I woke up at 7.30 AM sensing that the boat was still sailing, though moving slowly. Indeed, the wind was down to 10 kts again yet the sail fretted little, we were making 3 kts, and Jeff was managing to steer. I considered myself lucky that the boat had kept moving for the rest of the night and was happy to see that we were now 385 miles from TdC. It was another overcast day of rain and drizzle. After coffee and my last piece of bread I went topside, started the engine, furled the headsail, and soon we were making a respectable 4.3 kts at 1500 rpm, no doubt being helped by the following sea and wind. The house battery bank was down to 12.3 V following 3 consecutive overcast days. Then I turned on the Red Dot heater and set some damp clothes in front of it for drying.
----------------- COMMUNICATION PROBLEM -------------------
That gave me a chance to think about my communication difficulty the previous night. I began the Sailmail session at the usual time of 11.30 PM, which provided me a 2-3 hour window of optimal transmission and reception. The Chile station operates on 6 frequencies, 4 of which I can monitor at this distance (2400 miles). Since most of these stations can work one frequency at a time I checked the 4 frequencies for the sound of Sailmail traffic and when I heard none I went to one of the usual higher frequencies and tried to establish a connection. For the next 30 minutes I must have tried connecting at least 20 times, using the 3 highest frequencies, with no response. In desperation I even tried Africa twice (distance 2500 miles, propagation quality 85/100) and got no response. With that I set the timer and went to sleep for an hour. At 1 AM and 2 AM I made similar attempts to connect with no joy.
I gave up for the night thinking that there was either something technically wrong at the Chile station or there was some big atmospheric event causing interference because all of my equipment appeared to be in good order. I knew that missing the blog for one day would bring some disquiet to relatives and friends, but missing blogs for several days would cause serious misgivings.
HERE MID-WAY BETWEEN S. AMERICA AND AFRICA THE SAILMAIL SERVICE COULD BE POOR. THIS MEANS THAT BLOGS NOT POSTED FOR DAYS AT A TIME SHOULD NOT BE A CAUSE OF CONCERN.
---------------------------------------------------------------
Without the benefit of the latest grib file I had to assume that tomorrow's gale was still going to happen, and would hoist the reefed mainsail as soon as the wind was strong enough.
After the engine had run for 2 hours I went up to set the mainsail. The wind had picked enough to sustain it and I didn't want to get caught out by a strong wind. It took some doing, for the usual reason that the ends of the battens got caught on the lazy jack, then the running backstay, then even the shoulder-high safety line. By the time I finished the wind had picked up to about 20 kts and we were doing about 4.5 kts on a reach. I then rolled out a tiny bit of headsail which took us to more than 6.5 kts. Jeff took over the steering with no problem and I shut the engine down after 2.9 hours of running time.
Down below the cabin was dry and cozy. The wettest thing inside of it now was me and my wet gear. I had managed to dry my slippers and the cushion at the navigation desk, which had gotten damp from my sitting on it with a wet bottom.
Incidentally, the vinyl curtain that I put over the opening to the lazarette has been a great success. Every time I access the area to manipulate the exhaust thru hull valve I find a dry floor, something that would have been unheard of before, in these conditions. That measure has certainly eliminated one of the vectors of water into the bilge, but there is something else which I haven't been able to figure out. As I have stated before, my ultimate measure will be strip the boat of every piece of gear below not necessary for sailing so that I have unfettered access to every part of the hull. Then with every part below deck bone dry I'll take the boat out for tests. Hopefully I'll spot a track of water somewhere that will lead me to the source.
At noon our position was 36S26, 019W55, giving us a n-n distance of 95 miles directly to the east (091T), and we were now 370 miles from TdC. The barometer had fallen 3 points to 1010 hPa. ... Before I had a chance to finish the previous sentence I noticed the boat veering downwind but before I could react the boat gybed and the boom slammed to the other side hard. As I suited up I wondered if the Monitor had given up the ghost. Fortunately all that had happened was that the control lines had loosened and jumped off the drum. I got us sailing again but with reduced headsail, which brought our speed down from around 6.7 kts to around 6.0 kts. I decided to spend the rest of the day in my wet weather trousers and boots for a faster reaction time.
At 3.30 PM I rolled in the last of the headsail and we were sailing with the double reefed mainsail. I eased the mainsheet a bit to reduce the weather helm. Beyond that I could see nothing else to do to de-power other than to heave to. The wind was in the high 20's and if it got into the low 30's I would do precisely that, even though it wasn't supposed to happen until the following day. Anyway, for now our speed was back down to 6-6.5 kt and Jeff was still coping well. Looking at the wheel I could not see excessive weather helm. Unless I hove to it was going to be a long night.
At 6 PM the wind had abated somewhat and the boat traveling more comfortably even though we were doing 7-7.5 kts. I had hopes of sailing all night until the full gale force winds set in at around noon.
At 9 PM we were running slightly before the wind, with the big waves hitting the port quarter of the boat. I tried a beam reach so that I could lose some power by letting the mainsail out more it the result was downright harrowing. We were running parallel to the waves and they were threatening to board the boat along its entire length. I reset the airvane pronto to take us a bit down wind and decided that we would either run before it or heave to, no in-between.
----------
radio email processed by SailMail
for information see: http://www.sailmail.com
Pachuca
Pachuca in Port Angeles, WA USA
Tuesday, December 18, 2012
Day 18 - Variable Wind
I hit the sack at 9 PM with the timer set to go off at 11.30 PM for the midnight Sailmail session. After the session I went topside to assess the wind and it seemed 2 or 3 kts stronger with the Rutland giving the occasional hum. I set sail and the boat seemed to be managing well, making 3.0 kts with the small area of sail flapping occasionally. This was possible only because of the relative calmness of the sea.
The latest grib file predicted gale force winds in 2 days, the 19th. I will definitely have to heave to, so I'll put up the double reefed mainsail on the morning of the 18th while the wind is still moderate.
Then it started drizzling and the wind began to drop again. I watched the boat struggling along until 2 AM then I rolled in the sail, put the autopilot on Standby, lashed the wheel, then went back to bed for a few hours of sleep.
I woke up at 6.30 AM to find the most solid wind in 2 days. It wasn't particularly strong, but it was above the zone of marginal sailing and it was steady. I set the headsail on the starboard side, engaged the autopilot, then went down for coffee. Thirty minutes later I was back in the cockpit to engage the Monitor. This was a biggie because after the problems of the previous day I wasn't sure what to expect. With a relief the Monitor took over without a problem and steered us on a SE course at 3.5 kts. I knew that at least I had half of wind steering. The next test would come when the boat would be on the starboard tack, because this would require much more travel of the pendulum to the starboard side of the frame.
At mid morning I reviewed the grib file predictions and concluded that it would be better to raise the first reef now rather than the following morning, when the wind was expected to be at about 16 kts before before increasing fast during the day. The grib file had to be off by only 5 kts and I'd have a more difficult task in raising the mainsail, and it was vital that I get that sail up before the coming gale. The current 16 kts that we were experiencing were suitable and it appeared that we would have good points of sail throughout the day for the mainsail. The operation took me over an hour including tidying up the cockpit and at 10.30 AM we were making 5-5.5 kts slightly into an 18 kt wind, despite the fact that I had reduced headsail to compensate for the main. I felt comfortable with this setup because I knew that I could control the speed and heel of the boat by rolling the headsail in and out and the boat was ready for heaving to at any time. My underclothes were wringing wet from the sweating under the wet weather gear so I took off my sweater and enjoyed an extraordinarily sweet cold orange then had a short nap until the noon report.
At noon our position was 36S24, 021W53, giving a n-n distance of 48 miles in the direction 120. We were now 464 miles west of TdC, which is at 37S05, 012W18. The barometer had dropped 7 points to 1013 hPa. I was surprised that we had managed to make 48 miles, but now we were on the move and expected to make good progress during the next 24 hours. The Monitor was coping well and the wind charger had come into its own with the brisk wind and only feint sunlight reaching the solar panels.
It's time for another Blubber Blog Bulletin. I am very careful about measuring my waist, making sure that my posture is consistent at every measurement and I pass the tape along along the widest part of my middle with just barely enough pull on the tape to keep the measure from dropping down. To fudge the measurement would be to engage in pointless self delusion. Today I measured myself 3 times at a comfortable 43", even though I reported 44" only a few days ago. Part of the explanation is that I was actually closer to 43.75 than to 44" when I made that report. I'm not sure how to account for the rest - maybe the cooler weather has simply tightened me up. It's not like I'm starving. I get plenty of protein, vitamins, and minerals, try to have fresh fruit once a day, and indulge myself with plenty of almonds, a piece of cheese most days, a beer in the late afternoons and hot chocolate at night. The one thing that I am shy of is animal fat. I think that I get enough from the cheese and eggs, but meat, butter, and rich sauces are off the menu. What I do get plenty of is exercise, sweat, and rest. Anyway, that is 3" off so far, but I'm not letting up until I reach Cape Town because I am determined to morph from Danny DeVito with gray hair to something more like ... hmm ... how about Brad Pitt?
At 5 PM we were running due east at 4 kts on a broad reach because the wind had backed. I had a several scares during the afternoon where the wind died down - at one point down to 9 kts - resulting in flogging of the boom and thoughts of dropping the mainsail. Happily the strength of the wind resumed each time and I was hoping that we would get through the night with no more problems of light winds. The drizzling had stopped hours earlier but the sky was heavily overcast and the wind was damp and chilly.
At 7.30 PM the apparent wind dropped below 10 kts and Jeff kept steering the boat through the calm sea. However, the boom started to slam hard and I had to do something. I took the boat off the broad reach and slightly into the wind. This increased the apparent speed of the wind and allowed me to sheet the boom in tight. That worked OK but the price was that we were now heading ENE to 070T, and we were barely closing on the island. But the price was worth it because it kept the mainsail up and the boat moving. Besides, the further north we got the less the intensity of the coming gale.
Even that measure was not enough. The wind kept getting weaker and weaker yet somehow the boat managed to keep sailing. At 10 PM it was Game Over and I dropped the mainsail, rolled in the headsail, and put the boat ahull while it was raining.
While preparing my cup of chocolate I wondered to myself where this rain was coming from, and then I remembered something. It took a while but I found it in the pilot chart for the S. Atlantic for December. It shows our current position to be in the vicinity of the "subtropical convergence" band that snakes its way from S America to Africa. That would explain the cloudy and drizzly weather as well as the variable winds. That might also explain why the grib files have grossly overestimated the wind speeds for the last 2 days. The good news is that the band is not wide and TdC is well clear of it, giving me some hope that the winds and weather will be more favorable there than they are here.
I had just changed into warm and dry clothes for bed after the midnight Sailmail session when the wind came up big time. At about 15 kts it was certainly good enough to get me back into my wet weather gear and go up and set sail. The mainsail would have to wait until morning but the headsail alone was good enough to give us 5.1 kts of speed. I then engaged Jeff to do the steering and back in the cabin I went to keep an eye on things until after the Sailmail session.
----------
radio email processed by SailMail
for information see: http://www.sailmail.com
The latest grib file predicted gale force winds in 2 days, the 19th. I will definitely have to heave to, so I'll put up the double reefed mainsail on the morning of the 18th while the wind is still moderate.
Then it started drizzling and the wind began to drop again. I watched the boat struggling along until 2 AM then I rolled in the sail, put the autopilot on Standby, lashed the wheel, then went back to bed for a few hours of sleep.
I woke up at 6.30 AM to find the most solid wind in 2 days. It wasn't particularly strong, but it was above the zone of marginal sailing and it was steady. I set the headsail on the starboard side, engaged the autopilot, then went down for coffee. Thirty minutes later I was back in the cockpit to engage the Monitor. This was a biggie because after the problems of the previous day I wasn't sure what to expect. With a relief the Monitor took over without a problem and steered us on a SE course at 3.5 kts. I knew that at least I had half of wind steering. The next test would come when the boat would be on the starboard tack, because this would require much more travel of the pendulum to the starboard side of the frame.
At mid morning I reviewed the grib file predictions and concluded that it would be better to raise the first reef now rather than the following morning, when the wind was expected to be at about 16 kts before before increasing fast during the day. The grib file had to be off by only 5 kts and I'd have a more difficult task in raising the mainsail, and it was vital that I get that sail up before the coming gale. The current 16 kts that we were experiencing were suitable and it appeared that we would have good points of sail throughout the day for the mainsail. The operation took me over an hour including tidying up the cockpit and at 10.30 AM we were making 5-5.5 kts slightly into an 18 kt wind, despite the fact that I had reduced headsail to compensate for the main. I felt comfortable with this setup because I knew that I could control the speed and heel of the boat by rolling the headsail in and out and the boat was ready for heaving to at any time. My underclothes were wringing wet from the sweating under the wet weather gear so I took off my sweater and enjoyed an extraordinarily sweet cold orange then had a short nap until the noon report.
At noon our position was 36S24, 021W53, giving a n-n distance of 48 miles in the direction 120. We were now 464 miles west of TdC, which is at 37S05, 012W18. The barometer had dropped 7 points to 1013 hPa. I was surprised that we had managed to make 48 miles, but now we were on the move and expected to make good progress during the next 24 hours. The Monitor was coping well and the wind charger had come into its own with the brisk wind and only feint sunlight reaching the solar panels.
It's time for another Blubber Blog Bulletin. I am very careful about measuring my waist, making sure that my posture is consistent at every measurement and I pass the tape along along the widest part of my middle with just barely enough pull on the tape to keep the measure from dropping down. To fudge the measurement would be to engage in pointless self delusion. Today I measured myself 3 times at a comfortable 43", even though I reported 44" only a few days ago. Part of the explanation is that I was actually closer to 43.75 than to 44" when I made that report. I'm not sure how to account for the rest - maybe the cooler weather has simply tightened me up. It's not like I'm starving. I get plenty of protein, vitamins, and minerals, try to have fresh fruit once a day, and indulge myself with plenty of almonds, a piece of cheese most days, a beer in the late afternoons and hot chocolate at night. The one thing that I am shy of is animal fat. I think that I get enough from the cheese and eggs, but meat, butter, and rich sauces are off the menu. What I do get plenty of is exercise, sweat, and rest. Anyway, that is 3" off so far, but I'm not letting up until I reach Cape Town because I am determined to morph from Danny DeVito with gray hair to something more like ... hmm ... how about Brad Pitt?
At 5 PM we were running due east at 4 kts on a broad reach because the wind had backed. I had a several scares during the afternoon where the wind died down - at one point down to 9 kts - resulting in flogging of the boom and thoughts of dropping the mainsail. Happily the strength of the wind resumed each time and I was hoping that we would get through the night with no more problems of light winds. The drizzling had stopped hours earlier but the sky was heavily overcast and the wind was damp and chilly.
At 7.30 PM the apparent wind dropped below 10 kts and Jeff kept steering the boat through the calm sea. However, the boom started to slam hard and I had to do something. I took the boat off the broad reach and slightly into the wind. This increased the apparent speed of the wind and allowed me to sheet the boom in tight. That worked OK but the price was that we were now heading ENE to 070T, and we were barely closing on the island. But the price was worth it because it kept the mainsail up and the boat moving. Besides, the further north we got the less the intensity of the coming gale.
Even that measure was not enough. The wind kept getting weaker and weaker yet somehow the boat managed to keep sailing. At 10 PM it was Game Over and I dropped the mainsail, rolled in the headsail, and put the boat ahull while it was raining.
While preparing my cup of chocolate I wondered to myself where this rain was coming from, and then I remembered something. It took a while but I found it in the pilot chart for the S. Atlantic for December. It shows our current position to be in the vicinity of the "subtropical convergence" band that snakes its way from S America to Africa. That would explain the cloudy and drizzly weather as well as the variable winds. That might also explain why the grib files have grossly overestimated the wind speeds for the last 2 days. The good news is that the band is not wide and TdC is well clear of it, giving me some hope that the winds and weather will be more favorable there than they are here.
I had just changed into warm and dry clothes for bed after the midnight Sailmail session when the wind came up big time. At about 15 kts it was certainly good enough to get me back into my wet weather gear and go up and set sail. The mainsail would have to wait until morning but the headsail alone was good enough to give us 5.1 kts of speed. I then engaged Jeff to do the steering and back in the cabin I went to keep an eye on things until after the Sailmail session.
----------
radio email processed by SailMail
for information see: http://www.sailmail.com
Day 19 - Communications Uncertainty
I woke up at 7.30 AM sensing that the boat was still sailing, though moving slowly. Indeed, the wind was down to 10 kts again yet the sail fretted little, we were making 3 kts, and Jeff was managing to steer. I considered myself lucky that the boat had kept moving for the rest of the night and was happy to see that we were now 385 miles from TdC. It was another overcast day of rain and drizzle. After coffee and my last piece of bread I went topside, started the engine, furled the headsail, and soon we were making a respectable 4.3 kts at 1500 rpm, no doubt being helped by the following sea and wind. The house battery bank was down to 12.3 V following 3 consecutive overcast days. Then I turned on the Red Dot heater and set some damp clothes in front of it for drying.
----------------- COMMUNICATION PROBLEM -------------------
That gave me a chance to think about my communication difficulty the previous night. I began the Sailmail session at the usual time of 11.30 PM, which provided me a 2-3 hour window of optimal transmission and reception. The Chile station operates on 6 frequencies, 4 of which I can monitor at this distance (2400 miles). Since most of these stations can work one frequency at a time I checked the 4 frequencies for the sound of Sailmail traffic and when I heard none I went to one of the usual higher frequencies and tried to establish a connection. For the next 30 minutes I must have tried connecting at least 20 times, using the 3 highest frequencies, with no response. In desperation I even tried Africa twice (distance 2500 miles, propagation quality 85/100) and got no response. With that I set the timer and went to sleep for an hour. At 1 AM and 2 AM I made similar attempts to connect with no joy.
I gave up for the night thinking that there was either something technically wrong at the Chile station or there was some big atmospheric event causing interference because all of my equipment appeared to be in good order. I knew that missing the blog for one day would bring some disquiet to relatives and friends, but missing blogs for several days would cause serious misgivings.
HERE MID-WAY BETWEEN S. AMERICA AND AFRICA THE SAILMAIL SERVICE COULD BE POOR. THIS MEANS THAT BLOGS NOT POSTED FOR DAYS AT A TIME SHOULD NOT BE A CAUSE OF CONCERN.
---------------------------------------------------------------
Without the benefit of the latest grib file I had to assume that tomorrow's gale was still going to happen, and would hoist the reefed mainsail as soon as the wind was strong enough.
After the engine had run for 2 hours I went up to set the mainsail. The wind had picked enough to sustain it and I didn't want to get caught out by a strong wind. It took some doing, for the usual reason that the ends of the battens got caught on the lazy jack, then the running backstay, then even the shoulder-high safety line. By the time I finished the wind had picked up to about 20 kts and we were doing about 4.5 kts on a reach. I then rolled out a tiny bit of headsail which took us to more than 6.5 kts. Jeff took over the steering with no problem and I shut the engine down after 2.9 hours of running time.
Down below the cabin was dry and cozy. The wettest thing inside of it now was me and my wet gear. I had managed to dry my slippers and the cushion at the navigation desk, which had gotten damp from my sitting on it with a wet bottom.
Incidentally, the vinyl curtain that I put over the opening to the lazarette has been a great success. Every time I access the area to manipulate the exhaust thru hull valve I find a dry floor, something that would have been unheard of before, in these conditions. That measure has certainly eliminated one of the vectors of water into the bilge, but there is something else which I haven't been able to figure out. As I have stated before, my ultimate measure will be strip the boat of every piece of gear below not necessary for sailing so that I have unfettered access to every part of the hull. Then with every part below deck bone dry I'll take the boat out for tests. Hopefully I'll spot a track of water somewhere that will lead me to the source.
At noon our position was 36S26, 019W55, giving us a n-n distance of 95 miles directly to the east (091T), and we were now 370 miles from TdC. The barometer had fallen 3 points to 1010 hPa. ... Before I had a chance to finish the previous sentence I noticed the boat veering downwind but before I could react the boat gybed and the boom slammed to the other side hard. As I suited up I wondered if the Monitor had given up the ghost. Fortunately all that had happened was that the control lines had loosened and jumped off the drum. I got us sailing again but with reduced headsail, which brought our speed down from around 6.7 kts to around 6.0 kts. I decided to spend the rest of the day in my wet weather trousers and boots for a faster reaction time.
At 3.30 PM I rolled in the last of the headsail and we were sailing with the double reefed mainsail. I eased the mainsheet a bit to reduce the weather helm. Beyond that I could see nothing else to do to de-power other than to heave to. The wind was in the high 20's and if it got into the low 30's I would do precisely that, even though it wasn't supposed to happen until the following day. Anyway, for now our speed was back down to 6-6.5 kt and Jeff was still coping well. Looking at the wheel I could not see excessive weather helm. Unless I hove to it was going to be a long night.
At 6 PM the wind had abated somewhat and the boat traveling more comfortably even though we were doing 7-7.5 kts. I had hopes of sailing all night until the full gale force winds set in at around noon.
At 9 PM we were running slightly before the wind, with the big waves hitting the port quarter of the boat. I tried a beam reach so that I could lose some power by letting the mainsail out more it the result was downright harrowing. We were running parallel to the waves and they were threatening to board the boat along its entire length. I reset the airvane pronto to take us a bit down wind and decided that we would either run before it or heave to, no in-between.
----------
radio email processed by SailMail
for information see: http://www.sailmail.com
----------------- COMMUNICATION PROBLEM -------------------
That gave me a chance to think about my communication difficulty the previous night. I began the Sailmail session at the usual time of 11.30 PM, which provided me a 2-3 hour window of optimal transmission and reception. The Chile station operates on 6 frequencies, 4 of which I can monitor at this distance (2400 miles). Since most of these stations can work one frequency at a time I checked the 4 frequencies for the sound of Sailmail traffic and when I heard none I went to one of the usual higher frequencies and tried to establish a connection. For the next 30 minutes I must have tried connecting at least 20 times, using the 3 highest frequencies, with no response. In desperation I even tried Africa twice (distance 2500 miles, propagation quality 85/100) and got no response. With that I set the timer and went to sleep for an hour. At 1 AM and 2 AM I made similar attempts to connect with no joy.
I gave up for the night thinking that there was either something technically wrong at the Chile station or there was some big atmospheric event causing interference because all of my equipment appeared to be in good order. I knew that missing the blog for one day would bring some disquiet to relatives and friends, but missing blogs for several days would cause serious misgivings.
HERE MID-WAY BETWEEN S. AMERICA AND AFRICA THE SAILMAIL SERVICE COULD BE POOR. THIS MEANS THAT BLOGS NOT POSTED FOR DAYS AT A TIME SHOULD NOT BE A CAUSE OF CONCERN.
---------------------------------------------------------------
Without the benefit of the latest grib file I had to assume that tomorrow's gale was still going to happen, and would hoist the reefed mainsail as soon as the wind was strong enough.
After the engine had run for 2 hours I went up to set the mainsail. The wind had picked enough to sustain it and I didn't want to get caught out by a strong wind. It took some doing, for the usual reason that the ends of the battens got caught on the lazy jack, then the running backstay, then even the shoulder-high safety line. By the time I finished the wind had picked up to about 20 kts and we were doing about 4.5 kts on a reach. I then rolled out a tiny bit of headsail which took us to more than 6.5 kts. Jeff took over the steering with no problem and I shut the engine down after 2.9 hours of running time.
Down below the cabin was dry and cozy. The wettest thing inside of it now was me and my wet gear. I had managed to dry my slippers and the cushion at the navigation desk, which had gotten damp from my sitting on it with a wet bottom.
Incidentally, the vinyl curtain that I put over the opening to the lazarette has been a great success. Every time I access the area to manipulate the exhaust thru hull valve I find a dry floor, something that would have been unheard of before, in these conditions. That measure has certainly eliminated one of the vectors of water into the bilge, but there is something else which I haven't been able to figure out. As I have stated before, my ultimate measure will be strip the boat of every piece of gear below not necessary for sailing so that I have unfettered access to every part of the hull. Then with every part below deck bone dry I'll take the boat out for tests. Hopefully I'll spot a track of water somewhere that will lead me to the source.
At noon our position was 36S26, 019W55, giving us a n-n distance of 95 miles directly to the east (091T), and we were now 370 miles from TdC. The barometer had fallen 3 points to 1010 hPa. ... Before I had a chance to finish the previous sentence I noticed the boat veering downwind but before I could react the boat gybed and the boom slammed to the other side hard. As I suited up I wondered if the Monitor had given up the ghost. Fortunately all that had happened was that the control lines had loosened and jumped off the drum. I got us sailing again but with reduced headsail, which brought our speed down from around 6.7 kts to around 6.0 kts. I decided to spend the rest of the day in my wet weather trousers and boots for a faster reaction time.
At 3.30 PM I rolled in the last of the headsail and we were sailing with the double reefed mainsail. I eased the mainsheet a bit to reduce the weather helm. Beyond that I could see nothing else to do to de-power other than to heave to. The wind was in the high 20's and if it got into the low 30's I would do precisely that, even though it wasn't supposed to happen until the following day. Anyway, for now our speed was back down to 6-6.5 kt and Jeff was still coping well. Looking at the wheel I could not see excessive weather helm. Unless I hove to it was going to be a long night.
At 6 PM the wind had abated somewhat and the boat traveling more comfortably even though we were doing 7-7.5 kts. I had hopes of sailing all night until the full gale force winds set in at around noon.
At 9 PM we were running slightly before the wind, with the big waves hitting the port quarter of the boat. I tried a beam reach so that I could lose some power by letting the mainsail out more it the result was downright harrowing. We were running parallel to the waves and they were threatening to board the boat along its entire length. I reset the airvane pronto to take us a bit down wind and decided that we would either run before it or heave to, no in-between.
----------
radio email processed by SailMail
for information see: http://www.sailmail.com
Day 18 - Variable Wind
I hit the sack at 9 PM with the timer set to go off at 11.30 PM for the midnight Sailmail session. After the session I went topside to assess the wind and it seemed 2 or 3 kts stronger with the Rutland giving the occasional hum. I set sail and the boat seemed to be managing well, making 3.0 kts with the small area of sail flapping occasionally. This was possible only because of the relative calmness of the sea.
The latest grib file predicted gale force winds in 2 days, the 19th. I will definitely have to heave to, so I'll put up the double reefed mainsail on the morning of the 18th while the wind is still moderate.
Then it started drizzling and the wind began to drop again. I watched the boat struggling along until 2 AM then I rolled in the sail, put the autopilot on Standby, lashed the wheel, then went back to bed for a few hours of sleep.
I woke up at 6.30 AM to find the most solid wind in 2 days. It wasn't particularly strong, but it was above the zone of marginal sailing and it was steady. I set the headsail on the starboard side, engaged the autopilot, then went down for coffee. Thirty minutes later I was back in the cockpit to engage the Monitor. This was a biggie because after the problems of the previous day I wasn't sure what to expect. With a relief the Monitor took over without a problem and steered us on a SE course at 3.5 kts. I knew that at least I had half of wind steering. The next test would come when the boat would be on the starboard tack, because this would require much more travel of the pendulum to the starboard side of the frame.
At mid morning I reviewed the grib file predictions and concluded that it would be better to raise the first reef now rather than the following morning, when the wind was expected to be at about 16 kts before before increasing fast during the day. The grib file had to be off by only 5 kts and I'd have a more difficult task in raising the mainsail, and it was vital that I get that sail up before the coming gale. The current 16 kts that we were experiencing were suitable and it appeared that we would have good points of sail throughout the day for the mainsail. The operation took me over an hour including tidying up the cockpit and at 10.30 AM we were making 5-5.5 kts slightly into an 18 kt wind, despite the fact that I had reduced headsail to compensate for the main. I felt comfortable with this setup because I knew that I could control the speed and heel of the boat by rolling the headsail in and out and the boat was ready for heaving to at any time. My underclothes were wringing wet from the sweating under the wet weather gear so I took off my sweater and enjoyed an extraordinarily sweet cold orange then had a short nap until the noon report.
At noon our position was 36S24, 021W53, giving a n-n distance of 48 miles in the direction 120. We were now 464 miles west of TdC, which is at 37S05, 012W18. The barometer had dropped 7 points to 1013 hPa. I was surprised that we had managed to make 48 miles, but now we were on the move and expected to make good progress during the next 24 hours. The Monitor was coping well and the wind charger had come into its own with the brisk wind and only feint sunlight reaching the solar panels.
It's time for another Blubber Blog Bulletin. I am very careful about measuring my waist, making sure that my posture is consistent at every measurement and I pass the tape along along the widest part of my middle with just barely enough pull on the tape to keep the measure from dropping down. To fudge the measurement would be to engage in pointless self delusion. Today I measured myself 3 times at a comfortable 43", even though I reported 44" only a few days ago. Part of the explanation is that I was actually closer to 43.75 than to 44" when I made that report. I'm not sure how to account for the rest - maybe the cooler weather has simply tightened me up. It's not like I'm starving. I get plenty of protein, vitamins, and minerals, try to have fresh fruit once a day, and indulge myself with plenty of almonds, a piece of cheese most days, a beer in the late afternoons and hot chocolate at night. The one thing that I am shy of is animal fat. I think that I get enough from the cheese and eggs, but meat, butter, and rich sauces are off the menu. What I do get plenty of is exercise, sweat, and rest. Anyway, that is 3" off so far, but I'm not letting up until I reach Cape Town because I am determined to morph from Danny DeVito with gray hair to something more like ... hmm ... how about Brad Pitt?
At 5 PM we were running due east at 4 kts on a broad reach because the wind had backed. I had a several scares during the afternoon where the wind died down - at one point down to 9 kts - resulting in flogging of the boom and thoughts of dropping the mainsail. Happily the strength of the wind resumed each time and I was hoping that we would get through the night with no more problems of light winds. The drizzling had stopped hours earlier but the sky was heavily overcast and the wind was damp and chilly.
At 7.30 PM the apparent wind dropped below 10 kts and Jeff kept steering the boat through the calm sea. However, the boom started to slam hard and I had to do something. I took the boat off the broad reach and slightly into the wind. This increased the apparent speed of the wind and allowed me to sheet the boom in tight. That worked OK but the price was that we were now heading ENE to 070T, and we were barely closing on the island. But the price was worth it because it kept the mainsail up and the boat moving. Besides, the further north we got the less the intensity of the coming gale.
Even that measure was not enough. The wind kept getting weaker and weaker yet somehow the boat managed to keep sailing. At 10 PM it was Game Over and I dropped the mainsail, rolled in the headsail, and put the boat ahull while it was raining.
While preparing my cup of chocolate I wondered to myself where this rain was coming from, and then I remembered something. It took a while but I found it in the pilot chart for the S. Atlantic for December. It shows our current position to be in the vicinity of the "subtropical convergence" band that snakes its way from S America to Africa. That would explain the cloudy and drizzly weather as well as the variable winds. That might also explain why the grib files have grossly overestimated the wind speeds for the last 2 days. The good news is that the band is not wide and TdC is well clear of it, giving me some hope that the winds and weather will be more favorable there than they are here.
I had just changed into warm and dry clothes for bed after the midnight Sailmail session when the wind came up big time. At about 15 kts it was certainly good enough to get me back into my wet weather gear and go up and set sail. The mainsail would have to wait until morning but the headsail alone was good enough to give us 5.1 kts of speed. I then engaged Jeff to do the steering and back in the cabin I went to keep an eye on things until after the Sailmail session.
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The latest grib file predicted gale force winds in 2 days, the 19th. I will definitely have to heave to, so I'll put up the double reefed mainsail on the morning of the 18th while the wind is still moderate.
Then it started drizzling and the wind began to drop again. I watched the boat struggling along until 2 AM then I rolled in the sail, put the autopilot on Standby, lashed the wheel, then went back to bed for a few hours of sleep.
I woke up at 6.30 AM to find the most solid wind in 2 days. It wasn't particularly strong, but it was above the zone of marginal sailing and it was steady. I set the headsail on the starboard side, engaged the autopilot, then went down for coffee. Thirty minutes later I was back in the cockpit to engage the Monitor. This was a biggie because after the problems of the previous day I wasn't sure what to expect. With a relief the Monitor took over without a problem and steered us on a SE course at 3.5 kts. I knew that at least I had half of wind steering. The next test would come when the boat would be on the starboard tack, because this would require much more travel of the pendulum to the starboard side of the frame.
At mid morning I reviewed the grib file predictions and concluded that it would be better to raise the first reef now rather than the following morning, when the wind was expected to be at about 16 kts before before increasing fast during the day. The grib file had to be off by only 5 kts and I'd have a more difficult task in raising the mainsail, and it was vital that I get that sail up before the coming gale. The current 16 kts that we were experiencing were suitable and it appeared that we would have good points of sail throughout the day for the mainsail. The operation took me over an hour including tidying up the cockpit and at 10.30 AM we were making 5-5.5 kts slightly into an 18 kt wind, despite the fact that I had reduced headsail to compensate for the main. I felt comfortable with this setup because I knew that I could control the speed and heel of the boat by rolling the headsail in and out and the boat was ready for heaving to at any time. My underclothes were wringing wet from the sweating under the wet weather gear so I took off my sweater and enjoyed an extraordinarily sweet cold orange then had a short nap until the noon report.
At noon our position was 36S24, 021W53, giving a n-n distance of 48 miles in the direction 120. We were now 464 miles west of TdC, which is at 37S05, 012W18. The barometer had dropped 7 points to 1013 hPa. I was surprised that we had managed to make 48 miles, but now we were on the move and expected to make good progress during the next 24 hours. The Monitor was coping well and the wind charger had come into its own with the brisk wind and only feint sunlight reaching the solar panels.
It's time for another Blubber Blog Bulletin. I am very careful about measuring my waist, making sure that my posture is consistent at every measurement and I pass the tape along along the widest part of my middle with just barely enough pull on the tape to keep the measure from dropping down. To fudge the measurement would be to engage in pointless self delusion. Today I measured myself 3 times at a comfortable 43", even though I reported 44" only a few days ago. Part of the explanation is that I was actually closer to 43.75 than to 44" when I made that report. I'm not sure how to account for the rest - maybe the cooler weather has simply tightened me up. It's not like I'm starving. I get plenty of protein, vitamins, and minerals, try to have fresh fruit once a day, and indulge myself with plenty of almonds, a piece of cheese most days, a beer in the late afternoons and hot chocolate at night. The one thing that I am shy of is animal fat. I think that I get enough from the cheese and eggs, but meat, butter, and rich sauces are off the menu. What I do get plenty of is exercise, sweat, and rest. Anyway, that is 3" off so far, but I'm not letting up until I reach Cape Town because I am determined to morph from Danny DeVito with gray hair to something more like ... hmm ... how about Brad Pitt?
At 5 PM we were running due east at 4 kts on a broad reach because the wind had backed. I had a several scares during the afternoon where the wind died down - at one point down to 9 kts - resulting in flogging of the boom and thoughts of dropping the mainsail. Happily the strength of the wind resumed each time and I was hoping that we would get through the night with no more problems of light winds. The drizzling had stopped hours earlier but the sky was heavily overcast and the wind was damp and chilly.
At 7.30 PM the apparent wind dropped below 10 kts and Jeff kept steering the boat through the calm sea. However, the boom started to slam hard and I had to do something. I took the boat off the broad reach and slightly into the wind. This increased the apparent speed of the wind and allowed me to sheet the boom in tight. That worked OK but the price was that we were now heading ENE to 070T, and we were barely closing on the island. But the price was worth it because it kept the mainsail up and the boat moving. Besides, the further north we got the less the intensity of the coming gale.
Even that measure was not enough. The wind kept getting weaker and weaker yet somehow the boat managed to keep sailing. At 10 PM it was Game Over and I dropped the mainsail, rolled in the headsail, and put the boat ahull while it was raining.
While preparing my cup of chocolate I wondered to myself where this rain was coming from, and then I remembered something. It took a while but I found it in the pilot chart for the S. Atlantic for December. It shows our current position to be in the vicinity of the "subtropical convergence" band that snakes its way from S America to Africa. That would explain the cloudy and drizzly weather as well as the variable winds. That might also explain why the grib files have grossly overestimated the wind speeds for the last 2 days. The good news is that the band is not wide and TdC is well clear of it, giving me some hope that the winds and weather will be more favorable there than they are here.
I had just changed into warm and dry clothes for bed after the midnight Sailmail session when the wind came up big time. At about 15 kts it was certainly good enough to get me back into my wet weather gear and go up and set sail. The mainsail would have to wait until morning but the headsail alone was good enough to give us 5.1 kts of speed. I then engaged Jeff to do the steering and back in the cabin I went to keep an eye on things until after the Sailmail session.
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Sunday, December 16, 2012
Day 17 - 500 Miles To Go
After a quiet night when for the first time during the passage I had used a second blanket I woke up at 7 AM to the intermittent hum of the Rutland. I immediately got up and at 7.15 AM we were sailing to the SE under Jeff's control. While having coffee I watched the wind increase then decrease again to the below 9 kts causing the headsail to fret. Jeff couldn't cope when our boat speed dropped to below 2 kt and I switched over to the autopilot.
At noon our position was 36S00, 022W43, giving us a n-n distance of 40 miles in the direction 107T. We were now 507 miles from TdC, making 3-4 kts with a weak and variable wind. The barometer had risen one point to 1020 hPa.
I am not out of the woods regarding the Monitor problem. I had trouble getting it to steer and when I had a close look I discovered that the pendulum had plenty of travel to the port side of the boat but hardly any to the starboard side. Twice I went over the back rail and adjusted (ie lengthened) the actuator shaft that I had uncoupled two days earlier. The problem may have manifested itself because we are on a different tack today, and the adjustment seemed to help. However, the wind is proving to be so difficult (ie variable and weak) that I am not able to give the Monitor a fair test and am relying on the autopilot. I will not rest easy about the Monitor until it has had a few more successful days.
The day before I had checked the engine oil and coolant levels as well as belt tension and it occurred to me that this was the perfect setting for a refueling operation: clear sunny day and the boat sailing gently with no spray flying around. It would be my first chance to use the new hand pump that I had purchased in the USA. The engine was at 339 hours and it had been run 20.2 hours since the tanks had been topped up at Bracui. My worst case estimate was 50 liters consumed but I expected it to be less because I had been running the engine at only 1500 rpm during the battery charging runs.
That pump transformed refueling from a laborious and messy operation involving an open bucket to a faster, much cleaner one. The next transfer will be even cleaner because I learned today to tie the fuel container in place and also tie the outlet hose to the rail so that the end will stay well inside of the Baja filter. That will leave me to concentrate on pumping. The diesel that I purchased at Bracui was darker than the top quality fuel that I had purchased at the filling station at Mar del Plata. It left quite a bit of gritty residue at the first (coarse) filter and before I put the Baja filter away I ran some diesel through it in reverse and successfully flushed most of the grit out. Even though I had added anti algae additive to the fuel in the containers at Bracui I added another dose into the Baja filter before I started pumping the fuel.
I estimate that I added 31 liters to the tanks to fill them to the brim, yielding an average consumption of 1.53 liters per hour. At this moment there are 140 liters of diesel in the internal tanks and 170 liters on deck in containers, making a total of 310 liters. That represents an estimated 207 hours of running at 1500 rpm. (That's 8.6 days, but let's not get too excited because at 1500 rpm the boat makes only about 2.5 kts.)
Afterwards I stripped down, washed down the cockpit with salt water, then gave myself a fresh water bucket bath primarily to wash the diesel off my legs.
At 3.45 we were 495 miles from TdC but the sail was having a hard time coping with the 7-8 kt wind and I decided to try the whisker pole on the sail. The job turned out to be reasonable straight forward and went well, partly because conditions were gentle and partly because I had lubricated the latches of the pole and jury rigged a release cord as part of the preparations for this passage. The results were good. We were now sailing more downwind and the sail was fretting less violently. We were making 2.7 kts before an apparent wind of 6-7 kts. It had been a disappointing sailing day with the wind speed half of that predicted by the grib file but I was trying to make the best of it.
Our progress to date can be summarized as:
- 1500 miles to go on day 6
- 1000 miles to go on day 10
- 500 miles to go on day 16
At 6 PM I had had enough an lay the boat ahull. The wind was so light that the weight of the whisker pole was threatening to put it in the water and we were making 2.1 kts. I just wasn't prepared to spend the night listening to the sail flapping and watching the autopilot for 2.1 kts. We were drifting SW at 0.7 kts so at least we were headed south. I was so pissed off that I cracked a second beer.
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At noon our position was 36S00, 022W43, giving us a n-n distance of 40 miles in the direction 107T. We were now 507 miles from TdC, making 3-4 kts with a weak and variable wind. The barometer had risen one point to 1020 hPa.
I am not out of the woods regarding the Monitor problem. I had trouble getting it to steer and when I had a close look I discovered that the pendulum had plenty of travel to the port side of the boat but hardly any to the starboard side. Twice I went over the back rail and adjusted (ie lengthened) the actuator shaft that I had uncoupled two days earlier. The problem may have manifested itself because we are on a different tack today, and the adjustment seemed to help. However, the wind is proving to be so difficult (ie variable and weak) that I am not able to give the Monitor a fair test and am relying on the autopilot. I will not rest easy about the Monitor until it has had a few more successful days.
The day before I had checked the engine oil and coolant levels as well as belt tension and it occurred to me that this was the perfect setting for a refueling operation: clear sunny day and the boat sailing gently with no spray flying around. It would be my first chance to use the new hand pump that I had purchased in the USA. The engine was at 339 hours and it had been run 20.2 hours since the tanks had been topped up at Bracui. My worst case estimate was 50 liters consumed but I expected it to be less because I had been running the engine at only 1500 rpm during the battery charging runs.
That pump transformed refueling from a laborious and messy operation involving an open bucket to a faster, much cleaner one. The next transfer will be even cleaner because I learned today to tie the fuel container in place and also tie the outlet hose to the rail so that the end will stay well inside of the Baja filter. That will leave me to concentrate on pumping. The diesel that I purchased at Bracui was darker than the top quality fuel that I had purchased at the filling station at Mar del Plata. It left quite a bit of gritty residue at the first (coarse) filter and before I put the Baja filter away I ran some diesel through it in reverse and successfully flushed most of the grit out. Even though I had added anti algae additive to the fuel in the containers at Bracui I added another dose into the Baja filter before I started pumping the fuel.
I estimate that I added 31 liters to the tanks to fill them to the brim, yielding an average consumption of 1.53 liters per hour. At this moment there are 140 liters of diesel in the internal tanks and 170 liters on deck in containers, making a total of 310 liters. That represents an estimated 207 hours of running at 1500 rpm. (That's 8.6 days, but let's not get too excited because at 1500 rpm the boat makes only about 2.5 kts.)
Afterwards I stripped down, washed down the cockpit with salt water, then gave myself a fresh water bucket bath primarily to wash the diesel off my legs.
At 3.45 we were 495 miles from TdC but the sail was having a hard time coping with the 7-8 kt wind and I decided to try the whisker pole on the sail. The job turned out to be reasonable straight forward and went well, partly because conditions were gentle and partly because I had lubricated the latches of the pole and jury rigged a release cord as part of the preparations for this passage. The results were good. We were now sailing more downwind and the sail was fretting less violently. We were making 2.7 kts before an apparent wind of 6-7 kts. It had been a disappointing sailing day with the wind speed half of that predicted by the grib file but I was trying to make the best of it.
Our progress to date can be summarized as:
- 1500 miles to go on day 6
- 1000 miles to go on day 10
- 500 miles to go on day 16
At 6 PM I had had enough an lay the boat ahull. The wind was so light that the weight of the whisker pole was threatening to put it in the water and we were making 2.1 kts. I just wasn't prepared to spend the night listening to the sail flapping and watching the autopilot for 2.1 kts. We were drifting SW at 0.7 kts so at least we were headed south. I was so pissed off that I cracked a second beer.
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Saturday, December 15, 2012
Day 16 - Inventory of Refrigerator
I woke up at 4 AM to find that the wind had strengthened, we were doing over 6 kts, and the sail was occasionally fluttering, so I rolled in some sail to bring our boat speed to 4.5 kts and went back to sleep in a more comfortable boat.
At 8 AM I woke up and saw nothing but blue sky through the cabin hatch. It was going to be another sunny day and we were still moving well toward the island in front of a 17-18 kt apparent wind. Jeff the Monitor had kept us on course without a problem all night.
The grib file predicted a 12 hour lull in the wind during the coming night but in the following morning it would pick up again.
Tristan da Cunha lay 560 miles almost to the east at bearing 099T. Five days earlier I had estimated landfall to be 19-23 December, depending on assumptions on average daily distance made good. After the rough patch of the previous few days my best estimate was now 22 December, give or take a day. I had originally planned to shape a course for TdC as an arc to the south of the rhumb line partly to take some advantage of great circle sailing, but mainly to reach the higher latitudes more quickly in the expectation of more reliable winds. Unfortunately I succumbed to the temptation of sailing directly for the island whenever possible because on a flat Mercator projection the rhumb line looks like the shortest distance. Day after day the grib files covering only 2 degrees of latitude consistently showed stronger winds to the south. The only exception to that was the beating that we had taken in that gale 2 or 3 days previously. I had asked the ship during the gale when the weather would break officer must have heard just the word "weather" because he told me that the wind was from the north at forty-garbled knots. Given the wind speed numbers that I was reading I dismissed the notion that the wind was in the '40s but thinking back on those waves high enough to break at the tops leading to a cascades of foam running down their faces I began to think that the officer was correct. After looking up the descriptions of the Beaufort scale and I would still call it a gale, Force 8, but at the upper end of its 34-40 kt range. Why so strong contrary to what the grib file predicted? Without the benefit of the comprehensive picture from a weather fax I think that it is highly probable that I wound up in a "squash" zone between the advancing low with its clockwise rotation on the west and centered slightly to the south and a high with its counter clockwise rotation to the east, rendering the east sector of the low a maelstrom. Grib files of such a tiny patches of the ocean that I request (currently 2 degrees latitude by 3 degrees longitude) are derived inductively from "big picture" computer models and are quite likely to miss those hot zones.
At noon our position was 35S48, 023W31, giving us a n-n distance of 104 miles in the direction 116T. We were now 550 from Tdc, which was slightly south of E at 097T.
Most of the birds that have flown near the boat seem to have been petrels. I have identified Great Winged petrels and Soft Plumaged petrels. I'm sure that there have also been storm petrels. I suspect that there has also been the occasional albatross and maybe I'll be able to make a firm identification as my perception of sea birds sharpens. [Much later while having a beer a small one flew by, which according to the book was a White Bellied storm petrel.]
My task for the day was to clean out the refrigerator compartment and take an inventor of its contents. Both the refrigerator and ice box compartment are connected to a common drain that passes through a valve and to a short section of hose for directing the outflow. Both compartments build up water over time due partly from the degeneration of their contents and partly because during heavy weather while on a starboard heel any substantial amount of water that sweeps under the spray dodger and over the main hatch will wind up partly in the galley below. This is with a standard design of sliding hatch and there is nothing that I can do about it other than avoid sheet of water over the cabin.
I removed from the refrigerator one plastic bag at a time, removing anything spoiled, and counting the survivors. I was forced to throw overboard about 5 tomatoes, one capsicum, 2 or 3 oranges, a couple of carrots, and one mango that I had forgotten about. Losing the tomatoes was painful, but reinforced the lesson that there is no point in hoarding perishables only to lose them from spoilage. I would have done better throwing an additional tomato into each of my bean stews.
The current inventory in the refrigerator is as follows:
- 5 slices of bread (enough for 2 more breakfasts)
- 4 jars of bread yeast
- 8 cans of beer
- 34 eggs
- Cheese, 5 packs of about 1 kg each (I couldn't find the weights on the labels.)
- 3 capsicums (green peppers)
- 17 potatoes
- 15 onions
- 13 carrots
- 8 oranges
- 3 apples
- 2 limes
- 2 bunches of garlic
- 2 bananas
The beer had been at the bottom of the refrigerator in order to keep the other contents above any water than might accumulate. However, I discovered that the bottoms of the beer cans were starting to corrode, so I placed them all in the freezer compartment.
I have been neglecting the apples and oranges and will start eating at least one daily.
I was surprised at the number of eggs remaining, and I will resume the practice of eating one egg with my main meal in the evening and perhaps give myself the occasional treat of several fried eggs.
I've been a bit easy on the cheese too, for weight loss purposes. However, although all of the sealed cheese is still intact I'd better kick up the pace of consumption.
Once the refrigerator was empty I had to get on my knees and start draining the water from the two compartment into a small plastic container which I would then empty onto a larger bucket. Several times the water stopped draining while there was still water in the compartment, which meant a blockage in the drain hoses. This brought on the heroic part: putting my mouth at the end of the drain hose with the rotting solution passing through it and blowing hard, to force out the obstruction through the other end. It isn't pleasant but somebody's gotta do it. When the compartments were drained I put a few liters of sea water into the refrigerator compartment, added some bleach, and scrubbed the slime off the bottom and sides. I drained this, flushed about of clean sea water through, gave the bottom of the compartments a wipe, then loaded the refrigerator back up, and that was the end of the task.
I had put aside a banana and an apple for lunch but for some reason I wasn't too hungry at the moment.
The wind began to die down and back at about 3 PM. By 4 PM we were eking out 2.8 kts toward the ENE with the wind at less than than 9 kts. I expected to lie ahull all night and in the morning begin sailing with a gentle breeze from the NNE and this would mean more downwind sailing.
At 5 PM I decided to use the last of the stability provided by the sail to attend to the spray dodger. Sections of its bolt rope along the front had jumped out of the track and I had to loosen the entire dodger in order to re-thread it. By the time I finished the headsail was fretting wildly and at 5.30 PM I rolled it up and let the boat drift. It would be a night of bouts of heavy rolling, but that could not be helped. I tied the Monitor control sheets with the lines that I had set up before and it kept the watervane nicely centered all of the time. I should have set that up years ago.
At 6 PM I started the engine and motored to the SE for 2 hours while I watched "Black Hawk Down" and monitored the status of the autopilot. (It didn't fail.) A 8 PM after shutdown I admired the evening for a few minutes. The sky was mostly clear, there was a sliver of a moon out, barely a breeze, and best of all the sea had calmed down amazingly during those two hours.
I've been meaning to mention that the drinking water from the main tanks has not been rusty, as it was during my long passage around the Horn. Perhaps rust had accumulated in the bottom of the tanks during the 20 months of mainly sedentary life in La Paz and then got stirred up during the passage. Anyway, whatever rust may be in the water now is not detectable by sight or taste.
The gas cylinder is showing signs of losing pressure. When the time comes I can quickly switch to the small backup cylinder with the flip of a lever, which will allow me to swap in the other large cylinder which has been riding against the pulpit.
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At 8 AM I woke up and saw nothing but blue sky through the cabin hatch. It was going to be another sunny day and we were still moving well toward the island in front of a 17-18 kt apparent wind. Jeff the Monitor had kept us on course without a problem all night.
The grib file predicted a 12 hour lull in the wind during the coming night but in the following morning it would pick up again.
Tristan da Cunha lay 560 miles almost to the east at bearing 099T. Five days earlier I had estimated landfall to be 19-23 December, depending on assumptions on average daily distance made good. After the rough patch of the previous few days my best estimate was now 22 December, give or take a day. I had originally planned to shape a course for TdC as an arc to the south of the rhumb line partly to take some advantage of great circle sailing, but mainly to reach the higher latitudes more quickly in the expectation of more reliable winds. Unfortunately I succumbed to the temptation of sailing directly for the island whenever possible because on a flat Mercator projection the rhumb line looks like the shortest distance. Day after day the grib files covering only 2 degrees of latitude consistently showed stronger winds to the south. The only exception to that was the beating that we had taken in that gale 2 or 3 days previously. I had asked the ship during the gale when the weather would break officer must have heard just the word "weather" because he told me that the wind was from the north at forty-garbled knots. Given the wind speed numbers that I was reading I dismissed the notion that the wind was in the '40s but thinking back on those waves high enough to break at the tops leading to a cascades of foam running down their faces I began to think that the officer was correct. After looking up the descriptions of the Beaufort scale and I would still call it a gale, Force 8, but at the upper end of its 34-40 kt range. Why so strong contrary to what the grib file predicted? Without the benefit of the comprehensive picture from a weather fax I think that it is highly probable that I wound up in a "squash" zone between the advancing low with its clockwise rotation on the west and centered slightly to the south and a high with its counter clockwise rotation to the east, rendering the east sector of the low a maelstrom. Grib files of such a tiny patches of the ocean that I request (currently 2 degrees latitude by 3 degrees longitude) are derived inductively from "big picture" computer models and are quite likely to miss those hot zones.
At noon our position was 35S48, 023W31, giving us a n-n distance of 104 miles in the direction 116T. We were now 550 from Tdc, which was slightly south of E at 097T.
Most of the birds that have flown near the boat seem to have been petrels. I have identified Great Winged petrels and Soft Plumaged petrels. I'm sure that there have also been storm petrels. I suspect that there has also been the occasional albatross and maybe I'll be able to make a firm identification as my perception of sea birds sharpens. [Much later while having a beer a small one flew by, which according to the book was a White Bellied storm petrel.]
My task for the day was to clean out the refrigerator compartment and take an inventor of its contents. Both the refrigerator and ice box compartment are connected to a common drain that passes through a valve and to a short section of hose for directing the outflow. Both compartments build up water over time due partly from the degeneration of their contents and partly because during heavy weather while on a starboard heel any substantial amount of water that sweeps under the spray dodger and over the main hatch will wind up partly in the galley below. This is with a standard design of sliding hatch and there is nothing that I can do about it other than avoid sheet of water over the cabin.
I removed from the refrigerator one plastic bag at a time, removing anything spoiled, and counting the survivors. I was forced to throw overboard about 5 tomatoes, one capsicum, 2 or 3 oranges, a couple of carrots, and one mango that I had forgotten about. Losing the tomatoes was painful, but reinforced the lesson that there is no point in hoarding perishables only to lose them from spoilage. I would have done better throwing an additional tomato into each of my bean stews.
The current inventory in the refrigerator is as follows:
- 5 slices of bread (enough for 2 more breakfasts)
- 4 jars of bread yeast
- 8 cans of beer
- 34 eggs
- Cheese, 5 packs of about 1 kg each (I couldn't find the weights on the labels.)
- 3 capsicums (green peppers)
- 17 potatoes
- 15 onions
- 13 carrots
- 8 oranges
- 3 apples
- 2 limes
- 2 bunches of garlic
- 2 bananas
The beer had been at the bottom of the refrigerator in order to keep the other contents above any water than might accumulate. However, I discovered that the bottoms of the beer cans were starting to corrode, so I placed them all in the freezer compartment.
I have been neglecting the apples and oranges and will start eating at least one daily.
I was surprised at the number of eggs remaining, and I will resume the practice of eating one egg with my main meal in the evening and perhaps give myself the occasional treat of several fried eggs.
I've been a bit easy on the cheese too, for weight loss purposes. However, although all of the sealed cheese is still intact I'd better kick up the pace of consumption.
Once the refrigerator was empty I had to get on my knees and start draining the water from the two compartment into a small plastic container which I would then empty onto a larger bucket. Several times the water stopped draining while there was still water in the compartment, which meant a blockage in the drain hoses. This brought on the heroic part: putting my mouth at the end of the drain hose with the rotting solution passing through it and blowing hard, to force out the obstruction through the other end. It isn't pleasant but somebody's gotta do it. When the compartments were drained I put a few liters of sea water into the refrigerator compartment, added some bleach, and scrubbed the slime off the bottom and sides. I drained this, flushed about of clean sea water through, gave the bottom of the compartments a wipe, then loaded the refrigerator back up, and that was the end of the task.
I had put aside a banana and an apple for lunch but for some reason I wasn't too hungry at the moment.
The wind began to die down and back at about 3 PM. By 4 PM we were eking out 2.8 kts toward the ENE with the wind at less than than 9 kts. I expected to lie ahull all night and in the morning begin sailing with a gentle breeze from the NNE and this would mean more downwind sailing.
At 5 PM I decided to use the last of the stability provided by the sail to attend to the spray dodger. Sections of its bolt rope along the front had jumped out of the track and I had to loosen the entire dodger in order to re-thread it. By the time I finished the headsail was fretting wildly and at 5.30 PM I rolled it up and let the boat drift. It would be a night of bouts of heavy rolling, but that could not be helped. I tied the Monitor control sheets with the lines that I had set up before and it kept the watervane nicely centered all of the time. I should have set that up years ago.
At 6 PM I started the engine and motored to the SE for 2 hours while I watched "Black Hawk Down" and monitored the status of the autopilot. (It didn't fail.) A 8 PM after shutdown I admired the evening for a few minutes. The sky was mostly clear, there was a sliver of a moon out, barely a breeze, and best of all the sea had calmed down amazingly during those two hours.
I've been meaning to mention that the drinking water from the main tanks has not been rusty, as it was during my long passage around the Horn. Perhaps rust had accumulated in the bottom of the tanks during the 20 months of mainly sedentary life in La Paz and then got stirred up during the passage. Anyway, whatever rust may be in the water now is not detectable by sight or taste.
The gas cylinder is showing signs of losing pressure. When the time comes I can quickly switch to the small backup cylinder with the flip of a lever, which will allow me to swap in the other large cylinder which has been riding against the pulpit.
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Friday, December 14, 2012
Day 15 - Monitor Repaired
My message to Scanmar went out during my midnight UTC Sailmail session. An hour later, at 1 AM, I logged into another Sailmail session in order to download the grib file that I had requested at midnight and was amazed to find a response from Ron Geick of Scanmar regarding the Monitor problem. He suggested to possible causes of the top gear being rotated 180 degrees (water paddle struck an object or a broken washer at the bottom of the pendulum strut) then presented a step by step procedure on maneuvering the gears into proper alignment. Wow! I had not expected a response until the next midnight's Sailmail session at the earliest.
In went into a sleep schedule with a wake up call every hour so that I could ensure that the autopilot was still engaged but at 2 AM I woke up with a start because the boat was very quiet and the Rutland had stopped humming. I went into the cockpit convinced that the autopilot had disengaged but no, it was still holding course and the wind had simply died down. After 30 minutes of watching the headsail fret in a wind falling below 8 kts I decided that a bad night of sleep just wasn't worth the 1.5 knots that we were making, so I lay the boat ahull and let myself sleep. Besides, I needed to wake up refreshed in the morning so that I could repair the Monitor.
I had a long sleep until 9 AM because every time that I surfaced I could hear no sound from the Rutland, which meant insufficient wind, so I would roll back over. It was a cloudy day and the wind was still below 10 kts. After studying Ron's instructions over a cup of coffee I suited up, gathered my tools, took a deep breath, and headed for the Monitor. Fortunately in order to protect the watervane from slamming during the predicted 25 kt winds I had secured the end of it with ropes tied to either side of the cockpit. This gave me wonderful control of the angle of the watervane in the rolling sea, and I would need such control for meshing the gears correctly. Another piece of good fortune was that the sea had calmed down from the day before, and no longer was the stern slamming hard into the water with a "whoosh" followed by the water rising half way up the Monitor frame.
There was a lock nut to be released and my first choice of a 19 mm wrench was spot on. I used a 20 mm wrench to restrain the lower nut. I managed to mesh the gears correctly and lock everything down with surprising ease. I then attended to two areas where metal needed to be straightened (which I have reported to Ron) then locked the watervane into the water, set sail, and soon had the Monitor engaged and steering the boat with a 10 kt wind of the starboard beam. An hour later the wind was up to 15 kts and the Monitor was still performing well.
Scarcely 24 hours after diagnosis of the problem Scanmar had sent me the instructions for the fix way out here in the South Atlantic and the Monitor was back on line. That is a great testament to modern communications and Scanmar's superb customer support. I figure that my message arrived at Ron's desk in San Francisco after 4 PM. He must have a great email management system and certainly has an approach that reflects the huge amount of experience that Scanmar must have in supporting mariners at sea.
I was hoping that this would be the end of the matter, but if the problem happened again I would know what to do.
At noon our position was 35S01, 25W24, giving us a miserable n-n distance of 17 miles in the direction 166T. The barometer had fallen 7 points to 1011, and it was drizzling outside. We had been back on the move for two hours and were making 5 kts to the SW.
At 1 PM I went topside and rolled out a bit more headsail, with the clew level with the mast. This took our speed up to 5.5-6 kts before an apparent wind of 13 kts. The sail looked magnificent and I was very pleased with the setup. I had considered putting up the mainsail but for running downwind and the wind expected to rise to 25 kts the headsail provided all of the boat speed that I needed, and was much easier to manage than the mainsail.
After an easy few hours of lunch (noodle soup) snoozing, and reading the Kindle I went topside to check around and to set up two short lines from the binnacle that can reach the Monitor control lines so that in future I can tie them off when the Monitor is not in use to keep the watervane centered and prevent it from banging the sides of the frame. The sailing was very good. The clouds had thinned out and now we were sunshine making an easy 4 knots ahead of a 15 kt breeze. The sea was moderate, consistent with the strength of the breeze. At 5 PM I would have my beer of the day and think about what movie I would watch tonight.
At 9 PM the Monitor was still steering the boat SE. The sea had become rougher and our boat speed had dropped to 3.5 kts. I did not roll out more sail because the boat was traveling comfortably and so was I.
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In went into a sleep schedule with a wake up call every hour so that I could ensure that the autopilot was still engaged but at 2 AM I woke up with a start because the boat was very quiet and the Rutland had stopped humming. I went into the cockpit convinced that the autopilot had disengaged but no, it was still holding course and the wind had simply died down. After 30 minutes of watching the headsail fret in a wind falling below 8 kts I decided that a bad night of sleep just wasn't worth the 1.5 knots that we were making, so I lay the boat ahull and let myself sleep. Besides, I needed to wake up refreshed in the morning so that I could repair the Monitor.
I had a long sleep until 9 AM because every time that I surfaced I could hear no sound from the Rutland, which meant insufficient wind, so I would roll back over. It was a cloudy day and the wind was still below 10 kts. After studying Ron's instructions over a cup of coffee I suited up, gathered my tools, took a deep breath, and headed for the Monitor. Fortunately in order to protect the watervane from slamming during the predicted 25 kt winds I had secured the end of it with ropes tied to either side of the cockpit. This gave me wonderful control of the angle of the watervane in the rolling sea, and I would need such control for meshing the gears correctly. Another piece of good fortune was that the sea had calmed down from the day before, and no longer was the stern slamming hard into the water with a "whoosh" followed by the water rising half way up the Monitor frame.
There was a lock nut to be released and my first choice of a 19 mm wrench was spot on. I used a 20 mm wrench to restrain the lower nut. I managed to mesh the gears correctly and lock everything down with surprising ease. I then attended to two areas where metal needed to be straightened (which I have reported to Ron) then locked the watervane into the water, set sail, and soon had the Monitor engaged and steering the boat with a 10 kt wind of the starboard beam. An hour later the wind was up to 15 kts and the Monitor was still performing well.
Scarcely 24 hours after diagnosis of the problem Scanmar had sent me the instructions for the fix way out here in the South Atlantic and the Monitor was back on line. That is a great testament to modern communications and Scanmar's superb customer support. I figure that my message arrived at Ron's desk in San Francisco after 4 PM. He must have a great email management system and certainly has an approach that reflects the huge amount of experience that Scanmar must have in supporting mariners at sea.
I was hoping that this would be the end of the matter, but if the problem happened again I would know what to do.
At noon our position was 35S01, 25W24, giving us a miserable n-n distance of 17 miles in the direction 166T. The barometer had fallen 7 points to 1011, and it was drizzling outside. We had been back on the move for two hours and were making 5 kts to the SW.
At 1 PM I went topside and rolled out a bit more headsail, with the clew level with the mast. This took our speed up to 5.5-6 kts before an apparent wind of 13 kts. The sail looked magnificent and I was very pleased with the setup. I had considered putting up the mainsail but for running downwind and the wind expected to rise to 25 kts the headsail provided all of the boat speed that I needed, and was much easier to manage than the mainsail.
After an easy few hours of lunch (noodle soup) snoozing, and reading the Kindle I went topside to check around and to set up two short lines from the binnacle that can reach the Monitor control lines so that in future I can tie them off when the Monitor is not in use to keep the watervane centered and prevent it from banging the sides of the frame. The sailing was very good. The clouds had thinned out and now we were sunshine making an easy 4 knots ahead of a 15 kt breeze. The sea was moderate, consistent with the strength of the breeze. At 5 PM I would have my beer of the day and think about what movie I would watch tonight.
At 9 PM the Monitor was still steering the boat SE. The sea had become rougher and our boat speed had dropped to 3.5 kts. I did not roll out more sail because the boat was traveling comfortably and so was I.
----------
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