135. Cape Verde Revisited
26 May 2015
Hardly had we got the anchor down than a boat appeared from the docks on the east side of the bay and came alongside. George, one of the two on board, told us that he 'looked after' all the cruisers who visited Praia. He said that the immigration officer was waiting for us and he would give us a lift ashore. Always a bit wary of pushy boat-boys, we told him that we weren't quite ready and would come ashore in our own dinghy. We had been advised by cruising friends Elizabeth and Rosario of the Italian yacht "Andross", who had called there a couple of weeks previously, to anchor in the north-west corner of the bay and land our dinghy on the beach between two old concrete piers, where 'the natives were friendly'. Sure enough as we approached, two lads ran down, waded out and cheerfully pulled the boat above the high tide line almost before we could get out. They looked surprised and pleased with the few escudos we gave them in return. The area is fenced off for a boatyard, and a number of fishing boats were hauled out for repair or repainting. The lads indicated that they would look after our dinghy and pointed out the office of the Maritime Police on the other side of the fence. The officer was very welcoming and cleared our yacht into the country with the minimum of questions and paperwork, expressing pleasure that we were revisiting after noticing that we already had Cape Verdean stamps in our passports. He advised us to hail a taxi to take us to the immigration office in the port. George was looking out for us, a bit put out that we had landed our dinghy away from 'his patch', but he earned himself a tip by leading us to the immigration office and afterwards hailing a taxi to take us into the centre of town.
The walled city of Praia, the capital of Cape Verde, is located dramatically on high ground above cliffs at the head of the bay. On either side of the old town, factories nestle in the valleys and concrete tenement blocks, painted in white, blues and yellows, rise in tiers one behind the other on the hillsides. The seaward edge of the town is dominated by an old fort, which, by the rousing call of a bugle at certain times each day, we presumed to be still in use. Its quaint, turreted gatehouse, painted blue and cream, and guarded by ancient field guns, is currently under restoration. The area next to it provides a panoramic view over the battlements to the harbour below. An obelisk commemorates the year 1460 when the Portuguese explorer Diego Gomes, whose statue is nearby, first discovered the islands. At the centre of the town is a paved square with a fountain, statues and neatly tended trees and shrubs. There are some imposing Catholic churches and many other attractive 18th and 19th century buildings. Most are in good order or being worked on, with just a few picturesque, crumbling ruins. Even the blandest, modern facades are painted either in cheerful colours or with artistic murals. There is an air of prosperity: the busy streets are noticeably clean and litter free, the inhabitants are well dressed and the traffic includes plenty of recent model cars. We felt welcome in the town and perfectly safe walking between the centre and the boatyard.
The port was kept busy with shipping movements and a ferry. The only other yachts were anchored near the docks, all French and apparently semi-permanent. We had to take our dinghy there to fill our diesel cans at the service station, and George beckoned us to tie up against a derelict fishing boat and insisted on helping with the cans. He also guided us in buying fruit and vegetables from the street market. To be fair, he did work quite hard and was useful in that he spoke reasonable English. Cruising guides suggest that the harbour is not well sheltered, but our experience in the prevailing north-east trade winds was that it was remarkably calm. The recently extended harbour wall should increase protection from winds in the south. The water is also said to be polluted, but it looked clean enough to us, as presumably it did to the turtles that swam round our boat.
We were glad we called at Praia and would liked to have had another day or two to see more of the island, but we had only allowed for a short stop in the Cape Verdes and thought we ought to move on to Mindelo. We took another stroll round the town, bought some bread and fruit, and set off after lunch. We motor-sailed at first to get us round the south-east corner of the island against a stiff breeze through a tidal race with choppy seas. Once round, however, we were able to sail through the night with the sheets just eased down the east side of the island. We were surprised at the number of lit-up towns along the coast; and even more so that the cell phone network was giving us an internet connection for most of the way. Next morning, mixing up the verses of Masefield's poem "Cargoes", the line "Butting through the tropics on a mad May day" sprung to mind. The wind and waves increased further during the afternoon, funnelling through the gaps between the islands to windward. It continued blustery and rough into the next night, with seas breaking over the decks. At around dawn, as we fell under the lee of Ilha São Vicente, conditions eased rapidly and we started the engine. We first sighted the saw-toothed outline of mountains through the dust-laden atmosphere when 8 miles off. After closing within one mile, we continued across a flat sea parallel to the high volcanic cliffs and peaks, soaking up the morning sun. We headed into the bay of Porto Grande and anchored off the town of Mindelo, so crossing our outward track and completing our circumnavigation - not the end of our voyage, but still an emotional moment! (See blog 25 for our first visit to Mindelo.)
There were only two other boats at anchor and the marina was less than one tenth full, very different from the last few months of the year when the harbour is full of yachts preparing to cross the Atlantic. There were fewer derelict ships than we remembered, and the remains of one of the last was in the throes of being dismantled by a team of divers. The water was surprisingly clear, and from time to time a turtle would pop its head up for a breath of air. The wind perpetually howls out of the valleys, and after a few days it got particularly strong. Fed up with being wrenched one way then the other by the gusts, we moved to the marina where we still surged and rolled, but at least it felt safer and we could get ashore and carry out our jobs more easily. The Welsh yacht "Sula" arrived towards the end of our stay - one of the few others following a similar route - so it was a pleasure to be able to spend a convivial evening with Pippa and Dee.
Mindelo seemed less run down, more colourful and cleaner than before. The harbour frontage looked particularly attractive, with brightly painted buildings behind the fishing boats pulled up on the beach. It could be that our senses had been modified after travelling to other poor communities around the world, but we felt encouraged that at least one African country is apparently achieving improvements to its standard of living. We stayed longer than planned, waiting for favourable weather. At last a suitable day for departure drew near, but that day being a Monday, to be able to leave before office hours meant we had to check out on the Friday. We paid our dues to the Maritime Police, but then had a long wait for the immigration officer to return from the airport. We spent Saturday buying fruit, vegetables and beef at the market, delicious bread from the bakery and other provisions at the much-improved supermarkets, and finally we topped up with diesel. On Sunday, we moved back out to the anchorage and prepared for sea. We planned to leave at dawn the next morning.