Gyatso is three-for-three in arriving late to the starting line. Once again, by the time our place in line at the fuel dock came up, we should have been putting up sails in preparation for the start. Instead, the fuel dock attendant left his post for 10 minutes right when we arrived, so we had to wait. We only needed to top up the tank and fill the jerry cans, and this went quickly when he returned. We did manage to hoist the main and make it to the start about 10 minutes late, just as the committee boat was returning to the marina.

We were soon sailing at 6.5 - 7.5 knots in 15-20 knots of wind with a single reefed main and a reefed yankee along the southern coast of San Miguel, enjoying the beautiful views of the dramatic coastline. We gradually worked our way offshore several miles, hand steering with a strong current, large swells and winds occasionally gusting to 25. Later in the evening, winds increased to 20-22 knots, so we put in a second reef on the main, rolled in the yankee and rolled out the staysail for the night. Clouds and light rain showers passed throughout the night, interspersed with patches of clear skies. By day break, the skies were clearing and the wind dropped to 10-12 knots. We are now sailing with full main and yankee under mostly sunny skies.

In addition to the fuel dock wait, at least one member of the crew of Gyatso was moving a little slow on the morning of the start after enjoying herself at the great party thrown by the Ponta Delgada/Azores Tourism officials the night before. They put out a big spread of food, including a sampling of local cheeses, shrimp and other local dishes. They also had Portuguese wines and gin-tonicos flowing from the bar. We both had fun catching up with the crews from the yachts that left Horta before we arrived.

At sunset last night, Lisa saw a pilot whale jump out of the water in the distance. During the middle of the night, David spotted a large group of 20 small dolphins that jumped with excitement to play in Gyatso's bow and stern wakes. He also watched the crescent moon and Venus set together in the western sky.

We have been waiting the entire trip across the Atlantic for winds out of the west. Finally, the elusive westerlies paid us a visit. Since leaving Ponta Delgada on the island of San Miguel, we have had nothing but westerly winds! As the old saying goes: "Be careful what you wish for..." This certainly applied to us yesterday afternoon and last night because we found ourselves running before much stronger than predicted in fairly rolly seas.

The only sail that would hold the wind without banging as we rocked back and forth and surfed down swells was the main sail. We had the full main up all day and then put one reef in just before dark as the winds continued to build to 20-25 knots. This one sail approach held us just fine until the first of two strong squalls hit. Both packed 30-35 knots of wind and lasted about an hour each. We rode out the first one by just turning up into the wind and letting it pass. We used this opportunity to tack and head southeast since we were gradually heading further north than we wanted on the port tack.

After a sliver of the moon set, the night was as dark as it gets out here. We could not distinguish between water and sky with a heavy cloud cover, a lot like a few of the nights on the leg to Bermuda. Gyatso was moving right along at 6.5 - 7 knots, an experience that neither one of us enjoys in the least bit on a pitch black night. The first squall hit in the early morning hours just before changing watches, and although we rarely do it, we both stood watch together until it passed. The second squall hit during the late morning, again under Lisa's watch. David joined her in the cockpit, and at the earliest possibility, we put in the much needed second reef. The winds eventually dropped off during the day, but we were slow to add more sail, favoring rest over speed.

It is now 8:00 p.m. and we are still in westerly winds. We were happy to get a slight wind shift to the WNW earlier this evening. Gyatso and Otto (the autopilot) finally conspired to make the unplanned jibe we had feared for two days, but they executed it perfectly while we were both in the cockpit discussing doing the same thing. We punched in the new course on the autopilot, and amazingly, we were right back on a perfect course to Lagos! We have a beautiful red sunset tonight and are looking forward to a sailor's delight tomorrow.

A calm, quiet day out here on this part of the North Atlantic. We sailed through the night in 10-15 knots of WNW wind, but by early morning, the wind dropped off to less than 8 knots. For this leg, if our hull speed drops below 5 knots, we have decided to put the engine on. So, on it went at 8:40 a.m., and we are now motor sailing in light winds. On the noon SSB radio roll call, it sounded like others are doing the same with the exception of Belle and Apparition, both of which seem to have slightly more wind at their current positions.

Before departing on this trip, we had conversations with sailing friends, some of whom said they had no interest in sailing across the Atlantic because they thought it would be boring. We suppose they imagined days and days like today where nothing much is going on. We had a lot of ideas about what it would be like but knew it would be anything but boring. This has certainly proven to be the case as we have described in our daily logs. In fact, we actually crave days like today where we can catch up on rest, cook real meals and relax a bit. We don't mind having the engine on because it brings speed and added stability in the light winds. After two days of hard sailing, this is just fine for us at the moment. With light winds in the forecast for tomorrow, we may be motor sailing for several days, however, at this point in the trip, we are just happy making progress toward our destination. We are very much looking forward to finishing this leg as quickly and safely as possible. If it takes the engine to get us there, then so be it.

After motor sailing yesterday afternoon in an uncomfortable, rolly swell, we finally took all the sails down to prevent any damage from the constant slatting and banging. At 4:00 p.m. we studied our charts and GPS position and realized that we had over 400 miles to go to reach Cape St. Vincent. David recorded in the ship's log, "At our present speed of 6 knots, we could reach the waypoint by 6:00 p.m. Friday, but the thought of motoring for 74 hours to reach CSV by Friday night is almost unbearable. The thought of spending another night offshore dodging Spanish fishing nets and shipping traffic is even more unbearable." We were both pretty discouraged.

As this realization sunk in, we decided that an attitude adjustment was in order. Perhaps our luck would change. We decided that splitting a bottle of white and a gourmet pizza from the excellent super market in Horta was just the answer, but the real turn around came when we tuned in to the evening cocktail hour chat hosted by Apparition on SSB radio. After some initial check-ins, Ronan on Re Shuanta said that they had been practicing to give a small performance for the radio net. They opened their mic and sang a lovely Irish tune over the radio, all in perfect harmony! Gyatso replied with loud cheers and a hearty round of applause. It was really wonderful to hear their voices and to share in the fun on Re Shuanta. It did the trick of lifting our spirits so that we could make it through a night of motoring until the luck of the Irish spread over the Atlantic and reached us the following morning.

In the early morning hours, the wind began to build and the annoying swells of the day before began to die down. We waited until sunrise to turn off the engine and put up the sails. We were pleasantly surprised to find ourselves sailing comfortably at 4.5 - 5.0 knots on a broad reach in 8-10 knots of wind in exactly the direction we wanted to go. On Gyatso, you can't beat that! These are the kind of sailing conditions we had hoped to experience long before this, and so we decided to kick back and enjoy some nice sailing for a change.

At our current speed, our ETA in Lagos is now Saturday morning. Although this means that we will miss the party with the rest of the fleet on Belle, arriving in the early morning hours has its own advantages. Generally, the wind is lighter and this is the easiest time of day to approach Cape St. Vincent and Lagos. If the wind picks up as forecast, or if it drops off again and we decide to turn the engine on, we still have a chance of arriving late Friday night. We'll just have to see what the weather brings.

We have been sailing along, sailing along, sailing along for the past 30 hours and are relaxing and enjoying the nice weather while it lasts. After downloading the weather forecast just before noon, we learned that our winds will be increasing today and building further through Saturday. At the moment, the wind has dropped off a bit, and so we have decided to do what the rest of the fleet is doing, with the exception of Apparition which is flying its cruising chute and making 8 knots in Force 4 winds. As of 12:30 p.m., we are motor sailing at about 6 knots in order to improve our chances for arriving Friday night in Lagos. If the winds do pick up and shift to the north, we should be able to make a nice sailing run in on our final day.

One of the notes of caution in our sailing instructions for this leg of the trip refers to VLCC's (very large crude carriers) in this part of the ocean. Lisa thought that she saw a VLCC on the first night out, but she wasn't sure. "Very large" did not come close to describing the immensity of the ship she saw on the horizon that evening. We have seen an increase in shipping traffic the past two days.

Last evening, we had four ships within an eight mile range of us at one time. It felt like we were in the busy shipping lanes on the approaches to New York Harbor, but without the clearly defined traffic separation zones. The ships seemed to be moving in some organized way, but we couldn't figure out what it was. Even though it was broad daylight with excellent visibility, we turned on our radar. This way, if the ships could not see our little sails from their bridge, at least we would show up as a blip on their radar screen. Two passed south to north five miles in front of us, one passed from northwest to southeast 1.5 miles away on our port side, and 30 minutes later, the fourth passed two miles behind us on a heading from southwest to northeast. We found ourselves in quite a busy traffic circle for about two hours.

On this entire passage, we have found that as long as we have our radar on and maintain a steady course, the ships adjust their heading accordingly to pass us with plenty of sea room. The only exception to this was two nights ago when a ship converged on our course from the northwest. We saw no change in its heading and began calling it on VHF radio. Our repeated calls went unanswered at 4 miles and 3 miles out. At 2 miles, Lisa added, "Just checking to make sure that you have us on your radar." To which there was a brief reply, "Yes, ma'am, we see you." Although we could see that it was going to pass in front of us, we weren't too convinced that they were going to do anything about it. They ended up passing us less than a mile away, a distance at night which allowed us to see far more details of the big tanker than we cared for.

Today is the Summer Solstice. Even though we complained just a few day ago about the dark, moonless nights, the actual hours of darkness are noticeably shorter, lasting from 10:00 p.m. to 4:00 a.m. The moon is getting bigger and setting later which also helps. An added bonus is the clear, starry nights. This should make our last night or two much more pleasant as we approach the coast of Portugal with the added navigational challenges of making landfall. We are very much looking forward to completing this voyage as quickly and safely as possible. As of 1:00 p.m. today, we have 180 miles to go.

We arrived in Lagos last night just before midnight. With the moon setting and full darkness fast approaching, we literally inched our way for the last mile toward the breakwater entrance. For the previous 12 hours, we found ourselves in strong winds (26-33 knots) and large seas. Although the seas subsided to a rough chop once we were in the lee of Cape St. Vincent, the wind continued to blow until we were just off the harbor entrance. We were both tired and wanted to be extremely careful making our landfall because we know that this is exactly when mistakes can be made. The bright lights of town obscured the flashing green and red lights at the end of the breakwater, adding to the challenge.

David navigated us from one waypoint to the next while Lisa stood watch at the helm and hand-steered for the last couple of miles. He read out the last bearing, and Lisa thought she saw the red flashing light for Lagos, but she could also see another pair of flashing lights further down the coast. David confidently replied, "The Royal Cruising Club Pilotage says the bearing from our last waypoint to the breakwater entrance is 343 degrees. I am confident that they have it right and that we will pick up the lights when we get a little closer." Sure enough, the RCC had it right, and the entrance soon became clear. But then when we were within a quarter of a mile of the entrance, we saw what looked like small fishing boats with bright white lights anchored but this turned out to be one of the dreaded, surface fish net that had been set across the channel entrance. We realized what it was in time to turn to starboard and avoid any problems. Luckily, we were going slow enough that we didn't motor right across the surface lines connecting the lighted buoys and nets. We crept our way up the channel, found an empty space on the visitor's pontoon and breathed another big sigh of relief when we were safely tied to the dock. A little while later we were fast asleep.

Approaching the Cape earlier that day, we had to cross the busy shipping lanes with northbound and southbound traffic separation zones. David stood watch while Lisa monitored the radar closely. At any given time, there are 5-8 targets to monitor on the screen, but unlike a few days ago, they are moving in a fairly orderly fashion. However, there is one right after another, and at times two moving along just a few miles apart. We crossed the shipping lanes at pretty much right angles, but as Lisa watched the radar screen, it felt like we were the cursor in the middle of a Pac-man game. We made it through the southbound lane with no problems at all, but the last ship to pass our bow in the northbound lane did not seem to be giving us enough room. Lisa radioed, and they replied immediately with instructions about a starboard pass in two minutes. They were coming much too close for our comfort, and so we turned up into the wind to let them pass before continuing on. At that point we were flying along at 7 knots under only a double-reefed main. I think that our speed surprised even them, and although we could see them trying to adjust their course, it wasn't enough. We were soon within 15 miles of the coast and clear of all the traffic. The rest of the fleet had already arrived in Lagos, and so we were all alone once again in our usual position: bringing up the rear.

Land was clearly in sight and so Lisa joined David in the cockpit to enjoy the moment. Half joking, she told him to look around and to make a mental picture of our surroundings, especially the large seas and frothy wave tops. Once again near the end of the passage, we were both exhausted. On this third and final leg, we were all the more anxious to just get there. She laughed and said, "The next time either of us thinks about crossing an ocean double-handed, I will ask you to recall this moment." We both smiled, knowing our adventurous spirits all too well. And then as if some force beyond our control wanted to add an exclamation point to the thought, we had an enormous breaking wave crash over the entire length of the boat, filling the cockpit with water and drenching both of us. Lisa had not been on watch, and although she had full foul weather gear on, it wasn't completely zipped up. As the water trickled down her neck and found its way to her skin right before starting her final watch, she added, "Okay, I got the message, too!"

As landfalls go, Cape St. Vincent is at the top of our list. The steep cliffs and barren landscape stand in stark contrast to the ocean of blue around it. A large, white lighthouse, visible from miles and miles away, clearly marks the Cape. Adding to our awe of the scene was clear blue skies, strong winds, very large seas and a picture-perfect sunset just as the Cape was abeam. We had hoped to make it to Lagos before dark, but seeing the Cape at sunset turned out to be well worth the slight inconvenience.

This morning, we made our way to our assigned berth inside the impressive marina basin. We relaxed in the cockpit and soaked up the warm sunshine for a couple of hours before spending the afternoon resting, showering and washing down the boat. The crew of Moonstruck invited us to join them for dinner at a local fish restaurant. We had a wonderful evening sharing stories, eating sardines and drinking local wine. Before dinner, we stopped by Apparition for an "in person" cocktail hour chat and to see their lovely Oyster 45. We both wanted to thank James for all of his work on the SSB radio nets, especially the informal chats in the evening. We felt that this, more than anything, brought cohesiveness and camaraderie to the fleet as we all made our way across the Atlantic. It was also a critical communication link for weather and safety information. All of the duty net controllers deserve thanks for their hard work, but James really set the tone for all of us.

For awhile after we rounded Cape St. Vincent yesterday, the winds and seas subsided somewhat, and we reflected on the trip. We both felt proud of having sailed our boat successfully across the Atlantic. After months and years of preparation, we could write many more log entries about the lessons we learned and about what worked and what didn't for us, but we will save these thoughts for later. The voyage was every bit as amazing and challenging as we had imagined and then some. Although the rally format might not be the right thing for everyone planning a major bluewater passage, it was perfect for us. We were blessed to be in the company of a great fleet. Crossing the Atlantic was a dream for us. Doing it with the ARC Europe Rally made it an experience of a lifetime, something made even better by being able to share it with others in the fleet.

Several other rally participants commented to us, "I don't know how you manage with just two people on board." A double-handed crossing of the Atlantic may not be right for every sailor, but we wouldn't have it any other way. Again and again, we find that Gyatso takes very good care of us. As full-time cruisers, this fine vessel is also our home. We are now looking forward to shifting back into our coastal cruising mode and exploring this part of the world.