19. Horta to La Palma

After much internal debate I have decided to not sail to the UK.  Being a resident in the UK, bringing the boat potentially triggers a VAT event of some 20%.  Considering that I have added value to the boat by investing in gear, labouring like crazy, and tidying up age and wear, maybe I have double the value of the boat (I am a notoriously positive thinker!) and the 20% VAT would be applied, probably, to the new value of the boat.  Which is absurdly unfair.

So, I decide to hang out in the Atlantic for a season.  Specifically in the Canaries.

Before we go, I discover that I forgot to empty out the fridge when I moored up the boat four weeks ago. Nasty.

From the log:

Saturday, 6th September 2025, Horta

Time and tide wait for no man, and we are going Beyond again. 

The boat is repaired. After much debating and thought we have decided to not go north to the UK but instead our course is La Palma in the Canaries. Our home port triggers a VAT event and the Canaries have summer weather all year round. Between ridiculous tax regulations and the wife's desire for winter sun, there really isn't much to think about. 

We have been joined by a friend, Bruce, as competent crew. He can also cook, repair things, is funny and great company. Awesome guy. 

Bruce has sailed before.  Crossed the English Channel, done some sailing in Albania and Greece.   Really good guy. I was looking forward to sailing with a crew, share the load of watch-keeping and make some fun memories.  Kind of succeeded with the last. We had a last night of frivolities before an early start:

Getting everything ready for a passage is less intimidating than many think.  Once you relax to the awareness that the boat is never fully ready, that you just have to leave anyway, it’s fairly straightforward.  As long as the boat is basically sound, the countdown is inexorable and you just go.

Having said that, shit still happens and usually where and when you weren’t anticipating it.  For me, I had been worrying about extracting myself from the dock situation.  We were rafted up with other boats and had to negotiate and coordinate with the captain that was locking us in.  That all went much better than my nervous anticipation had doom painted. But as we are slowly motoring to the fuel dock I notice that the throttle control is stiff.  Weird.  Henk, the mechanic that helped me  in Bermuda, had changed one of the cables, the throttle one, but we thought the gear change one was fine.  It ran smoothly.  Then. Just as I went into reverse, to slow our forward motion at the fuel dock, it gave up the ghost.  I was amused to see that the sheathing that wrapped the cable was totally corroded and rusty wires were poking out.  We extracted it and discovered that the mounting plate down below was knackered as well.

Sunday.  Replacement?  When everything is closed?  But harbours run seven days a week.  The harbour master connected us to an engineer, who dropped whatever his plan for Sunday was, and fabricated us a stainless steel mount, purpose made for our unique mounting situation down below.  And I contacted my MAYS guys who opened their chandlery and miraculously they had a 3.6m cable in stock. Thanks Luis! We could have been stuck until Monday.

In total a six hour delay, and we set off with at least that critical component, the engine control, in good shape.  To be fair, far better to have things break as you set off than when you are underway.

In the end, apart from the critical parts, we did most of the work ourselves. Which gives one a warm glow. 

We had a delightful sail out of Horta and past the volcano of Pico as the sun is setting.

Bruce was quite impressed with the junk rig. In a NNE breeze of about 12 knots we glide along nicely. Faial and Horta recedes into an inspiring memory. It really is the coolest place. Great place to sit through the zombie apocalypse.

Our destination is La Palma of the Canaries.  About six days of sailing.  Nothing complicated, just a straight South Eastern run down.  The forecasts are looking good.  Beam reach all the way and wind strength at between 12 and 15 knots.  Couldn’t ask for better.

We average 6 knots, surging up to 9. Think we have some helpful current. Mount Pico, Portugal's tallest mountain at some 2,600 metres, rises in a gravity defying sexy manner. If you've seen it you know what I mean. 

First night at sea is calm. Wind from N, 10 knots, overcast, moon poking though, squalls in the distance tracking us. We do four hour watches. Nice to share the load. 

Pretty much as soon as we cleared the island of Pico, the shelter from the seas we had been enjoying was gone and we had waves of maybe two metres, maybe two and a half.  And Bruce goes quiet and pale.

Mal de Mer.  Seasickness.

I have never suffered from it.  I have been out in big seas, the sort that throw you from one side of the boat to the other, confused seas, rocking and rolling.  Bay of Biscay, big wind and big seas and a small boat. Never felt a thing.  The worst was probably mid Atlantic when I was laying still, sails struck and trying to repair my broken steering cables.  And it was rolling like a m****rf***er. Literally going through a full 90 degrees from one side to the other. Annoying enough to make me cuss out loud but seasickness? Nada.

It’s a blessing.  Must be the viking ancestry.

It’s apparently the ear balance and the motion of things.  At sea everything is moving.  The sea, the boat, what you are sitting on, the wind, you are going up and down, side to side and angles are constantly changing and nothing is predictable.  The only stable things are the horizon, sun moon and stars.  So it’s usually best to sit in the cockpit and, if you are able, to steer the boat.  Smells don’t help, being hungry or too full, being cold or warm - basically everything and anything and the power of the mind seems to be negated. Positive thinking helps you suffer gracefully but that's about it.

It’s a thing and it’s shit.

Usually, people I have sailed with get very drowsy and go to sleep in as stable a place as they can find.  On the floor as low down in the boat as they can get, literally the floor, (the motion of the pendulum that is the boat is less extreme there) is popular.

By most accounts it takes two or three days to get over it.

Bruce retires to the aft cabin.  It the best berth in the house.  Proper king size bed as wide as the fat hull, some four port-lights, and privacy tucked away from everything.  Later he described it as a being the ball on a big pinball table. But eventually he got wedged in under one of the shelves. We were howling with laughter at the absurdity of it all.

I check in with him every few hours. He is “fine” and very apologetic.  I make sure he doesn’t get dehydrated and tempt him with simple food stuffs.

Basically, I am back to solo sailing.  He offers to take some watches but I make sure I go back on the egg timer schedule.  Responsibility cuts differently when you have someone else onboard.

La Palma is some 800 miles to the SE of Horta. The forecast is giving us a beam reach downhill sleigh ride of five or six days. It will be fine.

From the log:

Sunday 7th Sept, 2025, 70 miles

Beam reach, average speed 5.5 knots. No drama sailing. 

Partly cloudy, 22C°

Bruce is seasick. Being admirably brave. Not eating, sleeping, heaved once. "Predigesting food for the fishies." Bravely did his watches until it all became a bit too much. So I did most of the night and started eggtimer in morning.

Windvane, despite new steering cables being a bit stiff, is doing well. I reefed mizzen right down giving us a nicely balanced boat. 

Big pod of dolphins, full of life, playing, jumping. 

Monday 8th Sept, 2025, 141 miles

Almost like trade winds. Steady NNE, 12-15 knots, seas 1.5m, very few gusts, scattered showers. Steering a straight 135° SE line for La Palma.

Crew is feeling better, slowly crawling his way out of the pit.

Heard Beyond's workhorse puff through centreboard trunk, as I was writing log. Good omen of a happy boat. 

Tuesday 9th Sept, 122 miles

Exactly the same as yesterday. Reefed down a bit to have a more comfortable ride. 

Crew still broken but repairing. Refusing to share food with fishies. 

The NE I am supposed to have is actually more E. Which pushes us west of La Palma or tricks me into pinching East on a close haul. The big 6' seas kill forward momentum so speed is low averaging 5.3 knots. I am kind of accepting a bit of westward drift, hoping the next three days bring a windshift in our favour. Say a northerly or even NW.

Passed thru halfway point today. 

Shook out a reef in mizzen and improved speed to 5.7 knots. 

Wednesday 10th, 128 miles

Another terrific day of sailing in near perfect boisterous conditions. Wind just forward of the beam means we heel a bit but Beyond likes it. Sailing conservatively to give recovering crew a break - really having an awful time of it.

Expecting a wind shift towards SE as we get closer to La Palma which will be just about perfect.

All good. 

Thursday 11th, 132 miles

239 miles to go so we will arrive Saturday morning. Conditions terrific. A sleigh ride, wind just forward of beam and shifting now aft to Beyond's best point of sail.

Saw a ship yesterday, first one the whole sail! Triggered our AIS alarm - reassuring that the system is working as I hoped.  

Crew is improving. His mal de mere slowly evaporating rather than just turning off. Even so he's been helping with watches, so massive respect.

Friday 12th, 109 miles

Blue skies and sunshine, 12 knots of North Easterly over and forward of the beam. Nice to have a more moderate day. 

Crew feeling better and offered to cook but made a hasty greenface retreat from galley after three minutes. 

All good. Landfall tomorrow.

Made a decision to go for Tazacorte instead of Santa Cruz. It's a better over wintering choice, boasting more sail boat resources, with less swell, and I can probably haul Beyond and do some work this winter. Downside is that it is a little less charming, maybe, and a bit of a walk into village or town. But overall, sailors online give it much better reviews. 

The wind is increasing, still coming from the northeast at 17 knots with gusts up to 22. We've reefed the sails right down and are beginning to pick out the approach more carefully. It's deep waters right up to the island - at 1 mile out, its pushing a mile deep - but still don't want to be too close to the unknown shore. We're in the lee, which should moderate the swell. We're unsure about the severity of compression zones or katabatic gusts (strong downdrafts from mountains), but the lee is highly advantageous, so we don't want to be too far out, nor do we want to have to beat our way back in. 

Fine. 

And 'twas a dark and stormy night when we saw La Palma some 29 miles out. Pitch black with a few stars looking through cloud cover. No moon yet. And there is a light, cutting a sweep every five seconds. Punta Cumplida, one of Spain's oldest lighthouses, on La Palma's North Eastern headland.

Saturday 13th September 2025, 118 miles. 

Dark as a cauldron. Feels like we are storming thru the night at 15 knots. Nope, still averaging less than five. No ships on AIS. 

Milky Way above and fluorescent lights in the water on a pitch black night is quite special.

And then it went sporty. 20 knots sustained and gusts of 25+. Bruce who was recovering nicely got hit hard. Not my fault but I felt guilty anyway! Reefed and reefed again. In the end I had a small handkerchief up on the foremast and furled the mizzen altogether. And was still pushing eight knots. Sporty indeed. Drenched and adrenalin buzz.

And then we got into the lee of the island. Calm seas, gentle breeze, 23 degrees, paradise. The island of La Palma looms in the dark under the Milky Way, full of mystique and promise (!).

Just approaching the port of Tazacorte now. Safe haven after a spirited seven day crossing. 

Daily miles: 

70 (part day)

141

122

128

132

109

118

=750

Not counting the first half day, we averaged 125 miles per day. Happy with that. 

Checking in was easy. I was able to get enough internet connectivity to send an email the night before. Docking up was easy and marina crew helpful and friendly. The mooring provided fantastic as were the facilities.

Bruce and I checked out the local towns and sights over a couple of days but more on that in the next article.

Thanks for reading along and sharing the journey!