Dec: The Atlantic Crossing
The 2 905 miles took 20 days and 12 hours starting on 25 November from La Gomera, the Canaries, arriving at Rodney Bay, St Lucia on 15 December.
La Gomera in the Canaries was one, if not the only, place I really could think of to winterize. Nice climate, not spoiled by tourism, well run with a great supermarket and beautiful surroundings. Why hassle with sailing all the way to the Caribbean, when it was so nice in La Gomera?
Many of our friends had already left for the Caribbean, however, and the remaining ones were all to follow in their wakes, so I believe that it was right that we, as well, tried our luck on the other side. It sure would become a long way, however! The winterizing had to be postponed for our next cruise, as a retired couple cruising in a slower pace…
Delta was still stationary on its forecasted position but it received a new dimension, literally. It was forecasted to divide up into two individual Lows: one going the initially forecasted way towards northwest, while a newborn offspring was to head directly towards the Canaries, which were to reach gale winds from south-west, directly into our nose!
Back in La Gomera, we had had two options, either to leave right away on the very day we had planned to, or to wait for at least a week for the Low to pass over the Canaries, and to leave thereafter. We decided for the first option, after having also consulted Commander’s weather, a professional weather routing service for sailors with a very high degree of professionalism and best reputation.
The Low would not affect us, provided we were quickly enough heading down south towards the Cap Verde islands. I had warned some friends about this Low some days ago, who had left earlier. I am glad that they had decided to stop over in Cap Verde waiting for the Low to pass before continuing west.
Now we were heading behind them towards the Cap Verde islands, leaving port with mixed feelings. Would our plan work out? It had worked before, when we followed a similar strategy on the North Sea heading out before a gale would hit us. It worked then, but the Atlantic was another matter, of course. Possibly this difference talked to our favor, since Mr Delta was still far away on the western half of the Atlantic. Still, it would effect the entire ocean with its atypical winds for the season.
The first hours at sea were nerve-racking, since we had no wind whatsoever. We motored along in economy speed in our second (overdrive) gear of our Gori-propellor. At 1400 revs we made 5.6 knots, which gives a very pleasant fuel consumption. We would not know for how long we had to motor and we couldn’t loose any time sailing in no wind if our plan to dive south as fast as possible should hold.
After 3 hours the wind set in with a nice Easterly 15 kts of breeze, pushing us forward in amazing 7.5 – 8 knots. When the wind picked up to some 17 knots we were running well over 8 knots, all while the DuoGen made up for more than we were spending in electrical power.
I highly appreciate the hidden speed in our Hallberg-Rassy, which is not seen from either the outside, nor from the comfortable interior, but becomes visual whenever you need it. Even loaded like she was now for an ocean crossing, she behaved well and lively.
Our initial nervousness became slightly better when we noticed how fast we were moving south without burning any fuel. We could now look back to our last days at La Gomera and our fare-well from shore.
I was lying in my bunk feeling miserable. I seldom get sea sick but this time it had hit me due to my own fault. I don’t think the combination drinking coffee and doing the dishes after our first day at sea was any good idea. I had already fed the fish once and wondered if that would help for them to bite on our tackle we were pulling behind us as so often. I hoped not! I was not in the mood to fight with fish right now.
I had merely given this a thought, when the spinner was ringing, announcing that a fish had caught the hook. There was nothing else to do than to climb out of my berth, put on my lifejacket and the lifeline and rush to the aft deck grabbing the rode. Oh, this was a big one! We were fighting for quite some time with the fish diving down and swimming away pulling out more and more fishing line. After a while it became tired, so I could pull him a bit closer, which was immediately lost again thanks to regained forces by the fish. Jonathan stood ready with the grand hook to get him onboard (which had never been used), Karolina stood ready with the spirit to pour down his throat (remember, the bottle with anise-taste I had found in northern Spain?) and Jessica was ready with her camera. While I was feeling just as seasick, I was fighting with this big blue fish, which eventually could be seen swimming under the surface. A lot of blood and fighting later, the fish had turned golden from its former blue colour on his way up on deck. It was a beautiful dolphin or Dorado, which also is called golden mackerel in some languages. It sure looked golden! It weighed 6 kg (12 lbs) and its fillets were big enough to provide several meals for the forthcoming days. No more fishing for a while, thus!
Karolina did a great job running the boat, taking care of food and the kids, as well as talking on the SSB on two different nets, while I had retreated to my bunk again wondering when we will arrive on the other side…
My night watch became pleasant, however, feeling much better, so I could even sit and write these lines while Karolina obtained some well deserved rest.
We were still racing the Low called “Delta” moving towards us. The critical day will be the 28 November, i.e. in two days. If we manage to sail far enough south and if the Low takes the predicted route, we are safe. If not, we will find ourselves in uncomfortable, yet not dangerous, headwinds from southwest.
Run, Regina, run south! Run as Germán Frers has designed you to! Run towards the tropics. Run towards the Cap Verde islands!
Our third day on the Atlantic was characterized by concern. This time, it was not the tropical depression Delta who was in our mind. Delta looked well behaved and followed its predicted route and so did we. Delta was on route towards the Canaries, which we had merely left, while we now were well south of it in comfortable winds.
Instead, a strange new screaming sound from the engine room was worrying us. If it was not the engine belt, which looked stretched and fine, it could possibly be the bearings in the water pump. Our Iridium phone really came in handy, so I could call friends and Volvo Penta to get some help for the diagnosis. Playing a mechanic in the rolling Atlantic was not the best option, especially not this early on the trip with barely obtained sea legs and hence still being sensitive to sea sickness.
- (Later, in St Lucia, it turned out to be the Volvo-brackets for the standard 60A Volvo alternator that had broken. I am glad that Electromarine built a more sturdy brackets for our High Output Alternator. For the broken part, see picture here).
It was Sunday, the first Advent. At home, they lit the first candle of four waiting for Christmas, going out to town meeting others equally looking at the Christmas decorations of the shops. I always remember these Advent walks in town as cold, often rainy and not at all as Christmassy as the shopkeepers try to prospect. Instead, I appreciated our traditional cozy activities in our house at first of Advent: We usually baked “Pepparkakor”, decorated our house with electrical candle-lights, lit the fire place and thought of Christmas presents.
My biggest wish for Christmas right now was an engine with no side-sound, and the candle we lit was the LED head lamp I got as a recent Christmas present from my brother in law. Usually used when doing works in confined space, such as the engine room, it now came in handy as a Christmas light, shining up the dinner table in the dark cockpit. We had a very cozy evening meal, despite our thoughts about a singing engine, and found our Christmas preparations for this year quite amusing. Karolina joked: “For St Lucia on 13 December, we can turn the headlight upwards and have it as the chandelier in Lucia’s hair!”.
The dinner was most delicious: Our Dorado was fried in garlic, olive oil and lemon and cooked just so little that the inner parts still were pink. What at dinner! I think the atmosphere on this first of Advent outranked any previous Advent ashore. At least it was very different.
Thinking back to the light short night-sails in Scandinavia, I would currently not like to swap our tropical warm nights with these right now. As nice as light Scandinavian nights can be in stable weather, I remember them often as wet, windy and chilly. Better with long comfortable nights, is my current opinion.
During our wonderful Advent dinner in the dark cockpit with our one “candle” on Jonathan’s forehead, we discussed the sailing tactics for the next 24 hours, i.e. whether we should tack this evening, during the night or wait until the day after. Several aspects were taken up and in the end we decided to postpone it until the day after. Oh, yes, I mean tacking, by the way, since the winds will actually veer from east, over southeast and south to southwest and eventually west. This unusual cyclonic change in wind direction is due to the tropical storm Delta passing north of us. The so well known trade winds had still to come, which was no big problem since our Hallberg-Rassy sails so well, especially in light winds as well as upwind.
“I kind of like my night watches”. These were the words that woke me up at 04.00 am in the morning for my next shift. I did not quite have an understanding for these words at that very moment, however. I had to enforce all my will to take me out of my cozy berth. A couple of days out, I start to sleep well and do not feel for getting up at all in the middle of the night!
“Not that I find it easy to get up”, Karolina continued as if she could read my thoughts, “but once up there in the dark, I find time for myself, at last.”, she continued taking off her life jacket, the personal EPIRB and sweater, preparing herself for a wonderful four ours of sleep. “On this night-watch, I enjoyed listening to music, using the iPod and could really be concentrating on the texts. I could finish my thoughts looking into eternity up into the starts.” Karolina finalized romantically before turning in.
Karolina had a point there, finally also giving me the time to write some lines on our web-page, which was long neglected during our hectic days in Tenerife, preparing our boat for the ocean passage.
We had still very light winds now from the south, just as predicted. The engine was running to push us further south to avoid any stronger winds, which were to be expected in the north. At higher rpm’s the screaming sound was much less or even disappeared completely, so we dared to run the engine for some 5 hours during this night, since we needed to charge the batteries anyhow. Hopefully, with the upcoming trade winds, engine hours will be restricted for charging the batteries, something that is decreased by our DuoGen producing nice power at the same time.
In the morning, we had our normal rendezvous on the SSB with our friends equally crossing the Atlantic with us. Despite the SSB having been declared dead for decades, every cruiser seem to have one onboard and I can’t stress enough the joy and value I see in an SSB keeping in touch with other sailors. An SSB is like the VHF for blue water sailors. There is always someone with some helping ideas if you have a problem, or, if not, there is a chance to give or receive some sympathy, at least. Speaking about engine problems, Koshlong had been working from 2 in the morning until our SSB-time at 10.00 and still had not fixed his air leak in the fuel line somewhere. Not being able to help, we all felt very sorry for Dan, having lied in the engine room instead of in his bunk the last night. What a happy news when he, at our next SSB-meeting at 18.00, declared he had found the leak and fixed it!
Weather information, recipes, each other’s position and tips for landfall and destinations were other popular subjects on the SSB, further to helping out on technical problems.
Over the SSB we heard that the Canaries now had 50 kts of wind, gusting up to 60 kts and that the boats had problems even in the marinas, which often lie open to the south or west. For our friends back there, we hoped for their best and that their boats were safe, so they eventually also could head south and west after the storm. In retro perspective, I am glad we left the Canaries in time, now enjoying light winds tacking ourselves over the Atlantic instead of fighting a storm in a harbour.
Having passed latitude 21 degrees North, the temperature rose with warmer days and mild nights where just a T-shirt and shorts was enough. Some of the other boats had been totally becalmed and had stopped for a mid ocean swim, something our children would love to do. Thanks to good wind during daytime, we had not been able to follow their example, yet, instead continuing our way south under sail.
We had now well passed half way between the Canaries and Cap Verde on a position 21 deg N, 20 deg 30 min West. Soon the winds were forecasted to continue veering from West (meaning Delta is dead north of us) over North West to North, showing that Delta has continued its way East, leaving behind our friends in the Canaries, hopefully all safe and still happy.
With the wind shift to come, we will follow its veering, eventually heading more west than south into the real open sea with no possibility to return.
The “Caribbean Chicken” cooked in coconut milk, lemon and chili together with bananas – loads of bananas – was delicious. As usual, we all sat in the cockpit at around 19.00 UTC after our SSB-chat with our friends. The anti-slip mats that had been put out on our cockpit table did their jobs, the plates were like glued onto the surface. However, the banana/coconut sauce did not stick as well onto the plates and was stirring around on the plate following the boat’s movements. Chasing the potatoes and chicken pieces floating on the slippery bananas was an amusing challenge.
As desert, Karolina had made banana cake, again, just as the day before. This night, however, we decided to postpone the banana-cake until the following day.
In between breakfast and lunch we served bananas “pure” or "nature", which is the same thing. Lunch did not include any bananas since we had left-overs from the Dorado, but after lunch, we had bananas again, for the crew who wanted.
Bananas are delicious, but why do they have to ripe all at the same time? No, we did not buy a whole banana stem, since we have heard from others who had bananas in all varieties for over a week. But the bananas we did buy, had all gone ripe suddenly.
Vegetables and fruits go ripe quite quickly and Karolina takes a pride in looking at each individual fruit and vegetable each day, turning them if necessary and offering them to eat if they have gone ripe, as all the bananas had simultaneously at this time.
We have only been out for 5 days so far, but we can already see a tendency in our food consumption. While fruit and vegetables diminish at a fast pace, it seems as if we have clearly over-bunkered otherwise. Maybe that is no surprise, looking at the enormous spending we have had for groceries in the Canaries, much more than we usually spend on food for a month. Certainly no harm, since most of the items purchased will last, except for fruits and vegetables obviously, but maybe it had not been necessary to buy so much? It will be interesting to see and make a conclusion when we arrive in the Caribbean.
If you are interested, I have listed what we have on board for our crossing here. I will then revert with what we have left when we arrive, so our consumption can be concluded. Of course, food is a very individual question, but maybe this list may help you in your plans one day if you are dreaming about blue water sailing, as we had been doing prior to our departure. I had been very interested to compare notes on grocery shopping, especially to see how much actually had been eaten in the end. An interesting observation, so far, is the fact that we don’t eat these enormous quantities any longer, like we did before, when the sea triggered hunger on higher latitudes.
Another very interesting experience is that we hardly produce any waste. We were very careful in which containers items were packed when we purchased them in the Canaries. Furthermore, we always removed all unnecessary wrapping already before it even came onboard, not only for the sake of the cockroaches.
We thus produce not much garbage. All organic waste, such as remaining food, egg-shells or the bespoke banana skins, goes overboard together with paper towels. And so do the few metal tins we have opened so far. I assume they rust quickly in the big ocean. Any plastic is, of course, kept onboard, rinsed and dried, before it is packed and stored in our aft deck locker. Best are Tetra Packs, which do not break, are light and are easily folded to a thin layer after rinsing. Unfortunately, you can’t purchase yoghurt in Tetra Pack in the Canaries, so we bought some sample models to test, not only for the taste but also to see how well the plastic containers can be wasted. Some were useless, others fitted nicely into each other when empty, taking up considerably less space as garbage.
Sometimes, we pick food for a meal onboard that has been purchased before our big bunkering in Tenerife. At that time, we didn’t think much about waste handling; all went into the trash-bag and was thrown away in the next marina. Now, these “pre-Tenerife-items” have really become irritating since they often produce much more waste than necessary. With our limited space for garbage onboard, this becomes an issue. Plastic bottles that can’t be folded, for instance, or containers that are wrapped twice, are especially annoying.
The result, so far, is less than half of a plastic bag as waste after five days, while ashore, we produced at least a bag per day. An interesting and remarkable aspect of today’s waste production.
As the temperature has gone up, the humidity has as well. Last morning, we had 85% humidity with our cushions in the cockpit having become damp. They do dry up quickly in the heat of the day, but our sweated bodies do not as easily. From that perspective, our afternoon sweet-water shower on aft deck was really a treat. A hot sweet water shower is a luxury we very well know to appreciate. It is thanks to our watermaker and the power production to go with it that allows for this lavishness. Talking on the subject, I can really praise our DuoGen, being extremely efficient in producing electrical power with unnoticeable loss in speed.
The same applied to the ARC (Atlantic Rally for Cruisers). Again, Halberg-Rassy sent two service personals to support the many Hallberg-Rassy owners in Gran Canaria before the start. All at the expense of the yard. Which other brand goes such a long way to look after its customers?
Also as non-rally participants, as we are, I always experience prompt answers when I have questions or problems, be it from home or via Iridium and e-mail from mid-ocean. It is a wonderful feeling that there is an interest, technical competence as well as spare parts supporting you along your way.
I’m sitting on my night watch, praising the people behind our boat, its equipment as well as our friends on the SSB, who do their utmost to help each other sharing experience or spare parts. I’m sitting in the complete darkness, hearing, but without seeing, the waves passing under us in increasing wilderness. I wonder how the waves look like in daylight? Possibly, they have built up to a frightening size? Best not to know, maybe. I will now take another banana, enjoy the dark night, postpone the size of the waves until daylight and, instead, listen to the sound of the breaking waves. Then I will send off this text before waking up Karolina for her night watch starting at an hour past midnight.
“Please, Dad, be a little less loud! I can’t hear anything!” Jonathan looked at me urgently from his place at the nav-station.
“I’m just making the dishes after breakfast.” I explained.
“Yes, but not now. Please! It’s SSB-time and I am trying to get in contact with Koshlong, Sarah Grace, Aventura and Starlight!”.
“This is Regina standing by on 8122, over”. Jonathan had picked up the microphone again proclaiming that he was on the frequency as they had made up the day before. Jessica was standing beside him eagerly listening to the crackle and noise from the SSB, waiting for some known voice to get through. Suddenly both kids cheered up: “Regina, Regina, this is Koshlong, over!” Jonathan answered immediately: “Koshlong, this is Regina, how are you guys? Caught any fish today? Over.”
I smiled, while I continued with my dishes, this time more quietly than before. Could you believe that these two kids did not know much English some months ago and now they are speaking with their friends over the short-wave-radio where speech most often is drowned by other noises so the understanding is really not easy. They had gathered on the “Children’s Net” as they have called their daily rendezvous at 11.00 UTC on the Single Side Band radio. Every day it is a highlight to exchange positions, weather and, not to forget, speed. Other interesting subjects that they talk about is the fish they might or might not have caught (yet) as well as the sea life they have seen.
Today, the daily SSB-time was suddenly interrupted when our tackle began to spin. A new Dorado had found its way to our hook and both Jessica and Jonathan eagerly came on deck with the scale to see how big it was. It was a small Dorado this time, 1.5 kg, but big enough to create a great excitement over the SSB on the "Children's Net".
1.5 kg was so much more handy than the 6 kg we caught earlier. It got its share of the anis-drink and was then filleted. This time, everyone, except for the fish maybe, was feeling fine. All onboard had by now more or less passed the stage of seasickness.
Did I every say anything about wonderful night watches?
Jessica and Jonathan, however, they did not think in these ways. They were just eager to get started with rolling sushi. Oh, yes, my promise! Our deal! Schoolwork against sushi preparation! Well, better get started then!
The whole sushi-party was a success, nevertheless, and the Dorado tasted delicious. I will always remember this comical situation with us sitting in the dark, holding firmly onto the boat, enjoying the sushi we had just prepared on the high seas.
The dishes afterwards took more than an hour to do, since one only could wash up one thing at a time and then dry it immediately to be stowed away. Otherwise, it would fly around in the boat like a projectile.
I don’t know if Karolina at all can sleep right now, where she has tried to bury herself between cousins and quilts not to bounce around in the berth between the backrest of the sofa and the lee cloth preventing her from falling out of her bunk. I hope she can, since soon it will become my turn to try to stay as stable as possible to get some rest. In the mean time, I feel as being in a washing machine being thrown to and fro.
I wonder if this really is to continue all the way….
Bob Marley’s rhythmic steel drums did their best to infiltrate my soul, as they played through my earphones of my iPod. At the same time, I was following the town map of Bequia in Chris Doyle’s “Sailor’s Guide to the Windward Islands”. From the Dinghy Dock, I turn right by the market and follow the beach side road toward the little church. I get a glance of Doris Fresh Foods. Doris bakes fresh French baguettes each morning. I pass the gas station and at New York Bar, I turn left and find the gourmet restaurant Le Petit Jardin, specialized in French Cuisine and Seafood. Maybe we can go out and eat here one day to celebrate that we have actually done it, crossed the entire Atlantic! Further up the road, I can see Caribbean Diesel, who might be able to help me with my “singing engine” one day. By turning right behind the church, I get back to the seaside again, arriving at Nigel and Andre’s notorious “The Salty Dog”, where I could sit down for a cool beer in the shade.
So far, this all took place in my imagination only, sitting in the rocking cockpit on my night watch with my finger on the Bequia map in the guide book. I wondered how this all would feel in real; to actually stroll around on Caribbean streets after several weeks at sea.
Already one week had passed by now, so the logbook told. Otherwise, it was difficult to know which day it was. I pretty well knew what date we had, since this is being used for logbook entries and celestial navigation, but don’t ask me what day of the week it was or who’s birthday it might be (we both forgot Karolina’s brother’s birthday on 29 November! How could we?!). The days were all chained, glued together by watch-changes and meals. The sun rises and then sets again. I didn't even know what the local time was, I had just noticed that our SSB-chat at 18.00 became earlier and earlier in the day. We follow UTC-time and the sun. More is really not necessary.
The children are fantastic and have adapted to the fact that the world currently consists of a tiny shell floating on an enormous ocean. Just as there are other similar tiny worlds made of plastic, steel or aluminum drifting around on the high seas somewhere behind our horizon. It was good to know we were not completely alone on this ocean. Like as if we looked up into the night sky and would know that we are not alone in the universe. On some of these planets are our friends, doing a similar passage through space as we do, having similar problems and thoughts as we have.
How fortunate we are to have an SSB onboard to be able to chat with these other worlds flowing westwards, have some contact to the outside world, even if they all are just as alone as we are. Alone, but not lonely.
I got contact with Paul on Amaranth over the SSB today. He had just left Tenerife, sailing single handed over the Atlantic. I wonder if he might become lonely during his passage? Paul talked about the disaster that Tropical Storm Delta had caused on the Canary Islands. Winds of 60 knots, gusting up to 80, ripping off the finger pontoons we had all shared in Santa Cruz de Tenerife. Yachties were fighting to save their boats and many vessels got seriously damaged, luckily not Amaranth, who just got some cosmetic scratches on the sides when other boats drifted onto Paul’s home.
It is strange how sometimes a port can seem more dangerous than the open ocean. As they say: “The most dangerous thing at sea is land”. We could just as well have chosen to weather out Delta on the Canaries, instead of taking the questionable decision to sail south as fast as possible to avoid Tropical Storm Delta. The outcome was not obvious, we just followed a forecasted route of the depression and made our conclusions. Had Delta decided to change course further south.... A couple of hundred miles is not much on a huge ocean for a fellow like Delta. Having said that, I am impressed how well weather forecasting works these days. Our GRIB-files downloaded via e-mail showed the track of Delta many days in advance in an impressive accuracy, which would have been considered science fiction just some decades ago.
We had since long now turned westwards and were currently on 18 degrees 17 minutes North, 27 degrees 31 minutes West. The following day, we would reach 1000 miles of sailing since we had left the Canaries. 1000 miles, that was more than many sailors sail in an entire season, while for us, 1000 miles was just a fraction of the Atlantic crossing.
1000 miles, of approximately 3000, meant one third of our way to America. A long way lied still ahead of us while there was no turning back. With the prevailing winds there is only one way to continue from here, and that is to go on sailing westwards, no matter how far it might seem.
Counting in miles is so much easier than in days. Longitudes and Latitudes have obtained a meaning, be it for exchanging positions over the SSB or when tracking weather systems. But ask the other sailors when they left or how many days they have been out, they can’t tell! Today I asked a catamaran, who was just passing us, when they had left the Canaries. It became silent for a long time on the VHF. Then a voice with distinct New Zealand accent came back and declared: “Saturday, Mate. I think...”. I thought “Saturday of what week?”
Time is such a subjective perception. What is a day, a week, a month, when you live in a very similar surrounding doing similar tasks every day? If you asked me if one week of continuous sailing is a long time, I would answer: I don’t know! Sometimes, it feels as if we had been out here forever.
The reverse is also valid: if your lifestyle does not include enough alterations, you can just as well feel that it was like yesterday your son started school and now he’s already taking his exams!
It is thus difficult to imagine when we will arrive in the New World. Better getting prepared and read the guide books already now! Who knows, maybe I experience it like tomorrow that we’ll make landfall?
Having never been to the Caribbean before, it felt as exciting as it must have felt for Columbus, while his guide books by Marko Polo spoke more about India, China and Japan, than the Caribs he eventually would meet.
I wondered if we, too, would become as surprised to what we might encounter on the other side?
I got back to my own guide books in the cockpit, put the “Sailor’s Guide to the Windward Islands” aside and continue with the "Lonely Planet Series" covering the Eastern Caribbean Islands. I wondered if the people would be as friendly as they were described here? If the atmosphere is as cool as the climate is hot? If it still is as beautiful as in Columbus' days?
I make myself no illusion, believing to find “unspoiled wilderness”. For that, one might have to continue to the Venezuelan islands, San Blas and beyond, which is an entire different story. But even if the Caribbean has become a modern tourist-driven society with all possible support for the many yachts and their owners, I am very much looking forward to experiencing it. Our hope is to find the “pearls” of the Caribbean, the nature and the people, finding the cozy spots that welcome us as we have come, sailing over an ocean in our own vessel just to get there.
That is why we have picked Bequia as our first landfall on the new continent.
May it live up to my dreams!
I was sitting at the nav station. Karolina had just called me to my night watch and I was barely awake. It was midnight.
Karolina had soon fallen to sleep after her watch, held in place by the lee cloth, rather than by my arms around her. That had to wait for another two weeks until we could sneak into a calm anchorage and turn in at the same time into a shared fore peak.
Still sleepy myself, I was looking at the radar screen in front of me. No ships or boats in sight, just echoes from the waves close to our own vessel. We hadn’t met anybody since the New Zealand catamaran sailed pass us some days ago plus a German multi purpose special cargo vessel on its way to Houston, Texas, a couple of days earlier. We had had a nice chat on the VHF with the German captain, exchanging information about cargo, destinations and Christmas plans. While we planed to lie in a cozy bay in the Caribbean Sea for Christmas, they would have left USA again for South America. Christmas, he said, would be spent somewhere on the high seas. He assured me that it was rolling heavily also on a cargo vessel and that they had had the pleasure to have met all sorts of nasty weather along his way from Northern Europe, including Tropical Depression Delta. After his re-assurance that we had picked the more comfortable route, and confirmation that we were making a strong echo on his radar thanks to our active radar transponder, we wished each other a good watch and the VHF became silent again.
The VHF had been silent for days now. Gone were the days when you could hear chatting in various languages all day long, including singing and Donald Duck noises or whistles along the Portuguese coast on the emergency and call channel 16.
I looked at the radar again. No, still no ships. No squalls either, these Cumulus Nimbus clouds that form during the night in the trade winds giving heavy rain and gale winds for a short while and reefing becomes necessary. You can even see them approaching on the radar.
I yawned, looking down at the computer screen instead. Here, I went through all the wonderful e-mails we had received during our Atlantic crossing so far. Many humorous, a few questioning, some worried, all wonderful.
I read them slowly once more. Some sentences remained in my memory for a long time.
“Just to remind what you are missing here in Sweden on this the first day of December: Ice on the roadways, following now a heavy rain - which stopped school buses this morning. DARKNESS”
“We heard about mister Delta in the news, and were glad to read on your site that you have left the Canaries to go south. Have you been able to get out of the way in time?!"
“Enjoy your travel!”
“How is your engine problem proceeding and what about the water pump?”
“I just imagining I would experience some engine trouble on my car trip on the German Autobahn with ADAC help along the entire way. I believe that a ‘small bottle of Ginger Beer’ wound not be able to help me overcome this in the middle of the Atlantic!”
“I have read your updated web page. VERY informative. Sounds wonderful and scary all at the same time.”
“How does the school work proceed at sea? Are you doing maths by counting flying fish right now? And what is the root of a Dorado? Or did I mean the hook of a Dorado?”
“Is Regina now more rocking with the wind, rather than rolling in the waves now? I have heard the seas will become slighter the next days.”
“Who is having watch right now? I have just have had Glühwein with rum and was wondering if you have a barrel with rum onboard like the old ships did.”
“Good to hear your whiskey is being rolled by the seas”
I went up into the cockpit and looked around. A warm tropical breeze welcomed me up. Everything was dark, no ship was in sight.
I placed myself next to the second radar screen we have up here. I leaned back, studying all the million stars above, thinking of all the friendly e-mails we had received.
It was difficult to imagine a cold and icy and snowy landscape from my cockpit. In my imagination, it sounded like a romantic, cozy and intimate winter wonderland. However, I have lived long enough with dark winters along a wet and windy Swedish coasts, to know that snow does not last long there and is soon replaced by horizontal rain again. Still, snow sounded exotic!
Our own climate had become quite pleasant, I must confess. The high humidity from the first days at sea must have originated from the southerly winds, since currently we had a very pleasant 55 – 60% humidity and a temperature around 25 – 27 degrees C (80F) more or less all day and night. The water temperature had risen into the same levels and the kids were excited when the water thermometer today peaked at 26.7 deg C (80 F). Soon enough we would return back into the climate we belonged to, so we knew to appreciate our current situation more than anything. (Why do we belong to a colder climate, by the way?)
Our “engine problem” that my sister was asking about, was hardly worth mentioning compared to what our good friends on Koshlong were living through. Poor Dan had been lying in the engine room the last couple of days and night, returning every morning punctually at 10.00 and every evening at 18.00 on the SSB, discussing the next steps to be undertaken on his engine. Having solved one problem, the next occurred! To save power, they had been hand-steering rather than engaging the electric autopilot, since their wind-vane, which normally worked perfectly, had difficulties in the very light winds from astern. Instead of finding sleep, he had been looking for air leaks in the fuel system and discovered water in the lubrication oil. Trond on Norwegian Coconut was never giving up, however, indefatigably helping Dan over the SSB to first find the air leaks and then systematically find the reason for the water to get into the lubrication. For me it was a exploit that Dan finally after several oil changes an a rolling boat found that it was his vacuum valve in the raw water exit which had been clogged up and hence allowed water to siphon backwards from the exhaust into the engine.
Our own noise in the engine, that my sister was referring to, had not been solved, but we believed we could live with it during our crossing. Thanks to help from the Hallberg-Rassy yard and friends on our SSB-nets, we had come to the conclusion that the sound most unlikely could originate from the water pump. Most probably it was the bearing in our smaller Volvo-alternator, if not just the belt itself. In any case, since the sound disappeared at higher revolutions, especially after running the engine for some 20 minutes, we would fix it at a better place than on mid ocean. Knock-on-wood, so far, so good!
The correlation between the engine problem and the “small bottle of ginger beer” by my old classmate from high school, Michael, was amusing! First of all, it showed how irrelevant my list of food was that I had posted the other day. It was just a complete list of food we had onboard the day our Atlantic crossing began, irrespectively if the provisioning had been purchased for the Atlantic specifically, or, as in this case, it was a left-over from an earlier purchase in Scotland. Furthermore, Michael’s comment on the ginger beer brought back wonderful memories from my childhood. Michael must not only have studied our food list onboard in greatest detail, but also alluded to my personal passion for this beverage ever since our days at high school. At that time, I brewed my own ginger beer and asked our chemistry teacher to investigate whether my magic potion made of sugar, yeast and ginger contained any alcohol or not. He promised to help, doing his share to avoid youth from premature alcohol consumption. The ginger beer should be examined during one of the most difficult chemistry exams, when the teacher did not have much better to do than to stare at 25 students sweating over impossible chemical problems. Our teacher was doing all sorts of chemical experiments with my ginger beer at his desk, getting more and more devoted to my brew. It goes without saying that we students all received a remarkably good result at that exam! Michael, I promise, when life looks desperate, I will open my last bottle of Ginger Beer from Scotland and toast to you, to my old class mates and to the bright sides of life!
At night watches one feels a bit hungry from time to time, so I went down the companionway to find some snacks that Karolina so thoughtfully prepared for each night watch. I grabbed the flashlight with the red bulb and found some chocolate. What a treat!
I climbed back into the cockpit and took a further look around for ships. Still nothing. Instead I went back to my thoughts on the e-mails we had received.
School onboard was one issue. Well, that was not so easily done on a rolling Atlantic. During the first days at sea, when everyone was feeling sea sick, school was not to think about at all. However, we had by now slightly taken up the subject again, but in a different manner than when anchored or in a marina. We had started Swedish history as a subject, for example, reading loud out of a history book for children, discussing the development. It often became an interesting discussion also for us parents to answer questions about why and how come things had happened in a specific order or at all. During these school hours (which were not seen as such by the children, by the way), I also tried to pass on to Jessica and Jonathan what I knew and what I had been reading about the Caribbean, starting from the various tribes to colonialism, slavery and independence. Our schooling is hence more oral than in writing on the rolling seas. Since we still have two weeks to go, this might change, of course.
Another e-mail was asking about the sea state and if it still was as bad. Well, I could gladly observe that it had become much better. The previous cross sea, with a heavy swell from north originating from storms on higher latitudes, had diminished, while the waves from astern were not as uncomfortable at all, as long as Regina was making good speed. When the wind dropped, however, the rolling started again, but above 5 knots Regina is just rocking, not rolling, I would say. Having said that, anything that was not fixated was helplessly rolling around in the boat. When opening a cupboard, for instance, you either found its contents coming flying against you, or it was held in place by a stripe or rubber string or, which is very effective against knocking and banging, a toilet rolls. Best is to open a cupboard in symphony with the boat's movements, closing it quickly again when it heels to the opposite side.
To answer the question if we had rum onboard, I must unfortunately say that we did not. You see, the anis flavored drink for the fish we catch, to get them calm, was becoming empty. Cheap rum is said to be excellent for that task, while we believed that the real stuff was best purchased at its place of origin, where we currently were heading. He are hence lacking rum! Our question would soon become what to give to the fish when it arrives on deck? My last bottle of single malt whiskey would be a bit bold, I think. We have taken the remaining of the anis-drink and filled it into an old plastic honey container. This excellent tip from Mahina Tiare III is said to decrease the alcohol consumption drastically, better aiming at the fish’s gills with the honey container and squeezing out a minimal portion of the drink. We would see for how many fishes our “honey” would last.
Our own alcohol consumption is zero, by the way. We just don’t feel for it. However, I very much look forward to regain that feeling. For that reason, I have already put some cans of beer into our cram-full fridge for our landfall. I am very much looking forward to a cold beer in a quiet anchorage!
I rose from my position by the radar screen in the cockpit to stand up and look around once more. Complete darkness below, great night sky above, no navigation lights in between. It is amazing how quickly four hours can pass by just sitting and dreaming.
Thank you for your numerous e-mails that had entertained me during this night watch. It had now become time to call Karolina for the last watch of this night and for me to get some sleep into the morning hours.
On the 3 of December, 8 days out into the Atlantic, not much worth mentioning happened. And that is the entire issue!
If I ever pictured to myself how blue water sailing would be at its best, this was the day! Back home, during endless winter days and nights, I had been reading and dreaming about living in harmony with and on the oceans. This day was the day to characterize these pictures from deep inside me.
We didn’t touch the sails during the entire day, the seas had become remarkably flat, trade winds were pushing us gently towards the west, both Karolina and I had found enough sleep to feel rested, Koshlong’s engine was working again, we had been socializing over the SSB and listened to the ARC boats who celebrated their half way over the Atlantic.
Even on an eventless day like this, the boat was, of course, being looked after and maintained. But it took all place in greatest harmony and is merely worth mentioning.
Who would be interested, for instance, to know that I today took apart the toilet pump? The job was overdue, since water was running back into the toilet for the last couple of days. It was an easy, yet not one of my favorite tasks to exchange the exit valve and, at the same time, to clean the connection from salt coatings. It was all done in less than 45 minutes and with some new grease on the pump stroke, it felt like new again.
I think nobody would care about our ongoing checking for possible chafing, either; this major problem on a boat sailing for weeks. Sheets and lines are quickly scraped and worn through if nothing is done against it, like putting a garden hose around the sheet where it goes through the spinnaker pole. I found some unexpected chafing today where our cabbage in the fore peak had been laying on some old charts we used as a mat. The miniature movements of the cabbage had rubbed off big areas of shoal waters from the chart. Better not sail in these areas any longer! (The waters in question were our home waters, by the way...)
I was thinking of possibly checking the chafing in the hanging locker as well, but postponed it until the following day. I had heard of sailors, whose wardrobe had big holes on arrival due to constant movements in the wardrobe. I was urged to bring my blazer on our cruise, just in case we would get invited to some fancy place one day. I haven’t looked at my blazer since I hanged it into the hanging locker in Sweden. Maybe time to do so tomorrow? But not on this wonderful eventless day on the Atlantic!
And who would be interested, not to mention believing, that we today almost caught a huge Dorado, bigger than anything I had seen before? I am sure it all would be just classified as a fisherman’s tale. In any case, it’s a shame that we lost our biggest tackle, the one with our huge plastic squid on, twin large hooks with thick wire closest to the lure, just recently purchased in Rubikon, Lanzarote. I do remember Karolina quoting a guide book, warning against using too big tackle since big lures attracts big fish, possibly bigger than you might anticipate. In the chandlery in Rubikon, however, where Dan from Koshlong and I were outdoing one another with tackles we wanted to buy, I had proclaimed I wanted big fish, of course! Maybe, Karolina was right after all...
We do know how big the Dorado was, by they way, as well as that it, in fact, was a Dorado. First of all, I could barely hold the rode in my hands fighting with whatever was on the other side, while huge amount of line was spinning off our reel with the escaping fish. When it stood clear that the fish had won, I was just starring at the empty fishing line in my hand. And then, this huge Dorado showed up! Yes, it came in fact swimming towards us from astern sniffing at the Duogen’s propeller. Had it not been for the bright shining blue/green colour and for the characteristic head shape, one could have believed it was a shark, so big it was! I doubt that we ever would have been able to heave him onboard anyway, I would just have liked to ask back our nice tackle with our big squid, please! Maybe just as well we never caught this huge Dorado, or the since long promised spaghetti would have been postponed until after landfall with the remaining trip serving Dorado in all varieties. On the other hand, Dorado is one of the most delicious fish, and we could have put the major part into our freezer, if it not had been still quite full.
We found another squid and hook in our fishing box, but considerably smaller. Was this for smaller fish, maybe? It seemed so, since just an hour after we had dropped the hook again, another Dorado had found it, this time a considerably smaller one and much more easy to handle. Lunch for tomorrow was re-assured, with the since long promised pasta for dinner maybe?
We had also had school today by sitting for hours in the cockpit reading and talking about the middle age, how people lived and how the king of Sweden liaised with the church to gain power, while the church saw its chance to grow in this new Christian land.
Well, there are actually numerous small things that can fill an eventless wonderful day on the Atlantic. Suddenly Karolina exclaimed: “What?! Is it already five o’clock! I can’t believe how quickly the days pass!”.
So, if you don't find a new post on our web page tomorrow, it could well be that we are just experiencing another wonderful eventless day on the huge Atlantic.
