…of course I could have just as easily titled this post “Navigate the Orca-Strait” because we’re doing both at the moment. On one hand there’s the hour-to-hour, degree-to-degree and minute-to-minute navigation, but without high-level and mid-level sailing plans—the “orchestration” you might say—the navigation is pointless. As the Cat said, “If you don’t know where you want to go, then it doesn’t matter which path you take.”
Speaking of straights, I think it was our Greek friend Euclid who pointed out that the shortest distance between two points is a straight line. However, Hazel and I are not in Greece anymore and it appears that that rule does not apply around the Strait of Gibraltar. Perhaps I would modify it to: “The shortest distance between two points, that also minimizes the risk of an orca encounter, is not necessarily a Strait line.” But alas, my amendment lacks Euclid’s laconic pith.
Looking at the overall chart and orchestrating our path to Madeira, it’s pretty obvious that once clear of the Strait of Gibraltar and its busy commercial shipping lanes, Hazel and I should immediately alter course to port (left) and head west-southwest (roughly midpoint between due west and southwest) towards Madeira.
The only issue with Euclid’s solution to the problem are those pesky pods of orcas and their tendency to gnaw on sailboat rudders. As a quick aside (and a Google search will tell you a lot more), the current leading theory on why orcas do this is that underwater, sailboat rudders resemble tunas (locally, the orcas primary food source) and the intelligent mammals are using the rudders as “target practice” to train their calves. A straight line from the Strait of Gibraltar toward the Madeira Islands would take me directly through the heat of the heat map.
Rhett and I have joined and been following the orcas.pt website. (In case you are wondering, we did “Buy Me a Beer” for Rui the webmaster.) Per the website, “Iberian orcas’ swim profile is (between) 20 and 350 meters of depth (60 to 1,100 feet).” Rui’s general guidance for my situation is near “the red zone” to only travel in daylight hours and travel along the 20 meter (60 foot) depth contour all the way to Cadiz, then turn due west for 20-30 miles before laying in a course to Madeira.
While I’m sure the advice is well-intentioned, my belief is that risk is an inherent part of life and following the guidance to the letter comes at a cost. It’s another 70 to 90 miles of “sailing” and also a couple extra days and nights since night-travel is not advised. (“Sailing” in quotes because following a countour like this likely requires all motoring.) Yes, in case you are wondering, when our friend Theo lost two-thirds of his rudder to the curious cetaceans it was at night. (See previous post for the remains of his rudder.)
With all this laid out, I had also been tracking recent orca encounters and had seen a clear trend northward in the Atlantic and away from the Strait (ostensibly the orcas following the tuna migration). Before Tuesday of this week (two days ago), the last encounter in the Strait of Gibraltar was back in mid-September. So, until the other day, I had in the back of my mind that I could cut some corners when it came to the orca avoidance protocol. (Mind you, that was in the back of my mind and not the collective Rhett’s and my mind…but keep that between you and me.) I figured, somewhat hazily, that once I made Tarifa if I was “feeling good” and we had plenty of daylight, I could “Damn the torpedos” and head right at Madeira. Heck, I’m the captain and by the time I’d be begging for forgiveness (because I certainly hadn’t asked for permission), Hazel and I would be well clear of the hotspot and all’s well that ends well.
However, and as I said in my last micro-post on our home page (titled “Ox to the Rescue”), there was a sighting of orcas in the Strait of Gibraltar just the other day. While I got the information on our VHF radio, Rhett received more detail through the orcas.pt site…
“15/10/2024 13:00 Sighting N 35° 55.027′ W 5° 38.662′ Sw Tarifa #orcas. For those near the straighta. We were just surrounded by a pod of Orcas who followed us for about a mile. Luckily we were able to pour on all speen under power and make 12 knots and they left us alone.
Personally, I think the typos are endearing. I can just imagine the sweaty, trembling fingers trying to get a cogent report on the wire. I don’t know what kind of “sailboat” these sailors were in, but I can waterski at 12 knots. That’s more than twice the absolute best speed that Hazel can achieve while motoring.
So, I’ve decided to throw my secret corner-cutting plan—which is of course now no longer a secret—out the window. I’m going to stand up straight (Strait?), be a good Boy Scout, salute the flag, and follow the recommendations. Frankly, if we were staying coastal and this were the last sail of the year, I might just keep my cavalier approach and damn those torpedoes—any teeth marks on the rudder could be buffed out by a boatyard during a winter haul out. However, with the upcoming Atlantic crossing in mind, if Hazel were to suffer an encounter anywhere near as severe as Theo’s, we’d have to postpone the crossing attempt by a year, which would cause a whole cascading series of events. Besides, I’m feeling really good about getting back into the Atlantic and about the transatlantic crossing with its solid tradewind sailing.
So, the plan you should expect to see from Hazel and me is:
- Friday October 17 – Depart Gibraltar area before sunrise to make the optimal tidal current and get daylight for transiting the Strait. Motor, sticking to the 20 meter depth contour through the Strait and once clear of the Strait continue to follow the coast to Barbate. We should reach Barbate in mid-to-late afternoon and have a reservation at the municipal marina in Barbate (Rhett and I stayed there for a night on our way into Med and—LOL—Barbate markets itself as the “Tuna Capital of the World.” Just what I didn’t need!)
- Saturday 18th -Depart Barbate in the morning and continue motoring to Cadiz. Similar to Barbate, stay the night at the municipal marina in Cadiz.
- Sunday 19th – Assuming the current weather window holds, set sail in the early morning, course 270º (due west) for 30 miles of daylight sailing, then turn to port and head right at Madeira which will be at a range of ~520 miles. (Hazel covers ~100 miles in a good day of sailing.) If the weather is not conducive, we can wait in Cadiz until it becomes so.
I’ll be busy the next couple days since costal navigation takes a lot more navigational attention and energy than offshore sailing. I’ve got no sea room to play with. I will do my best to stay on daily micro-posts (on the chart on our home page) and keep you apprised of what we’re seeing. Or—hopefully—not seeing.
Who knows. I’m probably spending a lot more time “orca-straiting” this whole thing than I need to. If I step back and look at every possible risk that Hazel and I regularly encounter, I still don’t think I’d put orcas on the top-5. However, I’m the guy who also thinks that driving a car on South Florida’s I-95 is more dangerous than sailing an ocean solo in a small boat, and I stand by that assessment. Still, there’s something about the beast that stirs the primordial soup of our human nature. After all, without a beast, Jaws wouldn’t be the movie that it is. And of course, the name of Quint the fisherman’s boat? Orca.
Fair winds and following seas.
PS: Full credit to my great friend Kevin who came up with the “orca-strate” pun. I chewed on it for a while as I hunch there was more there, there. Then, serendipitously, I came up with the “orca-strait” enhancement. Go team!
