Pitufa.at

In the few days that we’ve been anchored in the bay of Tarrafal (Sao Nicolao’s main port), we’ve absolutely fallen in love with this green and mountainous island. Tarrafal isn’t a pretty town, but the bay is fairly well protected, the boats are anchored in 5 to 15 m depth where the holding in black sand is good and there’s a jetty where it’s easy to land and leave the dinghy. Under these conditions we can leave the boat without feeling overly worried and are free to explore the island.

The green volcanic slopes of Sao Nicolao are a wonderful sight after all the desert islands we’ve been to since leaving the Med. While Sal and Boa Vista have some tourism (souvenir shops, street vendors, organised tours for the tourists who stay in the few fenced off holiday resorts) Sao Nicolao doesn’t even show traces of a beginning tourism industry. There’s only a small air strip up in the mountains, no elaborate ferry system, so the only visitors come from the about 20 yachts anchored off Tarrafal. Nevertheless it’s very easy to get around as only few people have private cars. The public transport here works with “Aluguer”—minibuses or pick-up trucks circle around with the drivers shouting out their destinations until they’ve got enough passengers (or cargo) and then set out. Once you’ve found out which truck goes to which village you just hop on the bench in the back, even though it’s wise to ask for the price beforehand.

This morning we set out to see more of the interior of Sao Nicolao. We found a pick-up truck and the driver was willing to take us around the island for 40 euros, which seemed o.k. divided by three (Steve, a British singlehander was with us). The truck started going up into the mountains and we soon wished that we had brought jackets, because the spectacular winding road went up to the slopes of Monte Gordo (1312 m). Even though it’s less than half an hour’s drive from the coast where we’ve got used to daily 30 degrees the climate up there is completely different: the volcano is usually hiding in thick clouds, it’s surprisingly chilly, very humid, rain is quite frequent and in combination with the fertile volcanic soil this leads to a lush vegetation. The views from the road are just stunning, at a point high up it’s possible to see the southern and the northern Coast of the island from a viewpoint next to the road. After reaching the pass between Monte Gordo and the ragged peak next to it the view suddenly opens up to the fertile Faja Valley with small villages and isolated farmhouses on the slopes. Bananas, potatoes, papayas, tomatoes and sugar cane are grown on steep terraces—sometimes organised into separate fields but usually just growing next to and over each other. Even though we could already see our destination—the old colonial capital Ribeira Brava far down in the valley—we had another 15 km to go, because the slopes are just too steep for a road and so it heads first to the northern coast with it’s ragged black cliffs, before approaching Ribeira Brava from the North.

Ribeira Brava’s old centre with the formerly biggest church in West Africa dates back to the 19th century, but most of the buildings in this laid-back, charming town are new, colourfully painted concrete constructions. We took a walk around the town, peeked into the small shops and workshops. The population quite mixed, there are old ladies sitting in the doorways, but also plenty of young people around, rural migration doesn’t seem to be an issue here. We found a restaurant that was still closed (lunch isn’t served before 1.30), but the cook opened the kitchen for us and a charming granny soon served delicious fried fish with more veggies and rice than we could handle. When we asked for a glass of the local Schnaps called grogue after the elaborate meal she giggled and said that a restaurant didn’t serve that only to show up with a bottle minutes later and still giggling.

In the afternoon we headed down to the former Portuguese main harbour Preguica on the southwestern coast. It’s lost its importance a long time ago, because it doesn’t offer sheltered anchorages and Tarrafal with its breakwater and shallow beach took over the role as main harbour. Nowadays most buildings are just ruins and only a few people live in the stone houses above the small quay.

We told the driver that we wanted to see more of the northcoast and the journey took us back to Ribeira Brava, where some more passengers joined us on the wooden benches in the back of the truck. We went again up through the mountains but towards the west the land gets flatter and when we finally reached our destination—the village Belem—we were suprised to see that it consisted only of a few concrete shacks scattered in the wide grassland. We wandered around the village and were soon joined by freeroaming goats, dogs, but only a few children. We soon found that most of them were still sitting at school. We looked into the one big classroom and the kids were a lot more interested in us than in mathematics.

While the road from Tarrafal to Ribeira Brava is asphalted and in good shape the rest of the road system still consists of the old, cobbled roads built during colonial times and meant to be used by pedestrians and donkeys. On the way back we vowed that on the next trip we would bring jackets, but also cushions…

We arrived on Sao Nicolao this morning, our third island in the Cape Verdes. We had an uncomfortable night passage here with quite strong winds, confused seas and high swell from the side. But the breathtaking view this morning compensated for the night: green, pleated-looking volcanic hills surround a canyon with lush vegetation, some colourful little houses on shore and little fishing boats in the outlet of a brooke

Yesterday we reached the next of the Cape Verde islands. Boa Vista lies only 20 nm to the South of Sal, but looks quite different, even though it’s also one of the dry islands. We’re anchored in a huge bay off the main town (which still isn’t big) and the view around is just phantastic. The sea shimmers in innocent shades of green and blue, but that’s deceptive as rocks and reefs are hiding underneath the glittering surface, an impressive statistic of over 200 wrecks around the island speaks for itself… At low tide an impressive surf breaks in these places and also on the golden sand dunes on shore. The mountains in the background are quite high and look dark and ragged. The anchorage is also sheltered by a little island with almost white sand on the beach, but tufts of grass, shrubbery and even low trees further up. We took Leeloo ashore this island in the evening. She didn’t like the splashy ride in the dinghy, but once ashore she quickly jumped out, inspected confidently sand and shrubs and returned only half an hour later to the dinghy announcing with loud meowing that she had seen enough of this giant litter box. We’re planning to return tomorrow during the day for a BBQ on the beach

Planning passages and cruising itineraries in order to avoid storms and to profit from favourable winds is really complicated. After listening to plenty of opinions and doing some more reading we decided yesterday that our plan of crossing the Atlantic early (still in October) was not feasible this year, because the Atlantic is unseasonably warm, which may mean a prolongued hurricane season. After crossing later we’d have to rush even more quickly through the Caribbean in order to get to the Panama canal in time. Aditionally we’d also have to leave out Suriname. As a result of this we’ve now changed our whole cruising itinerary completely. Our preliminary plan now looks now like this (planning too far ahead doesn’t make sense anyway…): We’ll spend a few months here in the Cape Verdes, cross the Atlantic end of December or beginning of January at the best time for the trade winds, take another 2 or 3 months to explore Suriname and will then head on slowly at the Southern edge of the Caribbean (Trinidad and Tobago, Venezuelan and Dutch Antilles, Panama…) thus keeping out of the way of hurricanes. This way we’ll arrive a year later than planned in the South Pacific, but we feel really relieved now. The constant feeling of having to push on and the ticking of the clock in the back of our heads is gone and we can enjoy our journey a lot more.

Yesterday we left Palmeira in the company of two British single-handed sailors we met there, but our “passage” only took us 7 miles to the next bay No other boats are here in Mordeira, just sand dunes ashore and turquoise water in the bay. Leeloo is also glad that there are fewer boats and dinghys around, lonely bays are more after her taste. After our first experimental self-made panbread turned out just perfect this morning (crispy crust, moist and fluffy inside) we feel like we could stay out of civilization’s path for a very long time

We’ve arrived this morning on Sal, one of the entry ports of the Cape Verde Islands. We’re really tired, but happy

We spent the last night becalmed drifting on the open sea (as an alternative to motoring…). We scanned the moonlit horizon for freighters every 20 minutes. There were no ships, but at 6 o’clock something big was splashing about 50 meters away from Pitufa. First we were not sure what it was, but then, the blow noises and the fishy smell revealed our visitor as a whale. He stayed for a while, curiously inspecting Pitufa and came closer to about 20 meters. We were quite impressed but also a bit nervous. Finally he disappeared with a mighty splash of his tail fin. Leeloo also had a fun night, because a little bird mistook our predator’s swimming home for a save resting point…

This passage was rather strenous. First becalmed, then headwinds, then too much wind (but from the right direction), and now becalmed again. At least we swapped thermo underwear and tea against bathing suit and cold beer.

Less wind and waves and life gets comfortable again. The last 2 days were rather miserable (just imagine living in a tumble dryer…).

Last night was rough, but we are making good progress.