27 May: The Atlantic - Again
Great Ocean Sailing after an innitial rough start.
I could clearly see, it was still hanging in its electrical cables, swinging wildly. Its level that had held our red port navigation light in place must have come loose and one of the bigger waves must have pushed it upwards and out of its holder. Green water was running along the deck while Regina was heeling over, beating into the wind as we were close hauled on an easterly course on the open Atlantic Ocean. The cockpit was dry all right, but I knew I had to go up on deck and into the spray. to look at that navlight, where it was dangling off the pulpit on Regina’s bow.

It was anything but inviting to go on deck, and I knew I would get wet, so instead of putting on foul weather gear, I took off clothes, following my practice of avoiding getting wet clothes in the tropics. This usual tropical way of undressing in heavy rainshowers or spray on foredeck soon turned out to be a mistake on these latitudes between Bermuda and the Azores.

The wind was roaring in the rigging while I clipped my harness onto the jackstay running along the deck. I looked up front as if I wanted to make sure that the navlight had not jumped back by itself into its fitting, but unfortunately, such miracles do not even happen in the tropics, which we had left by now, anyway.

I worked myself up front, holding tightly onto the boat. There, the first green water splashed against the hull and exploded in the air distributing an even flow of water onto my naked body, only protected by the life jacket. This was refreshing, to say the least, and I started to recall what home water sailing was like.

I shook my head like a dog and continued my fore-deck excursion. Finally, I had reached the pulpit and I was just about to grab the navlight in its cable when the next wave hit me, letting freezing cold water running down my back inside the life jacket. I must have said some unprintable words, swearing that I one day wanted to return to tropical conditions again, instead of fighting with cold water running down my back. The annoying fact was that this water was not even to be considered really cold, yet, with its 21 degrees C (70F), but far from the 27 degrees C (80F) we had become accustomed to in the tropics.

I fished up the red navlight, which, by now had become filled with seawater. I unscrewed its bottom and threw back the water where it had come from and hang it back onto its fitting, closed the lever firmly and shouted back to Karolina to try to switch on the navlights. To my surprise, they both still worked!

Since I was up front, anyway, I looked up along the cutterstay observing what a fine balance the boat actually had, sailing with just a double reefed mainsail and our small cutterstay-sail. We were flying along at 7 knots upwind. The cutterstay itself, together with the rigged checkstay or running backstay astern, gave some further good support for the mast at the same time, which felt secure under these bumpy conditions. It was not until now that I realized how gracefully Regina was dancing up and down the waves, which made me forget the fact that an hour earlier, I had been swearing about the leaking Electrolux-vent on foredeck, trying to stop it from letting saltwater into the forepeak by pushing cloths inside it from down below. Regina was firmly enjoying her ocean sailing, even if it happened to be upwind this time. No slamming, no falling down behind waves, just gentle movements and good boat speed. Regina seemed not at all concerned about the 25 knots of wind we were beating into. For her, the splashes on deck might have been few in number, but for me, standing on foredeck with no clothes, I counted every single one of them.

Another green water washed over my feet as I stood holding firmly onto the cutterstay, reminding me to go back. Here was not the place to reflect about our boat and her movements, since it was now really getting cold. I quickly worked myself back into the dry cockpit. The hot water shower that followed was one of the most pleasant I had had for a long time and quickly got me warmed up again. What a luxury to have both a shower and enough freshwater to spare.
Leon on deck, however not during the wet and cold beating against the wind described above. Instead, the cutterstaysail is packed in its bag this time and the genua is pushing us quickly eastbound on a grat day on the Atlantic. Photo by Tom Kingston.
I had merely put some dry clothes on, when Jessica, who was on watch, shouted “Ooooohhhh, what is that?!” I rushed into the cockpit and followed Jessica’s hand where she was pointing under the boat. Something steel-blue, almost turquoise, could be perceived underneath us. My first thought was that we must be sailing over an iceberg, since our echo sounder suddenly was alarming at 2.9 meters depth (10 feet)! Jessica’s feet were stamping quickly against the cockpit floor in excitement “Ooooh, no! It’s a fish! A huge fish! A Dolphin? No, it’s a whale!! It’s a whale, Daddy!!” she shouted.

Suddenly I could see the black back of the animal as it was showing up above the surface just next to us. “It’s a sperm whale wale!” Jonathan declared, who had by now also joined us in the cockpit. You could clearly see the bumps, as the wale was just some 2 meters (6 feet) from the hull, keeping a similar speed of 7 knots as we did. It was at least of the size of Regina, if not bigger. It dove just under the surface again and moved slightly aft. Luckily we had no fishing line out under these harsh weather conditions, anyway, but I was afraid it would swim into our DuoGen we had deployed from our stern.

Elegantly, it moved slowly away from Regina, blowing two or three times further away, before it disappeared into the deep ocean again.

I had heard about “Spaghetti-legs”, but had never known that they actually could feel as weak as cooked pasta. This was the most thrilling moment during our entire cruising year so far. The whale was so close, we could almost have touched it if we had leaned over. Could this have been the intension of our visitor? To be touched? Did it look for company? Luckily it didn’t rub its back against our hull, at least, which could have turned into a disaster. Since our engine was running with the gear engaged for our daily charging, I am sure it must have heard us and could not have been taken by surprise. Did it actively come to see us? What did it want to tell us?

I was more impressed than afraid, felt more lucky than shocked. It was just amazing to be so close to such a huge animal in the middle of the Atlantic. I knew, if it had felt for it, it could have snatched us with his tail. I knew it could easily have lifted us up, like another whale had done with a boat on the ARC coming to the Caribbean, bending its propeller shaft by no less than 20 degrees!

Who could consider ocean sailing to be eventless and boring?! Even while beating into strong Atlantic winds, there was more happening than I could fill my heart with!
Our guest/crew Tom and Leon ejoying mid-Atlantic breakfast. Photo by Jessica.
Another fact that made our leg from Bermuda to the Azores more entertaining than usual, was the fact that we had a guest onboard, Tom Kingston, who joined us in Bermuda as crew. Tom and Karolina had jointly sailed on the Hallberg-Rassy 46 Mahina Tiare III in 2001 from Tromsø in Northernmost Norway to Gothenbourg in Sweden (see full story here) and they had talked about sailing together ever since. To our big surprise, he accepted our invitation immediately to sail across the Atlantic with very short notice, turning an idea into action. Soon after our e-mail correspondence, he stood in front of Regina in Bermuda, turning a since long talked about re-union between Karolina and Tom into reality.
The two former Mahina-expedition members were eagerly digging out old memories from their time sailing in really cold latitudes, teasing me about being delicate on my previous on-deck promenade with “lukewarm spray”, as they called it, which was “nothing” compared to their arctic expedition far north of the polar circle with 50 knots of winds and snow on deck one morning.
Karolina, Tom and Jonathan at our "half-crossing-party". Photo by Jessica.
Having suddenly become three adults onboard made a huge difference, especially when it came to sleeping. With the three adults onboard, we actually were off-watch and could do what we pleased and still got enough sleep. Good mood, a lot of fun and a great company was the reward.

Obviously, being five onboard a 40 foot sailing boat for 14 days could have become crowded, but, in this case, the benefits by far surplus the small sacrifice in space and privacy, especially with Tom fitting so perfectly into our family.
Tom on watch (left) and off-watch (below). Or vice versa? Photos by Jonathan.
Tom joined us in Bermuda, the little group of islands interconnected with bridges and surrounded by dangerous reefs, placed in the western Atlantic.

Bermuda is an island you either seem to visit as a golfer, a cruise ship guest or a blue water sailor. If you did not visit the island personally, maybe your money did, since Bermuda is also said to be a tax haven for banking and the little Atlantic island did not seem to do too badly with both human, as well as monetary guests visiting.
Looking down onto St George's from the "Unfinished Church" in Bermuda.
I knew there were 18 holes on a golf course, but rumors said there were no less than 18 golf courses on this island barely measuring 13 by 2 miles (24 x 4 km). Any non-private property must have been transformed into a golf-course on Bermuda!

The numerous cruise ship guests were the second category tourists we observed in Bermuda. The vessels sail from New York, which takes 1 1/2 days, then they stay in St George’s for two days followed by a “cruise” to the other end of the island, namely to Hamilton, for another two days before they sailed back to New York again for the next load of cruise ship people. Of course, you could just as well have taken the bus from St George’s to Hamilton, but that was not the idea when you were on a “cruise”, I assumed. Possibly, the majority of the cruise ship passengers did not even observe that Hamilton was just placed further down the road from St George’s. A “cruise to Bermuda” lived more up to its name if at least two ports of calls were included, I guessed.
One of the many colourful fine estates on Bermuda.
The third group of people did not make up a huge number compared to the above two groups of visitors, but were the more interesting, indeed: the Blue Water Sailors on their way from the Caribbean either to North America, such as Maine, Rhode Island or Connecticut, or to Europe via the Azores. A stop in Bermuda breaks up the trip as well as being a welcoming landfall, especially since the island is well worth visiting.

Karolina thought that we should not only put on clean clothes, but for the sake of Bermuda also dress up in some nicer garment, when going ashore. Having become a real yachtie, I could barely see the meaning of it, since I considered my T-shirt and my old, yet recently washed, shorts, just fine. But Bermuda is not any place, so I followed Karolina’s idea to dress up a little. I felt a bit strange in long pants and a shirt as we walked a down the Water-Street, keeping a sharp look-out for the Laundromats, which were said to be situated somewhere around here. For a yachtie, laundry facilities are, further to customs and immigration, one of the first points of interest ashore.

We met a man with a long beard, wearing a pair of old shorts and a spotted T-shirt walking slowly with a container of engine oil in his hand. It was not difficult to recognize him as a true blue-water sailor, who should know the way to the Laundromats. After having asked him for the directions, he studied us from the side. Then, he carefully asked: “You are from a cruise-ship, aren’t you?!”.

“No, no!”, we replied, “We live on a boat and just need some laundry done!”. “Oh, sorry!”, the man continued slightly embarrassed, “You just don’t look like yachties, you know. You look too smart! Anyway, I’m Jeff and I live on ‘Indian Summer’. I’m single handing over to the Azores to eventually winterize in England and then continuing to the Caribbean next winter to get out into the South Pacific. So, we might meet in the Azores again!”
In other words, Bermuda was a Cosmo political meeting place for people from the whole world on the move. Making landfall on your own yacht, was, of course, the most exciting way to visit. Already 200 miles out, you could hear “Bermuda Radio” helping vessels to make landfall and to avoid running aground on the countless reefs surrounding Bermuda. There is certainly no coincidence that the national flag of Bermuda carries a weapon picturing a sinking ship.
We would not like to become part of that symbol, so we did our home-work and called Bermuda Radio well in advance and got a radar vectoring into St George’s, similar to flying under instrument rating. You had to call in at certain check-points, were asked a lot of questions ranging from which safety equipment and communication equipment you carried to type of vessel and number of persons onboard. With this “flight plan” you eventually received a “cleared to land” through the Town Cut, which is a very narrow passage into St Georges Harbor. It is better to be avoided when a huge cruise ship passes through this sound at the same time!
A cruise ship entering the "Town Cut" to St Georges, Bermuda, as seen on a post card.
“Welcome to Bahamas” the friendly customs officer joked, as we were tying up onto the customs’ dock in St George’s. He helped us to take the lines, filling in all the necessary forms and did not hesitate to give us brochures and maps over his island, giving valuable tips on what to see and what to do while we were in Bermuda. We asked where we could moor if we wanted to go into a marina, so he picked up his phone to call Bernie. Everyone seemed to know Bernie and Bernie is the man to talk to if you wanted a space in a marina. While he was calling Bernie on the phone, a friendly senior man dressed in a white moped helmet stepped into the customs office reaching for his pocked, from where a ringing sound could be heard. Another yachtie behind us in line for checking in with customs and immigration greeted the man in the helmet saying he did not need to answer, since it was the officer behind the glass window who was calling him.

That became our first meeting with Bernie, who could be seen everywhere around St George’s, helping yachties to get a berth in a marina or organizing enough yachts to get together to order a minimum of 300 gallons of fuel, which was the quantity to get the fuel truck to the marina allowing for a good discount on the diesel.
Capt Smokes Marine, which unfortunately had burned down two weeks earlier
Bernie (or should I call him Burnie in this case?) managed to squeeze us into Captain Smoke’s Marina, which had taken its name a bit too literally lately, since the building had gone up in smoke and burned down two weeks earlier. Nevertheless, the dock was still all right and Bernie came down to the marina looking after us 6 yachts regularly, making sure we had everything we desired from fresh rainwater out of the hose, over a warm and wonderful shower ashore to 230V or 110V electricity. To lie in a marina with just 6 yachts, who all were on their move sailing the Atlantic, made you quickly become friends with not only Bernie but also with the boats around you. It became a very friendly atmosphere, where we, for instance, gathered for a barbeque party one night.
The docks of Captain Smokes Marina untouched by the fire with Regina and five other boats mored.
As soon as our crew, Tom, and his luggage had arrived from Minnesota (not at the same day, however), we set sail to rush as far eastbound as possible before gale winds with storm gusts would hit Bermuda later in the week. We did a record 169 miles in 24 hours resulting from an average speed of over 7 knots making good progress. The daily made distances continued lying around or over 160 miles turning the first week of the passage into a fast one, which was good for us, since we had to stay ahead of the cold front passing over Bermuda and continuing on a north-easterly track.

There were various possible ways to sail from Bermuda to the Azores, where the classic route takes you first north to find west-winds and then continuing to sail towards the Azores along latitude 39N or even 40N. Our current weather situation was, however, that the Azores High was considerably further south than “normal” and low pressure systems took their chance to gather just north of Bermuda breaking loose on the classic route to the Azores.
Regina leaving Bermuda with a last sight of land. Anchored yachts in the background.
As usual, we got great help from my Uncle Lasse, who was feeding us with highly appreciated weather-information gathered from the internet and passed on via e-mail. This was a good addition to our onboard weather systems. In addition to that, we also used Herb for the first time on this challenging route to Europe. Good weather information is essential, and together with a fast boat to outrun weather threats they present two major keys for a safe and comfortable passage.

Our carefully installed Sailor SSB gave a strong signal and was of great help to get in contact with “weather guru”, Herb Hilgenberg, alias Southbound II, in Canada. Very often we could get through to him on our SSB, when others couldn’t and having a well installed SSB is an essential piece of equipment onboard.

In countless blue-water sailing books, I had read about yachts talking to Herb on the SSB, taking advice on weather, waypoints and routings. What an extraordinary strong feeling it was for me personally to suddenly be calling “Southbound II” myself every night at 19.30 UTC. For me, it was as to talk to a living legend who had helped countless sailors over the last decades. Out of pure charity and with no cost, Herb has been guiding yachts over the Atlantic for 20 years, sitting with his SSB-headphones for several hours every day, presenting analyzed weather forecasts he had made for each individual boat. Every afternoon, day in and day out, Herb calls the vessels that have checked in between 19.30 and 20.00 UTC on 12 359 kHz, one by one, and individually explains the weather situation for each and every one of them, guiding them safely to their destination. Herb literally guides you around conviction zones with squalls.

Rumors even tell that when Herb goes visiting his daughter living in Bermuda, he does not abandon his fleet of boats who rely on his weather routing. Instead, he borrows his old double ender “Southbound II” from her new owner in Bermuda and transmits his weather information from his former boat, similar to how he once started his very appreciated work some 20 years earlier.

With his Germanic organized systems he knew exactly where “his” boats were, and sometimes I could hear him commenting on a boats speed or lack thereof. Boats reported in their current weather observation, which by Herb was confirmed by his well-known “Yes, that’s about right…”.and did not hesitate to correct the boats, should they report any “deviating” weather.
Regina's route avoiding gale winds compared to the "classic route" further north
In our case, it was not difficult to understand why Herb routed us far south of the classic route from Bermuda to the Azores. Our GRIB files, our weather faxes and our help by family and friends back home, especially my Uncle Lasse, all showed the same picture, namely that the Azores High had been pushed far south allowing low pressure systems and their adjacent cold fronts to pass much further south than normal. What made Herb so special was that he could guide us through a small passage between the High Pressure to the south with too little wind and the low pressures further north with too much wind by giving us exact way-points to steer after. Only during the first few days we had to beat into south-easterly winds of the above mentioned 20 – 25 knots to get through to that weather passage. And even here, Herb picked the right waypoints since we could hear boats beating in much stronger winds just one degree, or 60 miles, further north.

I can only hope that Herb is aware of the profound gratitude thousands of yachts feel for him and Southbound II, if not personally talking to Herb, than at least listening in to him. Having “Herb onboard” has become synonymous to feeling confident that a safe passage lays ahead, at least weather wise.
Leon talking to Herb on the SSB with his "Herb-Fan T-shirt". The shirt, originally referring to a smokable aromatic plant, was a birthday present from our sailing friends Tim, Penny, Anna and Eddie on Tamarisk, who are equally a great admirer of Herb's weather routings. Photo by Jonathan.
Imagine you had no weather forecasting systems onboard. No Weather fax, no Grib-files, no e-mails, no Inmarsat-C, no Herb. We would have followed the standard route to the Azores according to the pilot books. Still today, there are ocean sailing boats with minimal weather information onboard, taking the weather as it comes. In our case, we would certainly have ran into gale winds, if not even storm conditions and waves as high as 15 feet if we had sailed the traditional route northbound leaving Bermuda.
Tom and Jonathan on fore deck watching dolphins on a bright flat wonderful Atlantic day.
After the first few days of beating, the sailing transformed into pleasant ocean sailing with little waves and reaching along the edge of the Azores High. Our Gennaker was out several days in a row and wonderfully flat seas made the Atlantic crossing during these days like pleasant holiday sailing.
Tom was a highlight onboard and a great joy for both Jessica and Jonathan. We found time for baking, fishing (however very little catching!) and taking pictures. They were eagerly producing a slide show, describing Tom’s life onboard, using the Macintosh with iPhoto and iMovie to capture the daily life onboard Regina during an ocean passage. There was no way, these two children could feel bored with so much to report with their digital cameras, and then to edited it all with sound and speech-over.
Tom and Jonathan at the dinner table. How can an ocean be as flat, so far from the rolly experience we had coming across to the Caribbean? Photo by Jessica.
Daily baking, either bread or a cake was no problem with so much spare time with a third adult onboard.
Jonathan practicing celestial navigation with necessary calculations thereafter. There's no more fun way to do maths! Photo by Tom Kingston.
Tom seemed to enjoy this passage just as much, carefully asking questions about how it was to live onboard cruising along through life. His questions became increasingly detailed and soon we were talking about everything from boat types, brands and equipment to how to best convince a spouse that living onboard was just as good as living ashore, if not better. I am not sure if his questions were just out of pure academic interest, or if a deeper dream started to form inside Tom’s mind. I might better not tell his wife Patty about all possibilities in life we discussed, since the people who know me, certainly can imagine how eagerly I was trying to convince Tom that there is no much better life than cruising!

As the T-shirt was proclaiming with big letters in the Caribbean
“There is more to life than sailing.”
While then, in smaller letters beneath it, it continued:
“Tell me about it, when you find out”.