When I talk about sailing offshore I often get comments wondering about how scary it must be to be so far from land, of course, followed by something like “what’s the worse conditions you have encountered”.

Fortunately, I have never run into any conditions that were truly life threatening or at least if I did, it wasn’t clear to me at the time.

Life threating our not, I am keenly aware that when I am at sea, hundreds of miles from anything, I am, for all intents and purposes, on my own.

I love to read when I am on passage and it isn’t unusual for me to read a book every day.  However, when it comes to subject, I almost never read stories about sailing or worse yet, disasters at sea when I am aboard.   Being aboard and in the middle of nowhere is enough excitement so I read books about anything but being at sea.  I’ll read books about disasters when I am in my “armchair sailor” mode.

I generally feel pretty safe aboard Pandora, but there are times when I wonder what would happen if we had a major gear failure far from land.   I stock spare parts for everything that I can think of and might possibly fix while underway with the hope that what breaks is the stuff that I have spares for.  That generally works out but sometimes not.  Fortunately, I have never had to deal with a major failure like the loss of the mast or major leak.

When I think of injuries at sea, the first one that comes to mind is falling overboard and the recent fatality in the Bermuda race illustrates this point.    It was reported that the skipper fell overboard and was lost.  His body was recovered after an extensive search by his crew.

I do not have any details to go on but it reinforces the point that being securely tethered to the boat is the best way to avoid being lost in the wake if you fall in the water.  Aboard Pandora, when we are offshore, everyone is to be clipped on at all times, even when in the cockpit and especially on deck.  Additionally, nobody leaves the cockpit unless there is someone else in the cockpit to keep a careful view of those on deck.  The sad fact is that if someone falls into the water, untethered, especially at night, the odds of finding them is not great.

I can not imagine a more distressing view than to see your boat sailing off into the distance while you float helplessly in it’s wake, in the dark.

There are so many things that can go wrong aboard a sailboat in the ocean and it is important to try and be prepared for anything that might go wrong.

In addition to having the right gear on board it’s so important to get good weather information and to follow it.   I have been working with Chris Parker of Marine Weather Center for a decade now and I take his recommendations seriously.   I also have a subscription to Predict Wind and can download detailed weather gribs via my Iridium Go.  Seeing the graphics on my iPad make it much easier to fully appreciate the weather information that Chris is providing.

This spring, as I was bringing Pandora north from St Thomas, I heard about the loss of Calypso, lost off of the South side of Long Island.  Fortunately, the crew was safely rescued.  I recall wondering what they were doing in that area at that particular time as the conditions that they encountered were forecasted.  I have no idea about what specific circumstances lead to the loss but this video of the rescue is hair raising. Tragic events like Calypso are rare and with modern weather forecasting, it’s easier than ever to avoid conditions like this.   This link is a report out of Boston covering event and loss.

Having said that, some years ago I took Pandora on a run from Beaufort NC, to the BVI with the plan of leaving in early January.   I had consulted with Chris about that plan in advance of leaving Pandora in Beaufort earlier in the season.  For family reasons, I needed to delay my run south until after the New Year and wanted to be sure that a departure at that time was prudent.  He said it was and would work with me as I prepared to leave.

As we prepared for departure, Chris told me that there would be a developing ridge near Puerto Rico but that I should be able to get ahead of it as long as I was able to maintain a speed of about 7kts which should allow me to get past that area before the ridge moved into our path.  As long as we were south and east of the ridge we’d have good sailing with 10-15kts on the beam, wonderful tradewind sailing.

However, my speed was about a half knot slower than expected and the ridge passed in front of us about 12 hours sooner than forecasted.  As a result, our lovely tradewind sail was replaced by 40kts and 20’+ seas from our stern.  We had a wild ride for more than four days, surfing down big waves at double digit speeds, a few times cracking 20kts, only to crawl up the back of the wave at 4-5kts.   It was way to rough to do much but hold on and not fun at all.   It also put  a lot of strain on the autopilot that lead to breakage of a critical linkage.  Fortunately, I had a spare part but it took hours to locate it and make the swap.

I shudder to think of what that sail would have been like if we had been forced to sail on a beam reach or worse in those conditions as strong wind wind was bad enough.

The simple fact is that when you are at sea, and far from land, you basically just have to do your best to take what is thrown at you.  This all sounds pretty terrifying but nasty stuff doesn’t generally come without warning so as long as you are prepared and do what is needed to make the best of difficulty conditions, things generally go pretty well.

With bad weather you generally have time to get used to it.  The analogy that comes to mind, and I’ll admit that this comparison is fortunately anecdotal, is to compare what it is like to “inherit” a teenager by marriage, being tossed into the deep end of the pool, as opposed to starting out with an infant and growing up with them for more years before they become surly, or should I say “stormy” teens.

However, in spite of our best efforts, things can still go bad with little warning.

You may have heard about the recent tragic loss of long time cruisers and fellow SDSA members, Annemarie and Frank of SV Escape as they made their way from Bermuda to Nova Scotia this spring.  They had hoped to participate in our Homeward Bound Rally from the USVI in May but mechanical issues kept them in St Martin.

After an uneventful run to Bermuda they met crew for the run to Nova Scotia.   Facing a narrow weather window they departed, well prepared with a well maintained boat and the experienced crew needed for such a passage.

A few days out, conditions began to deteriorate and as they prepared to reef the main the mainsheet parted, allowing the boom to thrash wildly.  As Annemarie and Frank attempted to bring things back under control, both were seriously injured.

As they were so far from land, it took time for the USCG to reach them.  Everyone aboard were evacuated yet both Annmarie and Frank succumbed to their injuries during the return to shore.

It’s hard to prepare for everything that you might encounter and in spite of being on a well found boat with experienced crew, things went terribly wrong aboard Escape with devastating circumstances.

This spring, as I made my way back to the US as part of the Homeward Bound Rally, everyone aboard Pandora came down with Covid.  Our symptoms proved manageable as we were all fully vaccinated, a good thing, being so far from shore and isolated from medical support.  I had spent two seasons in the Caribbean and successfully avoided infection but it finally caught up with me and my crew.

There is no question that everyone who heads offshore wants to be as safe as possible and while tragedy rarely strikes, it is important to be as prepared as we can possibly be.

The terrible loss of Annemarie and Frank reminds us that while tragedies like theirs are rare, there are still risks.  We all need to continue to do everything we can to ensure that when we head to sea we are as prepared as we can be with the knowledge that sometimes being prepared just isn’t enough.

Escape was salvaged and is now in Nova Scotia.

SDSA made a donation in memory of Annmarie and Frank to the USCG foundation. They will be missed.

 

 

She wrote in her blog: “We really enjoyed our short visit to St. George’s. We are really looking forward to what Bermuda has to offer in the coming days.

“However, we are well aware that the foreseeable future does not hold just relaxing sightseeing for us. ‘Alex’, the first tropical storm of the season, is approaching.

 

 

Registrations for the fall Rally to the Caribbean are running well above any year in recent memory and with the addition of a planned departure from Newport we are expecting very strong turnout.

Everyone involved in the rally, SDSA shoreside support, skippers and crew, are very focused on doing what is needed to prepare for a safe and fun passage and recent tragic events remind us that regardless of how well prepared we are, things sometimes go terribly wrong.

 

Last week I presented an overview of our plans for the fall Salty Dawg Rally to Antigua, along with a broad “itinerary” of what cruisers might want to do during the season as they make their way down the islands of the eastern Caribbean between Antigua and Grenada.

Some will likely opt to make the run home to the US in the spring but some will also plan on leaving their boats in the Caribbean, mostly in Grenada and Trinidad, outside of the hurricane belt.

It looks like we will have a particularly large number of boats heading south this fall with the rally.  As of now, we are running way ahead of normal pre-pandemic signups with nearly 50 already booked to join the rally.  This compares very favorably with 30 signups by this time in 2019, the last “normal” year.   If this continues to hold, and most signups generally happen in the last few months, we could very well have 100 or more boats in the fleet.

This year we are going to try a second start point, Newport RI, when we join forces with another rally, the NARC, North Atlantic Rally for Cruisers.  And, as an added treat, we have a planned stop in Bermuda, a nice way to break up the 1,500 mile run to Antigua.

Being back in Bermuda will be a bit of a milestone for me as it will be the first time I have been on that island since I did my very first offshore run several decades ago on a friend’s boat on a delivery back to Norwalk CT following the Bermuda race.

My presentation, tailored to those who are considering a run to Antigua, focused on some of the highlights of Nelson’s Dockyard and the two weeks of events associated with the fleet’s arrival.

Additionally, I talked about a number of special events that we will tie in with during the season including Carnival in Martinique, Yachtie Appreciation week in Dominica, the Easter Regatta in Bequia and the Classic Yacht Regatta in Antigua in April.  We also plan a week or more at a beautiful resort in St Lucia, Marigot Bay Resort.

My talk was about 40 minutes followed by 15 minutes of questions.  If you want a sense of what visiting Antigua and cruising the eastern Caribbean is all about, check out the link to the presentation below.

Doing a talk via Zoom isn’t quite as much fun as presenting to a live audience, with the unblinking camera the only feedback, but it’s a great way to get the word out.  I’d be interested in your thoughts on my presentation.On the home front, it’s nearly the end of June and I am making pretty good progress on my “honey-do” list.  The gardens look wonderful and the kitchen and guest bathroom are “demoed”, if that’s a word and the kitchen floor tile is in place.

Over the next few weeks the new kitchen counters will be delivered and the painters will begin prepping the cabinets for a fresh coat of paint, light grey, I think.

I have also made good progress on the guest bath and expect to begin Sheetrocking today in preparation for the waterproofing of the shower enclosure.  While things are progressing nicely on the kitchen and bath, I’ll admit that I am tiring of living in a construction zone.

The good news is that we can now begin to see the light at the end of the tunnel and soon, I hope to turn my attention to Pandora.

Sadly, work hasn’t yet begun on the installation of the lithium bank and wind generator but I am told that they expect to have the work completed by the end of July.   If they make that date, in spite of having Pandora since mid May, I guess that will be OK.

The good news is that I am not paying for dockage so that has saved me some money at a point when I would not have used Pandora much anyway.  I don’t want to get too excited about that savings as it will be dwarfed by the expense of the new systems.

As soon as I get Pandora back to CT I’ll have to consider what I have time to tackle prior to heading back to Antigua.

All I can say is that I am very glad that I tackled the big projects at home as it makes having Pandora stuck in Deltaville a bit easier to swallow.  Boatless or not, at least I am busy.  However, with Brenda away for much of the middle of July, that would have been a great time for me to bring Pandora north.

Well, we are where we are and things here at home are progressing nicely.  I hope the same will soon be the case for Pandora.

One way or the other, late October and the plan to head south is coming soon and I hope that I am ready to head south with what will likely be the largest fleet, perhaps ever, for the Salty Dawg Rally to the Caribbean.

Antigua, soon, here we come soon and I hope I’m with them.  If I am, I expect to be warmly welcomed, as I was last November when I was summoned by the Governor General of Antigua and Barbuda and presented with a medal for service to the Yachting Community.   I just stumbled on this link to an article about that event.

I wrote about that experience in this post.  I’ll tell you it was a thrill, for sure.  As for Pandora, all I can do is hope…

Kitchen and bath?  That’s a lot more certain, for the moment anyway.

I hate to have to say this yet again but wish me luck and while you’re at it, consider heading to Antigua with the Salty Dawg Rally.  

I sure hope that when it’s time to head back to Antigua, that I am ready.

 

 

Pandora has been in Deltaville for a few weeks now and I am told is in cue to have work on her begin soon.  Having said that, I really don’t know when they will begin the jobs as they are very busy with other work.

Between the upgrade to lithium, the wind generator and the new boat fuel tank, there is certainly plenty to keep them busy for a while, once they get started.  All of this is going to cost a lot and with that in mind, I wanted to do some of the prep work  to get the boat ready for the new battery bank.

There was a lot of disassembly needed to pull up the floor in the main salon, where the house battery bank is secured.   To provide context, here’s a shot of what the main salon looks like with everything in place.  This photo was taken underway in “passage mode”.  Trashed, yes…but it’s the only “before” shot I had. While I’m on the subject, on passage, we store all of our gear up in the forward cabin, complete with lee cloth to keep everything in place. The batteries are under the main cabin sole and to get at them for replacement, is not a simple job and involved hours of disassembly, something that I didn’t want to pay two guys by the hour to do.

As you can see below, the benches are out as well as the dining table.  The floor had to come up too, obviously.   The batteries, toward the back of the photo, look tiny but they weigh nearly 200lbs each.

Interestingly, the new lithium bank will save in the neighborhood of 500lbs, compared to the current AGM battery bank and yet provide more usable power.

The two tanks forward are for water.  I am told that the two of them total 100 gallons?  I guess, but they re different sizes.  I’ll have to measure them when I get back to see if I can better understand their capacity. If history is any guide, the design specs for the water capacity will not match what is actually in the boat.  To that point, each of the three fuel tanks are reported to be 50 gallons each but based on how much fuel I have been able to fit into each “empty” tank, I believe that it’s more like 35 gallons of useable fuel per tank.

Because of the leaking fuel tank that is out for repair or replacement now, I installed a temporary fuel bladder in one of the vented aft cockpit lockers.  The lost capacity from the leaking tank was about 35 gallons so the 45 gallon capacity of the bladder more than makes up for the missing tank.

Setting aside the leaking tank I have I have two more 35 gallon permanent tanks and 6 five gallon plastic jugs.   So once the leaking tank is repaired/replaced, I will have a combined capacity of 180 gallons.   This will allow me to motor nearly 280 hours, more than 11 days without turning off the engine, a remarkable capacity.

This will allow me to motor at a low RPM, in fuel conservation mode, for more than ten days, enough time to motor nearly all the way to Antigua.

However, more likely, I will just run at a higher RPM to keep moving when the wind is light.   To date, the most hours on the engine for a run south has been 150, more than 100 hours short of my “new capacity”.

I installed the fuel bladder as I was quite concerned about having enough fuel for the run north this spring.  However, we ended up sailing so much of the time that I only used a small fraction of the fuel.  I still had all the fuel left in the jugs as well as the bladder and at least one of the two remaining tanks.   All and all, I only ran the engine about 50 hours, consuming about 30 gallons of the 145 that I had on board.

Here are the components of the bladder assembly as I prepared the system to take to Antigua and Pandora.  The bladder itself is over 5′ long.  There are a lot of parts involved in setting up the system.  The tank does not come with fittings as that gives you the opportunity to put them wherever you wish so you can get good access for filling and transferring fuel at sea.  The bladders are often used by sport fishing boats or yachts making a trans-Atlantic run.  They come in a variety of sizes, most much larger than what I have installed.

I opted for the 52 gallon tank as it fit perfectly in my aft vented cockpit locker.  I sourced the bladder from Defender but the photo on their website shows it with fittings, which it does not include.  However, there are a number of options available and are easy to install.

Beyond working out how to configure the full system, it was particularly difficult to source the fuel transfer pump.  After a lot of looking,  here’s what I came up with.  There are battery powered versions too but I was concerned about the battery loosing it’s charge as it would be used so infrequently.  The roll of tubing is to run from the pump to the forward fill ports for each fuel tank.   The bladder, installed, but still empty, in the aft port vented locker. Here you can see the fill tube, installed near the end of the bladder, with the transfer tube nearby.  The clear tube will attach to the transfer pump that will be stored remotely until I use it.
Unfortunately, I didn’t take a photo of the filled bladder in place.  I did have some difficulty in filling the bladder with fuel as when the diesel foamed, which it always does, a large “bubble” accumulated in the highest part of the middle of the bladder.  I had some difficulty “burping” out that air.  The foam made the bladder look full even though it was nowhere near capacity.  I was able to get some of that air out by pulling up on the fill hose.  However, that proved to be messy as when the air was released through the fill tube, diesel splattered all over the place.  The solution will be to put a vent tube in the highest part of the bladder that I can open up with a valve to bleed off the captured air.  There is already a screw fitting in place that I can adapt.

All and all, there’s a lot to do on Pandora and that’s only the things that I am asking the yard to do.  I have no idea when I will have Pandora back home but that’s ok if it takes weeks as I have a load of stuff to do here at home.

Having said that, Brenda has a conference in the Carolinas in mid July and that will be a good time to head to VA to bring Pandora home.  I sure hope that the work is done by then.  Given current progress, I can’t say that I am particularly optimistic.

Meanwhile, things are progressing here at home with the tile guy coming on Wednesday to begin putting down the floor tile in the kitchen.  Getting the old tile out, by me, was quite a job but the site is nearly ready to transition from a destruction to a construction zone. . The rebuilding begins this week, first the floor, then the counters and backsplash and finally, painting the cabinets a light grey.  I have been a bit overwhelmed by the process as all the demo had to be done by me.   But, all that is nearly done now so I can turn the job over to the professionals. 

In a few days I begin remodeling the third and final full bath, the one off of the guest room in Brenda’s studio.  I’ll be doing most/all of that job myself and I have to begin the demo before the dumpster is taken away later this week so I can get any rubble out of the place easily.

No rest for the weary, or handy.  Meanwhile, Pandora awaits…

 

 

Pandora arrived in Deltaville VA this week after an 8 day run from St Thomas.  My crew, Craig, Alex and me were part of the Salty Dawg Homeward Bound Rally to the US, along with about 20 boats, most heading to Hampton VA.

The run was fairly uneventful, setting aside minor mechanical issues and a leaking heat exchanger on the engine.  All and all a, sort of, uneventful voyage.  We did have a very sporty last day before crossing the Gulf Stream when winds picked up to near 30kts for about 12 hours but other than that, we sailed much of the 1,350 miles.

Oddly, after those strong winds and as we approached the Gulf Stream, we had a 180 degree wind shift that took less than a half hour to unfold.  At first I thought that it was actually a result of a squall but then realized that the shift was not temporary.

By the time we got to the Gulf Stream, some hours later, the wind had diminished to less than 10kts and we crossed the Stream in near flat calm conditions.  It felt more like Long Island Sound in August than the mighty Gulf Stream.  It’s all about timing and with Chris Parker’s support, we hit it just right.

As we approached Deltaville, we decided to use the last of our supply of covid tests and learned that all three of us still tested positive.   As you can imagine, this was quite upsetting as it had been quite  along time since we had tested Alex and learned, a few days out from St Thomas, that he was positive.  We assumed that me and Craig were too although we didn’t check ourselves as we didn’t have enough tests on board.

When Craig and Alex first noticed symptoms, we were very upfront with the rally fleet, sending out an an announcement to all that we had been in contact with prior to departure.  We didn’t hear anything back so I am assuming that everyone else was ok.

Fortunately, our symptoms were limited to sore throats and a cough and as all of us had been vaccinated and had been twice boosted, the problem was fairly minor.

By the time we got to our destination we were faced with the question about what to say and do about our condition.  In my case, we were pretty certain that I was the first to get sick so I was probably no longer a threat to anyone.

I won’t go into any details about what happened next except to say that our arrival was akin to a group of lepers showing up at a garden party for hypochondriacs and it wasn’t pretty.  Given the response when word got to them.

I was unsure about how candid to be about our status and ultimately decided not to say anything because I had likely been positive weeks prior and, according to CDC guidelines, was no longer contagious.   However, news travels fast and the marina management found out anyway, along with everyone else in the marina.

To say that it was awkward doesn’t begin to describe what happened and it was clear that we were not welcome.

So, the question wasn’t really about if we were still contagious but that we had tested positive, something that I have learned isn’t necessarily a marker for being contagious after enough time has passed .    The current science, and CDC guidance, is that you are safe ten days following initial onset of symptoms but public opinion isn’t clear on that at all.

Testing negative isn’t necessarily the marker of safety as omicron, the now dominant variant, can continue to test positive up to 90 days past the initial infection.  Based on the reception that we received, good luck trying to explain that when everyone thinks that you can’t reenter society until you have had two days of negative test results.

In the interest of fair balance, I will acknowledge that there are two sides of the story and I should have been more upfront with everyone.  Having said that, there is so much emotion and misinformation out there, I doubt that things would have been much different if I’d said something upfront.   I guess I’ll never know.

Yup, really awkward.

So, we cleaned up Pandora and left as soon as we could.  No reason to hang around when we were clearly not wanted.

Pandora remains in Deltaville awaiting the installation of the lithium bank and some other work to be determined.

Enough of that for now.

Meanwhile… when I’m on passage, I always worry about a catastrophic failure of some sort.  Things always break but they are usually little things.   When it’s really “sporty” or “salty” as Chris Parker likes to say,  I listen to the sounds of the boat and always have in the back of my mind, a fear that the rig is going to fail in some way.

I say this knowing that my standing rigging was replaced two years ago by a very competent rigger but I still worry.   Given all the stresses on any boat in a seaway, I am always amazed that Pandora holds together in spite of everything we run into.

However, sometimes things do break but fortunately, Pandora’s failures have been pretty minor.

Last fall one of our rally boats had a major failure when they lost their forestay in pretty rough conditions.  I won’t go into detail about this except to say that things turned out fine but several Salty Dawg boats came to the rescue and at one point the USCG came out in a chopper from Puerto Rico as someone on board set off their EPIRB emergency transponder, only to cancel the call by the time the chopper arrived.

Fast forward and that same boat was heading back to New York a few weeks ago and found themselves in pretty rough conditions off of Long Island, this time with terrible results.

I don’t know the specifics except to say that the captain reported to the USCG that they had been hit by a “rouge wave” and lost their entire rig.

The USCG send out a Jayhawk chopper and lifted all four crew to safety.   The Coast Guard records video of all operations and to see this footage is very sobering.Check out this link to a news report of the incident from a TV station in Boston.

So, there you have it.  Sure we had a good passage but the arrival, not so much.

All I can say is that it didn’t feel good to be greeted like lepers but at least we didn’t have to be rescued by the USCG.   Having said that, it’s nice to know that they will be there if we need them.

Let’s hope that’s never the case and I hope to never hear the words, “Good evening, I’ll be your USCG rescue swimmer today”.

Nope, I’d much prefer being a pariah as it could have been much worse.

 

 

 

 

It’s been 8 days since we left St Thomas to make our way back to the US and, all and all, it’s been a fairly easy trip.

Last night, running into a line of nasty squalls, was the most difficult day of the trip.  We had a few minor gear issues that required two of us on deck at midnight to fix an errant reefing line that had to be rerun a few times until we finally got it right.  And there were myriad issues that needed attention but are too numerous to list here.

We were also treated to a full moon that lent a bit of additional drama as we surfed along at 10 kts in big seas and nearly 30 kts of wind. I understand that there was also a lunar eclipse but somehow we missed that, perhaps due to all the excitement and efforts at managing the boat under difficult conditions.

It was certainly our most challenging night of the trip but it’s actually been a pretty uneventful run.  It seemed like I had to go up on deck a dozen times last night to check lines or make minor tweaks and repairs to keep things running smoothly.  It’s been a long time since I had to reef and un-reef so many times in a single night.

It was tough on all of us and I don’t think that I had more than perhaps a cat nap for 10 minutes before things calmed down around dawn when I was finally able to lie down for a few hours.

We also had 180 degree wind shift that happened in about 15 minutes, and was totally unexpected in spite of our downloading current weather information.  It took me a while to understand that it was a shift and not some sort of squall that was changing wind direction temporarily.

As I write this we are about 2/3 of the way across the Gulf Stream, that conveyor belt of warm water that moves up from the Gulf of Mexico nearly to the Arctic and back down past Northern Europe, tempering the climate for millions.    The amount of water that is moved by the current, often at up to 5 kts, is the largest moving body of water on the planet and a huge amount of heat is circulated from the tropics to the Arctic year round.   Imagine a body of water a mile deep and 50 or more miles wide moving at 5 kts 24/7, day after day for millions of years.  That’s a lot of water.

The Gulf Stream also marks the end of the trip for us as the entrance to the Chesapeake is only about 100 miles beyond the western wall of the Stream.

We still have another night at sea and come morning we will enter the Chesapeake and then in another 30 or so miles we will arrive at our destination.

One night more or not, crossing the Gulf Stream is a big deal and signifies  that we have come a long way.

Here’s to being mostly there!