We've known that we'd be making our first ocean passage together from the
moment Tom announced he was leaving Wind Wanderer in Bermuda. He put the word
out to his friends and contacts that there would be an opportunity if any of them
was interested in filling in as crew to the Caribbean.
We nipped that in the bud very quickly and he was obviously surprised. He was
used to sailing with up to 5 on board on his boat when doing passages. Others in
Bermuda also seemed surprised that we were sailing down to the Caribbean with
just the 2 of us.
To be honest, so were we!
Our plan had been to 'doggy paddle in the shallow end' until we were ready to
spread our wings. The Caribbean was always going to be that shallow end. With
many islands just a day sail away it's a perfect training ground. Not to mention
the fun of exploring them.
Well, the best layed plans of mice and men...
Once the spreaders were repaired we were keen to grab the first decent
weather window and go. Being a 6-7 day voyage it's important to have an idea of
the likely weather at the other end as well as the front end.
Eventually it looked like Monday, May 20, would give us what we were looking for, even
though much of it would be a broad reach. The weather at other end was not good,
but with 6 days before we'd get there it looked likely it would be better by
then and with hurricane season starting officially on June 1, we really don't
want to hang about.
On the Sunday, after lunch, I did another weather check and it looked like a bad
low was threatening to develop in the Caribbean from next Sunday. A lot of
squalls with very strong gusts would be likely.
We could either wait to see what develops and possibly be stuck in Bermuda
for a few more weeks, or get going right away to give us as much time as possible to get to
St Martin before the squalls. We liked that option.
I went to the customs dock with my friendliest but most concerned face, and
asked if we could check out without bringing Wind Wanderer along side. She's 30
tons and the prevailing wind would pin her to the dock etc. etc.
I got the right guy on duty. They ALWAYS insist departing vessels come along
side, but this time he said if we get ourselves and papers to him in the next
half hour he'd clear us out.
I tore back to the boat, grabbed Sandy and the ship's papers and we were in
his office in 15 minutes.
The next 2 hours were a blur of getting the boat ready, everything tied down,
the outboard motor up onto the rail and the dinghy up on it's davits with all
the extra safety lines and chafe protection, ladders up and secured. Check oil,
check water, start the engine... Whew!
The wind in the anchorage was strong but Sandy handled the boat like a pro
while I got the anchor up and secured. We usually take things slowly and talk
through what we're doing, but this time we just did it.
We were chugging our way through Town Cut before we fully realized that we'd
started our first ocean passage with just the two of us.
Wind and current were both strong and we bucked our way out at 2 knots. It
seemed to take forever but at last we were out in the channel. Our plan was to
clear the surrounding reefs and get some sail up before dark, which we did.
Being the first night with plenty of wind I decided to set just the big
yankee up front, and the mizzen. It's a comfortable set up for a ketch and soon we
were clicking along at just under 7 knots.
We decided we'd stand night watches 3 hours on, 3 hours off and see how we
coped with that.
It's all a very homely, comfortable arrangement. The cockpit has 2 big day
beds so whoever is off duty can sleep in the cockpit, readily available if needed
for sudden wind shifts etc. We've found that the 3 hours often goes to 4. We
both are happy to let the other one sleep an extra hour unless struggling
ourselves.
All was going well, maybe too well. In the early hours of Tuesday morning the
outhaul on the mizzen chafed through... again! It was Sandy's watch and I was
sound asleep. Once again I could use the roller furler to wind the sail in
easily.
We sailed on with main and yankee and only lost about half a knot, but the
boat felt less comfortable without the steadying effect of the mizzen.
In daylight it was easy to identify where and how the chafe had happened. I
repositioned the guilty block, spliced the line, and by the afternoon the mizzen
was back on duty. I took the opportunity to check the same block on the main and
added a piece of hose around a line that had chafe potential.
We had quite big seas and were on a reach to try to get as far east as
possible. At any time the wind could swing south and then we'd struggle to hold
a course to St Martin.
With all 4 sails up we were making good time, even though the ride was
uncomfortable. At over 7 knots we'd get to St Martin on the Saturday, hopefully
ahead of the squalls with their 30-40 knot gusts.
But our good run was short lived. On the third day the main outhaul chafed
through and this time it was way too dangerous to try to repair it, so I just
furled it and we continued on yankee, stays'l and mizzen.
Fortunately Wind Wanderer sails well with this combination and we still
ticked off the miles at 5 - 6.5 kts. In fact we didn't have to change the
setting for 4 days apart from taking in or letting out the yankee sheet
occasionally. But it was sailing to windward most of the time.
Eventually we were a degree or so east of 63 degrees west, the longitude on
which St Martin sits, but still we edged further east, just in case. It was just
as well because the wind did in fact start having a southerly component to it
and we could just turn with it, adjust our course and still head for St Martin.
We didn't have many squalls and managed to dodge a few by picking them up on
radar, but we did get hammered by one.
I was asleep when we got a major wind shift. Sandy woke me and before we
knew it the big yankee was pulling us around all over the place.
The auto pilot had no hope of coping and at the helm I couldn't do anything
with the sudden wind shifts. I started the engine but it seemed as though it
had no power. From past experience we both thought "... line around the prop",
but that usually stalls the engine. The wind spun us one more time and the
rail was buried as a wave raced down our starboard side, then the prop bit and
we had steering again.
At no point were we at risk of a knock down, but it was still a nasty
experience this early in Sandy's sailing career. I certainly didn't like the out
of control feeling when we couldn't get traction with the engine either. I can
only imagine we had a moment when wind and wave action were pushing us back,
counteracting the thrust of the propeller. We did have the headsails back filled
a few times too.
But it was soon over and we were sitting in a drenched cockpit hoping we'd be
in St Martin before the low with all its squalls.
We also decided it makes sense to alter our heading by 30 or 40 degrees for
half an hour when Sandy is down below putting a meal together. The difference in
the pitch and toss of the boat when you move the wind from ahead of the beam to
aft of it is incredible. It means we get good meals, and she emerges talking
english, not pirate.
I know the purists will be horrified, but if we're still days from our destination there
is time enough to steal extra degrees of heading to make it up.
We had one particularly violent jolt and I was below having just had a
shower. It threw me backwards against a teak locker so hard that the door is
smashed, and I'm nursing a very bruised elbow.
As we got closer to St Martin we started getting quite excited. Our first
ocean passage was just about complete and in spite of all the drama, we'd
handled it just fine.
But there was one more nasty event. In the early hours of Sunday morning we
heard a horrible crack and a noise that sounded like breaking glass. Looking out
into the semi dark we couldn't see anything at first, then Sandy noticed this big
wire on the deck just outside the cockpit on her side.
A starboard shroud from just beneath the mizzen mast spreader had broken at
the top end and come crashing down. I furled the mizzen sail and that got any
further strain off the remaining rigging. I had a bad moment when I remembered
hearing a sound like broken glass and figured the heavy stainless steel fitting
must have smashed the doghouse solar panel, but it hadn't. The sound must have
been the falling wire hitting the mast or boom.
We were now down to the 2 headsails and were still doing 4-5 kts, albeit with
much more roll.
We knew we'd have to motor sail for a few hours to get around the eastern
side of both Aquilla and St Martin, but as soon as we could head SSW again we
killed the engine and glided on down with the headsails.
At last we saw St Martin's mountains rising high into the cloud. It was a
very special moment.
We carried on down the coast all morning at about 4 kts, and when we turned
west at the bottom we sailed wing on wing with the gentle rocking motion of
downwind sailing.
We dropped anchor just near the Dutch bridge and couldn't wipe the grins off
our faces! We'd completed the passage in 6 days and 18 hours. Not bad
considering most of it was without the main sail. And we'd beaten the squalls too.
If all goes to plan we should have mostly downwind sailing from here to
Panama, and on to Australia.
Hopefully we've done the hard yards beating to windward.
I suspect we'll be here for a couple of weeks by the time we have all the
repairs done and have reprovisioned.
Until next time...