Monday, November 28, 2005

Thanksgiving in Tortola

Reporting from 18 22.918N, 64 42.350W. Thanksgiving in Tortola. 900 miles after Bermuda and more than 1,600 from Boston.

The Welcome motored the last 36 hours of our voyage in variable winds ranging from zero to five knots south, right on the nose. The crew conferred about whether it would be better to arrive in the middle night or early morning, and whose watch would be improved. We decided that a little sleep prior to going through customs would be preferable, and revved the engine to 2500 RPMs. The risk was that we would run out of fuel, since consumption increases with higher speeds. We had filled our 37 gallon internal tank in Bermuda, and carried an extra 10 gallons on deck in two five gallon yellow jerry jugs. We added the extra diesel to the main tank the last day, and placed bets about whether we would have sufficient fuel to motor to our destination. Wagers were taken about how much fuel, if any, would be left upon arrival. Without wind, our only alternative was to drift to Tortola. We celebrated what we assumed to be our final night at sea with white wine, cheese and saltines. We talked about how wonderful it had been. The final few days at sea erased those hellish days on the first leg. Everyone appeared enthusiastic for another leg. Wine is an amazing thing.

We trailed and then passed another sailboat rocking its way to Tortola. It was named Surprise, from Boise, Idaho. Its home port is a surprise but as we waved, we did not ask the obvious. As we slipped past the port side of the boat, porpoises began to jump around us. It was our first sighting of other mammals in six days. The sun set and we could see the reflection of the lights of St. Thomas and San Juan in the distant night sky. Eventually, the distant lights of Tortola were spotted. Donna slept the cockpit under the stars when Michael came on watch at 2:30 a.m. When she woke up at 3:30, Jay was in the cockpit, and Tortola was visible. Ann came up, and we all offered advice as Michael steered us to our destination. Heavy cloud coverage eliminated the usual moon light. Despite the lack of navigation aids on the charts, there was a blinking white light on shore. Unable to see it with the night-vision goggles and after some debate about whether it was set by pirates
trying to lure us into danger, we left it on port, and saw the anchor lights of resting sailboats in Soper's Hole. We searched for the BVI custom's building, and picked up a mooring. It was 5 a.m. on November 24, 2005, seven days after leaving Bermuda. We could smell the flowers on the island. Dogs howled in the distance. Roosters were beginning their morning announcements. It was very different than the noises of the sea. We all crashed into dream filled sleep, with Ann and Michael sleeping on deck. Our wake up call was rain. Some fellow appeared demanding a fee for using the mooring, but Donna sent him on his way by declaring that the boat had not been there long enough to warrant at fee.

Customs opened at 8:30. We brought the boat to the cement dock about an hour ahead of time. Jay decided to not declare the flare guns unless asked, so he carried them in his pockets. We cleared Customs after paying a $200 duty for "temporarily importing" the boat. No request for flare guns was made, so John Wayne remained armed. We went across the small harbor to the fuel dock, and filled up with 31.8 gallons of diesel. Ann won the bet. Michael offered to pay for a marina berth for the day to help us unload. We all packed our duffels, loaded the extra food into bags, and then called our spouses at the rental house, Jacaranda. Rachel answered and you could hear the scream all over Tortola. Was it because we arrived, or because she won the on land bet about when we would call? Instantly, our spouses appeared. A better landing cannot be imagined.

The next day, we got to the marina early and did a very thorough deep cleaning of the boat. We sailed to our new home. The on shore crew got a taste of how wonderful sailing can be as we beat our way east up Sir Francis Drake Channel. We brought the boat to its winter berth at Penn's Landing on the East End of Tortola. We all agreed that it will be a good place for Welcome to rest. Donna arranged for the stuffing box to be tightened, the bilge pump to be repaired, and the wood work to be replenished. It is a small marina, but it had a number of fine boats in its care, and from what we could see, the care was top notch. Walter at Penn's Landing, went through the boat systems with Donna. The marina staff will be checking systems. Walter , the manager, reminisced about his visits to Boston, and sailing at the Boston Sailing Center, a place where Jay was once the manager and Donna once worked.

One important note about our blog readers, both Admiral Mike (a friend of Kate and Donna's) and Brad (a friend of Ann and Rachel's), respectfully noted that our blog entry about the square mileage of our vista was incorrect. Mike McKenna notes " I cannot, however, let your math problem go by without comment. For a height of eye of 6 feet, the distance to the horizon is about 2.9 nautical miles, not 15. The formula is: Square root of the height of eye in feet multiplied by (about) 1.17 is the distance to the horizon in nautical miles. Square root of 6 = ~2.5; 2.5 x 1.17 = 2.9 nm. Example using simpler number: height of eye 9 ft, square root is 3. Multiply by 1.17 = 3.51 nautical miles. Because of the uncertainties in estimating height of eye, difficulty in doing arithmetic, etc., I usually simplify the process by just choosing a height of 9 feet instead of 6, and multiply the square root (3) times 1.1 instead of 1.17 to get a distance to the horizon of 3.3 nm (3 x 1.1). Close enough for government work. If you want to know how far away you can see a 100-foot high lighthouse on the coast if your height of eye is 9 feet:
Distance to horizon for your eye: 3.3 nm
Distance to horizon for top of lighthouse: 11.0 nm (square root of 100 Distance to the LH when you just can see its top: 14.3 nm (the sum of the two above)
(If you used 6 foot height of eye and the 1.17 factor, you would have gotten 15.2 nm.) No big deal.

You can use a variation of that procedure for estimating the distance to a passing ship which is hull-down (its water line is below the direct path of your vision), using a guess of how much of the ship you cannot see for its height. A caveat: all these calculations are based upon having no atmosphere through which you view the object or the horizon. You'll usually be able to see something like 10% farther because of the refraction of the light rays arriving at your eye. Proof is left to the student."

That means our entry bragging about a 708 square mileage view is SUBSTANTIALLY off, and our view was more like 34 square miles.

After a few days with our spouses in this group situation, we have run out of stories to tell. We are just satisfied with having done something that was personally challenging. We faced previously unimaginable situations, yet situations which were mundane to the many who sailed before us and which became ordinary to us. We stretched and were rewarded. It is now easier to imagine the next adventure. We have been overwhelmed by the support of our shore crew and the interest shown by our blog readers. Thank you all. It really helped knowing that we had a community rooting for us, and wishing that they could do something like this. Our advice: if you have a wish, make it happen. You will not regret your effort. Life is short and you do not know when it will end.

Bon voyage and bon courage

The Crew of Welcome III

Wednesday, November 23, 2005

Wednesday, November 23, 2005 at 10:00 a.m.

We have been doing math problems. If you are sitting approximately 6 feet above sea level and visibility is unlimited, we estimated that you can see 15 miles to the horizon. Since you can see 360 degrees around you, how many square miles can you see? We determined that we can see approximately 708 square miles. No one is in sight (outside of the crew on Welcome III, of course).

It appears that this will be the last full day of our voyage south. We are at 20 12.305 N 64 53.114 W. We have traveled 797 nm since Bermuda and 1,501 nm since Boston. If we steer the rhumbline, we have 109 nm to go to check in at customs, and another 20 or so to get to Penns Landing, our winter berth. Winds are less than 5 knots, but should build a little out of the SW. After dealing with strong winds out of the south yesterday, and being forced to deviate from our course, the seas turned placid and the wind disappeared overnight. We have been using the iron sail to make progress. Blue sky, clear water, a few clouds as a garnish - it is quite wonderful.

This morning we stopped the boat and went for a swim in the calm water. There was almost no drift. We scrubbed our bodies with Dr. Bronner's Magic Soap, and jumped in to rinse. Ann made coffee and bran muffins to replenish our energy after such exertion. The water was 82.3 degrees - warmer than most swimming pools. Donna scrubbed the waterline. We threw in the Crew Overboard pole with the strobe light and horseshoe ring to see it work. The Crew Overboard pole is meant to wave high above the waves to aid locating a lost crew member. Shockingly, it sank. One should test gear before using it.

We have taken on the rhythms of the day. Most evenings, Ann serves a hot, one bowl meal at around 5 p.m. Shortly after sunset, all but the person on watch retires for the evening. We have taken on this practice without discussion. In part, it is because cabin lights will hinder the ability of the person on watch to see in the dark. Also, we want to be rested for our middle of the night watches. Most sailboats this size, including Pacific Seacraft, declare that the boat sleeps six. That is not true. Right now, this boat sleeps three. The aft bunk, next to the engine compartment, has been dubbed the MRI unit. To get into it, you have to slide your body into a box which is 21 inches high and 36 inches wide at its widest. It tapers as it goes back. It is a single. Going forward, in the main salon (which implies that there is a minor salon - not true) there is a settee on port. With the back cushion off, this becomes a bunk, 23 inches wide, at its widest. It tapers as it goes forward. However, it is only useful as sleeping quarters at a mooring or on a starboard tack. If on a port tack, you spend most of your time in it trying not to roll out onto the cabin floor. This berth is now being used to stow all of our duffel bags and to hang our foul weather gear and other wet items above. Michael and Donna rigged a lee cloth for it. A lee cloth is netting or cloth fastened under the cushion and then tied to the hand rail above. It prevents items from rolling on the floor. It is usually used to keep a person in a bunk, but we suspect it would be claustrophobic. On starboard, there is another settee, but this one is wider due to an insert which expands it to the edge of the folded table in the center of the cabin. This berth could be used for a human and a cat, but not two humans. The table acts as the lee cloth on a starboard tack, and the wall provides support on a port tack. All the way forward, past the head (the bathroom to you landlubbers), there is the princess cabin. This is the boat's version of a private room. It supposedly sleeps two, but in order to do so comfortably, the two would have to be very small, or the boat would have to be at a marina and not rocking. The starboard wall provides support on a port tack, but one has to wedge one's feet against a cabinet in order to feign sleep on a starboard tack. The cabin also has two tiny hanging lockers (for clothes), three small drawers, access to the anchor chain locker, and two small cabinets. It is useful to have one person on watch since the boat sleeps only three in practice. The person going on watch gathers up his or her sleeping bag and pillow and tosses them on the pile of duffel bags. This frees the berth for the person coming off watch. No one gets to sleep in the same bunk for the whole night. Jay, who has watches at 10 and 4, sleeps in all three berths each night. Donna, with watches at 7 and 1, uses only two. Under all of the bunks are oddly shaped compartments into which hardly used gear is thrown. Under the forward and aft berths, there are the two 40 gallon water tanks. If full, one can feel the water sloshing in the tank below.

Night watches can be awe inspiring. Watching the moon rise, steering by the stars, seeing the cloud formations play with the night time light can be overwhelming. And if you do begin to doze, you can watch the chart plotter announce the number of days, hours and minutes until your destination. Gusts of winds spur the boat forward, and the minutes disappear. The one steering for 90 minutes is often startled by the person coming on watch. Exchanges are made about appropriate attire (is it cold out, or warm, or wet?). We whisper about wind, direction (always south), waves, shooting stars, and signs of traffic. A quiet “sleep tight” is offered.

The crew is well rested and excited about landfall Tortola. Our weeks, days and hours at sea are waning. We have learned much about the capacity of the boat, our capacity as individuals, and our ability to work as a team. Michael jokes about a T to B quotient. The query is whether he would willingly join the sail back to Boston. A ten means that he would definitely sail the boat back to Boston in the spring. A one is, well, there is no chance that he would do it for a million dollars. This day has been a ten for all of us. The voyage has been a good thing to do.

Welcome III

Tuesday, November 22, 2005

Tuesday, November 22, 2005 10:30 a.m.

Welcome III reporting from 22 05.009 N 64 59.749 W. 16.7 nautical miles west off of our rhumbline. Compass heading right now is 250, and we are moving at about 6 knots, but in the wrong direction. Our bearing to Tortola is 191 . Our new measure of progress is velocity made good, rather than distance and speed. We are 1,368 miles from Boston. 633 miles from Bermuda. 222.3 miles to go to Tortola. The wind turned southwest overnight. We went from a single reefed main with staysail, to a full main, staysail and geneo overnight. We are strategizing our tacks with weather charts indicating that the wind will turn easterly within 24 hours. Seas are now a moderate 3-5 feet, and wind is approximately 10-15. Water temp is 81.8. Air temp is 83.6. It feels hot and humid. Barometric pressure is 1010.8. A swim might be on the schedule for today. Given the heat, we have adjusted our safety standards while in the cockpit during the day. Life jackets are optional. Hypothermia at this sea temperature sets in over several days, not minutes. One might prefer to be shark bait rather than swim for days.

Yesterday was the sribe's 49th birthday. The celebration began with a card and a present in the morning. The present was a book of photographs of stray dogs of the Greek Islands. Anyone who knows the scribe knows that dogs take up as much brain disk space as sailing. It was a good present. A special dinner of Indian food ala Trader Joe's was prepared, and the cork on a good bottle of champagne was popped. Ann had made a wonderful orange pound cake which was presented with eight candles. The wind god made a wish and blew them out. We never established why eight, but there is suspiscion it is because that is how many candles were left in the birthday candle carton. Michael presented Donna with a beautiful hand painted tee shirt of a sailboat, with Welcome III, The Great Adventure, November 2005 written underneath. It was painted by a physician at his health center. Also in the bag was a box of Joseph Schmidt's chocolates. One third remain as this is being written. Ann gave Donna the watch off of her wrist. A very generous present given it leaves her without a watch. Neptune had stolen Donna's Timex as she struggled to keep a jerry can of diesel fuel on board during the first leg of the voyage.

Kate, Liza, Rachel and George were scheduled to arrive by plane in Tortola last night. They are renting a house in the West End. We hope they are entertaining themselves, and not buying too much in the way of food. Despite the increase in consumption on board, we have ample supplies remaining. We switched to our second (and last) 40 gallon water tank yesterday. Both tanks were full in Bermuda. The water in the tanks is used for cooking, washing dishes and limited bathing. Drinking water is taken from separate jugs.

Boats make a lot of noise underway. Halyards bang against the mast. Waves smash into the hull. Dishes rattle, water in tanks sloshes, the gimbled stove creaks. But Michael commented that the loudest noise is the sound of laughter.

We anticipate Landfall Tortola Thursday moring, just in time for the Thanksgiving tofurkey. A list of onshore preparations is being compiled in order to leave the boat there for the winter. As lovely as this leg has been, we will be happy to see our spouses and to be on land once again, plotting the return voyage North in the Spring.

Sunday, November 20, 2005

Sunday, November 2005, 3:00 pm

Team Welcome reporting in from 26 13.300 N 64 41.077 W. NE winds, 20-25 knots right now. Seas: big. We have seen boat speeds exceeding 8 knots this afternoon, but we are generally cruising in the 6+ knot lane. Full mainsail plus the genoa are flying. Our bearing remains 194 degrees magnetic. We have come 1,094.3 nm since leaving Boston. We hit the 1,000 nm mark last night on Michael's watch. 477 nm to go to get to Tortola. Air temperature is 79.5 degrees; sea temperature is 80.1 degrees. Sunny skies earlier in the day have given in to clouds with a few squall lines visible.

We determined that we were further from land today than at any other point in our trip. We doused the sails in the heavy seas. Depth was 15,800 feet. We went for a swim. To do this and not have the boat drift away, we used the para anchor. A para anchor is similar to a parachute. It spans 9 feet. One drops it into the water on the windward side of the boat, and lets out a couple of boat lengths of line. For this purpose, Jay purchased 450 feet of museum quality 3/4 inch braided line with a stainless steel thimble spliced into the end and a huge stainless steel shackle to attach the para anchor. After the para anchor is dropped in the water it magically opens and looks like a giant orange jelly fish on its side. It floats off of the bow and keeps the bow into the wind and waves. Retrieving it is a little tricky, and required some engine power, but there is a float with a trip line that helps to collapse the para anchor. Trying out the para anchor and the swim were worth the loss of forward mileage. We did not see any sharks.

It was so mild earlier in the day that we cracked open the hatches. With the building wind and seas, we were smacked with a big wave on the port. The water poured into the cabin and turned one of the berths into a water bed. Not sure who will get that berth tonight.

We have talked a lot about the various attributes of ocean going sailboats. In our modest six boat marina in Bermuda, all boats were headed to the islands. All were cutter rigs, meaning that they all had two head sails, in addition to the mainsail. The cutter rig really does make high winds and heavy seas manageable, since sail changes are much easier and safer than with a traditional sloop rig. We like this boat.

Next to us in the marina was an approximately 50' Island Packet "Brother Wind" with a British couple just beginning their voyage around the world. They blew out both their head sails in the Gulf Stream and suffered engine failure every time they would increase RPMs. They were headed to the BVIs, after being unable to secure visas for the American Virgins Islands. Next to that boat was a new Hinckley "Patriot" of around 70'. It had five crew aboard - no owner in sight. It was headed to Antigua. A brand new Hylas 54 named Heart Jump was next. It had unsecured wireless access, and occasionally you would see people sitting on the dock with their laptops accessing the Internet when the Hylas had its system open. Mike and Jennifer and their Pekingese sent the kids to college and said that they sold all their possession to sail for a few years. The type of boat lead us to believe that their bank account was much larger than the story implies. "Ticonderoga of Greenwich" is a beautiful old yawl maintained as though new. Tom was the weather guru of the marina and was waiting for a weather window to bring the boat to Antigua for charter. He has been the paid captain of that boat for 20 years, and had two young men from Antigua on board as crew. Finally, "Emily Martha Kate" was a swan cutter around 55' long. Emily, Martha, Kate, mother Rosemary, father and 17 year old cat were on board. They were at the beginning of a year long sabbatical. Dad was taking a year off from his work as a physician. It is good to have a physician on board, it was explained, since when Rosemary smashed her head during their crossing of the Gulf Stream, her husband was available to sew in eight stitches. Emily had just finished college and was applying to medical school. Martha was getting credit from her college for biology research, and Kate had turned 16 and left high school for this trip. They left for St. Martins the day we left. We not only had the smallest boat, but our ambitions were the most modest.

There really are flying fish, and we have seen them.

Cheers.

Saturday, November 19, 2005

Saturday, November 19, 2005 9.m.

Greetings from 28 44.630N 64 42.971W. Air temperature is 76.4F, water temperature is 75.4F. It is a partly sunny day, winds are N-NE at 10-15 knots. Our speed hovers around 4 knots, running before the wind. We have occasional bursts of speed as big swells move us forward. We have logged 222 nm since leaving Bermuda. 620 nm to Soper's Hole in Tortola. Our bearing is 194. The boat's rocking has a predicable rhythm to it.

We are on the third day of the second leg of our voyage. Excitement abounds. We spotted a group of five white birds this morning cavorting above our mast - they looked like shearwaters but were not in North Atlantic bird book on board, so their identity remains a mystery. A cargo ship passed our stern during the night, headed east. We spotted the stern light of another slow moving vessel, probably a sailboat, on the same rhumbline. The water is a magnificent dark blue turquiose color.

We no longer wear our foulies. Even if we get a sprinkle, windbreakers are enough. The watches have started to become habitual.

We have discovered the essence of life at sea - an autopilot. Whether operated as a wind vane or electronic ram drive connected to the rudder, an autopilot will make minute adjustments in the course to account forvariations caused by wind and waves far more quickly and far more accurately than we mere humans. On a good watch, our course fluctuates 10 degrees on either side of the rhumbline. Running before the wind and waves, a constant struggle against 25 degree variations ensues. We regularly are a mile or two off of our rhumbline.

Everything else seems to work. The number of important repair or improvement projects have diminished. Sleeping, reading, eating and steering have taken over our lives. Things seem simple. Work for money is a distant bad dream. We are trying to savor the moment.

Friday, November 18, 2005

From 29.50.235N, 64.39.659W.

We have been sailing within 3 miles of the rumbline to BVI. Waypoints have been set for every 100 miles or so – each one titled “x00 miles to go.” The weather since leaving Bermuda has been great. The skies clear and the wind light, but generally enough to keep us going an average of 5kph. The water is 74.7F. Last night we motored for approximately 9 hours after boat speed dropped to less than 2 kph. . We estimate that we have sufficient diesel to run the engine 70+ hours before we have consumed the 37 gallons in the tank and the 10 gallons on deck. Today we flew the spinnaker for an hour or two. We also saw a ship that passed within two miles of us. There is no indication if we were seen by it.

Everyone is well rested. The new seasickness meds are great. We all have solid appetites and feel good. I fear my days of losing weight at sea are over. Tonight two of the crew had a small glass of white wine with dinner. Group dinners, wine, sunsets – so far this leg has been very different from the first leg. Today Ann made us pancakes for breakfast; dinner was a stew of cabbage, onions, tomatoes, feta, nuts ‘n stuff. It was all very good.

Sadly, today we found another suicidal flying fish deceased on our deck. Perhaps we should be patrolling more frequently. The ship's uniform has become short pants and a light shirt. In the evening maybe an additional coat or foul weather pants. The boat is working well.

We are all looking forward to seeing our loved ones soon.

Team Welcome.

Thursday, November 17, 2005

Thursday, November 17

6 p.m. Somewhere around 30 miles and 181 degrees off of Bermuda. Coordinates are 31 44.354N 064 40.494W. Seas at 7 - 9 feet. Winds SE 10-15. Water temperature is 75 F. Air temperature is 76.6 F. Last night was a full moon, and tonight clouds are distant. Our boat speed runs between 5 and 6 knots.

We left St. George's Harbor around 10 a.m. after a busy morning. Donna went to try to retreive the new Simrad chartplotter/radar from DHL at the airport. It was only after desperately declaring that her ship was leaving at 10 a.m. that the package was found. However, it could not be given directly to her. It had to be sent by truck to the Yacht Reporting Center in St. George for delivery at 9:30. Donna took the bus back, and waited for it to arrive at 10 a.m. on the dot. The new unit did not work - just like the old unit. The problem was traced to a fuse in the radar unit. Luckily, the new system had the same fuse for a different application, so a fuse was found to repair the chartplotter. It is up and running.

The bilge pump is up and running too. All of the time. We determined that after it emptied the bilge, it fills it up again and the cycle continues. We closed the through hull fitting, and will pump the bilge manually once or twice a day.

While Donna secured the redundant chartplotter, the rest of the crew waited in a long line of boats to fuel. 22 gallons of diesel fuel ran $130. Cars on the island are small and get 60 mpg. It probably won't be long before Americans join the rest of the world in paying large sums for fuel.

We set up 1.5 hour watches again. Because the autopilot has died, the next 800 miles or so to our destination will be steered by hand. Admiral Mike will be proud of us.

Those prone to seasickness on board purchased large quantities of a new motion sickness drug available in Bermuda. It is named Stugeron or something like that. It appears to work miracles, because all of us are fully functioning. Eating seems appealing.

Bernie was given our 2005 West Marine catalog, which was a much more welcome tip than any money would have been. He is a sweet man, and really helped make our overstay in Bermuda bearable with weather tips and information.

We are close hauled. The wind is supposed to turn NE tomorrow and we will be on a comfortable reach, at least for a few days. Sailing like this is what it is supposed to be about.

Welcome III

Wednesday, November 16, 2005

Another Day in Port

The hapless crew of Welcome III remains in Bermuda waiting for a favorable weather window. We learned today that the autopilot needs a new brain, and alas, there are no brains on the island. Craig, from Marine Communications, proved to be a gem, despite the fact that he could not fix our autopilot. He broke and repaired our instruments over the course of two visits. We thanked him with a gin and tonic. He assured us that we not the smallest boat to ever take this trip. DHL has apparently lost the new Simrad chartplotter/radar - sent overnight three days ago. Tiffany at DHL told me that she does not understand why DHL people say that things can be sent overnight to Bermuda when that never happens. There is some debate within DHL about whether the instrument is on a truck or on a ramp, but there is no question that it has arrived in Bermuda.

Finally adjusting to island life, Jay, Ann and Michael had beer at lunch. Later, Jay washed laundry. Michael took it off the temporary laundry line, and dropped Jay's sock in the water. After retreiving the gold plated boat hook and failing to get the sock, he regretted not jumping in after it. Michael and Ann spent time trying to find a timer which can accomodate 90 minute shifts, but could only find a suggestion from a clerk that we adjust our watches to 60 minutes each so that she could sell us a timer. Herb, on shortwave radio station 12359, out of Toronto, has pronounced the opening of a weather window tomorrow from Bermuda going south. Charter captains from the mega yachts gathered around the picnic table at the marina to dissect Herb's analysis with the riffraff listening in trying to glean a little courage. There will be a mass exodus. Only one of the six boats at this marina will stay beyond this window. Even Bernie, our dockmaster, is leaving. He is going to New Hampshire to accompany his grand poohbah wife to a Kiwanas' meeting in North Conway. Jay and Ann have gone to Customs to check out. The customs agent will return our flare guns as long as we promise to stow them in a place that is secure. We need to add some diesel fuel. Donna will go to DHL in the morning to stir up a little anxiety. We are eager to leave and begin the second leg. Tortola - seven to ten days away - here we come.

Welcome III

Tuesday, November 15, 2005

A live parrot on Donna's shoulder

Still Ignorant

Michael, still oblivious to the fact
that he is doing Jay's laundry.

Chores on shore

The ship's medic at work

The plank at Captain Smokes Marina

Terra Firma

The ship's carpenter

Posting to the Blog

Gulf Stream passage

The Sea

Jay on his night watch

Flying the Spinnaker

Leaving Boston November 7


Monday, November 14, 2005

Monday, November 14

Bermuda is crowded with sailboats waiting to go south. Two tropical waves, tropical depressions, huge seas and gathering gales have forced larger boats than ours to wait for a favorable weather window. Life at the marina is a series of chores. Every chore costs $40. Weld the spoke of the steering wheel. Done. $40 please. Cab ride to Hamilton to pick up marine supplies. Done. $40 please. Fix block for the running back stay. Done. $40 please. Get new boat hook. Done. One and one-half times $40 please. Voyager Marine in Essex, Massachusetts has arranged for a new Simrad chartplotter/radar to be flown to us. It is supposed to arrive tomorrow. We are to pick it up at customs, and it will be duty-free because we are a boat in transit. All under warranty. One hundred times $40 avoided. Excellent. If she doesn't abandon this expensive hobby, Donna will make all future electronic purchases at Voyager. That sort of service is definitely worth bragging about. The only real repair outstanding is the autopilot. The two competing repair men in Bermuda referred us to the other in order to get faster service. We have made an appointment with Craig Scott or Scott Craig of Marine Comminications to look at it maybe Wednesday but even more likely sometime Thursday. Island time. Everyone is busy. After the Simrad arrives tomorrow, we will leave with the first favorable forecast, autopilot working or not. We have been encouraged by the wisdom of our friend Admiral Mike, who laughed at the wimps looking to have a machine steer. Plus, we think that the one and one half hour watches will make driving much easier to endure. With large seas, manually steering a sailboat can be very tiring as you manipulate the rudder to prevent the sail from jibing and the boat from pitching. Ann did the provisioning today for the rest of the voyage. Michael has been on top of the weather and has been commiserating with others about the convergence of possible wind and wave action. If we can't leave by Thursday, we may have to keep the boat here for a month so that we can join our spouses in Tortola for Thanksgiving. However, water tanks have been filled, and the diesel jerry cans secured. Jack lines are tighter. The boat has been washed. We are drinking gin and tonics. Life is good.

Welcome III

Sunday, November 13, 2005

Sunday, November 13, 2005

Welcome III arrived in the lovely archipelago of Bermuda yesterday at around 8:30 p.m. Atlantic time after five and one-half days at sea. Jay was excited to raise both our Bermuda flag and the yellow quarantine flag required to be flown until a boat clears customs. We checked in with Bermuda Harbor Radio on VHF channel 16 as local protocol requires. We approached Bermuda from the north, but the mandatory entry to clear customs is St. George's Harbor on the south side. Huge coral reefs surround Bermuda. Heavy seas, high winds and and our lack of familiarity with the navigation lights made entry somewhat treacherous. Danny, running Bermuda Harbor Radio, followed our entry on radar and maintained constant radio contact with us giving us precise directions for entering the harbor. He also asked us a lot of questions which seemed designed to test us, such as whether we were northeast or southeast from various flashing buoys. Michael did a superb job of driving, Ann was in charge of visual navigation, Jay and I reviewed the Nobeltec charts on the PC and conversed with Danny from the cabin.

Customs is on Ordnance Island. We were met by Bernie, who directed us to shift our fenders and docking lines to the other side and to dock on the port. He took our docking lines and helped us with lots of advice about docking in a thick accent. He told us to remove the flare guns from the boat and to go inside. As we climbed off the boat, we saw a recently deceased and squished flying fish on our deck. We stumbled along the pier, still rocking after so many days on the boat. We became silly with our joy of arrival. We walked around still wearing our foulies and life jackets. The fellow who stamped us in at customs and confiscated the flare guns did not seem amused by our hilarious comments. A shocking lack of humor. Perhaps the fumes from an unwashed crew deprived him of his senses. More likely, we were just being fools. But, it does seem universal that the people who join the customs services in every country are required to have dour personalities. When we exited, Bernie asked us where we were staying and we asked for advice. He gave us a card for Captain Smokes Marina down the harbor a ways and hopped in his car to meet us there, since everyone else was "out partying." Promised that there would be showers there. Turns out that Bernie monitors Bermuda Harbor Radio and runs down to greet boats and direct them to his marina.

Captain Smokes Marina sits at 32 22.688 N, 064 40.934 W. We arrived at the darkened marina consisting of about seven other much larger sailboats all backed into a cement wall. Bernie shouted from shore that he had a line to pass us to tie to our bow as we backed in and we should grab our boat hook. We learned that Neptune stole the boat hook offshore, and Bernie needed to physically pass the line to us. As most sailors know, sailboats are not meant to back up. If you have an engine, the boat generally backs to port. Never straight. Plus, the boat is influenced by currents and wind. Take it slowly. Ann and I put out lines. Micheal jumped on the next boat with a line to help maneuver and fend off. Jay brought the boat back flawlessly. As the boat now sits with three lines off the stern. How to exit? Well, one literally has to walk a plank from the stern rail to the cement wall above. Since we did not have any balance left, we were all petrified to cross the ten foot span on an eighteen inch board. However, motivated by the promise of showers, we braved the plank to discover one shower in this luxury marina. One more than we had seen in almost a week, we were happy. And, at last, clean.

We celebrated our arrival with wine and pistachios and calls to spouses. We joked about how nice it was going to be to use a toilet without both legs braced against the wall and hands holding tight to rails as it rocked beneath us. Despite our pleasure with the new watch system of 90 minutes, we were thrilled to be off watch and for the first time, all four bunks were used for a solid night's sleep for all.

Bernie was at the stern of the boat this morning, claiming that the plank had dropped in the water overnight, but he had put it back. Bernie was born on the island of Bermuda, and is in his seventies. He has done a lot of off shore sailing, and was quite willing to address whatever questions we might have about laundry, breakfast, chandleries, etc. Asked for a recommendation for a breakfast place, he gave us directions to Goals Club. A long walk but worth it for a good English breakfast of bangers. How long a walk? Maybe seven minutes or so, he thought. On the way, Ann explained to the vegetarians among us that bangers are a type of sausage. Climbing the hill to breakfast, turns out that Goals Glub was actually a golf club with a restaurant named Mulligans. Despite the fact that none of us have ever eaten at a club that had good food, we ventured forth for a surprisingly satisfying meal.

The eleventh minute, of the eleventh day of the eleventh month was two days ago, but Bermuda commemorated its veterans (or really the Crown's veterans) with a memorial day ceremony in the town square today. We happened upon the ceremony as we were walking back from breakfast. It started with the military guard accidently dropping the flag on the ground, and the watching police captain turnign around to hide his laughter. Next came the arrival of the Crown's appointed premier, the governor, and the leader of the opposition party. Lined up were the fire department in their blue polo shirts and baseball caps, the police force in quite wonderful uniforms reminiscent of the red uniforms of the Queen's guards, the navy (20 men), the army (about 25 men and women), veterans ( many older men and one white woman), boy scouts (maybe eight boys) and brownies (ten young girls in drooping knee socks, skirts and yellow sweatshirts). One of the fire fighters keeled over, flat on his face. No one at attention moved. The dignitaries walked among those standing at attention inspecting the troops. A band of overweight musicians played what we assume to be patriotic music. The dignitaries were each given a wreath the place at the base of a memorial statue. A minister talked about our duty to spread the word of god around the world. Colonialism is not dead. The top of the hierarchy walked up the hill to the Anglican church for service and those who were part of the ceremony paraded past us, brownies last in line.

We checked out the local grocery store and were delighted to see a large supply of gin. We were greatly disappointed to be refused the opportunity to buy it, this being a Sunday. Many boat chores were begun, and some even finished. Cushions were thrown outside for drying. Bins were opened to dry. Laundry gathered and put in garbage bags. Drop, wash and fold was not available at the laundromat, so we decided to wait until Monday to get our laundry done. Michael was so disgusted with his dirty clothing that he grabbed the large bucket from the boat to soak all of his high tech synthetics. The odor eating properties of the fabrics had failed. The festering mass required immediate attention. He was so appalled that he did not examine what he dropped into the disinfectant. He traveled the gang plank at various tides to stir his brew. It was not until the end of the day, when he went to dry the clothing, that he discovered he had done Jay's laundry. His remained in a similar garbage bag still festering under a bunk on the boat.

Nothing is open in Bermuda on Sunday, at least not on the east end of Bermuda. We compiled a list for tomorrow's chores and did what we could with tools and parts on board. The manual bilge pump was disassembled to determine why it was not pumping. A small wooden splinter was removed and it now works. The electric bilge pump was removed to ready the boat for its replacement tomorrow. Michael sewed the battered leech of the stay sail, and repaired the casing for the life sling. He has a future as a chandler. Ann dealt with provisions, dumped rotted food, rearranged the food which was still good, assessed needs, made lunch, put many band aids on Michael, and otherwise tried to organize the disorganization below. The lazy jacks for the mainsail was repaired. That involved yet another trip up the mast with Donna in the Bosun's chair. We re rigged the sheets on the stay sail to enable quick release in the event that the storm jib needs to be raised. Jay hung his soaked navigation CDs in an attempt to salvage them. During lunch, we notice that one on the spokes of the steering wheel was broken and the need for a welder was discovered. Bernie offered to drive Donna to one in the morning. Michael and Ann are headed to the Laundromat and cybercafe tomorrow. Jay is headed to the chandlery in Hamilton for a book hook, bilge pump, new block for the running back stay, and who knows what other essentials which will appear between now and then. Donna will try to get the electronics tended to.

The best part of this marina is the other sailors. Everyone is heading south. Everyone has storm stories. Others suffered far greater challenges than we did, despite superior boats. Equipment breakage seems to be fairly distributed. One woman showed me her eight stitches from a fall similar to the one Ann took. Most sailors are waiting until at least Thursday because of two weather systems promising large westerly waves against strong easterly winds. We are still assessing our departure day depending on the weather and repairs yet to be made. We will keep you updated.

The crew of Welcome III.

Saturday, November 12, 2005

Saturday, November 12, 2005 8:45 a.m.

45 miles to the vicinity of Bermuda. Current position is 33.06.238N 065.02.466W. Seas are 15 feet or so. Winds NW 25-35 with occasional gusts into the low forties. It is partly sunny. Water is a balmy 74.5 . Air is 68.5F. Our attempted bearing is 173 degrees magnetic. With these big swells, it is impossible to remain on course for more than a few seconds. The mainsail is double reefed, no jibs.Occasional spray into the cockpit. A few passing squalls. A lot of rocking and rolling, but after what we have been through, it seems like easy sailing. Michael says that being in the Gulf Stream is like being in another country.

With the passing of the autopilot, things on board have changed. We have gone into solo watches of 90 minutes each. Less safe but each person driving is tethered. Michael and Ann have a good handle on steering and seems comfortable at the helm. Each watch is a concentration of steering through the waves and gusts of winds. However, the shorter watches, four times a day per person, mean that we are on watch half the time as before. People are able to sleep more. There is more time for projects. Projects include bailing the bilge, making tea/coffee, making meals to share. Last night Ann made us a wonderful couscous, spinach, pine nut and cheese combo. I am sure it had a name besides "good", but I don't know that name. We keep two half liter bottles of water in the cockpit for community beverages during watches. There are also dried apricots, stoned wheat thins and Hershey Kisses with Almonds in the cockpit winch bins.

The biggest project undertaken by everyone is getting reach for each watch. About ten minutes before your time, you inch out of your sleeping bag. Since the person getting off watch will use your bunk, you have to roll up your bag and stow it forward. No need to put on long underwear, since it is what you have slept in. Using a red headlamp to avoid destroying your night vision, you grope around your duffel bag for dry socks. Finding none, you put on the least soggy of the socks you have. Wedging yourself against the cabin wall and whatever is across from you, you put one leg into your farmer john foul weather bottoms. You then pull it out and undo the inside cuff which you neglected to open and which makes inserting your foot impossible. Having successfully put the right leg in, you repeat the procedure with the left leg. Sitting once again, you lift your right leg and place it on a nearby wall to fasten the inside cuff. Repeat with the other leg and cuff. You then shake the water out of your waterproof boots, and pull them over the inside cuffs. Fasten the outside pant cuffs over the boots. All of the fastening is done with Velcro. Done with the lower half, you then pull a heavy shirt or second long underwear top over your torso. A fleece vest or heavy jacket follows. The suspenders of your foul weather bottoms are pulled over your shoulders, and you zip the front of the foul weather bottoms closed. You then find your foul weather jacket and insert the arms. The jackets also have an inner and outer cuff on each arm, so as often as not you have to pull your arms out in order to open the inner cuffs. Jacket on, you close the inner cuffs. Right now, gloves are optional. If you have gloves that are not wet, you might fasten the outer cuffs over the gloves. Zip up the jacket. Put on a hat. Pull the hood over the hat. Done? Not yet. Find your life jacket and put that over everything else and lock the harness portion in place. Make your way to the companionway, reach into the cockpit to find your tether, snap ity on, and you are ready for your watch. Getting off watch is the reverse.

We are all excited at the prospect of getting to land. Showers and laundry will be first on the list after clearing customs. We will also see about a new bilge pump and a repair or replacement of the auto helm. Not sure what we will find open on a Sunday. We all need a break and a good night's sleep.

Ann is our on board medic. She stocked us with emergency medical supplies. Both she and Michael took CPR. Unfortunately, our medic fell in the cabin and hit her head, creating a cut. She does not think that it needs stitches, and has refused offers of super glue and duct tape. She says she is fine, but we were all willing to relieve her from further watches. She refused and has taken her turn. No nausea other than the usual seasickness, and she diagnosed that there is not a concussion. She is fine, given the whack on the head.

Donna.

Friday, November 11, 2005

Friday, November 11 at 1:30 p.m.

Everyone on shore should rejoice that you have not joined this voyage. Last night we endured 45-50 knot winds - sustained. It veered from SW to NW. Seas were up to 20'. Concentrated squalls with embedded lightning, driving rain, soaking spray - we were not to be envied.Visibility was 10' or so. In the heavy seas, Jay's computer was smashed, we lost our SIMRAD chartplotter, bilge pump appears to have broken beyond repair, and our auto-pilot concked out. We spent the last 20 hours driving instead of using an autopilot to steer. Foul weather gear was not built for this weather - we were all cold and soaked. Quality must be a relative term. We are exhausted. All of us experienced hallucintations last night. At one point I jumped up from the steering wheel to dodge a fishing net in the water. Night time is the scariest, even though there are no other vessels around to hit. We can't see to waves coming. Sleeping is impossible. If you lay down, you are tossed in the air as the boat pitches, and fall heavily on your most recent bruise.

Current position is 35.18.032 N 065.09.747 W. Seas are a relatively calm 10' with a quiet wind coming from the NW at 25-30 knots. We all commented that up to last night, we would have been nervous in these conditions, but now it seems easy. We are less than 200 miles from Bermuda. Anticipate entering the harbor Saturday night or Sunday morning - all under manual steering. We will attempt to get the autopilot repaired and will replace the bilge pump. Bermuda is less than halfway to Tortola. We will have 6 to 8 days offshore to our final desination. Stay tuned. Donna

Thursday, November 10 at 2:30 p.m.



Greetings as we exit the Gulf Stream. 272 miles until we get to Bermuda. Current location is 36.56.923N 65.10.792W. Winds out of the south 30-35 sustained, which means gale force. Seas are huge - the boat pops over the tops of swells and slides down the back side. The seas are also aggitated and coming from many different directions. This sea state is typical of
the Gulf Stream. We were unwilling to divert 127 miles West from our rhumbline to enter the Gulf Stream at its narrowest. Instead, we headed East and caught the east side of a north meander with southeasterly currents, and then sailed into the front side of a southerly meander to catch a southeast current. Our crossing was an insane 140 miles of squalls, heavy seas, and gale force winds. The plus was that the current gave us a 2 knot per hour lift, and pushed our speed over the ground to above 9 knots occasionally. We have seen one other boat in 24 hours. That was a cargo ship which passed two miles off our stern around 2 a.m. last night. I brought plenty of books for the voyage, but have not opened one. Each person is on watch for 12 hours each day, and in between, one tries to sleep. Fatigue is great. We had our first hot meal last night when Ann cooked up some veggies for a modified Nicoise Salad (I know I am spelling that wrong - apologies to all). Today, the only intake has been an english muffin for each person and an apple for two of us. It is too rough to make tea or coffee. We are looking forward to a break in this weather. Things are supposed to shift to the Northwest tonight, which should get us back on our rhumbline. Cheers from the deep blue, Donna

Wednesday, November 09, 2005

November 9, 8 a.m.

Greetings from 39.13.832N 67.13.188w. We are poking along at 4.5 knots with the wind 10-15 knots from the NE. Seas are relatively calm but with 5-7 foot swells. Water temperature is 62.6 F. You may wonder why we report water temperature. It is important to us because it will tell us when we enter the Gulf Stream. The Gulf Stream runs northeast along the US Atlantic coast and then crosses the Atlantic to northern Europe. The currents can be quite strong, and if you are in the Gulf Stream with the wind against the current, we are told that it is like being in a washing machine.

The voyage so far has been challenging. Going around Provincetown, the winds kicked up to around 25 knots, and tossed us like salad. We made excellent speed, and through yesterday, we had averaged 6.2 knots. That will come down today with the lighter winds. We ran through last night on a double reefed mainsail, without the aid of a jib. Life jackets are mandatory when in the cockpit or on deck. We all have auto inflatable life jackets for that slimming look. We also wear tethers most of the time. One would think that a tether would be a pain, but in fact it gives us quite a bit of comfort, and we can use our tethers to pull our aging bodies upright when necessary. We have jack-lines strung from bow to stern on both sides of the boat, and if we leave the cockpit to go on deck, we attach our tethers to the jack-lines to ensure that we do not have to perform unannounced crew overboard drills.

We will invest in the Dramamine company when we return home. We are certain that the stock has gone up based on our use alone. No need for seasickness suppositories, yet. We will have enough food leftover for the Christmas holidays. All appetites have been diminished with the rolling seas, but stomach seem to have subsided, and maybe we will even enjoy something besides stone wheat thins, dried fruit and nuts today. The only thing we have cooked has been tea and packaged cocoa. Our efforts at making coffee was a total disaster. The stove and cabin sole now have a nice tint to them. Because we have not been eating much, the refrigeration (aka ice box) has been working well. We did freeze the half gallon of milk but have not discovered other casualties.

We always have two people on watch. Jay and Donna trade off, and Michael and Ann trade off. Jay and Donna's schedule as a team runs from 9 to 1, 1 to 5, 5 to 9, 9 to 3 a.m. and 3 a.m. to 9 a.m. That schedule ensures that each day we are on for different hours than the day before. Michael and Ann trade off four hour watches. With six each day, their watches are the same each day. We have staggered the watches so that the only time the whole crew is awake and switching watches is at 3 a.m. I know, what dopes.

Nature abounds. Our regular morning visitors are porpoises or dolphins, not sure which. We have occasional gulls above. We thought we saw a toucan, but it might have been a lobster pot. We haven't seen another boat since Monday night. We are not sure what we are watching for. We get to see shooting stars at night, and phosphorescent algae in our wake.

Jay is disappointed that we have not yet used the rigging cutters, but Donna hopes that we will never have to use them. The life raft looks great on the deck. Michael and Jay did a superb job of mounting it, where we hope it stays. We may get to use the para-anchor off Bermuda because it looks like it will be the middle of the night when we arrive, and customs opens at 8 a.m.

It has been inconceivable that one could change clothing in these seas, much less bathe. Jay assures us that we can shower in Bermuda. Bermuda is 425 miles away.

Cheers for now.
S/V Welcome III

November 9 at 5:30 a.m.

Michael and I are on watch. We deviated from out rhumbline to avoid a front going into the Gulf Stream and to dodge a Gulf Stream meander, which would have made our crossing long and arduous. Current position is 39.22.131N 67.17.124W. Wind is NE 11-18, seas 3-5 ft. and dampening. Sea temp 61.5 F. Will enter the Gulf Stream today. More later. Donna

November 8 - 9.a.m.


Geetings from 40.34.614N 69.06.468W. Jay and Ann are on watch. Michael
is waiting for the anti-barf pill to kick in. Donna is letting you all
know that we are relatively well. Seas are heavy. Winds are from the
west at 25-30 knots. We are running our main and staysail. Average speed
is 6.1 knots over the course of the trip. We departed Monday at 8 a.m.
after waiting out a weather front. Clear skies and sunny right now.
Thankfully, air temperature remained in the low 50s throughout the night.
Best to all. Donna

Saturday, November 05, 2005

Update - Saturday, November 5, 2005

A very busy day for all in preparation for the voyage. Ann and Michael added food provisions. Jay and Donna went to a marine store and purchased bolts, nuts, polypropylene line, 3M 5200 fast cure, and washers. We did not buy a sea anchor bridle and other pieces of equipment which seemed incredibly important at the time. Too bad about that little reference book which details the relative strength of minerals.

At the dock, Donna spent two hours aloft in the Bosun's chair installing the radar reflector on the mast above the staysail stay. She learned why her habit of saving used stainless steel screws was misguided, after being forced to toss at least a dozen screws which bent, stripped or broke at 40' above.

Jay and Michael managed to figure out how to mount the life raft on the deck instead of keeping it in the hold. The solution involved a trip to Home Depot for oak to mount the cradle above the sleeve for the hatch. The Home Depot did not have mahogany, but the red oak is good wood, and we were able to get stainless steel screws for mounting. The Man Overboard Pole was repositioned for more effective deployment. Ann packed the abandon ship bag and dispensed with all of the expired medicines already on board. Ann and Jay filled the portable and onboard diesel tanks. Water tanks were topped off. The damage from the collision last week was sanded by the ship's carpenter, Michael. Unnecessary gear was removed. The dodger was installed, after its repair by Brenda, part of the on shore crew. Things were stowed into the many cubbies throughout the boat. Kore and Maureen's "bon voyage" present was opened, revealing overwhelming gifts of chocolate, books, wine, nips, star guides, puzzles and PJs. What more could a person want?

We got back to Cambridge to enjoy soup by Kate and left over risotto by George. Pam S-C sent us off with Harbor Sweets and poetry. We had a lot of fun reading the verses out loud. We downloaded a warning from our Real Weather service recommending that we delay departure to avoid a front scheduled to slam us in the Gulf Stream. The crew huddled. We are leaning towards a 24 hour delay in departure, but are so prepared and exicted to cast off that any delay is a disappointment.

The real sour note of the day is that Petra, our big calico cat, has been missing for 36 hours. She will be grounded when she reappears.

Donna

Thursday, November 03, 2005

The team is here!

The crew has assembled in Cambridge. Ann arrived last night, Michael this morning and Jay in the evening. We had an excellent meal prepared by Kate and lively discussion about various logistics, weather, routes, etc. This posting is sent via email to test the blog...