I woke up just before midnight to see the new year in with a cup of wine and good wishes for all.
It's just as well too, because I found the boat to be creeping NNE before a light wind because somehow Jeff had lost control in the changing wind. I took the wheel and put the boat hard to weather which put us on a more acceptable course of 065T. I let the autopilot do the steering for a while but after it went on standby (No damage: the boat steers itself upwind as it yaws upwind then falls back when the headsail luffs.) I put Jeff back in charge. We were at 35S36, too far north for my liking, but I expected that to change soon.
I had another Sailmail session because the download speed had been too slow at the 7 PM session, and I did get a much faster transfer rate.
The latest grib file indicated slack wind during the coming day, followed by the return of the westerlies. I would drop the mainsail during the calm and then resume the downwind sailing under headsail, working my way toward the south. During the lull I would run the engine not only to charge the batteries and gain ground, but also to run the heater and dry out some of these clothes in the cabin.
I received a message from Jeanne Socrates full of great information regarding the approaches to Cape Town, the RCYC marina, and recommendations for various contractors for work and parts that will be needed for the boat.
She gave me the following disturbing information about the RCYC: "If you stay at RCYC any length of time over the summer, your rigging, lines, sails, mast and everything on deck will be smothered in a line of thick, black grime on its SE face - almost impossible to remove!! From sandblasting operations in industrial area close by, upwind of strong SE'er... A major problem with RCYC and one which many a cruiser has complained bitterly about - having discovered it too late!!! Another reason many people prefer the quiet and cleanliness of Simon's Town and the FBYC!" I would be particularly worried about that grime settling into the rigging swages and setting off galvanic corrosion. I'm not sure how to handle this one. I don't want to make any decision regarding RCYC until I have had a chance to see the situation for myself and discussed it with the marina management, but it may be prudent to start getting more information on the FBYC and Simons Town.
If Jeanne meant "90W" instead of "09W" she was at 51S, 90W, 860 miles NW of the Horn. It worried me to read that she is having to deal with something that I didn't have to contend with during my rounding: pack ice around the Horn and Diego Ramirez. This will cause her to wisely stay "well offshore".
At 2 AM the boat was plodding along at 3.5 kts into a gentle wind over a calm sea. It was quite pleasant being in the cockpit, with the sea illuminated by the bright half moon and plenty of stars overhead. I would have to stay vigilant for the rest of the night because the wind was steadily weakening.
The night turned out to be short. I went topside at 3.15 AM for a last look around before retiring and to the east dawn was breaking, and it was a nice sight to see.
I was up at 6.15 AM for the early SAMMNet session and found the boat still making way but with the sails slatting as the boat rolled. I had a good session with SAMMNet. The "missing" boat that was the object of the previous morning's securite had reported in. Graham gave me advice on approaching Cape Town. Because of the fast current I should begin my run up the coast from south of Cape Point which is at 34.3S, 18.5E. I will certainly take that advice, and I took comfort from the fact that 34.3S is about 100 miles north of the 36S I was planning on. Toward the end of the conversation I asked Graham if Cape Naval was still broadcasting weather faxes and I could almost hear him sigh. He told me that the weather fax transmissions have stopped and he has had no response from several inquiries about it. I cannot understand the behavior of Brazil and S.A. in this matter. The weather faxes are already being produced by the weather service, right? It seems to me that digitizing and transmitting the charts should be an almost totally automatic process requiring minimal human resources. Finally, Graham suggested that I should be well within range of Sam's coastal weather service so I will try to work with him in the future.
Immediately after the session I dropped the mainsail and rolled in the headsail. After tidying up I started the engine and turned on the Red Dot heater. Soon the cabin was like a sauna. I hung 3 of the heavier garments outside. After 3 hours of running I shut the engine down and allowed the boat to drift ahull.
At noon our position was 35S30, 009E58. Somehow we had manage to eke out a n-n distance of 82 miles in the direction 076T, precisely in the direction of Cape Town, now 430 miles away. The barometer was steady at 1026 HPa. There was how bright sunshine and I had hung out the washing to complete it drying. I had the cabin hatch open.
In the afternoon I did a fuel transfer and topped the diesel tanks to the brim. There was already plenty of fuel in the internal tanks but I wanted to resolve a problem that I had just noticed. Part of the cap of one of the 23.5 liter containers had broken off exposing a thin vent tube of some sort leading into the fuel. That meant that the fuel had probably been contaminated with water but I wanted to make sure, and the sooner the better. I set everything up for the fuel transfer then brought the container into the cockpit and had a look at the fuel. I could not see bubbles of water floating in the fuel, but on the other hand the container was only half full, which explains why I had been smelling diesel fuel for several days in the high wind. I decided that 12 liters of diesel was not worth the risk and worry of contaminating the boat's fuel supply so I wrote it off and brought down another container. This one had that beautiful ultra high quality diesel that I had purchased at a filling station in Mar del Plata and the tanks took 20 liters of it, all strained through the Baja filter of course. When entering the fuel data into the log I noted that the engine was now at 350.0 hours and I had done the last oil and filter change in Mar del Plata at 235.5 hours, meaning that it has been 114.5 hours of running since the last oil change. Given that the manual stipulates an oil change at 500 hours or 1 year, I see no urgency in an oil change in Cape Town, but knowing me I'll probably do one.
It was a brilliantly sunny day and there was no spray about so I decided to wash more clothes, which I did and hung up on the life lines. That meant that all of my underclothes and three sets of trousers had been washed.
Then it was time to wash myself and I had a deluxe cockpit bath - my first bath in weeks - complete with a kettle of hot water and a shampoo of head and beard with Pert Plus shampoo that contains conditioner. Afterwards I went to the head and combed my damp hair then trimmed my moustache with a pair of scissors and comb. Wow, what a transformation! I had scrubbed up very well indeed. I then returned to the cabin and put a complete set of fresh clothes, all dry and clean and sweet smelling. I then had an ice cold beer in the cockpit enjoying the blue ocean around me. (It doesn't take much to make a lone sailor happy.) This was my first "day off" since the gale on the approach to Tristan da Cunha and I was enjoying it very much. What luxury to be able to relax and not worry about the situation. It was fitting that I had been rewarded with this on New Years Day. I would have an early meal, watch a movie, then go to bed without a care in the world. If I got up during the night and noticed a useful wind I would grumble and set sail, but if it didn't happen that would suit me just fine and I would dive back into my bunk.
When I went to light the stove to prepare the evening meal I saw that the gas detector was in alarm mode. It must have sensed the diesel fumes during the fuel transfer from the sensor located in the lazarette. I reset the unit and this time it detected no fumes. That gas detector, with a sensor in the galley and another one in the lazarette where the gas cylinders are housed, is a wonderful piece of equipment that ensures that I don't get blown sky high by a gas leak. Once in Geographe Bay, Western Australia, the gas detector alarmed several times from the lazarette sensor. I eventually investigated and there really was a gas leak from one of the screw-on fittings. Without the detector the gas would have worked its way into the bilge because it is heavier than air, built up through the sole into the cabin, then with the first spark it would have been Adios Amigo - y Amiga, because Brenda was with me. Don't leave home without it.
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Pachuca
Pachuca in Port Angeles, WA USA
Tuesday, January 1, 2013
Monday, December 31, 2012
Day 32 - 500 to Go
I had the best Sailmail session in weeks. For the first time the Sailmail propagation matrix reported three frequencies at 100% at the 7 PM time slot and I was able to have a complete session using the lowest frequency suggested with everything sent and received.
Because of the early Sailmail session I was able to turn in at 9 PM, hoping that the wind and course would hold steady until morning. However at 11 PM I was waken by the banging of the boom which indicates insufficient wind. Fortunately there was sufficient wind although it had lightened, and for some reason Jeff was steering us downwind to the NE. It took 30 minutes to put the boat on a beam reach and coax Jeff into holding the new course. The problem with the Monitor was that whenever the wind surged the increase weather helm would cause the boat to round up toward the wind, causing the headsail to flutter. After watching the situation for over an hour I returned to the sack at 1 AM and slept until 5 minutes before the 6 AM alarm for the SAMMNet session went off.
We had a very good SAMMNet session starting at 6.30 AM, only the second successful one since my initial contact several days ago. Graham seemed happy to hear from me and he copied all of situation report with no need for repetition. Graham had begun his transmission with a Securite (a safety message) about a 40 ft monohull, Arctic Tern III, in transit from St Helena to Fernando de Noronha, overdue in reporting. After I transmitted my situation report Graham asked me to contact Sam on his frequency to ask him to issue the Securite during his session, which was about to start. On Sam's frequency I could hear a dialogue going on, though Sam was coming in very faint. When things went quiet I hailed Sam, hoping that I wasn't breaking into a transmission. Through the static I heard "Bravo Whiskey", the last 2 letters of my ham call sign, so I passed the message to Sam blind, hoping that he could hear me. (Everybody, including Sailmail, can hear me much better than I can hear them.)
When I got back to Graham's frequency I could hear him calling. I told him of my questionable success with Sam, then received a superb wind prediction through to Tuesday at noon. In general all winds will be stronger than what I had expected from the grib file. All winds were in the 15-20 or 15-25 kt range, with only one in the 10-20 range. This put into doubt the becalming that I had been expecting on New Years Day, but that suited me fine. Graham finished the conversation by giving me a warm best wishes for New Years.
At 7.30 AM we were still moving well, doing 4.5 kts to the east. We were 540 miles out of Cape Town.
At mid morning I set up my first backup computer, the Toshiba that I used to get around the Horn and received a new keyboard in the USA. I knew that the computer had the Noonsite article on visiting Cape Town by boat stored as a Zotero file. To my great pleasure the machine booted up with no problem and reported 81% or 2 hr 35 min of battery life. I transferred the data to a USB thumb drive then shut the machine down and put it away. All three backup computers are traveling first class in their own carry bags which are then stored in clothes drawers well protected from shock and water.
At noon our position was 35S49, 008E20, yielding a n-n distance that surprised me at 128 miles in the direction 083. The barometer had risen one point to 1026 HPa, the highest the I had recorded during the passage. Graham had reported a High at 75S and the prime meridian, and it appeared that we were benefiting from its rotating winds as it swept toward the east. We were 510 miles from Cape Town, and still moving well to the ENE.
I decided to take advantage of the sunshine and moderate conditions to use some of my precious reserves of fresh water to do some clothes washing. I had about 70 liters of water in the jugs and knew that I had at least half of the water in the 280 liter capacity main tanks remaining because the port tank of 140 liters barely been touched and the starboard tank was still delivering water to the galley. I estimated that I had been living on 3 to 4 liters of fresh water per day.
The problem with the clothes wasn't so much dirt or even sweat, but rather salt water contamination, which meant that they were clammy and unusable. I particularly needed some dry heavy track suit pants. I used about 15 liters of fresh water to wash and rinse the clothes in the cockpit then hung the on the overhead lifelines. At about that time the sun disappeared and the wind shifted to the SE which meant that we would have to beat into the wind slightly, which would mean salt water spray all over the clothes. So after only 15 minutes or so to allow the wind to shake out the enough water to prevent dripping I brought the clothes inside and hung them around the cabin, so I was now surrounded by 4 T-shirts, 5 underpants, 6 pairs of socks, and one pair of pants.
After lunch (small bowl of rolled oats and one vitamin pill) and a nap I saw at 3 PM that we were 498 miles from Cape Town, so I would get my wish to spend New Years eve within 500 miles of our destination. Better yet, the moderate wind was persisting and I hoped to make significant progress in the next 24 hours. I checked my ship's log and saw that I had spent last New Years Eve at 49S16, 98W42, 1200 miles NW of Cape Horn.
It was time for another bean and lentil stew. As usual I had soaked the beans and lentils overnight and this afternoon was the chop chop phase. I found plenty of the usual ingredients on hand. Into the pot went 4 potatoes, 3 carrots, 4 onions, and enough garlic to kill a small horse. OK, so the potatoes were starting to sprout and I had to cut away a few bad bits from the carrots, but that certainly didn't bother me. I've still got plenty of potatoes, onions, garlic, and 2 carrots, which means that another stew is possible. However that is moot now, I hope, because of our proximity to Cape Town. I've also still got plenty of eggs and cheese on hand, and found one last orange still intact. I haven't had bread for a while but have gotten used to doing without it. Unless we get becalmed and I wind up with plenty of time on my hands it is unlikely that I'll do any baking, though it would have been good to test the vitality of the yeast.
For the wine I decided to leave the last two bottles of Finca la Delfina malbec 2010 for Brenda to taste in CT and selected an Esmeralda Fernandez 2010 malbec that Brenda and I took a shine to in Mar del Plata. Brenda will recognize the red label when he sees it. It certainly suits my palate and I think that I sailed from Argentina with two cases of it. To date I have been very disciplined in restraining myself to half a bottle of wine per day, but after all this is New Years Eve, so I just might get real naughty and drink the entire bottle over two sessions: pre dinner and midnight.
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Because of the early Sailmail session I was able to turn in at 9 PM, hoping that the wind and course would hold steady until morning. However at 11 PM I was waken by the banging of the boom which indicates insufficient wind. Fortunately there was sufficient wind although it had lightened, and for some reason Jeff was steering us downwind to the NE. It took 30 minutes to put the boat on a beam reach and coax Jeff into holding the new course. The problem with the Monitor was that whenever the wind surged the increase weather helm would cause the boat to round up toward the wind, causing the headsail to flutter. After watching the situation for over an hour I returned to the sack at 1 AM and slept until 5 minutes before the 6 AM alarm for the SAMMNet session went off.
We had a very good SAMMNet session starting at 6.30 AM, only the second successful one since my initial contact several days ago. Graham seemed happy to hear from me and he copied all of situation report with no need for repetition. Graham had begun his transmission with a Securite (a safety message) about a 40 ft monohull, Arctic Tern III, in transit from St Helena to Fernando de Noronha, overdue in reporting. After I transmitted my situation report Graham asked me to contact Sam on his frequency to ask him to issue the Securite during his session, which was about to start. On Sam's frequency I could hear a dialogue going on, though Sam was coming in very faint. When things went quiet I hailed Sam, hoping that I wasn't breaking into a transmission. Through the static I heard "Bravo Whiskey", the last 2 letters of my ham call sign, so I passed the message to Sam blind, hoping that he could hear me. (Everybody, including Sailmail, can hear me much better than I can hear them.)
When I got back to Graham's frequency I could hear him calling. I told him of my questionable success with Sam, then received a superb wind prediction through to Tuesday at noon. In general all winds will be stronger than what I had expected from the grib file. All winds were in the 15-20 or 15-25 kt range, with only one in the 10-20 range. This put into doubt the becalming that I had been expecting on New Years Day, but that suited me fine. Graham finished the conversation by giving me a warm best wishes for New Years.
At 7.30 AM we were still moving well, doing 4.5 kts to the east. We were 540 miles out of Cape Town.
At mid morning I set up my first backup computer, the Toshiba that I used to get around the Horn and received a new keyboard in the USA. I knew that the computer had the Noonsite article on visiting Cape Town by boat stored as a Zotero file. To my great pleasure the machine booted up with no problem and reported 81% or 2 hr 35 min of battery life. I transferred the data to a USB thumb drive then shut the machine down and put it away. All three backup computers are traveling first class in their own carry bags which are then stored in clothes drawers well protected from shock and water.
At noon our position was 35S49, 008E20, yielding a n-n distance that surprised me at 128 miles in the direction 083. The barometer had risen one point to 1026 HPa, the highest the I had recorded during the passage. Graham had reported a High at 75S and the prime meridian, and it appeared that we were benefiting from its rotating winds as it swept toward the east. We were 510 miles from Cape Town, and still moving well to the ENE.
I decided to take advantage of the sunshine and moderate conditions to use some of my precious reserves of fresh water to do some clothes washing. I had about 70 liters of water in the jugs and knew that I had at least half of the water in the 280 liter capacity main tanks remaining because the port tank of 140 liters barely been touched and the starboard tank was still delivering water to the galley. I estimated that I had been living on 3 to 4 liters of fresh water per day.
The problem with the clothes wasn't so much dirt or even sweat, but rather salt water contamination, which meant that they were clammy and unusable. I particularly needed some dry heavy track suit pants. I used about 15 liters of fresh water to wash and rinse the clothes in the cockpit then hung the on the overhead lifelines. At about that time the sun disappeared and the wind shifted to the SE which meant that we would have to beat into the wind slightly, which would mean salt water spray all over the clothes. So after only 15 minutes or so to allow the wind to shake out the enough water to prevent dripping I brought the clothes inside and hung them around the cabin, so I was now surrounded by 4 T-shirts, 5 underpants, 6 pairs of socks, and one pair of pants.
After lunch (small bowl of rolled oats and one vitamin pill) and a nap I saw at 3 PM that we were 498 miles from Cape Town, so I would get my wish to spend New Years eve within 500 miles of our destination. Better yet, the moderate wind was persisting and I hoped to make significant progress in the next 24 hours. I checked my ship's log and saw that I had spent last New Years Eve at 49S16, 98W42, 1200 miles NW of Cape Horn.
It was time for another bean and lentil stew. As usual I had soaked the beans and lentils overnight and this afternoon was the chop chop phase. I found plenty of the usual ingredients on hand. Into the pot went 4 potatoes, 3 carrots, 4 onions, and enough garlic to kill a small horse. OK, so the potatoes were starting to sprout and I had to cut away a few bad bits from the carrots, but that certainly didn't bother me. I've still got plenty of potatoes, onions, garlic, and 2 carrots, which means that another stew is possible. However that is moot now, I hope, because of our proximity to Cape Town. I've also still got plenty of eggs and cheese on hand, and found one last orange still intact. I haven't had bread for a while but have gotten used to doing without it. Unless we get becalmed and I wind up with plenty of time on my hands it is unlikely that I'll do any baking, though it would have been good to test the vitality of the yeast.
For the wine I decided to leave the last two bottles of Finca la Delfina malbec 2010 for Brenda to taste in CT and selected an Esmeralda Fernandez 2010 malbec that Brenda and I took a shine to in Mar del Plata. Brenda will recognize the red label when he sees it. It certainly suits my palate and I think that I sailed from Argentina with two cases of it. To date I have been very disciplined in restraining myself to half a bottle of wine per day, but after all this is New Years Eve, so I just might get real naughty and drink the entire bottle over two sessions: pre dinner and midnight.
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Sunday, December 30, 2012
Day 31 - Mainsail Up and BBB3
I had a successful Sailmail session, though it took a whopping 35 minutes of air time to download a record 9 messages. As usual these days the transmission was fast at over 2500 bytes/min but I had to do some searching to find a download rate that was sustainable. Two of the messages were grib files, one that I had ordered that night and one that I had ordered the previous night and no longer needed. Two were from Graham of SAMMNet. He told me that he had heard my morning transmission clearly that morning, though I had been barely able to hear his. That means that he probably received my situation report which I had sent out "blind" in the hopes that he would hear me. In his second message he kindly sent me a weather report. Two messages concerned the exchange rate between the SA Rand and the Aussie and US dollars, so that I now know that the fee for my boat at RCYC will be about $21 USD per day. Another was a short message from Jeanne Socrates who was at 47S, 097W, (about 1200 miles from the Horn) moving slowly, but seeming in good cheer. She once again advised me to drop down to 37S before reaching the coast of SA. It is important that I approach CT from the south because I cannot allow myself to reach the coast north of CT unless I want to face a battle working my way south against the prevailing wind an current. I would be able to tell Jeanne that I had indeed begun slanting toward the south, although on a closer look at the approach to CT I cannot see the need to drop down as far as 37S. Cape town is at 33S55, a full 3 degrees and 180 miles north of 37S. Approaching the coast at 36S will still put me 120 miles south of CP, which should be ample to cover the possibility of adverse winds. Anyway, my backlog of mail had been cleared and I felt better. I would not order a grib file in the next session in order to hold down the air time.
I woke up just before 2 AM to the sound of water rushing past the hull next to my ear and the wind howling. I suited up and from the cockpit I could see that the boat was over canvassed. I rolled in probably 30% of the sail area and altered our course from SE to ESE because by now we were south of 36S again. The principal motivation for the shift south at this point was to position the boat for some expected SE winds that would drive us to the NE.
AT 2.15 AM we were within the 700 mile range to CT at 690 miles.
I missed the SAMMNet session by 10 minutes because I slept through the alarm from the gadget on the laptop. In future I'll back that up with the alarm from the chart plotter that will not stop until I hit the "Acknowledge" button.
At mid morning I faced the inevitable and raised the mainsail to the second reef. The latest grib file as well as Graham's information predicted a shift to southerly winds for the 30th (today), the 31st, and dying down leaving me becalmed on New Years' Day. In fact we sailed all night to a southerly just aft of the beam with headsail only and did OK, but I knew that we would fare better with a more balanced sail plan, particularly as the wind began to die down. For now the 2nd reef would do and I could shake it out and go to the 1st reef later.
Raising that mainsail is usually difficult for me, particularly doing it under sail in a stiff wind. One of the problems is that the lazy jacks have only 3 vertical cords to hold the sail in when the sail is dropped. The theory looks great in the comfort of the sail loft, where the vision calls for the sail to come down on top of the boom and all of the battens dropping nicely within the confines of the lazy jack. Reality is different. Usually at least one of the battens does not reach to the next vertical cord and winds up sticking out and dropping toward the deck. Always there are bits of sail in contact with the cabin, leading to inevitable damage from chafing if something is not done. That something is to go onto the cabin and lash the mainsail to the boom with straps, which negates the purpose of the lazy jacks. And of course before raising the sail I must stand on the cabin draped across the boom, often in rough conditions, and remove all of the straps. I am not going to give up on lazy jacks but I will definitely have a say in the design of the next one, which will include at least twice the number of vertical cords. ... I think that I am on top of the problem of the lazy jacks and running backstays fouling the backs of the battens as I raise the sail. It means going to the mast before raising the sail, completely dropping the leeward side of the lazy jacks, freeing the leeward running backstay, and timing the hoists carefully whenever in the region of possible fouling. But of course after the hoist there must be another visit to the mast to raise the leeward lazy jack again. That means more visits to the mast to attend to the lazy jacks that are supposed to make my life easier.
It took over an hour to set up the sails, put the boat under Monitor steering, and tidy up. This left us heading ESE doing over 6 kts with the double reefed mainsail and a reduced headsail. This was very good, except that I was so drenched in sweat that after peeling off my outer garments I had to use a towel to dry off as though I had been in the shower. I figured that I had earned it so I went to the forecastle and dug out a can of beer (4 remaining) and enjoyed it in spite of it being only at room temperature and especially because it was still morning.
And now that the wind spell is broken I dare to utter the hitherto unmentionable, which is no doubt obvious to regular readers of this blog.
The last six days since passing Tristan da Cunha have been of outstanding winds and progress. Day after day I had a strong following wind and made fast progress under only partial headsail. The only adjustments that I had to make were the occasional gybe and change of sail area. During that 6 day run since TdC I have averaged 125 miles per day and 5.2 kts in speed. I couldn't believe my good fortune as it developed and I did my best to milk it for all it was worth.
At noon our position was 36S05, 005E43, giving us a n-n distance of 121 miles in the direction 098T, a heading that had brought us south of S36. The barometer had risen 8 points to 1025 HPa and the sky was clear and sunny. We were 640 miles from Cape Town
It is now time for Blubber Blog Bulletin No. 3. I got careless and took a dose of sea water through the companionway and was forced to change to dry underclothes (second time in 2 days). While I was starkers I took the opportunity to measure my waistline with Jean's magic tape measure. I came in comfortably within a 42" waist which means that I've lost 4" since leaving Brazil. The technique should be no secret by now: solo sail a 39 footer through rough seas, live on rice and beans, and terrorize yourself in every gale that comes along. Unfortunately the method does not scale well, so I will not be writing a best selling diet book.
At 7.10 PM we were 600 miles from Cape Town and still moving well. I had confidence in spending New Years Day within 500 miles of our destination.
HAPPY NEW YEAR EVERYONE. It looks like I might have a quiet New Years Day becalmed and relaxing. I am looking forward to my first bath in weeks and a loaf of fresh-baked bread.
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I woke up just before 2 AM to the sound of water rushing past the hull next to my ear and the wind howling. I suited up and from the cockpit I could see that the boat was over canvassed. I rolled in probably 30% of the sail area and altered our course from SE to ESE because by now we were south of 36S again. The principal motivation for the shift south at this point was to position the boat for some expected SE winds that would drive us to the NE.
AT 2.15 AM we were within the 700 mile range to CT at 690 miles.
I missed the SAMMNet session by 10 minutes because I slept through the alarm from the gadget on the laptop. In future I'll back that up with the alarm from the chart plotter that will not stop until I hit the "Acknowledge" button.
At mid morning I faced the inevitable and raised the mainsail to the second reef. The latest grib file as well as Graham's information predicted a shift to southerly winds for the 30th (today), the 31st, and dying down leaving me becalmed on New Years' Day. In fact we sailed all night to a southerly just aft of the beam with headsail only and did OK, but I knew that we would fare better with a more balanced sail plan, particularly as the wind began to die down. For now the 2nd reef would do and I could shake it out and go to the 1st reef later.
Raising that mainsail is usually difficult for me, particularly doing it under sail in a stiff wind. One of the problems is that the lazy jacks have only 3 vertical cords to hold the sail in when the sail is dropped. The theory looks great in the comfort of the sail loft, where the vision calls for the sail to come down on top of the boom and all of the battens dropping nicely within the confines of the lazy jack. Reality is different. Usually at least one of the battens does not reach to the next vertical cord and winds up sticking out and dropping toward the deck. Always there are bits of sail in contact with the cabin, leading to inevitable damage from chafing if something is not done. That something is to go onto the cabin and lash the mainsail to the boom with straps, which negates the purpose of the lazy jacks. And of course before raising the sail I must stand on the cabin draped across the boom, often in rough conditions, and remove all of the straps. I am not going to give up on lazy jacks but I will definitely have a say in the design of the next one, which will include at least twice the number of vertical cords. ... I think that I am on top of the problem of the lazy jacks and running backstays fouling the backs of the battens as I raise the sail. It means going to the mast before raising the sail, completely dropping the leeward side of the lazy jacks, freeing the leeward running backstay, and timing the hoists carefully whenever in the region of possible fouling. But of course after the hoist there must be another visit to the mast to raise the leeward lazy jack again. That means more visits to the mast to attend to the lazy jacks that are supposed to make my life easier.
It took over an hour to set up the sails, put the boat under Monitor steering, and tidy up. This left us heading ESE doing over 6 kts with the double reefed mainsail and a reduced headsail. This was very good, except that I was so drenched in sweat that after peeling off my outer garments I had to use a towel to dry off as though I had been in the shower. I figured that I had earned it so I went to the forecastle and dug out a can of beer (4 remaining) and enjoyed it in spite of it being only at room temperature and especially because it was still morning.
And now that the wind spell is broken I dare to utter the hitherto unmentionable, which is no doubt obvious to regular readers of this blog.
The last six days since passing Tristan da Cunha have been of outstanding winds and progress. Day after day I had a strong following wind and made fast progress under only partial headsail. The only adjustments that I had to make were the occasional gybe and change of sail area. During that 6 day run since TdC I have averaged 125 miles per day and 5.2 kts in speed. I couldn't believe my good fortune as it developed and I did my best to milk it for all it was worth.
At noon our position was 36S05, 005E43, giving us a n-n distance of 121 miles in the direction 098T, a heading that had brought us south of S36. The barometer had risen 8 points to 1025 HPa and the sky was clear and sunny. We were 640 miles from Cape Town
It is now time for Blubber Blog Bulletin No. 3. I got careless and took a dose of sea water through the companionway and was forced to change to dry underclothes (second time in 2 days). While I was starkers I took the opportunity to measure my waistline with Jean's magic tape measure. I came in comfortably within a 42" waist which means that I've lost 4" since leaving Brazil. The technique should be no secret by now: solo sail a 39 footer through rough seas, live on rice and beans, and terrorize yourself in every gale that comes along. Unfortunately the method does not scale well, so I will not be writing a best selling diet book.
At 7.10 PM we were 600 miles from Cape Town and still moving well. I had confidence in spending New Years Day within 500 miles of our destination.
HAPPY NEW YEAR EVERYONE. It looks like I might have a quiet New Years Day becalmed and relaxing. I am looking forward to my first bath in weeks and a loaf of fresh-baked bread.
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Saturday, December 29, 2012
Day 30 - Engine is OK
I went to bed with the timer set for 2 hours and at the second rising, 2.30, I found what I was looking for: the wind had shifted and now we were sailing NE. Gybing the boat was a pleasant operation because the wind and sea were moderate and I got good visibility from the nearly full moon peeping through the clouds. After the gybe we were heading east with the wind coming from the starboard quarter of the boat. The strength of the wind had held up nicely and we were averaging 5.5 kts. At 3.45 AM I went out to make an adjustment to the Monitor airvane and saw the first light of dawn, which seemed early yet I was near the prime meridian with the clock set to UTC/GMT time. Down below I swapped bunks than had a mug of black tea surveying the situation with great satisfaction. If this new wind held up it would provide a good transition to stronger winds expected in the next day or two. I had managed to download a grib file the night before because I had ordered that one the day before, so it was first in the queue. At least now I had wind visibility for another day ahead.
I am still having problems with Sailmail connectivity. I am able to get good transmission speeds of over 1500 bytes/min, but reception is woeful at less that 200 bytes/min. Over and over the system disconnects me because there are too many transmission retries. After 6 or 8 attempts spanning 2 hours last night I had to give up and leave 5 incoming messages in the queue, though at least I was able to download 3. The frequencies in the 10 MHz range are starting to work better and I am hoping that soon I will pass a distance threshold where the transmission speed will leap to an acceptable level.
At 4.15 AM we were 800 miles from Cape Town.
It was a bright and sunny day, the following wind was a moderate 13-15 kts, so I decided to take the opportunity to run the engine for the first time since I encountered that starting problem on Day 23. I went in heavy with the startup because I wanted to explore and document as much as possible. I started off by reading the relevant section of the Volvo Owners Manual. Now that the solar panels were working the house bank was reporting 12.7V in contrast to the 12.4V at dawn. The starter bank was reporting a whopping 13V and I made a note to check the wiring of the wind charger to see if it was delivering its power to the starter bank. I turned on the main switch to the engine (more on this below) then I went to the cockpit suited up, wearing glasses and carrying a magnifying glass so that I could see the "pre heat" symbol on the tachometer window that Mark had told me about.
I opened the exhaust valve then moved the control lever from reverse (so that the prop shaft does not turn while sailing) to neutral/idle then kneeled in front of the EVC engine control panel and hit the on/off button that activates the panel and runs engine checks. No "pre heat" symbol came up during this stage. Then I heard the two bursts of alarm signalling that all was OK and noted the engine hours at 444.7. Now it was Show Time and I hit the engine start button. Instantly with no hesitation whatsoever the engine came to life and for a full minute I watched it idle happily at 700 rpm. I noted that the volt meter was at the full 14V. (Here I took my eye off the ball, as it were. Close reading of the manual suggests that the "pre heat" symbol is displayed AFTER engine start, which surprised me, so it may have in fact displayed.) I then noted some life in the temperature gauge, which had not worked on the previous run. I raised the revolutions to 1500 then sat in the cockpit watching the temperature needle steadily climb then settle at the normal operating temperature of 196F.
I have a theory on what may have happened. Two nights ago the boat was slammed hard on the port side by a wave, and as the boat heeled over I heard the double "Beep Beep" alarm indicating that the EVC panel was active. It had to be a shock rather than a water thing because the panel is recessed behind a protective window high on the inside of the port coaming, so any water that sprayed into the cockpit during that event would have passed over the EVC panel and hit the coaming on the other side of the cockpit. I then remembered that this had happened one other time, just before my problem engine run of Day 23. At that time I climbed into the cockpit and hit the "on/off" button to deactivate the EVC panel and returned to the cabin. This time I could not be bothered going up there and I got the bright idea of simply setting to "off" the main engine (starter bank) switch located at the navigation station.
The EVC will have a microprocessor in it, and my theory is that the agitation from that wave strike had snotted up the works, not to put too fine a point on it, and by cycling the main switch I had in fact rebooted the microprocessor. In support of this theory is the way in which the temperature gauge also began to work normally after the reboot.
I feel a bit like a chump because both Mark in the USA and Reg in Australia went to a lot of trouble to advise me on the problem, but I suppose that it is better to look like a chump than a hero with serious problems. (Thank you fellows for your support and for Mark, this EVC theory is one for your books.)
And needless to say, as of now SOP will be to cut all power from the "starter" bank while cruising and the engine is not running.
After 2 hours of running I shut the engine down with no problems. The wind had been strong enough for Jeff to steer the boat while under power and after shutdown our speed wend from 6.1 kts to 5.2 kts, so we had received some mileage from the run.
At noon our position was 35S48, 003E15, giving us a n-n distance of 128 miles in the direction 084T, directly toward CT, which was now 760 miles away. The barometer had risen 4 points to 1017 HPa. It was a brilliant sunny day with perhaps 10% cloud cover.
I treated the sliding main hatch with heavy duty silicone spray and when I finished I could slide it open from the inside with one finger. I then rewarded myself with 45 minutes in the cockpit sipping a tall cup of tea and enjoying the warmth of the sun and the sight of the boat as it moved through the water while the following seas lifted the stern, dropped it, rolled it, and pushed it from side to side at will. It was soothing and relaxing and I should do it more often. The temperature was mild - certainly short sleeve and shorts weather for the hardy Nordic types of Canada and the northern USA. After all, this is the southern summer and latitude 36 is only about 250 miles closer to the pole that San Diego and Perth, each at about latitude 32 in their respective hemispheres.
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I am still having problems with Sailmail connectivity. I am able to get good transmission speeds of over 1500 bytes/min, but reception is woeful at less that 200 bytes/min. Over and over the system disconnects me because there are too many transmission retries. After 6 or 8 attempts spanning 2 hours last night I had to give up and leave 5 incoming messages in the queue, though at least I was able to download 3. The frequencies in the 10 MHz range are starting to work better and I am hoping that soon I will pass a distance threshold where the transmission speed will leap to an acceptable level.
At 4.15 AM we were 800 miles from Cape Town.
It was a bright and sunny day, the following wind was a moderate 13-15 kts, so I decided to take the opportunity to run the engine for the first time since I encountered that starting problem on Day 23. I went in heavy with the startup because I wanted to explore and document as much as possible. I started off by reading the relevant section of the Volvo Owners Manual. Now that the solar panels were working the house bank was reporting 12.7V in contrast to the 12.4V at dawn. The starter bank was reporting a whopping 13V and I made a note to check the wiring of the wind charger to see if it was delivering its power to the starter bank. I turned on the main switch to the engine (more on this below) then I went to the cockpit suited up, wearing glasses and carrying a magnifying glass so that I could see the "pre heat" symbol on the tachometer window that Mark had told me about.
I opened the exhaust valve then moved the control lever from reverse (so that the prop shaft does not turn while sailing) to neutral/idle then kneeled in front of the EVC engine control panel and hit the on/off button that activates the panel and runs engine checks. No "pre heat" symbol came up during this stage. Then I heard the two bursts of alarm signalling that all was OK and noted the engine hours at 444.7. Now it was Show Time and I hit the engine start button. Instantly with no hesitation whatsoever the engine came to life and for a full minute I watched it idle happily at 700 rpm. I noted that the volt meter was at the full 14V. (Here I took my eye off the ball, as it were. Close reading of the manual suggests that the "pre heat" symbol is displayed AFTER engine start, which surprised me, so it may have in fact displayed.) I then noted some life in the temperature gauge, which had not worked on the previous run. I raised the revolutions to 1500 then sat in the cockpit watching the temperature needle steadily climb then settle at the normal operating temperature of 196F.
I have a theory on what may have happened. Two nights ago the boat was slammed hard on the port side by a wave, and as the boat heeled over I heard the double "Beep Beep" alarm indicating that the EVC panel was active. It had to be a shock rather than a water thing because the panel is recessed behind a protective window high on the inside of the port coaming, so any water that sprayed into the cockpit during that event would have passed over the EVC panel and hit the coaming on the other side of the cockpit. I then remembered that this had happened one other time, just before my problem engine run of Day 23. At that time I climbed into the cockpit and hit the "on/off" button to deactivate the EVC panel and returned to the cabin. This time I could not be bothered going up there and I got the bright idea of simply setting to "off" the main engine (starter bank) switch located at the navigation station.
The EVC will have a microprocessor in it, and my theory is that the agitation from that wave strike had snotted up the works, not to put too fine a point on it, and by cycling the main switch I had in fact rebooted the microprocessor. In support of this theory is the way in which the temperature gauge also began to work normally after the reboot.
I feel a bit like a chump because both Mark in the USA and Reg in Australia went to a lot of trouble to advise me on the problem, but I suppose that it is better to look like a chump than a hero with serious problems. (Thank you fellows for your support and for Mark, this EVC theory is one for your books.)
And needless to say, as of now SOP will be to cut all power from the "starter" bank while cruising and the engine is not running.
After 2 hours of running I shut the engine down with no problems. The wind had been strong enough for Jeff to steer the boat while under power and after shutdown our speed wend from 6.1 kts to 5.2 kts, so we had received some mileage from the run.
At noon our position was 35S48, 003E15, giving us a n-n distance of 128 miles in the direction 084T, directly toward CT, which was now 760 miles away. The barometer had risen 4 points to 1017 HPa. It was a brilliant sunny day with perhaps 10% cloud cover.
I treated the sliding main hatch with heavy duty silicone spray and when I finished I could slide it open from the inside with one finger. I then rewarded myself with 45 minutes in the cockpit sipping a tall cup of tea and enjoying the warmth of the sun and the sight of the boat as it moved through the water while the following seas lifted the stern, dropped it, rolled it, and pushed it from side to side at will. It was soothing and relaxing and I should do it more often. The temperature was mild - certainly short sleeve and shorts weather for the hardy Nordic types of Canada and the northern USA. After all, this is the southern summer and latitude 36 is only about 250 miles closer to the pole that San Diego and Perth, each at about latitude 32 in their respective hemispheres.
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Friday, December 28, 2012
Day 29 - In the Eastern Hemisphere
It turned out to be a good sailing night. The wind piped up to over 25 kts in the late afternoon but soon settled down to 18-20 kts for the entire night. At about 9 PM I spotted a ship on AIS that was only 11 miles away, yet the TCPA (Time of Closest Point of Approach) was over 90 minutes away. It was a cargo ship heading east as I was at only 12 kts, making our speed difference only 6 kts. AIS estimated that it would come too close for my comfort so I called it twice by position and heading, with no response. 15 minutes later it was close enough for me to receive all of its AIS data and I called the ship by name and got an immediate response in good English.
Yes, he had me on his radar and would keep a watch on me. I moved the airvane to take Pachuca as much downwind as possible but the boat was still slewing around a lot and at times AIS was estimating our CPA as less than 300 ft. I called the ship, explained the situation, and asked that it alter course to port 5 degrees. The ship's officer was most obliging and altered course 10 degrees. An hour later when it was safe I altered to windvane to put us slightly more into the wind and avoid the sail stalling every few minutes. The ship resumed its course at about the same time and our paths crossed, Pachuca heading about 090T and the ship at 100T. With that I hit the sack with no alarm set.
I was up at 6 AM to prepare for the 6.30 AM SAMMNet session but unfortunately the reception was not good enough for communication with Graham. Interestingly, I heard a position report to Graham from a sailor who was 100 miles off the island of St Helena.
At 0700 UTC almost to the minute, Pachuca crossed the prime meridian which passes through Greenwich England. For the first time since the middle of 2008 Pachuca and her master were back in the eastern hemisphere of the world. We now had to traverse another 115 degrees of longitude in order to reach Fremantle, 5700 miles away.
I received a reply from Ian, Manager of the RCYC. The marina can accommodate Pachuca for the entire visit. Ian quoted the price in "ZAR", which must be the S African currency and I sent a reply asking for the rough equivalency in US or Aussie dollars. Anyway, the important thing is that Pachuca will have a home waiting for her.
At 10.30 AM we were 900 miles from CT.
At noon our position was 36S00, 00E38, giving a n-n distance of 140 miles in the direction 087T. This represented a new n-n high for the passage, and we were now 890 miles from CT. The barometer had dipped slightly but had risen to the same 1013 HPa as on the previous day. We were still moving nicely at over 6.5 kts to the east.
The ocean was starting to become crowded. While preparing the noon report I was watching on the chart plotter a ship to the north of me headed west and another one to the south of me heading east. I re checked the AIS alarm settings. The northern target displayed variable headings and speeds in the range 2.5-4.5 kts, suggesting to me that it was another small boat.
At 5 PM we were still moving well at about 6 kts to the east. I suited up and spent some time in the cockpit looking around. The Monitor lines were tight enough and the headsail was faring well. The spray dodger was coping well and everything else looked OK. I have a policy of spending most of my time buttoned up inside the cabin for reasons of safety. However, I make it a point to visit the cockpit several times a day because I don't want to feel alienated and afraid of the topside of the boat. I like to go up and look at everything in the eye as it were, particularly the ocean, because I must feel comfortable rushing up at any time to attend to a problem.
My grib file was out of date because I had not been able to download the latest one on the previous night. The last slender piece of weather prediction I had were from Graham on SAMMNet two days earlier who had predicted W/NW winds of 20/25 kts at 1800 today and W/SW at 10/20 kts at 0600 in the morning. I would have to wake up at frequent intervals throughout the night to deal with the wind change.
Regarding SAMMNet, I was ready at the 0630 session but could not hear Graham. However, I was able to hear a sailor 100 miles of St Helena Island about 1900 miles to the north reporting his position to Graham. I was not able to raise him at the 1130 session either. I am still not able to raise Sam on 7.120 MHz LSB for the coastal report, but at 900 miles I am probably too far away for that frequency.
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Yes, he had me on his radar and would keep a watch on me. I moved the airvane to take Pachuca as much downwind as possible but the boat was still slewing around a lot and at times AIS was estimating our CPA as less than 300 ft. I called the ship, explained the situation, and asked that it alter course to port 5 degrees. The ship's officer was most obliging and altered course 10 degrees. An hour later when it was safe I altered to windvane to put us slightly more into the wind and avoid the sail stalling every few minutes. The ship resumed its course at about the same time and our paths crossed, Pachuca heading about 090T and the ship at 100T. With that I hit the sack with no alarm set.
I was up at 6 AM to prepare for the 6.30 AM SAMMNet session but unfortunately the reception was not good enough for communication with Graham. Interestingly, I heard a position report to Graham from a sailor who was 100 miles off the island of St Helena.
At 0700 UTC almost to the minute, Pachuca crossed the prime meridian which passes through Greenwich England. For the first time since the middle of 2008 Pachuca and her master were back in the eastern hemisphere of the world. We now had to traverse another 115 degrees of longitude in order to reach Fremantle, 5700 miles away.
I received a reply from Ian, Manager of the RCYC. The marina can accommodate Pachuca for the entire visit. Ian quoted the price in "ZAR", which must be the S African currency and I sent a reply asking for the rough equivalency in US or Aussie dollars. Anyway, the important thing is that Pachuca will have a home waiting for her.
At 10.30 AM we were 900 miles from CT.
At noon our position was 36S00, 00E38, giving a n-n distance of 140 miles in the direction 087T. This represented a new n-n high for the passage, and we were now 890 miles from CT. The barometer had dipped slightly but had risen to the same 1013 HPa as on the previous day. We were still moving nicely at over 6.5 kts to the east.
The ocean was starting to become crowded. While preparing the noon report I was watching on the chart plotter a ship to the north of me headed west and another one to the south of me heading east. I re checked the AIS alarm settings. The northern target displayed variable headings and speeds in the range 2.5-4.5 kts, suggesting to me that it was another small boat.
At 5 PM we were still moving well at about 6 kts to the east. I suited up and spent some time in the cockpit looking around. The Monitor lines were tight enough and the headsail was faring well. The spray dodger was coping well and everything else looked OK. I have a policy of spending most of my time buttoned up inside the cabin for reasons of safety. However, I make it a point to visit the cockpit several times a day because I don't want to feel alienated and afraid of the topside of the boat. I like to go up and look at everything in the eye as it were, particularly the ocean, because I must feel comfortable rushing up at any time to attend to a problem.
My grib file was out of date because I had not been able to download the latest one on the previous night. The last slender piece of weather prediction I had were from Graham on SAMMNet two days earlier who had predicted W/NW winds of 20/25 kts at 1800 today and W/SW at 10/20 kts at 0600 in the morning. I would have to wake up at frequent intervals throughout the night to deal with the wind change.
Regarding SAMMNet, I was ready at the 0630 session but could not hear Graham. However, I was able to hear a sailor 100 miles of St Helena Island about 1900 miles to the north reporting his position to Graham. I was not able to raise him at the 1130 session either. I am still not able to raise Sam on 7.120 MHz LSB for the coastal report, but at 900 miles I am probably too far away for that frequency.
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Thursday, December 27, 2012
Day 28 - Spray Dodger Up and Under 1000 Miles
It was a great night of sailing - and sleeping.
In the early evening I had a look outside and the situation was good. The boat was still moving well but the wind had dropped just that little bit to make the ride smoother and there were no longer those big swells occasionally causing the stern of the boat to slew around or to slap the boat hard on the side. The nearly full moon was out and I could see plenty of stars. Down below the cabin had dried out during the day. Even the trousers I was wearing felt dry and not clammy. I had a very good Sailmail session at 6.45 pm via the Africa station which lifted my spirits. Because I as no longer bound to the midnight transmissions via Chile I was able to turn in early after my half bottle of wine, a tasty and satisfying meal (It is the same rice and beans every night, but I love it.), and a movie (The French Connection). Bed was very comfortable. I had moved to the port bunk and would be pinned more or less against the back cushion without being rolled around from side to side. The bedding was dry, warm, and inviting. It was like diving into a swimming pool of sleep.
Nevertheless I had set the alarm for 3 hours to check for a wind change that would set us on a different course. All was well so I returned to the cot and slept until just after 4 AM, dawn. I check two things when I wake up. The first is to feel the motion of the boat and see if we are still sailing, because it will mean that we still have wind and the self steering is still working. The second is to go to the chart plotter and see our track. This morning all was well and we were still running east at lat 36S04, about where I wanted the boat to be. I set the alarm to wake me in time for the 6.30 AM SAMMNet session but I didn't need any more sleep and got back up out of bed to start the day. We were moving a sedate 3.5 kts but according to the grib file the wind would veer slightly and strengthen over the next 12 hours.
I got a reply from Sam of SAMMNet thanking me for the boat information that I had sent to them. He and Graham will be listening for my transmission. I noted that Sam was transmitting from "Simonstown".
I cannot resist including the following message that I received last nigh from Victor, a literary and philosophical powerhouse living in comfortable obscurity and full of Shakespeare's "wise saws and modern instances":
----------
"Why does Captain Robert venture beyond the horizon where few would dare?
Why does he go to the very precipitous edge of the world?
Why does he endure the furious tempests of the Heavens and the Great Waters?
It is to see the Wonders of the Deep, and to experience the Hand of the
Almighty .
It is to teach us *Geography,* the exotic nations and foreign climes.
Who would have heard of Tristan da Cunha?
Even my grandkids have now seen it (courtesy of Google.and Robert )
Teaching GEOGRAPHY. That's why!
A far far more noble way than to wage wars.
Godspeed to Cape Town and a Merry Xmas ."
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I made contact with Graham at SAMMNet at the 6.30 AM session. He called for me specifically and I responded immediately. The quality of the transmission was challenging but adequate. Graham asked me for my position, speed, heading, wind direction and strength and barometric pressure, and I'll be ready with this information in future sessions. He then gave me a very comprehensive report on my weather situation through Saturday. I now know that the S Atlantic High of 1022 Mb is centered 900 miles to my NW at 24S, 013W, and a deep low of 982 Mb is passing 800 miles to the SE at 45S, 010E. This represents the first comprehensive picture of the synoptic situation that I have had during this passage and is of great value to me. The wind predictions through Saturday 1800 are good. Tonight I can expect winds of 24-30 kts but no gale winds are predicted. There will be a couple of bouts of winds in the 10-20 kt range, which could present problems at the low end of the range, but I might get lucky. Graham is transmitting from north of Port Elizabeth near Pt Alfred.
Wow, is it great to be connected to a net! I will get weather forecasts and maritime warnings and they will keep tabs on my progress for safety reasons. (One of their questions was the make and model of my EPIRB.) I'm feeling all warm and fuzzy at the moment. A few days ago I noted the contrasting situations of myself and Jeanne. Each day of progress puts me closer to certainty and security. For Jeanne each day of progress takes her further into uncertainty and peril, which is what the Horn adventure is about. Having said that, and having Been There and Done That, I prefer my current situation.
I then began to dither on whether or not to try to put up the spray dodger. There was a following wind of 15 kts and the proper and safe thing to do was to wait until the lull on Saturday. On the other hand I was anxious to see the outcome and I figured that I could do it safely, so I decided to do it and the sooner the better because the wind was going to pick up. Although water was not spraying over the cabin I suited up completely because I wanted to eliminate the possibility of any distractions from spray. The first task was to fasten the leading edge of the dodger which involves three separate bolt ropes: the main one across the middle and two short ones on the outside of the lines running from the mast into the cockpit. The original design is that zippers are used to connect the dodger to the middle and left bolt ropes, and the bolt rope at the right is not zippered bt is simply slid into the track. Because the left zipper was jammed up I had sewn that bolt rope directly to the dodger. I slipped the left bolt rope into the track, move the dodger to the right enough for the right bolt rope to get started at the other end of the track, centered the dodger, zipped up the main zipper, and that was the end of the biggest hurdle. The plan had worked. Thereafter it was a matter of putting the canvas over the frame, folding the frame back toward the cockpit, zipping the dodger to the two overhead bars of the frame, then strapping down the sides. I did most of that work by standing at the companionway.
The result looked pretty good. With the secure leading edge and the hard downward pull of two independent lines on each side of the cockpit the canvas was taut and the grab bar across the back of the frame felt firm. The chances were good that the repaired dodger would see me through to Cape Town.
At 10 AM I shortened sail quite a bit. The wind had picked up and was expected to strengthen and I saw no need to drive the boat too hard. We were back down to 5-5.5 kts.
At noon our position was 36S06, 002W14, giving us a n-n distance of 116 miles to the east (092T). We were 1025 miles from CT and would without a doubt be under 1000 miles by nightfall. I expected the biggest milestone of the trip tomorrow. (Hint: Check out the longitude.) The barometer had fallen 2 points to 1013 HPa. We were racing to the east at over 6 kts with a strengthening wind and I would reduce sail soon. I saw on the DC meter that surpluses of 10 and 11 amps were being delivered to the house bank. I turned on the refrigerator and was still getting a surplus of 5 amps. The wind charger has been very good. It does not normally deliver the amperage of the solar panels at their peak, but it delivers 24 hours a day with a good wind.
By the time I reduced sail 30 minutes later the wind was up to close to 30 kts. The sea would soon rise to the occasion so I expected an interesting night. Anyway, for now our speed was averaging less than 6 kts and the boat was riding better. We were on a port tack which was good because if the sliding hatch were overwhelmed by a wave the water would wind up in the galley and not the navigation station.
In the middle of the afternoon I noticed that things were getting quieter, even though we were still being frequently hit by heavy waves on the deck. When I noted our speed dropping below 5 kts during the lulls I rolled out a bit more sail. I then poured myself a cup of wine and began monitoring the wind and speed numbers. I was hoping that we had seen the worst of it and we might have a reasonably quiet night.
The work I did to seal the dorade vents was successful. I noticed that was not being dripped on while in the bunk after those cabin-sweeping sheets of water. The sealing of the two window had also worked, although there was still the problem of water dripping - and sometimes pouring - from the ceiling area whenever a sheet of water swept over the sliding hatch.
I had a few thoughts about that sliding hatch problem. I cannot redesign the main hatch but it seems to me that I could prevent 95% of the problem if I had an improved spray dodger design. The problem with the current one is that it relies on Mickey Mouse press studs to hold the material on the sides to the coaming. These studs break, the screws used to fix them into the coaming come out, something changes and the press stud on the canvas will no longer meet its partner on the coaming, etc. These problems are exacerbated by the natural and useful practice of putting coiled ropes, gloves, or whatever in the inside of the dodger. The result is that at the moment there is nothing holding the dodger material to the coaming on the sides, which means that water has a free ride to the main hatch. When I have a new spray dodger made in Fremantle I will work hard with Debbie to ensure there are more robust attachments along the sides. I cannot see why zippered bolt ropes in tracks cannot be used on the sides. They certainly work well at the front.
At 4.30 PM we were 1000 miles from Cape Town.
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In the early evening I had a look outside and the situation was good. The boat was still moving well but the wind had dropped just that little bit to make the ride smoother and there were no longer those big swells occasionally causing the stern of the boat to slew around or to slap the boat hard on the side. The nearly full moon was out and I could see plenty of stars. Down below the cabin had dried out during the day. Even the trousers I was wearing felt dry and not clammy. I had a very good Sailmail session at 6.45 pm via the Africa station which lifted my spirits. Because I as no longer bound to the midnight transmissions via Chile I was able to turn in early after my half bottle of wine, a tasty and satisfying meal (It is the same rice and beans every night, but I love it.), and a movie (The French Connection). Bed was very comfortable. I had moved to the port bunk and would be pinned more or less against the back cushion without being rolled around from side to side. The bedding was dry, warm, and inviting. It was like diving into a swimming pool of sleep.
Nevertheless I had set the alarm for 3 hours to check for a wind change that would set us on a different course. All was well so I returned to the cot and slept until just after 4 AM, dawn. I check two things when I wake up. The first is to feel the motion of the boat and see if we are still sailing, because it will mean that we still have wind and the self steering is still working. The second is to go to the chart plotter and see our track. This morning all was well and we were still running east at lat 36S04, about where I wanted the boat to be. I set the alarm to wake me in time for the 6.30 AM SAMMNet session but I didn't need any more sleep and got back up out of bed to start the day. We were moving a sedate 3.5 kts but according to the grib file the wind would veer slightly and strengthen over the next 12 hours.
I got a reply from Sam of SAMMNet thanking me for the boat information that I had sent to them. He and Graham will be listening for my transmission. I noted that Sam was transmitting from "Simonstown".
I cannot resist including the following message that I received last nigh from Victor, a literary and philosophical powerhouse living in comfortable obscurity and full of Shakespeare's "wise saws and modern instances":
----------
"Why does Captain Robert venture beyond the horizon where few would dare?
Why does he go to the very precipitous edge of the world?
Why does he endure the furious tempests of the Heavens and the Great Waters?
It is to see the Wonders of the Deep, and to experience the Hand of the
Almighty .
It is to teach us *Geography,* the exotic nations and foreign climes.
Who would have heard of Tristan da Cunha?
Even my grandkids have now seen it (courtesy of Google.and Robert )
Teaching GEOGRAPHY. That's why!
A far far more noble way than to wage wars.
Godspeed to Cape Town and a Merry Xmas ."
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I made contact with Graham at SAMMNet at the 6.30 AM session. He called for me specifically and I responded immediately. The quality of the transmission was challenging but adequate. Graham asked me for my position, speed, heading, wind direction and strength and barometric pressure, and I'll be ready with this information in future sessions. He then gave me a very comprehensive report on my weather situation through Saturday. I now know that the S Atlantic High of 1022 Mb is centered 900 miles to my NW at 24S, 013W, and a deep low of 982 Mb is passing 800 miles to the SE at 45S, 010E. This represents the first comprehensive picture of the synoptic situation that I have had during this passage and is of great value to me. The wind predictions through Saturday 1800 are good. Tonight I can expect winds of 24-30 kts but no gale winds are predicted. There will be a couple of bouts of winds in the 10-20 kt range, which could present problems at the low end of the range, but I might get lucky. Graham is transmitting from north of Port Elizabeth near Pt Alfred.
Wow, is it great to be connected to a net! I will get weather forecasts and maritime warnings and they will keep tabs on my progress for safety reasons. (One of their questions was the make and model of my EPIRB.) I'm feeling all warm and fuzzy at the moment. A few days ago I noted the contrasting situations of myself and Jeanne. Each day of progress puts me closer to certainty and security. For Jeanne each day of progress takes her further into uncertainty and peril, which is what the Horn adventure is about. Having said that, and having Been There and Done That, I prefer my current situation.
I then began to dither on whether or not to try to put up the spray dodger. There was a following wind of 15 kts and the proper and safe thing to do was to wait until the lull on Saturday. On the other hand I was anxious to see the outcome and I figured that I could do it safely, so I decided to do it and the sooner the better because the wind was going to pick up. Although water was not spraying over the cabin I suited up completely because I wanted to eliminate the possibility of any distractions from spray. The first task was to fasten the leading edge of the dodger which involves three separate bolt ropes: the main one across the middle and two short ones on the outside of the lines running from the mast into the cockpit. The original design is that zippers are used to connect the dodger to the middle and left bolt ropes, and the bolt rope at the right is not zippered bt is simply slid into the track. Because the left zipper was jammed up I had sewn that bolt rope directly to the dodger. I slipped the left bolt rope into the track, move the dodger to the right enough for the right bolt rope to get started at the other end of the track, centered the dodger, zipped up the main zipper, and that was the end of the biggest hurdle. The plan had worked. Thereafter it was a matter of putting the canvas over the frame, folding the frame back toward the cockpit, zipping the dodger to the two overhead bars of the frame, then strapping down the sides. I did most of that work by standing at the companionway.
The result looked pretty good. With the secure leading edge and the hard downward pull of two independent lines on each side of the cockpit the canvas was taut and the grab bar across the back of the frame felt firm. The chances were good that the repaired dodger would see me through to Cape Town.
At 10 AM I shortened sail quite a bit. The wind had picked up and was expected to strengthen and I saw no need to drive the boat too hard. We were back down to 5-5.5 kts.
At noon our position was 36S06, 002W14, giving us a n-n distance of 116 miles to the east (092T). We were 1025 miles from CT and would without a doubt be under 1000 miles by nightfall. I expected the biggest milestone of the trip tomorrow. (Hint: Check out the longitude.) The barometer had fallen 2 points to 1013 HPa. We were racing to the east at over 6 kts with a strengthening wind and I would reduce sail soon. I saw on the DC meter that surpluses of 10 and 11 amps were being delivered to the house bank. I turned on the refrigerator and was still getting a surplus of 5 amps. The wind charger has been very good. It does not normally deliver the amperage of the solar panels at their peak, but it delivers 24 hours a day with a good wind.
By the time I reduced sail 30 minutes later the wind was up to close to 30 kts. The sea would soon rise to the occasion so I expected an interesting night. Anyway, for now our speed was averaging less than 6 kts and the boat was riding better. We were on a port tack which was good because if the sliding hatch were overwhelmed by a wave the water would wind up in the galley and not the navigation station.
In the middle of the afternoon I noticed that things were getting quieter, even though we were still being frequently hit by heavy waves on the deck. When I noted our speed dropping below 5 kts during the lulls I rolled out a bit more sail. I then poured myself a cup of wine and began monitoring the wind and speed numbers. I was hoping that we had seen the worst of it and we might have a reasonably quiet night.
The work I did to seal the dorade vents was successful. I noticed that was not being dripped on while in the bunk after those cabin-sweeping sheets of water. The sealing of the two window had also worked, although there was still the problem of water dripping - and sometimes pouring - from the ceiling area whenever a sheet of water swept over the sliding hatch.
I had a few thoughts about that sliding hatch problem. I cannot redesign the main hatch but it seems to me that I could prevent 95% of the problem if I had an improved spray dodger design. The problem with the current one is that it relies on Mickey Mouse press studs to hold the material on the sides to the coaming. These studs break, the screws used to fix them into the coaming come out, something changes and the press stud on the canvas will no longer meet its partner on the coaming, etc. These problems are exacerbated by the natural and useful practice of putting coiled ropes, gloves, or whatever in the inside of the dodger. The result is that at the moment there is nothing holding the dodger material to the coaming on the sides, which means that water has a free ride to the main hatch. When I have a new spray dodger made in Fremantle I will work hard with Debbie to ensure there are more robust attachments along the sides. I cannot see why zippered bolt ropes in tracks cannot be used on the sides. They certainly work well at the front.
At 4.30 PM we were 1000 miles from Cape Town.
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Wednesday, December 26, 2012
Day 27 - Still Running Downwind
I connected to Africa at 7.30 PM and got a scorching transfer rate of 5700 bytes/min and I thought that I had it made. The grib file that I had ordered the night before but was forced to cancel because of the slow transfer rate was not delivered so I connected again and ordered another one. Thirty minutes later I simply could not connect in order to download the file. I slept for 2 hours and was up at midnight to try Africa again with no success then I connected to Chile, which turned out to be a frustrating experience. There were 2 grib files waiting for me, and 1 short message. It took about 20 minutes to download the older grib file and short message and another 15 minutes attempting to download the final file. In the end when the transfer rate was averaging 158 bytes/min and there were too many retries the system gave up and disconnected me. So I wasted 15 minutes of air time for a file that I will have to download tomorrow whether I want it or not(Grib files get stale.) Very frustrating. I'll have to place my hope in the Africa service and I'll have to figure out the best times and frequencies.
As I was finishing the session there was an abrupt wind change with rain and I spent a busy 20 minutes on deck gybing the boat and setting up the Monitor. When I got back in the cabin I had to change my track suit bottom and underpants because they were damp. Both sets of wet Musto weather trousers are failing and I will get a replacement in Cape Town. I am not complaining because they gave great service from the time we departed from Fremantle in 2008 until I arrived in Argentina earlier this year. In the meantime I'll see about using an outfit that I purchased at the general store in Neah Bay which the Alaska fishermen use.
Thirty minutes later I had to go out in the rain to adjust the Monitor airvane. I thought of putting on the damp and cold clothing then the leaky wet weather pants on top of that and said to heck with it. I stripped from the waist down and went out wearing just the sailing jacket over my T-shirt and sweater. It saved a lot of time and bother, and I was ok as long as my chest remained dry and warm.
The wind had died down and we were creeping at less than 3.5 kts. There would be no record breaking n-n distances tomorrow.
The wind kept weakening and the boat speed dropped below 3 kts. The adverse combination of weak wind, rough sea, and low speed through the water was threatening to overwhelm the Monitor so I stayed up to watch the boat with my fingers crossed. Eventually the wind began to pick up (Phew!) and I turned in at 2.30 AM with the boat making 4 kts. I was tired and did not set an alarm. I woke up at 8.30 AM to find the boat still sailing to the east under a clearing sky, although our SOG was below 4 kts even after I rolled out more sail.
I had little success with SAMMNet at the 11.30 AM session. At 14.316 MHz USB, the Indian and Atlantic Ocean session, I could just make out a human voice. At 7.230 MHz LSB, the coastal net session, I heard nothing. The failure with the coastal net frequency is not surprising because of my distance from the coast. The failure with the higher frequency may be due to atmospherics of the angle of incidence of the signal to the upper layers of the atmosphere, which would put me in a sort of cone of silence. My best bet was to close in on the African continent as fast as possible.
At noon our position was 36S01, 004W47, yielding a respectable n-n distance of 118 miles in the direction 087T, almost directly to CT. I figure that at least 72 of those 118 miles were gained during the first 12 hours of the sailing day, before the midnight wind change. We were now 372 miles from Tristan da Cunha and 1150 miles from Cape Town. The barometer was steady at 1015 HPa. The sun was out and the boat was moving well to the east at 5.5 kts.
While preparing the noon report I spotted my first ship since TdC. She was the Concordia a cargo vessel doing 12 kts directly east, suggesting that she would round the Cape to reach "Bandar Imam Khomeni", which must be in Iran. She would pass within 3 miles to my port so I would get a good look at her.
It wasn't even noon yet and wind charger and solar panels were delivering enough charge to give me a 5 amp surplus over what was being discharged to run the computer and the chart plotter. The house bank was reading 12.9V, though I knew that it would settle to 12.6V during net discharge of the night. That wasn't bad considering that I had last run the engine on Day 23, 4 days earlier.
We were sailing too far to the south so I decided to gybe, which would alter my course to cross that of the cargo ship but would not pose a danger because of the ship's greater speed, and it's just as well I did. Eventually I saw the symbol of the ship flashing on the chart plotter to indicate that it was a dangerous target (i.e. we would pass within 2 miles of each other). But there was no sound. During my last close encounter with a ship I had suppressed the alarm because it kept going on and off as our closest point weaved in and out of the critical 2 mile circle, and I had forgotten to turn it back on. That meant, of course, that had I been asleep I would not have been aware of a critical target approaching. That was very careless on my part and very dangerous, particularly in the busy waters that we were about to enter. From now on the alarm will stay on all of the time and I'll just put up with the temporary sounds.
I put in two final hours of sewing to finish the repair to the spray dodger, as I was down to the final CD of Rock 'n Roll, 1954. After a late lunch and a refreshing 1 hour nap I woke up at 4 PM to find the boat moving well at 5.5-6.5 kts to a brisk wind of perhaps 15 kts. This would be the third day of sailing downwind under headsail since passing TdC and it had been a very productive run so far. I would wait until things were a little quieter before attempting to fit the spray dodger.
Following Jeanne Socrate's advice I prepared a message to the manager of the Royal Cape Yacht Club asking for accommodation for my boat during my planned 6 week stay.
After several false starts I am now getting wind speed readings again. It seems to be those high winds that causes it to fail.
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As I was finishing the session there was an abrupt wind change with rain and I spent a busy 20 minutes on deck gybing the boat and setting up the Monitor. When I got back in the cabin I had to change my track suit bottom and underpants because they were damp. Both sets of wet Musto weather trousers are failing and I will get a replacement in Cape Town. I am not complaining because they gave great service from the time we departed from Fremantle in 2008 until I arrived in Argentina earlier this year. In the meantime I'll see about using an outfit that I purchased at the general store in Neah Bay which the Alaska fishermen use.
Thirty minutes later I had to go out in the rain to adjust the Monitor airvane. I thought of putting on the damp and cold clothing then the leaky wet weather pants on top of that and said to heck with it. I stripped from the waist down and went out wearing just the sailing jacket over my T-shirt and sweater. It saved a lot of time and bother, and I was ok as long as my chest remained dry and warm.
The wind had died down and we were creeping at less than 3.5 kts. There would be no record breaking n-n distances tomorrow.
The wind kept weakening and the boat speed dropped below 3 kts. The adverse combination of weak wind, rough sea, and low speed through the water was threatening to overwhelm the Monitor so I stayed up to watch the boat with my fingers crossed. Eventually the wind began to pick up (Phew!) and I turned in at 2.30 AM with the boat making 4 kts. I was tired and did not set an alarm. I woke up at 8.30 AM to find the boat still sailing to the east under a clearing sky, although our SOG was below 4 kts even after I rolled out more sail.
I had little success with SAMMNet at the 11.30 AM session. At 14.316 MHz USB, the Indian and Atlantic Ocean session, I could just make out a human voice. At 7.230 MHz LSB, the coastal net session, I heard nothing. The failure with the coastal net frequency is not surprising because of my distance from the coast. The failure with the higher frequency may be due to atmospherics of the angle of incidence of the signal to the upper layers of the atmosphere, which would put me in a sort of cone of silence. My best bet was to close in on the African continent as fast as possible.
At noon our position was 36S01, 004W47, yielding a respectable n-n distance of 118 miles in the direction 087T, almost directly to CT. I figure that at least 72 of those 118 miles were gained during the first 12 hours of the sailing day, before the midnight wind change. We were now 372 miles from Tristan da Cunha and 1150 miles from Cape Town. The barometer was steady at 1015 HPa. The sun was out and the boat was moving well to the east at 5.5 kts.
While preparing the noon report I spotted my first ship since TdC. She was the Concordia a cargo vessel doing 12 kts directly east, suggesting that she would round the Cape to reach "Bandar Imam Khomeni", which must be in Iran. She would pass within 3 miles to my port so I would get a good look at her.
It wasn't even noon yet and wind charger and solar panels were delivering enough charge to give me a 5 amp surplus over what was being discharged to run the computer and the chart plotter. The house bank was reading 12.9V, though I knew that it would settle to 12.6V during net discharge of the night. That wasn't bad considering that I had last run the engine on Day 23, 4 days earlier.
We were sailing too far to the south so I decided to gybe, which would alter my course to cross that of the cargo ship but would not pose a danger because of the ship's greater speed, and it's just as well I did. Eventually I saw the symbol of the ship flashing on the chart plotter to indicate that it was a dangerous target (i.e. we would pass within 2 miles of each other). But there was no sound. During my last close encounter with a ship I had suppressed the alarm because it kept going on and off as our closest point weaved in and out of the critical 2 mile circle, and I had forgotten to turn it back on. That meant, of course, that had I been asleep I would not have been aware of a critical target approaching. That was very careless on my part and very dangerous, particularly in the busy waters that we were about to enter. From now on the alarm will stay on all of the time and I'll just put up with the temporary sounds.
I put in two final hours of sewing to finish the repair to the spray dodger, as I was down to the final CD of Rock 'n Roll, 1954. After a late lunch and a refreshing 1 hour nap I woke up at 4 PM to find the boat moving well at 5.5-6.5 kts to a brisk wind of perhaps 15 kts. This would be the third day of sailing downwind under headsail since passing TdC and it had been a very productive run so far. I would wait until things were a little quieter before attempting to fit the spray dodger.
Following Jeanne Socrate's advice I prepared a message to the manager of the Royal Cape Yacht Club asking for accommodation for my boat during my planned 6 week stay.
After several false starts I am now getting wind speed readings again. It seems to be those high winds that causes it to fail.
----------
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