Noronha

On to Fernando de Noronha!

Passage from St Helena to Noronha, 1745 miles:  Wed, October 29 - Mon, November 10, 2025

Fernando de Noronha: Mon, November 10 - Mon, November 17

Click the Link to the webpage: https://www.oceansfive.net/noronha

The windlass squeakily rolls up the anchor chain around noon.  The winds are predicted to be fairly light for the downwind sail to Noronha.  With winds around 15 knots, the Big Banana Parasailor seems like the way to go.  It’s a bit of a pain to put up - it’s not on a furler, but rather contained in a giant sleeve.  The whole unit is pulled up by the outhaul and once raised, the sleeve is dropped off and a massive yellow sail slowly unfolds itself. It’s amazing how often it opens smoothly because it looks like it would tangle up on itself.  Once open, it’s lifted up and away from the boat, similar to a kite.  It is the only sail up - no main sail or staysail along with it.  The winds drop the next morning, thus the parasailor is taken down and we motor for a brief period.  When the winds again increase, up goes the Banana and remains up for the entire passage! For eleven days, no sail changes!  We love the Big Banana; with winds from 12 - 20 knots, she flies downwind quietly and consistently.  No flapping and sharp slapping like the beefier main and yankee sails tend to do during lighter winds. 

Day 5 of our sail is very significant.  It’s November 2nd, our son, Alex, and his wife, Mady, are heading into Winnie Palmer Hospital for Mady to have a c-section at 11 am.  We’re super excited and so wish we could be there with them.  Due to the week long weather delay in St Helena, we won’t be near an airport until November 10th in Noronha. Life keeps happening at home and our best laid plans to return are dependent on Mother Nature.  A healthy, baby Noah arrives at 11:34 am.  And Mady has done well through the surgery and recovery. The thought of Alex experiencing the incredibly impactful, deeply moving moment of holding his son for the first time fills me. I so wish we could be there!!

Nature celebrates the birth of Noah (or so it seems) that evening during Rob’s watch. Around midnight, the full moon creating a glow around Jolie, Rob hears the forced breath of air in the sea near him. Dwarf Minke whales (still 20 feet long so not too dwarf) begin breaching around Jolie, jumping completely and repeatedly out of the water along the side and bow. Neil is coming up to relieve Rob on his watch and witnesses the show along with him.  We are very grateful to happen to witness these brief, precious displays of nature.

On Monday, 11/3, we FaceTimed with Alex, Mady and Noah at the hospital.  Precious, lovely young family. Noah is a perfect little peanut swaddled in the classic white, pink and blue/green striped hospital blanket. We need to get home! Mady’s mom, dad and step mom are all there with them. I’m happy Noah is being welcomed into this world by so many who love already him.

Tuesday, 11/4 is a clear night. After sunset, Rob, Neil and I search the sky for planets.  Using our sky apps and books, we find Mercury, Mars and Saturn (with binoculars) and some other constellations.  Still no Big Dipper yet - we’re still too far south in  the southern hemisphere. On Neil’s night watch, he finds Jupiter after it rises above the eastern horizon. It can be difficult to spot constellations later at night because so many layers of stars emerge, the sky becomes cluttered.

The following afternoon, we see our first ship in four days. For the first time ever, this cargo ship calls us on VHF radio to say hello and make sure we’re okay.  This thoughtful person wanted to check on us since “you’re out here alone in the middle of the ocean.” He’s heading to the US.  Maybe he noticed we’re a US flagged vessel on AIS?  Who knows? It made us feel good.

In the evening, we watch a gorgeous sunset in the west.  Minutes later, we see a full, orange moon rise above the horizon in the east.  Wow.

In the darkness of my 5 am watch, the densely cloud-covered sky surrounds us, except directly ahead, in our path. Clouds have separated to expose the brightness of the full moon directly below it onto the water, without any of the light of the moon shining toward us. While we sail in the darkness, we’re moving toward a brightly lit, glowing pool of ocean, maybe 2 miles ahead of us. Almost like the light is emanating from deep within the water. Darkness toward liquid light.

Friday, 8 pm. Sun has set, moon won’t rise for another hour or two. Thick cloud cover. Very dark. I can’t see the water at all, but it continually talks in sloshes and blips and rushes of sound, telling me it’s there. The sea is mellow tonight. No crashing sounds. Soft and pleasant.  Reassuring.

I enjoy listening to our church sermons on line while we’re traveling.

Our pastor, Greg, talks about Jesus teaching us the importance of listening. He goes on to ask, “What does listening look like?” He continues to say we may listen best by finding the stillness and the quiet where demands of life aren’t pushing on us. That can be a very difficult place to find at home. 

This is what I find during my night watch (when the weather’s fair).

Just me, the enormous ocean and a never-ending dark, star-studded sky. It quietly breathes the presence of God. He is here. Listen.

Sunday - around 5 pm, alarms begin indicating loss of data from gps, auto pilot, rudder, etc. None of the electronic navigation equipment is working! After a couple hours, Rob hopes he has fixed it by removing one of the companionway screens that was occasionally glitching. Works until 10 pm, then electronics alarm again and fail. We make the decision to take Banana down and motor because it’s hard to sail without the feedback of the electronic equipment telling us accurate wind direction/angles, etc and daylight.

On my 5 am watch, I start to see the sparkle of lights of Noronha in the distance. Depth info isn’t filling in on navigational chart but we can use navionics app on Rob and Dave’s phones to see details in order to anchor. Thank you, Starlink, for working so well and consistently.

Drop anchor in Fernando  at 8:45 am Monday morning, 11/10 at the Port of Santo Antonio. Phew. We’re here. We’re briefly greeted by a sea turtle popping his head up next to us.

Fernando de Noronha, Brazil

Noronha lies about 200 miles from the northeastern point of Brazil. It’s referred to as the St Barts of Brazil, but it’s not nearly as sophisticated and pretty as St Barts. It’s reportedly an attraction for the more affluent people of Brazil. The catamaran couple from Panama City we met at St Helena are anchored in front of us, having arrived a couple hours before us. We meet them ashore and all make our way to the customs office. Quickly, we learn we’ve messed up.  In April of this year, Brazil determined US citizens must have a visa to enter the country.  We have not needed a visa anywhere in the world. We should have applied for one a couple weeks ago.  The officials are very friendly and flexible with us.  They tell us to apply for our visas online, which they help Rob to do there in their office.  They’ll allow us on the island with the stipulation we promise to come back to them once our visas have processed. Phew!  Many countries would simply turn you away from their country if you didn’t have your visa papers in hand. As British citizens, Neil and Dave didn’t need one.

Noronha is a rocky island with little beach filled coves dotted periodically around its periphery. Much of the island is covered with green trees, grass and shrubs growing over and around large black volcanic rocks. There seems to be a fairly large tourist presence here, although the government claims they only allow 400 visitors/day (no limitation on visiting boats). Lots of Brazilian women scantily clad in tiny little bathing suits, very comfortable showing off their bodies (of all shapes and sizes). Part of me thinks, good for them for being so comfortable with their bodies.  But, another part of me thinks, just no. 

Portuguese is the dominant language with a smattering of some English.  One of my favorite highlights of Noronha in the bay where we’re anchored, is the daily appearance of a large pod of spinner dolphins. See the video by clicking here: https://www.oceansfive.net/noronha.

One of the largest, resident pods in the world. They’re a cute, smaller variety of dolphin, darker gray on their back with a distinctive lateral demarcation where gray becomes white on their abdomen. They’re named by a common behavior - they shoot straight up out of the water spinning quickly in as many revolutions as possible. It’s said the different styles of jumps they perform communicate information to their pod, from food to danger. It looks like they’re exuberantly playing to us. We watch for them every morning.  Later in the day, they leave the bay in search of food. 

On Tuesday, we meet up with Susan, Tiny (her husband, Glen, who is anything but tiny) and their skipper, Daniel, at Bar de Meio Noronha, a cool, beach vibe restaurant with beautiful views over the beach below, Praia da Conceicao. We really enjoy getting to know this Floridian couple better.  Tiny is an ex-marine, and now-retired pilot for Delta who has a real wild streak. His wife is more low key, but open for adventure.  They’ve been sailing since Cape Town on their new Balance catamaran (named Umathi) delivering her to their home port of St Croix.  They’re new to open ocean sailing and they’ve chosen to deliver the boat themselves, with the help of their skipper. Now, that takes courage, or ignorance, or a little of both. They also have a tight timeline and need to be back in Florida for Thanksgiving.  Which means they only rested two nights before heading back out, both in St Helena and Noronha. 

Our time in Noronha is divided between boat chores/repairs (especially working on the electronics issues, which Rob seemed to have sorted out.  

We really won’t know for sure until we’re on the next leg of the sail.) We restitch the bimini where it tore in the heavy winds in ST Helena.

We spend the last few days taxiing around the island to various restaurants and grocery stores.  Supplies here are really limited, making it hard to provision with much of a variety of food for our next leg. There’s almost always cabbage, potatoes, onions and carrots, but that’s hard to stretch out over 12 days of lunches and dinners.  And, sadly, their cheese supply is odd, bland, white cheeses which don’t melt very well. Meats are a bit scary and hard to identify.  I’ll have to get creative in the galley this next passage.

On Friday morning, Rob, Dave and I decide to go for a dive with a local dive company.  We’re taken to a bay a little further west along the north side of the island where we’re anchored. The first dive along a cliff wall had fairly clear visibility.  We’ve been really spoiled by the diving in Fiji and Indonesia. The corals and number/variety of fish are much more abundant than here.  We see some bits of encrusting corals, and one area had some colorful sponges.  The dive master points out an octopus, which is always an exciting find! The dive ends with a large open cave, sandy floor and some sponges along with walls and ceiling. I had been monitoring my air through the dive because it started out a little low.  At this point, I was starting to feel concerned and alerted the dive master for the second time.  Staying close to Rob, we began making our way back to the boat. When my air was close to 50 psi, I held Rob’s hand, convincing myself not to panic if my air cut out, and looking at how his Octopus(his alternate regulator)was set up so I could easily grab it to share his air. Rob is always very calm and level-headed diving. This helps me to stay relaxed in stressful situations. Fortunately, I had enough air to properly perform the safety stop and ascend to the surface.  Our second dive (with new tanks) was just okay.  Visibility wasn’t great, but we did see some unusual varieties of trigger fish and wrasse. Overall, it felt really good to be back in the water on a hot day.  After lunch, we head back over to the police station.  Rob’s visa had been approved, but we were still waiting on mine.  Advised by the federal authorities to not depart Noronha until my visa came through, we hope it won’t take too long. I’m relieved I hadn’t bought a plane ticket home to visit our grandson yet. I’d been looking at flights, but had decided it didn’t make much sense to take 30 hours each way to travel home for only a couple of days. 

Saturday and Sunday pass with no word on my visa.  We fill our time with boat chores, meal prep, shopping for provisions, etc.  Rob has a massage at a little resort Dave had said he’d had a decent massage a few days before. Meanwhile, Neil and I investigated the Forte Nossa Senhora dos Remedios, the largest fort on the island. It’s fortified with 20 large cannons from the 17-18th century, originally from England.

Some have a beautiful, raised insignia from the British crown, with a GR raised scrolled initials below it, possibly indicating King George lll. There’s a beautiful outdoor area shaded by large trees, overlooking the bay where we’re anchored. A concert is planned for the evening, which we contemplate returning to attend. Dave’s been trying to find live music at each of our stops, so this may work out. After Rob’s massage, he calls recommending we meet him there for tea and cake. Neil and I walk over and are enchanted by the place.  The server shows us the garden behind the restaurant where they grow food for the kitchen - beds of leeks, lettuce, cashew trees, local fruit trees, tomatoes, herbs, etc. The restaurant has beautiful open air seating, surrounded by plants and lovely lighting.  We make a reservation to return for dinner.  We later enjoy a lovely meal with live, mellow music and romantic, candle lit ambience.

Sunday. Ugh. Still waiting for my visa approval. We returned in the evening to Bar de Meio for dinner.  A live band is planned. We had no expectations. Very pleasantly surprised by this talented Brazilian band - 3 guys, one on keyboard, one percussionist and the last, vocals and acoustic guitar.  The vocalist has a wonderful voice and the music is jazzy and original.  We may even enjoy it more since we don’t understand the Portuguese lyrics. We’re not distracted by the words, thus we can really appreciate the sound.

Monday, still no visa. Neil heads out on a mission to find eggs and green tomatoes (the ones we have are red and won’t last more than a few days). Rob and I return to the Federal police station to touch base with them.  They advise us again not to leave without my visa.  We have lunch and head back to Jolie.  Around 4 pm, Rob finally receives the email with my visa!  He and I scramble back to the police station before they close.  We wait for almost an hour as two officers process my visa and our departure check out. Why does all of this have to take so long? We can’t help but compare this process to the ease of checking into the French islands like Les Saintes, where you check-in at a little bar as you have a beer. We’re just relieved to finally be able to head to the Caribbean.  While we’re gone, Dave and Neil are busy preparing lines and setting the pole out on the port side for our wing on wing downwind sail.  After sunset, we’re finally able to hoist the anchor and begin our next passage.