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After leaving Mindelo on January 1st, Nicolas and Hateya are heading west to Martinique. In this intimate logbook, he shares with us his lonely hours and his state of mind.
First night alone
january 2, 2024 the first night was choppy. At dusk, I made myself a meal: tomatoes, coriander, beet, lacto-fermented with sprouted seeds, while listening to a podcast. I took a look at the horizon, and saw only a white light in the distance before going to bed. With this strong gite, I'm having trouble finding a good position.
My dreams mixed with the sounds of the boat, creating sound illusions. The boat squeaks, creaks, taps. I hear a noise on the deck just above me: clack, clack, clack. It wriggles. It's probably a flying fish I'll be eating tomorrow.
3 a.m., in the dead of night, the sails are banging, the spinnaker pole has just come loose from its attachment at the foot of the mast. The wind is almost gone. I go out to hang it up, take up the slack on the sheets to keep the sails taut, and go back to bed.
Biiiiiiipppppp! The AIS alarm has gone off. A boat can't be far away. And indeed, 30 m from me, a sailboat motoring past. I can't see anyone on board. That was close... I ask myself: how long has the AIS been ringing? I had set it to ring an hour in advance... I go back to bed.
I wake up at 8:30 a.m. and do my back exercises. I send a message to my mother, who will pass it on to her group of friends: " Hello friends, my first night went well, no seasickness, only downwind, a little less wind between 3 and 6 o'clock which made the boat move quite a bit. I only came across one boat. This morning, water as far as the eye can see! I still don't realize where I am. I'm all right. Last night I got my first flying fish, I'll let it dry and eat it tonight. Nico and Hateya. "
Why solo?
This morning at 9am, we covered 70 miles in 20 hours, averaging 3.5 knots. That's not much. At this pace, I'd arrive in 24 days.
But why did I want to do this crossing alone? I wanted to complete this project in its entirety, whether it succeeded or failed was up to me. I wanted to prove to myself that I could finish a project like this, that I could be determined. I also wanted to prove to myself that I could finish a project like this, that I could be determined. But I also wanted to experience complete solitude for 3 weeks. To see what happens, what transformations take place in me.
There's also a question of ego. As usual, I don't want to do things like everyone else and I want to live the experience to the full. Being just a crew member on a comfortable boat was out of the question. I wanted to understand everything, master everything, on a minimalist, low-tech boat with few comforts.
A nagging seasickness
january 3, 2024 yesterday I baked an olive bread with spelt. I also cooked the end of my squash. It still moves around quite a bit at times and I'm starting to get a few bruises. Alas, I threw up this morning... On the bright side, we're still sailing downwind. I haven't changed my settings, and the wind is still in the right direction. The windvane gear isn't forcing at this speed, so I think I could almost tie up the helm and we'd still be going in the right direction. I had another delivery of two flying fish this morning.
In terms of occupations, I can't read or look at a screen, as it makes me nauseous. In terms of electricity, I've discovered that I don't need to turn on the engine to recharge the batteries - the solar panels are enough for the moment.
Yesterday, in the late afternoon and early evening, a boat was not far away. According to my AIS, it measured 10 x 6 m, probably a catamaran. The really strange thing was that it wasn't moving in a fixed direction, heading north then west then south, and its speed varied from 0.4 to 4 knots, and it was always between 3 and 6 miles from me. But it was impossible to spot with binoculars. I waited until nightfall to see her lights, but without success. A ghost?
Breakages and repairs
january 4, 2024 yesterday was a quiet day, but last night the wind and swell forced me on. I had to furl the small genoa. Then I saw that my windvane gear had broken in the same place as last time. The new part didn't hold... I had to put my electric autopilot in its place and retrieve the pallet that was lying around, fortunately attached by one end.
All this made me seasick... not knowing if I was going to have enough electricity for the whole night, I had to wake up regularly to check, until the electric pilot's fastener blew. But nothing serious, I was able to repair it quickly, but that's a lot for one night.
The sea is building up a little, and the boat is moving even more, with spray running over the deck. In short, nothing pleasant, but all's well. Hateya is making good progress and I'll be able to repair the Windpilot this afternoon, as I've got a spare part.
Offshore crossing
january 5, 2024 another eventful day, with the boat rolling a lot and cross swells on the beam. I mainly slept. I'm starting to get bored.
And still this seasickness that won't let me go. It's a good thing I'm alone, otherwise someone would have had to put up with me, grumpy and not very active... Today I started to prepare the windvane gear, but of course I dropped a part in the water. I'll have to do it again. And everything takes so long to do on a boat.
I came across Melibokus, 3 Frenchmen on a 10 m sailboat. They had caught a 1.30 m fish and wanted to give me a slice. But given my small appetite, I politely refused. I had met them in Mindelo. They take the same route as me and also go to Martinique.
To my astonishment, I still haven't used the engine to recharge my batteries, even with the electric autopilot running continuously. That's great news!
In pursuit of a dream
january 6, 2024 this morning, I feel a bit cheated. After 6 days at sea, I'm supposed to stop feeling seasick, I'm supposed to commune with nature, to feel free. I thought I'd understand Bernard Moitessier and Éric Tabarly and get closer to their well-being. But I don't. I'm still nauseated by my early evening vomit. I feel battered by this unstable sea.
It's been a long time since I've had the feeling of freedom on my boat. I think I had the wrong dream, maybe it was someone else's? Still, I'm glad I'm living it, so I can appreciate the simple things in life. Particularly when I've arrived, because I still love the encounters I make in port or at anchor, being able to invite friends on board to share an extraordinary everyday life.
By the end of the day, things were looking up. The wind has calmed and so has the sea (a little). I'm not making much headway, but as a result I've been able to swim clinging to my boat, as Marion and Mathilde and I used to do in the Mediterranean. It's a magnificent blue, very deep (6000 m!) and very warm, and I could have stayed there for quite a while.
I've finished repairing the windvane gear. Tomorrow there should be even less wind, so I'm thinking of putting up my spinnaker. This very thin sail is attached to the top of the mast by two sheets. It's like a big kite.
Time for projects
january 7, 2024 the swell is almost in the same direction as the wind. It's moving a little less. Last night was really quiet. I don't need a screen anymore, my brain is hyper-creative at the moment. My dreams are very rich and sometimes, when I wake up, I wonder where I am. This morning, I slalomed between buoys with AIS transmitters. I'm not sure whether they're connected or not. As there's a big 50 m Japanese fishing boat in the area, I imagine this must be his. I was also visited by about fifteen dolphins and twenty pilot whales. The dolphins played with Hateya for over an hour.
I've started looking at nautical charts of the West Indies and it looks great. I don't know what I'm going to do with it yet, but I've got lots of possibilities. One hypothesis would be to sail Hateya around for a few months, travel and work, then sell her (I won't be doing the return Transat). Unless I can find a port to leave it in, just long enough to ride, bike or hitchhike back up the U.S. to Canada to see what's going on. But I can also imagine going all the way to Guatemala via all the islands: Puerto Rico, Dominican Republic, Jamaica, Cuba, the Bahamas... Unless, since my favorite country is still mainland France (for the time being!), I develop my new job ideas: as a refuge keeper in the summer, where we could eat good vegetarian food. There, the journey would be made through the stories of passers-by. I'd also like to be a builder of masonry heaters, which are as creative as they are practical for heating a house. I'd like to make them into participatory constructions to make them accessible and social. And I still have my other ideas! Outfitting trucks, boats, yurts, show structures... Fortunately, I'm going to die old and healthy so I'll have time to do all that!
I'm beginning to mourn this idyllic crossing. No doubt I dreamt it so much that I could only be disappointed... I receive messages from my loved ones through my mother, and they give me courage.
Reflections
january 8, 2024 i had a dream last night, as good as a real Hollywood movie. I'd also like to talk to you about challenges, about surpassing ourselves. What was your biggest challenge? I think our biggest challenge as human beings is learning to walk. How many times have we fallen? How long did it take us? And didn't we say to ourselves at the time: " Shit, it's too hard to stop. "If you feel like pushing yourself, think again. I like to surpass myself, it's what I enjoy most in this life. And the more I do it, the more I understand the mechanics, and the higher I can set the bar.
The symphony of the high seas
january 9, 2024 we're in the middle of the night. Bam! I hear this dull sound, like a boxer punching a training bag. It's on the starboard bow. There's a splash on the waterlogged deck. The squeak of the kerosene lamp keeps the rhythm going. The bubbles of water and air rushing over the hull provide the background noise, bloublublou... and Bam! It's as if we've put our heads together. The gite is getting worse, wanting to put my mattress on the floor. I'm clinging to the walls and the table so I don't end up falling through the anti-roll cover. Pans, glasses, pots clattering. It shakes like this 3 or 4 times, then it's quiet again. In the background, there's the sound of the wind, 25 knots on the beam last night.
The boat goes fast, but doesn't shake. Everything seems under control. But I'm not reassured, my brain starts going: " if... and then if... "I'm calming him down. Nothing's going to happen. Bam, Splash, Toc... My tool cupboard has just opened and a few loose tools fall out. I get up and pick them up. The sea is not very rough, but very choppy.
Bang , Splash. That was a big one. Drops reach my bench seat. Fortunately, this boat is watertight, but I have to leave the hood ajar to get some air. Zbing, Zbing. Now that's an unusual noise. The spinnaker pole has come loose. I look through my bubble. Yes, that's it. I put on my T-shirt, vest and lanyard and head out.
My first impression is that it looks calmer outside than inside? But Splash, a wave comes and wets my leg... I unlock the spinnaker pole, stow it with bungee cords and realize that it's the mast support that's gone. It was held in place with 4 stainless steel rivets, the strongest I could find, but they've popped off. Repairs are going to be complicated at sea. I go back down, rinse off, dry off and go back to bed.
After a rather eventful night, I was able to get some rest. The wind and swell have died down. The day will be calm. I could have put on more canvas to go faster, but I preferred to take time to cook myself, make some more olive bread, swim and tinker with the boat. I was able to extract the rivets, but I'm only two ahead. I need 4. Don't worry, I still had a plan B, fixing two eyelets at the mast foot. It's done, while listening to a live performance by IAM.
The advantage here is that I don't disturb the neighbors with my loud music! I haven't run into anyone for several days, and that's fine. Still, it's a strange feeling not to be able to see your progress. I don't have a counter to keep track. Just my little GPS point that I consult twice a day. The landscape is still very daunting. Morale, stocks and the boat are in good spirits. All is well!
The pleasures and constraints of solitaire
january 10, 2024 we had a rough night. I had to start the engine for 1h30, as I was running out of electricity. I didn't sleep very well. I tried to sleep longer, but I just couldn't manage it. The lack of physical activity isn't working for me, I'm dreaming of a jog along the beach. So I went off alone on the deck.
My furling sail wouldn't unfurl. The sea shook the boat in all directions. I banged and banged on the spinnaker pole, which wouldn't fit into my new system. I fall backwards, almost lose my glasses. I scream. I cry. I wonder what the hell I'm doing here. I can't do what I want. I'm tired of dragging myself along. I want to arrive and eat a pizza with cheese and vegetables or fries and big fish.
I take a cold shower, put on some music and calm down. The boat's two headsails are scissor-sailed, pitched and we're going at over 5 knots, but even at that speed it would take me another 10 days to get that pizza...
Letter of sweet madness: " Dear mother, father, sister, et tutti quanti. I am having a pleasant vacation in the establishment you sent me to, the food is good, the staff are not very present and the gardens are rather narrow. But the sea view is splendid. I couldn't have wished for anything better. If I may say so, the sanitary facilities are rather old-fashioned, but I'm getting used to them. Perhaps next year we'll choose an establishment closer to a town? Sincerely Nicolas. "
39°W is the halfway point of this crossing. 39 is also the number of years I've been on this little blue planet, so am I halfway there too? I don't know, but I hope to live as long as possible in good shape. I'd like to end up a wise old man somewhere between a Buddhist monk and a Yogi, having set up woodland schools. I watched a report by scientists who said that the younger generations would be able to live 20/30 years longer than the current generation. In other words, it's very likely that I could live to be over 100.
For those who want to know when, I " ask me "I can tell them I've got plenty of time! But is that really an end in itself? For the time being, I'd like to keep learning, keep meeting new people, keep healthy, keep curious, keep experimenting with my different facets, keep my great friends... That should keep me busy!
To be continued...
