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In the autumn of 2006 Steve Landles with his daughter Kirsty and their friend Andy set off on a once in a lifetime voyage around the world on their yacht "Lamachan". Before setting off on this adventure Steve had hidden his inner buccaneer behind the mask of an IT project manager.

24 December 2006 - Caribbean Sailing

The last update concluded on the optimistic note that if things continued to go well, we would arrive in the Caribbean well ahead of schedule. And the trade winds continued to blow like they are supposed to, getting us to St Lucia by 10 December. A total time of less than 19 days compared with my conservative planning assumption of 28 days.

At the same time as we sailed from the Canaries to the Caribbean a major yachting event, the Atlantic rally for Cruisers (ARC) was underway. Probably the biggest ocean yachting event with 250 yachts, so we set out 5 days before they started to make sure we got into St Lucia before every berth was taken. As we arrived, the early race boats were coming in and it was interesting to compare notes. The winds were not the worst we've seen - 35 knots was the highest we recorded and generally not above 25. But the damage sustained by the race boats was painful. One crewed by some folk I knew wrecked a couple of sails and lots of bits of rope and rigging. Around £15k total, and insurers impose a high excess on race boats. But 2 others arrived with masts snapped off in the middle and one we heard was abandoned mid Atlantic. I was initially distressed with our damage; 4 broken sail battens, but the problems of others put it in perspective.

Annual service

Not quite 12 months since we launched, but we've covered a lot of miles so I decided it was time for its annual service. This involves getting the boat lifted out of the water, cleaning up the hull, refreshing the anti-foul, servicing the engine and generally getting it ready for the next ocean. So we were in the boatyard at Rodney Bay, St Lucia. Delightful place; being anchored in the bay would be nicer than in a rather dusty boatyard, but at least we were able to stay aboard for the week. And, Rodney Bay is a delightful place. Golden Sandy beaches, atmospheric restaurants, cheap rum punches. We could watch the romantics get married at Sandals Beach resort or the cruise ship passengers disembark. But why would you want to go sailing in something so big?

Calypso Cruising

We relaunched on Thursday 21st and headed down the St Lucia coast to Marigot Bay - famous since the British fleet hid in here from the French. The Brits covered their rigging in palm fronds and the French sailed on past. Restaurants fringe the bay; the one we chose had a band of old codgers playing in a style I believe is Calypso.

Next we cleared into St Vincent and the Grenadines, the first port being Wallilabou. You drop your anchor into the bay and run a stern line to a palm tree. The place is famous for being the set of 'Pirates of the Caribbean'. The film crew left a rickety jetty and building, which was where we ate; the place isn't busy, we were the only dinners' that night. . We've now moved on to Bequia - different island, a beautiful bay, and very popular.

Spinnaker Trials

But this update would break the established pattern if they were not some drama to recount. Well the drama this time concerns the spinnaker, a large parachute like sail to help speed us on days when the airs are light. Since leaving London, we hadn't seen the right conditions, but on one of the lighter days mid Atlantic it seemed ideal to give it a try. So we got bit out and launched this enormous sail. And it worked, looked good and pulled us along a bit faster. We left it up for a couple of hours before putting it away for the night. So next day when we got it out we were pretty confident. We decided to check how close to dead behind the wind we could get; and had our question convincingly answered.

At first it looked great, streaming out in front of the boat. But a slight bounce in the waves and it swung towards the forestay, wrapping itself once around the forestay. Maybe we should have done something quicker - but what? As we considered our options, it gracefully put in a second wrap, then a third and so on. So, how do you unwrap a spinnaker from the jib? We spent the next 6 hours trying every option, ranging from trying to manhandle it round the bottom to the lateral thinking sailing the boat in circles in the opposite direction. Nothing worked. Running out of options, and light, it was obvious one of us would have top climb to the top of the mast.

The mast on our boat is 22 meters above the waterline. Can't say I was keen to go up, but I thought of that gutsy Ellen MacArthur. She does it with no one below, a smile on her face and talks to the TV camera. So up I went.

The system we have for getting up the mast is called a self climber. You sit in one part, put your feet in another and alternately lift each part up a rope. It's slow, bruising progress, taking nearly 30 minutes to the top. As you go up, the mast moves from side to side in the waves. So as it dips to your side you pendulum out over the water and seconds later you're swinging back to collide with the mast. Ah, you say, surely he should just hold on to the mast. Yes, easily said…

As I rested near the top, I recalled the account of a couple sailing to the Caribbean with the same mast climbing system as us. But when he got to the top, he had a heart attack. (I was feeling a bit jiggered myself). Because it was a self climbing system, his wife couldn't get up to help him, nor could she lower him down. So for the remaining 3 days into port, she had to sail with her husband's body flying from the top of the mast.

Once at the top, sorting it out wasn't so hard, though the exceedingly sharp safety knife I carry proved its worth. When you get down you find the bruises are all on the insides of your arms and legs; delightful shades of yellow and purple. The spinnaker is now back in its bag, where it will stay for some time.

Christmas in the Caribbean

Today we are heading for the island of Carriacou which is politically part of Grenada. Jann is joining us on Boxing day (funny how the Caribbean section is more popular than the Biscay section) so I want to clear in so we can sail to the main Island without worrying if Customs will be open on Boxing day. We've got all the stuff in so we will have a traditional Christmas; except the dining room is 26 degrees and we can step outside into clear blue 30 degrees water.

So a Merry Christmas to all and may the right winds continue for 2007. Steve

3 December 2006 - The Watermaker

One piece of equipment we had fitted to the boat was a water maker. Handy because some of our passages are 30 days between ports, so we would need a lot of tankage otherwise. Eye wateringly expensive, but a mini chemical works under the hatches. Feed pumps, high pressure pumps, reverse osmosis membranes, primary, secondary and 4 other filters. It's a wonderful system. When it works.

Four days out of the Canaries, Kirsty is preparing dinner when she asks me to look into why there is limited water at the sink. Lift a few floor hatches (standard procedure for many problems) and found unlimited water. In fact the entire 320 litres of our freshwater tank. (Sailors have a crude way of determining the origin the origin of water in the bilges, they put their finger in and taste it. If it's salty it's from outside. If it's mostly OK it's from the drinking water system. The third possibility is from the waste water system; I imagine that also has a distinctive taste.)

This is a bad position. We're 24 days from the Caribbean and the wind is the wrong way to get back to the Canaries. Our emergency supplies are 5 litres of water and a 6 pack of Fosters. I considered not pumping out the bilges on the basis we might need it for survival. Investigation showed the problem was a cracked filter bowl in the watermaker. So, the system that was meant to provide our water had consumed it all. We prepared a course to divert to the Cape Verde Islands and sailed in that direction all night. In the meantime, I discovered a way of using fittings from the garden hose to isolate the offending filter. So we ran the engine and watermaker all night to make the water we had lost.

After a rather gloomy night, reviewing the situation in the morning it was clear that we had refilled our tanks with potable water and had a way of continuing to manufacture more. So we were very happy to resume course for St Lucia.

At last, the winds are where they are meant to be. Trade winds, blowing west between 15 and 25 knots. All day, all night. So we are making excellent progress - typically 6.5 to 7.5 knots against a planning assumption of 5. The distance was 2800 miles for which I had allowed 28 days. But we will do it in 22 or less. The seas vary, from a 3 meter swell to half a meter - not difficult compared to what we've had. The only issue with the bigger swell is you can begin to surf off the waves which the auto steer finds more challenging.

Strangely, sailing with the wind dead behind you isn't ideal for a modern yacht (but ideal for the square riggers). So we sail 30 degrees off the direct course on a port tack, taking us further South than we would prefer. Sometime soon we'll gybe to the starboard tack which will point us more directly at St Lucia.

Life on board soon develops into a routine, centered around the watches. At night we each do three hours, with 2.5 hour slots by day. The slots we do move forward each day so we all have a turn at each slot and repeat every 3 days. There's not a lot to see. In 12 days we've seen 6 other boats; nothing for the last 3 days. It's mostly sunny, so when we're not on watch or asleep we sit in the cockpit relaxing. The water which is beautifully clear is 28 degrees. I'm tempted to go for a little dip off the back but so far have been dissuaded by the crew. We bake bread every other day, and cakes on treat days. At dusk we watch the flying fish - amazing sight when a few dozen take off at once and cover 100 meters or more. Andy's first encounter with a flying fish was in the dark when one landed on deck. He stood on it, which was a big surprise to both parties. Sometimes I think it would be nice to go for a stroll of more than 12 meters in one direction, or sit down without the constant motion, but mostly this is sailing at it's best.

Our position at 1200 GMT today was 14 degrees 55.49 minutes N, 041 degrees 05.56 minutes W. Approx. 960 miles South West of the Cape Verdes and 990 miles North of Brazil. We are now just above the latitude for St Lucia, i.e. it is due west from here. We have 1150 miles to go, are about 6 days ahead of schedule and will probably make up more. So St Lucia by 14 December or earlier, providing the winds keep up and we have no further excitement.

14 Nov 2006 - Sailing to the Canary Islands

The winds down the Iberian coast are supposed to blow from the north sending ships at speed in a southerly direction. That's how the great Portuguese navigators discovered so much. But, for the past month they've been blowing in the wrong direction. So those of us wanting to head south have had strong winds and heavy seas on the nose all the time. Instead of making Lisbon in one leg, we kept ducking into smaller ports along the coast when we had enough. If Vasco da Gama had this kind of weather he would never have discovered anything.

The last update had us sheltering from the storms in the Spanish port of Portasin. After 3 days we ventured out, heading for Lisbon, partially because the crew were getting restless. But the seas were high, the rain lashed down and the wind was directly against us. So after a while we gave that up and went into a Portuguese port, Figueira da Foz. Interesting place, but not enough interest to sustain the crew for long. Again, after 3 days we ventured out again, only to put in again to Nazere, a bit further down the coast. (Later we met a Dutch couple who told us they had been sheltering at Foz for 2 weeks. They wondered who was the only boat they saw venture out). It was a consolation to hear that even the sailing greats such as Robin Knox-Johnson had been forced to turn back in those conditions. Nazere was full of sheltering yachts that had been holed up for some time so our initial berth was on the fish quay. You need to imagine the smell.

As soon as the conditions got better we pressed on to Lisbon where we had planned to stay a few days. Sightseeing - the famous elevator, the Tejo River, Sintra built when they chased the moors out.

The next section was a 5 day sail (with a lot of motoring) to Madeira. We stayed initially on the northern Island of Porto Santo before making the short crossing to the main Island. Funchal was a favourite with big cruise ships - but who would want to travel that way. The most interesting thing about Madeira is the system of Levadas - medieval irrigation channels that run for miles from the steep mountains. The walks alongside them are breathtaking, and not for those who suffer vertigo. Though if you don't like heights you should give Madeira a miss. Even the road network has its moments. The old roads climb the steep volcanic mountains; the new roads (built with millions of EU funds) only leave the tunnels to sweep across high bridges.

And after a few days in Madeira we made the 3 day crossing to the Canaries. That journey started fine; sunny day, winds on the beam making better than 8 knots at times. It wasn't to last, the winds dropped and the second half was motoring. We are now berthed at Santa Cruz on the island of La Palma, which is the most westerly of the Canary Islands. Our initial berth was along side a rusty and smelly trawler; now we're with the other yachts on the pontoon.

As well as looking around we are getting the boat ready for the next leg. As an example, I'm adding fiddles which are strips of wood at the front of the shelves. When the boat is sailing hard and heeled over it's soul destroying to open a cupboard to get the coffee and have every can slide out.

Medical Notes

We had the first medical emergency of the trip. The skipper was coming down the steps into the cabin in slightly wet shoes when he slipped and headed down, slowed only by vertebrae bumping each step and stopped when his head hit the cooker at the bottom. Somewhere along the way a finger got dislocated - for those of us who are squeamish this looks worse than it probably was. The local hospital and my EC medical card did the business and confirmed nothing broken. My finger is now immobilized. The splint makes me look like I'm wearing one of those comic hands with a big pointing finger. Conclusion; the most dangerous part of sailing is in port.

The next section is the big one; 2,700 nautical miles to St Lucia in the Caribbean. For planning food etc I conservatively estimate 27 days, though we will probably do it quicker. But this time if we hit storms there are no ports to dive into. And if there is no wind once the diesel runs out we'll be reduced to rowing.

The crew and I have both come on a lot in terms of sailing skills. We play it quite safe - track the big ships, make our position clear using our active radar reflector - reef in early when there is wind. Life jackets and harness at night as well as storms. So all we need are non slip steps.

PS (for sailors and geographers) Our current position is 28 degrees 41 minutes N, 017 degrees 46 minutes W. We started with a longitude of 0, we've done 17 and by the time we do 180 we should be in Australia. The latitude we started with was 51 degrees. So, in terms of crossing the equator, we've done 23 and got another 28 degrees to go.

18th October 2006 - Leaving England

Hi everyone, Thought it might be tempting fate to give a progress report too early but we are having a R&R day today so it's a good opportunity. We left London on 27th Sep with photos at Tower Bridge. Took it leisurely round the coast, just sailing by day and overnighting at port. We were caught by gales at Brighton and had to spend a couple of days there. At Southampton I wanted the builder to fix up a few things so we were a couple of days there. Our final day in England was Thursday 12th October when we left Falmouth.

We then had 4 days of good sailing; brisk wind, sunshine and Dolphins for occasional company. Andy cooked real meals each evening and Kirsty practiced strumming guitar in the cockpit. Across the English Channel, across the feared Bay of Biscay towards Finisterre. But on Sunday we hit Force 7 - a near gale, with torrential rain, large waves and no visibility.

You need to picture Kirsty holding onto the wheel with the boat heeled well over, being lashed by continuous rain and breaking waves. But, it was her watch... When it came to my watch we were crossing the shipping lanes at night. I could see on the radar that we'd been encircled by large vessels and 3 were bearing down on us. As the range got down 1/2 mile, whilst I was wondering what to do, the rain cleared and we could now see them heading for us. They look awful big at night, even half a mile away, leading to some moments of discomfort. But scrupulous observation of the maritime highway code by all of us meant we passed each other safely.

The storm wasn't going to let up and we didn't want to continue getting wet so instead of pressing on to Lisbon we headed for this small Spanish port of Portosin in the Ria de Muros, just below Cape Finisterre. And that's where we are now. Today's forecast says more gales, so we're staying put. If you catch the shipping forecast, listen out for Fitzroy. That's the area for us. As soon as they stop forecasting gales for that area, we'll be heading South.

PS (for sailors and geographers) Our current position is 42 degrees 46 minutes North and 008 degrees 56 minutes West. So, we started with a longitude of 0, we've done nearly 9 and by the time we do 180 we should be in Australia. The latitude we started with was 51 degrees 31 minutes. So, in terms of crossing the equator, we've done 9 and got another 43 degrees to go.

26th September 2006 - Setting Off

We're almost ready to set out on our long voyage. We depart tomorrow - 1645 from Tower Bridge. From that time, picking up email is going to be a little more complicated.

I will have 2 accounts: Sailmail is a system for transmitting email using shortwave radio. It has none of the speed or bandwidth we are used to, and depends on the state of the ionosphere, sunspots and atmospheric conditions. I can't manage a lot of data, so to make it feasible, the service provider won't accept emails with attachments.

Bt internet will take big emails with attachments but we can only pick it up if we are somewhere with WiFi or internet cafes. So, if the message has no attachments, send it by Sailmail. If it can wait, or is big with attachments use BT internet. I will send or periodic progress reports by email or I may set up a blog (if I can figure out how).

Otherwise, see you all in 18 months!

Steve