A two-day crossing to the Abrolhos

We departed Itacaré for our passage to the Abrolhos Archipelago in the afternoon. We had spent the morning provisioning at the local market, and timed our departure for just long enough after high tide to ensure that we had maximum depth and minimum current while crossing the river bar.

Yummy tropical fruits

Our fruit hammock under the arch was filled to the max with bananas, mangoes, papayas, passion fruits and limes; enough to live luxuriously for the next two weeks. The wind was blowing nicely and from the right direction, and we estimated that the crossing would take about two days. All seemed to be well in hand.

Returning to the open ocean

First though, we had to cross the river bar. With outgoing tide and incoming wind, a short and steep chop had built up, so the brief ride across the bar was going to be a little bumpy. With Frederieke behind the wheel, we slowly followed our incoming track out and were making good, if undulating, progress, when all of a sudden, a steep wave had Yuma rearing up on her stern, and then slamming down on her bower.

This was not good for Yuma, but even worse for our recently bought provisions. The cheap line we’d used (actually, the cheap line David had used) to secure the netting immediately snapped at each point it was secured at, from one side of the radar arch to the other, and promptly unsecured the netting and our fruit.

All our yummy fruits went flying out of the hammock and fell onto the sugar scoop, making loud thumps as they hit the aluminium.

Did we hit a rock…?!

Poor Frederieke, thinking she’d hit rocks was looking around to figure out what had gone wrong and trying to work out how the rocks 10m off the starboard beam could have caused this disaster. It took her several long moments to realise that, yes it was a disaster but not a maritime disaster, more of a culinary disaster.

Of course this happened, right at the critical point of the bar crossing, where the current was strongest, where it was turning close to rocks, and, where the waves were the biggest. There was not going to be any going back to rescue or replenish the fruit.

While Frederieke kept steering Yuma out of the river mouth towards the Atlantic, David desperately scrambled about in an effort to save whatever fruits were still rolling around on the exposed sugarscoop.

Once we had made it out into calmer water, we did a quick stock take of what remained to make sure that we had enough to see us through our time at Abrolhos and on to our next stop on the mainland. Luckily, and definitely not happily, we decided that with a bit of rationing we would be able to get by; frugivourous luxury had in one fell swoop been reduced to frugivorous hardship.

Sailing the first day

The first day the sailing was grand and we were zipping along at almost 7kn on average with a full jib and one reef in the main. Frederieke caught a 2kg mackerel and turned it into delicious poisson cru, grilled fillets and fish curry – yum!

Unfortunately, after a great 24hrs sailing the weather gods decided that we’d had it too good and went off the forecast. The wind completely disappeared and the sea went from cheery 1m wind waves to a complete glass-out.

Motoring the second day

Frustratingly, the forecast now showed days and days to follow without wind, lots of limp flopping listlessly around on a glassy ocean. So, we fired up the iron sail and motored the next 24hrs to the Abrolhos Islands.

At least the sky was beautiful, clear and full of stars. Approximately 28nm from the islands we picked up the 6 second flash of the Abrolhos light and keeping it well off to the starboard we followed it in, around the islands’ protective reef and into the shelter of the bay on the S side of Ilha de Santa Barbara.