There she was looming majestically high above Valencia. Mount Talinas looked regal as ever under a light blue sky. Thick white clouds cloaked much of her while a whisper of wind gently caressed. After nearly three months travelling I was finally home! On September 18th I had left Negros Oriental on a journey that would take me around the world. I flew to Manila then on to Saudi Arabia, on to England, then Ireland where I enjoyed a week with my son Brian and his exceptional wife Cindi. It had been an unnecessarily long absence from my country of birth. The journey to Ireland took a long forty four hours and included an interesting twelve hour layover in Saudi Arabia.
I then flew to Spain and on to the Canary islands. It was there i joined a beautiful one hundred year old sailing boat as a crew member. But first i had the joy of meeting with my bossy older sister Deirdre who, at age seventy four and me sixty eight, still thinks I’m six years old and she’s again been put in charge of me. When we were shopping for sailing gear she took the money in my hands and impatiently instructed me on how to properly fold the notes. And I’m about to sail across the Atlantic on my way around the world? Jezzz. Then, although I wanted to get out of the store, she insisted on me trying on several more items. Regardless, it was special to see her. That night and morning we spent together looking out over the beautiful Grand Canary island, chatting, reminiscing, clarifying issues, will always be a special, comforting memory for me and also hopefully for Deirdre.
The Bark Europa set sail on September 28th, and harbored two nights in Sal which is one of the Cape Verde islands off the north-western coast of Africa We then sailed first south then quickly southwest to avoid pirates reported in the area, across the Atlantic then down the east coast of Brazil before finally arriving into Montevideo in Uruguay after a forty four day voyage. I’m now going to review a journal I kept and share various aspects of that voyage. Hopefully you will find it interesting.
September 28th Santa Cruz de Tenerife. I’m sitting at a sidewalk cafe in one of the Canary Islands off the coast of Spain. In the distance I can see the Bark Europa with flags fluttering. I’m feeling a mixture of excitement and nervousness. I’m excited about the adventure about to unfold, but nervous about being confined in limited space for forty four days with fifty seven strangers. Also I’m claustrophobic and concerned about sleeping in a small space while sharing a small cabin with five men I’ve never met. What if one or more of them snores? Even with the ear plugs I brought, that would drive me nuts over 44 nights! But for now I must surrender and be grateful for this wonderful opportunity and embrace the unknown.
Two of these men snore like big trucks driving down a gravel road. What should I do? Tomorrow we set sail for the Cape Verde islands. That takes eight days. I could get off now or, if I make it to Cape Verde, I could fly back to Europe then go home. But how embarrassing that would be. I’ve been talking about this “sailing across the Atlantic” adventure for years but now I’m seriously considering chickening out. What type of man am I?
September 30th I’ve decided to stay and somehow find a way to turn my head around. Meditation last night, hours of it, helped ease my discomfort over the tight sleeping space. I spoke with both snorers and they agreed to allow me wake them when they snore too loudly. Then they would turn over on their sides which decreases the level of snoring. That was decent of them.
The crew are a lovely bunch of mainly young people, enthusiastic and competent, average age twenty three, who come from several countries but mainly from Europe. The captain is a female Dutch sailor. The doctor is also female.
When I completed the forms asking what I’d like to work on, I naively said “Well, I’d be willing to work from 8 am to noon five days a week and do whatever work was necessary during those hours.” Well, silly me. All paying crewmembers (38 of us) were consigned to work 8 hours daily seven days a week. What a great business model it is to get paying passengers to do most of the work! We are on watch for four hour shifts then off for eight then back on for four. Once a week, when the rotation is changed we have a twelve hour day. I would be on watch let’s say from midnight to four am then off until noon then back on from noon for four pm then back on again at midnight. Next week it would be 4 am to 8 am, off until four pm then on four pm until 8pm then back on again at 4 am. On each watch we were either doing lookout, or at the helm, or furling or unfurling sails.
People seem to be a good assortment of individuals from fifteen countries. I’d get to know them as time passes. My main concern, as already said, is the challenge of interacting with many strangers and being forced to live in a confined space for so long. My family have bets on how many days into the Atlantic it will be before I’m ordered off the ship for being so obnoxious, given a life raft and sufficient supplies for five days before the ship hastily sails off into the distance. The hot betting money says I’ll last four days at most.
September 30 We finally set sail for the Cape Verde Islands. The wind is light and the sails respond accordingly. It takes several hours before the Canary Islands finally disappear from view and we are heading in the general direction of north west Africa.
October 7th Sal is the island in the Cape Verde islands we are heading for and on the morning of our eighth day at sea it’s there looming in the distance. The sea is calm unlike last night when it was distinctly angry. We had just changed course when the winds began to blow hard filling the sails and urgently propelling the boat forward. I was at the helm and thrilled at the subtle power of the boat as she sped along. Waves splashed over the deck from stem to stern. Suddenly the front dipped under and heavy waves covered everything is an explosion of white. I was ordered to immediately steer ten degrees to starboard. It takes about a minute for the impact of any course change to happen. Adrenalin pumped through my body and I heard myself roar with laughter and cheering when the front of the glorious vessel again rose majestically while contemptuously casting off the violent waves. This process was repeated three more times before more balance came and, despite still being lively, the sailing became unfortunately less eventful.
We arrived into Sal as dusk was approaching. It’s a flat island with, for me, limited appeal. It’s saving grace are its people who walk with great dignity, look superb and are dark mahogany representative of their ancestors further east on the African mainland.
October 9th. I just finished doing my favorite shift which is 4 am to 8 am. It provides the opportunity to see the glorious stars shining and so abundant in a manner I’ve never seen before and probably never will see again. Millions of them seeming so close one could reach out and take them in hand. Later on there’s the subtle changing of light as night inevitably gives way to a dawn that can have many faces depending on the sky. As the moon disappears, the sun slowly begins its ascendency. In time it’s golden finders move across the sky slowly warming all underneath its domain. The dark blue sea changes to a lighter shade of blue. This transition from darkness to light, one world distinctly turning into another, is special to observe.
October 25th. What a night! I was part of a small group unfurling sails approximately twelve meters up. The night was unruly with the waves and wind making our boat list consistently from side to side. An extra enthusiastic gust of wind caught me off balance and I was thrown off the rigging. Fortunately the safely harness we are all required when going aloft saved me. But it was such a rush, a wonderfully exciting moment to feel myself swaying high above with harsh winds screaming around and a boiling ocean below. People sometimes ask me where the action is. Real action for me is found from living in the moment, those instances when life can so easily end, as it often does for many, but has not yet for me.
November 1st. I finally see whales! We had seen many dolphins and they were delightful but I really wanted to see whales. Several of them had been spotted during the voyage but I’d always been off watch and sleeping. A curious calf playing as only the young can, came close to us while her gigantic mother cautiously observed at a discreet distance. After a while she called her calf back and he or she reluctantly left us to continue their long journey south to warmer waters. Such magnificent creatures. They made me, yet again, feel small in the grand scheme of this vast enterprise.
November 3rd I’m on the 4 am to 8 am watch. Still half asleep I struggle upstairs, grab a scalding hot cup of coffee and cautiously made my way carefully to the helm. Suddenly i’m transfixed. I’ve entered some version of hell. Fires are rising out of the ocean at regular intervals. Bright lights cover some large structures which in time I recognize to be ships supplying the oil rigs. We were off the coast of Brazil and entering their oil rig areas. The lights, fires and ships stretch as far as the eye can see. But it’s only when light prevails around five thirty am that the vastness of the project can be truly understood. Its endless! We sailed for another seven hours and they were a constant, sad presence, ugly abominations made from mans’ ignorance while exploding from earth’s womb.
November 10th.We arrive a day early into Montevideo. It’s a fine looking port and part of the enormous River Plate. which reaches all the way over to Argentina.
As usual, I hadn’t arranged for a place to stay but found a good hotel, had a shower then went to bed expecting to fall into a deep and connected sleep. Nothing of the sort happened. I could only sleep for a few hours at a time that night and for subsequent nights. The ship’s work routine still held onto me.
November 11th I travelled over to Buenos Aires to fulfil another long held dream. That was to simply sit in a cafe in the main plaza in Buenos Aires, sip an excellent cappuccino, observe the people, then leave. And that’s what I did. I found a sixty year old coffee shop and deliciously enjoyed observing the people engaging in animated and theatrical conversations, presumably gossip, scandal, romantic stories and political intrigue. Yet again, a deep sense of gratitude moved through me as I left the plaza and returned to Uruguay.
November 13th I try to sleep as have to be up at 3 am for a long journey. But that’s impossible due to the drunks making so much noise from a nearby bar. So I take a taxi to the airport earlier than planned and fly north for six hours to Bolivia where there’s a two hour layover. Then on to New York another six hour flight where there’s a four hour layover, then south west for six hours to San Francisco arriving there around one am California time. After that another three hour journey made even longer because we were involved in a crash on the Bay bridge just outside San Francisco. I finally crawled into bed at four am
November 16th I’ve had enough of northern California and want to return home. It’s hard to breathe due to the horrid wildfires that have killed so many people not far from where i’m staying. I pay a ridiculous amount to change my flight and head back home on the 18th instead of the 24th. Philippine Airlines fully deserves it’s 4 star rating and provided, as always, a comfortable experience. Had a five hour layover in Manila before getting to Cebu where I met Vhie. We rested in Cebu for a few days before heading to Balamban where I enjoyed delightful hugs and welcoming laughter from our daughter Sunshine.
November 21st Finally I’m home. It’s too soon to objectively evaluate the overall experience of travelling around the world while sailing across the Atlantic. But I do know this; while it’s important to dream, it’s more important to actualize those dreams. I had wanted to do these adventures for twenty years but only got round to doing it in 2018. I’ve no excuse for the delay. I simply choose not to do it until now. That cannot be the case for other adventures I plan to do. Time is running out. Each day is precious. I can no longer afford to procrastinate in turning my few remaining adventures into reality. And I won’t!
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Author’s email: irishauthormichaelcassidy@gmail.com
