A lot of ‘’sensational stuff’’ has been written recently in the mainstream media about orcas attacking yachts. So far 4 yachts have sunk, due to orca interactions. Perhaps this situation affects your plans or trips to Spain and Portugal too.
Each skipper is responsible for their boat and crew and must balance the risks and pleasures of a trip. In case of the orcas, this has been made especially confusing by different authorities, giving opposing advice. On the one hand, The Atlantic Orca Working Group, or GTOA, advises sailors to slow down and stop the engine, if confronted by orcas (see https://www.orcaiberica.org/en/recomendaciones). Orcas Spain & Portugal, or orcas.pt, on the other hand, recommends sailors to follow the 20 meter depth contour line and to flee from orcas as fast as possible towards shallower water, when encountered (see https://www.orcas.pt/orcasdosanddonts).
I would like to give you better insight into this situation with a series of articles that aims to help you make a more informed choice, based on real experience and on research, as opposed to sensational press stories. For starters, the following is my account of the trip I made last summer, from The Netherlands to Gibraltar, during ‘’orca-migration-season’’.
Preparing for the trip of my life and learning about orcas
This summer I have made the best trip of my sailing life so far on my Compromis 888, Pasión. On the 26th of June I cast off my lines in Marina Muiderzand, on the Dutch Markermeer, and on the 27th of July I arrived -safely and ‘’undisturbed’’ by any orcas- in Alcaidesa Marina, just outside Gibraltar. The decisions that I have made, due to the orcas, have greatly influenced my trip. I would like to share my experience with you and review my decisions:
As preparation for the orcas, I was recommended to join orcas.pt’s Telegram group. Since November 2022, I followed the chat messages here on a daily basis, and I learned that most yachts are able to make a safe passage. From all yachts that reported a trip in and under 20 meters of depth, 100% made it without damage. The Orcinus app and the constant reporting of ‘’attacks’’ in the Telegram group pinpoint the approximate locations of the orcas, and therefore the risk areas. So, I invested in a satellite phone to stay informed.
Because it was going to be my first big offshore trip, I had arranged for the help of a delivery skipper for that part, but, unfortunately, we were not able to match our calendars in the end. I was not expecting at all at this point that, with regard to going solo, the offshore part of my trip would in fact be the easiest!
Instead, I hired a shore-based support, Rainer, a very experienced charter captain, who I had met via the orca Telegram group. His job was to be stand-by in case I needed any advice on how to fix anything that might break and to keep me informed about the positions of the orcas, so I could give them a wide berth. He took his job very seriously.
Route and weather / orca window
On the evening of the 8th of July I left Camaret-Sur-Mer. There was a weather window of sorts – I would have liked to have had it calmer, but the next prediction of that was going to be in 10 days and that didn’t seem very reliable. My original plan was to sail south toward La Coruña, where I could take a break if needed. If I would be up for it and with the right weather, I would go west approximately 70 miles north of La Coruña, stay about 70 miles offshore and go south. But this plan was sabotaged by the orca situation.
In summer, the orcas migrate, following the tuna that they feed on. So now there was not ‘’just’’ one pod west of Gibraltar, as there had been during all the months that I had followed the Telegram group, but, additionally, there was a group of orcas swimming north. According to Rainer, they were already near La Coruña and possibly approaching Gijon around the 13th. Besides these, there were other groups near Tangiers, Cabo São Vicente, Lisbon, and Porto. In short, everywhere on my route.
I had three weeks of holidays left from work and none of the options that I now had, appealed to me. To leave the boat in France was my least favourite. But to sail to Santander, which would be easier to travel to, would mean the least enjoyable trip, from my point of view. First, I would constantly be on the continental shelf, with uncomfortable waves. Once there, I would have to leave the boat until after the ‘’orca season’’, because to stay in 20 meters of depth off that steep and rocky coast and to sail only during the day would be very difficult, if not impossible, with big distances between marinas, and probably dangerous, so close to the rocks. Even leaving out the orcas, it didn’t tempt me, as I had already set my dreams on crossing Biscay from north to south.
So, now my plan A was Gibraltar, with a plan B option to make landfall in Santander or to face an orca risk if I would choose to make landfall elsewhere. That, together with the unsettled weather, made that I wasn’t in the best mood on my day of departure. But, once at sea, I enjoyed the peace and I felt that I had taken the right decision to go for it.
No orcas – no comfort
About 24 hours into my trip, I received an email from Rainer: ‘’Draw a line on your chart from 47°40.046’ N and 004°33.285’ W to 45°25.363’ N and 007°14.028’ W and stay NW of that line to avoid the orcas. Next possible stop: maybe Lisbon’’. In other words: tack immediately and sail all the way west on the continental shelf with about 25 knots of wind (or go back north). It wouldn’t have been my first choice for comfort, but at least I was alone, and I wasn’t likely to get seasick after the rough seas that I had already experienced the previous week. So, I decided to follow Rainer’s advice.
The damage: a drawer came flying out of the galley and stayed parked on the salon floor for the next two weeks, one broken plate, a small wound in my wrist and a couple of new bruises. It was annoying, but at the same time it was awesome, and a good learning experience. My sailor friends told me later that, when they saw me continue south, after that part of my trip, they knew I was going to be all right to handle the rest of it. And perhaps it was indeed a good preparation for what was coming…
Risk priority assessment – orcas or weather?
After that challenge came a relaxing day of sailing, not so close hauled anymore, but on a beam reach, in deep water, with long waves and in the right direction: south. Unfortunately, on the next day, there were zero knots of wind. And for the following day, a storm was expected. I didn’t want to make it into port in La Coruña, partly because of the orcas. But the further south I went, the less I would be affected by this storm, so I had to keep going on the engine. Had I not taken the detour west to avoid the orcas, this storm might have passed behind me.
On a North Atlantic Ocean as smooth as glass, it could have been the perfect time to place the galley drawer back, cook some food, and have a cold shower on deck, but Neptune decided that I was in for my next challenge: my autopilot stopped working. After trying to fix it and rigging up different ways to lash the tiller, without success, I ended up hand steering for the most of the next 24 hours. When the wind was back, finally, and the windvane could thankfully take over again, I was relieved to get some sleep.
I had planned my weather route just west of the La Coruña TSS, tacking up against the SSW winds in such a way that I would be the least affected by the worst of the storm. I slept a lot and, being tired, overslept at one point. Fortunately, I woke up just in time to tack and get out of the TSS. After that the wind picked up to 35 knots for a few hours. It was amazing and I could never have been more impressed with my dear strong Compromis 888, her new rigging and sails and with the windvane’s steering capabilities. Everything was in balance and, although I had to hold on with both hands and feet, the waves turned out longer and slightly less bad than those I had experienced earlier on the continental shelf.
If it wouldn’t have been for the orcas dictating my trip, I might not have been out in this weather with Pasión. But thankfully, it was a positive experience, that has made me trust my boat like never before. Again, it was good to be alone, with no one to be responsible for, but myself and the ships around me. Both episodes of pounding and the calm have taught me great lessons in accepting what is and making the best of it. Everything will end.
Making landfall
Finally, I got rewarded with the fair winds and following seas that everyone had wished me, and with a few perfect days of sailing. Because I had become worried with oversleeping, and since there was again a lot of wind predicted, I emailed with Rainer about making landfall in Nazaré, a place that I much fancied visiting. If I would sail in a straight line to the coast, the risk would be minimised of running into the orcas. But before I got to the waypoint from which to start my approach, I decided I wasn’t ready yet to end the offshore part of my trip. I felt more rested, the weather forecast looked better, and I had gained confidence in my weather routing skills, to keep me comfortable enough to eat, sleep and enjoy my trip. So, I made the plan to keep going to Gibraltar.
Meanwhile, the orcas were widely spread; one group in the Bay of Biscay, getting close to Brest, another near Galicia, even one in the Mediterranean. But apparently, they were also still off the south coast of Spain and Portugal, so Rainer recommended me to make landfall in Lagos, and to coast hop from there on. Again, my nicely planned weather route was abandoned to reduce the orca risk. I had gone quite far west to stay in the perfect wind conditions (Rainer asked me if I was planning to go to Brazil) and now I had to sail on a beam reach, and even close hauled again, through 25-30 knots of wind and uncomfortable waves, to cross just north of the TSS of São Vicente.
I had messaged Rui from orcas.pt, and he told me that the orcas were seen somewhere between Faro and Huelva that day. So, I decided not to stay in 20 meters of depth after Cabo São Vicente, but at a safe and easy distance from the shore, since I was tired and still lacked an autopilot that could steer compass course. After 10 days offshore it felt strange to see all the yachts and fishing nets and I was relieved to be able to keep some sea room.
Coast hopping in the 20-meter depth contour line
What some might expect to be the least stressful part of my trip, coast hopping, was a lot harder, more tyring, and potentially more dangerous than I had anticipated. Of course, it didn’t help that I was solo and had no autopilot. First, there were a lot of fishing nets everywhere, most marked with a stick, some with just a plastic bottle. These were often visible from two boat lengths distance, or less, when I was going against the sun or when there were waves. A bigger crew with extra eyes wouldn’t have been an excessive luxury. At one point I heard a heavy ‘’thump’’ against the back of the hull. But fortunately, I didn’t see anything, Pasión’s speed didn’t change, and her bilge stayed dry. But each visit below deck felt risky.
The second difficulty was that the weather forecast was a lot less reliable than for the offshore part of my trip. From Ayamonte to Gibraltar it seemed that the local effect was a lot more wind than predicted to leave port in the morning and to enter port in the late afternoon, with hardly any wind at midday. Also, there were plenty of areas marked by cardinal buoys, that I had to pass on the shore side to be able to stay in 20 meters of depth. This felt like I was sailing through a narrow channel, slaloming the fishing nets, and fishing boats, and keeping my full concentration on the depth gauge and on the water. Some of these areas mark tuna nets that go all the way to the beach. And the only side to pass them would be in deeper water. But with advice from sailors in the Telegram group, I learned that some of these were not being used at that time and so I was able to stay within the 20-meter line.
The most stressful, for me, were the places where the seabed is steep. Off Faro, this felt fine, as the sea was very calm, and I could see sand. In case of Cabo Trafalgar, which local sailors recommended me to pass either very close or very far from the shore, it was also calm, but rocky, and it made me nervous. But off Tarifa, where 20 meters depth is at 200-600 feet from the rocks, I didn’t feel comfortable, as the wind and waves picked up and changed direction as a local effect of the Strait of Gibraltar. As a result, I stayed 0.4 NM from the rocks, which involved an orca risk and a lee shore risk on one side of Tarifa. That was a bad choice if something had happened, and I intend to stay further away next time.
Next time
Since Pasión now lives in the Bay of Algeciras, the orca challenge is right at my doorstep for any trip I make. Here is my action plan: buy a backup 12V bilge pump and prepare a 50-meter rope with a Y for the winches, that is ready with my drogue for emergency steering, practice with it. I already have a spare autopilot and the broken one has been fixed by a friendly neighbour that I met via orcas.pt. Take crew with good eyes around fishing nets. And give steep and rocky capes a wide berth, unless there is offshore wind or extremely calm conditions.
This article has appeared in the March 2024 issue of:
With special thanks to:
