How would you describe the smell of land after nearly 15 days at sea? Earthy, grassy, fresh; mixed with the excitement of arrival. Accustomed to salty, sterile air, the nose intensifies every scent that reaches it, no matter how subtle. To us, Barbados smells like heaven.

The small, green island lies at the end of our 2,141 nautical mile journey across the Atlantic. A whole 3,965 kilometers and nothing but water for more than 14 days. The world seems to have no end. The only boundary is the one between the sky and the ocean. Sometimes blurred, but usually it is a sharp line. The ships around us quickly become fewer and spread out in the vast expanse. The radio is silent, but the stern wave gets louder as the wind picks up.

It’s probably not that difficult, we think to ourselves. You just have to sit out the project and watch the time go by. And, surprisingly, it does so faster than expected. But that’s easy for us to say. The conditions for our passage were beyond criticism. Apart from the first day, which was a bit nerve-wracking with little wind, and one day in between with over 30 knots, the conditions were stable. Fair winds between 14 and 24 knots.

We test ourselves through the days and sail configurations: Butterfly with genoa and main, main with reef, code D only, full genoa and staysail, full code D and genoa. Depending on the planned course and the weather forecast for the night, we change from time to time. As the three headsails can all be easily furled and unfurled, the changes take very little effort. We also test a few settings on the self-steering system so that we can sail the wind shifts safely and with little loss of speed. Every three days, the deck is inspected to check the condition of the lines and rigging. We also check the rudder and steering system regularly. There is nothing to complain about.

We are in regular contact with four other boats also heading for Barbados. Equipped with Starlink, we exchange status and position daily via WhatsApp. Modern technology may minimize the adventure, but it provides variety, entertainment and fish recipes. And that’s a good thing, because we’re making progress with our fishing. Two mahi mahis and a tuna just off Barbados are our haul. Killing, gutting and filleting are easier for us than at the beginning.

Otherwise, the days are what we make of them. Reading aloud, cooking, baking cookies, opening the German Advent calendar, entering positions on the nautical chart, checking the weather, dancing, counting the days. And at the end, a loud “land ho”.

Before Barbados, however, the Cape Verde Islands lay on our route. Mindelo was to be the starting point for our second leg across the Atlantic. After seven days, we arrive there early in the morning. The atmosphere in the port is incomparably busy and it is clear that everyone here has the same mission. The piers are full of people, with dogs and cats in between. Provisions, equipment and diesel are being hauled. Every other mast has someone climbing around with tools, drilling, pulling and hammering. Everyone who had the time and knowledge helped others out.

To our delight, we are immediately greeted by friends at the dock and the first boat we know is moored right across. On the way to the harbormaster we discover other familiar boat names. So the foreign place feels like home.

The next few days in Mindelo are relaxed, our to-do list fits on a tiny piece of paper. The sea is turquoise blue, the town center charming and colorful. After days at sea, we gratefully enjoy the town’s restaurants and often eat the national dish of corn and beans, cachupa. There is also a playground with a pizza van. So the basic needs of the crew are taken care of. Otherwise it’s the same procedure: Check the boat, clean the propeller and buy food. We enjoy the open markets full of fish, fruits and vegetables. Everything is colorful, fresh and very lively.

We take the ferry to the neighboring island of Santo Antão, where we move into a cottage in the green mountains for two nights and spend vacation on land. So we enjoy the greenery and go on a tour through the rugged mountains. We hike through yam fields, past sugar cane, guava trees, banana trees and lush gardens. On Santo Antão, much seems to thrive and be distributed to the other islands. The views are so fantastic that the heat does not bother us. However, the election campaign on the islands is in its final, heated phase. Election advertising is bursting into the supposed seclusion: minibuses with an impressive array of loudspeakers drive tirelessly through every remote valley, playing election ads from a tape. Actually, they probably don’t even need to drive into every valley, as they can be heard far and wide over the mountain ridges. Back in our green refuge, however, all we hear is a huge chorus of frogs croaking in the little stream below our terrace.

After so much green nature and mountains, we are ready for two weeks of flat blue, refuel with disel for the first time since November 2023 and, back in Mindelo, we untie the mooring lines.

But now we have reached the Caribbean. For us, it’s time to get the boat back in shape. Rinsing the salt crust off the boat, checking the rigging, lines and sails for stress damage, washing clothes, tidying up below deck and so on. Despite all the work, we realize that we have landed in paradise. The beach is fantastic, the people are Caribbean friendly, the nearest beach bar with rum punch and fish burgers is not far away. And the water, the water! First order of business after getting up: Swim. Last thing before going to bed: Swimming. And in between: swimming. What better way to end the year than floating in warm water with a view of the sun sinking into the horizon. Knowing it will shine just as beautifully tomorrow.