30 July to 30 September 2023

Baia d’Abra to Porto Santo, 33 03′ 68″ N 16 18′ 80″ W, 30nm, 5 hours 30

Leaving Funchal at the end of July we needed to make a decision about where to go next. After some thought, we made the decision to go back to Porto Santo for another month.

Several factors contributed to our decision.

First, time. We still had about four months to kill before thinking about starting our Atlantic crossing and we had grown fond of Porto Santo’s laid back vibes and friendly sailing community.

Second, temperature. Porto Santo’s relatively cooler temperatures, whilst still hot, are nothing compared to the 35+° of the Spanish islands 300 miles further south.

Third, and probably the deciding factor, economics. We knew that heading south to the Canaries would mean expensive marinas and scarce decent anchorages. Porto Santo offered a month for the price of 3 or 4 nights in the Canaries. We had already spent a lot of money on getting the boat Atlantic ready and this offered a chance to refill the coffers a bit.

As it turned out this decision would see us killing rather more time there than planned!

But first we had to get back. It would have been an otherwise unremarkable passage had it not been that Stefan had taken the opportunity to buy some new fishing gear in Madeira’s big chandlery. As we left the anchorage at Baia d’Abra, he set two trawling lines from each side of the stern. We were barely out of the choppy waters of the end of the tail of the island when the line on the port side rattled.

“Fish!” Stefan yelled as he leapt onto the deck to start reeling it in. We were both thinking the same thing – would this one actually stay on the hook or, like those before it, would it disappear. We were so ill-prepared for the former that we had nothing ready for what we might need to actually deal with catching a fish!

But catch it we did – a very fine mahi-mahi which fed us for two wonderful dinners.

The rest of the passage was much less exciting, although we did have some company along the way.

Back on a mooring buoy in the harbour, we got busy killing time – cycling, walking, catching up with friends, hanging out in our favourite spots and checking in with the ducks in the storm drain.

And then, one afternoon, just as we were starting to think about heading south, I got a phone call from Stefan who had gone out for a bike ride alone in the hills. He had fallen off and hurt his arm very badly. He was being driven back by the duty manager of the hotel he had been able to walk to.

A trip to the health centre diagnosed two breaks to his radius which required treatment beyond the expertise and equipment of this little island. So that night, thanks to the Portuguese health service, he got to fly to Funchal to see the orthopedic specialist. Mercifully he didn’t require an operation but he would need his arm in plaster for the next 6 weeks.

Now, we are used to sailing short handed but three hands is just one too few. Sailing definitely requires the use of two arms so we immediately had to resign ourselves to yet another extension of our time in Porto Santo. With the boat on a mooring buoy, climbing in and out of the dinghy was going to be challenging with just one arm but, when Stefan returned from the hospital the following night, we had no choice but to do it. However, long term we decided to ask for space in the marina. In peak season there were no marina berths but we were given a spot rafted up alongside other boats on a long pontoon.

Climbing across someone else’s boat to get ashore isn’t ideal at the best of times but marginally easier with one arm than using the dinghy. And we lucked out in being rafted next to SV Polaris, her human crew, Caroline and Bertjan, and furry crew, Buck and Skippy. All but Buck warmed to our presence very quickly with Skippy sneaking across and becoming a regular visitor on board Pintail. We even won Buck over in the end.

An enforced extension to our time in Porto Santo meant we had more time to hang out with new friends, Nichola and Colin of SV Emerald. We had been following their journey on social media for some time as they travelled a very familiar route from the River Crouch, down into the Med, around and out again. Several times our paths came very close to crossing but never quite did. Here in Porto Santo, where they had been lifted out for nearly a year undertaking very big repairs to Emerald’s engine, they could not escape us!

Having been on the island so long, they knew all the best spots – the bar selling samosas, their favourite burger bar and the free crazy golf course! Nowhere but Porto Santo could a bucket of golf clubs and balls be left out for everyone’s use without fear of them going missing. Despite my getting a hole in one at the first hole, the holes with their windmills and ramps were very testing. There was even a hole fashioned as the island’s iconic pier which was utterly impossible! At least Stefan’s cast wasn’t too much of a handicap.

With Nichola and Colin I also got to climb the island’s highest peak, Pico do Facho. Persuaded that if Colin and his fear of heights could do it, so could I, we climbed along near vertical scree slopes. Colin and I kept a safe distance though whilst Nichola clambered rocky outcrops for better views.

More time was killed sanding and re-varnishing our galley and saloon floors, attempting to bake our favourite local bread, bolo do caco, and painting pebbles from the beach on board SV Polaris. With Pintail safely tied up we also took the opportunity to return to the UK for a couple of weeks to see family and friends whilst we waited for the day Stefan could get his cast removed.

However, when that day finally arrived, he returned from the health centre with his cast still on. Despite having made him an appointment to remove the cast, they said they couldn’t do it. He would need to return to Funchal to the team who put it on.

Not wanting to return to Funchal and confident enough that the bones had done their healing, he removed it himself and set about rebuilding the strength lost in his muscles from all the inactivity.

We were really ready to go. We went back out to anchor, stocked up on all our favourite Portuguese food and got ready for the sail down to the Canaries.

The sun had finally set on our time in Portuguese waters and the moon rose on our last night in this harbour that we had called home for three months…