Bob's FIONA Circumnavigation

The Wile E. Coyote Wave

2002-08-19T22:59:00.002-04:00

08/19/02

Things are still going pretty much the same. We are continuing to have our brains bashed in by the waves. As I sit here, we are feeling a succession of serious crunches, each accompanied by a loud crash. You can feel every joint on the boat flex and creak. I expect the whole thing to fly apart any minute. At night, when lying in my bunk, I can only imagine what the boat must be doing by the motion I feel. Occasionally I experience what I call a “Wile E. Coyote Wave”. It feels as though the boat came off the top of a wave, suspended in mid-air momentarily with nowhere to go, then dropping several feet with a crash into the trough of the next wave. The worst is to experience a Wile E. Coyote while sitting in the head.

At this point we are about 15 degrees S latitude – less than 500 miles from our arbitrary waypoint at 23 degrees S. We are hoping to get some more favorable winds to drive us east at some point.

Crapping on the Back of a Wild Bull

2002-08-18T22:52:00.001-04:00

08/18/02

The GPS outage was only temporary as it turns out. As I sit here this morning, braced sideways on the galley table seat, the boat is being pummeled by steep choppy waves, and the boat is on a steady 20-30 degree heel. Both the boat and us are taking a tremendous amount of punishment.

Last night, we experienced a series of rains squalls, which resulted in varying wind effects, from calms up to 30 knot winds. All morning the wind has been blowing 20-25 knots, and the motion is unbearable. Using the head is not easy when the toilet seat suddenly drops five feet below you. My description of sailing close-hauled is “sleeping in a washing machine and taking a crap on the back of a wild bull”. There is nothing we can do but hold on and stick it out.

GPS on the Fritz

2002-08-17T22:50:00.000-04:00

08/17/02

The wind conditions have continued the same since yesterday, winds around 20 knots creeping up to 25+ sometimes. The waves continue to be big and choppy, resulting in frequent pounding of the boat, accompanied by loud crashes occasionally.

At the end of my watch this morning the GPS made a loud beep. I went and looked at the display and there was a pop-up message that said “No Fix”. We turned the unit off and back on, and it did not properly register the course or speed, indicating that there was still a problem. We turned it off again for a few minutes, and when we turned it back on it was working again, but only for a minute or two, then went blank. Eric brought his handheld backup unit, turned it on and propped it in the cockpit. After several interminable minutes, the handheld finally located the satellites and gave a proper reading. I fiddled with the main GPS for a while, unplugging and re-plugging the antenna, to no avail. The only suggestion the manual could make was to check the ground connection on the antenna, a job which will need to wait for calmer weather, as the GPS antenna is mounted on top of the radar mast.

More Drips

2002-08-16T22:48:00.000-04:00

08/16/02

The drips didn’t stop last night, but seemed to be localized to my feet and ankles, so I threw the sheet over my feet and persevered. The wind conditions have continued the same, and I am getting used to it a little.

The Party's Over

2002-08-15T22:41:00.001-04:00

08/15/02

    I had a horrendously miserable night last night. Everything that could go wrong went wrong for me. To start, the wind increased to 20 knots and the seas increased along with it. This meant the return of the body slam in the bunk routine. Also, I discovered that the dripping problem was not corrected by the caulking we did in Fernando. It is now back, worse than ever.

    At the start of my 0000-0200 watch, Eric told me to call him if the wind exceeds 25 knots and we would all reef the main. I was nearing the end of my watch, looking at the wind speed to decide if I should wake everybody up, when the steering lines went slack on Victor and the boat started heading up into the wind. I was trying to figure out what was happening, and didn’t notice Victor yet, when Eric sprang out, very upset that I had not taken any action yet. I went out and hand steered while Eric checked the lines. We decided to reef the main after the steering lines were fixed. This time, when I raised the halyard after reefing, I did not have the halyard winch brake engaged all the way, and the sail dropped back down shortly after I raised it. I could do nothing right. At this moment, I feel quite discouraged with myself, as low as I have been the entire trip. My bunk is soaked with seawater and I am sitting here dripping with sweat, for we have had to close all the hatches, and Eric is talking about putting another reef in the main, as the wind is exceeding 25 knots and doesn’t show any sign of letting up. I am wondering if I am really mentally fit to continue the trip into the Southern Ocean, if I am having so much trouble holding up under these conditions.

    We just put the second reef in the main, and that procedure went smoothly. We are still taking quite a bit of spray, and I have three shirts arranged across the shelf over my bunk, in an attempt to stop the dripping. There are drips coming in all over the cabin today. The waves have been beating the hell out of the boat. Dampness is the word for today. I can only keep telling myself that this is a temporary condition.

    We put up the dodger this afternoon, to prevent us from getting spray into the cabin, which happened all too often, even with the companionway hatch closed. I am thoroughly soaked, even though I put on foul weather gear to go out. The problem is that the foul weather gear is so warm that I sweat enough to soak myself as much as I would have if I wasn’t wearing it. I generally am caked with salt, as is my bed sheet, which prevents it from ever getting dry. As of 1700, things are calming down just a little. The wind is between 15 and 20 knots and the waves aren’t hitting the boat quite the way they were before. With any luck I can avoid drips tonight and sleep a little.

On the Seas Once Again

2002-08-14T22:37:00.000-04:00

08/14/02

Things are going very smoothly so far. We have a nice consistent 12-15 knot wind from SouthEast, and very moderate seas, almost perfect sailing conditions. The current has been going against us a little, but that effect has been decreasing. We set a waypoint for 23 degrees S, 32 degrees W, at which time we will think about working our way east. Our eventual goal (Cape Town) is 35 degrees S, 15 degrees E. We gave the wife of the South African, Robin, 30 Reals to make four loaves of bread for us before we left, and they are quite good.

The Perseid meteor shower was supposed to be peaking last night, but I did not see more than two or three falling stars during my watch, which is about average. I have seen other nights that have been much more active with regards to shooting stars. It is one of the things that makes night watches bearable. Now that I am getting into the southern hemisphere I am looking for new constellations. I only know of the Southern Cross and the Magellanic Clouds. I am not sure where I am supposed to see them and what they look like. I think the Magellanic Clouds don’t show up until further south, but I am keeping my eyes out for them.

Happy Birthday, Fernando!!

2002-08-11T22:11:00.018-04:00

Birthday Cake for an Island

08/11/02

    Yesterday was the 499th birthday of the island, and there was a festival at the Porto. They had live music, and people selling food. I had a couple different kinds of desserts, all very good. We met a nice couple who spoke English. He is from Italy and she is from Sao Paulo, but they met at school in Berkeley, California.

    Later on, they brought out a birthday cake for the island, with dolphins on top. Of course, I got a piece. The dolphin is the symbol of the island, and everything you see has a dolphin on it. During the cake cutting, there was a minor tragedy. A man appeared in front of the cake, obviously drunk, holding a roman candle in his hands. He held the cylinder up in the air and lit the fuse. The cylinder sends up fiery balls that go up in the air and explode with a loud bang. He was not watching where the cylinder was pointed, and as a result the fiery balls hit the overhang of the roof on the bandstand, and shot straight down into the crowd of people gathered around the cake, exploding as they hit the ground. There were screams and general pandemonium for a minute, but nobody appeared to be seriously hurt. At once, a crowds of guys accosted the drunk who was responsible, and an altercation started between two groups of people. Luckily cooler heads prevailed and a volatile situation was avoided.

    There had been a fishing tournament that day, and a great amount of time was spent giving out trophies. There must have been at least 20 trophies, including three trophies that were sardine cans encased in Lucite, given for the smallest fish.

    The next morning was spent recaulking ports that were suspected of leaking, including the aft port over my bunk, and two of the big windows on the galley, as there had been leaks in the galley too. In the afternoon we took the dinghy to the next beach over and went snorkeling. There were many colorful, brilliant fish. Eric spotted an eel. After that, we went to the local snack bar at the beach for a beer. While we were there, we saw the couple that we had met the night before and invited them over to join us. We talked to them a while, then invited them to come in the dinghy and see the boat. They came along, and were quite impressed, as neither of them knew anything about sailing. Afterward, Eric took them and David ashore and left me on the boat.

Our New Friends at the Beach Cafe

David and I went in for lunch, and ate at a “self-service” restaurant, which is a buffet. The food was all quite good, with a good variety. From there I took the bus into the village of Remedios and found a gentleman who was renting bicycles. He rented me a mountain bike for the day for 10 Reals ($4), with no deposit required. I neglected to check the brakes on the bicycle before I took it, and they were a bit loose, which made me nervous when going down some of the very steep hills. I was at least able to climb up the hills, with the low gear, but it was very strenuous. I drank several bottles of Gatorade. I explored the main road and some of the back roads, where goats were feeding all around. There are beautiful beaches everywhere. On my way back I stopped by the Dolphin Hotel and checked my e-mail again, then headed back to the village, returned the bicycle, and exchanged more money. I walked around the lower part of the village, near the beach, and went into a nice café that was filled with native paintings and sculpture. On my way back up the hill I noticed a Pizzeria that looked interesting.

A Deserted Beach on the Other Side of the Island

    I then took a bus back to the Porto, and had a beer at the snack bar while waiting for everyone else to show up. David had gone scuba diving in the afternoon and Eric was still on the boat, as I could see by the dinghy trailing behind FIONA in the harbor. David came along and the South Africans also showed up, the doctor, his wife, their two young children, and one of the crew. They joined us for a beer, and I talked to the crew member. His prior experience had been working on large motor yachts, mainly as service, not related to sailing. Both he and the other crew member had only dinghy sailing experience, so everybody on the boat was quite new to offshore sailing. He said it was very tight to have six people on a 36 foot boat, but they were getting used to it.

    When Eric showed up, I bought him a beer too, and the guy from the dive shop found David and took him back to the office to re-swipe his credit card. Eric and I weren’t sure when he was coming back, so we started walking towards town. Soon after we left he came with the dive shop guy in a truck and gave us a ride into town, where we ate at the pizzeria. The pizza was quite good, though the bathroom was unusual. There was only a toilet in a room, with a filled laundry basket in one corner. I could not figure out for the life of me how to flush the toilet, as there was only a bowl on the floor with water in it, but no tank anywhere. I looked all around outside but could not find a lever or a chain anywhere.

    After dinner, we went and got an ice cream and were waiting for the bus, when we saw our Italian/Brazilian friends again. They were also waiting for the bus, and though we were going west, decided to get on the Porto bus with us, so they could talk to us one last time.

    The next morning we went produce shopping, taking the bus to the Supermercardos. The produce there was not very good, but we did get some good onions, pears, and local pineapples. After we took the stuff back to the boat, we went back into town so Eric could change more money, looked around a little more, and found a museum which showed the history of the island. It was all in Portuguese, but I was able to figure out that the island was discovered by Amerigo Vespucci on August 10, 1503 (this was the day that was being celebrated). After that we took a shortcut back to the Porto and arrived at Elda’s Cantinho just as they were opening, for our last lunch at Fernando de Noronha.

Cantinho del Porto

We were back at the boat by 1330 in the afternoon and packed up everything quickly. We were lifting the anchor by 1430. After we left the harbor, we raised the sail and went on starboard tack to clear the island. During this time Eric noticed that the jib sheet winch on the starboard side was frozen and wouldn’t turn. This is a big problem, as we need that winch operational before we go on port tack, and we will be on port tack for the first 1200 miles of this leg, at least. Eric disassembled the winch while we were on starboard tack and fiddled with it until it started turning, applying winch grease and WD-40. After going another hour on starboard tack, we tacked over to port tack and have been there since.

Fernando de Noronha

2002-08-10T21:38:00.029-04:00

View of the Harbor from Cantinho del Porto

08/10/02

    We arrived in Fernando de Noronha yesterday morning. There were five other sailboats anchored in the wide, open harbor, and one mini-megayacht which seemed completely out of place. Overlooking the harbor is this gigantic rock formation which closely resembles a pointed head.

    The harbor in general provides little protection from the wind, and the boat was rocking the whole time we were here, with 15-18 knot winds from the south (the harbor is on the north of the island). It really is a pretty place, with a multitude of colorfully painted wooden boats moored in the harbor. Tourism is a large part of the business in Fernando, and a major attraction for the tourism is skindiving. There were numerous dive boats, all loaded with people. The vast majority of the tourists are Brazilians, so there is little allowance for English speaking people.

    We have found one very helpful woman who runs the restaurant at the top of the hill overlooking the harbor, named “Cantinho del Porto”. Her name is Elda, and she has only had the restaurant open for less than two months. It used to be owned by her ex-husband, but she took it over as part of the divorce settlement. It is an unusual restaurant, as you wouldn’t think anything was there to look at it from the outside. There is no interior, only a concrete patio overlooking the harbor, and a small area that is covered with a roof, has a few native paintings and fish sculptures hanging on the wall, and a hammock, which often had somebody sleeping in it. The food was quite good, though Eric was disappointed that he couldn’t get fish and chips there, which had been served by the last restaurant (the one that was run by Elda’s ex). Elda was able to direct us to the internet place, and to exchange money for us. I found that when I exchanged dollars for reals, I ended up with a number of fifty real notes, and nobody could make change for these, so I would end up paying for stuff in dollars anyway.

Elda, Proprietress of Cantinho del Porto

When we first arrived on shore, we went to the nearest official looking place, which turned out to be an office for charter boats, and told them we had just arrived by yacht from Cabo Verde, and needed to check into customs. After telling us to wait a few minutes, they had Eric speak to someone on the VHF radio, then they had us climb in their VW bus and took us into town. One of them took us into the red office building, at the bottom of a steep hill in the town, and we wandered to a couple of offices until Eric spoke to someone who said it is not necessary to have any clearance to visit Fernando. It is as if we were never here, as far as they’re concerned. After that, we went to the local dive shop to exchange money. I got 260 Reals for $100. We had a beer at a local bar/restaurant, then decided to walk back to the port and eat at the Cantinho.

The Official-Looking Red Building

    After lunch, we went back to the boat, and I wrote 18 postcards while the other two were taking a nap.

    We had spotted a yacht from South Africa, on our way in, and had stopped by to say hello. It was a retired doctor, Daren, and his wife, Robin, sailing with their two young children and two hired crew members. He had only been sailing for five months. He had taken a sailing course, bought the boat (named “Dream On”) and took off. Their intention was to go to the Caribbean and work their way to Florida and take the ICW up to Maine. We invited them to come by the boat later for happy hour.

    It gets dark at 1800 here, so it was dark when we went for dinner. We decided to take a taxi into town. All of the taxis in Fernando are dune buggies, which have a front passenger seat, but the rear seat is not big enough to seat an adult. Additional passengers are thus accommodated by having a bar on the rear of the roof that they can hold on to, so we are sitting on the trunk with our feet in the back seat and our heads sticking out over the roof. It is a fun ride, as long as it is not raining. It has only rained a total of ten minutes, and fortunately that came right after I went swimming, so I got a little fresh water rinse. It was not enough rain to make a difference, and I got splashed again with sea water on our next dinghy ride anyway. There are no shower facilities here, which is bothersome, as it will be at least a month before my next real shower, but I guess I’ll get used to it. My big problem is an underwear shortage. It appears I only have one pair of clean underwear to last until Cape Town, and no place to do laundry here. I guess I will have to make do.

The Taxi Stand

Fernando Within Sight

2002-08-09T21:31:00.001-04:00

Approaching Fernando de Noronha

08/09/02

My drip came back again yesterday afternoon, and has dampened my sheet pretty thoroughly. I was able to rig something up with my t-shirt at the source of the leak to prevent further damage and water torture.

It is now 0900 and we can see Fernando ahead. This will be a very welcome landfall. The motion of the boat for the last day and a half has been most erratic. It is like the boat, sitting at a 20 degree heel, is moving through space in a spiral, as the waves are tossing us from the side, up, down, right, left, in random order. It will all be over with in two hours and we will be safe at anchor (hopefully).

Waking up to Porpoises

2002-08-08T21:24:00.005-04:00

08/08/02

Father Neptune Welcomes us to the Southern Hemisphere

As I came up to the cockpit at dawn this morning, I heard the sound of porpoises breathing. As I looked around, there were porpoises everywhere, between 20 and 30 of them. Some were coming up near the boat, when in the distance I saw a group of ten all leap completely out of the water at once, all in a line. It was quite a sight to be greeted with first thing in the morning. I then noticed two dead flying fish who had made a fatal flight onto our deck the night before, and gave them a proper burial at sea. The wind has come up again to 15-18 knots, and though we are heeled and rocking, I am happy because the increased speed is going to get us to Fernando de Noronha quicker, and I will be happy to see land. At this rate, we should be arriving mid-morning tomorrow.

After lunch, it was necessary to reef the main, as the seas are starting to build up and the wind speed is approaching 20 knots. I am again being effected by the heat, which wasn’t so bad the last few days, but now is back. I haven’t had a shower in a week and a half, and my hair is starting to grow back, so it feels matty and saturated with dried sweat, as are my sheets and pillow cases. It is doubtful we will be able to get showers at Fernando, either, so I will probably have to make do with the two gallon hand shower. Of course, laundry will be out of the question. I am hoping we will be able to stay there for a few days, before departing for our longest leg of the trip, so far.

We Have Company

2002-08-07T22:30:00.002-04:00

08/07/02

   Last night was another fairly miserable night. I spent my 2000-2200 watch desperately keeping the boat on course to avoid the rocks. The wind speed had increased to 20 knots, and I was getting hit with quite a bit of spray as I was adjusting lines on deck. I was looking forward to ending my watch so I could dry off a little. Imagine my chagrin when I finished my watch and went to my bunk, only to find one of my pillows soaked and my sheets damp.

   The leak which I had experienced on the Tenerife leg was back. Luckily, the wet pillow was one I was using to pad my lee cloth with, so it didn’t matter so much that it was wet. I shoved the pillows over, straightened out the sheets, and pole-vaulted into the bunk. It didn’t feel too bad, then after a few minutes a wave hit the port side and I felt a single drip on my leg. A few minutes later, another drip. I draped a t-shirt over my leg to dampen the effect of the Chinese water torture, which helped… until I felt a drip on my torso. Now this was starting to piss me off.

   I struggled with different combinations of the t-shirt and the sheets (with the tropical heat I couldn’t keep myself covered with the sheets), when finally I heard Eric and David in the cockpit, and Eric uttered those golden words, “We need to tack”. When I at last heard the order “Ready about… Hard to lee!!” I knew my troubles would be over. On the other tack, I did not have the waves hitting my side of the boat, and the drips stopped. Also I was in a better sleeping position, being nestled in a valley rather than teetering on a mountaintop. I got to sleep for a while, then again heard the orders “Ready about… Hard to lee!!”. I was crushed.

   I had enjoyed my new position for only an hour before reverting back to hell. This next time wasn’t so bad, as the leaks magically had stopped, and I soon had to get up for my watch. When I got up, I found that the wind had shifted temporarily, causing the tack, but when they realized the new course was taking us to the rocks, they tacked back. Also, one of Victor’s steering lines had broken, and rather than try to fix it in the dark with 20-25 knot winds, Eric decided to let George steer. This requires a certain amount of vigilance on the part of the person on watch. George can only steer on a compass course, not relative to the wind direction, so when sailing close-hauled I need to watch to make sure George does not bring the boat into irons. I spent the entire watch cowered in the cockpit to avoid spray, watching the wind direction, ready to tweak George at any instant. The wind speed was staying around 20 knots, and we had full main with triple reefed jib, and we were heeling dramatically.

   We officially crossed the equator at 1204 today, crossing at longitude 30 degrees 15’W. We celebrated by having a drink of Porto Branco (Portuguese white port) in the cockpit. Tomorrow we will have an official ceremony where Father Neptune will appear and pronounce David and I as sons of Neptune. I will be a pollywog no more.

   Today Eric started baking bread again, as we have run out of store-bought bread for the first time since the Azores. This is something I have been looking forward to, though I am sure Eric hasn’t been looking forward to it. The winds are now moderating, and I am not fighting the boat as much, thus my state of mind is much improved over yesterday. At these difficult times I always ask myself if I have the constitution to continue on this voyage. I just have to keep reminding myself that all these conditions are temporary (did I say that already?), and milder times are around the corner (maybe not the next corner, but around some corner).

   After I wrote the above paragraph, I took an afternoon nap, and when I awoke, the wind was less than 10 knots and we are barely moving. Now I am wishing to have the wind back. We are never satisfied.

Our Visitor

Yesterday evening, we had a visitation from a Brown Booby. This is a brown bird with gray markings underneath its wings and body, and a gray, human looking face with big round, black eyes. It came swooping around the area of the boat, hovering close above the water and occasionally diving in, causing a flush of flying fish to rise out of the water. It flew up right next to the sail, acting like it wanted to land on the rigging or the masthead, but the boat’s motion was too furious for a landing to be possible. Finally, he decided to make an attempt at the radar antenna, and after a few aborted landings, made his perch there. He sat on the antenna for at least an hour, resting and preening himself, and allowing us to get a few pictures. The bird book associated the brown booby with the Paulo and Pedro rocks, and we were close to the rocks at that time. Other than this bird, the flying fish, and frequent sightings of little black birds with white spots on their backs (I believe those are Wilson’s Storm Petrels), we have seen no other life in the equatorial region.

Sailing Close-Hauled to avoid Paulo and Pedro

2002-08-06T22:23:00.001-04:00

08/06/02

    It is now 1500 on the afternoon of the sixth, and I am still fighting gravity as I sit writing at the galley table. The winds continue to blow from the south, and we must sail as close to the wind as possible to stay on course and make sure we don’t hit the Paulo and Pedro rocks. These are two rocks that rise out of the middle of the ocean at 1 degree N 29 degrees 15’ W. They are not lit, and we will be passing them in the night (with a new moon, no less), so we need to be very careful to keep clear of them.

    Last night, on my 2200-2400 watch, I was trying so hard to keep the course that I had Victor steering too close to the wind, and when I was down below checking the GPS, the boat rounded through the wind, backing both the jib and the main. This caused Eric to suddenly roll across his bunk, wakening him. He came out and helped me get the boat situated. It was a very frustrating watch for me, as the wind conditions changed, causing me to first reef the jib, then later unreef it, and iteratively harden the main sheet to try to point as much as possible into the wind. I had trouble cranking in the jib, as the starboard side winch is hobbled, the self-tailer doesn’t work until we get the parts in Cape Town, so I had to tail with one hand and crank with the other. Of course, once Eric got involved the wind got more consistent and we were able to point in the right direction.

   I felt very frustrated then, but later today I was a bit more successful at adjusting the sail trim to get the right course. I’ll be very happy when this beating stops, though, if it ever does before we get to Fernando. I would enjoy cruising so much better if we never sailed close-hauled. I know, of course, that this is impossible, so I will just have to learn to live with it.

Bad News from Home

2002-08-05T21:56:00.010-04:00

08/05/02

We have been sailing close-hauled since yesterday afternoon, on port tack, and heeling dramatically, which really sucks. But at least we are making good progress in the right direction, and appear to be getting out of the influence of the current.

I had some very distressing news when I spoke to Sue on the Iridium this morning. Our cat, “Maxx” was hit by a car and died last week. It is strange that I had a dream about the cats last week, and felt that something might be wrong. Maxx was our youngest, most playful of the three cats, and I will miss him greatly. I always think of him when I am in my bunk on port tack and holding onto my lee cloth line, the same way that Maxx would hang onto my arm when I picked him up.

Maxx the Cat

Because of the large discrepancy between the GPS speed and the log speed, Eric decided to do an experiment. He sent David to the bow to throw a beer can into the water and shout “Now!!”. At that time I would start my stopwatch and Eric, standing at the stern, would shout “Now!!” as soon as he saw it float past the stern. We then took the elapsed time and extrapolated it out to the speed in knots. We took a few attempts to get a good reading, as the beer can went under the boat the first time, and Eric didn’t see it coming. We ended up using paper towels instead. Our last calculation was that we were doing 6.1 knots, which is within the margin of error for such a test.

Nothing gets me in a foul mood more than sailing close-hauled for an extended period of time. It is one thing to have the boat in constant motion, but to constantly be fighting gravity on top of this is no less than infuriating. These are the times when I question my wisdom of taking on this journey. I can only assure myself that all points of sail are temporary (some less than others), and if we EVER get to the southwest trade winds we will be on a reach for the remainder of this leg. We have not had good luck so far with trade winds, so I won’t count on it.

Struggling to head south

2002-08-04T21:50:00.001-04:00

08/04/02

    The rain eventually stopped yesterday, though the sun never came out, and as we are sailing close-hauled, we are constantly taking water over the bow, so we could still not get any ventilation below. The wind has been hovering at 18-20 knots all day and we have been heeling rather uncomfortably. Doing the dishes after dinner (another excellent chicken curry) was a real challenge, even with the strap holding me in place.

    After dinner, we tied a couple of reefs in the main sail. I accidentally tied the third reef cringle instead of the second reef cringle, and couldn’t figure out why I couldn’t get the main all the way up, thinking that the halyard was fouled on something on the mast, which is usually the case. As it was dark at the time, I couldn’t see up the mast to tell if the halyard was free or not. We were shining flashlights up the mast but could not find a problem. Finally I realized my error, retied the proper cringle, and the main came up fine. Once the reefing was done, things were quite a bit more comfortable and we settled into the cabin to watch “Moby Dick”.

    This morning the wind had moderated and shifted a little to throw us off course some. We are struggling to work south below 5 degrees North latitude, where the current is supposed to be more favorable and the southeast trade winds begin. It is important that we do not go too far west, since if we get caught in the equatorial current too soon we can easily miss Fernando de Noronha, with no possibility of getting back to it. Of course the wind now is blowing SSW, and we are struggling for any southward progress we can make. Also the current is pushing against us 1.5-2 knots, but at least it is not raining and is not unbearably hot, as the sun had been obscured most of the day. At this point we are about 600 miles from Fernando and 300 miles from the equator.

Rain and Wind adds to the Frustration

2002-08-03T21:50:00.000-04:00

08/03/02

    We kept motoring yesterday, though we kept the main up in hopes that some wind would come. Finally at 1615 we got a breeze, set the jib, and stopped the engine.

   This lasted a whole fifteen minutes before the wind died again. Later on that night, at the end of David’s watch, we got another wind coming up and killed the engine again. The wind rose further up to 20 knots, and we reefed the jib, then it started raining heavily. We turned on the radar and saw that we appeared to be passing through a squall. Eric’s opinion was that the whole thing would be over in half an hour and we would be back to no wind. I kept an eye on it during my 2200-2400 watch.

   The rain abated somewhat, but the wind kept up. I turned in, and when I woke up for my next watch, David was soaked, and was taking a bottle of dish soap on deck to have a shower. He had experienced heavy rains and wild, shifting winds throughout his watch. By the time I took over, the winds were down to 8 knots and the rain was slacking off. The rain continued to lessen, and I saw the moon and a few stars come out. The wind increased to 15 knots and veered to the northwest. I should have let out the sails and put us on a reach, but I wasn’t thinking. In the end it didn’t matter much, as the wind was all over the place through the morning.

   When I woke up this morning, it was still raining heavily and Eric and David were going up on deck to tack. It’s a good thing I got up when I did, because 5 minutes later I would be lying on my face. The wind continued quite fickle all morning, and we just let it go until into my watch. Eric decided our course was too far off, and we might do better to tack. At this point the winds were 8-10 knots. Eric and I went up to tack, and the wind died. He started the engine, but we were not able to make headway against the large seas. After fiddling around for some time trying to find something that worked, the wind picked up to 15 knots and we decided to go on starboard tack (a great relief to me, though with the waves bashing, neither tack was really comfortable).

   The compass course we are steering now is good (230 degrees), but the GPS is showing that we are heading 170! There is some strange current pushing us.

   As of now, it has stopped raining and the sun is poking out. The wind is still 15 knots, but we are not making good headway against the waves. I believe this whole rain storm started in on us when David announced yesterday that he was going to sleep on deck that night because of the heat. Of course he didn’t get to sleep on deck, and it is as stuffy as ever below, as we have had to close the hatches to keep out the rain.

Dying in the Heat

2002-08-02T21:40:00.002-04:00

08/02/02

Yesterday was a horrendously hot day. The temperature within the cabin rose into the 90’s, and there was no escape from the heat. At this moment I feel baked from the inside out, and can not get enough to drink. I am going through my red zinger tea at an alarming rate, and am sure I won’t have enough to last to Cape Town at this pace. Yesterday afternoon David asked to stop the boat so he could jump in, and this request was granted. Also in the afternoon the boat hit some kind of buoy. We couldn’t get a good look at it, but it was small and had a long black stick coming out of it, resembling either a radio antenna or a fishing pole. We have also seen three ships in the last day. It’s very strange that we can go for a week without seeing one ship, then see three in one day.

One good thing about calm seas and no wind is that we can have pancakes for breakfast. The bad thing is that having the engine running, and minimal breeze through the cabin contribute greatly to the heat problem, which is the most serious problem besetting us at this time. Later this morning, we are planning to drop the main and set up the awning again, as the wind doesn’t look like it’s going to come up.

Have We Found the Doldrums?

2002-08-01T21:38:00.004-04:00

08/01/02

Yesterday was a little more comfortable, as it was overcast some of the day, and the wind swung back to northwest, so we found ourselves running again with a gentle breeze blowing into the companionway. This pleasant run lasted most of the night. It looks like we were once again in the trades and had only encountered a lull before. When I got up for my 0800 watch, the wind had pretty much died again, and we were hobbling along at 2.5 knots. When Eric got up, he decided to roll in the jib and start the engine, as it now appears we are really in the doldrums. We are now at 9 degrees 33’ N 26 degrees 34’ W, 833 miles from our waypoint at Fernando de Noronha. Once we get through the doldrums we should pick up the southeast trade winds, which should send us on a nice reach. We have to be careful not to get too far north, as the equatorial current can make it impossible to work our way south as we approach the island. We also have to be careful of the Peter and Paul rocks, which can be found in the middle of the ocean en route to Fernando.

Heating Up

2002-07-31T21:54:00.001-04:00

07/31/02

    As of 1000, we are still running before a very light, variable wind that has been backing to the north, so we are considering jibing and going on a reach.

    The heat of the sun is continuing to be intense. The cockpit thermometer topped 100 degrees yesterday, though the cabin temperature was only 85. We are considering putting up the bimini today. With these light winds we don’t get enough breeze to get good ventilation in the cabin, and it can be quite uncomfortable in the cabin and the cockpit. There is no refuge from the heat.

    I am settling into my sleep pattern again. It always takes a few days once we get out, to get used to only sleeping four hours at once. I also have strange dreams to start, thinking that we are still at the place we left, or somehow have been able to stop by home on the way.

Wind is Back

2002-07-30T21:52:00.001-04:00

07/30/02

We started picking up a northeast wind this morning, so we took the awning down and raised the main, setting the preventer and the whisker pole up for a run. We are thinking that this was not really the doldrums after all, but rather just a lull in the trade winds, as we experienced our last day before hitting the Cape Verdes. Later on today, Eric is going to fashion a bracket to reinforce the broken stanchion joint on the bow pulpit, to prevent further damage before we get it welded in Cape Town.

A Doldrums Dip

2002-07-29T21:44:00.001-04:00

David and I returning from a Swim

07/29/02

    It looks like we may have hit the doldrums already! We started off from Cape Verde with a nice 10-12 knot beam reach, and went like that through the day. In the evening, the wind started to die, and for my 2000-2200 watch, had less than 10 knots the whole time. My next watch (0200-0400) was the same, with the wind shifting to south at the end, so we were close-hauled at that point. Shortly after my watch ended I heard the engine starting from my slumber. It is now 0800 and the sea is almost like glass.

    It seems like we are in the doldrums, alright. Towards the end of my 0800-1100 watch, I noticed a faint outline of an island off to port. I was curious about this, as I thought we had left the Cape Verdes behind, but on consulting Eric and the chart, I learned that the small volcanic island of Fogo is the southernmost island, and that it was still within view. This is the island that Eric had trouble with on his last visit to Cape Verde. They got caught in the lee of this island, which is nothing but a huge volcano, with no wind and a current pushing them towards the island. They couldn’t start the diesel engine, and couldn’t drop the anchor because the water depth was 1000 feet right up to the rocks. They ended up dropping the rigid dinghy over the side with the seagull attached (the tiny antique outboard) and used this to push the boat to safety.

    After lunch today, we decided we weren’t going to get any more wind, so we dropped the main and set up the awning, to provide some shade for the cockpit and cool the boat down some. In the afternoon, we stopped the boat and had a “doldrums dip”. We dropped the swim ladder and all jumped in and had a bath in the ocean. You don’t realize the brilliance of the blue color of the water until you jump in and see it from eye level. We took the opportunity to also lather up with dishwashing liquid and clean ourselves off real good. Eric also put on his dive mask and checked out the hull where the whale had hit. He said there was a little bottom paint scraped off, but that was all. It’s interesting to swim in water that is 3 miles deep.

    We will be crossing the equator on the way to Fernando de Noronha, and in preparation for the special “pollywog” ceremony to celebrate David and my first equator crossing, Eric is saving green beer cans to use with his costume. I will be interested in seeing what he has planned.

Mindelo, Cape Verde Islands

2002-07-27T20:56:00.018-04:00

The Harbor at Mindelo

07/27/02

    We came into Mindelo at about 0100 Friday morning. We anchored off a beach that was next to the main harbor, as we didn’t want to try to negotiate the unfamiliar harbor in the dark. We went to sleep, and next morning bright and early, got up and had pancakes for breakfast. It was 0700 local time when we were having breakfast, and already the beach was busy with swimmers (or maybe bathers).

    We weighed anchor, with me stationed in the chain locker to make sure the chain falls in a proper pile, then we went around the corner to the main harbor of Mindelo, Porto Grande. As we came in, we saw only a few sail boats anchored. There was a large two-masted British boat that was lined with dive tanks, a French ketch named “Tamata”, another French boat named “Diogene”, a couple of dilapidated catamarans, and 6 sailboats all rafted together, the center two of which had no masts.

    We took a cruise around the harbor to check things out. A little, scruffy, dreadlocked guy popped out of one of the sad catamarans and gave us a wave. We moved back, and after we passed by, a couple on a dinghy came out and picked him up. We went around and anchored in a spot near the British boat.

Orlando in front of a local Landmark

    We (Eric) decided to deploy the inflatable, because of the long distance to shore. As we were preparing the dinghy on deck, the shaggy gentleman we had seen earlier came up to our boat on his dinghy. He introduced himself as “Orlando” and offered his services to help us find our way around, to clear in with the local authorities and customs, and make sure that nothing was stolen from our dinghy while we’re ashore. We acceded to his offer, and agreed to meet him at the dinghy dock.

    When we got to the dinghy dock, which was a battered wooden platform outstretched from a crumbling concrete platform, there was Orlando, surrounded by a swarm of small naked kids who were constantly present at the dock and surrounding beach. He helped us tie up the dinghy and get ashore, then he walked with us down to the local Harbor Authority to check in.

    I was amazed at the advanced state of decay that everything was in. The sidewalks were all either crumbled concrete or sharp, irregular black stones. When we went inside the office building where the harbor authority was, I couldn’t help but notice the total shabbiness of the surroundings. The steps that we climbed were all chipped on the corners, with exposed pieces of wood. I expected the whole place to collapse at any moment.

    Orlando took us up and presented us to the official, and Eric presented him with the ship’s papers and crew list. He was charged a small fee, which he promised to come back and pay after he had exchanged dollars for Escudos. We then took a walk down to the customs officer, whose office was down on the commercial docks. Along the way, we saw a dog lying in the street that couldn’t possibly be alive, but people were walking around it as though it was always there.

    We got to the customs office, a small bare room on the dock front, and got our passports stamped, then we went to the Shell Oil office to see if we could arrange to get some diesel fuel. The Shell Oil building was quite different from any other I saw in Mindelo. It was clean and new, and actually had air conditioning inside! Orlando took us in and introduced Eric to the guy in charge. They arranged to us to take the boat around to one of the commercial docks later that afternoon, and they would send a truck to pump the fuel. This was a great relief, as we were expecting to have to run back and forth with jerry cans. Since we needed 130 litres, and we only have two jerry cans, that would be about three trips, which would take all afternoon.

    From there, Orlando took us to the bank, where we exchanged some money, then he took us to the Post Office, where we got stamps and postcards. At that time, we asked Orlando to show us a nice place for lunch. He took us to a couple of places that looked very dingy, which we rejected, and finally he took us to a nicer place. The lights weren’t on in the restaurant but there was enough light for us to eat. We agreed to meet Orlando at 1400 for visiting the fuel dock, then he went on his way. The restaurant was quite nice, but it was early and we were the only ones in the place. After 15 minutes, another party came in, and at that time they turned on the lights and air conditioning.

    After lunch, we went back to the boat, and I feverishly wrote and addressed 15 post cards before it was time to raise anchor and go to the fuel dock. When 1400 came, we raised the dinghy on deck, weighed anchor and headed towards the fuel dock. Orlando couldn’t be seen anywhere in the harbor, so we went without him. I prepared three fenders to cast over once we got close to the dock. As we approached the dock, which is built for large ships, we saw that there were large black rubber bumpers mounted diagonally along the face of the concrete dock. Eric recommended that we rig one of the fender boards to lay across two of the fenders. In rigging the fender board, I forgot to lower the third fender over, which later turned out to have disastrous consequences.

    We approached the dock and tied up successfully, and I saw we were in danger of hitting forward of the fender board. I went to lower the third fender, and as I was fiddling with that, did not notice that the bowsprit was bouncing perilously close to the wall. I went to fend off, but it was too late, and the port side light crashed against the wall, breaking the wooden bracket in two. Thankfully the light fixture itself was not damaged and it was still operating. Eric became quite enraged with us for letting this happen, stressing that these parts are impossible to replace in such places as this, and we really need to make sure it doesn’t happen again.

   Once we tied up okay, Orlando showed up at the dock. The fuel truck had not yet arrived, and Eric and Orlando decided to go pay the harbor fee while we were waiting. Eric said we could not start fueling until he returned, as we needed to turn on a valve down below and watch while the tank fills. He advised me to get a clamp from the toolbox in the engine room and see if I could temporarily repair the broken side light bracket. Once I got the bracket back together, a few minutes later a small pickup truck arrived with a small pump trailer behind it. I tried to explain that I couldn’t start pumping until the captain returned.

    The truck left the trailer there with an attendant, who proceeded to lift a cover on the dock under which was an opening to the fuel reservoir. He hooked up the pump to the reservoir and then gave me the filler hose. I opened the tank filler on the deck and put the hose in, but would not start pumping, much to the annoyance of the attendant, who didn’t want to waste too much time on a 130 litre (32 gallon) purchase. Finally some other people came by who knew English and Portuguese, and were able to explain my obstinance. At last, Eric and Orlando returned, and we completed the fueling.

    Our next step was to go back and anchor in the harbor, then go ashore and take showers at the Club Nautico, and afterwards make phone calls and visit the internet café. The first part of our plan was thwarted when Orlando took us to the Club Nautico and learned that there were no showers available.

   Next, I attempted to call Sue on the phone. I called the ATT number and attempted to use my credit card, but was informed that credit cards are not honored. I borrowed Eric’s ATT number to leave a brief message, then went to the internet café. At the internet café I saw that they sold phone cards, so I bought one for 250 Escudos (about $2.50), that was for 50 “units”. I went and put the card in and it showed 50 units on the phone display. When I called Sue, the units immediately started counting down. I barely had a chance to say hello before I got a warning saying that the card is almost done, then it cut me off. I went into the Post Office and bought a 150 unit card for $7.00 and tried again. This time we had a bit better conversation, but were still cut off before we were ready. I decided it would be cheaper to talk on the Iridium phone.

    Later on that night, we went in for dinner and one of Orlando’s friends, Manuel, took us to a local restaurant, the “Pica-Pau”, where a lot of yacht people go. It was dark inside when we entered, as there were no other customers there. The owner turned the lights on when we entered. He was very friendly, and pointed to all the notes that had been written from other yachts, taped to the walls. After we ordered, the waitress brought us an appetizer that was a plate of deep fried, head-on sardines with toothpicks in them. I broke the head off of one and tasted it. It was quite spicy, and I was happy to get a glass of the Portuguese wine to wash it down.

    After dinner, David took Eric back to the boat in the dinghy, while I stayed ashore and bought Orlando a beer at the Club Nautico. David then came back on the dinghy and joined us there. We talked with Orlando, whose English is not very good, and found out more about him. He has lived on the island all his life, and has two or three daughters and a couple of grandchildren. He has never married, but has been with three women throughout his life. He says that people don’t really get married in Cape Verde.

    Orlando then took us to a restaurant/bar where there was live music taking place. This was a very nice establishment (unlike other places we had seen so far), and all the other customers there seemed to be European. Two guys with guitars set up in the corner, and an old man with a hat came and took out a violin. They played some traditional music, and the old fiddle player was having a grand old time, doing little dances and accosting the non-appreciative waitress. Orlando had a couple of beers with us there, then went back to the dinghy. We stayed at the bar until 2200, then went back to the dinghy, as we didn’t feel safe being out too late in this town.

    When we went back to the dinghy dock, a French couple had just come in on their dinghy from their small yacht “Diogene”. They were a very nice young couple named Raphael and Delphine. They had been here for eight weeks, waiting for friends to join them from Europe on another boat. They were going out to a music club somewhere, with Orlando tagging along. It turns out that it was Raphael and Delphine’s dinghy that Orlando had borrowed that morning to come to our boat, as he doesn’t have a dinghy of his own.

    We went back to the boat and went to sleep. The next morning we did some boat chores. David and I got in the dinghy and went around the boat with a scouring pad and AJAX cleanser to take care of several black marks that had been left on the hull by various black rubber fenders we had encountered on the trip. At the same time Eric made a more permanent repair of the sidelight fixture. We tightened up some shrouds on the starboard side.

    We had agreed the day before to meet Orlando at 1000 for him to take us to the produce market. When we got to the dinghy dock we did not see Orlando, but some of his associates (Cesar and Manuel) were there. There was also a guy named Manny, who we had met at the fuel dock the day before. Manny had lived in Providence, Rhode Island for a while, and spoke very good English. He offered to take us to the market, and we took him up on the offer.

    We first went to a small storefront fruit market, where we got a couple of things; grapes, oranges, and a melon. Then we went to the main market, which was quite a sight. When we walked through the entrance, there was some guy sitting on the floor holding the entrails of some animal in one hand and a pile of salt in the other hand that he was rubbing into it. It was a most disgusting sight! Once we got past this, it was a lot better. We were able to find the fresh produce we needed; onions, tomatoes, garlic, apples, and the biggest lemons I have ever seen. We then went to a butcher shop where we got some frozen chicken and fresh eggs. We carried all this stuff back to the dinghy, while Manny went off to do something else. Eric gave Manny a couple of dollars for his help. He had also given Orlando 2000 Escudos ($20) the day before for his help over the two days.

    Eric and David took the produce back to the boat while I stayed ashore and talked with Orlando and Cesar. They were quite upset that we went off with Manny, and warned me that Manny is untrustworthy, and only came back to Cape Verde from America because of trouble with the law. There would be no other reason why someone would choose to return to Cape Verde. I just nodded my head and listened. Manny hadn’t done anything to indicate that he was trying to take advantage of us.

    When Eric and David came back from the boat, we got Orlando to take us to the supermarket for more shopping. Orlando was not quite sober today. Later we found he had been drinking all night with Raphael and Delphine. We went to the supermarket and picked up some more stuff, and took a taxi back to the dinghy dock. After we took the food back to the boat we went back in for lunch, going to a nice place we had passed on the way to the supermarket. This restaurant turned out to be really nice. The weather here was quite hot during the day, as the sun is directly overhead, and I quickly consumed the 1.5 litre bottle of cold Agua Minerale that I ordered. I found during the day that I could not get enough to drink.

    The rest of the afternoon we spent at the internet café, then went to the boat to take showers. Eric wasn’t interested in going back to shore, so he took David and I in the dinghy at 1800, and agreed to come back and pick us up at 2100. We went back to the restaurant where we had seen the music the night before, and found they don’t start serving dinner until 1900, so we got beers and sat out on their terrace that overlooks the street from the second floor. After a few minutes, two European women came out and sat at a table. One of them asked me to take their picture. We started talking to them. They are from Spain, visiting the Cape Verdes on vacation. They had been visiting the other islands, and Mindelo was their last stop before returning home. They had seen some nice beach resorts, and they said the capital city, Praia, where Eric had stopped on his last visit to Cape Verde, was in much worse condition than Mindelo. They described it as “awful, awful, awful, awful, awful”. We gave them our web site address and took their picture.

    After dinner (we ate too early to hear the live music) we decided to stop at a bar across the street called “Le Café Musique”, for another beer. Amazingly, this bar was really nice inside, more like what I would expect for a Manhattan bar than Mindelo. We were the only people in the bar though, and we couldn’t stay more than thirty minutes as we had to get back to meet Eric at the dinghy dock.

    Going to and from the dinghy dock was always an ordeal, as Cesar, or some swarm of kids was always there asking for money. We got in the dinghy with Eric, and we were all in agreement that we would be happy to leave Mindelo behind. That night, there was a big music event going on at some rooftop bar on the waterfront. We could hear the music playing until 5:00 AM!

    The next morning we got up and had pancakes, deflated the dinghy, and were weighing anchor at 0900. As we were leaving, Orlando and another guy chased our boat in a Zodiac, making one more attempt to get more money from us. Eric told him to fuck off, and that is the last words we have had with Cape Verde.

    After leaving Mindelo, we sailed down the west side of Sao Vicente. It was as barren a land as I have ever seen, nothing but rocky mountains, with no vegetation or any sign of life. We may as well have been looking at a Mars landscape. Finally we got to the southwest point of the island and there was a light house there. I couldn’t figure out how that lighthouse could have been built, as there were no roads that led to it, and it would be impossible to get to it by sea.

The Lighthouse at the end of Sao Vicente

Later on that day, I had finished my watch, and was taking a nap, feeling the waves rocking us to the side, when all of a sudden I felt and heard a “BONK”. It was as if we had hit something. Suddenly Eric cried from the cockpit “We just hit a whale!”. I got up and rushed to the cockpit. I could see a whale head coming to the surface about 100 feet off of port. Eric said when he went into the cockpit after the BONK, he saw the stunned whale right next to the boat, trying to figure out what happened. The whale was about 40 feet long, at least the size of the boat. As we looked out, we could see a whole school of spouts and heads bobbing out of the water. They were too far away to get a good picture, though, so you have to take my word for it. I am hoping to see more wildlife, now that we are entering a less traveled area of the ocean. As I looked out on the water today, several times I saw a hundred or more flying fish come out of the water at once, and take off flying together.

So Much for Trade Winds

2002-07-25T20:43:00.001-04:00

07/25/02

    Well, so much for the trade winds. Yesterday afternoon the wind started dropping. First, we had the problem that the wind was shifting a little, and the waves were rolling the boat back and forth faster than the wind speed. This resulted in a horrific pounding for the mainsail, which was making dreadful banging noises and taking quite a lot of punishment. Eric says he suffers more sail damage when the wind is less than 10 knots than when the wind is blowing hard. In fact, the motion of the mainsail was so intense that it broke the snap shackle right off the end of the boom vang! We replaced the boom vang with a spare and replaced the shackle on the other one.

    After all this, we decided to drop the main altogether and just run with the jib and the staysail. This arrangement worked well for a while, until the wind died altogether, and Eric decided to furl the jib and start the engine. This morning, the wind picked up again, and we raised the main. Unfortunately, two hours later the wind has died again, and we are once again motoring with 60 miles to go to Porto Grande. At this rate we will be arriving about 10 at night, and will anchor in the outer harbor and go in Friday morning.

    The remnant waves from the past three days of wind in combination with the lack of wind yesterday afternoon made for some challenging boat motion. Somehow I have avoided any bouts with queasiness on this leg (I hope that means I’m getting used to it!), but have been experiencing headaches the last couple of days.

    Even though we are in the tropics, the weather has seemed untropical so far. The sky has been covered with a gray haze, and we haven’t seen much of the sun until now. Also the temperature has been quite moderate. This has been helped by the fact that we have had the breeze blowing directly into our companionway all this time.

Flying Fish Attack!!

2002-07-24T20:37:00.011-04:00

Flying Fish on Deck in the Morning

07/24/02

The wind has been holding its direction. I believe we are in the midst of the Northeast Trade Winds, so called because they blow from a predictable direction, and commercial sailing ships used that fact to their advantage. We did have to roll the jib in and out a couple of times yesterday, as the wind speed would increase over 20 knots for a time, then moderate again.

David was hit by a flying fish while standing in the cockpit. This is the second time in as many nights that he has been the target of these odd creatures. At this point, we are looking at arriving at Porto Grande in Mindelo late tomorrow, and may have to wait until morning before we can go in and anchor in the harbor.

This ain't no Pequod

2002-07-23T20:28:00.010-04:00

Sailing Wing and Wing with Victor Steering

07/23/02

Yesterday was a remarkably uneventful day. The day ended with the same wind conditions that began it, and between the two there were no changes to be found. The motion of the boat has seemed to become gentler. As I write this, I am being rocked slowly from 15 degrees to 15 degrees. It is much more pleasant to be rocked to sleep than to be pounded, as was my experience on the previous leg. I have been reading Moby Dick during the day, and during this time the style which I use in the writing of this log may seem a bit different, so as to emulate the profound style of the poetic Mr. Melville. It is quite a good book, filled as it is with numerous ruminations on the seafaring life in general and whaling in particular. The omnipresent thought in my head as I read about sailing life in the nineteenth century is that I have it very good on my voyage. The sailing men of those years regularly performed duties that would render me paralyzed with terror, such as climbing to the masthead and standing on a platform so small that Melville compared it to “standing on a ram’s horns”. This was done in two hour shifts to keep a lookout for whales. This is nothing compared to the risks involved in manning the whale boat, leaving the mother ship to row after the whales, sometimes in gales and high seas.

Later today we will have passed 4000 miles total that we have traveled since leaving Patchogue. This is but one sixth of the total trip. I am still not able to fathom what the trip after Cape Town will be like. Eric often mentions when we are doing work on deck, “Think of doing this when the water temperature is 32”. He also says we can be reasonably sure that there will be times when we will experience 30 foot swells with accompanying high winds. We will for the most part be running with these winds and seas. We will prepare in Cape Town by replacing the main and jib with smaller storm sails. Another thing Eric is considering is to remove the staysail boom and instead use a small whisker pole to hold out the staysail so we can run wing-and-wing with the staysail and the jib alone. We did an experiment the other day with rigging the main preventer on the end of the staysail boom, but we couldn’t get enough leverage to hold it out properly.

Bobbing Like a Cork

2002-07-22T20:23:00.002-04:00

07/22/02

    Before happy hour yesterday, we raised the main with a double reef and set the preventer for wing-and-wing. We left the staysail up, but sheeted it flat amidships to provide stability. We are still bobbing like a cork, as the surrounding swells are sizable, and hitting us from behind, rocking the boat back and forth. If you watch the inclinometer, you will see it alternate from 15 degrees on one side to 20 degrees on the other side, back to 20 degrees on the first side, on and on.

    This is quite different from the movement we experience when close-hauled. When we’re on a tack, either port or starboard tack, the angle of heel is at least consistent one way or another, so if you set something down you have a good idea which direction it will roll. When running, you don’t know from one second to the next which heel you’re on, so you’re constantly balancing things. I suppose it is good for my muscle tone, as my body is constantly fighting gravity, even as I sit here writing.

    We are making good time, though. As of this morning, I reported to Sue on the Iridium that we are 451 miles from our destination, and are right on the Tropic of Cancer. It seems a little cool for being in the tropics, but I won’t complain. The water temperature is around 62 degrees but we are seeing a lot more flying fish.

    We had movie night last night, with a showing of “High Noon”, a classic western which was targeted by the movie “Blazing Saddles”.

A Tricky Maneuver with the Halyard

2002-07-21T20:19:00.003-04:00

07/21/02

   We were on a nice run all night, but then this morning the wind speed was up to 20 knots from behind, and was beginning to overpower the boat. Eric decided to take the main down, and set the staysail instead.

    This was a bit tricky, as the waves had become pretty big, and though they didn’t seem so bad when they were coming on our stern, when we turned to face the wind to drop the main, their presence was indeed felt. We had a little glitch while rigging the staysail halyard. The whisker pole had already been rigged for the jib, and was poking out perpendicular to the boat from the mast about eight feet above the deck. When we unfastened the staysail halyard shackle from it’s home on the shroud, we realized that the halyard had to pass over the whisker pole and topping lift before we could attach it to the sail.

    We attached a short line to the halyard shackle, and David had to climb up the ratlines (wooden ladder that goes up the shrouds) and pass it over to me. This was quite a daring maneuver, with the boat continuing to roll madly from the waves. We managed to get the halyard safely passed over, and raised the staysail after two attempts. In the first attempt I got the wire bunched up in the winch and couldn’t hoist it all the way up, much to Eric’s perturbation.

   Of course, now that we have done all this, the wind has once again moderated.

Eric gets out the Sledge Hammer

2002-07-20T20:16:00.002-04:00

07/20/02

    We stopped the engine at 0935, and are hobbling along on a reach with light winds. We are currently 704 miles from our waypoint at St. Vincent.

    As of 1900, we have once again started the motor. Earlier today, the wind swung around behind us, and we set the boom preventer and whisker pole for a run. We also had to reset the lower batten, as it had come loose from it’s socket on the luff of the sail and had worn a hole in the sail. Later on in the afternoon, the boom vang pulled the car off the track, bending the end of the track. Eric fixed this with a small sledge hammer and steel block that he keeps for this purpose.

    Eric spent some time looking through a book on cruising routes, to determine the best way to cross the doldrums between here and Fernando de Noronha, then how best to make the passage from there to Cape Town.

Santa Cruz de Tenerife, Canary Islands

2002-07-19T22:45:00.027-04:00

FIONA Docked at Marina Atlantico

07/19/02

    I am finally getting to update the log again after departing from Tenerife. I am so happy to be able to leave the boat and walk around that I don’t want to spend time on the boat writing. I figure I’ll have plenty of time to do this when I’m underway. As I sit here, I feel a very painful blister on the bottom of my right foot, acquired from constantly walking during the last three days.

    Our landfall at Santa Cruz was quite spectacular, as we had rounded the NorthEast corner of the island at dawn. I had the 0600-0800 watch, so I was on duty when we made the approach.

    When I awoke for the watch, we were in the middle of a wind acceleration zone, a spot near the point of the island where the wind speeds are amplified. It was blowing 20-25 knots and the seas were pretty big. Luckily we had dropped the main the night before, and were motoring because the wind had died. As soon as I started my watch the wind died again, and the waves flattened out as we moved into the protection of the island.

    The northern part of the island was lined with steep, irregular mountains with scrubby vegetation, not very hospitable looking. As we proceeded further south, Santa Cruz came more into view. It was quite a big city, with many high-rise buildings. There were a few small fishing boats running around and some freight ships that did not appear to be going anywhere.

    Suddenly, out of nowhere, this hydrofoil ferry came out of the harbor and crossed our bow at a high rate of speed. The hydrofoil has special attachments on the hull that allow the ship to lift out of the water, enabling it to go very fast. Then, coming from east, the direction of Tenerife’s neighbor island, Gran Canaria, came another high speed ferry. This was a very modern boat, a catamaran that is about the size of the Port Jefferson ferry, and also traveling quite fast.

    We finally worked our way down to the entrance to the southern harbor, Darsena de los Llanos. At the north end of this harbor is a well protected marina, Marina Atlantico, where there were 20-30 boats, and many slips were empty. A little more than half of these boats were power boats, including some Sea Rays, which I was surprised to see. We did not see a marina attendant, so we pulled into the slip at the end of the dock.

    Eric went to check in with the authorities while David and I hooked up the hose and gave FIONA a much needed fresh water bath. The pounding we had taken from waves over the last week had left a thick layer of salt over the entire boat. Once this was done, Eric and I set out to find the chandlery and David set out to explore on his own. I picked up a pamphlet for the chandlery at the marina office that included a city map showing the location, and another pamphlet showing an internet café. I called Sue to let her know I was safe on land. As we walked through the parking lot next to the marina office, I noticed a stage being set up with tables and food booths all around. I did not think anything of it, since we had seen a similar setup in Horta.

    We found the chandlery, stopping for lunch along the way. Santa Cruz was a very modern city. At the chandlery, Eric purchased more line for the Aries, and spare jib sheets. We then had them give us directions to an electronics supply shop, where Eric went to get a replacement capacitor for the broken SSB radio. He was to spend considerable time over the next days trying to fix it, to no avail. We finally bought a portable SONY shortwave radio so we could listen to BBC broadcasts. No more talking to Trudi, or receiving weather faxes.

    For the afternoon I explored the town and sent out an e-mail update for my trip. That night we looked for a restaurant and settled on an Italian place. I had veal marsala, which was strangely served with French Fries. After dinner we went back to the marina to see what was happening with the festival that was being set up. There was quite a crowd of people there, and we noticed a large crowd gathered at the south end of the commercial harbor, which is directly to the north of our harbor. I went to look, and there were all sorts of boats, ranging in size from jet ski to 80-foot fishing boats, all festooned with flags and palm fronds, zooming precariously about the harbor. It was quite a sight.

    I went over to the festival for a while and checked it out. The food being sold was either grilled or fried sardines or chicken brochettes. The stage had been occupied by a choral group of about 30 people, led by a Spanish guitar player in the center. They broke into song, singing something that seemed religious, but it being in Spanish, I could only guess. I decided to walk back over to the commercial harbor. There was a footbridge that went out to a large concrete platform in the middle of the harbor. I decided to walk out there and join the crowd. When I got to the end, I noticed all the boats that had been careening around the harbor were now all corralled up at the north end. Some of them were shooting flares.

Boats Racing around the Harbor

Suddenly fireworks started from the breakwater on the east of the harbor. The impressive quality of these fireworks were not the visual aspect, as it was not quite dark yet. The echoes from the explosions are something I shall not soon forget. As I said earlier, the island is composed of a number of irregularly shaped volcanic mountains. The sound of the explosion would echo from each of these mountains, and the resulting sound would be almost as loud as the original report, with a slightly different tone. Thus each explosion was its own bass drum flourish, with the beats coming from different directions.

Once the fireworks were over, all the boats were let loose once again and came flooding into the harbor. As it turns out, the central boat in all this was a large commercial boat loaded with people. On this boat was riding a statue of the patron saint of the fishermen. It is a tradition on every July 16 the statue is taken from the local church, put on a boat and taken out to sea, and this festival is to celebrate her homecoming. David and I didn’t know this at the time. We just noticed that this statue appeared, coming from the harbor, followed by a marching band playing a somber drum roll. We decided to join the procession and see where it went. They went across the highway and stopped in the plaza in the city. At that time we were treated to a second, much more spectacular fireworks show. After this was over, we followed the procession again to the church. Along the way I spotted a pub named “J. C. Murphy’s”, which I pointed out to David. Once the statue was back in the church, the priests had a short ceremony, and it was all over. David and I went to Murphy’s and had a Guinness, and I called Sue again.

The Procession

    The rest of the time in Tenerife I spent walking around town, shopping, and exploring. The town generally shuts down in the afternoon, with most of the shops closing from 1300 to 1600 or 1700 for siesta.

    Before we knew it, it was time to hit the sea again. We left after lunch on Friday, and spent the morning cleaning up everything, folding up the awning that we had set up to protect the boat form the sun’s rays, and disconnecting the power.

    We met a nice couple from England, Ken and Jo, who were on their boat, AMIKECO. They were in their seventies, and had been cruising on their homemade Tahiti ketch since he retired from the police at the age of 47. They had attempted to cross to the Caribbean a month or two earlier, but shortly into the trip, Jo developed Glaucoma and lost sight in one eye. She is now working with a specialist in the UK to prevent losing sight in the other eye.

    Our departure from Marina Atlantico went very smoothly. From there, we first went north to the Darsena Pescada (Fisherman’s Harbor) to get diesel. We picked up 100 liters of fuel and departed. This time, I did everything right when I raised the main! Unfortunately, there has as of yet been no wind to drive us. We have motored most of the way and are now south, well out of sight of land. We are feeling a breeze coming up from behind, and are preparing to try again.

Getting Close to Tenerife

2002-07-15T22:39:00.002-04:00

07/15/02

We have less than 100 miles to go to Tenerife. The winds died off for a while last night, but later on picked up again. Now we are making 6.2 knots with the wind blowing a steady 12-15 knots, sometimes going up to 18-20. At this point, we should hopefully be arriving in Santa Cruz early tomorrow morning.

I called Sue on the Iridium this morning. We still have 390 minutes of time left on the card.

The Misery Continues

2002-07-14T22:28:00.007-04:00

07/14/02

    The misery continues.

    The body slams have continued throughout yesterday and are continuing as I write this at 1130, with no sign of letting up.

    A few other things happened yesterday. First, Eric was hardening up the jib sheet when a piece broke off the winch. The piece that broke off was a spacer between the tailing jaws of the winch, with a little tab that keeps the sheet from getting wrapped under when it goes around in the jaws. We studied this for a while, and determined there is no way to practically fix it. Finally Eric decided we could just put the tab in there and it would serve the purpose. This did not work, as the large diameter jib sheet spread the jaws too wide and the tab came out of alignment. He decided to change the jib sheets with ones of smaller diameter. This was a bit complicated, as it entailed going into wind, unwinding the jib, and David going forward, untying the loose sheet, and connecting the new sheet. We then ran the new sheet through, took the load on that, and did the same for the port sheet. David had to climb on the ratlines to reach the jib, and it was a bit harrowing in the heaving seas. After all this, the winch experienced the same problem with the thinner line, and we decided just to use the winch as a non-self-tailer for now, until we could fix it in port.

    Later on in the afternoon we had another crisis. One of Victor’s steering lines broke and he wasn’t able to steer any more. Eric had a replacement line, and we proceeded to the stern to dismantle the steering device while David hand steered. It was a frustrating task that required Eric to hang over the stern rail, taking off pieces and handing to me to secure on deck. He finally had the unit folded up, removed the pieces of the old steering line and ran the new steering line through, putting a figure eight knot in the end and reinforcing the end with electrical tape. Soon, Victor was reassembled and once again performing his essential duty.

    That night, I was not able to eat my dinner, as I had another attack of nausea while I started to eat my Spam and beans. I went on deck to get some air and drink my ginger ale. This time I felt particularly green, greener than my last episode, even though I did not actually throw up this time. I lay down for another hour before my watch began (more body slams and drips. Oh Boy!!), and felt a little better, but not much. I still had that sour taste in the back of my mouth and a mild headache. I brushed my teeth, and took several small sips of water, and that helped somewhat. I was getting used to the body slams, and slept a bit better.

    After lunch today we had yet another crisis. Victor’s other steering line broke. This time I did the hand steering while David helped out at the stern. Hand steering on a reach for just a few minutes really allowed me to appreciate the job that Victor does. We are still careening along at over 6 knots with double-reefed main and double-reefed jib. 187 miles to go to our waypoint in Tenerife.

    It is now evening, the start of my 2000 watch. The winds have died, and the seas are subsiding. We have shaken the reefs out, and are hoping something will happen. We are making 3.2 knots with 151 miles to go, which is a little over 48 hours. I will see what happens on my watch. If the seas subside and the wind is still dead, we will start the engine. If the wind picks up, we will sail.

    I am constantly thinking about what’s going to happen after Cape Town. There are reasons for me to continue and reasons for me to bail out. On the list of reasons to continue are the fact that I have made a public commitment to do this, also the fact that this is an opportunity that is guaranteed not to ever come again, and when I make it through, whatever suffering I endure will all be in the past anyway. For reasons to bail out, I am realizing that 11 months is a long time to be away from my home, and I seriously miss being in Long Island with Sue and the cats. To think of eight additional months of this after Cape Town is a daunting thought. Also, there are guaranteed to be tremendous hardships on the Southern Ocean leg, much more than what I have experienced so far. Will I be able to handle them physically and mentally? These are questions I must answer, quickly.

The Chinese Water Torture Begins

2002-07-13T22:17:00.001-04:00

07/13/02

   Last night was the most miserable night I have spent on this trip, and one of the most miserable of my life. The weather wasn’t worse than any other weather we have had. The winds were 18-20 knots and we were sailing close-hauled. The wave direction and the heel angle combined to make for a very punishing ride. When I attempted to go to sleep, I was faced with a heaving bunk on the high side of the boat. As I lay down, my face was smashed into the lee cloth. Every time we crashed over a wave, which was several times a minute, it was as though an invisible hand took the back of my head and ground my face harder into the lee cloth. Turning the other direction did not help either, as then my entire body was resting precariously in the lee cloth, the gravity was too strong for me to stay in my bunk.

    And then the drip started.

    It was not a steady drip, maybe one or two a minute that fell from under the portlight onto the back of my leg, but for an insanely uncomfortable person trying to sleep it was like Chinese water torture. I took one of my precious pillows and put it over my legs so not to feel the drip. Soon it was time to begin my watch anyway.

   The situation on watch was not much better, as it was a major effort just to sit at the table, and a real chore to climb up the companionway and look around, I had to be careful to time my look so I did not get a face full of spray.

   When watch was over, I went back to my bunk, and wiped up the water that had dripped on the foot. I then struggled into my bunk. It was literally an uphill battle just to climb in. I would get in the bunk, stand with my feet on the compression post in the middle of the cabin, fasten the lee cloth, then roll my legs into the bunk.

    It was then I found that my best pillow, on which I had been resting my head, was completely soaked. I gave it to David to store over the pilot berth, and mopped up the remaining water. I was now faced with leaks from both ends. I took my third pillow, the only one that is still dry, and curled into a fetal position in my bunk, so that I was clear of both leaks. Of course, all this time the boat was still heaving over the waves, mushing my body into the lee cloth. Occasionally we would encounter a bigger wave than average, which would give me a particularly lively body slam. I managed to get a little sleep somehow.

    The next morning, at the end of my 0400-0600 watch, I decided to take a Stugeron. It seemed to help me sleep a little, but did not really make me feel any less queasy.

   Later in the morning Eric decided to reef the sail, as the winds showed no sign of abating from 18-20 knots. This helped the motion of the boat, but not much. It was the steep waves that were really killing us. As of now I am going to try to rest a little more before my watch starts at 1400, but I don’t expect to be too successful. On a positive note, if we keep up this pace we will be in Tenerife Monday afternoon.

Another Second Thought..

2002-07-12T22:14:00.001-04:00

07/12/02

The wind picked up overnight, and we are once again sailing. My headache has abated, but I am a little queasy still. We are sailing close-hauled on port tack, which is not so comfortable for me to sleep, and the boat is bouncing a bit. I am continuing to evaluate my decision to stay on for the Southern Ocean leg. It is a scary thing to think about, and a tremendous time investment. It is guaranteed to be a difficult journey, but it is an opportunity that will never present itself again.

Back on the Ocean

2002-07-11T22:09:00.001-04:00

07/11/02

    The wind has once again fizzled out, and we are finding ourselves motoring again. We tried to hold out as long as possible, but the little wind that was left started pushing us to the south, 40 degrees off course, so we just turned on the engine. We saw another sailboat this afternoon, going the other direction. Other than that it has been pretty uneventful. This morning we replaced the reef point lines that hold the bunched up sail when it is reefed. The previous lines were too heavy, and the bowline loops we tied in the ends kept working loose so that the loop disappeared. I tied loops in all the new lines first so we could make sure they are good and tight, then we just needed to take out the old line, thread the new ones in, and tie figure eight knots on the other side. This went pretty smoothly.

    I’ve been feeling a bit queasy today, and have had a headache all last night and today. I have been taking Tylenol, and it seems to be better. In Horta, I bought some Stugeron on the advice of Max Fletcher’s wife (Lynnie Bruce). This is a very effective seasickness medication that is not available in the US. One good thing about it is that you can take it after you start to feel sick, and as long as you can keep it down it will relieve the symptoms. I haven’t taken any yet. I am waiting for worse weather. Unfortunately the directions are all in Portuguese so I have to guess at the dosage.

    Eric finished a rum bottle today, and I wrote a note to place in it to throw overboard. I gave my address in the note, so we’ll see if anything ever comes.

Horta

2002-07-09T21:18:00.018-04:00

FIONA Rafted up the the Marina in Horta

07/09/02

    I have been delinquent in updating the log since we arrived in Horta. It has been such a pleasure to be tied up at a dock, however precarious it was, and be able to come and go as I please. We arrived about 1730 in the harbor. TUAQ had contacted the harbormaster, who came out to meet us in his launch and took the tow rope from us.

    When we arrived at the marina reception, there were ten or fifteen boats tied up along the concrete dock, waiting. Eric went to find the customs office to clear in and find out where they wanted us to dock. David and I stayed with the boat. This was a massive marina, with a few hundred boats present. The marina was surrounded with a concrete dock and seawall what was about 10 yards wide. On the interior were a number of floating docks with fingers. Boats were tied up along the concrete docks, rafted up to three abreast. Every square inch of the concrete was covered with brilliantly painted signs from yachts that had passed through. No doubt that one of the tasks during this stay would be to repaint the FIONA sign that had certainly disappeared since the last time Eric was here in 1986.

    We were sent to raft up next to a boat occupied by two Frenchmen and a woman from Canada. It took quite a bit of getting used to the maneuvering required to get on and off the French boat onto the dock. They advised us that we were not to wear shoes while crossing the boat, so I kept my shoes on the dock. At low tide, it was a good eight foot climb up the wall on a rusted steel ladder, hanging onto a tire at the top situated around a giant cleat. The first few times I did it I was a little nervous, but I got better. David and I went to take a shower. We were informed by the attendant that it would cost 1.50 Euros for the shower (for that they provide soap and a towel), and they were closing in five minutes!! We rushed back to the boat to get money, and came back in time to have our first real shower in almost a month.

    After that, David and I went to see if we could spot Juanona, as we still had their jerry cans to return. We spotted them rafted a few rows away from us, then took a little walk, where we saw a sign for an internet café, which was a couple of blocks away. We went to check that out, and I sent an e-mail to Sue informing her of my safe arrival. We went back to the boat, but Eric was not there, so we decided to look for him at the Peter Café Sport, where we had talked about going. David and I went in and had a beer and looked around. It was quite crowded and there was no place to sit. We didn’t see a sign of Eric.

    After the beer, we went out to make phone calls. I called Sue at home and her cousin Jeff from Arizona answered. He and Natalie were visiting for the Fourth of July. She sounded teary as we spoke. I agreed to call again the next day at 2200, which is 1800 her time. At that time Eric showed up and we went to Peter’s for dinner. We had the grilled swordfish, which was cooked with garlic and lots of olive oil. It was quite delicious. Eric then went back to the boat and David and I wandered around a little, then stopped at the marina bar for a couple of beers.

    The next day we got started early. We got all our laundry together, and I was put in charge of getting that done. Eric and David set to work on the boat’s long to-do list. We launched the dinghy and Eric went to the bow and disconnected the bobstay chain at the waterline, then we disconnected it at the top and measured it. The total amount of chain we needed was 104”. We also took the roller furler apart and saw that the extrusion was broken off in the drum, so we would need to get a new lower extrusion piece. Eric went to Mid Atlantic Yacht Services, and found they didn’t have any chain available. Also, to get parts for the Pro-Furl would be at least a week. If we wanted to get out on schedule we would need to come up with alternatives. For the bobstay chain, we would be able to cut a section from Eric’s spare anchor chain, which is 7/16” galvanized, bigger than the chain we are replacing. For the broken extrusion, Eric used the Dremel tool to cut off the bottom part of the extrusion that was broken, and fit new bearings (which he had spares for) by tapping new screw holes in the bottom. Our next worry is that the remaining extrusion is long enough to accommodate the jib.

    The Dremel tool is an amazing thing. Eric uses these little grinding wheel attachments to cut everything, from the heavy aluminum extrusion to the 7/16” chain links.

    The entire day Friday was spent doing boat chores.

    During the day on Friday, our friends that we had met in Flores (Cegonha of Falmouth) arrived, and we met them for drinks at the Marina Bar later that afternoon.

    After dinner, David and I went wandering around, and while I was on the phone with Sue, David found a local festival, which he came back and directed me to. By the time I got there the music had stopped, but the food stands were still open, and I got a donut and a bottle of peach nectar. Peach is a very popular flavor here.

Peter Café Sport, the Local Yachtie Bar

On Saturday we spent the morning doing more boat chores. We had to send Eric up the mast to check the top of the extrusion, then replace the topping lift line. We went to Peter Café Sport for lunch, and to see the scrimshaw museum upstairs. The service was terrible. Afterwards, Eric complained to the waiter about the poor service, and it turned out the waiter was Peter, the owner of the bar! The scrimshaw exhibit was quite impressive, though Eric remembered seeing more things he last time he was here in 1986.

Saturday afternoon I wandered around the town on my own. I found a small market where I was able to buy a Horta t-shirt for 2 Euros, and also verified that they had the Porto Branco (white Port) that Eric had been looking for, at 5.50 Euros a bottle. I then walked to the other side of town where there was a beach in a harbor that was formed by an old volcanic crater.

The Town of Horta from up on the Mountain

    On Sunday we went to the market to get the Porto Branco, then took a taxi on a tour of the island. We went to see Caldeira, the giant dormant volcano in the middle of the island, and viewed the massive crater. Then we drove along the south coast of the island to Capelo on the west coast. All along the trip, we saw houses that were in ruins from the earthquake in 1998, and much new construction. At Capelo, there is a museum that details the great volcanic eruption that took place from 1957 to 1958. During this event, a new peninsula was added to the island. We drove out to see the old lighthouse, which was on the water at the time of the eruption, and now looks like it is in the middle of the desert. From there, we had to rush back to be at the marina by four, as that was the planned departure time of the French boat which was rafted between us and the dock. It was nice when the French boat left, as we were then right next to the dock and could wear shoes whenever we wanted.

    Later on, we met another boat from Flores, John and Ann on Faustina II out of Ireland, and had dinner with them that night.

    Monday morning we went grocery shopping. The local supermarket was pretty well stocked, though there were some things we couldn’t find, such as canned soup, canned meats (spam and corned beef) and yeast. We bought 352 Euros worth of food, and got a taxi to take it all back to the marina. When we got back we had two new boats rafted up next to us.

    In the afternoon I walked around the town again, and went into some of the shops. There was not much in the way of shopping in Horta. Eric and I also spent over an hour in the Post Office, waiting on line to get stamps. They had a take-a-number system. There were twenty five people ahead of us, and only two clerks working – very slowly. We had dinner at a local Pizzeria that night. The Pizza was very salty, and Eric would talk about that for months.

    The next morning (July 9) was time to depart. We backed out of the raft-up, leaving our two neighbors behind. Before we left, Max Fletcher (Juanona) came to take a picture of us. Max had given us a copy of an article he had written for SAIL magazine about his trip around Cape Horn on a Westsail 32 (“CHRISTOPHER ROBIN”). As we departed, the crew of Cegonha came out to bid us farewell, and wave a can of yeast that they wanted to give us.

FIONA's Signature on the Concrete Jetty

    Our next stop was the fuel dock, where we were directed to raft up next to a huge wooden Danish boat. We didn’t realize they had a yardarm rigged, which is a spar that is hung high in the rigging and sticks out perpendicular to the boat. The yardarm got crossed in our rigging, and before we knew it, had disconnected the running backstay, breaking the light line that we had used to secure it amidships. Luckily no damage was done to the permanent rigging. David was sent off to Cegonha to fetch the yeast while Eric and I began the fueling process. I dug out the jerry cans from the bottom of the sail locker. After our previous experience with diesel fuel, we wanted to have every possible tank filled.

    We shoved off from the fuel dock at 1000 – right on schedule. Eric had to reassemble Victor, which had been disassembled on the way in so as not to interfere with the towing bridle. I was reprimanded for allowing the halyard to become fouled when I loosened it to attach the shackle to the mainsail head. It is very important to keep tension on the halyard so it doesn’t wrap around something on the mast, ladder steps, or the steaming light. This time it got fouled on both, and I had to do a lot of playing with the halyard to get it to run free.

    We started off with a nice west wind, which was good because our heading was SSE. This later veered to NW and we set the whisker pole and preventer for a run.

    By the time I came on watch aqt 2400, we were reaching on port tack with a nice 12 knot NE wind, which has so far continued through Wednesday. We made 133 miles in the first day. If we keep this up, we should be in the Canaries by Monday.

An Action Packed Night

2002-07-04T23:50:00.002-04:00

Sailing Vessel TUAQ in Tow Behind FIONA

07/04/02

   When I came on watch at 0200, Eric pointed out the things he was keeping an eye on. A freight ship was coming up on our port quarter, about 2 miles distant. There were a couple of faint lights off starboard, but did not show up on the radar. Also, there was a light far ahead, which probably belonged to another sailboat which left Lajes for Horta about half an hour before we did, and was visible on the horizon for the entirety of our trip.

    David had overheard the two guys from that boat on the phone earlier that day, talking about some engine troubles they were having. They wanted to haul out the boat in Lajes, but the facilities there are too primitive to handle a yacht of their size. They decided to press on to Horta, which is much better equipped for yacht repair.

    I kept a close eye on the freighter to make sure it missed us, and was safely gaining distance away, then I noted the presence of another light, which just appeared on the horizon at the 8 o’clock position. I decided to listen a little more to “The Perfect Storm” book on tape, as it appeared this would be a pretty quiet watch. About ten minutes later, I stopped the tape and popped my head out of the companionway to have another look around. I no longer saw the light directly ahead on the horizion, and there was a new light that appeared right on our port beam!

Radar showed that it was a little more than a mile distant. As I looked at the light, which was green, I noticed a spotlight shining around under it. I decided to turn on the VHF radio on channel 16, to listen in case the boat tried to contact us. I did not hear anything on the radio, and I watched as the lights passed to our stern. Perhaps it was a fishing boat doing some work on deck, and nothing to be concerned about.

    About ten minutes later, I heard this announcement on the VHF: “All stations, this is the sailing vessel TUAQ requesting assistance.” I responded to the call, and got their position and nature of their problem. They indicated their position, which was about two miles from us. They were indeed the strange lights I had seen off our beam. They said they were traveling from Flores to Faial (island where Horta is located), and appeared to have a broken drive shaft. They were drifting in the ocean, as there was absolutely no wind blowing, and requested a tow into Horta.

    I felt this was a situation which needed to be addressed by the captain, so I woke Eric (it was 0330 at the time) and informed him of the situation. Eric contacted TUAQ on the radio, and informed them that we are low on diesel fuel, and may not be able to handle a tow. TUAQ replied that they had plenty of diesel fuel available, which they could provide us. Eric agreed we could do it, and we turned the boat around and made way towards the lights.

    At this point we were 47 miles from our waypoint near Horta. Eric got all hands on deck, and we prepared for setting up the tow. First, we had to take Victor apart, as his presence on the stern would interfere with the towing bridle. We took off the wind vane and folded up the rest of the mechanism. Then we set up fenders on the port side and long bow and stern lines to throw across to the other boat when we came aside. After that we took a long, heavy docking line (referred to as a “warp”), and with a shorter piece of line, rigged a bridle so that we could attach the tow line to each of the stern cleats and hang it over the transom. We brought the other end around and got it ready to pass over to the other boat.

    By that time we were very close to the other boat, and Eric carefully planned his approach. The sea was pretty calm, but there was a gentle swell which caused both boats to roll back and forth enough to make the rendezvous challenging. We came up alongside and passed over the bow and stern lines without incident. There were two guys on the other boat, and they had three jerry jugs of diesel fuel ready, which they handed over to me. I then handed over the towing warp, and they fashioned a bridle and attached to their bow cleats. We disconnected our bow and stern lines, and I paid out the warp, untangling it from the fender, and making sure there was tension so it didn’t get fouled on our propeller.

    We agreed to monitor VHF channel 68 for further communications, and from then on it was business as usual, except that our estimated time of arrival has slipped from 1145 to 1500, as we can not make the same speed while towing a large sailing yacht. On the positive side, the sea is almost flat; perfect weather for towing. We will take the boat up to the area outside Horta harbor, at this time we can call local professionals to come bring them into port (What’s Portuguese for “Sea Tow”?).

Flores - The First Steps on Foreign Soil

2002-07-03T23:14:00.002-04:00

The Harbor at Porto das Lajes, Flores

07/03/02

    It is now 1500, and we are on our way to Horta, having just pulled up the anchor in Porto das Lajes at 1430. We had a delightful, although brief stay at Flores, having arrived at 1730
yesterday afternoon. When we turned the corner around the huge concrete jetty that forms the harbor, there were 19 other sailboats anchored there. We saw a ketch hailing from Falmouth, England. Eric inquired of the gentleman on the boat about the customs procedures. He replied on hearing Eric’s British accent and seeing our home port, “You talk pretty funny for a New Yorker”.

    As it turns out, the customs procedure is quite informal here. We decided to all go in together on the rigid dinghy, and we met another fellow who was also a member of the CCA, Max Fletcher, who upon seeing Eric’s CCA hat, warmed up to us immediately. He was sailing with his wife and son, and had just come up from Bermuda on their sailboat, Juanona (dinghy is named Juanita). We explained that we were here to pick up diesel fuel, and he told us the gas station was way up the hill, then offered us the use of his two jerry cans so we wouldn’t need to make multiple trips. He also pointed us to the local Restaurante/Pizzaria.

    We took a walk up the hill to check everything out. The entire island of Flores is like the top of a mountain, and thus the land comes up from the sea at a very steep angle, so the road we took from the harbor into town was quite steep and winding. As I hadn’t set foot on land for almost three weeks (more than 2800 miles traveled from Block Island), my gait was a bit unsteady, and negotiating such a steep incline did not help matters. I was rewarded with a spectacular view of the harbor and the ocean from high on the hill. We were able to find an ATM (it appears the bank had been built since the cruising guide was published), and I retrieved 200 Euros with no problem. We continued to walk up the hill (which went on forever), passing small stucco houses with gardens, the police station, school, lighthouse (which looked brand new), and a park.

    Everything was very clean and new looking. There are also brilliant blue, yellow, and red flowers growing everywhere. The island’s name is from Portuguese for “flower”, and the Hydrangea, a light blue ball of flowers, adorns the island’s official seal (along with a cow). There is also locally made cheese, which is supposed to be quite good. We bought some at the market to have for lunch tomorrow. After continuing to walk up the hill with no gas station in sight, we were about to give up, and David asked a woman in her yard for directions. She spoke English, and directed us up to the next block and right. We followed her directions and came upon a brand new gas station with modern pumps and air pump. It said it was open at 0830, but it was closed at the time we got there. It was quite a hike from the harbor, and we did not look forward to carrying 20 gallons of diesel fuel down that long steep hill (at least it wasn’t up). Eric said once we get the fuel and see a car, he will use the trick of clutching his chest and collapsing so they will stop and give us a lift.

    From there we went to the Restaurante Biera-Mar for dinner and a couple of beers. We were seated on the patio next to the people from the Falmouth boat. They had sailed up from Grenada where they had spent the winter, which is a regular migration for them. Eric and I split a medium sausage pizza, and David picked something off the menu, which turned out to be a steak with a fried egg on top, served with French fries, rice and salad. The pizza was quite good, and I ate ravenously.

    After dinner, we went back to the boat and had a drink in the cockpit, listening to a Beach Boys tape on the stereo. We had set our clocks two hours ahead, as the Azores are now set to GMT, and it did not get dark until after 2200. The harbor was bordered by rocky cliffs on the west, which was apparently home to a large number of bats, which continued to make eerie noises through the night.

    We awoke shortly after 0700 the next morning, and prepared for the diesel run. I had to fetch the two jerry cans from the bottom of the sail locker, which required emptying out the contents into the forward head and the cabin. Once we had the fuel cans loaded, we all loaded up the dinghy and stopped by Juanona to get two more cans. Juanona would probably be on their way to Horta by the time we were done with them, so we promised to give them back when we came into Horta the next day. We tied up the dinghy and lugged the empty cans up the endless hill to the gas station, only to find it was not open. Apparently we did not notice that the gas station was so new that it wasn’t even open for business yet! We were puzzled. A truck happened by, and we asked the driver where we could find the real gas station. He pointed us around another corner where we found some gas pumps on the sidewalk.   The attendant was standing next to them. We walked up with out empty jugs and asked for diesel fuel. “No Diesel”, he replied matter-of-factly. We were stunned. This was a big problem. “When do you think you will have some?”, Eric asked. The attendant shook his head and said, “Later today, maybe 1000”. We were not sure we could rely on this prediction, so we decided to try to get a taxi to go to Santa Cruz, the capital city, and try to get diesel there. We had been planning to try to make a trip there anyway. We asked the shop keeper at the market next door (which sells everything from groceries to furniture) to call us a taxi, and I browsed the market while we were waiting.

    The taxi came, and we threw the jerry jugs in the trunk, then got in for a winding, hilly ride to Santa Cruz. We passed through many small villages along the way. The scenery was breathtaking. Everywhere there was lush vegetation interspersed with crags of lava rock. The view of the ocean from high on the hills was awe-inspiring also. There was nothing but brilliant blue water as far as the eye can see.

    Once we got to Santa Cruz, we stopped at a Mobil station next to the airport, which was a single airstrip adjacent to town. We were talking to the taxi driver, who had lived in New England for some time. He was wearing a watch with the New England Patriots football team logo on it. He said there are about 4,000 people living on the island, and that a lot of Germans seem to be moving there. We asked him to take us into town, and he took us down to the harbor, which was extremely treacherous. Eric had been to this harbor in 1986, and swore he would never go there again. He almost lost the boat, having to turn around in very tight quarters with a big swell running and the boat’s bow bouncing three feet from the huge rocks that line the harbor. Once we saw the harbor, we stopped at the bakery to get some bread (so Eric wouldn’t have to bake bread again for a while) and also at the food market to get ham, cheese, apples, and other little things. David and I bought little bath sponges to aid with our showers.

Eric and David in the Rigid Dinghy

The taxi driver waited for us, then took us back to Lajes and dropped us off at the dinghy dock. The whole ride cost 10 Euros (about $10). We couldn’t take the diesel and all three of us back to the dinghy, so they left me ashore, and David and Eric went to FIONA to load the fuel. Eric has devised an electric pump and filter setup, which allows him to pump the fuel from the jerry jug into the fuel tank without lifting the jug. I walked around the dock, which was a huge, industrial concrete structure which loomed 15-20 feet above the water, and checked out the other boats in the harbor. There were a few boats from France, including a tiny, rickety boat that was no bigger than our first boat, a Grampian 23’. That boat was occupied by a man and a black cat, which made me nostalgic for our cats. There was a boat from Brazil (named Voo Livre), one from South Africa, and a few from England.

After Eric and David returned, I stopped to call Sue from the public telephone. I got her voice mail and left a message, then I joined Eric and David at Restaurante Biera-Mar for lunch. The woman who runs the kitchen came out. She was very friendly and spoke perfect English. She rattled off the specials; spare ribs, a whole roasted baby pig (for two), and some kind of fish. David and I opted for the spare ribs, and Eric only wanted a ham sandwich. The spare ribs were excellent, served with rice, French fries, and salad. We were also advised that the local customs agent was dining there too, and we would need to clear with him after we ate. Eric was then directed to an office above the restaurant where he met the officials and dispensed with the formalities. It went very smoothly, and he was charged a 3 Euro “light fee” to help support the light house operation.

Lunch at the Biera-Mar

We went back to FIONA and prepared to shove off, lifting the dinghy back on deck with the staysail halyard, putting the seagull back in its home in the engine room, etc. David was designated to man the anchor windlass, and my job was to climb into the sail locker, open the door into the anchor chain locker, and as the chain dropped down, move it around so that it does not fall in a pyramid, forming a “castle”, which could collapse on itself and prevent the chain from unwinding freely. Once we got underway, I began the tedious task of reloading the sail locker.

After leaving the harbor we seemed to have a good wind, so we raised the main and were able to unwind the jib, with a little coaxing by hand turning the drum. After about half an hour the wind died altogether again, as what wind we had was apparently due to a land effect, where the different temperatures over land and sea cause a consistent breeze which putters out a few miles from shore. We have thus started the engine again, and at this rate expect to arrive in Horta at noon’ish tomorrow. All the “yachties” we talked to in Flores are also on their way to Horta, so we expect to see a very festive crowd when we arrive. We are certain there will be enough Americans there for a proper Fourth of July celebration.

Land Ho!!!

2002-07-02T22:48:00.009-04:00

07/02/02

I'm viewing land for the first time in almost three weeks

    It is still calm this morning at 0600 as I begin my watch. Eric will be making pancakes for breakfast, to use the last of the eggs. We are now 50 miles from our waypoint south of Flores island, and once we reach that point it will be a couple more hours before we anchor at Porto das Lajes. We are hoping to get there in time to clear through customs, so we can have dinner ashore.

    Yesterday, in the calm weather conditions, we spotted several schools of dolphins jumping at different distances from the boat. Unfortunately only once did a school get close enough to the boat for a good look. One dolphin in particular came very close to the boat and jumped out of the water a few times, but he had moved on by the time I had my camera ready. We also saw the closest ship that we have seen so far. This was a bulk carrier, distinguished by a pair of large derricks, which are used to load bulk cargo such as iron ore. This ship approached from our stern, and continued in a parallel course to ours, passing us a little less than a mile off of our starboard.

    I am quite excited, as today we will see land for the first time in almost three weeks, since seeing Block Island fade from view. It is true that the time seems to have passed quicker than I expected. I find myself focusing on when my next watch will be, and not really thinking about much else. I am really suffering from homesickness, and I hope I can get over it. Hopefully, a long phone conversation with Sue at Horta will help.

    At 1150, Eric came into the cabin and shouted “Land Ho!”. The island of Flores was visible off the bow, though to me it looked like a dark cloud at this point, and I would not have recognized it as land. We now have 20 miles to our waypoint at the southwest corner of the island. Our destination,, Porto das Lajes, is just north of the southeast corner of the island.

    We are beginning to prepare for our arrival. We put away the staysail this morning, and Eric collected our passports and made up a crew list for clearing into customs. The way it works is the boat comes into the harbor flying the yellow “Q” flag on the starboard spreader. We anchor, and the captain (Eric) goes by himself with the crew list and passports, and checks in with the local authorities. Then he comes back and replaces the “Q” flag with the courtesy flag of the country we are visiting. In this case, I believe it will be Portugal. At that point we are all free to go ashore. I am hoping we can clear this afternoon so we can have dinner in town. The problem is that this town does not have a bank, so we won’t be able to exchange any money until we go to Santa Cruz (the capital of Flores) tomorrow.

Marveling at the Night Sky

2002-07-01T22:40:00.002-04:00

07/01/02

    Last night, we watched another movie. This one was “Beat the Devil” with Humphrey Bogart, Gina Lolabrigida, and a number of other notable actors. It was very good, though the picture quality was poor this time for some reason.

   After the movie, everyone else went to bed and I stayed on watch for the 2000-2200 slot. It was the middle of twilight when I emerged from the cabin at 2100, a mild glow in the western sky. I could see the planet Venus shining like a beacon to the west, and to the east, only a couple of stars could now be seen against the blanket cast by the waning twilight. There was not a cloud in the sky, and I spent the entire next hour sitting in the companionway, my arms resting on the cabin top, watching the night sky slowly unfold in front of me as the twilight slowly dissolved in the west. At first, only a few stars were visible, and with each passing minute, the details of the heavens became a bit more prominent.   By the end of the hour, the entire milky way lay before me in all it’s glory. Faint white clouds of stars and nebulae belted the center of the sky. I was looking into the center of our galaxy. Looking at all these stars, then looking at the vast expanse of empty sea surrounding me caused me to realize the insignificance of three guys on a 42 foot boat in the middle of nowhere.

    During the night the wind died again, and at the end of my 0200-0400 watch, we were making less than 2 knots. Eric started the engine at 0600, and ran it until 0830, when we tried to unfurl the jib. The jib wasn’t budging, and Eric went forward with the strap wrench to work it manually. This was also not successful. It appears that something is bent in the bottom part of the extrusion, and will need to be replaced when we get to Horta.

    We made our Iridium calls to Brenda and Sue at 0900 (0700 EST), then turned the engine back on.

    Later, David went up to the bowsprit, equipped with wrench and screwdriver (safety lines attached) to tighten up the bobstay some more, in hopes that will stretch out the headstay and enable us to pull out the jib again. He was able to get 12-18 turns on the turnbuckle.

    We are not yet ready to try the jib again, as there is NO wind. As of 1130 the engine continues to run. Monday is also shower day, and this is another thing to look forward to. When I am in Horta, I need to try to buy a washcloth if possible, as this will help the shower process. I also should make a note that white t-shirts should be avoided in favor of gray t-shirts, as the white ones look pretty awful after wearing for a week. Luckily, the weather has been cool, so sweat has not (yet) become a problem. When I feel myself start to sweat, I take off my shirt, to save from soiling it any more than I have to. I have managed to avoid sunburn, limiting my exposure without shirt to short periods of time, and applying sunscreen.

    As of 1600, there is still no wind, and Eric has decided to go to Flores first, as we have enough fuel to motor there. At this rate we should be there by 1700 tomorrow. He is increasing the speed a little, to get us there earlier so we can check into customs. Our plan is to get there late tomorrow, then on Wednesday take on some diesel, which requires shuffling jerry cans back and forth in the dinghy, do a bit of sightseeing on the island, and leave late afternoon to sail overnight to Horta, arriving at Horta sometime Thursday. It is important to arrive in Horta as early as we can, so if we need to order parts for the furler we can do it by the end of the week. We expect to spend about 5 days in Horta, which I am looking forward to greatly.

The Return of the Jib

2002-06-30T22:31:00.002-04:00

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.

Life without the Jib

2002-06-29T22:25:00.001-04:00

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.

A More Durable Bobstay Repair

2002-06-28T22:09:00.002-04:00

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.

A Nice Day!!

2002-06-27T00:36:00.001-04:00

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.

Sleep Angles and Bobstay Jury Rigging

2002-06-26T00:21:00.001-04:00

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.

Walking on the Walls

2002-06-25T00:06:00.003-04:00

06/25/02

The View from the Companionway

   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.

Thank God it's Monday

2002-06-24T23:59:00.002-04:00

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.

Bread, Moon, and Doubt

2002-06-23T23:55:00.003-04:00

06/23/02

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.

Azores Bound

2002-06-21T23:50:00.001-04:00

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.

Pancake Weather

2002-06-20T23:46:00.002-04:00

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.

An Improvised Burner Repair

2002-06-19T23:38:00.001-04:00

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.

Shower Time

2002-06-18T23:27:00.002-04:00

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.

Day Two on the Ocean

2002-06-15T23:05:00.021-04:00

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.

First Full Day on the Ocean

2002-06-14T22:48:00.002-04:00

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.

Leaving Block Island (and the USA)

2002-06-13T22:44:00.002-04:00

Our last sight of US land for a while

06/13/02

This 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.

Block Island, Day Two

2002-06-12T21:18:00.022-04:00

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.

Block Island, Day One

2002-06-11T23:32:00.048-04:00

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.

Departure

2002-06-10T23:02:00.022-04:00

Bob on FIONA before departure

6/10/02

We 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.

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.

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