I am always a bit remiss when I arrive home after a winter afloat as it seems to take forever to find a moment to do that” one last post” about the trip.  Anyone who has followed our run must wonder if we made it as I go silent after near-daily posts when we are on passage.  Well, we made it and here’s yet another post that proves that I am indeed “here to tell the tale”.

On Tuesday we cleared customs in New London after several conversations with officers on the phone who were universally insistent that we show up in person for an inspection.  As a point of clarification, I didn’t object to an in-person inspection and even asked for clarification and asked what was “not allowed” so that I could dispose of everything before making landfall.

The items that had to go over the side were any fresh fruit or produce as well as any chicken products including frozen items that were not labeled from the US.  So, over the side they went as we passed Montauk.  Anyone watching would have seen a mile long slick of limes, celery, apples and even an errant turkey thigh bobbing in our wake.  Here fishy, fishy…

We tied up at the Customs Dock in New London and a short time later the officer arrived.  It’s a big dock and the step from the dock to Pandora’s deck was a pretty good drop.  After taking one look at the dock and then down to Pandora the officer said, and I quote “that’s a big step”.   And I said “yes, that’s a big step.  Would you like to come aboard?”  Hoping that he wouldn’t given the large variety of rum that I was “importing”.   After a long moment of hesitation, he said, “Hmm… please pass up your passports” and “do you have any fruits, vegetables or chicken aboard”.  To that I said, “nope, tossed everything overboard and there is a trail of the stuff looping around Montauk point.”  And, he said, “welcome home.  You’re all set.”   And, I said “that’s it?” and he said.  “Yup”.

Now, wasn’t that easy?  So, there we were, back in US waters and free to go on our way.  Bob jumped ship to catch a train home but not until we had a “Tot of rum” to celebrate our arrival.  George and I headed toward the CT River and the Essex Yacht Club, the official landfall for our journey.

The fog was really thick as we approached Montauk earlier that morning with visibility of only a few hundred feet.  After months of clear warm weather in the Caribbean it was a shock to suddenly be in damp, cold fog. Montauk light.  Almost home. Visibility was closing in by the mile.The closer to shore we got the thicker the fog.   The Orient Point ferry emerged ominously from the low hanging fog bank off of New London. Nearly there, the mouth of the CT River. The last time I passed this point was the third week of October, last year. After nearly 4,000 miles under Pandora’s keel since passing this point last fall and 9 days since leaving Antigua, we were home and none the worse for wear.

Actually, I was a little worse for wear after my trip up the mast way back, 600 miles south of Bermuda when the headboard gave way and the mainsail came crashing down onto the deck.

But then you already know all about that if you follow this blog as I wrote about that experience in an earlier post.   I won’t bore you with a replay except to show some photos which I wasn’t able to send from Pandora given our limited “bandwidth” while underway.

As you recall, the headboard, the piece that holds up the top of the mainsail, broke, disconnecting from the top of the sail.   The headboard shot to the top of the mast and the sail, to the deck.  Messy.We pulled the top of the sail through the front of the dodger so we could work on it under cover. After a lot of discussion on what the best fix would be, we decided to drill holes in the sail and thread lengths of super-strong Dynema rope to support it.  Good thing I have a large tool and spare parts selection aboard. Several hours, nine holes and a bunch of knots later…All done.  Not beautiful but plenty strong. The “better side”. George and Bob put the sail back into the mast slides as I was still feeling a bit shaky from my run up the mast. And, speaking of my time “aloft”, I had a few bruises to prove that it was a rough ride.  This one was particularly tender.  Not sure what I banged into but I thought that it was pretty impressive. The inside of both thighs from clinging to the mast.   “Thanks for sharing Bob! Disgusting, really!”Ok, if you insist.  The insides of both arms.  I was really clutching the mast with all my might.   Superman I’m not, but I was clutching the mast “super hard”. As rough as it was the day I went up the mast, a few days later, not so rough.  Once you get north of Bermuda the winds are all over the place if there is any wind at all. We ended up motoring something like 100 hours and yet still managed to sail between 800 and 900 miles and sometimes at near double digit speeds for days at a time.  I wrote about one of our best days of sailing, early in our trip in this post.

However, after crossing the Gulf Stream the wind just died and didn’t come up again.

As much as I hate motoring day after day, the calm seas that come along with no wind do make for good conditions to spot sea life.  We saw a small pod of humpback whales and also many of these sharks, Basking sharks I think.    The fin, tail and “nose” of the shark are very distinctive as they slowly swim along with their enormous mouth agape.   These sharks run in the 15-25′ long, the second largest shark species.  In spite of their enormous size, their primary food is plankton, tiny invertebrates.   We saw dozens as we approached the continental shelf about 100 miles south of Montauk. One of them slowly swam toward Pandora until he/she was only about 2′ from our hull and suddenly realized how close we were.  And with a violent splash, turned away.  They really look primeval. All and all, we had a good run and in spite of 100 hours of motoring, we still made very good time, nearly 180 miles per day for 1,600 miles, over the bottom.

Now that Pandora is in a marina, I’ll have the mechanic take a look at the prop shaft bearing to see how tough it will be to put in a new one or at least fix the one that’s there.   I may also have the transmission pulled for inspection as I fear that the vibration might have caused some excess wear.   I’ll wait until fall to pull her, I hope, to take a look at the cutlass bearing on the shaft to see if that wore too.

You know, they say that cruising is “boat repair in exotic places” but being home means even more boat repairs, but in a marina.  And, it costs a lot more. funny thing.

So, how was my trip?  Well, I am already thinking about my run south in November as part of the Salty Dawg Rally to Antigua.

Oh yeah, the rally will be adding a second “official” departure point, from Essex Yacht Club.  Gee, I wonder how the board chose Essex Yacht Club? Hmm…

Who knew?  But I didn’t want to schlep Pandora all the way to Hampton.  A rally departure from my very own home-town club?  I’m excited.

 

Well, it’s official, we are in “northern climes” having crossed the Gulf Stream last evening.

I am always stunned as to how fast the weather changes when we enter the Gulf Stream and how different the temperature is on the north side, compared to the south of the Stream.

For nearly the entire trip north, now into our 9th day since leaving Antigua, we have been moving along with all the hatches well secured.   As a result, it’s been very hot and stuffy in the cabin.  This is partly because the engine is located under the galley and when it’s running, a good deal of heat radiates from the cabinet.  Even after we shut down, the engine remains hot for many hours.

As a rule, we have been using fans with the hope of keeping cool off watch and often, that just isn’t enough to be comfortable.

The water temperature south of the GS tends to run in the low 80s, not much different than in the Caribbean, and that really doesn’t change until we pass out over the northern wall and into cooler New England waters.

We first began to feel the effects of the GS around the same latitude as the mouth of the Chesapeake Bay when we entered a “cold eddy” at 36 degrees and 55 minutes north, finally reaching the main flow of the Stream at around the same latitude as the Delaware Bay.   Once we were solidly into the flow the water temperature was a pretty constant 82 degrees.  The GS is about 50 miles wide in that area but still runs to the NE at a pretty good clip, I’d guess at about 2-3kts.

As we reached the waypoint that Chris Parker had given us for the north wall of the Stream, the temperature dropped, within less than an hour to 74 degrees and in the next hour to 68 degrees.  Within the next few hours it made a big drop to 57 degrees.

It’s amazing to me that the Stream remains so well defined a thousand miles from where it passes southern Florida.  The amount of energy that is being transferred northward is stunning.

So, after some 1,300 miles with near constant water and air temperatures, we are now into much cooler temperate conditions, and all that change within a few hours.  Amazing.

While I have been cooking each day, usually a hot dinner and sometimes a hot lunch.  I have been holding off on making biscuits, perhaps my favorite thing to eat aboard.   I am a passable cook at best but I do make really good biscuits.

And, today, after a week and a half of dinners without much comment from the crew, this morning’s biscuits were scarfed down in short order.   Well, it only took 1,300 miles but I finally found something that they really like, or at least that’s how it seemed.  Perhaps it was a relief for them, finally…

Yesterday was a good day with 13 hours of great sailing.  We covered a lot of distance, a welcomed change from all the motoring before the wind finally came up.

Remember that whole “shaft bearing” thing?  It seems to be fairly stable but clearly will need love when I get back.   However, there still remains an intermittent vibration in the shaft, from time to time.

Oddly, after motorsailing for hours through the Gulf Stream last night, we rolled out the jib to give us a little more speed and without making any change in RPM there was again a nasty vibration in the propeller shaft.  It persisted, somewhat, after we stowed the jib again and finally smoothed out and has been running along happily for hours now.

I have no idea of what’s causing the problem.  It might be a propeller shaft zinc that has worn and gotten loose, a loose zinc on the propeller or perhaps there’s still some sort of line or material on the prop.   Of course, it could also be a worn cutlass bearing but that looked fine when Pandora went into the water last October.

One way or the other, I sure hope that things hold up until we reach home.  I’d hate to lose the use of the engine with so little wind.
All and all, things are moving along nicely and it’s finally cool enough for biscuits.

It will also soon be time to go through the fridge and freezer to be sure that we don’t have any “contraband” food that will cause problems with Customs and the Agriculture folks if they decide to inspect the boat.   I’ll be leaving a trail of food, including all vegetables and fruit as well as any frozen meat that isn’t labeled as having been blessed by the USDA.

Wish us luck with the engine but so far, so good, mostly.  It’s always amazing to me how much can go wrong on a long passage but we are nearly there and should be back home perhaps as early as mid- afternoon Tuesday.

Wish you were aboard for a biscuit?  Finally, it’s cool enough to bake.

And yes, Brenda, I do need a sweater.

Today, Sunday, as of 09:00 marks the one week point of our voyage since leaving Antigua.  In some ways it feels like less time than that and in other ways, a lot more.   We are getting closer but are still a long way from home, about even with Cape Hatteras and a bit more than 300nm from Montauk, Long Island, where we will turn into Long Island Sound.

Perhaps, more significant is that it is Mother’s Day, and here I am, hundreds of miles from land and days from home, neglecting my own mother and the mother of my children.  Good thing that I married a girl that is understanding, and usually more than is warranted.  I’m not certain if I’d be quite as reasonable if the tables were turned.

The good news is that Brenda has been at a retreat for the weekend so I expect that she’s actually happier than if she had to stick around home with me.   After a winter afloat, I am pretty confident that a weaving conference trumps.

I’m lucky to have someone as understanding as Brenda.  And it gets even better as she’s going to go see my mother, who I am also neglecting on Mother’s day, and she will be bringing a bottle of wine to share with my mom.  Two mothers on Mother’s Day, drinking wine…

Anyway, back to reality.  Not a lot has happened over the last 24 hours, but you probably don’t know that as Brenda has probably not been able to put up my Saturday post while she’s away.  If that’s the case, I expect that this post will show up a few minutes after yesterday’s when Brenda returns home this evening.   (temporary ed’s note:  Uh, no, it didn’t work out like that!  I got Sat’s post up, but couldn’t do Sunday’s post until Monday morning!  Sorry,Bob.  It was a long day Sunday, packing up, having a nice visit with your mom, and arriving home Sunday evening, completely zonked!)

That huge high pressure zone that has sucked up all the wind continues to be a problem although after motoring much of yesterday with wind in the 2-5kt range, the wind has finally filled in a bit to about 10-15kts but still from behind us.   That means that while we are getting a bit of lift from the wind, the engine has been on for nearly 40 hours, non-stop.

That’s not a terrible problem as we have quite a bit of fuel on board.  However, the first tank “ran dry” with just 50 hours on it, which doesn’t make sense given history.   We should have gotten at least 65 hours so expect that a piece of crud in the tank might have gotten stuck in the pickup tube.  I have had that happen in the past and after switching tanks the piece generally drops out of the tube.  I don’t need to worry about the residual fuel in that tank right now so I am not inclined to switch back to test the hypothesis.  One way or the other, we have plenty of fuel in reserve, now on our second tank with a third yet to go.  I also have 25 gallons in jugs as a backup.  We’re in good shape in the fuel department.
A bigger issue may end up being the propeller shaft bearing that I mentioned a few days ago.  It had shown meaningful signs of wear after the problem with propeller vibration.  I am not sure if the wear was caused when the prop shaft vibrated due to something being tangled on the prop or if it was there before and I had just not noticed it.  After a few days of monitoring a lot of dust has collected under the fitting, suggesting that something is still wearing.  I am not familiar with the coupling and exactly how it works but expect that it has some sort of carbon sleeve that wears to keep the shaft in alignment.

Fortunately, I also have a laser thermometer so I have been using it to periodically monitor the temperature of the bearing in various sections.  After rising in temperature early on, the bearing temperatures seem to have stabilized.  I’ll keep monitoring it every hour or so with the hope that it doesn’t get hotter.  So far, it seems to be stable.  The fact that one side of the bearing is a little bit hotter than the other, suggests that it’s still not well aligned.    However, I think that the interior carbon sleeve, as it wears down from friction, will help keep things in reasonable alignment.   If the bearing fails, given the fluky wind, it could be a problem.

It had better not fail as there’s still likely to be plenty of motoring between here and home.  Fortunately, I have a good selection of tools on board so I can still tinker with the bearing.   I wish that I had not let my towing insurance lapse.   Oh well, it’s a bit late to change that.

And speaking of wind, I also just downloaded the most recent GRIB files, weather maps, and they suggest that we might get a good 24 hours of sailing in beginning later today.  That’s good as we only have about two days until we get to Montauk and enter Long Island Sound and that would give us an opportunity to rest the engine and bearing.

Another question that will need answering is how we will have to deal with Customs as we re-enter US waters.   Prior to leaving Antigua, I contacted two offices, Bayone NJ, that covers Northern New Jersey, New York and Long Island Sound, and an office in the New Haven, New London area.
I asked an officer in each office what I should expect and what the current clearance process would be.  The officer in Bayone, an office that I have cleared through in the past, said that as long as each of our passports check out, we would likely receive clearance over the phone.   The officer in the New Haven office took a much tougher position saying “you can count on us visiting you at the dock”.   Yep, I’ll try calling Bayone and see how that goes.  Wish me luck as I’d prefer not to have to make a totally separate stop after so many days at sea.

So, when will we arrive home?  Well, that depends on a lot of variables, wind, current, mechanical issues and of course, Customs.  If we are able to clear over the phone, and everything works out, or continues to work, we might be back “at the dock” by late Tuesday night.

After a week at sea, the last 300 miles seems like we are nearly home, but there’s still a lot of sea between us and the dock.

So far, so good.  Wish us continued luck.

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.

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.