We follow the sailing dream of the Clinamen
LA GOMERA, THE LAST LAND
What importance does the last stopover have for the navigator if it is not because that is where his journey truly begins? The anguish, the track, the feeling of jumping into the void , all this already occurs on land, but it does not occur in any place on the mainland, but in that which serves the navigator as the last dock.
Provisioning everything necessary, preparing the ship well, finalizing all the details, for a lone sailor is a task that involves his little ritual. I've been reading the Christopher Columbus Shipboard Diary since before sailing. The book was the gift I stole from my father days before my departure. The story of Columbus must be read at sea. The vision of the explorer who leaves for distant lands, the serendipity of finding what is not sought. from the beginning of my Atlantic Project , I told myself that I would take the course of the winds, as the Admiral did and just as he decided on three of his four trips, that his last stopover would take place on the island of La Gomera, I decided to set course for the westernmost of the Canary Islands. Being part of an infinite journey, I imagine, means being part of a continuity in the sea.
I arrive at the port San Sebastian de la Gomera with time to be able to enjoy a bit of the island. Expectations are partially met. They always do…expectations. The Casa de Colón is more symbolic than real, since it was built several centuries later on the site where there was another lodging where the navigator seems to have spent the night. However, the friendly treatment of the Gomerans and the high presence of Venezuelans and Cubans, offers the visitor a reconciling moment.
'Cristóbal Colón's On-Board Diary', recommended reading before setting sail
This small island was badly treated by looting by the English and Dutch corsairs , although the last and most terrible was the Berber invasion of 1618 that destroyed the entire town inhabited by the Gomerans. But even today the resistance of La Gomera is felt from the nature of the island, even in the harsh climate itself. The peculiarity even reaches the language. The Gomerans have preserved the curious form of communication known as the “rubber whistle” . The whistled language uses six sounds and can express more than 4,000 concepts.
In the middle of the afternoon I am invaded by a feeling of scarcity regarding expectations. So much so that the lady who attended me at the tourist information office understood me right away: she couldn't leave without having visited the Alto de Garajonay National Park, "If you don't visit it, it's as if you hadn't come to this island" she answered me very correctly.
You can't be a good sailor if you don't accept changing course and adapting to circumstances. Therefore, still on land, I changed my departure schedule and instead of setting sail the next morning, I decided that I would take the day to make that excursion to the heart of the island. How magnificent it is to feel that one has made the best decision, without ambiguities!
The night before the unexpected excursion, I offered myself my last dinner on land, at La Salamandra, a highly recommended restaurant, I lived a great gastronomic moment with a Mille-feuille of aubergines as a starter and a grilled tuna belly , simply cooked to its best point. The wine, a good Canarian red, to accompany, soft and pleasant.
San Sebastian de la Gomera
In the morning I rushed all the preparations to leave Clinamen ready before I take the bus on line 1 that joins San Sebastián with the Valle Gran Rey . I ran, as always, to join one activity with another. Now the sailor had to dress as a walker.
When the bus begins the ascending route, the volcanic and resistant personality of the island is clearly felt. The character of La Gomera is rooted in its topography . Before reaching the center of the island, where I would get off, we entered the clouds that covered the top. this sea of clouds It is generated by the trade winds that condense the water vapor in the leaves of the trees, generating what is known as horizontal rain. The ascent up to High of Garajonay of 1487 meters, it is very well maintained and it is very interesting to appreciate the changing vegetation in an isolated and benign environment. During the descent and absorbed by the contemplation of plants, I lost myself prodigiously to end up in some areas of crops and villages. There I was able to observe the forms of stoic and suffered production , but persistent and rebellious. The entire landscape was shaded between vegetation that seemed to have been burned and new shoots or plantations. Upon returning to the port, I would find out that in 2012 the greatest natural disaster had occurred, a fire that destroyed a large part of the surface of the park and its surroundings.
I returned from the walk at 4:45 p.m. and dedicated myself to filling the water tank, making sure that I had all the other provisions, such as the additional gas bottle for cooking. I left the mooring at 6:00 p.m. to load diesel. He had to complete the tank and also fill the auxiliary drums that he had used to pass Gibraltar.
I wanted to set sail with the last rays of light.
Gonzalo Cruz, our Captain
I had to tidy up the entire living room and my cabin to leave satisfied and not scrambled because it was blowing nicely outside, everything that was messy would inevitably waltz. I checked the sails and readjusted the reefs in a traditional way so that the ends were not so tight.
In the end, I only had to do the round of telephone goodbyes. A very emotional moment as always, but this one, which I already knew was the last, would be even more so. Being a traveler is not something that rushes into one. I was twenty years old and long-haired, touring the American continent, he has continued to be an entrepreneur, a father and with a mane shortened by responsibility, and now alone, I continue the path. As Eugenio Montejo used to say, “we only brought the time to be alive between the lightning and the wind”. One does not travel to get rich, but to bare the soul.
Disembarkation in San Sebastián de la Gomera
LAUNCHING MOORINGS
As it got dark At 8:00 p.m. I left by motor to brave the gale of 25-30 knots that takes place at the height of the port of San Sebastian. While I was saying goodbye to mine with a faint thread of voice, more and more distant.
After 5 nautical miles by motor, at 9:30 p.m. I hoisted the sails at night, which was exactly what I wanted to avoid, but the tears shed were well worth the snub to foresight... The Mainsail with 2 laughs and the Genoa unfolded only halfway.
First GPS fix at 0:21 on Wednesday, March 9, 2016.
27º 52' 160" N and 17º 27' 492" W - Course 235º, Mild moderate wind of 13 Knts (knots). Average speed 5-6 Knts. Splendid night, starry but without moon, with the only distant lights of the little ports of the island of La Gomera.
During the night I moved away from Gomera to put on the horizon of distant lights Iron Island.
At 5:20, at the height of the southernmost point, I took the second GPS point.
27º 34' 400" N and 18º 01' 125" W - Heading 255º. Strong moderate wind of 22 Knts. Average speed 8 Knts.
Sea of clouds in Garajonay
The Canary Islands are becoming far away while I think about my sensations on land . Already in the sea, with the memory still fixed on the land, I murmur the unforgettable stanzas of the poet Antonio Machado , sung by Joan Manuel Serrat: everything happens and everything remains, but ours is to pass. Pass by making paths, paths over the sea. ... Walker there is no path, the path is made by walking, by walking the path is made and when looking back, one sees the path that will never be stepped on again. Traveler there is no road, but wakes in the sea!
He sang the same thing when crossing the La Quiaca bridge, in northern Argentina, border with Bolivia , at twenty years old and a sense of determination that I would never return to live in that land that had given birth to me. So it was.
The morning was greyish, I wonder how all this humidity does not fall and nourish the neighboring Sahara desert. Light breakfast with fruit first and then toast with olive oil, good. That green and thick. Of course, the two usual cafes.
At 6:20 p.m., after a day without much news, a typical gray day that makes me wait for that South that I am patiently looking for, I calculate the route of the first day. We have done 125 Nm (nautical miles) since 9:30 p.m. ., which makes me a net average of 6 Knts of constant speed. Not bad. To give you an idea, that would give a total crossing time of 19 days.
At 9:20 p.m. we have traveled in these first 24 hours, 142 Nm which keeps us the average of the 6 Knts . A good brand and it is the reflection of a day with ups and downs in the quality of the wind, alternating good gusts and other moments of calm.
GPS point: 26º 34' 980" N and 19º 10' 600" W - Heading 220º - Moderate wind of 15-20 Knts from the NW
Speed of 6.5-7 Knts. On the Linear Route there are 2600 Nm left to the destination of Point-à-Pitre, on the French island of Guadeloupe.
Dinner that night was frugal, some "combined" quesadillas but with Jabugo ham and a very ripe Canarian avocado. I'm not very hungry or want to burden my digestion too much.
GPS point at 9:20 on Thursday, March 10:
26º 06' 500" N and 20º 20' 600" W - Heading 260º - Light wind 10-15 Knts NW - Speed 6-6.5 Knts. Distance Linear remaining 2533 Nm
The sounds of the Clinamen are repeated tirelessly. The hammering of the sea and the wind. The creaking of the seams, the tensions in the ropes. The howl of the gusty wind, the thick sonority of calm. Pablo Neruda, in his book Residencia en Tierra, has a poem dedicated to The Ghost of the Cargo Ship, which he recites to me in the middle of the night:
“…and a smell and a sound of an old ship,
of rotten wood and damaged iron,
and weary machines that howl and cry,
pushing the bow, kicking the sides,
chewing regrets, swallowing and swallowing distances,
making a sound of sour waters on sour waters,
moving the old ship over the old waters”
GPS point at 18:20 on Thursday March 10 after lowering the Mainsail:
_25º 48' 040" N and 20º 56' 292" W - Heading 250º- Light wind 10-15 Knts N - Speed 4.5-5 Knts (with only the Genoa) _
Distance Linear remaining 2477 Nm
Volcanic rocks of El Hierro
Mainsail cracked at a seam . Something described that simply is a major incident. A leaden feeling comes over me. The misfortunes that do not stop. I try a fortune repair holding on to the boom, but with the waves it is impossible for me to repair the Sail properly. In 9 hours we have done just 36 Nm, after a night in which we had worked very well since in 12 hours from 9:20 p.m. final point.
The incident with the Mainsail is going to harm us on the way, but above all it teaches us the fragile limit between good weather and the incident that spoils everything. Trying to repair the Sail with a lot of movement of the boom due to the waves, I was violently ejected and fell very badly against the edge of the boat , being held in extremis by the harness and the peripheral safety cable. Without those precautionary measures he would have gone into the water without the slightest doubt. This accident causes me a certain discomfort and exhaustion. I decide to leave the sail repair operations until the next morning when I can approach them with new energy and have a chance to finish what I started. If I had dismantled the sail at that time, I would never have managed to finish the arrangement so as to hoist it before nightfall. . I decide that it is better to save efforts and energy because exhaustion is also a source of accidents.
I decide to start reading in the cabin to relax and control the anger, still prey to enormous physical fatigue and mental anxiety. Finally I fall asleep with music until after 23 hours. I hadn't eaten dinner and I didn't feel like getting too busy with it.
Simple dinner of Chicken Envelope Soup with pasta and 2 Mexican tortillas with Smoked Salmon. For dessert, a triple Chimbote alfajorcito with a coffee.
GPS point at 0:20 on Friday March 11:
_25º 37' 068" N and 21º 29' 108" W - Heading 255º- Light wind 15-16 Knts NE - Speed 4.5-5 Knts (with Genoa only) _
Distance Linear remaining 2467 Nm
There are worse ways to end a day, I think. I assume a disjointed wandering and a taste for accepting destiny without measuring the scope of its hidden designs. It will be that the dulce de leche compensates one for any defeat.
Clinamen, in the harbor
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