May 2018 – Page 2 – Sail Pandora

Slow Boat to…

May 13, 2018 | 1 Comment

t’s Saturday morning, the sun is just up over the eastern horizon and we are, well, we are a long way from just about anything, especially home. While we are about two thirds of the way home, we are still a little more than 500 miles from our destination.

But, to put a positive spin on things, we are only about a day away from feeling the first effects of the Gulf Stream. Somehow, reaching The Stream will be a milestone of sorts. By the same token, we are barely past Bermuda and have still not reached the latitude of Cape Hatteras so there is still a long way to go.

To say that the last 24 hours has been uneventful is an understatement as there has been VERY LITTLE WIND but with that has also come very calm seas, which I suppose, is a nice change. Yesterday we crossed a small ridge of low pressure which brought clouds and a bit of rain but it also put us into a windless area north of the ridge.

Actually, when I listened to the SSCA trans-Atlantic net last evening Chris Parker, who was acting as net control for the evening, said that the windless area, uncharacteristically, extended just about all the way across the Atlantic to Europe, bringing with it light winds nearly everywhere, an unusual occurrence this early in the season. While it’s a bummer to be motoring along at a snail’s pace, at least we have plenty of fuel to continue on wind or not.

As I write this, one of our three tanks of fuel just ran out so I had to switch the tank and re-prime the engine so it would start again. All better now.

Back to the trans-Atlantic folks. Some of the other boats that checked into the net were headed to the Azores, making their way to the Mediterranean for the summer season. Given the distance, they don’t have much of an option except to slowly sail along in light air, waiting for the wind to fill in sometime next week. As you can imagine, most cruising boats don’t have enough fuel to motor all the way “across the pond.”

With true wind speed at about 5kts, we obviously can’t sail but as long as it’s not right on our nose, we can get some lift in boat speed between motor and sails. Unfortunately, with motoring speed well below sailing speed, try under 6kts, as we have to run at a low RPM to conserve fuel. This combined with a modest adverse current of half to a full knot against us makes for low over-the-bottom speed. It’s doubly frustrating after sailing for so many miles at near double digit speeds earlier I the trip. However, all and all, it’s a beautiful morning as we make our leisurely way north.

On the one hand, I wish that there was more to report but I am happy to have a few unexciting days. If I could send photos, I’d surely include shots of some impressive bruises, compliments of my trip up the mast. They are still plenty big turning an impressive deep purple with some lovely lighter highlights. It’s safe to say that the cumulative effect of all the bruises, perhaps more than a square foot in the aggregate is impressive. Perhaps more impressive, is that I am still “with you” at all.

Yesterday we were talking about my “quick up and down the mast” trip and Bob commented that he’d wished he had a camera to record the moments that I was flying around the mast, arms and legs extended wildly, somehow trying to get a grip on a shroud, sail, anything to get myself under control. He said he was shocked by the violence of my movements. (I’m paraphrasing here but you get the drift).

Anyway, both the memory and bruises are slowly fading along with the waves.

And, speaking of sail repair, we decided to pull down the main yesterday to inspect our handiwork and were happy to see that the lashings are in perfect condition, with no signs of chafe or loosening. As soon as I am home I am going to pull all the sails off of the boat and take them for servicing, probably in Annapolis at the Quantum loft where they were made. It’s not that far from Rob’s home in Baltimore and we will be heading that way soon enough.

When will we arrive home? Hard to say but it’s looking like sometime Wednesday and that depends, in part, on the Customs guys and whether or not they will clear us over the phone or if we will have to go to them.

So, here we are, poking our way north at a pace that feels more like drifting than a happy romp in the trades. Clearly, for the moment and perhaps for much of the rest of the trip, we are really on a slow boat to…home.

Halfway Home

May 11, 2018 | 2 Comments

Even though we are still more than half a week of sailing from home, I feel like I am almost there. That’s interesting as we are just abreast of Bermuda, about 150 miles to the east, which is still a long way from home, by any measure. Not to put too fine a point on it but, we are at just about the same latitude as the Florida/Georgia border.

It wasn’t that many years ago when that distance remaining in our trip was the entire distance that I’d be sailing to get Pandora home from a winter of sailing in the Bahamas. How perspectives can change. Somehow 700 miles to go doesn’t seem all that long. Heck, I can still remember when a single overnight to Maine from the Cape Cod Canal seemed like a really long way. Hmm…

Yesterday was a day of motoring, nearly 24 hours as we approached a front, causing the wind to clock from the east, the south and ultimately to the southwest, where it has settled for now. It’s not possible to sail at a decent clip when the wind is that light and from directly behind. Happily, shortly after midnight it had moved to the SW and freshened to the mid-teens, making it possible to sail again. Now, with the wind solidly in the mid-teens, we are making good time again.

As a point of interest, we have now covered, according to the plotter, nearly 900 miles and have only put 33 hours on the engine after five days at sea. Unless they are involved in long passages it’s unlikely that most will ever have that much time under sail, and certainly not in a single trip.

I have had difficulty in reaching Chris Parker on the SSB radio during his morning broadcasts but at 18:00, when he broadcasts on a higher frequency of 12MH, he has come in as clear as if he was on board with us. It’s during this time of the day that a group of cruisers and Ham operators operate what is called the “SSCA trans-Atlantic cruisers net”. It’s a terrific service for those of us making passage in the North Atlantic. It’s during this net that cruisers, mostly those crossing to the Azores on this trip, check in, give their position and share how things are going. Hearing their voices lets me know that we are not out here alone. Well, we are actually quite alone, but it’s nice to know that there are others making passages too. To at least hear a voice counts for something.

So, here we are, sailing along on a nice broad reach with fairly solid wind and smooth seas. However, that’s not going to last for long as the wind will go away as we cross the front over the next day or so. After that, things get complicated as we will be approaching a “cold eddy” and then the Gulf Stream.

As the Gulf Stream passes Cape Hatteras, it is deflected from it’s more or less northerly path and veers sharply out on a east-north-easterly direction. That sharp change in direction, as a result of the shallow waters of Hatteras, causes the Stream to become more confused, with less defined boarders or “walls.” Along with the spreading out of the current, eddies form where the waters of the GS mix with the adjacent stationary colder ocean waters, causing offshoots, or eddies, often running at 3-5kts. This is particularly pronounced on the south side of the Stream.
As a result, it is critical to hit the “right side of these offshoots as it can mean the difference between a “lift” in speed of a few knots or a current against you at the same speeds. For a boat moving along at say, 7kts, this can mean an over-the-bottom speed of 9-10kts with a favorable current or 3-5kts OTB against the current of the eddy.

With this in mind, Chris Parker has given us coordinates that are supposed to put us on the “right” side of the eddy. After that, I have two coordinates, one to enter and the other to exit, the Gulf Stream. All of this will unfold over the next two days or so as the eddy is about 250nm north of us, and the exit out of the GS about 200nm beyond that. Interestingly, the core of the GS is only about 50 miles wide in that area with the rest of the area, literally hundreds, dare I say thousands, of square miles of ocean affected by this “river” of water marching north from the Gulf of Mexico.

The relentless trade winds blowing from Africa toward the Caribbean literally push water into the Gulf of Mexico and as that water piles up toward Central America, it has nowhere to go but around the western end of Cuba, through the Florida Straits, up the east coast of the US and into the north Atlantic. Correct me if I am wrong, but I believe that this is the largest movement of water, or “river”, on the planet.

So, after a winter of sailing south on a port tack and a return trip nearly all the way to Bermuda on a starboard tack, the rest of our trip will require contending with constantly shifting wind speeds and directions. With perhaps four days remaining for our voyage, we will likely be faced with conditions that range from nearly windless to near gale force.

As my Dad used to say, “Bob, that comes with the territory” so I guess we will just have to see what happens next and deal with it.

And, speaking of “dealing” we plan on pulling down the main when the wind lightens up to see how our repair is holding up.

Right now, great sailing on a broad reach. We will see what the next 12 hours brings.

Until tomorrow…

Stay tuned, I hope.

Now for the Boring Part

May 11, 2018 | Leave a Comment

It’s Thursday morning and the wind has nearly gone away. It has been a great run since leaving Antigua, under sail nearly the entire way. Actually, had the main not been damaged, we would not have had to turn on the motor at all.

Not now. The wind that was so consistently pushing us along on a wonderful beam reach has gone aft and dropped to about 10kts. It seems that this will be the case as we make our way across a high pressure area for the next 24 hours at least.

As is the case north of Bermuda, the winds are driven by a series of high and low pressure areas that exit the US East Coast year round. In the winter the lows are stronger, rushing down from Canada but the constant battle of weather and wind is the rule.

That’s so unlike the Caribbean where the wind is nearly always from and easterly direction except when a tropical low makes it’s way west from Africa.

We are a little more than 200 miles from Bermuda and roughly half of the way home. As consistent as the winds were for the first half of the trip, we will have the opposite for the second half, when the wind direction and speed will change on a near daily basis.

The forecast for the coming days, and it will surely change as the we make our way north, calls for 10kts on our stern for at least the next 24 hours and that will be followed by a virtual collapse of the wind on Friday. After a small low comes through the area we should again be able to sail, perhaps for a day with strong SW winds, perhaps in the 25-35kt range. That’s a lot of wind but at least we will be on a broad reach so the apparent wind will be less daunting.

So, as we cross the front, perhaps on Saturday, we will face, well we don’t know what for sure as it could be a brief period of NE winds before the wind clocks back to the SW. However, there is enough uncertainty in the forecast that it will be a few days until that becomes clearer.

One thing for certain though, is that the second half of the trip will involve wind from just about every direction and periods of no wind at all. Welcome to the North Atlantic.

So, for now we continue to motor along and the weather is getting somewhat cooler by the day and the seawater temperature has dropped about 5 degrees as well, however, I can’t give you a number as my thermometer isn’t properly calibrated. The cooler temperatures are very welcomed as it’s been hot and stuffy down below with everything buttoned up.

After days of “sporty” sailing I suppose that it’s a welcome break to be motoring in increasingly flat seas and I took advantage of the relative calm rinse down the cockpit with fresh water and to wipe the cabin which had gotten pretty nasty with salt tracked down below. It’s at times like these that the watermaker really shines.

So there you have it. We are about half way home and things are good onboard Pandora. Half way or not, I am anxious to have this delivery behind me and to be back home with Brenda.

The title of this post says that this is the boring part of the trip. Perhaps that’s not completely accurate as the weather and constantly shifting conditions will be anything but boring. However, I expect that the motor will be on for a good amount of that time so it surely won’t be nearly as much fun as blasting along at near double digit speeds is aboard Pandora.

I understand that Brenda got the Spring Cleaning Bug a few days ago and cleaned and dusted the house from top to bottom. That’s good and she knows how happy clean makes me too.

Sunday is Mother’s day and I am bummed that I won’t be with her. She’s going to see my mother who I have neglected nearly all winter. It will be a good day with two terrific mother’s spending time together.

Thanks Brenda, for taking care of Mom.

See you soon.

Nothing Good Ever Happens after Midnight

May 9, 2018 | 10 Comments

Brenda used to say this phrase often when the boys were young, and especially when they first got their driver’s licenses! I can’t say that I always agreed with her, but aboard Pandora when I am on passage, that often seems to be the case.

Before I get into all that, I should note that we have made, according to the chart, an average of 190 miles each day over the bottom since clearing Falmouth Harbor. That’s pretty good and takes into account a slow start as we dealt with the bad batten pocket in the first few hours of our trip, as well as the mess that we ran into yesterday that I’ll recount shortly. That’s pretty good time and has taken us 1/3 of the way home in only three days. I expect that our speed will be a lot less than that beginning tomorrow when the wind is expected to go light for a few days as we sail a lot faster than we motor.

All and all, we are making good time. At this point, the big question is if we can time our arrival at the Gulf Stream to avoid the NE winds that are forecast to be there late Sunday. For those who have crossed the Stream, you don’t want to be there when the wind direction has an “N” in it. However, as Chris Parker says, “that’s a long way off and things may change.”

Those of you who follow this blog will note that I did not post yesterday and if you didn’t notice, well, I didn’t post yesterday. I was licking my wounds, both figuratively and literally, and thought that it would be best to “sleep on it” before putting my thoughts down.

For clarity, it’s early on Wednesday morning and the sun is just peaking up over the eastern horizon as I sit down to do this post. Conditions are just about perfect with us broad reaching in 20kts of wind with a single reef in the main and the small jib. Our course is due north and the wind is from the southwest. As today progresses, we expect that the wind will continue to clock toward the south and lighten so I expect that by this time tomorrow we will be motoring.

There’s a front that is supposed to exit the east coast later this week that will bring adverse winds to the area where we will cross the Gulf Stream over the weekend so we are watching this carefully. I have had pretty good luck hearing Chris Parker in the evenings but not early in the day as I am used to. The propagation hasn’t been good for the SSB and even getting my simple emails has been a chore. If today is any different, I expect that this post won’t be sent to Brenda until sometime this evening. If not, that will be an improvement as I have not had any luck during the normal daylight hours. This has primarily been because the favored stations that I link to with the SSB email from this area are in Panama and Trinidad have been very busy with other traffic, a problem that I have found to be the case in past years. Later in the day and evening I find that the Lunenburg, and Rock Hill ,North Carolina, stations seem to work well and they are generally not that busy.

Anyway, I didn’t feel like writing yesterday but I am better now so here goes. Better late than never.

At midnight on Monday morning I was down below filling in the log of our location, speed etc. that I keep on all our voyages and suddenly Bob, who was on watch, shouted “the main is down, the main is down, put on your gear and get up here”. Bob is not prone to overstatement so I knew that something bad had happened.

I came up to see that the entire mainsail was draped over the cabin top and Bob and George were working feverishly to secure it before it was damaged. Not to put too fine a point on it but the damage had already been done as the fitting that attaches the sail to the main halyard had failed and shot up to the top of the mast so there was nothing at all keeping the sail up, so down it came in a heap.

So, here we were, in the middle of nowhere, some 600 miles south of Bermuda and hundreds of miles from anywhere — with no mainsail. The sailing conditions were perfect and we had been blasting along at sometimes double digit speeds with about 20kts on the beam and a single reef in the main. Of course, all of this had to happen the day after I wrote about our 200 mile day. Actually, we have had a number of them so far and to loose the main under perfect conditions was doubly upsetting.

I started the engine and was disappointed to hear massive vibration in the propeller. Isn’t that priceless? I expected that it had caught something like kelp or perhaps a piece of floating line on the prop. Whatever it was, there was no motoring and it wouldn’t clear. I searched in the engine compartment to see if perhaps there was another cause for the vibration and discovered that a shaft bearing, universal coupling was very loose because the bushings had deteriorated. In spite of keeping a careful eye on the engine, somehow I had missed that. So, I tinkered with the bushing for several hours and finally had it adjusted and while the bushings were still bad, I was able to get it into alignment and back in reasonable condition. I had never paid attention to this piece of gear, so when I noticed that it was getting pretty hot a while later, I didn’t know if that was normal or a problem. Fortunately, I have a laser thermometer and with that I was able to monitor various parts of the bearing to see if the temperature readings were changing. They continued to go up as the engine ran but finally stabilized and it didn’t seem to be too hot to me. Problem solved, well, sort of as the vibration in the shaft was still more than I would like.

After a few stops and starts with the engine in both forward and reverse, I was finally able to clear whatever was on the prop and the vibration smoothed out. We were back in business, if you don’t take into account that our primary sail was out of service and that we had with 600 miles to go to Bermuda. I really didn’t want to head there under power alone with no backup sail. Additionally, the sailing conditions were perfect and I didn’t want to give up on that.

Since it was the middle of the night, I went to bed with the hope that things would seem clearer by morning.

We all arose early the next morning and talked about what to do. I had awakened with a strong sense that we needed to repair the main, as aside from the head board separating from the sail, the sail was in good shape. The problem, and it wasn’t a small one, was that the headboard was now over 61′ in the air at the top of the mast, the wind was blowing at 20kts and the seas were in the 7-9′ range.

So, the decision… Go up the mast in the bosun’s chair and bring it down. Bob said it simply: “It’s just a go and grab job”. Go up the mast, grab the slide and bring it down again. Easy for him to say and he was right– well, sort of.

The problem is that it’s tough enough to walk around on deck or down below in a seaway but the higher up the mast you go when it’s rough, the more violent the movement becomes the higher up the mast you go. A few feet of movement near deck becomes a wild whipsaw at the top of the mast.

After the decision was made to run up the mast, we stopped to work out the details. Bob would work the main winch (fortunately electric) from the cockpit and use the spare spinnaker halyard to hoist me. George would work an additional spare halyard to pull up by hand to act as a safety line in the event that the main hoist line broke.

I got in the bosun’s chair, which I have used many times in calm conditions, with good results. It’s pretty secure, but I also put a sail tie around my chest, just in case I might get forced backward in the chair. I also put on my inflatable vest and foul weather jacket with the hope that the extra padding would provide some modest protection from getting banged up. Additionally, I used the long lanyard to my harness to run around the mast as I went up, in case I might lose my hold on the mast, a decision that turned out to be a very good one.

The boat was pitching pretty hard in the 7-9′ seas and the 20 kt winds and without the main to stabilize the boat, the small jib was all that I had to rely on and it only somewhat moderated the role and pitching of the boat.

I’ll say that I was very nervous about all that, but up I went. As Bob pulled me up the mast, with George taking up the slack with the safety line, I clung onto the mast like a koala bear hugging a tree. In spite of this, I still felt like I was going to be plucked off at any moment.

I had made the decision to wrap my safety strap around the mast as I went up but that proved to be much more difficult than I expected since I was forced to unhook it at each set of spreaders. For the few moments that I was unhooked, I was very vulnerable to loosing my grip on the mast. I also found that Bob could not hear me at all over the noise of wind and waves, so I had no option but to use hand signals, again taking one hand off of the mast.

The higher I went, the more the mast whipped around, threatening to break my grip. Twice I lost hold on the mast and swung out, jerking back on the tether, and banging back against the mast. George said that I looked like a fish on a lure, thrashing about as the mast whipped from side to side. I was terrified and could only think about the scene in the movie “The Martian,” when Matt Damon was being retrieved by another astronaut and was violently whipped around, enduring tremendous centrifugal forces, powerless to control his movement or save himself.

I finally worked my way up to the top of the mast and a few times I froze, unable to move my hands and legs, clinging to the mast. Finally however, I was there, at the mast peak, as was the headboard.

I worked it down the track, pulling a few feet of halyard with each movement trying to get it back down so George could secure it to the boom. Finally, it was down.

So now, to get back down to the deck. The trip back down was even worse than the trip up, since I was exhausted and my adrenalin was just about used up. And, to make matters worse, I had to stop at each spreader, unclip my harness lanyard and reattach it below for the run to the next spreader. While the movement of the mast was less the closer I got to deck level, I was really beginning to loose my nerve. By this time I was also pretty banged up from the two times that I lost hold of the mast on the way up and was jerked around by the whipping mast.

As far as holding on, I generally did pretty well except when a particularly large wave hit the side of the boat. As a rule, whatever the sea state, there will be the occasional wave that will be half again larger than the average and when one of these hit, I felt like a fly being flicked off of a branch.

The only thing that I did wrong in with my planning, with the possible exception of deciding to go up in the first place, was that I had opted to clip around the mast as opposed to the safety line that had a clear run down the front of the mast. Once I was up there, I realized that if I had been badly hurt, Bob and George would have had no way to get me past the next set of spreaders. And even now, the thought of that makes me shake.

When I finally got back to the deck I was just exhausted and could barely make my way back to the cockpit, even with George holding my arm for support.After a short time for regaining my composure, we sat down to consider how to fix the problem and get the sail ready to be re-hoisted. The damage to the top of the main was fairly straightforward.

The top of the main was strongly reinforced and was attached to the headboard with three web straps. Over time these straps had chafed through and ultimately failed. This is something that I never noticed. Now I will, that’s for sure. The fix we decided on, since we did not have a sewing machine, was to drill a series of nine holes in the heaviest part of the sail top and thread a series of Dynema 3/8″ rope strands through these holes and the slots in the headboard to secure the sail to the headboard. After several hours of drilling and threading we had things in good shape with each knot fully seized with waxed sail twine and we were good to go.

It’s not all that pretty (I’ll be posting some photos of all this when I get home next week) but very strong. Each piece of the Dynema that we used could easily support the weight of a car and has the added benefit of being very chafe and UV resistant.

So, as I write this the “new rig” is up and has been working well for 24 hours– and we continue to reel off daily runs of near 200 miles.

All and all, I think that we made the right call for me to go up the mast, but I have to say that for much of yesterday all I could think about was what “could have happened.” Oh yeah, you’d be amazed at the bruises that I have on the inside of each thigh and on the insides of my arms, from clutching the mast. I also have a few bruises from when I was slung around after losing my grip. It just goes to show how much you can accomplish with enough adrenalin.

So, as Brenda says, nothing good happens after midnight. and for once I have to agree when the sail came down in a heap. The “fix” was a harrowing experience, but the good news is that it all worked out and now I have a story to tell– and tell it I will.

Perhaps in closing I should also note what I wished I had done differently. First, I would have used a shorter safety line to the mast and would have secured it around the safety halyard and not the mast. That way I would not have had to leave myself vulnerable when I had to remove the line to get it past each set of spreaders. Also, I am going to put a helmet onboard as well as a climbing break, a tool that you slide up and down the safety rope, that would have secured me more effectively when I was plucked from the mast as well as if the main lift rope had failed. Of course, I could also say that I will NEVER again go up the mast in a seaway. However, never say never. Things can often look a lot different when you are hundreds of miles from land.

Hey, anybody out there want to option my story for a movie? It would be a very short movie so perhaps I’ll leave it at that for now.
So, here we are, clipping along. It’s a beautiful day and Pandora’s crew is into the groove. And I am happy to report that we have less than 1,000 miles to Montauk.Editor: I said that the waves were 7-9′, Bob said 5-6′ but, let me tell you, it felt like 10-12′. Holy frigging yikes, I was scared but it worked out, this time.

I also expect that some readers will have something to say about all of this, but for now all I can say is “you had to be there.”

Day One: 200 Miles!

May 7, 2018 | 4 Comments

While we all hear about the high performance “sleds” that make their way through the Southern Ocean at speeds that seem more fitting for a car than sailboat, it’s a rare cruising boat that can make more than 200 miles in a 24 hour period. Many cruisers talk about achieving this feat now and again but often qualify their statement by saying that they had a current with them, like the fast moving Gulf Stream.

It’s not uncommon for Pandora to make speeds over the bottom of 9kts and even 10 when conditions are right. As a rule, with winds on the beam of about 20kts, Pandora will easily reel off impressive speeds near double digits and to do this in waves in the 8-10′ range on the beam is even more impressive.

Well, from when we cleared the harbor in Falmouth yesterday at around 10:00 until 10:00 today we clocked just about 200 miles on the chart. The log on the boat showed a bit more but I am going to check that off to calibration error. Nevertheless, we have had a pretty good ride for our first day at sea.

The cockpit enclosure, while hot in the sun, has made things a lot more comfortable, keeping most of the spray from hitting us. In these conditions Pandora is a pretty wet boat with water running down both windward and leeward decks and lots of spray hitting the dodger.

As a result, we have to keep the boat tightly buttoned up, meaning that all hatches and ports are closed. This is pretty standard for us but sometimes I’ll crack the small hatch over the galley a bit when I am cooking to try and keep things a bit cooler down below. With the surrounding water and air temperatures in the low 80s it’s warm aboard, especially if you are out of the breeze.

So, in spite of my rule of keeping all hatches tightly closed while underway, I left the small 10″ hatch in the galley open last evening while preparing dinner and was stunned when a wave swept over the deck and soaked me with several gallons of water that washed down the open hatch. It left a real mess with water sloshing around on the counter, draining into the fridge and freezer and down on the floor.

It took me a good half hour to mop it all up and remove the salt that was everywhere. And, after all that was done I had to shower off myself as I had been standing directly under the hatch when the wave hit so my head and clothes were completely soaked. This is particularly problematic as we really can’t waste water while on passage as I can’t run the watermaker unless the engine is running. The electrical load overnight with all the instruments running is just too much for the solar panels to make up the following day.

The biggest problem is that the engine, while great at charging the batteries quickly with 200 amp output, is located under the galley and makes the cabin that much hotter.

In any event, I’ll have to run the engine to charge things up and make some water today. For sure, hot or not, I’ll keep the hatches closed.

Salty or not, the sailing is great and we are making good progress on our way to Montauk. I hope to talk to Chris Parker today to confirm that we are good to continue on our course or if we will have to divert to Bermuda. I hope not.

Well, 200 miles under the keel and still a long way to go.