The trip through the Gulf Stream was a challenge. As expected from the forecast, the seas were big and confused, and the wind had picked up. I think the max wind we saw was 39kts, but was mostly 20-25. Some boats saw 60kts. As the winds picked up, we put in a second reef, and later decided to downshift, taking down the jib and main and hoisting the storm trysail. The roller furling jammed with about four feet of jib still out. Going forward, I determined that the roller furling line had ridden up off the drum when the bow went into a wave, and was wrapped around the head foil. The fix is to remove and re-run the line. We decided to strap the sail down the best we could and deal with the furler when conditions moderated. We were taking a lot of green water over the bow. Everyone was uncomfortable, as conditions in the cabin made getting dressed for watch a real challenge, much less going forward to handle the furler mess. In addition, the autopilot was not up to steering with the confused seas, and we had to start hand steering. Tricia had the delightful experience of finding that the Nicro Solar Vent we installed in the forward head needs to be sealed offshore. She found this when two gallons of cold seawater dumped in her lap at an inopportune moment. Also, our Newfoundmetals portholes, which had previously been watertight, were not bedded well enough to keep drips out when thumped with green water. We were wet and getting thrown all over the place down below. On the up side, Tricia served a wonderful chicken pot pie, albeit after a brief side-trip to the galley floor when the oven tipped as she was pulling it out of the oven. Lesson learned. No one was burned, and it really was delicious.
During the wonky seas, and seriously crazy wind, the boat was "pooped" many times. The first time Tricia got doused with enough green water to fill the cockpit up to her knees, she thought she might just float away, and screams were heard. The novices on board quickly adjusted to steering over humongous waves, and having waves crashing down on top of them as they steered during watches. The kids, Ginny and Cary, took turns taking 6-8 hours of day watches, and did miraculously well. The three adults took the rest in two hour intervals. We were too fatigued to hand steer more than that. Tricia had more Deer in the Headlights moments, and won the Big Eye award after her first experience with a pooping.
During the daily check-ins on the SSB, we heard tales of boats who were not faring as well as us. We had met some of the owners and crew of these boats in Hampton. With each check-in, we would listen on pins and needles trying to make out what had happened…. first rudder problems with Jammin', then Ahimsa's crew had been rescued by the USCG, and removed from their boat. When we first heard Nyapa had been dismasted, our hearts sunk, and tears welled in our eyes. So many problems, so many crew in peril. Our friends on Nyapa were fighting for their lives, as were others. We prayed. And we listened to what little we could hear on the the SSB. And we prayed some more, for everyone in the fleet. We were scared for them. We were scared for us. We'd already lost our jib and autopilot, what would be next? Morale was low. Thoughts of 'Why the Hell are we doing this' crossed our minds. So we listened with each radio transmission for news of Nyapa and the others. Jammin' was being towed into port. We sailed on, finally reaching across the Gulf Stream and turning south. Boats continued to have problems, many of which we didn't' learn about until we made port. Then finally, we heard Nyapa on SSB say she was only a short way out from Norfolk under power. Cheers went up, and we felt unbelievable relief and gratitude. They were going to make it. It was a bright moment under cloudy skies.
When the winds finally dissipated, we fixed the roller furling line, but found the clew of the jib had torn. No jib for the rest of the trip. Our staysail isn't pretty, but she took us the rest of the way to Virgin Gorda. The Gulf Stream crossing found us with enough wind to use only our staysail, and storm trysail anyway, so for much of the trip the loss of our jib was not a major disadvantage. I must say, having never used a storm trysail before, I am a convert. At one point, we were sailing dead downwind with a following sea, and were prone to accidentally jibing. With a trysail, this is a ho-hum event. The sail whumps to one side and whumps back when you correct your course. No boom crashing side to side. Very nice.
Generally, we either had too much wind or too little, often in the same day or same watch. At first, I left too much sail up and we ended up having to reef or change sails in the dark. I guess I understand now why many boats reduce sail before dark as a precaution. Later, it seemed like every time I got the crew on deck to shake out a reef, the wind picked up and I decided not to. Music spent a lot of time with just the staysail and storm trysail up. We probably were underpowered a lot of the time. It made us slow and a little more wobbly, but with my family on board, I was happier not sailing "on the edge".
During the "too little" wind phases, we were treated to a show by a boisterous pod of dolphins. They raced along in our bow wave, showing off their babies. Cary, Ginny and I got video and pictures while Dave, our awesome crew member, drove. One dolphin even leapt 20 feet into the air! What a show! When the winds slowed, Tricia broke out the rod and reel and, in short order, boated a beautiful 30"mahi mahi. She was all grins, and quickly had the fish filleted and served to an appreciative crew.
Later, when we got further south in the frontal trough and squalls, we started the engine and turned into the wind to reef the main only to have the engine sputter and stop. Diagnosis Doctor? No fuel! After checking engine hours since the last fill up, I still can't account for where about 20 gallons of diesel went. Either I didn't fill the tank all the way, or we lost it over the side somehow. A mystery. One that left us with 12 gallons in jerry jugs on deck with over 800 miles left to go. With careful conservation, on arrival, we had <1 gallon left. At one point, when the rain and overcast skies had prevented the solar panels from topping up the batteries, we had to pull the portable gas-powered generator out to charge the batteries.
Most of the trip was spent under cloudy skies, one squall after another. In one of the squalls, when tucking in a reef, I tugged on the leach of the mainsail to straighten it on the boom and the leech came off in my hand. It was two days before conditions settled enough to repair with sail tape. Again, the storm trysail went into service. The crazy winds and waves were back, and about 300 miles away from Bermuda, we had some very unexpected visitors in those wild conditions. On two consecutive days, two different wrens boarded our boat. the first flew from perch to perch, ate some food we left out, and finally rested atop my head as I lay asleep in the saloon. The second wren, even smaller than the first, spent the day hopping on and off our appendages. Very friendly, that one was, but he finally pooped out and spent the night overtop the Nav station on a phone charger plug. The next day he chirped a 'thank you' to Tricia, and off he flew. Where were they going? Where did they come from? A mystery.
Probably the worst self-inflicted wound was the loss of all of Tricia's wonderful food in the reefer. The reefer has an electrically noisy motor that interferes with radio transmissions. So, I shut it off when I got on the daily radio check in. But I forgot to turn it back on. Not once, not twice, but three times, for about 6 hours each time. The reefer never recovered, the food spoiled, and we threw it all, including Thanksgiving Dinner, over the side. Once emptied and cleaned out, we turned the reefer back on, to no avail. The plate would barely get cold. Turns out the coolant pump on the reefer wasn't working well, and had to be replaced once we got to the BVI's. No refrigeration for 10 days. Not sure why the Pardey's like living without refrigeration. Boating without refrigeration is highly overrated. Cold beverages are essential.
Wait! I just thought of the other self-inflicted wound that could have been much worse. During the whole trip, we took on water through the chain locker. Ginny's bed was wet the whole time. The bilge was pumped every watch (by hand, because the auto bilge wouldn't shut off). I thought it was all from the hawse pipe. When we arrived in the BVI, I discovered that I had not bolted down a 4x8 inch inspection port in the windlass locker. Any water that got in went right into the chain locker and then into the bilge! If the hatch cover on the windlass locker had not stayed closed, this could have been a much worse problem! A duh moment. Poor Ginny had to sleep on a wet bed for the entire trip.
The last day made all the challenges we had faced fade from our memory. (I suspect all sailors have a rare form of Alzheimer's that causes us to forget the bad part of the last voyage before setting out on the next.) We had clear skies, stable trade winds, and moderate seas. We broke out the spinnaker for the run to Virgin Gorda. It was wonderful doing 8 kts for most of the day, with sunshine and smiles all around. All good things must eventually come to an end. As we approached Anegada, I went to swap out the chart card in the plotter to load the Caribbean charts. They didn't load! It seems that during one of the several times we were "pooped" by a wave in the cockpit, seawater had penetrated the card slot and corroded the pins in the reader which had failed. And the wind dropped, pushing our ETA beyond sunset. I am familiar with the approach to the harbor, and the plotter would still tell us where we were, it just wouldn't show us what was around, or what was under where we were. Despite the higher pucker factor, we entered North Sound right down the center of the channel in a blinding squall. Many thanks to Andrew on Eye Candy who responded to a radio call and tracked us using AIS, providing directions to make the turn to the mooring field at Bitter End Yacht Club. Voyage Complete! Thanks also go out to Dave, our crew, for sticking it out with us, and to the Rally, and all of its wonderful members, many of whom have helped us along the way. Thirteen and a half slow days. We had hoped it would only take ten days, but we are extraordinarily thankful. We hurt for those two crews who lost their boats (their homes). We struggle with our success, as we think fondly of those who had to turn back, and those who barely made it back (6 boats). We feel blessed, and we hope that those who faced extreme challenges will continue on in a positive direction. Best of luck to them. We made it, we learned from it, and we might even do it again, but for now we are content to sit at our mooring at the Bitter End, and dry things out. It's going to take awhile, but that's OK. We have time. The water is a sparkling aqua, and the Trades are blissful. Wish you were here.
Summary:
- 1,500 ocean miles traveled
- No significant injuries
- Torn jib (OOS) and main (temporarily repaired)
- Failed autopilot
- Failed chart plotter
- Failed reefer
- Several near misses due to fittings coming loose
- Took on water through head vent, windlass locker, portholes, and down companionway. (This was probably just part of the Ware Water Curse that follows us wherever we go and should therefore not be considered significant).
- The things that failed were essentially the things that had not been replaced in the refit. Lesson learned.
Mat ( & Tricia)
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