Preamble

Reflections for those who dream of crossing La Gouille, and are looking for excellent reasons not to!

Our trip this year was divided into three main parts:

• The descent of the Mediterranean from Port Camargue to Gibraltar,
• The Atlantic crossing from Gibraltar to Marie Galante,
• The Caribbean.

The second part, in four stages (Gibraltar to Madeira, Madeira to the Canary Islands, Canary Islands to Cape Verde, Cape Verde to Marie-Galante), was the most memorable, and I'd like to share a few thoughts. This isn't a travel guide or a list of recommendations, which you can easily find online, but rather a collection of humble, unstructured feelings after a powerful experience.

Why cross the Atlantic?

It's a question I still haven't found an answer to… probably because there are too many…

Which season is it for crossing?

The question didn't arise for us; we were participating in a rally and the date was fixed (early November from La Palma). This probably led us to leave a little early in the season. Otherwise, there are several factors to consider: According to the Pilots Charts, the best time is late January/early February, which leaves only three months in the Caribbean until the hurricane season (June), especially since meteorologists seem to be predicting increasingly longer hurricane seasons (May to November). You also have to take into account a possible return to mainland France for the holidays, flight prices depending on the dates, etc. Many books address this topic, particularly the Pilots Charts, the books by Jimmy Cornell… Good luck…

At what age should one cross the border?

I haven't found any books that address this. The obvious answer is inevitably silly: as young as possible. While not a feat of daring, a transatlantic crossing is a real adventure requiring significant physical exertion, less suitable at an advanced age. This obviously depends on the boat… Generally, sordid economic considerations contradict this truism. Retirement age combines free time and relative purchasing power, but barring an unlikely social revolution, this age is not expected to decrease. As for us, and on Rocking Chair, which is a rather physically demanding boat, we couldn't afford to wait too long…

Which boat?

Almost any boat can cross the Atlantic! Modern boats, whether well-designed or built or not, all have the inherent qualities for it. As for older boats, the main criterion is the level of maintenance. You see all sorts of craft; basically, all you need is something that moves with the wind at your back! Economic constraints will undoubtedly be a deciding factor. It's worth remembering, however, that the faster a boat goes, the shorter and less arduous the crossing will be… On a boat not originally designed for this, it's still best to plan for specific modifications, such as additional water and fuel tanks, storage (possibly by removing a berth), and floor locking mechanisms… Rocking Chair was perfectly suited to the task, comfortable, fast, and safe, but perhaps sometimes a little too powerful for its crew. Nevertheless, it brought us safely to port in spectacular fashion.

Given our age (and physical condition), an Amel or a Cata might have been more suitable… But you don't do the Route Des Grandes Alpes with an electric bike!

Which crew?

It is obviously essential to get along well. Confinement on a small sailboat can exacerbate tensions, even for a limited period of 15 to 20 days. It's often a question of good communication. Education…At the end of the rally, some crews won't be going on holiday together again, but for the majority it went very well. The number of crew members obviously depends on the boat. The The problem isn't the same on a 20-meter sailboat or an all-electric catamaran, and on Rocking Chair, which relies on manpower. Overcrowding, while distributing tasks and increasing the workforce for maneuvers, doesn't make living together any easier. The boat's carrying capacity must also be considered: an extra crew member means extra water and provisions (some boats had to ration supplies approaching the Caribbean)... On Rocking Chair, there were four of us from Gibraltar to Cape Verde, then three for the long crossing. The four legs went remarkably well, but four crew members is definitely the ideal configuration for long passages on this boat (a big thank you to our crew members, Daniel and Isabelle, Gwen and Gwen, and Julien who completed the long leg).

In any case, unless you have the physical condition of an athlete or are participating in La Transquadra (which amounts to the same thing), I strongly advise against going as a pair, and even less so solo…

Which route?

We followed the traditional tourist route from Gibraltar to the Canary Islands via Madeira, then from the Canaries to the Caribbean via Cape Verde. Going via Morocco (rather than Madeira) can be a pleasant alternative, but sailing at night along its coast is notoriously dangerous. Coming from Gibraltar to Madeira, it's probably better to sail up the Spanish coast towards Cádiz to avoid the shoals (the submerged island of Spartel, which some liken to Atlantis) that create a rough sea on the direct route. We didn't do this, and we certainly got a rough ride! Madeira is well worth at least a week's stopover. We spent over a month in the Canary Islands, and these islands are also well worth it (with a huge soft spot for Lanzarote!). We only stayed a week in Cape Verde, which was spent repairing and fine-tuning the boat's preparations, and that's one of our regrets. If you have a very tight deadline, it's better to sacrifice a month in the Caribbean in favor of the islands of the eastern Atlantic.

The Rally

We decided to cross the Atlantic as part of a rally. Initially, we wanted to join Jimmy Cornell's Atlantic Odyssey, but he decided to stop organizing it in 2018… So, the ARC and RIDS remain. The former is English-speaking (a minor issue) and involves nearly 400 boats (a major issue…). Therefore, we'll be taking the Rallye Des Iles Du Soleil. Why a rally?

Disadvantages of the rally

• Registration fee
• A World Sailing course is mandatory. Beyond the cost of the training, swimming offshore in March in La Rochelle isn't the most glamorous experience of the trip...
• Requires extensive security equipment, an expensive first-aid kit, and numerous bulky spare parts.
• Group and community practice of the rally is moderately engaging (and besides, there are only 25 participants!)
• Fixed departure dates, and early in the season, with a risk of bad weather that proved to be true. Indeed, this meant we set off with a synoptic forecast of 30 to 35 knots… which exactly hit us!

Advantages of rallying

• World Sailing course. This course proved to be very informative, even essential from a safety perspective. It was a real eye-opener regarding bad habits that we all (or almost all) carry around…
• Carrying a large supply of safety equipment is reassuring and prudent, even if, in principle, the problems that arise are those that were not anticipated.
• The camaraderie among the participants was excellent. We met some people we'll surely see again, and of course others we didn't know as well. The organizers also created a fantastic atmosphere and arranged some very enjoyable events, including an enthusiastic and warm welcome upon arrival in Marie-Galante, worthy of a Vendée Globe. That alone dispelled any reservations!
• Fixed departure dates: I think that if we wait for good weather for three weeks before leaving, we will spend the winter at best in Cape Verde and at worst in the Canary Islands (we may not even leave at all…He who listens too much to the weather loses his strength in the bistro).
• The safety offered by the rally is considerable; you can't rely on the other boats in the fleet. From the second day onward, you can't see anyone, you can't copy anyone on the VHF radio, the fleet is spread out over more than 400 nautical miles, and you no longer receive AIS signals. But thanks to the tracking system installed on each boat, the organizers monitor us hour by hour and can contact the CROSS (Gris Nez or AG) which will divert a cargo ship in case of trouble. The fact that loved ones can follow the boat's progress day by day on the rally website is an undeniable advantage.

How does it work?

A transatlantic crossing between Europe and the New World is sailed downwind, or even with the wind at your back, in a breeze. This means that very quickly (a few hours after departure), turning back is practically impossible: who would consider sailing 100 or 200 miles upwind in strong winds and seas of at least 2 to 3 meters? Once this is understood, the weather forecast is more useful for preparing for the conditions you'll encounter than for avoiding them!

Life on board settles in quite quickly on a boat that rolls from side to side. Plates and glasses are constantly flying around (bring non-slip placemats). We took two-hour watches every six hours, which allowed for two four-hour stretches of sleep per night. It's important to take turns giving each other extra rest or sleep during the day. Julien had trouble adapting to this rhythm. And he often fought off sleep during his watches, but it suited me just fine. The whole crew gathered together for meals, which were a special time. The chores on board were shared, but Isabelle thinks she did more cooking and washing up than I did (we don't have any reliable statistics on this)... Cooking is a key factor in maintaining endurance. The days when we had good, hot food were easier to bear. The aperitif and wine are not bad either, but be careful, starting a quarter with 2 grams significantly alters the previous day (and that's me saying this)!

Maneuvers dictate the pace of sailing as the squalls come and go. An average day brings eight to ten squalls. We dodge two, and take the third! That's a good three or four a day that we haven't avoided… In a synoptic area of at least 20 to 25 knots, a squall adds 10 to 15 knots, with a wind shift of 10 to 15 degrees… So we reef in the squall (usually one more reef), and then hoist the sails again in the lull. Julien said he'd reefed more in fifteen days than in his entire life! At night, after two or three maneuvers, we end up not hoisting the sails at all, and we stay under-canvassed until morning.

But a transatlantic crossing shouldn't be reduced to these constraints. It also offers moments of captivating beauty: flights of flying fish with flashes of silver, seabirds that accompany us, playing with the rigging and faithfully returning each morning, bursts of magical color in the crashing waves, fiery sunsets, night skies of incredible purity, the simple joys of being at sea, a solitude conducive to introspection, but also moments of connection, sharing, and happiness…

What equipment?

• For safety equipment, you can refer to "Division L240," the legal minimum, and the ORC regulations. In my opinion, it's essential to have a good grab bag in case of evacuation from the boat, containing at least a PLB (Personal Life Jacket) if you don't have an EPIRB (in addition to the mandatory one), a waterproof VHF radio (in addition to the mandatory one), dried fruit and biscuits in waterproof packaging, and mineral water in small bottles (the survival rations in the life rafts are downright disgusting!)... Fire protection is paramount; the slightest fire usually sends the crew to the life raft. We also each had a SART AIS and wore our life jackets almost continuously. During heavy tropical downpours, two of them inflated unexpectedly. Bring several extra cartridges and make sure they're the right models! Opt for pressure-switch inflators rather than those with a button. Having a survival suit for each person isn't mandatory, but it's certainly worthwhile...
• Regarding the pharmacy, the rally had a plethora of recommendations (beyond those of the CCMM). We didn't use five percent of the medications we carried. Thankfully, we didn't have to reduce a fracture or suture a wound, although during the training course, as practice, I shamelessly and unsuccessfully tortured oranges with surgical wire and needles. But this ultra-complete kit is insurance against potential accidents and, above all, against stress.
• For deck equipment, don't undersize the winches, have your sails serviced—they'll be under a lot of stress, they need to be strong, but not necessarily new, and they'll be old by the time you arrive anyway... Check all the running rigging; it will also suffer, and you'll have to replace it later. Don't set off with standing rigging that's too old. Pulleys are consumables (we broke five or six), so carry several spares. If I were to do it again, I would have a carbon spinnaker pole made. We actually balked at using ours, which weighs a ton and swings wildly with the (strong) roll, dangerously sweeping the deck. We also had a boom brake, which was very useful for controlling jibes and false gybes, and an electric winch to assist our failing strength.
• For navigation, since the decline in the sextant's popularity, GPS is essential… carry several, including battery-powered ones. Electronic charts aren't necessary except for receiving weather files, but they're still a considerable help (generally, carry backup battery-powered equipment in case of a widespread power outage). In my opinion, an AIS transceiver is highly recommended. I did have a sextant on board, but probably due to a lack of practice, my positional readings weren't conclusive (a position on the foothills of the Massif Central when we thought we were in the Gulf of Lion seriously undermined my confidence).
• The most important piece of equipment is the autopilot. It will be working extremely hard, so it shouldn't be undersized (especially the ram), and it will be doing a lot of downwind sailing. For this reason, pairing it with a good navigation system that has a true wind function is a great help in tracking wind shifts during squalls. On Rocking Chair, I'm going to install a second, less sophisticated autopilot than the NKE, and independent. Of the 24 boats in the rally, 5 had autopilot failures. It's the most essential spare part; it can completely ruin a crossing and be dangerous, even if it's only 200 to 300 miles in the Mediterranean!
• We forgot to bring non-slip placemats. This proved to be a major inconvenience. At every meal, holding your plate with one hand, unable to set it down while balancing food of varying physical properties, and holding your full glass with the other, and using cutlery felt like magic… A few square centimeters of non-slip surface make all the difference!

Autonomy

Water, fuel, and electricity are the consumables that need to be monitored. The autopilot and refrigerator are major consumers of electricity, and it must be generated without depleting fuel reserves: the engine would need to run for about 3 hours a day to fully recharge the batteries (and that's without the watermaker, freezer, washing machine, etc.), which translates to a minimum of 7.5 liters of fuel per day and 150 liters over the crossing. Some boats in the rally, not very fuel-efficient, ran out of power when the trade winds disappeared in the final days! Rocking Chair is equipped with a wind turbine, two solar panels (2 x 105W), and a hydro generator; we were self-sufficient in electricity and only used our fuel reserves (300 liters) to make progress during the 36-hour period of no trade winds. As for water, by being reasonably careful (washing dishes and showers with seawater and rinsing with fresh water), we consumed half of the tanks (300 liters out of 600), and drank two-thirds of the 200 liters of bottled mineral water (still and sparkling) on board.

Communications

Gone are the days when Moitessier launched his messages with a slingshot from the bridges of the cargo ships he passed. Electronics have replaced the rubber band in communications. VHF is mandatory, but let's face it, it's useless on a crossing… after 24 hours, it's a world of silence! SSB is (very) rarely used; it's complicated to install and operate, power-hungry, and expensive (though it's probably possible to find one secondhand). The Iridium satellite phone is the most practical option today, either the traditional version or the Iridium Go. You still have to budget about €1 per minute for voice calls, but data traffic is much cheaper (free with Iridium Go). Being able to send a daily message to our contacts ashore was a pleasure (I hope it was for them too…). But every morning, sending my position and status to the organizers, retrieving the positions of other rally participants, the weather, routing, and messages took me at least an hour of "administrative work" at the chart table! (Actually, I quite enjoy it…)

The weather

Given that turning back is impossible and that shortly after the start the feet left the diving board, the offshore weather forecast serves to mitigate the impacts and optimize the route, that is to say, mainly to know when to gybe! I was using three sources, all three via Iridium:

• GRIB files, only GFS files, are obtained upon request via email, for example from Saildocs. Given the low bandwidth, this provides a 5- to 7-day forecast with a large time step, useful for understanding the general situation, but too short for route planning, except perhaps at the very end.
• The weather forecast provided by the rally organizers was relatively brief and covered an area encompassing the positions of all participants; it was the bare minimum!
• I used two weather routers, one for Gibraltar to the Canary Islands, and the other for the Canary Islands to Marie-Galante. The first one didn't meet our expectations, so I recommend the second: Commander's Weather (https://www.commandersweather.com). A (good) weather router is a considerable aid to navigation and decision-making. The messages are clear, relevant, and friendly, providing reassurance and taking feedback into account. This is exactly what you expect from a true weather router. I wouldn't embark on another crossing without one.

The weather analysis, which synthesizes all this data and compares it with direct observation of the barometer, wind and sky to decide on the route, was part of my morning "administrative work".

What supplies?

A transatlantic crossing requires serious preparation, and the role of the bosun (and the cook!) is crucial! (Thanks, Isabelle!). Several months (years…) before departure, we had sampled numerous canned goods (tins and jars) and selected what we could enjoy at sea. Avoiding low-quality ravioli in tomato sauce with a vague taste of ketchup and cassoulet whose only redeeming quality is its effervescence seemed as fundamental as paying attention to your distress flares! Varying the menu is equally important (I was close to developing an eternal hatred for all ducks after four consecutive meals featuring this bird!).

I didn't want to bring any glass bottles of wine on the crossing, to avoid ending up with shards of glass covering the bilges and floorboards in case of breakage. So we opted for bag-in-box wine, which I transferred as we went. I had selected some good wines before leaving, but during the trip, it was difficult to find wines of the same quality! We made do as best we could…

Throughout the journey down to the Canary Islands, supplies are obtained under the same conditions as on any cruise along the Spanish coast: Large, well-stocked supermarkets with reasonable prices, abundant fruits and vegetables but all from greenhouse farming (However, very good ones can be found on the stalls of street vendors), meat that is more pork than beef or lamb, local bread…

We had many questions about the possibility of provisioning in Cape Verde. In fact, we didn't encounter any unpleasant surprises. While you shouldn't expect to fully provision the boat in Mindelo, the small supermarkets allow you to adequately supplement your food supplies, and the street shops and market provide fresh, good fruits and vegetables (ask for produce that hasn't been refrigerated to preserve it longer). Meat is scarce, and its butchering doesn't meet the standards of Charolais or Simmental beef… Nevertheless, we ate fresh fruits and vegetables almost until the halfway point of our journey.

Although we are not fishermen, I had bought a complete set of equipment before leaving. The Gwens successfully christened it.

I must admit, the Tahitian-style mahi-mahi had a pleasant taste! But the hour spent cleaning the boat after the fishing trip didn't win me over…

Above all, one must not forget, even without being Curnonsky, that a good hot meal eaten together in the brafougne is an essential moment of comfort and conviviality for crews "slipping on the bitter abysses"...

The return

We had decided before our departure that Rocking Chair would return to Europe by cargo ship, and we had booked the transport. I was worried about the handling, but I was wrong; everything went smoothly. The return transatlantic crossing is more unpredictable than the outbound journey, and the weather is less pleasant: "It's better to remove layers of fleece as you cross than the other way around!" If you're determined to do it, in my opinion, very good routing is essential; you have to play it by position, navigating between Atlantic depressions and the calms north of the trade winds. This year, on top of everything else, a certain virus has complicated matters by causing the closure of all the ports on the Atlantic and the Mediterranean!

The material damage

In a typical year of coastal and semi-offshore cruising, Rocking Chair covered an average of about 1,000 miles. In one year, we covered nearly 8,000, in rather strong wind conditions. It's therefore inevitable that there would be some damage, even though I tried to avoid it throughout the entire crossing. All the running rigging has been replaced or will be; we broke half a dozen blocks, two batten boxes, and a spinnaker halyard snap shackle. Two battens nearly came loose just as we left La Palma, so we sewed all the pockets.

Shortly after arrival, the electronics failed due to a solder joint corroded by moisture, and the boom came loose after the gooseneck pin sheared off (never reuse a worn pin). The chart table computer screen is showing signs of wear, and we plan to replace it. We had a small tear in the luff of the mainsail during the crossing, which worried me at first, but it was just a protective strip; the Spectra luff rope wasn't damaged and was quickly repaired in Pointe-à-Pitre. I was planning to change the sails on the return trip, but in the end, the North sails held up well. I hope they can last another season or two, which is just as well, as the list of planned expenses will be much better without them…

The results

Crossing the Atlantic is no longer a feat of daring these days, but it remains a truly significant experience. The distance, the isolation, the duration make it an intense experience, especially the fifteen days of the long leg. Doing it with Julien was very powerful and moving, and it brought us closer. It's quite unlikely we'll ever do it again, but I can only wish all those who are tempted to experience the adventure!