Aleria Update 6
6. Nearly There
Whereas our first trip across the Atlantic had us dealing with 6 gales, this one brought us less than 6 knots for many of the 2800 miles from the Canary Islands to the Caribbean. This of course after tantalizing us with a taste of the tradewinds for the first few days. The huge storms tracking north of us had sucked up all the air. In a weather event unheard of, the Bermuda and Azores highs, normally settled at 30 degrees north or higher, sank down to 17 north and lower - right where we were sailing (or trying to). They were pushed away repeatedly by the massive low pressure systems.
In our first 24 hours we logged a nice 185 miles. The second day it was 171 miles. Then 154, and so it went until our slowest day of 98 miles. As a result, we suffered a devastating psychological phenomenon. The first couple of days, we were thrilled into believing we would be across in barely two weeks. Then the clock stopped; as the speed dropped lower and lower, despite the miles ticking off, we always still had ten days to go - for days on end. That's when we settled in to enjoy the trip.
We read countless books, caught a ten pound Amberjack tuna (scrumptious) and a 38in Mahi Mahi (majestic), and did lots of odd jobs onboard since the boat's motion was quite gentle. We also took part in a transatlantic SSB radio net - dubbed the Madlantic Net (aka NARC), a loose grouping of about 30 boats strung across the Atlantic from the Canaries to the Caribbean. We checked in twice daily with position, condition and weather reports, as well as chatter about the day's 'important' events.
Half way across we developed a steering problem that took most of the day to resolve. Having boats standing by in the vicinity to assist if needed was most comforting. Other boats lost watermakers, alternators, refrigerators, etc. It was always something and advice was free flowing.
Commiserating about the conditions, with boats wallowing aimlesslessly and being forced to motor relentlessly, was also helpful. And knowing where we were relative to boats near us was useful. It kept us trying to get ahead, which Aleria did with ease. We only motored a couple of hours.
We also listened to Herb's weather forecast every evening... following all his suggestions about sailing from one convection zone to another to find personal winds and dropping below 15•N in search of the tradewinds "groove". In the end, it worked and we ended up more than 700 miles ahead of the boats we were sailing alongside for much of the way. Our last night was spent in glorious 15-20 knot NE trades and the miles ticked away toward the glow on the horizon speedily.
Aleria surprised us at times, like sailing at 2.5 knots in 2.5 knots of wind with the asymmetrical spinnaker flying. Whereas on our first Atlantic crossing we never even saw the spinnaker, this time it was essential - but the pole broke after several days so our set was limited. Then we took out the mizzen staysail and flew that alongside the full main, mizzen, yankee and staysail. That was a great combination. Aleria must have looked very pretty but there was no one around to see her. We only saw one sailboat, two fishing boats, two big ships, and two small lights the entire way. And we passed something without lights just before dawn this morning.
Interestingly, more things broke on this crossing due to the light air, downwind course, and confused/massive following seas. First, the shaft on the windvane bent (again), then the steering system froze, the new carbon fiber whisker pole broke, the new vang broke off the boom fitting, a sheet chafed through, a whale pump failed, fuel filters clogged, countless slides broke off the mainsail, the new mizzen staysail ripped right up the middle, the dodger was split open by a flailing sheet, etc. When things break out here, you either fix them or do without. Steering is something you cannot do without. Alex fixed it! He is a wizard at fixing things. He amazes us daily. I brought out the sewing machine and restitched the dodger but the sail awaits a professional.
It was hard to complain about the conditions even with the lack of wind. It was T-shirt weather all the way from the Canaries. Onyx thought it was a might warm but managed to stretch out and sleep ALL the way... except of course when sushi was served. Very happy kitty.
The nights were magical. We started with the 100% full moon and watched it go through almost a full lunar cycle. The stars were unlike any place else - dense constellations and bright colorful planets. One night, there was a continuous meteor shower with countless shooting stars upon which to make wishes. Mezmerizing!
We saw little sealife. Dolphins a couple of days but they were not very friendly - more wild. One boat in our net was attacked by a pod of pseudo-Orcas (?). Apparently, there is a study that boats with red bottoms are attacked by whales more often. This boat had just had a coat of red put on before they set sail. Amazing what you can learn from an ssb net.
There were loads of flying fish and each day a few were found turning crispy on deck. One night, just after our change of watch, Alex was getting acclimated to the night sky when a fish bumped into his chin and jumped up his sleeve. I heard thunks and expletives on deck. He was so stunned in the dark that it took some time to realize what had happened. He finally yanked the fish out of his sleeve and threw it back overboard. He was slimed from face to knees. You cannot make this up. A flying fish on another boat flew right down the companionway into the galley. They ate it - it was the only fish they had caught.
Another night I sat on deck in the dark staring at the sea. The noctilucans were especially active. Suddenly, there were explosions under water as far as the eye could see. Bursts of light like underwater fireworks all around us continued for hours. I could only imagine mermaids show jumping across a parade ground on their seahorses but I could not make them out.
Our provisioning held out well, with German bread and tortilla wraps doing nicely as late staple duty. Fruit and vegs did not do as well in these warm temps, yet we managed to have fresh until yesterday. Potatoes, onions and cabbage lasted all the way, as did the dozens of eggs we packed aboard.
So we have travelled now across more than 5400 miles of open ocean from Ireland at an average speed of about 6 knots to get here. First stop Barbados, then on to the Granadines and northwards across the Antilles from there.
We made it. Can't wait to drop anchor to swim and dive on the reefs. See you there!
Here's a Christmas wish from Alex:
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'Twas the night before Christmas and out on our boat, we looked through our spyglass and saw nothing afloat. Stockings we'd found in a locker somewhere, and hung on a bulkhead with duct tape and care. Asleep in our cabin with nary a sound, 'cept the flapping of sails and the waves they did pound, when all of a sudden some bubbling we heard and just then to starboard an island appeared. As the island came closer we grew fretful and shook, 'twas a whale and ten dolphins that we had mistook. The dolphins they shouted with joy and with glee, Merry Christmas to all ye sailors and may God be with thee.
- Alex Blackwell 12/09
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Our little tree will be set up on deck as soon as we anchor.
Happy Christmas everyone! Much love, joy and peace to one and all.
Daria Alex Onyx
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