Rough weather
Bread making in 24 knots of wind
Goose winged
Flying fish
Too close
Saturday, 27 December 2008
Crossing the Atlantic
We left La Restinga, El Hierro at 2pm on 1st December. Two things had put us off. On our shore side there had previously been a yacht called “Argo”. The man and wife crew had attempted the Atlantic last year, 2007. Six days out from Barbados they had sunk to be rescued by an Irish Yacht with six chaps on board. Lucky them and brave them to be trying again so soon (where do they get the money?), but it did put Kathy and I off a bit. To seaward was a very pleasant El Hierrion in a yacht called “Aventura”. He informed us that the next few days were going to be very rough.
Our watch system was:
0300 - 0800 Kathy
0800 - 1000 Jeremy (J to make sandwiches)
1000 - 1300 Kathy (K to make bread every second day){J to cook hot lunch}
1300 – 1600 Jeremy
1600 – 1800 Kathy
1800 – 2000 Jeremy (both to eat sandwiches and have confab)
2000 – 2200 Kathy
2200 – 0300 Jeremy
On the whole these watches worked quite well and we each got used to our own times. When sailing, the Hydrovane steered. Under engine (less than two hours a day and often not that with a following wind) Neco, the electronic autopilot, steered. The least distance run on one day was 101 nautical miles. The best day was 134 nm on the log and 141 nm on the GPS. The discrepancy being the current. We saw two full sunsets where one sees the sun going below the horizon and one sunrise. The rest of the time the sun was obscured by cloud. When we set out, we had full wet gear on at night as well as three layers of clothing. By the time we arrived in Barbados, clothes were far too uncomfortable and shorts and a tee shirt were just bearable at night! And so to a few of the highlights?
On the first night as we drew away from land, Jeremy was on his rest period and it was beginning to go dark when the bilge alarm went ( this is an adaption from a potty which “sang” when Emily performed). As J peered into the engine compartment, he could see the water was indeed up to a dangerous level. The Bilge pumps dealt with the water quickly, but the hole, ingress was not evident. It was not coming from forward of the engine; the engine was not gushing seawater(J had tasted it); the only other possibility was a stern gland failure. Rescue and return to The Canaries flashed before J’s fertile imagination as he carefully ripped the floor boards up in the back cabin. After a few moments, it became clear that the stern gland had become undone. Quickly turning the two pieces together the flow of water ceased. PHEW! Kathy and Jeremy had checked this within the last week, but clearly had not tightened it up correctly. It was a valuable lesson. At midnight a gang of dolphins played in the phosphorescence around the bows. They helped calm Jeremy.
The following day a large wave broke under the boat and the binoculars which live on the chart table, on a non slip pad, were thrown to the floor – no damage, but the conditions were rough. Four days into the passage Kathy noted “0404 - horrendous. Gusts up to thirty knots. Broached I think. J up to reduce sail…. Survived the night.” By 1400 the next day we were “unable to keep course – basically running before”. With only one third of the genoa out we were going five knots and the wind behind recording 20+knots. Many of the waves were coming from the side not rolling swells from behind as we had expected. For lunch we started a mince stew when we left El Hierro. This was added to on a daily basis. Unfortunately J spilt it into the cockpit on the fifth day. We scooped it up and heated it for 15 minutes. It was delicious. That afternoon, J broke the toilet seat (connection?).
On the sixth day the full main and genoa were flown for the first time. J had a shower on the stern and K asked “Should I be worried”. Later a pod of dolphins came to play and some stayed to hear Kathy’s second and third songs. The wind died away and for two days we moved slowly along with the wind being knocked out of the sails by the rocking and rolling motion. Midnight on the eighth, J killed a cockroach(beggar we thought we’d got rid of them).
On the ninth, the winds were very light. Kathy moved into her bikini. The ghoster and genoa were poled out either side. A ship was sighted and when called on VHF, gave us the weather forecast. The solar panels stopped charging as it went above 90F and they were a bug… to fix. K and J went for a swim in the ocean. Most refreshing. That night most of Kathy’s watch was disturbed by lightning flashes afar off. At this stage we had an orange disaster – only four out of ten oranges were not completely green with mould of course. Yack.
In order to fly the ghoster and genoa we were going further off our course. On day 12 the wind began to freshen and at 1520 we were 43 miles north of our course and had the main with two reefs in it and one third of the genoa out. By 1900 it is described as a fairground ride and at 2000 the original spinnaker pole had snapped in two like a twig. There was no other damage and the pole was recovered. By midnight the winds were up to 25 knots from behind. We completed the fastest day so far with 134 miles on Garmin and were halfway. The boat’s speed was at least 5 knots with just the mainsail with two reefs. At 0900 Kathy felt that she was in some kind of dreadful disaster movie, but nobody would shout “Cut”. By 1100 however the bread was made and in the oven. At 1400 Kathy was thrown out of her cockpit seat as she was trying to eat lunch. “ The noise of the breaking waves is thunderous”. And later “Night time again, rainy, no stars, no moon, bumpy, Very Bumpy”. At 2200 28 knots of East wind. And at midnight “12.1 knots down a wave on Garmin”; this with only the mainsail which was reefed twice. At 0200 a huge wave came over the stern and right into the cockpit. There was one board in the companionway but the water went into the engine compartment (down the air vent) into the locker and into the saloon through the vents. The cockpit was flooded for a couple of minutes until the drains coped. Later J discovered the wave had soaked quilt and bedding under the vent in the stern cabin. All this had to be cleared up. Kathy, badly bruised, resorted to wearing hip protectors (from riding horses).
By 0300 on the 15th, the waves were not as large but more vicious! J finished reading “The Crossing” by Fogle and Cracknell who rowed across the Atlantic. J was very pleased not to be rowing. During this day the winds died down to 12 knots astern. By the end of the next day the wind was back up to 18 knots – “raining, rough. Furled genoa, gybed the main, wave soaked me.” And into the next watch, “ boat still being thrown violently down some breaking waves”. During the day it was now not possible to stay out in the full sun, even with sun cream and a small shade could be put up if the main was out to starboard. The rain showers became more frequent and very heavy.
By the afternoon of the 18th, the wind died away and the engine went on for 36 hours. On the morning of the 19th day we overtook a yacht slatting about in the light winds. Despite a fan being placed on the solar panel heat sink, the temp went above 90F and it cut out again. The sun beat down and the heat from the engine was overpowering. We decided not to turn the radiators on. At 1600 we cut the engine and went for our second swim. Delicious. At 2300 the wind came from the WEST … unheard of. By now J was filling every spare space with calculations as to whether we had enough diesel to motor to Barbados. Whichever way he calculated it, we were still 50 litres or 20 hours short. At 1000 on the 20th, the engine was turned off (peace at last) and we continued at 4 or 5 knots helped by the Trans Equatorial current. On the 21st. we had our fastest day with wind speeds of approximately 12 knots.
At 1720 K awoke J, on the 22nd. Day, as she was unhappy with a large ship dead ahead. Neither J nor K could be sure which direction the large ship was going in. J used VHF but got no response. J told K to start the engine and K confirmed the ship was larger thus coming directly at Sal Darago. As a sailing yacht, Sal Darago has right of way, but neither of us wished to prove anything. Hydrovane was pinned and J steered due North for half a mile. The ship passed half a mile south and J used VHF to call “HISPAINA SPIRIT” to explain his actions in avoiding collision. The officer replied this time saying that “Sal Darago” had not been visible on the radar and did we have a reflector? J explained we did and wished the officer a safe passage!
On day 23 at 0800, “Land Ahoy”. So strange to see land after three weeks. And soon houses became visible. J used VHF to report our forthcoming arrival, but the port of Bridgetown did not respond until we were on their battlements – sorry breakwater. And then we docked with four other cruise ships mostly with red ensigns flying. “Queen Victoria”, “Caribbean Princess”, “Ocean Village”, “Celebrity Express”, two tugs, a pilot boat and “Sal Darago” filled Bridgetown Harbour.
Quite a trip and not one for the faint hearted. Now for some rest and relaxation, Maan.
Our watch system was:
0300 - 0800 Kathy
0800 - 1000 Jeremy (J to make sandwiches)
1000 - 1300 Kathy (K to make bread every second day){J to cook hot lunch}
1300 – 1600 Jeremy
1600 – 1800 Kathy
1800 – 2000 Jeremy (both to eat sandwiches and have confab)
2000 – 2200 Kathy
2200 – 0300 Jeremy
On the whole these watches worked quite well and we each got used to our own times. When sailing, the Hydrovane steered. Under engine (less than two hours a day and often not that with a following wind) Neco, the electronic autopilot, steered. The least distance run on one day was 101 nautical miles. The best day was 134 nm on the log and 141 nm on the GPS. The discrepancy being the current. We saw two full sunsets where one sees the sun going below the horizon and one sunrise. The rest of the time the sun was obscured by cloud. When we set out, we had full wet gear on at night as well as three layers of clothing. By the time we arrived in Barbados, clothes were far too uncomfortable and shorts and a tee shirt were just bearable at night! And so to a few of the highlights?
On the first night as we drew away from land, Jeremy was on his rest period and it was beginning to go dark when the bilge alarm went ( this is an adaption from a potty which “sang” when Emily performed). As J peered into the engine compartment, he could see the water was indeed up to a dangerous level. The Bilge pumps dealt with the water quickly, but the hole, ingress was not evident. It was not coming from forward of the engine; the engine was not gushing seawater(J had tasted it); the only other possibility was a stern gland failure. Rescue and return to The Canaries flashed before J’s fertile imagination as he carefully ripped the floor boards up in the back cabin. After a few moments, it became clear that the stern gland had become undone. Quickly turning the two pieces together the flow of water ceased. PHEW! Kathy and Jeremy had checked this within the last week, but clearly had not tightened it up correctly. It was a valuable lesson. At midnight a gang of dolphins played in the phosphorescence around the bows. They helped calm Jeremy.
The following day a large wave broke under the boat and the binoculars which live on the chart table, on a non slip pad, were thrown to the floor – no damage, but the conditions were rough. Four days into the passage Kathy noted “0404 - horrendous. Gusts up to thirty knots. Broached I think. J up to reduce sail…. Survived the night.” By 1400 the next day we were “unable to keep course – basically running before”. With only one third of the genoa out we were going five knots and the wind behind recording 20+knots. Many of the waves were coming from the side not rolling swells from behind as we had expected. For lunch we started a mince stew when we left El Hierro. This was added to on a daily basis. Unfortunately J spilt it into the cockpit on the fifth day. We scooped it up and heated it for 15 minutes. It was delicious. That afternoon, J broke the toilet seat (connection?).
On the sixth day the full main and genoa were flown for the first time. J had a shower on the stern and K asked “Should I be worried”. Later a pod of dolphins came to play and some stayed to hear Kathy’s second and third songs. The wind died away and for two days we moved slowly along with the wind being knocked out of the sails by the rocking and rolling motion. Midnight on the eighth, J killed a cockroach(beggar we thought we’d got rid of them).
On the ninth, the winds were very light. Kathy moved into her bikini. The ghoster and genoa were poled out either side. A ship was sighted and when called on VHF, gave us the weather forecast. The solar panels stopped charging as it went above 90F and they were a bug… to fix. K and J went for a swim in the ocean. Most refreshing. That night most of Kathy’s watch was disturbed by lightning flashes afar off. At this stage we had an orange disaster – only four out of ten oranges were not completely green with mould of course. Yack.
In order to fly the ghoster and genoa we were going further off our course. On day 12 the wind began to freshen and at 1520 we were 43 miles north of our course and had the main with two reefs in it and one third of the genoa out. By 1900 it is described as a fairground ride and at 2000 the original spinnaker pole had snapped in two like a twig. There was no other damage and the pole was recovered. By midnight the winds were up to 25 knots from behind. We completed the fastest day so far with 134 miles on Garmin and were halfway. The boat’s speed was at least 5 knots with just the mainsail with two reefs. At 0900 Kathy felt that she was in some kind of dreadful disaster movie, but nobody would shout “Cut”. By 1100 however the bread was made and in the oven. At 1400 Kathy was thrown out of her cockpit seat as she was trying to eat lunch. “ The noise of the breaking waves is thunderous”. And later “Night time again, rainy, no stars, no moon, bumpy, Very Bumpy”. At 2200 28 knots of East wind. And at midnight “12.1 knots down a wave on Garmin”; this with only the mainsail which was reefed twice. At 0200 a huge wave came over the stern and right into the cockpit. There was one board in the companionway but the water went into the engine compartment (down the air vent) into the locker and into the saloon through the vents. The cockpit was flooded for a couple of minutes until the drains coped. Later J discovered the wave had soaked quilt and bedding under the vent in the stern cabin. All this had to be cleared up. Kathy, badly bruised, resorted to wearing hip protectors (from riding horses).
By 0300 on the 15th, the waves were not as large but more vicious! J finished reading “The Crossing” by Fogle and Cracknell who rowed across the Atlantic. J was very pleased not to be rowing. During this day the winds died down to 12 knots astern. By the end of the next day the wind was back up to 18 knots – “raining, rough. Furled genoa, gybed the main, wave soaked me.” And into the next watch, “ boat still being thrown violently down some breaking waves”. During the day it was now not possible to stay out in the full sun, even with sun cream and a small shade could be put up if the main was out to starboard. The rain showers became more frequent and very heavy.
By the afternoon of the 18th, the wind died away and the engine went on for 36 hours. On the morning of the 19th day we overtook a yacht slatting about in the light winds. Despite a fan being placed on the solar panel heat sink, the temp went above 90F and it cut out again. The sun beat down and the heat from the engine was overpowering. We decided not to turn the radiators on. At 1600 we cut the engine and went for our second swim. Delicious. At 2300 the wind came from the WEST … unheard of. By now J was filling every spare space with calculations as to whether we had enough diesel to motor to Barbados. Whichever way he calculated it, we were still 50 litres or 20 hours short. At 1000 on the 20th, the engine was turned off (peace at last) and we continued at 4 or 5 knots helped by the Trans Equatorial current. On the 21st. we had our fastest day with wind speeds of approximately 12 knots.
At 1720 K awoke J, on the 22nd. Day, as she was unhappy with a large ship dead ahead. Neither J nor K could be sure which direction the large ship was going in. J used VHF but got no response. J told K to start the engine and K confirmed the ship was larger thus coming directly at Sal Darago. As a sailing yacht, Sal Darago has right of way, but neither of us wished to prove anything. Hydrovane was pinned and J steered due North for half a mile. The ship passed half a mile south and J used VHF to call “HISPAINA SPIRIT” to explain his actions in avoiding collision. The officer replied this time saying that “Sal Darago” had not been visible on the radar and did we have a reflector? J explained we did and wished the officer a safe passage!
On day 23 at 0800, “Land Ahoy”. So strange to see land after three weeks. And soon houses became visible. J used VHF to report our forthcoming arrival, but the port of Bridgetown did not respond until we were on their battlements – sorry breakwater. And then we docked with four other cruise ships mostly with red ensigns flying. “Queen Victoria”, “Caribbean Princess”, “Ocean Village”, “Celebrity Express”, two tugs, a pilot boat and “Sal Darago” filled Bridgetown Harbour.
Quite a trip and not one for the faint hearted. Now for some rest and relaxation, Maan.
Thursday, 25 December 2008
Barbados
Happy Christmas.
We arrived safely in Barbados on 23 December in the afternoon. Dodgy connection in Bridgetown so have a great holiday.
We arrived safely in Barbados on 23 December in the afternoon. Dodgy connection in Bridgetown so have a great holiday.
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