I had the best Sailmail session in weeks. For the first time the Sailmail propagation matrix reported three frequencies at 100% at the 7 PM time slot and I was able to have a complete session using the lowest frequency suggested with everything sent and received.
Because of the early Sailmail session I was able to turn in at 9 PM, hoping that the wind and course would hold steady until morning. However at 11 PM I was waken by the banging of the boom which indicates insufficient wind. Fortunately there was sufficient wind although it had lightened, and for some reason Jeff was steering us downwind to the NE. It took 30 minutes to put the boat on a beam reach and coax Jeff into holding the new course. The problem with the Monitor was that whenever the wind surged the increase weather helm would cause the boat to round up toward the wind, causing the headsail to flutter. After watching the situation for over an hour I returned to the sack at 1 AM and slept until 5 minutes before the 6 AM alarm for the SAMMNet session went off.
We had a very good SAMMNet session starting at 6.30 AM, only the second successful one since my initial contact several days ago. Graham seemed happy to hear from me and he copied all of situation report with no need for repetition. Graham had begun his transmission with a Securite (a safety message) about a 40 ft monohull, Arctic Tern III, in transit from St Helena to Fernando de Noronha, overdue in reporting. After I transmitted my situation report Graham asked me to contact Sam on his frequency to ask him to issue the Securite during his session, which was about to start. On Sam's frequency I could hear a dialogue going on, though Sam was coming in very faint. When things went quiet I hailed Sam, hoping that I wasn't breaking into a transmission. Through the static I heard "Bravo Whiskey", the last 2 letters of my ham call sign, so I passed the message to Sam blind, hoping that he could hear me. (Everybody, including Sailmail, can hear me much better than I can hear them.)
When I got back to Graham's frequency I could hear him calling. I told him of my questionable success with Sam, then received a superb wind prediction through to Tuesday at noon. In general all winds will be stronger than what I had expected from the grib file. All winds were in the 15-20 or 15-25 kt range, with only one in the 10-20 range. This put into doubt the becalming that I had been expecting on New Years Day, but that suited me fine. Graham finished the conversation by giving me a warm best wishes for New Years.
At 7.30 AM we were still moving well, doing 4.5 kts to the east. We were 540 miles out of Cape Town.
At mid morning I set up my first backup computer, the Toshiba that I used to get around the Horn and received a new keyboard in the USA. I knew that the computer had the Noonsite article on visiting Cape Town by boat stored as a Zotero file. To my great pleasure the machine booted up with no problem and reported 81% or 2 hr 35 min of battery life. I transferred the data to a USB thumb drive then shut the machine down and put it away. All three backup computers are traveling first class in their own carry bags which are then stored in clothes drawers well protected from shock and water.
At noon our position was 35S49, 008E20, yielding a n-n distance that surprised me at 128 miles in the direction 083. The barometer had risen one point to 1026 HPa, the highest the I had recorded during the passage. Graham had reported a High at 75S and the prime meridian, and it appeared that we were benefiting from its rotating winds as it swept toward the east. We were 510 miles from Cape Town, and still moving well to the ENE.
I decided to take advantage of the sunshine and moderate conditions to use some of my precious reserves of fresh water to do some clothes washing. I had about 70 liters of water in the jugs and knew that I had at least half of the water in the 280 liter capacity main tanks remaining because the port tank of 140 liters barely been touched and the starboard tank was still delivering water to the galley. I estimated that I had been living on 3 to 4 liters of fresh water per day.
The problem with the clothes wasn't so much dirt or even sweat, but rather salt water contamination, which meant that they were clammy and unusable. I particularly needed some dry heavy track suit pants. I used about 15 liters of fresh water to wash and rinse the clothes in the cockpit then hung the on the overhead lifelines. At about that time the sun disappeared and the wind shifted to the SE which meant that we would have to beat into the wind slightly, which would mean salt water spray all over the clothes. So after only 15 minutes or so to allow the wind to shake out the enough water to prevent dripping I brought the clothes inside and hung them around the cabin, so I was now surrounded by 4 T-shirts, 5 underpants, 6 pairs of socks, and one pair of pants.
After lunch (small bowl of rolled oats and one vitamin pill) and a nap I saw at 3 PM that we were 498 miles from Cape Town, so I would get my wish to spend New Years eve within 500 miles of our destination. Better yet, the moderate wind was persisting and I hoped to make significant progress in the next 24 hours. I checked my ship's log and saw that I had spent last New Years Eve at 49S16, 98W42, 1200 miles NW of Cape Horn.
It was time for another bean and lentil stew. As usual I had soaked the beans and lentils overnight and this afternoon was the chop chop phase. I found plenty of the usual ingredients on hand. Into the pot went 4 potatoes, 3 carrots, 4 onions, and enough garlic to kill a small horse. OK, so the potatoes were starting to sprout and I had to cut away a few bad bits from the carrots, but that certainly didn't bother me. I've still got plenty of potatoes, onions, garlic, and 2 carrots, which means that another stew is possible. However that is moot now, I hope, because of our proximity to Cape Town. I've also still got plenty of eggs and cheese on hand, and found one last orange still intact. I haven't had bread for a while but have gotten used to doing without it. Unless we get becalmed and I wind up with plenty of time on my hands it is unlikely that I'll do any baking, though it would have been good to test the vitality of the yeast.
For the wine I decided to leave the last two bottles of Finca la Delfina malbec 2010 for Brenda to taste in CT and selected an Esmeralda Fernandez 2010 malbec that Brenda and I took a shine to in Mar del Plata. Brenda will recognize the red label when he sees it. It certainly suits my palate and I think that I sailed from Argentina with two cases of it. To date I have been very disciplined in restraining myself to half a bottle of wine per day, but after all this is New Years Eve, so I just might get real naughty and drink the entire bottle over two sessions: pre dinner and midnight.
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Pachuca
Pachuca in Port Angeles, WA USA
Monday, December 31, 2012
Sunday, December 30, 2012
Day 31 - Mainsail Up and BBB3
I had a successful Sailmail session, though it took a whopping 35 minutes of air time to download a record 9 messages. As usual these days the transmission was fast at over 2500 bytes/min but I had to do some searching to find a download rate that was sustainable. Two of the messages were grib files, one that I had ordered that night and one that I had ordered the previous night and no longer needed. Two were from Graham of SAMMNet. He told me that he had heard my morning transmission clearly that morning, though I had been barely able to hear his. That means that he probably received my situation report which I had sent out "blind" in the hopes that he would hear me. In his second message he kindly sent me a weather report. Two messages concerned the exchange rate between the SA Rand and the Aussie and US dollars, so that I now know that the fee for my boat at RCYC will be about $21 USD per day. Another was a short message from Jeanne Socrates who was at 47S, 097W, (about 1200 miles from the Horn) moving slowly, but seeming in good cheer. She once again advised me to drop down to 37S before reaching the coast of SA. It is important that I approach CT from the south because I cannot allow myself to reach the coast north of CT unless I want to face a battle working my way south against the prevailing wind an current. I would be able to tell Jeanne that I had indeed begun slanting toward the south, although on a closer look at the approach to CT I cannot see the need to drop down as far as 37S. Cape town is at 33S55, a full 3 degrees and 180 miles north of 37S. Approaching the coast at 36S will still put me 120 miles south of CP, which should be ample to cover the possibility of adverse winds. Anyway, my backlog of mail had been cleared and I felt better. I would not order a grib file in the next session in order to hold down the air time.
I woke up just before 2 AM to the sound of water rushing past the hull next to my ear and the wind howling. I suited up and from the cockpit I could see that the boat was over canvassed. I rolled in probably 30% of the sail area and altered our course from SE to ESE because by now we were south of 36S again. The principal motivation for the shift south at this point was to position the boat for some expected SE winds that would drive us to the NE.
AT 2.15 AM we were within the 700 mile range to CT at 690 miles.
I missed the SAMMNet session by 10 minutes because I slept through the alarm from the gadget on the laptop. In future I'll back that up with the alarm from the chart plotter that will not stop until I hit the "Acknowledge" button.
At mid morning I faced the inevitable and raised the mainsail to the second reef. The latest grib file as well as Graham's information predicted a shift to southerly winds for the 30th (today), the 31st, and dying down leaving me becalmed on New Years' Day. In fact we sailed all night to a southerly just aft of the beam with headsail only and did OK, but I knew that we would fare better with a more balanced sail plan, particularly as the wind began to die down. For now the 2nd reef would do and I could shake it out and go to the 1st reef later.
Raising that mainsail is usually difficult for me, particularly doing it under sail in a stiff wind. One of the problems is that the lazy jacks have only 3 vertical cords to hold the sail in when the sail is dropped. The theory looks great in the comfort of the sail loft, where the vision calls for the sail to come down on top of the boom and all of the battens dropping nicely within the confines of the lazy jack. Reality is different. Usually at least one of the battens does not reach to the next vertical cord and winds up sticking out and dropping toward the deck. Always there are bits of sail in contact with the cabin, leading to inevitable damage from chafing if something is not done. That something is to go onto the cabin and lash the mainsail to the boom with straps, which negates the purpose of the lazy jacks. And of course before raising the sail I must stand on the cabin draped across the boom, often in rough conditions, and remove all of the straps. I am not going to give up on lazy jacks but I will definitely have a say in the design of the next one, which will include at least twice the number of vertical cords. ... I think that I am on top of the problem of the lazy jacks and running backstays fouling the backs of the battens as I raise the sail. It means going to the mast before raising the sail, completely dropping the leeward side of the lazy jacks, freeing the leeward running backstay, and timing the hoists carefully whenever in the region of possible fouling. But of course after the hoist there must be another visit to the mast to raise the leeward lazy jack again. That means more visits to the mast to attend to the lazy jacks that are supposed to make my life easier.
It took over an hour to set up the sails, put the boat under Monitor steering, and tidy up. This left us heading ESE doing over 6 kts with the double reefed mainsail and a reduced headsail. This was very good, except that I was so drenched in sweat that after peeling off my outer garments I had to use a towel to dry off as though I had been in the shower. I figured that I had earned it so I went to the forecastle and dug out a can of beer (4 remaining) and enjoyed it in spite of it being only at room temperature and especially because it was still morning.
And now that the wind spell is broken I dare to utter the hitherto unmentionable, which is no doubt obvious to regular readers of this blog.
The last six days since passing Tristan da Cunha have been of outstanding winds and progress. Day after day I had a strong following wind and made fast progress under only partial headsail. The only adjustments that I had to make were the occasional gybe and change of sail area. During that 6 day run since TdC I have averaged 125 miles per day and 5.2 kts in speed. I couldn't believe my good fortune as it developed and I did my best to milk it for all it was worth.
At noon our position was 36S05, 005E43, giving us a n-n distance of 121 miles in the direction 098T, a heading that had brought us south of S36. The barometer had risen 8 points to 1025 HPa and the sky was clear and sunny. We were 640 miles from Cape Town
It is now time for Blubber Blog Bulletin No. 3. I got careless and took a dose of sea water through the companionway and was forced to change to dry underclothes (second time in 2 days). While I was starkers I took the opportunity to measure my waistline with Jean's magic tape measure. I came in comfortably within a 42" waist which means that I've lost 4" since leaving Brazil. The technique should be no secret by now: solo sail a 39 footer through rough seas, live on rice and beans, and terrorize yourself in every gale that comes along. Unfortunately the method does not scale well, so I will not be writing a best selling diet book.
At 7.10 PM we were 600 miles from Cape Town and still moving well. I had confidence in spending New Years Day within 500 miles of our destination.
HAPPY NEW YEAR EVERYONE. It looks like I might have a quiet New Years Day becalmed and relaxing. I am looking forward to my first bath in weeks and a loaf of fresh-baked bread.
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I woke up just before 2 AM to the sound of water rushing past the hull next to my ear and the wind howling. I suited up and from the cockpit I could see that the boat was over canvassed. I rolled in probably 30% of the sail area and altered our course from SE to ESE because by now we were south of 36S again. The principal motivation for the shift south at this point was to position the boat for some expected SE winds that would drive us to the NE.
AT 2.15 AM we were within the 700 mile range to CT at 690 miles.
I missed the SAMMNet session by 10 minutes because I slept through the alarm from the gadget on the laptop. In future I'll back that up with the alarm from the chart plotter that will not stop until I hit the "Acknowledge" button.
At mid morning I faced the inevitable and raised the mainsail to the second reef. The latest grib file as well as Graham's information predicted a shift to southerly winds for the 30th (today), the 31st, and dying down leaving me becalmed on New Years' Day. In fact we sailed all night to a southerly just aft of the beam with headsail only and did OK, but I knew that we would fare better with a more balanced sail plan, particularly as the wind began to die down. For now the 2nd reef would do and I could shake it out and go to the 1st reef later.
Raising that mainsail is usually difficult for me, particularly doing it under sail in a stiff wind. One of the problems is that the lazy jacks have only 3 vertical cords to hold the sail in when the sail is dropped. The theory looks great in the comfort of the sail loft, where the vision calls for the sail to come down on top of the boom and all of the battens dropping nicely within the confines of the lazy jack. Reality is different. Usually at least one of the battens does not reach to the next vertical cord and winds up sticking out and dropping toward the deck. Always there are bits of sail in contact with the cabin, leading to inevitable damage from chafing if something is not done. That something is to go onto the cabin and lash the mainsail to the boom with straps, which negates the purpose of the lazy jacks. And of course before raising the sail I must stand on the cabin draped across the boom, often in rough conditions, and remove all of the straps. I am not going to give up on lazy jacks but I will definitely have a say in the design of the next one, which will include at least twice the number of vertical cords. ... I think that I am on top of the problem of the lazy jacks and running backstays fouling the backs of the battens as I raise the sail. It means going to the mast before raising the sail, completely dropping the leeward side of the lazy jacks, freeing the leeward running backstay, and timing the hoists carefully whenever in the region of possible fouling. But of course after the hoist there must be another visit to the mast to raise the leeward lazy jack again. That means more visits to the mast to attend to the lazy jacks that are supposed to make my life easier.
It took over an hour to set up the sails, put the boat under Monitor steering, and tidy up. This left us heading ESE doing over 6 kts with the double reefed mainsail and a reduced headsail. This was very good, except that I was so drenched in sweat that after peeling off my outer garments I had to use a towel to dry off as though I had been in the shower. I figured that I had earned it so I went to the forecastle and dug out a can of beer (4 remaining) and enjoyed it in spite of it being only at room temperature and especially because it was still morning.
And now that the wind spell is broken I dare to utter the hitherto unmentionable, which is no doubt obvious to regular readers of this blog.
The last six days since passing Tristan da Cunha have been of outstanding winds and progress. Day after day I had a strong following wind and made fast progress under only partial headsail. The only adjustments that I had to make were the occasional gybe and change of sail area. During that 6 day run since TdC I have averaged 125 miles per day and 5.2 kts in speed. I couldn't believe my good fortune as it developed and I did my best to milk it for all it was worth.
At noon our position was 36S05, 005E43, giving us a n-n distance of 121 miles in the direction 098T, a heading that had brought us south of S36. The barometer had risen 8 points to 1025 HPa and the sky was clear and sunny. We were 640 miles from Cape Town
It is now time for Blubber Blog Bulletin No. 3. I got careless and took a dose of sea water through the companionway and was forced to change to dry underclothes (second time in 2 days). While I was starkers I took the opportunity to measure my waistline with Jean's magic tape measure. I came in comfortably within a 42" waist which means that I've lost 4" since leaving Brazil. The technique should be no secret by now: solo sail a 39 footer through rough seas, live on rice and beans, and terrorize yourself in every gale that comes along. Unfortunately the method does not scale well, so I will not be writing a best selling diet book.
At 7.10 PM we were 600 miles from Cape Town and still moving well. I had confidence in spending New Years Day within 500 miles of our destination.
HAPPY NEW YEAR EVERYONE. It looks like I might have a quiet New Years Day becalmed and relaxing. I am looking forward to my first bath in weeks and a loaf of fresh-baked bread.
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Saturday, December 29, 2012
Day 30 - Engine is OK
I went to bed with the timer set for 2 hours and at the second rising, 2.30, I found what I was looking for: the wind had shifted and now we were sailing NE. Gybing the boat was a pleasant operation because the wind and sea were moderate and I got good visibility from the nearly full moon peeping through the clouds. After the gybe we were heading east with the wind coming from the starboard quarter of the boat. The strength of the wind had held up nicely and we were averaging 5.5 kts. At 3.45 AM I went out to make an adjustment to the Monitor airvane and saw the first light of dawn, which seemed early yet I was near the prime meridian with the clock set to UTC/GMT time. Down below I swapped bunks than had a mug of black tea surveying the situation with great satisfaction. If this new wind held up it would provide a good transition to stronger winds expected in the next day or two. I had managed to download a grib file the night before because I had ordered that one the day before, so it was first in the queue. At least now I had wind visibility for another day ahead.
I am still having problems with Sailmail connectivity. I am able to get good transmission speeds of over 1500 bytes/min, but reception is woeful at less that 200 bytes/min. Over and over the system disconnects me because there are too many transmission retries. After 6 or 8 attempts spanning 2 hours last night I had to give up and leave 5 incoming messages in the queue, though at least I was able to download 3. The frequencies in the 10 MHz range are starting to work better and I am hoping that soon I will pass a distance threshold where the transmission speed will leap to an acceptable level.
At 4.15 AM we were 800 miles from Cape Town.
It was a bright and sunny day, the following wind was a moderate 13-15 kts, so I decided to take the opportunity to run the engine for the first time since I encountered that starting problem on Day 23. I went in heavy with the startup because I wanted to explore and document as much as possible. I started off by reading the relevant section of the Volvo Owners Manual. Now that the solar panels were working the house bank was reporting 12.7V in contrast to the 12.4V at dawn. The starter bank was reporting a whopping 13V and I made a note to check the wiring of the wind charger to see if it was delivering its power to the starter bank. I turned on the main switch to the engine (more on this below) then I went to the cockpit suited up, wearing glasses and carrying a magnifying glass so that I could see the "pre heat" symbol on the tachometer window that Mark had told me about.
I opened the exhaust valve then moved the control lever from reverse (so that the prop shaft does not turn while sailing) to neutral/idle then kneeled in front of the EVC engine control panel and hit the on/off button that activates the panel and runs engine checks. No "pre heat" symbol came up during this stage. Then I heard the two bursts of alarm signalling that all was OK and noted the engine hours at 444.7. Now it was Show Time and I hit the engine start button. Instantly with no hesitation whatsoever the engine came to life and for a full minute I watched it idle happily at 700 rpm. I noted that the volt meter was at the full 14V. (Here I took my eye off the ball, as it were. Close reading of the manual suggests that the "pre heat" symbol is displayed AFTER engine start, which surprised me, so it may have in fact displayed.) I then noted some life in the temperature gauge, which had not worked on the previous run. I raised the revolutions to 1500 then sat in the cockpit watching the temperature needle steadily climb then settle at the normal operating temperature of 196F.
I have a theory on what may have happened. Two nights ago the boat was slammed hard on the port side by a wave, and as the boat heeled over I heard the double "Beep Beep" alarm indicating that the EVC panel was active. It had to be a shock rather than a water thing because the panel is recessed behind a protective window high on the inside of the port coaming, so any water that sprayed into the cockpit during that event would have passed over the EVC panel and hit the coaming on the other side of the cockpit. I then remembered that this had happened one other time, just before my problem engine run of Day 23. At that time I climbed into the cockpit and hit the "on/off" button to deactivate the EVC panel and returned to the cabin. This time I could not be bothered going up there and I got the bright idea of simply setting to "off" the main engine (starter bank) switch located at the navigation station.
The EVC will have a microprocessor in it, and my theory is that the agitation from that wave strike had snotted up the works, not to put too fine a point on it, and by cycling the main switch I had in fact rebooted the microprocessor. In support of this theory is the way in which the temperature gauge also began to work normally after the reboot.
I feel a bit like a chump because both Mark in the USA and Reg in Australia went to a lot of trouble to advise me on the problem, but I suppose that it is better to look like a chump than a hero with serious problems. (Thank you fellows for your support and for Mark, this EVC theory is one for your books.)
And needless to say, as of now SOP will be to cut all power from the "starter" bank while cruising and the engine is not running.
After 2 hours of running I shut the engine down with no problems. The wind had been strong enough for Jeff to steer the boat while under power and after shutdown our speed wend from 6.1 kts to 5.2 kts, so we had received some mileage from the run.
At noon our position was 35S48, 003E15, giving us a n-n distance of 128 miles in the direction 084T, directly toward CT, which was now 760 miles away. The barometer had risen 4 points to 1017 HPa. It was a brilliant sunny day with perhaps 10% cloud cover.
I treated the sliding main hatch with heavy duty silicone spray and when I finished I could slide it open from the inside with one finger. I then rewarded myself with 45 minutes in the cockpit sipping a tall cup of tea and enjoying the warmth of the sun and the sight of the boat as it moved through the water while the following seas lifted the stern, dropped it, rolled it, and pushed it from side to side at will. It was soothing and relaxing and I should do it more often. The temperature was mild - certainly short sleeve and shorts weather for the hardy Nordic types of Canada and the northern USA. After all, this is the southern summer and latitude 36 is only about 250 miles closer to the pole that San Diego and Perth, each at about latitude 32 in their respective hemispheres.
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I am still having problems with Sailmail connectivity. I am able to get good transmission speeds of over 1500 bytes/min, but reception is woeful at less that 200 bytes/min. Over and over the system disconnects me because there are too many transmission retries. After 6 or 8 attempts spanning 2 hours last night I had to give up and leave 5 incoming messages in the queue, though at least I was able to download 3. The frequencies in the 10 MHz range are starting to work better and I am hoping that soon I will pass a distance threshold where the transmission speed will leap to an acceptable level.
At 4.15 AM we were 800 miles from Cape Town.
It was a bright and sunny day, the following wind was a moderate 13-15 kts, so I decided to take the opportunity to run the engine for the first time since I encountered that starting problem on Day 23. I went in heavy with the startup because I wanted to explore and document as much as possible. I started off by reading the relevant section of the Volvo Owners Manual. Now that the solar panels were working the house bank was reporting 12.7V in contrast to the 12.4V at dawn. The starter bank was reporting a whopping 13V and I made a note to check the wiring of the wind charger to see if it was delivering its power to the starter bank. I turned on the main switch to the engine (more on this below) then I went to the cockpit suited up, wearing glasses and carrying a magnifying glass so that I could see the "pre heat" symbol on the tachometer window that Mark had told me about.
I opened the exhaust valve then moved the control lever from reverse (so that the prop shaft does not turn while sailing) to neutral/idle then kneeled in front of the EVC engine control panel and hit the on/off button that activates the panel and runs engine checks. No "pre heat" symbol came up during this stage. Then I heard the two bursts of alarm signalling that all was OK and noted the engine hours at 444.7. Now it was Show Time and I hit the engine start button. Instantly with no hesitation whatsoever the engine came to life and for a full minute I watched it idle happily at 700 rpm. I noted that the volt meter was at the full 14V. (Here I took my eye off the ball, as it were. Close reading of the manual suggests that the "pre heat" symbol is displayed AFTER engine start, which surprised me, so it may have in fact displayed.) I then noted some life in the temperature gauge, which had not worked on the previous run. I raised the revolutions to 1500 then sat in the cockpit watching the temperature needle steadily climb then settle at the normal operating temperature of 196F.
I have a theory on what may have happened. Two nights ago the boat was slammed hard on the port side by a wave, and as the boat heeled over I heard the double "Beep Beep" alarm indicating that the EVC panel was active. It had to be a shock rather than a water thing because the panel is recessed behind a protective window high on the inside of the port coaming, so any water that sprayed into the cockpit during that event would have passed over the EVC panel and hit the coaming on the other side of the cockpit. I then remembered that this had happened one other time, just before my problem engine run of Day 23. At that time I climbed into the cockpit and hit the "on/off" button to deactivate the EVC panel and returned to the cabin. This time I could not be bothered going up there and I got the bright idea of simply setting to "off" the main engine (starter bank) switch located at the navigation station.
The EVC will have a microprocessor in it, and my theory is that the agitation from that wave strike had snotted up the works, not to put too fine a point on it, and by cycling the main switch I had in fact rebooted the microprocessor. In support of this theory is the way in which the temperature gauge also began to work normally after the reboot.
I feel a bit like a chump because both Mark in the USA and Reg in Australia went to a lot of trouble to advise me on the problem, but I suppose that it is better to look like a chump than a hero with serious problems. (Thank you fellows for your support and for Mark, this EVC theory is one for your books.)
And needless to say, as of now SOP will be to cut all power from the "starter" bank while cruising and the engine is not running.
After 2 hours of running I shut the engine down with no problems. The wind had been strong enough for Jeff to steer the boat while under power and after shutdown our speed wend from 6.1 kts to 5.2 kts, so we had received some mileage from the run.
At noon our position was 35S48, 003E15, giving us a n-n distance of 128 miles in the direction 084T, directly toward CT, which was now 760 miles away. The barometer had risen 4 points to 1017 HPa. It was a brilliant sunny day with perhaps 10% cloud cover.
I treated the sliding main hatch with heavy duty silicone spray and when I finished I could slide it open from the inside with one finger. I then rewarded myself with 45 minutes in the cockpit sipping a tall cup of tea and enjoying the warmth of the sun and the sight of the boat as it moved through the water while the following seas lifted the stern, dropped it, rolled it, and pushed it from side to side at will. It was soothing and relaxing and I should do it more often. The temperature was mild - certainly short sleeve and shorts weather for the hardy Nordic types of Canada and the northern USA. After all, this is the southern summer and latitude 36 is only about 250 miles closer to the pole that San Diego and Perth, each at about latitude 32 in their respective hemispheres.
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Friday, December 28, 2012
Day 29 - In the Eastern Hemisphere
It turned out to be a good sailing night. The wind piped up to over 25 kts in the late afternoon but soon settled down to 18-20 kts for the entire night. At about 9 PM I spotted a ship on AIS that was only 11 miles away, yet the TCPA (Time of Closest Point of Approach) was over 90 minutes away. It was a cargo ship heading east as I was at only 12 kts, making our speed difference only 6 kts. AIS estimated that it would come too close for my comfort so I called it twice by position and heading, with no response. 15 minutes later it was close enough for me to receive all of its AIS data and I called the ship by name and got an immediate response in good English.
Yes, he had me on his radar and would keep a watch on me. I moved the airvane to take Pachuca as much downwind as possible but the boat was still slewing around a lot and at times AIS was estimating our CPA as less than 300 ft. I called the ship, explained the situation, and asked that it alter course to port 5 degrees. The ship's officer was most obliging and altered course 10 degrees. An hour later when it was safe I altered to windvane to put us slightly more into the wind and avoid the sail stalling every few minutes. The ship resumed its course at about the same time and our paths crossed, Pachuca heading about 090T and the ship at 100T. With that I hit the sack with no alarm set.
I was up at 6 AM to prepare for the 6.30 AM SAMMNet session but unfortunately the reception was not good enough for communication with Graham. Interestingly, I heard a position report to Graham from a sailor who was 100 miles off the island of St Helena.
At 0700 UTC almost to the minute, Pachuca crossed the prime meridian which passes through Greenwich England. For the first time since the middle of 2008 Pachuca and her master were back in the eastern hemisphere of the world. We now had to traverse another 115 degrees of longitude in order to reach Fremantle, 5700 miles away.
I received a reply from Ian, Manager of the RCYC. The marina can accommodate Pachuca for the entire visit. Ian quoted the price in "ZAR", which must be the S African currency and I sent a reply asking for the rough equivalency in US or Aussie dollars. Anyway, the important thing is that Pachuca will have a home waiting for her.
At 10.30 AM we were 900 miles from CT.
At noon our position was 36S00, 00E38, giving a n-n distance of 140 miles in the direction 087T. This represented a new n-n high for the passage, and we were now 890 miles from CT. The barometer had dipped slightly but had risen to the same 1013 HPa as on the previous day. We were still moving nicely at over 6.5 kts to the east.
The ocean was starting to become crowded. While preparing the noon report I was watching on the chart plotter a ship to the north of me headed west and another one to the south of me heading east. I re checked the AIS alarm settings. The northern target displayed variable headings and speeds in the range 2.5-4.5 kts, suggesting to me that it was another small boat.
At 5 PM we were still moving well at about 6 kts to the east. I suited up and spent some time in the cockpit looking around. The Monitor lines were tight enough and the headsail was faring well. The spray dodger was coping well and everything else looked OK. I have a policy of spending most of my time buttoned up inside the cabin for reasons of safety. However, I make it a point to visit the cockpit several times a day because I don't want to feel alienated and afraid of the topside of the boat. I like to go up and look at everything in the eye as it were, particularly the ocean, because I must feel comfortable rushing up at any time to attend to a problem.
My grib file was out of date because I had not been able to download the latest one on the previous night. The last slender piece of weather prediction I had were from Graham on SAMMNet two days earlier who had predicted W/NW winds of 20/25 kts at 1800 today and W/SW at 10/20 kts at 0600 in the morning. I would have to wake up at frequent intervals throughout the night to deal with the wind change.
Regarding SAMMNet, I was ready at the 0630 session but could not hear Graham. However, I was able to hear a sailor 100 miles of St Helena Island about 1900 miles to the north reporting his position to Graham. I was not able to raise him at the 1130 session either. I am still not able to raise Sam on 7.120 MHz LSB for the coastal report, but at 900 miles I am probably too far away for that frequency.
----------
radio email processed by SailMail
for information see: http://www.sailmail.com
Yes, he had me on his radar and would keep a watch on me. I moved the airvane to take Pachuca as much downwind as possible but the boat was still slewing around a lot and at times AIS was estimating our CPA as less than 300 ft. I called the ship, explained the situation, and asked that it alter course to port 5 degrees. The ship's officer was most obliging and altered course 10 degrees. An hour later when it was safe I altered to windvane to put us slightly more into the wind and avoid the sail stalling every few minutes. The ship resumed its course at about the same time and our paths crossed, Pachuca heading about 090T and the ship at 100T. With that I hit the sack with no alarm set.
I was up at 6 AM to prepare for the 6.30 AM SAMMNet session but unfortunately the reception was not good enough for communication with Graham. Interestingly, I heard a position report to Graham from a sailor who was 100 miles off the island of St Helena.
At 0700 UTC almost to the minute, Pachuca crossed the prime meridian which passes through Greenwich England. For the first time since the middle of 2008 Pachuca and her master were back in the eastern hemisphere of the world. We now had to traverse another 115 degrees of longitude in order to reach Fremantle, 5700 miles away.
I received a reply from Ian, Manager of the RCYC. The marina can accommodate Pachuca for the entire visit. Ian quoted the price in "ZAR", which must be the S African currency and I sent a reply asking for the rough equivalency in US or Aussie dollars. Anyway, the important thing is that Pachuca will have a home waiting for her.
At 10.30 AM we were 900 miles from CT.
At noon our position was 36S00, 00E38, giving a n-n distance of 140 miles in the direction 087T. This represented a new n-n high for the passage, and we were now 890 miles from CT. The barometer had dipped slightly but had risen to the same 1013 HPa as on the previous day. We were still moving nicely at over 6.5 kts to the east.
The ocean was starting to become crowded. While preparing the noon report I was watching on the chart plotter a ship to the north of me headed west and another one to the south of me heading east. I re checked the AIS alarm settings. The northern target displayed variable headings and speeds in the range 2.5-4.5 kts, suggesting to me that it was another small boat.
At 5 PM we were still moving well at about 6 kts to the east. I suited up and spent some time in the cockpit looking around. The Monitor lines were tight enough and the headsail was faring well. The spray dodger was coping well and everything else looked OK. I have a policy of spending most of my time buttoned up inside the cabin for reasons of safety. However, I make it a point to visit the cockpit several times a day because I don't want to feel alienated and afraid of the topside of the boat. I like to go up and look at everything in the eye as it were, particularly the ocean, because I must feel comfortable rushing up at any time to attend to a problem.
My grib file was out of date because I had not been able to download the latest one on the previous night. The last slender piece of weather prediction I had were from Graham on SAMMNet two days earlier who had predicted W/NW winds of 20/25 kts at 1800 today and W/SW at 10/20 kts at 0600 in the morning. I would have to wake up at frequent intervals throughout the night to deal with the wind change.
Regarding SAMMNet, I was ready at the 0630 session but could not hear Graham. However, I was able to hear a sailor 100 miles of St Helena Island about 1900 miles to the north reporting his position to Graham. I was not able to raise him at the 1130 session either. I am still not able to raise Sam on 7.120 MHz LSB for the coastal report, but at 900 miles I am probably too far away for that frequency.
----------
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for information see: http://www.sailmail.com
Thursday, December 27, 2012
Day 28 - Spray Dodger Up and Under 1000 Miles
It was a great night of sailing - and sleeping.
In the early evening I had a look outside and the situation was good. The boat was still moving well but the wind had dropped just that little bit to make the ride smoother and there were no longer those big swells occasionally causing the stern of the boat to slew around or to slap the boat hard on the side. The nearly full moon was out and I could see plenty of stars. Down below the cabin had dried out during the day. Even the trousers I was wearing felt dry and not clammy. I had a very good Sailmail session at 6.45 pm via the Africa station which lifted my spirits. Because I as no longer bound to the midnight transmissions via Chile I was able to turn in early after my half bottle of wine, a tasty and satisfying meal (It is the same rice and beans every night, but I love it.), and a movie (The French Connection). Bed was very comfortable. I had moved to the port bunk and would be pinned more or less against the back cushion without being rolled around from side to side. The bedding was dry, warm, and inviting. It was like diving into a swimming pool of sleep.
Nevertheless I had set the alarm for 3 hours to check for a wind change that would set us on a different course. All was well so I returned to the cot and slept until just after 4 AM, dawn. I check two things when I wake up. The first is to feel the motion of the boat and see if we are still sailing, because it will mean that we still have wind and the self steering is still working. The second is to go to the chart plotter and see our track. This morning all was well and we were still running east at lat 36S04, about where I wanted the boat to be. I set the alarm to wake me in time for the 6.30 AM SAMMNet session but I didn't need any more sleep and got back up out of bed to start the day. We were moving a sedate 3.5 kts but according to the grib file the wind would veer slightly and strengthen over the next 12 hours.
I got a reply from Sam of SAMMNet thanking me for the boat information that I had sent to them. He and Graham will be listening for my transmission. I noted that Sam was transmitting from "Simonstown".
I cannot resist including the following message that I received last nigh from Victor, a literary and philosophical powerhouse living in comfortable obscurity and full of Shakespeare's "wise saws and modern instances":
----------
"Why does Captain Robert venture beyond the horizon where few would dare?
Why does he go to the very precipitous edge of the world?
Why does he endure the furious tempests of the Heavens and the Great Waters?
It is to see the Wonders of the Deep, and to experience the Hand of the
Almighty .
It is to teach us *Geography,* the exotic nations and foreign climes.
Who would have heard of Tristan da Cunha?
Even my grandkids have now seen it (courtesy of Google.and Robert )
Teaching GEOGRAPHY. That's why!
A far far more noble way than to wage wars.
Godspeed to Cape Town and a Merry Xmas ."
----------
I made contact with Graham at SAMMNet at the 6.30 AM session. He called for me specifically and I responded immediately. The quality of the transmission was challenging but adequate. Graham asked me for my position, speed, heading, wind direction and strength and barometric pressure, and I'll be ready with this information in future sessions. He then gave me a very comprehensive report on my weather situation through Saturday. I now know that the S Atlantic High of 1022 Mb is centered 900 miles to my NW at 24S, 013W, and a deep low of 982 Mb is passing 800 miles to the SE at 45S, 010E. This represents the first comprehensive picture of the synoptic situation that I have had during this passage and is of great value to me. The wind predictions through Saturday 1800 are good. Tonight I can expect winds of 24-30 kts but no gale winds are predicted. There will be a couple of bouts of winds in the 10-20 kt range, which could present problems at the low end of the range, but I might get lucky. Graham is transmitting from north of Port Elizabeth near Pt Alfred.
Wow, is it great to be connected to a net! I will get weather forecasts and maritime warnings and they will keep tabs on my progress for safety reasons. (One of their questions was the make and model of my EPIRB.) I'm feeling all warm and fuzzy at the moment. A few days ago I noted the contrasting situations of myself and Jeanne. Each day of progress puts me closer to certainty and security. For Jeanne each day of progress takes her further into uncertainty and peril, which is what the Horn adventure is about. Having said that, and having Been There and Done That, I prefer my current situation.
I then began to dither on whether or not to try to put up the spray dodger. There was a following wind of 15 kts and the proper and safe thing to do was to wait until the lull on Saturday. On the other hand I was anxious to see the outcome and I figured that I could do it safely, so I decided to do it and the sooner the better because the wind was going to pick up. Although water was not spraying over the cabin I suited up completely because I wanted to eliminate the possibility of any distractions from spray. The first task was to fasten the leading edge of the dodger which involves three separate bolt ropes: the main one across the middle and two short ones on the outside of the lines running from the mast into the cockpit. The original design is that zippers are used to connect the dodger to the middle and left bolt ropes, and the bolt rope at the right is not zippered bt is simply slid into the track. Because the left zipper was jammed up I had sewn that bolt rope directly to the dodger. I slipped the left bolt rope into the track, move the dodger to the right enough for the right bolt rope to get started at the other end of the track, centered the dodger, zipped up the main zipper, and that was the end of the biggest hurdle. The plan had worked. Thereafter it was a matter of putting the canvas over the frame, folding the frame back toward the cockpit, zipping the dodger to the two overhead bars of the frame, then strapping down the sides. I did most of that work by standing at the companionway.
The result looked pretty good. With the secure leading edge and the hard downward pull of two independent lines on each side of the cockpit the canvas was taut and the grab bar across the back of the frame felt firm. The chances were good that the repaired dodger would see me through to Cape Town.
At 10 AM I shortened sail quite a bit. The wind had picked up and was expected to strengthen and I saw no need to drive the boat too hard. We were back down to 5-5.5 kts.
At noon our position was 36S06, 002W14, giving us a n-n distance of 116 miles to the east (092T). We were 1025 miles from CT and would without a doubt be under 1000 miles by nightfall. I expected the biggest milestone of the trip tomorrow. (Hint: Check out the longitude.) The barometer had fallen 2 points to 1013 HPa. We were racing to the east at over 6 kts with a strengthening wind and I would reduce sail soon. I saw on the DC meter that surpluses of 10 and 11 amps were being delivered to the house bank. I turned on the refrigerator and was still getting a surplus of 5 amps. The wind charger has been very good. It does not normally deliver the amperage of the solar panels at their peak, but it delivers 24 hours a day with a good wind.
By the time I reduced sail 30 minutes later the wind was up to close to 30 kts. The sea would soon rise to the occasion so I expected an interesting night. Anyway, for now our speed was averaging less than 6 kts and the boat was riding better. We were on a port tack which was good because if the sliding hatch were overwhelmed by a wave the water would wind up in the galley and not the navigation station.
In the middle of the afternoon I noticed that things were getting quieter, even though we were still being frequently hit by heavy waves on the deck. When I noted our speed dropping below 5 kts during the lulls I rolled out a bit more sail. I then poured myself a cup of wine and began monitoring the wind and speed numbers. I was hoping that we had seen the worst of it and we might have a reasonably quiet night.
The work I did to seal the dorade vents was successful. I noticed that was not being dripped on while in the bunk after those cabin-sweeping sheets of water. The sealing of the two window had also worked, although there was still the problem of water dripping - and sometimes pouring - from the ceiling area whenever a sheet of water swept over the sliding hatch.
I had a few thoughts about that sliding hatch problem. I cannot redesign the main hatch but it seems to me that I could prevent 95% of the problem if I had an improved spray dodger design. The problem with the current one is that it relies on Mickey Mouse press studs to hold the material on the sides to the coaming. These studs break, the screws used to fix them into the coaming come out, something changes and the press stud on the canvas will no longer meet its partner on the coaming, etc. These problems are exacerbated by the natural and useful practice of putting coiled ropes, gloves, or whatever in the inside of the dodger. The result is that at the moment there is nothing holding the dodger material to the coaming on the sides, which means that water has a free ride to the main hatch. When I have a new spray dodger made in Fremantle I will work hard with Debbie to ensure there are more robust attachments along the sides. I cannot see why zippered bolt ropes in tracks cannot be used on the sides. They certainly work well at the front.
At 4.30 PM we were 1000 miles from Cape Town.
----------
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In the early evening I had a look outside and the situation was good. The boat was still moving well but the wind had dropped just that little bit to make the ride smoother and there were no longer those big swells occasionally causing the stern of the boat to slew around or to slap the boat hard on the side. The nearly full moon was out and I could see plenty of stars. Down below the cabin had dried out during the day. Even the trousers I was wearing felt dry and not clammy. I had a very good Sailmail session at 6.45 pm via the Africa station which lifted my spirits. Because I as no longer bound to the midnight transmissions via Chile I was able to turn in early after my half bottle of wine, a tasty and satisfying meal (It is the same rice and beans every night, but I love it.), and a movie (The French Connection). Bed was very comfortable. I had moved to the port bunk and would be pinned more or less against the back cushion without being rolled around from side to side. The bedding was dry, warm, and inviting. It was like diving into a swimming pool of sleep.
Nevertheless I had set the alarm for 3 hours to check for a wind change that would set us on a different course. All was well so I returned to the cot and slept until just after 4 AM, dawn. I check two things when I wake up. The first is to feel the motion of the boat and see if we are still sailing, because it will mean that we still have wind and the self steering is still working. The second is to go to the chart plotter and see our track. This morning all was well and we were still running east at lat 36S04, about where I wanted the boat to be. I set the alarm to wake me in time for the 6.30 AM SAMMNet session but I didn't need any more sleep and got back up out of bed to start the day. We were moving a sedate 3.5 kts but according to the grib file the wind would veer slightly and strengthen over the next 12 hours.
I got a reply from Sam of SAMMNet thanking me for the boat information that I had sent to them. He and Graham will be listening for my transmission. I noted that Sam was transmitting from "Simonstown".
I cannot resist including the following message that I received last nigh from Victor, a literary and philosophical powerhouse living in comfortable obscurity and full of Shakespeare's "wise saws and modern instances":
----------
"Why does Captain Robert venture beyond the horizon where few would dare?
Why does he go to the very precipitous edge of the world?
Why does he endure the furious tempests of the Heavens and the Great Waters?
It is to see the Wonders of the Deep, and to experience the Hand of the
Almighty .
It is to teach us *Geography,* the exotic nations and foreign climes.
Who would have heard of Tristan da Cunha?
Even my grandkids have now seen it (courtesy of Google.and Robert )
Teaching GEOGRAPHY. That's why!
A far far more noble way than to wage wars.
Godspeed to Cape Town and a Merry Xmas ."
----------
I made contact with Graham at SAMMNet at the 6.30 AM session. He called for me specifically and I responded immediately. The quality of the transmission was challenging but adequate. Graham asked me for my position, speed, heading, wind direction and strength and barometric pressure, and I'll be ready with this information in future sessions. He then gave me a very comprehensive report on my weather situation through Saturday. I now know that the S Atlantic High of 1022 Mb is centered 900 miles to my NW at 24S, 013W, and a deep low of 982 Mb is passing 800 miles to the SE at 45S, 010E. This represents the first comprehensive picture of the synoptic situation that I have had during this passage and is of great value to me. The wind predictions through Saturday 1800 are good. Tonight I can expect winds of 24-30 kts but no gale winds are predicted. There will be a couple of bouts of winds in the 10-20 kt range, which could present problems at the low end of the range, but I might get lucky. Graham is transmitting from north of Port Elizabeth near Pt Alfred.
Wow, is it great to be connected to a net! I will get weather forecasts and maritime warnings and they will keep tabs on my progress for safety reasons. (One of their questions was the make and model of my EPIRB.) I'm feeling all warm and fuzzy at the moment. A few days ago I noted the contrasting situations of myself and Jeanne. Each day of progress puts me closer to certainty and security. For Jeanne each day of progress takes her further into uncertainty and peril, which is what the Horn adventure is about. Having said that, and having Been There and Done That, I prefer my current situation.
I then began to dither on whether or not to try to put up the spray dodger. There was a following wind of 15 kts and the proper and safe thing to do was to wait until the lull on Saturday. On the other hand I was anxious to see the outcome and I figured that I could do it safely, so I decided to do it and the sooner the better because the wind was going to pick up. Although water was not spraying over the cabin I suited up completely because I wanted to eliminate the possibility of any distractions from spray. The first task was to fasten the leading edge of the dodger which involves three separate bolt ropes: the main one across the middle and two short ones on the outside of the lines running from the mast into the cockpit. The original design is that zippers are used to connect the dodger to the middle and left bolt ropes, and the bolt rope at the right is not zippered bt is simply slid into the track. Because the left zipper was jammed up I had sewn that bolt rope directly to the dodger. I slipped the left bolt rope into the track, move the dodger to the right enough for the right bolt rope to get started at the other end of the track, centered the dodger, zipped up the main zipper, and that was the end of the biggest hurdle. The plan had worked. Thereafter it was a matter of putting the canvas over the frame, folding the frame back toward the cockpit, zipping the dodger to the two overhead bars of the frame, then strapping down the sides. I did most of that work by standing at the companionway.
The result looked pretty good. With the secure leading edge and the hard downward pull of two independent lines on each side of the cockpit the canvas was taut and the grab bar across the back of the frame felt firm. The chances were good that the repaired dodger would see me through to Cape Town.
At 10 AM I shortened sail quite a bit. The wind had picked up and was expected to strengthen and I saw no need to drive the boat too hard. We were back down to 5-5.5 kts.
At noon our position was 36S06, 002W14, giving us a n-n distance of 116 miles to the east (092T). We were 1025 miles from CT and would without a doubt be under 1000 miles by nightfall. I expected the biggest milestone of the trip tomorrow. (Hint: Check out the longitude.) The barometer had fallen 2 points to 1013 HPa. We were racing to the east at over 6 kts with a strengthening wind and I would reduce sail soon. I saw on the DC meter that surpluses of 10 and 11 amps were being delivered to the house bank. I turned on the refrigerator and was still getting a surplus of 5 amps. The wind charger has been very good. It does not normally deliver the amperage of the solar panels at their peak, but it delivers 24 hours a day with a good wind.
By the time I reduced sail 30 minutes later the wind was up to close to 30 kts. The sea would soon rise to the occasion so I expected an interesting night. Anyway, for now our speed was averaging less than 6 kts and the boat was riding better. We were on a port tack which was good because if the sliding hatch were overwhelmed by a wave the water would wind up in the galley and not the navigation station.
In the middle of the afternoon I noticed that things were getting quieter, even though we were still being frequently hit by heavy waves on the deck. When I noted our speed dropping below 5 kts during the lulls I rolled out a bit more sail. I then poured myself a cup of wine and began monitoring the wind and speed numbers. I was hoping that we had seen the worst of it and we might have a reasonably quiet night.
The work I did to seal the dorade vents was successful. I noticed that was not being dripped on while in the bunk after those cabin-sweeping sheets of water. The sealing of the two window had also worked, although there was still the problem of water dripping - and sometimes pouring - from the ceiling area whenever a sheet of water swept over the sliding hatch.
I had a few thoughts about that sliding hatch problem. I cannot redesign the main hatch but it seems to me that I could prevent 95% of the problem if I had an improved spray dodger design. The problem with the current one is that it relies on Mickey Mouse press studs to hold the material on the sides to the coaming. These studs break, the screws used to fix them into the coaming come out, something changes and the press stud on the canvas will no longer meet its partner on the coaming, etc. These problems are exacerbated by the natural and useful practice of putting coiled ropes, gloves, or whatever in the inside of the dodger. The result is that at the moment there is nothing holding the dodger material to the coaming on the sides, which means that water has a free ride to the main hatch. When I have a new spray dodger made in Fremantle I will work hard with Debbie to ensure there are more robust attachments along the sides. I cannot see why zippered bolt ropes in tracks cannot be used on the sides. They certainly work well at the front.
At 4.30 PM we were 1000 miles from Cape Town.
----------
radio email processed by SailMail
for information see: http://www.sailmail.com
Wednesday, December 26, 2012
Day 27 - Still Running Downwind
I connected to Africa at 7.30 PM and got a scorching transfer rate of 5700 bytes/min and I thought that I had it made. The grib file that I had ordered the night before but was forced to cancel because of the slow transfer rate was not delivered so I connected again and ordered another one. Thirty minutes later I simply could not connect in order to download the file. I slept for 2 hours and was up at midnight to try Africa again with no success then I connected to Chile, which turned out to be a frustrating experience. There were 2 grib files waiting for me, and 1 short message. It took about 20 minutes to download the older grib file and short message and another 15 minutes attempting to download the final file. In the end when the transfer rate was averaging 158 bytes/min and there were too many retries the system gave up and disconnected me. So I wasted 15 minutes of air time for a file that I will have to download tomorrow whether I want it or not(Grib files get stale.) Very frustrating. I'll have to place my hope in the Africa service and I'll have to figure out the best times and frequencies.
As I was finishing the session there was an abrupt wind change with rain and I spent a busy 20 minutes on deck gybing the boat and setting up the Monitor. When I got back in the cabin I had to change my track suit bottom and underpants because they were damp. Both sets of wet Musto weather trousers are failing and I will get a replacement in Cape Town. I am not complaining because they gave great service from the time we departed from Fremantle in 2008 until I arrived in Argentina earlier this year. In the meantime I'll see about using an outfit that I purchased at the general store in Neah Bay which the Alaska fishermen use.
Thirty minutes later I had to go out in the rain to adjust the Monitor airvane. I thought of putting on the damp and cold clothing then the leaky wet weather pants on top of that and said to heck with it. I stripped from the waist down and went out wearing just the sailing jacket over my T-shirt and sweater. It saved a lot of time and bother, and I was ok as long as my chest remained dry and warm.
The wind had died down and we were creeping at less than 3.5 kts. There would be no record breaking n-n distances tomorrow.
The wind kept weakening and the boat speed dropped below 3 kts. The adverse combination of weak wind, rough sea, and low speed through the water was threatening to overwhelm the Monitor so I stayed up to watch the boat with my fingers crossed. Eventually the wind began to pick up (Phew!) and I turned in at 2.30 AM with the boat making 4 kts. I was tired and did not set an alarm. I woke up at 8.30 AM to find the boat still sailing to the east under a clearing sky, although our SOG was below 4 kts even after I rolled out more sail.
I had little success with SAMMNet at the 11.30 AM session. At 14.316 MHz USB, the Indian and Atlantic Ocean session, I could just make out a human voice. At 7.230 MHz LSB, the coastal net session, I heard nothing. The failure with the coastal net frequency is not surprising because of my distance from the coast. The failure with the higher frequency may be due to atmospherics of the angle of incidence of the signal to the upper layers of the atmosphere, which would put me in a sort of cone of silence. My best bet was to close in on the African continent as fast as possible.
At noon our position was 36S01, 004W47, yielding a respectable n-n distance of 118 miles in the direction 087T, almost directly to CT. I figure that at least 72 of those 118 miles were gained during the first 12 hours of the sailing day, before the midnight wind change. We were now 372 miles from Tristan da Cunha and 1150 miles from Cape Town. The barometer was steady at 1015 HPa. The sun was out and the boat was moving well to the east at 5.5 kts.
While preparing the noon report I spotted my first ship since TdC. She was the Concordia a cargo vessel doing 12 kts directly east, suggesting that she would round the Cape to reach "Bandar Imam Khomeni", which must be in Iran. She would pass within 3 miles to my port so I would get a good look at her.
It wasn't even noon yet and wind charger and solar panels were delivering enough charge to give me a 5 amp surplus over what was being discharged to run the computer and the chart plotter. The house bank was reading 12.9V, though I knew that it would settle to 12.6V during net discharge of the night. That wasn't bad considering that I had last run the engine on Day 23, 4 days earlier.
We were sailing too far to the south so I decided to gybe, which would alter my course to cross that of the cargo ship but would not pose a danger because of the ship's greater speed, and it's just as well I did. Eventually I saw the symbol of the ship flashing on the chart plotter to indicate that it was a dangerous target (i.e. we would pass within 2 miles of each other). But there was no sound. During my last close encounter with a ship I had suppressed the alarm because it kept going on and off as our closest point weaved in and out of the critical 2 mile circle, and I had forgotten to turn it back on. That meant, of course, that had I been asleep I would not have been aware of a critical target approaching. That was very careless on my part and very dangerous, particularly in the busy waters that we were about to enter. From now on the alarm will stay on all of the time and I'll just put up with the temporary sounds.
I put in two final hours of sewing to finish the repair to the spray dodger, as I was down to the final CD of Rock 'n Roll, 1954. After a late lunch and a refreshing 1 hour nap I woke up at 4 PM to find the boat moving well at 5.5-6.5 kts to a brisk wind of perhaps 15 kts. This would be the third day of sailing downwind under headsail since passing TdC and it had been a very productive run so far. I would wait until things were a little quieter before attempting to fit the spray dodger.
Following Jeanne Socrate's advice I prepared a message to the manager of the Royal Cape Yacht Club asking for accommodation for my boat during my planned 6 week stay.
After several false starts I am now getting wind speed readings again. It seems to be those high winds that causes it to fail.
----------
radio email processed by SailMail
for information see: http://www.sailmail.com
As I was finishing the session there was an abrupt wind change with rain and I spent a busy 20 minutes on deck gybing the boat and setting up the Monitor. When I got back in the cabin I had to change my track suit bottom and underpants because they were damp. Both sets of wet Musto weather trousers are failing and I will get a replacement in Cape Town. I am not complaining because they gave great service from the time we departed from Fremantle in 2008 until I arrived in Argentina earlier this year. In the meantime I'll see about using an outfit that I purchased at the general store in Neah Bay which the Alaska fishermen use.
Thirty minutes later I had to go out in the rain to adjust the Monitor airvane. I thought of putting on the damp and cold clothing then the leaky wet weather pants on top of that and said to heck with it. I stripped from the waist down and went out wearing just the sailing jacket over my T-shirt and sweater. It saved a lot of time and bother, and I was ok as long as my chest remained dry and warm.
The wind had died down and we were creeping at less than 3.5 kts. There would be no record breaking n-n distances tomorrow.
The wind kept weakening and the boat speed dropped below 3 kts. The adverse combination of weak wind, rough sea, and low speed through the water was threatening to overwhelm the Monitor so I stayed up to watch the boat with my fingers crossed. Eventually the wind began to pick up (Phew!) and I turned in at 2.30 AM with the boat making 4 kts. I was tired and did not set an alarm. I woke up at 8.30 AM to find the boat still sailing to the east under a clearing sky, although our SOG was below 4 kts even after I rolled out more sail.
I had little success with SAMMNet at the 11.30 AM session. At 14.316 MHz USB, the Indian and Atlantic Ocean session, I could just make out a human voice. At 7.230 MHz LSB, the coastal net session, I heard nothing. The failure with the coastal net frequency is not surprising because of my distance from the coast. The failure with the higher frequency may be due to atmospherics of the angle of incidence of the signal to the upper layers of the atmosphere, which would put me in a sort of cone of silence. My best bet was to close in on the African continent as fast as possible.
At noon our position was 36S01, 004W47, yielding a respectable n-n distance of 118 miles in the direction 087T, almost directly to CT. I figure that at least 72 of those 118 miles were gained during the first 12 hours of the sailing day, before the midnight wind change. We were now 372 miles from Tristan da Cunha and 1150 miles from Cape Town. The barometer was steady at 1015 HPa. The sun was out and the boat was moving well to the east at 5.5 kts.
While preparing the noon report I spotted my first ship since TdC. She was the Concordia a cargo vessel doing 12 kts directly east, suggesting that she would round the Cape to reach "Bandar Imam Khomeni", which must be in Iran. She would pass within 3 miles to my port so I would get a good look at her.
It wasn't even noon yet and wind charger and solar panels were delivering enough charge to give me a 5 amp surplus over what was being discharged to run the computer and the chart plotter. The house bank was reading 12.9V, though I knew that it would settle to 12.6V during net discharge of the night. That wasn't bad considering that I had last run the engine on Day 23, 4 days earlier.
We were sailing too far to the south so I decided to gybe, which would alter my course to cross that of the cargo ship but would not pose a danger because of the ship's greater speed, and it's just as well I did. Eventually I saw the symbol of the ship flashing on the chart plotter to indicate that it was a dangerous target (i.e. we would pass within 2 miles of each other). But there was no sound. During my last close encounter with a ship I had suppressed the alarm because it kept going on and off as our closest point weaved in and out of the critical 2 mile circle, and I had forgotten to turn it back on. That meant, of course, that had I been asleep I would not have been aware of a critical target approaching. That was very careless on my part and very dangerous, particularly in the busy waters that we were about to enter. From now on the alarm will stay on all of the time and I'll just put up with the temporary sounds.
I put in two final hours of sewing to finish the repair to the spray dodger, as I was down to the final CD of Rock 'n Roll, 1954. After a late lunch and a refreshing 1 hour nap I woke up at 4 PM to find the boat moving well at 5.5-6.5 kts to a brisk wind of perhaps 15 kts. This would be the third day of sailing downwind under headsail since passing TdC and it had been a very productive run so far. I would wait until things were a little quieter before attempting to fit the spray dodger.
Following Jeanne Socrate's advice I prepared a message to the manager of the Royal Cape Yacht Club asking for accommodation for my boat during my planned 6 week stay.
After several false starts I am now getting wind speed readings again. It seems to be those high winds that causes it to fail.
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Tuesday, December 25, 2012
Day 25 - Good Christmas Day Sailing
We ran all night before a 20-22 kt wind heading due east and averaging probably 6 kts. The sea had become rough and the ride on Pachuca was jerky with the occasional wave hitting the side sweeping water over the cabin.
I had received messages from Mark in Port Townsend and Reg in Australia regarding the recent difficult engine start that I had reported in this blog. Reg's general advice was spot on and Mark was able to be very specific because he knows this model of Volvo (D440F, I think) so well. I'll study his message carefully before starting the next engine run.
Mark suggested that I start the engine with 1/3 throttle, which could solve the entire problem because I've always started the engine at idle. (Duh!) To my great relief Mark informed me that the high temperature alarm is independent of the temperature gauge.
My thanks to these friends and gentlemen for their support, which is difficult to overstate in the wilds of the South Atlantic.
I also received a message from Jeanne Socrates last night in which she gave me details on SAMMNet, which seems to provide good services for both the S Atlantic and S Indian Ocean. I have prepared a Sailmail message giving all of the required boat information and will try voice contact at 11.30 AM today.
Last night's Sailmail transmission rates were dreadfully slow for both sending and receiving, in the order of 250 bytes/sec. I consumed close to 30 minutes of air time and when it came time to receive the last message, the 5 Mb grib file, I stopped the connection. I then looked at the Sailmail radio propagation matrix and now South Africa at 1900 miles is a better bet than Chile at 2900 miles. The Chile station served me well on both sides of the continent.
At 8 AM the boat gybed so I suited up to investigate the problem. The Monitor ropes had jumped out of the drum after doing over 24 hours of hard duty, so I could not complain. The gybing itself was no problem because there is no stress on the sail and the boat goes quiet in the hove to position. As I was finishing up the work on the Monitor lines the boat very conveniently gybed itself again and soon we were on our way again. The day had started off in heavy overcast but weak sunlight was beginning to break through.
Using Jeanne's information I program the two SAMMNet frequencies into the radio and hear the warnings (floating containers further north off the coast of Nambia) and the weather situation. Reception was faint and scratchy but what I heard was very good. As close in on the continent expect improving reception on the lower frequency. I have prepared a Sailmail message to SAMMNet giving them all of the required information on this boat.
At noon our position was 36S07, 007W13, giving us a n-n distance of 139 miles, by far the longest 24 hour distance since Brazil. Better yet, the direction was to 085T, directly for Cape Town. I have little doubt that had I pushed the boat very hard with more headsail I could have made a distance of 160 miles, but this is a cruise and not a race. I am now measuring the distance to Cape Town rather than the actual Cape of Good hope, and at noon today we had 1270 miles to go. The barometer had dropped 1 point to 1015 hPa.
I spent most of the "leisure" hours of the day sewing the spray dodger to the sound of classic rock 'n roll (down to 1958). I managed to do a reasonable job on the main zipper, triple stitching at one end and double stitching the rest. However, there are problems. An 8" section of the starboard window has split just above the zipper, so in that section the canvas material will have to take the load. At either end of the dodger are 10" sections on the outside of the ropes that pass from the mast into the cockpit. The port end has a hopelessly frozen zipper in the open position and I thinking of sewing the bolt rope directly to the dodger and not worry about the zipper, since I can slide it in before anything else. The starboard side has a bolt rope only and should be OK. I should be able to finish the repair job tomorrow and then I will face two questions: (1) Will I be able to fit the dodger on adequately?, (2) How long will the repair last?
During the middle of the afternoon we got slammed by one of those boarding waves and one of the port fuel containers came loose. It was nothing drastic: It jumped out of the rope around the middle but the rope around the handle held it on the boat. I suited up and rescued it and returned to the cabin thinking that this fuel-on-deck idea may have passed its usefulness. To begin with, I've been carrying way much too much fuel for my needs. To date I have poured only 30 liters of the deck fuel into the main tanks, which are still near full. Thanks to the wind charger, solar panels, and my running the refrigerator only 2 hours a day, I haven't had to do many battery-charging engine runs. The chances are that I will depart Cape Town for Australia with maybe 60 or 80 liters of extra fuel carried in the cabin, and an UNCLUTTERED DECK.
It had been another good day of progress with the boat powering on toward CT with Jeff doing the steering and me free to do the sewing. I would check the Monitor lines before dark and hope that we had another uneventful but progressive night.
I put together another bean and lentil stew, and there were sufficient fresh carrots, potatoes, onions, and garlic to fill the pressure cooker past the recommended mark. This will feed me for another 5 days, which should see me about 2 weeks out of Cape Town. But Wait, There's More! It looks like I'll be able to get at least one more stew out of the remaining carrots, potatoes, onions, and garlic.
----------
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I had received messages from Mark in Port Townsend and Reg in Australia regarding the recent difficult engine start that I had reported in this blog. Reg's general advice was spot on and Mark was able to be very specific because he knows this model of Volvo (D440F, I think) so well. I'll study his message carefully before starting the next engine run.
Mark suggested that I start the engine with 1/3 throttle, which could solve the entire problem because I've always started the engine at idle. (Duh!) To my great relief Mark informed me that the high temperature alarm is independent of the temperature gauge.
My thanks to these friends and gentlemen for their support, which is difficult to overstate in the wilds of the South Atlantic.
I also received a message from Jeanne Socrates last night in which she gave me details on SAMMNet, which seems to provide good services for both the S Atlantic and S Indian Ocean. I have prepared a Sailmail message giving all of the required boat information and will try voice contact at 11.30 AM today.
Last night's Sailmail transmission rates were dreadfully slow for both sending and receiving, in the order of 250 bytes/sec. I consumed close to 30 minutes of air time and when it came time to receive the last message, the 5 Mb grib file, I stopped the connection. I then looked at the Sailmail radio propagation matrix and now South Africa at 1900 miles is a better bet than Chile at 2900 miles. The Chile station served me well on both sides of the continent.
At 8 AM the boat gybed so I suited up to investigate the problem. The Monitor ropes had jumped out of the drum after doing over 24 hours of hard duty, so I could not complain. The gybing itself was no problem because there is no stress on the sail and the boat goes quiet in the hove to position. As I was finishing up the work on the Monitor lines the boat very conveniently gybed itself again and soon we were on our way again. The day had started off in heavy overcast but weak sunlight was beginning to break through.
Using Jeanne's information I program the two SAMMNet frequencies into the radio and hear the warnings (floating containers further north off the coast of Nambia) and the weather situation. Reception was faint and scratchy but what I heard was very good. As close in on the continent expect improving reception on the lower frequency. I have prepared a Sailmail message to SAMMNet giving them all of the required information on this boat.
At noon our position was 36S07, 007W13, giving us a n-n distance of 139 miles, by far the longest 24 hour distance since Brazil. Better yet, the direction was to 085T, directly for Cape Town. I have little doubt that had I pushed the boat very hard with more headsail I could have made a distance of 160 miles, but this is a cruise and not a race. I am now measuring the distance to Cape Town rather than the actual Cape of Good hope, and at noon today we had 1270 miles to go. The barometer had dropped 1 point to 1015 hPa.
I spent most of the "leisure" hours of the day sewing the spray dodger to the sound of classic rock 'n roll (down to 1958). I managed to do a reasonable job on the main zipper, triple stitching at one end and double stitching the rest. However, there are problems. An 8" section of the starboard window has split just above the zipper, so in that section the canvas material will have to take the load. At either end of the dodger are 10" sections on the outside of the ropes that pass from the mast into the cockpit. The port end has a hopelessly frozen zipper in the open position and I thinking of sewing the bolt rope directly to the dodger and not worry about the zipper, since I can slide it in before anything else. The starboard side has a bolt rope only and should be OK. I should be able to finish the repair job tomorrow and then I will face two questions: (1) Will I be able to fit the dodger on adequately?, (2) How long will the repair last?
During the middle of the afternoon we got slammed by one of those boarding waves and one of the port fuel containers came loose. It was nothing drastic: It jumped out of the rope around the middle but the rope around the handle held it on the boat. I suited up and rescued it and returned to the cabin thinking that this fuel-on-deck idea may have passed its usefulness. To begin with, I've been carrying way much too much fuel for my needs. To date I have poured only 30 liters of the deck fuel into the main tanks, which are still near full. Thanks to the wind charger, solar panels, and my running the refrigerator only 2 hours a day, I haven't had to do many battery-charging engine runs. The chances are that I will depart Cape Town for Australia with maybe 60 or 80 liters of extra fuel carried in the cabin, and an UNCLUTTERED DECK.
It had been another good day of progress with the boat powering on toward CT with Jeff doing the steering and me free to do the sewing. I would check the Monitor lines before dark and hope that we had another uneventful but progressive night.
I put together another bean and lentil stew, and there were sufficient fresh carrots, potatoes, onions, and garlic to fill the pressure cooker past the recommended mark. This will feed me for another 5 days, which should see me about 2 weeks out of Cape Town. But Wait, There's More! It looks like I'll be able to get at least one more stew out of the remaining carrots, potatoes, onions, and garlic.
----------
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Monday, December 24, 2012
Day 25 - Merry Christmas to All
This is Christmas Eve on board Pachuca, which is on UTC/GMT time. Western Australia is at UTC+8 and the Seattle area of the USA is at UTC-8, so at 4 PM Pachuca time I will raise a toast of wine wishing my friends and relatives in Australia, Mexico, the USA, and Canada a VERY MERRY CHRISTMAS to them all. Pachuca, of course, will be out at sea with its restricted communications, but I can imagine the good wishes that will be put into the blog and I will take great pleasure in reading them when I am ashore.
Pachuca is off to a good start on her leg to S Africa, and if the latest grib file is to be believed she is on a bit of a roll with the wind through the 25th of December. We have been running downwind under headsail at 4-5.5 kts since leaving TdC. Yesterday afternoon I gybed the boat several times in order to maintain a track as directly for Cape Town at 084T as possible, but for the night I left Pachuca on a port broad reach taking her to the ENE. That suited me because I wanted to get up to latitude 36S. The boat sailed herself well all night and I woke at 6.30 AM after a warm and comfortable sleep to find us at 36S21 on a course centered on 067T. I could have gybed to take us due east but decided to hang on for an expected veering of the wind at noon, which would move Pachuca's course more to the east. Bright sunshine was beginning to break through the morning mist and I was looking forward to the kind of sailing day that I had envisioned and hoped for in this passage to S Africa.
I have been trying hard to raise a wfax out of S. Africa with no success. I then brought up the Australian wfax schedule to verify that they were transmitting at that time and managed to hear a recognizable wfax signal out of Wiluna in Western Australia on 18.060 MHz. It was music to my ears and I listened to the entire transmission. Jeanne did not express much confidence in the S Africa wfax service, so it could be the same story as that of the Brazilian wfax "service" that does not exist. Looking at the Aussie wfax schedule reminded me of the rich and comprehensive wfax services provided by Australia, New Zealand, and the USA. I counted 59 transmissions out of Australia each day. Rio offers 5 and both Chile and Cape Town offer 11. (Don't get me wrong. The Chile service is very reliable and effective and was indispensable during my approach and rounding of the Horn. I was never blindsided approaching the Horn as I was with those two nasty gales on this passage from Brazil.)
At mid morning I started work on repairing the spray dodger. One of the zippers has lost 3 of its teeth and I hope that I can zip past that area when the time comes. There is stitching each side of the zipper, the upper to the dodger itself and the lower to the bolt rope, and I realized that I would have to restitch both sides, doubling the sewing effort. It did not take long to be set myself comfortably and begin sewing with a cd of rock from 1964 to keep me company. I figure that the job will take me 3 days of work and by then I would have worked my way down to the through each cd year by year to 1954 2 or 3 times.
Our noon position was 36S18, 10W04, giving us a n-n distance of 112 miles in the direction 070T, and we were now 1475 miles from the Cape of Good Hope. We were still moving well before a west wind. The barometer had risen 6 points to 1016 and it was a brilliantly sunny day.
At 4 PM I raised a cup of Christmas cheer wine to all. I had a special thought for Rick of La Paz who not been well. And finally Jeanne Socrates, who two days ago was at 41S, 107W, still 1800 miles from the Horn. But it was a happy thought because I could imagine Jeanne preparing a very special 3 course meal with the finest wine for Christmas dinner.
At 10 PM we were still moving well in front of a good wind.
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Pachuca is off to a good start on her leg to S Africa, and if the latest grib file is to be believed she is on a bit of a roll with the wind through the 25th of December. We have been running downwind under headsail at 4-5.5 kts since leaving TdC. Yesterday afternoon I gybed the boat several times in order to maintain a track as directly for Cape Town at 084T as possible, but for the night I left Pachuca on a port broad reach taking her to the ENE. That suited me because I wanted to get up to latitude 36S. The boat sailed herself well all night and I woke at 6.30 AM after a warm and comfortable sleep to find us at 36S21 on a course centered on 067T. I could have gybed to take us due east but decided to hang on for an expected veering of the wind at noon, which would move Pachuca's course more to the east. Bright sunshine was beginning to break through the morning mist and I was looking forward to the kind of sailing day that I had envisioned and hoped for in this passage to S Africa.
I have been trying hard to raise a wfax out of S. Africa with no success. I then brought up the Australian wfax schedule to verify that they were transmitting at that time and managed to hear a recognizable wfax signal out of Wiluna in Western Australia on 18.060 MHz. It was music to my ears and I listened to the entire transmission. Jeanne did not express much confidence in the S Africa wfax service, so it could be the same story as that of the Brazilian wfax "service" that does not exist. Looking at the Aussie wfax schedule reminded me of the rich and comprehensive wfax services provided by Australia, New Zealand, and the USA. I counted 59 transmissions out of Australia each day. Rio offers 5 and both Chile and Cape Town offer 11. (Don't get me wrong. The Chile service is very reliable and effective and was indispensable during my approach and rounding of the Horn. I was never blindsided approaching the Horn as I was with those two nasty gales on this passage from Brazil.)
At mid morning I started work on repairing the spray dodger. One of the zippers has lost 3 of its teeth and I hope that I can zip past that area when the time comes. There is stitching each side of the zipper, the upper to the dodger itself and the lower to the bolt rope, and I realized that I would have to restitch both sides, doubling the sewing effort. It did not take long to be set myself comfortably and begin sewing with a cd of rock from 1964 to keep me company. I figure that the job will take me 3 days of work and by then I would have worked my way down to the through each cd year by year to 1954 2 or 3 times.
Our noon position was 36S18, 10W04, giving us a n-n distance of 112 miles in the direction 070T, and we were now 1475 miles from the Cape of Good Hope. We were still moving well before a west wind. The barometer had risen 6 points to 1016 and it was a brilliantly sunny day.
At 4 PM I raised a cup of Christmas cheer wine to all. I had a special thought for Rick of La Paz who not been well. And finally Jeanne Socrates, who two days ago was at 41S, 107W, still 1800 miles from the Horn. But it was a happy thought because I could imagine Jeanne preparing a very special 3 course meal with the finest wine for Christmas dinner.
At 10 PM we were still moving well in front of a good wind.
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Sunday, December 23, 2012
Day 24 - Moving On
We ran downwind all night to a wonderful NW wind. When the wind finally settle down just after midnight we laid a dead straight track to 118T which would have taken us 1 mile to the east of the island. I had kept the boat speed down to about 5.5 kts in the 20 kt wind and Jeff did a flawless job of steering.
I slept in 2-hour segments and at 5 AM with dawn just breaking we were 11 miles NW of the island and we would likely reach it at 7 AM, which was about 2 hours earlier than I wished. I cross checked the relative position of the island with both of the laptop navigation programs and the radar unit, and they were all consistent. It was a cloudy and drizzly day and I could see no sign of the island. I tried to slow the boat down by reducing sail to perhaps 30 sq ft but that still left us 3 hours away from the island, so I rolled the sail in to 15 sq ft and turned the wheel hard to starboard to heave to with the sail back winded. We lay beam on to the sea as I had expected, but the small amount of sail did much to dampen the rolling. We were now drifting at 1.1 kt to 180T which would eventually pass us 7 miles to the west of the island. I would hold this posture until I established communication with Andy and hopefully the harbor master. The northern wind was to persist until noon then back to the west until the following day so I felt that the boat was in a commanding position. With several hours of leisure ahead of me I had a cup of hot tea then returned to bed.
I was up at 8 AM to find us 7 miles NW of the island. A cargo ship was passing 4 miles to my NE. I stuck my head out of the companionway but could not see the island through the drizzle and mist. I could understand why lookouts were such a big deal before the 20th century, given that one could miss a volcano so close in this not particularly bad weather. And I suppose that for small boats the same thing applied before the advent of GPS in the 80's. I was monitoring VHF 78 in case Andy called, and would wait until 9 PM before calling him.
I contacted Andy on VHF 78 just after 9 AM and gave him my position. He had Stanley the harbor master call me and we had a conversation about the prospects of anchoring. His opinion was that conditions were too rough to anchor near the village, which did not surprise me at all. I asked about the anchorage on the leeward side of the island and he did not know much about that side, in particular the holding ground. I thanked him for his advice and let him know that I would be moving on. Stanley expressed regret and said that if I had arrive yesterday I would have been able to anchor. I replied that we are all in the lap of the gods and must deal with things bigger than ourselves. I told him that it had not been a waste because through the Web I had become familiar with the island and so had many of the readers of this blog. We exchanged Christmas greetings and signed off.
I then hailed Andy. He remembered Jeanne Socrates and I relayed her regards to him. I explained that she was at about our latitude on the other side of S. America, expected to round the Horn in early January, and would contact him as she passed by Tristan.
With that I gave Andy my sincere thanks for all of the help and cooperation that he had given to Brenda and myself. We exchanged our farewells and Christmas wishes and signed off.
Francois will be departing from Bracui, Brazil in early January with the intent of visiting the island. He might get lucky and arrive on a clear day with a gentle southerly breeze. He has a large modern boat with no doubt better anchoring equipment than Pachuca's. He will also be accompanied by several crew. These factors will be in his favor. [Note to Francois: Notify Tristan of your plans to visit before departing from Brazil.]
I then gybed the boat and set the headsail for the ENE at 5 kts, taking us past the north side of the island. As though the weather gods were giving me a consolation gift the sky cleared enough so that I could see both sides of the island rising from the sea and the cloud-shrouded outline of the volcano. I took videos and still photographs.
At noon our position was 36S54, 012W15, giving us a n-n distance of 80 miles in the direction 121T. The n-n distance was meaningless because it represented a detour of 76 miles to the SE to reach the island, followed by several hours hove to, followed by 11 miles to the NE after the decision to abort the visit. The barometer had dropped 10 points to 1010 hPa.
My focus now would be, of course, the Cape area of S. Africa, 1575 miles to the east. I would try to center the passage along latitude 35S, 2 degrees higher that the recommendation. I was seeking to escape or at least minimize the strong winds because I did not want to face another ordeal like the previous week. The lighter winds would slow my passage, but so be it. I calculated the slowest passage time to be 23.6 days, putting me in S. Africa on 16 January. (Slowest time = (distance x 1.2)/80) I calculated the best time, assuming 100 miles per day, at 19 days.
Tasks for the next periods of calm weather included:
- Connecting the spare gas cylinder currently riding on the stern rail
- Storing the 50 lb Swarbrick anchor back under the port quarter berth to move its weight from the front of the boat
- Repair the spray dodger
- Treat the sliding hatch with silicone lubricant
I thought of putting the canvas spray dodgers back on the rails. I took them down in Hawaii after concluding that they were not doing much good. However, it occurred to me that they would provide good windage well aft of the mast while hove to, thereby encouraging the hull to point more into the wind. Then I thought that if one of those savage waves were to hit one of the dodgers the result would be either a torn dodger or bent stanchions. I would have to think about this a bit more.
At 12.30 the wind backed to the west as expected and I gybed the boat and we were now running due east. It was a very good wind and I expected to to ride it for 24 hours. I called Andy and asked him if his community has a fishing fleet that I should be watching out for. There is no Tristan fishing fleet in these waters and any fishing boats I see will be poachers. I agreed to report any fishing boats in the area. The day had cleared, the sun was out, and I was able to take a pretty good video of the island.
After lunch and a lie down I put in 1.5 hours to moving the heavy Swarbrick anchor back to the quarter berth storage. I took the opportunity to have another look at the engine instrumentation wiring (found no problem) and to liberally spray the throttle/gear shift mechanism with WD40.
At 3.30 PM I noticed that the wind must have veered 20 degrees because we were now headed 118T and I did not want to reach 37S, only 7 miles to the south. I gybed the boat which put us on 075T, not bad considering that Cape Town was at 084T.
I opened my first bottle of wine on this passage, a 2010 100% malbec. Bloody marvelous! My plan is to enjoy a half bottle of wine per day. Over a 22 day period that makes 11 bottles, leaving an excess of 11. If I show up in S Africa with too much wine and customs makes an issue of it I don't see why I just can't simply pay the duty on it. I can produce the invoice showing the retail cost of each bottle.
The wind died down much lower that predicted by the grib file, and a weak wind with a strong sea make for difficult sailing. I reduced sail and put the boat more into the wind and for now we were coping OK doing 3.3 kts to 055T.
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I slept in 2-hour segments and at 5 AM with dawn just breaking we were 11 miles NW of the island and we would likely reach it at 7 AM, which was about 2 hours earlier than I wished. I cross checked the relative position of the island with both of the laptop navigation programs and the radar unit, and they were all consistent. It was a cloudy and drizzly day and I could see no sign of the island. I tried to slow the boat down by reducing sail to perhaps 30 sq ft but that still left us 3 hours away from the island, so I rolled the sail in to 15 sq ft and turned the wheel hard to starboard to heave to with the sail back winded. We lay beam on to the sea as I had expected, but the small amount of sail did much to dampen the rolling. We were now drifting at 1.1 kt to 180T which would eventually pass us 7 miles to the west of the island. I would hold this posture until I established communication with Andy and hopefully the harbor master. The northern wind was to persist until noon then back to the west until the following day so I felt that the boat was in a commanding position. With several hours of leisure ahead of me I had a cup of hot tea then returned to bed.
I was up at 8 AM to find us 7 miles NW of the island. A cargo ship was passing 4 miles to my NE. I stuck my head out of the companionway but could not see the island through the drizzle and mist. I could understand why lookouts were such a big deal before the 20th century, given that one could miss a volcano so close in this not particularly bad weather. And I suppose that for small boats the same thing applied before the advent of GPS in the 80's. I was monitoring VHF 78 in case Andy called, and would wait until 9 PM before calling him.
I contacted Andy on VHF 78 just after 9 AM and gave him my position. He had Stanley the harbor master call me and we had a conversation about the prospects of anchoring. His opinion was that conditions were too rough to anchor near the village, which did not surprise me at all. I asked about the anchorage on the leeward side of the island and he did not know much about that side, in particular the holding ground. I thanked him for his advice and let him know that I would be moving on. Stanley expressed regret and said that if I had arrive yesterday I would have been able to anchor. I replied that we are all in the lap of the gods and must deal with things bigger than ourselves. I told him that it had not been a waste because through the Web I had become familiar with the island and so had many of the readers of this blog. We exchanged Christmas greetings and signed off.
I then hailed Andy. He remembered Jeanne Socrates and I relayed her regards to him. I explained that she was at about our latitude on the other side of S. America, expected to round the Horn in early January, and would contact him as she passed by Tristan.
With that I gave Andy my sincere thanks for all of the help and cooperation that he had given to Brenda and myself. We exchanged our farewells and Christmas wishes and signed off.
Francois will be departing from Bracui, Brazil in early January with the intent of visiting the island. He might get lucky and arrive on a clear day with a gentle southerly breeze. He has a large modern boat with no doubt better anchoring equipment than Pachuca's. He will also be accompanied by several crew. These factors will be in his favor. [Note to Francois: Notify Tristan of your plans to visit before departing from Brazil.]
I then gybed the boat and set the headsail for the ENE at 5 kts, taking us past the north side of the island. As though the weather gods were giving me a consolation gift the sky cleared enough so that I could see both sides of the island rising from the sea and the cloud-shrouded outline of the volcano. I took videos and still photographs.
At noon our position was 36S54, 012W15, giving us a n-n distance of 80 miles in the direction 121T. The n-n distance was meaningless because it represented a detour of 76 miles to the SE to reach the island, followed by several hours hove to, followed by 11 miles to the NE after the decision to abort the visit. The barometer had dropped 10 points to 1010 hPa.
My focus now would be, of course, the Cape area of S. Africa, 1575 miles to the east. I would try to center the passage along latitude 35S, 2 degrees higher that the recommendation. I was seeking to escape or at least minimize the strong winds because I did not want to face another ordeal like the previous week. The lighter winds would slow my passage, but so be it. I calculated the slowest passage time to be 23.6 days, putting me in S. Africa on 16 January. (Slowest time = (distance x 1.2)/80) I calculated the best time, assuming 100 miles per day, at 19 days.
Tasks for the next periods of calm weather included:
- Connecting the spare gas cylinder currently riding on the stern rail
- Storing the 50 lb Swarbrick anchor back under the port quarter berth to move its weight from the front of the boat
- Repair the spray dodger
- Treat the sliding hatch with silicone lubricant
I thought of putting the canvas spray dodgers back on the rails. I took them down in Hawaii after concluding that they were not doing much good. However, it occurred to me that they would provide good windage well aft of the mast while hove to, thereby encouraging the hull to point more into the wind. Then I thought that if one of those savage waves were to hit one of the dodgers the result would be either a torn dodger or bent stanchions. I would have to think about this a bit more.
At 12.30 the wind backed to the west as expected and I gybed the boat and we were now running due east. It was a very good wind and I expected to to ride it for 24 hours. I called Andy and asked him if his community has a fishing fleet that I should be watching out for. There is no Tristan fishing fleet in these waters and any fishing boats I see will be poachers. I agreed to report any fishing boats in the area. The day had cleared, the sun was out, and I was able to take a pretty good video of the island.
After lunch and a lie down I put in 1.5 hours to moving the heavy Swarbrick anchor back to the quarter berth storage. I took the opportunity to have another look at the engine instrumentation wiring (found no problem) and to liberally spray the throttle/gear shift mechanism with WD40.
At 3.30 PM I noticed that the wind must have veered 20 degrees because we were now headed 118T and I did not want to reach 37S, only 7 miles to the south. I gybed the boat which put us on 075T, not bad considering that Cape Town was at 084T.
I opened my first bottle of wine on this passage, a 2010 100% malbec. Bloody marvelous! My plan is to enjoy a half bottle of wine per day. Over a 22 day period that makes 11 bottles, leaving an excess of 11. If I show up in S Africa with too much wine and customs makes an issue of it I don't see why I just can't simply pay the duty on it. I can produce the invoice showing the retail cost of each bottle.
The wind died down much lower that predicted by the grib file, and a weak wind with a strong sea make for difficult sailing. I reduced sail and put the boat more into the wind and for now we were coping OK doing 3.3 kts to 055T.
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Saturday, December 22, 2012
Day 23 - Contact and Approach
It was a quiet night with the usual rolling to be expected when lying ahull. I woke up in daylight and rolled over because I knew that there was no wind. I had pulled out a third blanket and had slept on top of a folded blanket and underneath two.
At 8.30 AM I got up and noted with pleasure that instead of losing several miles during our overnight drift we had actually gained a mile and were now 87 miles from TdC. It looked like it was to be another sunny day and I was looking forward to starting the process of drying out the cabin and doing a few leak-related chores. The house battery bank was still at a robust 12.5V but I would take advantage of the lull and motor toward the island for a couple of hours. I set the timer so as not to miss the 10 AM radio session with Andy.
I established contact with Andy at 10.15 AM and we had a very good session. I had learned from Brenda that Andy had been tracking me via the blog for weeks and sure enough he had read my "wants" list of last night and we discussed some of the services that the island has to offer. They can deal with both Visa cards and US currency (and no doubt a variety of other instruments), they have a store with some fresh fruit, bread, wine, beer, spirits and no doubt many other items. I raised the issue of sewing for the canvas spray dodger and Andy assured me that there were plenty of people who could sew in the community. I told Andy that Tristan was beginning to sound like paradise.
We then tried VHF 78 and I was able to hear part of his transmission, but it was very scratchy, which is no surprise at this distance. Back on SSB 6230 he gave me the wind and wave predictions for the next two days: NW 10-15 kts today, NW 15 kts and WNW 15-20 kts tomorrow, and W 10 kts on the 24th, with a swell of 2 meters. I replied that it sounded like fairly good conditions and he opined that it was very good and expressed confidence that I'd be able to anchor safely. He mentioned two areas no doubt on the eastern side of the island where I could get protection from W and NW winds if I recall correctly. What I do recall is that each of these places had the word "sand" or "sandy" in their names, and I told him that I liked that. He told me that arriving on Sunday would not be a problem but it is only the services of the harbor master that I will need, so I told him that I would be happy to spend stay on the boat overnight (In fact I prefer it, to get the feel of the anchorage.) and deal with the immigration and other formalities on Monday. I told Andy that I liked everything that he had told me and I thanked him for his information.
I expect to be near the anchorage tomorrow morning and I will hail Andy on VHF 78. He monitors VHF 78, 14, and 16 24 hours a day but we've got to be reasonable here, so I won't try to contact him before 9 AM. For the rest of this day I would be standing by on SSB 6230.
I then went to the cockpit to get us underway with the engine. I noticed in the lazarette that the small gas cylinder had jumped over its shock cord restraints and was lying on its side against a small boat fender. This had never happened before and I'll have to do something about it. Then I got a scare from the engine because it wouldn't start. As usual I went to "worst case" scenario and envisioned myself sailing on to Cape Town with just sail, but it does not take much for the engine to scare me, particularly since it has spoiled me with its reliable starting. On about the 5th prolonged attempt it started sluggishly then began to run normally. With the engine running at 1500 rpm I checked the fuel vacuum gauge in case material had been stirred up in the fuel tanks during the recent rough weather, but its needle was still on the peg. We were now making 4.4 kts directly for the island under autopilot control in a reasonably calm sea. I put the Red Dot heater on and began drying damp clothes.
At noon our position was 36S13, 13W40, giving a n-n distance of 37 miles in the direction 071T. The barometer had risen another 5 points to 1020 hPa. We were now 82 miles form TdC on a bearing 127T.
While the engine powered us along I attended to the leaky dorade vents and windows. Fortunately I had taken the trouble to find and purchase two tubes of silicone sealant at Angra and material turned out to be fresh and easy to use: spread almost like honey and began to harden immediately. I took care to clean every surface that was to come in contact with the sealant with good old Comex thinner form La Paz. Fortunately I found two caps that screw into the vent openings so I removed the rubber scoops, cleaned and put coats of silicone on the vents and threads of the caps, then screwed the caps down tight. The windows got similar treatment: cleaned the perimeter off well then laid down a bead of sealant all around, using my finger to spread it and work it in. Afterwards I did a bit of cleaning with a paint scraper but wasn't to concerned about it because this was only a temporary measure and besides, the sealant is clear.
By the time I finished the work it was time to shut down the engine and happily I found that a gentle north wind had set in. At 1.30 PM the boat was being pulled by the headsail on a satisfactory course of 144T (SE) at 3 kts under the control of Jeff. The wind was due to strengthen during the day so I could see no problem on making the vicinity of the anchorage by morning, particularly since now we had only 75 miles to go.
While doing the silicone work I checked the engine instruments and was startled to see the temperature reading at 60F instead of the usual 180-200F. That certainly would not indicate overheating, nevertheless I peered over the side to make sure that there was cooling water flowing. Two possibilities were that a wire had been disconnected below, and I would check that later because it first required clearing out of the port quarter berth area. Another possibility was that the instrument had taken a dose of water during the recent rough weather. The instruments are recessed high on the coaming and protected by a plexiglass cover, but there was a lot of heel and much water pouring into the cockpit during the worst of it. My concern was that the thermostat was working correctly and the engine was operating at the proper temperature. Another concern, as long as I was in worrying mode, was that the high temperature alarm system would not be working. I knew that Mark in Port Townsend keeps up with the blog and would probably hear from him about the matter.
After a late lunch (piece of cheese, the last of the capsicum) and a nap I decided to check out the Swarbrick anchor and make it more accessible. The Swarbrick is an Admiralty or Fisherman style anchor that breaks down into three pieces: The crown, shaft, and cross piece. It is an improvement on the conventional Admiralty anchor and has a reputation for phenomenal holding power. The anchor was at the bottom of the clothes locker underneath the 45 lb plow anchor and I wanted to put it on top for fast retrieval. And just as well I did. I discovered that the it was the 35 lb Swarbrick and not the 50 lb one in the closet. For Tristan it wasn't negotiable - it had to be the 50 lb anchor because that might make the difference between safety and disaster. That required the laborious task of clearing out the quarter berth to get at the anchor underneath. I started to clear out the starboard quarter berth but got smart and checked my own spreadsheet. According to the spreadsheet the anchor was on the port side, so I had saved myself wasted time and effort. A bonus was that clearing out the port side would give me access to the back of the engine instrumentation to see if there were any loose or broken wires affecting the temperature gauge. The first thing I did when the area was clear was top visit the instrumentation and I found all of the wiring to be in order - firm connections with no corrosion. I then removed the soggy mattress (water must be leaking through the small porthole into the cockpit) and gained access to the storage area below. The anchor was there in three parts and I took it out and place in on the cabin sole. After some deliberation I decided to leave the 35 lb Swarbrick out rather than storing it in place of the 50 lb Swarbrick. The upshot is that I finished up with three anchors at the base of the closet: the 45 lb plow at the bottom, the 35 lb Swarbrick in the middle, and the 50 lb Swarbrick on top. When the time comes I will put the three pieces of the Swarbrick 50 on deck, assemble it, connect it to the rode of 15 meters of 3/8" chain and 80 meters of rope, and be ready to drop it over the side.
Over a well earned beer I visualized a scenario at the anchorage. I get notice of adverse on-shore winds and I move the normal rode of 38 meters of 3/8" chain from the forecastle into the chain locker. The wind starts to get nasty so I assemble the Swarbrick 35 on deck and connect it to the all-chain rode. Against all expectations the 50 lb anchor begins to drag toward shore and I put the 35 lb anchor over the side hoping that sooner or later it will bite and support the 50 lb anchor. With the second anchor and dragging into shallower waters the anchors eventually hold, the boat survives, and I wind up a gibbering idiot from worry.
At 5.30 PM we were 60 miles from TdC, making 4.5 kts to 150T. So far it had been my kind of day: lazily running downwind with a bit of headsail while messing around in the boat. I turned off the SSB radio.
I gybed the boat at last light and at 9.30 PM we were sailing toward the island 47 miles away doing 4.2 kts before a gentle NW wind. At this rate I expected to make the anchorage at about before 10 AM in the morning.
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At 8.30 AM I got up and noted with pleasure that instead of losing several miles during our overnight drift we had actually gained a mile and were now 87 miles from TdC. It looked like it was to be another sunny day and I was looking forward to starting the process of drying out the cabin and doing a few leak-related chores. The house battery bank was still at a robust 12.5V but I would take advantage of the lull and motor toward the island for a couple of hours. I set the timer so as not to miss the 10 AM radio session with Andy.
I established contact with Andy at 10.15 AM and we had a very good session. I had learned from Brenda that Andy had been tracking me via the blog for weeks and sure enough he had read my "wants" list of last night and we discussed some of the services that the island has to offer. They can deal with both Visa cards and US currency (and no doubt a variety of other instruments), they have a store with some fresh fruit, bread, wine, beer, spirits and no doubt many other items. I raised the issue of sewing for the canvas spray dodger and Andy assured me that there were plenty of people who could sew in the community. I told Andy that Tristan was beginning to sound like paradise.
We then tried VHF 78 and I was able to hear part of his transmission, but it was very scratchy, which is no surprise at this distance. Back on SSB 6230 he gave me the wind and wave predictions for the next two days: NW 10-15 kts today, NW 15 kts and WNW 15-20 kts tomorrow, and W 10 kts on the 24th, with a swell of 2 meters. I replied that it sounded like fairly good conditions and he opined that it was very good and expressed confidence that I'd be able to anchor safely. He mentioned two areas no doubt on the eastern side of the island where I could get protection from W and NW winds if I recall correctly. What I do recall is that each of these places had the word "sand" or "sandy" in their names, and I told him that I liked that. He told me that arriving on Sunday would not be a problem but it is only the services of the harbor master that I will need, so I told him that I would be happy to spend stay on the boat overnight (In fact I prefer it, to get the feel of the anchorage.) and deal with the immigration and other formalities on Monday. I told Andy that I liked everything that he had told me and I thanked him for his information.
I expect to be near the anchorage tomorrow morning and I will hail Andy on VHF 78. He monitors VHF 78, 14, and 16 24 hours a day but we've got to be reasonable here, so I won't try to contact him before 9 AM. For the rest of this day I would be standing by on SSB 6230.
I then went to the cockpit to get us underway with the engine. I noticed in the lazarette that the small gas cylinder had jumped over its shock cord restraints and was lying on its side against a small boat fender. This had never happened before and I'll have to do something about it. Then I got a scare from the engine because it wouldn't start. As usual I went to "worst case" scenario and envisioned myself sailing on to Cape Town with just sail, but it does not take much for the engine to scare me, particularly since it has spoiled me with its reliable starting. On about the 5th prolonged attempt it started sluggishly then began to run normally. With the engine running at 1500 rpm I checked the fuel vacuum gauge in case material had been stirred up in the fuel tanks during the recent rough weather, but its needle was still on the peg. We were now making 4.4 kts directly for the island under autopilot control in a reasonably calm sea. I put the Red Dot heater on and began drying damp clothes.
At noon our position was 36S13, 13W40, giving a n-n distance of 37 miles in the direction 071T. The barometer had risen another 5 points to 1020 hPa. We were now 82 miles form TdC on a bearing 127T.
While the engine powered us along I attended to the leaky dorade vents and windows. Fortunately I had taken the trouble to find and purchase two tubes of silicone sealant at Angra and material turned out to be fresh and easy to use: spread almost like honey and began to harden immediately. I took care to clean every surface that was to come in contact with the sealant with good old Comex thinner form La Paz. Fortunately I found two caps that screw into the vent openings so I removed the rubber scoops, cleaned and put coats of silicone on the vents and threads of the caps, then screwed the caps down tight. The windows got similar treatment: cleaned the perimeter off well then laid down a bead of sealant all around, using my finger to spread it and work it in. Afterwards I did a bit of cleaning with a paint scraper but wasn't to concerned about it because this was only a temporary measure and besides, the sealant is clear.
By the time I finished the work it was time to shut down the engine and happily I found that a gentle north wind had set in. At 1.30 PM the boat was being pulled by the headsail on a satisfactory course of 144T (SE) at 3 kts under the control of Jeff. The wind was due to strengthen during the day so I could see no problem on making the vicinity of the anchorage by morning, particularly since now we had only 75 miles to go.
While doing the silicone work I checked the engine instruments and was startled to see the temperature reading at 60F instead of the usual 180-200F. That certainly would not indicate overheating, nevertheless I peered over the side to make sure that there was cooling water flowing. Two possibilities were that a wire had been disconnected below, and I would check that later because it first required clearing out of the port quarter berth area. Another possibility was that the instrument had taken a dose of water during the recent rough weather. The instruments are recessed high on the coaming and protected by a plexiglass cover, but there was a lot of heel and much water pouring into the cockpit during the worst of it. My concern was that the thermostat was working correctly and the engine was operating at the proper temperature. Another concern, as long as I was in worrying mode, was that the high temperature alarm system would not be working. I knew that Mark in Port Townsend keeps up with the blog and would probably hear from him about the matter.
After a late lunch (piece of cheese, the last of the capsicum) and a nap I decided to check out the Swarbrick anchor and make it more accessible. The Swarbrick is an Admiralty or Fisherman style anchor that breaks down into three pieces: The crown, shaft, and cross piece. It is an improvement on the conventional Admiralty anchor and has a reputation for phenomenal holding power. The anchor was at the bottom of the clothes locker underneath the 45 lb plow anchor and I wanted to put it on top for fast retrieval. And just as well I did. I discovered that the it was the 35 lb Swarbrick and not the 50 lb one in the closet. For Tristan it wasn't negotiable - it had to be the 50 lb anchor because that might make the difference between safety and disaster. That required the laborious task of clearing out the quarter berth to get at the anchor underneath. I started to clear out the starboard quarter berth but got smart and checked my own spreadsheet. According to the spreadsheet the anchor was on the port side, so I had saved myself wasted time and effort. A bonus was that clearing out the port side would give me access to the back of the engine instrumentation to see if there were any loose or broken wires affecting the temperature gauge. The first thing I did when the area was clear was top visit the instrumentation and I found all of the wiring to be in order - firm connections with no corrosion. I then removed the soggy mattress (water must be leaking through the small porthole into the cockpit) and gained access to the storage area below. The anchor was there in three parts and I took it out and place in on the cabin sole. After some deliberation I decided to leave the 35 lb Swarbrick out rather than storing it in place of the 50 lb Swarbrick. The upshot is that I finished up with three anchors at the base of the closet: the 45 lb plow at the bottom, the 35 lb Swarbrick in the middle, and the 50 lb Swarbrick on top. When the time comes I will put the three pieces of the Swarbrick 50 on deck, assemble it, connect it to the rode of 15 meters of 3/8" chain and 80 meters of rope, and be ready to drop it over the side.
Over a well earned beer I visualized a scenario at the anchorage. I get notice of adverse on-shore winds and I move the normal rode of 38 meters of 3/8" chain from the forecastle into the chain locker. The wind starts to get nasty so I assemble the Swarbrick 35 on deck and connect it to the all-chain rode. Against all expectations the 50 lb anchor begins to drag toward shore and I put the 35 lb anchor over the side hoping that sooner or later it will bite and support the 50 lb anchor. With the second anchor and dragging into shallower waters the anchors eventually hold, the boat survives, and I wind up a gibbering idiot from worry.
At 5.30 PM we were 60 miles from TdC, making 4.5 kts to 150T. So far it had been my kind of day: lazily running downwind with a bit of headsail while messing around in the boat. I turned off the SSB radio.
I gybed the boat at last light and at 9.30 PM we were sailing toward the island 47 miles away doing 4.2 kts before a gentle NW wind. At this rate I expected to make the anchorage at about before 10 AM in the morning.
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Friday, December 21, 2012
Day 22 - Contact with Tristan da Cunha
I had a reasonable night, though it did not start off well. After having watched the autopilot work flawlessly for 3 hours I hit the sack at about 12.30 AM and within seconds the sounds from the headsail told me that the autopilot had disengaged. For bed I had removed all clothing from the waist down because it was damp (fortunately the chest area is always dry) so I simply put on the wet weather trousers and boots over bare skin and went up to sort out the problem. After changing the point of sail slightly I reengaged the autopilot, set an alarm for 2 hours, and went back to bed. At 2 hours and 4 hours the autopilot was still engaged and it was at 5 AM that the headsail woke me up, and sure enough the autopilot was on standby. From the cockpit I was pleased to see that the boat had continued sailing nicely with a free wheel, heading east on a beam reach with the sail happy. The wind had strengthened and backed a bit which I think caused problems with the autopilot which was sailing to a course and not the wind. Anyway, I reduced sail, kept the boat on a beam reach, which was 20 degrees farther off the wind than before, and all was well, though we were making only 2-2.5 kts.
The latest grib file indicated a backing and weakening wind throughout the day with becalming during the coming night. After that another northerly wind would set in. I was planning to speak with TdC by the HF radio (6.230 MHz) to discuss the issues of anchoring and visiting.
At about 9.45 I established radio contact with Tristan and found myself speaking with Andy. He thoughtfully asked if there was anything special that I need and I responded that I was OK. However, "want" is a different question and I'm hoping to find fresh bread and fish, and maybe some beer, not to mention the luxury of all luxuries, a hot shower! If there is a laundry I'll have my soggy clothes washed and dried. I'm big on using the internet too. ... And being British they might just have a friendly pub.
Andy asked my position and I told him that I was about 100 miles out, (107 miles on bearing 108T to be exact), but I gave him a conservative ETA of 2 days. The problem is that I'm dealing with a stiff southerly wind with big seas and it is impractical to try to beat into it, so I will not be closing on the island significantly today. However, there will be a lull in the wind tonight and tomorrow it will be from the north, and then I will make my final run.
I told Andy that my biggest concern was a safe anchorage and he replied that I'll be dealing with the harbor master as I approach the island, which makes sense to me. We agreed to speak again at 10 AM tomorrow.
I must say that speaking with Andy lifted my spirits immensely. After being pounded by boarding waves hour after hour for 3 days I needed a lift. As if to mark the new mood I went to the cockpit and engaged Jeff the Monitor wind steering after giving it a day of rest. This was the first time that Jeff was steering on a starboard tack since the repairs a few days earlier, and it was coping well.
I prepared the British courtesy flag. I kept the entire leading edge of the Aussie flag because it has the lanyards for tying it, so let's think about it as an Aussie flag with the blue starry bits cut out.
Then I saw my first AIS target in several days. It was the Aston Trader II, a cargo ship headed for "PHUMY", wherever that is, at 10.2 kts. We were expected to pass 4 miles from each other. With her heading of 102T she was probably going to round the Cape of Good Hope.
At noon our position was 36S24, 014W24, giving us a n-n distance of 84 miles in the direction 085. We were 106 miles off TdC but did not expect to close on it significantly until the following day. The barometer rose another 9 points to 1015 hPa. It had risen 13 points in 2 days after having fallen 18 points the previous 3 days.
After lunch and a nap I spent a very productive 2 hours on deck. The sea had calmed to the point where there was still a big swell but waves were no longer breaking against the hull, so I decided to attend to the railings and fuel containers. I was anxious to get the containers out of the cockpit because they had raised the floor section in front of the binnacle to the same level as the seats and it was not safe to clamber over these containers to get from one side of the cockpit to the other. Getting to the leeward winches in rough weather was particularly dangerous because I was approaching them from higher than the rail with a wave threatening to break over the cockpit behind me at any time.
It turned out that all 4 stanchions supporting the backing timbers for the fuel containers were bent. I had initially noticed only the worst one which was bent so far that it crimped at the base and will have to be replaced. I managed to do a reasonable job of straightening them all, putting my back against the cabin and pushing hard with both legs on the down roll. To do this I first loosened the top rails to give extra travel to the stanchions. I then attended to the two timbers on the starboard side, tightening the ropes holding them to the stanchions and preparing the ropes for the containers. When this was done I lashed 5 20-liter containers to the starboard side then attended to the single plank of wood remaining on the port side. Once that was secure I lashed the 3 short containers and one tall one, the tall one against a stanchion so that I could secure the upper part of it. That represented 60 liters on the port side, so I had nearly full internal tanks and 160 liters on deck. Afterwards I tightened the rails using the turnbuckles provided and the result looked OK. Thanks to the new heavier wire installed in Argentina the railings are still strong enough for their safety role.
The damage to the stanchions is a validation of my firm opinion that decks should be kept clear of extraneous clutter. In this case I was using the stanchions for a purpose that they were not designed for and loaded them up with too much windage. Having said that, I don't regret having done what I did for the simple reason that the necessity to carry the extra fuel justified the risk.
Back down below I was tired but very satisfied. It felt nice to be in the cabin without waves crashing overhead and sending water dripping through the cabin hatch, dorade vents, windows that need re sealing, and worst of all past the main hatch when a wave hitting from the side would go into the channel under the slide, back up the other side, and into the cabin as a cascade of 2 or 3 liters. Being on a starboard tack these cascades would pour onto the navigation station so I had to be on constant alert for the sound of one coming so that I could immediately close the lap to screen with the protective patch of shower curtain material over it. (I think that I may be able to remove the dorade scoops and replace them with flush plastic seals. For the windows I'll put a bead of silicone sealant externally as a temporary measure until I can do a proper job later. As for the laptop, I'll relocate it to the dry forward section of the main cabin table if I can find a suitable USB extension to maintain connection to the Pactor modem.) It also felt great to get out of the sea boots and into the comfortable velcro-strapped sports shoes right out of good old Walmart.
While I was working outside I thought about the spray dodger and realized that I can re-sew the bolt ropes myself. That job is trivial compared to the sewing job that I did on the torn headsail on the way to the Horn. If by chance I can find someone at TdC who can do the job I will let them do it, otherwise I'll do it myself, though it will be a rough job.
The boat was sailing faster and on a better point of sail than I had expected and if it held up I would be becalmed maybe 20 miles closer to the island than I had expected. Jeff was doing a fine job of steering.
At 10 PM we were 88 miles from the anchorage at TdC, bearing 119T. The wind was down to 10-12 kts and I was expecting it to die fast. I turned the boat harder into the wind to eke out whatever advantage I could get and Jeff was managing to steer at 2 kts through the water. I was looking forward to 24 hours of northerly winds starting tomorrow afternoon. If that went well I would be poised for dropping anchor on the morning of the 23rd, a Sunday. I hoped that the harbor master worked flexible hours.
Just before the 11 PM Sailmail session I lay the boat ahull because with our direction of 060T we were not gaining much advantage. That set us drifting to 035T at about a knot.
----------
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The latest grib file indicated a backing and weakening wind throughout the day with becalming during the coming night. After that another northerly wind would set in. I was planning to speak with TdC by the HF radio (6.230 MHz) to discuss the issues of anchoring and visiting.
At about 9.45 I established radio contact with Tristan and found myself speaking with Andy. He thoughtfully asked if there was anything special that I need and I responded that I was OK. However, "want" is a different question and I'm hoping to find fresh bread and fish, and maybe some beer, not to mention the luxury of all luxuries, a hot shower! If there is a laundry I'll have my soggy clothes washed and dried. I'm big on using the internet too. ... And being British they might just have a friendly pub.
Andy asked my position and I told him that I was about 100 miles out, (107 miles on bearing 108T to be exact), but I gave him a conservative ETA of 2 days. The problem is that I'm dealing with a stiff southerly wind with big seas and it is impractical to try to beat into it, so I will not be closing on the island significantly today. However, there will be a lull in the wind tonight and tomorrow it will be from the north, and then I will make my final run.
I told Andy that my biggest concern was a safe anchorage and he replied that I'll be dealing with the harbor master as I approach the island, which makes sense to me. We agreed to speak again at 10 AM tomorrow.
I must say that speaking with Andy lifted my spirits immensely. After being pounded by boarding waves hour after hour for 3 days I needed a lift. As if to mark the new mood I went to the cockpit and engaged Jeff the Monitor wind steering after giving it a day of rest. This was the first time that Jeff was steering on a starboard tack since the repairs a few days earlier, and it was coping well.
I prepared the British courtesy flag. I kept the entire leading edge of the Aussie flag because it has the lanyards for tying it, so let's think about it as an Aussie flag with the blue starry bits cut out.
Then I saw my first AIS target in several days. It was the Aston Trader II, a cargo ship headed for "PHUMY", wherever that is, at 10.2 kts. We were expected to pass 4 miles from each other. With her heading of 102T she was probably going to round the Cape of Good Hope.
At noon our position was 36S24, 014W24, giving us a n-n distance of 84 miles in the direction 085. We were 106 miles off TdC but did not expect to close on it significantly until the following day. The barometer rose another 9 points to 1015 hPa. It had risen 13 points in 2 days after having fallen 18 points the previous 3 days.
After lunch and a nap I spent a very productive 2 hours on deck. The sea had calmed to the point where there was still a big swell but waves were no longer breaking against the hull, so I decided to attend to the railings and fuel containers. I was anxious to get the containers out of the cockpit because they had raised the floor section in front of the binnacle to the same level as the seats and it was not safe to clamber over these containers to get from one side of the cockpit to the other. Getting to the leeward winches in rough weather was particularly dangerous because I was approaching them from higher than the rail with a wave threatening to break over the cockpit behind me at any time.
It turned out that all 4 stanchions supporting the backing timbers for the fuel containers were bent. I had initially noticed only the worst one which was bent so far that it crimped at the base and will have to be replaced. I managed to do a reasonable job of straightening them all, putting my back against the cabin and pushing hard with both legs on the down roll. To do this I first loosened the top rails to give extra travel to the stanchions. I then attended to the two timbers on the starboard side, tightening the ropes holding them to the stanchions and preparing the ropes for the containers. When this was done I lashed 5 20-liter containers to the starboard side then attended to the single plank of wood remaining on the port side. Once that was secure I lashed the 3 short containers and one tall one, the tall one against a stanchion so that I could secure the upper part of it. That represented 60 liters on the port side, so I had nearly full internal tanks and 160 liters on deck. Afterwards I tightened the rails using the turnbuckles provided and the result looked OK. Thanks to the new heavier wire installed in Argentina the railings are still strong enough for their safety role.
The damage to the stanchions is a validation of my firm opinion that decks should be kept clear of extraneous clutter. In this case I was using the stanchions for a purpose that they were not designed for and loaded them up with too much windage. Having said that, I don't regret having done what I did for the simple reason that the necessity to carry the extra fuel justified the risk.
Back down below I was tired but very satisfied. It felt nice to be in the cabin without waves crashing overhead and sending water dripping through the cabin hatch, dorade vents, windows that need re sealing, and worst of all past the main hatch when a wave hitting from the side would go into the channel under the slide, back up the other side, and into the cabin as a cascade of 2 or 3 liters. Being on a starboard tack these cascades would pour onto the navigation station so I had to be on constant alert for the sound of one coming so that I could immediately close the lap to screen with the protective patch of shower curtain material over it. (I think that I may be able to remove the dorade scoops and replace them with flush plastic seals. For the windows I'll put a bead of silicone sealant externally as a temporary measure until I can do a proper job later. As for the laptop, I'll relocate it to the dry forward section of the main cabin table if I can find a suitable USB extension to maintain connection to the Pactor modem.) It also felt great to get out of the sea boots and into the comfortable velcro-strapped sports shoes right out of good old Walmart.
While I was working outside I thought about the spray dodger and realized that I can re-sew the bolt ropes myself. That job is trivial compared to the sewing job that I did on the torn headsail on the way to the Horn. If by chance I can find someone at TdC who can do the job I will let them do it, otherwise I'll do it myself, though it will be a rough job.
The boat was sailing faster and on a better point of sail than I had expected and if it held up I would be becalmed maybe 20 miles closer to the island than I had expected. Jeff was doing a fine job of steering.
At 10 PM we were 88 miles from the anchorage at TdC, bearing 119T. The wind was down to 10-12 kts and I was expecting it to die fast. I turned the boat harder into the wind to eke out whatever advantage I could get and Jeff was managing to steer at 2 kts through the water. I was looking forward to 24 hours of northerly winds starting tomorrow afternoon. If that went well I would be poised for dropping anchor on the morning of the 23rd, a Sunday. I hoped that the harbor master worked flexible hours.
Just before the 11 PM Sailmail session I lay the boat ahull because with our direction of 060T we were not gaining much advantage. That set us drifting to 035T at about a knot.
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Thursday, December 20, 2012
Day 21 - Tough Night
At 11 PM I got an almost immediate connection to Sailmail and the backlogs of messages going out and coming in were cleared. However, there was a price. The data transfer rate was in the order of 300 bytes/min so the session lasted a whopping 45 minutes or so. This is not sustainable and I will probably get a warning message from Sailmail.
Until the Sailmail connection and transfer issues improve - probably as I near Cape Town - I ask that only urgent or important messages be sent to me, and that they be as brief as possible. My communication priorities have been reduced to getting out the daily blog and position reports and receiving grib files.
Brenda has been hard at work getting information from TdC and she has obviously been in communication with them. She sent me very good information on various aspects of visiting the island and passed on two messages from Andy Repetto giving me information on radio contact. Then will be watching out for my call on SSB radio. Given the help and cooperation that TdC is offering I will do my best to pay them a visit. I have confidence that they will give me good advice regarding anchoring.
I also got a short message from Jeanne which gave me some information on TdC. She has been having her share of equipment problems but is managing and seems in good spirits. Her position was 34s, 115E, and she expects to round the Horn in the first week of January.
I got my first grib file in 2 days last night and it was a shocker. Instead the blow abating as I had expected, it would maintain its strength (lower end of a gale) throughout the remainder of the night and into the afternoon. That explained why I had been sailing on all day expecting an abatement that never came. At midnight the self steering lines jumped off the spool again and I decided to roll in the headsail and lie ahull for the rest of the night. Two of the fuel containers on the starboard rail were very loose so I had to harness up and retrieve them for safe storage in the cockpit. While I was working at the rail I heard it coming, grabbed the rail, and I got hit hard by a wave that started to carry me across the cabin top to the lee rail. Between my grip on the wire and my lifeline I was in no real danger, though it was a novel experience. It made me think of what one of the secrets of this boat design might be. It has such a low profile in the water that waves have only a limited target because any excess will simply pass over the boat. At dawn I woke up to a shuffling sound on deck. Another fuel container had come completely loose and was sliding up and down the side deck. I put on my soggy wet weather gear and retrieved it.
The boat must have taken some heavy hits during the night because I woke up at 7.30 AM to find quite a bit of disarray throughout. First order of business was coffee, but the gas detector gave an alarm and would not open the solenoid valve for the gas. It was then that I felt a slight burning in the eyes from a hydrocarbon. We had been taking the wind from the starboard side and all sorts of things wound up on the port side of the cabin. I had left two pots, and various dishes in a rather deep plastic container that sits in the opening to the ice box, and just about everything in there wound up at the nav station, including knives and forks. One plastic glass wound up in the shelf next to the navigation desk, which is higher than the ice box. The nav station had taken a lot of water but the plastic covering and shower curtain protected the precious computer. Through the companionway I could see the spray dodger, which suggested something seriously amiss.
The next task was to find the spare wet weather suit and boots. I managed to do that, wiped the inside of the sailing jacket with a towel, then dressed up for wet weather. I found my way into the starboard quarter berth and looked in the very large plastic storage container where I keep the liquid materials. Sure enough the bottle of paint thinner had tipped over, the cap leaked, and thinner was sloshing around the bottom of the container. I emptied out the contents then sacrificed a sponge to transfer the thinner to the sink. I then wiped everything with a paper towel as I replaced it and opened the main hatch to ventilate the boat.
I then had a look at the spray dodger from the companionway. There is a set of bolt ropes along the front lower edge of the spray dodger that slide into tracks much as sails do. This is the foundation of that taut shape that the dodger must have. The stitching between the canvas and bolt rope had failed. Fortunately all of the zippers worked OK and I managed to remove the dodger, roll it up, and stow it forward. I then pushed the metal frame to lie forward in front of the companionway. The dodger material and windows are in good condition, so I am confident that it can be repaired in Cape Town. However, I will not have the benefit of the spray dodger for the rest of this passage, opening the companionway to the full brunt of the weather when I slide the hatch open. I'll have to get used to it.
Then I tried the gas detector and the green light came on accompanied by the clack of the solenoid opening. Now I was cooking with gas, as they say, and I had two quick mugs of coffee. Things were looking up.
Not long afterwards I tried sailing but the conditions were simply too rough. I rolled in the headsail but left the autopilot on and to my surprise it managed to steer us downwind under bare poles doing around 4 kts. Then I saw that the port side fuel containers were in very bad shape. The lower of the two boards had cracked clean in two, and I had lost 2 containers overboard, one of which was empty. One was hanging over the side by ropes and another appeared to be loose on the deck. I went forward to rescue them but there was a gust of wind and I had to beat a hasty retreat. I had 60 liters of fuel safe in the cockpit, the 40 liters on the starboard side seemed safe for now, but the 60 liters still on the port side were in peril.
At noon our position was 36S31, 016W06, giving us a n-n distance of 89 miles in the direction 077T. We were 183 miles from TdC. The barometer had risen 4 points to 1006 hPa. The wind was abating, but still threatening with occasional violent surges.
An hour later I managed to rescue 3 containers representing 50 liters of fuel. I noticed later that a stanchion that had supported the port planks was bent perhaps 20 degrees out of true and it appeared that a wave must have hit that side with monumental force. Maybe it was due to luck but I had not encountered seas this rough during my trek around the Horn.
At 3 PM I went up to let out a bit more headsail and discovered that the autopilot had disengaged and the boat was happily plodding along on a beam reach. I set the course slightly off the wind and our went back to 5 kts.
After dinner I lay down for a short while and realized that I was chilly all over, and no wonder, given that I had been wearing only a T-shirt and thin sweater under the wet weather gear. I put on the regulation US Navy heavy wool sweater and then I was warm again.
Just before dark the wind picked up and the boat was doing over 5 kts in an agitated way. I also began to hear a different sound from the deck. I went to the cockpit and saw that on half of the broken board had one end in the water, which could cause serious problems during the night. First I rolled in some headsail then went onto the side deck with a knife. Both pieces of timber went overboard and I recovered the last container from the rail. I wasn't too happy about throwing the timber overboard, given that it could pose a hazard to other boats. But they were not terribly heavy pieces of timber and I just didn't relish the idea of cramming the soggy boards with their jagged ends into the over crowded hold. Down below I saw that our speed was 2.5 kts and the boat was much quieter. There was now only a tiny amount of sail out so that if we ran into a squall I would not have a crisis on my hands. The autopilot had been behaving itself and I was hoping for a reasonably quiet night with slow but steady progress.
----------
radio email processed by SailMail
for information see: http://www.sailmail.com
Until the Sailmail connection and transfer issues improve - probably as I near Cape Town - I ask that only urgent or important messages be sent to me, and that they be as brief as possible. My communication priorities have been reduced to getting out the daily blog and position reports and receiving grib files.
Brenda has been hard at work getting information from TdC and she has obviously been in communication with them. She sent me very good information on various aspects of visiting the island and passed on two messages from Andy Repetto giving me information on radio contact. Then will be watching out for my call on SSB radio. Given the help and cooperation that TdC is offering I will do my best to pay them a visit. I have confidence that they will give me good advice regarding anchoring.
I also got a short message from Jeanne which gave me some information on TdC. She has been having her share of equipment problems but is managing and seems in good spirits. Her position was 34s, 115E, and she expects to round the Horn in the first week of January.
I got my first grib file in 2 days last night and it was a shocker. Instead the blow abating as I had expected, it would maintain its strength (lower end of a gale) throughout the remainder of the night and into the afternoon. That explained why I had been sailing on all day expecting an abatement that never came. At midnight the self steering lines jumped off the spool again and I decided to roll in the headsail and lie ahull for the rest of the night. Two of the fuel containers on the starboard rail were very loose so I had to harness up and retrieve them for safe storage in the cockpit. While I was working at the rail I heard it coming, grabbed the rail, and I got hit hard by a wave that started to carry me across the cabin top to the lee rail. Between my grip on the wire and my lifeline I was in no real danger, though it was a novel experience. It made me think of what one of the secrets of this boat design might be. It has such a low profile in the water that waves have only a limited target because any excess will simply pass over the boat. At dawn I woke up to a shuffling sound on deck. Another fuel container had come completely loose and was sliding up and down the side deck. I put on my soggy wet weather gear and retrieved it.
The boat must have taken some heavy hits during the night because I woke up at 7.30 AM to find quite a bit of disarray throughout. First order of business was coffee, but the gas detector gave an alarm and would not open the solenoid valve for the gas. It was then that I felt a slight burning in the eyes from a hydrocarbon. We had been taking the wind from the starboard side and all sorts of things wound up on the port side of the cabin. I had left two pots, and various dishes in a rather deep plastic container that sits in the opening to the ice box, and just about everything in there wound up at the nav station, including knives and forks. One plastic glass wound up in the shelf next to the navigation desk, which is higher than the ice box. The nav station had taken a lot of water but the plastic covering and shower curtain protected the precious computer. Through the companionway I could see the spray dodger, which suggested something seriously amiss.
The next task was to find the spare wet weather suit and boots. I managed to do that, wiped the inside of the sailing jacket with a towel, then dressed up for wet weather. I found my way into the starboard quarter berth and looked in the very large plastic storage container where I keep the liquid materials. Sure enough the bottle of paint thinner had tipped over, the cap leaked, and thinner was sloshing around the bottom of the container. I emptied out the contents then sacrificed a sponge to transfer the thinner to the sink. I then wiped everything with a paper towel as I replaced it and opened the main hatch to ventilate the boat.
I then had a look at the spray dodger from the companionway. There is a set of bolt ropes along the front lower edge of the spray dodger that slide into tracks much as sails do. This is the foundation of that taut shape that the dodger must have. The stitching between the canvas and bolt rope had failed. Fortunately all of the zippers worked OK and I managed to remove the dodger, roll it up, and stow it forward. I then pushed the metal frame to lie forward in front of the companionway. The dodger material and windows are in good condition, so I am confident that it can be repaired in Cape Town. However, I will not have the benefit of the spray dodger for the rest of this passage, opening the companionway to the full brunt of the weather when I slide the hatch open. I'll have to get used to it.
Then I tried the gas detector and the green light came on accompanied by the clack of the solenoid opening. Now I was cooking with gas, as they say, and I had two quick mugs of coffee. Things were looking up.
Not long afterwards I tried sailing but the conditions were simply too rough. I rolled in the headsail but left the autopilot on and to my surprise it managed to steer us downwind under bare poles doing around 4 kts. Then I saw that the port side fuel containers were in very bad shape. The lower of the two boards had cracked clean in two, and I had lost 2 containers overboard, one of which was empty. One was hanging over the side by ropes and another appeared to be loose on the deck. I went forward to rescue them but there was a gust of wind and I had to beat a hasty retreat. I had 60 liters of fuel safe in the cockpit, the 40 liters on the starboard side seemed safe for now, but the 60 liters still on the port side were in peril.
At noon our position was 36S31, 016W06, giving us a n-n distance of 89 miles in the direction 077T. We were 183 miles from TdC. The barometer had risen 4 points to 1006 hPa. The wind was abating, but still threatening with occasional violent surges.
An hour later I managed to rescue 3 containers representing 50 liters of fuel. I noticed later that a stanchion that had supported the port planks was bent perhaps 20 degrees out of true and it appeared that a wave must have hit that side with monumental force. Maybe it was due to luck but I had not encountered seas this rough during my trek around the Horn.
At 3 PM I went up to let out a bit more headsail and discovered that the autopilot had disengaged and the boat was happily plodding along on a beam reach. I set the course slightly off the wind and our went back to 5 kts.
After dinner I lay down for a short while and realized that I was chilly all over, and no wonder, given that I had been wearing only a T-shirt and thin sweater under the wet weather gear. I put on the regulation US Navy heavy wool sweater and then I was warm again.
Just before dark the wind picked up and the boat was doing over 5 kts in an agitated way. I also began to hear a different sound from the deck. I went to the cockpit and saw that on half of the broken board had one end in the water, which could cause serious problems during the night. First I rolled in some headsail then went onto the side deck with a knife. Both pieces of timber went overboard and I recovered the last container from the rail. I wasn't too happy about throwing the timber overboard, given that it could pose a hazard to other boats. But they were not terribly heavy pieces of timber and I just didn't relish the idea of cramming the soggy boards with their jagged ends into the over crowded hold. Down below I saw that our speed was 2.5 kts and the boat was much quieter. There was now only a tiny amount of sail out so that if we ran into a squall I would not have a crisis on my hands. The autopilot had been behaving itself and I was hoping for a reasonably quiet night with slow but steady progress.
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radio email processed by SailMail
for information see: http://www.sailmail.com
Wednesday, December 19, 2012
Day 20 - Communications, Weather, Visit
-------------------- Communications --------------------
Last night I started my Sailmail session a little early, at about 11.25 PM, and managed to get a connection very quickly. I had 4 messages to go out, 2 blogs (Days 18 and 19), a position report, and a grib file request. Sailmail advised me when it was sending each message, and the transfer rate was a respectable 1200 bytes/min.
When the last message is sent Sailmail then interacts with my computer to tidy up before going on to see if I have any incoming messages. It is at this stage that the status of the messages on my machine are changed from "outbox". It was at this tidy-up stage that communications stopped. After 20 or so unsuccessful retries by Sailmail I was disconnected. Thereafter, try as I might I could not get another connection. I am fairly confident that the messages got out OK, and that the next time I connect Sailmail will inform me that the four messages have already been sent, as has happened before. I hope that the messages did get out so that readers will understand the situation.
I am not sure of what is causing these failures. Tonight I will start my Sailmail session at 11.15 PM, even though the Sailmail propagation tool tells me that this is not an optimal time. By the way, I also tried Africa last night with no success.
-------------------- The Weather --------------------
It has been a difficult 12 hours with that gale that I was expecting. I hove to at midnight. The boat and the Monitor were coping well, even though the wind was howling, the following seas were huge, and we were running at over 8 kts, sometimes registering over 9 kts. But we were on a SE track about to cross latitude 37S, the approximate latitude of TdC, and I did not want to go any farther south. Besides, twice the Monitor control lines had jumped off the drum, resulting in horrendous bangs as the mainsail gybed. I corrected this by making the lines super tight but nevertheless did not want to risk a repetition.
The boat fared fairly well for the rest of the night, under the circumstances. Knowing that there was nothing more that I could do for the boat I stripped down, dried off, put on my dry set of underpants (sweater and T-shirt were OK) and fluffy and warm track suit pants. With that I had a comfortable sleep under two dry and warm blankets.
Throughout the night we got pounded hard every few minutes by waves breaking onto the boat and sending water across the cabin top. I was up at 7.30 AM to find the boat still in rough conditions. After a cup of coffee I faced the inevitable and swapped to my damp underclothes and track suit pants, donned my wet weather gear, making sure that the sailing jacked was zipped up to my chin and the hood was over my head, and went into the cockpit for checks and adjustments. It was still wild out there and I had to be careful because one of those waves could break into the cockpit at any time - rarely, but still a possibility. I tightened the lines holding the Monitor pendulum at center, tightened the lines keeping the wheel hard to weather, and brought on the starboard running backstay so that now both backstays were giving the mast some support.
I looked up at the mainsail and saw that it had held up OK. (It is 6 years old and I worry about it blowing out.) I noted that the bow swung in an arc of 45 to 80 degrees off the wind, as the boat yawed in the rough seas. Yet we were meeting the waves at times almost head on. It was then that I got another useful insight into heaving to. I had hove to simply by hardening up the sail and pointing the boat to the NE with the wind off the port side. This was good because my drift would by biased to the north. But with the wind expected to back (ie counterclockwise) as the low south of us moved toward the east I would get the same assistance as on the last gale, with the bow pointing more directly into the oncoming waves as the wind backed. Had I hove to on the starboard tack, as the wind clocked around the boat would have clocked around with it, putting it broadside to the waves. I've got to remember to take this factor into consideration in the future.
After a look forward to see that nothing was amiss I returned to the cabin where I would stay in my wet weather gear for the rest of the day.
In the 10 hours that we had been hove to we drifted 21 miles to the ENE, and I could not have asked for a better direction. The wind was from the NW, which would give us a good point of sail, but I would wait a few hours for the wind to ease and the sea to calm down a bit.
-------------------- The Visit --------------------
When I heard the suggestion to visit Tristan da Cunha I had visions arriving on a bright and sunny day, with a moderate wind and sea, followed by calm deliberation on where to best anchor the boat.
But this is our third gale since leaving Brazil, and all three brought ferocious winds from the north, the side of the island where the TdC community lies. Here I am hove to and less than 300 miles from the island, leading me to think that they are subject to similar conditions that I've been experiencing. Because I have an aversion to land at the best of times, because it will be a strange holding ground (for the anchor), and primarily because I am sailing alone, I must set the bar very high regarding conditions that I will require for a visit. I could not enjoy any visit to the island knowing that the boat is unattended to during risky conditions. Several months ago I sent a message to TdC administration informing them of my plans an asking for advice on anchoring. It would be helpful now had they responded, but I heard nothing from them.
What this all adds up to is that I plan to sail close enough to the island to see it, will try to establish radio contact, but unless I have complete confidence that conditions are safe I will sail on. I have come too far to take unnecessary risks with this boat.
This mid Atlantic, by the way, is a real piece of work. I would not have thought that in the 30's latitudes in December I would experience these Horn-like conditions.
--------------------
At 11 AM the sun came out and at 11.30 AM I set sail. The waves were still high but the wind had calmed and I figured that we would be able to sail downwind more comfortably than hove to, and so it was. Soon we were making 5.5-6.0 kts to just slightly north of east. The blow was over and I was feeling better.
At noon our position was 36S50, 017W53, giving us a n-n distance of 102 miles in the direction 103T. We were now 267 miles from TdC. The barometer was down to 1002 hPa, a whopping 8 point drop from the day before.
After lunch (cup a soup and a slice of cheese) I switched on the Rutland wind charger and it immediately began to produce 2 and 3 amps. The sky had cleared completely and under the bright sun the solar panels were producing 7 amps. I retired to the bunk wearing my wet weather gear to read a bit from the Kindle (The Lewis and Clark Expedition) and have a short snooze.
Later in the afternoon I prepared another bean stew. Some of the carrots and potatoes had started to spoil and I recovered what I could from them. I figure that I'll be able to make at least one more stew, which I would make in 5 days' time and would support me for the following 5 days. If I can make two more stews all the better because that would support me for 15 days, getting nice and close to arrival at Cape Town. ... Not that I'm hurting for food. I haven't even touched the spaghetti, with the plenty of sauce and Parmesan cheese to go with it, and I've had only one of the tins of sardines in tomato sauce. There are cans of fish, too.
While I was waiting for the pressure cooker to do its work I had a look at my inventory of courtesy flags. I found a beautiful large flag of South Africa. However, I do not have a British Union Jack on board because my planning didn't envision possible visits to the Falklands and Tristan da Cunha. But not to worry. I've got a well used Australian flag with holes in the area of the stars. I figure that I can cut out the Union Jack part of the Aussie flag and use it for the visit to TdC, if that happens. It would not be a large courtesy flag but hey, it's not a large island either.
I had an hour of hard wet sailing on deck. The mainsail gybed for the third time and that was the last straw. The problems were that we had too much power, speed, and weather helm and the huge following seas were knocking the stern around. The Monitor just could not cope. The only way that I could think of dousing the sail was to use the engine, point the boat into the wind and waves to take the pressure off the sail, and hope that the autopilot would cope. At the mast I frantically worked to pull the sail down with one hand while sheets of water swept the foredeck. Once I had the peak of the sail lashed so that the sail wouldn't ride up the mast I tightened the halyard then put the boat downwind and rolled out the headsail. Lazy jacks or no lazy jacks, I then had to go back to the top of the cabin to put two straps around the mainsail, one because the end of a batten had missed the lazy jack cord and was lying on the cabin top chafing, the other to keep sail and sail cover off the spray dodger.
With the jib pulling along it was different sailing. I rolled out only enough headsail to make a comfortable speed of 5.5-6.0 kts instead of the 7+ kts the mainsail had been forcing us to make. I noticed that there was less gyration of the wheel by the monitor. The boat careened less and rode more comfortably. If the boat gybed the small amount of headsail out would be able to cope easily.
I have a problem with that mainsail going downwind in heavy air. I need it for heaving to but the price I pay is being overpowered on the buildup to the gale and being overpowered in the aftermath, being constantly terrified that the sail will be stressed from a gybe. The ideal strategy I suppose is to put up the mainsail at the point of heaving to, but I deem that too dangerous in wild weather, and in any event there would be issues of controlling the boat during the hoist. I'm toying with the idea of putting canvas on the side of the cockpit attached to the stainless steel frame. That might provide enough windage to bring the stern of the boat into the wind when hove to with the trysail up. I have a storm jib in the hold that was too light for this boat and I'll see about hacking it up to fit on the side of the frame. It sounds like a desperate measure but I'm at my wits end on the issue. If the prototype works OK I'll have something properly made up in Cape Town.
----------
radio email processed by SailMail
for information see: http://www.sailmail.com
Last night I started my Sailmail session a little early, at about 11.25 PM, and managed to get a connection very quickly. I had 4 messages to go out, 2 blogs (Days 18 and 19), a position report, and a grib file request. Sailmail advised me when it was sending each message, and the transfer rate was a respectable 1200 bytes/min.
When the last message is sent Sailmail then interacts with my computer to tidy up before going on to see if I have any incoming messages. It is at this stage that the status of the messages on my machine are changed from "outbox". It was at this tidy-up stage that communications stopped. After 20 or so unsuccessful retries by Sailmail I was disconnected. Thereafter, try as I might I could not get another connection. I am fairly confident that the messages got out OK, and that the next time I connect Sailmail will inform me that the four messages have already been sent, as has happened before. I hope that the messages did get out so that readers will understand the situation.
I am not sure of what is causing these failures. Tonight I will start my Sailmail session at 11.15 PM, even though the Sailmail propagation tool tells me that this is not an optimal time. By the way, I also tried Africa last night with no success.
-------------------- The Weather --------------------
It has been a difficult 12 hours with that gale that I was expecting. I hove to at midnight. The boat and the Monitor were coping well, even though the wind was howling, the following seas were huge, and we were running at over 8 kts, sometimes registering over 9 kts. But we were on a SE track about to cross latitude 37S, the approximate latitude of TdC, and I did not want to go any farther south. Besides, twice the Monitor control lines had jumped off the drum, resulting in horrendous bangs as the mainsail gybed. I corrected this by making the lines super tight but nevertheless did not want to risk a repetition.
The boat fared fairly well for the rest of the night, under the circumstances. Knowing that there was nothing more that I could do for the boat I stripped down, dried off, put on my dry set of underpants (sweater and T-shirt were OK) and fluffy and warm track suit pants. With that I had a comfortable sleep under two dry and warm blankets.
Throughout the night we got pounded hard every few minutes by waves breaking onto the boat and sending water across the cabin top. I was up at 7.30 AM to find the boat still in rough conditions. After a cup of coffee I faced the inevitable and swapped to my damp underclothes and track suit pants, donned my wet weather gear, making sure that the sailing jacked was zipped up to my chin and the hood was over my head, and went into the cockpit for checks and adjustments. It was still wild out there and I had to be careful because one of those waves could break into the cockpit at any time - rarely, but still a possibility. I tightened the lines holding the Monitor pendulum at center, tightened the lines keeping the wheel hard to weather, and brought on the starboard running backstay so that now both backstays were giving the mast some support.
I looked up at the mainsail and saw that it had held up OK. (It is 6 years old and I worry about it blowing out.) I noted that the bow swung in an arc of 45 to 80 degrees off the wind, as the boat yawed in the rough seas. Yet we were meeting the waves at times almost head on. It was then that I got another useful insight into heaving to. I had hove to simply by hardening up the sail and pointing the boat to the NE with the wind off the port side. This was good because my drift would by biased to the north. But with the wind expected to back (ie counterclockwise) as the low south of us moved toward the east I would get the same assistance as on the last gale, with the bow pointing more directly into the oncoming waves as the wind backed. Had I hove to on the starboard tack, as the wind clocked around the boat would have clocked around with it, putting it broadside to the waves. I've got to remember to take this factor into consideration in the future.
After a look forward to see that nothing was amiss I returned to the cabin where I would stay in my wet weather gear for the rest of the day.
In the 10 hours that we had been hove to we drifted 21 miles to the ENE, and I could not have asked for a better direction. The wind was from the NW, which would give us a good point of sail, but I would wait a few hours for the wind to ease and the sea to calm down a bit.
-------------------- The Visit --------------------
When I heard the suggestion to visit Tristan da Cunha I had visions arriving on a bright and sunny day, with a moderate wind and sea, followed by calm deliberation on where to best anchor the boat.
But this is our third gale since leaving Brazil, and all three brought ferocious winds from the north, the side of the island where the TdC community lies. Here I am hove to and less than 300 miles from the island, leading me to think that they are subject to similar conditions that I've been experiencing. Because I have an aversion to land at the best of times, because it will be a strange holding ground (for the anchor), and primarily because I am sailing alone, I must set the bar very high regarding conditions that I will require for a visit. I could not enjoy any visit to the island knowing that the boat is unattended to during risky conditions. Several months ago I sent a message to TdC administration informing them of my plans an asking for advice on anchoring. It would be helpful now had they responded, but I heard nothing from them.
What this all adds up to is that I plan to sail close enough to the island to see it, will try to establish radio contact, but unless I have complete confidence that conditions are safe I will sail on. I have come too far to take unnecessary risks with this boat.
This mid Atlantic, by the way, is a real piece of work. I would not have thought that in the 30's latitudes in December I would experience these Horn-like conditions.
--------------------
At 11 AM the sun came out and at 11.30 AM I set sail. The waves were still high but the wind had calmed and I figured that we would be able to sail downwind more comfortably than hove to, and so it was. Soon we were making 5.5-6.0 kts to just slightly north of east. The blow was over and I was feeling better.
At noon our position was 36S50, 017W53, giving us a n-n distance of 102 miles in the direction 103T. We were now 267 miles from TdC. The barometer was down to 1002 hPa, a whopping 8 point drop from the day before.
After lunch (cup a soup and a slice of cheese) I switched on the Rutland wind charger and it immediately began to produce 2 and 3 amps. The sky had cleared completely and under the bright sun the solar panels were producing 7 amps. I retired to the bunk wearing my wet weather gear to read a bit from the Kindle (The Lewis and Clark Expedition) and have a short snooze.
Later in the afternoon I prepared another bean stew. Some of the carrots and potatoes had started to spoil and I recovered what I could from them. I figure that I'll be able to make at least one more stew, which I would make in 5 days' time and would support me for the following 5 days. If I can make two more stews all the better because that would support me for 15 days, getting nice and close to arrival at Cape Town. ... Not that I'm hurting for food. I haven't even touched the spaghetti, with the plenty of sauce and Parmesan cheese to go with it, and I've had only one of the tins of sardines in tomato sauce. There are cans of fish, too.
While I was waiting for the pressure cooker to do its work I had a look at my inventory of courtesy flags. I found a beautiful large flag of South Africa. However, I do not have a British Union Jack on board because my planning didn't envision possible visits to the Falklands and Tristan da Cunha. But not to worry. I've got a well used Australian flag with holes in the area of the stars. I figure that I can cut out the Union Jack part of the Aussie flag and use it for the visit to TdC, if that happens. It would not be a large courtesy flag but hey, it's not a large island either.
I had an hour of hard wet sailing on deck. The mainsail gybed for the third time and that was the last straw. The problems were that we had too much power, speed, and weather helm and the huge following seas were knocking the stern around. The Monitor just could not cope. The only way that I could think of dousing the sail was to use the engine, point the boat into the wind and waves to take the pressure off the sail, and hope that the autopilot would cope. At the mast I frantically worked to pull the sail down with one hand while sheets of water swept the foredeck. Once I had the peak of the sail lashed so that the sail wouldn't ride up the mast I tightened the halyard then put the boat downwind and rolled out the headsail. Lazy jacks or no lazy jacks, I then had to go back to the top of the cabin to put two straps around the mainsail, one because the end of a batten had missed the lazy jack cord and was lying on the cabin top chafing, the other to keep sail and sail cover off the spray dodger.
With the jib pulling along it was different sailing. I rolled out only enough headsail to make a comfortable speed of 5.5-6.0 kts instead of the 7+ kts the mainsail had been forcing us to make. I noticed that there was less gyration of the wheel by the monitor. The boat careened less and rode more comfortably. If the boat gybed the small amount of headsail out would be able to cope easily.
I have a problem with that mainsail going downwind in heavy air. I need it for heaving to but the price I pay is being overpowered on the buildup to the gale and being overpowered in the aftermath, being constantly terrified that the sail will be stressed from a gybe. The ideal strategy I suppose is to put up the mainsail at the point of heaving to, but I deem that too dangerous in wild weather, and in any event there would be issues of controlling the boat during the hoist. I'm toying with the idea of putting canvas on the side of the cockpit attached to the stainless steel frame. That might provide enough windage to bring the stern of the boat into the wind when hove to with the trysail up. I have a storm jib in the hold that was too light for this boat and I'll see about hacking it up to fit on the side of the frame. It sounds like a desperate measure but I'm at my wits end on the issue. If the prototype works OK I'll have something properly made up in Cape Town.
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