At 5:30 a.m., I’m up and making coffee. Today I’m setting sail for Madagascar. It’s about 220 miles from Mayotte, heading southeast. The morning is calm and the sky is very clear; there are just a few clouds on the horizon. I tidy up the interior of the Sofía a bit and weigh anchor. By 6:30 a.m., I’m already motoring toward the reef’s exit. There’s still no sign of wind. A couple of small dolphins timidly circle the Sofía and then disappear. Mayotte bids me farewell.
As soon as I leave the island’s lee side, the wind picks up and I hoist the mainsail and the genoa. The wind is 14 knots—enough to shut off the engine. First, we’ll head south to catch the favorable current, and then we’ll set course for Madagascar. This breeze holds steady all day, and we cover miles at a good pace. It’s a beautiful day, so I take the opportunity to eat the pasta and vegetables I prepared yesterday on deck. Sunset begins around 5:30 p.m., and the sky turns orange. I stay on deck until I see the sun dip below the horizon. As it gets darker, the wind dies down to 3 knots. I lower the sails and start the engine.
The night is just as clear as it has been all day. There’s no moon, and the stars are shining brightly. Even though everything is quiet, I can’t sleep, and on this first night I don’t get any rest at all. At midnight, I wake up and have a bowl of oatmeal with chocolate. I go out on deck for a while and try to read, but I start to feel sleepy. I stretch out on my bunk to try to sleep, but then I wake up again.
At 7:00 a.m. on the second day, the wind picks up to 18–20 knots. I hoist the sails again and shut off the engine. What a relief to no longer hear the engine noise! The current is in our favor, and the Sofía is sailing close-hauled toward Baly Bay, Madagascar. If all goes well, we should arrive tomorrow morning. The swell has picked up quite a bit and become choppy. Life on board is very difficult; it reminds me of the Seychelles-Mayotte crossing. Living on a 30-degree incline. I’m eating the same thing as yesterday, and this time, in the cabin. The waves are washing over the deck, and every now and then one tries to get inside the cabin. To keep that from happening, I have to close off the main entrance.
I have breakfast at the chart table and lie down for a while to try to rest. Now I find it much easier to doze off for a bit. It’s so nice to sleep while sailing. For three hours, I take 30-minute naps. I start to get hungry and eat some more vegetables with pasta. I feel a little more rested. The wind is still at 20 knots and the sea is choppy, so it’s best to sit at the chart table or lie down in my bunk and watch a TV show.
Just like yesterday, right at sunset, the wind dies down. Engine running. Déjà vu. Another picture-perfect sunset. The sea is calm. I try to tune out the engine noise, but it’s hard. At 11:00 p.m., the wind picks up to 17 knots, and it’s time for me to get to work. I ease the sheet and hoist the mainsail; then I unfurl the genoa and turn off the engine.
I look up at the sky—it’s clear—and stay on deck for a while. Little by little, my eyes adjust to the dark night, and I start to see more stars. I don’t get much sleep tonight either because I’m nervous that I’m getting close to Madagascar. Only 40 miles to go. We spent the whole night sailing on course. What a treat.
Around 6:00 a.m., the current turns against us and the Sofía’s speed drops to 3–4 knots. The wind is coming straight from the bow, so I decide to assist with the engine at 1,400 rpm. The speed increases to 4.5–5 knots. Madagascar appears on the horizon. However, there are still the last 15 miles to go, which seem to take forever. It always happens to me.
I start to see wooden sailboats belonging to the locals. They’re beautiful. The bay is very large, and little by little, I’m sailing into its shelter. The sea is calming down; the wind is still blowing. This part of Madagascar is quite low-lying and doesn’t have much leeward shelter. I lower the genoa and sail on to the area where I’ll anchor with the mainsail. Inside the bay, the current is against me.
After a few hours of very slow sailing, I drop anchor in 5 meters of water at low tide. The water is brown because I’m near the mouth of a river. The beach visible from the Sofía is beautiful.
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