28 Apr 2003
Farewell Cape Verde

This morning, our last in this part of the Cape Verde before we start on the journey homeward, we are anchored off the southern end of the island of Sal. It seems fitting that we end our expedition proper here, gentling rocking in the bay of Sta Maria; it is what I expect much of the Cape Verde to look like within the very near future, a tourist Mecca guaranteeing warm sunny days and boasting beach front hotels with swimming pools, clear blue seas and for the windsurfers the regularity of the trade winds. Sta Maria is a window into the future of these islands. How different this vista from when we first arrived in the Cape Verde a month ago: peeking out of the Atlantic at the other end of the island, the seaside town of Palmeira, a ramshackle collection of buildings surrounded by dusty volcanic plains, watched over by dormant volcanic cones, its inhabitants somehow making ends meet, was our first port of call.

Palmeira offers a window into the past, a glimpse of how things were in colonial times, and how things still are for many Cape Verdeans. Saving fishing, salt mining or banana cultivation not much else grows here. Tourism, eco or otherwise, is where the hopes and aspirations of many people lie.

A month ago it would have been tempting at first glance to conclude that Palmeira was somewhere to be avoided, Sta Maria the place to hang. But having visited both, Palmeira on a number of occasions to drop off and pick up crew, it is the less prestigious of the two that is now one of my favourite places in the Cape Verde; Palmeira may not be the prettiest of seaside villages, indeed it is hard to imagine living in some of the tumbledown homes or getting by on seemingly scant resources, yet so at ease seem the locals with their time, it makes it hard not to wonder do we squander our own with worries and cares beyond our control.
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It is also hard to believe we have been here a month. It has flown. I think we may have squandered some of it. Of course knowing what we know now, I daresay we would approach things somewhat differently if we had the chance. But it is only by experience that we learn these things. That so few marine biologist and scientists have ventured to do research in this part of the world is not surprising; it is hot and dusty and the wind always blows making conditions at sea trying. So Dr Simon Berrow deserves credit for having taken this expedition on. So to skipper of the Anna M Joe Aston who has done so at some personal expense.

I think we all will take home positive memories from these islands propped up in the sea off northwest Africa. So many visual images spring to mind as I type; two little boys suddenly appearing from the early morning mist in the high altitudes of Santo Antao on their way to school, three old women sitting by the roadside in Mindelo, sharing a clay pipe as they laughed and chatted and not a bother on them, the stunning beauty of the girl in the internet café in Esparagos, helpful and polite to a fault and what a smile and she knowing it. And if I mention smiles then I must mention Humberto, the mechanic who spent his weekend and more fixing our Perkins engine. We teased him, his friends and the research team aboard the Anna M, that such were his looks, his winning ways and a killer smile that he must be a lady’s man – he swore there was only one woman, the mother of his four children. And it was easy to believe. Any adventure that delivers you an Humberto must be judged a good one.

So many of the Cape Verdeans we have encountered have been more than generous with their time, including Oscar David Fonseca Melicio, president of the Cape Verde Marine Institute who gave up part of his weekend to talk to us. Even Zeven who fleeced us with his washing scam was hard to dislike, hard and all as Dr Berrow tried! Cape Verdeans discriminate very positively when it comes to spending time nurturing and cementing friendships over time spent working for personal gain. Though there are signs that this is changing.

Then of course there were the main stars of this show, the humpback whales. Illusive and enigmatic yes and yes but still so many moments to make the hairs stand on the back of your neck. Two will do to draw the picture: the first saw me sitting on the forward deck of the Anna M shortly after our initial encounter with the humpback whales off Boavista. Simon handed me his dat recorder, stuck the headphones on my head and as he pressed play a haunting ethereal sound filled my head, strange songs so powerful they produced goosebumps resembling golfballs; the second image was all vision and no sound. I was in the cockpit with Mathew Aston when just 40yds to stern a humpback whale breeched without warning, its massive body heaving skywards, moving in slow motion clear of the water. It really was massive, literally and physically. Strange thing is, though I can picture the moment as clear as day now, I have no recollection of any sound that humpback made, either on exit or re-entry. Neither has Matthew.

We will return home now to Ireland via the West Indies. It will take some time. But if the Cape Verdeans have shown us one thing it is that time is all you have. Nothing else much matters.

Tony Whelan