TO SEEK, TO FIND, AND NOT TO YIELD: A family Atlantic adventure, Part 1 Peter Owens and Vera Quinlan

(In 2004/5 Peter and Vera spent their honeymoon sailing an Atlantic circuit in their 12m Van de Stadt Plyades. Then in 2011 they found Danú, a steel 43ft Bruce Roberts Mauritius ketch, on the Rio Guadiana and sailed her home to Ireland and beyond – see Flying Fish 2015/2 and 2017/1. By 2019 they wanted to show their children – Lilian then aged 11 and Ruairí aged 9 – something of the cruising life, with an extended voyage to many different countries...).

On 15th March, as the world began to go into shutdown, we were sailing up the west coast of Guadeloupe with ideas of going to Montserrat for their annual St Patrick’s Day parade. News began to filter through about countries in Europe closing down, so we made the decision to sail directly to Antigua. From a sailing point of view Antigua offers many safe anchorages for all wind directions. If we were to be locked down, we reasoned that it should be there.

We managed to clear customs at Jolly Harbour minutes before Antigua closed its office there. News filtered through of how countries were dealing with sailing yachts and it was clear that movement would be seriously restricted. We had heard of a sparsely-populated island called Barbuda to the north of Antigua, surrounded by reefs and crystal-clear water, so it made sense to sail there as soon as possible before being prevented from doing so. We made the 30 mile hop a few days later and dropped anchor off a reef at Spanish Point, its southeastern extremity.

This was indeed a wonderful place to be. The water was so clear we could see our anchor dug in from the bow of the boat. There was little roll as we were protected from the Atlantic swell by the nearby reef. Snorkelling was exceptional, with a whole range of sea creatures to see – sharks, eagle rays and stingrays, lobsters and a myriad of multi-coloured reef fish were spotted on most of our dives. Sometimes we would snorkel two or three times in a day. We got to know this little reef quite well, so well that we could return and visit the same marine creatures on different days.

A day after arriving, the coastguard called by and informed us that we were welcome to stay but not to leave, as Antigua was in full lockdown with a 24-hour curfew – we were stuck on this island paradise for the long haul. A multinational group of sailors happened to be doing the same. Eight boats with sailors from France, Sweden, Scotland, South Africa and the UK were anchored close by, many with families on board. As the days passed we all got to know each other well, while the kids spent their days in and out of the boats, messing about on paddleboards and in dinghies. There was a real sense of community amongst the group – it felt like a mini commune at the edge of the world.

As the days passed into weeks, food and water became an issue aboard Danú. For food supplies, we sent an enterprising Barbudan resident WhatsApp messages detailing what we required. He would arrive on the beach in his pickup truck and unload the food, and we would drop off payment, adhering to social distancing as much as possible. It wasn’t cheap, but was a lifeline for us. We ran out of water after two weeks but a nearby Swedish boat kindly let us fill our tanks by can as they had a watermaker – another lifeline for Danú and an example of the camaraderie between the cruisers at this idyllic spot.

Global lockdown had curtailed the cruising plans of nearly every boat. Our intention had been to continue north to the Virgin Islands and on to the Dominican Republic, but that was not possible for the foreseeable future. So we were stalled in Antigua, at this anchorage in Barbuda. Despite the abrupt halt, the flip side was that we slowed down and really got to know a place for the first time on our voyage. We gained a lot of new friends, all of whom we plan to keep in contact with in years to come.

The lockdown enforced many changes on most sailors. Some were simply not ready to cross eastbound, many finding themselves short-handed unexpectedly. Some yachts were shipped home, while others engaged professional crew. Aboard Danú we had always planned to sail to the Azores archipelago before continuing to

Spanish Point anchorage, Barbuda

Ireland. Nonetheless, the Atlantic crossing ahead of us had a heightened sense of drama as, when we left, almost no countries (including the Azores) were open to visiting yachts. We returned to Antigua, started provisioning and kept an eye on the weather. On 16th May 2020 we raised anchor in Deep Bay and sailed for home and our second ocean passage as a family.

A year previously we had slipped our mooring at Parkmore, Kinvara on Ireland’s west coast and headed out onto a sea still lumpy from a southwesterly gale that had passed over the previous night. We had taken leave of absence from our jobs, the kids were out of school, the house was rented out and our ageing car had just been towed away by the scrappie. Heading out into Galway Bay on a 14-month cruise in mid June 2019 was the culmination of many years of planning and ensuring Danú was ready. During the winter she was hauled out onto Parkmore Pier by a 100-ton crane and work started straight away on a long list of modifications and upgrades – electronics, transmission, steering gear and building new davits, to name just a few. We fixed a passage chart of the North Atlantic on the living room wall, and at every meal our eyes would glance over the places we could visit.

Leaving Irish shores for the Isles of Scilly.

Photo Felim O’Toole

One day we sat down together and planned our route, with each having a say in where we would go. The rough plan was an Atlantic circuit, sailing from Ireland to France, on to Spain and Portugal, Morocco, the Canaries and the Cape Verdes. From there we wanted to try something different by sailing to South America, followed by the Caribbean and maybe as far north as the Eastern Seaboard of the US. Since our previous circuit we’d had kids and built a house and life in the west, but having taken on many sailing and mountain trips over the years we became anxious to go again, not to be squeezing bigger cruises into ever-tighter work schedules. But taking the kids with us this time brought a very different dynamic and amplified the responsibility. And so, as we reached out of Galway Bay with three reefs and small headsail, we were relieved to be off but at the same time wondering what we had got ourselves into.

Paddleboarding in the Isles of Scilly

After four nights in Dingle we got the winds we required and had one long day to Crookhaven. There we overnighted, and the following day made the jump to the Isles of Scilly off Cornwall. This little archipelago was unexpectedly worth visiting, with some great anchorages in crystal-clear yet still cold water. A gale forecast prompted our transit to Falmouth to meet Vera’s sister Sarah and family, and on 5th July we departed for France, making landfall in Camaret-sur-Mer. We stopped at the Îles de Glénan and then at La Trinité-sur-Mer. This massive marina is somewhat daunting, but eventually we found a berth alongside another steel boat, bigger than us and not moving anywhere, and ate out in a wonderful French restaurant for Peter’s birthday. The primary reason for visiting La Trinité, however, was to see the 6000-year-old menhirs and stone alignments at Carnac. Then we left the racing yachts of La Trinité and sailed on to the sanctuary of

Navigation lessons en route to France

Belle Île, a beautiful routes on Naranjo island, very French, de Bulnes in the with some superb Picos de Europa coastal walking. From Île-d’Houat we set off on the 315 mile passage across Biscay to Northern Spain, making good progress with a 6 knot average, the seas confused and lumpy on our approach to Cariño, northeast of A Coruña.

After a brief stop in Cariño we headed west to Sada. There we left Danú at the marina – much cheaper than A Coruña but swell from Biscay can be a problem. With Danú festooned in plenty of springy lines we left by hire car and drove to the mountains for two weeks. Asturias has a beautiful mountain range, the Picos de Europa, which was to be the location of our first inland adventure. There we walked and climbed, meeting up with old Irish climbing friends from years past, now, like ourselves, armed with children galore. The Picos offer something for everyone, from long-distance walks to superb rock climbing on mountain limestone. We stayed overnight in mountain huts, did a lot of walking and wrecked the kids.

Returning to Sada Marina after two weeks we found two chafed lines but Danú otherwise in good shape, and continued west to A Coruña. The town was abuzz with free concerts and we drank beer from plastic cups in the main square. Berthing fees at the Real Club Náutico were a shocker at €50 a night, but you can’t beat its location. We lingered in cosmopolitan A Coruña long enough for Ruairí to buy a skateboard and Lilian to have a scooter accident which left her with bad scrapes on her elbows and knees. To deal with Lilian’s injuries, we spent an extra week in Camariñas getting help from the excellent medical facilities there.

Our sail to Muros was memorable for dumping 350 litres of fresh water into the bilges after a pipe ruptured – many expletives from parents as we bailed for two hours in a sloppy, windless sea. On the Muros pontoon we grabbed the attention of passing sailors as they eyed up the soggy contents of our ship’s stores being dried in the sunshine. We visited several other classic spots such as the Ría de Arousa for Pobra do Caramiñal (and the lovely Rio Pedras swimming holes), Isla Ons, the Ría de Vigo and then Baiona, where we spent five nights waiting for the winds to ease. On 21st August we left for the long jump to Cascais, anchoring at 2300 in 25 knots of breeze, and pressed on to Portimão – which we’d chosen as our jumping-off point for Morocco – on the 25th. It took three days to cross the Straits of Gibraltar to Rabat. Dodging plenty of ships in the first part of the passage, we had a mixture of sailing and motoring in good weather. On the third night, at the 1000m contour, we had to steer delicately through a multitude of small fishing boats with adjacent nets marked by flashing beacons. We ran goosewinged as close as we could, preferring sail over engine with so many nets. On the AIS we spotted a yacht at 0 knots having got fouled. In the dead of night, Moroccan fisherman were heard on the VHF calling and whistling to us yachts as we passed by, sometimes with menacing language, doubtless their idea of fun. Then, through the morning haze, the coastline of Morocco came slowly into view. Swell can affect the entrance to Rabat and, when it’s over 2m, yachts are advised not to enter – even on this calm morning there was white water. The marina sent a pilot boat to guide us through the unmarked channel, with a dogleg and breakers to negotiate at the entrance. Turning the corner we were met by one of the most exotic entrances sailed in Danú, with the magnificent ramparts of the Kasbah des Oudaias sweeping down to starboard as we entered the Bouregreg river. This was a step back in time and a distinct change from European waters. Lavishly coloured fishing boats lined the shore and single-oared ferryboats plied back and forth as we made our way upriver. Wide-eyed, we took in the sights and sounds. Alongside the quarantine dock we waited for hours, sweltering in the Moroccan heat. Police and Immigration boarded, all done in a cordial yet unhurried manner. To Ruairí and Lilian’s delight a team of sniffer dogs were led towards Danú, but unhappily for their trainers they were repulsed by our guardrails. It would have been interesting to see them in action. At noon we finally tied up at the Bouregreg marina, tired and sweaty but happy to be in North Africa once again.

Remembering old routes on Naranjo de Bulnes in the Picos de Europa

Planning the trek with our guide Hamou Ait Lhou

We spent three weeks in Morocco. Leaving Danú safely tied up at the marina in Rabat, we took a train to Marrakech and from there travelled by bus to Kalaat M’Gouna. This dusty town was the jumping-off point for a six-day trek through the Jebel Saghro, a lesser-known range in the Atlas Mountains, being lower in altitude but making up for that by their remote feel. For this we hired a guide and two muleteers. The kids carried their own daypacks with water and snacks, the adults a bit more and the mules the rest. Amazingly the kids kept going, with gentle encouragement at times. Over the six days we walked 150km through a variety of landscapes, camping every night. The scenery slowly changed from rocky mountains to desert – an incredible geography lesson. The destination and end of the trek was the exotic palmeraie (palm oasis) of N’Koub. From there, Lilian and Ruairí, our ‘trip advisors’, requested that we ride camels through the Sahara and camp out in the desert at Merzouga. Following this, various means of transport brought us to Er-Rachidia, after which an epic 14-hour bus journey returned us to Rabat. Morocco did not disappoint as a cultural experience – we were left with many great memories – but we were happy to be opening up the hatches on Danú once more and readying ourselves for our next passage.

The Jebel Saghro

The dunes of Merzouga

Baía d’Abra, Madeira. Photo Bernardo Bacalhau

Hurricane Lorenzo was due to kick up a swell which would close off the exit from Rabat, so we decided to depart Morocco on 22nd September. We cleared formalities in two hours, with more dogs, a police check and our passports stamped, and five foreign sailing yachts made their way out of the entrance with Danú, as fate would have it, in the lead. Then, under full main and genoa, Danú was sailing at 6 knots in a steady north wind. Three days’ passage took us to Porto Santo, northeast of Madeira. Having missed these islands in 2004 we were keen to visit this time, and Porto Santo did not disappoint. At first sight the island was not promising, but we grew to love it. Highlights were anchoring for €6 per night (including showers and water), good provisioning, an incredible 14km beach, a high pier for jumping off and some great walking. Here we met many other crews planning to sail the Atlantic circuit, some of whom became firm friends. Some very sociable barbecues later we tore ourselves away and departed for Madeira.

Our first anchorage was in the dramatic Baía d’Abra. We only stayed two nights, the roll eventually getting to us, but the snorkelling and walking were fantastic.

Then we decamped around the corner to Quinta do Lorde, where all the sensible sailors were. Madeira is famed for its walking, often making use of levadas, the island’s network of irrigation channels. We reached Madeira’s highest point, and the views from Pico Rivo and Pico do Arieiro were superb. We found ourselves a little disappointed with the walking experience however, as the trails were crowded and, in our view, somewhat sanitised.

We departed Madeira in very gusty conditions and the first 24 hours were the most challenging sailing since our departure from Ireland. Two days later we anchored at Corralejo on Fuerteventura. This town is all about surfing and kiteboarding, so we took a class and bought a board. Ruairí excelled and made it look easy. The Canaries never lack for wind and with full sail we made good progress toward Tenerife, the mountainous view of this spectacular island coming into view through the morning haze. The marina at Santa Cruz was packed at that time of year and Danú had her first stern-to berth. It was interesting manoeuvring a heavy boat with cross winds and no bow-thruster, but all was good with many lines and a few helpers onshore. We hired a car for three days for climbing and surfing – highlights included rock climbing above the clouds on the slopes of Mount Teide and surfing until dark at Puerto de la Cruz.

Baía dos Ferreiros, Isla Brava, Cape Verde islands

On 5th November we left La Gomera for Sal in the Cape Verde islands. A fresh northerly brought squalls and rain for the first 24 hours but we quickly settled into goose-wing with pole. We caught our first dorado on the second day, making a fine meal with vegetables and rice. After that the wind increased steadily and the seas began to build, and by the end of the third day we experienced gusts over 40 knots and 4–5m seas, these conditions lasting until the fifth day out. By then we were making steady progress under a small headsail alone, Danú surfing steadily towards the Cape Verdes. On 11th November we raised the main again, with three reefs, and by midmorning could see the island of Sal through the haze. It was a fast ride, with many yachts sustaining damage due to the conditions.

The anchorage at Fajã d’Agua, shared with just one other yacht

Palmeira, the main anchorage on Sal, was crowded with cruising yachts and it was difficult to find a space. It was a lively and bustling place, however, and we were glad to be in the Cape Verdes again. We surfed at the south end of the island and on another day swam with lemon sharks (getting around the island is a fun experience, flying along sandy highways in the back of a pickup). We sailed on to Ilha de Sal Rei on Boavista, 40 miles to the south, where Vera’s ‘godson’ Christopher Lacy joined the crew. A newly graduated Yachtmaster, he was aboard to gain miles and experience an Atlantic crossing. Boavista has a very different ambience to Sal, but with more nice beaches and a great surf break close to the anchorage – Ruairí and Chris told us about surfing with turtles one day. Unfortunately the anchorage at Sal Rei is subject to swell, which increased daily until it became uncomfortable. With the reef breaking heavily not far from us, we began to feel uneasy so sailed overnight to Praia on Santiago to clear out.

Arriving on a Friday, we were informed that we had to wait until Monday to complete the formalities. The police were far from helpful and told us that yachts were not welcome in the harbour as they could not control the security. They took our papers though, so we were stuck for the weekend. A yacht next to us told stories of theft and damage in Praia and on the nearby island of Fogo, prompting us to take the dinghy aboard at night. Highlights are few in Praia, but the chaotic fish market is a wonder to behold. We were happy when we got our passports stamped and could leave for Isla Brava, the westernmost island of the group.

Passing by Fogo (the ‘Island of Fire’ with an active volcano) at night, we continued to Baía dos Ferreiros on Isla Brava’s southwest coast. This deep narrow inlet is a wonderful anchorage, with clear water and excellent snorkelling. We were able to fill our tanks with good water, carrying jerry cans and 5-litre bottles down the cobble beach to the dinghy. Isla Brava has remained largely unchanged from what we found 15 years ago – remote, friendly and unspoilt. The anchorage at Fajã d’Agua, a few miles to the northwest, was still as beautiful as we remembered, with only one other yacht there. Swell made the dinghy landing with five of us a choreographed affair, but once ashore we sipped cold beers and contemplated the next part of our journey, our Atlantic crossing to French Guiana.