Life at sea.

At the beginning of 2021, Robin (34) and I (Sammy 33) left on an adventure onboard of our little Pilchard. Our journey started with a wintry trip over the North Sea towards the Norwegian Fjords. When spring came, we continued our journey along the beautiful Scottish islands and the Irish west coast. By summer we reached the Iberian Peninsula. During the winter months we surfed around the Canary Islands and Cabo Verde while preparing for our Atlantic crossing. We eventually crossed towards Brazil. Our goal was to sail to Tierra del Fuego, Patagonia. But as you may already know, sailors write their plans in the beach sand at low tide. At that magical moment, when the tide turns, anything is possible. We did not sail around Cape Horn, but embarked on a new adventure and became the proud owners of a 43-year-old Standfast 40. Mencia is our transport, our therapist, and our home. How this all came about, well, you are about to find out.

On June 12, 2018, Pilchard was dropped into our garden. I say dropped because it initially seemed like a fantastic idea to have our boat project close to home. That way we could save some commuting time, right? Until the moment when the low-loader drove around the corner, and it immediately became clear that a 31ft ship does not belong in a rural, residential area. For a year and a half, she was the first and last thing we and our patient neighbors saw, when we looked out the bedroom window. It took a lot of work to get her back in the water, but two years later our Pilchard returned to her natural habitat. Another year later, March 2021, we kicked off the lines in the Marina in Antwerp an took off with our robust motor sailor loaded to the brim with grand plans. Our lack of experience would have to be compensated with diligence and ingenuity.

Early in the season, in between the last winter fronts, we sailed up along the Dutch and Danish coast. Along the way we dreamed aloud of the pristine white flanks along the Norwegian Fjords. The persistent north winds tested us, but eventually we reached our goal: Ålesund, the Hjørundfjorden and Sunnmore Alps. Our ‘sail to ski’ dream became a reality. During our trip along the Norwegian coast, we met several Norwegian sailors who all had quite different ideas about the ins and outs of the Norwegian fjords, but they all agreed on one thing: “In summer, you sail to Shetland.” A Viking tradition that they seem to keep alive with a little more finesse than their ancestors, and a great piece of advice. Instead of sailing through the English Channel to go south, we opted for a crossing towards the Shetland Islands. Afterwards we made our way through this challenging sailing area past Fair Isle, The Orkneys, and the Outer Hebrides. A sailor’s dream! Endless anchorages, white beaches, and azure blue water full of life. We imagined ourselves in the Caribbean, until we stuck a toe in the water, of course.

We followed the West Coast of Ireland, to Fenit Harbour. Safely tucked away deep in the armpit of Tralee Bay, we prepare for the trip along the infamous Bay of Biscay towards Spain. It was a trip with varying conditions and with a strong cape effect as a welcome at the corner of the Iberian Peninsula. A good test of crew and ship. After a night of forty-five knots, all hands on deck, we dropped anchor. We were exhausted and happy to have reached the perfectly sheltered Ria. Next to us lay an old acquaintance, Marcel. He had postponed his departure to the Azores to welcome us here. He took us along the many cozy tapas bars on the coast and before he left, he joked: “If you have outgrown that little boat, you can take Mencia.”

A few days later, Mencia disappear behind the horizon, and we too hoisted the sails again. Following the rhythm of the Trade Winds, we sailed to Lisbon to start the crossing to the Canary Islands from there. In the Canaries, we immediately started tackling our list of boat chores. She was, as with many departures, not entirely finished. So, Pilchard was taken out of the water, installed a new depth gauge, a new sprayhood, checked the sail plan. All set for the Atlantic crossing. First to Cabo Verde and then Lo Paiz tropical, Brazil. It took us 14 days to reach the other side of the pond. We sailed through the fickle Doldrums over the equator until the grey shadows of the tropical Fernando de Noronha appeared on the horizon. We could smell the land before we could even see it. Very strange, it’s like sailing towards a huge barbecue. After a short stopover in this paradise on earth, we sailed further along the Brazilian coast. With every stop we made, we became increasingly fascinated by this beautiful country, its culture, and its cheerful inhabitants. We enjoyed it to the fullest, both the thunderous celebrations of Carnival in Rio, and the deafening silences along islands in Angra dos Reis.

One afternoon we received a phone call from the home front. It was Marcel. He called to say that we had to sell our boat. That it was time to come and get Mencia. He had enough of solo sailing, and was setting off on an adventure with two other sailors in September. We could not believe our ears. We, owners of a Standfast 40! Oh but, wait a minute. We were already 23° South at that time, still about 2000NM away from Patagonia. Our personal goal for next summer. A return trip Cape Horn during winter was not an option, so that plan was put on hold for a while. If we turned north, we would have to bridge 7000NM. Racing through the Caribbean and hopefully making the North Atlantic crossing just before the end of the season to be able to pick up Mencia in Galicia in early September. After much deliberation, we decided to sell Pilchard in South America. Unfortunately, selling a boat in Brazil turned out not to be so easy.

From Ubatuba we continue south, towards Uruguay. The last trip with our home that had taken us safely to the other side. A charged journey, partly because of the farewell, but mainly because of the challenging weather that late autumn brings to the Southern Hemisphere. It was June. The infamous Pamperos raged over South-American coast more and more frequently. We had to take shelter twice. In Florianopolis we anchored for one night, among the local fishermen. And we reached the safe inland port of Rio Grande do Sul just before a Southern Front pushed along the Brazilian coast at 70 knots. It was not until the end of July, on Robin’s birthday, that we reached Punta del Este, Uruguay. Less than two days later the boat was up for sale. We quickly found a buyer for our beloved sloop. Now the move could really begin. We had a week to sort all our stuff and select the most important items. Not an easy task because we collect a few things along the way, and we could not take everything with us.

At the end of August, we flew back to Belgium with everything we owned. After a short but powerful reunion with family and friends, we left for Galicia a little nervous. In Santiago de Compostela, we were met by Marcel at the airport. Along deserted highways we drove towards Ria Arosa, where Mencia was anchored. That night we slept on board our new home for the first time. We had sailed with Mencia before, but now we had to sort it out ourselves. It took some time to adjust to our new ship. Mencia is 40ft, our Pilchard was 31ft. That is a lot more boat to handle. Everything on board is more robust, the winches in the cockpit are huge and the ropes are noticeably a lot thicker. We were no longer on a small, sturdy motor sailor. We were on a high-performance sailing yacht. This 43-year-old racer would challenge us to improve our sailing skills. Fortunately, Marcel was there to show us the ropes. Together we sailed south along the Spanish-Portuguese coast. Gradually we did some small repairs, so we got to know the boat better. When the engine’s saltwater pump gave way unannounced, we were given a crash course in mooring under sail. Mencia, with some assistance from our small dinghy, was expertly parked in the harbor. It was clear that old sailor still had a few tricks up his sleeve.

After Marcel disembarked, we sailed Mencia by ourselves for the first time. We set course to Seville, up the Guadalquivir. In Gelves, a quiet suburb of Seville we went on shore for the winter months. We took on some serious boat chores. The underwater ship and the teak deck were given a nice makeover before we went back into the water in January. During what remained of the winter months, we sailed to the Canary Islands. We regularly hopped between the different islands to assess ourselves, but also the limits of the boat. We gradually became familiar with our new ship and decided to sail back north via Madeira and the Azores. So, the circle seemed complete, but wat started as a unique journey, has gradually become a lifestyle. And in the meantime, “our Mencia” has also been filled to the brim with grand plans for a life at sea.