Preparations for the ARC+ 24.october to 10. November 2024
Docking in Gran Canaria felt a bit like arriving in "Little Norway." Our dock was packed with Norwegian boats: Adelante, Alana, Christina, LinneaX, OceanCrosser and Salto. Suddenly, Norwegian voices surrounded us on all sides.
It felt fitting, considering the stereotype of Norwegian tourists and retirees in Gran Canaria. This is the islands where restaurant menus often come with Norwegian and Swedish translations alongside Spanish, where you might get invited to a traditional “grisefest,” and where people bask on both sides under the perfect sun, escaping the cold and dreary weather back home.
But the Canary Islands are so much more than their stereotypes, and unfortunately, we saw little of their true essence while rushing to prepare for our Atlantic crossing.
Ahead of us lay the journey from Las Palmas to Cape Verde and then on to Grenada.
However, I did manage to read up on a bit of history during a short trip back home with Emilie to deal with her braces and me a toothache. It was nice to visit home for a while, and Emilie even got to attend school during the week we were there. Her braces were removed, and now she’s sporting a retainer for the rest of the voyage. As for me, I endured three rounds with the dentist for a root canal—definitely better to handle that on land than out at sea!
During the flight back to Las Palmas, I started Erika Fatlands book “sjøfareren” and dove into her account of the Canary Islands’ history, which added a fascinating layer of context to our stay. It made me want to learn more.
Like the fact that the exact name of the indigenous people of Gran Canaria remain a mystery. The term “Tamarán,” meaning “palm grove,” is used at the Museo Canario in Las Palmas. While “Aborigines” has been suggested, it hasn’t gained widespread acceptance. The term “Guanches” is commonly used, but it technically refers only to the indigenous people of Tenerife, making it somewhat inaccurate for the broader population of the archipelago.
Historically, the Canary Islands have been a crossroads of cultures. The people who arrived here came from diverse regions, much like today’s visitors. Among them were Berbers from North Africa, Iberians from what is now Spain and Portugal, settlers from Mediterranean islands, and even groups from the Horn of Africa and regions south of the Sahara. Some historians now claim that Vikings may have visited the Canaries, and research is ongoing to substantiate this theory.
Fatland also delves into the European conquest of the islands. Jean de Béthencourt, a French explorer, landed in Lanzarote in 1402, conquered several islands, and was eventually granted the title “King of the Canary Islands.” However, the conquest of Gran Canaria was far from straightforward. Prince Henry of Portugal sent an army of several thousands to claim the island, only for it to suffer a crushing defeat at the hands of the indigenous people. Their fierce resistance, coupled with disputes between Portugal and Castile over ownership of the islands, added to the turmoil. Gran Canaria’s eventual colonization was a testament to its people’s resilience.
Today, the Canary Islands thrive as a major tourist destination. Tourism became a cornerstone of the local economy in the 1960s and has continued to grow ever since. The islands’ harbors also play a significant role in generating revenue, serving as vital hubs for trade and travel. While the modern-day Canary Islands are renowned for their sunny beaches and bustling resorts, their rich and complex history reveals a depth that extends far beyond the surface.
For now, our focus shifts forward—to the open ocean and the adventures that await us across the Atlantic.
While Anicke and Emilie went to Norway, the boys and Espen continued to work on the endless list of boat projects. It is truly an endless list; we always find new things to add to it. Either things break or we discover improvements we want to make, or we buy a new gadget that needs to be installed. In retrospect we had planned too many projects during our stay in Las Palmas and some projects were delayed due to delivery of equipment, like our new sails.
I can’t remember all the things we had to get done and like with all boat projects everything takes much more time than expected. The new sails had to be fitted, we actually never tested them before we hoisted them the first time as we crossed the starting line heading to Cape Verde. As a backup we kept the old sails. New safety equipment had to be installed. All running rigging were replaced. Dyneema for all sheets and halyards, lots of splicing required. Christoffer got really good at making Dyneema soft shackles. Several blocks had to be replaced and all blocks and carts needed to be lubricated. We installed a new (second hand VHF), new mount for the Orca display, new furler for the Gennaker. We took a risk and haled out to install new folding props. After trying for several hours to get the old props off while in the water, I gave up and asked the marina if they had an available time-slot on their big crane. I often went visiting neighbouring boats to look at smart things they had done or how they solved a specific problem. Everyone was always super helpful and eager to teach. Particularly one of the boats next to us and the skipper Ewan Hind. He was a very experienced sailor that had circumnavigated more than once already and had a long list of sailing achievements after a career in racing. He showed me how to set up the jib halyard, secure the standing rigging, reduce chafe, secure the dingy and a hundred other questions I had. He was always very polite and took time to help. We were lucky to get to know Ewan and meet up with him in Capo Verde and Grenada, before he suddenly died in Grenada. You will be missed Ewan, rest in peace.
There is a special atmosphere when so many cruisers are gathered in one place. Everyone has the same goal of crossing the Atlantic safely and everyone has the same love for traveling and sailing. It becomes a community. We are forming new friendships that will continue to grow as we travel. One evening people gathered on the pontoon, each brought some food and a drink and all shared. I later learned its called a Potluck. After the sun had set, the skipper on Chillalot found his guitar and started playing while others sang along. Fredrik enjoyed it so much he stayed behind and took in the free beer and great atmosphere.
As I mentioned earlier, we had little time to explore the island. To add to the whirlwind of activity, we had invited Espen’s mom, Per, and my parents to the Canaries to meet up and spend time together before setting sail. At the same time, our crew for the crossing arrived—Kristian, my brother and an experienced shorthanded offshore sailor, and Maren, whom we had yet to get to know. In the evenings there were sundowners and social events organized by the ARC office. In between all the activities Christoffer and Fredrik enjoyed a fantastic day playing golf with their grandparents, and Espen’s mom and Per joined in the festive parade for the ARC+ participants. We had a fantastic trip to the Aquarium, it is really great. Looking at all the species we were dreaming of the snorkelling and diving to come. They all visited us on the marina and we managed to have a joint dinner together all 11 of us😊.
The boys represented Yggdrasil in the ARC+ parade while Anicke and Emilie were back home.

The ARC arranged a costume party with the topic "under water"

Emilie had been missing being around kids her age, but in Las Palmas, a Kids’ Club was set up for “children” up to 15 years old during the last week before departure. There, she finally met Stella and Louisa from the boat Asja. They are German, and the girls quickly hit it off. A Norwegian girl named Oda, who was also crossing to Mindelo, was there as well. Finally, there were others to spend time with. This became a turning point for Emilie, and her joy in being on the journey—without missing home—grew significantly.
Meanwhile, Christoffer joined a local volleyball team for some training sessions, giving him a fun way to stay active and meet new people.
Provisioning sustainably.... or not
When we left Norway, I made myself a promise: to provision with local products and as sustainably as possible. Throughout the Mediterranean, this has been remarkably easy. However, I would soon discover that it becomes much more challenging as we travel further south.
Agriculture is a source of income for the Canary Islands, with key products including bananas, tomatoes, wine, and cheese. The region also boasts a long tradition of viticulture, with winemakers perfecting their craft over centuries. In recent years, many producers have embraced organic methods, particularly in the vineyards of Gáldar on Gran Canaria.
We took the opportunity to buy a variety of local wines, and they were surprisingly good. The unique volcanic soil of the islands imparts distinct flavors, making their wines a true reflection of the region’s heritage.
With 73% of the island’s protein being imported, along with most of the fat and carbohydrates, provisioning the boat for seven people with food for approximately one to three months using local and sustainable products was a daunting task. The decision was made to prioritize local fruits and seek out regional products whenever possible. For a crossing, a significant amount of flour was essential for baking bread and other staples. As is milk, snacks and protein. And we needed to have food that was easy to eat if some of us were feeling seasick or unwell.
The Canary Islands import the majority of their flour due to limited local wheat production. The volcanic soil and arid climate of the islands are not well-suited for large-scale grain farming. As a result, flour is typically sourced from mainland Spain, other European countries, and occasionally from North or South America.

Getting ready to leave:
The days leading up to our departure are incredibly stressful. We find ourselves constantly running up and down the pontoon, endlessly wondering if we've forgotten something important. But always had time to stop and chat with all the nice people along the pantoon. Do we have all the necessary spares for every system? Have we stocked enough food? Is our water supply sufficient? Are all the medical supplies accounted for? The questions seem endless, adding to the chaos of our final preparations.
Then came the saga of the outboard motor—round two. We couldn’t get a new electric outboard motor, and it was hard to imagine relying on one during our trip, especially when we couldn’t repair it ourselves. We agreed that investing in a new motor was necessary, even though it was far more expensive than at home. Eventually, we settled on buying a Chinese “budget” option.
The day before departure, with everyone already feeling the stress, Christoffer suggested, “Maybe we should test it.” He mounted it on the dinghy—but it wouldn’t start. It turned out there was an issue with the choke. A local repairman came to take a look and quickly fixed the problem, though he dismissed it as a “junk motor.” This was the first of many problems we’d face with it, though we didn’t know that yet.

On the day of departure, we are all quite calm. There is little to no wind as we start the engine and head towards the starting line.
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