La Nébuleuse

Crossing the Atlantic on la Nébuleuse. Departure from Paimpol on December 1, 2024. Arrival in Salvador, Brazil around mid-January 2025.

Where is la Nébuleuse https://www.vesselfinder.com/fr/?mmsi=228280600

The weather Windguru

Website of the Nébuleuse https://www.voilestraditions.fr/bateaux/la-nebuleuse

9 jan

La Nébuleuse trace son dernier sillon de cette traversée de l'Atlantique dans un océan bleu-azur. Un doux zéphir nous pousse dans le dos. Nous devrions arriver demain soir au port de Salvador de Bahia au Brésil.

Le réglage des voiles 

Depuis le Cap Vert, la Nébuleuse est bâbord armure, c'est à dire que nous sommes poussés par des vents d'Est variant entre le Nord Est et le Sud-est. La grand voile est donc toujours restée du même côté. Elle est juste ajustée pour être la plus performante. Par contre, les autres voiles sont souvent réglées en fonction du temps. Le grand flèche est monté et descendu à plusieurs reprises. 

Une conséquence de cette orientation des voiles est qu'il n'y a pas d'ombre sur le pont le matin. J'ai pris l'habitude de rester à l'intérieur le matin et de monter à la dernière minute pour prendre mon quart de jour à midi.

Quand la Nébuleuse avance à la voile, elle est dirigée par un homme à la barre. Dès que le moteur est démarré, le pilote automatique en mode cap prend le relais.

Nous n'avons pas vu un autre voilier pendant toute la traversée. J'espérais voir un concurrent du Vendée Globe. La proximité de notre arrivée laisse peu de chance à cette rencontre. 

8 jan

Plus d'eau au robinet.

Notre équipe de quart est de vaisselle ce soir. Nicolas est en train de rincer la marmite du riz quand le robinet tombe à sec.

Le bateau a encore des réserves d'eau dans des réservoirs secondaires. Le transfert ne se fait pas automatiquement et la manipulation complexe est reportée à demain quand il fera jour.

Pour l'instant, chacun boit l'eau restant dans sa gourde. Mais plus de thé et de café au petit déjeune pour les lèves-tots.

7 jan

Nous ne voyons pas encore la terre, mais nous la sentons. Les oiseaux plus nombreux viennent à notre rencontre en ambassadeurs et des formations nuageuses différentes à l'ouest laissent deviner un signe avant-coureur de la terre.

Un vol groupé d'une dizaine de canards passe près de nous. Dans le même temps, les deux lignes de pêche à la traîne se tendent. Laurent et André remontent deux belles bonnites avec la perspective réjouissante de varier le menu. Les canards s'éloignent pour suivre le banc de poissons.

6 jan

La sirène du bateau retentit et appelle tout le monde sur le pont. En passant devant l'écran de navigation, je vois que le bateau est en route de collision avec un cargo venant du sud. Et déjà la Nébuleuse s'en écarte et abat de 20 degrés.

Arrivé sur le pont, j'apprends que l'urgence concerne en fait la sous-barbe qui a lâché d'un coup sec. Légèrement surtoilée, la Nébuleuse teste ses fragilités.

Comme chacun sait, la sous-barbe retient le bout-dehors vers le bas pour équilibrer la force de l'étai qui tire le bout-dehors vers le haut. Le bout-dehors est l'axe en bois qui sort de 5 mètres à l'avant du bateau et permet d'augmenter la surface de la voilure.

Vianney lance des ordres pour enrouler rapidement le grand foc qui tire sur le bout-dehors fragilisé. La vitesse du bateau se réduit tout de suite.

Les meilleurs experts de la Nébuleuse sont convoqués à la proue. Des outils sont rassemblés. Le bateau abat encore pour trouver une allure confortable. Les bouées d'homme à la mer sont prêtes à être lancées.

Tel un funanbule, Vianney glisse le long du bout-dehors jusqu'à la pointe avant. Les yeux de l'équipage suivent inquiéts la longue réparation au-dessus de la mer au bout de cet axe qui monte et descend dans les vagues. La clé anglaise s'échappe et file vers les profondeurs à 4000 mètres. L'obscurité vespérale s'installe.

La nuit commence à tomber quand Vianney revient sain et sauf sur la coque. La réparation est réussie et une poulie a été changée. Le grand foc est relancé. La Nébuleuse repart de plus belle vers Salvador.

Dim 5 jan

L'arrivée à Salvador pourrait se faire dès le 10 janvier d'après le logiciel de navigation. Il nous reste donc 4 nuits en mer. Le quart de nuit reste un moment difficile. Il tombe en plein dans notre temps de sommeil profond. Malgré l'accoutumance à ce rythme depuis 35 jours, nous continuons à lutter contre le sommeil. Barrer me plaît bien. Mais nous sommes contents quand la relève monte sur le pont et que nous puissions nous hisser dans notre bannette.

Alerte orques

Deux orques passent sur notre bâbord. Ils sont facilement reconnaisables avec leur couleur noire et la grande tâche en-dessous. Un grand et un petit, une mère avec son petit probablement. Ceux-ci n'ont pas été dressés pour faire de grands sauts devant nous et jettent à peine un oeil curieux dans notre direction avant de reprendre leur chemin vers le milieu de l'océan.

Peut être qu'ils vont voir la famille en Espagne qui va leur raconter le nouveau jeu qui consiste à mordiller dans le gouvernail des bateaux à voile.

Les orques peuvent représenter un danger pour un petit bateau. Sur la Nébuleuse, pas d'inquiétude. Ses 90 tonnes lancées à 8 noeuds en font un adversaire trop gros pour l'orque bien trop petit.

4 jan

Franchissement de la ligne de l'équateur 

A 10 h 15, la Nébuleuse franchit la ligne de l'équateur sous les vivats des passagers.

Poséidon, le dieu de la mer, baptise les passagers de la Nébuleuse qui traversent pour la première fois la ligne de l'équateur 

Animée par Titi coiffé d'une perruque et affublé du titre de Monseigneur l'évêque, Nico avec des plumes sur la tête jouant le rôle de Poséidon et Lionel avec un seau à la main gardien de l'ordre et la terreur, la cérémonie ne suit pas de règles strictes et est laissée à l'appréciation des dignitaires. 

En l'occurrence, Titi a l'art de la mise en scène et sans prétention, nous exhorte à reconnaître nos égarements. Poséidon nous absout et nous demande de nous incliner devant lui. A ce moment, Lionel nous verse un seau d'eau de mer sur la tête par surprise. En fonction de son humeur, il en rajoute un deuxième. Et bien sûr, tout se termine par de nouvelles bouteilles de Champagne !

Un oiseau de la taille d'une colombe s'approche et se pose sur l'antenne starlink en piaillant, nullement impressionné par notre voisinage. C'est un noddi brun, cousin des sternes qui fréquente cette zone d'après notre guide sur le téléphone.

Pendant le quart de nuit, trois autres noddis rejoignent le bateau. L'un se pose sur le bout de la bome d'artimon, un autre sur l'ancre et le dernier tourne encore autour du bateau.

3 jan

L'archipel de San Pedro et San Paolo émerge loin sur notre tribord. Nous passons à distance respectueuse ces rochers posés au milieu de l'Atlantique alors que les fonds environnants sont à 4000 m de profondeur. 4 humains y habitent.

Le fou et la frégate 

Depuis quelques jours, un fou se plaît à suivre le bateau. Il pense certainement augmenter ses chances pour trouver des poissons.

Il passe son temps à pêcher. Il fait des ronds dans l'air, et brusquement descend en piqué et plonge dans l'eau. C'est devenu notre mascotte. 

Mais un danger le menace : un grand oiseau noir à la queue fourchue l'a rejoint et tourne autour de lui. C'est une frégate qui fait de belles circonvolutions autour du bateau. 

Quand le fou a trouvé un poisson, la frégate se précipite sur le fou avec des cris agressifs. Le brave fou tente de s'échapper en volant à droite, à gauche, refait un plongeon, repart de plus belle.

Quand la frégate s'envole à nouveau seule, nous savons qu'elle a récupéré la pêche du fou. Sans complexe, elle revient voler fièrement autour du bateau comme si elle se pavanait fière d'être la reine du ciel.

Le fou s'obstine et reprend la chasse espérant que la frégate ne lui volera pas son butin la prochaine fois.

Au soleil couchant, la frégate s'approche de la tête du mât, probablement pour s'y reposer et y passer la nuit. Pendant de longues minutes, elle est à une patte de se poser. Avec le balancement du roulis, ellle doit estimer la position inconfortable et finit par s'envoler.

Pendant notre quart de nuit, nous écoutons la playlist "chansons françaises" en teeshirt. Avec un léger vent dans le nez, le bateau avance au moteur sous pilote automatique dans une nuit noire.

Vers 2 h, sans prévenir, l'air fraichit brusquement et le vent augmente.

30 secondes plus tard, des gouttes commencent à tomber et rapidement une belle averse nous tombe sur la tête. C'est notre tour de faire l'expérience d'un grain dans le pot au noir.

Quelques gouttes rafraîchissent agréablement sous l'équateur. Mais sous cette pluie fraîche, la position n'est pas tenable. Pendant que je descends chercher nos vestes de bateau, Martine est déjà transformée en serpillière trempée. La pluie nous frappe à horizontale pendant un quart d'heure et si'y remets encore une dernière fois.

Tête recroquevillée sous nos capuches, nous reprenons l'écoute des meilleures chansons françaises. Quand nous descendons rejoindre notre bannette, nous sommes trempés jusqu'aux os et l'air est plus frais. Nous devons nous sécher comme en sortant de la douche. Le matin, je découvre que mop n gilet de sauvetage a percuté. Est ce qu'il s'est gonflé sous l'effet de l'intense humidité ou d'un choc en le remettant sur le porte manteau ?

2 jan 

Baguette ou croissant ?

Ce matin, la bonne question est : 

Biscuit marin ou pain de mie oublié ?

Le biscuit marin est un épais biscuit non sucré rappelant vaguement le goût du pain. Un étouffe-chrétien comme dit Lionel. Son avantage est sa bonne conservation sur un bateau.

Les allusions à la nourriture terrestre meublent nos conversations. La cuisson de la belle dorade pêchée hier est à l'ordre du jour. Les choix se font en fonction de la simplicité. Manger le poisson cru n'a pas l'air de séduire André, le spécialiste du bord ! Selon lui il y a un risque de parasitose, et il faudrait congeler le poisson pêché pour tuer les vers. 

Nous allons suivre ses conseils et en l'absence de congélateur, nous ferons cuire le poisson au four.

Le soir, les nuages s'assombrissent au vent. Nous distinguons des éclairs au loin. Nous aurons probablement de l'ambiance cette nuit.

Près de l'équateur, la lune s'éclaire par le bas et nous donne ainsi l'impression de sourire.

Mais voilà que de gros nuages noirs lui voilent la face. Je la devine encore dans un halo de lumière avant qu'elle ne disparaisse. D'inquiétants éclairs éblouissent déjà notre route. Plongés dans la nuit noire, nous nous attendons à ce que l'orage déverse sa furie d'un instant à l'autre. Mais à l'heure du repas tout est calme encore avant la tempête et la Nébuleuse est toutes voiles dehors. Comment réagira t elle quand des claques de vent essaieront de la déstabiliser de tous les côtés ? Est ce qu'elle s'inclinera jusqu'à tremper ses voiles ? Ou même jusqu'à mettre son mat à l'horizontale, et nous imaginons le désordre dans la cuisine et dans nos bannettes...

Nous nous enfonçons dans le pot au noir.

Cette zone intertropicale a mauvaise réputation. Elle est connue pour son absence de vent conduisant les voiliers à rester encalminer des jours et des jours. Elle est aussi sujette à des orages interminables.

A 22 h, une première averse tropicale tombe sur l'équipe de quart précédente. 

En prenant notre quart, les éclairs et tonnerres sont rentrés dans la danse.

Les consignes : ne plus se tenir aux haubans et autres cordages, s'éloigner du mât, se mettre en boule en fermant les yeux et les oreilles. 

Nous sommes donc assis en boule protégés d'une pluie épaisse par notre veste de quart. Nous assistons humblement aux déchaînements des forces de la nature. 

Les éclairs illuminent un instant tout notre environnement. Un scintillement crépite au loin. Parfois comme un flash vertical et rapide, souvent par saccades successives avec des effets horizontaux. Je préfère ceux qui éclairent le décor par le côté. De face, ils sont éblouissants. Autre requête, que les éclairs durent un peu plus longtemps pour que l'œil puisse s'habituer à l'éclairage et que je puisse mieux percevoir le paysage.

Nous entendons rarement le tonnerre, ce qui nous indique que nous sommes encore loin du centre du jeu pour l'instant. La vitesse du son est de 300 m par seconde. Il faut donc environ 3 secondes pour franchir un km. En divisant les secondes entre l'éclair et le tonnerre par 3, on obtient la distance de la foudre en km.

Après un éclair proche, je crois sentir une odeur de brûlé. Mais Martine ne partage pas cette impression.

Deux points lumineux apparaissent dans notre horizons. l'AIS nous dit qu'il s'agit de 2 cargos de 200 m de long. Ce ne sont pas encore les premiers concurrents de Vendée Globe sur la route du retour.

1 jan

Pour fêter la nouvelle année, Michel ouvre du foie gras, Cédric fait sauter les bouchons de champagne, Lionel cuisine du confit de canard avec des marrons, Martine et Inès préparent des gâteaux et Gérard sort une bouteille de mirabelle de Lorraine. Quelques fantaisies dans l'habillement et tous sont de bonne humeur, pour un réveillon qui sort de l'ordinaire.

A 24 h, heure française, nous nous souhaitons une bonne année 2025 avec de grands coups de cornes de brume qui ne dérangent pas grand monde dans les alentours.

Le poisson volant

Je sens une claque dans mon dos. Je me retourne et crois reconnaître l'écoute de la grand-voile. Mais un poisson volant frétille à mes pieds et cherche désespérément à retrouver l'eau. En voulant l'attraper avec les mains pour le remettre dans l'océan, il m'échappe à plusieurs reprises comme une savonnette gluante.

Je lève enfin une trappe pour qu'il puisse retrouver son milieu naturel.

Je lave mes mains à l'eau de mer et au gel.

Mon tee-shirt garde des traces d'écailles que je prends soin d'enlever complètement. Mais l'odeur de poisson persiste. Il faudra utiliser de la lessive pour en venir à bout.

Happy New Year from the middle of the Atlantic

Ah, ah, ah. The mainsail creaks gently on the mast. The boat is happy to have found the wind again and to sail towards Brazil without being slowed down by waves.

At the end of our watch, the wind had dropped. Vianney had decided to start the engine again.

Today is the last day of the year. Martine and Inès are reviewing their cooking recipes to improve tonight's dessert.

Cédric will give us access to the internet so that we can communicate with land.

Monday 30th December

This morning, the steady trade winds are back.

Dolphin alert!

Dolphins are guiding us at the front of the boat. It's always a good time to watch their movements and their desire to get in touch with us.

Seaweed is floating in small bundles or in long processions. According to Laurent, it's Sargassum. I suppose it feeds the first links in the food chain.

Using the gaff, I fish out a small bundle. The plant is structured around a branch on which small empty balls are grafted that act as a float and hard leaves on which filaments are sometimes attached. They look very much alive.

The smell is that of seaweed, not making you want to serve it in a salad. In any case, Lionel, the chef, wasn't interested in it.

 In Martinique, Sargassum has a bad reputation. It gives off a foul odor when it washes up and rots en masse on dream beaches.

At night, fluorescent flashes indicate the presence of plankton, the whales' favorite food.

A new ritual: 5 p.m. tea

Whale alert, whale alert! Abandoning books and kitchen knives, everyone rushes to the ladder to climb onto the deck.

About a hundred meters to port, jets of water shoot into the air. We make out a family of rorquals heading south, keeping a good distance from our boat. We follow each other for about ten minutes before they disappear.

We are overwhelmed by this encounter with whales. I had already seen them in Canada where you are sure to find them. Coming across them in the middle of the ocean is more impressive.

Midnight. The radio crackles in a foreign language and the radar detects an obstacle. But nothing on the AIS screen. We will have to be extra vigilant during our watch. Otherwise, steady wind and calm sea: the boat should stay on course. Dark night without a moon. The stars are present in the upper part of the sky. Clouds hide the lower part. Rain is not excluded and with it, a disturbance of the wind.

In our bunk, we were very hot, while on deck, the breeze cools us down. The heat could be difficult to bear in the next 15 days of sailing. We are progressing towards the south where it is warmer. The temperature should therefore increase gradually, while remaining bearable as long as we are on the water. In Salvador, I hope the hotel will be cool.

Navionics tells me that we are 1600 miles from Salvador in a straight line. The wind varies from 10 to 14 knots. The average speed over the last hour is 6 knots and we have covered 400 miles in 2 days and 14 hours.

At a low average of 5 knots or 120 miles per day, we should arrive around January 13 or 14 in Salvador. So we are on schedule. The unknown remains of the doldrums.

Sun 29 Dec

A normal day. The boat is moving on a course of 210 with a light wind and a calmer sea.

Laurent fished a transparent plastic bag. It is shaped like a small water bag like those that Africans use to drink water.

The pollution of the seas has not been very visible since we left. I have not seen any other plastic in the sea. Only a stray pallet came from human activity.

Probably, the pollution of invisible micro-plastics is also a problem here. These fragments of material torn from our clothes during washing come to disturb the environment of the marine world.

The overall impression is a depopulation of marine fauna mainly because of excessive fishing.

The calm on deck allows you to read outside without much risk of being showered by a wave.

I air The long road by Bernard Moitesier. The beginning of his round-the-world sailing trip in 1968 begins with a descent of the Atlantic. On a similar route to ours, but without stopovers, he describes comparable impressions. Since he goes much further than us, his book responds to my curiosity about what happens further away.

Bernard offers an explanation for the flight of flying fish.

They try to escape from the mouths of tuna. But their efforts are in vain, because the predator manages to catch them when they return to the water. A few turbulences and it's all over for the brave flying fish.

For the culinary side according to Bernard:

Flying fish is a choice dish reminiscent of the taste of sardines but more refined.

Grasshopper alert. Perceptive eyes have spotted a large grasshopper on the top of the mizzen mast. Then a second one in another part of the boat. Are we carrying stowaways who will multiply in Brazil and destroy a sensitive ecosystem useful for the health of the planet?

 Ophélie joins our watch to observe the nighttime atmosphere in the different teams. As a result, Nicolas has found a metal playlist that provided the soundtrack for my turn at the helm.

To steer, I concentrate on the small magnetic needle of the compass while trying to stay glued to heading 200 tonight. The exercise prevents me from fully enjoying the spectacle of the stars, of Orion who shows me the right direction, of the Milky Way clearly visible now that the moon no longer appears in our nights. The Big Dipper is still visible behind us above the horizon. Shimmering dots that move, testify to the passage of planes that in about ten hours make the same journey as the Nebula in a month and a half.

I climb exhausted into my bunk.

It is 5 a.m. The wind has weakened too much. The sails are flapping in the wind. Vianney decides to start the engine to cross this calm, waking us up since our bunk shares a partition with the engine room.

La Nébuleuse leaves the Mindosa quay at 9:15 am on December 28, 2024.

2,000 miles now await it to Salvador de Bahia for the longest crossing in its history.

Bureau Vallée arrived on the pontoon just before our departure. In the Vendée Globe race, it had to abandon and stop in Mindosa on the way back to France. At 18 m long, it is a large boat for a single sailor. We may come across other competitors on our route.

We pass small boats of local fishermen near Sao Pedro where we dived with the turtles. Their boat dances on the water without causing any balance problems for their owner.

With the Mercury effect, a stronger wind than expected makes the boat race in a flat sea. By steering at the end of the morning for an hour and a half, I record an average speed of 8.2 knots, a very good performance.

 Showers are condemned. Fresh water has become the most precious commodity. It is reserved for drinking. Washing up is done in a bucket with sea water. Washing will also be done with sea water at the back of the boat or with a bucket of sea water in the bathroom. Rinsing with fresh water is tolerated with a supervised sprayer.

Nicolas is dragging a virus and is under treatment for 5 days. Thierry is not well, nor is Gérard. Martine wears anti-seasickness glasses as a preventive measure.

On deck, we are in T-shirts, sunglasses and hats. Martine and I turn our backs to the sun.

As a kitchen assistant, I learn how to peel onions on a boat. First, wedge a basin between your feet, then peel and cut as usual. Finally, send the chopped onions into the pan and the peelings into the basin which is emptied over the edge.

Adriel is a soccer player. He trains at 6 am every morning and plays left forward every weekend at FCF, the Mindosa soccer club. At 20, he gives his all to his passion. To make a living from it, he takes tourists around the island.

Today, Adriel has an appointment with the two of us at noon at the Tourist Office. In his car, we cross the island, passing south of Monte Verde, the peak that tries to catch the clouds at 750 m. Vegetation is sparse. A few blades of grass and a few stunted trees appear from time to time in this volcanic landscape. A dusty palm tree tries to play the proud.

In Caldau, we discover a turtle conservatory. Adriel is our guest at the small fishermen's restaurant before following the bends of the north coast. In Salamensa, we put on our swimsuits to walk in the Baia de Gatas, a natural pool connected to the ocean.

Then the Duster tackles Monte Verde from the north face to offer us a view from above of our island and the surrounding islands.

Wow, wow, wow. At night, without having asked for anything, we enjoy a musical concert that we listen to attentively lying in our bunk instead of sleeping stupidly. After this crazy night, maybe the Nebula will let us sleep this morning and set sail on its own for Brazil?

In the saloon, we watched two video projections:

. An old documentary on the transatlantic crossing of the Pekin, the largest sailing ship of all time. The conditions were particularly harsh and put our own difficulties into perspective...

. A presentation of the history of la Nébuleuse and its renovation commented by Cedric.

The name Nébuleuse was chosen by the godmother of the boat in reference to the diffuse celestial objects playing a key role in the formation of stars and sending us beautiful nuanced images of the fuzzy depths of the sky.

We will probably leave tomorrow 28th or maybe even the day after tomorrow 29th without this calling into question our objective of arriving in Brazil in mid-January. It's a bit nebulous I admit!

The captain shared with us the starlink connection which will allow us to give news at sea.

So today, direction the Arts Center, then we will set off to discover the hidden treasures of our island. The painting above (collage made with plastic waste collected on beaches...) shows a wave awakening the atmosphere of a boat.

We swim with the turtles in transparent water.

They move lightly around us. With great ease, they swim in all directions, pushing on their 4 legs. Sometimes, they surprise us by passing us just below us. They let us touch their shell with confidence. From time to time, they stick their heads out of the water to breathe before diving deeper.

Other multi-colored fish complete this heavenly picture suggesting that living beings could live together happily and without fear. A great moment of our trip.

Sao Pedro in Cape Verde is an important nesting ground for turtles. As they are used to returning to lay their eggs where they were born, we can surely find them in front of the beach, especially since they are attracted by the pieces of fish thrown from our guide's boat while we swim with a mask and snorkel.

We swim with the turtles in transparent water.

They move lightly around us. With great ease, they swim in all directions, pushing on their 4 legs. Sometimes, they surprise us by passing us just below us. They let us touch their shell with confidence. From time to time, they stick their heads out of the water to breathe before diving deeper.

Other multi-colored fish complete this heavenly picture suggesting that living beings could live together happily and without fear. A great moment of our trip.

Sao Pedro in Cape Verde is an important nesting ground for turtles. As they are used to returning to lay their eggs where they were born, we can surely find them in front of the beach, especially since they are attracted by the pieces of fish thrown from our guide's boat while we swim with a mask and snorkel.

In the fish market hall, the women vendors shout at each other behind their stalls of fresh or dried fish while swatting away flies. In an adjoining workshop, men prepare the largest pieces. The market spills out into the side streets and joins the stalls of vegetables, clothes, bazaars and African art.

Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Sufficient for the day is the trouble of the latter. Matthew 6:34

Here and now. Simply take the path of life with confidence and enjoy every moment.

No need to know what tomorrow will be. It will be another story.

Let us distance ourselves from the sterile worries that seek to encumber us and distance us from the riches of life.

You may say:

- It's easy when everything is going well.

- It's the irresponsible attitude of the cicada that does not worry about the cold of winter

But who is happier

- the shoemaker or the financier.

- the little African who plays with an empty sardine can or the spoiled child who no longer knows which toy to take

- the spontaneous African who sings and laughs, or the one who wants to carry all the worries of the earth.

What a joy to go walking without worrying and to trust in destiny. It is sometimes harder, of course, but often it is the occasion for the most beautiful encounters with happiness.

Feliz Natal 

Um sentimento de segurança reina em Cabo Verde. Andamos por aí sem sentir que estamos nos colocando em perigo. Ophélie pretende subir ao topo da ilha a 10 km daqui. Martine e eu pretendemos uma praia idílica no norte com a promessa de águas transparentes a 24 graus e um zéfiro a 25 graus.

Esta noite o Natal será comemorado com toda a tripulação. Na praça Thierry instalou uma guirlanda de luz, Nicolas um presépio encontrado nas Canárias, pendurei um Papai Noel empoleirado em um aro. Martine preparou pequenas guloseimas para comer e Cédric resfriou o champanhe para celebrar com dignidade a magia do Natal, mesmo longe de nossas famílias. Também encontramos os horários da missa do dia 25 de dezembro neste país de tradição católica.

Segunda-feira, 23 de dezembro

 De forma descontraída, esta manhã mimamos o Nebulosa, tomamos refrescos no bar flutuante e visitamos as instalações sanitárias. Enquanto Martine caminha, observo mais de perto os outros barcos que pretendem cruzar o Atlântico. Entre os barcos de produção destaco um Sun Odyssée 42i, um Allure 40.9, um Bavaria 38, um Freedom 35.

 Na frente de Ma'Na Com um orçamento de 80.000€, realizaram juntos um sonho de família ao fazerem uma grande viagem pelo Atlântico. O navio também é a casa deles. As duas velas da frente estão prontas para serem desenroladas para aproveitar os ventos alísios. Mesmo que a turbina eólica esteja desligada, os dois painéis solares estão prontos para fornecer eletricidade. Acho que o grande pórtico traseiro é um pouco alto e que o centro de gravidade elevado pode penalizar a estabilidade do edifício em caso de mau tempo.

 A Nebulosa é a estrela do pontão. Os outros marinheiros param e perguntam-nos em particular sobre a organização da vida a bordo. O ponto mais delicado parece-lhes ser a promiscuidade permanente e prolongada entre 15 pessoas que nem todas se conhecem antes.

 Eles também nos contam seus sonhos. Este vai para o Uruguai, outro quer subir o Amazonas, um rio da Guiana Francesa...

 Ao chegarem a Cabo Verde, os seus sonhos já se concretizaram com os barcos à espera de zarpar. Eles ainda têm um momento de graça antes do grande salto e não desperdiçam o prazer em partilhar o seu entusiasmo connosco. Algumas pessoas vivenciam o melhor momento de sua viagem aqui em terra firme se problemas os aguardam no mar...

 Em nosso deck homenageamos o lindo bonito pescado no dia anterior. Como ainda restava, encontrei um marinheiro interessado que, em troca, nos ofereceu uma garrafa de bebida alcoólica.

 Um cartão Sim nos reconecta à rede, tão útil para informações geográficas e comunicações com os terráqueos, como transmitir minha história escrita à noite com o dedo no telefone durante minha insônia.

 À tarde, visitamos o pequeno museu da cantora cabo-verdiana Césaria Évora, a diva descalça em referência ao seu hábito de actuar descalça em palco. Vivia simplesmente no Mindelo e faleceu em 2011.

 A música está muito presente na cidade. À noite, músicos cantores e instrumentais acompanham o nosso jantar no Restaurante Nautilus que nos serve pratos baseados em receitas locais. Feijão branco misturado com peixe e outros vegetais vai parar no meu prato.

 Thierry anunciou que desembarcará da Nebulosa em Salvador como nós. Ele se inscreveu para a viagem de ida e volta até o dia 15 de março, mas diz estar feliz por ter tomado essa difícil decisão para não ter que enfrentar uma segunda vez as dificuldades que enfrentamos nessas últimas 3 semanas estressados ​​por um vento forte demais para todos. quadro. A travessia de regresso do Atlântico entre Fevereiro e meados de Março corre o risco de ser outra provação complicada para a tripulação reconstituída.

 Por enquanto, a previsão do tempo ainda mostra um vento ideal para os próximos dias: regular, moderado e estável na direção oeste, vindo da América. 

 Se você não consegue encontrar um médico, procure o veterinário! Meu veterinário favorito encontra uma agulha na caixa de ferramentas do navio para extrair uma farpa no meu dedão do pé. É melhor resolver quaisquer problemas menores antes de sair.

Driven by the wind, our boat cuts through the sea, making the foam spring up on each side like a big white moustache.

With inexhaustible energy, the wind raises waves that ripple valiantly towards other horizons.

On the waves, small wrinkled facets reflect the sky with varied inclinations and shades of color.

As it grows stronger, the top of the waves is covered with white crests. Even stronger, the wind digs ephemeral furrows and streaks the ocean.

I see rogue waves that take our boat for a toy, throwing it into the air and letting it fall back with a roaring roar and laughing to see our dislocated skiff.

In a raging sea, I imagine giant whirlpools ready to drag us into concentric circles, crushing us and swallowing us into the abyss.

At the port of Mindelo in Cape Verde, the sailboats meet before the final burst of the transatlantic. They stock up on food and water for two or three weeks far from everything. Some are looking to regroup to sail together.

Children and parents come to greet us on the pontoon. These families have chosen to live on their boat and take their time to enjoy the happiness on the water. They left Brittany or elsewhere months ago. I see mostly ten to fifteen meter monohulls on the pontoon and a few catamarans anchored in the bay.

In front of the Nébuleuse, a child says:

That's a real boat!

We put in for 3 or 4 nights. On the program, restocking with food, water, diesel and if possible repair of the scuttle by a local sailmaker. But also cleaning the boat, showering, laundry, hiking, the beach, discovering this country and Christmas Eve!

Cape Verde is a former colony of Portugal that gained independence in 1975. The spoken language is Creole. French is understood by the population we met. To pay, no worries with our bank card and ATMs are ready to give us local notes.

We meet at the floating bar of the marina installed at the exit of the pontoon and having wifi. The esim card I bought on the internet does not want to work on my phone. Our neighbor tells us that he had a day of discouragement during which he had considered throwing in the towel to return by plane here. A discouragement shared in the more difficult conditions than expected due to the harsh weather conditions imposed by our navigation program constrained by dates. In principle, the rest of the navigation should be more pleasant in stable trade winds, confirmed by Windguru.

 But the famous doldrums will still be a complicated obstacle with a total absence of wind and a variable sky that can be loaded with heavy black clouds falling in endless deluges, no longer knowing where the limit between water and air is, a pontoon neighbor who has made multiple crossings tells us.

But it is the sea that commands. We must remain humble, lower our heads!

For dinner, we are lucky to find a large table for the 15 of us in a brasserie grill with a spellbinding singer and violinist. Martine and I choose the octopus, roasted or grilled, but well cooked, and the papaya, a local product cousin of melon, with white wine from Cape Verde, which has a hard time competing with French productions. The pace is leisurely and good-natured. We have time to chat between courses. Gérard tells me about his adventures in Russia where he took the Trans-Siberian in another era, without war.

The sweet bill is shared between fifteen. Late at night, we find La Nébuleuse dancing on the water. The moorings are tightened so that Eric, who moves with a white cane, can climb onto the deck. The swell from the open sea continues to rock us gently for a night without waking up and without a watch.

Saturday 21

The wind is still pushing the tuna boat at a good speed. The average is over 7.5 knots. The display often exceeds 8 knots and sometimes reaches 10, 11, or even 12 knots. As a result, we might arrive tomorrow in the middle of the day in Cape Verde. Nicolas has already sailed to Salvador on a catamaran and has also stopped in Cape Verde. He gives us tourist information on these two planned stops.

We will have a few days to enjoy the island before setting off again for the non-stop crossing to Salvador in Brazil for 2 and a half weeks.

It's Inès' birthday today! She was born in 1992 and is a merchant navy graduate. The captain popped the champagne corks in her honor! During the aperitif, a stronger wave copiously waters Thierry and Martine who confirm that the water is good!

All day long, the show is provided by the flying fish that can rise up to 2 m above the water and race for about ten meters. For what purpose? To get a little exercise or to escape a predator. Lionel does not think they are big enough to pass them in the kitchen.

Gusts of force 8 risk jostling us from 3 to 4 in the morning. The captain decides not to touch the settings so as not to slow down our progress. Vianney, the sous chef tells me:

The boat is capable of taking wind at force 8 downwind without taking in any reefs. But usually, the first reef is taken at force 7 and the second at force 8.

The end of our watch risks being tough unless we manage to escape this trail of a meteorological phenomenon on the North Atlantic.

Saturday 21

The wind is still pushing the tuna boat at a good speed. The average is over 7.5 knots. The display often exceeds 8 knots and sometimes reaches 10, 11, or even 12 knots. As a result, we might arrive tomorrow in the middle of the day in Cape Verde. Nicolas has already sailed to Salvador on a catamaran and has also stopped in Cape Verde. He gives us tourist information on these two planned stops.

We will have a few days to enjoy the island before setting off again for the non-stop crossing to Salvador in Brazil for 2 and a half weeks.

It's Inès' birthday today! She was born in 1992 and is a merchant navy graduate. The captain popped the champagne corks in her honor! During the aperitif, a stronger wave copiously waters Thierry and Martine who confirm that the water is good!

All day long, the show is provided by the flying fish that can rise up to 2 m above the water and race for about ten meters. For what purpose? To get a little exercise or to escape a predator. Lionel does not think they are big enough to pass them in the kitchen.

Gusts of force 8 risk jostling us from 3 to 4 in the morning. The captain decides not to touch the settings so as not to slow down our progress. Vianney, the sous-chef tells me:

The boat is capable of taking wind at force 8 downwind without taking in any reefs. But usually, the first reef is taken at force 7 and the second at force 8.

The end of our watch risks being tough unless we manage to escape this trail of a meteorological phenomenon on the North Atlantic.

Friday 20

The starboard hydrogenerator broke its attachment points. It was only held by the safety rope.

The fresh food is suffering. The large 3 kg loaves of bread from Loguivy-de-la-Mer are starting to go mouldy. The oranges from the Canaries too. We also have to sort the potatoes and remove the spoiled parts.

Every 3 hours, the fire hose wets the wooden deck to prevent the wood from shrinking and cracking.

On a boat that moves, going about our daily business is a constant balancing act and leads us to reduce our toilet requirements... Basic principle: have 3 points of support, for example, your 2 feet well apart and brace yourself with your shoulder to brush your teeth.

Arriving in Cape Verde, night shifts will be maintained to prevent pilfering by a poor population who see leisure boats passing by.

Petty theft certainly doesn't bring much to its perpetrator, but can deprive the boat of strategic equipment.

When steering a boat like the Nébuleuse, you have to tame the significant inertia. You have to react quickly when the boat luffs after a big wave or when the jib starts to sway, which indicates a risk of jibing that must be avoided at all costs. Nicolas often entrusts me with the wheel, the exercise requires tiring concentration when it lasts a long time. I am a little apprehensive about taking on this responsibility in view of the risks and inconveniences that a bad maneuver can produce. Especially at night when the stars are missing and you have to steer by compass and map screen while keeping an eye on the headsails and reacting correctly to the waves on which the boat is trying to surf.

The fishing is good. The 3 beautiful sea bream provide fresh food for lunch. The largest is estimated at 6 kg.

During the night watch, I feel something wriggling at my feet. The lamp shows a flying fish that Martine grabs with both hands to throw it back into the water. A little later, another flying fish touches the hood and sleeve of Nicolas who is at the helm before landing on the deck.

The long watches allow us to discuss the house's work projects quietly. The last hour of the watch is difficult and we are happy to see the relief settle in our place.

Thursday

The mainsail tack is repaired.

Laurent and André are fishing for sea bream, the first fish we kept for our food.

The wind continues to be stronger than expected, around 25 knots, roughing up the crew.

If we had waited for an optimal weather window in Brittany, we might still be waiting in Camaret. The weather in mainland France seems to be cold and unsettled according to Cédric's information.

Everyone is on deck at the end of the afternoon to enjoy a moment of grace and everyone is at the table for dinner.

Martine is testing the anti-seasickness goggles. She has success with the frame with 4 eyepieces containing liquids. Her impression is that they can be useful indoors to trick the brain by visualizing a stable horizontal line. It is still too early to conclude that they are effective.

At dinner, we discuss the future of sailing in relation to the climate.

The weather conditions are proving to be more difficult this year than in the past.

In a century, climatic phenomena will make it more difficult to sail as today. Boats will have to be able to withstand more severe conditions.

Wednesday

The east wind is pushing us vigorously towards Cape Verde. The waves are jostling us and roughing up the crew, who are taking refuge in their bunks when tasks don't keep them in the kitchen or on deck.

At 11:45, the boat is suddenly lifted with a crash, taking off everything that isn't secured and letting everything fall back down.

Voices are worrying:

What happened?

Did we fall on a shoal of the Arquin Bank like the Medusa?

In my head, the evacuation, the survival suits, the installation in the life raft pass by... And I take inventory of the objects that I absolutely want to keep in the shipwreck.

An initial search for a waterway is unsuccessful. The depth sounder seems to have paid the price. The captain's computer is dented. And the unwedged objects are to be put back in their place.

I attribute the shock to a large marine mammal, a sleeping whale...

It would seem in fact that it was a nasty wave that played this impressive trick on us that did not have any real unfortunate consequences at the time. The 45 mm wooden hull resisted well.

Tuesday

It's Martine's turn to be flat. Time is long in our coffin bunk in which we are immobile refugees. Other crew members are also suffering in their bunk.

The drugs Stugeron, Mercalm ... do not manage to stop the process quickly.

Finally, I return to duty on the night shift.

Monday

The forecast on my phone's Windguru is ideal with winds between 15 and 20 knots pushing us on a broad reach towards Cape Verde.

We think we're well-seas after 2 weeks of sailing.

So we don't take a Stugeron to reduce the risk of seasickness.

But the departure from the Canaries is in fact disrupted by a force 7 wind. The other sailboats stay in port. We pass another sailboat coming from the south advancing with reduced sail towards the port.

At first, I don't have any particular symptoms. But in the evening, I prefer to skip dinner, which fits well with my diet plan! When I take my night watch, I vomit and go to my bunk with a basin rather than the deck.

 Anyway, these are not symptoms of cancer, since I decided to throw him overboard and drown him at the bottom of the ocean right here at the Tropic of Cancer line!

Tuesday 17th Dec

The engine of La Nébuleuse is repaired by the mechanic who has finally arrived. We welcomed him warmly! The captain also found a small sail to replace the torn sail of the tape-cul. We are still waiting for the tanker truck to deliver 1000 liters of fuel.

We are heading back south and moving further away from Europe. When we leave the Canaries, we will no longer pay in euros and the phone's SIM card will no longer work in Cape Verde.

Unless I find a local SIM card in this independent country or wifi, I may not be able to give any news before Brazil in mid-January. But la Nébuleuse will continue to be connected with a starlink antenna to receive weather information and send urgent messages. Information will be available in the news section of the Voiles et Traditions website. https://www.voilestraditions.fr/actualites/

The ship's positions will also be sent to a few emails.

Latest news: I just successfully purchased an esim for Cape Verde. So I will be able to stay connected and give news in a week.

Monday

In the port district of Santa Cruz, large cruise ships pour out crowds every day who have only a few hours to take away souvenirs of the city. You have to go far to find authentic places living to the rhythm of the local population and the natural landscapes forged by the volcanoes.

We take the tram back to La Trinidad and stop at the Cathedral of Laguna. The audio guide bombards us with names and dates that I immediately forget. Some interesting paintings like the one representing three layers of characters: at the bottom: purgatory with tortured souls, in the middle the judges of our life with a scale to weigh good and evil, at the very top the venerable blessed who have managed to escape torment. The best part of the painting: an angel taking a soul out of purgatory.

We then try a blind climb and are lucky to find a rustic path that takes us towards rugged reliefs in the middle of eucalyptus trees and a hostile community of cacti!

Despite a strong wind that would not send a boat out, we manage to close our eyes under a pine forest to digest the garlic soup from lunch with our backs on small black slag.

Sunday

In the port, we meet two other crews from France. The first 8 m boat left Bretagne in mid-October. The young skipper has enlisted successive crew members from among his friends. He has reached the southernmost point of his program and plans to go back up in the spring alone in small 2-day stages.

On the second 12 m boat, four young people aim to reach Australia. For the moment, they are like us, looking for repairers after a wave knocked the boat over and broke the boom.

They all seem relaxed, and calmly talk about their itineraries and adventures.

While Martine waits for the laundry to finish, I go to explore the areas to the southwest of the port. A church door is open and mass is starting. So I attend the ceremony in Spanish led by singers and guitarists. At the end, I approach the Christmas crib in which the baby Jesus has already arrived!

François L rented a car to go around the island. He tells us: it is the most efficient way to get around and discover the different environments: pine forests, steppes and volcanic areas and on the other hand to meet the inhabitants far from the tourist circuits. 

The bus is a complicated alternative that we are trying to use to be consistent with our desire to control our carbon footprint. But we have not yet managed to make a nice plan, especially towards the famous Teide. The offers are aimed at hotel accommodation customers. The niche of sailboat travelers is not the priority of tourist operators. So we continue to crisscross the neighborhoods of Santa Cruz... on foot in the wake of the locals who on Sundays go back and forth through the busy streets hoping to meet acquaintances to chat with.

Saturday

It's morning clean-up. Under Lionel's orders, we polish all the surfaces, the duckboards, the tablecloths, the undersides of the floor before discovering the pleasure of a shower that doesn't try to lose our balance.

A paella restores us at noon. Then, Martine and I take the tram to climb to La Trinidad. The cold surprises us in this high-altitude town freed from mass tourism. We walk to the old church with a baroque altar and take refuge in a lively café among jovial Spaniards. I particularly appreciate this different moment around hot tea and cheese cake.

Back down, we have dinner with the group of team members who tell us about their day. François L rented a car to explore the big island. We learn that the summit of Teide at 3715 m is closed due to wind and this for several days. That was our goal for tomorrow Sunday!

The news of the boat repairs says that the mechanic did not come this morning to look at the engine and that the sailmaker expected to repair the sail of the scuttle does not feel competent to make a solid repair. So we no longer know where we will spend Christmas? What surprises to distract our trip!

Arriving at the island of Tenerife is a highlight of our epic. While dining on deck, we discover that the massive shapes of the north-eastern tip turn out to be vertical, arid and inhospitable facades. Not a soul on this high cliff on which I think I recognise the mocking grin of a giant.

As we round the cape, we come face to face with cargo ships waiting to unload, which sound their deep sirens when the Nebula passes too close.

Then the lights of Santa Cruz illuminate this less steep side of the coast. We lower the sails in the darkness. Cédric, the skipper, takes the wheel to carefully bring the boat into the port, guided by a Spanish voice on the radio. The Nebula hesitates in front of a 50-metre sailboat, then throws its moorings to the sailors in the port.

We still have time to discover the city at night. Long pedestrian streets are lit up with Christmas decorations in the shape of fir trees and other festive magic. Several happy groups of women are wearing Santa Claus hairdos, shrubs, red gloves, garlands or other artifices evoking the northern regions from where Santa Claus will come laden with gifts!

When my comrades order a second liter of beer, I prefer to throw in the towel to find the boat guarded by Gérard. I climb into my bunk without setting the alarm for 11:35 p.m. for the night shift!

Fifteen sailors left the port

From Paimpol, they set sail

With the engine, crossed Gascony

In Galicia, they repaired.

Left with the north wind,

Leaving Portugal to port

All sails out,

In the Canaries, they repaired.

Pull on the oars on board

South, they headed

With the chief at the oar

In Cape Verde, they repaired

Taking advantage of the trade winds

The equator they crossed

The doldrums, they swam

In Salvador, they repaired

The rest of this story

has not yet been written

But at the end of winter

In Brest, they will definitely repair

Friday 13

The day begins with the midnight watch at 3am, as usual. The flashes of a lighthouse signal us a land on our port side. It is an islet called ila Selvage, the first land after 6 days of sailing. It houses an astronomical observation station. Its highest point is at 136 m. It is therefore better to go around it carefully.

The moon powerfully lights up our environment and relegates the stars. I try for the first time an application that gives the names of the stars and planets by pointing in their direction. We thus spot Mars and Jupiter. Venus is revealed lying below the horizon. The Big Dipper begins to sink in the north and will disappear completely when we are in the southern hemisphere.

Going up on deck this morning, I discover the volcanic island of Tenerife looming in the distance 55 miles away with a peak culminating at 3500 m high. The mist envelops it, giving it an alpine profile alternately with steep slopes falling sheer into the sea or the illusion of smoke from a volcanic eruption.

The temperature is mild. A few wisps of gray clouds float above the ocean.

The DIY workshops keep everyone busy. A pulley seized by salt, a pipe to fish out of a water tank, a fishing line to untangle...

The pleasure of sailing is there. The progression between winter weather and this return to spring contributes to the general good mood.

The stage in the Canaries could extend until next Tuesday or Wednesday depending on the dynamism of the mechanics and sailboats to repair the damage

Thursday

The north wind forces us to deviate from the straight route towards the Canaries which are due south to avoid the tailwind.

No more water at the tap. After transferring the water reserve to the tank, the circuit has been deprimed. In the meantime, we find a little water in the bottom of the kettle for breakfast. Thierry was soaping himself in the shower when the water stopped. He smells of soap now!

The sun is becoming more present. Sunscreen is becoming essential for extended stays on deck.

The engine is no longer working! Studs on the injection pump have broken. We have to make do with the light wind to move the boat forward. Arrival in the Canaries seems delayed.

Lionel is using his skills as a mechanic to try to repair it. As he is also in charge of the kitchen, we are doing everything we can to make his life easier in the hope of not dying of hunger and thirst on our boat.

The korrigans have managed to cook without water! Thanks to the inventor of tin cans.

The small waves toss the boat and the mainsail swings around the mast, creaking in a worrying way. The boat's movements no longer have an uncomfortable effect on our bodies, which have become accustomed to being jostled.

In the early afternoon, the engine is temporarily repaired and takes over from the wind to push us towards Tenerife, the Canary Island where we could find mechanics and sailboats to repair our damage

The calm sea offers us a well-deserved comfort after these first days of sailing. I never tire of watching the spectacle of the sea and the sky while listening to Gérard's stories.

I rehearsed the song Loguivy-de-la-mer with Thierry by listening to his recorded version and repeating the words on a damp sheet of paper that had suffered the ravages of the rain in his bunk. We will need a few more rehearsals to be ready.

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