06/30/02
The barometric pressure has continued to rise through yesterday and into this morning. It is now 1038 mb, which is higher than Eric remembers ever seeing before. With the high pressure comes very light winds that happen to be coming from the direction that we want to go. We started motoring last night at 2000, and are still motoring as of 1000 this morning.
Eric figures we have enough diesel fuel to make it to Flores, where we could stop and anchor and get some jerry cans of fuel with the dinghy before continuing to Horta. We are hoping to pick up some wind so this won’t be necessary. It doesn’t look promising at this point.
Now that we have the bobstay set up pretty solid, we are going to revisit the jib furler to see if we can get that to work. In light winds, it will make a big difference if we can use the jib. David and I emptied out the sail locker to see if the jerry cans (located in the very bottom of the locker) happened to have any fuel left in them. They didn’t.
The sail locker is behind the forward head. To get to it, you must put down the toilet seat lid and open the huge door. There is a mass of fenders (two huge ones and five medium sized), sail bags, a rigging bag filled with assorted pieces of line, the gas tank for the big dinghy engine, and several coils of very heavy docking line. It was a two man job to empty this sucker out.
Before lunch, we decided to have a go at setting the jib. Eric and David went forward with the strap wrench and I stayed back to handle the sheets. The jib came out easily enough. I just hope we can get it back in when the time comes.
This was a glorious time. We had all the sails set – main, jib, and staysail, and the wind had picked up and become favorable. We were close-hauled, making 6.5 knots, and were playing a tape of waltzes and polkas of Johann and Josef Strauss. The piece “My Life is Love & Joy Waltz” Opus 253, of Josef Strauss, was particularly inspiring. It just doesn’t get much better than this. We can only hope this continues to Horta.
At 1530, the wind has picked up a little and we are uncomfortably heeling. We went out and rolled the jib to one of the reef points (“the first dot”). The roller furling jib has three blue dots on it which signify reef points. To reduce the size of the jib, we roll it in until the next blue dot is even with the headstay. Things are a bit better after this adjustment, but not much. I anticipate more reefing (perhaps the main) in the near future.
We passed into a new time zone today. When that happens, we set the clocks forward an hour at noon. This means that whoever is on watch at noon gets a bonus watch reduction from three hours to two hours. Today I was the lucky one.
I have been listening to the “Heart of the Sea” book on tape the last couple of nights. This book tells the story of the sinking of the whaleship Essex, and goes into great detail as to the mechanics of the whaling business in the early 19th century. Yesterday I was sitting in the cockpit, thinking about the lookouts in the crow’s nest looking for whale spouts. At that moment I looked off into the distance and saw a spout of water rising from a wave. I studied the wave where I saw the spout, and a few seconds later saw it again. “Thar she blows!”, I exclaimed, and beckoned David to come out and look. We saw the spouts a couple more times, but did not see any of the actual whale, as it was too far away.
We had an excellent happy hour snack today, of smoked oysters with mustard on the home-made bread. The wind is holding up, and we are sailing comfortably. We are on the “money tack”, as Eric calls it. That is the tack that is closest to the actual course we want to be on (the rhumb line). Unfortunately it is not quite on the money, and we are currently pointed a little north of Flores.
Last night, David and I had happy hour and dinner by ourselves. Eric was not feeling well, and was continuing to rest. Thankfully, he felt better this morning. David and I were understandably nervous, as the worst possible thing would be for something to happen to Eric, though at this point I think David and I would be capable of getting the boat to a port, still very few decisions are made without Eric’s input.
Sunday, June 30, 2002
Saturday, June 29, 2002
Life without the Jib
06/29/02
Eric’s cake yesterday did not turn out so well. It stuck to the pan and came out in pieces. He served it with pineapple for dessert. I called it “Pineapple inside-out cake”. It tasted good, and I was happy with it. The wind veered to the SouthEast, and we had to tack at the end of my watch, as we were more than 100 degrees off course at that time.
It is a pain in the ass to tack with the staysail, as somebody (David) has to go forward and disconnect the preventer from the staysail boom, and after the tack go to the other side and reconnect it. It was already dark when we did this, so he did a lot of the work with a flashlight in his mouth.
Now we are holding a course of 085 degrees magnetic, which is still off course, but less so than before, but I’m afraid that’s the best we can do with the wind direction. There appears to still be a bit of a current against us also. The GPS says we are 353 miles from Flores, traveling 3.5 knots. That’s 100 hours at that pace, over four days, and when we get to Flores, it is still another 130 miles to Faial, where Horta is located on the SouthEast corner of the island. We are definitely missing the jib. I am really beginning to feel pangs of homesickness, too. I am having constant dreams of being at home.
Eric’s cake yesterday did not turn out so well. It stuck to the pan and came out in pieces. He served it with pineapple for dessert. I called it “Pineapple inside-out cake”. It tasted good, and I was happy with it. The wind veered to the SouthEast, and we had to tack at the end of my watch, as we were more than 100 degrees off course at that time.
It is a pain in the ass to tack with the staysail, as somebody (David) has to go forward and disconnect the preventer from the staysail boom, and after the tack go to the other side and reconnect it. It was already dark when we did this, so he did a lot of the work with a flashlight in his mouth.
Now we are holding a course of 085 degrees magnetic, which is still off course, but less so than before, but I’m afraid that’s the best we can do with the wind direction. There appears to still be a bit of a current against us also. The GPS says we are 353 miles from Flores, traveling 3.5 knots. That’s 100 hours at that pace, over four days, and when we get to Flores, it is still another 130 miles to Faial, where Horta is located on the SouthEast corner of the island. We are definitely missing the jib. I am really beginning to feel pangs of homesickness, too. I am having constant dreams of being at home.
Friday, June 28, 2002
A More Durable Bobstay Repair
06/28/02
Another exciting morning. This morning, our task is to implement a more effective repair for the bobstay. The weather is pretty mild, so this is a good time to do it.
Eric has a large snap shackle, and after filing the end down a little, was able to fit it through the end link of the chain. The then took a regular screw shackle and attached the end link of the upper chain to the snapshackle, and the next step was for David to lie down on the bowsprit and reach down to attach the snap shackle to the end link of the lower chain.
My job was to sit as far out as I could on the bowsprit to weigh it down to help the two ends meet. David’s first attempt was unsuccessful. Even with me sitting on the bowsprit and Eric pulling down on the line holding the lower chain with a block and tackle, we are not close to making the connection.
At this time we are visited on the bow by a school of dolphins. It is quite a sight, sitting out on the bowsprit, with the dolphins crossing back and forth beneath me. It is when I see the dolphins below the water that I realize how brilliantly colored the water really is.
We decided to add another shackle between the snap shackle and the upper chain. With this arrangement, David was able to get the chain attached, but the resulting configuration was too loose to adequately tighten with the turnbuckle.
The next step was for David to lie down on the bowsprit and hang over the front, disconnecting the turn buckle from the fitting underneath. As I watched from above, he struggled on the pitching bowsprit, trying to yank out the cotter pin which held the clevis pin in place. The bowsprit was undulating from 7 feet above the water down to less than a foot above the water the whole time he was working.
He finally gave up on the cotter pin and went back to ask Eric for advice. Eric was in the cabin performing surgery on the “Heart of the Sea” tape, which had broken when I was listening to it the night before. He went forward to look at the cotter pin and yanked it right out with the vice grips, then handed me the clevis pin. We hoisted the turnbuckle on deck with the safety line we attached earlier.
The next task is to detach the turnbuckle from the end of the chain so we can loosen it in the vise in the engine room. This turned out to be a non-trivial task, as the turnbuckle was secured to the chain with a nut and bolt that had not been touched in a few years. David and I struggled with this for probably half an hour, applying WD40 a few times to loosen things up. At long last it started to give and we were able to get the nut off.
We had lunch (chicken salad on homemade bread – YUM), then Eric took the turnbuckle into his “lab” in the engine room and mounted it on the vise to try to loosen it. The turnbuckle also had not been adjusted in years, and has constantly been dunked in salt water while cruising, so we don’t expect it to be cooperative.
Eric spent quite some time working on the turnbuckle, emerging to get his utility gloves. He finally emerged triumphant, and we all set about the business of reattaching the turnbuckle.
We had to decide how many links to exclude when we reattached it, to be sufficiently tight. We first decided to drop three links, so we attached the shackle from the turnbuckle (we used lots of shackles today) three links down on the chain, and David proceeded to lie down on the bowsprit and check the fit.
He announced that it was still way too loose, and we would need to go one more link (at least). So we took off the shackle and reattached it down another link. Now it fit better, and I handed David the clevis pin to complete the attachment to the bowsprit underfitting. He was having a bit of a struggle.
Eric sent me back to the cabin to get the ball peen hammer, and when I came back, both Eric and David were lying side by side face down on the bowsprit, with both their hands underneath. Eric made some comment about this being “position # 99”.
I fetched various tools for them as they worked; little vise grips, big vise grips, hammer. Finally they got the clevis pin in position, and I provided the cotter pin so they could finish the job. Now it was time for David to tighten up the turnbuckle, so I took a 1” wrench, tied a safety line to it, and handed it over to him.
The rigging on the bowsprit once more began to show life. We had successfully completed an adequate jury rig to replace the broken bobstay! We could now feel much safer if we encounter wind and waves. Unfortunately, we could still not use the jib, as the bottom of the extrusion was still bungled up somehow. We will still have a great deal of work to do in Horta.
Eric is going to bake a cake this afternoon. I suggested we call it a “Happy Bobstay” cake, in honor of our ordeal.
Another exciting morning. This morning, our task is to implement a more effective repair for the bobstay. The weather is pretty mild, so this is a good time to do it.
Eric has a large snap shackle, and after filing the end down a little, was able to fit it through the end link of the chain. The then took a regular screw shackle and attached the end link of the upper chain to the snapshackle, and the next step was for David to lie down on the bowsprit and reach down to attach the snap shackle to the end link of the lower chain.
My job was to sit as far out as I could on the bowsprit to weigh it down to help the two ends meet. David’s first attempt was unsuccessful. Even with me sitting on the bowsprit and Eric pulling down on the line holding the lower chain with a block and tackle, we are not close to making the connection.
At this time we are visited on the bow by a school of dolphins. It is quite a sight, sitting out on the bowsprit, with the dolphins crossing back and forth beneath me. It is when I see the dolphins below the water that I realize how brilliantly colored the water really is.
We decided to add another shackle between the snap shackle and the upper chain. With this arrangement, David was able to get the chain attached, but the resulting configuration was too loose to adequately tighten with the turnbuckle.
The next step was for David to lie down on the bowsprit and hang over the front, disconnecting the turn buckle from the fitting underneath. As I watched from above, he struggled on the pitching bowsprit, trying to yank out the cotter pin which held the clevis pin in place. The bowsprit was undulating from 7 feet above the water down to less than a foot above the water the whole time he was working.
He finally gave up on the cotter pin and went back to ask Eric for advice. Eric was in the cabin performing surgery on the “Heart of the Sea” tape, which had broken when I was listening to it the night before. He went forward to look at the cotter pin and yanked it right out with the vice grips, then handed me the clevis pin. We hoisted the turnbuckle on deck with the safety line we attached earlier.
The next task is to detach the turnbuckle from the end of the chain so we can loosen it in the vise in the engine room. This turned out to be a non-trivial task, as the turnbuckle was secured to the chain with a nut and bolt that had not been touched in a few years. David and I struggled with this for probably half an hour, applying WD40 a few times to loosen things up. At long last it started to give and we were able to get the nut off.
We had lunch (chicken salad on homemade bread – YUM), then Eric took the turnbuckle into his “lab” in the engine room and mounted it on the vise to try to loosen it. The turnbuckle also had not been adjusted in years, and has constantly been dunked in salt water while cruising, so we don’t expect it to be cooperative.
Eric spent quite some time working on the turnbuckle, emerging to get his utility gloves. He finally emerged triumphant, and we all set about the business of reattaching the turnbuckle.
We had to decide how many links to exclude when we reattached it, to be sufficiently tight. We first decided to drop three links, so we attached the shackle from the turnbuckle (we used lots of shackles today) three links down on the chain, and David proceeded to lie down on the bowsprit and check the fit.
He announced that it was still way too loose, and we would need to go one more link (at least). So we took off the shackle and reattached it down another link. Now it fit better, and I handed David the clevis pin to complete the attachment to the bowsprit underfitting. He was having a bit of a struggle.
Eric sent me back to the cabin to get the ball peen hammer, and when I came back, both Eric and David were lying side by side face down on the bowsprit, with both their hands underneath. Eric made some comment about this being “position # 99”.
I fetched various tools for them as they worked; little vise grips, big vise grips, hammer. Finally they got the clevis pin in position, and I provided the cotter pin so they could finish the job. Now it was time for David to tighten up the turnbuckle, so I took a 1” wrench, tied a safety line to it, and handed it over to him.
The rigging on the bowsprit once more began to show life. We had successfully completed an adequate jury rig to replace the broken bobstay! We could now feel much safer if we encounter wind and waves. Unfortunately, we could still not use the jib, as the bottom of the extrusion was still bungled up somehow. We will still have a great deal of work to do in Horta.
Eric is going to bake a cake this afternoon. I suggested we call it a “Happy Bobstay” cake, in honor of our ordeal.
Thursday, June 27, 2002
A Nice Day!!
06/27/02
So far it’s been a nice day.
David and I did a couple of chores on deck (replaced the MOB pole flag in it’s sleeve and redid the blocks for the staysail traveler, so the snatch block was on deck and the permanent block was on the end of the boom.
The weather is nice. Sunny but not too warm.
I sat in the cockpit for my entire 1100-1400 watch. We saw a container ship that stayed distant. I also saw some sea life. I spotted a sea turtle to port, and later I saw what appeared to be a shark to starboard. Eric says he remembers seeing a lot more wildlife on previous passages.
So far it’s been a nice day.
David and I did a couple of chores on deck (replaced the MOB pole flag in it’s sleeve and redid the blocks for the staysail traveler, so the snatch block was on deck and the permanent block was on the end of the boom.
The weather is nice. Sunny but not too warm.
I sat in the cockpit for my entire 1100-1400 watch. We saw a container ship that stayed distant. I also saw some sea life. I spotted a sea turtle to port, and later I saw what appeared to be a shark to starboard. Eric says he remembers seeing a lot more wildlife on previous passages.
Wednesday, June 26, 2002
Sleep Angles and Bobstay Jury Rigging
06/26/02
The winds are continuing to blow the same, 25-30 knots from SouthWest. We are making 7.5 knots over ground with double-reefed main and staysail, so our loss of the jib yesterday did not impede our performance appreciably. At this rate, we will be in Horta in five days, but after five more days of this, I will be a wreck.
The boat motion continues to go in every direction, as we hit these big waves that have been building up for the last 36 hours.
Sleep has been a real challenge. I find a lot of the time when I am laying down, I don’t quite make it to a sleep state. I just lay there and have incoherent dream-like thoughts. A lot of the time I am thinking like I am still home, of things I want to do and places to go, and I think about angles. I envision all kinds of angles, 15 degrees, 30 degrees, in relation to my position. It’s because the angles of my body’s orientation are so constantly and randomly changing, that is all I can think about. It is not unusual to be laying more against the wall than against the bunk itself. I have my pillows arranged so I have some padding against the wall. Thank God I brought a third pillow.
I am at a point where all I can do is think about making it through my watch, and when the next watch will be. I’m beginning to feel a distinct lack of energy, as it is more and more of an effort to move about the boat. As I near the end of my watch, at 0800, the wind seems to have moderated to 15-20 knots. Maybe I will be able to get some sleep..
When I awoke at 0900, it was raining hard outside, and if felt like conditions were worse. I thus decided to roll over and go back to sleep. When I got up again around 1000, the weather had moderated considerably.
Our next order of business, now that the howling winds and seas had subsided, was to do something about the dangling bobstay chains on the bow. We could see that the motion of the bowsprit was considerable as it crashed into the waves. We went forward, and I first replaced the wooden block that we had been using for the preventer with a more substantial snatch block from Eric’s deck hardware locker. Then David went out on the bowsprit and retrieved the length of bobstay chain hanging from the bowsprit. He handed me the end of the chain and I tied a line through it to hold while David secured the chain to the bowsprit with a short line.
That having been done, the next task was to retrieve the lower piece of chain that was attached at the waterline. We planned to use the boathook to retrieve it, but the ball on the end of the hook wouldn’t fit through the chain link (we tested this on the upper chain first). I suggested the gaff hook that was lashed to the radar mast on the stern, presumably for the rare occasion when someone decided to go fishing and brought in a big fish. The gaff hook had only a three foot handle, so Eric lashed the gaff hook handle to the boat hook handle, then lashed a safety line to the boat hook in case David dropped it. David then put down a boat cushion on deck and laid on top of this, boat/gaff hook in hand, while I held onto his leg.
He was able to retrieve the chain pretty easily, gave me the end of the chain, and I tied a line through the last link of the chain and held on to it. All this time it was very important to keep our heads as low as possible, as the foot of the staysail was flapping around, snapping like a Turkish towel, and could really do some damage if it caught someone’s head the right way. I had been caught on the back of my head once, luckily not at a high energy point in the snap, and it only served as a strong reminder to keep my head down.
Once I had secured the line to the chain, David got up and took the other end of the line up to the end of the bowsprit, carefully guiding it under the anchor and the dangling upper chain, so that it had a clear run to the snatch block we had attached earlier. He ran it through the block, and I tied the other end to a heavy duty block and tackle (the one we are using for the running backstay), secured this to a cleat and pulled down on this as tightly as possible.
This arrangement will take the place of the broken bobstay until we get to Horta. We will still not be able to use the jib, but hopefully this will at least relieve some of the strain on the bowsprit and prevent any more failures before we are able to get this fixed.
We had another serious problem with chafe on the jib sheets. Since we rolled in the jib, we have not been able to get the sheets tight enough to prevent them from rubbing up and down on the shrouds, and the port sheet had one spot where it was very frayed from rubbing against the screw threads on the turnbuckle.
At this point we are 680 miles from Horta, the same distance as Newport to Bermuda. I can’t wait to get there.
We shook out the two reefs in the mainsail, and now we are sailing with “maximum canvas” – full main and staysail.
The wind dwindled and changed direction. We gybed and Eric rigged a preventer for the staysail boom, to keep it from flogging around, and make it safer for us to go forward. The problem is that every time we gybe or tack (hopefully not very often) we will need to re-rig the preventer on the other side.
David and I took another sun sight today. We are hoping to be able to see Venus tonight so we can take a sight on that and produce a running fix.
Tonight we are planning to watch a movie, “12 O’Clock High” on the little TV.
The winds are continuing to blow the same, 25-30 knots from SouthWest. We are making 7.5 knots over ground with double-reefed main and staysail, so our loss of the jib yesterday did not impede our performance appreciably. At this rate, we will be in Horta in five days, but after five more days of this, I will be a wreck.
The boat motion continues to go in every direction, as we hit these big waves that have been building up for the last 36 hours.
Sleep has been a real challenge. I find a lot of the time when I am laying down, I don’t quite make it to a sleep state. I just lay there and have incoherent dream-like thoughts. A lot of the time I am thinking like I am still home, of things I want to do and places to go, and I think about angles. I envision all kinds of angles, 15 degrees, 30 degrees, in relation to my position. It’s because the angles of my body’s orientation are so constantly and randomly changing, that is all I can think about. It is not unusual to be laying more against the wall than against the bunk itself. I have my pillows arranged so I have some padding against the wall. Thank God I brought a third pillow.
I am at a point where all I can do is think about making it through my watch, and when the next watch will be. I’m beginning to feel a distinct lack of energy, as it is more and more of an effort to move about the boat. As I near the end of my watch, at 0800, the wind seems to have moderated to 15-20 knots. Maybe I will be able to get some sleep..
When I awoke at 0900, it was raining hard outside, and if felt like conditions were worse. I thus decided to roll over and go back to sleep. When I got up again around 1000, the weather had moderated considerably.
Our next order of business, now that the howling winds and seas had subsided, was to do something about the dangling bobstay chains on the bow. We could see that the motion of the bowsprit was considerable as it crashed into the waves. We went forward, and I first replaced the wooden block that we had been using for the preventer with a more substantial snatch block from Eric’s deck hardware locker. Then David went out on the bowsprit and retrieved the length of bobstay chain hanging from the bowsprit. He handed me the end of the chain and I tied a line through it to hold while David secured the chain to the bowsprit with a short line.
That having been done, the next task was to retrieve the lower piece of chain that was attached at the waterline. We planned to use the boathook to retrieve it, but the ball on the end of the hook wouldn’t fit through the chain link (we tested this on the upper chain first). I suggested the gaff hook that was lashed to the radar mast on the stern, presumably for the rare occasion when someone decided to go fishing and brought in a big fish. The gaff hook had only a three foot handle, so Eric lashed the gaff hook handle to the boat hook handle, then lashed a safety line to the boat hook in case David dropped it. David then put down a boat cushion on deck and laid on top of this, boat/gaff hook in hand, while I held onto his leg.
He was able to retrieve the chain pretty easily, gave me the end of the chain, and I tied a line through the last link of the chain and held on to it. All this time it was very important to keep our heads as low as possible, as the foot of the staysail was flapping around, snapping like a Turkish towel, and could really do some damage if it caught someone’s head the right way. I had been caught on the back of my head once, luckily not at a high energy point in the snap, and it only served as a strong reminder to keep my head down.
Once I had secured the line to the chain, David got up and took the other end of the line up to the end of the bowsprit, carefully guiding it under the anchor and the dangling upper chain, so that it had a clear run to the snatch block we had attached earlier. He ran it through the block, and I tied the other end to a heavy duty block and tackle (the one we are using for the running backstay), secured this to a cleat and pulled down on this as tightly as possible.
This arrangement will take the place of the broken bobstay until we get to Horta. We will still not be able to use the jib, but hopefully this will at least relieve some of the strain on the bowsprit and prevent any more failures before we are able to get this fixed.
We had another serious problem with chafe on the jib sheets. Since we rolled in the jib, we have not been able to get the sheets tight enough to prevent them from rubbing up and down on the shrouds, and the port sheet had one spot where it was very frayed from rubbing against the screw threads on the turnbuckle.
At this point we are 680 miles from Horta, the same distance as Newport to Bermuda. I can’t wait to get there.
We shook out the two reefs in the mainsail, and now we are sailing with “maximum canvas” – full main and staysail.
The wind dwindled and changed direction. We gybed and Eric rigged a preventer for the staysail boom, to keep it from flogging around, and make it safer for us to go forward. The problem is that every time we gybe or tack (hopefully not very often) we will need to re-rig the preventer on the other side.
David and I took another sun sight today. We are hoping to be able to see Venus tonight so we can take a sight on that and produce a running fix.
Tonight we are planning to watch a movie, “12 O’Clock High” on the little TV.
Tuesday, June 25, 2002
Walking on the Walls
06/25/02
I awoke at 0545 this morning to the dreaded words “Bob, We’ve got to tie a reef in.” We had been reaching all night and the wind had been steadily increasing. Now it was a steady 25 knots. We were able to get the reef in with no incident, but as I sit here looking at the inclinometer, it is still bouncing between 20 and 40 degrees. We are, as Eric says, “Walking on the walls.”
In hindsight, we should have tied in two reefs instead of one, in anticipation of the increasing wind. But for now we are living with the decision, as it really is a big deal to do the reefing. On the positive side, we are on the correct course and making tremendous progress. We have traveled almost 90 miles in the last 12 hours.
I just went up on deck with Eric to adjust the topping lift on the whisker pole. We leave the pole rigged out to the side, and had to raise it so it wouldn’t dip into the water when the boat heels. There are some big waves out there! We are regularly taking waves over the companionway hatch, which we are keeping closed, of course. We also adjusted course a bit so the motion is (just) a little more comfortable.
This boat is certainly taking a pounding. There is constant creaking from the wood joints in the interior, and a cacophony of whistles from the rigging. And of course, this weather is nothing compared to what we can expect after Cape Town. GULP!! But, I guess if I learn to cope with this stuff first, it will be easier to step up to the really awful stuff.
Overall, this trip has been a good introduction. Any difficult weather we have had (so far) has not been too prolonged (never more than a day), and has been followed by mild weather to let me catch my breath. Let’s hope that trend holds up. Eric is taking a one-hour nap before baking the daily bread (which is quite delicious) and connecting to the Ham Net with Trudi in Barbados. David is catching up on his sleep and I am alone on watch at 0900. I think things are starting to feel better. I must have smashed my elbow while reefing this morning, as I have a severe pain whenever I move it. I don’t think it is serious.
We had high drama this morning at 1100. At the end of my watch, Eric asked David to go forward with the Allen wrench and check the screws on the ProFurl. We have also been concerned because the headstay seems to have been getting looser as we have been going. When he went forward, and was checking the furler, I was watching from the cockpit. He started back with an alarmed look on his face. He said that when he was checking the furler he noticed a chain dangling form the bow sprit.
As it turns out, the bobstay had broken.
The bobstay is a length of chain (3/8” stainless) that runs from the end of the bowsprit, just under where the headstay connects, to a fitting on the bow of the boat, right at the waterline. It’s purpose is to take the load from the headstay to the mast. Without it, we are in danger of losing the headstay, the bowsprit, and possibly the mast.
The wind is still blowing 25-30 knots and we have only one reef in the main. We decided to furl the jib and set the staysail, which will take some load off the headstay.
When rolling up the jib, the furler got stuck, apparently bent from the strain combined with the looseness of the headstay. It was thus necessary for Eric to use a “strap wrench” to wind it manually. A strap wrench is a steel handle with a length of what looks like motorcycle chain attached to it, used for plumbing applications to turn pipes and things with no grip on them.
Eric and David teamed up to wind the furler, while I controlled the tension on the jib sheet, which was wildly flogging in the 30 knot wind. Once the furler was wound in and secured with a short length of line, the next step was to set the staysail. The staysail is a small headsail that is attached to the forestay, and has it’s own boom and sheet.
Once we got the staysail set, we needed to ponder our next move. We couldn’t trust the headstay to support the mast in it’s weakened condition, so we decided to look into using the spare halyard to reinforce the headstay.
We had lunch first (you've got to have your priorities!), then we went on deck, put a second reef in the mainsail, attached a vang to the spare halyard, and secured that to a fitting on the bow of the boat, tightening the vang as much as possible.
Now we are 700 miles from Horta, unable to use the jib, and with winds that won’t die. It is a bit more comfortable with the second reef in, and less stress on the rigging too. We still seem to be making good time.
The View from the Companionway
In hindsight, we should have tied in two reefs instead of one, in anticipation of the increasing wind. But for now we are living with the decision, as it really is a big deal to do the reefing. On the positive side, we are on the correct course and making tremendous progress. We have traveled almost 90 miles in the last 12 hours.
I just went up on deck with Eric to adjust the topping lift on the whisker pole. We leave the pole rigged out to the side, and had to raise it so it wouldn’t dip into the water when the boat heels. There are some big waves out there! We are regularly taking waves over the companionway hatch, which we are keeping closed, of course. We also adjusted course a bit so the motion is (just) a little more comfortable.
This boat is certainly taking a pounding. There is constant creaking from the wood joints in the interior, and a cacophony of whistles from the rigging. And of course, this weather is nothing compared to what we can expect after Cape Town. GULP!! But, I guess if I learn to cope with this stuff first, it will be easier to step up to the really awful stuff.
Overall, this trip has been a good introduction. Any difficult weather we have had (so far) has not been too prolonged (never more than a day), and has been followed by mild weather to let me catch my breath. Let’s hope that trend holds up. Eric is taking a one-hour nap before baking the daily bread (which is quite delicious) and connecting to the Ham Net with Trudi in Barbados. David is catching up on his sleep and I am alone on watch at 0900. I think things are starting to feel better. I must have smashed my elbow while reefing this morning, as I have a severe pain whenever I move it. I don’t think it is serious.
We had high drama this morning at 1100. At the end of my watch, Eric asked David to go forward with the Allen wrench and check the screws on the ProFurl. We have also been concerned because the headstay seems to have been getting looser as we have been going. When he went forward, and was checking the furler, I was watching from the cockpit. He started back with an alarmed look on his face. He said that when he was checking the furler he noticed a chain dangling form the bow sprit.
As it turns out, the bobstay had broken.
The bobstay is a length of chain (3/8” stainless) that runs from the end of the bowsprit, just under where the headstay connects, to a fitting on the bow of the boat, right at the waterline. It’s purpose is to take the load from the headstay to the mast. Without it, we are in danger of losing the headstay, the bowsprit, and possibly the mast.
The wind is still blowing 25-30 knots and we have only one reef in the main. We decided to furl the jib and set the staysail, which will take some load off the headstay.
When rolling up the jib, the furler got stuck, apparently bent from the strain combined with the looseness of the headstay. It was thus necessary for Eric to use a “strap wrench” to wind it manually. A strap wrench is a steel handle with a length of what looks like motorcycle chain attached to it, used for plumbing applications to turn pipes and things with no grip on them.
Eric and David teamed up to wind the furler, while I controlled the tension on the jib sheet, which was wildly flogging in the 30 knot wind. Once the furler was wound in and secured with a short length of line, the next step was to set the staysail. The staysail is a small headsail that is attached to the forestay, and has it’s own boom and sheet.
Once we got the staysail set, we needed to ponder our next move. We couldn’t trust the headstay to support the mast in it’s weakened condition, so we decided to look into using the spare halyard to reinforce the headstay.
We had lunch first (you've got to have your priorities!), then we went on deck, put a second reef in the mainsail, attached a vang to the spare halyard, and secured that to a fitting on the bow of the boat, tightening the vang as much as possible.
Now we are 700 miles from Horta, unable to use the jib, and with winds that won’t die. It is a bit more comfortable with the second reef in, and less stress on the rigging too. We still seem to be making good time.
Monday, June 24, 2002
Thank God it's Monday
06/24/02
Last night the wind died again, and we motored for a while, then it shifted to the North and picked up, so now we are on a reach.
As of today we have been gone for two weeks. Today is Monday, and Mondays are significant for two reasons. It is the day we call on the Iridium phone and the day we take showers.
I spoke to Sue and let her know our position and that we are okay. Eric was having trouble dialing Brenda, so I tried to dial her number for him and was successful. I think he was not patient to wait for the second ring.
After breakfast, we moved the whisker pole over to the other side and went wing-and-wing. The wind was blowing 18-20 knots, and we were preparing to reef the main, but before we had a chance the wind dropped back down to 12 knots. At this moment we are less than 1000 miles from Horta, and expect to be there by July 4.
Last night the wind died again, and we motored for a while, then it shifted to the North and picked up, so now we are on a reach.
As of today we have been gone for two weeks. Today is Monday, and Mondays are significant for two reasons. It is the day we call on the Iridium phone and the day we take showers.
I spoke to Sue and let her know our position and that we are okay. Eric was having trouble dialing Brenda, so I tried to dial her number for him and was successful. I think he was not patient to wait for the second ring.
After breakfast, we moved the whisker pole over to the other side and went wing-and-wing. The wind was blowing 18-20 knots, and we were preparing to reef the main, but before we had a chance the wind dropped back down to 12 knots. At this moment we are less than 1000 miles from Horta, and expect to be there by July 4.
Sunday, June 23, 2002
Bread, Moon, and Doubt
06/23/02
We had pretty decent wind through my 0000-0200 watch last night, then it fizzled later. When I woke up for my 0600 watch, Eric had the engine running and was making bread on the stove. Yesterday, we ran out of whole wheat bread that had been purchased for the trip, and now we must make our own for sandwiches. He is baking the bread in an aluminum stockpot on top of the stove. The pot has a cylindrical metal insert inside, so that the bread loaf comes out the shape of a pound cake.
Last night the moon was beautiful, although when I was off watch it kept shining through the ports into my eyes, making it difficult to sleep. I will always think of Sue when I see the moon, particularly when it is preventing me from falling asleep. The first night I was on watch, the entire sky was obscured by clouds, but a little hole opened up just enough for the moon to shine through. I felt that it was Sue saying “hello”. I am a bit relieved that we are heading for Horta rather than the Canaries as a first stop. We should be there in 11 days (around July 4), rather than (at least) one week later in the Canaries. I am starting to get a bit homesick, wondering what I’ve gotten myself into. At this point I am having some doubts about my ability to continue past Cape Town, but it is early yet. I will give myself a chance to adapt.
Eric Preparing the Daily Bread
We had pretty decent wind through my 0000-0200 watch last night, then it fizzled later. When I woke up for my 0600 watch, Eric had the engine running and was making bread on the stove. Yesterday, we ran out of whole wheat bread that had been purchased for the trip, and now we must make our own for sandwiches. He is baking the bread in an aluminum stockpot on top of the stove. The pot has a cylindrical metal insert inside, so that the bread loaf comes out the shape of a pound cake.
The Finished Product
Last night the moon was beautiful, although when I was off watch it kept shining through the ports into my eyes, making it difficult to sleep. I will always think of Sue when I see the moon, particularly when it is preventing me from falling asleep. The first night I was on watch, the entire sky was obscured by clouds, but a little hole opened up just enough for the moon to shine through. I felt that it was Sue saying “hello”. I am a bit relieved that we are heading for Horta rather than the Canaries as a first stop. We should be there in 11 days (around July 4), rather than (at least) one week later in the Canaries. I am starting to get a bit homesick, wondering what I’ve gotten myself into. At this point I am having some doubts about my ability to continue past Cape Town, but it is early yet. I will give myself a chance to adapt.
Friday, June 21, 2002
Azores Bound
06/21/02
Well, the boat motion finally got to me yesterday. After beating all day with 18-20 knot SouthEast winds (we are headed East), and constantly crashing into big waves (sometimes it seems like the entire boat is airborne), I was feeling quite queasy. I tried to eat my dinner, but was unable to finish half of it. After a stern reprimand from Eric for taking more than I could eat, I took what was left out to the cockpit to “feed the fishes”, and briefly regurgitated on the plate as I threw it over. I then went down to the galley to do the dishes (it was my day) and was immediately overcome with a “Yack Attack”. I ran out to the cockpit, but did not quite get my head over the rail before it hit. At that point, Eric advised me to stay in the cockpit and get some air while he and David did the dishes. Afterwards they got a bucket with a rope and picked up some seawater to wash away my mess. Miraculously, at this time the wind died and the motion of the boat became more tolerable. I began to feel better, and my watch was coming up (2000-2200), so I spent that whole time in the cockpit.
Overnight, the wind continued to be light. We ran the engine for a bit, then decided to stick it out. Finally, on my watch the next morning, the wind picked up to a favorable speed and direction, and we have been sailing comfortably. Eric was able to contact Trudi successfully this morning, after reconfiguring the antenna again. We had moved the running backstay to midships before, to prevent interfering with the SSB antenna on the backstay, so we reconnected the regular antenna again. He was also able to contact Mike McEwan, his neighbor from around the corner in Brookhaven, and give him our position. Mike will contact Red and Brenda with the news, and I’m sure Sue will get this information too. Last night there was a brilliant moon showing during my 0200-0400 watch.
This morning Eric dissected the Seagull and found that the thing which caused it to jam in Block Island was a part that had stuck in the magnetic flywheel.
We checked our position on the ocean chart. At this point we are on the Sohm Abyssal Plain, an area of ocean that is over three miles deep! On looking at the chart and our progress, Eric decided we should stop in Horta, Azores for a couple of days. He figured we’d do this, since we have to pass near the Azores to avoid the Azores-Bermuda High anyway. We would travel to the Canary Islands (Santa Cruz, in Tenerife), then stop at the Cape Verde Islands on the way to Fernando de Noronha.
We have been learning celestial navigation for the last few days. Eric had given classes on this at the Bellport library a few years ago. We have learned all the principles, and how to look up things in the Nautical Almanac, and today we took our first sun sight. We will take another one tomorrow and establish a running fix.
Well, the boat motion finally got to me yesterday. After beating all day with 18-20 knot SouthEast winds (we are headed East), and constantly crashing into big waves (sometimes it seems like the entire boat is airborne), I was feeling quite queasy. I tried to eat my dinner, but was unable to finish half of it. After a stern reprimand from Eric for taking more than I could eat, I took what was left out to the cockpit to “feed the fishes”, and briefly regurgitated on the plate as I threw it over. I then went down to the galley to do the dishes (it was my day) and was immediately overcome with a “Yack Attack”. I ran out to the cockpit, but did not quite get my head over the rail before it hit. At that point, Eric advised me to stay in the cockpit and get some air while he and David did the dishes. Afterwards they got a bucket with a rope and picked up some seawater to wash away my mess. Miraculously, at this time the wind died and the motion of the boat became more tolerable. I began to feel better, and my watch was coming up (2000-2200), so I spent that whole time in the cockpit.
Overnight, the wind continued to be light. We ran the engine for a bit, then decided to stick it out. Finally, on my watch the next morning, the wind picked up to a favorable speed and direction, and we have been sailing comfortably. Eric was able to contact Trudi successfully this morning, after reconfiguring the antenna again. We had moved the running backstay to midships before, to prevent interfering with the SSB antenna on the backstay, so we reconnected the regular antenna again. He was also able to contact Mike McEwan, his neighbor from around the corner in Brookhaven, and give him our position. Mike will contact Red and Brenda with the news, and I’m sure Sue will get this information too. Last night there was a brilliant moon showing during my 0200-0400 watch.
This morning Eric dissected the Seagull and found that the thing which caused it to jam in Block Island was a part that had stuck in the magnetic flywheel.
We checked our position on the ocean chart. At this point we are on the Sohm Abyssal Plain, an area of ocean that is over three miles deep! On looking at the chart and our progress, Eric decided we should stop in Horta, Azores for a couple of days. He figured we’d do this, since we have to pass near the Azores to avoid the Azores-Bermuda High anyway. We would travel to the Canary Islands (Santa Cruz, in Tenerife), then stop at the Cape Verde Islands on the way to Fernando de Noronha.
We have been learning celestial navigation for the last few days. Eric had given classes on this at the Bellport library a few years ago. We have learned all the principles, and how to look up things in the Nautical Almanac, and today we took our first sun sight. We will take another one tomorrow and establish a running fix.
Thursday, June 20, 2002
Pancake Weather
06/20/02 –
We tuned into Herb at 1600, but were not able to understand a word he said, as the signal was not coming in very well. Around this same time, the wind picked up, and we found ourselves sailing on a close reach at 6.5-7 knots, actually able to match the recommended GPS course (hereafter referred to as the Rhumb Line)! This was very exciting, and the favorable wind continued through my watch. I actually logged 21 miles on my watch! But then, when David came on watch, the curse returned, and we once again lost the wind. After patiently waiting, Eric finally decided to start the engine at 2230, to keep from beating the sail to death. This continued through the night, and when I came on at 0600 we were still becalmed. Eric is going to make pancakes for breakfast if the wind does not pick up, to take advantage of the calm seas. It’s kind of spooky to see nothing but light ripples extending to the horizon in all directions. At this point it has been three days since we saw any sign of another human being, the oil tanker. It is an odd feeling.
As of this morning, it has been one full week since we left Block Island. During that time we have logged 800 miles, 200 less than what we would like. We are hoping these conditions will change.
Today has been windless for the most part. It was not until after lunch that we were finally able to turn the engine off. At this time, we have a nice wind, unfortunately it is blowing us NorthEast. We will thus need to tack shortly. This sucks for me, because then my bunk will be on the windward side again, which is quite uncomfortable. We saw another ship today, a big tanker heading west. That is only two ships this week. Even a thousand miles out in the ocean, I see an occasional plastic bottle float by. You can really see the effects of our litter everywhere.
We tuned into Herb at 1600, but were not able to understand a word he said, as the signal was not coming in very well. Around this same time, the wind picked up, and we found ourselves sailing on a close reach at 6.5-7 knots, actually able to match the recommended GPS course (hereafter referred to as the Rhumb Line)! This was very exciting, and the favorable wind continued through my watch. I actually logged 21 miles on my watch! But then, when David came on watch, the curse returned, and we once again lost the wind. After patiently waiting, Eric finally decided to start the engine at 2230, to keep from beating the sail to death. This continued through the night, and when I came on at 0600 we were still becalmed. Eric is going to make pancakes for breakfast if the wind does not pick up, to take advantage of the calm seas. It’s kind of spooky to see nothing but light ripples extending to the horizon in all directions. At this point it has been three days since we saw any sign of another human being, the oil tanker. It is an odd feeling.
As of this morning, it has been one full week since we left Block Island. During that time we have logged 800 miles, 200 less than what we would like. We are hoping these conditions will change.
Today has been windless for the most part. It was not until after lunch that we were finally able to turn the engine off. At this time, we have a nice wind, unfortunately it is blowing us NorthEast. We will thus need to tack shortly. This sucks for me, because then my bunk will be on the windward side again, which is quite uncomfortable. We saw another ship today, a big tanker heading west. That is only two ships this week. Even a thousand miles out in the ocean, I see an occasional plastic bottle float by. You can really see the effects of our litter everywhere.
Wednesday, June 19, 2002
An Improvised Burner Repair
06/19/02
Continuing yesterday, the afternoon project for Eric was to repair a burner on the gas stove. It seems the base of the burner had rusted through. He made a note to call Red and order a new burner to bring to Cape Town.
The stove is a camper stove that was purchased at Ozzie’s camp supply in Bohemia, Long Island. He felt that the marine stoves were way too expensive, but one of the bad things about a stove that is not designed for the marine environment is that they are more susceptible to rust. Until we can get the spare part, it is necessary to try to improvise a solution to the burner problem. Eric noticed that the diameter of the rusted burner base was roughly the same as the lid of a vegetable can. As he was going to cook corn and lima beans for dinner that night, he took the cans from the locker and opened the corn can, emptying the contents into a Tupperware. He then took his Dremel tool, and using the grinding wheel attachment, cut a hole in the middle of the can lid so that it would fit over the burner base and extend the rusted portion so that it would fit snugly in the burner. This required some trimming around the outer edge with tin snips for a proper fit. Now comes the problem of how to attach the can on the base. He couldn’t use epoxy, as this would probably not hold up under the heat. The solution was to cut tabs in the can lid with the snips and fold them over with vice grips.
When he installed this on the stove, it did not work well, as the gas was leaking through the holes made by the tabs. The solution to this problem was to open the can of lima beans and use the Dremel to cut a hole in this other lid, and lay this lid over the other one so that the tab holes were covered. This worked better, but was still not good. There was still some leaking around the perimeter. The solution to this new problem was to take pieces of aluminum foil, roll them up and stuff them in the remaining gaps with a small screwdriver. This solution held up well enough so we could use the burner, at least until a proper replacement could be made.
The wind is continuing to be a problem. It has been blowing very lightly, and keeps wanting to push us south, when we would prefer to be heading east, to avoid a stationary high pressure area that lives in the Atlantic (the Bermuda-Azores High). Last night after dinner, we set the preventer and the whisker pole to run wing-and-wing through the night. This caused quite a bit of frustration, as there was often not enough wind for Victor to react quickly enough, and we frequently allowed the boat to gybe. With the preventer, a gybe is not a disastrous event, however it requires the helmsman to disengage Victor, steer hard over to bring the boat back on course, then, while keeping the boat on the proper course, look back with a flashlight and watch for the wind vane to go upright. The instant the vane goes upright, you muse re-engage Victor as quickly as possible, making sure you have the correct amount of helm at the same time. It seems I was doing this every 10 minutes throughout my 0200-0400 watch, and I was very happy to hand this responsibility over to David at the end. When I awoke for my 0800 watch, we were motoring with no wind, and later on the wind had veered to the NorthEast, and we found ourselves close-hauled. The wind was still light (12 knots) but we were getting a substantial boost from the gulf stream. We are planning to tune into Herb this afternoon and see if he has any relevant information.
Continuing yesterday, the afternoon project for Eric was to repair a burner on the gas stove. It seems the base of the burner had rusted through. He made a note to call Red and order a new burner to bring to Cape Town.
The stove is a camper stove that was purchased at Ozzie’s camp supply in Bohemia, Long Island. He felt that the marine stoves were way too expensive, but one of the bad things about a stove that is not designed for the marine environment is that they are more susceptible to rust. Until we can get the spare part, it is necessary to try to improvise a solution to the burner problem. Eric noticed that the diameter of the rusted burner base was roughly the same as the lid of a vegetable can. As he was going to cook corn and lima beans for dinner that night, he took the cans from the locker and opened the corn can, emptying the contents into a Tupperware. He then took his Dremel tool, and using the grinding wheel attachment, cut a hole in the middle of the can lid so that it would fit over the burner base and extend the rusted portion so that it would fit snugly in the burner. This required some trimming around the outer edge with tin snips for a proper fit. Now comes the problem of how to attach the can on the base. He couldn’t use epoxy, as this would probably not hold up under the heat. The solution was to cut tabs in the can lid with the snips and fold them over with vice grips.
When he installed this on the stove, it did not work well, as the gas was leaking through the holes made by the tabs. The solution to this problem was to open the can of lima beans and use the Dremel to cut a hole in this other lid, and lay this lid over the other one so that the tab holes were covered. This worked better, but was still not good. There was still some leaking around the perimeter. The solution to this new problem was to take pieces of aluminum foil, roll them up and stuff them in the remaining gaps with a small screwdriver. This solution held up well enough so we could use the burner, at least until a proper replacement could be made.
The wind is continuing to be a problem. It has been blowing very lightly, and keeps wanting to push us south, when we would prefer to be heading east, to avoid a stationary high pressure area that lives in the Atlantic (the Bermuda-Azores High). Last night after dinner, we set the preventer and the whisker pole to run wing-and-wing through the night. This caused quite a bit of frustration, as there was often not enough wind for Victor to react quickly enough, and we frequently allowed the boat to gybe. With the preventer, a gybe is not a disastrous event, however it requires the helmsman to disengage Victor, steer hard over to bring the boat back on course, then, while keeping the boat on the proper course, look back with a flashlight and watch for the wind vane to go upright. The instant the vane goes upright, you muse re-engage Victor as quickly as possible, making sure you have the correct amount of helm at the same time. It seems I was doing this every 10 minutes throughout my 0200-0400 watch, and I was very happy to hand this responsibility over to David at the end. When I awoke for my 0800 watch, we were motoring with no wind, and later on the wind had veered to the NorthEast, and we found ourselves close-hauled. The wind was still light (12 knots) but we were getting a substantial boost from the gulf stream. We are planning to tune into Herb this afternoon and see if he has any relevant information.
Tuesday, June 18, 2002
Shower Time
06/18/02
My log entries are starting to string together now, as it is hard to tell one day from the next. I generally write in this book in the morning, and describe things that happened the previous day, up to the current time. Yesterday was a quite warm and sunny day, and the wind continued to be quite fickle. We were forced to motor a couple of times, but at least the seas were not rolling any more and we could leave the mainsail up.
In the morning, Eric was reading an article from Ocean Navigator (or was it Blue Water Sailing?) and commenting on how anal one of the cruisers were. They mentioned that they always carried a sea anchor ready to deploy on deck, but had only used it once, when a low came through and the wind was blowing 45 knots. Eric was appalled that anyone would consider deploying a sea anchor in conditions such as that, which he considers not very serious, and could easily be handled by simply heaving-to. His opinion is that the risks involved in deploying such equipment as a sea anchor or drogue, which involves releasing heavy gear and lots of line, generally outweighs the benefits. He went on to discuss some of the other philosophies of safety, such as crew being required to wear harnesses in the cockpit, as being far too cautionary. He believes the best thing is to make sure you don’t fall overboard in the first place. He feels that harnesses provide a false sense of security, and he generally does not use them unless conditions are quite severe. Eric is considering writing a rebuttal column for the magazine, to be titled “A curmudgeonly approach to cruising”.
After lunch yesterday we had our first shower of the trip. This, like everything else we’ve done on the boat, was an involved process. First, we dug out the anchor washing hose from beneath the dining table, having to pull out the electrical cords first. Then, we replaced the high pressure nozzle which is used to clean the anchor and chain with a garden hose attachment. Eric then took this hose to the foredeck and connected it to the hose fitting under the dinghy. He then passed the other end of the hose under the dinghy, into the forward hatch, where I was waiting to pull it down. We keep the forward hatch propped open to provide ventilation for the head. The dinghy, which is stored upside down on top of the hatch, protects it from spray under most conditions. Once we have the anchor hose, which sprays salt water, then we fill the 2 gallon fresh water shower tank and pump it up manually (the shower tank is actually a modified insecticide sprayer). The idea is to use the salt water hose for most of the shower, lathering and rinsing, then use the fresh water as a final quick rinse, just to get the salt water off. The fresh water shower is a hand-pumped arrangement, which Eric and Red Harting had just installed over the past winter, so this was our first real test. The previous arrangement was electric and only had a one-gallon tank. Eric was first to go, and right away noticed that the water level in the head bilge was excessively high. He ran the bilge pump manually to clear it, then he loaded the shower tank with four kettles full of water, heating the last kettle on the stove a bit so the water would be warm.
When he emerged from the head after his shower, he announced that some “engineering changes” would be required before our turns, then proceeded to take the shower head apart and pull out his cordless drill to put some bigger holes in the shower head so the water would run more freely. Next, he decided to tackle the problem of the defective bilge pump switch. He got out his wiring diagram of the forward head and showed us his scheme for the float switch arrangement. Because of the deep vee shape of the bilge, it was not practical to use a single float switch to control the pump, as the range of motion was not sufficient to keep the pump from draining constantly. He set up a configuration with two switches, a low switch and a high switch, and wired them so that the pump would start when the high switch tripped, and keep pumping until the low switch went off. He took the switch arrangement apart, and had David pull one of the batteries so he could get to the connectors. He tested all the components with his digital multimeter and determined that the low-water float switch was not operating. He rummaged around and found a spare, tested it to make sure it worked, then put everything back together. At last David and I were ready to take our showers!
Taking a shower was a cumbersome process. Thankfully the seas were relatively calm, but still it was easier for me to sit on the floor while I showered than to attempt to stand up. All in all, it was quite refreshing, especially since this was a very hot day.
During happy hour, Eric provided some quiz questions on the celestial navigation lesson, proving to me that I still have some work to do to understand this stuff.
This morning, as I woke up, it was raining outside, and I volunteered to help Eric set the jib. After this, at 0900 Eric connected to the HAM Net and spoke briefly with Trudi, a HAM operator who can be sometimes relied upon to provide medical advice.
Eric was concerned with a noise that came on the speaker on that particular frequency (only on the speaker, not the headphones), and he attempted to remedy the situation by taking the radio apart and soldering a capacitor across the speaker leads. As he was doing this, he was telling me a bit about how in 1947 (when he was 15) he was able to get war surplus electrical parts very cheaply, and was able to build quite a few items, including an oscillator which he was able to use to calibrate camera shutters, and he hired out this service.
My log entries are starting to string together now, as it is hard to tell one day from the next. I generally write in this book in the morning, and describe things that happened the previous day, up to the current time. Yesterday was a quite warm and sunny day, and the wind continued to be quite fickle. We were forced to motor a couple of times, but at least the seas were not rolling any more and we could leave the mainsail up.
In the morning, Eric was reading an article from Ocean Navigator (or was it Blue Water Sailing?) and commenting on how anal one of the cruisers were. They mentioned that they always carried a sea anchor ready to deploy on deck, but had only used it once, when a low came through and the wind was blowing 45 knots. Eric was appalled that anyone would consider deploying a sea anchor in conditions such as that, which he considers not very serious, and could easily be handled by simply heaving-to. His opinion is that the risks involved in deploying such equipment as a sea anchor or drogue, which involves releasing heavy gear and lots of line, generally outweighs the benefits. He went on to discuss some of the other philosophies of safety, such as crew being required to wear harnesses in the cockpit, as being far too cautionary. He believes the best thing is to make sure you don’t fall overboard in the first place. He feels that harnesses provide a false sense of security, and he generally does not use them unless conditions are quite severe. Eric is considering writing a rebuttal column for the magazine, to be titled “A curmudgeonly approach to cruising”.
After lunch yesterday we had our first shower of the trip. This, like everything else we’ve done on the boat, was an involved process. First, we dug out the anchor washing hose from beneath the dining table, having to pull out the electrical cords first. Then, we replaced the high pressure nozzle which is used to clean the anchor and chain with a garden hose attachment. Eric then took this hose to the foredeck and connected it to the hose fitting under the dinghy. He then passed the other end of the hose under the dinghy, into the forward hatch, where I was waiting to pull it down. We keep the forward hatch propped open to provide ventilation for the head. The dinghy, which is stored upside down on top of the hatch, protects it from spray under most conditions. Once we have the anchor hose, which sprays salt water, then we fill the 2 gallon fresh water shower tank and pump it up manually (the shower tank is actually a modified insecticide sprayer). The idea is to use the salt water hose for most of the shower, lathering and rinsing, then use the fresh water as a final quick rinse, just to get the salt water off. The fresh water shower is a hand-pumped arrangement, which Eric and Red Harting had just installed over the past winter, so this was our first real test. The previous arrangement was electric and only had a one-gallon tank. Eric was first to go, and right away noticed that the water level in the head bilge was excessively high. He ran the bilge pump manually to clear it, then he loaded the shower tank with four kettles full of water, heating the last kettle on the stove a bit so the water would be warm.
When he emerged from the head after his shower, he announced that some “engineering changes” would be required before our turns, then proceeded to take the shower head apart and pull out his cordless drill to put some bigger holes in the shower head so the water would run more freely. Next, he decided to tackle the problem of the defective bilge pump switch. He got out his wiring diagram of the forward head and showed us his scheme for the float switch arrangement. Because of the deep vee shape of the bilge, it was not practical to use a single float switch to control the pump, as the range of motion was not sufficient to keep the pump from draining constantly. He set up a configuration with two switches, a low switch and a high switch, and wired them so that the pump would start when the high switch tripped, and keep pumping until the low switch went off. He took the switch arrangement apart, and had David pull one of the batteries so he could get to the connectors. He tested all the components with his digital multimeter and determined that the low-water float switch was not operating. He rummaged around and found a spare, tested it to make sure it worked, then put everything back together. At last David and I were ready to take our showers!
Taking a shower was a cumbersome process. Thankfully the seas were relatively calm, but still it was easier for me to sit on the floor while I showered than to attempt to stand up. All in all, it was quite refreshing, especially since this was a very hot day.
During happy hour, Eric provided some quiz questions on the celestial navigation lesson, proving to me that I still have some work to do to understand this stuff.
This morning, as I woke up, it was raining outside, and I volunteered to help Eric set the jib. After this, at 0900 Eric connected to the HAM Net and spoke briefly with Trudi, a HAM operator who can be sometimes relied upon to provide medical advice.
Eric was concerned with a noise that came on the speaker on that particular frequency (only on the speaker, not the headphones), and he attempted to remedy the situation by taking the radio apart and soldering a capacitor across the speaker leads. As he was doing this, he was telling me a bit about how in 1947 (when he was 15) he was able to get war surplus electrical parts very cheaply, and was able to build quite a few items, including an oscillator which he was able to use to calibrate camera shutters, and he hired out this service.
Saturday, June 15, 2002
Day Two on the Ocean
06/15/02
As we are getting out further from shore, there is quite a bit less activity. For a lot of the morning, there was not much wind to speak of, and we found ourselves motoring. Eric and David tightened the headstay in the morning, as it seems to have worked loose. In the afternoon the wind picked up a bit and we found ourselves on a reach. We did not quite have enough wind for Victor to steer, so we used George instead. (Note: Victor is the name we have for the windvane mechanical self steering device attached to the transom, and George is the name of the electric autopilot.)
The prop shaft generator was working, so using George did not drain the battery. This continued for a couple of hours, but the speed of the propeller (we are making up to 7.5 knots at times) caused the generator to overheat – so much so that the solder Eric had used to connect the resistor had melted off. Later, the jib began to flog a bit, so we rolled it in and ran with mainsail alone. We were still making good speed.
The motion of the boat was once more becoming a problem for me. As we were reaching with a following sea, the boat was yawing back and forth constantly, and every movement made on the boat had to be a deliberate, calculated plan, as one could never tell which way the boat was going next.
Later that night, David fell against the fiddle on the table, breaking one of the pins. The next morning they engaged in an engineering project to replace the missing pins with new screws at different locations.
My task was first to resecure the spare propane tank, which had come loose and was banging around on deck. I took a longer piece of line with which I was able to get a few wraps and get a little tighter.
Our next task was to install the emergency SSB antenna. When Eric had installed the running backstay, he didn’t realize that the proximity of this steel cable to the backstay, which is used as the SSB antenna, would interfere with it. The previous evening, when Eric made a test transmission on the HAM radio, it came out garbled. He has an emergency SSB antenna which can be mounted on the rail. Normally this would be used only in the case that we have lost the mast or the backstay.
Before we could install the emergency antenna, it was necessary to open the lazarette (where the main propane tank is stored at the stern of the boat) and switch the antenna cable to connect to the emergency antenna connection. This required moving the life raft aside. Once we got the lazarette open, we saw that the two antenna connections were not the same, and Eric had to build an adapter from his extensive collection of spare parts on board.
Once all this was done, the wind had lightened and we were on more of a run. Eric decided to set the preventer and the whisker pole and run wing-and-wing for a while. All three of us were on deck to set this up. First, the preventer, a line with an eye on one end that is secured to the tip of the boom, is attached to a long line with a snap shackle through the eye and run up through a block that is attached to the stem fitting, and run back around the anchor winch, which is used to apply tension to it.
Once the main is set, the chore of setting the whisker pole begins. First we had to unlash the pole from the deck, then attach the topping lift to the loop at the middle. Next we attached one end to the eye on the mast, and brought the other end out to the bow pulpit where David secured it with a “gasket” (sail tie). Then we ran both the fore guy line and the aft guy line, and tied them both to a loop at the end of the whisker pole with bowline knots. The fore guy went through a block at the bow and secured to a cleat up there. The aft guy was led back to midships, through a snatch block, and secured to a cleat next to the winch. At this time Eric gave me a snatch block. I put the block around the jib sheet and handed it to David, who attached the shackle from the snatch block around the piston at the end of the pole. Once this was done, it was time to raise the pole with the topping lift (my job), while David kept tension on the fore guy and Eric kept tension on the aft guy. After this was all done, we had the whisker pole sticking out perpendicular to the boat, and we were ready to roll out the jib. At long last, all our work was done and we were running wing-and-wing! At this time the wave motion has reduced somewhat, and it felt a little more comfortable.
Later in the afternoon, Eric gave us a quick introduction to celestial navigation. The basic premise of celestial is that you are taking lines of position on celestial objects rather than terrestrial objects, since those are the only objects that are visible on the open ocean.
At the end of the navigation lesson, Eric glanced out of the cabin window and noticed a ship. This was (apparently) an oil tanker that passed within two miles of us. That was the only sign of life we had seen for three days.
At this time the wind died and the mainsail was flogging so badly from the wave motion that it was necessary for us to “hand the mainsail” and start the engine. We motored for a few hours, when at 2230, the wind picked up and Eric got David and I up to raise the main again. This was a very intense experience for both David and I, as the deck was quite wet and slippery from the dew, and the boat was pitching wildly (earlier in the evening as we were motoring, I was watching the inclinometer. The heel angle was constantly undulating from 20 degrees port to 20 degrees starboard). David had a slip, nearly lost his balance and fell over, but thankfully was able to gain his grip before that happened. The experience of working with the mainsail is quite frightening when the boat is moving this way. I try to stay as low as possible, but this is not easy when working with gaskets and working with the halyard. The problem with raising the main halyard is that it sometimes requires two hands and it may be necessary to stand up to get proper leverage on the winch handle. This is the point that I feel most vulnerable. It is also quite an exhausting experience to crank that halyard all the way. There is a low-torque groove on the halyard winch drum that is supposed to facilitate winding the last few feet of sail, but I need a free hand to push the wire over into the groove at the same time I am cranking, and that extra hand is usually needed to hold on for dear life.
Once the mainsail ordeal was over, we had to move the whisker pole out of the way, as we are now sailing close-hauled and don’t need it, then we unrolled the jib (not all the way), set Victor for the course, and I was able to get some rest and catch my breath before starting my watch at midnight. Earlier in the evening I witnessed the first brilliant sunset of our trip. I tried to get some pictures but I don’t know how they will come out. Sue’s moon was also visible in the sky. Later on, during my midnight watch, I had a nice clear sky with no moon present, and was able to see the brilliant stars and milky way that I have heard so much about. It was quite an experience. The rest of my watch was uneventful. I came on again at 0600, and we were more on a reach. Eric and I set up the boom vang to hold the boom in reach position, and I tweaked Victor occasionally to keep the course in the 110-120 range. We used the Iridium phone for the first time at 0700. Eric was not able to contact Brenda for some strange reason, but I was able to contact Sue, give her my position, and tell her that I was okay.
As we are getting out further from shore, there is quite a bit less activity. For a lot of the morning, there was not much wind to speak of, and we found ourselves motoring. Eric and David tightened the headstay in the morning, as it seems to have worked loose. In the afternoon the wind picked up a bit and we found ourselves on a reach. We did not quite have enough wind for Victor to steer, so we used George instead. (Note: Victor is the name we have for the windvane mechanical self steering device attached to the transom, and George is the name of the electric autopilot.)
The prop shaft generator was working, so using George did not drain the battery. This continued for a couple of hours, but the speed of the propeller (we are making up to 7.5 knots at times) caused the generator to overheat – so much so that the solder Eric had used to connect the resistor had melted off. Later, the jib began to flog a bit, so we rolled it in and ran with mainsail alone. We were still making good speed.
The motion of the boat was once more becoming a problem for me. As we were reaching with a following sea, the boat was yawing back and forth constantly, and every movement made on the boat had to be a deliberate, calculated plan, as one could never tell which way the boat was going next.
Later that night, David fell against the fiddle on the table, breaking one of the pins. The next morning they engaged in an engineering project to replace the missing pins with new screws at different locations.
My task was first to resecure the spare propane tank, which had come loose and was banging around on deck. I took a longer piece of line with which I was able to get a few wraps and get a little tighter.
Our next task was to install the emergency SSB antenna. When Eric had installed the running backstay, he didn’t realize that the proximity of this steel cable to the backstay, which is used as the SSB antenna, would interfere with it. The previous evening, when Eric made a test transmission on the HAM radio, it came out garbled. He has an emergency SSB antenna which can be mounted on the rail. Normally this would be used only in the case that we have lost the mast or the backstay.
Before we could install the emergency antenna, it was necessary to open the lazarette (where the main propane tank is stored at the stern of the boat) and switch the antenna cable to connect to the emergency antenna connection. This required moving the life raft aside. Once we got the lazarette open, we saw that the two antenna connections were not the same, and Eric had to build an adapter from his extensive collection of spare parts on board.
Once all this was done, the wind had lightened and we were on more of a run. Eric decided to set the preventer and the whisker pole and run wing-and-wing for a while. All three of us were on deck to set this up. First, the preventer, a line with an eye on one end that is secured to the tip of the boom, is attached to a long line with a snap shackle through the eye and run up through a block that is attached to the stem fitting, and run back around the anchor winch, which is used to apply tension to it.
Once the main is set, the chore of setting the whisker pole begins. First we had to unlash the pole from the deck, then attach the topping lift to the loop at the middle. Next we attached one end to the eye on the mast, and brought the other end out to the bow pulpit where David secured it with a “gasket” (sail tie). Then we ran both the fore guy line and the aft guy line, and tied them both to a loop at the end of the whisker pole with bowline knots. The fore guy went through a block at the bow and secured to a cleat up there. The aft guy was led back to midships, through a snatch block, and secured to a cleat next to the winch. At this time Eric gave me a snatch block. I put the block around the jib sheet and handed it to David, who attached the shackle from the snatch block around the piston at the end of the pole. Once this was done, it was time to raise the pole with the topping lift (my job), while David kept tension on the fore guy and Eric kept tension on the aft guy. After this was all done, we had the whisker pole sticking out perpendicular to the boat, and we were ready to roll out the jib. At long last, all our work was done and we were running wing-and-wing! At this time the wave motion has reduced somewhat, and it felt a little more comfortable.
Later in the afternoon, Eric gave us a quick introduction to celestial navigation. The basic premise of celestial is that you are taking lines of position on celestial objects rather than terrestrial objects, since those are the only objects that are visible on the open ocean.
At the end of the navigation lesson, Eric glanced out of the cabin window and noticed a ship. This was (apparently) an oil tanker that passed within two miles of us. That was the only sign of life we had seen for three days.
At this time the wind died and the mainsail was flogging so badly from the wave motion that it was necessary for us to “hand the mainsail” and start the engine. We motored for a few hours, when at 2230, the wind picked up and Eric got David and I up to raise the main again. This was a very intense experience for both David and I, as the deck was quite wet and slippery from the dew, and the boat was pitching wildly (earlier in the evening as we were motoring, I was watching the inclinometer. The heel angle was constantly undulating from 20 degrees port to 20 degrees starboard). David had a slip, nearly lost his balance and fell over, but thankfully was able to gain his grip before that happened. The experience of working with the mainsail is quite frightening when the boat is moving this way. I try to stay as low as possible, but this is not easy when working with gaskets and working with the halyard. The problem with raising the main halyard is that it sometimes requires two hands and it may be necessary to stand up to get proper leverage on the winch handle. This is the point that I feel most vulnerable. It is also quite an exhausting experience to crank that halyard all the way. There is a low-torque groove on the halyard winch drum that is supposed to facilitate winding the last few feet of sail, but I need a free hand to push the wire over into the groove at the same time I am cranking, and that extra hand is usually needed to hold on for dear life.
Once the mainsail ordeal was over, we had to move the whisker pole out of the way, as we are now sailing close-hauled and don’t need it, then we unrolled the jib (not all the way), set Victor for the course, and I was able to get some rest and catch my breath before starting my watch at midnight. Earlier in the evening I witnessed the first brilliant sunset of our trip. I tried to get some pictures but I don’t know how they will come out. Sue’s moon was also visible in the sky. Later on, during my midnight watch, I had a nice clear sky with no moon present, and was able to see the brilliant stars and milky way that I have heard so much about. It was quite an experience. The rest of my watch was uneventful. I came on again at 0600, and we were more on a reach. Eric and I set up the boom vang to hold the boom in reach position, and I tweaked Victor occasionally to keep the course in the 110-120 range. We used the Iridium phone for the first time at 0700. Eric was not able to contact Brenda for some strange reason, but I was able to contact Sue, give her my position, and tell her that I was okay.
Friday, June 14, 2002
First Full Day on the Ocean
Sunset over the ocean
06/14/02
This was an action packed day. To start, we set full sail at 0530. It was lightly raining at this time with a 12 knot ENE wind. We were on a port tack, struggling to make as much headway east as possible. Thus began an arduous day of walking uphill and fighting gravity for every cabin movement. At 0900 we spotted a research vessel which was on a course to come very close to us. We called Eric, who turned on the VHF channel 16. It turned out to be the research vessel ENDEAVOR, and they advised us they were towing an instrument a quarter mile off their stern, and that we should maintain a safe distance. We readily complied.
The wind began to increase, and at 1000 we reefed the jib. Within the next hour the wind freshened to 20 knots, and we reefed the main. It was still raining, and I put on my fancy foul weather gear for the first time and sat in the cockpit. I was beginning to feel consistently queasy, and sitting in the cockpit was the best way to address this feeling. It was quite an experience sitting in the cockpit on the windward side of the boat, watching the waves roll under us and feeling the undulation as the boat conformed to the motion of the sea. At this point, I looked off the starboard side and spotted a whale, the dorsal fin and body popping out of the water. I kept looking but did not see any more of them. Later on, we spotted a low-flying plane cruising around. Eric identified it as possibly a Neptune plane, which is equipped to search for submarines. I should also mention that right after we passed the ENDEAVOR, we encountered a huge sailing yacht, heading in the opposite direction from us.
Things continued the same through the afternoon, with us beating our brains out. I was fairly miserable, as my bunk was on the high side and very uncomfortable at this point, and to make matters worse there were several leaks dripping seawater in various places on my bunk, so it was like Chinese water torture when laying down. To make matters worse, the Navtex was calling for gale force winds from the NorthEast that night, a thought that did not appeal to me in the least.
Suddenly at 1700, I was on watch, and looking out the windows on the starboard side I noticed the rail more and more in the water. I glanced at the anemometer and saw the wind speed reading from 30 to 35 knots. “Oh Shit”, I thought. This may be the beginning of the gale. But then, just as suddenly as the wind picked up, it died altogether. We rolled up the jib and motored for a half hour, then the wind started up again. What we had experienced was a squall, Eric said. A squall is a very localized weather event, which brings temporarily high winds and sometimes rain, and generally disturbs the normal wind pattern. After the squall has come and gone (it moves fast), the wind pattern returns to normal. Later on the wind veered and became very light. When I came on watch we were barely making enough speed to steer a heading of 060. The wind began to die altogether and I was desperately trying to steer the boat back on course. The sails were flogging wildly, which woke up Eric, and he came on deck, assessed the situation, and decided to roll up the jib and start the engine. In the case where there is no wind and a sea running, the waves caused the boat’s motion to ship the sails around erratically, which can be very damaging to the sails. At the end of my watch, I went to a relatively level, dry bunk, as we were no longer close-hauled. I slept so well that Eric had to wake me up for the next watch. At this time (0400), the conditions were the same (motoring with no wind) but the sky was clearing up and it was getting lighter. Around 0430 I spotted porpoises around the boat. Sometimes three of them popped out of the water at the same time. They only stuck around for a few minutes, though. I received a new weatherfax at 0501. We had received a few of these, but have not been able to interpret them very well. At this time I was able to see my first ocean sunrise of the trip. It was quite a sight. I then tried to get a picture, but I am sure it did not do justice to the scene. As the sun rose, the golden shimmering on the ocean waves was a scene I shall not soon forget. It is starting out to be a glorious day.
Thursday, June 13, 2002
Leaving Block Island (and the USA)
Our last sight of US land for a while
06/13/02This is the day! I had a great night’s sleep, sleeping over 12 hours. It was a bit cold, and it was necessary for me to get out the sleeping bag. I got up at 0630, before anyone else, and read the New York Times Science Section for a while. This was our last newspaper for quite a while. Everyone else was up by 0700, and we had coffee and raisin bran for breakfast. About 0800, we called Champlin’s Fuel Dock on the VHF to make sure they were open, then got ready to head over there to fill up on diesel fuel and fresh water, and use the head on shore (we avoid pooping on the boat when we are in the harbor). We took on about 70 gallons of diesel and 200 gallons of water. When we were pulling away from the dock, the fender board got stuck between the boat somehow and was pulled with such force that one of the lines broke. This showed me what a heavy boat FIONA is. When the fuel dock attendant asked me where we were off to, I replied matter-of-factly “Canary Islands”. He seemed stunned at this, and didn’t know quite what to say.
The rest of this day went without significant incident. We started out with a 10 knot north wind, and were steering for just south of the Nantucket Shoals (formerly Nantucket Lightship) buoy. After lunch we practiced reefing the main. Later on, the wind changed to easterly and finally died altogether. We started the engine at 1930. As we were in the shipping lane, we needed to be very attentive to our surroundings. We spotted several ships, both visually and on radar, but none passed close enough to be of concern.
Wednesday, June 12, 2002
Block Island, Day Two
FIONA in the Great Salt Pond
06/12/02
I had a nice sleep last night. I woke up at 0745, to a breakfast of raisin bran and coffee. We did a couple of things around the boat. Eric tightened the steering chain and adjusted the bilge pump switch. I detached the swim ladder and stored it under my bunk, while David cleaned up residual paint marks from the fridge top.
When time came to go ashore, we went to the VHF and hailed the launch, but got no response. A fog had set in (it seems the only choices for weather in the Great Salt Pond are howling wind or pea-soup fog), so we could not see the Marine Basin dock to see if there was any activity. We tried calling several times through the morning, but were always met with silence. Frequently there would be periods of strange garbled noise on the radio, something communicating in a strange modulation.
Finally we gave up on the launch and decided to deploy the rigid dinghy. I had to retrieve the boarding ladder I had just stowed beneath my bunk, then connect it and unfold it over the side. We then went forward, unlashed the dinghy, rolled it over, then attached the bridle to the staysail halyard. Eric went to the aft cabin and handed up the "Seagull" outboard (which lives appropriately in the engine room) and the oars up through the aft hatch.
The Seagull is a very small antique-looking motor. Eric purchased it in 1964. It is quite a simple engine, with no gearbox. You start the engine and it goes. He had just rebuilt it over the winter and replaced the bevel gear, whatever the hell that is. Parts are still manufactured for this engine.
We attached the motor to the transom of the dinghy and then lowered it over the side, keeping it pushed away from the boat. Precariously, we all climbed down the ladder and gotinto the dinghy. Eric went first and sat in the stern. I got in second and sat in the bow, which turned out to be a mistake, as I am the heavier of the three, and as such placed too much weight forward, causing us to be unnecessarily splashed on the trip. David got in last and sat amidships.
We took the ride in and walked into town. Eric was looking for acid brushes (small metal-handled brushes), but neither hardware store had them. We continued into town and had lunch at Ballard's, then went by the visitor center and got a map. We took a walk up Corn Neck Road all the way to the North Lighthouse at the tip of the island. This was quite a walk, and by the time it was over David and I were having trouble keeping up with Eric.
When we came back from the North Lighthouse, we went back towards town and stopped at the grocery store again. David made a detour for a quick slice of pizza. At the store, Eric picked up four apples, a carton of milk, a bottle of apple juice, and a loaf of bread. When we came back to the dinghy, we all piled in (I was seated amidships this time) and Eric went to start the engine. It started to go, then sputtered and stopped. When he wrapped the starting line and tried to pull again, it wouldn't budge. We then decided we would have to row, and since I was seated in the middle facing aft, I was elected to do the rowing. We went to release the oar locks, which were held upside-down by clips (to facilitate stowing the dinghy inverted on deck), and one of them was stuck. The clip had wedged down into the hole. Eric patiently worked the oar lock loose, and we were ready. I attempted to row us out, but due to my lack of experience at rowing and my knees getting in the way, was totally ineffective at moving the boat. I got us back to the dock, and after being toungue-lashed for not being able to row, Eric and I switched places and he took over.
After struggling 20 or 30 yards against the typical Great Salt Pond wind, we decided we were having too much trouble making headway, as this wind had picked up quite a bit since earlier in the day. We then turned around and went back to the dock again. Eric was going to let David and I take the launch, which was running again, and row back to the boat himself, but David insisted on doing it instead. So Eric and I took all the bags and left David to struggle across the harbor. We got on the launch, whose driver was a dreadlocked, dead-head type guy who was extraordinarily polite. We asked him if he could provide a tow for David and the dinghy, and he eagerly complied. We came up next to David, who was clearly not having fun, took the painter and secured it to a bit in the middle of the launch, helped David into the boat, and continued on to FIONA.
After settling down, we had a belated happy hour with smoked oysters on squares of whole-wheat bread with mustard, which was quite delicious. It was David's first time eating smoked oysters, and we found that he had also never eaten SPAM before, which delighted Eric. After an hour we settled in to a dinner of spaghetti, with RAGU spaghetti sauce, enhanced with onions and chopped meat. The weather report was calling for icky weather, with NorthEast winds, but we decided we would leave tomorrow morning anyway. Tonight will be an early night. I will try to get as much sleep as possible to be fresh for tomorrow. I am quite excited, for this is the beginning of the real trip.
Tuesday, June 11, 2002
Block Island, Day One
Chef Eric making pancakes
06/11/02
After picking up the mooring, Eric made pancakes for breakfast. After breakfast, I cleaned up (each day, David and I alternate doing the dishes). David had a nap (he too was sleep-deprived from the night before), and I rigged the preventer lines for the halyards (to stop them from clanking against the mast in the wind), put on the sail cover, and generally "tidied up" the deck while Eric set to work correcting the problem with the prop-shaft generator.
The problem was that the pulley ratio was too high and the generator was creating too much power - a problem that would plague us throughout the journey. His solution, since we can't change the ratio at this point (it would require pulling the prop shaft), is to place a resistor in series with the generator to reduce the power output.
He pulled out a number of tupperware containers from a locker, filled with assorted electrical components; resistors, switches, bulbs, fuses, and other odds and ends. All he could find were a 5 ohm resistor and another one that was much stronger and not suitable. He settled on the 5 ohm and wired this into the system.
We then proceeded to test the new arrangement by starting the engine, and I would put the transmission in reverse for a moment while Eric looked at the AMP meter. He was not seeing any results and was unable to determine why. After some fiddling, and a few tries of reverse bursts, he suddenly came to the revelation that this is a DC generator, and will only show current when running in the forward direction. I then did a burst in forward (short, so as not to run up on the mooring) and we started to see current! After finishing this project, David was now up and we all had tea (by now it was eleven'ish).
As soon as we had arrived, Eric let me use his cell phone to call Sue. When I called her at 0730 she was driving on the LIE, going to the Huntington Hilton for some business event. She was surprised to hear from me, and I agreed to call her later in the day when she was in the office.
After tea, we were ready to go to shore. We had a problem, however, that we had been monitoring channel 68 on the VHF though the morning (this is the old port launch operating channel) and had heard a few occasions where a boat had hailed the launch, but had not yet heard a reply to any of these hails. That led us to believe that the launch was not yet running, and we were afraid we would have to deploy the rigid dinghy, which would be cumbersome for the long ride to the dinghy dock at the boat basin against the 20 knot wind that constantly howls through the Great Salt Pond.
As we were mulling over the logistics of dinghy deployment, we heard another boat hailing the launch, but this time there was a reply. The reply said that the launch was not officially running, but he would come and pick up the crew of that boat. Eric then jumped on the radio and requested that while he was out, he could perhaps pick us up too. We were much relieved to hear a positive response, so we quickly gathered our bags, cameras, and garbage, and awaited the launch. The launch driver advised us that when we wanted to
return later, he could be found on his boat "Good Vibrations", an Ericson sailboat which was at the dock opposite the launch dock.
We then walked towards "town", stopping at the fuel dock to make sure they have plenty of fuel and water for us, and to verify how early they are open. We stopped at the hardware store along the way to get a bottle brush. The woman at the store didn't know exactly what we were talking about. We decided to buy a toilet brush instead, as this would provide the equivalent functionality. Next stop was a quest for David to obtain guitar strings, in anticipation that the portable Martin "backpacker" guitar he brought would need to be re-equipped along the way.
We found a gift shop that carried guitar strings and he bought out their entire stock (two sets of strings). From there we continued down through town, stopping at the library to look at their used paperbacks for sale. We bought four paperbacks and a talking book, including Carl Sagan's "Dragons of Eden", a book which I had always wanted to read, but never got around to. Next stop was the Mohegan for lunch. I had an excellent cup of clam chowder and fried calamari, which had a few too many tentacles for my liking. From there we went up to the Post Office, for David to mail his keys back home. He had forgotten to leave them when he departed.
After completing this mission, we walked south to the Southeast Lighthouse. There really is some amazing scenery in Block Island, with the rolling green hills and rocky beaches. Eric pointed out the numerous "kettles", which are roundish ponds that were formed by glacial
ice that remained in places on the island many many years ago. Some of these kettles are so close to the ocean that it is said you can stand on a piece of land, holding a fishing pole in each hand, and go for freshwater fish with one hand and saltwater fish with the other hand.
Bob, David & Eric at the South Lighthouse
We had a nice walk to the lighthouse, where each of us took a group picture, setting the camera on a well-suited rock. From there we went to the Mohegan Bluffs, a high cliff where many years ago 300 Mohegan indians were driven off the cliff by an enemy tribe. From there we took an oiled dirt road (they spray oil on the road to keep the dust down) back to town, ending up at the ice cream parlor where David and I got ice cream cones while Eric went and bought a New York Times. After finishing the ice cream, Eric and David went off to the grocery store while I called Sue from a pay phone. We walked back to the boat basin, where to our great relief, we found that the launch service was now operational. Coming back to the boat just in time for happy hour, I took a short nap afterward and awoke in time for Eric's famous chicken curry. Tomorrow we have a few things to do on the boat, then we will walk up to the North Lighthouse.
Monday, June 10, 2002
Departure
Bob on FIONA before departure
6/10/02We started from Weeks right on schedule. 11:30 AM. My friends from work came down to see me off (Billy, Dmitri, Michael K Dwyer, Sridhar, and Daren). Sue was also there, of course. When I pulled away and I kissed her for the last time, I promised that whenever I saw the moon, I would think of her.
A group of people came on a power boat to follow us out into the bay, take pictures, and say one last goodbye. Bob Lyons (with Red Harting) also followed along in "Fireplace" (a wooden cabin cruiser) in case we ran aground, but fortunately his services were not required. All down the river, there were friends of David taking pictures and offering good wishes. We had an uneventful passage from Patchogue to the Fire Island Inlet, only once coming within a foot of going aground. Once out of the inlet, we ran close to the "FI" sea buoy and recorded its position for the return trip. We then motored southeast for a while to get some distance between us and the land. The wind was blowing from the south at 10-12 knots, so we decided to put the sails up.
There was a little bit of boat motion that was making me nervous as I went forward (I must confess that I was not using a harness during this passage). It was during this time that I learned some valuable lessons from Captain Eric.
The first lesson was "Don't touch the topping lift until Eric gives the order." This is very important, since Eric is depending on the boom resting in the gallows, and if the topping lift brings the boom up so that it can move freely, it could easily knock him or David overboard.
The second valuable lesson was "Never let go of either end of a halyard." The spare halyard was wrapped around the staysail topping lift, and I went forward to unwrap it. I uncleated the rope end of the halyard from the mast cleat to give it some slack so I could detach the shackle on the wire end. I was holding this end in my hand (not a good idea) while I was unfastening the shackle. The screw popped out of the shackle suddenly and fell on deck, almost going overboard. In my panic to retrieve the fallen screw, I let go of the other end of the halyard and it began flying free. Thankfully I was able to retrieve both the screw and the halyard, but not before getting a stern, and well deserved reprimand from the skipper.
The next lesson learned was "Don't lay things on deck where they can roll off into the ocean." This occurred when we were setting up Victor, the Aries Wind Vane Self-Steerer. One of the tasks for setting up Victor is to install the vane, a three foot long rounded piece of 1/4 inch plywood, into the top of the mechanism. To do this, it is necessary to remove the yacht ensign from the stern. When David removed the ensign and flagpole, rolled it up and gave it to me, I put it down on the deck aft of the cockpit. When Eric discovered this later, he explained that is a good way to lose the item. He said it should be placed on the side deck, underneath the toe-rail, or better yet tucked under the shock cords that hold the life raft to the deck at the stern.
The first lesson was "Don't touch the topping lift until Eric gives the order." This is very important, since Eric is depending on the boom resting in the gallows, and if the topping lift brings the boom up so that it can move freely, it could easily knock him or David overboard.
The second valuable lesson was "Never let go of either end of a halyard." The spare halyard was wrapped around the staysail topping lift, and I went forward to unwrap it. I uncleated the rope end of the halyard from the mast cleat to give it some slack so I could detach the shackle on the wire end. I was holding this end in my hand (not a good idea) while I was unfastening the shackle. The screw popped out of the shackle suddenly and fell on deck, almost going overboard. In my panic to retrieve the fallen screw, I let go of the other end of the halyard and it began flying free. Thankfully I was able to retrieve both the screw and the halyard, but not before getting a stern, and well deserved reprimand from the skipper.
The next lesson learned was "Don't lay things on deck where they can roll off into the ocean." This occurred when we were setting up Victor, the Aries Wind Vane Self-Steerer. One of the tasks for setting up Victor is to install the vane, a three foot long rounded piece of 1/4 inch plywood, into the top of the mechanism. To do this, it is necessary to remove the yacht ensign from the stern. When David removed the ensign and flagpole, rolled it up and gave it to me, I put it down on the deck aft of the cockpit. When Eric discovered this later, he explained that is a good way to lose the item. He said it should be placed on the side deck, underneath the toe-rail, or better yet tucked under the shock cords that hold the life raft to the deck at the stern.
All in all, these were very good lessons learned, since there were no disasters or mishaps which occurred as a result of these mistakes.
The remainder of this first leg went remarkably well. We had a nice south wind for much of the time, and were sailing between 5 and 6 knots. We had our first happy hour, at which Eric explained some of the rules regarding head usage (remain seated at all times), and the watch schedule, which would start at 8:00 PM, and go in two hour shifts.
After dinner (Hormel Chili with fresh onions over minute rice), we drew cards to determine what order the watches would be in. David drew an Ace, Eric a Jack, and me a Queen. Since it was predetermined that Aces are low, David took the 8-10 (2000-2200) watch. Eric took the 2200-2400 watch, and I took the 0000-0200 watch.
Things went pretty smoothly through the night. The watch person would check the radar every half hour to see how close we are to Fire Island, and adjust the Aries (Victor) if we needed to get closer or further. We wanted to stay a little less than three miles from land. After 0200, when David came on watch, the wind finally died and we had to drop the sails and run the engine. As before, I was a bit tense going forward and working with the sails on the moving boat, without a harness. This is something I will need to get used to, and will need to use my harness in the future for these tasks.
I don't know if it was because we were motoring, but the motion of the boat was much more uncomfortable when I was in my bunk from 2-6 AM than it was from 2000-2400. I was not really able to sleep during that time, and when it came time to go back on watch at 0600 I found myself drifting to sleep at the wheel. Luckily, I only had to stay conscious for an hour and a half, as we picked up CCA mooring number 226 in the Great Salt Pond at Block Island at 0720.
After dinner (Hormel Chili with fresh onions over minute rice), we drew cards to determine what order the watches would be in. David drew an Ace, Eric a Jack, and me a Queen. Since it was predetermined that Aces are low, David took the 8-10 (2000-2200) watch. Eric took the 2200-2400 watch, and I took the 0000-0200 watch.
Things went pretty smoothly through the night. The watch person would check the radar every half hour to see how close we are to Fire Island, and adjust the Aries (Victor) if we needed to get closer or further. We wanted to stay a little less than three miles from land. After 0200, when David came on watch, the wind finally died and we had to drop the sails and run the engine. As before, I was a bit tense going forward and working with the sails on the moving boat, without a harness. This is something I will need to get used to, and will need to use my harness in the future for these tasks.
I don't know if it was because we were motoring, but the motion of the boat was much more uncomfortable when I was in my bunk from 2-6 AM than it was from 2000-2400. I was not really able to sleep during that time, and when it came time to go back on watch at 0600 I found myself drifting to sleep at the wheel. Luckily, I only had to stay conscious for an hour and a half, as we picked up CCA mooring number 226 in the Great Salt Pond at Block Island at 0720.
So far, I have not been anywhere I haven't already been to yet, so the full impact of what I am doing hasn't caught up with me yet.
This will be my room for the next 11 months
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