Old journal entries

Ive posted a journal entry on the Azores to Ireland leg, but instead of starting there I'll go back to the beginning of the sail, to the start in Charleston.

It's raining heavily today in West Cork, Ireland, so I'll post a few entries.





Charleston Harbor Wed. June 11 2008

We were supposed to leave yesterday morning, then evening, then late night, then early this morning, then noon, and now its 12:48pm and Im still alone on the boat, waiting. There is so much to do to prepare for an Atlantic crossing.

Every time I move I whack my hot air balloon sized head on something. Boom gallows here (that was a good one), garlic and onions hanging from the ceiling there, heater, cabinet, hatch, my skull has marked them all. I know Im still alive by my constant headache.

Last night it was so hot I slept out on the deck. I was out cold until what must have been two A.M. I heard something that woke me to a face staring down at me! I had a seizure and fell into the cockpit onto my new headphones, snapping them. It was only David in the dinghy; he forgot the tools he needed to build the bowsprit in his hotel room.





Atlantic Ocean 6.12.08 Thur. 9:14pm

Im on a 32' Sailboat in the Atlantic. We left the harbor with quite a few unfinished projects. The bowsprit was rotten and cracked, and David took it off to make a pattern for the new one. The new one is laying on the top deck because he didnt have access to a drill press to drill the holes for the all-thread. So we have no bowsprit and that makes changing sails a real balancing act. Another side effect is that the bowsprit handrail has nothing to bolt into, making all lifelines ahead of the cabin loose and almost useless. Our watermaker isnt wired up, and that means it hasnt been tested, and I dont think we have enough water to make it to Bermuda. Our new batteries are sitting in the floor of the cabin, and our main inverter isnt working. Our compass lights arent wired up so we use a flashlight at night, our safety rail around the cockpit isnt finished, and we have no mast or stern lights, although we do have red and green on the side stays. Our GPS wiring isnt finished, so were using a handheld. Our radar isnt wired. Our sansom posts are cracked, the new ones are sitting on the deck. The inflatable dinghy wouldnt fit on the deck inflated, so its rolled up on deck. The pump is somewhere in the cabin, and the motor is on the stern deck, in our way because the motor mount attaches to the unfinished saftey rail for the cockpit. We dont have a life raft. The HF radio isnt installed, and our EPERBS arent registered. The spreaders have no spreader boots and can easily rip the headsail if it comes in contact with the spreader, in fact the sail may have just been ripped a bit on the starboard spreader. I would probably get off if I could.

The wind just changed from due west to due east and weve been tacking between a heading of 30 to 160 degrees. Average speed of 4.3knots.



Saturday 6-14-08

Earlier fears have subsided, but I will still be mighty happy to see Bermuda on the horizon. Were stuck on a glassy smooth surface with no wind; the diesel has been clanking us along for hours. I just took a ''shower'' in the head sink.



Sunday 6-15-08

Were almost halfway to Bermuda! Thats not so much a joyous exclamation as it is one of perplexity. This was supposed to be a 5-7 day lef. I know why its taken so long- the wind has been in the totally wrong direction. Weve covered more distance in the past 24 hours than in the whole of the first 3 days..or 2 or however long its been. It hurts my head to think of how much longer it is to Ireland. One day at a time has never been more important.

So far its been much smoother than I was expecting. Smoother and slower! Right now I'll say crossing the Atlantic is overrated, but Im sure that will have changed by the end, ha.

We dodged a waterspout today. It was my watch from 1-3pm and I saw it in a storm group probably 10 miles or less off to our starboard. We were using the Genoa, and travelling with the wind at 90degrees to the sweet tune of 5knots. I was sorry to take it up to 30degrees to make sure we stayed well clear of the spout. You can see from the last line that Im not yet able to refer to the sailboat as ''her''. But after 40 days out here I'll probably be calling anything ''her'' that will let me.



Tuesday 6-17-08 10:41AM

So I eat my words about it being smooth. Early Monday morning on my watch from 12-3am a few rain drops hit my head. It was almost 1AM. I turned around and saw a few clouds, but nothing spectacular, and poked my head into the cabin to tell David, who was still up working on getting our HF modem working. His watch had just ended at 12AM. We were cruising at a steady 6knots, and just as the first rain drops hit we gained to 8knots quickly. (8knots is a big deal in a boat with a hull speed of 7knots. That means when you do anything over 7 you start to push the water like a bulldozer instead of slicing through it.) ''Hey man were at 8knots and getting a bit of rain, wanna take down some sails?'' I asked David. He quickly put the laptop up and climbed up to the cockpit with me. Within the next 2 minutes it felt like the wind doubled. David was already straining at the tiller, and we had the Genoa and full main up. (The Genoa was our second biggest headsail.) Our slow sail turned into a train ride barreling through heavy seas. Water was churning past us up to the first lifeline about a foot above the rails on both sides almost all the way back to the cockpit. Kenny threw us up the inflatable jackets with built in harnesses. I put Davids on him so that he wouldnt have to take his hands off the tiller. Mine was on next, and by this point everything was roaring massively. The wind was really coming after the mainsail, and after a quick debate with David about who should go and take it down (he wanted to, but I didn't trust myself with the tiller yet in a storm like this) I scrambled up to the mast and tore it down as quickly as I could move my hands, tying a line around it to keep it all together. I made it back to the cockpit and rejoined David. He was really under intense strain with the tiller. We stared stared with a sick feeling at the huge Genoa full of violent wind, dragging us through the seas at what must have been 12-18 knots. The Genoa is over 30 years old and Im wishing it would tear to shreds so that we could take cover in the cabin. The storm has blacked out the sky and the full moon. Im glad of it- I dont want to see the full face of the storm. The 10 feet of visibility that we have is enough. Through all the blackness we spot a container ship running almost at a right angle towards us. We get on the radio and try to make contact, but never get a response. Kenny hands us up the spotlight and as the ship gets closer I shine it right at the bridge of the ship. I dont know if it was the spotlight or if they heard us on the radio, but we didnt get any closer after that. After sending the spotlight back down to Kenny, the boat was thrown sideways by a huge wave that sent Kenny straight into the wing nut of a brass portal.
To my frustration the Genoa holds strong and the winds build. I feel like a locomotive plowing through the waves, or a submarine under dive. Were tied tight to the cockpit, but I still check and make sure that my EPERB is securely attached. Adrenaline drives me strong for 3 hours. Every motion I make is lighting quick and well coordinated. The adrenaline rush feels great, and I think that I can take the Genoa down, but David says that it's too risky without a jackline. After 3 hours of constant strain, the storm winds calm the slightest bit, and the rain stops. The seas hold steady if not increase. This continues for about an hour as our energy wears down. Weve been munching handfuls of chocolate chips and had a protein bar each, but exhaustion hits hard and fast. David says that he could fall asleep right there at the tiller. I cant have that! He looks really drowsy, and I think he means it. I start asking him questions and talking about whatever. He perks up with conversation about milking cows, farm work, my new barn apartment, and why I didnt last at an office job. He tells me about everywhere hes been surfing- Africa, the Med., Mexico, the Caribbean, Cuba, alot of big names are dropped. Next I hear about his Mexico trip where he and some friends drove all over camping and surfing. Seems like David has lived a full life so far, hes a really interesting guy to sail with.
We make it to daylight and the seas stay strong. I take over while David dries off. When he comes back up to take the tiller, I sit back and right away fall asleep. He isnt faring much better, and Mike comes up to take over. Kenny's cut could really use a few stitches. I pull out the suture that my Dad gave me, but Kenny won't let me sew him up. I try to bribe him with chocolate but he doesnt go for it. I dry off and head to sleep, the boat pitching and rolling violently. During the storm I was constantly repeating ''He is mightier than the waves of the sea'' calling on my Creator to calm the seas. He heard me, and my confidence grew in His power and strength.

Saturday 6-21-08 12:51 AM Bermuda time

We just dropped anchor after threading our way through the surprisingly narrow channel. I love to smell land again. The first thing I remember smelling were the trees and the dirt. Even the chirps of the night time insects were welcome. In the ''quarantine'' section of the harbor (we have to wait until 8am to clear customs) it is amazingly quiet and still. I cant feel any movement at all from the boat. Once I was aware of the stillness, the exhaustion hit me. My calves feel like rocks- every muscle feels to have been used in keeping balance on the sail here. And I am so happy to be here. I have never appreciated land like this. A smooth breeze is flickering through My Star and Im sleeping in the V-berth tonight.