But now that transiting the Panama Canal, a set structure in time and space, has been done, I have time to take a breath.
I want to enjoy the Pacific Northwest, British Columbia and Southeast Alaska. These areas provide the spectacular scenery of Norway with wildlife that has been long gone from Europe.
The western coasts of Central and North America pose a formidable challenge for little boats: long stretches of coastlines with inaccessible harbors when you most need them and predominantly head winds and seas.
If I’ve learned anything in the last few years, this Krogen does not like head seas. They make for a miserable ride that takes twice the time and fuel.
Dauntless Rests In Fish Hook Marina, Golfito
So, the first step is understanding that with any northerly component to the winds, one must stay put.
We are also constrained by a relatively short cruising period, 5 months, maybe 6 at best. That’s 150 to 180 days. Climo says that the winds are northerly 66 to 75% of the time. That means of those 150 days, maybe only 45 are useable.
In those 45 days, I can reasonably assume that gets me about 2100 nm or someplace in Northern Mexico from Golfito.
The following summer, 2018, I’d have 2400 nm or about 49 days to get to the Pacific Northwest.
Lastly, in the third year, 2019, that time will be spent in British Columbia and Southeast Alaska.
So, I now have a more realistic time table.
Three seasons of cruising, also means three seasons of idleness. And we all know that idle hands are the devil’s workshop. So, while Dauntless is safely tucked in, I must keep busy at an affordable pace.
The west coast is considerably more expensive than Northern Europe, thus I find myself having to be open to new money saving strategies for the winter in particular.
Since re-crossing the Atlantic, I have been slow in updating my digital log. Maybe because the data simply does not change very much:
In 2016-17, Dauntless fuel consumption remains constant at 1.45 gallons per hour or just above 4 nm/gallons. This number is only 1/10th of a gallon different from 2015.
My costs, total expenses for Dauntless and for myself have averaged just less than $100 per day for everything. This is also slightly less than 2015. While marinas in southern Europe were much more expensive than northern Europe, the large number of passage and anchoring days equalized that cost. Also, a passage day, 24 hours x 1.5 gallons = 35 gallons per day at $2.5 = $90/day. So, using fuel for 24 hours pretty much equals the cost of a marina and eating and drinking.
The long-range plan, a circumnavigation in a 30-year Kadey Krogen, is still the plan. I’m already thinking of where I am crossing my track and what comes after that. Northern Europe, Sweden and the Baltic still have an attraction that is hard to beat, but who knows.
I’m always thinking of the future; reflecting on the past. While that doesn’t leave much time to appreciate the here and now, it’s who I am. I get far more enjoyment having the Plan come together, then just winging it. I can read a hundred self-help books about living in the moment. What they all have in common, is that they are written by people who are adept at living in the moment and figured out how to monetize that.
So, this finds me taking a break from D right now. We’ve been together almost 24/7 since November. My nephew Micah went home to enter Law School, so I decided to take a little break and do a little reconnoiter for this coming winter.
There is much to write about in my latest Atlantic Passage. We had full leaks, big seas, high winds and of course, the ever ubiquitous operator snafus. This post will go through a typical day, then address the issues that sprang up and how we dealt with them, in subsequent posts.
A Typical Day
Sunset over the Atlantic
03:35 hours, my alarm goes off, telling me it’s time to relieve Micah and it’s the start of another day. I lie in bed a few minutes, feeling the motion of the boat. What can I discern from that motion? How many times was I almost thrown out of bed last night? I brush my teeth in my forward head (sink, shower, toilet), using my knees and elbows to brace myself against the constant pitching and rolling. A dozen times an hour, we get the inevitable larger roll to starboard, as the stern literally falls into the deep trough that forms when the southeast and northwest waves trains meet under Dauntless. This also causes a large pitch up. As I put on a new tee shirt and my boat pants, either warm up pants or shorts, depending on the temperature, I slather my forearms and elbows with Neosporin. They take a beating every day with these conditions. The decks that I have traversed a thousand times are suddenly more narrow.
The Logbook showing Days 2 & 3
Lastly, before leaving my cabin, I make guess as to the conditions: wind, weather, seas. If it’s important enough to know, it’s important enough to think about it. It’s why the Socratic method of teaching works. In the darkness of the forward cabin, too many times I have convinced myself the boat is clearly spinning around like a top, or while anchored, or even docked, that the boat is moving forward at some incredible speed.
My making myself consciously think about the conditions outside while in a dark, closed cabin, the next time I have such thoughts, I will have better understanding that it’s not the boat, it’s my brain, and go back to sleep.
Looking East, Just Before Sunrise
03:45 hours, I leave my cabin, walking around the salon and galley, I’m also doing a sniff test, checking for unusual smells, our sense of smell being keener than sight or sound. Then open the hatch, down into the engine room: still sniffing, listening and looking. I check the usual suspects, the Racor filter and its vacuum (which is an indication of how clean or dirty the filter has become), then eyeball, maybe even feel the bottom of the engine mounted fuel filters to make sure of no leaks. Look at the injector pump and just around the engine for anything out of the ordinary. Even check that the amount of fan belt dust has not changed.
Sunset from the Krogen Pilot House
I put my hand on the coolant tank of the Ford Lehman diesel. It’s usually about 164°F and I can hold my hand on it about 1 second, longer means the temperature is lower, maybe 155. Shorter, and there is a problem, and I need to investigate further. I check the water maker valve settings. Making sure it is initially going to “test”.
Every other day, I would add about a liter of oil to the running engine. She consumes about 1 liter every 50 to 60 hours. So, I’d need to replace that. Then, with a last look around, I ascend into the salon and head to the pilot house to relieve Micah.
Dusk on the Coastal Explorer Navigation ProgramThe Moon watches over us
03:55. As I enter the darkened pilot house, I go to the log book to start the 04:00 entry, asking Micah what I need to know. On this passage, that’s usually nothing, No ships, no boats, no nothing. He goes off to a well-deserved sleep and I remind him to sleep as long as he wants, and that’s usually until late morning or noon.
04:00 log entry consists:
engine rpms (usually 1500 rpms),
speed (usually 5.9 knots this trip),
course (245°),
engine coolant temp (178°). (*These three instruments in the pilot house vary somewhat based on electrical issues, but it’s still important to monitor on a relative basis).
Oil pressure (*30psi, it’s actually 50 psi since I also have a mechanical gauge on the engine),
voltage (11.5 to 12.2v*). Any significant change to these three numbers does indicate a problem, since they almost never vary.
Every few hours, days, weeks, I use my Infrared temp gun to measure temperatures at the: engine coolant tank, 164°, oil filter, 156°, transmission 127° and stuffing box, 88°, for this trip. Other than the stuffing box, these numbers never vary. The stuffing box should be less than 20° warmer than the sea temperature, in this case, sea temp started at 76° and ended up at 83 in the Caribbean.
Storms to the East and South
Before getting settled in on the pilot house bench, I will usually go outside. Depending on how rough it is, I may just go to the stern deck. During this trip, the stern deck was awash constantly with water coming in and leaving by the scuppers. So I would stand on lower stair toward the bow.
Why go outside? Why go when Micah is already in the cabin, knowing to fall in the water is fatal? Because I like a few minutes of solitude, just me and Mother Nature. I like feeling the wind in my face. How is the boat really handling the seas. She talks to me, Everything is OK, just go back in the pilot house and let me handle this. Reassured, I do just that.
For the next few hours, I will read, or more usually play Bridge on the computer. Sometimes I watch Korean Dramas.
Some nights were quite dark, no moon or cloud covered. On those nights, one sees nothing. The first hint that a wave is there is the boat heeling. On full moon nights, visibility is probably greater than a quarter mile. But it’s still not good enough to see the proverbial shipping container, so I don’t bother looking.
In actuality, on the high seas, I think the greatest hazard may be sleeping whales, but since one hardly sees ones that are awake… (update – there is a 40-ft. sailboat docked opposite us, it encounters a whale, that ended up tearing the starboard rudder off. The hole was big enough that without the ability to heel the boat to port, they may have lost the boat.)
07:00 time for coffee and whatever frozen pastry I managed to save. Usually, I put the pastry in the engine room when I got up and did my engine room sniff test. The sun is coming up, giving me a look of the clouds and skies for the first time. I’ll look at what “stars” are still out. Estimate wave height and direction.
I have spoken to about a half dozen boats that crossed about the same time frame. We all noted that there were three distinct wave sets or swells. In the first week, there was a westerly swell of 10 feet, with wind driven waves from the east and southeast. After the first week, the pattern became all easterly, in that there were three wave sets, one from the NE, one E and one SE. Even my favorite weather app, Windty, at most mentions only the swell and one set of wind waves.
One of the sailors I ran into in Martinique, called these confused seas, “the bathtub”. The bathtub made for a long 21 days.
Now this wave pattern had a very interesting effect. About every 6 to 10 minutes, the SE and NE waves would meet under the stern of Dauntless, causing a very big corkscrew roll as the stern fell into the deep trough and rolled to starboard, as the bow pitched up and turned to port.
The Maretron data should these extra big rolls were about 20° to 25° to starboard, 10° to port, with a pitch up of 1.2°, followed by down pitch of 2°.
As I said, being alone, watching the sun rise, is very spiritual. One of those instances that I actually prefer to be alone.
For the rest of the day, log entries were made whenever we had a change to course or anything else.
10:00 to 18:00
More of the same. Micah would get up by late morning. We would decide what to eat at our main meal in mid-afternoon. For the most part we ate normally, which is to say, the freezer is stocked with various meats, pork predominantly, though we had two enormous rib eye steaks that we had found irresistible while in the Las Palmas market. I made the first one (enough for about 4 people) the first week out, but saved the second for Christmas.
The boat motions coupled with a very wet stern deck made for interesting grilling on the Weber Q280, but certainly still better than grilling in minus 20°F or at 40° in a 30-mph wind on our rooftop in the Upper Eastside of New York.
We would also use this time to watch some Korean Drama. K-Dramas are the perfect way to pass a few hours each day. Too tired to do something creative like write; sometimes too mentally tried to even read, so K-Dramas came to the rescue. Captivating enough to keep one occupied during the most monotonous rolling conditions. Thank God for Korean Dramas.
When the rolling was not so bad, we used that opportunity to play a board game. I made little non-slip pads for the pieces, but even with that, conditions only allowed our games on about a third of the days.
Much of the rest of our daylight hours was spent just checking things that were easy to check during the day. Walking around the boat, feeling the tension of the stays and lines for the paravanes, as they were under the most strain.
By the way, having waited four extra days for the winds to be favorable when we left the Canaries, as we pulled out of the harbor with 12 knot winds and seas 2-3 feet, I said to Micah, maybe we won’t need the paravane stabilizers the entire trip. An hour later, I put out the windward {port) bird. A few hours later, both birds were deployed and were needed for the next 20 days until we pulled into the harbor of Martinique.
Bob Dylan was right, never trust the weatherman.
We left the Canaries with full fuel tanks, but only one water tank (150 gallons, 600 liters) full. This was purposeful, as I wanted to use the water maker to fill the empty water tank. Our Katadyn 160 water maker makes 8 to 9 gallons of water an hour, so it takes about 19 hours to fill one tank.
Micah and I use about 40 gallons per day. The Katadyn 160 is rated to make 160 gallons per day or 6.67 gallons per hour, but I have axillary water pump, pumping water through two sediment filters, before it gets to the water maker. Therefore, I have found that on this trip, it produced between 9 and 10 gallons per hour, so we ended up running it about 50% of the time. Thus, it was convenient to turn it on when I did my engine room survey at 04:00, then turn it off in the early evening. I had pickled (put a preservative in it) in June 2015, 18 months earlier. This was necessitated by the amount of organic material in the rivers and estuaries o the North Sea and Baltic, made water making difficult, if not impossible. Thus, it was with some relief upon leaving Gibraltar that once I got it running again, it ran for the next month with nary a hiccup.
14:00 Local Canaries Time, which just happens to be UTC (Universal Coordinated Time, the time of solar noon at 0° Longitude)
14:00 was the time we left the Canaries, so I used it as our “official” 24-hour point. At 14:00 each day, in addition to the above log entries, I’d note:
quantity of water,
Quantity of fuel,
Fuel feeding from and returning to which fuel tank,
fuel filters in use,
distance travelled in the last 24 hours,
24-hour average speed,
current position,
current weather, sea state,
average pitch and roll for the period
the new heading and distance to destination.
18:00 to 21:00
Evening would have Micah taking a nap below. I usually took a little nap in the pilot house in the early afternoon after Micah was up and running. So, I would use this time to walk around again before it got really dark. Feel the lines, sniff the engine room and just get ready, mentally and physically for the overnight.
While his watch started at 22:00, he would usually come up the pilot house between 20:00 and 21:00. If early enough and I was not too tired, we would watch an hour K-drama. I developed the watch schedule because Micah was flexible with his sleeping, though he did sleep a lot. I slept less, but I knew I need 6 hours of good sleep. That ended being more like 5 hours, but it worked. Though I did find myself dozing off a few times after the sun rose.
More to come: The Good, the Bad & of course, the Ugly
We do a little 400 mile trip today to Bonaire, as we say goodbye to the Grenadines and head west.
See you in three days. You can follow at: Share.Delorme.com/Dauntless
I know it’s been quiet here the last three weeks, but I have been busy.
Sunset at Le Marin
I am in the process of writing a comprehensive account of our month on the Atlantic from Morocco to the Caribbean. Having very limited access to the internet, reduces my ability to upload posts and pictures.
But I have been busy. Today, Micah and I finally got everything put away as I have been re-organizing my tools, electrical stuff and miscellaneous stuff that is stored I the pilot house. It’s a lot of stuff.
It’s taken me literally two weeks to get it done. Why was it so hard?
I was spurred to action because after arriving we had some projects to do and a few things to fix or improve and during that first week, I found myself spending an inordinate amount of time trying to find various tools.
Having spent too many minutes trying to find a simple 13mm wrench, during the re-organization, I found the other 10 wrenches and 4 sockets. Yes, all 13mm. Why so many? Because I had it in my mind that I needed one, so every time I got close to a hardware store…
Sooner or later I shall have to find someone who is good at organizing. If not I may up be being the Cat Lady of the High Seas!
The picture is from last night and is yet another beautiful sunset at Le Marin on the wonderful island of Martinique.
Tomorrow we will be leaving, but just an hour south to St. Anne. We will spend a couple nights there before heading to the Grenadines later on in the week.
Every few days I post pictures in Instagram at DauntlessatSea
Some people cruise to escape the responsibilities they face on land.
Richard on Dauntless after Crossing the Atlantic Ocean
Most people cruise to enjoy nature and experience new sights, people, foods and cultures.
I cruise to solve problems.
In the past week, I have had a number of discussions with friends and fellow cruisers. Many ask, Richard, you are in a place, the eastern Caribbean, that most boaters would love to be. Why not stay longer; stop and smell the roses?
I ponder a bit, questioning in my mind why, what is so obvious to most, eludes me. Am I deficient? I know I am not stupid, but why do I push myself so?
Truth be told, I could go from island to island, bbq on the boat most days, eat out others, drink a few glasses of wine, maintain Dauntless, myself and the love of my life in the manner I’ve been accustomed to, even travel to Asia, Europe and the USA every year and never run of money.
I tell them I have a plan. Plans can be changed they respond. Yes, I think, I change plans all the time. But I always have a plan. When I do things without a plan, bad things happen.
No, nothing gets done without a plan. And yes, even crossing the Atlantic was being planned before we even found our little Krogen 42. It was being planned before I even knew Kadey Krogen’s existed. It’s what I thought about before drifting off to sleep on most nights.
So, the idea of having no plan, just going with the flow, is simply a life I cannot imagine. It would be easier for me to imagine living on Jupiter, the planet, not the city.
So, when I’m asked why not just do this the easy way? I have no problem answering, because it’s not in the plan.
There is one big caveat. I love sharing the joys of life, food, drink, laughs, experiences, with friends and loved ones. Not having a mate, a partner to share these experiences with this past year has put a damper on the cruising. If I had a mate who absolutely wanted to be in such in such place for a long time; I’d make it happen. Then I would modify the plan, but until than…
Now one of my really smart friends, knowing my answer, suggested why not do a boat trade. Surely there is someone in Alaska who would trade places with you. Let them live on your boat and you live on theirs’s in Alaska since that is your intended destination for this coming summer and next winter.
Now that has me stumped momentarily. But then, like a light bulb turning on, I understood the issue.
If my goal was just Alaska, then staying in the Caribbean for another year would be doable. Even trading boats or leaving Dauntless here for a year would be doable.
But from the beginning of the boat idea. From before the first Atlantic crossing, there was a plan, a goal and destination and everything that came before was a step towards that destination: S. Korea & Japan.
So, I cross oceans to get to the other side. I also do it because it is the ultimate problem solving puzzle. No phone, no help, it’s having a good plan and then adjusting the plan as need be.
It’s having to make do with what you have a not what you want.
It’s having to solve problems.
Throughout my life, in every endeavor I was involved with, I strived to make the system better ev, oftentimes to the detriment of my life or career. In hindsight, I should have done some things more delicately, but I don’t have any regrets. You fight the good fight or you may as well be the cow in the field eating grass.
So even as careers change and jobs end, I am still a problem solver. Cruising gives me the opportunity to solve problems. The best part is that they are problems of my own making.
I make mistakes and curse myself once in a while. I take a 1 hour job and make into a day or two, but at least I am cleaning up my own mess.
When that next destination comes into view, I pat myself on the back and say, Well done pig, well done.
Yikes, looking at this Blog, I’m still in Rota, Spain.
Like New – AgainLike New- Again
That seems like eons ago!
So, while Micah and my friend Larry explore Morocco, I will take this opportunity get caught up.
Bouncing around at anchor
Maybe my lack of writing has been a function of the cruising conditions.
Getting back to Dauntless after a month the sigh of relief was probably audible across the Atlantic. Her month on the hard went perfectly. She had shore power with no interruptions the entire time (I have thermometers for fridge and freezer, which records max and min temps).
The gouge I had put into the side had been repaired
Our first spot to anchor heading into the Strait.
and painted. The anti-foul undercoat was re-applied over those sections that the straps of the travel lift had lifted off when being splashed in Ireland.
So, for less than $200 she was back in the water looking like new again.
All in all, a great relief.
But now, it was time to get underway and make some miles.
Second Anchorage. Easily found thanks to Active CaptainBusy avoiding ships
And they turned out to be tough miles. The 87 miles from Rota to Gibraltar had to be broken into three different segments. Each time the winds picked up on our bow and once they reach 15+ knots, it makes the situation pretty crappy.
Nautical miles
Time Hr:Min
Average Speed (KTS)
Reason for Stop
37
7:35
5.5
Winds on the nose, continued to increase
29
5:05
5.6
Same as above
18
3:30
5.0
Finally, in Gib
Our first stop, was a bit of desperation. Just NW of the lighthouse off Cape Trafalgar, it was not that well protected from the easterly winds, but it was better than burning fuel to go mostly up and down. We only stayed about 4 hours, but this was enough time for the winds to die down and we got underway again.
This stop also provided another example of how the “police” are about helping, not enforcing. After we were anchored about an hour, a Spanish Civil Guarda (national police) boat sidestepped themselves to within about 100 feet of Dauntless. I came out to the pilot house door, two guys came out of their boat and yelled over the wind whether I spoke Spanish. I replied only a little.
They asked, “problem”. I responded, “no, I wait for wind” They waved, said OK Adios and slowly motored off, until their wake would not rock us any more than we are already rocking.
In the more than two years of cruising in Europe. I have always found the maritime authorities were always about help if needed, but not enforcement.
Our next stop, west of the causeway at Tarifa was much better, as the Active Captain description explains. We were well out of the wave action, so the boat was pretty quiet. We stopped here at 02:00 and had a much-needed sleep. Then though I was up by 08:00, the winds were up to, so we just sat and waited. Finally, by early afternoon, the winds died down and we took off, now only 18 miles from The Rock.
The Rock from across the Bay
The last of our challenges, the 6 miles crossing the Gibraltar Bay. There are two areas for large ships to anchor on the west and east sides of the bay. We went through these areas pretty close to the anchored behemoths because it reduced our exposure to the super-fast ferries from the Ceuta on the African coast to Algeciras, the Spanish port just north of Gibraltar.
Those ferries, once spotted would be 3 or 4 miles away, but right on you within minutes. When we left Gibraltar a few days later, they would give us quite a thrill as three of them raced across the Straits seemingly aimed right at us.
The table below has our tentative cruising plan for the next four months. While the dates are somewhat tentative, you know me, I like sticking to the plan.
Kadey Krogen in Spain and Galicia
A few explanations about the below chart:
The tentative arrival date is just that, but the departure date from the previous port can be derived from the required days (4th column) minus the arrival date. E.g. Departure date from GIB (Gibraltar) is 1 day before arrival at Rabat, so the 7th of November.
2nd Column, Type, “C” = Coastal cruising, “P” = Passage, i.e. No Stops.
Crew consists om my Hawaiian nephew Micah who has travelled with Dauntless since Ireland and is a very flexible soul and I.
We have others joining us for various legs, though at this time, it looks like I still would like to have a couple or one person for the passage from the Canaries to the Caribbean. If you think you have some interest in this, please email me, sooner rather than later.
I am excited about getting this new phase underway. So much of my time, my life, my adventures have been in Europe. I’m ready for a big change. It will take a year to get to Alaska and another year to get to Northeast Asia.
Dauntless is as ready as she has ever been. Unlike coming east two years ago, all is ship shape. Spare parts are stowed and organized, fuel tank vents are moved, paravanes are rigged to run more effectively and can be easily run much deeper if need be and the two air conditioning units are even working.
Here are the current winds for the mid-Atlantic. To get an approximate idea of the Dauntless’ route, visualize a line from the bottom of Spain to NE South America. Following winds or no winds. the se are the “Trade Winds” and are pretty constant all winter.
Eons ago, back in February, when we first visited Galicia, the plan was to stay the winter. Off the beaten track, inexpensive, cool in summer and winter: Ideal.
Then, life happens and the best laid plans of mice and men go astray.
So, plan B was formulated. For those of you keeping score at home, it was really the original Plan A, but then who’s counting.
Then less than two weeks ago, while in France, an English sailor on a very big, beautiful sailboat, convinced me that to linger too long in the Bay of Biscay or even in Galicia or Northern Portugal, was cruising for a bruising.
Now, I may not heed, but I always listen. And now, having heard the same warnings yet again, I decided this needed to be one of those times I also heeded.
Thus, just last week, I bit the bullet and had to tell my three sets of friends who are coming to meet Dauntless and I over the next two months, and only weeks earlier had bought plane tickets to Spain, that they would have to change those recently bought tickets as Portugal was now the meeting point.
Galicia is out, Portugal is in.
And like most decisions, once made, it was clear to me, it was the right thing to do.
A Coruña is a wonderful town, wonderful food, beautiful people and fantastic wine.
Vermuteria Martinez in A Coruna
We had two dinners in an absolutely great small restaurant, Vermuteria Martinez, that we had found in February. A must stop for anyone visiting Galicia.
But I also realized it was time for me to move on.
Now, even the extra stops I had planned over the next week have been nixed.
Sometimes the past is like an anchor.
One of those real expensive anchors with the hoop, plated in gold or platinum (or certainly priced as if they are) and while you hate to part with, having cost a small fortune plus your two middle children, you come to realize that it’s time to get the fire ax and cut that chain before you are dragged down.
Galicia and Spain, so many wonderful memories, in fact, nary a bad one, but now moving to the past. It’s time to move on.
It’s time to get to Portugal.
New places, faces and spaces.
But one cannot leave A Coruña, Galicia and Spain without a bit of melancholy or even “triste”
Thus a little Charles Aznavour seems appropriate at this time.
Three days, three nights, three hundred and fifty miles, what could go wrong?
Dauntless in Spain
In my early years of cruising, it what seems like just yesteryear, oh wait, it was just last year, I started out every overnight passage thinking nothing would go wrong. No muss, no fuss, no drama.
In spite of the fact that I really like Korean dramas, not all dramas are the same and dramas on Dauntless seem just that, dramatic.
But this year, 2016, I vowed everything would be different. Leaving no stone unturned, I would ruthlessly dot every I and cross every t, leaving no room for dramas of any kind.
We waited an extra day in Rochelle with an anticipated three-day weather window opening up. Day one would have brisk winds from the northwest (NW 12g18), Day 2 continued brisk winds but from the northeast, Day 3 light winds, less than 8 knots and Day 4 southwesterly winds increasing in strength to 25 knots by Day 5.
Now, what this means is since our course for the 60-hour passage would be to the southwest (240 degrees True), Day 1 would find brink winds on our beam producing 4 to 6 foot seas, Day 2 would see a following sea of the same magnitude and Day 3 should see flat seas.
But we would have to arrive before the southwesterly winds picked up, since there is nothing worse than heading into the seas and wind in a slow ass boat like Dauntless. Not only does the ride become worse than the worse hoppy horse you ever rode, but you slow down so much, you 10-hour trip becomes 20, so the time of being miserable is doubled is not trebled (see last year’s epic, beating yourself to death on the English Channel.)
Thus our departure time was carefully calibrated to the weather forecast and the opening of the gate in the marina which is only open for three hours centered around the high water time. Thus 6 hours out of every 24.
We left La Rochelle on time, 14:15 hours, just as the draw bridge opened, and got a hearty send off from the bridge attendant with gestures and yelling which could only mean “Bon Voyage”, though he was pointing to a red light in doing so, but if I have learned only one thing while boating in France, it’s that everything is advisory and as long as you don’t hit something too hard, All’s Well that Ends Well.
The afternoon of Day 1 was about as anticipated, westerly winds around 10 knots; not enough to produce significant seas. So we ran without the paravanes birds in the water. Dauntless had a nice easy gait to her. The boys were on four hour watches and they were doing very well. I could even sleep in my cabin (having slept in the pilot house on our previous passage from Ireland).
12 hours into the passage, during the early morning hours, the winds were picking up to the mid to high teens, that will produce seas 3 to 5 feet and they were from the west not NW. This meant that our heading to the SW was into a bit of seas producing some pitching. So at 02:00 as I rolled around in bed, I figured I may as well get up and deploy the birds.
Normally, upon leaving port, I set the poles out and make sure of the rigging. We did that this time as usual, but when the birds were in the water, I noticed the lines were wrapped strangely around the pole, with the net effect that the bird was not hanging from the end of the pole, but from the middle.
That just wouldn’t do, so in seas that were now 4 to 6 feet, we stopped to haul the birds, unshackle them and re-rig them. With Dauntless sitting dead in the water, standing on the side deck can be a bit frightening to the novice sailor. From the side deck, you look up to see a 6 foot waves approaching the beam. Your first thought is that this wave is not only going to soak you, but will swamp the boat.
Now I’m kneeling down, taking the shackle off, so I can unwind the line from the pole. Tony, my nephew, is standing there a bit amazed, as he warns me of the “big” waves approaching. It is a bit daunting I admit, but I tell him those waves aren’t that big.
So, 10 minutes later both birds are re-rigged and in the water.
I did notice that the lee side bird was running pretty close to the boat, but I have seen this behavior before and did not think it was significant. I got back to bed, leaving Tony or Micah on watch.
As I am laying in bad, thinking about the birds, I had gotten splashed by a few drop of good ole North Atlantic Ocean water. I went to sleep thinking I had been kissed my Mother Nature.
The winds picked up all night and into Day 2, now blowing at 15 to 22 knots. Annoyingly, they were still from the west and not the northwest as forecast (stupid me for believing the details of the weather forecast). So the seas were building and we were rolling a bit more than usual.
Then Bam, what the hell was that? I’m in bed, it’s dark. I get up, look around, I notice that the windward paravanes pole was unloading more than usual. Maybe that was the bang I heard, felt, as it picked up the slack suddenly.
Every few minutes, when the boat got into a deep rhythmic roll, I’d hear the bang. I look again, see nothing unusual. Both birds are running closer to the boat than usual, but they are also running deeper than last year.
After getting another 2-hour sleep in, I get up at 07:00, to relieve Micah so they can both get a good sleep. I am determined to find the bang. I’m standing in the stern deck, looking at the beautiful sunset and I look down during a particularly heavy roll (15 degrees in one direction) and the paravanes bird is really close to the hull. Is that the bang I am hearing??
Have the birds become asymmetric? Meaning does it now matter which side they are on? I realize that the starboard bird is running to the left, while the port bird is running to the right. Could the easy fix be to just swap them?
I decide to do just that. So for the third time I stop the boat to retrieve the birds, unshackle them and swap sides. I think you should be able to see the course change I made to facilitate this, (Share.Delorme.com/Dauntless) I turned Dauntless to run with the waves making the motion on the boat easier.
Ten minutes later, it’s done and they are running true, both now running just where they should about 13 feet from the side of the boat. So now, I better mark them. The roll was also reduced after the swap. Now they are working normally.
Day 2’s winds stayed NW all day. Never saw the NE winds that were forecast.
Around midnight of the second day out, we stopped again to pull the birds, this time because the seas had greatly diminished and I wanted the 0.7 kts back that they use.
So it’s now 08:00 on Day 3. The winds have finally died, though we have an Atlantic swell of about 6 feet every 8 seconds.
I decided to add a quart of oil to the engine while running. With the Ford Lehman, there is virtually no blowback with the oil cap off, so one can add oil without making a mess. (Don’t try this with your car with an overhead camshaft.)
This engine consumes about a quart of oil about every 50 hours, so to add some now would not hurt.
As I am pouring the oil in I notice the red plastic ring that comes off the cap was still around the spout of the oil container. As I think I must be careful not to let it fall into the engine, it falls into the engine!
What a f…ing idiot. I dash to the pilot house to kill the engine (yes, I know I need a remote start/stop in the engine room) and run back to see what I can see in the top of the oil fill on the crankcase. I bend over, flashlight in hand and see the plastic ring. Yes! Then I see a second plastic ring? And then a third.
The plastic rings retrieved from the top of the crankcase.
I suppose the good news is they were not going to melt and ruin the head. I do have one of those retrieval snakes right by the engine, so a few minutes later, I had all three fished out.
I should look in there more often. Maybe I’ll find my missing books.
31 hours into our passage to France, our second night out. it’s now 01:00 on the 15th of July 2016. I’ve just relieved the “boys”, who had their first watch without me for the last 4 hours. I had planned on sleeping another two hours, but I awoke and knowing the English Channel transit lanes were only an hour away, I figured I may as well get up.
Sunrise over the English Channel
Besides, nothing untoward had yet happened, and like the experienced manager taking the young prospect out of the game on a positive note, not letting mistakes happen as they fatigue.
Last night I had been alone, the boys sick as dogs. No, probably sicker.
Dauntless in Camaret, France. Our first stop on the continent for 2016
I like the night, slicing through the water, the white mustache at the bow. There is a coziness the envelops the boat making us even more with nature.
We ran yesterday for 24 hours with the paravanes deployed. We needed them. The weather has been exactly as forecast, with strong NW winds 18 to 25 gusts to 32 for the first 12 hours after leaving Ireland. That caused for some rough seas, 6 to 12 feet.
The next 12 hours were a bit better, with winds decreasing to 15 to 18, gusting to 25 and they were more northwesterly. Then finally, yesterday evening they had died to 5 to 9 knots, so the seas quieted to just a few feet.
Now, as forecast the winds are westerly at about 8 knots. Not bad, not bad at all.
Paravanes worked well. I had changed the rigging a bit more since Scotland last month. They now run 17 feet below the water line and they are considerably more effective than last year.
The hardest part has been saying goodbye to so many dear friends and nice people in Waterford and New Ross. I think I’ll be back though, at least after we put a few miles on as we circle the globe. But I’m sure after a number of years and many miles, I’ll be ready for northern Europe yet again.
Maretron Data for the Trip The first 24 hours were rough
Just south of Waterford, we passed an old friend, Fastnet Sound. They dredge the channel just south of the Barrow Bridge, which has a tendency to silt up in the spot where the rivers Suir and Barrow meet. They then dock for the night across the river in Waterford.
Well, it’s now Sunday, 48 hours after our arrival in Camaret France.
It’s taken me this long to recover. I must be getting old. I slept Friday night for 12 hours, having only slept for about three the two days previously.
Dauntless as ever performed flawlessly and this time, this passage, so did the captain. No incidents, accidents, or other shenanigans, yours truly has been known for.
Coming up France. French boaters may be a mess, but the food is divine!
Here are two videos of the crossing. Sorry nothing spectacular.
How do I know it will be better tomorrow? The weatherman told me of course.
Just picked up 2411 liters, 637 gallons, of gas oil, a.k.a diesel. That’s 4533 pounds of fuel, added to the 400 pounds she already had. Dauntless now sits a few inches lower than before, but looks ready to go.
And the engine room smells as sweet as ever, with no fuel smell, just the smell of new batteries and cables.
Now you wonder why all the fuss? Isn’t re-fueling supposed to be easy and routine? Well, if you are driving a car I suppose it is. I’ve filled cars with fuel thousands of times. But on Dauntless it’s been less than 30 times and on Dauntless, nothing is ever routine.
A few of the shenanigans that have taken place while fueling:
Being showered by a volcano of fuel at the Portsmouth, NH fish dock. Luckily, no fishing boat was waiting as I showered and got out of my fuel soaked clothes.
Succumbing to the fear expressed by my friends about running out of fuel, I purposely overfilled the tanks by about 10 gallons before leaving Rhode Island. This was soon followed by the little fuel runoff coming from the port side tank, a few of those extra gallons soon were in the bilge.
The most recent leak last summer that lead to the New Ross Experience. Much like the Jimi Hendrix Experience in Seattle, but more expensive.
And after each debacle, the next fueling are filled with dread; what will happen next?
So, as you can see, I have every reason to be elated about smelling nothing in the engine room.
Best of all, the 637 gallons cost half of what I paid to fill the tanks two years ago in the fall of 2014.
Tomorrow, with a full fuel and water load, Dauntless is ready to take care of business as we head south for France, Spain & Portugal.
Dauntless faces the Brian Boru. Tomorrow they say goodbye for a long time; hopefully not forever.
I keep on looking for excuses not to leave, but Mother Nature, continues to send warning signals that I best be on my way. Right now, the best 42 hour window is from the 13th at 0300L, putting us just off of Brest on the 14th at 22L.
A night time entry, but what else is new!
It’s the only way I can maiximize the good wind conditions as the ridge moves east .
And here is the current surface map to help you understand the wind pattern better:
Atlantic Sfc Analysis
I’ve been watching this for the last few weeks, at first just to get an idea of the timing of the systems and the strength of the winds.
Until yesterday, the prognosis (progs) seemed to indicate a thin ridge of high pressure passing eastward mid-week. Then yesterday, it showed a nice ridge (indicative of fair weather and weaker winds) on Thursday and Friday, with the high pressure area centered just west of Brest.
Now this afternoon, after the 12Z run of weather models, my ridge of high pressure has been squeezed to almost nothing. So for my 2 day trip, this now looks like a 24 hour weather window:
WNW winds down to 15 knots (map shows km/hr)
It’s for this reason, (that the progs can change significantly) I pretty much do not look at any other weather products routinely. There are a number of reasons for this, in short, they all get their weather from the same source and more importantly, the different forecast models may differ in terms of space and time; but for someone not looking at them constantly, as in a full time job, forget it. There is simply too much information to digest fine tune a forecast that much. In addition, there is no point in looking at more detailed forecasts because by now, I know what to look for.
Though if I was travelling locally, like north along the coast, then I would check the marine forecast for that area. But if was just saying what I already could deduce myself, in other words no real local conditions to consider, then I don’t bother looking at it again.
Dauntless needs a little less than two full days. 42 hours, to get from Waterford to Brest, France. So I’ve been watching for the last few weeks, whenever I have internet, to see how often a two-day window appears.
Not very often. There may have been one a few weeks ago, but since that, I’ve only seen good weather windows of about a day. Now, when I say good weather, originally I was looking only for winds on our stern at 15 knots or less. The Krogen runs really well in such conditions, rolling as she is wont to do, but the paravanes reduce most of that.
As I was watching, I had even settled for 20 knots astern, since I saw so few periods with less than 15. Also, since our course to Brest will be 160 True, winds from dead astern would be 160 +180 = 340 or northwesterlies. NW winds occur after a cold frontal passage.
So it’s easy, just wait for the front to pass and head out.
But it’s not so easy, as I learned 30 years ago while forecasting the weather for northern Europe and Germany in particular. The North Atlantic is a true spawning ground for low pressure systems. They line up like freight trains, from North America to Northern Europe. And they are moving quickly, averaging 4 times the speed of Dauntless or about 600 nm a day.
But as the fronts approach Europe, they start to weaken as they lose the upper air support that is centered over the North Atlantic. Then with the passage of the cold front, instead of the usual 2 to 3 days of high pressure with NW winds and cold temperatures that one gets in the mid-west, one gets a reprieve of only 6 hours, before the winds jump around to the south or southwest in from the of the next cold front due to arrive in about 18 hours.
It was exactly the pattern I got into in the last three days of my Atlantic Passage two years ago. But then, I wasn’t thinking of the overall pattern, but instead was just so glad to see a few rays of sunshine as the winds dropped to 15 to 18 knots.
Halleluiah
I remember making a snack thinking the worst was over. I was able to find the banging wine bottle. So as the winds picked up again in the next few hours, I hardly noticed. I was like the lobster in the pot of cold water wholeheartedly noticed the water getting hotter and hotter until it’s too late.
But unlike the lobster, I know I’ll be safe no matter what, though I may be miserable. That’s because the first step is to find and have a boat that can do what you want it to do.
Dauntless at Sea 