Thursday, April 30 (Day 10) at 2:08 p.m.
Well, the conditions have been superb for the past few days as I’ve been sailing along the African coast before tackling the Atlantic crossing. At sunset, I passed through a myriad of Mauritanian fishing canoes, anchored and facing the wind. Three people per boat, bobbing up and down all day, waving big friendly waves as I passed by. In the background, the tall, straight white cliffs stretching for miles, a bit austere.
Night is already falling, and I’m planning my first nap to be ready for the night ahead. As for the race, little success or inspiration so far: missed the La Coruña crossing, lost ground passing the Canary Islands, arrived in Western Sahara a bit late, and thus hit a lull before the wind returned late. I’m watching for a chance to close in on the race leaders, but it’s more like the opposite scenario is unfolding!
Yesterday was a superb day, with a flat sea, 16–18 knots of wind, the boat gliding effortlessly as we skirted Mauritania: what a joy to sail along these hulls, watching the coastline roll by and seeing fishermen everywhere.
But last night, I snagged three nets in the keel—I thought I wasn’t going to make it!
The Moroccans fish with very long drift nets, using flashlights or small floats to mark them. Éric, on the JPK 1050 Ose, had given me a GPS coordinate: they’d come across it a few hours before me and narrowly avoided it at the last second. So I’d given myself some leeway from that GPS point and was napping around 1 a.m. … when the boat came to a screeching halt!
The autopilot alarm was blaring; I woke up and realized the boat had stopped moving, the spinnaker against the wind, with the sound of floats hitting the hull. I lowered all the sails, grabbed the seaweed rake and my knife, and that was an enormous drain on my energy—hanging just above the water, destroying their tools of work and trying to “save Willy.” The first one: it took nearly an hour to free it; but I thought I’d have to dive in, so I was overjoyed when I saw I wasn’t dragging anything anymore. While I’m tidying up all this mess, I can’t believe it—I get snagged again! No flash on this line. Same thing all over again: lowering the sails, boat hook, knife… I set off free once more, but get caught one last time half an hour later. I’m surrounded by drift nets—a nightmare!
This time, I get out without lowering the sail; I just have to try to get out the way we came in! Jib against the wind, pivot, and presto, we’re out of the trap, but I stay paranoid for a long while and worry about the fishermen showing up: they’re definitely not going to be happy…
Looking back on the night, I’m not very proud of myself! I was slowly catching up to Régis and Clémence and had really pulled myself together, but now… How many miles lost? And physically, this morning, I feel like I’ve been “beaten up,” with bruises all over and a massive bruise on my thigh. It’s really rough being bent over the side of the boat with a knife and a boat hook—the effort is incredibly intense!
Once the boat was back up to speed under spinnaker, and to lift my spirits, I found myself dreaming of enchanting stops: from Cape Verde to Fernando de Noronha, Brazilian ports of call, or peaceful sailing all the way to the Marquesas, aboard the shipyard’s future JPK Fast Cruiser… We’ll tell you more in a few days!
— JP
