Fernando do Noronha - Brazil

The first ocean crossing was for the Caine’s an unforgettable experience. Robyn became seasick though they entered a harbor in Namibia where she left the yacht Dream On in the promise to join the crew in Brazil. That happened. And that is where we met, in front of the yacht club in Natal. We just arrived from the Acores. The Caine’s and hand for a bunk sailor Lionel recovering of their first ocean crossing. Wife Robyn arriving by plane and ready to pick up her yachtswoman life. The Caine’s checked and repaired for more than five weeks the yacht like all sailors check and repair their equipment. They tensioned the fore stay halyard and made a nice double bed in the cockpit. Everyone felt happy. Time flies and finally the day arrived that they left for nearby island Fernando do Noronha. A tough trip of 200 nautical miles. Force 6 to 7 on the nose with a nasty swell of about 12 ft and lots of squalls. Listen to them:

We motored out into the confused sea and antagonistic wind that we'd heard so much about. I was seasick soon. Decided not to bother with the Stugeron and grit my teeth. Well - that first day I gritted my teeth all over the lee cloth a number of times and once or twice, almost over Lionel's back. I discovered, however, that seasick or not, life can go on if you're determined enough. In fact, one can even pull ropes while one's head is buried in a bucket.
Poor Lara really didn't have a good time. Her under bunk locker flooded, wetting her mattress and no-one really in a position to help. As usual she tried her best to overcome and when she couldn't, she carried on regardless and kept smiling. She also has the worst bunk at sea, I tried it one night. It was like riding a bucking bronco on a roller coaster. Robert was an absolute star. He takes his turn on night watch enthusiastically and conscientiously (someone sleeping on deck with him - don't worry). He is always on hand to help and I have yet to hear him complain.
We arrived at Fernando after 3 very uncomfortable days and nights. It was very different to what we'd all imagined - not so many palms fringed beaches and much more Jurassic Park. It was wonderful to wake up and dive overboard to wash. One morning a boatload of tourists motored past as Garron was standing on the sugar scoop soaping himself. There was nothing for it but to wave merrily and hope they were all short sighted. Later on we met an ex-Englishman now living in America. I baked him a loaf of bread as a thank you for some soldering he did for us. He then asked for 4 more loaves to put in his deep freeze.  For those of you who know about my cooking that in itself was surprising enough, but he then left me US $ 30.00! We had a brilliant buffet lunch on the island on the proceeds from 4 loaves of bread - Garron and I are busily discussing how we can sell bread to finance our Caribbean adventure. We enjoyed life. Driving along dirt roads, lush, verdant greenery crowding on either side. A nice place to remember well.

The Caine’s left for Forteleza, Brazil, where Garron got brutally robbed. A few hours after arrival on his way to customs and immigration a few guys attacked him with knives. Garron got some cuts and bruises and was left behind in an alley without all his documents! No passports, no driver licenses, no credit cards and no boat papers. It took weeks to recover from this robbery. The Caine’s lived on borrowed money, not being able to transfer a dime from their South African ban account due to lack of proper identification! Finally their passports arrived in the morning and in the afternoon Lara's identification papers were lost! Here Garron reports

With all 4 safely in my moneybag and just enough cash, I left by bus to take the six-mile trip to immigration to have the passports stamped prior to leaving the next morning. With freshly stamped passports we did some last minute shopping. Visiting the shady areas by taxi and the safe ones by bus.  All in all we took 3 taxis and 2 buses visiting supermarket, chemist, gas station, fish market and the beach for a beer. On returning to the boat I had only 3 passports. Lara's was missing. I was devastated. The stupidity, the ignominy. Suicide seriously considered. Robyn was supportive (not of the suicide, I hope) and suggested a rapid retracing of steps. A taxi took us to each place in turn. We returned an hour later empty-handed. Lara ran out of the games room with the news that the first taxi man had found the passport and had driven 8 miles to the marina to return it to the marine manager, Armando. He is a huge, fat diabetic who came wobbling out with it. I gave him a hug and a kiss on both cheeks with all the passion of a newly wed. We left at 11.30 the next morning, by 2 o'clock we were back with a jammed self-furler, while painting the deck the halyard of the foresail had been loosened and not being retighten. The mechanism is such that a slack halyard can wind itself around the fore stay at the top of the mast and jam the f..... thing.. Some one had to go up the mast in the boson' s chair.

"Not I," shouted all involved. A man came to our rescue when the appropriate carrot of reward was dangled i.e., a cold beer and a handful of coins. We left again the next morning, before Armando came on duty. He would have asked for another 10 dollars and perhaps another hug! The self-furler worked but a fresh wind prevented us from getting enough sea room. I did not want to spend the night running along a lee shore. With Robyn still feeling her way I wanted to keep the sail plan simple - using genoa only and not the main sail, which would have allowed us to beat out for 50 miles. So by 3 o'clock we took down the sail and motored 5 hrs into the deep - all very uncomfortable, to find ourselves flirting with an oil field which was however well demarcated on the chart once using the spectroscope. By 8 o'clock the genoa was being held out on a spinnaker pole. An hour later it was in the water, the shackle had snapped open with pole and ropes all over the place. It was pulled aboard in a choppy sea, luckily the moon was nearly full, but the restrictions of age, balance, a lack of strengths prevented me from little else but freeing the genoa sheet and making fast the pole across the fore deck. By then I was pooped.

Robyn bravely did the better part of the night watch. I put in a token spell at gravediggers. By 8 am I was up and had repaired the damage, replaced the halyard, mounted the pole on the mast, done the washing up, cleaned the bilge and fed my son Robert as well as me, his dad. The girls and milady Robyn enjoyed a well-deserved sleep in.

Next: Arriving French Guyana