Category: Dauntless

That’s been me these last few months. Dauntless is now sitting on the hard (hauled out of the water) and waiting to have her bottom painted. She’s not happy; no good boat ever is having been hauled out of their element, literally as well as figuratively.  She’s probably thinking, why did you fill me to almost bursting with fuel if we’re not going anyplace! Let’s get this f…ing show on the road.  Umm, almost sounds like my mother.

So, I thought I would be a good time to recap, thank some people who really helped and share the details of the work and the outfitting of our now antsy Kadey Krogen.

Current Plan

Version 328.4  I’ll be in Providence until  mid-July, at which point, head up to Gloucester, top up the tanks and wait for a weather window to allow us to head northeast or east. If NE, then stopping at St. John’s to top up tanks again, then probably direct Iceland, or Scotland or Ireland.  If the NE track is not optimum, then southeast to the Azores and on to Galicia or Portugal.

We have an InReach Sat phone, so you will be able to following our progress every 10 minutes!

Thanks to some Great Friends and Crew

We’re about ready. But this trip has only been made possible with the help and advice of a number of friends, crew and forum buddies, who have make this possible.

I’ve had three great crew mates in the last year.  John, who came with me from Providence to North Carolina in November.  Chantal, who was with me December and January from Florida to the Bahamas and Richard, (if you’re thinking I am talking about myself again, in the regal third person, I’m not, there really is another Richard, who by the way, just bought a beautiful 40’ Endeavor sailboat yesterday). Richard spent two months with me in Miami and really worked hard to make Dauntless shine.  I learned something from each of them and they all diligent and treated Dauntless like it was theirs.

Dave Arnold also works on this boat also like it’s his own.  John Gear of Kadey Krogen, who I met when Dauntless was just a gleam in our eyes and has been a real supportive friend ever since.

Parks, at Hopkins Carter Marine in Miami, found me a refuge when I needed one and I have found his store to be extremely competitive price wise with even the big marine on-line places and I have continued to make most of my purchases thru his store, this spring.

Parks, is just one of a number of friends I’ve met through Trawler Forum.  Ed and Rosa, two more fantastic people, who were always available to help while I was in Miami, even while planning their own exciting trip to Cuba.  Paul, my Maine friend, who also was there for me in Miami, as well as Courtney and Penny and Larry and Lena.

Larry and Lena also have a KK42 only a few months older than Dauntless.  Larry has answered numerous questions, yes, some of them really obvious and he always pushes me into the right direction.  Every time I do a wash and dry, I am reminded of the last minute call I made to Larry, asking if I really had to swap out my current washer dryer.  He got me over my cold feet and now I have a large extra storage area under the Splendide combo, which sure came in handy as I had to pull more cables from pilot house to Engine room the other day.

Lastly, my New York friends, Samantha, Wil & Liz and Val, who were there for me when I really needed them and really did help me get this show on the road for the first time.

In the coming week, I will post the details of each major change and its effect.  Also, will pass along contact info so you can watch our progress across the Atlantic.

Maybe, Sort of, uh, Probably Not

This past week, Julie and I moved from our Manhattan apartment to an apartment in the Bronx. We love the new neighborhood, the food has been great, the people fascinating, a Bronx mix of Albanians, Russians, Bengalis and of course Hispanic, with a few extra Arabs, Black-Americans and Italian-Americans thrown in the mix to keep it interesting.

What makes Dauntless so wonderful is that my home moves with me, and Dauntless and I are preparing for a big move—to cross the Atlantic, creating an instant home in Europe.

The first issue was preparing Dauntless with everything needed to cross an ocean, and the list is somewhat overwhelming. I am usually a very decisive person, so when I dither, I have come to understand that that delay means the solution I may think consciously I have, is not as well thought out as could be, thus no final decision. So I finally accepted that the work on Dauntless would get done and me worrying about it constantly was not going to expedite the process. All I could do was make sure all the spare parts and other stuff I need, like a life raft, are ordered and on the boat in a timely manner.

I have started watching the weather over the North Atlantic every day. I have to have a sense of the patterns before even looking at forecasts. One thing became immediately obvious: my route must be dependent upon the overall weather pattern. Since Dauntless is so sloooow, moving at about ¼ the speed of an a typical low pressure system, the real issue is where the jet stream will be in July. If it’s more south than usual, I can probably go north via Iceland. If it’s where it is now, I can’t go anyplace. And if it’s moved more north, into its normal summer position, then I can go east, now whether I can go north of east or south of east will depend on the short term features.

What this all means is that my destination is now Europe, with landfall somewhere between Iceland, the Faeroes and Norway, or as far south as the Azores and Oporto Portugal. The Azores are only 12 days from Gloucester, Mass! From there I would probably go the Galicia and the NW coast of Spain.

The food is good there too. In fact, maybe I’ll start regaining the 25 pounds I’ve lost since Dauntless came into my life!

As I walked down the very crowded subway platform for the “E” train at 53^rd and Lex the other day, I was struck, no, not by a train, nor even by the off tune melodies of the aging musician performing at the middle of the platform, but in that moment, I saw life with a clarity that normally eludes me in the cacophony that is my mind.

I saw angst.

I saw angst in the face of the Asian college girl clutching a portfolio heading to the lower west side, maybe the Garment District?

I saw angst in the face of the two workers, clearly tired after a long day, heading home, where maybe more work waited.

As I hurried along, up the very long escalator, and much like the train tracks (of course, you all know that one of the things that makes the NYC subway system unique in the world, is that it was built on a four track system, two in every direction, an express and local track), we have two columns of people, the standers on the right and the walkers on the left.  Both the up and down escalators are segmented so.  There is no written rule, no signs, it’s just New Yorkers, who realize that this systems works to make all more efficient and hurry us on our way. This is the capitol of “Time is Money” after all.

As I hurry along the corridor, with the 80’s tile look, that did not exist when I was young, as the three subway lines in NYC were still somewhat separate, even though the City had owned the lines since just after WWII, I arrive on my uptown #6 train platform and it’s full of people.

Really full.  I can see down the tunnel that a train is maybe two minutes away, but clearly this crowd is like 12 minutes worth ( they usually run every 4 minutes at this time of day) like we’re going to need those Japanese Platform Men that push everyone into the cars like sardines. Yes, folks, 12 minutes will fill a train like that. This ain’t the Sticks.  No, this is the Big Apple, where the trains run all the time and in the middle of the night, when the time between trains does increase to 20 minutes, there will be standing room only.

So, now, as we pack into this subway car, we’re so packed in, that one does not need to hold a hand rail. We’re all so close, it’s impossible to fall.  The first thing I spot is this really annoying ad by some new travel company that wants you to book air travel on their site by making fun of people on the train. The first picture shows a woman having to stand right next to a taller man. Her solution, book a trip with this annoying company and they will whisk you away from the hoi polio.

Their next picture shows a crying baby, with the same solution.  Do these people even ride the subway? Did they just get off the bus from Denver or what?

It’s clear they do not ride the train, as one thing we all know, babies don’t cry on the train. They seem to love trains. They love trains so much, at 4 p.m.; the strollers are lined up with parents/nannies holding the kids up along the fence overlooking the New York Central tracks on the 97^th St. overpass as the Commuter trains roar underneath entering the tunnel towards Grand Central Station.

But right now, as we leave the 53rd St. station, people still wait.  There is a train right behind us, (at this time of day, they pretty much run the #6 as close together as technically feasible, maybe every two minutes) thankfully; otherwise a few more people would have tried to squeeze their way in.  Next stop, 59^th St., an express stop, so the same scene, as there will be loads of people who took the express from lower Manhattan, and now are transferring to the Local.  We are still so crowded, as people get off, even more get on. Those by the doors have to reshuffle. Everyone understands ritual, no tourists here, they repack themselves in a way, so when their stop comes, they will be ready.  Finally, at 77^th St., Hunter College, more get off than get on.  Upper East Side people are leaving; those getting on now are going to the Bronx.  At the next two stops, 86^th and 96^th St., the exodus continues as the demographics of the train has transformed itself over the last half dozen stops.  More baby carriages, mostly blue collared hard workers.

So I realize that while most have Angst, I have Anticipation.

I’m happy with where I am.  I’m lonely at times; I miss friends, family, Julie and more friends. Did I say I’m lonely? Sometimes oppressively so.

So I am full of anticipation.

I anticipate the challenges of living in different cultures.  I think about the occasions where someone will be speaking to me in Dutch and I’m trying to figure out what they are communicating.  I know I only have a few seconds, before I must with give them my stupefied face, which means, I have no clue what you’re saying to me or I actually do understand the gist of what they are saying and I’ll smile and nod agreement, hoping that I did understand correctly.  Most of the time I do understand the gist, if not the nuance. The other times, I’ll usually end up in the wrong place, at the wrong time or with an order of monkey brains, when all I wanted was monkey wrench.

Nowadays, if you avoid the tourist traps, which by the way are the same in every country, I’d say about 60% speak English, so it behooves me to learn Dutch better. How else can I tell them I want the kersen flap and not the apfel flap?

So, one of my goals in the coming year is to learn Dutch, improve my German, and down the road, learn Spanish so I can participate in the captivating conversations of Julie’s Spanish family and friends and even improve my Italian, to a point where I can read the newspaper (in Italy, they don’t dumb down, they smart up their newspapers).

Now, a few facts about the Netherlands you should know:

I am usually scrupulous in talking about the Netherlands and not saying Holland.  But since the city I anticipate being in is in Zuid-Holland, I have occasionally used the term Holland.

The name of the country is “the Netherlands”.   Most people call it Holland because in the Golden Age, Amsterdam was the most important city/harbor/are in the country (the rest of the country was pretty much underdeveloped or under water – they had not yet started poldering (making dry land using dikes and wind mills powering water pumps). Amsterdam lies in the province of Noord-Holland. Of course there is also a province called South-Holland and that was also important, as it is near the sea.

People living in the Holland sections don’t mind, those from the eastern provinces, do!

Lastly, in WWII, The Dutch found a way to unmask German spies, by letting them pronounce the word Scheveningen. The combination of the s-sound and the g- sound (which is very guttural in Dutch) is virtually impossible for anyone whose native language is not Dutch.

I can’t even pronounce it in English.

I arrived last night at 20:30 after leaving Atlantic City the previous day at 10:00.

Another solo overnight passage done. IT feels great to be “home”; in this case, home is the Port Edgewood Marina, a few miles south of downtown Providence, Rhode Island. I’m here because the marina people are very nice and they offer extremely good monthly rates.  I’m paying ¼ of what I was paying for the week in A.C.

This is also a great place to put the finishing touches on the boat for its July passage across the Atlantic. My friends Richard and Melanie are also here, so it’s always more pleasant to work with helping hands and advice available.

The trip from Atlantic City, 215 nm, almost 400 km, went as planned.  I left A.C. with light winds that died down my midafternoon.  I retrieved the paravane birds, as they take 0.6 kts, off my speed, and motored on into the night.

By about 1:00 a.m., the winds had increased again form the NW, producing wind driven NW waves 2-3’ high.  There was also an 8 second Southeasterly swell.  The rolling of Dauntless had continued to increase, so finally I threw the birds back in the water (I had kept the poles extended). As usually, the roll was decreased by two thirds.

By mid-morning I was just south of Block Island.  It is somewhat of a coincidence, but it seems whenever I have these long trips, no matter have many boats I see, or don’t see, as the case may be, there is always one, that after having gone hours and hours without seeing anything, a boat will appear that is clearly on a collision course.

But I saw him miles away and was getting ready to change course and pass behind him when he hailed me on the VHF.  He said he just wanted to make sure someone was paying attention and I thanked him for the heads up.

Finally, 6.5 months, 700 engine hours and 4000 miles later, I’m back; at least for the time being.