Wednesday, May 31, 2006

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

Sunday, May 28, 2006

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

Saturday, May 27, 2006

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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Friday, May 26, 2006

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

Thursday, May 25, 2006

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.

Wednesday, May 24, 2006

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


Tuesday, May 23, 2006

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

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Monday, May 22, 2006

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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Sunday, May 21, 2006

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.

Saturday, May 20, 2006

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

Friday, May 19, 2006

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

Thursday, May 18, 2006

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

Wednesday, May 17, 2006

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