Andrew's sailing logs
Gaeta to Spain, November 7th, 2005
Hi Everyone!I just wanted to say a big hello!It's been an incredible couple of weeks. Steph drove me to theairport on the 24th, only to find the northbound 427 jammed solid witha flipped over semi. We had to find a roundabout way to the airportthat got me in about an hour before the flight, very tight. Check-inwent smooth, though, then it was off to Rome.
I hooked up with the boat owner (Tina), the skipper (John), his mate(Jay), and a younger crew member named Dave. We drove to Gaeta, about2 hours south of Rome, to the marina. The ship is a 56 foot Taswellwith a cutter rig - this means it has a large mainsail, a forward gib,and a second, smaller gib called a cutter that helps tune the rig.The name of the vessel is Morning Kiss, which we promptly renamedMorning Piss (although we didn't mention this to the owner). Ourmission: sail it through the Med, across the atlantic, and deliver itto Ft. Lauderdale.
The first thing we all realized was that, although the ship hadsupposedly been hauled out by the marina and completely checked out,there was a ton of work to be done on the mechanical systems. Thenthere was the problem that it was basically used more as a livingspace than a sailing vessel. The storage spaces were crammed not withessential spare bits, but pillows and plates and summer clothing. Wewent from bow to stern pulling shit out so that we could get a senseof what we had or didn't have, and to make room for enough food andsupplies to last us weeks. We had planned for checkout andprovisioning to last 2 days, but it took 4 to get off the dock. Gaetais a great little town, lots of small markets and cobblestone streets,but I wasn´t sad to go. I´d huffed around the town looking for itemsso much, the locals were starting to recognize me in my aussie hat andwave.
When we did get underway, we all settled down. John, the skipper, isan experience racing sailor that is also a buddhist priest. And helooks like Santa Claus. His mate, Jay, is a burly, happy man thatcould tackle a grizzly and win, loves to cook, and could sail anythinganywhere by the force of his will alone. I was immediately given therole of ships engineer when I peeked into the engine compartment andknew the names of components. Dave, 21 years old, had deferred asemester of school to do this trip and just wanted to sail his gutsout. Hurricanes? Bring em on! We quickly settled into the watchroutines and the constant puns and word games. We also established a"no excuse me" policy for burps and farts, plus started a bet to seewho could make the worst stinker. This humor is necessary with fourpeople living in such close quarters. Dave thinks he's gonna win, butwait until Jay makes a good batch of chile. heh heh
We have been eating very well. Jay is a master cook, and the italianprovisions have been very tasty. Lots of cheeses and salamis. Andfresh tuna sushi, caught right on the boat. Yum! The only thing thathas been difficult about the leg has been the wind directly on thenose. We've been forced to motor a lot, which isn't so bad exceptit's so much more fun and quieter to sail. Using the engine alsomeans that we have to find ports here and there to get more fuel. Thebest stop was in Mahon, on Minorca, an island in Spain near Ibiza.When we have had wind, though, the boat has sailed well, even thoughwe've been using a sloop (2 sail) configuration. The cutter furlerhad a problem that we could not repair.
A couple of days ago, we got into Malaga and have been picking up morecrew. We have a full boat, 8 people, for the next leg to thecanaries, then we'll be back to six for the atlantic crossing. We'vegot the boat provisioned, watered, and I've tried to fix as many ofthe nagging and new mechanical problems that I can. My opinion ofitalian ship mechanics is very low, many things simply did not workdespite the fact the shìp had been fully checked out. For example,none of the navigation lights came on the first night at sea, makingus a target to be run down by freighters. It took me three days tofind the electrical problem on that one, damn near ripping out everywire in the boat. Saltwater is very corrosive.
So we get underway early tomorrow. We´re expecting high winds, about25 to 30 knots, but no storms. We should be sailing hard pastGibraltar, on our way to the canaries. Looking forward very much tothis leg. Overall, this is an absolutely amazing experience and I'mhaving a total blast. Miss you all, and thank you so much for thegreat send off party and all the birthday wishes. You simply can'timagine how beautiful the stars are out here at night, miles fromshore, or how fun it was to navigate between corsica and sardinia intotal darkness, or how freaky it is to sail in the dark through heavyseas, concentrating only on the compass in front of the helm. Totallycool.
Much love,Andrew
Gran Canaria, November 16th, 2005
After three days of provisioning, repairs, and running around, ourshore leave was done. With the casting off of lines, and a quickvisit to the fuel dock, we were back underway, heading for the CanaryIslands. We´d picked up four new crew members in Benalmedina, Spain-- Brian, from SF; Linda from Maine; and Gina and her niece, Laurel,also from Maine. Typical for what we´d experienced previously, therewasn´t a breath of wind, so we had to motor for a while. On theyacht, this is a pricey affair, burning 6 litres of diesel per hour ofoperation.
We putted along the coast of spain, our new crew absorbing theexperience of being on the water. Only Brian had any sail experience,mainly in the SF bay area. Under power, the ride was smooth and theweather fair. The Spanish coastline is mountainous, but dotted withcondos as far as the eye can see. There´s been some massive realestate development here over the last decade, apparently -- britstired of cold London winters have been buying up a storm. Can´t holdit against them: the coast is absolutely gorgeous.
By midnight, we were approaching Gibraltar, a major passage forfreighters in and out of the Med. There is a massive rock that is allfloodlight that marks the bay, the namesake. It´s impressive, and Iwished I was passing in the daylight to get a better look around. Itwould also have made the passage through this bottleneck easier.Freighters weigh, like, as much as small towns and move at up to 30knots. When one is on a small sailboat, toodling about at 6 knots,with perhaps seven miles of visibility, one wants to stay the hellaway from these monsters. From the first time you see them, you haveonly a few minutes to determine whether they are going to run you overbefore they are on top of you. Unfortunately, around Gibraltar,they´re everywhere, forcing us to peer around like rubberneckingtourists.
The passage went smooth enough, though, with the lights of both theSpanish and African coasts marked our way easily. Then we were in theAtlantic proper. Almost instantly, the traffic dropped off to nothingand the winds we were expecting -- 25 to 30 knots -- appeared. Wethrew out some sails and shut down the engine and went flying along,making good at about 8 to 9 knots, a great clip for something thatweighs 30 tons. The wind was coming from the North Atlantic, meaningit was right on our tail. It also managed to kick up some prettymajor wave action, about 10-15 feet, changing the tone of the rideconsiderably. Instead of a leisurely putting around, this was nowsome pretty challenging bluewater.
Instantly, all the new passengers became badly seasick. Most of ushave felt nauseous before and tend to find the feeling distasteful.Seasickness is one of the worst nauseas one can imagine. Not onlydoes your whole gastrointestinal track want to trade places with yourskin, there´s no way to stop the input. As bad as the motion is thatis producing the sickness, it would be far worse if we stopped sailingand started bobbing like a cork. The people feeling ill had no choiceexcept to tough it out. The 600 miles we had to go was going to be ahard ride.
That first night, for me, everything was a blur. Between stints atthe helm, sailing some of the heaviest seas I´ve experienced, I washelping people heave their guts over the side of the cockpit, hangingon to their safety harnesses to make sure they didn´t fall out. Therewas some serious synchronized barfing going on...and on...andon...until by morning there were only dry heaves. The decks needed areally good scrub. Amazingly, through all the motion and heaving, myown stomach didn´t so much as flinch.
Sailing after this point became very routine. With the windsexpecting to be steady for the entire run to the canaries, it was onlya matter of steering and clocking down the miles. We kept to ourwatch schedules to get the new crew into a routine and make themforget their queasiness and in a couple of days everyone had recoverednicely. I kept pushing my new ability to deal with the motion bydoing work down below (harder since there are no visual ques to thebalance center). I got to the point where I had absolutely noperception of motion; I could have been sitting on the couch.
We chewed threw the miles quickly and were soon approaching GranCanaria, where Gina and Linda would be departing. We arrived at theisland at 3 am, but had to hover off the coast in heavy seas untilsunrise to be able to navigate into the harbour. Being so close topizza, ice cream, and terra firma but not being able to dock made thelast three hours the hardest of the journey. But the sun did rise andwe made it in okay, although the marina was totally packed, forcing usto anchor.
Gran Canaria is a cool little town with interesting architecture andfriendly people. A tax haven and tourist trap, there are still manycharming local spots to be found. The biggest treat was that theworld music festival was in town and had one night of shows left. Ihad the chance to be in a crowd of young, happy spaniards, drinkingbeer, and listen to the Wailers. Awesome.
We´re almost ready to go again, finishing the last of the provisioningand scrubbing and fixing. Brian decided to not continue on the nextleg, 21 days to the Caribbean, so we´re down to five people, moremanageable. I´ve had a few good sleeps on land and a chance to relaxand catch up. And I´ve got some open invitations to come to Mainefrom some very sweet people that couldn´t stop thanking me for helpingthem when they had been feeling so miserable.
We´re expecting a slow start as we head south to the tradewinds, andthen a fast run to the BVIs. I shouldn´t see conditions much harderthan I´ve already seen and should get more time to relax. The mostdifficult thing will be not having a break for three weeks. It´s notreally the seas that are tough when sailing on a boat this size, buthow to keep the interpersonal relationships healthy. Basically,everything needs to be voiced and discussed immediately, and then letgo. Humor helps. Anything kept bottled up inside goes rotten reallyquickly. And I know that as Steph reads this, she´s probablychuckling. She´s been trying to teach me this for years!
Much love to everyone,Andrew
Tropical Storm Delta
November 28th, 2005
Off again...
The departure from Gran Canaria seemed rushed to me. The captain wasimpatient to get off the dock and underway and there was nocoordinated check. Only underway did I note that the too-rapidfilling of our water tanks had prevented the three tanks fromequalizing, meaning that we hadn't taken on our full capacity. Wedidn't even get the chance to run the last garbage bag of stuff backto shore before the dinghy was stowed, meaning it wasn't just filledwith dry plastic and would get stinky. The provisions Jay had boughtwere stored so quickly that we weren't exactly sure where things were.My Kellogg Smacks breakfast cereal was totally lost. I knew I wouldnot starve, though. I had 25 euro worth of junk food - chocolate barsand doritos and jelly beans in my private stash. Heh heh.
I was concerned about the water. We had taken on more bottleddrinking water, but I was casually monitoring the consumption. Itwasn't reassuring. I figured we would have barely enough for a 12 daycrossing before we would have to start using the main tanks fordrinking water, hardly appetizing since the boat had sat for so long.And with the main tanks underfilled, there wasn't going to be muchextra for bathing. We would just have to be careful.
There were no winds at all, meaning we had to start burning our fuelto make it south to the tradewinds. We left a few days ahead of themany ARC (Atlantic Race for Cruisers) boats that would be following usin a few days. We would at least have company on the crossing, about220 other boats.
For the three days, we motored, sailing when the winds gusted. Whenthe winds did come, they were strange. The trades should have beenfrom the North, but what gusts did come were from the south. Theskies ahead were growing cloudy, though, so we kept hoping these wouldmark the entrance to the trades. Once we hit these, we would beflying all the way across the Atlantic.
When I mentioned my water concerns to the captain, he did a survey andrealized we had bottled water sufficient for 1.5 litres per person perday. We would have to be careful. He did not seem too concerned, butthen again, we seemed to have very different priorities. I let it go,knowing there was juice and, if necessary, rainwater, and just hopedfor the best. We were making good time at least.
Then we hit solid wind, about 18 knots, perfect for making the boatfly without stress. We started making rapid progress on course. Butwe were a little baffled. The winds were still from the wrongdirection. Something was odd. The next day, the clouds werethickening, and the winds really started growing. Next thing werealized, we were in 35 knot winds, very very strong, and the seaswere growing. We were almost on a close reach, going into the windand the large waves. The hull would rise up out of the water and comedown hard in the trough of the next wave, sending water over the boat.It was very stressful.
We got a satellite call. An unexpected storm had formed in theAtlantic, tropical storm Delta. It was sucking air from all aroundus, explaining our odd winds. We were just at the edge of it but itwas directly on our course. If we kept continuing, we had thepossibility of hitting 60 knot winds or more. We had to turn away,fast.
We headed south, plotting a course to the cape verde islands offsenegal. That night, the winds were very strange, massive gusts thatwould drive us at 9 knots, then a black cloud would pass overhead andwe would have nothing. There was lighting everywhere, some hittingthe water nearby. We were all exhausted. It was the toughest nightwe had.
By morning, the skies had become pewter and the winds had died. Westarted motoring slowly to conserve fuel and relaxed. We were 200miles from cape verde and would be there in 2 or 3 days, depending onwinds. We were okay. By the second day, the winds did come, thistime from the expected direction, and we made good time. I was justhappy that we had a chance to better provision for the journey, and tocheck out the boat after the rougher weather. The motoring meant thatI would have to do more engine maintenance too. The fuel filter wouldneed cleaning and the engine oil changed.
We anchored at Mindalo, on Sao Vicente. It is a working port, not amarina. There were other ARC boats there and others pulling in. Theracers had been pounded hard leaving the canaries and several boatshad been damaged. Some had decided to skirt Delta's edge and gotthrough, while others decided like us to wait it out. I spend thefirst day on board without going ashore to do the service work, andthen have had a couple of days here to relax.
Cape Verde feels a lot like Cuba. The people are friendly and open,with most knowing a smattering of English, Spanish, Portugeuese,French and German. There are touts everywhere willing to help guidecruisers around town. There is lots to look at, and the architectureis really cool. Many of the streets are cobblestone. The hillsidesare stark volcanic rock, with very little vegetation. I found areasonable hotel and enjoyed a long shower and a clean bed. We usedthe layover to get all the bedding washed on the boat.
This was definitely a tough leg. The weather was challenging, but notso difficult. Even in hard seas, there is little chance of hulldamage at sea. The challenging part is dealing with the other crewand captain during times of stress and in discussing what issues aregiving us concerns. We all have different priorities. The captainwas under pressure to make time because there are other peoplescheduled to come on the boat in the BVIs and he has a contracted dateto deliver the boat. I worry about essentials, water and engine. Theothers have their own concerns and expectations. We all need to worktogether to make our journey safe and easy and sometimes this is veryhard. Arriving at Cape Verde, I had to admit that I wasn't sure Iwanted to continue, and knew that I just had to relax a bit.
I've decided to go on. There are five of us on board, which allowsfor three watches, which is much easier than two -- more time to restand sleep. I want the experience of crossing the Atlantic, whichshould be the easy sailing part, a rhythm that should while away thedays quickly. And I really want to see the caribbean, if only ataste, since I will have to go home soon if I am to join Steph atChristmas parties. We're watered fully and fueled, so we should beokay. Tomorrow am, I will replenish my cookies and treats and we'llbe off.
I miss everyone and am looking forward to getting back, but this is afantastic expererience on many levels. I will be writing and sharingstories about this for some time, I believe. And I look forward tohaving a chance to sail again in Toronto.
Much love to everyone,
Andrew
Mindalo, Cape Verde
