North Atlantic 7

Thursday 28th May 2009 (Afternoon)

I sailed all day deciding to stay 'low' and keep heading East or as near as possible. The evening saw me still sailing despite making around 120T degrees (not quite backwards but close) until around 0200utc when I was finally becalmed. I decided to motorsail for two hours before not being able to stay awake any longer. At 0430utc I dropped all sail and went to bed until 0630utc, then reset the alarm for 0800utc as there was still no wind.



Friday 29th May 2009

After several futile attempts to continue sailing, I turned on the engine again at 0830utc. Luckily, there is just enough wind to allow the Hydrovane to keep me more or less on course, allowing me the freedom to have breakfast etc. I am again staying 'low' (East) due to the incoming storm which is due to hit this evening around 1800utc.

My 1200utc position is N35 13.23 W38 32.22 with 92nm covered.

After cooking a huge bag of popcorn and a pot of pasta, I waited until 1800utc, as according to the grib files, that's when the storm was due to 'officially' start for my position. Sure enough, exactly on time, the wind and waves started to rise and I gibed into the beast.

The wind rose to about 25kn and I was surfing along at over 8kn of boat speed with the Hydrovane taking care of the steering nicely. That is until it had just got dark and we got knocked over! One minute I was sitting there looking at grib files on the laptop and the next flying through the air. Its funny, you hear that familiar rushing water sound and your first thought is 'shit!', followed a microsecond later by 'brace!'. It's a shame they come in that order. Too late, I tried to save the laptop as the boat got laid completely over and my 'sideways' became my new 'downwards'. All three meters of it, with nothing to hit until I face planted into the galley cupboards, smashing my arm somewhere along the way for good measure. My first sickening thought was that I had broken my arm, thankfully just a bruised bone. Dazed and confused (for so long its untrue!), I got out on deck to find us racing along close hauled, the boom was at least on the same side of the boat so we hadn't gybed at least!

The same thing happened again a short while later, unfortunately the victim this time was my beloved kettle, which launched it self from the stove spilling a few cupfuls of water over the floor, lucky it wasn't boiling at the time! Sorry Stu, the kettle now has a dent to mark my North Atlantic crossing.

I was aware that the wave had hit us on the beam, they should almost be following seas! Then I noticed that our downwind course was now 140T as the Hydrovane was following the wind, compared with 60T (what it should have been). I hadn't realised that the storm had passed through already and where the wind was going west to east, it was now going more north to south. The waves were still going in their original direction and I had been completely oblivious to it. Well not oblivious, I was expecting the shift, but not until morning!

Anyway, I kept on sailing with the winds touching 30kn and the seas still rising, slowly came round to being on the beam as well. I had very little sleep, the boat was all over the place with loads of water coming over the cockpit and it was freezing!



Saturday 30th May 2009

At first light I managed to get an hour or so sleep before having to tend the boat. Priority was to get (more) dry clothes on and some hot food inside me.

1200utc position is N35 56.17 W36 31.64 with 117nm covered.

By now the waves were easily over 4m and on one of my routine looks around the horizon, suddenly saw a yellow bridge deck of something big appear for a second less than a mile away. I called them up on the VHF (yes it's still working fine) and found out that the tanker Miramar hadn't yet seen me. The guy on the radio (sounded American) said to someone in the background 'we're right on top of the guy, so he must mean us' before answering me. After re-giving my position, bearing and speed, he finally spotted me visually with still nothing showing on radar, being around only 1/3 of a mile away, this was worrying! He said that from his perspective he could not see the boat, any sails (3rd reef and scrap of jib) or radar reflector as they were all below the level of the waves! We finally, popped upon radar when he was actually passing us.

I must have been pretty tired because despite knowing that I was almost invisible to other vessels I managed to get a good full night of sleeps in.



Sunday 31st May 2009

Three full weeks at sea my longest ever and can't I just wait to reach land! Why is it that the Gods really want their pound of flesh for the final few hundred miles?!?!?

The seas this morning are (for me) terrifying! I have never been in such big seas and they are starting to break. I would have to guess at 5m-6m wave faces and I can't help but think if I get caught beam on to one, I can kiss my ass goodbye - not to mention the rig! The cockpit is a constant wash and some water from under the sprayhood gutters overflows down the companionway steps, making the pretty looking Hanse cabin sole as dangerous as a proverbial ice rink!

On a brighter note, once again as I stare horrified at what's in front of me, do I see lunatic dolphins swooping through the waves and having the time of their lives in their own watery skatepark. It's always a reality check scenario when you look up from your position into the eye of a dolphin set in a crystalline wave face above you! It's good to have them back.

My 1200utc position is N36 31.86 W34 33.85 with 108nm covered.

I can't keep anything on the stove and life below is tiring, while the Hydrovane is still steering perfectly well, I can't bring myself to leave the helm, staring at awe at the sight in front of me! What the hell am I doing out here! The winds are only around 25kn, with gusts to 30kn but the seas are massive. I guess from having a few days to build up and from the higher winds inside the depression? I'd love to know what Passage Weather currently show the swell heights as compared to what I'm seeing.

I received an Otahi update report, all is well at position: N32.2016 W56.2558.

By late afternoon the winds have risen to 30kn+ and I am getting worried about the waves and at what point do I 'run'. My present course keeps them just above the beam my last resort is to run with them, but that means heading south for twenty four hours (100nm+). Kat has decided to visit me this weekend and will be in Horta Friday evening, I just hope I will be as well!

Question, why the hell am I picking up NavTex weather forecasts for the US East coasts (have been for the last few weeks), Grand Banks etc and I can't get anything for the bloody Azores only a few hundred miles away!

According to the grib files the winds should be dropping off around 1800utc, the time now is 1900utc and I am still seeing 30kn+. After a quick call to Kat, it seems that I am going into (towards the Azores) faster than the depression is retreating. Bloody typical, speed when you don't want it!

I manage to get some Ravioli and a hot drink inside me before deciding to follow Kats advice and 'Hove To' and wait for the winds to drop. I am knackered, not from doing anything other than hold on for dear life and fear I think. The winds seem to drop a little and I set Doris to plod higher north under just the fully reefed mainsail making barely 2-3kn. By now its long dark and I jump into the sleeping bag. Bliss.



Monday 1st June 2009

No sooner do I get underway (0730utc - I had a lie in), so do the winds. They are back up to 30kn with squalls to 35kn. To be fair, the winds do seem to have dropped overall aside from the squalls and its going to take a few days for the seas to go down. The sun is still shining, although with the amount of water over the boat it may as well be pissing it down! Just keep telling myself, this is all good (head) training and experience for bigger things to come, the Pacific, the Southern Ocean, Antarctica ~eh?!?!?

My 1200utc position is N37 14.42 W32 53.23 with 99nm covered. Only 210nm to go!

I am just going to concentrate on going slow and (as James keeps telling me) keeping the rig up, this will also be my last post until I get to Horta or unless something noteworthy happens, as Satphone minutes are running low. Unless I'm lost at sea of course - I'm joking! I'm fine mum.

C you all in a few days.