Insurance policies are pretty dull documents. They typically read along the lines of 'Blah. Blah. Blah. Get out clause. Get out clause. Blah Blah. Blah.' They are full of nonsensical English and seem to be written by people who would describe a simple thing like a sausage as an emulsified offal tube. There is however the occasional gem in them and our new policy contained one of these. It contained 3 dream words that enable Ruffian to go to places that we never thought we go this year. Those dream words are 'Blue Water Cruising.' We have left mainland Europe and have found true 'Blue Water' in the Madeira Archipelago after taking another step in our ocean cruising journey.

In the bay at Sines were sat many yachts, but three of them, Ruffian, Selkie and Amorosa had big plans for the week. We'd all leave the safety and security of coastal sailing and head out into the ocean where we'd be up to 200 miles from land, help and civilisation. As a semblance of a safety blanket we'd leave together and planned try to have daily radio chats, but with so much ocean out there we felt that we'd each be truly alone.

As dawn broke we left the confines of Sines and headed out to sea, making another step in our journey to becoming ocean sailors. The wind had been blowing a southerly for days and setup quite a swell which was contrary to the northerly wind we now had. The bigger boats in the party, Selkie and Ruffian, handled this with ease relative to their size, but Amorosa, being only 25 feet long, was tossed about like a cork and made the sensible decision to head to Lagos. There were then only 2 and 400 miles of ocean still to cross and this just as the moon started to illuminate the foaming spray on top of each wave that we hoped would pass safely under us and not break over the decks of Ruffian.

As the hours flew by so did the miles, but the sea state was turning Ruffian into a wet boat and Iain into a gentle shade of green. Fiona having a tummy made of cast iron happily cooked, wandered around downstairs, read some books, did some navigation, chatted to some ships on VHF, played AIS space invaders and nursed Iain, making sure he was able to drive Ruffian at full speed and keep the contents of his stomach, in his stomach.

With everything calming down as the swell become organised and the wind started to ease, we thought that we were very much out of the woods. It would just be a question of setting the right sails, chucking the towed generator out the back and turning on the autopilot. Before we could get to this state of affairs, in the middle of the night, we were shaken with a bang and a complete lack of power in the mainsail. The relationship between the mainsheet, which holds the mainsail in place, and the mainsheet track, which holds the mainsheet to the boat had broken down. Fiona got a rude awakening with Iain calling 'All hands on deck' and after donning a head torch and getting out the spares, a better than new repair was made and we were back up to full speed ahead again. Thank goodness for preparation.

As we headed further and further from land the true meaning of "blue water cruising" was making itself known. The ocean was slowly turning into a deep azure blue that words simply cannot do justice to. It is a colour that people who sail truly offshore have the privilege to see and Ruffian's crew feel truly special to have witnessed the change. We also saw the changes in the weather from the massive local effects that land has, to a much more predictable format found at sea. We'd found the fabled Portuguese trades and Ruffian almost sailed herself in these easy mile eating conditions. In the trades we witnessed ocean wildlife with a fleeting visit by a whale and most bizarrely an owl, it looked like he thought more than once about landing on us. How he ended up out there, 200 miles from land, we have no idea.

Whilst the passage sounds idyllic not everything was plain sailing. We found out half way across that we'd opened our last packet of Custard Creams, this disaster took on an altogether darker side when we'd finished them and found out that we were also down to our last packet of chocolate Bonbons. How could we sail offshore without our Scooby snacks to get us through the night with only hour long snatches of sleep? Necessity being the mother of invention we found a solution. Sailing at night would now have to be performed on rations of local plain biscuits sandwiched together by Nutella, both of which we had in abundance.

As the hours turned into days the company of Selkie was taking on more of an importance. We'd look forward to our twice daily radio chats and were amazed that we were in sight of each other for the duration of the sail. Onboard Selkie there were 2 bundles of energy and they were passing the time by writing poetry. After the first windy and wavy night, four year old Ellen broadcast a poem about "the strong boat her dad had built". We were compelled to retort, first with a poem about Ellen whose brother was seven and then one about her brother Cian who thought he should always be seen.

After 450 miles, 3 days and 19 hours, 45 watch changes, 3 sea mountains, 0 sickness, some rain, some shipping and a lot of wind we finally dropped the hook off Porto Santo in the northern most island of the Madeira Archipelago. We realise that here we've found a true blue water cruising destination. In the little light created by the moon through the crystal clear water we could see the anchor and chain on the seabed holding Ruffian safe and sound. A great finish to a great sail and another giant leap that has turned out to be just another small step in our journey of becoming ocean voyagers.

This seems to be our usual passage making setup. Sunshine, spinnaker and heaps of smiles. (We think the spinnaker is in the Northumbrian colours, however "the lads" on Selkie thought it was the Spanish flag and we'd have a different spinnaker for every country we visited!)


On the first night at sea the mainsheet blocks tried to part company with Ruffian.


The towed generator kept us completely self sufficient, powering laptops, the autopilot, our fridge, etc etc etc. Well done Ampie.


Fiona was a happy happy chicken after being given the last of sweets and it was even her favourite flavour.


Selkie left with us from Sines and after 450 miles and 4 days of sailing we were less than a mile from each other.


Yet another sunset/sunrise*. Delete as appropriate.


There was some easy mile building weather with Ruffian sailing herself....


But there was also the classic trade wind squalls that needed to be avoided.


Fiona singing her songs over the VHF to Cian and Ellen.


We were thankful to have an AIS transponder. Twice, huge ships +250m, changed course for little Ruffian. Without AIS, they would have only seen us on radar and would not have known what or who we were.


Finally in true blue water mode. Iain and Fiona survey their anchor in 7 meters of blue water. No need for an anchor ball here, just look down.