900 miles to go! |
Musings during a 9 day open ocean sail to St. Maarten
Nowhere to run, nowhere
to hide
The one thing you can expect in a long sail is change. Our sail of nearly 900 miles from Bermuda to
St. Maarten (note Dutch spelling) would be no exception, which is why we waited
for the best “weather window” possible.
There were times when all the sails were up, motor off and
we were travelling at 6 to 7 knots you’d think, ‘if it could only remain like
this for the next week’…. But then you’d
snap out of it and know that it won’t.
Curtis Smith and the deep blue |
On Halloween Eve (when all the scary things come out), we
sailed into a storm. Winds had been 20
knots and we were sailing with the Sayes self-steering mechanism. This device has its own little sail that
“feels” the wind and adjusts the rudder to keep the same point of sail. During my watch from 9 pm to midnight, it had
been solidly following the course we wanted. I also saw lightening at several locations in
the distance. Then around 11 pm, Alaria started to gyrate off course –
the winds were also picking up to 25 knots so Ansley and I decided to take in
the forward most sail (a jib called a “Yankee”). Ansley’s watch was midnight to 3 am and winds
remained relatively high. Then Paul took
over and during his watch he saw the lightning was much closer and in one
location that he thought would be best to avoid. However, about then the wind died… so to get
the boat to move, he decided to pull the Yankee back out. Then the storm hit. Winds came up, he needed to get the Yankee
rolled back onto the forestay but there was a knot in the jib sheet (the rope
that controls the Yankee). We could all
hear the commotion so we all got out of bed, we tried to get the Yankee in…
winds were now 35 knots (a full gale!), but the jib was stuck. Everything was rattling as we worked to get
the sail in. The buffeting of the sail
was so great that the far edge (called leech) was shredding. The sail was at
risk to being shred to pieces…..
Sun setting below storm clouds |
We feverishly worked to stabilized the sails. Then we waited for sunrise. With first light we found the roller furling
had jammed from all of the flailing lines.
The loose jib sheet had worked the knot out from its end and had tied
itself a massive knot. We worked to free
the knot, rewrap the furling system and wait for lower wind to take down the
wounded Yankee jib to repair it.
Tattered sail and a gordian knot! |
Tattered sail losing its leech tensioning line |
Out at sea, you have to deal with what has been served to
you. In a boat that sails at 5 – 6
knots, there’s nowhere to run and obviously nowhere to hide. Also, you have to deal with and fix your
problems. It was time for me to get out
my sail sewing equipment.
Repairing the tattered sail |
When you have a sail in the cockpit, you appreciate
how big those suckers are. We found the
outer edge, the leech had frayed and most of the stitching had pulled out. There is a line (called the leech line) that
tensions the sail. It had come out over
long stretches of the sail. Also the part of the sail that attaches to
Alaria (the head luff cable) had started to tear. If that had continued, the sail would be
unusable.
It was clear, what we had to do. We must sew the entire edge of the sail. We needed to reinforce the key parts that had
come apart. So, for the next two days
Paul and I sewed from sun up to sunset.
Sail needles are robust and long.
To push them through a sail requires you start the penetration and then
push the needle through with a pad strapped to
the palm of your hand. Each
stitch takes a few seconds. The job
never seems to end. After the first day,
my fingers ached but the next day we finished.
Bob stitching the other end of the sail |
Mornings are often the calmest period so that’s when we all
set to flying the Yankee again. We
hanked her on and off we sailed. We all
saw how valuable that sail is… we were sailing again over 5 knots under the silent
power of the sails. Whew…
Moment of truth - hanking on the repaired Yankee |
OUR GUARDIAN ANGELS
In days past, schooners would leave port unknowingly sailing
into a hurricane with all hands lost.
Now we have satellite images and weather forecasts to prevent that from
happening. However, after a few days,
any prediction you had on the day you departed becomes increasingly
suspect. Weather changes as do
forecasts. We are off on a 900 mile
extended journey… we needed and had our guardian angels.
Several friends became our weather watchers who would send
short 130 character messages with weather updates. Our three key weather watchers were my close
friend Malcolm Burson (sailing buddy in Maine, now working with the
Conservation Law Foundation), David Duggins (University of Washington’s captain
of their research vessel and a first class marine ecologist) and Lew Incze (a
professor at the University of Maine, Oceanographer and life-long sailor). These guys kept us in the loop over our
entire passage.
Hurricanes scared us most.
The frequency of their formation was declining during October and into
November but they are not unheard of in November. In 1999 Hurricane Lenny reeked havoc
throughout the Caribbean around the middle of November. The only way we know if we have something
that serious coming our way is via our guardian angels. Thank heaven for them…..
Over our long passage we did get odd weather. The reliable Trade Winds were
unreliable. We asked our guardian angels
what we can expect from the weather and they told us. It wasn't always exactly what we wanted to
hear but at least nothing too serious was coming our way. Whew…
LESSONS ON SUSTAINABILITY
Alaria is a
sailboat but during long ocean passages, it is an island supporting four
people. We carry only 70 gallons of freshwater, we only have fuel enough to
power the boat for about half the trip… we must make do with what we have.
Water is key. We
rigged a saltwater foot pump in the galley (kitchen) to wash dishes and
anything that does not need freshwater.
We cannot take showers. At best
we can sponge off the sweat and sunscreen but that’s it. Sometimes we can capture rainwater to fill
the water tank but our long passage had plenty of wind but not much rain. Our water conservation was so austere that we
used less than 35 gallons of water for the four of us over a 9 day period!
At night we turn on the LED lights to illuminate the cabin. They
and two fans use extremely little electricity. We listen to music but we
carefully watch the battery charge level.
Alaria employs a sort of a ‘hybrid’ electrical system that charges
batteries from wind, sun and engine when it is on.
The ocean’s salt water “works” corrosively on all of our
electronics. We lost the use of some
lights such as the masthead light. Our
trouble-shooting was constant.
Knowing we are in the middle of the ocean requires we watch
our consumption of food, energy and water.
We sail to save fuel but when we sail we must be especially careful
about the energy we use since the solar and wind generators take a while to
charge the batteries.
None of this is surprising to anyone. However, living at sea for extended periods
sure sharpens your focus on what you need vs what you might want when you are
on the mainland.
OUR MOVING ISLAND AND ITS VISITORS
On a 900 mile journey it strikes you…. There is NOTHING for
hundreds of miles all around you but ocean.
Nevertheless, we did get visitors.
Aside from the spotted dolphins that followed us
periodically, birds were our most common visitor. We saw beautiful tropic birds with their long
white tendril gracefully trailing from their tail, odd falcons, and migrant
birds. One cliff swallow few up to us
and landed on Alaria to rest. It is a handsome
bird. We offered it water and ground
nuts but it wasn’t interested. However,
the next day it returned and roosted on the rail around the boat and then flew
into our cabin to make itself at home. It watched us prepare dinner from a
perch. Then it sat on Ansley’s shoulder
for an hour. We moved it to our library
(which is a very stable area) where the swallow slept all night. In the morning, we were in sight of St.
Maarten and the little swallow took off straight for some nice cliffs on the
island.
Cliff sparrow meets Curtis Smith our on-board ornithologist |
Cliff swallow adopts Ansley Sawyer who prefers birds that are roasted on the grill |
Almost every night flying fish fly into our boat. When we see them during our watch, we grab
them and put them overboard. However, so
do not make it. Flying fish don’t really
fly, they glide on long wing-like pectoral fins. Their body is triangular in cross section to
be aerodynamic and so they can see down towards the water they are flying
over. The dead flying fish were used for
bait as we sailed along but we had no luck with them.
Bob with one of the morning's flying fish (small species) |
Not all of the visitors were accidental. Paul was the fisherman of the group. He baited hooks and trawled for fish
everywhere we went. We had sushi as a
benefit of his actions. However, on our
last full day of travel, he hooked a marlin!
It was an amazing fighter that got to the boat where we all could see it
before it threw the hook and was back to its ocean realm. The marlin real treat to see.
Our hooked marlin! Played it for 5 minutes before it threw the hook |
LANDFALL!!!
On the evening of 6 November, we could see the glow of St.
Maarten and Anguilla. It is the first
sign of civilization we had seen since leaving from Bermuda on 29 October. I got up a bit early to see where we were …
we had arrived at St. Maartin. The
sunrise was beautiful… especially because it was over land for the first time
in ages (it seemed).
Making landfall by sea has a more profound impact than you
might expect. Of course seeing nothing
but sea for several days can have this effect.
St. Maarten and the island chain before us |
Upon arriving we had to bring the sails to a sail-maker to
repair properly. We hope this is all
we’ll have to do with the sails.
The day of our arrival, George Stoyle (graduate student
studying reef fish assemblages) joined us having flown in from the UK. Our
“long-haul” sailors arranged their flights home and we worked to repair little
odds and ends of things that needed attention.
George and I arranged to work with The Nature Foundation
which is a federally funded entity focused on conservation of St. Maarten’s
coral reefs.
On day two, George and I were diving on the reefs, Ansley
was fixing things (as he’s wont to do) but Paul and Curtis where working away as
well. Curtis is booked to fly home tomorrow morning. So this is the end of the “Long-haul” crew
and the beginning of the next chapter of coral reef research along the eastern
Caribbean.
loved reading about the passage from Bermuda!
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