Atlantic Crossing - December 2003

Gibraltar to the Canaries

Like almost every boat leaving the Med for the Caribbean on the Trade Winds route, we went via the Canaries.

Gibraltar to Gran Canaria is a run of about 600 miles and has a number of advantages:

* Although it makes the crossing longer overall, it knocks a big chunk off the longest non-stop leg.

* It gets the crew into ‘passage mode’.

* If you are taking on new crew, as we were, it’s a final check that you are all going to be happy with each other for the main crossing – once you are under way there is not real turning back. Donald Fraser had already joined us for a week before we left Gibraltar, so we had got to know each other and were certainly very glad to have him on board in the coming weeks.

* It helps to shake down the boat and reveal whether there are any unforeseen preparations which need to be done.

For us, this run was probably the worst passage we have ever made. We studied the weather forecasts with some care and could see that there was a risk of South Westerlies (right in our path) but that if we got off quickly and moved West first we’d avoid them. Unfortunately this proved optimistic and we had some very heavy going; nothing dangerous, but beating into a Force 6 for days is not fun. We took a lot of water over the front of the boat. The wind forced a constant plume of water metres high off each bow. The anchor locker hatch cover, which lies flush and weighs about 30lbs, blew right open twice. The genoa furling line snapped. The replacement furling line snapped. The waves pushing up against the trampoline (which is tightly laced at the front of the boat) half tore it off and we could hear all the heavy chain and spare anchors bouncing up and down in the locker. Donald and Leonie both felt pretty sick, but stoically plugged away doing their watches.

Because there was too much West in the wind we were unable to fetch Gran Canaria and were lucky to be able to make it into La Graciosa, a little island just off Lanzarote, which is the most Easterly of the Canaries. There’s not in Graciosa and we didn’t even go ashore, but were grateful to get into the shelter of the island’s lee shore and lay over for a day. Once we had got some sleep and recovered our equilibrium we then set off on the relatively straightforward run across to Las Palmas on Gran Canaria, where we topped up the tanks and went into the marina. This now had plenty of berths as the ARC (Atlantic Rally for Cruisers) with its fleet of 300 odd yachts had left a few days before.

Las Palmas isn’t much of a town but it’s a good place to ready a boat for the crossing. There are good chandlers in the marina, good supermarkets and we found the Corte Ingles would vacuum pack meat for us, greatly extending its keeping time.  We spent a little longer here than I had planned as there were more jobs to do on the boat than I had expected and the rough time we’d had coming down made me keen to replace some more running rigging and get the boat as well prepared as possible. After a few days hard work we were as ready as we were ever going to be and with a decent forecast set off on the morning of the 30^th November.

Gran Canaria to Barbados

Day 1 – 30 Nov

Off to a good start down Gran Canaria. Leaving at 10am. Winds North East up to Force 6 – we touch 15 knots (though we reckon the log is optimistic and we later adjust it). Swell is lumpy and confused making for noisy berths.

Day 2 - we catch a lovely fish

Much the same. Donald loses two fish off the lure, then lands a lovely dorado – a metre long and a stone in weight. We have it for supper and it’s about the best fish I’ve ever eaten.

The new main halyard is making reefing much easier, which we have to do from time to time as squalls come in bringing the wind up to Force 7 occasionally. The wind has been taking us further South than we intended, but as long as we are making some Westing we are happy.

Day 3 - good progress

The wind is moving to the East, we are even getting SSE from time to time, so we spend much of the day on port tack or goose-winged.

Day 4 - weather starts to look iffy

A weatherfax from Boston (Mass.) suggests that a low will be forming in 3-4 days a few hundred miles North of the 18N 30W waypoint we are heading for before turning across for Barbados. We agree not to go West or North of the line to our waypoint and to keep moving South to keep us clear of the fringes of this. Trudi’s net (a kind of daily short wave radio meeting) advises that the stable weather is below 18N and the talk is generally of the Trade Winds setting in late this year. The weather is overcast and though it’s 22C it’s not sunny. With the constant changes of wind direction everyone is just a little down, thinking “two weeks more of this??”.

A lovely school of dolphins in the evening follows us for half an hour with some great aerobatics.

Leonie has been feeling queasy since leaving port, and now Donald is the same. He doesn’t think it’s seasickness, so we wonder if the water we took on in Las Palmas is suspect. I dose the tank with Milton to kill off any possible bugs.

Day 5 - light winds

The wind is beginning to get light and variable. We get out the new genoa and set up a ‘Twistle rig’ – i.e. two genoas put onto the forestay and one flown each side like two wings. This works well, but the sail area is less than mainsail and genoa alone, and it won’t work with the mainsail at the moment, so we’ll save it for when we have stronger winds dead astern. The good thing is that we can leave both genoas up and treat them as one, or split them as we choose. This will also be a safer rig for night sailing as it will save having to reef the mainsail, which we prefer not have to do at night, although we are getting more relaxed about this as the new halyard has greatly reduced the friction.

Day 6 - we wallow about but it's warmer

I am woken at 5:30am a couple of hours after going off watch by a banging on the cabin roof. Realising that this is caused by the mainsheet blocks tumbling over it’s clear the wind has died. I get up to sort it out and find there’s hardly any wind. We spend the whole of the day motoring in Force 0 to 3 winds which go all round the clock.

The low which was forecast is dissipating, and leaving a bit of a hole with no winds at all. Listening to Trudi many of the boats on her net are in the same position, and they are now saying you need to get below 15 North to get stable winds. We decide rather than heading further South to head directly towards Barbados. This will take us towards the dissipating low, where there might be stronger winds. Also I reason that when this low blows out (and another some hundreds of miles North West of it) then the main Atlantic high should fill out again and the Trades set in. If we are right then we’ll get them earlier. If we are wrong we’ll be sitting around for quite a while.

In the meantime it’s quite sunny for periods and warm and Donald and I are finally in shorts and T shirts!

Day 7 - what Trade Winds?

The weather is fine, but the winds still are not right. For much of the day they are light and variable. First thing in the morning Donald and I get out the spinnaker to see if we can get some more speed on the boat, but we can’t get it to fly as the wind is just ahead of the beam, though we try various unorthodox ways of rigging it. So we put it away and take down the second genoa which is affecting the draw of the foresail in these light airs and we make about 4 knots much of the day. In the evening the wind dies further but we decide to conserve our fuel and not start the engines as long as we can make reasonable way, giving everyone a quiet night. I go to bed at 8pm as I have to up at 2am, but am woken at 1:30 by the sound of the boat speeding up. The wind is now fresher and we can make six knots, but it’s from South South West. This makes a bumpier ride so sleep will be difficult, but the seas are still slight and we can just make our course of 257 degrees.

I have been watching on the weatherfaxes the development of Tropical Storm Odette in the North Caribbean, which didn’t look too severe and was tagged at 55kts. But then I hear on World Service that it has hit the Dominican Republic at 100mph and caused much destruction as well as some deaths. This is the first time a tropical storm has been recorded in the Caribbean in December. I hope this didn’t make the TV news at home or our families will be concerned. Thank heaven we have email and can keep in touch with reasonable frequency.

We are all a bit cheesed off that there is no sign of the Trades . Trudi’s net is now saying you need to be below 15N! We hear via Donald’s wife Sue that the first ARC boat has arrived in St. Lucia after 12 days (it was a 60 footer) but are philosophical and resigned to the fact that our crossing will probably take longer than we hoped.

A new depression is forming ahead of us to replace one which was just on the way out.. I call Trudi’s net to ask for advice about this as it looks a potential problem to me. They say they can't talk to me because I have a maritime mobile call sign, not a ham amateur sign, but I ask them to stretch a point on safety grounds and her  weather ‘expert’ Gerard says the low is not forecast to be strong. I’m not so sure.

Day 8 - gales ahead

Not much sleep as running close to windward last night while the seas built which made for a bumpy ride, and I was up early to adjust sails.

Bad news when the weatherfaxes come in. The new ow is now  tagged as a gale. It’s about 100 miles North of our path, but may move South and will certainly generate SW winds in our way. Also potential storms are shown South of the depression, so we decide to head South now to dodge it and them. As the winds constantly change this means that for some hours we are actually going South South East – back towards Africa! – not good for morale.

Poor Donald is feeling seasick again too. He just can’t get used to the motion of the boat going into headwinds and with the seas against us. I don’t blame him as it’s very uncomfortable and the worst point about catamarans. Luckily come the evening the wind has gone North West and after some squalls and torrential downpours when I get soaked to the skin, we are now able to make a South West course. Donald saw a big electrical storm to the North of us, so our decision to change course looks like a good call. We are now still going South rather than ‘direct’ to Barbados, but we are taking miles off the distance to run as well. I’m keeping the boat a bit slow (around 4 to 5 knots) to make the ride less uncomfortable so people can get sleep and rest.

We saw quite a few birds today – petrels and gulls, though full identification has yet to be made. I saw a gull diving on flying fish which was interesting to watch. There have been quite big shoals of flying fish throughout the day. Imagine the poor things leaping out of the water to avoid predators below only to find they are attacked by one from above!

We put our clocks back today having reached longitude 30, so are now on UT-2. Today we also celebrated clocking up 1,000 miles, both in terms of distance logged through the water and in terms of distance off the amount left to run, which is now about 1,700 miles. Heading South to try to pick up better winds is probably going to cost us a couple of days so a fast passage now looks out of the question and a 20 day run would not surprise me.

Day 9 - 1,600 miles of hand steering?

This morning the wind went South East! This was good and unexpected news. After motoring for much of the night in quiet winds it meant we could sail comfortably South West, taking us into lower latitudes, where we hope we will eventually find true Trades, and also West to our destination.

Big excitement when we broke radio silence today (for the first time since about a week ago when I had to call up a transporter and ask a rather sleepy watch officer to budge over as he was on course to run us down). We heard another yacht conversing with someone who was out of range and Donald called them up. They were about 15 miles North of us, closer to the depression but reckoned they would stick to their line. Donald had the impression they were a big boat and they obviously had quite sophisticated weather information on board as the skipper said he had “run various models” for his routing. They promised to call us back when their next weather update came in but as we expected we were out of range by then.

The bad news is that:

* Donald is still feeling pretty rotten, though he still works very hard and is standing all his watches.

* This evening the wind has got up. It looks like we are on the edge of the depression we have been tracking. So we are now on a near-beat into a Force 6 (sometimes 5, sometimes 7) and the seas are building so we are back to crash-bang-wallop sailing which doesn’t do the boat or the crew any good. Oh, and of course there is lots of rain and the odd bit of lightning off.

* It’s clear that this is going to be a slow crossing. There are no sign of the Trades kicking in and the weather faxes indicate that when we do get Easterlies in a few days they will be light.

* We’ve been unable to get a decent connection with Kiel Radio to send email for 36 hours. This is particularly bad news for Donald as Sue will be worrying and it was their son Nigel’s birthday today.

* The Autohelm is on the way out. Donald reported a strange noise in his cabin and when I investigated I found the hydraulic ram which operates the Autohelm steering is making a grinding noise. I had a look at it today but it will need to come out to be worked on. I have various spare parts having asked the dealer in Malta to give me the most commonly needed parts, so I do hope it can be fixed. The prospect of hand steering the remaining 1,600 miles in this kind of weather is daunting.

The good news is that:

* The crew are all positive.

* We are going in the right direction

* We have plenty of food

* It’s warm – around 22 to 25 Centigrade

Day 10 - bumping along

We spend all day bumping along with the apparent wind at 60 degrees to port. This just about enables us to hold our course although the wind is now mostly South. The sea is quite rough with swells up to 3m and lots of confused water. We take quite big waves over the decks from time to time, and this slows the boat down. But somehow we manage to keep going just South of West.

Donald is still feeling pretty low, but manages some lunch which he keeps down.

It’s too rough for me to work on the Autohelm. I’d happily get it out, and am fortunate that I can work in the engine compartment in bouncy seas without feeling sick; but fixing the thing with the boat going all over the place would be too risky – we would be bound to lose some parts.

Our distance to go is now below 1,500 miles!

The low we have been concerned about has now been officially classed as Tropical Storm Peter. Fortunately it has moved North but listening to Trudi’s net there are some boats who did not turn South to avoid it who are getting quite big seas, and winds from the South West against which they can make little progress. One has simply taken down all sail and is drifting.

Still no joy getting emails through despite many attempts. Finally I manage to get a very short email off to Jessica telling her all is well, our crossing will take at least 20 days and that she should not expect more emails. I’ve also asked her to pass this on to Sue Fraser.

I get the latest weather faxes from New Orleans which show that we can expect some variable winds ahead and will need to get further South to get Easterlies. As I prepare to go off watch in the evening  the wind goes West of South. I’ve been expecting this all day and have been surprised at how long we’ve held onto our line. Donald and I take the sails down and we motor South West. The wind settles into a SW4 – it’s been 5 to 6  all day – and we are plugging directly into it. Gradually the seas die down and we only crash off a wave once a minute or two, so it’s not as bad as when we came down from Gib to the Canaries. We see a huge electrical storm over to the North East and are very glad we are not underneath it

We are now just below 17N and I want to get down to 15N where we should find the Easterlies. We’ll  then continue to make Southing as I want to get down to 13N, the latitude of Barbados, where the winds will be fresher – what Easterlies there are look pretty light. That way too we can jink North or South to avoid any more of these tropical storms, which of course never happen in December….

Day 11 - a fouled prop

I come up on watch at 2am and the wind is still SW4, but the sea is getting quieter.

The electrical storm is still going on behind us and I see lightning from directly astern to almost our port beam. This is a storm on a massive scale as it must be at least 20 and maybe 50 miles away, so I estimate the storm itself must be at least 60 and potentially 100 miles long. I’m slightly concerned that it is now showing to port as I left it dead astern when I went off watch at 8pm, but I think this is caused by new clouds coming up from the South to join the party, rather than by the system working down towards us. I hope so anyway, and will see if the weatherfaxes give me any guidance later.

The weatherfaxes duly come in and give some comfort. It looks like the depression has blown out, the storms behind us are not going our way and the trades are setting in, albeit lightly. As expected the seas have died down in the night and during the day they gradually get flatter.

During the night Donald has managed to get away some of our emails and receive a few which is great. We get one from Trudi who gives us excellent advice on entering Barbados and tells us about a new customs berth (well, it’s three years old but not clearly mentioned in our latest pilots!).

When we tune in to Trudi’s net we learn that we have now overtaken Sally, who was stalled by the storm to our North. Wyn, who lay ahull for a day and then headed South, seems to have crossed tracks with us during the night and is now about 14 miles away. We didn’t see him in the night and can’t raise him on the radio, which is a shame.

Worryingly, Donald is still not feeling well, and complains of stomach cramps – well not complains as he’s not a complainer, but he’s clearly not 100%. He thinks he has eaten too much after having been sick so often, but it doesn’t sound right to me.

I take advantage of the calmer seas to get the Autohelm out and strip it down. Predictably the problem doesn’t seem to be with any of the bits I was told to carry parts for, but with the telescopic ram itself, which sounds as though there is play developing in it. But Donald and I conclude that though there’s nothing we can do to fix it the thing is unlikely to pack up soon; it will just wear some more but ought to get us through this passage. So though the exercise is in one way a waste of time in another I’m glad to have done it as now I’m a lot less worried about the possibility of having to hand steer.

After that work I felt I would have a quick swim and take advantage of the warm seas (28C) and slight swell to check out the props etc. I was glad I did as I found the port prop shaft quite fouled with heavy line. Leonie had reported a couple of days ago hearing an odd noise from the prop which then cleared. It seems we must have picked up quite a lot of fishing net but the prop then trashed through it leaving some tightly packed round the shaft. Large amounts of antifouling have been worn off the rudder and saildrive. It was the devil to get the line off the shaft as it was so tightly packed, but eventually I managed it.

Working in the sea I was struck by just how much ‘stuff’ there was in it compared with the Med. Not rubbish, but every square centimetre or so some kind of organic particle is visibly floating around. It’s clearly quite a rich environment and no wonder it supports such a lot of life.

The day ends with a flat calm sea and clear skies. Little wind, but it is coming from the right direction (North East and East) and is very slowly building, so we should be able to hoist sails again in the morning, if not during the night.

Day 12 - ships in the night 1,000 miles out

I’m on the 11pm to 2am watch. I quite like this one. Usually I try to get a siesta in, then stay up through, but I wasn’t able to today. However I don’t feel tired so it’s not a problem, and I don’t have to be back on watch until 8am, so I can get a decent sleep, especially as the sea is flat calm now. I’ll switch to the port engine when Donald takes over the watch from me, which will make my starboard cabin quiet.

As we are motoring I put on the radar and put in a big guard zone on a ‘why not’ basis. Within minutes I get a target about 4 miles behind us. With the binoculars I can just pick out what I am sure is the steaming light of a yacht. I call them (a few times) but get no response. I flash them with my half million candlepower torch but still get no response when I call again, so eventually I give up. It’s a shame as I fancied a chat; you don’t see many folk 1,000 miles from land.

The weatherfaxes from New Orleans (giving me 24, 48 and 72 hr predictions) are now looking civilised. Tropical Storm Peter has been demoted to Tropical Depression and has been sent North. Meanwhile the Trades are starting to line up nicely with lots of little wind arrows blowing East to West across the chart at our latitude. We’ll supposedly have light winds for the next day or so then we’ll get about 15 knots which is fine, and maybe 20 which would be lovely. ow

Looking at the distribution of the wind predictions it doesn’t seem to make any difference now whether we carry on heading South West or not, so being already down to just under 15N I decide to alter course and put us back on track directly for Barbados; so we turn from 225 to 265, almost due West. Donald pops up having sensed the change of the boat’s motion and we discuss whether we should put up some sail as the wind is now teetering on 10kts, but decide to leave it until the morning when we should be able to fly the spinnaker.

At 7am I look through my cabin window as I prepare to come up for the 8am watch and see a yacht just a mile off. On deck I see another behind us at 3 miles. It’s extraordinary that over 1,000 miles from land we should all end up in the same spot.

Leonie, who has been on watch, says that she has called one of the boats which is French, but they were not very chatty.

The wind has now risen to 10kts so Leonie and I get out the spinnaker, and Donald soon comes up to help, though he’s not long off watch. It’s the first time we’ve had the spinnaker up properly on this run and we’ll doubtless be using it for quite a lot now. After a time though the wind drops and we snuff it and motor, but in the evening the wind comes up to 10kts again and we fly it for the night. But we are making less than 5kts, so the days are slipping by, though we expect the winds to freshen.

Leonie has her first go at making bread in the pressure cooker and it is delicious. It’s all very calm and peaceful and we have drinks and supper by candlelight in the cockpit. It’s warm too, in the high 20s during the day and very balmy in the evening – also quite humid and clammy. Fortunately Donald is feeling much better now in these very quiet seas

We just hear two other yachts, out of sight, conversing on the radio. One, a French Jeanneau, says he is already 14 days out of the Canaries, having run into the two depressions we avoided, so that makes us feel better!

Day 13 - the Trades are in, but...

Today has proved rather frustrating. The Trades are in and we are getting E or ENE winds. But all last night and today they have stayed below 10kts and we have not got the 10+ knots which are so beautifully shown on the weatherfaxes.

We had the spinnaker up all night and day and that was giving us about 4kts, then this evening as the wind seemed to be freshening a bit we switched to twin headsails and main. That gave us an extra knot but at the expense of being less tolerant of wind shifts. So we have to run in Vane mode (where the Autohelm keeps us at a given angle to the wind). This is more stressful on the Autohelm and that dodgy ram. Also because this rig is stiffer and a confused swell has got up the boat is a lot jerkier, getting a tug from each sail as it fills in turn – there’s not enough wind to keep them all driving with the true wind running at about 9kts and the apparent at 4 and our speed at 5. In truth for a heavily laden cat the boat is performing well and none of the other boats we are plotting on Trudi’s net are coming past – we just need more wind.

This means we can see the days stretching out ahead and Donald is understandably a bit fed up as he can see himself getting stuck in Barbados over Christmas. The later we get in the tougher it will be to get a flight.  I’ve been able to get an email out to Peter and Katherine Camp who are due to meet us on the 18^th (hollow laugh) to let them know we’ll be late, and at least they understand the score.

At least too the emails are getting in and out with some struggling. The roaming frequencies given to us by Kiel Radio don’t seem to work, but we can still get the base station if we try about ten times a day.

One email comes in from Raymarine who advise that our linear drive needs new bearings. They say it’s unusual for them to go and suspect a poor installation though it looks fine to me. They give me the address of a Barbados distributor so with luck I can have the parts ready for our arrival. Isn’t it fantastic to be able to organise all this from 1,000 miles out!

Another email from my uncle David advises that this is the first time since 1887 that two tropical storms have formed in the Atlantic basin in December. We picked a good year!

Donald and I gave the boat a good wash this morning before the heat of the day came on and finally got off the half ton of salt which had built up during the constant head seas we have had up until now. With the watermaker chucking out nearly 200 litres of fresh water an hour I can just bring a hose up on deck and it fills buckets faster than I can use them! With luck we won’t need washing again until Barbados, though I see there’s a cold front creeping out from Florida and I’m not sure what that will bring, if anything.

After washing the boat I went down for a shower and soon Leonie popped her head round the door to say there was a big ship crossing just a couple of hundred metres ahead. By the time I was finished it was a speck in the distance. Donald was on watch and had tracked it in so there wasn’t a problem but it just shows how quickly these things can come up and how you just have to keep looking out even in the middle of nowhere.

Day 14 - a bit more like it

A poor day’s run at 120 miles but at least we cross the “less than 1,000 miles to go” barrier and seem to be putting more distance between us and the rest of Trudi’s ‘fleet’.

When I got up in the morning the winds were still less than 10 knots and we were making 4-5. Things started to come good in the afternoon as the wind rose, but remained in the East or East North East. We are now seeing quite a range of wind speeds from Force 3 to Force 6, but mostly it’s around Force 4 and we are consistently making 6+ knots, touching 11 at one point. This is what we should have been having for days.

The seas are becoming more uniform too, so although the swell is a couple of metres the increased wind is taking out some of the cross swell and the confused bits. This, together with more drive in the sails, has meant that the boat is less jerky and more comfortable, despite being faster.

We are sailing by the wind, i.e. with the autopilot instructed to keep the wind at 165 degrees to port – 15 degrees off dead astern. We still have up a lot of canvas – full main and twin headsails, and we’ll have to watch this if the wind increases. On the whole the autopilot is coping but every now and again the wind shifts quickly or a wave slews the boat and the starboard genoa gets taken aback then fills again with a big thwack. Donald has ingeniously rigged a ‘preventer’ for this – a line which goes from a shroud to the foredeck and stops the genoa moving towards the centre of the boat, and this has improved things. Tomorrow though I will adjust the settings on the course computer and see if we can get the Autohelm to react more quickly and with sharper rudder movements to keep the boat on course.

At one point today (though only once) the Autohelm lost it completely and we ended up in irons. We had to start the motor to sort it out and only later remembered that Donald had the fishing rod out – we lost the lure, probably fouled round the prop, which is a shame, though there is another one we can try.

The weatherfaxes came in when I was on the 8-11 watch in the evening and look very steady for us – i.e. more of the same. I see though that thunderstorms continue to pop up at random on the daily surface analysis sheets, so we’ll have to keep an eye out for these.

Day 15 - wahoo!

Today we reached longitude 45W so we set our clocks back one hour to UT-3. This is our last change now until we reach Barbados which is on Eastern Caribbean Time (UT-4).

We had a good run during the night and our noon log had us making our best day since the start of our trip, lopping 174 miles off the distance to go, which at 874 miles is now under the psychologically important 1,000 mile barrier. Listening to Trudi’s net we seem to be putting more distance between us and the other boats we were near, so that’s satisfying too.  The wind is staying East to East North East.

I think this last week will in some ways be the most difficult, simply because it will be the most boring. If the Trades are established there are not many decisions to make as to course and weather strategy, and hardly any sail adjustment to make. But it’s still several days to go and we’d all rather just have it over with, so I suspect it will be a slow time. If the breeze freshens to 20kts that will be a bit more exhilarating, but right now it has slowed a little and we are down to around 6kts – perfectly respectable, but we’d rather be making 8 and eating up more miles.

Donald got out the rod again today with his second lure, which he thought would not be as good as the first, but within a few hours he landed a lovely wahoo (aka kingfish). I’d never heard of this before but it’s a fine looking fish about 34” long, silver with handsome blue stripes. It’s slimmer than a tuna but apparently good eating. We shall find out for lunch tomorrow!

Day 16 - another good day's run

We had a good days run at over 170 miles. The wind has been steadily in the East or East North East between 3 and 5, mostly 4. Occasionally it has flicked to 6 but we haven’t reefed since a squall last night and are carrying our maximum rig of mainsail and two genoas.

It’s not a wholly comfortable ride, though. With the wind on the stern and the swell building to 1-2 metres we get yawed about a bit by the waves, especially as there is still quite a cross swell. The gooseneck groans despite repeated applications of Teflon. We are running with the Autohelm on vane at between 15 and 25 degrees off the stern depending on the waves but even so every now and again the starboard genoa will collapse then refill after some seconds with a huge snap which jerks the boat and must be stressful on sail and rigging. A few times a day as we surf down a wave (often making 12kts) and the apparent wind dies then if a cross swell kicks the stern the mainsail will gybe. We have a preventer on to stop the boom slamming over, but if the Autohelm doesn’t pick it up quickly then we have to sail the boat round 360 degrees to sort it out.

The wahoo proved good eating and Leonie served it in a kedgeree which was great. She found the motion made cooking difficult and this has been getting her down a little.

I was wrong though about it being a turgid time for the crew. With the miles being chomped away and it being clear we should be at Barbados in just 3 to 4 days we can all see the end in sight and are all very positive and cheerful, though there’s an overall tiredness beginning to creep in.

The rig is also difficult for watch keeping as the twin headsails block the forward view so much. In fact you can see best from the saloon. We had a ship pass us very close in the evening, which seemed to be altering course to go around us. This is the fourth time we’ve had a ship come within a mile on this crossing – not many times really but more than I expected and it just shows the importance of constant watch.

Day 17 - who's nicked my hatch?

I’m on the 2am to 5am watch and we are bowling along making good speed at over 8kts, but with the same jerky motion. Then the mainsail gybes with a huge snap and I know that something has gone and also that the boat won’t get back on track. I start to sail her round in a big circle, turning her through the wind as it will be impossible to get back on course otherwise. Donald comes up and finds that the block through which the preventer runs has broken, the snap hook becoming detached from the block (I’ve lost a few of these blocks this way, and am not buying more of this kind). We re-rig the preventer and I’m off watch at 5am but up again at 7am since I can’t really sleep worrying about the rig and the way the Autohelm is not really fully in control of the boat.

We decide to try broad reaching but find that to get the same speed we have to put the wind 60 degrees off the stern, which takes us a long way off course. So instead I put two reefs in the mainsail. This lets us get the boom out further without the mainsail pressing too much on the shrouds as there is less twist in the reduced sail. But it costs us too much in boat speed, so I shake one reef out and this seems a good compromise.

Later, I dig out the Autohelm manual again and discover that there is an easy way to adjust the rudder gain – the amount of ‘welly’ the Autohelm gives the rudder when trying to keep on course. I set it for quite a high level and this gives us an immediate improvement. The swells are now quite large and these are the kind of seas which always make for difficult helming. We slew around a lot particularly when big swells catch the stern; the mainsail still backs from time to time and the genoa still collapses, but the helm just catches them in time to save the boat from stalling.

In the daylight I see that the starboard heads (bathroom) deck hatch has vanished. Yesterday I found it lying on the deck, the Perspex having sheared near the hinge. I glued it back with Araldite and had left it shut but not dogged down as I didn’t want to strain it until the glue had cured.  What made it vanish I don’t know, but we can’t spend the next few days – or weeks - with a hole in the deck.. Quite apart from the risk of water getting in I have unfond memories of spending 6 months with a leg in plaster after putting a foot through an open hatch, so I fish out some wood and make a temporary seal. Let’s hope we can get a new hatch sent out to Barbados without too much hassle.

In the meantime the email has gone iffy again and we’ve been unable to get anything in or out for 24 hours. The email I sent to the Raytheon dealer in Barbados has bounced back so I’ve written to Jessica to ask her to research to correct address, but this is still sitting in the outbox. I can see us not getting these spares until the New Year which will be a drag as once we leave Barbados the prevailing winds will make it almost impossible to get back, giving us the choice of waiting there for some weeks or trying to get stuff sent to another island.

Our noon log shows a day’s run of 172 miles, and at the rate we are now going we’ll probably be just short of 200 miles for the next day’s run if the wind keeps up. By midnight the chart plotter tells me that we have 48 hours to go to reach Barbados. At this rate we’ll have to slow the boat down to avoid a night landfall. The seas are now more orderly, the swells still big at 2-3 metres but no longer so confused so the ride is smoother and faster. We have made good 95 miles since noon.

Day 18 - bowling along

A very smooth day, and the kind of day we should have been having all along. Our day’s run is about the same as the day before as the wind has eased very slightly, but the motion is comfortable and with the new Autohelm trim we have less snatching on the sails.

I notice the preventer (which stops the boom slamming across if the wind gets behind it and tries to gybe it) is looking pretty stressed and in danger of snapping so I change it for a new heavier line, but apart from that there’s little to do on the boat.

We have had no joy with emails now for over 24 hours, and the further away we get from Europe the more unlikely it is we’ll get a good connection. The roaming frequencies we have been given still don’t work, so it looks like Kiel Radio is not really going to be useful for us this side of the pond.

I spend much of the day looking at pilot books for the Caribbean and trying to figure out where we should go after Barbados. With the very consistent prevailing winds you have to be careful with your route planning or you can end up with very uncomfortable beats to windward, to which our boat is wholly unsuited.

Day 19 - nearly there..

Many of the books say, and I’ve heard it myself from a few people, that once Atlantic crossers get near to the end of the passage landfall is rather dreaded. I can’t think why as I found today rather frustrating and just wanted to get on with it – we all felt the same.

Partly it was because the wind eased a bit and so the boat was not cutting through the waves with the sense of purpose to which we have been accustomed in recent days.

Partly it was that I’m keen to make a landfall pretty much when the customs people will open up. We’ll be clearing in at Port St. Charles, a newish marina development on the North West coast. But it only has a few berths, for megayachts, and is miles from the main town, Bridgetown. As soon as we are done there we’ll want to get down to the anchorage at Carlisle Bay so we can dinghy in to town and start sorting flights for Donald etc.  Arriving on the 19^th as we will means that every hour could count in finding him a passage home.

Come the afternoon I lost patience when the speed dropped to around 5 knots and we were back to the jerky, slappy, sloppy, rocky motion we get when the waves have more effect than the wind. So I cranked up an engine and we motored.  Towards evening however the wind picked up and moved ENE so Donald and I hung out the canvas and found we could broad reach through the night at just about 6kts which was fine.

I asked Donald to try to catch us a couple more fish which I thought would be a nice present for Trish, who the Camps (our friends we are meeting there) are staying with. But we quickly lost the lure which had netted the wahoo to something with even sharper teeth, and the other lures he had left didn’t seem to ‘swim’ very well, so it looks like we will arrive fishless – no matter.

At least we won’t be on passage still over Christmas unlike another boat I heard on Trudi’s net. We’d been within a few miles of them on Day 11 but they are reporting an expected landfall on the 26^th, which will make it a long passage for them.

Day 20 (19th December) - land ho!

I’m up for the 2am watch and the boat is going fine. We are 40 miles out but the light loom from Barbados is clearly visible and Leonie says it has been for some time.

At 5am it is still dark as I hand over to Donald. It’s tempting to stay up and watch the dawn come up on the island, but it’s more sensible to get some rest before making the final run in so I leave the boat in his capable hands and go below.  I’m up again at 6:30 and our timing is perfect as we come round the island. The wind moves ahead of us as we start heading South towards our landfall at Port St. Charles so we put on the engines and take down the sails, putting away the second genoa which we’ve had up for so long now. No answer from Port St. Charles until 8am when we are just a couple of miles away. They welcome us into the fuel dock and we are tied up, home and dry.

In all we have run 3,000 miles through the water to make good our planned course of 2,760 miles - the direct line would have been about 2,600 miles. Our average speed was 6.0 knots, not bad really considering we had “the wrong kind of wind” for so many days early on in the passage. All in all the boat and crew have come through it well. And now we can enjoy the delights of the Caribbean!

Click here for the pics