I had a very important success with weather fax. I downloaded a grainy but mostly legible wfax out of Wiluna, Western Australia, at 18 mHz. It wasn't just any wfax, but the 0730 UTC one covering the Indian Ocean in polar form. It was dated 1100 EDT which would make it about 0000 UTC, 8 hours earlier. I could see the highs, lows and fronts clearly, but the scales were difficult to read. However, I recognized the outline of Australia and was able to read two of the longitude numbers above. Using that I was able to locate my position, the cold front about to go overhead and the low of 982 at its base, east and well to the south of me. I could also see the high of 1034 to the west and south of me that will provide those SW winds after the front passes. Reception should improve as I close in on Australia, and when I finally get a very clear wfax I will know which curving lines represent which latitude, and similarly for the straight lines of longitude radiating from the south pole. I was very pleased with this success because it gives me an important new dimension to my weather information.
I had chided myself for not having logged my position reports for the first 6 weeks or so of the run to the Horn, but of course I had logged them - in my blog. So I brought out the backup computer that had seen me from Mexico to Argentina and went through each blog in the Sailmail "out" box to record the position for that day. The next step will be to enter the positions as waypoints in OpenCPN.
The front began to pass over at 0930 but I just kept working with the computer. There was rain, squall like winds, but nothing serious. When I finished my work and put the spare computer away I looked at the chart plotter and saw that there had been an almost 90 degree wind shift from the WNW to SW, putting us on a course of N. The wind had moderated and I executed a painless gybe.
When I returned to the cabin I was sweating as usual under my wet weather gear, but even when I took it off an shed a sweater the cabin seemed downright muggy. The temperature was 19.3C (67F).
Another challenging session with Sam. He could hear me and I gave him my status report but reception from him would come and go. He managed to give me the brief forecasts for today (SW 15-25) and tomorrow (SW 25-35) but I could not understand anything beyond that. But everything cleared up after we had giveb up and he was telling me that we would try again tomorrow, so I asked him to repeat his previous message and I managed to get the forecast for Tuesday (SSW 15-30) as well as the strength and location of the high at 0600 Tuesday. He then asked me how I was doing and I replied that all of the equipment on the boat was working well and we were sailing along just fine. Other than some possible high winds tomorrow (I'm betting that they'll be closer to 25 than 35 kts) it looks like I can look forward to 2 days of moderate sailing with moderate progress. If I can make 100 miles per day I'll be a Happy Little Vegemite, as they say in Australia.
The noon numbers were:
POS 39S42, 61E08
NND 105 nm
DMG 2087 nm
DTG 2701 nm
After the noon report I entered 44 waypoints representing the early positions of the passage to the Horn into OpenCPN. The result was well worth the effort: the boat's position each day, marked with an "x" and labeled with the day of the month, covering all passages since La Paz.
The house bank was at 12.5V and I could have gone another day but I decided to do an engine run today while conditions were relatively calm rather than tomorrow when I expected high winds. There was no oil pressure alarm problem.
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Pachuca
Pachuca in Port Angeles, WA USA
Sunday, March 31, 2013
Saturday, March 30, 2013
Sailmail Better
I just got out the latest blog at a scorching 2100 bytes per minute at this early time and using 18 mHz.
For now, feel free to send a short message. If you get a response it means that I got it OK.
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radio email processed by SailMail
for information see: http://www.sailmail.com
For now, feel free to send a short message. If you get a response it means that I got it OK.
----------
radio email processed by SailMail
for information see: http://www.sailmail.com
Day 25, March 31
I woke up at 10 PM to find the boat moving well in a stronger wind but headed almost SE. The forecast had predicted the wind veering to W then WNW so it was time to gibe. The gibe went very well. I adjusted the Monitor airvane to take the wind from the port quarter instead of the starboard quarter and as it brought the boat around I concentrated on the sail, which popped neatly through the space between the two forestays. This put us on a heading of E and more directly to Fremantle. Now that the wind was stronger and steadier I rolled out another foot of sail, taking our speed to 5.5 kts. After a slow and difficult half a day we were on the move again.
The boat moved well throughout the rest of the night, though we were not setting the pace that we would have made down at 43S. Before I was finally able to receive a wind forecast from Sam I felt that I had no choice but to order a grib file and a spot forecast from Sailmail with the hope that I would be able to download it. I managed to download it using a higher frequency and the grib file for 0600 tomorrow (1 April) shows a pattern worth noting. Forecast wind speeds are: 23 kts at 39S, 27 kts at 40S, and 31 kts at 41S. Extrapolating from that, the latitude 43S where I was sailing can expect gale conditions. That is a graphic illustration of the biggest benefit of sailing a little to the north, namely gentler winds and less ferocious weather. (The other is warmer air temperature.) Associated with that are benefits of less likelihood of mishap (such as Nereida's damage in 6 meter seas) and less time lying ahull. OK, the downside is a slower passage, but so far for me it has been a good tradeoff. Looking at the above grib file, I'd rather be sailing in a 27 kt wind that will push me along at over 6.5 kt than putting up with gale conditions further south.
At 5 AM I managed to get a grainy reception of the ABC which was airing an Australian Rules football game. That would be right, given that this was Sunday.
[It's very early in my day, 0600 UTC, and 4 hours before the "noon" report, but I've noticed that now is the optimal time for Sailmail using an 18 mHz frequency, so I'll give it a go. If the transmission is successful I'll cover the rest of this day in the following blog.]
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The boat moved well throughout the rest of the night, though we were not setting the pace that we would have made down at 43S. Before I was finally able to receive a wind forecast from Sam I felt that I had no choice but to order a grib file and a spot forecast from Sailmail with the hope that I would be able to download it. I managed to download it using a higher frequency and the grib file for 0600 tomorrow (1 April) shows a pattern worth noting. Forecast wind speeds are: 23 kts at 39S, 27 kts at 40S, and 31 kts at 41S. Extrapolating from that, the latitude 43S where I was sailing can expect gale conditions. That is a graphic illustration of the biggest benefit of sailing a little to the north, namely gentler winds and less ferocious weather. (The other is warmer air temperature.) Associated with that are benefits of less likelihood of mishap (such as Nereida's damage in 6 meter seas) and less time lying ahull. OK, the downside is a slower passage, but so far for me it has been a good tradeoff. Looking at the above grib file, I'd rather be sailing in a 27 kt wind that will push me along at over 6.5 kt than putting up with gale conditions further south.
At 5 AM I managed to get a grainy reception of the ABC which was airing an Australian Rules football game. That would be right, given that this was Sunday.
[It's very early in my day, 0600 UTC, and 4 hours before the "noon" report, but I've noticed that now is the optimal time for Sailmail using an 18 mHz frequency, so I'll give it a go. If the transmission is successful I'll cover the rest of this day in the following blog.]
----------
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Friday, March 29, 2013
Day 24, March 30 - Engine Oil Pressure Scare
[Sorry Folks, if you do not want to be bored by the latest equipment flap that lead nowhere please skip the following section.]
----------------------------------
I started the engine this morning to charge the batteries and after a few minutes the low oil pressure fault alarm came on. The book suggested only checking the oil level and checking that the oil filter isn't blocked. I checked the oil level and the oil was almost as clean as when I had changed it in Cape Town only 40 engine hours ago, but the level seemed slightly elevated. I then went to my Volvo spares box to get a new oil filter and found that I had used the last one in Cape Town. I didn't think at the time of checking my stock because I figured that the oil and filter change would do until I got to Fremantle. In any event, changing the oil filter was a long shot in my opinion, and I'm wondering if the elevated oil level means that the oil pump is not getting oil to the filter. But what do I know? I have asked Mark for advice on this.
Characteristically, I went to the worst case scenario and thought about having no engine for the rest of the passage. The first step is to reduce power consumption. To that end I have put the laptop in "eco" mode and now it goes to sleep after 5 minutes of inactivity, even if the screen is up. No more movies on the laptop, of course. I can switch off the gas detector when not using the stove because I have noticed that the solenoid generates a lot of heat. The only other things that I can think of are the navigation light at night, the electric bilge pump that gets heavy use when moving through a heavy sea (As a last resort I can use the manual bilge pump from the cockpit.), the chart plotter, occasional use of the autopilot, and the HF radio for Sailmail and SAMMNet. When the sun is shining and the wind is blowing this should all be supportable, but at times like now, where we have been overcast for 4 or 5 days an the wind has been light for the last 2 days, things will be difficult. I suppose that the next step would be to turn off the chart plotter (but leave the AIS on).
I have no concerns about getting the boat safely to Fremantle with minimal battery power. I think that the main issues is communications. Were I to arrive in Fremantle without the engine I would notify Australia Customs that I need a tow to their dock.
At 0600 I rolled in the headsail with great reluctance. The wind had become too light and the sail was flogging too much. Shame. Had the engine been OK we could have continued hiking along at 4.5 kts while generating electric power.
What is going on here? After shutting down the chart plotter and manually pumping out the bilge to save power I decided to give the engine another try. I turned cycled the main engine switch then opened the exhaust valve (Never forget that!), activated the EVC panel, and started the engine ready to shut it down as soon as the oil pressure alarm came on. There was no alarm and soon we were making 4.3 kts and the alternator was pouring 73 amps into the batteries. The problem must have been in the EVC panel, which surprised me because before the first problem run I had started everything from scratch, starting with turning on the main switch.
My main regret was troubling Mark but with my power supply in jeopardy, not to mention the Sailmail questionable Sailmail service, I felt that I had to act quickly. On the other hand, the incident made me think about measures to take if power was restricted, and a lasting legacies are that I am now running the laptop on "eco" mode, will switch off the gas detector after dinner, and will probably switch off the chart plotter each night. (It is safe because when the detector is off, power to the solenoid is cut off and it slams shut.)
I tuned in to the SAMMNet session using headphones because I just didn't want to shut the engine down. Sam was early, and I just managed to hear him hail me. I put my situation message out blind, being pretty sure that he could copy me. I spoke loudly, slowly, and repeated everything. I finished by stating that all was well with the boat I told him that I would be at 1110 session as usual, without the engine running.
The headphones take care of the engine noise to my ears, but I am not sure of the amount of electrical nose put out by the engine, whose alternator is only 1 meter from the HF transceiver.
-----------------------------------
I decided to treat myself with a real breakfast of 2 fried eggs, a piece of cheese, and toast. The eggs still had beautiful yolks - better than newly-purchased eggs from many supermarkets. It is another example of Cape Town presenting the freshest fresh foods that I have ever experienced. I've got one egg left and half a grapefruit. The half of grapefruit that I had last night tasted great.
Not long after that I decide to top up the fuel tanks. They took 25 liters to cover 17 hours of running, making the consumption at 1.5 ltr/hr. Most of that 40 hours was run at 1500 rpm. I now have 37 liters remaining in the external containers. I will hold the last 10 liters in reserve for the entry into the FSC marina because I would hate to make my calculations too fine, run out of fuel as I am making my entry, and wind up on the breakwater.
Wow, what a lunchtime session with Sam. For the first time in 2 days I managed to hear a weather report from him. It took a lot of patience on his part, having to repeat some of the information several times. At the end I thanked him, telling him that I had been desperate for a forecast and his information on the coming strong winds was invaluable. He copied that and we would attempt contact tomorrow. I found that I could hear him better through the headphones, something I discovered by accident when I had to deal with the engine noise this morning.
For the rest of today I can expect SW-W 5-25 kts, which I am dealing with now. After a lull of several hours the wind has begun to build up from the SW and we are sailing again. For tomorrow I can expect W, then WNW, then SW winds at midnight after a cold front has passed over me, with all winds in the range 15-25. For Monday it gets more interesting, with winds from WSW at 25-35, until the evening when they back to S 20-30. Thank goodness I was able to get this information because now I can do some planning. It promises to be a rough ride on Monday, but I should be able to make good progress.
The noon numbers were:
POS 39S42, 58E52
NND 94
DMG 1979
DTG 2810
At sunset the wind was light and we were dawdling along at 2.5 kts.
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----------------------------------
I started the engine this morning to charge the batteries and after a few minutes the low oil pressure fault alarm came on. The book suggested only checking the oil level and checking that the oil filter isn't blocked. I checked the oil level and the oil was almost as clean as when I had changed it in Cape Town only 40 engine hours ago, but the level seemed slightly elevated. I then went to my Volvo spares box to get a new oil filter and found that I had used the last one in Cape Town. I didn't think at the time of checking my stock because I figured that the oil and filter change would do until I got to Fremantle. In any event, changing the oil filter was a long shot in my opinion, and I'm wondering if the elevated oil level means that the oil pump is not getting oil to the filter. But what do I know? I have asked Mark for advice on this.
Characteristically, I went to the worst case scenario and thought about having no engine for the rest of the passage. The first step is to reduce power consumption. To that end I have put the laptop in "eco" mode and now it goes to sleep after 5 minutes of inactivity, even if the screen is up. No more movies on the laptop, of course. I can switch off the gas detector when not using the stove because I have noticed that the solenoid generates a lot of heat. The only other things that I can think of are the navigation light at night, the electric bilge pump that gets heavy use when moving through a heavy sea (As a last resort I can use the manual bilge pump from the cockpit.), the chart plotter, occasional use of the autopilot, and the HF radio for Sailmail and SAMMNet. When the sun is shining and the wind is blowing this should all be supportable, but at times like now, where we have been overcast for 4 or 5 days an the wind has been light for the last 2 days, things will be difficult. I suppose that the next step would be to turn off the chart plotter (but leave the AIS on).
I have no concerns about getting the boat safely to Fremantle with minimal battery power. I think that the main issues is communications. Were I to arrive in Fremantle without the engine I would notify Australia Customs that I need a tow to their dock.
At 0600 I rolled in the headsail with great reluctance. The wind had become too light and the sail was flogging too much. Shame. Had the engine been OK we could have continued hiking along at 4.5 kts while generating electric power.
What is going on here? After shutting down the chart plotter and manually pumping out the bilge to save power I decided to give the engine another try. I turned cycled the main engine switch then opened the exhaust valve (Never forget that!), activated the EVC panel, and started the engine ready to shut it down as soon as the oil pressure alarm came on. There was no alarm and soon we were making 4.3 kts and the alternator was pouring 73 amps into the batteries. The problem must have been in the EVC panel, which surprised me because before the first problem run I had started everything from scratch, starting with turning on the main switch.
My main regret was troubling Mark but with my power supply in jeopardy, not to mention the Sailmail questionable Sailmail service, I felt that I had to act quickly. On the other hand, the incident made me think about measures to take if power was restricted, and a lasting legacies are that I am now running the laptop on "eco" mode, will switch off the gas detector after dinner, and will probably switch off the chart plotter each night. (It is safe because when the detector is off, power to the solenoid is cut off and it slams shut.)
I tuned in to the SAMMNet session using headphones because I just didn't want to shut the engine down. Sam was early, and I just managed to hear him hail me. I put my situation message out blind, being pretty sure that he could copy me. I spoke loudly, slowly, and repeated everything. I finished by stating that all was well with the boat I told him that I would be at 1110 session as usual, without the engine running.
The headphones take care of the engine noise to my ears, but I am not sure of the amount of electrical nose put out by the engine, whose alternator is only 1 meter from the HF transceiver.
-----------------------------------
I decided to treat myself with a real breakfast of 2 fried eggs, a piece of cheese, and toast. The eggs still had beautiful yolks - better than newly-purchased eggs from many supermarkets. It is another example of Cape Town presenting the freshest fresh foods that I have ever experienced. I've got one egg left and half a grapefruit. The half of grapefruit that I had last night tasted great.
Not long after that I decide to top up the fuel tanks. They took 25 liters to cover 17 hours of running, making the consumption at 1.5 ltr/hr. Most of that 40 hours was run at 1500 rpm. I now have 37 liters remaining in the external containers. I will hold the last 10 liters in reserve for the entry into the FSC marina because I would hate to make my calculations too fine, run out of fuel as I am making my entry, and wind up on the breakwater.
Wow, what a lunchtime session with Sam. For the first time in 2 days I managed to hear a weather report from him. It took a lot of patience on his part, having to repeat some of the information several times. At the end I thanked him, telling him that I had been desperate for a forecast and his information on the coming strong winds was invaluable. He copied that and we would attempt contact tomorrow. I found that I could hear him better through the headphones, something I discovered by accident when I had to deal with the engine noise this morning.
For the rest of today I can expect SW-W 5-25 kts, which I am dealing with now. After a lull of several hours the wind has begun to build up from the SW and we are sailing again. For tomorrow I can expect W, then WNW, then SW winds at midnight after a cold front has passed over me, with all winds in the range 15-25. For Monday it gets more interesting, with winds from WSW at 25-35, until the evening when they back to S 20-30. Thank goodness I was able to get this information because now I can do some planning. It promises to be a rough ride on Monday, but I should be able to make good progress.
The noon numbers were:
POS 39S42, 58E52
NND 94
DMG 1979
DTG 2810
At sunset the wind was light and we were dawdling along at 2.5 kts.
----------
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Day 23, March 29 - Poor Sailmail Prospects
I woke up just after midnight to find that we had passed the 3000 mile milestone and were now 2980 miles from Fremantle. We had been still moving well all night and had made 70 miles from the noon marker. We were at latitude 39S32 and I noted that St Paul Island was at 38S42. It was still 1000 miles away but the iceberg incident had forced me up to the vicinity of the island's latitude and it was not too soon to make sure that I knew exactly where it was. I found the dividers, rolled out the paper chart, put on a second pair of glasses for close work, and carefully measured it to be 11 miles south of the waypoint. I would have gotten the original coordinate from the internet but it was safer to rely on the chart and to move its location south rather than north. It was a good exercise because on the chart I noticed a sea mount just to the south of the island that rises to only 90 meters from the surface, enough to cause turbulence on the surface and to be avoided. After a few sweeps of the radar I returned to bed.
I have receive more information on Jeanne Socrates' equipment problems aboard Nereida and she appears to be having a difficult time of it. Apparently she found herself in 6 meter seas, which damaged her radar mast that also supports her GPS antennas, and the whole thing is loose. Her wind charger has been knocked out and she needs it urgently enough to have asked the Round the World committee for permission to stop in Tasmania for repairs at anchor on the basis that parts be handed to her and she does the rest. There is a question of how she will be able to manage a dead lift of a new wind charger into position overhead. On Pachuca I have worked that out. I put a folded up wool blanket on the starboard solar panel, lift the charger with no blades from the cockpit seat up to the solar panel, then drag the blanket to the stern near the mounting pole. From there it is a short lift to the pole. However, even this needs a certain amount of physical strength. On this boat if I had lifting problems, desperation would drive me to find a way of using the topping lift to do the hoisting. As for radar poles, I've never liked them and see them as a cop out from taking the trouble and expense of mounting the radome on the mast where it belongs because there it is higher and safer. On the bright side, Jeanne's got good communications and support, is personally safe, and I'm sure that she will complete the circumnavigation OK.
I finished entering the positions in my written log as waypoints in OpenCPN. Unfortunately I was remiss in not beginning my entries until 14 Dec 2011, as I was approaching Cape Horn. Nevertheless the result is good. At a glance one can see where the boat was on each day of the various passages. I have backed the waypoint to a flash drive. From Fremantle I will email the small (1kb)waypoint file to Arnold so that he can load it into his copy of OpenCPN and to anyone else who may be interested. (OpenCPN can be downloaded for free.)
I visited the foredeck for the first time in 2 days. I put another strap at the forward end of the mainsail to tidy up a loose bit that annoyed me. The shock cord at the front end of the whisker pole had come loose again. I re tied it with a triple knot then tied a couple of loops of thin rope between the beak of the pole and the pulpit. All else looked OK. I'm expecting strong winds tomorrow and everything on that deck must be in order.
Sailmail provides a "propagation" tool which has proven to be a good guide of the usefulness of the frequencies of any station selected, based on the position of the boat and the distance and direction to the station. It presents a matrix with a row for each frequency of the station an a column for every hour of the day. Hopeless frequencies are in red, marginal frequencies are in amber, and feasible frequencies are in green. In addition to a color, each square has a number from 1 to 100, 100 being the best. Today I used this tool to investigate the prospects for Sailmail service as we progress further away from S Africa and they are not good. At 067E, the midpoint of this passage, the best cells rate in the 80's there is a 92 and a 93. At 080E the best rating is 71. At 090E the best rating is 62. At 100E the top rating is 64.
But at 0100E we will be getting close to Australia with its Sailmail station on the east coast and there will be a top rating of 90. At 110E I will be practically home (which is at 115E) and the top rating is 91. Stepping back toward mid passage, at 090E the top rating is 77 and at 080E the top rating is 65. S. Africa and Australia are the only two choices I have, and unfortunately for me the Australian station is on the east coast, no doubt to provide good coverage of the Tasman Sea and to the north. There should be another Sailmail station on the west coast of Australia, just as the Australian government has done for its long range marine service. My guess is that the low traffic in the southern Indian Ocean was deemed not to warrant the investment.
I have never had much luck with service from a frequency rated at less than 85. Last night it took me an hour to find a useable service from frequencies rated at 95 and when I did get connected the transmission rate was 200 bytes (characters) a minute. Last night's blog and a short position report took over 12 minutes to get out, with many retries. Because of the slow transmission rates I have not requested a grib file or spot forecast for over 10 days and have relied on SAMMNet for my weather.
The point is that we are sailing into long section of this passage that will present difficulties with Sailmail. I'll keep writing the daily blogs and try hard to get them out but no blogs should not be a cause of concern.. With the vagaries of radio propagation there are bound to be successes at times, and hopefully I'll be able to clear the backlog periodically. If too many days pass with no Sailmail then I'll ask Graham to email a message to Brenda for the blog stating that all is well.
The day's noon numbers were good:
POS 39S39, 56E51
NND 139 nm
DMG 1884 nm
DTG 2909 nm
The noon-noon distance was very pleasing, to say the least. It was not achieved by running hard before a strong wind and rough sea but through 10-20 kt winds on the beam, sometimes a bit forward, and sometimes a bit aft; and all for the last 3 days with headsail only. We were 2900 miles from home and 479 miles from the midpoint of the passage.
----------
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I have receive more information on Jeanne Socrates' equipment problems aboard Nereida and she appears to be having a difficult time of it. Apparently she found herself in 6 meter seas, which damaged her radar mast that also supports her GPS antennas, and the whole thing is loose. Her wind charger has been knocked out and she needs it urgently enough to have asked the Round the World committee for permission to stop in Tasmania for repairs at anchor on the basis that parts be handed to her and she does the rest. There is a question of how she will be able to manage a dead lift of a new wind charger into position overhead. On Pachuca I have worked that out. I put a folded up wool blanket on the starboard solar panel, lift the charger with no blades from the cockpit seat up to the solar panel, then drag the blanket to the stern near the mounting pole. From there it is a short lift to the pole. However, even this needs a certain amount of physical strength. On this boat if I had lifting problems, desperation would drive me to find a way of using the topping lift to do the hoisting. As for radar poles, I've never liked them and see them as a cop out from taking the trouble and expense of mounting the radome on the mast where it belongs because there it is higher and safer. On the bright side, Jeanne's got good communications and support, is personally safe, and I'm sure that she will complete the circumnavigation OK.
I finished entering the positions in my written log as waypoints in OpenCPN. Unfortunately I was remiss in not beginning my entries until 14 Dec 2011, as I was approaching Cape Horn. Nevertheless the result is good. At a glance one can see where the boat was on each day of the various passages. I have backed the waypoint to a flash drive. From Fremantle I will email the small (1kb)waypoint file to Arnold so that he can load it into his copy of OpenCPN and to anyone else who may be interested. (OpenCPN can be downloaded for free.)
I visited the foredeck for the first time in 2 days. I put another strap at the forward end of the mainsail to tidy up a loose bit that annoyed me. The shock cord at the front end of the whisker pole had come loose again. I re tied it with a triple knot then tied a couple of loops of thin rope between the beak of the pole and the pulpit. All else looked OK. I'm expecting strong winds tomorrow and everything on that deck must be in order.
Sailmail provides a "propagation" tool which has proven to be a good guide of the usefulness of the frequencies of any station selected, based on the position of the boat and the distance and direction to the station. It presents a matrix with a row for each frequency of the station an a column for every hour of the day. Hopeless frequencies are in red, marginal frequencies are in amber, and feasible frequencies are in green. In addition to a color, each square has a number from 1 to 100, 100 being the best. Today I used this tool to investigate the prospects for Sailmail service as we progress further away from S Africa and they are not good. At 067E, the midpoint of this passage, the best cells rate in the 80's there is a 92 and a 93. At 080E the best rating is 71. At 090E the best rating is 62. At 100E the top rating is 64.
But at 0100E we will be getting close to Australia with its Sailmail station on the east coast and there will be a top rating of 90. At 110E I will be practically home (which is at 115E) and the top rating is 91. Stepping back toward mid passage, at 090E the top rating is 77 and at 080E the top rating is 65. S. Africa and Australia are the only two choices I have, and unfortunately for me the Australian station is on the east coast, no doubt to provide good coverage of the Tasman Sea and to the north. There should be another Sailmail station on the west coast of Australia, just as the Australian government has done for its long range marine service. My guess is that the low traffic in the southern Indian Ocean was deemed not to warrant the investment.
I have never had much luck with service from a frequency rated at less than 85. Last night it took me an hour to find a useable service from frequencies rated at 95 and when I did get connected the transmission rate was 200 bytes (characters) a minute. Last night's blog and a short position report took over 12 minutes to get out, with many retries. Because of the slow transmission rates I have not requested a grib file or spot forecast for over 10 days and have relied on SAMMNet for my weather.
The point is that we are sailing into long section of this passage that will present difficulties with Sailmail. I'll keep writing the daily blogs and try hard to get them out but no blogs should not be a cause of concern.. With the vagaries of radio propagation there are bound to be successes at times, and hopefully I'll be able to clear the backlog periodically. If too many days pass with no Sailmail then I'll ask Graham to email a message to Brenda for the blog stating that all is well.
The day's noon numbers were good:
POS 39S39, 56E51
NND 139 nm
DMG 1884 nm
DTG 2909 nm
The noon-noon distance was very pleasing, to say the least. It was not achieved by running hard before a strong wind and rough sea but through 10-20 kt winds on the beam, sometimes a bit forward, and sometimes a bit aft; and all for the last 3 days with headsail only. We were 2900 miles from home and 479 miles from the midpoint of the passage.
----------
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Thursday, March 28, 2013
Day 22, March 28 -Thriving Seabird Life
I woke up at 10.30 to find the boat moving well at close to 6 kts. We had been averaging over 5.5 kts since the noon marker. Earlier I had tweaked the Monitor airvane to take us further north an we were within a mile of 40S, about to cross into the 39's. The moon was nearly full and the visibility outside was very good.
I looked at the projected path of the high providing these winds and it was moving from a position 42S, 42E today at noon to 41S, 50E on Friday noon, at a rate of about 4 degrees of longitude per day. We were now at 52E30 and moving at about 2.2 degrees of longitude per day, which would put us close to 56E on Friday noon. So the high was gaining on us but we would still manage to stay ahead of it for a few days, and I wanted to milk it for all it was worth. These were rough calculations based on forecasts but they did provide a guide.
I tweaked the airvane to arrest the drift to the north because with the high slightly below us I wanted to avoid being so far north of its center that I would get SE winds. I then had an apple and returned to bed.
I woke up at 0530 to find the boat moving to the NE and we were now at 39S51, so I altered course a bit to the south. During the night I had woken 3 or 4 times to check the boat, scan the horizon, and do a few sweeps with the radar, and all was always clear. It was Sam who contacted me from ZS1SAM and he came in very scratchy but I manage to get a short weather forecast relayed to him by Graham. As usual, he could hear me better than I could hear him. My transmitter seems to be putting out more power than before Mexico and I attribute it to following Jim Putt's advice to keep the antenna cable out of contact with the backstay using spacers, and that Dynaplate ground shoe that I had installed in Mexico.
I set a marker at 40S and mid way between the longitudes of Cape Town and Fremantle, so my calculated way point was at 40S, 067E12. I was 635 miles from the midpoint.
At 8 AM I started the engine in order to charge the batteries. It had been 3 days since the last run and the house bank was down to 12.2V. The wind charger had contributed greatly to the power supply but it could not do it alone without help of the solar panels idle under the cloudy skies. We had a bit of wind and were moving at 4.5 kts so I tried running the engine at 1000 rpm instead of the usual 1500 rpm and was delighted to see that 58 amps were going into the batteries, only 10 amps or so lower than what I expected at 1500 rpm. At 1000 rpm the engine could consume as little as 1 liter of diesel per hour.
For weeks I've been meaning to comment on the seabird life in this passage. Let me say up front that since passing the Agulhas bank I have seen by far the best seabird life ever in a blue water passage, with the exception of the short segment from Drake Passage and up the east side of Staten Island. Bird lovers can rest assured that seabird life is thriving in the southern Indian ocean. There are always seabirds around the boat. On the second day of my iceberg vigil a few days ago I was up and topside at the crack of dawn and estimated that there were between 100 and 200 seabirds around the boat - big ones, little one, brown ones, white ones, etc. Sometimes the boat seems to be in the middle of a carnival of birds, with them zooming around all over the place with amazing speed, energy, and zest. I have to work hard at reliably identifying birds, but here is a short list of ones that I am sure of. There is the White Capped Albatross, which I should have identified as albatrosses by the majestic and effortless way in which they glide. There are plenty of Little Shearwaters that are a delight to watch as they dart around by making instant rolls to the left and right. There are Great Winged Petrels and the most numerous, the White Chinned Petrels. The White Chinned Petrels are ALWAYS around the boat, even at night. They seem to be curious, adventurous, and totally fearless. Many times I have sailed within feet of one resting quietly in the water without it showing the slightest concern over this gigantic hull approaching. The bird numbers I get in the early morning and late day are greatly bolstered by tiny little birds that dart around at wave top level. I haven't been able to get a good enough look at one to attempt an identification, but a candidate would have to be the Southern Storm Petrel, and in particular the Black-Bellied Storm Petrel.
I may be experiencing one of the benefits of sailing above 40S. The temperature is noticeably warmer and the butter is no longer rock hard.
Graham gave me a promising wind forecast through to Sunday. I can expect mainly southerly winds at 10-15 kts for the rest of today and all of tomorrow. If the wind does not drop below 10 kts I should be able to keep the boat moving and continue making steady progress. The day after tomorrow, Saturday, I can expect the effects of an advancing cold front that late in the day will give me NW winds up to 25 kts. At 6 AM on Sunday I can expect WNW winds 20-25. I am very pleased. My fears of laying becalmed for a day or two in the middle of that advancing high have been put to rest.
At noon our numbers were as follows:
POS 39S44, 53E52
NND 125
DMG 1742
DTG 3051
We were 616 miles from the mid point of the passage.
As darkness approached we were making a modest 4.5 kts against a moderate SE wind, but at least we were moving. At least I could enjoy a quiet and comfortable night in the boat.
----------
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I looked at the projected path of the high providing these winds and it was moving from a position 42S, 42E today at noon to 41S, 50E on Friday noon, at a rate of about 4 degrees of longitude per day. We were now at 52E30 and moving at about 2.2 degrees of longitude per day, which would put us close to 56E on Friday noon. So the high was gaining on us but we would still manage to stay ahead of it for a few days, and I wanted to milk it for all it was worth. These were rough calculations based on forecasts but they did provide a guide.
I tweaked the airvane to arrest the drift to the north because with the high slightly below us I wanted to avoid being so far north of its center that I would get SE winds. I then had an apple and returned to bed.
I woke up at 0530 to find the boat moving to the NE and we were now at 39S51, so I altered course a bit to the south. During the night I had woken 3 or 4 times to check the boat, scan the horizon, and do a few sweeps with the radar, and all was always clear. It was Sam who contacted me from ZS1SAM and he came in very scratchy but I manage to get a short weather forecast relayed to him by Graham. As usual, he could hear me better than I could hear him. My transmitter seems to be putting out more power than before Mexico and I attribute it to following Jim Putt's advice to keep the antenna cable out of contact with the backstay using spacers, and that Dynaplate ground shoe that I had installed in Mexico.
I set a marker at 40S and mid way between the longitudes of Cape Town and Fremantle, so my calculated way point was at 40S, 067E12. I was 635 miles from the midpoint.
At 8 AM I started the engine in order to charge the batteries. It had been 3 days since the last run and the house bank was down to 12.2V. The wind charger had contributed greatly to the power supply but it could not do it alone without help of the solar panels idle under the cloudy skies. We had a bit of wind and were moving at 4.5 kts so I tried running the engine at 1000 rpm instead of the usual 1500 rpm and was delighted to see that 58 amps were going into the batteries, only 10 amps or so lower than what I expected at 1500 rpm. At 1000 rpm the engine could consume as little as 1 liter of diesel per hour.
For weeks I've been meaning to comment on the seabird life in this passage. Let me say up front that since passing the Agulhas bank I have seen by far the best seabird life ever in a blue water passage, with the exception of the short segment from Drake Passage and up the east side of Staten Island. Bird lovers can rest assured that seabird life is thriving in the southern Indian ocean. There are always seabirds around the boat. On the second day of my iceberg vigil a few days ago I was up and topside at the crack of dawn and estimated that there were between 100 and 200 seabirds around the boat - big ones, little one, brown ones, white ones, etc. Sometimes the boat seems to be in the middle of a carnival of birds, with them zooming around all over the place with amazing speed, energy, and zest. I have to work hard at reliably identifying birds, but here is a short list of ones that I am sure of. There is the White Capped Albatross, which I should have identified as albatrosses by the majestic and effortless way in which they glide. There are plenty of Little Shearwaters that are a delight to watch as they dart around by making instant rolls to the left and right. There are Great Winged Petrels and the most numerous, the White Chinned Petrels. The White Chinned Petrels are ALWAYS around the boat, even at night. They seem to be curious, adventurous, and totally fearless. Many times I have sailed within feet of one resting quietly in the water without it showing the slightest concern over this gigantic hull approaching. The bird numbers I get in the early morning and late day are greatly bolstered by tiny little birds that dart around at wave top level. I haven't been able to get a good enough look at one to attempt an identification, but a candidate would have to be the Southern Storm Petrel, and in particular the Black-Bellied Storm Petrel.
I may be experiencing one of the benefits of sailing above 40S. The temperature is noticeably warmer and the butter is no longer rock hard.
Graham gave me a promising wind forecast through to Sunday. I can expect mainly southerly winds at 10-15 kts for the rest of today and all of tomorrow. If the wind does not drop below 10 kts I should be able to keep the boat moving and continue making steady progress. The day after tomorrow, Saturday, I can expect the effects of an advancing cold front that late in the day will give me NW winds up to 25 kts. At 6 AM on Sunday I can expect WNW winds 20-25. I am very pleased. My fears of laying becalmed for a day or two in the middle of that advancing high have been put to rest.
At noon our numbers were as follows:
POS 39S44, 53E52
NND 125
DMG 1742
DTG 3051
We were 616 miles from the mid point of the passage.
As darkness approached we were making a modest 4.5 kts against a moderate SE wind, but at least we were moving. At least I could enjoy a quiet and comfortable night in the boat.
----------
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Wednesday, March 27, 2013
Day 21, 27 March
I woke up at 2300 to find us at 40S18, only 18 miles south of my target latitude of 40S. I altered course 50 degrees to set us on a heading of ENE which to me marked the end of the iceberg detour and put us back on track to Fremantle. Two days had been lost but there had been no damage and (knock on wood) all boat systems were functioning well. The sea had calmed down greatly and there was no problem in taking the waves on the side so I also rolled out some headsail to pick up the pace from 4.5 to 5.5 kts. We were sailing under a fairly clear sky and almost full moon, so visibility was very good. The past day had been one of one rain squall after the other and I was hoping that the coming day would be more pleasant. There always seemed to be a medium sized dark bird flying behind the boat from one side to the other whenever I visited the cockpit at night.
I did a few sweeps with the radar and found no targets. Then I tried the HF radio and got good reception from BBC. I learned that Google has objected to the Swedes putting the word "ungoogleable" in their dictionary. I then heard the news for the first time since leaving Cape Town. Now that I had made the course alteration I turned off the 0200 crack-of-dawn alarm and returned to bed with the 0600 alarm still on.
I woke up in daylight at 0300 to find the boat making over 6 kts just lightly to the north of east on a beam reach off a 20 kt wind from the south. I wanted to hoist the staysail to share the load with the headsail but that would have to wait until after coffee. The forecast called for this southerly wind to continue at least through midnight and I was looking forward to some good progress. I was getting the southerly from the leading side of a High advancing from the west - the same benefactor that had helped me escape from the icebergs. The day was overcast but the barometer had risen another 4 points to 1026.
I brought up the staysail OK but it was a much messier operation that it should have been. I had to visit the foredeck 5 times, once along the lee rail. The final problem was revealed when the staysail was up and I brought in the sheet. I pulled and pulled until I had the sail end of the sheet in my hand. Somehow the bowline knot had failed, something that happens very rarely. Perhaps heavy flogging had loosened it. I inched my way forward along the lee rail feeding the line through two blocks then pulling the tack of the half lowered sail out of the water and tying the sheet back on the tack with an extra long tail on the bowline. Very messy.
I am a bit short of cockpit winches when flying both headsails on a starboard tack. The forward winch is dedicated to the headsail and I use the aft (spinnaker) winch as a turning block for the roller furling line. I never use a winch to roll in the sail (If you can't roll it by hand then there is too much pressure on the sail.) but I need to pass the furling line around that winch to give me a good angle for pulling the line in. There is a pair of large cheek blocks on the outside of the coaming on both sides of the boat. The inner ones are for turning the headsail sheets forward to the respective winches. I used the outer one to turn the staysail sheet forward to the cabin winch. Other than presenting a tripping hazard when stepping onto the side deck the arrangement worked very well. There is no problem on a port tack. I feed the starboard staysail sheet directly from the aft track block directly to the spinnaker winch.
At the early SAMMNet session Graham gave me a forecast of southerly winds (SE to SW) of 10-15 kts for the next 2 days. He told me that he did not see any threatening weather coming my way. He will take an Easter break from the 29th until Tuesday 2 April. He told me that normally he does not take breaks when he has boats in the Southern Ocean but that his wife had threatened him with divorce. I agreed and supported him completely. No iceberg can match the wrath of an irate woman. I expected to go it alone over Easter but Sam will be attending to me in place of Graham. The dedication of these men does not cease to amaze me. I will attempt to send a generous donation to the SAMMNet equipment fund from Fremantle.
With the expected winds on the light side from the beam the 6 and 7 kt sailing was over for a while. I would be happy to get 5 kts, and I would settle for 4 kts. But I could use a few quiet days after the recent days of fast sailing in strong winds.
Then I attended to the sail plan. The leech of the headsail had been fluttering too much to my liking, and with the prospects of moderate winds there was nothing to be gained by using the staysail, which is really for heavy weather. I dropped the staysail and rolled out the headsail to no. 1 jib size and there was an immediate improvement in our speed, pointing ability, and the behavior of the sail. From now on I will not consider using the staysail in winds of less that 20 kts.
I was still taking frequent peeks for icebergs with my eyes and the radar.
At the lunch session I was able to communicate with Sam on his rig which made everyone happy because it assured us that he would be able to support me during Graham's absence. I took the opportunity to thank Sam. I asked Graham at what latitude Jeanne Socrates had sailed through these waters and he replied that she sailed between 43S and 44S. Jeanne went through about a month or 5 weeks ahead of me and she either got past before the ice arrived or she was one lucky girl. Graham told me that Jeanne is underneath Australia now and she is now getting her weather and support from there.
The noon numbers were:
POS 40S06, 51E12
NND 112 nm
DMG 1618 nm
DTG 3175 nm
We were now passing the Crozet Islands, 370 miles to the south.
I cleaned the icebox and refrigerator compartments. Sea water from the companionway had found its way in an water was sloshing in the bottom. I've still got plenty of garlic, onions and potatoes, though some of the potatoes are going soft. There is one large sweet potato which will probably go into the next stew, and the mango is ready to be eaten. On the refrigerator side there is still yogurt, apples, tomatoes, enough carrots for another stew, and butter. The grapefruit had ice around it so I transferred it to the icebox. I have just opened a loaf of bread and there are two loaves remaining in the refrigerator. At these temperatures the yogurt is the only reason for running the refrigerator.
As darkness approached we were making satisfactory progress to the east
----------
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I did a few sweeps with the radar and found no targets. Then I tried the HF radio and got good reception from BBC. I learned that Google has objected to the Swedes putting the word "ungoogleable" in their dictionary. I then heard the news for the first time since leaving Cape Town. Now that I had made the course alteration I turned off the 0200 crack-of-dawn alarm and returned to bed with the 0600 alarm still on.
I woke up in daylight at 0300 to find the boat making over 6 kts just lightly to the north of east on a beam reach off a 20 kt wind from the south. I wanted to hoist the staysail to share the load with the headsail but that would have to wait until after coffee. The forecast called for this southerly wind to continue at least through midnight and I was looking forward to some good progress. I was getting the southerly from the leading side of a High advancing from the west - the same benefactor that had helped me escape from the icebergs. The day was overcast but the barometer had risen another 4 points to 1026.
I brought up the staysail OK but it was a much messier operation that it should have been. I had to visit the foredeck 5 times, once along the lee rail. The final problem was revealed when the staysail was up and I brought in the sheet. I pulled and pulled until I had the sail end of the sheet in my hand. Somehow the bowline knot had failed, something that happens very rarely. Perhaps heavy flogging had loosened it. I inched my way forward along the lee rail feeding the line through two blocks then pulling the tack of the half lowered sail out of the water and tying the sheet back on the tack with an extra long tail on the bowline. Very messy.
I am a bit short of cockpit winches when flying both headsails on a starboard tack. The forward winch is dedicated to the headsail and I use the aft (spinnaker) winch as a turning block for the roller furling line. I never use a winch to roll in the sail (If you can't roll it by hand then there is too much pressure on the sail.) but I need to pass the furling line around that winch to give me a good angle for pulling the line in. There is a pair of large cheek blocks on the outside of the coaming on both sides of the boat. The inner ones are for turning the headsail sheets forward to the respective winches. I used the outer one to turn the staysail sheet forward to the cabin winch. Other than presenting a tripping hazard when stepping onto the side deck the arrangement worked very well. There is no problem on a port tack. I feed the starboard staysail sheet directly from the aft track block directly to the spinnaker winch.
At the early SAMMNet session Graham gave me a forecast of southerly winds (SE to SW) of 10-15 kts for the next 2 days. He told me that he did not see any threatening weather coming my way. He will take an Easter break from the 29th until Tuesday 2 April. He told me that normally he does not take breaks when he has boats in the Southern Ocean but that his wife had threatened him with divorce. I agreed and supported him completely. No iceberg can match the wrath of an irate woman. I expected to go it alone over Easter but Sam will be attending to me in place of Graham. The dedication of these men does not cease to amaze me. I will attempt to send a generous donation to the SAMMNet equipment fund from Fremantle.
With the expected winds on the light side from the beam the 6 and 7 kt sailing was over for a while. I would be happy to get 5 kts, and I would settle for 4 kts. But I could use a few quiet days after the recent days of fast sailing in strong winds.
Then I attended to the sail plan. The leech of the headsail had been fluttering too much to my liking, and with the prospects of moderate winds there was nothing to be gained by using the staysail, which is really for heavy weather. I dropped the staysail and rolled out the headsail to no. 1 jib size and there was an immediate improvement in our speed, pointing ability, and the behavior of the sail. From now on I will not consider using the staysail in winds of less that 20 kts.
I was still taking frequent peeks for icebergs with my eyes and the radar.
At the lunch session I was able to communicate with Sam on his rig which made everyone happy because it assured us that he would be able to support me during Graham's absence. I took the opportunity to thank Sam. I asked Graham at what latitude Jeanne Socrates had sailed through these waters and he replied that she sailed between 43S and 44S. Jeanne went through about a month or 5 weeks ahead of me and she either got past before the ice arrived or she was one lucky girl. Graham told me that Jeanne is underneath Australia now and she is now getting her weather and support from there.
The noon numbers were:
POS 40S06, 51E12
NND 112 nm
DMG 1618 nm
DTG 3175 nm
We were now passing the Crozet Islands, 370 miles to the south.
I cleaned the icebox and refrigerator compartments. Sea water from the companionway had found its way in an water was sloshing in the bottom. I've still got plenty of garlic, onions and potatoes, though some of the potatoes are going soft. There is one large sweet potato which will probably go into the next stew, and the mango is ready to be eaten. On the refrigerator side there is still yogurt, apples, tomatoes, enough carrots for another stew, and butter. The grapefruit had ice around it so I transferred it to the icebox. I have just opened a loaf of bread and there are two loaves remaining in the refrigerator. At these temperatures the yogurt is the only reason for running the refrigerator.
As darkness approached we were making satisfactory progress to the east
----------
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Tuesday, March 26, 2013
Day 20, March 26 - Back to Normal
The Sailmail service has been getting steadily weaker over the last week. Last night I managed to get the blog out with great difficulty but after repeated tries on various frequencies over the optimal span of 2 hours I was unable to receive 3 messages that were waiting for me. Fortunately Sailmail sends out messages in the outbox before receiving messages, and fortunately I seem to have a good strong transmitter which outperforms my reception. It is likely that the service will improve as I move to the east an am able to use higher frequencies. In the meantime, good folks, much as I enjoy reading incoming messages, please hold them to a minimum until the situation improves.
I got through the night OK hove to. I got up a couple of times an looked around in the moonlight and saw no problem. At dawn the wind was still at 25 kts and I saw that we had drifted 19 miles to the north to 41S51. That represents a surprising 3 kts of leeway, even though whenever I looked over the side of the boat it did not appear to be moving. The current must have been one component of this drift, and it would also be affecting ice.
At 3 AM, one hour after dawn, I faced the task of bringing down the mainsail. The wind was at 25 kts from the SW and the seas were huge. I used the engine to get just enough steerage to put us almost directly into the seas that must have been at least 4 meters high. I then let fly the main halyard and raced forward to bring the sail down. The operation had its moments but 30 minutes later we were sailing downwind with the jib pulled out to about a size 3, making close to kts. By then I had tied the boom off to the cockpit frame and put four strap around the sail and boom.
I have been spending most of my time in full battle dress except the life harness with the main hatch half open and me standing so that I can look out for ice. That is a tricky task in these huge seas, and I really don't know how a lump of low flat ice will stand out against the big white caps appearing all over the place. All I can do is look for any anomalies in the pattern of the sea.
At 10 AM I reduced sail and slowed the boat. I had been sailing aggressively all day, making 6.5-7.5 kts, hitting 8 kts during squalls. But it had been a wild ride with the boat thrown from pillar to post by the big seas. Now we were only 3 miles short of 41S and with the prospect of continuing SSW winds into the following day I saw no urgency to rush. I had been on watch almost continuously all day keeping a sharp eye for evidence of ice but saw none. Spot checks with radar had revealed nothing.
At 1130 we crossed latitude 41S and were now in the 40's! Soon after that I gybed the boat. All day long we had been on a port tack headed 10 degrees or so west of north. The wind had backed another 20 degrees in the last few hours giving us a heading of 330. The gybe gave us a course of 020, still to the north, but biased toward Australia. The reduced sail had made the gybe a very easy and gentle one and now we were making 6 kts off of a 20 kt wind. The sea was calming down, and so was I. All very satisfactory.
Our noon numbers were:
POS 40S56, 49E02
NND 99 nm
DMG 1521
DTG 3268
After the last 24 hours we were closer to Cape Town and 18 miles farther away from Fremantle. (Small price to pay for safety.)
At sunset I did one last scan of the horizon, did last probe with the radar, then closed myself in the cabin for a normal night of sailing. Thanks to a wonderful SW wind I had managed to put 2.5 degrees, or 126 miles, between the boat and the two icebergs. I had spent the last two sailing days almost continually at the spray dodger scanning the horizon for any sign that might indicate ice and saw nothing. We were now at 40S46, in the northern half of the band representing the sailing route suggested by "Ocean Passages".
I had been thinking during the day what approach I would take once we were in the vicinity of 40S and rightly or wrongly I have taken the view that the iceberg encounters were 'over there' and I have left them behind. The 40's latitude will have to stand on its own. Ice was always a risk even at this latitude, but from what I've read, the risk is much lower at 40S than 43S. To get beyond the historical limit of sightings of ice I would have to go above 35S, totally unthinkable if I want to reach Australia in reasonable time. It is all about risk, as it was in Drake Passage and the sail to the east side of the Falklands. (Fortunately I never saw ice in those regions.) So as far as I'm concerned, I'm back to normal sailing.
We went into the night doing a modest 5 kts to NNW off a wind much weaker than the forecast 25 kts. I would maintain this course until reaching the vicinity of 40S then head east as best as I could.
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I got through the night OK hove to. I got up a couple of times an looked around in the moonlight and saw no problem. At dawn the wind was still at 25 kts and I saw that we had drifted 19 miles to the north to 41S51. That represents a surprising 3 kts of leeway, even though whenever I looked over the side of the boat it did not appear to be moving. The current must have been one component of this drift, and it would also be affecting ice.
At 3 AM, one hour after dawn, I faced the task of bringing down the mainsail. The wind was at 25 kts from the SW and the seas were huge. I used the engine to get just enough steerage to put us almost directly into the seas that must have been at least 4 meters high. I then let fly the main halyard and raced forward to bring the sail down. The operation had its moments but 30 minutes later we were sailing downwind with the jib pulled out to about a size 3, making close to kts. By then I had tied the boom off to the cockpit frame and put four strap around the sail and boom.
I have been spending most of my time in full battle dress except the life harness with the main hatch half open and me standing so that I can look out for ice. That is a tricky task in these huge seas, and I really don't know how a lump of low flat ice will stand out against the big white caps appearing all over the place. All I can do is look for any anomalies in the pattern of the sea.
At 10 AM I reduced sail and slowed the boat. I had been sailing aggressively all day, making 6.5-7.5 kts, hitting 8 kts during squalls. But it had been a wild ride with the boat thrown from pillar to post by the big seas. Now we were only 3 miles short of 41S and with the prospect of continuing SSW winds into the following day I saw no urgency to rush. I had been on watch almost continuously all day keeping a sharp eye for evidence of ice but saw none. Spot checks with radar had revealed nothing.
At 1130 we crossed latitude 41S and were now in the 40's! Soon after that I gybed the boat. All day long we had been on a port tack headed 10 degrees or so west of north. The wind had backed another 20 degrees in the last few hours giving us a heading of 330. The gybe gave us a course of 020, still to the north, but biased toward Australia. The reduced sail had made the gybe a very easy and gentle one and now we were making 6 kts off of a 20 kt wind. The sea was calming down, and so was I. All very satisfactory.
Our noon numbers were:
POS 40S56, 49E02
NND 99 nm
DMG 1521
DTG 3268
After the last 24 hours we were closer to Cape Town and 18 miles farther away from Fremantle. (Small price to pay for safety.)
At sunset I did one last scan of the horizon, did last probe with the radar, then closed myself in the cabin for a normal night of sailing. Thanks to a wonderful SW wind I had managed to put 2.5 degrees, or 126 miles, between the boat and the two icebergs. I had spent the last two sailing days almost continually at the spray dodger scanning the horizon for any sign that might indicate ice and saw nothing. We were now at 40S46, in the northern half of the band representing the sailing route suggested by "Ocean Passages".
I had been thinking during the day what approach I would take once we were in the vicinity of 40S and rightly or wrongly I have taken the view that the iceberg encounters were 'over there' and I have left them behind. The 40's latitude will have to stand on its own. Ice was always a risk even at this latitude, but from what I've read, the risk is much lower at 40S than 43S. To get beyond the historical limit of sightings of ice I would have to go above 35S, totally unthinkable if I want to reach Australia in reasonable time. It is all about risk, as it was in Drake Passage and the sail to the east side of the Falklands. (Fortunately I never saw ice in those regions.) So as far as I'm concerned, I'm back to normal sailing.
We went into the night doing a modest 5 kts to NNW off a wind much weaker than the forecast 25 kts. I would maintain this course until reaching the vicinity of 40S then head east as best as I could.
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Monday, March 25, 2013
Day 19, March 25 - More Ice and Change of Plan
The comet turned out to be a spectacular sight. With the binoculars I could see green light above it. It was under the constellation Orion and slowly disappeared below the NW horizon.
Right on cue the wind dropped to insignificance just before 1800 and I ran the engine for two hour just as I had planned. When I stopped the engine the sea was dead calm and the masthead unit was reporting less than 1 kt of wind. By then we were 18 miles NE of the iceberg so I hit the sack with the alarm set to wake me up at midnight, when the wind was due.
I woke up at midnight and then at 2 AM to find that the forecast wind had not appeared. I woke again at 6 AM for the early session with Graham to find a weak wind of 9 kts from the north, possibly enough to keep the sail full in the calm sea.
My prospects for wind are very good for at least 2 days beginning at around noon today, all thanks to a powerful high to the north and to west of me that is working its way toward the east.
I told Graham that I projected my track of yesterday before I altered course from E to the NE to avoid the iceberg, and I would have passed 0.7 miles to its north. However, because it too was too was moving, in the 3 hours that it would have taken me to reach it at the slow speed I was making, it would have drifted NE 1.2 miles. That would have put the iceberg perilously close to my track. I have been blessed with a strong heart but I wonder how it would have held up had I stuck my head out into the cockpit to do something and seen a mass of ice gliding quietly next to the boat. Graham told me that the weather service monitors ice from satellites and was reporting nothing in the area, and that they will look for the iceberg from space, probably from a NOAA satellite. A few minutes later I saw the iceberg off my port quarter with the naked eye no doubt because the weather was clear and the rising sun was at a good angle. Through binoculars I recognized its shape, so there was no doubt in my mind that it was the same one. Radar was not picking it up. I had last seen it on radar at 18.5 miles away. This morning it was perhaps 20 miles away. From yesterday's experience I think that I can rely on detecting an iceberg of that size at 15 miles.
The batteries were at a disappointing 12.6V this morning, even though I ran the engine a total of 3 hours yesterday. Much as I value the radar for safety, I must use it selectively, doing spot checks as circumstances dictate, rather than using it continuously. Regarding the guard zone that I set up, after shutting down the engine last night and starting to drift, the radar started picking up all sort of sea clutter that kept setting off the alarm. I know how to deal with sea clutter, and that will have to be another dimension of management of the radar when I have an active guard zone. Anyway, I'll run the engine for another hour today before the wind starts up.
After the engine run I rolled out the jib which got us moving at 3.3 kts to E from a weak northerly wind.
I am pleased to report that the chronic cough with which I sailed out of Cape Town has completely disappeared, even in this chilly and damp air. My lungs seem to thrive with sea air, bland food, and no booze.
It pays to keep a lookout. At 9 AM I spotted a broad sheet of ice off my port bow. It was low in the water, flat and smooth. The fact that I could see it told me that it could not be more that 5 or 6 miles away. The radar could not see it. There was no doubt in my mind that it was big enough to damage a boat making way. My heading would take me to the south of it but I expected the wind to back to the W so I altered course to leave it to starboard. Then I saw a line of clouds heading my way. I decided to raise the mainsail to gain speed and reduce the leeward drift of the boat which was not a bad idea but I made a big mistake in not rolling in most of the jib. The squall hit me and I had to let the mainsail drop while I frantically tried to roll in the jib. It was a hard effort, hard on me and hard on the sail and rigging. The flaying sheet kept striking the dodger window in it is only because the window is new and supple that it survived the impacts. I had allowed the ice downwind of me to cloud my judgment.
By then I had made the strategic decision to head north an get out of these dangerous waters. It was simply too risky to sail day after day with the ice threat. I decided to head north to above latitude 40S. Each mile to the north would decrease the risk and we should be safe above 40S. This would without a doubt affect my arrival date in Fremantle. Up to now, my primary objective had been speed, and although I had not said much about it, I figured that I had a good shot at making Fremantle before the end of April. But now my primary objective was safety, and the change in strategy would cost me probably more than a week - 2 or 3 days to get to 40S, and an unknown penalty for sailing close to the Indian Ocean high. But that didn't matter. What mattered was that regardless of what happened I would know that I had done my best for the safety of the boat and her crew.
I reported the situation to Graham at the lunch time session and he was very concerned - I could hear it in his voice, He said that he has never heard of ice at this latitude and that is has generally been in the 50-55S band. He agreed that my heading north is a good move and looking at the weather he didn't think that I'd lose much wind in the short term. I told Graham that until I got further north I would heave to at night and he agreed with that tactic. (He actually seemed relieved.) It will mean passing up the benefits of some wonderful winds in the next 2 days but so be it. In the meantime, the regime will be to scan the horizon every 20 minutes when sailing during the day. No more naps or reading or Spanish lessons for a while.
I spent most of the afternoon sitting at the companionway looking through the spray dodger windows. Because the dodger is new the windows are very clear and I could see very well. Nevertheless it got cold so I put on the heavy US Navy wool sweater, which made a total of 3 wool sweaters that I was wearing - 4, if you included the Icebreaker. I also wore gloves and of course my wool beanie. It was a good wind and we moved well, 6.5-7 kts slightly to the east of North. Unfortunately we got in only about 4 hours of sailing because nightfall is a 3PM UTC. Nevertheless we managed to make it to 42S20 before I was forced to stop sailing. I was sorely tempted to take a chance and sail all night, which would have put me at 41S before the coming noon, but that would have been irresponsible.
Heaving to went well. I put the boat into the wind and lashed the wheel, then went to the foredeck to pull down the madly flogging staysail. Being on my knees attending to the sail was a bit like riding a wild bronco, with the bow pitching and rolling with lots of water coming over the bow. But once the sail was down the boat settled down a bit and soon I was back in the cockpit attending to the Monitor (to restrain the water paddle from being slung from side to side all night), then to the mainsail.
The mainsail was easy to deal with: use the mainsheet to bring in the boom, then use the traveler to swing the boom as far to the weather (upwind) side as possible. Then it was time for the crucial assessment: the angle of the hull to the oncoming waves. I had feared that the 3rd reef would bring the center of force of the sail too far forward to force boat to point into the wind, but I need not have worried. The result was amazing. For the first time since I have owned the boat, after more that 4 years of sailing around the world, through too many gales and storms, for the first time ever, the boat was hove to properly, at an angle of 45 degrees or less to the oncoming waves.
The only fly in that ointment was that the wind surges were pushing the boat NNE at up to 3 kts at times, though normally it was well below 2.5 kts. This did not auger well for the possibility that there might be ice in my path but I didn't know what other measure that I could take other than to either deploy the parachute anchor (which brings on big complications) or use the engine to do some back tracking. No, I had done what I could and would hope for the best.
Once there was nothing left to do with the boat I went forward and found the "heaving to" bottle of rum. It had been a cold afternoon outside, the framework of my little world had been altered by the ice, and, well, we were hove to, which is why I had brought the rum.
I had high hopes for the coming day. Dawn would be at 0200 UTC, and I hoped to start sailing at about 0300. That would give me 12 hours of sailing in the daylight. At 0600 the wind was predicted to be at 25 kts from the SSW, and for noon it was a similar story. I would have to sail as much downwind as possible, so my plan was to drop the mainsail and set sail with the jib, which would pull us along all day. The Monitor likes this configuration because the boat is being pulled rather than pushed and is easier to steer. With luck I would make a full degree (60 minutes, which equals 60 miles) tomorrow, and perhaps even more. That would put me in the vicinity of 41S and make me much more comfortable about the perils of ice.
But for now the cabin was warm, dry, cozy, I was about to have a second snort of rum, and dinner and a movie were not far behind.
----------
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Right on cue the wind dropped to insignificance just before 1800 and I ran the engine for two hour just as I had planned. When I stopped the engine the sea was dead calm and the masthead unit was reporting less than 1 kt of wind. By then we were 18 miles NE of the iceberg so I hit the sack with the alarm set to wake me up at midnight, when the wind was due.
I woke up at midnight and then at 2 AM to find that the forecast wind had not appeared. I woke again at 6 AM for the early session with Graham to find a weak wind of 9 kts from the north, possibly enough to keep the sail full in the calm sea.
My prospects for wind are very good for at least 2 days beginning at around noon today, all thanks to a powerful high to the north and to west of me that is working its way toward the east.
I told Graham that I projected my track of yesterday before I altered course from E to the NE to avoid the iceberg, and I would have passed 0.7 miles to its north. However, because it too was too was moving, in the 3 hours that it would have taken me to reach it at the slow speed I was making, it would have drifted NE 1.2 miles. That would have put the iceberg perilously close to my track. I have been blessed with a strong heart but I wonder how it would have held up had I stuck my head out into the cockpit to do something and seen a mass of ice gliding quietly next to the boat. Graham told me that the weather service monitors ice from satellites and was reporting nothing in the area, and that they will look for the iceberg from space, probably from a NOAA satellite. A few minutes later I saw the iceberg off my port quarter with the naked eye no doubt because the weather was clear and the rising sun was at a good angle. Through binoculars I recognized its shape, so there was no doubt in my mind that it was the same one. Radar was not picking it up. I had last seen it on radar at 18.5 miles away. This morning it was perhaps 20 miles away. From yesterday's experience I think that I can rely on detecting an iceberg of that size at 15 miles.
The batteries were at a disappointing 12.6V this morning, even though I ran the engine a total of 3 hours yesterday. Much as I value the radar for safety, I must use it selectively, doing spot checks as circumstances dictate, rather than using it continuously. Regarding the guard zone that I set up, after shutting down the engine last night and starting to drift, the radar started picking up all sort of sea clutter that kept setting off the alarm. I know how to deal with sea clutter, and that will have to be another dimension of management of the radar when I have an active guard zone. Anyway, I'll run the engine for another hour today before the wind starts up.
After the engine run I rolled out the jib which got us moving at 3.3 kts to E from a weak northerly wind.
I am pleased to report that the chronic cough with which I sailed out of Cape Town has completely disappeared, even in this chilly and damp air. My lungs seem to thrive with sea air, bland food, and no booze.
It pays to keep a lookout. At 9 AM I spotted a broad sheet of ice off my port bow. It was low in the water, flat and smooth. The fact that I could see it told me that it could not be more that 5 or 6 miles away. The radar could not see it. There was no doubt in my mind that it was big enough to damage a boat making way. My heading would take me to the south of it but I expected the wind to back to the W so I altered course to leave it to starboard. Then I saw a line of clouds heading my way. I decided to raise the mainsail to gain speed and reduce the leeward drift of the boat which was not a bad idea but I made a big mistake in not rolling in most of the jib. The squall hit me and I had to let the mainsail drop while I frantically tried to roll in the jib. It was a hard effort, hard on me and hard on the sail and rigging. The flaying sheet kept striking the dodger window in it is only because the window is new and supple that it survived the impacts. I had allowed the ice downwind of me to cloud my judgment.
By then I had made the strategic decision to head north an get out of these dangerous waters. It was simply too risky to sail day after day with the ice threat. I decided to head north to above latitude 40S. Each mile to the north would decrease the risk and we should be safe above 40S. This would without a doubt affect my arrival date in Fremantle. Up to now, my primary objective had been speed, and although I had not said much about it, I figured that I had a good shot at making Fremantle before the end of April. But now my primary objective was safety, and the change in strategy would cost me probably more than a week - 2 or 3 days to get to 40S, and an unknown penalty for sailing close to the Indian Ocean high. But that didn't matter. What mattered was that regardless of what happened I would know that I had done my best for the safety of the boat and her crew.
I reported the situation to Graham at the lunch time session and he was very concerned - I could hear it in his voice, He said that he has never heard of ice at this latitude and that is has generally been in the 50-55S band. He agreed that my heading north is a good move and looking at the weather he didn't think that I'd lose much wind in the short term. I told Graham that until I got further north I would heave to at night and he agreed with that tactic. (He actually seemed relieved.) It will mean passing up the benefits of some wonderful winds in the next 2 days but so be it. In the meantime, the regime will be to scan the horizon every 20 minutes when sailing during the day. No more naps or reading or Spanish lessons for a while.
I spent most of the afternoon sitting at the companionway looking through the spray dodger windows. Because the dodger is new the windows are very clear and I could see very well. Nevertheless it got cold so I put on the heavy US Navy wool sweater, which made a total of 3 wool sweaters that I was wearing - 4, if you included the Icebreaker. I also wore gloves and of course my wool beanie. It was a good wind and we moved well, 6.5-7 kts slightly to the east of North. Unfortunately we got in only about 4 hours of sailing because nightfall is a 3PM UTC. Nevertheless we managed to make it to 42S20 before I was forced to stop sailing. I was sorely tempted to take a chance and sail all night, which would have put me at 41S before the coming noon, but that would have been irresponsible.
Heaving to went well. I put the boat into the wind and lashed the wheel, then went to the foredeck to pull down the madly flogging staysail. Being on my knees attending to the sail was a bit like riding a wild bronco, with the bow pitching and rolling with lots of water coming over the bow. But once the sail was down the boat settled down a bit and soon I was back in the cockpit attending to the Monitor (to restrain the water paddle from being slung from side to side all night), then to the mainsail.
The mainsail was easy to deal with: use the mainsheet to bring in the boom, then use the traveler to swing the boom as far to the weather (upwind) side as possible. Then it was time for the crucial assessment: the angle of the hull to the oncoming waves. I had feared that the 3rd reef would bring the center of force of the sail too far forward to force boat to point into the wind, but I need not have worried. The result was amazing. For the first time since I have owned the boat, after more that 4 years of sailing around the world, through too many gales and storms, for the first time ever, the boat was hove to properly, at an angle of 45 degrees or less to the oncoming waves.
The only fly in that ointment was that the wind surges were pushing the boat NNE at up to 3 kts at times, though normally it was well below 2.5 kts. This did not auger well for the possibility that there might be ice in my path but I didn't know what other measure that I could take other than to either deploy the parachute anchor (which brings on big complications) or use the engine to do some back tracking. No, I had done what I could and would hope for the best.
Once there was nothing left to do with the boat I went forward and found the "heaving to" bottle of rum. It had been a cold afternoon outside, the framework of my little world had been altered by the ice, and, well, we were hove to, which is why I had brought the rum.
I had high hopes for the coming day. Dawn would be at 0200 UTC, and I hoped to start sailing at about 0300. That would give me 12 hours of sailing in the daylight. At 0600 the wind was predicted to be at 25 kts from the SSW, and for noon it was a similar story. I would have to sail as much downwind as possible, so my plan was to drop the mainsail and set sail with the jib, which would pull us along all day. The Monitor likes this configuration because the boat is being pulled rather than pushed and is easier to steer. With luck I would make a full degree (60 minutes, which equals 60 miles) tomorrow, and perhaps even more. That would put me in the vicinity of 41S and make me much more comfortable about the perils of ice.
But for now the cabin was warm, dry, cozy, I was about to have a second snort of rum, and dinner and a movie were not far behind.
----------
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Sunday, March 24, 2013
Day 18, March 24 - Comet and Iceberg
At sunset I rolled in the headsail, which was out to a slightly bigger area than that of the staysail. The wind was touching 22 kts and the boat was surging to 7.5 kts and I thought it prudent to go into the night prepared for the possible 30 kt wind. However, down below although the boat was marvelously comfortable I saw that our boat speed had dropped to 5.2 kts, sometimes sagging to below 5 kts. After thinking about it I went topside and rolled out a sliver of headsail - about half of the area of the staysail. This took our boat speed to 6.5 kts and the boat was still riding fairly well. What I liked about the setup was that such little headsail would be easy to roll in without too much flogging if the wind piped up suddenly. From what I had just seen of the triple reefed mainsail and staysail configuration in 22 kts of wind on this point of sail I figured that I had a good chance of carrying that setup through 30 kt winds.
Just after dark I stuck my head out to throw away some food scraps and I saw the comet, off to the NW. It had to be the comet because of its size, brightness, and the aura to one side of it. I watched it for a few minutes then a cloud bank obscured it. The experience took me by surprise because the first half of the day had been foggy and the second half clearing but still quite cloudy, so looking at the sky was the last thing on my mind. It was by sheer luck that got a chance to see it. I'll look for the comet tomorrow, weather permitting. There is now a half moon too. It's great to be able to see the boat and the ocean at night. The first two weeks out of Cape Town were made more difficult because the nights were pitch black.
At 7 PM the wind was touching 25 kts and the boat speed was once again becoming excessive, particularly during the gusts when the rig would start to shudder. I rolled in the little amount of headsail there was and slowed the boat down to 6 kts. Before I did that I enjoyed for a few minutes the magnificent sight of the boat slicing through the rough sea at 7.5 kts.
By 8.30 PM the wind had not exceeded 22 or 23 knots and I conclude that I had been spared the heavy winds that had been predicted. I stopped the movie (Gettysberg) and hit the sack.
At 1 AM I was woken by the slamming boom. The cold front was passing over us (It must have been a weak one) and the wind had died right down. I then spent a sweaty 30 minutes bringing down the sails. We had made 84 miles since the last noon marker and I was hopeful of making the 100 mile mark before the coming noon.
I woke up for the 0630 session with Graham to find that a 10 kt wind ha sprung up from the S. After the session I set the boat sailing to the E at 5 kts under full headsail. The wind forecast for the next 24 hours was equivocal and Graham was hoping for more definite information for the lunch session.
I am having more success with two headed sailing. Subtle wind and course changes put us slightly into the wind against a 10 kt wind and as an experiment as much as anything else I hoisted the staysail inside of the fully extended genoa. Both sails are drawing well and I figure that I've gained a half a knot, seeing at times speeds of 6 kts. The mainsail is still down because the wind prediction is so uncertain. Each sailor has his own preference for rigs. My first choice would be a true cutter, and second a cutter rigged sloop like Pachuca.
At 0830 we were 100 miles from the last noon position and 3300 miles from Fremantle. (Yes!)
The day was crisp and cloudless so I went to the cockpit to enjoy the sunshine while I finished my coffee. As soon as I glanced forward I knew what it was, The big white form was perhaps 15 miles ahead and 20 degrees off my starboard bow. The binoculars confirmed that it was an iceberg. I altered course from E to NE in order to give it a wide berth and at 1030 it was 9.5 miles off my starboard beam and I started the engine because the wind had died down and the sails were flogging. I had planned an engine run during the expected lull in the wind, and now was as good a time as any. I switched on the radar and was happy to see that the iceberg returned a solid signal and was I able to fix its exact position. As the 1110 SAMMNet session approached the iceberg was 9 miles off the starboard beam and I tried to imagine the mast of a sailboat at that distance. From that, for what it was worth, I estimated the height of the iceberg to be 50-60 ft. I reported this to Graham who considered it big and hazardous. He issued an Securitay immediately and would pass the information on to the marine authorities. The iceberg had a flat top at a slight angle. The side that I could see was steep, with vertical channel-like ripples.
Here is the information on the iceberg for the record:
Time: 24 March 2013, 0930 UTC
Position: 43S13.7, 048E07.3
This encounter changed things for me. From now on I will have to switch on the radar every hour or so to see what is out there. I will also have to spend more time topside looking for smaller pieces of ice that may not show on radar.
I consider myself fortunate. Had last night's wind lasted another 2 hours I could have slammed into it, and had it not been a nice day which brought me topside I would have sailed very close to it. I was grateful and gave a little prayer of thanks.
The noon numbers were:
POS 43S06, 48E03
NND 112
DMG 1497
DTG 3289
I was very happy with the NND. I had kept the boat moving at 6.5-7 kts during the night while the wind lasted, and it had paid off.
I had shut the engine down for the session with Graham and had resumed sailing at 3 kts off a weak southerly. Much as I wanted to get away from our Antarctic friend, I preferred to use the wind as much as possible then use the engine when there was no wind.
I spent some time reviewing the procedure for launching the life raft. The raft is in front of the mast inside a stainless steel frame with a lid topped with teak planks, On top of that is the Zodiac inflatable, tied to the frame with ropes. The most important thing will be to go forward carrying a knife, and I've got one in the cockpit within easy reach. At the mast I'll cut the 5 ropes holding down the Zodiac then throw the Zodiac aside without damaging it because it could be inflated by a terrified man very quickly. With the Zodiac out of the way opening the lid to the frame is a simple matter. Then I have to release the straps holding the life raft canister to the deck by pulling on a snap lock. Now I lift the canister out of the frame and throw it into the water. Inside the life raft canister is 30 meters of painter (line) attached to the raft. The other end of the painter is attached to the deck. With the canister in the water I pull out all of the slack in the painter then give a good pull and the raft should then deploy out of the canister and inflate. The painter at the deck end is attached by a mechanism that will cut the line if the boat sinks more the 3 or 4 meters, but I would rely on my knife to sever the painter at the right time. Regardless of whether or not the life raft deploys I'll manually inflate the Zodiac if there is time. After reviewing the process in my head I put my passports into ziploc plastic bags then into the grab bag, which contains items that I've documented before, including a 406 mHz EPIRB and hand held VHF radio. There is also an EPIRB in the vest of my life jacket. Of course it was Mr. Frosty, now drifting 10 miles behind the boat, who inspired me to do all this.
I used the radar to get the position of the iceberg at 1430 to a tenth of a minute. It drifted exactly NW (045T) a distance of 2 miles in 5 hours, giving it a speed of 0.4 kt to the NE.
Just before dark I picked up the Raymarine manual and set up a radar guard zone. If any target is detected inside of a 90 degree arc ahead of me, within a distance of 1.5-20 miles ahead of me, I will get an alarm. It took me about 2 minutes to set this up. Nothing concentrates the mind like an iceberg. I've got to be careful about power consumption. It seems to me that at times when I am creeping along at 3 and 4 kts I should be able to get by with a few sweeps of the radar every 1.5 or 2 hours, but during high speed sailing, particularly during poor visibility or when I am sleeping, I can keep the radar up with the sector alarm.
I got a very good look at what I am sure is the comet. Just after sunset it was about 20 degrees above the horizon to the Northwest. It seemed bigger and brighter than any planet that I have seen.
----------
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Just after dark I stuck my head out to throw away some food scraps and I saw the comet, off to the NW. It had to be the comet because of its size, brightness, and the aura to one side of it. I watched it for a few minutes then a cloud bank obscured it. The experience took me by surprise because the first half of the day had been foggy and the second half clearing but still quite cloudy, so looking at the sky was the last thing on my mind. It was by sheer luck that got a chance to see it. I'll look for the comet tomorrow, weather permitting. There is now a half moon too. It's great to be able to see the boat and the ocean at night. The first two weeks out of Cape Town were made more difficult because the nights were pitch black.
At 7 PM the wind was touching 25 kts and the boat speed was once again becoming excessive, particularly during the gusts when the rig would start to shudder. I rolled in the little amount of headsail there was and slowed the boat down to 6 kts. Before I did that I enjoyed for a few minutes the magnificent sight of the boat slicing through the rough sea at 7.5 kts.
By 8.30 PM the wind had not exceeded 22 or 23 knots and I conclude that I had been spared the heavy winds that had been predicted. I stopped the movie (Gettysberg) and hit the sack.
At 1 AM I was woken by the slamming boom. The cold front was passing over us (It must have been a weak one) and the wind had died right down. I then spent a sweaty 30 minutes bringing down the sails. We had made 84 miles since the last noon marker and I was hopeful of making the 100 mile mark before the coming noon.
I woke up for the 0630 session with Graham to find that a 10 kt wind ha sprung up from the S. After the session I set the boat sailing to the E at 5 kts under full headsail. The wind forecast for the next 24 hours was equivocal and Graham was hoping for more definite information for the lunch session.
I am having more success with two headed sailing. Subtle wind and course changes put us slightly into the wind against a 10 kt wind and as an experiment as much as anything else I hoisted the staysail inside of the fully extended genoa. Both sails are drawing well and I figure that I've gained a half a knot, seeing at times speeds of 6 kts. The mainsail is still down because the wind prediction is so uncertain. Each sailor has his own preference for rigs. My first choice would be a true cutter, and second a cutter rigged sloop like Pachuca.
At 0830 we were 100 miles from the last noon position and 3300 miles from Fremantle. (Yes!)
The day was crisp and cloudless so I went to the cockpit to enjoy the sunshine while I finished my coffee. As soon as I glanced forward I knew what it was, The big white form was perhaps 15 miles ahead and 20 degrees off my starboard bow. The binoculars confirmed that it was an iceberg. I altered course from E to NE in order to give it a wide berth and at 1030 it was 9.5 miles off my starboard beam and I started the engine because the wind had died down and the sails were flogging. I had planned an engine run during the expected lull in the wind, and now was as good a time as any. I switched on the radar and was happy to see that the iceberg returned a solid signal and was I able to fix its exact position. As the 1110 SAMMNet session approached the iceberg was 9 miles off the starboard beam and I tried to imagine the mast of a sailboat at that distance. From that, for what it was worth, I estimated the height of the iceberg to be 50-60 ft. I reported this to Graham who considered it big and hazardous. He issued an Securitay immediately and would pass the information on to the marine authorities. The iceberg had a flat top at a slight angle. The side that I could see was steep, with vertical channel-like ripples.
Here is the information on the iceberg for the record:
Time: 24 March 2013, 0930 UTC
Position: 43S13.7, 048E07.3
This encounter changed things for me. From now on I will have to switch on the radar every hour or so to see what is out there. I will also have to spend more time topside looking for smaller pieces of ice that may not show on radar.
I consider myself fortunate. Had last night's wind lasted another 2 hours I could have slammed into it, and had it not been a nice day which brought me topside I would have sailed very close to it. I was grateful and gave a little prayer of thanks.
The noon numbers were:
POS 43S06, 48E03
NND 112
DMG 1497
DTG 3289
I was very happy with the NND. I had kept the boat moving at 6.5-7 kts during the night while the wind lasted, and it had paid off.
I had shut the engine down for the session with Graham and had resumed sailing at 3 kts off a weak southerly. Much as I wanted to get away from our Antarctic friend, I preferred to use the wind as much as possible then use the engine when there was no wind.
I spent some time reviewing the procedure for launching the life raft. The raft is in front of the mast inside a stainless steel frame with a lid topped with teak planks, On top of that is the Zodiac inflatable, tied to the frame with ropes. The most important thing will be to go forward carrying a knife, and I've got one in the cockpit within easy reach. At the mast I'll cut the 5 ropes holding down the Zodiac then throw the Zodiac aside without damaging it because it could be inflated by a terrified man very quickly. With the Zodiac out of the way opening the lid to the frame is a simple matter. Then I have to release the straps holding the life raft canister to the deck by pulling on a snap lock. Now I lift the canister out of the frame and throw it into the water. Inside the life raft canister is 30 meters of painter (line) attached to the raft. The other end of the painter is attached to the deck. With the canister in the water I pull out all of the slack in the painter then give a good pull and the raft should then deploy out of the canister and inflate. The painter at the deck end is attached by a mechanism that will cut the line if the boat sinks more the 3 or 4 meters, but I would rely on my knife to sever the painter at the right time. Regardless of whether or not the life raft deploys I'll manually inflate the Zodiac if there is time. After reviewing the process in my head I put my passports into ziploc plastic bags then into the grab bag, which contains items that I've documented before, including a 406 mHz EPIRB and hand held VHF radio. There is also an EPIRB in the vest of my life jacket. Of course it was Mr. Frosty, now drifting 10 miles behind the boat, who inspired me to do all this.
I used the radar to get the position of the iceberg at 1430 to a tenth of a minute. It drifted exactly NW (045T) a distance of 2 miles in 5 hours, giving it a speed of 0.4 kt to the NE.
Just before dark I picked up the Raymarine manual and set up a radar guard zone. If any target is detected inside of a 90 degree arc ahead of me, within a distance of 1.5-20 miles ahead of me, I will get an alarm. It took me about 2 minutes to set this up. Nothing concentrates the mind like an iceberg. I've got to be careful about power consumption. It seems to me that at times when I am creeping along at 3 and 4 kts I should be able to get by with a few sweeps of the radar every 1.5 or 2 hours, but during high speed sailing, particularly during poor visibility or when I am sleeping, I can keep the radar up with the sector alarm.
I got a very good look at what I am sure is the comet. Just after sunset it was about 20 degrees above the horizon to the Northwest. It seemed bigger and brighter than any planet that I have seen.
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Saturday, March 23, 2013
Day 17, March 23
The boat sailed comfortably into the night on a port tack with her triple reefed mainsail and staysail. Even though we were sai.ling hard to weather into an 18-20 kt wind and making 3.5-4 kts, inside the cabin the boat felt more like she was hove to; so much so that when the opportunity arises I will investigate heaving to with and without the staysail. I kept an eye on the chart plotter until 9 PM but there was only the slightest hint of a backing wind and we were still tracking to the SE, so I went to bed feeling relaxed.
I was up at midnight to see that we were still heading SE so returned to bed.
When I opened my eyes again it was daylight and saw that it was 3 AM. I went to the chart plotter and saw that we were heading east! Coffee could wait. Topside I was surprised at the benign state of the sea, perhaps because the wind had been steadily clocking back throughout the night. Now that I had the measure of the conditions I rolled out some headsail, twice actually, because I saw way too much fluttering along the leech of the sail, rolled it in, then carefully worked my way along the leeward side of the deck to move the sheet block forward just over half way along the track. When the boat had settled down our speed was 6.1-6.2 kts and we had gained a good 10 degrees in heading. Twice I adjusted the Monitor to take us ever so slightly off the wind, to take some of the edge of the pounding into the waves. One of the benefits of not having pushed the boat hard toward the SE overnight was that we were now at a comfortable latitude of 43S18 and there was no need to claw our way to the north. I fact I was willing to ease off a bit more on heading ESE, but for now the boat was doing OK heading E hard to weather. The Monitor loves sailing to weather. I noticed all night and this morning that it has been doing very little work.
At the laptop our track for the last 18 hours looked like a sharply peaked mountain, with level terrain on the left abruptly rising at 45 degrees in a straight line then at the peak abruptly changing to almost vertical with the slope curving gently and with remarkable smoothness back to level. This of course reflected the tack into the steady backing of the wind and it was another lesson in the limitation of point forecasts. Graham's weather forecasts are invaluable and indispensable to the safety of this boat, but they give snapshots of expected conditions every 6 hours with no indication of the times or rate of change. There was nothing wrong with last night's wind predictions, but in that case the changes were imperceptible. (Having said that, Graham gives me great ancillary information of the location of highs and lows as well as the expected passage of cold fronts with their abrupt wind shifts.)
At 3 AM we had made 60 miles from our last noon position, but it was to the SE and not toward our destination. I hoped to make 40 or 50 miles directly toward Fremantle before the coming noon.
In the early SAMMNet session Graham predicted northerly winds through to tomorrow at 6 AM. They would slowly increase from their 20 kts and peak at 6 PM at 25-30 kts and thereafter begin to moderate. He gave me the coordinates of the latest advancing cold front, expected to pass over me 0600-1200 tomorrow, bringing a change in wind from NNW to SSW. I would make the most of today's winds and gradually wind in the headsail and deal with the 30 kt wind with only the staysail up front, ready to drop it if things got out of hand. Thank heaven and thank Steve and North Sails for that third reef.
On the chart I could see that we were past the Mozambique Channel and were passing under Madagascar 1000 miles to the north.
I noticed that the topping lift was taking the load of the mainsheet rather than the leech of the mainsail so I visited the mast to sort that out. While there I had a good look around. The leeward shrouds felt OK for tension. All else looked OK.
Graham's lunchtime forecast was for variable winds tomorrow, but that at midnight I could expect SW at 20-25.
At noon UTC I got the following numbers:
POS 43S18, 45E31
NND 113 nm
DMG 1391 nm
DTG 3404 nm
At 1500 the sun was setting and we went into the night making close to 7 kts due E.
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I was up at midnight to see that we were still heading SE so returned to bed.
When I opened my eyes again it was daylight and saw that it was 3 AM. I went to the chart plotter and saw that we were heading east! Coffee could wait. Topside I was surprised at the benign state of the sea, perhaps because the wind had been steadily clocking back throughout the night. Now that I had the measure of the conditions I rolled out some headsail, twice actually, because I saw way too much fluttering along the leech of the sail, rolled it in, then carefully worked my way along the leeward side of the deck to move the sheet block forward just over half way along the track. When the boat had settled down our speed was 6.1-6.2 kts and we had gained a good 10 degrees in heading. Twice I adjusted the Monitor to take us ever so slightly off the wind, to take some of the edge of the pounding into the waves. One of the benefits of not having pushed the boat hard toward the SE overnight was that we were now at a comfortable latitude of 43S18 and there was no need to claw our way to the north. I fact I was willing to ease off a bit more on heading ESE, but for now the boat was doing OK heading E hard to weather. The Monitor loves sailing to weather. I noticed all night and this morning that it has been doing very little work.
At the laptop our track for the last 18 hours looked like a sharply peaked mountain, with level terrain on the left abruptly rising at 45 degrees in a straight line then at the peak abruptly changing to almost vertical with the slope curving gently and with remarkable smoothness back to level. This of course reflected the tack into the steady backing of the wind and it was another lesson in the limitation of point forecasts. Graham's weather forecasts are invaluable and indispensable to the safety of this boat, but they give snapshots of expected conditions every 6 hours with no indication of the times or rate of change. There was nothing wrong with last night's wind predictions, but in that case the changes were imperceptible. (Having said that, Graham gives me great ancillary information of the location of highs and lows as well as the expected passage of cold fronts with their abrupt wind shifts.)
At 3 AM we had made 60 miles from our last noon position, but it was to the SE and not toward our destination. I hoped to make 40 or 50 miles directly toward Fremantle before the coming noon.
In the early SAMMNet session Graham predicted northerly winds through to tomorrow at 6 AM. They would slowly increase from their 20 kts and peak at 6 PM at 25-30 kts and thereafter begin to moderate. He gave me the coordinates of the latest advancing cold front, expected to pass over me 0600-1200 tomorrow, bringing a change in wind from NNW to SSW. I would make the most of today's winds and gradually wind in the headsail and deal with the 30 kt wind with only the staysail up front, ready to drop it if things got out of hand. Thank heaven and thank Steve and North Sails for that third reef.
On the chart I could see that we were past the Mozambique Channel and were passing under Madagascar 1000 miles to the north.
I noticed that the topping lift was taking the load of the mainsheet rather than the leech of the mainsail so I visited the mast to sort that out. While there I had a good look around. The leeward shrouds felt OK for tension. All else looked OK.
Graham's lunchtime forecast was for variable winds tomorrow, but that at midnight I could expect SW at 20-25.
At noon UTC I got the following numbers:
POS 43S18, 45E31
NND 113 nm
DMG 1391 nm
DTG 3404 nm
At 1500 the sun was setting and we went into the night making close to 7 kts due E.
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Friday, March 22, 2013
Day 16, March 22
The banging boom woke me up at 10.30 PM. The boat was now headed almost due north and the prediction of a wind shift to the W-SW by midnight was right on the money. I suited up, went out, gybed the boat, and soon we were on a broad starboard reach headed ESE at 5 kts. At 11 PM we were 65 miles from the noon mark and if I could keep the boat moving all night I could look forward to a good NND. I was able to keep the mainsail up, sheeted hard with the traveler to the port side. This was good because it would be useful for the predicted swing of the wind to SE at 15 kt. If that SE wind came to pass I would put the boat on a starboard beat and shake out two reefs.
I got up twice during the night and adjusted the course and sails to deal with the wind that was steadily backing to the SE. At 6 AM I was awake again to the alarm for the first SAMMNet session to find the boat moving smartly to th NE at 5.5 kts. While the water heated for coffee I trimmed the boat to take her as close to the wind as I dare, gaining another 15 degrees or so. Nevertheless we had crossed latitude 43S which was outside of my planned pathway to Australia. But the 6.30 AM weather report was to indicate that I would soon be back below 43S.
Graham's weather forecast for the next 2 days was good, with winds from an arc of NE to NW, in the 15-30 kt range. This would enable me to sail on a port tack and work my way toward my goal of 43.5S. All of this would begin at midnight and for the rest of this day I could expect to deal with E to ENE winds 5-15 kts.
The latitudes just below 43S had been very satisfactory so far. I had gained the benefits of highs to the north and deep lows below 50S.
Progress overnight had been good. At 6 AM, with another 6 hours to go to noon, we had made good 100 miles from the previous noon marker. The boat was sailing very comfortably and it was time to enjoy a second tall mug of coffee.
Just before 11 AM I tacked the boat. We were well above 43S and heading NNE. The tack took us on a heading of 150T which was not ideal but would at least get us south, and I could look forward to the backing of the wind later in the day.
At the 11.10 AM session Graham presented a forecast of slightly stronger winds than before. In particular, there was no longer an expectation of a sag in the wind during the middle of this day, which was very good. Also, none of the winds for the next 48 hours were expected to exceed 25 knots, which was also very good news. On that basis I decided to leave the triple reef on the mainsail in place.
I dropped a marker precisely at noon then obtained the following information:
POS - 42S53, 043E01 (POSition of Boat)
NND - 118 nm (Noon-to-Noon Distance)
DMG - 1276 nm (Distance Made Good from start)
DTG - 3526 nm (Distance To Go to finish)
I then started the engine for a 2-hour battery charging run. It had been 3 days since the last run, the solar panels had not been able to contribute much, and the House bank was down to 12.3 V. And as before, I wanted to deal with tomorrow's strong winds without worries of the boat's electricity supply. We were already making 5 kts under sail so I ran the engine in forward gear at 1500 rpm, trying to put some load on it. The Monitor was able to continue steering with no problem. It was nice to get some heat into the cabin.
I did two Spanish lessons during the engine run (from the beginning, lessons 1 and 2, to strengthen the foundation) and when I switched off the engine I could see that the boat was over canvassed because now we were beating against an 18 kt wind. I rolled in half of the headsail which reduced the pounding and heel and agitation of the sail. That left us heading SE at 5.3 kts and I was looking forward to the backing of the wind from E to ENE by 6 PM to NNE by midnight. We were now back below 43S
At 3 PM I put up the staysail and rolled in the jib. This reduced our speed by 2 kts to 3.5 kts but I could see no point in driving the boat hard into the wind on a SE course. I would wait until the wind backed toward the north before maximizing our speed. If the wind forecast turned out to be wrong we could continue heading SE at this slower pace with no danger of winding up blow 44S.
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I got up twice during the night and adjusted the course and sails to deal with the wind that was steadily backing to the SE. At 6 AM I was awake again to the alarm for the first SAMMNet session to find the boat moving smartly to th NE at 5.5 kts. While the water heated for coffee I trimmed the boat to take her as close to the wind as I dare, gaining another 15 degrees or so. Nevertheless we had crossed latitude 43S which was outside of my planned pathway to Australia. But the 6.30 AM weather report was to indicate that I would soon be back below 43S.
Graham's weather forecast for the next 2 days was good, with winds from an arc of NE to NW, in the 15-30 kt range. This would enable me to sail on a port tack and work my way toward my goal of 43.5S. All of this would begin at midnight and for the rest of this day I could expect to deal with E to ENE winds 5-15 kts.
The latitudes just below 43S had been very satisfactory so far. I had gained the benefits of highs to the north and deep lows below 50S.
Progress overnight had been good. At 6 AM, with another 6 hours to go to noon, we had made good 100 miles from the previous noon marker. The boat was sailing very comfortably and it was time to enjoy a second tall mug of coffee.
Just before 11 AM I tacked the boat. We were well above 43S and heading NNE. The tack took us on a heading of 150T which was not ideal but would at least get us south, and I could look forward to the backing of the wind later in the day.
At the 11.10 AM session Graham presented a forecast of slightly stronger winds than before. In particular, there was no longer an expectation of a sag in the wind during the middle of this day, which was very good. Also, none of the winds for the next 48 hours were expected to exceed 25 knots, which was also very good news. On that basis I decided to leave the triple reef on the mainsail in place.
I dropped a marker precisely at noon then obtained the following information:
POS - 42S53, 043E01 (POSition of Boat)
NND - 118 nm (Noon-to-Noon Distance)
DMG - 1276 nm (Distance Made Good from start)
DTG - 3526 nm (Distance To Go to finish)
I then started the engine for a 2-hour battery charging run. It had been 3 days since the last run, the solar panels had not been able to contribute much, and the House bank was down to 12.3 V. And as before, I wanted to deal with tomorrow's strong winds without worries of the boat's electricity supply. We were already making 5 kts under sail so I ran the engine in forward gear at 1500 rpm, trying to put some load on it. The Monitor was able to continue steering with no problem. It was nice to get some heat into the cabin.
I did two Spanish lessons during the engine run (from the beginning, lessons 1 and 2, to strengthen the foundation) and when I switched off the engine I could see that the boat was over canvassed because now we were beating against an 18 kt wind. I rolled in half of the headsail which reduced the pounding and heel and agitation of the sail. That left us heading SE at 5.3 kts and I was looking forward to the backing of the wind from E to ENE by 6 PM to NNE by midnight. We were now back below 43S
At 3 PM I put up the staysail and rolled in the jib. This reduced our speed by 2 kts to 3.5 kts but I could see no point in driving the boat hard into the wind on a SE course. I would wait until the wind backed toward the north before maximizing our speed. If the wind forecast turned out to be wrong we could continue heading SE at this slower pace with no danger of winding up blow 44S.
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Thursday, March 21, 2013
Boat Location
Sorry Folks,
I has been pointed out that I've been forgetting to state the boat's location in my daily blogs. (Note that you should able to see my location at the Pangolin site in New Zealand referred to at the heading of the blog.)
My current position, Thursday 21 March at 4 PM UTC is 43S13, 040E57. My daily latitudes should not change much if I can help it because I'd like to move between 43S and 43.5S. However, I am doing everything I can to change the longitude as fast as I can.
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I has been pointed out that I've been forgetting to state the boat's location in my daily blogs. (Note that you should able to see my location at the Pangolin site in New Zealand referred to at the heading of the blog.)
My current position, Thursday 21 March at 4 PM UTC is 43S13, 040E57. My daily latitudes should not change much if I can help it because I'd like to move between 43S and 43.5S. However, I am doing everything I can to change the longitude as fast as I can.
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Day 15, March 21
I woke up at 2 AM after 5 hours of deep sleep. It took me a moment to remember that I was on the boat and frowned at myself for copping out on the boat, but I supposed that dreams and escape are a part of sleep.
As usual the first thing I did was to look at the chart plotter and everything looked good. We were still moving at over 6.5 kts and our course had swung 20 degrees to port as I had expected, and we were now tracking at about 080T. I brought up the waypoints list and saw that we were 91 miles from the noon marker, and we had another 10 hours to go before the next noon marker. At the laptop I saw that we had reached our first milestone of sorts and had passed across the north of Prince Edward Island 190 miles to the south. Then I heard water slopping in the bilge and gave the electric pump a 3 minute run. The cabin was relatively dry. The cabin windows do not leak any more and the leaky vent over the galley stove is no more, thanks to work done in Cape Town. Very little if any water had washed over the cabin and no waves had crashed onto the companionway from abaft, so there were no drips from the cabin hatch and vents or into the companionway section of the cabin. It had been a great night of sailing so far.
At 5 PM I had not known what to expect. The wind had built up and was approaching 25 kts and I was wondering if it would hit the predicted 30 kts or worse. I wasn't worried about the wind so much as resultant huge seas. For the next 2 hours I sat at the nav station watching a movie ("Michael Clayton") and the chart plotter as much as the movie. At 6 PM, the predicted peak time, the wind was at 25 kts and I was hopeful that I would be lucky this night. The boat was riding amazingly well and outside I didn't see any of those huge seas that threaten to board the cockpit but never quite make it. Once in a while I would hear a wave break onto the side of the boat. At 7 PM I started and second movie ("The Island") and when it finished all was still well with the boat so I went to bed.
At 3 AM I saw daylight through the hatch so I stuck my head out and had a look. The Monitor control lines were a bit loose and I was glad that I had tightened them up just before dark, but it had steered the boat beautifully throughout the night and was still happily doing its thing. The sails looked good too. The combination of triple reefed mainsail and staysail had been ideal for these conditions, frequently taking the boat to 7.5 kts but never giving me the feeling that the boat or Monitor were being overwhelmed. I could see that waves were regularly washing over the bow and side decks but not reaching the cabin top. All was well, so I returned to the cabin, switched off the masthead tricolor, and finished my mug of tea.
I was awaken at 5.30 AM by a wave slamming against the port side of the boat. Even though the boat was heeled to starboard a few drops of sea water made their way along the ceiling onto the navigation table, which is on the port side of the cabin. I had gotten complacent and left the laptop open and unprotected but fortunately there was no damage. I had already adopted the policy of completely removing the computer from the nav station and stowing it safely in its bag during rough weather when the boat is on a starboard tack (heeled to port), and now I added the policy of always protecting the computer by folding it lid down an putting the shower curtain material over it whenever the are in rough weather and the boat is heeled to starboard. Soon afterward another wave slammed onto us.
The wind seemed to have slackened off to the high teens and our boat speed had dropped below 6 kts so I rolled out some headsail, which took our speed back up to over 6 kts.
Graham expressed surprise at my progress when I gave him my position at the 6.30 session. We had moved 117 miles in 18.5 hours and were heading toward a good NND (noon-to-noon distance).
At 8 AM our boat speed was down to 5.5 kts so I dropped the staysail and rolled out as much jib as we could carry running on a broad reach. This brought our speed up a half know.
The rest of the morning brought gentle sailing under a clearing sky with surprising boat speeds of 6-7 kts.
At noon our numbers were as follows:
NND 152 miles
DMG 1171 miles
DTG 3646 miles
That noon-noon distance was the highest since that passage from Papeete to Hilo that Arnold and I made in 2008. Unfortunately the winds in the next 24 hours would be more challenging and I would be happy to make 100 miles.
The wind held up for the rest of the day and we were moving along at 6-7 kts. I had expected to shake out the 3rd reef from the mainsail but there was no need. We had a bit sea off the port quarter boosting the boat along but also knocking it around.
I decided to resume with the computer based interactive Spanish course and discovered that I had not transferred the material to the new navigation computer. That led to a busy hour of activity where I had to bring up the backup computer and transfer the data to thumb drives. Part II of the course would not fit on a 4 Gb thumb drive so I then had to find the 16 Gb drive to make the transfer. That took 22 minutes and although the OS assured me that there were hours of battery life left, the machine went into hibernation for lack of power. I hastily had to bring down the nav computer in order to plug the backup computer to boat power. I didn't want to tamper with the navigation computer because of the problems that I had had with the COM5 USB port. The transfer from the thumb drive to the navigation computer took only 4 minutes because I was using a fast USB 3.0 port. While that was happening I dosed the COM5 USB port on the nav computer with a liberal amount of CRC electronic cleaner, and I did the same with the USB connector on the Pactor cable.
To my relief when I booted up the machine everything came up again. When I plugged in the Pactor cable I heard the "ding" signifying that a device had been plugged in, and sure enough the OS could see COM5.
As darkness approached we were still averaging 7 kts to the east. All the wishes for fair winds and following seas were for the moment being fulfilled.
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As usual the first thing I did was to look at the chart plotter and everything looked good. We were still moving at over 6.5 kts and our course had swung 20 degrees to port as I had expected, and we were now tracking at about 080T. I brought up the waypoints list and saw that we were 91 miles from the noon marker, and we had another 10 hours to go before the next noon marker. At the laptop I saw that we had reached our first milestone of sorts and had passed across the north of Prince Edward Island 190 miles to the south. Then I heard water slopping in the bilge and gave the electric pump a 3 minute run. The cabin was relatively dry. The cabin windows do not leak any more and the leaky vent over the galley stove is no more, thanks to work done in Cape Town. Very little if any water had washed over the cabin and no waves had crashed onto the companionway from abaft, so there were no drips from the cabin hatch and vents or into the companionway section of the cabin. It had been a great night of sailing so far.
At 5 PM I had not known what to expect. The wind had built up and was approaching 25 kts and I was wondering if it would hit the predicted 30 kts or worse. I wasn't worried about the wind so much as resultant huge seas. For the next 2 hours I sat at the nav station watching a movie ("Michael Clayton") and the chart plotter as much as the movie. At 6 PM, the predicted peak time, the wind was at 25 kts and I was hopeful that I would be lucky this night. The boat was riding amazingly well and outside I didn't see any of those huge seas that threaten to board the cockpit but never quite make it. Once in a while I would hear a wave break onto the side of the boat. At 7 PM I started and second movie ("The Island") and when it finished all was still well with the boat so I went to bed.
At 3 AM I saw daylight through the hatch so I stuck my head out and had a look. The Monitor control lines were a bit loose and I was glad that I had tightened them up just before dark, but it had steered the boat beautifully throughout the night and was still happily doing its thing. The sails looked good too. The combination of triple reefed mainsail and staysail had been ideal for these conditions, frequently taking the boat to 7.5 kts but never giving me the feeling that the boat or Monitor were being overwhelmed. I could see that waves were regularly washing over the bow and side decks but not reaching the cabin top. All was well, so I returned to the cabin, switched off the masthead tricolor, and finished my mug of tea.
I was awaken at 5.30 AM by a wave slamming against the port side of the boat. Even though the boat was heeled to starboard a few drops of sea water made their way along the ceiling onto the navigation table, which is on the port side of the cabin. I had gotten complacent and left the laptop open and unprotected but fortunately there was no damage. I had already adopted the policy of completely removing the computer from the nav station and stowing it safely in its bag during rough weather when the boat is on a starboard tack (heeled to port), and now I added the policy of always protecting the computer by folding it lid down an putting the shower curtain material over it whenever the are in rough weather and the boat is heeled to starboard. Soon afterward another wave slammed onto us.
The wind seemed to have slackened off to the high teens and our boat speed had dropped below 6 kts so I rolled out some headsail, which took our speed back up to over 6 kts.
Graham expressed surprise at my progress when I gave him my position at the 6.30 session. We had moved 117 miles in 18.5 hours and were heading toward a good NND (noon-to-noon distance).
At 8 AM our boat speed was down to 5.5 kts so I dropped the staysail and rolled out as much jib as we could carry running on a broad reach. This brought our speed up a half know.
The rest of the morning brought gentle sailing under a clearing sky with surprising boat speeds of 6-7 kts.
At noon our numbers were as follows:
NND 152 miles
DMG 1171 miles
DTG 3646 miles
That noon-noon distance was the highest since that passage from Papeete to Hilo that Arnold and I made in 2008. Unfortunately the winds in the next 24 hours would be more challenging and I would be happy to make 100 miles.
The wind held up for the rest of the day and we were moving along at 6-7 kts. I had expected to shake out the 3rd reef from the mainsail but there was no need. We had a bit sea off the port quarter boosting the boat along but also knocking it around.
I decided to resume with the computer based interactive Spanish course and discovered that I had not transferred the material to the new navigation computer. That led to a busy hour of activity where I had to bring up the backup computer and transfer the data to thumb drives. Part II of the course would not fit on a 4 Gb thumb drive so I then had to find the 16 Gb drive to make the transfer. That took 22 minutes and although the OS assured me that there were hours of battery life left, the machine went into hibernation for lack of power. I hastily had to bring down the nav computer in order to plug the backup computer to boat power. I didn't want to tamper with the navigation computer because of the problems that I had had with the COM5 USB port. The transfer from the thumb drive to the navigation computer took only 4 minutes because I was using a fast USB 3.0 port. While that was happening I dosed the COM5 USB port on the nav computer with a liberal amount of CRC electronic cleaner, and I did the same with the USB connector on the Pactor cable.
To my relief when I booted up the machine everything came up again. When I plugged in the Pactor cable I heard the "ding" signifying that a device had been plugged in, and sure enough the OS could see COM5.
As darkness approached we were still averaging 7 kts to the east. All the wishes for fair winds and following seas were for the moment being fulfilled.
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Wednesday, March 20, 2013
Day 14, March 20
I woke up at 2 AM to find the boat creeping along at 1.5 kts to the SE with essentially no wind - perhaps 4 kts. We had moved far enough to the south - 43S20 - anyway, so I dropped sail with little drama. Lying ahull our motion settled down to 0.4 kts to the SE, which was fine with me. This would not be a day of a big n-n distance but we would make up for it with the coming two days of strong winds.
Last night I came up with the bright idea of defining a waypoint marked by a small blue "x" at every noon position so far in this passage. I named each waypoint "ddmmmyy", as in "19Mar13". The effect is terrific, showing on the chart at a glance the procession of x's along my track with the dates underneath them. But it gets better. A listing of all waypoints also presents the distance from our present position to each waypoint so that I can see at a glance how far we've moved from the last noon position (currently 46.37 nm) as well as from our departure point, RCYC (994.08 nm). I even set up a waypoint at the entrance of the Fremantle Sailing Club named "Home", and I can now see at any time the distance remaining in the passage (3854.40 nm). With a click I can sort out the waypoint list by name or distance. Sorting by distance groups the waypoints of this passage together at the top of the list, nicely ordered. I will use this information to report daily the distance-made-good (DMG) from the RCYC and distance-to-go (DTG) to FSC. DMG and DTG will be a better measure of my progress because n-n distance is very rarely directly toward the destination.
At Fremantle I will export all of the waypoints and will be able to send them via email to anyone running the OpenCPN navigation software who wants to display my daily position on this passage. Importing the waypoints into OpenCPN will be a trivial operation.
At 3 AM a beautiful red dawn (sailor's warning) broke and not long after that a gentle wind came up from the NW. I rolled out some jib and got us under way on the wrong tack, then by repeatedly building up speed then turning into the wind I raised the mainsail to its new 3rd reef. It was a good learning exercise and I'll be better prepared next time. At the moment I cannot get the 3rd reefing ring on the luff of the sail low enough to reach the goose neck because of the number of slides stacked up on the gate. Fortunately I had the 3rd reef downhaul in place and it is that that is holding the tack down. The next time I have the sail up to its first reef I'll open the gate and drop any free slides at the bottom of the sail. At the moment the 3rd reef line is about 1 ft above the boom, which Steve said was OK, but I'd prefer to get it right. Also, the 3rd reef needs one more cringle near the leech. I'll attend to that in Fremantle.
This made me think of the spare mainsail that is stored in the loft of my garage. It was in very good condition although Steve Hartley at Tasker Sails could not guarantee that it would get me around the world. That sail came with the boat when it did not have a stack pack, and I'm fairly sure that it has 3 sets of reefing points.
Anyway, at 4.15 AM all was in order and we were moving ESE at 4.5 kts on a broad port reach off of a 10 kt wind. The staysail was still on the deck ready for use later. The air was crisp and the sky mostly clear and sunny.
At the second SAMMNet session Graham told me to expect a bout of 30 kt winds. I could hear him speaking with Jeanne and with great managed to get her position of 43S11, 102E19, which puts her only 800 miles SW of Cape Leeuwin. Her signal is fading for now (it picks up at 120E for some reason) but on the other hand she's very close to Australia. Graham told me that he thought that I've got a stronger signal that Jeanne so the prospects are good that he will be able to oversee me to Fremantle's back yard.
After the session I sat at the companionway for a while assessing the preparedness of the boat for the coming blow. I vacillated a bit but then decided to put up the staysail. The reason why I hesitated is that I was concerned about how to bring down the sail if I had to heave to. Then I realized that because of the tall and narrow shape of the sail and its heavy material it can take a lot of flogging. If I have to heave to I'll take the boat into the wind and let fly the staysail sheet. Because it is hanked on a wire it will most likely bring itself down when I release the halyard, but if not I can attend to it when the boat is hove to. As before I hoisted the staysail inside of the headsail, and even though the headsail completely overlapped the staysail it still retained its shape. As the wind speed increase I'll roll in more headsail until ultimately I'll be running with the triple reefed mainsail and the staysail.
I then went to the nav station at noon and dropped a waypoint marker at our current position, naming it "20Mar13" and describing it as "Day 14". I then brought up the list of waypoints and recorded the following numbers:
- NND (Noon to Noon Distance), 92 miles to the east
- DMG (Distance from start), 1038 miles
- DTG (Distance To Go), 3803 miles
I was extremely pleased with the NND given the extremely weak wind that we had experienced during the night. However, for most of the day we had been making between 6 and 7 kts on a beam reach off of a 15 kt wind in a moderate sea. That and the sunny sky made it a great day of sailing. While I was at the foredeck freeing up the staysail for the hoist I stood up, looked around, saw myself in context, and thought "I'm really enjoying this." I was having fun and I would remember this moment. Having said that, I won't let myself get too cocky and will remain humble and wary because you never know what is around the corner. But I don't think that there is much around the corner shipping wise. I haven't seen a ship or boat since Day 3 of this passage, when I cleared the Agulhas bank. I have just consulted the "Ocean Passages' chart of routes for powered vessels and between Cape Town an Australia the great circle shipping route touches 40S just south of St Paul Island. At 100E ships bound for the east coast of Australia or New Zealand dip down to about 42S. So in these waters I can expect perhaps a large fishing boat or maybe a research vessel. The only yachts that I know of in these latitudes are Nereida and Pachuca, although it is likely that there area few more.
At 2.45 PM the wind started to top 20 kts and the boat speed was approaching 7.5 kts. What alerted me was the regular clattering of the strop holding down the tack of the staysail. Looking through the front hatch I could see that the sail was luffing at its peak so I winched its sheet in. I then rolled the jib in entirely which slowed us down to 6.5 kts. Then I noticed that we were now heading slightly north of east on a pure beam reach so I took the opportunity to fall off the wind such that it was now 15 degrees or so aft of the beam. This reduced the apparent wind speed and dropped our boat speed to 6 kts, but the boat was sailing more comfortably and the staysail was happy and quiet. This was all in anticipation of the wind peaking at 30 kts within 3 hours.
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Last night I came up with the bright idea of defining a waypoint marked by a small blue "x" at every noon position so far in this passage. I named each waypoint "ddmmmyy", as in "19Mar13". The effect is terrific, showing on the chart at a glance the procession of x's along my track with the dates underneath them. But it gets better. A listing of all waypoints also presents the distance from our present position to each waypoint so that I can see at a glance how far we've moved from the last noon position (currently 46.37 nm) as well as from our departure point, RCYC (994.08 nm). I even set up a waypoint at the entrance of the Fremantle Sailing Club named "Home", and I can now see at any time the distance remaining in the passage (3854.40 nm). With a click I can sort out the waypoint list by name or distance. Sorting by distance groups the waypoints of this passage together at the top of the list, nicely ordered. I will use this information to report daily the distance-made-good (DMG) from the RCYC and distance-to-go (DTG) to FSC. DMG and DTG will be a better measure of my progress because n-n distance is very rarely directly toward the destination.
At Fremantle I will export all of the waypoints and will be able to send them via email to anyone running the OpenCPN navigation software who wants to display my daily position on this passage. Importing the waypoints into OpenCPN will be a trivial operation.
At 3 AM a beautiful red dawn (sailor's warning) broke and not long after that a gentle wind came up from the NW. I rolled out some jib and got us under way on the wrong tack, then by repeatedly building up speed then turning into the wind I raised the mainsail to its new 3rd reef. It was a good learning exercise and I'll be better prepared next time. At the moment I cannot get the 3rd reefing ring on the luff of the sail low enough to reach the goose neck because of the number of slides stacked up on the gate. Fortunately I had the 3rd reef downhaul in place and it is that that is holding the tack down. The next time I have the sail up to its first reef I'll open the gate and drop any free slides at the bottom of the sail. At the moment the 3rd reef line is about 1 ft above the boom, which Steve said was OK, but I'd prefer to get it right. Also, the 3rd reef needs one more cringle near the leech. I'll attend to that in Fremantle.
This made me think of the spare mainsail that is stored in the loft of my garage. It was in very good condition although Steve Hartley at Tasker Sails could not guarantee that it would get me around the world. That sail came with the boat when it did not have a stack pack, and I'm fairly sure that it has 3 sets of reefing points.
Anyway, at 4.15 AM all was in order and we were moving ESE at 4.5 kts on a broad port reach off of a 10 kt wind. The staysail was still on the deck ready for use later. The air was crisp and the sky mostly clear and sunny.
At the second SAMMNet session Graham told me to expect a bout of 30 kt winds. I could hear him speaking with Jeanne and with great managed to get her position of 43S11, 102E19, which puts her only 800 miles SW of Cape Leeuwin. Her signal is fading for now (it picks up at 120E for some reason) but on the other hand she's very close to Australia. Graham told me that he thought that I've got a stronger signal that Jeanne so the prospects are good that he will be able to oversee me to Fremantle's back yard.
After the session I sat at the companionway for a while assessing the preparedness of the boat for the coming blow. I vacillated a bit but then decided to put up the staysail. The reason why I hesitated is that I was concerned about how to bring down the sail if I had to heave to. Then I realized that because of the tall and narrow shape of the sail and its heavy material it can take a lot of flogging. If I have to heave to I'll take the boat into the wind and let fly the staysail sheet. Because it is hanked on a wire it will most likely bring itself down when I release the halyard, but if not I can attend to it when the boat is hove to. As before I hoisted the staysail inside of the headsail, and even though the headsail completely overlapped the staysail it still retained its shape. As the wind speed increase I'll roll in more headsail until ultimately I'll be running with the triple reefed mainsail and the staysail.
I then went to the nav station at noon and dropped a waypoint marker at our current position, naming it "20Mar13" and describing it as "Day 14". I then brought up the list of waypoints and recorded the following numbers:
- NND (Noon to Noon Distance), 92 miles to the east
- DMG (Distance from start), 1038 miles
- DTG (Distance To Go), 3803 miles
I was extremely pleased with the NND given the extremely weak wind that we had experienced during the night. However, for most of the day we had been making between 6 and 7 kts on a beam reach off of a 15 kt wind in a moderate sea. That and the sunny sky made it a great day of sailing. While I was at the foredeck freeing up the staysail for the hoist I stood up, looked around, saw myself in context, and thought "I'm really enjoying this." I was having fun and I would remember this moment. Having said that, I won't let myself get too cocky and will remain humble and wary because you never know what is around the corner. But I don't think that there is much around the corner shipping wise. I haven't seen a ship or boat since Day 3 of this passage, when I cleared the Agulhas bank. I have just consulted the "Ocean Passages' chart of routes for powered vessels and between Cape Town an Australia the great circle shipping route touches 40S just south of St Paul Island. At 100E ships bound for the east coast of Australia or New Zealand dip down to about 42S. So in these waters I can expect perhaps a large fishing boat or maybe a research vessel. The only yachts that I know of in these latitudes are Nereida and Pachuca, although it is likely that there area few more.
At 2.45 PM the wind started to top 20 kts and the boat speed was approaching 7.5 kts. What alerted me was the regular clattering of the strop holding down the tack of the staysail. Looking through the front hatch I could see that the sail was luffing at its peak so I winched its sheet in. I then rolled the jib in entirely which slowed us down to 6.5 kts. Then I noticed that we were now heading slightly north of east on a pure beam reach so I took the opportunity to fall off the wind such that it was now 15 degrees or so aft of the beam. This reduced the apparent wind speed and dropped our boat speed to 6 kts, but the boat was sailing more comfortably and the staysail was happy and quiet. This was all in anticipation of the wind peaking at 30 kts within 3 hours.
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Tuesday, March 19, 2013
Day 13, March 19 - Monitor Glitch and Cruise Statistics
It was an unusual night of sailing for me. The wind held up amazingly well until 8 PM or so, when it started to moderate. On winds of only 11 and 12 kts we were making close to 6 kts on a beam reach. Small gusts took us to 7 kts. Shortly after 8 PM the boat headed into the wind which indicated that the Monitor had lost steering control. I didn't think much about it and simply swapped over to the autopilot. An hour later I went to the steering station to re engage the Monitor and I noticed that the water paddle was trailing the boat in a folded up floating position. Somehow the paddle trip mechanism had gone off. I used the boat hook to slam the paddle into a vertical position in the water but it would not lock into place. This troubled me for the rest of the night because without the paddle down and locked the Monitor was useless. But I've learned not to panic with these technical problems and I would deal with it in the morning. The autopilot would have to steer us until morning.
Of course then the autopilot decided to start throwing itself on standby every 30 minutes, which prevented any sleep. Fortunately all that would happen was that the boat would round up into the wind, the headsails would begin to luff, and I would be alerted. Toward midnight the wind died down to less than 10 kts and the boom would go through bouts of slamming. But the slamming wasn't violent enough to cause any damage so I kept the boat moving slowly all night against a very weak wind. Normally I would not do this but I was determined to make at least 100 miles per day and did not want to lay ahull for 5 or 6 hours. For some reason the autopilot will steer the boat without the disengagement problem when it is creeping through the water at 2 and 3 kts, even though response to the rudder is very sluggish, So I got a few hours of good uninterrupted sleep until daylight at 4 AM. By then the wind had picked up to perhaps 12 kts, I put the boat as hard into the wind as I could, and off we were doing over 5 kts to the NE. I would have to deal with the Monitor later in the morning, before the wind began to pick up again for its nest round of 25 kt winds.
It was very cold in the cabin at 11C so I dug out the Icebreaker wool skin tight top and pants and a pair of Alpine socks. I had a minimal sponge wash bath, changed underclothes, then decided to put on the Icebreaker after the Monitor work because there would be a high risk of getting one of my legs in the water.
I decided to go in heavy with the Monitor investigation because I didn't want to be trammeled by worries of safety or exposure. I put on the wet weather pants over bear legs then strapped the sea boots tightly around the legs because I remembered that when working on the Monitor on the way to the Horn one leg had slipped and plunged into the water almost to the knee but no water had made its way into the boot. I gathered a hammer and two type of pliers and went to the cockpit where I clipped the tether to the backstay so that I would be able to climb out onto the frame. I released the paddle and let it trail in the water then hove to in the classical style with both sails backwinded. This technique works fine in moderate winds and the boat lay comfortably making little way. Then I turned my attention to the water paddle and it was down and locked. The absence of a strong slip stream had allowed the natural hobby horsing of the boat to force the paddle into the locked position. What a relief! I said a little prayer of thanks. (Most of us pray. What differentiates us is who or what we pray to.) Something must have tripped the locking mechanism loose and in the night and with the boat moving at over 5 kts I must not have been able to push the paddle down far enough down with the boat hook.
It is easy do look back and dismiss this as a trivial incident but I have learned that even the most minor glitch can be the harbinger of a crisis. A similar thing happened on the way to the Horn and I managed to lock the paddle down again with the boat hook and kept it down all of the way to Argentina because I was afraid that if I lifted the paddle out of the water I would not be able to lock it down again. In Argentina one of the nearby sailors inspected the Monitor from his inflatable dinghy and found that a small bolt had sheared off. Fortunately I had a replacement in my Monitor spares kit and he was able to replace the bolt.
Back in the cabin I removed the wet weather gear and donned my Southern Ocean outfit for the first time since the Horn. Below the waist I had underpants then Icebreaker pants and cotton track suit pants over that. On my feet I had alpine socks and bedroom slippers so that my feet could tell my head that I was in the comfort zone. On my chest I had a cotton T-shirt, Icebreaker top, sleeveless wool sweater, another wool sweater, and a cotton pullover on top. I would wear the skin tight fine Merino wool Icebreakers probably until I began my swing north to Fremantle.
At the early SAMMNet session Graham predicted sustained 30 kt winds for the coming day (Wed 19th). Early tomorrow morning I would drop the mainsail down to the new 3rd reef in anticipation of the blow and I was looking forward to see how that would work. We would be running downwind and the Monitor should have an easier time of steering with the reduced sail area aft of the mast.
Contrary to the forecast, at 7 AM I was confronted with a 10 kt easterly wind. I had a choice of heading almost north or almost south. I chose north toward the 43S line. At 8 AM the wind was becoming untenable and I got the bright idea of doing an engine run to top up the batteries. They were down to 12.5V and I wanted to face the coming blow without having to worry about the voltage level of the house bank. Before I started the engine I checked the oil and coolant levels and found them to be spot on, with the engine oil looking remarkably clean. A few days earlier I had checked the fuel vacuum gauge at 1500 rpm and the needle was still on the peg. We motored E with sails up and luffing gently and the Monitor water paddle down. I turned on the heater to warm up the cabin.
I took the opportunity to wash two sets of underclothes in the sink in fresh water warmed up from the hot kettle. I draped the underpants in front of the heater, and they would be dry by the end of the engine run. The boarding ladder, which is inverted and lashed to the front of the binnacle, has proven to be more than a just convenient hand hold in rough weather. I draped the T-shirt over the top of the ladder and the 2 pairs of socks on one of the rungs, all held down by clothes pegs. I hung the sailing jacket spread eagle between the lee cloth cords on each side of the cabin to dry in the generous amounts of warm air coming out of the Red Dot heater.
At noon our position was 43S00, 34E54, giving a n-n distance of 114 miles to the ESE.
In the early afternoon I took advantage of the calm sea and light wind to tighten the intermediate shrouds while under way. I gave each turnbuckle one half turn and will check them they are under load. I did it just in time because 20 minutes later the wind veered and strengthened and we were making a satisfactory 5 kts to the ESE.
I updated the cruising log spreadsheet up to our departure date from Cape Town and the results are:
Total Miles Sailed: 30,000 (29958 according to the spreadsheet)
Total Days Under Sail: 326
Total Days in Port: 1437
Total Days Away: 1763
So 82% of time in this circumnavigation has been spent "on land" be it a marina, on anchor, or doing local cruising.
At sunset we were ambling along at 4 knots against a light wind that was expected to remain so until dawn. The sea was calm and the air was cold. I was enjoying the relaxation before the next bout of strong winds.
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Of course then the autopilot decided to start throwing itself on standby every 30 minutes, which prevented any sleep. Fortunately all that would happen was that the boat would round up into the wind, the headsails would begin to luff, and I would be alerted. Toward midnight the wind died down to less than 10 kts and the boom would go through bouts of slamming. But the slamming wasn't violent enough to cause any damage so I kept the boat moving slowly all night against a very weak wind. Normally I would not do this but I was determined to make at least 100 miles per day and did not want to lay ahull for 5 or 6 hours. For some reason the autopilot will steer the boat without the disengagement problem when it is creeping through the water at 2 and 3 kts, even though response to the rudder is very sluggish, So I got a few hours of good uninterrupted sleep until daylight at 4 AM. By then the wind had picked up to perhaps 12 kts, I put the boat as hard into the wind as I could, and off we were doing over 5 kts to the NE. I would have to deal with the Monitor later in the morning, before the wind began to pick up again for its nest round of 25 kt winds.
It was very cold in the cabin at 11C so I dug out the Icebreaker wool skin tight top and pants and a pair of Alpine socks. I had a minimal sponge wash bath, changed underclothes, then decided to put on the Icebreaker after the Monitor work because there would be a high risk of getting one of my legs in the water.
I decided to go in heavy with the Monitor investigation because I didn't want to be trammeled by worries of safety or exposure. I put on the wet weather pants over bear legs then strapped the sea boots tightly around the legs because I remembered that when working on the Monitor on the way to the Horn one leg had slipped and plunged into the water almost to the knee but no water had made its way into the boot. I gathered a hammer and two type of pliers and went to the cockpit where I clipped the tether to the backstay so that I would be able to climb out onto the frame. I released the paddle and let it trail in the water then hove to in the classical style with both sails backwinded. This technique works fine in moderate winds and the boat lay comfortably making little way. Then I turned my attention to the water paddle and it was down and locked. The absence of a strong slip stream had allowed the natural hobby horsing of the boat to force the paddle into the locked position. What a relief! I said a little prayer of thanks. (Most of us pray. What differentiates us is who or what we pray to.) Something must have tripped the locking mechanism loose and in the night and with the boat moving at over 5 kts I must not have been able to push the paddle down far enough down with the boat hook.
It is easy do look back and dismiss this as a trivial incident but I have learned that even the most minor glitch can be the harbinger of a crisis. A similar thing happened on the way to the Horn and I managed to lock the paddle down again with the boat hook and kept it down all of the way to Argentina because I was afraid that if I lifted the paddle out of the water I would not be able to lock it down again. In Argentina one of the nearby sailors inspected the Monitor from his inflatable dinghy and found that a small bolt had sheared off. Fortunately I had a replacement in my Monitor spares kit and he was able to replace the bolt.
Back in the cabin I removed the wet weather gear and donned my Southern Ocean outfit for the first time since the Horn. Below the waist I had underpants then Icebreaker pants and cotton track suit pants over that. On my feet I had alpine socks and bedroom slippers so that my feet could tell my head that I was in the comfort zone. On my chest I had a cotton T-shirt, Icebreaker top, sleeveless wool sweater, another wool sweater, and a cotton pullover on top. I would wear the skin tight fine Merino wool Icebreakers probably until I began my swing north to Fremantle.
At the early SAMMNet session Graham predicted sustained 30 kt winds for the coming day (Wed 19th). Early tomorrow morning I would drop the mainsail down to the new 3rd reef in anticipation of the blow and I was looking forward to see how that would work. We would be running downwind and the Monitor should have an easier time of steering with the reduced sail area aft of the mast.
Contrary to the forecast, at 7 AM I was confronted with a 10 kt easterly wind. I had a choice of heading almost north or almost south. I chose north toward the 43S line. At 8 AM the wind was becoming untenable and I got the bright idea of doing an engine run to top up the batteries. They were down to 12.5V and I wanted to face the coming blow without having to worry about the voltage level of the house bank. Before I started the engine I checked the oil and coolant levels and found them to be spot on, with the engine oil looking remarkably clean. A few days earlier I had checked the fuel vacuum gauge at 1500 rpm and the needle was still on the peg. We motored E with sails up and luffing gently and the Monitor water paddle down. I turned on the heater to warm up the cabin.
I took the opportunity to wash two sets of underclothes in the sink in fresh water warmed up from the hot kettle. I draped the underpants in front of the heater, and they would be dry by the end of the engine run. The boarding ladder, which is inverted and lashed to the front of the binnacle, has proven to be more than a just convenient hand hold in rough weather. I draped the T-shirt over the top of the ladder and the 2 pairs of socks on one of the rungs, all held down by clothes pegs. I hung the sailing jacket spread eagle between the lee cloth cords on each side of the cabin to dry in the generous amounts of warm air coming out of the Red Dot heater.
At noon our position was 43S00, 34E54, giving a n-n distance of 114 miles to the ESE.
In the early afternoon I took advantage of the calm sea and light wind to tighten the intermediate shrouds while under way. I gave each turnbuckle one half turn and will check them they are under load. I did it just in time because 20 minutes later the wind veered and strengthened and we were making a satisfactory 5 kts to the ESE.
I updated the cruising log spreadsheet up to our departure date from Cape Town and the results are:
Total Miles Sailed: 30,000 (29958 according to the spreadsheet)
Total Days Under Sail: 326
Total Days in Port: 1437
Total Days Away: 1763
So 82% of time in this circumnavigation has been spent "on land" be it a marina, on anchor, or doing local cruising.
At sunset we were ambling along at 4 knots against a light wind that was expected to remain so until dawn. The sea was calm and the air was cold. I was enjoying the relaxation before the next bout of strong winds.
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Monday, March 18, 2013
Day 12, March 18 - 4000 To Go
The boat was relatively comfortable during the night, even though we were making up to 7 kts at times. I pressure cooked (for 45 min) the pot of bean stew then had dinner, all while watching the classic "An Officer and a Gentleman". I particularly enjoyed the movie because in the 20 years since I had seen it I had become very familiar with the Port Townsend area and I could see many places where I had walked not just at Fort Worden where the bulk of the movie was shot, but also various beach and street scenes. I had even been inside the lighthouse in one of the scenes, the one at Point No Point, I think.
At 9 PM I set the timer for 3 hours because I was expecting the cold front to pass us at about midnight, and there would be an associated wind shift from NW to W. I need not have bothered because when the wind shift came while I was sleeping the boat swung from ESE to NE and I could feel the change as the it met the oncoming waves more directly. I suited up, went topside and gybed the boat with very little drama from the mainsail. That done it was a matter of setting the sails and the Monitor to put us on a very broad reach such that the staysail was being blanketed by the mainsail. We were now heading SE but I expected from the forecast for the wind to continue backing from W to SW, which would take our course more to E. The wind speed was spot on the 20 kts forecast, and we were making about 5 kts. And wow, was did the boat feel quiet in the cabin, now that we were running almost directly with the waves. There was only the hum of the Rutland, the gentle roll of the boat, and the sound of water as it streamed past the hull. Thirty minutes later it started raining again (it had been raining off and on since 8 PM), the wind picked and soon we were heading almost due south at 7 kts. It had to be a squall. I tried to wait it out but the course and speed persisted, so I suited up again and went topside to have a look. The boat was on a beam reach and the Monitor could was not able to steer the boat downwind as it was supposed to. I set the boat back on course then re engaged Jeff and spent the next hour conning the boat at the navigation station over a cup of hot chocolate. I then returned to bed but soon I was up to deal with what I thought was a gybe but turned out to be the boom slamming a couple of times. I stayed up watching things until after daylight at 3.30 AM and at 4 AM returned to bed until the alarm woke me at 6 AM for the SAMMNet session.
I woke up at 6 AM to find the boat still moving satisfactorily to the east. I then noticed the cold and noted that the cabin temperature was 13.9C and topside it was cooler by several degrees. It was just as well that I was sailing solo because a bath would be out of the question until there was a sunny and calm day, even if it meant waiting until my final approach to Australia. (Though come to think about it, a reeking body would be a great way to discourage a prolonged customs inspection.) I would rely on a change of underclothes every week or so, and probably wear the "Icebreaker" fine wool body stocking over that. I would break out a third blanket this night.
I think that I have spoken for the last time with Sam, who deals with coastal weather at ZS1SAM. I've started getting a good strong signal from Graham at ZS2ABK at the early session, and the late morning session has been good for several days. So it looks like I am now far enough away from Graham's station at Simonstown to get good reception on his 20 meter band. Graham beams first to the Indian Ocean where currently he has no boats approaching, then he directs his antenna to the Atlantic Ocean where there is a group of 6 boats headed for St Helena. Finally he directs his antenna to the Southern ocean where he has two boats headed for Australia: Jean Socrates' Nereida and Pachuca. Graham speaks with Jeanne every day, even though she is less than 1000 miles from Cape Leeuwin Australia. I know that because I can hear his half of the conversation and bits of Jeanne's.
The sun began to shine at mid morning after more than a day of cloudy weather, and that lifted my spirits as usual. The wind charger had seen me through during this period and the battery bank was still at 12.7V, down slightly from the 12.8V after the engine run 36 hours previously.
Since leaving Cape Town I have been running the refrigerator almost constantly, keeping the temperature just above freezing. This has kept the perishables in amazing good condition. Only yesterday did I have the last of the Food Lover's salads that in enjoyed so much in Cape Town. In the refrigerator there are still apples, bananas (brown skins but edible), a grapefruit, tomatoes, a few carrots, 3 eggs, plenty of yogurt, 3 loaves of bread, frozen chicken for the next pressure cooker meal, and other items. In the ice box is a mango that won't ripen, a sweet potato, and plenty of ordinary potatoes, onions and garlic. There is 4th loaf of bread in the oven, which is good because I enjoy my daily two slices of buttered toast after morning coffee. And I have barely touched the various packets of dried fruit that I purchased from that nice lady in VandA. I won't go into the dry and canned items in the holds other than to say that I've got enough rice, spaghetti, beans, lentils, almonds, and canned fish to support me past Australia to New Zealand and probably beyond.
I don't know if it is a coincidence but my chronic chest congestion that has persisted since that illness in Cape Town began to clear up as soon as I had my last drink of alcohol 5 days ago. It is likely that I will arrive with 2 cases of Heineken intact, but I doubt that the bottle of rum and bottle of brandy will survive the passage.
After a third failed attempt to contact Jeanne aboard her boat Nereida I composed a Sailmail message telling her that I was giving up and wishing her well for the rest of her solo non-stop circumnavigation. At the second SAMMNet session a few minutes later Jeanne gave her position as 44S, 097E.
At noon our position was 43S21, 32E21, giving us a n-n distance of 142 miles to E. (That's more like it!) Both navigation programs, Marine Plotter and OpenCPN, reported that we were now less than 4,000 nautical miles from Fremantle. I had a good shot at making Fremantle before the end of April. I would have to average 100 miles per day which should be achievable in these latitudes, particularly in view of the pilot chart's indication that I could expect a 0.7 kt current all of the way to where I would begin my turn northwards for Fremantle, and even then part of the current would turn northwards with me to go up the west coast of Australia. That translates to more than 15 miles a day gratis.
I woke from a nap at 2 PM and was happy to see that the boat was still tracking to the east at more that 5.5 kts even though the wind had fallen to 13 kts. The wind was expected to weaken into the night and my big question was how long I would be able to keep the mainsail up in this lumpy sea. Anyway, so far so good. I then suited up and inspected the deck under a clear and sunny sky. I freed the staysail lazy sheet from around a bollard and noted that the leeward intermediate shroud was a little too much slack to my liking. My record showed that I had tightened the turnbuckles on each side a total of 3 turns since the rigging was installed in Argentina. I had last given them each 1.5 turns in January and would give them another turn or two at first opportunity. The lower cap and lower shrouds were nice and snug. In the cockpit all was well. The Monitor control lines were not too loose and the recently repaired airvane was firmly in its clamps with both bolts nice and tight. This was good considering that the Monitor had been hard at work for more than 24 hours since its last control line adjustment.
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At 9 PM I set the timer for 3 hours because I was expecting the cold front to pass us at about midnight, and there would be an associated wind shift from NW to W. I need not have bothered because when the wind shift came while I was sleeping the boat swung from ESE to NE and I could feel the change as the it met the oncoming waves more directly. I suited up, went topside and gybed the boat with very little drama from the mainsail. That done it was a matter of setting the sails and the Monitor to put us on a very broad reach such that the staysail was being blanketed by the mainsail. We were now heading SE but I expected from the forecast for the wind to continue backing from W to SW, which would take our course more to E. The wind speed was spot on the 20 kts forecast, and we were making about 5 kts. And wow, was did the boat feel quiet in the cabin, now that we were running almost directly with the waves. There was only the hum of the Rutland, the gentle roll of the boat, and the sound of water as it streamed past the hull. Thirty minutes later it started raining again (it had been raining off and on since 8 PM), the wind picked and soon we were heading almost due south at 7 kts. It had to be a squall. I tried to wait it out but the course and speed persisted, so I suited up again and went topside to have a look. The boat was on a beam reach and the Monitor could was not able to steer the boat downwind as it was supposed to. I set the boat back on course then re engaged Jeff and spent the next hour conning the boat at the navigation station over a cup of hot chocolate. I then returned to bed but soon I was up to deal with what I thought was a gybe but turned out to be the boom slamming a couple of times. I stayed up watching things until after daylight at 3.30 AM and at 4 AM returned to bed until the alarm woke me at 6 AM for the SAMMNet session.
I woke up at 6 AM to find the boat still moving satisfactorily to the east. I then noticed the cold and noted that the cabin temperature was 13.9C and topside it was cooler by several degrees. It was just as well that I was sailing solo because a bath would be out of the question until there was a sunny and calm day, even if it meant waiting until my final approach to Australia. (Though come to think about it, a reeking body would be a great way to discourage a prolonged customs inspection.) I would rely on a change of underclothes every week or so, and probably wear the "Icebreaker" fine wool body stocking over that. I would break out a third blanket this night.
I think that I have spoken for the last time with Sam, who deals with coastal weather at ZS1SAM. I've started getting a good strong signal from Graham at ZS2ABK at the early session, and the late morning session has been good for several days. So it looks like I am now far enough away from Graham's station at Simonstown to get good reception on his 20 meter band. Graham beams first to the Indian Ocean where currently he has no boats approaching, then he directs his antenna to the Atlantic Ocean where there is a group of 6 boats headed for St Helena. Finally he directs his antenna to the Southern ocean where he has two boats headed for Australia: Jean Socrates' Nereida and Pachuca. Graham speaks with Jeanne every day, even though she is less than 1000 miles from Cape Leeuwin Australia. I know that because I can hear his half of the conversation and bits of Jeanne's.
The sun began to shine at mid morning after more than a day of cloudy weather, and that lifted my spirits as usual. The wind charger had seen me through during this period and the battery bank was still at 12.7V, down slightly from the 12.8V after the engine run 36 hours previously.
Since leaving Cape Town I have been running the refrigerator almost constantly, keeping the temperature just above freezing. This has kept the perishables in amazing good condition. Only yesterday did I have the last of the Food Lover's salads that in enjoyed so much in Cape Town. In the refrigerator there are still apples, bananas (brown skins but edible), a grapefruit, tomatoes, a few carrots, 3 eggs, plenty of yogurt, 3 loaves of bread, frozen chicken for the next pressure cooker meal, and other items. In the ice box is a mango that won't ripen, a sweet potato, and plenty of ordinary potatoes, onions and garlic. There is 4th loaf of bread in the oven, which is good because I enjoy my daily two slices of buttered toast after morning coffee. And I have barely touched the various packets of dried fruit that I purchased from that nice lady in VandA. I won't go into the dry and canned items in the holds other than to say that I've got enough rice, spaghetti, beans, lentils, almonds, and canned fish to support me past Australia to New Zealand and probably beyond.
I don't know if it is a coincidence but my chronic chest congestion that has persisted since that illness in Cape Town began to clear up as soon as I had my last drink of alcohol 5 days ago. It is likely that I will arrive with 2 cases of Heineken intact, but I doubt that the bottle of rum and bottle of brandy will survive the passage.
After a third failed attempt to contact Jeanne aboard her boat Nereida I composed a Sailmail message telling her that I was giving up and wishing her well for the rest of her solo non-stop circumnavigation. At the second SAMMNet session a few minutes later Jeanne gave her position as 44S, 097E.
At noon our position was 43S21, 32E21, giving us a n-n distance of 142 miles to E. (That's more like it!) Both navigation programs, Marine Plotter and OpenCPN, reported that we were now less than 4,000 nautical miles from Fremantle. I had a good shot at making Fremantle before the end of April. I would have to average 100 miles per day which should be achievable in these latitudes, particularly in view of the pilot chart's indication that I could expect a 0.7 kt current all of the way to where I would begin my turn northwards for Fremantle, and even then part of the current would turn northwards with me to go up the west coast of Australia. That translates to more than 15 miles a day gratis.
I woke from a nap at 2 PM and was happy to see that the boat was still tracking to the east at more that 5.5 kts even though the wind had fallen to 13 kts. The wind was expected to weaken into the night and my big question was how long I would be able to keep the mainsail up in this lumpy sea. Anyway, so far so good. I then suited up and inspected the deck under a clear and sunny sky. I freed the staysail lazy sheet from around a bollard and noted that the leeward intermediate shroud was a little too much slack to my liking. My record showed that I had tightened the turnbuckles on each side a total of 3 turns since the rigging was installed in Argentina. I had last given them each 1.5 turns in January and would give them another turn or two at first opportunity. The lower cap and lower shrouds were nice and snug. In the cockpit all was well. The Monitor control lines were not too loose and the recently repaired airvane was firmly in its clamps with both bolts nice and tight. This was good considering that the Monitor had been hard at work for more than 24 hours since its last control line adjustment.
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Sunday, March 17, 2013
Day 11, March 17 - On the Move
The wind last night held up longer than I had expected. After an early meal of spaghetti I watched a movie (Terms of Endearment). I have a pretty good movie setup. I watch movies on the navigation computer where I can conveniently glance up to the chart plotter to check the boat and wind data, and I can swing my head to the left to check amperages and voltages, which is very useful when I am running the engine. Thirty minutes after the movie the wind had died down enough to warrant the engine run in order to charge the battery bank which was down to 12.4V. The wind was down to about 9 kts and falling and the headsail was beginning to fret even though we were still making 3.5 kts with Jeff doing the steering. I rolled in the sail, disengaged Jeff, the started the engine for a 2-hour run. The autopilot was doing the steering and now we were able to head more into the wind on a course of ESE. I then started to watch a second movie (U571). Twenty minutes into the movie I glanced up and saw that the boat was starting to do a "Crazy Ivan" and making a 360 degree circle to port, meaning that the autopilot had disengaged. I went topside, completed the circle, then reengaged the autopilot, which gave me no trouble after that. After the engine run I took to the bunk at 10.30 PM for a carefree sleep snuggled up nice and warm under 2 blankets. I didn't expect wind until after dawn and the boat was drifting comfortably.
I woke up at 4 AM and there was still no wind and I woke up again at 5.30 AM to find the beginnings of a usable wind. I noted that the battery bank was at a healthy 12.8V. I decided to hold back setting sail until after the 6.30 AM SAMMNet session. The session went well and the weather prediction was for up to 35 kt winds at noon and 6 PM, dropping to 30 kt at midnight and 6 AM tomorrow. Sam gave me a Heads Up that I could expect 40 kt wind on Wednesday and I'd better batten down the hatches. If this came to pass I might be able to try out heaving to with my new 3rd reef and new weather sheets at the sides of the cockpit.
I set the headsail and soon realized that I would have to raise the mainsail if I wanted to get the most out of the coming winds. I decided to be conservative and raise the mainsail double reefed. The first slab of reef was still bound to the boom by shock cord (and would likely remain so because I don't expect to raise the full sail during the passage). I used Jeff to point close the wind then raised the sail to its second reef and found that I did not have to use a winch to bring on the aft reefing line because I had earlier put the boom nice and high with the topping left. Then it was time to break new ground: transferring the 1st reefing line at the back of the sail to the 3rd reefing cringle.
I brought the boom in over the cockpit the untied the 1st reefing line from around the boom and pulled it out of the 1st reef cringle. I then tied the tail of the cord looped between the 2nd reef cringle (which was now at the boom) and the 3rd reef cringle (which was another meter up) to the end of the reefing line and pulled on the loop to take the line up through the 3rd reef cringle then back down to the boom and my hands, which worked fine. I tied the reefing line around the boom then I went forward with shock cord and tied the second slab of reef around the boom. Now the boat was ready for a 3rd reef from the safety of the cockpit so I took the boat off the wind let boom out to trip the mainsail and we were on our way. At 9 AM we were making 5 kts to ESE off a 12 kt wind that was expected to build up.
Two hours later the wind had picked up to 15 kts and was rising, so I decided to put up the staysail. I hoisted the staysail inside of the headsail, known as a "peel". With the staysail partially blanketing the headsail the task of rolling it in was easier. I wound up with the staysail up and the headsail covering the area between the forestays. My effort gained more than a half knot in boat speed so I was pleased with the result. When the wind got stronger I would roll in the headsail and rely on the staysail.
In anticipation of rough weather in the coming night I chopped up the various vegetables and prepared the bean stew for cooking in the evening. Just before lighting the stove I would put in the final ingredient, some nice boneless and skinless fillets of chicken that I had kept chilled in the refrigerator.
I tried contacting Jeanne at 10.30 AM with no success, though I could just make out her voice an recognized the word "Over!"
At the 11.30 AM SAMMNet session Graham redirected his beam from the Atlantic to me in the Southern ocean, hailed me, and I responded in my usual booming voice that I've learned to use in HF communication. He came back a bit shaken saying that he was receiving me very well and I had knocked him back in the chair, or something to that effect. I told Graham that I was a happy sailor, making 7 kts to 110T. His forecast gave me improved forecasts on what I had heard in the first session. Today and tomorrow I could expect winds up to 25 kts, not the 35 kts reported earlier. He said that it would be likely that I would far enough east to escape the worst of the blow on Wednesday, 30 kts instead of 40 kts.
At noon our position was 43S06, 29E08, giving us a respectable n-n distance of 75 miles to the east.
I woke up from a nap at 3 PM to find the boat rocketing along, averaging 7.8 or 7.9 knots. My instinctive reaction was to slow the boat down, but when I had a look at the situation I could find no objective reason for shortening sail. We were beam to the wind and although the sea had built up the boat was keeping her bow out of the water. The wind load was being shared the modest amounts of headsail, trysail, and mainsail. The heel of the boat was not excessive and the Monitor was coping well. If the wind instrument was correct the wind speed was about 20 knots. I decided to have a cup of tea instead. But soon we were sustaining speeds of 8.3 and 8.4 knot, our heel increased, and occasionally the headsail would luff, shaking the boat. I suited up and went topside to find that Jeff wasn't coping with the weather helm and in fact the boat was slightly into the wind and starting to bash into the oncoming waves The first thing I did was to reduce the sail area by rolling in the jib, leaving only the staysail and double reefed mainsail. Then I took over the helm and took the boat off the wind from E to SE. This reduced the apparent wind and now we were going more with the waves than against them. I set Jeff up in the new situation and watched for a few minutes to make sure that he would hold our course. That being done I went down below to finish my cup of tea in a much quieter boat. We had much less heel and were averaging about 7 kts to the SE. I don't like running even a little downwind with the mainsail up because I am afraid of an accidental gybe, but I figured that if something went wrong with Jeff's steering the boat would simply round up into the wind. I remembered that I had run like this with the mainsail on the way from Brazil until the apparent wind reached 35 kts and I was forced to round the boat up and heave her to, so we should be OK in this 25 kt wind.
At 4 PM all was well and I did not expect the wind to get any stronger throughout the night.
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I woke up at 4 AM and there was still no wind and I woke up again at 5.30 AM to find the beginnings of a usable wind. I noted that the battery bank was at a healthy 12.8V. I decided to hold back setting sail until after the 6.30 AM SAMMNet session. The session went well and the weather prediction was for up to 35 kt winds at noon and 6 PM, dropping to 30 kt at midnight and 6 AM tomorrow. Sam gave me a Heads Up that I could expect 40 kt wind on Wednesday and I'd better batten down the hatches. If this came to pass I might be able to try out heaving to with my new 3rd reef and new weather sheets at the sides of the cockpit.
I set the headsail and soon realized that I would have to raise the mainsail if I wanted to get the most out of the coming winds. I decided to be conservative and raise the mainsail double reefed. The first slab of reef was still bound to the boom by shock cord (and would likely remain so because I don't expect to raise the full sail during the passage). I used Jeff to point close the wind then raised the sail to its second reef and found that I did not have to use a winch to bring on the aft reefing line because I had earlier put the boom nice and high with the topping left. Then it was time to break new ground: transferring the 1st reefing line at the back of the sail to the 3rd reefing cringle.
I brought the boom in over the cockpit the untied the 1st reefing line from around the boom and pulled it out of the 1st reef cringle. I then tied the tail of the cord looped between the 2nd reef cringle (which was now at the boom) and the 3rd reef cringle (which was another meter up) to the end of the reefing line and pulled on the loop to take the line up through the 3rd reef cringle then back down to the boom and my hands, which worked fine. I tied the reefing line around the boom then I went forward with shock cord and tied the second slab of reef around the boom. Now the boat was ready for a 3rd reef from the safety of the cockpit so I took the boat off the wind let boom out to trip the mainsail and we were on our way. At 9 AM we were making 5 kts to ESE off a 12 kt wind that was expected to build up.
Two hours later the wind had picked up to 15 kts and was rising, so I decided to put up the staysail. I hoisted the staysail inside of the headsail, known as a "peel". With the staysail partially blanketing the headsail the task of rolling it in was easier. I wound up with the staysail up and the headsail covering the area between the forestays. My effort gained more than a half knot in boat speed so I was pleased with the result. When the wind got stronger I would roll in the headsail and rely on the staysail.
In anticipation of rough weather in the coming night I chopped up the various vegetables and prepared the bean stew for cooking in the evening. Just before lighting the stove I would put in the final ingredient, some nice boneless and skinless fillets of chicken that I had kept chilled in the refrigerator.
I tried contacting Jeanne at 10.30 AM with no success, though I could just make out her voice an recognized the word "Over!"
At the 11.30 AM SAMMNet session Graham redirected his beam from the Atlantic to me in the Southern ocean, hailed me, and I responded in my usual booming voice that I've learned to use in HF communication. He came back a bit shaken saying that he was receiving me very well and I had knocked him back in the chair, or something to that effect. I told Graham that I was a happy sailor, making 7 kts to 110T. His forecast gave me improved forecasts on what I had heard in the first session. Today and tomorrow I could expect winds up to 25 kts, not the 35 kts reported earlier. He said that it would be likely that I would far enough east to escape the worst of the blow on Wednesday, 30 kts instead of 40 kts.
At noon our position was 43S06, 29E08, giving us a respectable n-n distance of 75 miles to the east.
I woke up from a nap at 3 PM to find the boat rocketing along, averaging 7.8 or 7.9 knots. My instinctive reaction was to slow the boat down, but when I had a look at the situation I could find no objective reason for shortening sail. We were beam to the wind and although the sea had built up the boat was keeping her bow out of the water. The wind load was being shared the modest amounts of headsail, trysail, and mainsail. The heel of the boat was not excessive and the Monitor was coping well. If the wind instrument was correct the wind speed was about 20 knots. I decided to have a cup of tea instead. But soon we were sustaining speeds of 8.3 and 8.4 knot, our heel increased, and occasionally the headsail would luff, shaking the boat. I suited up and went topside to find that Jeff wasn't coping with the weather helm and in fact the boat was slightly into the wind and starting to bash into the oncoming waves The first thing I did was to reduce the sail area by rolling in the jib, leaving only the staysail and double reefed mainsail. Then I took over the helm and took the boat off the wind from E to SE. This reduced the apparent wind and now we were going more with the waves than against them. I set Jeff up in the new situation and watched for a few minutes to make sure that he would hold our course. That being done I went down below to finish my cup of tea in a much quieter boat. We had much less heel and were averaging about 7 kts to the SE. I don't like running even a little downwind with the mainsail up because I am afraid of an accidental gybe, but I figured that if something went wrong with Jeff's steering the boat would simply round up into the wind. I remembered that I had run like this with the mainsail on the way from Brazil until the apparent wind reached 35 kts and I was forced to round the boat up and heave her to, so we should be OK in this 25 kt wind.
At 4 PM all was well and I did not expect the wind to get any stronger throughout the night.
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