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“So how does it feel?” I ask André, 140 miles out from our Suriname waypoint. “Mixed,” he replies. “On the one hand it’s a shame we’re nearly there, on the other hand I’m looking forward to roti and a drink at the bar or by the pool!” Later he admits that 10 days at sea is actually quite a long time.

As I write this we’re 130 miles further on and the last night of the ocean crossing is behind us. It was cloudy, muggy and rainy. The sweat is pouring off us. By now the sun is breaking through more and more and we’re staring at the horizon for the first bit of land in 10 days. André makes it on deck just in time to stop us getting caught in a fisherman’s nets. The fisherman, by the way, is standing on deck waving furiously. Perhaps he was just happy to welcome us? Anyway, it all worked out.

For the first time we’ve started the engine to keep our speed up. Luckily the sea is a lot kinder than it has been for the rest of the trip.

The Atlantic Ocean

There were moments when I cursed it, but fortunately more moments when it felt like a privilege to be a guest on this vast expanse of water. Because that’s what it is: vast. Sailing for days on end and waking up every time to more water. Every morning when we got up, André and I had a sort of Groundhog Day feeling. Weren’t we here yesterday?

In all those days we came across three vessels: a sailing yacht, Synergie, on the same route, a fishing boat and a cargo ship. The last two passed within a mile of us at night. All that space, and you still end up that close to each other. It’s like bumping into your neighbours by chance at a campsite in Siberia.

All in all we’ve been incredibly lucky. Apart from the odd day we had glorious weather, and the wind blew around 22 knots the whole time. That means our sails were at least always full. What was disappointing was the mix of waves: they come from every direction at once, and on top of that there’s the swell, which unmistakably comes with the ocean.

Halfway across, knowing I’m in the middle of the ocean and can’t go anywhere but straight ahead towards Suriname, I’m briefly overcome by a kind of claustrophobia during my night watch, but luckily it soon passes.

We’ve once again split the watches into fixed three-hour slots, and we decide to leave the clock on Cape Verde time; the time difference with Suriname is 3 hours. André takes the 3 o’clock watch, Eeuwe the 6 o’clock, Marion the 9 o’clock and Kees the 12 o’clock. Lunch and dinner are eaten together.

The whole way we sail with the jib poled out to windward, goosewinged. In other words, the jib is on the opposite side to the mainsail. You can do that when the wind is coming from astern. We sail with the autopilot in wind mode, which means it steers to keep the wind coming in at the same angle all the time. Even so, we follow the line to our waypoint pretty well.

Fishing

After the success with the tuna, André has high hopes of a good catch during the crossing. On one of the first days something bites – a mahi-mahi, according to the men – which we have for dinner that evening. One morning Eeuwe and Kees breakfast on the flying fish they find washed up on deck, but apart from that it stays very quiet. The conclusion is that we’re going too fast. When we overtake the Dutch yacht Synergie and have a chat on the VHF, they mainly quiz us about our fishing techniques. With our catch so far we naturally feel like seasoned experts. Hopefully they managed to catch something.

Yesterday, our last full day at sea, André makes one final attempt at catching a fish and puts both rods out. We’re making good speed, but that’s partly down to a strong favourable current, so our speed through the water isn’t too bad. Whether that’s the reason I don’t know, but the handline gets a bite. A modest tuna. By now an old hand, André puts it out of its misery and fillets it. He has just removed the last bone when the rod starts reeling out, so back to work. A slightly smaller tuna, but more than welcome. After tinned tuna salad for lunch, we now have fresh sashimi with our sundowners and pan-fried tuna fillet for dinner. What luxury!!

Cuisine

So what do you eat on board apart from the fish you catch?

In the morning, porridge or yoghurt with muesli. In Cape Verde we found long-life yoghurts, a godsend when the fridge is crammed full. They’re a bit on the sweet side, but you don’t notice once you add crunchy muesli or honey.

Lunch is bread, sometimes homemade, sometimes from the freezer. Or French toast. In Madeira we bought sliced white sandwich bread that is still perfectly edible now, a month and a half later – how healthy can that be? Salad with tuna or egg salad.

For dinner we have plenty of meat in the freezer. Tasty sausages, mince, chicken breast turned into curry, chilli, pasta.

Something we’d already discovered in Spain is tortillas, a sort of potato quiche, ready-made, that keeps for ages and heats up in no time. So simple, but really tasty.

We keep the fresh veg outside on a line that André rigged specially for the occasion. Normally you see people with a kind of hammock with the fresh stuff in it. We have a nice line with separate little bags hanging from it for each vegetable. We bought these bags for doing the veg shopping, as an alternative to the plastic bags used in the fruit and veg section of the supermarket. So they serve a double purpose. André is going to apply for a patent on his fruit-and-veg line. When the carrots start looking a bit sorry for themselves, we have a lovely hutspot (Dutch mash) with sausage!

Other than that, we drink lots of tea, water and one (sometimes one and a half) beer.

The biggest surprise comes on 5 December in our shoes: Sinterklaas managed to find us, and there’s a lovely chocolate letter for everyone!! Thank you, Sinterklaas!

Showering

Although we carry a reasonable amount of water, it’s our habit not to shower too often. André needs a while to get used to that. When the weather gets a bit clammier, Kees and I sometimes nip under the cold shower for a moment. André can live with that, but not wholeheartedly, if you ask us. When on one of the last days he’s given permission for a longer shower, he turns on the heater for hot water and is, of course, roundly booed by the other three on board. Eeuwe has a different solution: every day he hangs off the back of the boat, which is not appreciated, certainly not by me, and the first night it even gives me a nightmare. But there’s no talking him out of it. André did it once too, but he understands my concern and leaves it at that.

Well, what else happens out there on that big ocean? There was one night when we really had to work hard to stay in our bunks. What turned out to be the problem? The autopilot had switched to the wrong GPS, so it was steering left and right and the boat was being thrown all over the place by the rough seas. One thing on top of another, as we say.

One night it was very windy and we decided to put a reef in the main. The boat handled it just fine, and early in the morning Eeuwe was able to shake the reef out again.

As we left, we sailed past Thalassa, which was at anchor in Mindelo, took a few more photos and wished the youngsters doing their homework on deck a good trip to Dominica.

The first few days of the trip I had to get my sea legs again, but with the patch behind my ear it was reasonably bearable. By the third day it was already a lot better, though I still skipped the sundowner. After five or six days, however, it came back; the boat was moving quite a lot and I really had to be careful not to do anything silly. After I put on a new patch I was fine again, so apparently it does help.

Postscript

We’re at anchor in Domburg. Last night we had a big dinner at the restaurant/bar by the harbour, ran into some of Aly and Ype’s family, and this morning we all have headaches. We’re back there now, for the internet and the delicious breakfast. And the pool….