after your last watch, you get yourself some breakfast and join the cockpit to start your next watch. Usually, everyone is awake and join the cockpit at around 11 a.m. It usually is a very social time, we discuss the events of the night, the state of the world or a less depressing matter: what should we eat next. You should know, with 3 Frenchs on board, food was an important topic. And around noon, to link action to words, we cooked. I have to say it was usually, when the weather permitted it, pretty elaborated dishes. When you have so much free time, cooking becomes a pleasure, something I had rarely felt on land. The afternoon is occupied with reading, steering, jibbing, talking, dreaming, napping, jibbing again and of course for Gwen and I filling our daily crossword. At around 6 p.m, we take the time to enjoy a nice “apero” in the fading light of the setting sun. It was always the perfect conclusion of a hard day of sitting and looking at the horizon. Besides, it was usually the time, dolphins choose to join in the daily meeting, to offer us a very welcome ballet show at the bow. With the onset of dusk, we cooked and ate all together, then prepared ourselves for the night watches, to start again the next day for everyone’s delight. Even though the days were similar, every day still seemed different and brought new, exciting things : a fish or two, a dive in the ocean, strong wind, an addictive book (Toni Bullimore is he gonna make it alive?) or a beautiful sun set. The days ran by and the distance to the destination slowly decreases, with every 100 miles celebrated with excitement. The mood onboard was good, everyone got along well, we had a complete confidence in Cédric’s preparation and navigation skills, which I think is essential when embarking in such a journey. Basically life in ocean isolation was pleasant, the sea provided far more than enough of tasty Dorade Coryphene, the weather was fair and the amount of internet limited to 1 or 2 e-mail per days more than sufficient.
On the 16th of February, Barbados, the first and most out-ocean island of the Caribbean finally reveals its dark shape afar on the horizon. This beautiful view sign the end of our Transatlantic crossing. After 22 days at sea the promise of walking on solid ground, cooking without holding all the aliments and a full night sleep are good reasons to be joyful. In the last few days before arrival, when the distance left to cover is a small fraction of the total one and as Cedric warned us, impatience is palpable on board. You deactivate your crossing mode, prepare yourself to burst out of the cosy bubble the boat has become. At that moment, you’re brain starts to forget all the hard moment (which were few), to create a great memory and a fulfilling experience.
Thanks a lot Cédric and Gloria, to have made that possible.
Happy Days 