Land Ho!

We arrived in Newport Friday morning after a fabulous 24 hours of
sailing on a reach with southwest winds. Jay saw our speed hit 8
knots at one point. We passed several fishing boats during the night
and picked up dozens of ships in the shipping channel on the AIS. It
was very exciting to be getting close to our destination. We called
Portland Maine to clear customs and a custom's agent met us at Goat
Island and took our clearance papers from Bermuda. Old Port Marine
gave us a mooring close to Joe and Marge's condominium, and after
tidying the boat, we took the launch to the Bonniecrest dock. The
boat is back in New England after two years away. It was a successful
voyage on many fronts: no storms, no injuries, no major mishaps, the
boat performed perfectly. Welcome will be moored in Provincetown
Harbor for the summer. The boat is up for sale. We have done what we
wanted to do - long distance cruising. If there is another boat in
our future, it will be for a different purpose (crossing the
atlantic?). It has been great fun. We appreciate those who have
joined us vicariously through this blog. May you have fair winds and
following seas.
Team Welcome

Exiting the Gulf Stream

Greetings from 38 07.129N 069 13.853W. It is 1810 on May 20. We are
225 nautical miles from Newport, RI. Sea temperature is 69.5 and
falling; down from a high of 75 degrees today. Current is 1.2 knots
north, down from 3.5 knots north. Wind right now is 10 knots from the
northeast, after last night's high of around 30 knots. Right now we
are sailing at a comfortable 5 knots and watching the sun set.
Despite the winds from the northeast all night, and the currents
flowing north in the Gulf Stream, the waves in the Gulf Stream never
reached a level which produced much concern or great queasiness.
During the night we switched sail combinations several times to try to
stabilize the heel. At times we were standing almost perpendicular
with our feet on the port side of the cockpit as the wind and the
waves pushed us forward. But, all in all, it has been lovely sailing.
A few boats showed up on the AIS system, but none have been spotted by
us. The front we crossed produced some very light and quick showers,
but it only lasted about 10 hours. The highest winds were when we were
crossing the front. The barometer has risen to 1029, and we expect a
high pressure system to stay with us for the rest of the trip. This
certainly has been the least eventful crossing on record for the crew
of the Welcome.

We did have a chance to ascertain the adequacy of the leak repairs and
are pleased to report that the silicone application appears to have
been a huge success. Full battery replacement addressed our
electrical problems. We still have ice, although the reefer has a lot
of suds in it - somehow dishwashing liquid made its way into the
icebox, and with all the hard sailing, the box is now filled with dish
liquid foam. The weather cloths have been a superb addition - the
cockpit has been much drier than ever before, even as water and waves
soaked the port railing and waves sloshed over the bow.

We will be visiting with Joe and Marge Turley in Newport. The big
question now is when to take the boat from Newport to its Provincetown
base for the summer. The trip is about 75 nautical miles. It could
be a very long day, or consume a whole weekend. DT is debating whether
it should be this weekend or next. Timing is critical for passing
through Cape Cod Canal. Jay flies out of Providence on Sunday. Kel
will make his plans when we land - presumable sometime Friday. While
we do not want to ask for bad luck by concluding too much too soon,
but at some risk we feel inclined to declare that this has been a
sweet (and very long) trip.

Team Welcome.

May 19, 2009 Entry

It is 1530 on May 19, 2009. We hit the Gulf Stream this morning and
the expected weather front about an hour and a half ago. After more
than 24 hours of motoring in winds of less than 5 knots, a front has
never been more welcome. Even in the Gulf Stream. No rain yet, but
the winds have picked up to 15-20 knots NE, and we are finally sailing
again with all sails without the noise of the iron sail. Our current
position is 36 01.990 N 067 36.931 W. We will probably be in the
Gulf Stream for another 150 nautical miles. It has given us the
opposite of every other crossing - calm seas and little wind. It is a
nonevent - so far. It was piping hot this morning, and we opened the
hatches to cool the cabin. The water temperature fluctuates, but
remains in the low 70s. We have a slight current to the North, but
nothing significant at this time. 367 nm to Newport.

At around 2230 last night, on Kel's watch, the engine stopped cold.
We had drained the fuel tank dry. It took about an hour to refuel,
clean the inevitable mess from fueling at sea, and get running again.
Because we did not try to run the engine prior to refueling, it did
not need to be bled.

Yesterday's quiet gave us an opportunity to cut into a large
watermelon in the cockpit which was purchased in Bermuda. Scrambled
eggs for breakfast this morning. Lots of fluids. Food consumption
increases when there is less rocking, and decreases in high wind.

Team Welcome

35 Hours in Bermuda

Welcome arrived in Bermuda Fridy at 2130 EST after 6 and one half days
at sea and 930 nautical miles. The last two days had us beating
against a northeast wind and strong northeast current. We ran the
engine with the sails up for 27 hours. About ten miles offshore, we
called Bermuda Harbour Radio on international channel 27 for clearance
to enter St. George's Harbour. After ascertaining the number of people
on and the safety equipment and the various offical number associated
with the equipment, we received clearance. In fact, the fellow called
us three separate times to repeat that we remained clear to enter as
we were making a tricky approach to the Town Cut in the dark with the
engine roaring. St. George's Harbour was a welcomed haven of relative
calm. It was filled with more than two hundred visiting sailboats
awaiting the 2009 ARC rally to Europe which starts on May 20. The
authorities left the Customs and Immigration office open for us and
for two other boats that followed us later that evening. It was a
generous and surprising gesture after having endured the
inefficiencies of clearance procedures in the various Caribbean
countries.

We were met at the dock by Bernie, who was expecting us. We had
e-mailed Captain Smoke's Marina in anticipation of our arrival to
reserve a dock space. Bernie is a charming older man who was born on
the island and is as friendly as they come. He did a quick hitch
around the dock post and advised us to keep the motor running - in
case we could not start it again. He must speak from experience. We
staggered off the boat, our bodies still rocking after all that time
at sea. We grabbed counters and walls to steady ourselves. Bermuda
added a form to its usual stack - we had to fill out a health form
declaring that nobody died on the boat while we were at sea, and that
we did not have the plague. We assume that this was yet another
paranoid and bureaucratic response to the swine flu. We also assumed
they were inquiring about human animals, and wisely did not mention
all the dead flying fish.

Docking at Captain Smoke's is always a joy. It is the equivalent to
asking a blind man to thread a needle. We were required to dock bow
in between two boats that seemed to be about five feet apart. Welcome
is 11 feet wide. The whole village appeared on the dock to watch the
fun. The people on the boat to our port got out of bed and onto their
deck to fend off. We know this because the matron was tying a terry
bathrobe around her. Who in their right mind brings a terry bathrobe
onto a small sailboat for a long voyage? HOw do they have the room to
hang bulky bathrobes? The folks to starboard also appeared to defend
their vessel. Bernie shouted unintelligible instructions from the
pier. We made it through the eye of the needle successfully and
without any shouting on board. Our bow plank to land was put in place
and a rug placed under it to limit the damage to our boat. The sloop
to starboard, Brain Waves, was occupied by an internet acquaintance,
Rod Lawrence. His brother-in-law shipped his sailboat from Michigan
to the east coast and he and a few buddies sailed to Bermuda. They
had stayed for a week and were sailing back the next morning. The boat
will then be trucked back to Michigan. Rod had cruised the internet in
preparation for the trip and found our blog last year. He asked for
some advice on the passage and he and I exchanged several e-mails. It
was a delight to finally meet him. The crew of Welcome ate a
delicious Mac and Cheese dinner and shared a bottle of South African
wine. We fell exhausted into our damp sleeping bags on our damp bunks.

The morning was filled with laundry, showers, and catching up on
e-mail. Captain Smoke's has upgraded its sole shower and its
electrical system. Hot water was plentiful, and we were not required
to hit a pipe on the roof of the building to get the water running. By
late morning, we were well into the list of chores to be accomplished
on land. Jay's pleas for lunch were ignored. Kel arrived in the early
afternoon. With four of us on board, we were efficient in our work.
Kel has great mechanical skills derived from growing up in rural
Zimbabwe where machines are fixed, not replaced. Cushions were put
out to be cleaned and dried. The water tanks were refilled. We tried
getting the encrusted salt flakes off the deck and canvas. We removed
and replaced the four house batteries. We assigned Kel to the engine
compartment, where we asked him to remove and reinstall the engine
battery not just once, but twice. This was because late in the day,
the four batteries ordered in advance and waiting for us morphed into
five batteries. After the four battery project was finished and the
engine battery replaced with the strongest old battery, we again
replaced the engine cranking battery with a new one. Kel had to
removed the raw water strainer so we could measure the necessary
fittings to install the new strainer, but then once again replaced the
old strainer when the hardware store did not have the necessary parts.
The autohelm was given a shot of grease. Ann was assigned to diagnose
the leak in the forward cabin. She discovered some wetness and rot
forward of the bunk from the anchor well. Silicone was applied to stem
the water splashing from the anchor well and seeping into the forward
cabin. Ann also sealed the chain holes on deck. Jay and DT diagnosed
and cured (we hope) the leak by the aft bunk. We listened to the
fight between a boat owner and a paid crew on a neighboring boat, and
then the crew member disappeared - presumably he stormed away.
Another boat owner sat waiting for paid crew to appear to deliver his
boat to Conneticut without him at a cost of $3,000.

Sometime later in the day, Kel mentioned that Bermuda operates on
Atlantic Standard Time. Much to our surprise, we were running an hour
behind the rest of the island. Off to the grocery store we walked.
With two carts, we searched the small store for appealing items to
fill our carts. We bought a lot of yogurt, cheese, fruit and
beverages. Jay sent us off to a waterfront bar while he arranged
delivery and then set about organizing the food on board. We had a
very nice dinner at the Carriage House, which was the site of DT's
birthday dinner two years ago. No one was concerned about eating too
much since it seemed impossible after barely eating for the prior
seven days.

The next morning, we pushed off from the marina and went to the fuel
dock. Ann resisted the pressure to stay on board and waved goodbye to
us at 0830 EST. We once again received clearance from Bermuda Harbour
Radio - this time to leave. We were in Bermuda 35 hours.

Upon leaving, the wind was NE 10-15 knots. We spent about two hours
getting beyond the reef that surrounds Bermuda and then set off for
Newport, 630 miles away at a heading of 346 degrees. The wind died
around sunset and we are now motoring in less than five knots of wind.
Currents have been quirky. We were accompanied by a fleet of spotted
dolphins for a little while last night. There are a lot of
Man-O-Wars. We have seen a few other sailboats, but no ships. The
early night sky was moonless and filled with stars. Eventually we
hauled in the jibs to quiet the slapping of the sails, but the main
remains up. It is a dry day with chores being sought on deck to take
advantage of the sun and warmth. Appetites are back. We even ate a
hot dinner last night and now sadly out of Kraft Macaroni and Cheese.
Battery replacements have been deemed a success.

OUr position at 1110 on 5/18 is 34 02.133N 066 08.82W. We should hit
the Gulf Stream at little north of 35 degrees and sometime within the
next 24 hours. We are also expecting a weather front tomorrow later
in the day which will bring rain. The Gulf Stream is the widest it has
ever been on our rhumbline. We speculate that it may mean a less
forcefull north current. We will let you know.

Team Welcome

Nearing Bermuda

It is 1216 on May 15, 2009.  Our position is 31 34.444N  064 30.918W.  We are 48 miles south of Bermuda.  Wind is northeast at 20 knots.  Seas are 6'.  It is sunny, with a few clouds.  The barometric pressure has soared to 1025.  Sea temperature has dropped to 71 degrees.  Sleeping at night now requires a sleeping bag. We are wearing heavier clothing during the days and wear foul weather gear on deck.  The canvas and instruments on the boat are encrusted with salt from the spraying sea.

 

Yesterday we refueled at sea and put in 22 gallons of diesel.  Because we have been running the engine so much to recharge the batteries, and now to combat the NE wind, our consumption rose to 3/4 gallon per hour. It is a difficult task to aim the spouts and then lift the 45 pound jetty jugs over the little diesel intake hole without spilling it in a rolling sea.  The other concern is to prevent the breaking waves from also entering the fuel tank and contaminating it all.  The cabin still smells like diesel from all of the fuel we got on our foul weather gear.

 

Shortly after the refueling adventure, we were surrounded by dolphins - most likely bottle nose dolphins.  For a good twenty minutes jumped and raced beside the boat.  There were a lot of smaller fish jumping nearby, so we assume that they were feeding.  Occasionally, a dolphin would leap into the air and travel ten feet before splashing back into the ocean.  They are powerful mammals.  We have also seen Portuguese Man-O-Wars floating nearby.  From a distance, they almost look like plastic but as you near them, you can see the calzone like crest and see the translucent blue and pink tinges.

 

Our destination in Bermuda is Captain Smokes Marina in St. George's Harbor.  The docking situation there is bow in with a plank leading to the boat from shore.  We will have access to shore electricity, a head, showers and water.  The affiliated marine store has promised to have new batteries waiting.  Bernie has promised us the best spot - although we do not think that any spot in the marina is particularly easy given the plank.  We are eager to get there, because all of the bunks are wet, as are the sleeping bags, and we want a chance to dry everything out before we set off on the most difficult leg of the journey across the Gulf Stream.  Certain crew members are also convinced that we are out of food, even though we easily have five days worth of provisions on board.

 

Ann will be leaving us for Seattle.  Kel will be joining us from San Francisco.  We hope to push off on Sunday, although that decision will be based on the weather.  It is unlikely that the blog will be updated until we are back at sea.

 

Team Welcome

 

 

Tale of Two Watches

It was the best of watches, followed by the worst of watches.  The evening started off with a star strewn sky with no ambient light disturbing the dazzling show.  Jay watched the moon rise shortly after 11 pm.  All were mesmerized by the cloudless sky and the brilliant show of stars.  There was so little wind that we started the engine.  When DT got off watch at 6 am, she noted some building clouds to the east.  Ten minutes later, Jay, the new watch captain,  was slammed with winds in the 30's and pouring rain.  His light weather foulies were inadequate and water seeped through his clothing. The seas rose and began smashing into the boat and soaking everything in sight.  Water even made its way below and soaked two of the bunks.  The contrast was startling.  We went from wishing that the sailing would continue forever to counting the seconds before we reach land.

 

It is 1605 and we are reporting in form 29 42.324N  64 07.621W.  We are approximately 165 miles from Bermuda.  We are running on a combination of sail and motor.  The main has two reefs and we have the staysail up.  The seas remain rough, but the wind has abated to around 20 knots.  A shift of wind to the northeast has slowed our progress to our destination.  There is a slight current to running to the west.  The only safe position in the cabin is either prone on a bunk or hanging on to the railings.  Needless to say, food consumption has been minimal.  The sun is shining now, and the clouds are gone. We hope that the waves will follow the example of the clouds and disappear.  Stay tuned.  Team Welcome.

Nearing Bermuda

Our position is 27 15.006N  63 37.476W.  It is 1358.  Winds remain from the east and are 10-15 knots.  We are 310 mile south of Bermuda.  After an overcast morning, the sky is bright and the air comfortable.  The water temperature is 75.3 degrees.  Watches are getting easier as the wind is steady and not strong.  We have had all three sails up almost all of the way so far.  The triumphs of life are small out here.  We are getting used to the monotony - in a very positive way.  Unfortunately, our good days make for boring blog entries.  Ann cut up the cantaloupe for breakfast - a big event for us.  Mostly, we just chat and read.  Because we have used relatively little water - less than one 40 gallon tank so far, we have been taking short showers.  Washing off the accumulation of lotion and salt is very luxurious. 

 

Last night a 600 foot cargo ship likely bound for the Azores passed less than a mile off of our stern.  While that may seem far away, we can assure you that at sea, it is very close.  We could see its wake in the moon light.  All crew on Welcome watched from the deck as we debated whether to alter course.  We also spotted our first sailboat which turned east after being on a parallel track for several hours at night. 

 

Jay continues to find suicidal flying fish on the deck.  We debate setting up a patrol to try to get them back in the water before they die.

Tuesday, May 12

Greetings at 1215 from 24 24.82N  063 10.196W.  It is a lovely day at sea, and the air temperature is lower than it has been, but it is still sleeveless shirts and shorts weather.  Sea temperature is 76 degrees. Wind is 10-15 knots.  The wind has veered slightly south east, making our sail a little more comfortable. Hatches are open in the boat for the first time providing needed ventilation. The crew is even able to read without feeling ill. We are hugging our rhumb line and have 483 miles to go.  We will pass the halfway mark today. There is no way to describe the sailing other than as perfect.

 

We continue to conserve electricity.  The ice in the reefer is gone.  We have run the engine to recharge the batteries 22 hours so far. We just refilled the fuel tank and our consumption is a modest .40 gallons per hour. 

 

Our version of excitement:  A star or satellite or new planet that has sat in the sky 20 degrees off the horizon to port.  A middle of the night inspection of all through hull valves to try to determine why the bilge pump was running so frequently - we concluded that we were not sinking.  Phosphorescent spinning in our wake in the total darkness before the moonrise at 2115.  A mysterious cargo ship overtaking us in the middle of the night.  A leaky water tank seal allowing the MRI mattress to become soaked.  Scrambled eggs for breakfast. Repairs on the cabin door knob.

 

But, we do also have the occasional moment to relax.  Long distance sailing is a combination of terror, boredom, peace and immersion in nature.  It is hard to find this place in our everyday lives.  Team Welcome.

Sargasso Sea (Spell Check Please)

We have exited the Caribbean Sea and entered the Sargasso Sea.  The sea temperature has dropped from 82 degrees to 77 degrees.  The unique seaweed which gives the area its name floats around us.  Wind remains easterly 10-15 knots.  The sun is blazing in the sky at 1530.  We are 620 nautical miles from Bermuda at 22 10.042N 062 46.937W.  Water depth is over 19,000 feet deep.

 

We had the most exciting evening yet last night during Jay's watch.  A sudden squall put the boat on its starboard side causing Ann and Donna to race up on deck to help tame the boat.  No one had the opportunity to watch the wind speed, but visibility dropped to 5 feet and it was the strongest wind felt on this voyage. We struggled in the downpour to keep the boat just off the wind as the Genoa was furled using the winch.  The storm passed as quickly as it arrived but left three dripping sailors in its wake. Jay's watch was also marked by the heroic save of a flying fish that was flapping on the deck.

 

The house batteries remain a challenge.  We have limited electrical draws to a minimum.  We are using a handheld GPS, laptops and lights are turned off when not in use, and amperage is watched closely.  Still, we are recharging about 6 out of every 24 hours. The meter shows only a 72% efficiency for the current four batteries.  Despite the constant attempts at proper maintenance of the battery banks, new batteries may be in our future.

 

The days are filled with maintaining hydration, constant administration of sun block, and occasional repairs.  Today we tightened the stuffing box, tracked a short on the Simrad chartplotter, replaced a sump pump switch, and sewed a torn zipper on the dodger.  Luckily, we are well prepared with spare parts and there is little we cannot fix while at sea - except for batteries. DT has spent a lot of time rigging the windvane and studying it.  One of these days, we might even engage its services.

 

The team reports no sea sickness.  Any threat disappeared as the crew stopped taking Stugeron.

 

Satellite communication remains sporadic - we understand that Globalstar lost many satellites and has not been able to replace them as of yet.  We will continue to try to create a blog every day, but it is unlikely we will see or can respond to individual e-mails.  When we get to Bermuda, we should be able to get an internet connection for the day or two we are there and will catch up with individual correspondence. 

 

Team Welcome.

 

 

Sunday, May 10

The winds are still easterly around 20 knots. We are 766 nautical miles from Bermuda.  Our cordinates are 32 22.447N  064 41.024W.  There is a little cloud cover right now, which is a relief from the pounding sun.  Most of the day has been spent napping, on watch, listening to books on tape and having quiet interactions.  All sails are up and there is still a lot of heel, making moving around the cabin difficult.  Reading feels risky.  The batteries seem to drain more quickly than they should.  Jay is advocating a new set once in Bermuda.  It is unpleasant to have to turn on the engine every few hours to recharge.  We are running the navigation equipment, autopilot and refrigeration.  With that consumption, we should only need to recharge once a day.  DT set up the Monitor Wind Vane and will run it during her next watch to see if we can wean ourselves from the autopilot.  Ann made a fruit salad for lunch.  It was a great break from crackers and yogurt.  We have spotted a few cargo ships.  There is an occasional bird, and lots of flying fish.  The weather charts showing that the wind will be diminishing as we reach 25 degrees North.  That will be another two days, and at that point, we may have to motor.  No mutinies, sea sickness or other events to report.  We get no news out here except for our own weather reports.  It is odd to be so removed, and also really nice.  Team Welcome.

Greetings from the Caribbean

Greetings from 17 23.902 North, 061 59.427W.  Our course is a straight 5 degrees to Bermuda.  Total run will be approximately 940 nautical miles.  Right now, we are 90 minutes away from sunset.  Winds are from the east 15-20 knots.  Waves are 5-6 feet.  All sails are up, and we are cruising along on a reach at approximately 6 knots.
We spent the last two nights at the Antigua Yacht Club Marina in Falmouth Harbor.  It is a marina for mega yachts.  We were dwarfed by the breathtaking beauties around us.  Customs and Immigration is a short walk away in English Harbor.  Allegedly, it opens at 8 a.m. and closes at 6 p.m. daily.  There, a captain has to check in with Customs, go to the Immigration desk next to the Customs desk, and then cross the hallway to pay the Port Authority.  You cannot vary this sequence.  The Customs officer did not show up until close to 11 a.m., so the remaining staff sat idle, unable to process the dozens of people who came by in order to be compliant with the law.  When Captain Jay was finally able to meet with the Customs official and move to the next desk, the immigration folks said "Yes?"  He had to explain that he was sent to the immigration desk (next to the Customs desk) and he had no idea why he was there, but hoped that she might know. Do not forget your pen or your money when you check in.  The authorities DO NOT lend pens to beggars trying to fill the proper forms.  Also, forget having any emotions - nice doesn't get you anywhere and anger solves even less.  In order to avoid the wait this morning to check out, we went back to Customs and Immigration yesterday afternoon at 4:30 p.m.  Unfortunately, Customs had closed early - unannounced. 

We were able to take advantage of shore showers yesterday and today.  Despite the lack of hot water, it was wonderful to wash off the buildup of sunblock. We also were able to get some laundry done.

Jay and DT spent yesterday getting fuel, water, additional provisions and engaged in the constant maintenance and repair that defines living on a boat. The stuffing box was leaking, and two of the hose clamps had broken.  Jay married odd sized clamps so that we could manage the three inch span.  Ann came in around 4:30 and it was great to have a reunion on Welcome. Jay bought each of us a shirt with the insignia of the local sailmaker, and we debated whether we should wear the shirts at the same time.  I think the final vote was "too dorky". Ann was kind enough to lug from Seattle a new engine raw water intake filter and a new COB strobe light.  We spent the next two hours fixing and installing both.  The raw water intake filter Jay asked Beth to get was a size too large, and while the larger capacity is irrelevant, the existing engine hoses were too small.  So, the leaking old one was repaired with some underwater expoxy and reinstalled. We had a fine dinner of pizza, which was surprisingly similar to the cheese and crackers we had as an appetizer.  Gourmets we are not.  Everyone slept well.

This morning we went back to English Harbor to clear out, and once again the Customs agent was late for work.  Today he was only 90 minutes late.  Or maybe that is early for him.  Regardless, it does seem ridiculous and delayed our start by a few hours.  Checking into French islands is so much easier.  You just mosey up to a PC terminal and fill in your information - 24/7.  The French understand that they need to get you into their shops and cafes ASAP so you will spend your tourist dollars.

We ate breakfast at an outside bar, bought new hose clamps, spent the remaining Eastern Caribbean dollars at the quick mart, and cast off around 11:30.  We are back on 3 hour watches around the clock.  That rotation will give each individual a different watch series each day.  The crew will be better rested on this leg than on the last.  We are very pleased that Ann agreed to join us at almost the last minute.  She been on other adventures with Welcome, knows the boat well, keeps calm in a crisis, and is a good sailor.  While we do miss Michael, three is a perfect number for this voyage. 

Team Welcome

Antigua

    We are sitting at Antigua Yacht Club Marina, dwarfed by the mega yachts that surround us.  In fact, we are so small, we hope that we will not be noticed tomorrow as they tour the docks to collect the fees.  Our deck sits well below the dock and we have to step up to get to the cement pier.  We were lucky when we came in because there were two small boat owners near us who explained the mystery of how you dock to a pier that has no cleats.  There are chains around the pilings that we used.  Seven fenders are out in an attempt to keep us from smashing into the pier.  We first went to English Harbor, but the Med moorings had DT stymied, so we rounded the corner to Falmouth Harbor.  We had a first hot meal - a terrible mixture of green pasta and bottled sauce. The Argentina wine was awful as well.  It was the best meal so far.

    Tomorrow we check into customs and greet Ann, the crew for the next leg.  We have relatively few chores - fixing the running lights, updating provisions, maybe replacing the engine water strainer with the one Ann is bringing with her in her duffel bag.  She is also bringing a strobe light - the current one has failed.  I am not sure why we are not getting a new battery, but better safe than sorry.

    The ride up from Grenada was hairy at times, but our average speed was 6.1 knots.  The waves were choppy, and towards the end of the day the swells were around 10 feet tall. It is truly exhausting having three hour watches.  Effectively, that means no more than 2.5 hours of sleep at a time.  It is hard to be hungry in these conditions.  We expect to leave here on Saturday and it should be a seven day run to Bermuda - weather permitting.  Ann leaves Bermuda on the 17th.  Kel arrives in Bermuda on the 16th to join us for the Newport leg across the Gulf Stream and through the dreaded Bermuda Triangle. We hope to make Newport Memorial Day weekend to visit with Joe and Marge. Life seems pretty good right now.

    Team Welcome

   

Ahoy

Ahoy - We left Le Phare Bleu Marina in Grenada yesterday at 1500 and traveled at a good clip all night.  We took three hour watches, which are exhausting. We will be very happy to add a third crew memberin Antigua.  Winds today have been easterly 20-30 knots.  Whitecaps abound, and occasionally a big wave soaks the cockpit.  It is quite hot in the cabin, because we cannot open portholes with waves regularly smashing on the deck.  We now have the staysail flying with one reef in the main.  We expect to get to Antigua tomorrow evening, and will be very grateful for a shower. Total run will be about 310 nautical miles.  Not much to report in the food department - it is too rough to cook or eat.  We are trying to stay hydrated. Traffic is scarce. In the last 27 hours we have seen 5 other boats, but none have been sailboats.  We tried to listen to Herb on the radio but we could not make out his voice.  For those of you who have just tuned in, Herb is an Ontario based weather guru who guides sailors throughout the North Atlantic and Caribbean, offering micro weather predictions and an occasional dressing down for the neophytes.  We dare not let him know we are listening for fear he will yell at us.  As you can tell, we finally have the satellite modem up and running, but for how long, we do not know.  Team Welcome reporting in from 16 17.956 N  061 57.155W.

Welcome to Welcome

We arrived in Grenada late Sunday night after a three hour flight from Miami.  The crew member in business class had a wonderful pasta dinner with wine, and an empty seat behind him.  The crew member in coach was unlucky enough to be seated next to a drunk from Sarasota on his way to pick up a boat for a Texas delivery. Cheese and crackers were offered at $4.  In retrospect, the offer of a $150 upgrade seems like a bargain.   Upon arrival, all airport personnel were wearing those white germ masks to avoid Swine Flu from the Miami passengers.  We were met by health officials holding stethoscopes, and had to fill out a card swearing that we did not have symptoms.  I do not know what happened to those unfortunate passengers with sniffles.
The boat was alongside at the dock.  No hatches were open, so it was a little stuffy.  The bilge was full, mostly of fresh water from the mysterious water tank leak. The boat was otherwise in good condition.  DT slept outside, until rain forced her into the MRI berth. 
Monday was filled with projects.  Fixing the oven thermocoupler with the part brought in from the States proved to be a huge job.  It involved drilling the bottom of the stove and a trip to the store to get a 1/8 inch drill bit that actually worked.  The task was finished at 10 pm.  Jay ran the new main halyard.  Our missing dinghy and engine mysteriously appeared.  There was new canvas on the boat and the wood work had all been touched up, so things were looking pretty spiffy.  We spent an hour in town gathering provisions.  We bought an unorganized assortment of cheeses, eggs, milk, gatorade, 60 liters of drinking water, bread, yogurt, mustard, chocolate, tortilla shells, beans, rice, apples, bananas, pineapple, oranges, pasta, crackers, cookies, butter and who knows what else.    Kate had also given us granola, muffin mix and biscotti.  Jay spent several hours storing everything.
Today we are rolling up the dinghy, getting fuel, finishing up last minute tasks, checking out at customs, and taking off for Antigua.  Ann arrives in Antigua on Friday and will accompany us to Bermuda.  Antigua is about 310 nautical miles away - about 2.5 days of sailing.  Winds are easterly 15-20 right now.  We will shoot up the lee side of the Windward Islands - destination, Falmouth Harbor.  We will try to blog using the satellite phone, but the connection is a little iffy, so we may not write again until Friday. 

Final Photos -Bermuda to Antigua

Pictures from the trip
http://turlco.com/schooner/2007/2007-11/GA2/index.htm

WE MADE IT!

We pulled into Falmouth Harbor, Antigua at approximately 9 a.m. on Thursday, 950 nm from Bermuda, and after 7 days of sailing. Jay dropped DT off at the Antigua Yacht Club to clear Customs. All of the entry instructions clearly indicate that the Master must go ashore to clear, and the crew must stay on board. DT went ashore only because her name is on the title to the boat. Alas, the Customs official sent her scurrying back to the boat to secure Jay's signature in three places. A very long process that cannot be easily accomplished if the folks who need to the sign the documents are required to stay on the boat.

The various marinas in Falmouth Harbor were preparing for the charter boat show. There were incredible mega yachts on the docks and at anchor from all over the world. Paid crew were scrubbing and polishing is an effort to book additional weeks. Their income is tied to the number of weeks the boat is chartered. We were definitely the poor cousins in WELCOME. Because of the boat show, docking options were limited. The only marina that could keep the boat for three weeks was Catamaran Marina, and they offered us a space off of the parking lot without any security. We docked there, but during our stay, we were approached by several people asking to watch our boat for us, and we determined that the amount of foot traffic near the boat did not bode well for a three week stay. Jay contacted Jolly Harbor Marina, on the northwest side of Antigua, and we headed to that port. Despite the fact that we did not finally get settled until nearly 4 p.m. that day, we were glad we made the change. The folks at Jolly Harbor are friendly, and they have set us up with Peter Glasgow, a fellow who will redo the bright work on the boat during the time that it sits in the marina without passengers. North Sails picked up all three sails for repairs. Jay and DT went to the local marine store, which is the best we have seen in the Caribbean. The local supermarket is also excellent. DT walked to the beach for a well deserved swim. We had to tie up bow against the dock, and the stern tied to a post. There are no other boats next to us, and we think that it is a fine spot.

Friday was filled with many many chores, including cleaning the boat, greasing the ram drive for the autopilot, stowing the fuel containers, replacing the staysail furling line, replacing the lines for the lazy jacks, packing, laundry, etc. Jay left for Seattle via San Juan and Orlando on Friday afternoon. DT leaves for Boston on Saturday. Jay and Liza return on the 18^th for two weeks, and will sail the boat to Rodney Bay in St. Lucia. Donna and Kate will arrive on the boat at the end of January for a tour of the islands in that area. It is likely that the boat will be in Grenada in storage for the summer, and at sea in the Caribbean again next winter. If it gets a lot of use, then this area may offer an indefinite home. If the boat is not used, then, very sadly, it will be sold.

This has been an excellent adventure. We really appreciate the support of those who have read the blog. Knowing of your interest is half the fun. Thank you!

Fair Winds and Following Seas

The winds are 15-20 from the east, and the seas are now set from the northeast. We have shaken out the reef on the main, and are on a reach using the full main and the staysail. Alas, we have no big jib to use. Our pace has slowed to somewhere between 5 and 6 knots, but it still looks like we will land in Antigua within 24 hours. We are 128 miles from Falmouth Harbor, which we believe will offer us the best access to chandleries, provisioning, and historic charm. Our current position is 18 58.5 N 062 08.3 W. The sun is out and this is a perfect sailing day. Our spirits are good as we ready the boat for a few weeks at the dock. This mostly involves sitting in the cockpit and thinking about how to best utilize our time on shore before we head back to our homes.

We hit a few small rain squalls yesterday afternoon. We saw one cargo ship last night before the AIS picked it up. Jay called Trevor in Seattle to trouble shoot, since our expectation is that AIS should alert us to ships that are 30 miles away. It was disconcerting to have it in view before it was picked up by the electronics. Regardless, it posed no danger. Prior to the rising of the moon, the night sky glowed with stars. It is remarkable how many stars one can see without any ambient light. This morning, we saw that our vessel had become the graveyard for two flying fish. Services are at noon.

Team Welcome.

Tuesday, November 27, 2007

We have made excellent mileage since leaving Bermuda last Thursday. We have only 235 nautical miles left before we arrive in Falmouth Harbour, Antigua. We expect to arrive Thursday morning. Our average speed has risen to 5.7 nm, but the last few days in the trade winds have been faster than that. Right now winds are ESE 21-27 knots – a lot lighter than the gale force winds of yesterday. The barometer reads 1018. Our position is 22 05.78N 062 28.59 W. Water temperature is 81.6. We spent much of yesterday below in the cabin trying to stay dry. Today the seas are still sloppy, but not so much as to regularly soak the cockpit. There is little to do in terms of projects – it is just too rough. We can sit in the cockpit, though, and that feels wonderful. Not much to report: one flying fish carcass on deck, no ships or other vessels sighted within the last 24 hours. One cargo ship came up on the AIS, but it was 12 miles away so we could not see it.

One of the delightful things about warm weather cruising is that our only "gear" outside of shorts and shirts are the lifejacket, harness and tether. No long johns or foul weather suits. We have not worn shoes since Bermuda – quite a luxury for us. Of course, hats and sunglasses are necessary, as is sun block.

Many vessels contacted Herb on the SSB yesterday. One boat was in Trinidad. Another in the Canary Islands. Another in the western Caribbean, closer to the Panama Canal. Our attempts to join the conversation have failed, but it may be due to operator error. We need to get out the instruction booklet. It was quite enjoyable to listen to others describe their positions and to be able to identify their location on the chart. It seems amazing that we can listen to someone thousands of miles away. Thank you Mr. Marconi. One boat who called in was about 40 miles from us, so we did hear the forecast that the trade winds would lighten over night – the prediction was right.

We did not eat much yesterday because of the rough seas. Today, we will continue to try to eat the remainder of the perishables – mostly yogurt and cheese. Maybe we will have a hot meal tonight. We have pasta left and some Trader Joe's Indian food. It is hard to cook as the seas toss the boat, even with the gimbeled stove. It makes crackers quite appealing. It all depends on the weather.

Team Welcome.

Greetings from Nares Abyssal Plain

Noontime. Monday, November 26, 2007. Winds are howling at 30 knots from the East / Northeast, with higher gusts. The swells are large and the seas choppy. Sitting in the cockpit involves frequent douses of sea water. Luckily, the water temperature is a most pleasant 80.1 F. Our main has a single reef in it. The staysail is flying. We blew out the genoa this morning while trying to furl it, so it is out of commission. We are on a beam reach. Position is 23 32.597 N 062 53.865 W. Our moving average speed since leaving Bermuda has increased from 5.2 knots to 5.6 knots. We have seen speeds mostly in the high 6's and low 7's today, with an occasional surprise in the 8's. 390 nm to Antigua. At this rate, Jay will make his flight out on Friday.

Last night we saw another sailboat pass from the east in front of us. We were approximately ½ mile away. It was our third boat sighting on this leg. We have not resolved our battery issues, and were forced to do an early morning recharge after running the autopilot and refrigerator overnight. We have plenty of fuel left, even if we had to motor the rest of the way.

The last few days we have been trying to consume the perishables – refrigerated items and fruit. There will be plenty of non perishables on board for Jay and Liza's Christmas At Sea. We had ravioli last night with a tomato sauce. The midnight and 3 a.m. watches often start with hot tea. For breakfast, we had granola, and used the last of our skim milk. We have long life milk in reserve. Still have plenty of carbs and chocolate on board. We are still operating off of our first 40 gallon tank of onboard water, which may not reflect favorably on hygiene. We drink bottled water.

The boat feels safe and is generally working well. It is harder to read in these conditions, or to really do anything except hold on and rock with the waves. We spend time debating the day and time of our arrival in Antigua and writing the to do list. We have added a visit to the sailmaker to that list. We will put Michael's bottles of wine in the refrigerator prior to our arrival so that we can celebrate when we get there.

Team Welcome.

Smooth Sailing

Greetings from 26 06.331 N 063 30.240 W. We are approximately 400 nautical miles from any land. The sea floor is 18,238 feet below us. Temperature is in the mid 70's and the water temperature is 77.6F. The wind is from the east at less than 10 knots. It is sunny out. Last night the moon was full and the moonlight was bright enough for reading. Everything on deck had a shadow.

In addition to propelling the boat forward, we have been busy with the small tasks of sailing in pleasant weather. Whipping lines, preparing meals (pizza last night and scrambled eggs this morning), cleaning, calculating distances and times, polishing metal, trying to understand the multitude of systems on board. When not napping or fixing things, we read old magazines or listen to our Ipods. Jay filled his Ipod with books on tape – his criterion was any book over 20 hours long. Right now he is listening to the Count of Monte Cristo (48 hours). DT's Ipod has saved NPR segments and missed "This American Life" programs.

We are now getting our weather from Herb on the SSB. At 3:40 each day, boats north and south of Bermuda, and some off the coast of Africa, check in giving the vessel name. Shortly before 4:00 pm, Herb comes on and acknowledges all boats who have checked in and then speaks with each captain in sequence of where the boat is located, advising the captain of the weather to be expected over the next 24 hours given location and speed. It is quite phenomenal. We have checked in twice. Both times we have been ignored in the roll call. We do not know if our transmission is faulty or we have in some way not abided by the rules of Herb. Interacting with him has all of the mystery and ceremony of appointing a new pope. We are clearly not cardinals. There are blessed boats within 200 miles so we can extrapolate. It appears that we will miss the front that is sweeping north of us and sail right into the NE trade winds tomorrow.

We have been carefully measuring and experimenting with our fuel consumption. If we run our engine at 2000 RPMs, it appears that we can limit our diesel fuel use to less than one-half gallon per hour. This is very exciting because even if we run out of wind, we have enough fuel to get us to Antigua. While we are motoring now, most of yesterday was spent under sail – all three sails powering us. Winds were 10-15 from the SW. It was quiet and wonderful. Starting tomorrow, if the weather prediction is right, we can turn off the motor for the rest of the trip. The peace of sailing offshore in these conditions has no parallel. It is pure joy.

Team Welcome.

 

    

MILK RUN

On Wednesday night we checked out at Customs and Immigration, promising to be gone before the office opened in the morning, which is "usually between 7:30 and 8AM when the first official shows up." We left Bermuda Thanksgiving morning at 8:00 and returned by 9:00. The enthusiasm about being on deck and setting sail was marked by losing the main halyard. It swung wildly before settling for a half dozen turns around the backstay just out of the reach of Jay and the 10' boat hook. Once we returned to St. George's Harbour and set anchor, Donna scrambled to the end of the boom and grabbed it. Actual departure and checkout with Bermuda Harbor Radio was more like 9:30.

Our weather gurus suggested a Thursday afternoon departure to allow the seas to calm a little. However, Welcome handled the 9 -15' seas easily and took advantage of the 20-25 knot NW wind. By the time our evening watches arrived, it had waned to 10 knots, and by midnight, we were motoring. As this is being written, the wind remains elusive. The swells give us big lifts from which to see the horizon, but the smaller waves on the swells have calmed. Here is the weather prediction issued on Wednesday from Dane Clark:

WEATHER OUTLOOK:

LOOKS LIKE A GOOD WEATHER WINDOW FOR YOUR TRIP TO

ANTIGUA.   FOR TOMORROW, NORTHWEST WINDS WILL STILL BE BRISK EARLY BUT SHOULD DECREASE IN THE LATE AFTERNOON AND EVENING BECOMING LIGHT WESTERLY FRIDAY AND ON INTO THE WEEKEND.  AS YOU PASS THROUGH THE BERMUDA RIDGE POSITION, EXPECT WINDS TO BE LIGHT LATE IN THE WEEKEND AND THEN START EASTERLY FOR A DAY OR SO BEFORE SETTING UP INTO NORMAL MODERATE NORTHEAST TRADES.  THESE MODERATE NORTHEAST TROPICAL TRADE WINDS ARE EXPECTED FOR THE REMAINDER OF YOUR TRIP TO THE ISLANDS.

 

FORECASTS FOR YOUR EXPECTED POSTIONS:

11/22 – WINDS NORTHWEST 15-22 KTS.  SEAS 6-9 FEET.  WINDS AND SEAS DECREASING LATE

11/23 – WINDS WESTERLY 10-16 KTS.  SEAS 3-5 FEET

11/24 – WINDS WESTERLY LESS THAN 15 KTS.  SEAS 2-4 FEET.

11/25 – WINDS VARIABLE LESS THAN 10 KTS.  SEAS 1-3 FEET

11/26 – WINDS BECOMING EASTERLY 10-16 KTS.  SEAS 2-3 FEET

11/27 – WINDS EAST NORTHEAST 16-23 KTS.  SEAS 4-6 FEET. 

11/28 – WINDS NORTHEASTERLY 17-24 KTS.  SEAS 5-7 FEET.

11/29 – WINDS NORTHEASTERLY 18-25 KTS.  SEAS 6-8 FEET.  

 

After years of hearing about "SouthBound II Herb" a weather expert that offers free and legendarily accurate advice in the Caribbean from Ontario via the SSB, we finally heard him loud and clear. We were elated that the recently installed SSB radio and reinstalled SSB 23 foot antenna worked so well. Today at 3:45 we will attempt to do our first check in with Herb. More to follow on this topic.

We are now at 30 19.497 N 064 12.930 W waiting for those westerly winds. We have gone 126 miles since leaving, and have another 802 to go before arriving in Jolly Harbor, Antigua. The temperature is mid 70's, it is a sunny day, and the barometer is steady at 1019. Our bearing is 186 degrees magnetic. Water temperature is 76.1 F. We feel some sense of urgency about getting to our destination since we both have plane reservations. We have to average 115 miles per day in order to catch our flights.

This is the milk run of the voyage. Things on board feel easy. We can read underway and appetites have returned. We had enchiladas for dinner last night with basmati rice, and Kate / Liza's granola for breakfast. We settled on two 3 hours watches each at night time, with a more informal watch arrangement during the day. It seems like it will work, although many naps will be in order. Michael picked the wrong time to leave – he would have enjoyed this leg.

Projects on the boat are easier. The halyard was the first event of the leg. Less than an hour after we turned off the engine, we noticed that our battery voltage was 11.v. While we still had some contact with cell towers off of Bermuda, Jay consulted numerous times with Randy. With step-by-step diagnosis and suggestions for remedies, Randy helped solve the problem and shed a bright light were there had previously been only a dim bulb. We carry five large batteries on board, three of which put out 115 amps each, and two brand new ones which put out 105 amps each. We recently replaced the isolator, and our rudimentary analysis indicates that both the alternator and the AC charger are working. In port we wired a 12v plug at the nav-station to run the laptop. With less need for AC power, we decided to forgo use of the inverter since that seems to consume a lot of power. With our autopilot engaged and the minimum electronics running, we consume approximately 10 amps per hour. On the first leg, we also ran an inverter, more lights, more frequent refrigeration and were more casual about running additional and, sometimes duplicative, electronics. However, we were forced to recharge the batteries a lot on the voyage down, which contributed to our fuel woes. Randy suggested that maximum electronic consumption might cost more than a quarter gallon of fuel per engine hour due to the drag of the alternator on the engine.

Of the five batteries, two are stored together under the aft port berth and labeled "Bank 1." Two more are stored forward under the starboard mid-ship berth and labeled "Bank 2." The fifth is the battery linked to starting the engine. We have two battery switches – one switch is tied to the windlass and is always on. It was installed by Randy. The second switch has four possible selections: Off, 1, ALL, and 2. After a series of trials and four years, we have finally discovered that "1" turns on the starting battery, and while you can run all power off of it, you should not. It should be left alone and only used to start the engine. "All" brings in all five batteries to be used to start the engine and/or run the other electrical needs on the boat. "2" puts only the four batteries in Banks 1 and 2 into operation. This selection can also be used to start the engine if the engine battery has gone dead. We had been using "1" thinking it was Bank 1 and the starting battery was not involved. This turns out to be incorrect, and we will now run on Bank 2. Assuming that we can fully recharge the batteries, we think we may have solved our problem. It was a "duh" moment. Thank you for your help, Randy.

In Bermuda while trying to diagnose some of our battery problems we discovered that of the six cells on each battery, one of the six on a new battery was dry. DT bemoaned the fact that she was not in a position to return it to West Marine. Batteries run $165 and weigh around 70 pounds each. We refilled the cell. It ran dry again. We pulled the battery from the bank and saw that sometime during installation, the bottom corner was compromised –probably from maneuvering it into place. Using some sort of magical underwater epoxy known as Eurobond, we mixed the putty and sealed the hole from which small wet tears of battery acid were leaking. Within 30 minutes it was as hard as the original plastic. We refilled the cell. This morning, it remains full. Victory at sea.

The AIS system on the PC has been set up to emit an slightly alarm if a boat carrying the AIS transmission system reaches within 10 miles or 30 minutes of us. It went off for the first time today. This was very exciting, since at the time of the alarm we could not see the boat or pick it up on the radar screen. It was a 525 foot cargo ship bound for Casablanca. When it was within about 7 miles we could finally see it with our eyes.

Life is good. Team Welcome.

Abandoning Ship at Captain Smokes

Repairs underway






Self-steering



More repairs












We will miss you, Michael

Customs dock in Bermuda

Fall City Pharmacy

Nutrition

Unexpected inflation

Cold weather for DT



Our lucky charm



Michael - too late to back out



DT at the helm

Bermuda

We drifted into St. George's Harbour, Bermuda, at 5 a.m. on Monday, November 19, 2007. The last thirty miles had taken 20 hours. We talked to Bermuda Harbour Radio earlier in the day and arranged to have a commercial tow on stand by in the event that the wind kicked up and we ran out of our last precious liters of fuel. When we made the last required radio check for permission to enter around 4 a.m., we were told that we would have to drift offshore for the remainder of the night until the tow operation opened in the morning. We decided to take our chances on the engine, knowing that in the light winds, if we lost power, we could simply turn around and sail off to wait for the tow. Five miles outside of the harbor, we ran the engine. It purred and never sputtered. We kept it at a very low RPM for the final few miles. We dropped anchor in the pitch dark quarantine area known as Powder Hole. Sleep never felt so good.

Around 9 a.m., we cautiously motored over to the Customs Dock. Our friend Bernie, from Cap't Smoke's Marina, met us and directed us to a berth. The customs officer immediately directed us to another. Local politics played out while we used the final fumes of our fuel. While checking in, a crew came in behind us. One of the members had forgotten his passport. His jokes about his Costco card being proof of his citizenship only irritated the Customs official. He was ordered to stay on his boat until his passport could be sent to him. Given that you now need a passport to return to the US, it was a display of American arrogance that made us cringe. As we looked over to the nearby fuel dock, we saw a huge backhoe digging. The Shell station was gone. There is no longer a fuel dock in St. George's Harbour!

Jay eyed the several full fuel jugs on the deck of the Swan 47 tied behind us. He asked for the captain, and requested that he allow us to purchase 5 gallons. Happily he quickly agreed, but stated that the $50 offered was probably much more than the fuel was worth. Later we learned that it was close to market price on the island. We left the dock relieved to have temporarily solved our diesel problem.

Bow first into Captain Smokes. Many dock lines to keep us in place. A long gangplank sitting on our bowsprit separates us from land. Towels and mats litter the sea floor below. The day became a whirlwind of tasks – all of us operating on 3 hours of sleep. Repair the bilge pump. Re install the SSB antenna. Clean the sea water intake filter for the engine. Showers! Check weather. Track down Globalstar technical services and find out the source of our satellite frustrations. Diagnose the wiring for the broken stern light. Top off the batteries. Get laundry done. Repair a port hole that refused to close tightly. Check engine fluids. Bring the fuel containers back and forth to the gas station to fill the tank and the jerry jugs. Purchase four additional 5 gallon fuel containers. Fill the water tanks. Bring a 12v plug to the navigation station. Provision. Clean the refrigerator. Find an insurance company that will insure the boat once it reaches our destination.

Michael left Welcome yesterday – with a mixture of relief and regret. He treated us to a lovely dinner the night before at the finest restaurant in this tiny village. We already miss his good humor, warmth and help. Last night, we ate dinner with a couple from the UK via New York who lost their mast in the same storm that hit us. In huge seas they were forced to cut their stays, running rigging, and sails to get their broken mast and attached boom away from the boat so as to prevent it from puncturing the hull. They were taking a year off to sail, and were in surprisingly good humor. We asked about safety gear. Luckily, a week before the trip, they bought the same rigging cutters that sit in our locker. They had decided to forgo the expense of a life raft, thinking that it was unnecessary. They were obviously right – this time. They are sitting at the dock – the boat naked without its mast, boom and sails. The current project is trying to track down a new mast and figure out how to refit the boat to continue their journey.

Checking into the weather charts and the wisdom of fellow sailors, we saw a huge front coming with seas predicted to be above 30 feet. We decided to sit tight until its passage, although we definitely need to make up mileage on our next leg. Jay has a plane ticket out on November 30, and Donna leaves December 1, both from Antigua. Cast off is tomorrow morning – Thanksgiving Day in the US. We have 930 miles to go. We are catching up on sleep and food and showers.

Rested, relieved and happy, Team Welcome

Paddling to Bermuda

Paddling to Bermuda would be faster than this sailing trip. We are now at 32 52.852 N 64 41.309 W. About 30 miles from St Georges Harbor in Bermuda. It is around 12:30 in the afternoon, Atlantic Standard Time. The barometer has climbed steadily to 1024 from the low a few days ago. Water temp 74.8 F. Our heading 190 degrees. Unfortunately, our speed is 1.95 knots. Wind speed varies from 2 to 8 knots, wandering unsteadily NW to NE. We remain eager to get to Bermuda. The only reason we haven't turned the engine on is that it died yesterday as we were charging the batteries. The engine went dead. A little cough. Gone. On Michael's watch. We spent most of the day addressing various engine issues. Jay essentially rebuilt the fuel pump, replaced the fuel filter, bled the air from the engine, and cleaned the fuel water separator. There is no easy way on this boat to tell how much fuel is in the tank without taking up the table and floor boards. When we last filled the 37 gallon tank, we kept 2 gallons in reserve. Generally, the fuel consumption is 8/10ths of a gallon an hour. It seemed impossible that after 31 engine hours we would be on empty. But, we were. Jay and Michael carefully poured the last two gallons into the tank as waves sloshed on the deck. We ran the engine for ten minutes before killing it. We need to keep the fuel in reserve to make the entrance through Town Cut in Bermuda. Consequently, we have stopped using the batteries except for the most essential tasks, like the compass light. Bank 2 is being kept in reserve. Volts on battery bank 1 have fallen to 9.7. Refrigeration is gone and our cold food smells a little sour. We cannot use the auto pilot. We ran the Monitor Windvane for half the day, but the light winds on our stern made it unreliable. We now hand steer. It is very tiring and boring. We cannot recharge dead ipods to keep us awake. Michael had the last watch of the night and woke us to his cursing as the main sail jibed for the 100^th time under his "guidance."

We also lost the SSB antenna yesterday. Jay had to stand on the railing to get it wrapped and under control before it damaged the sail. It was explained to me hat cruising means fixing the boat in different ports around the world. Appetites are increasing. Michael made us a good dinner last night of pasta and butter – the first warm meal that we have eaten together since the first night.

Today is the first day we are fully out of foul weather gear. Some are even wearing shorts. The air temperature is comfortable. We tried flying the asymmetrical genoa, but had little luck with it due to the fluky winds. The hours have become a blur. We are hot bunking, meaning that there are only two beds available, and you sleep on whatever bunk is available. Initially, we used our assigned pillows and sleeping bags. Now, after a watch, we just use whatever pillow and sleeping bag is open on the free bunk.

It looks like our landing will be late tonight. We will not be allowed on shore until after we clear Customs in the morning. We cannot read or respond to e-mails until after we get to an internet cafe. Anyone who is expecting a call, please know that it will not be until Monday. The good sailing vessel Welcome floats like a cork, and that our safety is not in any way diminished by the engine and battery problems. This is a sailing boat, and it does well. We work on convincing Michael that the second leg of this trip will be more fun. We hope that Ann will meet us at Capt. Smokes, as promised. We have a lot of repairs to do before taking off for Antigua on Tuesday. Despite the many challenges, all is well.

Team Welcome.

The Squirrel and the Hummer

Friday, November 16, 2007. Team Welcome reporting from 35 55.844N 65 22.031W. 3:00 pm. The winds are NW around 30 knots. This is the lowest we have seen in 24 hours. Last night, the winds were sustained at 55 knots from the SW. Hard to tell how high the seas were last night. The only analogy I could think of is asking a squirrel to estimate the height of the Hummer about to hit it. At some point, it just doesn't matter. We eased off of the rhumb line to lessen the slamming into the waves. We made all of about 6 miles towards are destination overnight. Between the driving rain and the crashing seas, it was impossible to stay dry inside the cabin or in the cockpit. A screaming front finally came through mid day. The barometer dropped to 981. The wind abruptly turned west and then northwest, allowing us to continue in the general direction of Bermuda. If you are not on watch, you are prone in the cabin. Food consumption today so far: Jay has had a yogurt. Michael has had a single biscotti. I pigged out and had three biscotti and an apple. Jay asked how it is possible that people who go on cruises gain weight.

Michael has been quite seasick and my guess is that he will never set foot on a boat again, not even a ferry to P-town. He joined the wrong leg of this voyage, the next should be considerably better. The only positive thing we can say about this storm is that at least we were out of the Gulf Stream. While the waves were big, they were spaced so as to not threaten to roll us. The weather service and charts did forecast the front, but not the strength. The forecast for the remainder of the journey to Bermuda is for lighter winds. Why am I doing this again?

We very much look forward to Bermuda. We expect to arrive on Sunday. We have been blown way off course because of the SW winds, so our arrival is a day late. Michael flies home on Tuesday, and we will cast off for Antigua. Jay's client gave him a glass eye to ward off evil spirits and bad things. It is hanging from the overhead hatch. We will ask it kindly for a gentle journey forward.

DT for Team Welcome.

Beyond the Gulf Stream

We exited the south wall of the Gulf Stream this morning. Seas have continued to be rough, and choppy, and the waves are 7 – 10'. Last night, our SE wind went to SW, which is perfect for a crossing, although gusts into the low 40s resulted in a very sloppy ride. We are way off of our agreed waypoints, being unable to fight the current in the direction we wanted, and being unwilling to tack. Unbelievably, the Gulf Stream gave us a push of 4 knots at some points, making our speed over ground an astonishing 9.3 nm while our water speed was in the 5s and 6s. That current pushed us off course, and we are waiting for the predicted wind shift to the NW to get back on course. The other significant feature of the Gulf Stream is the water temperature. You can tell you are in the Stream when the temperature rises. We saw 77.2 degrees last night, but it is now back to 73 degrees. The seaweed of the Sargasso Sea floats around us.

At noon on 11/15/2007 our position is 36 53.811 N, 66 31.200 W. Our bearing to Bermuda is 178 degrees, but our course is approximately 160 degrees due to the wind. Winds remain in the upper 20s and the seas unsettled. Walking in the cabin requires careful thinking and three appendages always touching a solid surface. We are 290 miles from the customs dock in Bermuda.

We have had less equipment failure this time. Something is jamming the intake of the bilge pump, and it can't be diagnosed until we are settled somewhere. The current to the stern light has failed, and the wire needs to be traced. Another dock side job. Smaller issues have been handled in route – the steering wheel fell off on Michael's watch, but a wrench and a little locktite fixed that. As we were on deck yesterday, his life jacket cartridge opened and his jacket blew up around him. It was pretty funny to see him with big cheeks. The inevitable line wrapped around the radar reflector was untangled. Our use of the inverter and the autopilot seems to drain the new batteries faster than expected. That is on the "think about" list.

Food consumption remains minimal. Crackers, nuts, yogurt, hard boiled eggs, occasional fruit and homemade biscotti as snacks have become the meals. Except for the first night out when we enjoyed a hearty soup by Kate, there have been no hot or joint meals. Queasy stomachs prevent much eating. Jay has memorized the nutritional information of each product and tallies up his caloric intake – to what end I am uncertain.

I remain extremely frustrated by our internet connection, and have spent hours each day trying to get messages – in or out. My priority remains getting the weather charts, sending the blog, and then e-mail. Globalstar is supposed to have good coverage in this area, but our experience is that 90% of the satellites must be broken. There are two other providers, but none as cheap. Given an annual fee of $800, my expectations are apparently too high. I will catch up with folks in Bermuda when we have access to internet cafes.

DT and Team Welcome.

Sailing for a Cure to Seasickness

It is 10:40 a.m. on Wednesday, November 14, 2007. We are 9 miles from our first waypoint in a warm eddy. We hope to use the clockwise current to pick up some speed. Right now, there is a ½ knot current against us. Winds are light from the SE. Our bearing is 161 M. Barometric pressure is rising at 1017. The sea temperature has risen to 61 F. Latitude is 39 01.865 N. Longitude is 067 53.057W. Our boat speed is 5.5 knots with the engine running at 2500 rpms. We just used our spare jerry jugs to refill the 37 gallon fuel tank. We topped off with 28 gallons of diesel making our consumption 8/10ths of a gallon per hour. We have enough fuel on board for approximately 50 hours of steaming. We have been sailing on and off, but the winds have been variable and often light. Until this morning, the seas have been rough. We did not post a blog yesterday because of the rough seas. Michael and Jay were seriously sick, and I woke with a day long piercing headache which prevented me from looking at a screen. All of us spent as much of the day as possible sleeping. It was raining and damp and cold. Sea sickness is an immobilizing illness. Jay, who is usually so eager to tidy things on deck and in the cabin, did not even have the energy to haul in a flapping jib sheet right next to him. Sail changes seem like daunting marathons. Michael managed to eat a single cracker – that was his consumption for the whole day – excluding some beverages and sea sickness drugs. Jay and I had just a little more than that. It was hard being in the cabin without being prone. At one point I had to pull my sleeping bag tightly over my head to try to block out the noise of someone violently retching. Any focus on the noise, and I would have been gone too. Today, everyone is feeling much, much better.

Our first night out, the temperature was in the 30s. We took three hour watches, and by the end of each watch, the person coming off watch would dive into a sleeping bag with foulies on just trying to warm up. Last night it was probably in the high 40s to low 50s. A little more tolerable. Today, we are very grateful for the sun and clear skies. We have all shed our foul weather jackets, but remain in long johns and fleece and boots. Gloves and hats are off for the first time. Once we reach our waypoint, we will head a little more to the SW. Winds are predicted to increase this afternoon as we enter the stream.

When we passed by George's Bank, fishing vessels were around us. Last night as we crossed the continental shelf, we saw only one fishing boat and a large cargo ship. Both were approximately 2 miles away. It is unlikely that we will see more than one or two more boats before we hit Bermuda. Jay installed an AIS receiver which pulls signals from the VHF antenna and translates ship information onto our PC. Every vessel larger than 60 or 65 feet is required to have an AIS transmitter which tells nearby vessels its registration number, and if the captain has entered it, vessel name, length, width, draft, type and destination. Even if the information has not been entered, the PC will calculate whether you are on a collision course, the heading and speed of the nearby vessel, and the time and place of the closest point of course intersection. It is an amazing tool, and gives much more information than the radar. We have had it on constantly, and it gives us some more ease at night understanding whether we are on a collision course with nearby boats.

The fact that the AIS is working has been balanced by the failing satellite system used to get e-mails and internet access. We can occasionally get a signal, but it tends to be fleeting. Please do not worry if we do not respond to e-mails. The onboard dial up satellite modem is a challenge that requires patience – which is occasionally unavailable. We will do a better job with the blog – I hope.

Cheers from Team Welcome.

Cast Off – Monday, 11/12/2007 @0738

We are off of Race Point on the back side of Cape Cod. Our current position 42.06.60 N 70.01.601 W with a course of 162 degrees. Water temperature is 42.6 F. Barometer is steady at 1022.0. Counting the 220 miles from our first waypoint in the Gulf Stream. About a day and a half before we grab the clockwise current of a warm eddy and then into the northeast surge of that defining Atlantic current. Instead of bear markets, health care emergencies and court calendars, our focus is the rhythm of the waves, the power of the wind, and the magnetic fields of the earth. It feels elemental and wonderful and enormously frightening to have arrived at this moment.

Yesterday was a rush of groceries and last minute repairs. We dodged other shoppers at Trader Joe's and left with two full carts. At Star, we managed to limit our catch to one large cart, which included 20 gallon containers of spring water, 18 bottles of Gatorade, two large boxes of Cheese-zits, hot chocolate and other essentials. At Whole Foods, we filled two hand baskets of the finer items, including coffee, fruit, tea, refried beans, pita chips, potatoes, carrots, pepper, and onion. Jay stowed the food while Michael installed repaired screens, installed a new dome light over the galley, and built a mahogany battery box hold down for Bank 1. I installed the new isolator for the two battery banks. We made it back to Cambridge for a wonderful dinner by Kate. Kate also made us biscotti, and soup for the trip, as well as a huge batch of granola to replace the bag Liza made which was devoured by our youngest dog. Leaving suitcases open in our house is always a mistake.

Michael called George this morning as Kate made us scones. Anyone lucky enough to get one of her scones would wonder why we would leave the warmth and sweet smell of the house. But, we were too far into this to back out. We threatened to hide Michael's keys, worrying that as the most recent member of the crew, he might slip away. Happily (for Jay and DT) he is here. We spotted two spouts from nearby whales off of Province town. The daylight is slowly fading. We have not agreed on our watch schedule, only that we will run three hour shifts. We are suited up in our foul weather gear for warmth. We expect to use it for rain tomorrow. So far, we have motored. The wind has been too light to sail. We have 30 extra gallons of fuel on board this trip for a total of 67. It should give us 100 hours of motoring. But this is a sailing trip, and we look forward to the silence when we can shut the iron sail off.

Best to all from Team Welcome.

Another Adventure

Forgetting how miserable these sailing trips can be, I decided over the summer to sail the boat south. This time, the destination is Antigua, with a later transit to St. Lucia. Hurricane season prevents a departure during warmer weather, so we now sit waiting for a weather window to Bermuda. Michael and Ann had other pressing matters. Just my brother Jay and I are going to make this trip. We both feel nauseous. We intended to leave today, November 10, 2007, but our weather routing service, Dane and Jenifer Clark, predicted 50-60 knot winds over the Gulf Stream, with higher gusts, and all northerly. Having been tossed there before, we humbly decided to wait for permission to go. They predicted we would have to wait until Tuesday or Wednesday. We went by car to Truro for the weekend, needing a break from the work on the damp boat and being assured of a few extra days of warmth before cast off.

Mid day, I called Dane, and he declared that Monday is our departure window. Things have suddenly sped up. We need to provision the food and beverages, and I need to pack. Jay has been in his civvies since he arrived on Tuesday. He is already packed. Michael called and e-mailed several times. He sounded miserable. At 2 p.m. he lost his senses and declared he was coming with us for the first leg! Flights from Bermuda are available, and work seemed less pressing than the adventure. Hooray! There could not be better news. Not only is he a perfect companion on any voyage, but three people on board makes the voyage a lot safer. I couldn't get insurance for a two person voyage – that is a measure of the danger. With Michael on board, we will be able to sleep more than 3 hours at a time, and if there is an overboard situation, we are more likely to retrieve someone with two hauling him in. Our nausea has lifted. I am sure it will be back as the time to leave nears. I will check in again after we leave on Monday. Donna T

Dolphin

This is one of the many dolphins who raced us and played in our wake. This one is an Atlantic White-Sided Dolphin.

Navigation Aide

On our last day, this young wren accepted a free ride.

It was a cold and foggy day.

Fog was not our favorite weather condition.

McGrenra in Charge

Swarthy sailor with glamorous legs.

Muffins

Proof that I really did make muffins!

View at Night

During the second leg, we did not have a moon. The view from the cockpit while on watch was quite limited. We mostly tended to the sails, and kept an eye out for the lights of other boats.

Capt'n Turley

Storm Jib

This is the storm jib, really just a sliver of a sail. The orange has radar reflecting properties.

Post Bermuda

At the beginning of the second leg out of Bermuda, we had sun and cooler temperatures.

Sunset

I know, I know, landscape photos are boring, but this is an example of the boring landscape we encountered when not in fog.

We are home!

We entered Boston Harbor in the early afternoon of May 31, after traveling 1610 nautical miles from the British Virgin Islands.  We were ensconced in fog since we left the whales, and motored the final 24 hours in relatively calm seas.  The temperature hovered in the forties overnight, and we wore triple layers on our watches.  We did not escape the fog until we passed Deer Island, and found Boston to be basking in Summer weather.  Harbor seals and birds greeted our arrival, with one young wren landing on our boat and hopping into the cabin for a half hour rest.  It seemed lost as it later hovered over the water trying to decide whether to settle.  We were concerned that we were taking it from the plush environs of Cohasset to the grit of East Boston.  Do birds have accents?

In order to clear customs, we were instructed by officials in Portland, Maine to meet an officer from the Department of Homeland Security at Boston Yacht Haven.  Boston Yacht Haven is the monstrosity built by Les Marino at the end of Commercial Wharf.  After Marino’s death, it was sold to a new owner. The marina contracts with the government to permit government mandated docking and boarding to take place on its docks.  The Nicholas Cage look-alike officer was quite friendly, and asked to see our passports. He did not examine our water jugs to make certain that they contained only water, nor did he come on board to look for terrorists.  In fact, when I tried to hand him the contraband fruit and vegetables, he instructed us to eat them on board.  After we passed the rigorous examination, he said I needed to check into the office at the marina.  I asked why, since we were not staying there.  He just shrugged and said that the management probably wants us to fill out paperwork.  When I got there, the marina manager demanded a $75 docking fee for the 5 minutes of government required business.  Maybe Dick Cheney purchased the marina.  I refused to pay and we cast off.  As I write this late at night on Tuesday, I have not yet been arrested, but I suspect that my phones will soon be tapped.

We went over to Boston Harbor Shipyard and Marina operating on diesel fumes.  Slip E8 will be the home of Welcome III until the boat is pulled for the winter.  We sat on the dock, stunned at what we had done.  Thank you Michael – we did this because of your willingness to fight sea sickness and fog to make our way home.

For me, this marks both the end and the beginning.  I have always wanted to sail offshore, occasionally harboring insane thoughts about sailing full time for a few years.  This trip to and from the Virgin Islands was the reachable part of that dream.  I started planning this many years ago as I read about and admired sturdy offshore sailboats.  I had partners in these dreams with my father and brother, who were not only interested in sailboats, but encouraged me as I reached.  In April of 2004, I located the boat that met my criteria.  I spent the next year and one half determining what sort of voyage was possible, and then equipping the boat and planning with those who agreed to be part of the offshore sailing. Of equal importance were those whose onshore support allowed me to take the time away from my life and obligations.  In particular, this would not have been possible without the loving encouragement of Kate, who was hugely relieved that she did not have to be part of it.  She had to do double duty at home, including walking the dogs when it was my turn.  My law partner Paul tended to both his and my clients in my absence.  My business partner Johanna continued to attempt to extract milk from the dry cow.  

I have been able to achieve an important personal goal.  The boat trip was not around the world, but it met my desire to be a successful offshore sailor.  I learned a tremendous amount about sailing, offshore passage making, and myself.  I have achieved something personally meaningful, and can now begin planning new challenges.  I now know that if I reach, and am flexible, good things happen.

Internet Access Denied

It is Tuesday, May 30, 2006, mid afternoon. Our satellite access to the internet has been down since Sunday afternoon. Consequently, we have been unable to get weather charts or to make blog entries. We know that this will cause some folks to worry, but our inability to communicate does not mean that something is wrong with us. Something is wrong with Globalstar, the service provider.

Shortly after we left the Gulf Stream on Sunday, we were forced to motor for 30 hours in thick fog and no wind. The seas appeared as undulating glass. Apparently, this area is often foggy due to the dramatic changes in air and seas temperatures. It makes the cockpit wet even without rain. On Monday we saw sea temperatures of 65 degrees as we were leaving the stream, 55 degrees in the continental slope area, and we are now sailing in 45 degree water. The water around us is a dark green. Bottlenose dolphins were regular visitors in the fog, jumping about and racing the boat. They also visited last night, when we were alerted to their presence by splashes. When we looked into the dark water, we could see them underwater because their powerful tails caused the phosphorescent plankton to shine in their wake. Night also brought unidentified white birds off our stern. Portuguese Man of Wars continue to populate our route. Shearwaters are common, and we are beginning to see a few gulls.

On Monday night, we were sailing above the slope of the continental shelf, in the fog. The radar picked up numerous fishing boats. The radar has a guard zone, set to go off when an object is within four miles of the boat. It went off constantly. One time, the fog lifted briefly and we could make out a few lights on what must have been a factory fishing boat. It was barely moving, and did not have the powerful engine noise of the draggers and trawlers. All of the boat traffic made staying awake on watch relatively easy.

While we are incredibly frustrated with all of the motoring, today has been the most spectacular day yet. This morning was spent identifying the dozens of whales around us. It was as though we were part of their pods. This area southeast of Nantucket is a breeding ground for the Northern Right Whale. It is estimated that there are between 300 and 350 individuals of this species left in the world, and they are the most endangered of all whales. We saw dozens of them. They are distinctive because they skim the surface with their mouths open to feed, are without dorsal fins, have white crust in front of their blow holes, and have distinctive flukes. We would hear the sound of air being blown into a long necked bottle, spin about, and witness geysers exploding from the sea. The whales would raise their heads and we would watch them skim the surface, up and down, for a very long time. Occasionally, we would witness the flukes in the air as the mammals dove into the deep. We also saw numerous Humpback Whales, easily distinguished from the Right Whale by the shape of its fluke and the presence of a dorsal fin. Nothing seems important after spending the morning in the presence of these creatures.

Atlantic White-Sided Dolphins have escorted us in the last hour. They are distinctive with a mustard colored flank patch. I have tried to get photographs of the magnificent beings who have made this journey so wonderous. However, consumer digital cameras have lag times between pressing the shoot button and the lens actually opening and closing. I have a lot of photos of the turbulent water succeeding these shows.

Our motor use has caused great consternation regarding fuel consumption and whether we will have enough to get home by Wednesday. We carry 37 gallons of diesel fuel. We added an additional 20 gallons in the jugs. Yesterday, we topped off the tank using all fuel left in the jugs, for a total of 57 gallons available. When we filled our tanks in Bermuda, the engine hours were 1117. Going to Bermuda, we used three quarters of a gallon an hour. I know that at a low RPM, it is possible to achieve one-half gallon per hour, but typically the boat gets two-thirds of a gallon per hour. Our engine hours are now 1178. We have approximately 100 miles to go. At 2000 RPMs, we can reach 5 knots, if the current is not against us. There is very little wind, and very little in the long range forecasts we received prior to losing internet capacity. It seems like a high pressure system is stuck over the region, making for pleasant weather, but poor sailing conditions. We should be fine, but it does make a captain anxious.

The calm water has helped us use our dwindling supplies. All of our fresh vegetables are gone. Michael made a pasta dinner last night. Donna has made muffins using our oats, dried fruit, eggs and long life milk. We are feeling well fed. Chores are also easier in calm water. We folded the storm jib, raised the staysail, whipped lines, and polished steel. I have read all of the books on board, the last one being Michael’s “March”, an interesting historical novel about the Civil War couched as a sequel to Little Women

Our coordinates are 41 25.674N 69 13.279W. We have a NE wind around 8 knots. The air temperature is mid 60s. We are bundled up, and sleeping is much easier when you are forced to burrow into your sleeping bag for warmth. We have been shutting off the engine as the wind increases, but then the wind dies and we are forced to motor again. Our rule regarding engine use is that when the sails cannot reach a speed of 3 knots, we motor. The fog finally dissipated this morning, and it is sunny with good visibility. We continue to see fishing boats, and expect that this evening we will see more boat as we enter shipping channels. Our anticipated arrival has dropped back from Tuesday night to Wednesday mid day.

Team Welcome

Are there degrees of idiocy?

Are there degrees of hell? Headed south last year, our Gulf Stream crossing was one for the history books. The Gulf Stream is a strong offshore current which runs up the east coast of the United States. It can be 4 knots in places. Cold and warm eddies spin off, the cold ones turning counterclockwise and the warm ones rotating clockwise. Because the current carries warm water, and prevailing winds are often contrary to the current, it is an area known for storms, strong winds and high waves. Racers try to plot the currents to secure an advantage in the annual Bermuda Race. We were not racers, but mere amateurs.

In November, our weather routing service gave us no indication that we were going to encounter storm conditions over the rhumbline. We sought out a southward meander to pick up speed from the current. For 36 hours, three of the four crew members were fighting seasickness as the boat fought winds which were sustained in the 50’s and waves 20 feet high. We lost our autopilot, a laptop was smashed, our chartplotter blew, and one crew smashed her head open in the cabin. It was extremely dangerous. By the time we reached Bermuda, we were very grateful to be alive, and each one of us contemplated abandoning the journey.

Michael and I swore that we would not make the same mistake again. We swore that we would cross the Gulf Stream at its narrowest, despite a growing width on our rhumbline. Michael researched and found a new weather routing service which specialized in the Gulf Stream. We were given waypoints to help us take advantage of favorable currents. We gulped when we saw that we would be sailing in the widest part, for 120 miles, but decided that we would trust the experts. The weather expert of the service warned us that there was a gale brewing, and indeed, we picked it up on the weather charts. We calculated that we would encounter the tail end of it, and with expected waves of 15 feet and winds in the 30s, we thought we could do it. It must be like when awomen choose to have second children, forgetting the pain of childbirth. So this time, fully informed, we set forth.

Winds started to whip up mid day yesterday. We were down to a double reefed main. With the sun still shining, but seas growing and winds hitting the 40s, we decided to change sails. We unfurled and then dropped the staysail. I crawled forward with the storm jib. The new sheets were secured to the clew after being removed from the staysail. The shackles on the furling gear are small and difficult to secure in heavy seas, so it took a while working on a wet deck to secure the tack and head of the storm jib. Must remember to add quick snap shackles to the storm jib. Michael hauled it up while I fed the luff into the furling foil. We then headed upwind to douse the main. We lost the halyard in the heavy winds and waves, and eventually pulled it to the top of the mast where it cannot harm anything. The main came down, but a tear appeared in the leech, probably from whipping against the shrouds. We have yet to examine whether the main will be useable for the remainder of the journey. Reaching under storm jib alone, we were going 5 knots. The new wind vane handled the heavy seas and the small forward sail well.

The wind peaked last night at 51 knots. It was just for a moment. The strongest sustained winds were in the low 40s. The wind was coming from the SW, and our course was NNW, so the direction was ideal. The seas were huge, we estimated the largest to be 20 feet. Although we were mostly taking them off our port stern quarter, they were irregular, and walls of water smashed into the boat and washed into the cockpit. Occasional spray entered the cabin. There was rain and lightning as we encountered the cold front. Around midnight, we decided that it would be safer to stay in the cabin, and for the person on watch to monitor the radar, wind guage and chartplotter, all of which can be accessed inside. We closed ourselves in. The cabin became stuffy, and Michael was hit with another bout of sea sickness, despite employing a pharmacy of remedies.

Storms do end, and this one began to die out around dawn. Winds are now light. We were forced to start the engine to keep a reasonable speed. It is overcast, and we do not think that we are through the front because it should bring northerly winds. Our weather routing people, who have been 100% accurate to date, forecast rough seas but diminished winds for today. We expect to be out of the Gulf Stream around 5 p.m.

What did George Bush say about “fooled you once?”

Team Welcome
Reporting from 37 31.015N 67 18.824W

The names of days have no meaning

Sitting at the navigation station as I write this, I watch the B and G Network Data wind indicator dip to 29 knots and then jump up to 41 knots. It is mostly reading in the mid-thirties, which makes this official gale weather. Seas are a rocking 9 – 12 feet. It appears that we are in the middle of a snow capped mountain range. A giant wave just walloped our stern, and Michael took an unexpected dousing in the cockpit. Everything on the navigation station that was not tied down went into the galley, including me. Although we are a little short of our next waypoint, we are adjusting our course for the following one in the middle of the stream so that we will take the waves at a more favorable angle. We have inserted one of the companionway boards to keep the seas out of the cabin.

The SW winds are supposed to stay with us until Sunday morning, at least another twelve hours. The cold front should be passing at around the time the winds turn north. Just short of the cold front, we expect squalls. Our interest in eating is nonexistent and we are focused on drinking a sufficient amount to avoid dehydration. Last night was cold, but today has been warm. We are double reefed, and moving the reefing line to the second position on the luff of the sail required a lot of planning and quite an amount of exertion. The monitor wind vane seems quite capable of taking these sloppy seas and big gusts. A very fine addition to the crew.

Current position is 36 10.235N 66 45.047W.

Welcome III

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Saturday's Report

The NE winds eventually died down last night and the seas calmed. We powered the engine at around 2 a.m. and held our course of 340 degrees to the first waypoint. Winds turned SW and picked up around noontime, so now all sails are flying. It was cold last night, and we were fully geared in long johns. sweaters, boots, winter socks and foul weather suits. Today the temperature has risen to the high 70s, making being on the deck quite pleasant.

The waypoints have been set up by our weather routing service to take advantage of the eddies and currents of the Gulf Stream. You can see a current image of the Gulf Stream at http://www.weatherimages.org/data/imag143.html . Our location right now is 33 48.415 N 65 46.220 W, with 28.7 miles to our first waypoint. Winds are out of the SW 10-15. Our speed is an unbleievalbe 6.5 - 7 knots. We should be in our first cold eddie.

Our intended course follows. The waypoints are in degrees and tenths, NOT degrees and minutes: Bermuda to 34.2N 66.1W to 36.2N 66.75W to 37.1N 67.3W to 38.2N 67.6W to 40.2N 68.0W to 42.2N 69.9W to Boston. To exchange from tenths to minutes, just multiply the digit(s) after the decimal by 6 for both the latitude and the longitude. For example, 25.3N 79.8W would be 25 degrees 18 minutes North 79 degrees 48 minutes West.

We have been downloading applicable weather charts as often as new ones are available. We were warned to expect a gale tomorrow night in our location, with seas running 9 - 15', higher in squalls. Sunday, the wind is to veer NE, which means that it will be against the current, with ensuing choppiness. We cannot find a gale on today's 24 hour or 48 hour weather charts, so we are hopefull that things will not be as bad as predicted. Much of our anxiety about leaving Bermuda had to do with the pending gale, but being out here on a beutiful sailing days makes bad things seem impossible.

Today has been a day of small chores, food and rest, to prepare for tomorrow's weather. Michael replensihed the fuel tank with the contents of one of the powder blue jerry jugs. He also made a pretty mean rice and bean dish for lunch. We both took short showers, anticipating that the weather may be too rough to take another one for a few days.

Nature continues to astound us. We have been plowing through fields of Portuguese Man-of-Wars all day. Everywhere you look you can see their translucent blue bodies floating nearby. We also had a visit from a sole Tropicbird. No dancing whales or jumping dolphins, but being out here is entertainment enough.

Welcome III

Goodbye Bermuda

Greetings from Saint George Harbour, Bermuda. Foul weather in the Gulf Stream continues to delay our passage. If we do not leave by Friday, we will abandon the boat for a few weeks so that Captain Turley can make it to her father’s wedding. Given that Joe Turley is responsible for this ridiculous passion called sailing, I would be very sorry to miss this happy event.

We docked at Captain Smokes Marina with a relatively short list of repairs to complete. Chandler Michael repaired the failed snaps on the dodger. The latrine was well scrubbed. I spent half the day in the engine room trying to limit leakage from the rudder post. It seems like the gasket may be rotted, so it is unclear if the tightening will result in less leakage once we are underway. The boat carries five Group 31 batteries – two banks of two house batteries and then a single battery devoted to starting the engine. All were surprisingly low on fluid, so each was topped off. While filling bank two, we realized that the bar securing the batteries in place had come undone, so another hour was spent on my back in the bilge blindly reaching towards the bottom of the post to secure the washer and nut. The boat got a good washing, and with the luxury of free fresh water, the water tanks were filled. Our laundry was tended to by the local laundress. The two “junk drawers” were sorted, with like spare parts grouped in plastic zip lock bags. We explored the possibility that the accumulator tank and water pressure pump might have a leak, but discarded the theory after not finding any problem. We downloaded weather charts and responded to e-mail at the internet café. A New York Times was purchased and we caught up on all the news fit to print. We took well needed showers and slept hard.

Being warned against a Tuesday departure by our weather routing service, we spent Tuesday working on additional chores. We did secure new weather charts at the Yacht Reporting Center. Our marina of six became seven as Bernie squeezed another boat against the cement dock. Docking here always draws a crowd because there are so many ways to do it badly. We all hope that the next boat maneuvers make that crew look worse than we looked upon our arrival. Poor Bernie had to crawl on his hands and knees across the plank to untangle the outer underwater pennants holding the boats away from the cement. He explained to me that he had quadruple bypass surgery and was no longer as steady at plank walking. We again conferred with our weather routing folks who advised against leaving Wednesday because of building fronts in the Gulf Stream. Bored and frustrated, we rented motor scooters from some drunken Rastafarians who offered the cheapest rentals in Saint George. Since it was a national holiday, Bermuda Day, things were busy on the road. Among the festivities, there were local dinghy races, a parade in Hamilton, and a marathon. We took the scooters to the far west side of Bermuda, and visited a number of beaches along the way. The sailmaker told us that Horseshoe Bay was not to be missed. We surmised that the corpulent white bodies and the hot dog stand must be what he was talking about. We backtracked to Warwick Long Bay in the South Shore Park and found a very quiet beach. The sand really did have pink tones to it, and was very fine. The water temperature was only around 70, so entering the water was similar to a Cape Cod experience. The west end has an old fort which has been turned into shops and art galleries. If you ever want to buy something with the word Bermuda on it, this is the place to go. There are thousands of options. We thought about going into the Maritime Museum, but since the historical display is combined with “Dolphin Quest” we decided not to support it. We did get some free samples at the Rum Cake Factory, which were incredibly sweet and delicious. We drove over Somerset Bridge, reputed to be the smallest draw bridge in the world, wide enough to let through only the mast of a sailboat. We encountered light rain and cold temperatures on the scooter ride back to the boat. Bermuda is a series of islands with lush landscapes, beautiful flowers, and not an inch of land unused or ungroomed. It survives on tourism. While waiting in Saint George, three different cruise ships docked. They were mammoth. Michael went to town and was surrounded by Southie accents. One of the ships picked up its passengers in Boston. There was a circus tent set up outside of the cruise ship pavilion and a large tiger and bear were being kept as part of the entertainment.

Arriving back at the marina, two of the crewed boats had left unexpectedly, hoping to beat some brewing weather in the Gulf Stream. Michael’s stack of weather charts grows. We had dinner on the boat and discussed weather. Michael talked to the weather routing people and scheduled another call for early Thursday morning.

Thursday: I write from 32 36.855N 64 27.756W, trying to finish this report. Winds are NW 20-25 knots with gusts up to 30. We are close hauled with a single reef in the main and the staysail up. Our bearing to our next waypoint is 340 degrees magnetic, but because of the wind direction, we will have to tack. Our current heading is 45 degrees. Our weather routing folks told us that a Saturday departure would be best, given an expected NE wind in the Gulf Stream on Sunday after the passage of a cold front. If we left Saturday, we would miss the cold front but also the wedding. We explored flying home and leaving the boat without crew, but we learned that you need government permission to leave the boat. We would have to bring our request to some official in Hamilton and wait for a response. There was no guarantee that she would say yes. By leaving today, we hope that we will be on the far side of the Gulf Stream when the cold front passes. We do expect SW winds 25-30 in the first part of the stream, but there could be gusts to 40 in squalls and thunderstorms. Given that the seas will be with us, it should not be horrible until the wind switches to NE. We are hoping for a swift passage. We are relieved to be out of Bermuda, but anxious about what is in front of us.

The Plank at Captain Smokes Marina

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Wating for a weather window, we do the tourist thing

The approach to Bermuda on Sunday, May 21

Weather Charts being reviewed

Lounging on the bow

More details about the Wind Vane

Monitor wind vane

The small paddle for the wind vane is set in this photo. It is for heavier air and is about 40% smaller than the large one.

Leaving Tortola

A really bad video of dolphins off the bow

 

Capt Smokes smokes

We are docked at Captain Smokes Marina, Saint George, Bermuda. We arrived in Saint George Harbour at around 1 a.m. Seas near Bermuda were heavy, even on the lee shore, and winds were in the low 20s. On our approach, we checked in with Danny, who sits on a high hill with radar and has a 360 degree view of the seas around this country. He looked us up and determined that we had visited before, and wanted to know if any of the rescue or communication equipment had changed since our last visit. It was a relief not to be interrogated this time, and to not have our arrival micro managed. Rather casually, Danny instructed us to anchor in the quarantine area of Powder Hole (to the port of Hen Island and right after Three Sisters), and proceed to Customs in the morning. After a stressful entry through the Town Cut, we located the anchorage, circled a few times to find the perfect spot, and set the anchor in 30 feet of water. We put out 150 feet of anchor rode. The holding ground is a clay like mud, so a single pull back seemed to set the anchor securely. Like every other perfect spot in which we have ever anchored, as the anchor rode stretches, the spot become less than perfect as we near our neighbors. Anchor light glowing and too tired for words, we opened a terrible bottle of Australian white wine (Jacobs Creek) and congratulated ourselves on a safe voyage. Stupid with exhaustion, we turned off the cabin lights at 3:30.

Michael had us up at the crack of midmorning, and we motored over to Ordinance Island to clear Customs. The dock is very short and accommodates two boats. The winds were howling at 25 knots, and with the boat revved at 1500 RPMs we stood still facing into the SW wind. We had to wait about 45 minutes for an opening. Meanwhile, a fellow with a red shirt and shorts kept motioning to us. Whenever we could hear him, he was screaming at Michael to tell his wife something and motioned to us to move down the dock. We finally determined that he was deranged, ignored his irritating screams, and made a difficult docking maneuver to declare ourselves to the authorities.

Our old friend Bernie met us at Customs, clearly recognizing the boat but asking several times for our names. He told us he had a space available at the marina. Bernie is a wonderful man, but he has serious deficiencies as a dock hand. Paul, the limping sail maker with the parrot, had to yell at him to many times to tie our docking lines tighter.

We entered the office, and the Immigration Officer welcomed us to the Bahamas. We ate up his humor, informing him that Donna was the Captain and Michael was her whipping boy – not that far from the truth. He congratulated Michael on his job status and asked if the interview was difficult and whether there was a lot of competition for the position.

Based on our last visit, we thought that fueling up before we settled in would be a good idea. So, once again we circled the fuel station, waiting for those ahead in the queue. It was an hour before we got to the dock. I know fuel prices have increased, but this boat only takes 37 gallons total, and 129 liters later, I was poorer by $188.

On to Captain Smokes. Because of the wind vane now permanently affixed to the stern, we asked Bernie whether the marina could accommodate us. Boats generally back into the marina and have a plank attached to the stern to use to access land. Bernie said it would be no problem; he would just position the plank over the bow. By the time we made it to the marina, Bernie was long gone to meet his wife for lunch. Tom, the captain of Ticonderoga, met us and helped us thread this boat into the eye of a needle. We squeezed bow forward between to larger sailboats, and with the folks on shore fending off our bow, finally managed to secure two bow lines and one stern line, and settle in for the coming blow.

Captain Smokes was our home for five days on the trip south. Unfortunately, about a month ago, someone tossed a cigarette into the dumpster and the building burned. The shower still works though, and the six vessel marina is full. We secured the plank to the bow, and crawled on our hands and knees to land.

The barometer is now at 1013.9, promising some less fair weather tomorrow. Today’s weather was surprisingly sunny, and we think that the temp was in the high 70’s. The wind made it seem lower. Our coordinates are 32 22.323N 64 40.293W.

Tomorrow will be filled with chores, in preparation for a Wednesday departure. Our exhaustion is deep, but we agree that it is not the type that drains you. There is something about the exhaustion of a trip like this that is replenishing. I hope by Wednesday, my body will agree with my determination, and we will be ready in all ways to set sail to Boston.

Donna & Michael

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Dancing Whale

We are 50 nm south of Bermuda, with winds SW 15-20 knots. Seas are 5-7 feet. Our average speed now is around 6.5, but for the trip it has been 5.9 kph. It is a cloudless day and the sailing is superb. All sails are flying and the wind vane makes us happy. Michael is much better at tweaking it than me, and it forces us to pay attention to the minutia of accurate sail set. We have the larger wind vane paddle up, and the boat is very well balanced. Our position is 31 33.372N 64 44.010W. Our bearing is 21 degrees. The temperature is 80 F. The barometer reads 1016, haven fallen from 1018 over the last two hours. This does not bode well for the weather tomorrow, and indeed, a review of the Bermuda weather charts indicates rain with increasing wind and waves. We will be sitting in Saint George Harbour by then, damply awaiting the opening of the Yacht Reporting Center. We expect to anchor in the harbor sometime around 1 a.m.

We are definitely getting used to life at sea. We both spent time at the spa yesterday, otherwise known as the head, taking luxurious showers with the hand held sink spigot. We ran our first 40 gallon water tank dry after six days at sea, and switched to the second tank. We drink bottle water, and have been going through 2 gallons each day. While our sleeping time is limited, our sleep seems deeper, and we feel fine with the new sleeping patterns. Food consumption has improved. Last night we stuffed ourselves silly with salt and a little popcorn on the side. The moon did not rise until 2:07 a.m. and appeared as a red crescent. Without clouds, the stars were lighting the way. We checked the radar for traffic, and with no other boat visible for 24 miles, we cut our running lights. As our eyes adjusted, infinity opened before us. The rigging makes strange noises as the wind passes through it. Two nights ago, it seemed to reverberate with the Bee Gees. Last night it was Abba. The steering seemed to be crying out a deep slow Aloha. If only our hallucinations were a little more sophisticated.

This morning, Michael spotted a breaching whale. Its whole body leapt straight out of the water. Michael could see the white stripes on its underside. I managed to see the splash as it fell back into the water. There was definitely a pod ahead of us. We spotted heads and spouting spray of the whales as they took breaths. When we got too near for comfort, we altered course. It was only a minute or two that they were in our sight, but it was the sort of event that will stay in our memories forever. The best guess based on the field guide is that the breaching whale was a Bryde’s Whale.

The bilge pump has been going on every few minutes. After checking that it was not back flow from the bilge out take hose, I was content to let it work. It does not take much water in the bilge to set it off, so I adopted the Alfred E. Newman approach of Why Worry. Michael prodded me out of my stupor today, and we went down into the engine compartment for further exploration. There is a small but consistent leak between the rudder post sleeve and the rudder post. We tightened the bolts and screws that we could reach, but could not slow the leak. I will crawl further back into the compartment after we reach Bermuda and can safely remove the engine battery box to make room for me. If I cannot fix the leak, I suspect I will live with it until haul out this Fall. Ka-ching.

We will call our weather routing service tomorrow to try to determine if a fair weather window will open for our cross through the Bermuda Triangle and over the Gulf Stream. We would like to leave Wednesday. But are prepared to leave Tuesday or later in the week, if necessary. I have an absolute deadline to be back in New England by June 1. My Dad is getting married, and I want to be there. The way the Gulf Stream looks now, we may have to shoot across is below New Jersey and then sail up the coast. This will mean not only a longer trip, but more shipping traffic. Those risks will be worth avoiding the potential turbulence of the Gulf Stream.

Cheers.

Sailing to Bermuda

173 nautical miles until we reach Saint George Island in Bermuda. Our current position is 29 29.598N 065 02.003W. Barometer is 1017, and the air temperature is 78.4 degrees. Water temperature has increased from 73 degrees this morning to 77 degrees as I write this at 4 p.m. The depth is 15,550 feet. Our average speed is around 5 knots. If we maintain the average, we estimate our arrival to be approximately 6 a.m. on Monday. Yesterday, the rain started mid afternoon, and was heavy in the late afternoon. It sprinkled on and off for the remainder of the night. The cockpit was very wet. Wind was sporadic and we sailed some and motored some. The wind was a moderate NW breeze this morning, which allowed us to have all sails up, close hauled. We engaged the wind vane, turned off the autopilot, and had a very peaceful morning. Unfortunately, the predicted SW wind has failed to appear, and despite the rolling swells, the sea is very calm. The iron sail is being used at the moment in this area of no wind. The overcast sky of the last two days is in the distance, and the sun is shining on us. Against the shadow of the boat you can see the sun rays plunge into the water and suspend the navy blue of the depth. The white foam created by the bow of the boat starkly contrasts with the beautiful aqua blue of the surface water. Sitting on the side of the boat with my legs dangling down, I wonder if a shark could jump up and drag me in, or eat my foot. I imagine trying to keep it up in the air to prevent all my blood from rushing out. I move down and sit with my legs on either side of a stanchion. Not feeling any better, I bring my legs back on deck.

In addition to two white tailed tropicbirds arguing above us, we added a manx shearwater and a greater shearwater to our offshore bird list. We have not seen another boat since the freighter reported a few days ago. Not even on the radar screen which has a radius of 24 nautical miles.

The radar has been giving us some trouble with a sporadic bearing alarm which could or could not mean that the dome has ceased to turn, according to the manual. Given the readings on the screen, we know that the dome is working. Consequently, we turned it on and then off again all night to limit the buzzing from bothering the person trying to sleep. Mysteriously, it seemed to fix itself this morning.

While food consumption is still limited, Michael made Ann’s famous Tunisian vegetable stew mid afternoon. The stew has cabbage, onions, tomatoes, chick peas, peppers, feta cheese, slivered almonds and many spices. It was our best meal so far, and well surpassed the last dinner I made of scrambled eggs. We have not eaten this well or this much since leaving home.

We have both done more reading on this leg than on the whole trip south last November. Yesterday I finished Nick Arvin’s Articles of War using a headlamp during my midnight to 3 a.m. watch. The book is a brilliant novel about a draftee’s fears in WWII. I am glad to be away from the news of Bushy’s War on Terror and his assaults in far away lands. These wars from men who were too important, rich or busy to serve in during the last imperial war on Vietnam.I am now reading Nicole Krauss’s The History of Love. It too is a compelling book. It is the last of the books I packed and I worry that I will be back to sailing catalogues and weather books on the second leg of the trip.

Having the boat in Tortola for the winter afforded us several winter vacations. Kate, Michael and I sailed in the BVIs in January. My brother and Liza had the boat for two weeks in February. Kate and I returned with two friends for another week in March. My goal was to have the boat used as much as possible by the south bound crew over the winter. Unfortunately, work and obligations prevented Ann and Rachel from taking advantage of the watertop condo. We wish Ann and Jay joined us for this trip North. But for their initial work and generosity in purchasing safety equipment last Fall, we would not be on this trip. Ann’s Timex watch sits on the binnacle and is used for telling the time at night. Jay had the sails repaired over the winter, and as always after he is on the boat, the list of maintenance items was greatly reduced by the end of vacation on the boat. They both sent medical supplies and good wishes for the trip North, and certainly are here in spirit. Occasionally, as Michael and I loll about in what now feels to be a spacious boat, we are grateful that their spirits don’t take up as much physical space.

In addition to the newly varnished woodwork and wind vane installation performed by the yard, I installed a new CPU for the autopilot. Also purchased was a barely used roll up inflatable dinghy for a good price. Who cares if it was missing a pump, oar and seat? Our dinghy at home has a rigid bottom and we lacked the space to bring it South. Having a dinghy is the only way to get to land while sailing in the Caribbean. Dock space is almost never available and extremely limited. I also picked up a new two stoke 5 hp Mercury Mariner outboard engine. It gave us some trouble at first, due to a piece of pink factory foam being stuck in the carburetor. Unfortunately, Michael, Kate and I learned about it as we were trying to get back to the boat on a windy day after snorkeling off Norman Island. We were rescued by a charter skipper and towed back to our mooring. When we returned the outboard to the shop, the culprit was easily found and removed. Michael watched the diagnosis and repair carefully in case it happens again.

With the boat engine running, we can cool the refrigerator. The refrigerator is really more of an ice box since its power consumption makes running it off of the batteries impractical. We had twenty pounds of ice in it to keep things cool when we left, but that fully melted two days ago. Consequently, we eat the things needing refrigeration first on a trip like this. We did not purchase much which needed refrigeration, but enough so that we continue to try to cool it down when we run the engine. It then warms in the ice box without ice until the engine is run again. We certain that this is healthy, despite our suspicions.

Team Welcome

Welcome

Dolphins and Storms and Birds, Oh My!

I can’t start with the usual numbers without first writing about our entertainment this morning. At around 10 a.m., we spotted dolphins off the bow. We went forward and were treated to the antics of several dozen Clymene Dolphins as they dove and jumped and charged and dodged the boat and each other. Four or five would surface together off on one side, others would be taking spiral rolling leaps ahead, and more would be racing the boat and coming back for more after triumphant wins on the other side of the boat. The only way to describe their movement is as play. They seemed to put on a show just for us, and almost as quickly as they appeared, an hour later they turned to port in unison, and disappeared. It was breathtaking.

Current location is 27 21.814N 065 21.288W. We are 298 nm south of Saint George, Bermuda. Wind is SE around 20 knots. We are headed 19 degrees, and are on a run, with only the mainsail flying. We have hit a favorable current and our speed is above 7 knots although our speed through the water is much less. Winds are predicted to ease over the next two days, although at this pace, we will be in Bermuda Sunday night. The more likely arrival will be Monday morning. The barometer is holding steady at 1016, which is somewhat surprising, given an overcast day, and rain. We can see heavier rain coming from the West, and the wind is predicted to shift to SW. Air temp is a comfortable 79.4 degrees. We are learning that a stationary front means that the weather repeats itself and really is stationary.

Last night was our first encounter with a storm. The wind swung wildly from southwest to northeast to southeast, and we saw gusts as high as 27 and lows that bottomed out at 3 knots. Not a major storm, but we did have strong lightning and thunder. For the first time, we put on our foulies, and I even put on long johns under to keep the cold and dampness at bay. We naturally fell into two hour watches, in part because both crew were needed on deck several times to make decisions about how to handle the weather. Because of the fluky winds, we hauled in the main, kept the jibs under wrap, and ran the engine for a few hours. Michael shut it off at around 5 a.m. One could actually see the storms approach, hover and then make an eastward exit on the radar screen. At the 4 a.m. shift change, I was so tired, that I was down in the cabin, out of the rain gear, and in my sleeping bag before Michael was even fully dressed to take over. I woke up 3.5 hours later, because Michael very kindly let me sleep long after it was my turn on watch. He has declared that we are definitely not in Tortola anymore, and it has a North Atlantic feel on deck.

Other wildlife includes regular visits from a sole white tropicbird with its magnificent long white tail. I have also spotted a skua several times. Both of these birds travel alone and can go great distances at sea. Night time brings sparkling phosphorescents in our wake.

We have settled into reading, both on and off watch. Besides reading old New Yorkers, I just finished Ken Foster’s, The Dogs Who Found Me, recommended by a fellow dog nut. We work with a rescue group called All Dog Rescue. The book very aptly describes a few of our members, who just seem to find dogs in need, locate owners, or in lieu of owners, help these dogs find better homes. I only wish that my desire to sail could incorporate my love of dogs. Alas, my four legged friends have all learned to hate the boat. Probably the combination of a lack of street garbage, peeing opportunities and loud noises makes home life look sweet to them. I do know of some long term voyagers who have cats, but real live aboard boat dogs are few and far between.

It has been suggested that we rent hotel rooms in Bermuda to get needed rest. I wonder why anyone would rent a room on land when the best possible waterfront accommodations are here on Welcome III.

Donna

Heading North

Old salts or Salty olds here. We write from 025 03.474N 065 21.272W. 2 pm. Winds are from the south around 15 knots. Our heading is 11 degrees to our next waypoint, and our average speed is 4.9. The seas have subsided to 3-5, but are following us, so we rock from side to side and up and down. We have traveled 405 nm from Tortola. The barometer reads 1015.1, and it is a very humid 82.5 degrees. There is cloud cover, but somehow all those UV rays continue to sear us.

It is difficult to sail in these conditions because the mainsail has to be all the way out and as the boat rocks, we are subjected to occasional but violent jibes. We have set the staysail out on the whisker pole in an attempt to catch as much wind as possible, but it fills only sporadically. The clue of the big jib is too high for us to set it on the whisker pole, and it might only make more noise. Overnight, we furled both the staysail and the jib because with the following seas, the racket of the shaking rig and blocks were too much. While we love the knew sheets on both jibs, they remain stiff and the bowlines (properly tied) on the windward side have opened on the clues three times. We have noticed it when furling the sails in. Tying another bowline into the clue of the jib involved dropping it onto deck. Yesterday’s late afternoon activity was dropping the sail, pulling it out of the water where it was not supposed to be, fixing the sheet, and raising it again. Not easy on a rocking boat.

In this heading, we are back to the autopilot. We are not yet adept with the wind vane to use it on a run, despite reassurances from the instruction manual that it is possible, albeit difficult. There was no sea traffic to be seen last night, but this morning we noticed a freighter about four miles off our bow after it had crossed our path.

Four flying fish carcasses adorned the deck this morning, stiff and bloody. It always makes me sad.

For the first morning since getting underway, we were able to eat. I prepared an elaborate meal of toast and coffee. It is amazing how long bread with preservatives will keep, and how delicious it seems in these conditions. Michael is much perkier. Clark Kent became Superman, but that is nothing compared to what happens to Michael when he feels better after a bout of sickness. Mr. Clean, tanned and muscled appears, and cleans the head. It took four days, but finally metamorphosis occurred.

I had a good solid three hours of deep sleep last night and feel much better. Last night and today are the sort of days that drive this adventure. Nothing you can do or have to do other than keeping the sails set and the boat moving forward.

Donna

Headlines for Tuesday, May 16, 2006

Greetings from 020 16.785 N 064 48.698W. Average speed has been 6 knots. Wind is ENE 12-17. Seas are 5-7. Temp in the air is a very humid 85.4F. Water temp is 80.5F. We are 115 nm from our starting point in Tortola. It is Tuesday at 3:30 in the afternoon.

Michael and I arrived in Tortola Saturday night at 7:30 pm. The plane was delayed due to mechanical problems. As we taxied onto the runway, only one of the engines was spinning its propeller, and we worried that the mechanical problems were not fixed. We did take off with both engines running.

Sunday and Monday were filled with preparation chores. We installed a new red bulb overhead light above the navigation station. This is to enable us to move about in the cabin without destroying the night vision of the person on watch. Michael squished himself into the head and changed the sump pump switch, which had corroded into inoperable condition. Donna mounted the port lee cloth using five D-rings permanently affixed to the settee, each aligned with the grommets on the edge of the lee cloth. We changed the sheets to the staysail and jib, new lines courtesy of Jay. Jacklines were installed. One hooks a tether on a jackline. It permits you to go forward on deck underway, keeping you attached to the boat. We filled the propane tank, since we were running on the same fill since last November. The dinghy and engine were stowed. The canvas dodger was refitted over the frame. Michael purchased and then installed the missing inset screws in the dodger frame giving it a taut look. We checked lifelines, engine fluids, refueled with diesel, topped the water tanks off, installed an emergency overboard ladder and a latch for the companion way doors in the event we go over or turn upside down. The sweat literally dripped off of us, and the bay housing the marina was too filthy to swim in. We took multiple showers, and drank gallons of water and gatoraid.

We developed a long list of supplies to get, including a funnel, fuses, a padeye, and small block. We borrowed the marina’s truck to visit the marine supply stores. We spent hours combing Tortola trying to find two additional five gallon diesel fuel tanks so that we could refuel at sea if the wind disappeared for more than three days. We learned that some fellow on his way to Miami had purchased every yellow tank on the island, including used ones. Michael saw them all on the dock at Marina Cay waiting to be loaded. We had to settle for the light blue water tanks of the same size. Gas, diesel, and water are stored in different colored tanks to avoid mistakes, and apparently there is a Coast Guard regulation requiring this. We decided to take the chance. Michael spent much time lashing all four tanks to the port railing.

Food shopping was interesting. First, it was too hot to think about food. The grocery store was thankfully air conditioned. We pushed the cart up and down each aisle developing menus as we went. Michael had already purchased enough dried fruit, nuts and Zone Bars at home to see us through the summer. But, a sailor cannot live on dried apricots alone, so we picked up 16 gallons of water, two enormous containers of gatoraid, several types of cheese, a can of refried beans, two different types of rice, lots of crackers, long life milk, soy sauce, butter, bread, two types of peanut butter, two containers of strawberry jam, mangoes, bananas, a cantaloupe, apples, oranges, some vegetables, and all of the imagined ingredients that one would need to make muffins. Not that we had a recipe. We debated back and forth about baking powder or baking soda. Baking soda won out. It has other uses if muffins do not appear. Our experience on the last trip was that we were not often hungry, so this hodgepodge of items in our shopping cart seemed like it would keep us going.

There was no breeze either night spent at the marina. We slept on deck to try to keep cool, but were only kept clammy. We were serenaded by barking dogs, roosters and mosquitoes. When the mosquitoes took a biting break, the no-seeums acted as able substitutes. Neither one of us slept. Given how exhausting the trip will be with only two aboard, we were not happy sailors.

We did pick up one crew member, a Monitor wind vane. Walter and Vern had done the drilling and installed the frame. Michael and Donna thought through the lines going to the wheel, and finished the installation. The wind vane is designed to take over the steering in all but the lightest of air. Since it is mechanical and not run by electricity, it will work even if an autopilot or skipper is dead. We have spent most of the day tweaking the sails and wind vane to learn how it works and how to set it. The most critical aspect is to have properly trimmed sails. If the boat has a windward helm, you sheet off. If it is a leeward helm, you sheet in. The vane is pointed into the wind and when you go off course, it tilts one way or the other, and with a pendulum paddle in the water providing the power, it turns the wheel it the right direction. Of course, that is assuming the lines go through the correct blocks. I learned that one early on.

We left the marina at 4 pm yesterday. We stopped at Monkey Point, my favorite dive spot on the way out, and cleaned the waterline and propeller. We also took a short swim. It will be the last until Bermuda. We were fully underway by 6.

Our weather routing service, Jennifer Clark and Dane Clark, have sent us off the rhumb line to Bermuda to pick up favorable currents. This area usually has only very moderate winds. We are lucky to have so much today. All sails are up and full. The sun is strong. No waterlogged state of emergency here.

The stern of the boat looks like an advertising gallery. “Monitor” wind vane, “Simrad” radar, “Lifesling” hoist, “ACR” emergency beacon. No other boats in sight since we left, so the advertising is in vain.

Sorry to be tardy in writing. The hands are swollen and clumsy with the heat and all the work on the lines. It has been too hot to stay below writing for very long. This will change as we head north.

Cheers.

May 17, 2006

Ahoy! Greetings from 22 49.678N 65 13.310W. It is 2:15 pm. Sunny and hot. 86.7 degrees. We are about 15 miles short of our first waypoint, and 265 miles under the keel since setting sail. Winds have shifted to SE around 20 knots. By not sailing the rhumbline, we hoped to catch some favorable currents. It is likely that we have because our speed through the water had been reading around 6.5 knots, but velocity made good is about 1 knot higher. We have even seen some readings above 8 with the following seas moving us along. Our course is 5 degrees. The windvane keeps us on course with shifts of around 10 degrees on either side. This area is very different than in November when we had to motor through it for lack of wind. Strong winds, big seas and rain is in the forecast for the next two days according to one source, but another source shows diminishing winds. Seas right now are around 6-8.

Unlike the trip south, so far things on the boat are working well. The bilge pump goes on a little too frequently, but no so much that I have done more than take a cursory look for the source. It is difficult to be motivated to do much beyond sleep and keep watch. Michael and I are doing three hour watches. Which means that I get 12 hours out of the cockpit a day to sleep, gather weather information, navigate, clean, and grab sleep in segments of no more than 3 hours (assuming one falls asleep instantly after watch!) Last night Michael spotted an eastward heading container ship which passed 1 mile to our stern. The radar picked up two others, but only one was barely visible. Beyond making certain the sails are set properly and the course is held, ships are an important reason to keep watch. Many a sailor has lost boat and life being run over by a ship which fails to notice the sailboat. Sailboats are notoriously difficult to discern on a radar screen due to a limited amount of metal, and it takes an alert helmsman to avoid a collision. If the horizon is only 5 miles away (an estimate which I know will be corrected), a ship traveling at a modest 20 knots can be on your boat 15 minutes after appearing on the horizon. Even if the ship saw the sailboat at the last instant, ships take miles to slow down and cannot alter course very easily. We live by the motto that we should get out of the way, regardless of the rules of the road. There is a saying about being dead right.

At Penns Landing for the winter, Welcome received a needed sanding and several coats of varnish to all exterior woodwork. The boat looks great. Vern, the fellow with the skill to do such a spectacular job, ordered me to keep it up by applying two fresh coats on top of the old each year. So much time went into the work, that I resolved to keep it up.

Michael’s mal de mar has reared its ugly head. The miracle drug Stugeron seems not to work going North. He is keeping hydrated, but is not eating. We are both anxious about his comfort given the forecast. He has threatened to swim home, but I won’t let him. Who would I talk to? Already I hear bagpipes when I am on watch and need him to reassure me that they are only auditory hallucinations. Onward we sail.

Cap’t Turley

At Penn's Landing for a Winter Rest

Capt'n McGrenra

George on the sail to East End

Jay and Liza

Reunion

Customs Dock in Soper's Hole, Tortola, BVI

Calm Seas

Ann at the Helm

Three Weeks without Shaving

The Sinking COB pole

Trying to raise Herb on SSB

Warmer Days at the Helm

Birthday T-Shirt of the Great Adventure

Donna's Birthday Wish

View from Yacht Reporting Center, St. George, Bermuda

Jay sweating over navigation decisions

Order in the cabin

Bernie and Donna talking shop

Ticonderoga

Welcome is the smallest boat at the marina (far right)

Captain Smokes Marina in Bermuda

Night in the Cockpit

The MRI Unit

Many Lines to Pull

Kate & Patty at the Bon Voyage Dinner

Thanksgiving in Tortola

Reporting from 18 22.918N, 64 42.350W. Thanksgiving in Tortola. 900 miles after Bermuda and more than 1,600 from Boston.

The Welcome motored the last 36 hours of our voyage in variable winds ranging from zero to five knots south, right on the nose. The crew conferred about whether it would be better to arrive in the middle night or early morning, and whose watch would be improved. We decided that a little sleep prior to going through customs would be preferable, and revved the engine to 2500 RPMs. The risk was that we would run out of fuel, since consumption increases with higher speeds. We had filled our 37 gallon internal tank in Bermuda, and carried an extra 10 gallons on deck in two five gallon yellow jerry jugs. We added the extra diesel to the main tank the last day, and placed bets about whether we would have sufficient fuel to motor to our destination. Wagers were taken about how much fuel, if any, would be left upon arrival. Without wind, our only alternative was to drift to Tortola. We celebrated what we assumed to be our final night at sea with white wine, cheese and saltines. We talked about how wonderful it had been. The final few days at sea erased those hellish days on the first leg. Everyone appeared enthusiastic for another leg. Wine is an amazing thing.

We trailed and then passed another sailboat rocking its way to Tortola. It was named Surprise, from Boise, Idaho. Its home port is a surprise but as we waved, we did not ask the obvious. As we slipped past the port side of the boat, porpoises began to jump around us. It was our first sighting of other mammals in six days. The sun set and we could see the reflection of the lights of St. Thomas and San Juan in the distant night sky. Eventually, the distant lights of Tortola were spotted. Donna slept the cockpit under the stars when Michael came on watch at 2:30 a.m. When she woke up at 3:30, Jay was in the cockpit, and Tortola was visible. Ann came up, and we all offered advice as Michael steered us to our destination. Heavy cloud coverage eliminated the usual moon light. Despite the lack of navigation aids on the charts, there was a blinking white light on shore. Unable to see it with the night-vision goggles and after some debate about whether it was set by pirates
trying to lure us into danger, we left it on port, and saw the anchor lights of resting sailboats in Soper's Hole. We searched for the BVI custom's building, and picked up a mooring. It was 5 a.m. on November 24, 2005, seven days after leaving Bermuda. We could smell the flowers on the island. Dogs howled in the distance. Roosters were beginning their morning announcements. It was very different than the noises of the sea. We all crashed into dream filled sleep, with Ann and Michael sleeping on deck. Our wake up call was rain. Some fellow appeared demanding a fee for using the mooring, but Donna sent him on his way by declaring that the boat had not been there long enough to warrant at fee.

Customs opened at 8:30. We brought the boat to the cement dock about an hour ahead of time. Jay decided to not declare the flare guns unless asked, so he carried them in his pockets. We cleared Customs after paying a $200 duty for "temporarily importing" the boat. No request for flare guns was made, so John Wayne remained armed. We went across the small harbor to the fuel dock, and filled up with 31.8 gallons of diesel. Ann won the bet. Michael offered to pay for a marina berth for the day to help us unload. We all packed our duffels, loaded the extra food into bags, and then called our spouses at the rental house, Jacaranda. Rachel answered and you could hear the scream all over Tortola. Was it because we arrived, or because she won the on land bet about when we would call? Instantly, our spouses appeared. A better landing cannot be imagined.

The next day, we got to the marina early and did a very thorough deep cleaning of the boat. We sailed to our new home. The on shore crew got a taste of how wonderful sailing can be as we beat our way east up Sir Francis Drake Channel. We brought the boat to its winter berth at Penn's Landing on the East End of Tortola. We all agreed that it will be a good place for Welcome to rest. Donna arranged for the stuffing box to be tightened, the bilge pump to be repaired, and the wood work to be replenished. It is a small marina, but it had a number of fine boats in its care, and from what we could see, the care was top notch. Walter at Penn's Landing, went through the boat systems with Donna. The marina staff will be checking systems. Walter , the manager, reminisced about his visits to Boston, and sailing at the Boston Sailing Center, a place where Jay was once the manager and Donna once worked.

One important note about our blog readers, both Admiral Mike (a friend of Kate and Donna's) and Brad (a friend of Ann and Rachel's), respectfully noted that our blog entry about the square mileage of our vista was incorrect. Mike McKenna notes " I cannot, however, let your math problem go by without comment. For a height of eye of 6 feet, the distance to the horizon is about 2.9 nautical miles, not 15. The formula is: Square root of the height of eye in feet multiplied by (about) 1.17 is the distance to the horizon in nautical miles. Square root of 6 = ~2.5; 2.5 x 1.17 = 2.9 nm. Example using simpler number: height of eye 9 ft, square root is 3. Multiply by 1.17 = 3.51 nautical miles. Because of the uncertainties in estimating height of eye, difficulty in doing arithmetic, etc., I usually simplify the process by just choosing a height of 9 feet instead of 6, and multiply the square root (3) times 1.1 instead of 1.17 to get a distance to the horizon of 3.3 nm (3 x 1.1). Close enough for government work. If you want to know how far away you can see a 100-foot high lighthouse on the coast if your height of eye is 9 feet:
Distance to horizon for your eye: 3.3 nm
Distance to horizon for top of lighthouse: 11.0 nm (square root of 100 Distance to the LH when you just can see its top: 14.3 nm (the sum of the two above)
(If you used 6 foot height of eye and the 1.17 factor, you would have gotten 15.2 nm.) No big deal.

You can use a variation of that procedure for estimating the distance to a passing ship which is hull-down (its water line is below the direct path of your vision), using a guess of how much of the ship you cannot see for its height. A caveat: all these calculations are based upon having no atmosphere through which you view the object or the horizon. You'll usually be able to see something like 10% farther because of the refraction of the light rays arriving at your eye. Proof is left to the student."

That means our entry bragging about a 708 square mileage view is SUBSTANTIALLY off, and our view was more like 34 square miles.

After a few days with our spouses in this group situation, we have run out of stories to tell. We are just satisfied with having done something that was personally challenging. We faced previously unimaginable situations, yet situations which were mundane to the many who sailed before us and which became ordinary to us. We stretched and were rewarded. It is now easier to imagine the next adventure. We have been overwhelmed by the support of our shore crew and the interest shown by our blog readers. Thank you all. It really helped knowing that we had a community rooting for us, and wishing that they could do something like this. Our advice: if you have a wish, make it happen. You will not regret your effort. Life is short and you do not know when it will end.

Bon voyage and bon courage

The Crew of Welcome III

Wednesday, November 23, 2005 at 10:00 a.m.

We have been doing math problems. If you are sitting approximately 6 feet above sea level and visibility is unlimited, we estimated that you can see 15 miles to the horizon. Since you can see 360 degrees around you, how many square miles can you see? We determined that we can see approximately 708 square miles. No one is in sight (outside of the crew on Welcome III, of course).

It appears that this will be the last full day of our voyage south. We are at 20 12.305 N 64 53.114 W. We have traveled 797 nm since Bermuda and 1,501 nm since Boston. If we steer the rhumbline, we have 109 nm to go to check in at customs, and another 20 or so to get to Penns Landing, our winter berth. Winds are less than 5 knots, but should build a little out of the SW. After dealing with strong winds out of the south yesterday, and being forced to deviate from our course, the seas turned placid and the wind disappeared overnight. We have been using the iron sail to make progress. Blue sky, clear water, a few clouds as a garnish - it is quite wonderful.

This morning we stopped the boat and went for a swim in the calm water. There was almost no drift. We scrubbed our bodies with Dr. Bronner's Magic Soap, and jumped in to rinse. Ann made coffee and bran muffins to replenish our energy after such exertion. The water was 82.3 degrees - warmer than most swimming pools. Donna scrubbed the waterline. We threw in the Crew Overboard pole with the strobe light and horseshoe ring to see it work. The Crew Overboard pole is meant to wave high above the waves to aid locating a lost crew member. Shockingly, it sank. One should test gear before using it.

We have taken on the rhythms of the day. Most evenings, Ann serves a hot, one bowl meal at around 5 p.m. Shortly after sunset, all but the person on watch retires for the evening. We have taken on this practice without discussion. In part, it is because cabin lights will hinder the ability of the person on watch to see in the dark. Also, we want to be rested for our middle of the night watches. Most sailboats this size, including Pacific Seacraft, declare that the boat sleeps six. That is not true. Right now, this boat sleeps three. The aft bunk, next to the engine compartment, has been dubbed the MRI unit. To get into it, you have to slide your body into a box which is 21 inches high and 36 inches wide at its widest. It tapers as it goes back. It is a single. Going forward, in the main salon (which implies that there is a minor salon - not true) there is a settee on port. With the back cushion off, this becomes a bunk, 23 inches wide, at its widest. It tapers as it goes forward. However, it is only useful as sleeping quarters at a mooring or on a starboard tack. If on a port tack, you spend most of your time in it trying not to roll out onto the cabin floor. This berth is now being used to stow all of our duffel bags and to hang our foul weather gear and other wet items above. Michael and Donna rigged a lee cloth for it. A lee cloth is netting or cloth fastened under the cushion and then tied to the hand rail above. It prevents items from rolling on the floor. It is usually used to keep a person in a bunk, but we suspect it would be claustrophobic. On starboard, there is another settee, but this one is wider due to an insert which expands it to the edge of the folded table in the center of the cabin. This berth could be used for a human and a cat, but not two humans. The table acts as the lee cloth on a starboard tack, and the wall provides support on a port tack. All the way forward, past the head (the bathroom to you landlubbers), there is the princess cabin. This is the boat's version of a private room. It supposedly sleeps two, but in order to do so comfortably, the two would have to be very small, or the boat would have to be at a marina and not rocking. The starboard wall provides support on a port tack, but one has to wedge one's feet against a cabinet in order to feign sleep on a starboard tack. The cabin also has two tiny hanging lockers (for clothes), three small drawers, access to the anchor chain locker, and two small cabinets. It is useful to have one person on watch since the boat sleeps only three in practice. The person going on watch gathers up his or her sleeping bag and pillow and tosses them on the pile of duffel bags. This frees the berth for the person coming off watch. No one gets to sleep in the same bunk for the whole night. Jay, who has watches at 10 and 4, sleeps in all three berths each night. Donna, with watches at 7 and 1, uses only two. Under all of the bunks are oddly shaped compartments into which hardly used gear is thrown. Under the forward and aft berths, there are the two 40 gallon water tanks. If full, one can feel the water sloshing in the tank below.

Night watches can be awe inspiring. Watching the moon rise, steering by the stars, seeing the cloud formations play with the night time light can be overwhelming. And if you do begin to doze, you can watch the chart plotter announce the number of days, hours and minutes until your destination. Gusts of winds spur the boat forward, and the minutes disappear. The one steering for 90 minutes is often startled by the person coming on watch. Exchanges are made about appropriate attire (is it cold out, or warm, or wet?). We whisper about wind, direction (always south), waves, shooting stars, and signs of traffic. A quiet “sleep tight” is offered.

The crew is well rested and excited about landfall Tortola. Our weeks, days and hours at sea are waning. We have learned much about the capacity of the boat, our capacity as individuals, and our ability to work as a team. Michael jokes about a T to B quotient. The query is whether he would willingly join the sail back to Boston. A ten means that he would definitely sail the boat back to Boston in the spring. A one is, well, there is no chance that he would do it for a million dollars. This day has been a ten for all of us. The voyage has been a good thing to do.

Welcome III

Tuesday, November 22, 2005 10:30 a.m.

Welcome III reporting from 22 05.009 N 64 59.749 W. 16.7 nautical miles west off of our rhumbline. Compass heading right now is 250, and we are moving at about 6 knots, but in the wrong direction. Our bearing to Tortola is 191 . Our new measure of progress is velocity made good, rather than distance and speed. We are 1,368 miles from Boston. 633 miles from Bermuda. 222.3 miles to go to Tortola. The wind turned southwest overnight. We went from a single reefed main with staysail, to a full main, staysail and geneo overnight. We are strategizing our tacks with weather charts indicating that the wind will turn easterly within 24 hours. Seas are now a moderate 3-5 feet, and wind is approximately 10-15. Water temp is 81.8. Air temp is 83.6. It feels hot and humid. Barometric pressure is 1010.8. A swim might be on the schedule for today. Given the heat, we have adjusted our safety standards while in the cockpit during the day. Life jackets are optional. Hypothermia at this sea temperature sets in over several days, not minutes. One might prefer to be shark bait rather than swim for days.

Yesterday was the sribe's 49th birthday. The celebration began with a card and a present in the morning. The present was a book of photographs of stray dogs of the Greek Islands. Anyone who knows the scribe knows that dogs take up as much brain disk space as sailing. It was a good present. A special dinner of Indian food ala Trader Joe's was prepared, and the cork on a good bottle of champagne was popped. Ann had made a wonderful orange pound cake which was presented with eight candles. The wind god made a wish and blew them out. We never established why eight, but there is suspiscion it is because that is how many candles were left in the birthday candle carton. Michael presented Donna with a beautiful hand painted tee shirt of a sailboat, with Welcome III, The Great Adventure, November 2005 written underneath. It was painted by a physician at his health center. Also in the bag was a box of Joseph Schmidt's chocolates. One third remain as this is being written. Ann gave Donna the watch off of her wrist. A very generous present given it leaves her without a watch. Neptune had stolen Donna's Timex as she struggled to keep a jerry can of diesel fuel on board during the first leg of the voyage.

Kate, Liza, Rachel and George were scheduled to arrive by plane in Tortola last night. They are renting a house in the West End. We hope they are entertaining themselves, and not buying too much in the way of food. Despite the increase in consumption on board, we have ample supplies remaining. We switched to our second (and last) 40 gallon water tank yesterday. Both tanks were full in Bermuda. The water in the tanks is used for cooking, washing dishes and limited bathing. Drinking water is taken from separate jugs.

Boats make a lot of noise underway. Halyards bang against the mast. Waves smash into the hull. Dishes rattle, water in tanks sloshes, the gimbled stove creaks. But Michael commented that the loudest noise is the sound of laughter.

We anticipate Landfall Tortola Thursday moring, just in time for the Thanksgiving tofurkey. A list of onshore preparations is being compiled in order to leave the boat there for the winter. As lovely as this leg has been, we will be happy to see our spouses and to be on land once again, plotting the return voyage North in the Spring.

Sunday, November 2005, 3:00 pm

Team Welcome reporting in from 26 13.300 N 64 41.077 W. NE winds, 20-25 knots right now. Seas: big. We have seen boat speeds exceeding 8 knots this afternoon, but we are generally cruising in the 6+ knot lane. Full mainsail plus the genoa are flying. Our bearing remains 194 degrees magnetic. We have come 1,094.3 nm since leaving Boston. We hit the 1,000 nm mark last night on Michael's watch. 477 nm to go to get to Tortola. Air temperature is 79.5 degrees; sea temperature is 80.1 degrees. Sunny skies earlier in the day have given in to clouds with a few squall lines visible.

We determined that we were further from land today than at any other point in our trip. We doused the sails in the heavy seas. Depth was 15,800 feet. We went for a swim. To do this and not have the boat drift away, we used the para anchor. A para anchor is similar to a parachute. It spans 9 feet. One drops it into the water on the windward side of the boat, and lets out a couple of boat lengths of line. For this purpose, Jay purchased 450 feet of museum quality 3/4 inch braided line with a stainless steel thimble spliced into the end and a huge stainless steel shackle to attach the para anchor. After the para anchor is dropped in the water it magically opens and looks like a giant orange jelly fish on its side. It floats off of the bow and keeps the bow into the wind and waves. Retrieving it is a little tricky, and required some engine power, but there is a float with a trip line that helps to collapse the para anchor. Trying out the para anchor and the swim were worth the loss of forward mileage. We did not see any sharks.

It was so mild earlier in the day that we cracked open the hatches. With the building wind and seas, we were smacked with a big wave on the port. The water poured into the cabin and turned one of the berths into a water bed. Not sure who will get that berth tonight.

We have talked a lot about the various attributes of ocean going sailboats. In our modest six boat marina in Bermuda, all boats were headed to the islands. All were cutter rigs, meaning that they all had two head sails, in addition to the mainsail. The cutter rig really does make high winds and heavy seas manageable, since sail changes are much easier and safer than with a traditional sloop rig. We like this boat.

Next to us in the marina was an approximately 50' Island Packet "Brother Wind" with a British couple just beginning their voyage around the world. They blew out both their head sails in the Gulf Stream and suffered engine failure every time they would increase RPMs. They were headed to the BVIs, after being unable to secure visas for the American Virgins Islands. Next to that boat was a new Hinckley "Patriot" of around 70'. It had five crew aboard - no owner in sight. It was headed to Antigua. A brand new Hylas 54 named Heart Jump was next. It had unsecured wireless access, and occasionally you would see people sitting on the dock with their laptops accessing the Internet when the Hylas had its system open. Mike and Jennifer and their Pekingese sent the kids to college and said that they sold all their possession to sail for a few years. The type of boat lead us to believe that their bank account was much larger than the story implies. "Ticonderoga of Greenwich" is a beautiful old yawl maintained as though new. Tom was the weather guru of the marina and was waiting for a weather window to bring the boat to Antigua for charter. He has been the paid captain of that boat for 20 years, and had two young men from Antigua on board as crew. Finally, "Emily Martha Kate" was a swan cutter around 55' long. Emily, Martha, Kate, mother Rosemary, father and 17 year old cat were on board. They were at the beginning of a year long sabbatical. Dad was taking a year off from his work as a physician. It is good to have a physician on board, it was explained, since when Rosemary smashed her head during their crossing of the Gulf Stream, her husband was available to sew in eight stitches. Emily had just finished college and was applying to medical school. Martha was getting credit from her college for biology research, and Kate had turned 16 and left high school for this trip. They left for St. Martins the day we left. We not only had the smallest boat, but our ambitions were the most modest.

There really are flying fish, and we have seen them.

Cheers.

Saturday, November 19, 2005 9.m.

Greetings from 28 44.630N 64 42.971W. Air temperature is 76.4F, water temperature is 75.4F. It is a partly sunny day, winds are N-NE at 10-15 knots. Our speed hovers around 4 knots, running before the wind. We have occasional bursts of speed as big swells move us forward. We have logged 222 nm since leaving Bermuda. 620 nm to Soper's Hole in Tortola. Our bearing is 194. The boat's rocking has a predicable rhythm to it.

We are on the third day of the second leg of our voyage. Excitement abounds. We spotted a group of five white birds this morning cavorting above our mast - they looked like shearwaters but were not in North Atlantic bird book on board, so their identity remains a mystery. A cargo ship passed our stern during the night, headed east. We spotted the stern light of another slow moving vessel, probably a sailboat, on the same rhumbline. The water is a magnificent dark blue turquiose color.

We no longer wear our foulies. Even if we get a sprinkle, windbreakers are enough. The watches have started to become habitual.

We have discovered the essence of life at sea - an autopilot. Whether operated as a wind vane or electronic ram drive connected to the rudder, an autopilot will make minute adjustments in the course to account forvariations caused by wind and waves far more quickly and far more accurately than we mere humans. On a good watch, our course fluctuates 10 degrees on either side of the rhumbline. Running before the wind and waves, a constant struggle against 25 degree variations ensues. We regularly are a mile or two off of our rhumbline.

Everything else seems to work. The number of important repair or improvement projects have diminished. Sleeping, reading, eating and steering have taken over our lives. Things seem simple. Work for money is a distant bad dream. We are trying to savor the moment.

From 29.50.235N, 64.39.659W.

We have been sailing within 3 miles of the rumbline to BVI. Waypoints have been set for every 100 miles or so – each one titled “x00 miles to go.” The weather since leaving Bermuda has been great. The skies clear and the wind light, but generally enough to keep us going an average of 5kph. The water is 74.7F. Last night we motored for approximately 9 hours after boat speed dropped to less than 2 kph. . We estimate that we have sufficient diesel to run the engine 70+ hours before we have consumed the 37 gallons in the tank and the 10 gallons on deck. Today we flew the spinnaker for an hour or two. We also saw a ship that passed within two miles of us. There is no indication if we were seen by it.

Everyone is well rested. The new seasickness meds are great. We all have solid appetites and feel good. I fear my days of losing weight at sea are over. Tonight two of the crew had a small glass of white wine with dinner. Group dinners, wine, sunsets – so far this leg has been very different from the first leg. Today Ann made us pancakes for breakfast; dinner was a stew of cabbage, onions, tomatoes, feta, nuts ‘n stuff. It was all very good.

Sadly, today we found another suicidal flying fish deceased on our deck. Perhaps we should be patrolling more frequently. The ship's uniform has become short pants and a light shirt. In the evening maybe an additional coat or foul weather pants. The boat is working well.

We are all looking forward to seeing our loved ones soon.

Team Welcome.

Thursday, November 17

6 p.m. Somewhere around 30 miles and 181 degrees off of Bermuda. Coordinates are 31 44.354N 064 40.494W. Seas at 7 - 9 feet. Winds SE 10-15. Water temperature is 75 F. Air temperature is 76.6 F. Last night was a full moon, and tonight clouds are distant. Our boat speed runs between 5 and 6 knots.

We left St. George's Harbor around 10 a.m. after a busy morning. Donna went to try to retreive the new Simrad chartplotter/radar from DHL at the airport. It was only after desperately declaring that her ship was leaving at 10 a.m. that the package was found. However, it could not be given directly to her. It had to be sent by truck to the Yacht Reporting Center in St. George for delivery at 9:30. Donna took the bus back, and waited for it to arrive at 10 a.m. on the dot. The new unit did not work - just like the old unit. The problem was traced to a fuse in the radar unit. Luckily, the new system had the same fuse for a different application, so a fuse was found to repair the chartplotter. It is up and running.

The bilge pump is up and running too. All of the time. We determined that after it emptied the bilge, it fills it up again and the cycle continues. We closed the through hull fitting, and will pump the bilge manually once or twice a day.

While Donna secured the redundant chartplotter, the rest of the crew waited in a long line of boats to fuel. 22 gallons of diesel fuel ran $130. Cars on the island are small and get 60 mpg. It probably won't be long before Americans join the rest of the world in paying large sums for fuel.

We set up 1.5 hour watches again. Because the autopilot has died, the next 800 miles or so to our destination will be steered by hand. Admiral Mike will be proud of us.

Those prone to seasickness on board purchased large quantities of a new motion sickness drug available in Bermuda. It is named Stugeron or something like that. It appears to work miracles, because all of us are fully functioning. Eating seems appealing.

Bernie was given our 2005 West Marine catalog, which was a much more welcome tip than any money would have been. He is a sweet man, and really helped make our overstay in Bermuda bearable with weather tips and information.

We are close hauled. The wind is supposed to turn NE tomorrow and we will be on a comfortable reach, at least for a few days. Sailing like this is what it is supposed to be about.

Welcome III

Another Day in Port

The hapless crew of Welcome III remains in Bermuda waiting for a favorable weather window. We learned today that the autopilot needs a new brain, and alas, there are no brains on the island. Craig, from Marine Communications, proved to be a gem, despite the fact that he could not fix our autopilot. He broke and repaired our instruments over the course of two visits. We thanked him with a gin and tonic. He assured us that we not the smallest boat to ever take this trip. DHL has apparently lost the new Simrad chartplotter/radar - sent overnight three days ago. Tiffany at DHL told me that she does not understand why DHL people say that things can be sent overnight to Bermuda when that never happens. There is some debate within DHL about whether the instrument is on a truck or on a ramp, but there is no question that it has arrived in Bermuda.

Finally adjusting to island life, Jay, Ann and Michael had beer at lunch. Later, Jay washed laundry. Michael took it off the temporary laundry line, and dropped Jay's sock in the water. After retreiving the gold plated boat hook and failing to get the sock, he regretted not jumping in after it. Michael and Ann spent time trying to find a timer which can accomodate 90 minute shifts, but could only find a suggestion from a clerk that we adjust our watches to 60 minutes each so that she could sell us a timer. Herb, on shortwave radio station 12359, out of Toronto, has pronounced the opening of a weather window tomorrow from Bermuda going south. Charter captains from the mega yachts gathered around the picnic table at the marina to dissect Herb's analysis with the riffraff listening in trying to glean a little courage. There will be a mass exodus. Only one of the six boats at this marina will stay beyond this window. Even Bernie, our dockmaster, is leaving. He is going to New Hampshire to accompany his grand poohbah wife to a Kiwanas' meeting in North Conway. Jay and Ann have gone to Customs to check out. The customs agent will return our flare guns as long as we promise to stow them in a place that is secure. We need to add some diesel fuel. Donna will go to DHL in the morning to stir up a little anxiety. We are eager to leave and begin the second leg. Tortola - seven to ten days away - here we come.

Welcome III

A live parrot on Donna's shoulder

Still Ignorant

Michael, still oblivious to the fact
that he is doing Jay's laundry.

Chores on shore

The ship's medic at work

The plank at Captain Smokes Marina

Terra Firma

The ship's carpenter

Posting to the Blog

Gulf Stream passage

The Sea

Jay on his night watch

Flying the Spinnaker

Leaving Boston November 7

Monday, November 14

Bermuda is crowded with sailboats waiting to go south. Two tropical waves, tropical depressions, huge seas and gathering gales have forced larger boats than ours to wait for a favorable weather window. Life at the marina is a series of chores. Every chore costs $40. Weld the spoke of the steering wheel. Done. $40 please. Cab ride to Hamilton to pick up marine supplies. Done. $40 please. Fix block for the running back stay. Done. $40 please. Get new boat hook. Done. One and one-half times $40 please. Voyager Marine in Essex, Massachusetts has arranged for a new Simrad chartplotter/radar to be flown to us. It is supposed to arrive tomorrow. We are to pick it up at customs, and it will be duty-free because we are a boat in transit. All under warranty. One hundred times $40 avoided. Excellent. If she doesn't abandon this expensive hobby, Donna will make all future electronic purchases at Voyager. That sort of service is definitely worth bragging about. The only real repair outstanding is the autopilot. The two competing repair men in Bermuda referred us to the other in order to get faster service. We have made an appointment with Craig Scott or Scott Craig of Marine Comminications to look at it maybe Wednesday but even more likely sometime Thursday. Island time. Everyone is busy. After the Simrad arrives tomorrow, we will leave with the first favorable forecast, autopilot working or not. We have been encouraged by the wisdom of our friend Admiral Mike, who laughed at the wimps looking to have a machine steer. Plus, we think that the one and one half hour watches will make driving much easier to endure. With large seas, manually steering a sailboat can be very tiring as you manipulate the rudder to prevent the sail from jibing and the boat from pitching. Ann did the provisioning today for the rest of the voyage. Michael has been on top of the weather and has been commiserating with others about the convergence of possible wind and wave action. If we can't leave by Thursday, we may have to keep the boat here for a month so that we can join our spouses in Tortola for Thanksgiving. However, water tanks have been filled, and the diesel jerry cans secured. Jack lines are tighter. The boat has been washed. We are drinking gin and tonics. Life is good.

Welcome III

Sunday, November 13, 2005

Welcome III arrived in the lovely archipelago of Bermuda yesterday at around 8:30 p.m. Atlantic time after five and one-half days at sea. Jay was excited to raise both our Bermuda flag and the yellow quarantine flag required to be flown until a boat clears customs. We checked in with Bermuda Harbor Radio on VHF channel 16 as local protocol requires. We approached Bermuda from the north, but the mandatory entry to clear customs is St. George's Harbor on the south side. Huge coral reefs surround Bermuda. Heavy seas, high winds and and our lack of familiarity with the navigation lights made entry somewhat treacherous. Danny, running Bermuda Harbor Radio, followed our entry on radar and maintained constant radio contact with us giving us precise directions for entering the harbor. He also asked us a lot of questions which seemed designed to test us, such as whether we were northeast or southeast from various flashing buoys. Michael did a superb job of driving, Ann was in charge of visual navigation, Jay and I reviewed the Nobeltec charts on the PC and conversed with Danny from the cabin.

Customs is on Ordnance Island. We were met by Bernie, who directed us to shift our fenders and docking lines to the other side and to dock on the port. He took our docking lines and helped us with lots of advice about docking in a thick accent. He told us to remove the flare guns from the boat and to go inside. As we climbed off the boat, we saw a recently deceased and squished flying fish on our deck. We stumbled along the pier, still rocking after so many days on the boat. We became silly with our joy of arrival. We walked around still wearing our foulies and life jackets. The fellow who stamped us in at customs and confiscated the flare guns did not seem amused by our hilarious comments. A shocking lack of humor. Perhaps the fumes from an unwashed crew deprived him of his senses. More likely, we were just being fools. But, it does seem universal that the people who join the customs services in every country are required to have dour personalities. When we exited, Bernie asked us where we were staying and we asked for advice. He gave us a card for Captain Smokes Marina down the harbor a ways and hopped in his car to meet us there, since everyone else was "out partying." Promised that there would be showers there. Turns out that Bernie monitors Bermuda Harbor Radio and runs down to greet boats and direct them to his marina.

Captain Smokes Marina sits at 32 22.688 N, 064 40.934 W. We arrived at the darkened marina consisting of about seven other much larger sailboats all backed into a cement wall. Bernie shouted from shore that he had a line to pass us to tie to our bow as we backed in and we should grab our boat hook. We learned that Neptune stole the boat hook offshore, and Bernie needed to physically pass the line to us. As most sailors know, sailboats are not meant to back up. If you have an engine, the boat generally backs to port. Never straight. Plus, the boat is influenced by currents and wind. Take it slowly. Ann and I put out lines. Micheal jumped on the next boat with a line to help maneuver and fend off. Jay brought the boat back flawlessly. As the boat now sits with three lines off the stern. How to exit? Well, one literally has to walk a plank from the stern rail to the cement wall above. Since we did not have any balance left, we were all petrified to cross the ten foot span on an eighteen inch board. However, motivated by the promise of showers, we braved the plank to discover one shower in this luxury marina. One more than we had seen in almost a week, we were happy. And, at last, clean.

We celebrated our arrival with wine and pistachios and calls to spouses. We joked about how nice it was going to be to use a toilet without both legs braced against the wall and hands holding tight to rails as it rocked beneath us. Despite our pleasure with the new watch system of 90 minutes, we were thrilled to be off watch and for the first time, all four bunks were used for a solid night's sleep for all.

Bernie was at the stern of the boat this morning, claiming that the plank had dropped in the water overnight, but he had put it back. Bernie was born on the island of Bermuda, and is in his seventies. He has done a lot of off shore sailing, and was quite willing to address whatever questions we might have about laundry, breakfast, chandleries, etc. Asked for a recommendation for a breakfast place, he gave us directions to Goals Club. A long walk but worth it for a good English breakfast of bangers. How long a walk? Maybe seven minutes or so, he thought. On the way, Ann explained to the vegetarians among us that bangers are a type of sausage. Climbing the hill to breakfast, turns out that Goals Glub was actually a golf club with a restaurant named Mulligans. Despite the fact that none of us have ever eaten at a club that had good food, we ventured forth for a surprisingly satisfying meal.

The eleventh minute, of the eleventh day of the eleventh month was two days ago, but Bermuda commemorated its veterans (or really the Crown's veterans) with a memorial day ceremony in the town square today. We happened upon the ceremony as we were walking back from breakfast. It started with the military guard accidently dropping the flag on the ground, and the watching police captain turnign around to hide his laughter. Next came the arrival of the Crown's appointed premier, the governor, and the leader of the opposition party. Lined up were the fire department in their blue polo shirts and baseball caps, the police force in quite wonderful uniforms reminiscent of the red uniforms of the Queen's guards, the navy (20 men), the army (about 25 men and women), veterans ( many older men and one white woman), boy scouts (maybe eight boys) and brownies (ten young girls in drooping knee socks, skirts and yellow sweatshirts). One of the fire fighters keeled over, flat on his face. No one at attention moved. The dignitaries walked among those standing at attention inspecting the troops. A band of overweight musicians played what we assume to be patriotic music. The dignitaries were each given a wreath the place at the base of a memorial statue. A minister talked about our duty to spread the word of god around the world. Colonialism is not dead. The top of the hierarchy walked up the hill to the Anglican church for service and those who were part of the ceremony paraded past us, brownies last in line.

We checked out the local grocery store and were delighted to see a large supply of gin. We were greatly disappointed to be refused the opportunity to buy it, this being a Sunday. Many boat chores were begun, and some even finished. Cushions were thrown outside for drying. Bins were opened to dry. Laundry gathered and put in garbage bags. Drop, wash and fold was not available at the laundromat, so we decided to wait until Monday to get our laundry done. Michael was so disgusted with his dirty clothing that he grabbed the large bucket from the boat to soak all of his high tech synthetics. The odor eating properties of the fabrics had failed. The festering mass required immediate attention. He was so appalled that he did not examine what he dropped into the disinfectant. He traveled the gang plank at various tides to stir his brew. It was not until the end of the day, when he went to dry the clothing, that he discovered he had done Jay's laundry. His remained in a similar garbage bag still festering under a bunk on the boat.

Nothing is open in Bermuda on Sunday, at least not on the east end of Bermuda. We compiled a list for tomorrow's chores and did what we could with tools and parts on board. The manual bilge pump was disassembled to determine why it was not pumping. A small wooden splinter was removed and it now works. The electric bilge pump was removed to ready the boat for its replacement tomorrow. Michael sewed the battered leech of the stay sail, and repaired the casing for the life sling. He has a future as a chandler. Ann dealt with provisions, dumped rotted food, rearranged the food which was still good, assessed needs, made lunch, put many band aids on Michael, and otherwise tried to organize the disorganization below. The lazy jacks for the mainsail was repaired. That involved yet another trip up the mast with Donna in the Bosun's chair. We re rigged the sheets on the stay sail to enable quick release in the event that the storm jib needs to be raised. Jay hung his soaked navigation CDs in an attempt to salvage them. During lunch, we notice that one on the spokes of the steering wheel was broken and the need for a welder was discovered. Bernie offered to drive Donna to one in the morning. Michael and Ann are headed to the Laundromat and cybercafe tomorrow. Jay is headed to the chandlery in Hamilton for a book hook, bilge pump, new block for the running back stay, and who knows what other essentials which will appear between now and then. Donna will try to get the electronics tended to.

The best part of this marina is the other sailors. Everyone is heading south. Everyone has storm stories. Others suffered far greater challenges than we did, despite superior boats. Equipment breakage seems to be fairly distributed. One woman showed me her eight stitches from a fall similar to the one Ann took. Most sailors are waiting until at least Thursday because of two weather systems promising large westerly waves against strong easterly winds. We are still assessing our departure day depending on the weather and repairs yet to be made. We will keep you updated.

The crew of Welcome III.

Saturday, November 12, 2005 8:45 a.m.

45 miles to the vicinity of Bermuda. Current position is 33.06.238N 065.02.466W. Seas are 15 feet or so. Winds NW 25-35 with occasional gusts into the low forties. It is partly sunny. Water is a balmy 74.5 . Air is 68.5F. Our attempted bearing is 173 degrees magnetic. With these big swells, it is impossible to remain on course for more than a few seconds. The mainsail is double reefed, no jibs.Occasional spray into the cockpit. A few passing squalls. A lot of rocking and rolling, but after what we have been through, it seems like easy sailing. Michael says that being in the Gulf Stream is like being in another country.

With the passing of the autopilot, things on board have changed. We have gone into solo watches of 90 minutes each. Less safe but each person driving is tethered. Michael and Ann have a good handle on steering and seems comfortable at the helm. Each watch is a concentration of steering through the waves and gusts of winds. However, the shorter watches, four times a day per person, mean that we are on watch half the time as before. People are able to sleep more. There is more time for projects. Projects include bailing the bilge, making tea/coffee, making meals to share. Last night Ann made us a wonderful couscous, spinach, pine nut and cheese combo. I am sure it had a name besides "good", but I don't know that name. We keep two half liter bottles of water in the cockpit for community beverages during watches. There are also dried apricots, stoned wheat thins and Hershey Kisses with Almonds in the cockpit winch bins.

The biggest project undertaken by everyone is getting reach for each watch. About ten minutes before your time, you inch out of your sleeping bag. Since the person getting off watch will use your bunk, you have to roll up your bag and stow it forward. No need to put on long underwear, since it is what you have slept in. Using a red headlamp to avoid destroying your night vision, you grope around your duffel bag for dry socks. Finding none, you put on the least soggy of the socks you have. Wedging yourself against the cabin wall and whatever is across from you, you put one leg into your farmer john foul weather bottoms. You then pull it out and undo the inside cuff which you neglected to open and which makes inserting your foot impossible. Having successfully put the right leg in, you repeat the procedure with the left leg. Sitting once again, you lift your right leg and place it on a nearby wall to fasten the inside cuff. Repeat with the other leg and cuff. You then shake the water out of your waterproof boots, and pull them over the inside cuffs. Fasten the outside pant cuffs over the boots. All of the fastening is done with Velcro. Done with the lower half, you then pull a heavy shirt or second long underwear top over your torso. A fleece vest or heavy jacket follows. The suspenders of your foul weather bottoms are pulled over your shoulders, and you zip the front of the foul weather bottoms closed. You then find your foul weather jacket and insert the arms. The jackets also have an inner and outer cuff on each arm, so as often as not you have to pull your arms out in order to open the inner cuffs. Jacket on, you close the inner cuffs. Right now, gloves are optional. If you have gloves that are not wet, you might fasten the outer cuffs over the gloves. Zip up the jacket. Put on a hat. Pull the hood over the hat. Done? Not yet. Find your life jacket and put that over everything else and lock the harness portion in place. Make your way to the companionway, reach into the cockpit to find your tether, snap ity on, and you are ready for your watch. Getting off watch is the reverse.

We are all excited at the prospect of getting to land. Showers and laundry will be first on the list after clearing customs. We will also see about a new bilge pump and a repair or replacement of the auto helm. Not sure what we will find open on a Sunday. We all need a break and a good night's sleep.

Ann is our on board medic. She stocked us with emergency medical supplies. Both she and Michael took CPR. Unfortunately, our medic fell in the cabin and hit her head, creating a cut. She does not think that it needs stitches, and has refused offers of super glue and duct tape. She says she is fine, but we were all willing to relieve her from further watches. She refused and has taken her turn. No nausea other than the usual seasickness, and she diagnosed that there is not a concussion. She is fine, given the whack on the head.

Donna.

Friday, November 11 at 1:30 p.m.

Everyone on shore should rejoice that you have not joined this voyage. Last night we endured 45-50 knot winds - sustained. It veered from SW to NW. Seas were up to 20'. Concentrated squalls with embedded lightning, driving rain, soaking spray - we were not to be envied.Visibility was 10' or so. In the heavy seas, Jay's computer was smashed, we lost our SIMRAD chartplotter, bilge pump appears to have broken beyond repair, and our auto-pilot concked out. We spent the last 20 hours driving instead of using an autopilot to steer. Foul weather gear was not built for this weather - we were all cold and soaked. Quality must be a relative term. We are exhausted. All of us experienced hallucintations last night. At one point I jumped up from the steering wheel to dodge a fishing net in the water. Night time is the scariest, even though there are no other vessels around to hit. We can't see to waves coming. Sleeping is impossible. If you lay down, you are tossed in the air as the boat pitches, and fall heavily on your most recent bruise.

Current position is 35.18.032 N 065.09.747 W. Seas are a relatively calm 10' with a quiet wind coming from the NW at 25-30 knots. We all commented that up to last night, we would have been nervous in these conditions, but now it seems easy. We are less than 200 miles from Bermuda. Anticipate entering the harbor Saturday night or Sunday morning - all under manual steering. We will attempt to get the autopilot repaired and will replace the bilge pump. Bermuda is less than halfway to Tortola. We will have 6 to 8 days offshore to our final desination. Stay tuned. Donna

Thursday, November 10 at 2:30 p.m.

Greetings as we exit the Gulf Stream. 272 miles until we get to Bermuda. Current location is 36.56.923N 65.10.792W. Winds out of the south 30-35 sustained, which means gale force. Seas are huge - the boat pops over the tops of swells and slides down the back side. The seas are also aggitated and coming from many different directions. This sea state is typical of
the Gulf Stream. We were unwilling to divert 127 miles West from our rhumbline to enter the Gulf Stream at its narrowest. Instead, we headed East and caught the east side of a north meander with southeasterly currents, and then sailed into the front side of a southerly meander to catch a southeast current. Our crossing was an insane 140 miles of squalls, heavy seas, and gale force winds. The plus was that the current gave us a 2 knot per hour lift, and pushed our speed over the ground to above 9 knots occasionally. We have seen one other boat in 24 hours. That was a cargo ship which passed two miles off our stern around 2 a.m. last night. I brought plenty of books for the voyage, but have not opened one. Each person is on watch for 12 hours each day, and in between, one tries to sleep. Fatigue is great. We had our first hot meal last night when Ann cooked up some veggies for a modified Nicoise Salad (I know I am spelling that wrong - apologies to all). Today, the only intake has been an english muffin for each person and an apple for two of us. It is too rough to make tea or coffee. We are looking forward to a break in this weather. Things are supposed to shift to the Northwest tonight, which should get us back on our rhumbline. Cheers from the deep blue, Donna

November 9, 8 a.m.

Greetings from 39.13.832N 67.13.188w. We are poking along at 4.5 knots with the wind 10-15 knots from the NE. Seas are relatively calm but with 5-7 foot swells. Water temperature is 62.6 F. You may wonder why we report water temperature. It is important to us because it will tell us when we enter the Gulf Stream. The Gulf Stream runs northeast along the US Atlantic coast and then crosses the Atlantic to northern Europe. The currents can be quite strong, and if you are in the Gulf Stream with the wind against the current, we are told that it is like being in a washing machine.

The voyage so far has been challenging. Going around Provincetown, the winds kicked up to around 25 knots, and tossed us like salad. We made excellent speed, and through yesterday, we had averaged 6.2 knots. That will come down today with the lighter winds. We ran through last night on a double reefed mainsail, without the aid of a jib. Life jackets are mandatory when in the cockpit or on deck. We all have auto inflatable life jackets for that slimming look. We also wear tethers most of the time. One would think that a tether would be a pain, but in fact it gives us quite a bit of comfort, and we can use our tethers to pull our aging bodies upright when necessary. We have jack-lines strung from bow to stern on both sides of the boat, and if we leave the cockpit to go on deck, we attach our tethers to the jack-lines to ensure that we do not have to perform unannounced crew overboard drills.

We will invest in the Dramamine company when we return home. We are certain that the stock has gone up based on our use alone. No need for seasickness suppositories, yet. We will have enough food leftover for the Christmas holidays. All appetites have been diminished with the rolling seas, but stomach seem to have subsided, and maybe we will even enjoy something besides stone wheat thins, dried fruit and nuts today. The only thing we have cooked has been tea and packaged cocoa. Our efforts at making coffee was a total disaster. The stove and cabin sole now have a nice tint to them. Because we have not been eating much, the refrigeration (aka ice box) has been working well. We did freeze the half gallon of milk but have not discovered other casualties.

We always have two people on watch. Jay and Donna trade off, and Michael and Ann trade off. Jay and Donna's schedule as a team runs from 9 to 1, 1 to 5, 5 to 9, 9 to 3 a.m. and 3 a.m. to 9 a.m. That schedule ensures that each day we are on for different hours than the day before. Michael and Ann trade off four hour watches. With six each day, their watches are the same each day. We have staggered the watches so that the only time the whole crew is awake and switching watches is at 3 a.m. I know, what dopes.

Nature abounds. Our regular morning visitors are porpoises or dolphins, not sure which. We have occasional gulls above. We thought we saw a toucan, but it might have been a lobster pot. We haven't seen another boat since Monday night. We are not sure what we are watching for. We get to see shooting stars at night, and phosphorescent algae in our wake.

Jay is disappointed that we have not yet used the rigging cutters, but Donna hopes that we will never have to use them. The life raft looks great on the deck. Michael and Jay did a superb job of mounting it, where we hope it stays. We may get to use the para-anchor off Bermuda because it looks like it will be the middle of the night when we arrive, and customs opens at 8 a.m.

It has been inconceivable that one could change clothing in these seas, much less bathe. Jay assures us that we can shower in Bermuda. Bermuda is 425 miles away.

Cheers for now.
S/V Welcome III

November 9 at 5:30 a.m.

Michael and I are on watch. We deviated from out rhumbline to avoid a front going into the Gulf Stream and to dodge a Gulf Stream meander, which would have made our crossing long and arduous. Current position is 39.22.131N 67.17.124W. Wind is NE 11-18, seas 3-5 ft. and dampening. Sea temp 61.5 F. Will enter the Gulf Stream today. More later. Donna

November 8 - 9.a.m.

Geetings from 40.34.614N 69.06.468W. Jay and Ann are on watch. Michael
is waiting for the anti-barf pill to kick in. Donna is letting you all
know that we are relatively well. Seas are heavy. Winds are from the
west at 25-30 knots. We are running our main and staysail. Average speed
is 6.1 knots over the course of the trip. We departed Monday at 8 a.m.
after waiting out a weather front. Clear skies and sunny right now.
Thankfully, air temperature remained in the low 50s throughout the night.
Best to all. Donna

Update - Saturday, November 5, 2005

A very busy day for all in preparation for the voyage. Ann and Michael added food provisions. Jay and Donna went to a marine store and purchased bolts, nuts, polypropylene line, 3M 5200 fast cure, and washers. We did not buy a sea anchor bridle and other pieces of equipment which seemed incredibly important at the time. Too bad about that little reference book which details the relative strength of minerals.

At the dock, Donna spent two hours aloft in the Bosun's chair installing the radar reflector on the mast above the staysail stay. She learned why her habit of saving used stainless steel screws was misguided, after being forced to toss at least a dozen screws which bent, stripped or broke at 40' above.

Jay and Michael managed to figure out how to mount the life raft on the deck instead of keeping it in the hold. The solution involved a trip to Home Depot for oak to mount the cradle above the sleeve for the hatch. The Home Depot did not have mahogany, but the red oak is good wood, and we were able to get stainless steel screws for mounting. The Man Overboard Pole was repositioned for more effective deployment. Ann packed the abandon ship bag and dispensed with all of the expired medicines already on board. Ann and Jay filled the portable and onboard diesel tanks. Water tanks were topped off. The damage from the collision last week was sanded by the ship's carpenter, Michael. Unnecessary gear was removed. The dodger was installed, after its repair by Brenda, part of the on shore crew. Things were stowed into the many cubbies throughout the boat. Kore and Maureen's "bon voyage" present was opened, revealing overwhelming gifts of chocolate, books, wine, nips, star guides, puzzles and PJs. What more could a person want?

We got back to Cambridge to enjoy soup by Kate and left over risotto by George. Pam S-C sent us off with Harbor Sweets and poetry. We had a lot of fun reading the verses out loud. We downloaded a warning from our Real Weather service recommending that we delay departure to avoid a front scheduled to slam us in the Gulf Stream. The crew huddled. We are leaning towards a 24 hour delay in departure, but are so prepared and exicted to cast off that any delay is a disappointment.

The real sour note of the day is that Petra, our big calico cat, has been missing for 36 hours. She will be grounded when she reappears.

Donna

The team is here!

The crew has assembled in Cambridge. Ann arrived last night, Michael this morning and Jay in the evening. We had an excellent meal prepared by Kate and lively discussion about various logistics, weather, routes, etc. This posting is sent via email to test the blog...

First Leg at Corinthian Yacht Club

Donna and Michael head out before a storm.

Sailing to Boston in a Snowstorm

Michael at the helm. We got to check out our gear and found it woefully inadequate.

First Leg - Marblehead to Boston

Michael and Donna are writing this entry jointly after a harrowing day of sailing. Michael drove to Cambridge for the weekend. We were chauffeured to the boat in Marblehead by Kate. Corinthian Yacht Club was recovering from the Northeaster earlier in the week as well as winding down for the year. All of the launches were hauled for the year and we were taken out to Welcome in a 16' whaler. It was snowing. We approached the starboard side and were shocked to see evidence of a collision. Apparently, one of the boats which broke loose in the storm hit Welcome on the way to its grave. A double stanchion was twisted and destroyed, and the wooden toerail cap was split aft of the stanchion. There was also a huge dent in the toerail cap where the bow of the attack boat must have hit. There was very minor damage to the fiberglass underneath. We were less concerned about the damage to the wood, but the destruction of the stanchions means that the starboard aft quarter is without lifelines. Donna called Randy Krivitsky, our friend who knows everybody and how to fix everything. Randy was able to determine which boat hit ours by having us examine the boat for evidence of red paint, which we found. Monday will be devoted to finding a marine fabricator who can build a new post quickly, since it would be unsafe to take off without lifelines. The insurance company will also be hearing from us. We hope we can get an appraiser out to the marina before we cast off.

We stowed gear, took off the sail cover, and readied the boat for the trip to Boston. Total mileage for the day was to be a mere 20 miles. Small craft warnings were in effect. Wind was northeast 20-25 knots when we cast off at around 11. The temperature was in the 30s. We had two reefs in the main, flew the stay sail, and had to rig the running back stay for mast support. We were headed to the marina in Boston, and had to get there before it closed at 4 p.m. We had a port beam reach to Tinkers Island, and then jibed and were on a starboard reach for the remainder of the trip. Seas were 3-6 feet. Visibility was often less than one-half mile. We were grateful for the chart plotter. During the four hours it took us to get to Boston, we had snow, heavy snow, sleet, rain, and hail. It was a good shake down cruise for our gear. Both sets of waterproof gloves failed. We both changed several times during the voyage, each time adding layers, and never feeling warm enough. Toes were cold, fingers were frozen and inoperable, faces stung with the driving rain, and bodies shivered uncontrollably. Halfway there, the winds dropped to around 15 knots. We shook out the reefs in the mainsail. Slush and snow drenched Michael as the mainsail was raised. We saw a few fishing boats, one tug pulling a barge, a large dinner boat, and another small sailboat headed to Boston. Most of the time, though, all we saw was snow. It was so wet and dense that it covered the window in the dodger. It seemed like four hour watches could be arduous. The only happiness we saw was in a seal leisurely floating on its back. Was it laughing at us?

We were extremely happy to dock at the marina. The fellow at the dock didn't bother to take a credit card, certain that we would remain there until someone else could register the boat for the week long stay. Kate made her way to us in the snow storm to rescue us from the first leg of this puzzling adventure. Why are we doing this, we asked ourselves, knowing that there was too much momentum to do anything but continue.
Donna and Michael

Ship's Doctor

Last night Ann and I met Dr. Ted Conklin at Lola to review ship medical procedures and medical supplies. Ted is the founder of On Site Docs www.onsitedocs.com , is a veteran sailor and his company has a service that provides medical support to blue water sailors. Ted gave us some great information and Ann asked some complicated questions. Ann is great in the role of Chief Medical Officer and clearly has done lots of research. During most of the discussion I was thinking about how awful the just mentioned injury was and how even more awful was the at sea treatment. The nautical rum cocktail helped take some of the edge off of the discussion.

Ted suggested that we pack the medical kit with the assumption that help may be 3+ days away and that we stock extra supplies of any individually required medicines. He encouraged us to see if we could rent a defibrillator. A couple of reassuring takeaways for me was that Ted felt that syringes, sutures and cricothyroidotomy equipment were generally inappropriate for a medical kit due to the training that is required to properly administer and the difficulty in creating a sterile environment. He is a big fan of ducktape to maintain pressure on wounds and to close cuts. All this was very good news as ducktape is well within my comfort zone and needles are not. When I mentioned my preventative root canal scheduled for Monday, Ted commented that dental stuff is tuff. That the rule is “when in doubt, pull it out.”

Ten Days Until Cast Off

I just made reservations at the Boston Harbor Shipyard and Marina for next week. http://www.bhsmarina.com/. Corinthian Yacht Club closes this Sunday, October 30, and we will be without access to the boat unless it gets moved to a year round operation. The Shipyard is located in East Boston, is close to my home in Cambridge, and we can drive on the piers, making provisioning a lot easier than traveling by launch. We will also have electricity, so that we can work on streamlining our electronics without fear of losing battery power. Michael and I will sail the boat from Marblehead to Boston on Saturday. I am really grateful to have half the crew on this coast to help with all of these chores. I will load the boat with all of the assorted safety supplies now sitting in our living room at home, and keep my fingers crossed that the boat won’t sink. The marina offers fuel, so it will be a good place from which to leave on the 6^th. I rigged up a stainless steel brace on the port side on which to store 10 extra gallons of diesel fuel. In addition to the 37 gallons we carry, we should be able to run the engine for 60-70 hours at around 2500 RPMs. Of course, that assumes the engine will work. We also have spare fuel and oil filters, and a spare impeller.

Insurance remains an obstacle. My original inquiries resulted in bids which did not include damage incurred during a named windstorm. I am not sure what damage would occur other than in a named windstorm, so once I made that demand, premiums rose 20%. I got the policy, and noticed it was only good for up to 250 miles offshore. I called the company and the broker said it was 250 miles from any land, and that we would probably be okay going to Bermuda. I pushed a little more and got a call back that in fact the policy does not include Bermuda. Back to square one. I am waiting to hear what the additional premium is for Bermuda. Lloyds of London offered to insure the boat in the BVIs for around $3,600 and the trip down for an additional $1,300. Maybe they know something about risk that we have not considered.

Donna

More crew photos

Jay dons the "outfit".







Ann at the helm of Welcome Jr.

Saturday, October 8

29 days to go.

Michael and I spent 7 hours working on the boat on Saturday. There were gale force wind predictions and it was raining. We brought the boat to the dock at Corinthian Yacht Club and tried to figure out the best place to mount the new life raft. Just forward of the dodger would be the safest place since it would be near the cockpit in the event of a disaster, but we could not figure out how to get bolts through the deck without interfering with the hatch. We talked about fabricating a stainless steel brace, but without the skill.... We examined the possibility of mounting it on the doghouse forward of the mast, but it would be awkward to get to the bolts to fasten them once the holes were drilled in the deck because of the liner. We also looked at mounting the cradle at an angle against the forward edge of the doghouse, but were concerned about sheets getting tangled. At Michael's suggestion, we removed the life raft valise from the hard pelican case and dropped it with the abandon ship bag in the starboard cockpit locker. This actually is a great solution because it is close to where we would need
it and not so heavy that it would be more difficult to manipulate than crawling out on deck to release it from the cradle and hard case. We decided that the locker would be the safety locker with life jackets, abandon ship bags, and such. We moved the fenders and docking lines to the port side cockpit locker. I will keep the cradle and pelican case until the rest of the crew arrives to make certain they are in agreement with the plan. If they are, I will return it and save $500.

We went for a sail to try out the storm jib and storm trysail. To raise the storm jib, we needed to take the furling staysail off of the roller furling foil. You need to work at the mast to raise and drop the staysail halyard. The luff of the storm jib gets fed into the foil located on the stay. We then raised the jib. The most difficult part of the job was working with the tiny shackles on the head and tack of the staysail. We decided that in rough and cold weather, it would be near impossible to change the sails, so we mounted a quick release snap shackle for the head of the sail and a key shackle for the tack. We measured and tied sheets to the storm jib. The new shackles seemed to work fine with the roller furling when we replaced the storm jib with the staysail at the end of the day. We did try to use the furling system with the storm jib, but because of the way the Harken roller furling system works, the extra long halyard running off of the head of the storm jib guaranteed a jam almost immediately. We set the storm trysail up in the second track on the mast and raised it with the spare main halyard. We realized that we needed to fasten the tack to something and the forward reefing line with the snap shackle worked well for this task. The foot of the storm trysail is not fixed on the boom. We rigged a sheet from the clue of the sail through a spinnaker block and around the large winch. We raised the head of the trysail to just a foot or two above the spreaders. The spare main halyard is also operated from the mast, and while at sea we should probably use the regular halyard to raise and lower the trysail. The regular halyard can be operated from the cockpit. Because of the lazyjack system, and the sheet system, one would not change tacks easily with the trysail
set.

Both sails worked well. We had gusts into the mid twenties, so we were dreadfully under powered with those sails alone. We tried heaving to, which was one of the goals of the day. Heaving to is setting small sails in heavy weather and winds to keep the forward quarter of the boat into the waves for safety. When you heave to you give up making forward progress in exchange for not turning over and having a more comfortable ride waiting out a storm. Based on the Pardy's "Storm Tactics" we used the trysail and storm jib, turned 50-60 degrees from
the wind and then turned the rudder to steer into the wind. We did manage to stall and keep the boat's forward starboard quarter facing the waves for quite a while with almost no effort at the helm. Because we did not have real storm conditions, I am not certain if this was the
optimum way to heave to for the Pacific Seacraft. I know that some boats back the jib while keeping the mainsail on the leeward side in order to heave to. I hope we have the chance to learn additional ways of doing this prior to needing to do it in a storm.

It poured the whole time we were sailing, which felt like proper preparation for the trip. Visibility was less than one mile. We saw only one other boat outside of the harbor. Frustrated with our slow progress, we unfurled the genoa, lowered the trysail, and then raised a reefed main. All sails got a workout, as did the crew. Going into the harbor at the end of the cruise, we needed to dump our 120% genoa, because it jammed when we tried to furl it. Back on the mooring, we raised it again and furled it seemingly without effort.

Looking into the cabin of the boat, we had two wet sails, three wet fenders, the empty pelican case, tools, lines, the liferaft cradle, clothes and equipment strewn about, and water everywhere. It dawned on us how challenging it was going to be for four of us to live on the boat for several weeks. It is going to be important for stuff to get stowed immediately after use, and for all of us to live neatly out of duffel bags. Because the boat has two hanging lockers, our bulky foul weather gear can go in those lockers, but the rest of our personal things will have to be stowed in our bags. Michael and I thought that two or three bags could be stored on the port settee, and one or two bags under the starboard main cabin berth.

Back at the mooring we stowed everything, and Michael tightened lifelines. At his initiative, we then went to work on understanding the head system. We discovered that the holding tank was being filled by the lecstan toilet system, which defeats the purpose of the onboard sewage treatment system.The full tank accounted for a persistant foul smell. In fact, things were so "stuffed" that flushing the toilet resulted in water streaming from the tiny deck level vent. We turned all the handles to point in the right direction, emptied the tank, and put a cleanser into the system. We tried to determine if the macerator was operational. No conclusions, nor could we get it to work, but since the current toilet was a retrofit, it could be that the macerator was disconnected at some point. The lecstan system should eliminate the need for a macerator, but had I done the retrofit, I would have removed it if it was no longer hooked up. During this process, we discovered some mislabeled thru hull fittings. Every day brings a new discovery.

We also tried to hook the satellite telephone system up to the PC and failed. I will work on that some more, but from the dry comfort of my study.

Michael was kind enough to help me pull the dinghy and outboard for the season, using the crane and power washer at CYC. I got home late in the day looking and smelling like a tangle of yellow flotsam, and feeling oddly accomplished.

Donna

Jay and Donna

The Captains Turley in July 2005,
or is it the Captain Turleys,
or Captain Turley and the boat owner?

Michael

Able bodied crew Michael McGrenra at the helm in August 2005.

Friday, October 7, 2005

30 days until we weigh anchor

Michael discovered that we don't need a separate ISP to use the satellite phone for e-mail and internet. That is good news. We will have a PC on board for the purpose of e-mail and getting weather information. The idea is to download our e-mails, get off the phone, write our e-mails, and then dial up and send them all at once. The cost is 99 cents a minute, so we are going to try to be conservative. We are subscribing to a compression service known as Ocens Mail. We should all be able to get and send e-mails. BTW, the phone number for the boat is 254-387-1370. Landlubbers - this is for emergency use only. Keep your voice mail messages short, please. I haven't found a phone that can stay on the hook while being subjected to the motion of the boat, so we will probably store it except when we need to call out. Jay had some
information about cellular service if you want to use your cell phone when we are in range.

I plan to stay in touch with most people through the Blog. They can see where we are and read our pithy comments. Michael has already joined. I urge Ann and Jay to join through the invitation sent out last week. That way you can post to the Blog via an e-mail, and your friends/family can get information about us without you having to write to each person. The Winslow life raft arrived yesterday. Michael and I will install it this weekend. Not sure it can go on top of the bulkhead because we need to bolt it through the deck, not just use screws, and I can't figure out how to access the under part of the hatch. We may need to put it forward of the mast. Note that the life raft is in a Pelican suitcase with a separate grab bag, and it can be removed and brought to the cockpit without deploying it. We will also play around with the PC and the telephone to get an understanding of how to use it all. We are supposed to have gale force winds, so we might even try out the new sails if it is not raining too hard. We will measure and put sheets on the sails. Michael and I are also pulling the dinghy and engine, so it will be a busy day. Another goal is to match all the extra light bulbs with the navigation lights to make sure we have the right extras, and to start a preliminary supply list.

Donna

Welcome III - PSC37 #303