Author: maddieisoutoftheoffice

There are many perils suffered on the sea, some of the lighter ones you may or may not have experienced:

– Hearing a repeated and annoying banging at night which you are unable to locate despite many hours of investigation
– No room at the marina, and having to spend the night at anchor
– Being at anchor and discovering that your dingy has a leak and is in effect a paddling pool
– No fish, but many a seabird are after your lures
– When the sat phone won’t connect and you worry that since the nearest AIS signal is 45NM away your land contact may start to panic that you’ve disappeared bermuda triangle style
– When your fellow yacht loses their navigation lights and you have to check the AIS to ensure they are not sinking
– The cloud cover means the skipper can’t do her sextant homework
– You nap between watches, therefore sleep patterns are up the spout
– You have a glorious afternoon watch, but because everyone else is asleep there’s no-one to be terribly British and discuss the weather with
– Teeth are brushed before/after naps and meals, so approximately ten times a day
– Showering, however, due to water being precious and the absolute nightmare of removing all clothes, happens every two to three days; though utterly joyful when one can
– You have dreadlocks because salt, spray and sleeping on a rollercoaster for three nights
– Sports bras give you spots, but underwired bras chafe, so you embrace wet weather gear and abandon bras altogether
– There is no privacy, you sleep with all doors open, and are guaranteed to walk in on someone in the heads
– The palaver of dressing in the dark, when it is layers which include buttons, poppers, braces, zips and velcro
– The frustration of trying to locate things in the dark, especially dropped headphone buds
– Sleeping with your possessions on your bed, including expensive prescription glasses, because if you put them anywhere except beside you you’ll never find them when you need them in the dark
– Wearing so many extra layers you put off using the heads for hours and then have to go through the rigmorole of gloves-lifejacket-waterproof-fleece-sallopettes-shorts-leggings-pants as quickly as possible
– Taking off shortie wellies regretting having not earlier put on socks
– Losing items in inner pockets
– Manourvering cups of tea from galley to the companionway, and similarly boiling water for rice/pasta; salopettes are recommended
– The cusp of running out of tea or milk, but really needing a cup of tea
– Waking up at the foot or head of your bed because you’re sleeping on a rollercoaster
– Falling out of the heads and onto someone
– Bumping. Into. Everything.

We eat well at sea! Here is our menu from Porto Santo (Madeira) to Portugal.

Worth noting for those of us who have a propensity to eat their lunch at 10am it was quite a test to have to resist eating ALL OF THE FOOD on the first day, since a lot of prep was done in Porto Santo. It would have certainly put the pressure on to catch fish!

You may spot a high level of vegan and gf; the skipper and I elected ourselves chefs, it meant she and I could avoid washing up duty, and got to have our say with the menu…..

Day 1

Lunch: Tuna tartare with avocados (gf) and crusty bread

Dinner: Thai green curry with mushrooms and green beans (vegan), chicken option, and sticky rice (gf)

Midnight snacks, daily: Mini mars/snickers/etc or dark chocolate coconut (vegan and gf)

Comment: After the first five days at sea, and a zero fish count from fishing, a pair of us decided to promote sod’s law and buy half a tuna from the supermarket: it worked a treat, the other boat caught two fish almost immediately.

Day 2

Breakfast: Scrambled egg on toast

Lunch: Spiced carrot and coriander soup (vegan and gf), with crusty bread

Snacks, daily: Madeira cake/biscuits, fruit, or soya yoghurt and seeds

Dinner: Veggie lasagne or vegan chilli with rice (gf)

Comment: There was a full selection of fruit on board, which tended, unfortunately, to fall out of its basket onto the bed, or head, of our skipper when healed over. Therefore the basket ended up in the sink, or relegated to the floor whilst one of many cups of tea were being made. I acknowledge the floor is a strange place to keep fruit, but almost everything ends up down there anyway at one point or another…..

Day 3

Breakfast: Ham and cheese omelettes and toast

Lunch: Squid in tomato sauce with capers and olives (vegan), and gf pasta

Dinner: Lentil dahl (vegan), with bacon and chorizo option (gf) and spicy potato wedges

Comment: Thirty six meals (excluding breakfast and snacks) since we departed meant the fridge was looking decidedly less well stocked – indeed, you could now see the bottom of the fridge, which prompted some concern: there didn’t appear to be any tonic for arrival G&Ts at whatever day and time we arrive in Portugal. Not a mayday situation, but perhaps a panpan.

Day 4

Breakfast: Tea and sugarsnap biscuits (going through a TSS was more important than eggs)

Lunch: Red pepper, mushroom, courgette and tomato sauce, with rice (vegan and gf)

Comment: We diligently do our best to ensure little, if nothing, is wasted. A banana and two apple halves which failed to survive being suspended and healed over; something which looked like a cross between truffles and figs (which we believed to have actually been ancient garlic!); and some ten day old cauliflower rice made it over the side for the fish – along with half a packet of biscuits, thrown over by an overeager crew member who declared “Dolphins love biscuits!” before being reminded that people like biscuits too, and having the biscuits confiscated.

Dinner: On land. We accidentally gatecrashed a Portuguese restaurant’s birthday party. It would be amiss not to mention the fact that once the hog roast was finished the chef donned bells, brushes, a weasel foot, and doled out lethal strength local spirits in a small wooden cup…..

There was also champagne and cake (not gf).

This weekend my friends leave the island.

It is not forever, it’s just four months or so, and I know they are within reach if I have a disaster, or a momentary lack of faith in myself, or start to wonder if I’ve made the right decision.

I made a choice, albeit down to circumstances out of my control, to live alone, to be single, and subsequently to start this new adventure solo – and it was a couple of years ago now. I don’t regret it, I embrace the freedom and the lack of baggage, but sometimes it is a strange place to be when I see everyone else my age forming a life surrounded by people they have chosen to be their loved ones 24/7.

Unless I find work, my day to day life is me, alone, with moments of speaking to supermarket staff, bar staff, or taxi drivers in my appalling faux Spanish.

However, being truly alone day after day is the reality for a lot of people – they don’t have 200 genuine friends on Facebook, at least 25 people they could call if a chat is required, and half a dozen family members somewhere in the world – my family travel more than I do, but we would also fly to be with each other as needed.

I’ve felt lonely in the past, especially when I haven’t been honest with friends and family about my life and the secrets and struggles therein. I have had periods of self doubt, fear and insecurity. I have held my troubles close because I worried that I would be judged and the outside perception of me was all I had left. I have phoned a self help line to have them tell me to call a friend, and not known who to call.

But now, even though I’m alone, I don’t feel lonely. I feel lucky.

We practice, practice, practice. Pretend, imitate, rehearse.

I’ve heard an engine hunting for fuel before, late at night, and had the skipper appear on deck cursing and frustrated, to siphon fuel into the tank. I’d never had an engine fail, in 10m depth, and with two to four knots of tide against us. Yet this was where we found ourselves shortly after we left anchor on a delivery up the coast of Portugal a couple of weeks ago.

Not a true calamity; we had two very qualified engineers on board, and technically as Yachtmaster my helms skills should have been sufficient to keep us away from the coast. If it wasn’t for the fact the wind was registered at 3 knots – from all directions – the best I could do whilst the guys tried to source and fix the issue was keep us drifting backwards at 1.6knots (steering 280-300, drifting 160!). At least we had enough chain to drop anchor if we got too close to shore….. It was also interesting to see tides in action, we don’t get many of those in the Canaries; funny that we’d laughed the day before whilst being pushed down a river by a tide at 6knots – little did we know then we wouldn’t see a boat speed of 6knots again for a while.

Five and a half hours later, the engine was functioning, but we only worked it at half power and, with no wind, progress was slow at best. At one point I broached the washing machine style forepeak for a nap, an hour later we were further away from our destination. And more depressingly; just passing our anchorage of the night before.

Then the engine failed again.

Twice.

You talk about beating up the coast; you assume full engine, you don’t assume half power and sails flogging in fluky wind. I am definitively never buying a boat with a stay sail. Head to the mast makes sense in theory, but in this case it was deafening.

We eventually slipped into our destination marina mere hours before I needed to leave for the airport…. partook of a well deserved parking beverage at 1am, then realised due to time difference that it was actually 2am, and I needed to be off the boat by 6.30!

Having only had three hours sleep a day each since Wednesday night – I could fully appreciate why humanity under sleep deprivation is considered volatile – without waking my shipmates, I crept off the boat that Sunday morning, and headed home.

To the tune of “Delilah”:

I had a great job in the City, and all was well
I had experience, friends, and a story to tell
It was my life
But one day it wasn’t enough, and a new challenge called

Oh, my new adventure
Why, why, why risk it all?
It would be so safe to stay in the City
But I felt the call to change that no-one could flee

When the time came to hand in my notice, I was ready
I stiffed the upper lip, and kept my hand steady
No-one was laughing
I thanked them for an opportunity, which was mine no more

Oh, my new adventure
Why, why, why risk it all?
As I left I felt a stab of pride
I had thrown my future right open wide

No-one was laughing
I stood to leave, and slowly opened the door

Oh, my new adventure
Why, why, why risk it all?
So, before they say being bold is to fear
Proud to confirm my new adventure is here
Proud to confirm my new adventure is here!

I make no secret of the fact I am an admirer of Kim K. Even when she looks like she’s accidentally left the house in her undergarments, I admire her brazenness. Although I would never consider myself able to carry it off.

I deliberately dress down, I don’t like to be noticed, I wear clothes which hide my cleavage, I tuck my hair under a baseball cap, I wear oversize sunglasses, I don’t wear makeup, I mostly wear all black clothes, I am happy when I fade into the background. I even get anxious if I find myself in an inexplicably empty bar or restaurant because I don’t want the staff to pay unnecessary attention to me.

Standing out has become something to be scared of, and I don’t know why. And I don’t know if it’s just me.

Is it my age? I certainly wouldn’t wear a lot of the corset style tops of my uni years now, but then again back then I wouldn’t have had the confidence to go for dinner in a pair of sailng shorts and a hoodie with my dreadlocked hair knotted on the top of my head.

So, is it confidence? I don’t think so, I may still be on the introvert spectrum but I’ve quit my job twice in as many years to move to an island on my own, and the job I’ve chosen is one which means I have to speak to strangers, in more than just passing.

So, is it me? Perhaps. I’m no outstanding beauty, but I don’t take compliments well. I prefer to go unnoticed, to blend in. To see and be unseen, to appreciate the surroundings and be thought of as no more than a polite guest, and if you allow me that courtesy, to pass through, say thank you, don’t ask or suspect what I am hiding under this disguise of mine, then that’s the way I might let you see the real me.

Invisibility is a virtue.

Except on work days: then, I’m Maddie.

Because we all love food.

Restaurants are the subject of today’s musing; especially since in my experience so far of the Canary Island sailing life, as well as trying to squeeze in more hours in the day than actually exist, the plan for the day is usually affected by what you (and crew) want for dinner. Each marina has its own qwerks, and the true professionals will allow an excellent restaurant to carry more weight than a lack of facilities – and in one case, my only (and thankfully mild) experience with sea sickness, a six hour beat up the coast of Tenerife. And there were no marina facilities. I am not yet a true professional; facilities are important in my cost/benefit analyses.

A real win is a marina with facilities and a choice of restaurants. We like a good selection of fresh fish, reasonably priced beverages, and friendly staff; but there are additional sailing type requirements. It is nice to find a restaurant where you can literally look like you’ve spent six days on a boat and they won’t judge you. It’s also nice to find a restaurant where you know you will be served food ten minutes before closing time because those final two hours of night sail turned into four. I know a few people who possess reasonable Spanish, however, for the majority the ability by the staff to translate Spanglais with a mild smirk is appreciated.

Each island is so different out here, in terms of style, character and menu, and that’s a huge part of the fun. For within a matter of hours after leaving the previous marina you have island-hopped to step off somewhere entirely different.

I apologise for any sweeping statements, this is purely my experience of the islands so far!

Tenerife is very ex-pat so you can guarantee being able to find wings or burgers or a decent English breakfast, we also located a couple of fishing villages where the fish was about as fresh as you can get, and they will bring you a fish large enough to feed your table. La Gomera has a strong German influence; steaks (beef and tuna!) are both great there, as well as having a surprising Moroccan influence in the occasional marina; anyone for a sunset and chickpeas? Lanzarote is very Spanish, so it is all about the tapas, which for me means gambas, every night, and anything squid ink sauced is glorious, plus we have found a new Teppanyaki! Fuerteventura is what I think of as the Cornwall of the Canaries, so when there it’s all about grilled squid or burgers on the beach; and either way avocado is a must.

The service is eclectic, the portions are unpredictable, the wine is always Vina Sol, the bill may come with a mint or unlimited vodka caramel, the gins are enormous, the staff may act like you are an inconvenience or their favourite customers; and that could be the same staff day on day.

However, this is Spain, if you don’t like it, complain mañana: enjoy your meal!

The Friday night after we arrived we were burgled, and those who have been keeping up with the blog since I started will know it’s not the first time. It was, however, the first time it happened while I was home.

I was upstairs, and from what I can tell it was an in-and-out job, probably spur of the moment, since unfortunately until my shipping arrived you could see straight into the apartment from the street, and my laptop on the dining table was likely what attracted them – the wallet containing a months rent of euros on the kitchen counter was just a lucky catch…

The frustration lies within the power of hindsight, and the fact that this only happened because of a combination of factors, a perfect storm as it were. My shipping was due to arrive on the Thursday, one item en route was a large screen which sits in front of the terrace doors; with this in place the windows are largely obscured from unscrupulous passers-by who could be tempted by my possessions, yet the port was closed on the Monday due to inclement weather so the ferry didn’t arrive until Saturday morning. Plus, because I hadn’t had the shipping delivery, my wallet had more euros than I would have deliberately had on me since the last cash burglary…..

Add to the mix that only having lived in the apartment for four nights I didn’t know the lock on the terrace door was faulty…. I subsequently returned from three days away to find the door unlocked, even though I know for a fact I locked it when I left. Although this categorically removed any doubts I had as to whether I’d locked the door the night of the burglary; the first assumption is your own fallibility or negligence. Hopefully now the lock has been changed I will start to sleep again. I love Lanzarote and I look forward to the time it feels like home to me.

We have to take from this the plus sides; whomever it was didn’t come upstairs, and so my phone, jewellery and passport are all still with me, and nor did I have any sort of unwanted encounter. They pulled the door to after them, so the lady cats did not escape, and goodness me that would have been a whole other level of heartache. They took my laptop and the irreplaceable photos saved therein, not backing up to a hard drive is something I will continue to kick myself for, however, eminently “stuff” is replaceable. They took my cash but left the cards, so I was able to pay the shipping people, even if they had to drive me three-to-a-front-bench in their van to the bank in town, and could continue in the apres-sailing dinners and drinks last week without having to beg for handouts.

Yes, there have been ups and downs but what I know for sure is we are not letting this eejit or eejits get us so far down that we can’t pick ourselves up and keep right on going.

The adventure continues.

Tl;dr : We’re here!

But, of course, it didn’t quite all go to plan. Due to circumstances out of my control I ended up having only 19 hours to pack my entire apartment and London life into five suitcases, the fixed number of boxes provided in an Argos “pack your home” set, and a cat crate. Situation stress not improved by the fact that the storage people and the suitcase transport people arrived two hours early. Informational point: BA offer a service where they will collect your luggage from any London location and check it in for you, which I can highly recommend – it means you only have to deal with the logistics of hand luggage and a cat crate when trying to leave the country early on a Monday morning.

The first stage was a Gatwick airport hotel, which was absolutely the best decision I made during the planning process. Not least because it reduced Monday morning stress, but also because it meant I had a very amusing evening in a hotel with the lady cats, and discovered that they are both absolutely obsessed with pork scratchings. How do they even know about pork scratchings?! I think at least one of you lovely people who have cat sat for me may have something to confess…..

So, Monday morning, lady cats delivered to cargo at 6am, four hours before their flight and five before mine; but, yes, there was snow in London and that is where things started to cascade downhill. Some speedy de-icing of our plane and very efficient piloting meant we landed in Lanzarote only slightly behind schedule, however, I had a sinking feeling as we landed and passed planes parked along the side of the runway. Then the pilot confirmed it; we were also being parked wherever they could find a space for us – I thought they didn’t do this any more after the terrible accident at Tenerife North – but there we were along with a dozen or more other planes parked side by side on the runway.

When we were eventually bused to the terminal we passed piles of luggage just abandoned on the tarmac. I scanned every pile for evidence of a cat crate, thankfully only suitcases. But how were they going to cope with all that baggage? The answer; three hours later it would all arrive ad hoc on random carousels. And then there were several hundred people in the taxi queue…. but it could have been worse; after 27 flights arrived in one hour they closed the airport and started diverting to Tenerife, so the lady cats could have spent far more than four hours in cargo if I’d been dispatched to another Canary Island. As an aside; the cargo man advised they close at 7.30pm, would he have had to take the cats home with him at that time if I’d still been in baggage reclaim?!

So, a few hours later than planned, but we made it. My shipping was diverted to Las Palmas, and is due to arrive some time in the next few days; the weather was pretty immense earlier in the week which meant they also closed the port, thank goodness the cats weren’t being shipped or yet again we’d be in a cats stuck on a ferry situation. I left my silk flowers overnight on the hotel reception desk. Three photo frames and a mirror didn’t survive the Lanzarote baggage experience. I briefly lost the old lady cat yesterday, but she found her way back to the apartment. And as of my first day sailing today I’ve already got some very questionable tanlines….

Adios London. Hola Lanzarote!