Grenada, 19th of April 2019

Port Stanley, Falkland Islands

Two days before we made landfall in the Falkland Islands the Furious Fifties flew into a rage and tore our number one genoa to shreds. This sounds worse than it actually was as the sail was well past its best before date. With the shreds wrapped around the forestay we arrived in Port Stanley in the wee hours of the morning, dropped anchor in front of the town centre and went to sleep. Only a few hours later we awoke to a blast of a horn: there was a port control vessel next to Sarema and we were told to immediately move further into the bay to make room for a fleet of Taiwanese and South Korean fishing vessels. The fleet comprised more than fifty huge, strange looking vessels specially designed for catching jiga, a type of mollusc that is considered a delicacy in Asia. Fat chance the jiga has of surviving such a fleet!

Near the town centre, there is only one small floating dock for visiting boats which is also used by cruise liners’ dinghies to disembark/embark their passengers and naturally, the cruise liners have priority. Because it was the peak of the tourist season there were cruise liners arriving almost daily which meant that any sailing boat using the dock had to leave it the evening before or by seven o’clock in the morning at the latest. During our stay, we had to move in and out of the dock repeatedly in order to get fuel, buy groceries, visit the Historic Dockyard Museum etc. Leaving Sarema unmanned at anchor was not an option thanks to the brutal winds of the Furious Fifties that forced us to re-anchor a number of times. 

Upland Geese (Chloephaga picta)

The price of fuel was a pleasant surprise, only 60 Falkland pence = c. 85 US cents per litre. All kinds of fresh produce, on the other hand, were both scarce and pricey undoubtedly due to the geographical location of the islands. So, instead of buying plenty of salad ingredients as we had originally intended, we stuffed our deep freeze with mutton and lamb chops. A kilo of mutton didn’t cost much more than a kilo of carrots! 

Crash before Calm

48.56,737 S, 54.08,437 W

Just two days after leaving the Falklands we heard a loud bang from the deck: the pad eye of the inner forestay had broken, and the forestay with the jib and the Profurl was swinging violently from side to side. Before we arrived at the scene the Profurl had already made a tear in the mainsail and ripped apart most of the protective netting at the bows. Once we had managed to bring the forestay under control we wrapped the sail around the forestay, tied the package together with all the halyards available, and attached it to the railing.

The following morning we took the sail down and detached the slightly bent Profurl aluminium profiles most of which had to be taken apart by means of an angle grinder. The jib was mended and then transferred to the outer forestay which was conveniently vacant due to the loss of our number one genoa earlier.

As usual, we dropped a lure into the water every morning and took it up in the evening. After about two and a half weeks of continuous fishing without catching a thing, we came to the obvious conclusion that there were no fish in the ocean. However, one evening when reeling in the lure it became apparent that there were fish in the ocean after all, a little while ago at least two! 

One day there was a beautiful yellow bird sitting on the railing. Where he had come from only heaven knows as, at the time, we were more or less 600 nautical miles off the Brazilian coast, and we hadn’t seen another vessel for days, not even on our radar. The bird stayed two days with us and then disappeared as mysteriously as he had arrived. All we could do was to wish him the best of luck on his journey to the unknown!

    Tropical Kingbird (Tyrannus melancholicus)

Refuelling in Salvador de Bahia

We had known already in advance that this time of the year the leg from the Falkland Islands to the Caribbean would not be easy windwise. So, it didn’t come as a surprise when, except for the few windy days at the beginning of the leg when the pad eye broke and one gale some time later, day in, day out we had no wind, little wind or headwind. We tried to sail as far to the east as possible in search of winds that never materialised. Finally, we gave up and headed for Salvador de Bahia, Brazil to replenish our empty fuel tanks.

     Upstairs, Downstairs

We spent three days at anchor in front of Isla Itaparica where we removed the jib from the outer forestay and replaced it with our number two genoa. After this brief and ‘undocumented’ visit to Brazil (checking in and out of the country alone would have taken us at least two days), we were ready to continue our voyage to the Caribbean, hopefully non-stop henceforth!

                    A golden mackerel, aka mahi-mahi (122 cm), and Pekka in his tropical sailing outfit, the altogether. 

Hats off to Sarema

By the 9th of April, our good boat Sarema had logged a total of 100,000 nautical miles since her launch! Sarema may be a bit slow as big girls sometimes are but, more importantly, she is extremely trustworthy, steadfast and persevering. Many a time when we have been drained of all energy, she has bravely carried on and taken us to safety. We are extremely grateful to her for all the miles she has carried us and for the wonderful adventures we have had the privilege of sharing with her!

Ten days and 1.338 nautical miles later, on the 19th of April, we dropped anchor in Prickly Bay, Grenada. It had taken us 54 days to sail 5,692 nautical miles from the Falkland Islands to the Caribbean. The voyage was so long and wearing (=boring!) that we developed an allergy to sailing, long distance sailing in particular. Hopefully, our condition is not something that a few days under swaying palm trees and an occasional rum punch wouldn’t cure. We’ll soon find out!

Port Stanley, Falkland Islands, 20th of February 2019

Sailing to the Ends of the Earth

We left Puerto Williams on the 18th of January and headed for Caleta Martial, a traditional anchorage where to wait for favourable winds before rounding the Horn or crossing the notorious Drake Passage. Although we were in the windiest place on Earth we had to resort to motoring for lack of wind in order to get to the anchorage. The situation changed dramatically during the night when the winds started to pick up and didn’t seem to know when to stop. We couldn’t remember when last we had experienced such a gale if ever, with wind speeds between 50 and 60 knots, in gusts over 70. Naturally, our anchor started to drag, and we had a real struggle getting it up. We then moved into a smaller bay nearby that gave us a little better protection against winds. There we went as close to the shore as we dared, dropped anchor in five metres of water and let go more than 60 metres of chain, and this time the anchor held. 

Strong winds kept us in Caleta Martial until the 21st by which time the seas had calmed down considerably. We motor-sailed to Cape Horn where we saw two cruise ships in front of the island, and a stream of dinghies carrying passengers to the lighthouse. As it seemed far too crowded for us, we took the compulsory photos of the rock and the lighthouse, and continued our journey down south. 

We had prepared ourselves and our good boat Sarema for the vicious winds and high seas of Drake Passage. All the jerry cans that we normally carry on the deck were hauled inside, the dinghy was tied exceptionally well with brand new lines to the davits and filled with fenders so as to leave as little room as possible for the freak wave that would inevitably crash down on to our boat during the crossing. But what we eventually found was a calm and tranquil Pacific. In fact, there was so little wind that we had to motor-sail most of the way to Antarctica. We later learned that calm conditions are actually not so uncommon to find in Drake Passage which in this case is known as Drake Lake.

After five days of motor-sailing we arrived in Enterprise Harbour where we tied Sarema to a rusty wreck, a nesting site for the Antarctic tern (Sterna vittata). Our arrival didn’t seem to bother the birds too much as they have probably become accustomed to seeing a number of boats there every summer the wreck being one of the safest and hence the most popular anchorages in the area. 

Although we had had an extremely gentle crossing of the Passage, we stayed two days in Enterprise Harbour just to get our bearings so to speak. While in Antarctica, we noticed that our conception of time and distance indeed differed from normal; hours stretched into days, and objects that seemed to be right next to our boat were, in fact, miles and miles away, the latter probably being due to the sheer magnitude of things in Antarctica.

Later in the evening, a Russian boat came alongside us, and to our big surprise, the captain of the boat was Daniil Gavrilov whom we had last seen in 2013. Daniil had organised the RUSARC sailing event from Saint Petersburg to Frans Joseph Land, wherefrom we had continued to the Northeast Passage. It would be interesting to know the probability of a chance meeting like this!

From Enterprise we sailed to Cuverville Island, only about 25 miles to the south. When nearing the entrance to the anchorage there seemed to be far too much ice and not just any ice but huge icebergs blocking our way. Fortunately, a closer inspection revealed a narrow passage between the blocks through which we were able to motor into the anchorage. And Hurray! - we had entered a penguin-lovers’ paradise!

On a rocky promontory to the north of the anchorage, there was a breeding colony of hundreds of rowdy and smelly gentoo penguins. We spent two days taking photos of the penguins or just watching them go fishing, return from fishing, or groom themselves which seemed to be their main preoccupation.

It was good to see that they didn’t seem to mind our presence at all but went about their daily activities as if we were invisible. And maybe we were to them as one gentoo almost bumped into Riitta who was standing still on the beach. 

One day when returning to the boat, an ice floe with a leopard seal sleeping on it drifted by. We had heard lots of stories about leopard seals attacking humans and their dinghies. Most of the people attacked were walking on sea ice when the seal sprang out of the water at them.

Quite possibly the seal mistook their upright posture for that of an emperor penguin. The only human killed by leopard seal was a British scientist who was snorkelling (2003). As we didn’t intend to go walking on sea ice or snorkelling for that matter, we were not particularly concerned about our own safety but that of our dinghy.

Before we left for Antarctica, our friend Ezequiel in Puerto Williams told us how he had barely managed to escape a leopard seal although his 15 hp outboard engine was running at full speed. He also advised us never to leave our dinghy in the water but always lift it up.

Also, Daniil had had a bad experience with a leopard seal, which he called the polar bear of the south. The seal had made more than 50 holes in his dinghy, and when the dinghy was being lifted up, the seal had lunged from the water like a torpedo and bit into the dinghy one last time. According to Ezequiel, when you see a leopard seal on ice, give it a wide berth but when the seal is in the water, stay on board. Just to be on the safe side, we hoisted our dinghy and for the rest of the day stayed on board!

From Cuverville we continued first to Port Lockroy and then towards Hovgaard Island. As we approached Lemaire Channel the ice situation ahead didn’t look very promising. A French cruise ship nearby called us on VHF and told that they had been unable to go through the channel because there was far too much ice. We thanked them for the information and told that we would at least give it a try. And try we did for hours on end zigzagging between and around icebergs, bergy bits, growlers, and through brash ice. 

When we finally reached Hovgaard Island it became clear that we could never reach our intended anchorage as the channel on the north side of Pleneau Island was still partly ice-covered. We tried to find a way through the rocks further up north but the water there was too shallow. When our keel hit the bottom we had but one option and that was to turn around. By now dusk had already fallen but as we didn’t have a decent anchorage where to spend the night we decided to continue further south to Petermann Island. When we got there we saw, to our huge disappointment, that three big icebergs had run aground in the only anchorage we knew in the area.  

As the passage to the south looked too ice-studded to our liking, we made our second U-turn of the day and headed back to where we had come from. On the south side of Hovgaard Island, we found an indentation with less than ten metres of water and dropped anchor there in the midst of hopefully grounded icebergs. It was now well past midnight, and because we were dead tired after spending the whole day trying not to collide with icebergs, we went straight to bed without even bothering to check whether our anchor was holding or not. Thankfully, there was no wind!

Because of our more or less improvised anchorage, we awoke already at 4.30 a.m. and headed back into the ice- infested Lemaire Channel. The conditions there had improved somewhat since the day before, and we had no major difficulties finding our way through. We now continued to Paradise Bay to see the whales that are known to congregate there. Unfortunately, the day was grey and drizzly which hindered photographing but a few days later we had two separate encounters with whales that we were able to record.

While on our way back to Enterprise Harbour we saw the distinctive tall dorsal fin of a killer whale coming from behind a bergy bit. We slowed the boat as we could see more and more fins coming towards us. After a while, there was an orca family of twenty or more feeding all around the boat. What a treat! What surprised us was the colour of the orcas which was not black-and-white like in the Arctic but more yellowish-brown. The culprit it seems is small yellow-brown phytoplankton that often stains the colouration of the otherwise white eye-patch and underside of orcas in the Antarctic waters.

The next perhaps a bit too close encounter with a whale took place just a few hours later. There were whales in abundance in Gerlache Strait feeding, diving, breaching (=jumping), and slapping their pectoral fins or tail flukes. We saw one humpback jump quite close to us on our starboard side. Riitta went to sit on the deck with her camera to wait for the second jump as whales often jump several times in succession. But lo and behold, the whale materialised right next to our boat as if ready to jump again! At this point, there was nothing we could do but hold our breath and hope for the best. Luckily, the whale, like the sensible creature that he is, opted for an immediate panic dive, and we were able to breathe again. Nowadays, whenever we see a whale nearby we kindly ask him not to come too close to our boat!

While in Enterprise Harbour waiting for a low pressure area in the west to move further to the east so that we could again cross Drake Passage in favourable winds, a French Caledonian boat came alongside us. After tying their lines the boat’s captain said that he recognised our boat and that we had met before in Sand Point, Alaska. We remembered well our arrival in Sand Point: it was in October 2013 in the middle of the night, we were coming from the Northeast Passage, the weather had been nasty for several days, and for the last few hours we had been struggling against 45 knot winds and a countercurrent in the narrow passage leading to the harbour. Because the harbour was full of fishing vessels, we went alongside the only sailing boat we could see. As we were wet through and dog-tired, we retired soon after our arrival, and because they left early the following morning, we never actually met. It seems that we had to sail all the way to the ends of the Earth to see Jean Pierre and Janine again. What a small and strange world this is!

During our visit to Antarctica, we had been extremely lucky weather-wise as we had had a number of sunny days, the temperatures had seldom been below zero, and there had been either no wind or only a moderate breeze.

But then the weather changed overnight and, on the 6th of February, we awoke to find leaden skies, snow- covered decks, and it was sleeting so hard that, within minutes, we were soaking wet and cold to the bone. It was clearly time to bid farewell to Antarctica, to its snowcapped mountains, magnificent glaziers, gigantic icebergs, and our favourite Antarctic inhabitants - the penguins!

Puerto Williams, 15th of January 2019

Puerto Williams

Club Naval de Yates Micalvi

Farewell Patagonia!

On the 2nd of January, after 54 days of sailing in Chilean Patagonia we finally arrived in Puerto Williams. Of the total of 52 nights we spent at anchor, we shared the anchorage only twice with another boat - a local fishing vessel. And during all this time, we saw only three other sailing boats in the canals. 

For weeks on end, whenever the daily showers allowed, we saw nothing but snow-capped peaks of the Andes, the sea, and the sky but not a trace of animal life on the shores or the mountainsides. Although the landscape surrounding us was absolutely magnificent, within a few weeks it began to lose some of its charm, and after about two months we had become almost indifferent to its splendour. 

While crossing Golfo de Penas, we learned that our radar was not functioning. Pekka had installed a new magnetron in the radar while we were still in Puerto Montt but apparently, the radar belonged to the cluster of devises that had, for some reason or other, decided to malfunction after our departure from Puerto Montt.

Because there is no technical assistance available in Puerto Williams we had to sail to Ushuaia on the Argentinian side of Canal Beagle to get the radar repaired. Our dinghy, the better and at the moment our only one, had started to leak, and it too had to be fixed.

We had been fortunate enough to meet four Argentinian sailors in Puerto Williams who in addition to inviting us to a wonderful lunch at Micalvi Club House also provided us with the contact information of Roxana, an efficient lady whom we met at Club Nautico AFASyN in Ushuaia. 

Upon our arrival, she immediately contacted Gustavo, a radar specialist who managed to “repair” our Furuno. It turned out that Furuno Finland had sold us a completely wrong magnetron that was meant for a much bigger radar. We had bought it in 2013 as a spare before we had set sail for the North-East Passage. Thank God we did not have any problems with our radar while traversing the icy passage!

We returned from Ushuaia to Puerto Williams last Saturday, and yesterday got our last zarpe from Armada de Chile. While waiting for our next blog update, which may take quite some time, remember to keep your fingers crossed and/or thumbs up (the Finnish way of wishing good luck!) as we are now all set for a bit more adventurous leg i.e. from Cape Horn to Falkland Islands - via Antarctica! 

Puerto Natales

Puerto Natales, 19th - 23rd of December

A Visit to Remember!

As you may remember we were supposed to be in Puerto Williams by Christmas and, therefore, we didn’t very much like the idea of having to go to Puerto Natales as this meant lots of extra miles and several wasted days for the sake of mere bureaucracy. But, in the end, the visit turned out to be the absolute highlight of our journey in Chile so far!

We rented a car for two days and on our first day drove to Argentina and back in order to get our 90-day permits for Chile renewed. Because the border is more or less an hour’s drive away from the town we were ready and more than willing to use the rest of the day wildlife watching. 

We had learned from our sailing friends in Puerto Montt that there is Torres del Paine National Park north of Puerto Natales teeming with the Chilean wildlife that had eluded us thus far.

The majestic mountainous landscape that characterises the National Park is the product of a series of erosive processes and geological formations that took place approximately 12 million years ago. In 1978, UNESCO declared the Park Biosphere Reserve to be included in the territories that represent the world’s most unique ecosystems.

The Park comprises more than 220,000 hectares of magnificent mountains, sparkling blue lakes and rivers, turquoise glaciers, and an abundance of animals we would never have been able to see had we sailed straight to Puerto Williams as originally planned. 

We fell in love with the breathtaking landscape and the exotic animals that inhabit it, and to make the most of our short visit the following morning we packed up a picnic and spent the whole gorgeous day in the park. We were like Alices in Wonderland as we watched in awe guanacos and nandus grazing in the meadows and condors gliding in the sky. 

Although we had decided not to celebrate Christmas at all this year, Puerto Natales, where we so reluctantly had gone in the first place, gave us the most wonderful Christmas present imaginable!

Puerto Natales, 19th of December

Puerto Eden, 8th of December

Jetty in Armada Style

Because our official permits (tarjeta unica migratoria) would expire on the first of January which meant that we only had about three weeks left before we had to leave Chile, we had decided to stop in Puerto Eden and ask if the officials there could extend our permits. Hence, upon arrival we headed straight for the Armada’s jetty to take care of the matter. 

We approached the jetty as usual with our fenders hanging on the side of the boat but when we reached the head of the T-shaped jetty, the first fender that came into contact with it bounced up on to the jetty leaving Sarema’s side open to malicious attack by a lifting pad eye!!!??? which was also the very thing that had lifted the fender. There were several pad eyes on the side of the jetty, difficult to notice before it was too late, and all left without tyres, matting or anything to protect visiting vessels against impact! The lack of tyres at the head of the jetty was hard to understand especially since there were big tyres all along the other side of the jetty where Armada’s own vessel was moored. 

There was a sickening sound as the eye scraped the paint off Sarema’s side simultaneously pushing it inwards. What a rotten thing to happen!!! - and we didn’t even get our permits extended. We were told to go to Puerto Natales where they have Customs and Immigration. It will be interesting to see what kind of a jetty is waiting for us there!

Anchoring in Patagonian Waters

In Patagonia, it is customary to anchor for the night due to the narrowness of the channels and not so reliable charts. The sailors’ ‘bible’ Patagonia & Tierra del Fuego Nautical Guide by Marjolina Rolfo and Giorgio Ardrizzi describes hundreds of anchorages, all visited and checked out in detail, providing their GPS position, protection, depth, bottom, and whether or not shorelines are required. In most cases, two shorelines tied to trees are essential because Patagonian waters are subject to violent gusts and sudden squalls (williwaws), and in some anchorages there’s not enough space to allow the boat to swing at anchor. We bought in Puerto Montt two horizontally mounted rollers with more than 100 metres of line on each which have guaranteed us a good night’s sleep.

The mooring procedure is as follows: after dropping anchor, Pekka reverses Sarema close to the shore, the closer the better. Once inside the cove, Riitta takes the dinghy and rows as quickly as possible to the shore with the first mooring line and secures it to a tree. This is easier said than done, especially when the wind is blowing, because rocks, impenetrable rain forest, thorny bushes, lack of trees or rotten ones, and the ubiquitous kelp often render the task difficult and time-consuming (nerve-racking!). Once the first line has been securely tied to a tree, there is no such rush with the second one. Finally, the lines are adjusted properly. 

Early the following morning, one of us rows to the shore to untie the lines and the other one pulls them in. The dinghy and the rower get a free ride with the last line.

Now, all we need to do is to weigh anchor, and we’re off! 

Wildlife Watching?!

When I (Riitta) see a white spot on a mountain side or a white dot in a tree, I (still!) automatically grab my binoculars in order to view it closer but however hard I look at the spot or dot, it doesn’t turn into a mountain goat, a Dall’s sheep or a bald eagle. 

We have now come more or less 550 nautical miles from Puerto Montt and seen far too many mussel and salmon farms but only a few solitary Magellanic Penguins, a couple of dolphins (Lagenorhynchus), and hardly any sea lions. There is nothing to complain about our surroundings which are absolutely spectacular, mind you - but where are all the wildlife? 

I’m sure Patagonia will eventually reveal her true beauty also wildlife-wise, and I know that I should not be whining, but… Our problem is, of course, that we are spoiled rotten - by Alaska!

All the caletas or coves in which we have anchored so far have had bugs, slightly bigger than banana flies, that bite off a piece of the skin and suck blood like mosquitos. Even Bugger Off, a natural mosquito and bug repellent from Canada that we have successfully used elsewhere, fails to rid us of these pesky creatures. We don’t know the bugs’ real name but we call them Chilean Wildlife!

Across Golfo de Penas

Chiloe, 17th of November

We stopped over in Chiloe to buy a new, hopefully long-lasting depth sounder and to meet Mani, a living legend among Finnish sailors. Mani Suanto is one of the two Finns who, back in the 90’s, were the first to sail to the Antarctic and, at the moment, as far as we know he is the only Finn alive who has done that. 

Caleta Ideal, 3rd of December

From Chiloe we continued towards the notorious Golfo de Penas. The name translates most appropriately as the Gulf of Hardships or Pain. Although we had spent three nights in Puerto Millabú waiting for a decent weather window, we were not very much surprised when, while already on our way, we heard on VHF Armada’s warning about a ‘temporal’ gale in the area predicting 40 knot winds. About 28 hours later, as we finally reached Caleta Ideal in the south side of the Gulf, the winds suddenly abated, the skies cleared, and we dropped anchor in the most glorious sunshine.