Day 54 , The Last Night and Arrival

We sailed into the night of the 28th in very good conditions, with a fair wind of about 15 kts, relatively calm sea, and good visibility.

Scaramouche leading Pachuca

Morning Tide and Odyssey of Fremantle

As I was approaching the South Passage south of Rottnest Island a ship appeared off my starboard quarter sailing a few degrees more to the east than me, so the gap of our tracks was opening up.  However, I soon noticed that the ship was changing course to port so I made radio contact.  The officer told me that he was aware of me and was just testing his steering. (Huh?)  He continued changing his course and was soon headed almost north no doubt to go around the western end of Rottnest Island.  I tried matching his change but I could not carry the sail so after 30 minutes or so on converging tracks I altered course to starboard to pass behind him but I had misjudged things and was forced to continue through the tack and backwind the fully rolled out headsail in order to quieten it, and used the engine  After the ship had passed to a safe distance I tacked back and continued on to South Pass.  The ship incident had cost me 30 minutes of progress but that was not serious because I had ample time to meet the plans of the coming day.  I was to rendezvous with Jim Putt aboard his boat Morning Tide at 10 AM and arrive at he Customs jetty at noon.

Fortunately the sailing conditions were so good and the wind so fair that I decided that it would be safer to sail through the pass than to motor through it.  I would have Rottnest Island as a lee shore but I didn't expect a serious change in the wind conditions, and if need be I could either sail my way out of trouble or proceed under engine power.  The 3/4 moon was starting to rise which made the passage seem less threatening.

It was by sheer luck that I happened to be working the port winch when I saw two cray pot floats pass by in the dark.  One of the floats was pulled under the water so I figured that I had snagged the line with my propeller.  With the spotlight I was able to clearly see the line and float being dragged behind the boat so I knew that it was now impossible to use the engine for propulsion.

I sailed into Gage Roads, proceeded a safe distance to the north of the "Windmills" leads, the lay the boat ahull.  We were now drifting at about 0.5 kts to the NW.  I spent the rest of the night up dodging ships.  It is amazing the amount of ship movements during the night and I was forced to use the sail several times to get clear of ships both at anchor and on the move.

Starting Turn to Customs Jetty

Almost Home

Home

Greeting Peter Moore.  Jim McBeth Looking on, the Brenda, Pat, and Bob Kucera

I figured that since I had to be up anyway I may as well do something useful so I spent 90 minutes on the deck putting up the courtesy flags of the countries that I had visited as a way of dressing up the boat.  Protocol dictates that the host country's flag should fly topmost on the starboard side and below that were the flags of countries that we had visited in correct order: New Zealand, French Polynesia, USA, Canada, Mexico, Argentina, and Brazil.  The large flag of the last country that we had visited, South Africa, was flown on the port side well below the Q flag.

After dawn I tried to snag the line and pull it up but it was too far down to reach.  Then I realized that I was probably dragging the entire cray pot, which explained why the float was below the water.  This was a more difficult situation and I realized that I would need some help.

I  had kept the VHF radio on all night tuned to channel 16 and not long after dawn I heard someone speaking who mentioned "Cockburn Rescue".  I immediately got on the radio and establish contact.  After explaining my plight he got my coordinates and told me that he would send out a rescue boat.  He asked if I was in immediate danger and I replied No because fortunately I was on the north side of the island drifting to the NW.  He told me that it would take some time for the volunteers to get started a I replied that there was no hurry and I was very grateful for their assistance.

The boat showed up about 90 minutes later with two men.  They could see the float, asked me the color of the line (white) and told me that I would have to go over the side and deal with it myself.  They set up a tow line to the stern of the boat in order to stop her drift.  I put the boarding ladder over the side, found my diving mask and a sharp knife, stripped down to my underclothes, and went over the side.  Fortunately the water was not too cold.  I found the that the rope had made a complete loop around the propeller, probably during the violent hobby horsing of the boat as she lay ahull, and there were two floats rather than one.  It took  3 dives but finally the propeller was free of the rope.  I had asked the men what I should do with the rope after I cut it and they said to simply let it go.  After I climbed back on board they asked me to test the steering and propeller so I started the engine and everything proved out OK.  They got some details from me and left with my expressions of gratitude.  This was a job that I would have done had I been forced to far out to sea, but I thought it risky to try the dive alone in particular because with the boat being pushed by the wind one way and the current heading the other way there was danger of not being able to reach the boat after a dive.  And in fact I did have trouble reaching the boarding ladder after one of the dives.

Jim Putt called me on the radio at about that time and I explained the situation and told him that I would need about 15 minutes before getting on the way for the rendezvous but that estimate was much too optimistic.  I remembered that I still needed to prepare the boat for the jetty by putting out the ropes and fenders.  I had a good cockpit bath to wash away the salt water, dressed in fresh clothes, put out the fenders and ropes, made a cup of coffee, then got under way.

Saying Hello to Jim McBeth

A Chat with Neil and Jim

On the way I got my first welcome surprise when Stuart came by in his power boat with Victor and a friend on board. We exchanged greetings and traveled together for a short while then parted because Victor had another commitment.

Eventually I caught sight of 3 sail boats that appeared to be waiting side by side and headed for them.  It was Jim Putt aboard his "Morning Tide",  Joanna  Pearson aboard her S and S 39 "Odyssey of Fremantle",  and another boat which I later learned was Ian Parker's boat.  As we approached the harbour area we were joined by a fourth boat, Anna Oldfield's "Scaramouche" well decorated with flags and they used an air horn to welcome my arrival.  The four escort boats were hanging back and allowing me to take the lead but after 5 years I was having trouble figuring out the route and I asked Scaramouche to take the lead.

As we entered the Marina I was surprised to see Caroline, Dennis, and daughter Madelyn on the rocks at the right then Stephen at the rocks on the left.  I thanked the escort boats as best I could then made the turn to the Customs jetty and was pleased to see Brenda waiting to take a line and was surprised to see two men prepared to help.  One of the men was Merv from the South of Perth yacht club, who I was very glad to see again. The other was FSC Commodore Bob Kucera. Bob and I had met before but when I realized that he was visiting in his capacity as the Commodore of the club I told him how honored I felt that he had taken the trouble to be at my arrival.  Not many sailors have had the honour of having their line taken by the Commodore.  Edgar Vitte, who had rigged Pachuca shortly after I had purchased her came by, and we agreed to meet later to discuss my experiences with the rigging and sails.  Then colleagues from my Murdoch University days came by, Peter and Sue Sumner and Neil Huck.   Cynthia telephoned to welcome me back,   I met Joanna (Odyssey) and Peter Moore. Pat Fitzgerald was there. She had been following the blog with her husband Bill for years.  Jim McBeth, a fellow member of the club dropped by.   Jim Putt paid a visit to the jetty.  Later I learned that the Chadwicks had been among the rocks on the north side. I met Samantha "Sam", the Assistant Harbour Master, who was to be very thoughtful and helpful to me.  Accommodation for boats at the marina was becoming tight because scores of visiting boats were arriving for the Bali race, and beginning with Tristan Yuswak the club's harbour master while I was still far out to sea, the Fremantle Sailing Club had done a wonderful job of planning accommodation for Pachuca until my pen was free (on 8 May).

All of this happened after a night of no sleep and no food since lunch on the previous day, so I was in a bit of a daze and everything seemed a bit dreamy and unreal.  But it was real and I was getting the warmest of welcome and it was great to be back.

Customs and AQIS (Quarantine) arrived 30 minutes later and both pairs did a very thorough job of inspecting the boat and my paperwork.  It was all quite amicable and although I lost two large packs of top quality almonds I was allowed to keep the raisins, flour, spaghetti, and other items that I thought were in jeopardy.  At first I could not find my wallet in order to pay the $330 charge from AQIS for their service, but I eventually found it at the bottom of the clothes closet.  However, I was not able to find my passports and I started a deep search of the boat for them the following day (today) with no success.  I am not panicking about the passports because I have always been very careful with them and they must be on board, but they are not where they should have been.

With Fremantle Support Team, Chatting with Cindy

Afterwards Brenda and Stephen drove me to their house and I was treated to a wonderful roast chicken dinner accompanied by a great merlot.  After the privations of life on the boat I felt that I was being given 5 star accommodation worthy of a king.

I slept like a log for 9 hours and woke up feeling a lot better.

I have Stephen to thank for the photos in this blog.

They're Here !

Pachuca came in very well to an enthusiastic gathering of supporters.

Thanks to those that turned out to welcome in Bob and Pachuca.

This is a very quick post for those that couldn't make the arrival.

Robert will need plenty of rest, after 2 nights without sleep.

There will be more photos of the arrival to follow :) thanks Stephen Fryc


Photos are:
Bob Kucera, FSC Commodore with Bob.

And Pachuca's mast.

  

Arrival is today ! !

Robert and Pachuca are due to complete their circumnavigation today, Monday 29 April. They are coming via the South Passage. Pachuca has picked up a cray-pot line which Robert will deal with when it is light.

The intention is to enter Success Harbour (Fremantle Sailing Club) just before midday. There is some info on how to see Pachuca come in to her home port that was posted (on this blog) a few days ago on 25 April. It includes a map and some phone numbers. Robert does not have a phone on board.

We all hope for a safe landing..... 

Day 53, April 28 -

At 11 AM local (WST) time I dressed up with sea boots and wet weather trousers to transfer the anchor chain from the V berth area below into the chain locker at the bow and then put out the anchor. Conditions were not too bad, though not ideal. There was enough wind to cause white capping and once in a while a wave would slap the bow sending spray over the foredeck. One problem was that I would have to have the forward hatch open for short periods of time and I did not want any more moisture going into the V berth section. Nevertheless the job had to be done because I did not want to be in the close waters of Cockburn Sound and Gage Roads without an anchor ready for deployment.

The first task was to get the chain into the locker. I opened the hatch and dead lifted half of the chain hand over hand so as not to scour the edge of the hatch base. I then began to feed it into the hawse pipe. Once I had 2 meters of chain dangling into the locker I took the rope at the end of the chain and lashed it to a bracket that I had installed for the purpose. The idea of the rope was that I would be able to knife through the rope it if forced to cut away the anchor rode during some emergency. I then lifted out the second half of the chain and shut the hatch, thankful that no sea water had passed through it.

Then it was time for the 45 lb plow anchor, which was stowed at the base of the clothes locker on top of the disassembled Swarbrick 50 lb anchor. I cleared out the clothes, lifted out the anchor, and placed it on the port (leeward) bunk of the V berth. Then from topside there was no other way of avoiding a one armed dead lift of the anchor up to the deck. The wet deck is wonderfully non-skid for footwear, but is like glass for metal objects, so I had to be careful about putting it into a stable position for the shackle work. In the bag for once I had brought everything that I needed: large adjustable wrench, long screw driver for holding the shackle while worked it with the wrench, stainless steel mousing wire, and side cutter pliers. Soon the chain was attached to the anchor and I worked it forward thankful that I had not put the chain on the wrong side of a sheet or the lifeline. At the bow there was no way around it: a one armed dead lift of the anchor leaning forward, shoulder against the forestay, deck pitching, trying to place the anchor stock on the roller. That went OK and other than a grumbling back the entire job had gone well. I remember surveying the scene while I was on the foredeck working on my knees, of the bright sunshine, blue water, bow cutting smartly through the water, and thinking to myself 'Savour these moments, mate, because your blue water sailing days are about to be over for a while.'

After tidying up I rescued the last 10 beers from their soggy cardboard case up forward, put them in the refrigerator, and started it up. I was getting bright sunshine to help charge the batteries, expected to run the engine during the night, and shucks, why not treat myself and visiting guests to cold beers.

I was pleased with the state of the boat. Other than a bit of last minute tidying up my remaining tasks were to have a bath and change of clothes, which I might well do during the night in the moonlight, and after daybreak putting up the Q (quarantine) and Aussie flags, putting the boat fenders in position, and set up dock lines fore and aft. From photos of the Customs jetty that Brenda and Stephen had sent me while I was in Cape Town I expected to go nose in with the jetty to my starboard, so most fenders would be set up on the starboard side but I would probably set up 2 on the port side, just in case.

At 1PM WST we were 39 miles directly west of Halls Head, 50 miles from Fremantle, and making 4.5 kts. The dream run continued.

At 3.30 PM WST I tried the car radio and received FM stations with crystal clarity. We level with Singleton, 32 miles to the east and coming up on Secret Harbour. Fremantle was 40 miles ahead. I set the ship's clock to WA time.

At 0800 UTC our numbers for the sailing day were:

POS 32S23, 115E07
NND 98 nm (in last 24 hours)
DMG 4880 nm (from Cape Town)
DTG 37 nm (to Fremantle)

We were 29 miles W of Secret Harbour.

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Day 53, April 28 - Early Morning Edition

I put my head down at 1300, 9 PM local time, and the sail immediately began to flog frequently enough to get me out of bed. The wind had died so I put the pole up in the hopes of keeping the boat moving, but by the time I had the new arrangement set up the wind had died to nothing, so I brought in the sail and let the boat drift in the moonlight. I was not worried because good winds were predicted for the coming day.

I was up at 1750 to the hum of the Rutland wind charger and it was time to set sail. I dressed up and went topside and one glance forward revealed the beautiful sight of a ship crossing my bow close, but not dangerously so. This was my first sight of humanity in more than 6 weeks. I looked up and saw that my tricolor was shining brightly and then went down below and saw that the ship was showing up as a target on the chart plotter: the Lucy Oldendorff, a cargo ship bound for New Plymouth, NZ. She was crossing 2.3 miles ahead of me, just outside of the 2 mile safety perimeter that would have triggered an alarm on the chart plotter. Thirteen miles ahead the Zosco Huzhou bound for China had already crossed my bow going the other way and must have passed close to the Lucy Oldendorff. I was in a shipping lane and my AIS system was working fine. I had been broadcasting an AIS signal continuously since Cape Town.

The wind was a good one: moderate but steady. The boat was pointing the right way so all I had to do was to roll out some headsail and alter the airvane just a few degrees, and just like that we were now making 5.5 kts across a calm sea. Down below I saw that we were now well north of Bunbury and 99 miles from our destination. I felt safe from ships because of the clear visibility as well as the AIS, so went back to bed.

I was up at dawn, 2230 UTC, to find the boat still sailing directly toward Fremantle 75 miles away.
There were scores of sea birds of at least 3 different speciens zooming all around the boat. We were 50 miles of the coast, making a good speed of 4.5 kts, and the moderate SE winds would continue until after my arrival at Rottnest Island. This was turning out to be a dream run up the coast.

I was now within the coverage of the set of Navionics charts of Australia on the chart plotter so now I was working with very detailed, recent, and well presented charts. The C-Map charts had done a great job of getting me from Mexico to this point, and in fact they were good enough to get me into Fremantle, but they could not match the Navionics charts. Undoubtedly the modern C-Map charts are to the same standard, but I was using C-Map 93, a much older version. The other great tool at my disposal was of course Marine Plotter running on the laptop because using it I would see the progress of the boat against very detailed Google satellite images. Imagining the ocean bottom from contour lines and spot depth is one thing. Being able to actually see the ocean bottom is another.

I expected to arrive at the holding position between Rottnest Island and Fremantle at about midnight local time. I planned to enter Cockburn Sound through the South Passage and station myself 5 or 6 miles E of Rottnest Island to await the dawn. I did not want to wait too close to Fremantle in order to avoid shipping movements. Once I established the direction and rate of drift I would see about getting a few hours of sleep with anchor alarms and timer set.

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Day 52, April 27 - ETA 29 April

At 1830 UTC still on the 26th (0230 on the 27th Western Australia time) we crossed the 200 mile mark and were now north of Cape Leeuwin.

I had been getting up frequently to deal with a wind shift that I knew was coming, and now I was up to attend to the sail, which had begun to occasionally flog with a sharp snap in the moderating wind. The full sail had been out for about 12 hours so I rolled in half of it in hoping to quiet it, but that didn't work and it was time to put up the whisker pole in the middle of the night. That led to 2 hours of hard work running between the cockpit and foredeck.

Light was not a problem because I had a nearly full moon almost directly overhead, and between that at my head torch I did not even need to turn on the deck light. But the rolling was a problem as always and I had to move carefully. The first big problem with hooking the pole at the bowline knot at the clew is that I've got to pull the flogging sail in with one hand and hook the pole in with the other while standing up. I do this by working with an arm on each side of the inner forestay. That leads to the second problem. I must then go back to the cockpit and loosen the sheets enough so that I can push the pole out far enough to hook it on the mast ring. As soon as I do that the sail starts flogging harder and there is great danger that if the sail spits the pole out it will go over the side. To prevent this I lashed the pole with an independent line which I made off at a bollard so that if the pole went over I would be able to pull it back on board. But now in addition to the flaying sheets there was that third line attached to a pole that could jump anywhere and I saw a risk of getting caught up in a rope so I started carrying a rigging knife in the pocket of the wet weather trousers, something that I should have been doing all along. In fact the pole almost did go over the side. After loosening the sheets I made my way forward and just as my hand reached out to the pole the end came off the sheet and it was headed for the water. I grabbed the pole just in time and saved it by, well, a whisker. I clipped the pole back onto the sail then it was a matter of manhandling the other end of the pole onto the mast ring. This was not so easy because the pole was pumping back and forth violently and I had to control it with one hand. Finally I got the pole onto the mast ring then went back to the cockpit and set the sail.

I've tried to describe what the pole work is like in order to give an idea of how I felt when I looked at our heading and saw that the wind shift had come while I was wrestling with the pole. That meant a gybe which meant that I had to bring the pole down and do it all over again.

I was well rewarded for the effort because the result was that we were moving well again with a quiet sail heading directly for Cape Naturaliste 114 miles away. The forecast was for the wind to steadily back toward the S and eventually the SE, so I knew that the boat would clock around nicely with it and eventually I would be on a beam reach making for Fremantle.

I sat at the steering station to cool off and get some rest and it was such a lovely experience with the cool breeze, calm sea, bright moonlight, that I didn't want to get up again. But I have always been partial to moonlight sailing.

I woke up after dawn and found the boat headed NNE. The wind had backed to the SSE much faster than I had expected. The wind would now be on the beam so once again I dropped the pole. While I was at it I removed the staysail from the foredeck and stowed it below for drying later. I needed clear the foredeck in preparation for the task of moving the chain and anchor from the clothes closet below to the bow of the boat.

----- ETA -----
The morning's spot report looked amazingly good, with moderate SE and SSE winds for the next 2 days. I should be able to reach the vicinity of Rottnest Island at about midnight on 28 April. (Yikes! That's tomorrow night !!!!) I will stand off until dawn on Monday the 29th and try to be at the Customs dock before noon.
----- ETA -----

I soon sent a notification of my ETA to Customs, Quarantine, and others.

I spent two hours doing a bit of cleaning in the cabin. The principal objective was to clean out the refrigerator and ice box compartments, throwing out all fresh vegetables and whatever perishables might remain. Overboard went a half dozen very good onions and potatoes that had passed their prime but were still good for cooking. Garlic went overboard too. At the end both compartments were clean and in good order for the Customs official. I also moved the laptop from the main table back to the navigation table. Moving the laptop to the main table had been a great move and probably saved the computer.

The morning's SAMMNet session was not good, at least at my end. After a 90 second wait called out my numbers, saying everything twice. I was confident that Graham had copied me OK. I told him that I would try again at the "lunch" session which would me setting an alarm to wake up.

My nocturnal pole dancing on the foredeck must have paid off because the 24 hour sailing day numbers at 0800 UTC were surprisingly good:

POS 38S32, 113E45
NND 124 nm
DMG 4778 nm
DTG 134 nm

We were on the exact same latitude as Cape Naturaliste 60 miles to the east. Soon we would be passing Bunbury, and perhaps I would detect my first ship on AIS since South Africa.

I ran the engine for 90 minutes because I was now running the chart plotter 24 hours a day. Had I done a 1-hour run I would have been able to boast of a complete engine run with no oil pressure alarm. Alas, in the 75th minute the alarm went off.

Because of the fantastic throughput I've been getting from Sailmail I downloaded my first grib file in many weeks, for 2 days, every 3 hours, and the rectangle between the position of the boat and Fremantle. The wind predictions were very good, and if the wind remained strong enough to allow me to keep sailing throughout the coming night, even at a minimal 2.5 kts, we would be a shoo-in for making the ETA.

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Day 51, April 26

I woke up 4 hours before dawn and things were so quiet that I was afraid that we were close to being becalmed. However, outside under the full moon things looked different. The sea was calm and apparent wind was strong and steady enough to keep us moving well. The occasional flapping of the sail was caused by momentary lulls in the wind when the boat was catching up to its speed. Nevertheless the wind was light and I marvelled how the Monitor could steer the boat so well. As far as the sail and our boat speed goes, the key was that whisker pole that kept the headsail flat and steady. Without that pole we probably would have been drifting all night.

A check of the track showed that we had been averaging 4 kts over the 10 hours since the "noon" report. The wind had shifted 30 degrees in our favor and now we were making for south of Cape Leeuwin. I tweaked the airvane to alter our heading more to the north. Conditions were mild and I went to the airvane barefoot and in my light clothes.

I was looking forward to listening to the radio in the coming day. I was now in a "news rich" environment with a choice between Radio Australia and the BBC. Yesterday I heard a good account of the Aussie ANZAC Day services and from the BBC learned of a fire at the Austal shipyard in Mobile, Alabama.

The wind picked up as dawn approached and I was able to make directly for Fremantle at 5.5 kts. The whisker pole had worked well all night and I decided to keep it up in the rising wind because I knew that I could reduce the sail area by half with the pole up.

At 0100 UTC, about 2 hours after dawn, I downloaded a fresh spot forecast and according to it I could look forward to two glorious days of good winds. However, I could expect the wind at 19 kts in only 6 hours. The whisker pole had done a brilliant job but now it was time to take it down. In these stronger winds I no longer needed the pole and I wanted the flexibility of sailing with the bare headsail. It was tricky enough taking the pole down in this lighter wind. Fortunately while I was standing next to the inner forestay frantically trying to pull in the jerking sheet so that I could free the pole the gyrations of the sail and sheet caused the pole to free itself. The safest method would be to roll the entire headsail in but that places the clew of the sail too high and beyond my reach.

After the pole operation we were still headed at 060T, between Cape Naturaliste and Fremantle and we were now under 300 miles (297) from the finish. Things were looking up.

I decided to treat myself with fresh baked bread and I produced three small loaves that rival a professional effort in lightness and crust. I started off by dissolving plenty of butter and sugar in a bowl of warm water. When solution had cooled down to blood heat I added 2 hefty tea spoons of yeast the mixed in almost an entire 1 kg bag of flour. I had just finished running the engine for one hour so I put the bowl with the dough on the engine cover and under a coat and a wool sweater. The residual heat from the engine did wonders for the rising process. This time I tried making 3 small loaves instead of 2 large ones and got much better results from the aged and somewhat flawed oven.

The engine run went well. The oil pressure alarm came on after 24 minutes and from there on it was a cycle of on and off with the alarm.

I had a great morning session with Graham. I got poor copy from him at first but then reception improved and he was able to pass on some valuable information about the winds that I can expect during the run up the coast to Fremantle. Tomorrow morning the wind will be S-SW 10-15 kts all of the way to Fremantle. On Sunday at 0600 the wind will be S-SE 10-15 kts. He will email a more detailed forecast to me. I suggested that since we had a good exchange in this session we skip the lunchtime one because by then it is well after dark on Pachuca. We agreed to skip the session and if we failed to connect tomorrow morning we would try again at the lunchtime session. This will be the first time that I can recall that I miss one of the twice daily sessions. At this point, by the way, Graham and I are over 4500 nautical miles apart.

The starboard water tank that supplies the galley finally ran dry, after 51 days. I switched on the pressure pump so that I could get tap water from the port tank. Normally pressure water is a big no-no during a passage, but we were so close to the finish that I could see no point in carting water in jugs from the hand pump in the head.

At 0800 UTC the numbers for the 24 hour sailing day were:

POS 34S55, 111E44
NND 114 nm
DMG 4644 nm
DTG 258 nm

We were entering the shallower waters of the Naturaliste Plateau and were now north of the latitude of the city of Albany.

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Arrival Information

Robert will let us know via the blog when he is going to arrive. It should be within a few days. This message is for anyone who plans to go to Fremantle to welcome Pachuca home after sailing round the world, a voyage begun on 3 May 2008. Below is a map that goes with this text.

They will enter Success Harbour (orange line). They will then go to the Customs jetty for customs and quarantine formalities. This may not take very long although we can't be sure. After that Robert plans to walk to the Fremantle Sailing Club clubhouse (5) where he can meet anyone who is there. Parking for the FSC clubhouse is at (4) and it is not restricted to club members.

The two vantage points for seeing Pachuca come into the harbour are Capo d'Orlando Drive (1), and the Breakwater (2). There is a car park at (1). To see the channel it is necessary to do a little clambering on rocks. To get to (2) is a walk of about 800 metres. There is a car park at (3), and also nearby, inside the FSC gate.

Initially it was hoped that Pachuca could move from the Customs jetty to the Collector jetty (6). Because of the Bali Race, due to start on 4 May, there will be 20 visiting yachts in the harbour and the Collector jetty will be crowded. It is most likely that Pachuca will stay at the Customs jetty for at least 24 hours. Robert is hoping that later in Arrival Day he can show Pachuca to anyone interested.

Robert does not have a phone (until he gets ashore). The contact number for Stephen is 040 387 3922

and for Brenda is 046 758 9741. For instance you may wish to know if they have arrived. Or if he has finished with customs and quarantine. Stephen will try to keep the blog updated with events as they unfold as there can be no guarantee of a timeline.

Day 50, April 25

The wind came back after a 2-hour lull and an hour before dark.

I took a chance of the spot forecast being accurate and rolled out the headsail with the whisker pole. There was a lot at stake for me because if I could keep the boat moving throughout the night I would gain 30 miles or more. I figured that if I was forced to the foredeck to attend to the pole and sail in the middle of the night it would be because the wind was too slack rather than too strong, and I knew that I could manage that safely, particularly since there was a nearly full moon overhead. It was a good call because an hour after dark the wind picked up enough to make the Rutland hum and I was able to point the boat more downwind.

I had another half successful session with Graham. At 0110 UTC it was lunch time in his part of the world but it was well after sunset for me, almost 4,500 miles to the east. I could barely hear him speaking, recognizing the odd word here and there. However, I am pretty sure that he got good copy from me because for some reason I always manage to hear "QSL". I find these sessions satisfying because I know that Graham is keen to know of my position and situation. He told me that he would send me a Sailmail message, which meant no doubt a weather report.

At 2000 - 3 hrs before dawn - I woke up to find that although the boat was somehow still on course there was so little wind that the sail was flapping back and forth. I looked at the sport forecast and saw that we were emerging from a period of weak winds declining in speed from 10.4 to 10.1 kts over a period of 12 hours to a period of even weaker winds in the 8-9 kt range for the next 18 hours. It was time to drop sail. There was no danger in the pole work on the foredeck because falling overboard would mean a moonlight swim around the boat before climbing up the Monitor frame. Nevertheless I wore my harness as always.

We had managed to average 3 kts over the 12.5 hour period since "noon" position, thanks to that whisker pole, and were now lying ahull 404 miles from Fremantle. I figured that in another 150 miles we would be within motoring range for Fremantle, though I would not consider motoring that far. In the coming day I would top up the diesel tanks and get a better estimate of the fuel situation. The weather was quite mild (cabin temperature 18.6C, 65F) so I would probably have my first bath in weeks.

I got a craving for fruit and ate one of the 3 remaining apples from Cape Town. It was not exactly crisp but quite edible. For lunch that that very day I had eaten the last of the cheese from Brazil. It showed no evidence of mold but was going dark around the edges. I still had potatoes, onions, and garlic. And I still had plenty of water. The starboard tank was still supplying the galley and I had barely touched the port tank. I also had 80 liters in plastic jugs. Even though the water situation was good I was still clinging to the austerity measures and was using about 3 liters a day, given that I had been living off the 140 liter tank for 50 days. Also, I was using the same gas cylinder and there were two other full ones: a smaller one in the lazarette connected and ready for a quick changeover, and another full sized one on the rail. In Fremantle I would discard each cylinder as it became empty because there was no way that they would be refilled in Australia due to age, condition, and lack of certification.

I was up at 0000 after the break of dawn and heard the Rutland humming and I decided to wait a few minutes to see if the wind was real. We had drifted 9 nm ESE and were now 397 nm from Fremantle. Twenty minutes later after a cup of coffee I set sail and would consider putting up the pole later.

I downloaded the wind forecast that Graham had mailed yesterday afternoon. He began by stating that he was still getting good copy from me - this when sometimes I cannot hear him at all. By now he knows that if I do not hear him he can expect me to begin a blind (deaf?) transmission after 90 seconds or so. His forecast was not good, W 5-10 for the next 2 days. However, I downloaded a fresh spot forecast that predicted much better winds: The first 9 hour period with winds at 9.8-10.7 kts then building up from 12 to up to 19 kts over the next 36 hours. That gave me some hope.

The wind faltered a bit so I soon put the whisker pole back up and the sail settled down.

It turned out to be the best sailing day of the entire passage so far, and conditions were ideal for the fueling and cockpit bath. It was the sunniest day of the passage since the Agulhas bank and the boat was moving gently through the water. I transferred 26 liters of diesel into the tanks which did not top them up, but I wanted to hold the 10 liter container of diesel in reserve. After that I had a bath in the cockpit with the sun shining on me directly and by reflection from the ocean, so I was relatively warm.

I had a pretty good session with Graham who told me that better winds were on the way, and he would send a fresh forecast via Sailmail. He could hear me very well so after reporting my numbers I told him that I seemed to be in a different climate of warmth and sun which I was enjoying very much after week after week of overcast skies, and that I could actually see and feel that I was getting close to Australia.

At 0800 UTC the sailing day numbers were:

POS 35S43, 109E36
NND 72 nm
DMG 4519 nm
DTG 371 nm

Those 72 nautical miles for the day were like a gift because I had expected to lie ahull all day.

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Day 49, April 24 - Less than 500

At 0900 I decided to try gybing the boat. Our heading had been tending slowly but steadily to move toward the SE and nightfall was only two hours away. I don't think that I had ever gybed the whisker pole before but I took my time - no shortcuts - and was helped by the gentle conditions. I removed the pole using the same techniques as earlier in the day. I then altered the Monitor airvane and hurried things along by turning the wheel, then went forward, and with the sail now on the starboard side I connected both ends of the pole, then let out almost the same amount of sail as before. I also transferred the sheet chafe guard to the starboard rail. And I was so glad that I did the gybe. We were running so well downwind that I was able to alter course another 20 degrees toward the wind in order to get a heading toward Cape Naturaliste. That 20 degrees would be handy if the wind went against me during the night. I dropped a new marker at the gybe point and it would be an hour or two before I would be able to analyze our track to determine the exact course and speed.

Other than being a pleasant day, other good things happened during the afternoon. One was that the wind had perked up slightly and the sailing was not such a struggle. Then my afternoon connection to Sailmail gave me very fast service, a trend that I had been seeing for over a week, and good connectivity to the world always cheers me up. The icing on the cake was the fresh spot forecast that I downloaded in that Sailmail session. I had asked for a forecast for every 3 hours over a 3 day period, beginning at the latest position of the boat. The forecast was better than I could have hoped for, and in sharp contrast to the morning's forecast. During the next 3 days there would be only one 3-hour period with winds at 9.9 kts, and all others would be above 10 kts, ranging up to the low 20's beginning late on the second day out. And it was very interesting to me that 15-16 kt winds were forecast for the coming night, making me start to think about dropping the whisker pole.

I didn't have much time for dithering about the pole because nightfall was fast approaching. I scanned the horizon and saw all across the stern horizon heavy ominous looking clouds, and that sealed it. I could not take a chance on being forced on deck to deal with the pole in 16 kt winds during the night and now the clouds astern showed all of the signs of a front. I went topside and dropped the pole, lashed it to the toe rail, removed the rail chafe guard, and set the sail with remarkable ease. Nothing like hands-on practice.

For the night I turned on the masthead tricolor as usual but also the chart plotter. I had looked at the Ocean Passages chart of major routes of powered vessels and as I approached Cape Leeuwin there was an increased likelihood of encountering a ship either on the great circle route between the Cape of Good Hope and Australia or a ship rounding Cape Leeuwin on a route between Australia and either the Horn of Africa or the Red Sea. I had kept the AIS on constantly during the passage, alerting oncoming ships of my presence, but I needed to have the chart plotter on in order for me to receive warnings of oncoming vessels.

The boat sailed itself beautifully all night. We passed the 500 mile mark at about 1700 - the middle of the night - and in the morning we were 460 miles from Fremantle. Our track throughout the night had been straight and directly toward Fremantle. It was uncanny.

The morning spot forecast indicated winds in the 10 kt range over the next 24 hours so I planned to put up the whisker pole again because the sail had already begun to snap occasionally. I had no apprehensions about doing that after the previous day's experience in deploying the pole.

The whisker pole operation went well. The pole normally rides on the deck extended by two holes, and it is possible to extend the pole along 5 more holes by about 5 ft. I had been using the pole at the same length as it rode on deck but decided to get more sail area by extending it by one hole. I didn't want to extend it by more because I did not want to get too close to matching the speed of the wind lest the functioning of the Monitor be impaired. Lubricating the inner tube with WD40 the previous day paid a big dividend because it slid up and down for the adjustment with frictionless ease, in contrast to the struggle I had been accustomed to. The longer pole meant different calculations on the amount of sail and length of sheets required for the fit but I got it right on the second try. The result was very good, with a larger area of sail that was flat and quiet, and the heading still toward Fremantle. I now had confidence in being able to continue sailing through the period of slack winds. What a great tool this whisker pole was! Bob Carrol had done me a great service by introducing me to them in La Paz.

I removed the shower curtain from the navigation station. The risk of heavy weather had receded and besides, the navigation computer was still sited safely on the cabin table.

I was forced to drop the whisker pole and roll in the sail shortly before the 0800 UTC 24 hour report. The wind was down to a whisper, perhaps 5 kts and far below the forecast 9.9 kts, and the Monitor had not been able to maintain heading. The forecast predicted winds of just above 10 kts beginning in 3 hours but I was skeptical because the latest wfax showed a high of 1022 almost on top of us, just to the north of us at the latitude of Perth. I wasn't complaining because we had had an unexpectedly good run the night before. You win a few, you lose a few.

Our sailing day numbers were:

POS 35S55, 108E16
NND 99 nm
DMG 4441 nm
DTG 439 nm

I ran the engine for one hour immediately after the noon report and the oil pressure monitor problem exhibited its intermittent nature. The engine ran OK for 9 minutes then the oil pressure alarm started to come on and off. It must have done this 20 or 30 times then it stayed off for about 30 minutes and then started the same on-and-off pattern.

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Day 48, April 23 - Whisker Pole from a Bearded Man

Five hours into the night I woke up to find the boat heading NE. As predicted, the wind had backed toward the SSE and moderated. The gybe put the boat on a course just S of E, which was OK because I didn't want to go any farther north for a while. However, the prediction was for light winds in the 10-12 kt range for the next 18 hours, followed by even lighter winds in the 8-9 kt range and then a full day of insufficient wind. I would be able to keep the boat moving for a while, but we would be creeping past the 500 mile mark rather than charging through it. I could always hope for a change in the forecast.

Thirty minutes later the headsail was in trouble and so was I. The wind was so feeble that the sail was flogging left and right because unfortunately we were beam on to the swell. I reduced sail then dropped marker in the laptop navigation program in order to be able to determine our course and speed later. I tried sleeping but there was too much agitation in the sail so I got up, put on my sailing gloves, and proceeded topside in order to roll in the sail and lie the boat ahull. It was an major disappointment because I had not expected this for another 24 hours. Fortunately when I stuck my head out of the companionway the sail settled down. I watched with the intent to proceed with the lying ahull at the next spasm of heavy flogging but it never came. I went back to bed and 4 hours later woke up to find the boat still sailing acceptably well. The straight track back to where I had dropped the marker indicated a subtle change of wind exactly where I had dropped the marker, backing a few degrees and taking us on a course of 085. The marker was 4 miles behind us so I knew that we had been making good a speed of 2.5 kts. It wasn't much, but at least the boat was moving, and in the right direction.

In the morning the boat was still plodding along. A check of the track indicated that we had been averaging 3 kts. The sky was covered with a thin overcast that still enabled me to see the sun, and there were patches of blue sky here and there.

I received Graham's 5 day wind report in my early Sailmail session and it was anything but promising. For the next 3 days the winds would be too weak for sailing, and for the following 2 days the winds would be marginal. I would continue inching along as best I could, but an arrival in Fremantle before the beginning of May was now highly doubtful. As before, I placed my hopes in a calming sea that would lower the threshold of wind speed for sailing as well as a possible change in forecast.

After thinking about the situation I decided that it was time to try the next tool at my disposal, the whisker pole. This is a long thin pole, adjustable in length by sliding the inner tube in and out of the outer one. It is used for holding the clew (back corner where the sheets are tied) of the headsail out when running downwind, particularly in light airs. It allows the boat to run more downwind and reduces flogging of the sail.

I started off by freeing the pole which was still securely fastened to the toe rail. Then I got my can of WD40 and lubricated the latches at either end and the inner tube through the length adjustment holes. I then brought on the lazy weather sheet to take the load of the sail and eased the working sheet so that I would be able to pull it in and latch the end of the pole over it. Then I set the sail as best I could and spent 20 minutes fiddling with the Monitor to get it to steer with the new sail balance. I sat back and watched and spotted two problems. The first was that because of the position of the clew the sheet was making hard contact with the top rail and would chafe through its covering within a few hours. I got my bath towel, folded it once along its long axis, rolled it up tight around the rail, then tied both ends hard to the rail. I now had a cushion that I could slide up and down the rail and soon the chafing problem was solved.

I also found that no matter how many times I moved the outer end of the pole up to the clew of the sail it would always slide down the sheet until the pole made contact with the shroud. The up and down motion of the pole was turning the shroud into a saw that had already made the side of the pole shiny. The only solution that I could see was to clip the end of the pole into the loop of the bowline knot at the clew. The problem then was to get hold of the clew while the sail was being jerked around by the wind long enough to clip the pole on without losing my balance and grip on the pole. I solved this problem by winding in the sail, but not so far as to place the clew too high to reach, then allowing the lazy sheet to once again take the load while I loosened the working sheet and made the connection. Fortunately there was just enough loop in the bowline for this and soon the sail was set with Jeff doing the steering.

All of this took me over one sweaty hour but the result was worth the effort. I now had more canvas out, the sail was fretting much less, I was able to run more downwind, and the boat was moving noticeably faster. When things settled down the boat was running almost due E at 091T. This was not exactly toward my target of Cape Naturaliste at 066T, but I didn't want to go any farther north where the prospects of wind were poorer, and was happy to make way to the east as fast as possible. We were now past 106E, Cape Naturalist was at 115E, and I would be content to reach 110E before heading N, though no doubt the unfolding realities of the wind and current would dictate otherwise.

Then I put my anxieties about speed and distance and progress aside, had a good look around, and saw that it was a splendid day for sailing that should be enjoyed. The thin cloud cover was allowing plenty of sunlight through, making it the sunniest day in weeks. The sea had calmed down and was an attractive blue, and the temperature high enough to reduce me to T-shirt only. And the boat was quietly ambling on.

[OOPS, I've just discovered that I sent an incorrect position to Pagolin, saying that I was at latitude 30S rather than 36S. I will be sending a correct position soon. Unfortunately I cannot remove the incorrect one from the Pangolin site.]

The sailing day numbers were:

POS 36S41, 106E28
NND 78 nm
DMG 4332 nm
DTG 538

The 78 NND miles were due mainly to the stronger winds during the first half of the day.

Before sunset I had to decide whether to stay on the port tack or gybe and head more directly to Fremantle.

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Day 47, April 22

We made slow progress during the late afternoon because the wind had died down and I was eventually forced to roll in some sail. Once again I had poor reception from Graham but managed to hear that I could expect a wind change to W at 15-20 kts at around 0000 UTC.

I woke up two hours into my sleep and found no change, with the boat still tracking slowly to the E. I woke up again at 2200 - about an hour from first light - and found that the wind had veered to the W and we were now headed more to SE. I did some quick calculations that confirmed that a gybe was warranted so I went topside and executed the gybe. With the deck light working better than ever and the reliable torch on my head these night operations were not much different from day ones. After the gybe I went below to the laptop and was pleased to see that we were on a course for Cape Naturaliste, south of Fremantle and north of Cape Leeuwin. It was at Cape Naturaliste now 590 miles away where I wanted to make landfall. We were moving along nicely at around 5.5 kts. After spending 20 minutes swapping bunks and turning the laptop around I tried to go back to sleep but dawn had broken and I had had enough sleep.

I downloaded a 5 day spot forecast for every 6 hours. I can expect 2 more days of good winds, followed by 18 hours of marginal winds, followed by a full day (25 April) of no sailing wind. After that are 24 hours of light but useful winds because the sea will be calm. If the forecast turns out to be accurate I should be well inside the 500 mile mark when I get becalmed, and if I get lucky the forecast of light winds on the 25th will change.

[I received a notice in the preamble from Sailmail when I connected at 0220 that they have not had connection between their server and the internet for 1.4 hours. That will explain any delay in either sending or receiving my messages. Hmm. I suggested such a notice to Sailmail after a similar outage at their Chile station that had me needlessly sending messages to their technical support because I had not received a grib file in about 2 days. The confusing part was that the connection between me and Chile was very good, but I didn't know that the station was isolated from the internet. Either Sailmail implemented this suggestion from an old computer manager war horse or the Aussie station is naturally efficient.]

Wow, Jim Putt and I finally managed to establish HF radio contact. The reception was poor because Jim was communicating from his boat no doubt surrounded by a forest of masts at the Fremantle Sailing Club, but it was a start.

The morning session with Graham was extremely difficult because there were two stronger voices talking on top of him. However, once again he received all of my information. When communication is difficult I say everything twice and I'm glad to say that I haven't had a failure yet - amazing considering that he's over 4,000 miles away.

At 0800 UTC our 24 hour sailing numbers were:

POS 37S08, 105E01
NND 103 nm
DMG 4250 nm
DTG 612 nm

According to the spot forecast I could expect another 36 hours of good wind and I was looking forward to blowing right through the 500 mile mark.

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Day 46, APRIL 21 - Oil Pressure Crisis Over

[To cut to the chase, two days ago I came to the conclusion that the engine oil pressure problem was not real and that the real problem was a faulty oil pressure monitor. Today I ran the engine for 90 minutes with the oil pressure alarm on the entire time and saw no evidence of a problem with the engine. Details are below.]

I got up in the middle of the night, 1900, to find that the wind had backed 20 degrees not long after I had turned in for the night. I went topside determined to execute a gybe with no dramas, so I took no shortcuts. I rolled in half of the sail a bit at a time by alternating between easing the sheet and rolling the drum. Then I moved the airvane to let the Monitor make the turn and soon the small amount of headsail passed easily between the two forestays onto the starboard tack and I reversed the process and let out a bit of sail at a time. It was easy and no stress on the sail and I should do it this way all of the time. I had set the airvane well and we were now headed almost directly east. The night was only partly overcast because I could see a few stars and then wind was down to below 20 knots over a gentler sea. I pumped out the bilge with 50 strokes of the Whale Gusher then returned to the cabin for the rest of my sleep.

I was up at 0000, well after dawn, to find that the boat was still moving steadily to the E in front of a moderate wind and under a partly sunny sky. The house battery bank was at 12.4V which was excellent considering that I had not done a battery charging run since Day 41, April 16, 5 days earlier. Between the wind charger, solar panels, and the power economy measures, we were getting by ... which put an exquisite edge on the step that I was about to take.

----- The Engine -----

Over the previous two weeks I had been receiving information and advice on the engine oil pressure problem from several sources. I sifted through the various theories and advice about the possible nature of the problem and ranked them according to their probability.

I discounted the theory that the cause was due to polluted and diluted oil because the oil looked good (and as Reg wrote, 'if it looks good it probably is good') and the level was correct. (I discovered that the level was slightly elevated when checked with the engine cold and was normal immediately after an engine run, all due no doubt to whether or not the oil filter was full.) And I didn't think that there was much likelihood that the oil filter was clogged. It was a genuine Volvo filter, in use for only about 50 hours with oil the same age, and I couldn't take too seriously the possibility that either something had collapsed inside of the filter or something had become dislodged from the engine.

Then there was the intermittent nature of the problem. Mark said that the problem could be with the relief valves (whatever they are), but that such mechanical problems tend to be consistent, which made sense to me.

I had discounted the EVC panel which had been known misbehave before because those problems had been quickly resolved simply by powering the panel off then on.

That left the oil pressure monitor which was not being obstructed by anything but had an electrical component which sent an analogue voltage to the EVC. I agreed with Mark that electrical components can very easily exhibit intermittent problems.

But this left me only with a sort of residual evidence pointing to the monitor, not quite enough to hang my hat on

Fortunately Mark was able to give me the information that I needed. He directed me to a tube that passes from the adapter into which the oil pressure monitor is screwed to the top of the engine and passes into the front of the valve cover. This tube provides either the primary or secondary supply of oil to the valves. By backing off the nut at the valve cover I should get a flow of oil when the engine was running normally. The question was whether I would also get a flow of oil with the engine running during an oil pressure alarm.

Two days ago I got the 13mm wrench ready, slid back the engine cover, then went topside and started the engine and took it to 1000 rpm. I went back down below and put the snug fitting spanner vertically on the nut so that I could measure the arc of travel and backed it off 1/4 turn until I got enough oil seeping out to make me worry that if I backed the nut any more I would not be able to catch the oil with the paper towel that I was holding below the nut. I then snugged up the nut and stood back waiting for the oil pressure alarm. I didn't have a long wait because in the 6th minute the alarm went on and stayed on. I went topside to read the EVC panel to make sure that it was indeed the oil pressure alarm and then went back to the engine and backed the nut 1/4 turn. To my relief the same amount of oil as before seeped out.

If the oil pressure had dropped below the threshold 5 psi or so required to trigger the alarm I would not have expected the engine oil pressure to support a column of oil up to the valve cover and provide the same normal flow of oil.

After thinking about the issue for a while I decided that starting the engine and running it with the oil pressure alarm was worth the risk. The following day was too rough for the trial because I wanted to sit at the steering station during the entire run to monitor the EVC (in case I got a temperature alarm), listen closely to the engine for any sounds of distress, and keep an eye out for smoke in the exhaust. However I did disconnect the loud Cole Hersee buzzer which left only the quieter beeping alarm of the EVC.

This morning the conditions were right for the trial, with a calmer sea and enough wind to steer the boat, but I realized that I didn't really need to start up the engine for charging the batteries, so why risk the engine? I decided to proceed with the trial for several reasons. One reason was that I did not want to be forced to run the engine in adverse conditions at a later time. Another was that I wanted to resolve the question as soon as possible. Another was that I would be running the engine eventually, so I might as well do it now. I would run the engine eventually because I did not want to have to put the club to the trouble of towing me into the marina, possibly after a night's wait. And finally - here's the ego factor to distort rational decision making - I wanted to end this 5 year circumnavigation with a bang under my own power rather than a whimper at the end of a tow rope.

I dressed warmly, went topside with a big mug of coffee in hand, and started the engine. The oil pressure alarm came on immediately (gulp!). I then put it in forward gear, took it up to 1000 rpm, then sat back listening and watching. As the minutes passed with no evidence of distress from the engine I grew more confident. After one hour I moved the throttle to 1500 rpm. I later tried to go to a higher rpm but found that the propeller was overpowering the sail, so I had to satisfy myself with putting the engine in neutral then taking the rpms up to 2000 for the last 5 minutes of the 90 minute run. I then brought the throttle back and listened to the engine ticking over quietly at the idle speed of 750 rpm.

During the entire 90 minute run the engine ran as smoothly and quietly as ever and with the same clean exhaust as always, which I took as proof that the problem lay in the oil pressure monitor.

Afterwards the sun was out, a reliable moderate breeze was pushing us toward Frematle, and I was one happy little vegemite.

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At 0800 UTC the sailing day numbers were:

POS 37S16, 102E52
NND 120 nm
DMG 4142 nm
DTG 710 nm

The wind prospects for the next 2 days were good and I was looking forward to the 500 mile mark.

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Day 45, April 20

Last night after my second brandy (Bottles of hard liquor do not last long on Pachuca once they are opened.) I stuck my head through the companionway and saw Orion behind the boat, the first constellation that I learned from Mike Mckay, the third mate of the 12 ton freighter "Ashbank" that was taking me to Australia in 1966. Ahead I could see the Southern Cross, "Bigger than dogs' balls", as the Australians say. The wind had slackened but was due to strengthen in a couple of hours, and we were ambling along pleasantly under a half moon. It was on the Ashbank that through Roderick Gunn the first mate and Mike McKay the third mate I first became aware of the Scots, among my favorite people of the planet. The Ashbank was part of a fleet of 55 ships owned by the Bank line. This was before the container revolution so the ship had its own cranes. Navigation was by compass and sextant and I remember watching officers drop a log over the stern to measure our speed through the water. We called it the Trashbank but it was a romantic old ship, small and intimate. I slept in the pilot's cabin behind the bridge and we 5 passengers ate at the captain's table every night because there was only one dining table and there were only a few officers running the ship. I remember Captain Bridger (relate to Jim Bridger, the American mountain man), Roderick, Mike, and Hedley the radio man. There was also a second mate and several engineers. It might have been the captain's table but I was not impressed with the live weevils on my dinner plate most nights. A visit to the fantail where the Bengali crew lived was like a walk through Calcutta.

At 2100, 3 hours before dawn, I woke up to find that the wind had shifted and strengthened and we were now headed SE. About 30 minutes later I went topside and gybed the boat and was pleased to see that we were now headed more or less toward Fremantle. I looked at the spot forecast and was pleased to see that I could expect at least 2 days of good westerly winds.

At 1400 the wind was stronger. According to the spot forecast it was at 19 kts but would strengthen to 24 kts in the coming hours, so I went topside and rolled in headsail that had been set for a 10-12 kt wind. Yes, it slowed the boat but the ride was much better, and I did not want to worry about finding myself over canvassed in the coming strong wind. I had a good look at the sport forecast (issued the day before) and the wind prospects for the next 2 days were excellent, with winds in the high teens and low twenties, mostly from SSW. These were superb prospects and I was looking forward to covering some serious distances in the next few days.

I had a difficult but satisfying morning session with Graham. There was so much static that I could understand only a few of his words, but at least I could tell when he was speaking, which enabled me to speak at the correct time. I gave him my status information, repeating everything once and I heard his reply QSL QSL which told me that he had received my entire report. I consider letting Graham know my position and status even more that receiving his weather reports because I can get weather information from other sources. However, what made the session a success was that I managed to hear his summary that for the next 3 days I could expect winds of 15-25 kts from the WSW. Both the speed range and direction are important to me, and he confirmed that what I repeated back to him was correct.

I shouldn't tempt fate by speaking too soon, but it looked like I was at the beginning of a good long downwind run. It was now a matter of managing the boat properly and allowing it an the wind to do their work.

The numbers for the 24 hour sailing day were:

POS 37S55, 100E19
NND 96 nm
DMG 4010 nm
DTG 830 nm

I considered the NND of 96 miles very good, given that the first half of the day we were dealing with light 10 and 11 kt winds.

I had a look at the Ocean Passages climate chart for this half of the year and was pleased to see that at the longitude of 100E I was at the maximum latitude of iceberg sightings in the annals of maritime history, and that suited me just fine.

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Day 44, April 19 - 1000 Mile Mark

I deliberately stayed up to witness the crossing of the 1000 nautical mile mark to Fremantle. It happened at 1615 UTC yesterday, in the middle of the night. I cracked open the last bottle of brandy and had a short drink to mark the occasion. The last 1000 miles had been tough ones and I was very glad to have reached the beginning of the home stretch.

I did some calculations and came up with an ETA at Fremantle of between 29 April and 1 May, depending on assumptions of 80, 90, or 100 miles per day. This would put me outside of the marina and if I arrived late I would need one more day to make the entry. This was nicely within the ETA range of 27 April to 3 May that I had made from the half way mark on 2 April.

The morning was chilly but the sky was fairly clear and I enjoyed the best sunshine in seemingly weeks. The wind had lightened but the boat kept ambling along.

The noon numbers were good:

POS: 38S15, 98E31
NND: 116 nm
DMG: 3906 nm
DTG: 926 nm

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Day 43, April 18

Good wind for only half a day and already I was reducing sail.

I studied Graham's weather forecast and saw that the wind speed after the passing of the cold front at about dawn would be 20 knots, higher than what had been predicted by my morning's spot forecast. 20 knots can easily become 22 or 24 kts and I became very uneasy about facing that kind of uncertainty during the night with the amount of sail that I was carrying. One concern was that I knew that I would have to gybe the boat when the front passed over and the wind backed from NW to SW, and I did not want to do it in the dark with so much mainsail up. I decided to reduce sail while there was still daylight and before the seas had built up. I started off by reducing the headsail then I dropped the big slab of sail from 1st reef to 2nd reef. All of that went well and when it was done I felt much better about the situation. The dictum is to reduce sail the first time you think about it and I could not agree more. Regardless of how much I have dithered, every time that I have reduced sail I have felt better afterward.

I had to reduce more than that before the day was out. Just before dark the wind backed to the WSW and dropped to perhaps 10 kts and I encountered the same old problems with the mainsail. I couldn't run too much downwind or the mainsail would blanket the headsail. Worse, the apparent wind dropped when running downwind and the mainsail and boom began to slat from side to side. I knew that I had at least two days of downwind sailing ahead and there would be no place for the mainsail in that run anyway, so just before dark I dropped it. It had served me well during the past two days of light airs with the wind on the beam, and this day with a moderate breeze again on the beam. I gained a full 25 degrees in heading by running with just the headsail. We were headed NE but I wasn't concerned because after the cold front passed we would be heading slightly to the south. Then I looked at the morning's spot forecast and it predicted a wind of 10.7 kts from 094 degrees at this time, exactly what I was experiencing. But that was the only 10+ kt wind in the entire forecast and I could look forward to stronger winds.

We went into the night with the batteries at 12.5V.

Graham told me to expect the cold front at about 1800 so I set the alarm for that time. At 1800 the front had not arrived so I reset the alarm for 1900, but at 1900 there was still no front so I set the alarm again for 2000. Just before the alarm went off I woke up because the wind had picked up and the boat was running smoother through the water. The heading of NNW on the laptop confirmed the wind shift, which must have just happened because the change of course did not yet show on the track. It was Show Time and I went on deck in full battle dress, including sea boots, life vest, sailing gloves, beanie and head torch. Conditions were mild and I expected the gybe to be easy but I had to be prepared to go to the foredeck if the lazy jib sheet had gotten wrapped around a bollard, which is an infrequent occurrence when the inner forestay is in place. I turned on the deck light on the way out.

The gybe went well and I noticed that the wind was not near the 20 kts that Graham had predicted. That suited me fine, as long as we had enough wind for sailing, and besides, we were still near the boundary of the two different winds of the front so it would probably pick up. I then spent 20 minutes fiddling with the Monitor control lines, pumped out the bilge with 50 strokes, then returned to the cabin to reward myself with a cup of hot chocolate. By the time I finished the drink the boat had settle down on a course of ENE at about 5 kts and was riding very smoothly. We had made only 50 miles in the 13 hours since "noon", averaging only 3.8 kts. With the stronger wind we had a good chance at making another 50 miles in the remaining 11 hours of the sailing day and to do that we would need to average 4.5 kts.

I had a quiet morning. The batteries began the day at 12.3/12.4 volts, so they had held their own in the last 24 hours. I did a bit of investigative work on the engine (more on that perhaps tomorrow), reinstated the starboard running backstay so that it could help support the mast, and studied a bit of Spanish.

At the end of the sailing day the numbers were:

POS 38S46, 96E09
NND 101 nm
DMG 3781 nm
DTG 1042 nm

Once more we had just managed to make 100 miles for the day, and it had been almost directly toward Fremantle.

The weather fax showed everything back in order to my mind. There was a big and well defined high to my WNW and lows with their associated fronts sweeping across our south, all contributing to W,SW, and S winds.

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Day 42, April 17

The advent of the wind kept stubbornly receding. The morning spot file had predicted it at noon but during the afternoon session Graham talked about 10-15 kts at 1800. At 1500 the wind had still not arrived and we were still stooging along at about 2.5 kts. Outside the sky had cleared and I could see the full canopy of stars with the quarter moon descending into the horizon. It was actually very pleasant sailing, with the boat slicing gently through the calm water and I could look forward to some moonlight sailing in the next few weeks whenever the sky was clear. I scanned the sky for a satellite, which would mark my first visual evidence of human habitation on the planet for over a month but I didn't see one.

At 1530 the Monitor wind charger began humming steadily, which was a good sign. I was up 2 hours later and the wind was still up, not great, but enough to give us 4 kts of speed. The sky was overcast again. At 2100 the wind was still up and we were making close to 5 kts. I was confident that this was the real thing and was looking forward to at least two days of good moderate winds. We were crossing the 1200 nm threshold to Fremantle.

At 0100 I exchanged several messages concerning the engine. There has been nothing conclusive, but there has been a variety of possibilities of varying degrees of likelihood. At the moment my best guess is a faulty oil pressure sender. My next step is to inspect and clean every harness connection between the engine and EVC panel. Then I'll run the engine and if/when the oil pressure alarm comes on I'll set the revs to idle and as quickly as I can loosen a nut that should seep oil if there is any pressure in the system. But the engine run may just not happen today. I got through the night drawing only 1.1 amps. I've started using the manual bilge pump in the cockpit rather than the electric one. Then the sun came out and I was staring at a net flow of 3.5-4.5 amps into the batteries and if it stayed out for a while we could finish the day with the batteries in good shape. I figure that the less I run the engine the better.

Then I faced the task of shaking out the second reef. The morning's spot forecast indicated moderate winds for the next 2 days with a brief period of 23 kts. I felt that I had an obligation to maximize my distance per day so up went the sail to the 1st reef. I had to work carefully because I had to deal with new things such as retrieving the 1st reef line from the 3rd reef cringle, keeping track of which lines now belonged to which reef, and managing the shock cord tie downs to the boom. My biggest difficulty turned out to be the passing of the 1st reef line through the cringle. That section of the sail was hanging upside down in a fold below the boom and I had to visualize the sail up in order to figure out the path of the line. Of course I screwed it up with two mistakes but I must say that I made a good recovery. Hopefully the sails were now set for the next 2 day and I would regulate the amount of canvas by rolling the headsail.

I must confess that I am getting to like sailing without a spray dodger. I've come to enjoy the advantages of much better and safer access to the forward deck area because I now have all sorts of things around the companionway to hang on to. Working my way back to the cockpit I can throw ropes or other material down the hatch and freeing my hands before I climb into the cockpit. When doing the reefing work it is so much easier and safer to stand in the companionway to work on the aft reefing lines of the boom. With the spray dodger in position I must do this work stretching awkwardly from the seat to get reach around the dodger. ... It's all about tradeoffs, folks.

I got good copy from Graham in the early session and he was able to give me a wind forecast at 6 hour intervals for 4 days until Sunday, in case reception deteriorated again. The forecast looked very good to me, with winds generally at 20 kts or higher, with one 12 hour period of winds 10-15 kts. All winds will be on an arc from NW to W to SSW. While I will be experiencing westerlies south of Cape Leeuwin there will be southerlies up the west coast of Australia. To me the forecast offered a prospect of sailing with fair and gentle winds. I thanked Graham for his long forecast and told him that I was very happy with it. He asked if there was anything more that he could do and I asked him to send more sunshine, but he was understandably non committal

During Graham's experience with Jean Socrates in these waters he said that for some reason his reception deteriorates from around this longitude until 110E where for some reason it picks up again. He thinks that it might have something to do with being in a dead zone between skips of our HF signals. Nevertheless we will continue with the sessions and I am somewhat optimistic because he said that I have a stronger transmitter than Jean did and I must admit that I cannot recall one session where even Sam with his coastal rig could not hear me. Even when I could not hear him or Sam I was always able to tell them my position and status.

Graham thanked me for a Sailmail message that I had sent to not worry too much if he could not get weather reports to me because I was now getting weather faxes out of Australia and spot forecasts from Sailmail. I wrote that I didn't think that they were as good as his forecasts because, for example, the weather faxes showed the situation in the past and not what was expected in the future, and the spot forecasts did not provide a comprehensive picture. Also, I liked the daily human contact and the ability to tell someone of my position and status.

Our numbers at 0800 UTC were:

POS 39S20, 93E54
NND 101 nm
DMG 3672 nm
DTG 1143 nm

It was our first 100 mile day since April 10, one week earlier.

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Day 41, April 16

It turned out to be a more difficult night of sailing than I had expected. My spot forecast had indicated winds steadily increasing throughout the night. However, that forecast was 2 days old because I had not received a more recent one in order to minimize air time on Sailmail. Graham's afternoon report had also indicated a rising wind, but his spot forecasts were abbreviated to 12 hours apart due to transmission difficulties.

In fact the wind began to die at sunset. Three hours later the wind was down to perhaps 6 or 7 kts but the boat was still able to maintain heading. I had good fortune in that the swell was coming from the SW and we were headed NE so that the boat was rocking (like a hobby horse) rather than rolling, which had little affect on the sails. In the middle of the night I was up again to attend to the fretting headsail. The wind was down to just a puff - maybe 5 kts. I rolled in most of the headsail then watched for a while. I had put a preventer on the boom, so there was no banging. The sea was so calm that the sail filled from side to side gently and I was not worried of undue stress. I had never experienced it before: the boat seemed suspended in the water with its double reefed mainsail and partial headsail out. However, I knew from the laptop that we were making some way, no doubt helped by the following gentle swell as well as the current. I decided to try to wait it out because I did not want to drop the mainsail in order to avoid extra deck work, particularly at night, and loss of momentum. I went back to bed and hoped that things would get better.

I was up at the crack of dawn to find that the wind had improved to the point where there was no longer a danger of being forced to drop sails.

Things got even better. I made an early connection to Sailmail and downloaded a spot forecast for every 3 hours over a period of 3 days. To my relief the report was good. It showed a wind of 9.7 kts at the moment, which was about right, and up to 11.8 kts at UTC noon, in 3 hours. Thereafter I could expect winds in the mid teens for the next 2 days.

And I was was happy that I had patiently held back for a day with the engine awaiting more advice from Mark. I received his reply and I had identified the wrong part to remove. All I had to do was to look further down and see the oil pressure sensor with the two nuts as he had described earlier. I would remove the sender after a 4 PM radio session to listen for possible communication from Jim Putt at the Fremantle Sailing Club. Fortunately I had good access to the sender. I would begin the job by jamming rags, sheets, towels and whatever else was required below the work area to prevent any tool or part that I might drop from winding up in the bilge.

The oil sender operation went well. I took my time with the preparation and execution and all went well, as far as that went. I found a bit of moist rust on the face of the harness of the wires to the sender so I washed everything out with jets of electronic cleaner. I removed the sender (15mm spanner for adapter, 23mm spanner for sender) and found no debris on the face, just clean clear oil. The sender had a thin aperture that I could not see into so I washed out the aperture with generous amounts of electronic cleaner. After waiting for 5 minutes for the cleaner to evaporate I put the sender back in place and soon started the engine hoping for a good result.

The engine ran for 35 minutes at 2300 rpm when the oil pressure alarm came on. It was most disappointing but at least the batteries had received some precious charging. The engine seems to run OK for a while after it has had time to cool down. I might be reduced to running the engine every day for as long as I can to try to keep those batteries charged up.

Our noon numbers (actually 0800 UTC) were:

POS 39S26, 91E57
NND 87 nm
DMG 3565 nm
DTG 1244 nm

Those 87 miles had been with weak and variable winds, and we were lucky to have achieved that. I was looking forward to the forecast start of the serious wind at 1200 UTC, four hours away.

I examined the day's wfax and everything to our north was a mess of big highs, little highs, little lows, trough lines cutting across the highs, and even a tropical cyclone to the NW undoubtedly causing its own disruptions to the weather pattern. We were positioned just to the north of a trough between two highs with gentle gradients and it was a wonder that we had any wind at all. I could see hope in the south, where a cold front from a deep low at roughly 50S, 70E was headed our way.

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Day 40, April 15 - On the Move

Yesterday's (Day 39) blog went out prematurely. The noon numbers for that day were:

POS 39S51, 89E28
NND 17 nm
DMG 3438 nm
DTG 1362 nm

The numbers were a testament to lying ahull, but at least we had drifted closer to our destination.

I decided to take advantage of the calm conditions to bake two loaves of bread yesterday afternoon. The yeast was as robust as ever and the bread rose well.

A very light west wind from the west came up two hours after nightfall and I put the boat on a port tack and rolled out a bit of sail. I woke up at dawn to find the sail flapping uselessly so I rolled it in. The boat's track indicated that the drop in wind had occurred about an hour previously. We had managed to make about 12 nm to the NE overnight, but that was having drifted to the south for 3 miles.

At 0300, about 3 hours after dawn a gentle wind came up and I rolled out some headsail. The wind strengthened a bit and an hour later we were making respectable (2-3 kts) progress to the E. At 5 AM I decided to take a chance that this was the beginning of the steady buildup of the wind that had been forecast and raised the 3rd reef of the mainsail. I had not planned to consider this until just before nightfall but I needed to balance the headsail in order to be able to head more into the wind and toward the north. For some reason I am always reluctant to raise the mainsail (and reluctant to drop it too), but the wind was gentle, the sea calm, so the situation was ideal.

I tried a new technique that worked out very well. The running backstays are composed of very strong Spectron lines extending from the mast to almost the cockpit frame. At that point heavy a heavy block is attached which enables double purchase with ordinary line wound around a winch. The blocks are heavy and prevent the backstays from flying off to the side in the breeze when their lines are eased. This presents the same problem that I had with the lazy jacks: when raising the mainsail the backs of the battens get snagged on the leeward running backstay. This has been a serious problem because even pointing the boat into the wind would not prevent it. I would have to point the boat into the wind, watch the mainsail jump around, then jerk the line at the right moment. Of course I would have to do this several times before success. As luck would have it, the blocks that I had in my inventory heavy enough for the role were snap blocks. So I tied a cord to the thimble at the end of the leeward Spectron line, released the snap block, then took the line forward and tied it down at the mast. I then returned to the cockpit and snapped the block onto the cockpit safety running line and took out the slack. That worked very well. The leeward running backstay was out of the way and nice and tidy, and the entire leeward side of the mainsail hoist area was clear so that I could focus solely on the hoist.

The triple reefed mainsail set easily because the reefing lines fore and aft were already in place from the last time the sail had been up. ... Speaking of which ... this was the first time I had the mainsail up since 26 March, just short of 3 weeks earlier, when I had made my turn to the east after the escape from Frosty and Smoothie, the icebergs that I really didn't want to get to know very well.

I decided to change my definition of "noon" for measuring progress over 24 hours. Up to now I have used 1200 UTC but that time is now after sunset local time and it does not mesh well with my transmissions of the blog. As of today "noon" will be advanced 4 hours to 0800 UTC, or 4 PM Perth time. That means that the NND for today, given below, will actually cover a period of 20 hours, which doesn't matter much given that most of that time we were drifting ahull.

The noon (0800 UTC) numbers were:

POS 39S39, 90E06
NND 32 nm (over a 20 hour span)
DMG 3473 nm
DTG 1330 nm

After the noon report I went topside and shook out the 3rd reef. It went like a dream with literally no sweat for once. Most of the work had already been done to get the 3rd reef up. I made sure that the forward 2nd reef line was in place, and it was holding the cringle at the correct position, which it was. The wind was so light that I made the hoist on the run without going into the wind and using the winch. If the forecast was correct I was now set up for the next 24 into the following evening. After that the wind would back more to SSW and I would have to run downwind using the headsail only, but that would be OK because I expected the wind to be stronger then.

The sun, though weak, had made its best appearance in weeks and between the solar panels and the wind charger I got a net inflow of power into the batteries during the day. That was very good because I had neither run the engine nor removed the oil pressure sensor for inspection pending more advice.

It was great to be on the move again - sort of like having the warder remove the ball and chain from my ankle.

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