The Log - part 2-                 

Sunday 9th. The expected cold front, though far away, seems to have produced fresher winds, SE 15 to 18 knots and with our clean hull we are proceeding at a constant 8 + knots in a NE direction. We have reached 28°N 60°W.  

This evening we sited some whales surfacing and blowing about 100 metres away. Further out we saw an enormous plume of spray blown by what must have been a very big whale... a much sought after experience, but once you see them you get a certain apprehension for the safety of the boat. At night time, Fabio reported a sudden strong smell of fish and shortly after a whale blowing very close to the boat.  

With a newly cleaned hull and fresh constant winds we covered 159 miles today. Fabio played with a lone dark coloured sea-bird flying right up to the stern of the boat, by throwing it salami to catch in mid-air and also fileted mahi-mahi, which the bird particularly favoured. A couple of flying fish flew onto the boat, one actually hitting the boom, which is quite high off the water. This one we managed to through back alive into the water, but it must have had a hell of a headache.  

There are numerous Portuguese men o’war sailing the ocean – these are little jelly fish with perfectly shaped sails (similar to the vela-vela you sometimes find in the Mediterranean), which enables them to sail happily along, to where I don’t know. When a wave tips them over, they right up immediately, as they must have a heavy keel, just like real sailboats. It would apear that jelly-fish have been sailing the seas millions of years before man was even invented!

We sited and made contact with another sailboat, a two masted one, named “Pedro”, captained by Giuseppe, a single-handed Italian sailor from Rome, also bound for the Azores. He was please of the coimpany and to receive some weather information which he was lacking. We sailed a similar course all day, but we parted through the night. We were now in an almost no-wind zone, so we hoisted out bright red gennaker to help us glide along, until nightfall when we had to motor. Not without an inconvenience though, upon furling the genoa sail, the line somehow got entwined on the drum, so the crew had to unroll the whole line and then re-wind it again, fortunately in very little wind.

Then, putting on our navigation lights for the night, we found that the red port light (the one on the left) was not working, so I took out my spare lights kit I carry and attached it in a visible position.  The next day, Dave and I went forward to substitute the whole damaged light fitting, of which I also carry spares. Salt water is a terrible and subtle enemy of all electrical parts on a boat, especially those subject to constant splashing by the waves and one must check regularly and carry spares.  

Routine, daily maintenance and chafe checks

11^th May. My friend Giuseppe Verona of Cagliari monitors us continually and informs us of weather developments. He constantly knows our position and looks up the updated weather charts and grib files and emails me the information – a most useful service, which greatly increases our safety. In fact we are now warned that some big depressions lie north of us and that we should expect some bad weather tonight and tomorrow.

This is now our seventh day at sea and we have constantly had good sunny weather so far. Everyone is getting into a regular routine, doing chores, sail adjustments, cleaning, washing, small repairs and improvements etc. All take regular turns at watches, both day and night. Each one volunteers to cook when he feels like it or has an interesting dish to offer. I must say, we have eaten quite well so far as the cooking has been very good all round. There is still no moon, so the night is still pitch black, but with one consolation, at least it is perfect for star-gazing.

A generator is a most useful piece of equipment to have on board, as it uses less fuel than the main engine and you can charge your batteries with it when under sail. It also gives you 220 volts, which powers the watermaker and other appliances.

Well, a friend on a sister–ship, “Tioram”, told me that his impeller lasted only 200 hours instead of the minumum 500 hours. This is a little rubber paddle-wheel that pumps sea-water through the motor to cool it. So in Sint Maarten I bought a new one, having only an old used one as a spare. Sure enough, our generator stopped working for over-heating and the cause was the impeller.  

So, in mid-ocean with swell and all, I got to work and changed it (always in a difficult place to get to) and got the generator functioning again. Once again, you can see how important it is to have proper spare parts on board during a long voyage far from the shops.  

Last night we ended up in another no-wind zone, or rather a malevolent wind zone, with a wind that followed you around on the nose, whichever direction you took. And then the GPS, our satellite positioning instrument, suddenly stopped working, leaving us lost – all rather mysterious with these strange events; we must be in the Bermuda Triangle. I should expect to see some 1944 long-lost fighter planes flying overhead, or coming across an ancient weed-covered galleon, with skeletons on the deck, in decayed pirate attire.

Then, after switching on and off several times, the GPS suddenly started working again, much to our great relief. I would have hated to rely on our most intricate sextant, which we played around with, giving us only very approximate boat positions.

May 13th. Early this morning, while alone on watch I landed a small tuna – we have a new guest for dinner tonight.

After 20 hours we are still slowly motoring and part sailing, sometimes with the gennaker, in a sunny sky, warm weather and big rolling waves, making us go gently up and down. The devilish wind is still following us around and popping up right in front, just when you think it has settled in the right direction. I can imagine that in the past, all sailing ships without motor, would have sat wallowing in the sea for weeks on end without getting anywhere.

Today we encountered two other sailboats on the horizon and made radio contact with one. If we are all three verging on the same spot, I should expect be on the right course, or have we all three made the same mistake?

We saw a lot of sea-turtles today, some quite close to the boat and not diving down as we approached. One actually turned to look at us as we sailed past, possibly fascinated by our bright red gennaker.  

Then we saw a group of dolfins chasing a school of tuna which were leaping out of the water trying to escape being eaten. I decided to join the frey and try to get us another tuna, as this morning’s one was deliciously finished at lunch-time. We furled the gennaker and motored after them, but they were fast and raced all over the place. I eventually had to give up as I didn’t want to waste our precious fuel chasing fish all over the Atlantic and so I got back onto course.  

Finally, as predicted by our patient Giuseppe in Cagliari, a westerly 15 knot wind picked up and sent us sailing north at a decent clip, at last with the motor turned off.

Our Rob on board also turned out to be a wiz at interpreting the cryptic text weather forecasts of American NOAA that we receive via email and turning them into a sketched synoptic weather map, very useful for understanding what is going on around us and what to expect next. I understand weather patterns much more now; one learns a lot when your life depends on it (“necessity is the mother of invention” as they say).

Well, during the night the wind got stronger and stronger and changed direction, so we had to gybe, that is, change direction of the boat by passing the wind behind the mainsail. This can be a critical manouvre as the mainsail, if uncontrolled, can slam to the other side with force and do serious damage, especially in the black of night, in the rain and with gusts of over 30 knots of wind. I am always  rather apprehensive about this particular manoeuvre, but our Rob calmly organised and effortlessly carried it out, also changing the genoa with the storm jib and reducing the mainsail to a minimum. Then off we went at a more sedate and safer pace. With one violent rain squall after another, we then found it more prudent to eliminate the mainsail completely and proceed only with the storm jib, this until lunch-time the following day, when the wind finally died down.

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