Evidently this is the reward for being patient and getting the things done yesterday that needed to be done:
Complete bus heater installation
Replace port side Racor fuel filter
Replace both engine fuel filters
Open the starboard tank, yet again and clean out
Change the starboard tank vent line
By 18:00 hours all was done. The fuel tank opening was necessitated by once again having some water in the starboard tank. Which led to only the second engine shutdown and the first one in over two years?
Opening the inspection port, which I hate doing, was necessitated by my not having moved the fuel vent previously after cleaning the tank. Just plain lazy on my part, and I paid the price by now having to do double the work.
The tank turned out to be in not bad shape, only about 1 quart of water, along with about a pint of black sludge. When I was done, I put about 30 gallons back in the tank so it would not sit totally empty and start rusting, again.
On removing the hose for the fuel vent from the fitting, there were some drops of greenish liquid on both the fitting and the hose. Since I’ve been suing green tinted fuel, I thought it was that, but I figured I better taste it to find out.
It was sea water, sweet and salty. Almost refreshing.
Yep, the smoking gun was revealed. That helped me feel better and justified moving of the vent once and for all.
So today, Wednesday, Plan A, its 190 nm to Norway, that will take 30 hours, 10 hours per day for three days, putting me into Kristiansand, Norway Friday evening.
Wanting to take advantage of the light winds I got up early, cast off and was underway before 07:00.
The day has only gotten nicer. The winds are even less than earlier, now down to 6 knots, with flat seas, or at least as flat as we ever see. Dauntless is motoring at its most efficient engine rpms of 1500 getting 6.1 knots.
This means a little better than 4 nm/gal (6.1nm*hr-1/1.5gal* hr-1)
We both could not be happier.
Also, I am reminded how much I love being on the water when I am not being tossed around like in a washing machine.
Plan A: motor 12 hours today, anchor for 12, then do it twice more, so on the last day, Friday, head WNW from the northern tip of Denmark to Norway; is being modified into Plan B. The forecast calls for light winds today, then tomorrow continued light from the east, but getting stronger Thursday and Friday.
And while the forecast winds for Friday are going to be stronger, 15 to 20 knots, with seas building to 4 feet, since it is from the east and I would be going just north of west, it would be following sea and the KK loves following seas.
But I think I will hedge my bets. I’d rather not take the chance on Friday’s winds. If they are off even by just 40° it will make the trip much more miserable.
Mid-afternoon, I am coming upon the marker just to the east of Anholt island and it seems everyone has the same thought. I have seen a lot of ships today, far more than I saw while in the English Channel.
And now we all seem to be chased to the same spot. the problem is these behemoths are so much bigger, like a fly compared to an eagle and they are usually going twice my speed.
And I’m posting a number of writings at once for who knows when I will have internet again after tomorrow,
Day 4 out of Stockholm, 31 August 2015, Grey skies, flat sea
I awoke in the little cove of Rödskär to grey skies and flat seas. While the skies were much like yesterday morning, the seas were not. The wind had turned around to the north overnight, but was very light, just a few knots.
I have decided to take advantage of these great motoring conditions. Last night, I was getting tired following the meandering channel in the skärgärd with treacherous rocks ready to make one mistake an expensive one.
So I had spent the last hour a few miles off shore, in the wind and waves, though the wind had died down to 12 knots and the waves were only 2-3 feet, but bow on.
But as you shall soon see, bow on winds and seas are always more trouble than its worth. But I’m getting ahead of myself.
The cove I found turned out to be perfect. No waves at all, so I put out 100 feet of chain and had a very quiet night with hardly any movement at all. When I awoke, the boat had turned to the north and after I had hauled the anchor, I then decided to finish making my cup of coffee and to plan the day’s route.
Dauntless just sat were she was, so I figured maybe today I need to take advantage of these ideal motoring conditions and keep going due south on the outside of the skärgärd area.
We’ll see how it goes.
We did how it went; not well. After 60 years I am starting to see a pattern in what I do.
As you just read, the day was going very well, though the winds starting picking up as the afternoon progressed. Nothing unusual in that, everything else being equal, winds increase as the day gets warmer.
But the more I motored south, not only were the winds getting stronger, but there was an uncomfortable swell seemingly produced by the waves diffracted around the south tip of Öland island.
I decided to prepare the paravanes for action, but I was hoping not to use them since we had been carrying a good speed and the birds in the water would slow us by 0.7 knots.
I was still hoping to make the dash of 90 miles south to Ustka, Poland, but had already decided that if I needed to use the paravanes, the trip would not only become slower, but also harder and thus, no point.
I did alter my course to 180°, instead of the SSE I had been on for a direct line to Ustka.
Less than an hour later, the winds had increased to 20 knots, the seas were building yet again, I threw the birds in the water and altered course to WSW, a direct line to the east channel entrance to Karlsrona. Now, I did check the charts and saw that a better nighttime entrance was one hour further to the SW, but I figured how bad can it be? Also, I just wanted to get out of these waves. I had started about 6 this morning and it was not past 20:00 I was tired.
So to answer my observation about the pattern I see, when things are going easily, I push the envelope, maybe go longer, and take the riskier entrance.
Simply put, the easier things are, I seem to have the need to challenge myself. That is the only explanation why I get myself in the yet another perilous night time entry to a channel that I have never seen before and even knowing that the markers are NOT lit.
It was a nail biting hour just to get to the spot I thought it would be safe to anchor for the night in about 12 feet of water.
My driving lights saved the day or I should say night. Without them, I could not have done it. The markers were not only not lite; the channel was very narrow, maybe only one fat boat width. But it turned out this worked in my favor because the driving light lens got broken by a fishing boat in Castletownbare. Thus the light pattern was not as uniform s it should be. So I was having to point the bow in the direction I thought the next marker was. But the channel was so narrow, I only had seconds before I was out of the channel and the navy program starts yelling;” pull up, pull up”
OK that’s the wrong warning, but you get the idea, I only had moments to find the marker and get on stay on course.
So that where the narrow channel helped. Had the channel been wider, it would have been harder for me to see the next marker. This was made even harder because it’s only been literally days since its gotten real dark. I became accustomed to the dusk where you could see something in the distance. This was dark. I saw lights for some small towns, and that’s it.
And the markers did not even have reflective tape on them.
Well. I finally got to the point I could turn off into deeper water to anchor. I did and was very grateful.
Day 5 1st September
I got up relatively late, 08:00 and was quite pleased how well the night went. In spite of strong easterly winds, the boat rocked a bit but nothing terrible.
And of course in the daylight, it was an easy two hour cruise along the channel to the marina at Karlsrona.
Even easier docking, although I was alone, I had prepared all the lines, so it was easy just to pull alongside the dock, throw the looped line over a cleat, and as the slack came of the line, I used a little power to keep the boat parallel and against the dock, while I got off and fastened the bow line.
Within minutes, we were safe and secure.
After stopping by the marina office, even though I was fine where I was, I decided to move the boat to the other side of the same dock. Then its stern would be facing the town, which is what I preferred.
Still alone, that went without a hitch, in fact made a bit easier because now the wind was pushing us on towards the dock.
That was great start to the two days I spent in Karlsrona.
So I did some shopping. Having had too many close calls since Stockholm, I decided to get a one meter shepherds hook to use for the stern buoy.
I also got three driving lights. Had I had more lights the night before, it would not have been so stressful.
Day 6 A long, but fruitful day
12.5 hours, 73 nm. Leaving the dock, I decided to pull around and get just a little bit of fuel. Being expensive, $6 a gallon, I didn’t want too much.
All went well, and the only thing I forgot was to check the sight tube on the starboard tank that I had just fueled. No matter. I was running off the port side tank all day so I’d check it at the end of the day.
I did the log entry and as I’m looking at the numbers, I had remembered seeing 500 Swedish Kroner. But then I realized I must have seen 5,000 and figured I got 334 liters of fuel or just over 80 gallons.
The day went well, the strong winds had finally abated and the first 8 hours went by quickly. Though the winds proceeded to pick up during the afternoon, right on our nose, so I reduced speed a bit and bounced around for a few hours.
Finally, with the sun setting, the rain showers moved to the east, and I anchored about 1 mile off shore. It was very rolly, but other than some rattles, I don’t mid the rolling when I’m asleep.
Day 7 On to Copenhagen
I wanted to start early, so I got up at 04:30 and was hauling anchor and underway an hour later. Took me a little longer since I had also deployed the paravanes and birds yesterday. They do reduce the rolling at anchor by about half. Not as significant as when underway, but then the birds are maximized to be moving. I should probably get those flopper stopper disks that are made for when anchored.
Checking the boat, fluid levels, etc. I finally checked the starboard tank and saw only 5 ½ inches fuel. That’s strange I thought, it was a 5 inches two days ago and had not been used since. 88 gallons should raise it about 6 inches higher!
Then looking at my fuel chart, I see that in fact it was raised about 10 gallons.
Umm, maybe I did see 500 SK after all. So I spent 20 minutes to put 8 gallons of fuel on board.
Moving on. At least today is going as planned. It’s 10:00 and I am just passing the southernmost tip of Sweden. I had wanted to get stared early because the winds were forecast to veer from the NE in the morning to SW by mid-afternoon and continue to get stronger for the next two days. I wanted to be heading northward by the time that happened.
So now the winds have increased and are now on my beam at 15 knots. What else is new!
Waves have increasing from less than a foot to 2 feet just in the last 20 minutes. I have 20 more minutes on this course before I can head WNW. That will help a bit, but then only an hour past that, I come to the Falsterbo Canal which will take me into the Öresund between Denmark and Sweden. Also the waters have no southern fetch, so waves won’t be that bad and I’ll be going due north in any case.
I also think I will stop in Copenhagen tonight and probably for two nights. That will allow me the opportunity to finish the bus heater installation that I got ¾ done thanks to Martin’s help. It’s getting cooler and on days with no sun, the boat stays at water temperature, which is still 62°, but will be cooler once I leave the Baltic which will happen in just hours.
Well. heater did not get finished, though I spent half a day on it Saturday.
(It’s been a week now, and I still can’t get that song, I think sung my Danny Kaye in the Magic Skates?? Wonderful, wonderful Copenhagen,…)
Day 8 Sunday Leaving Copenhagen
Some People Are Just Slow Learners
And I’m clearly one of them. Even as I am editing this and see what I wrote just days ago. I see I constantly ignore my own advice:
Having made it quite clear my distain for using weather forecasts to make a go/no go decision. I think I did exactly that today. I had planned on leaving Sunday. The forecast was for northerly winds, 15 to 20 knots, but small seas at least until I got past Helsingborg. But I’m so smart, I figured I would just get to Helsingborg, about 20 miles up the road, and stay there tonight. Then the winds should lesson on Monday and I will be further along.
Well as soon as I got out of the harbor, within 30 minutes it was clear that the forecast was wrong, the winds and seas were much stronger AND there seemed to be a current running against us.
What did i do? Nothing. Just rolled along, as my mother would say, like a jackass.
Within 30 minutes Dauntless was down to 3 knots and burning 2 gallons per hour to get those three knots. What did I do now?
Nothing. I decided to put out the paravanes, which should have been another warning sign that I was on a fruitless mission.
Now out speed was even slower and the waves, while not too big, maybe 3 to 4 feet, were right on the bow.
Up and down we went. Probably did 3 miles of up and down for every 1 mile of forward progress.
This was the English Channel debacle all over again.
So what did I do, I changed course and changed course and changed course.
Heading into winds and seas at 2 to 3 knots, vowing never to do it again, only to find myself doing it again. Sometimes even in the same week!
Yes, Jackass comes to mind.
When I moved back to NYC, I found myself chauffeuring my mother around a lot. She was losing her eyesight and could not drive herself anymore. I never have lived in Brooklyn before, found myself lost a few times.
My mother may have been losing her sight, but not her wits and she could see well enough to recognize we had passed the same place three times in the last 45 minutes, Not being the most patient of people, she’d give me her sideways glance, which meant she was trying to figure out if there was a purpose in what i was doing or if I was jsut being a jackass. It was usually 50-50; and sometimes both.
I should have turned around and gone right back to the cozy spot I had right in the center of Copenhagen.
6 hours later, I was all of 15 miles from by departure point, the winds were howling at 33 gusting to 40 knots and I now had to enter a harbor and get tied up.
Well, at least it wasn’t dark!
One thing about the Kadey Krogen. While entering harbors under such conditions is still a nail biter, the power and control the boat has is excellent. I ended up in this little harbor, having to get between a very narrow channel with jetty on one side and rocks on the other in a cross wind gusting to above 40 knots.
The Krogen did fine. Her big rudder can really swing her tail around.
But now I had to get tied up. Had there been cleats it would not have been that hard, it my first two attempts I got within a few feet of the dock, but I had already seen that it only had f…ing rings. and not loops that were verticle, no actual 6″ diameter rings attached thru smaller ring that is fastened to the dock. therefore the big ring is just laying there, without even the possibility of the boat hook grabbing it.,
I just don’t get the ring thing. Many docks have a mixture, 50-50. That’s reasonable, but to have only rings.???
I’ve noticed all the new docks are like that. Maybe it’s another brilliant idea from those EU folks in brussels. Even jackasses could do better. And they don’t even have thumbs.
After about 10 minutes and now I was getting more and more worried, no, panicked was more like it, I even attempted to drop the anchor right in the harbor entrance. But it was a halfhearted attempt as I had kept Dauntless from hitting anything so far and was a bit worried that the anchor may be more of a hindrance than a help. It was an unknown that I did not want to experience with right now.
Finally I see someone on the far dock on a bicycle, I think he had come to help, but had come down the wrong dock, in any case, as he was riding away, I gave him a blast on the horn, and a few minutes later he finally made it down the right dock.
But then he had to put his bicycle so that the wind would not blow it in the water.
Finally, after 15 minutes of increasing terror, I was able to toss him a line and once that is done, it’s all downhill from there.
An hour later, I finally had the boat tied the way I wanted.
But who knows when I can upload them since the Wi-Fi doesn’t work.
But I had a tasty dinner and tomorrow will peddle to town to find a part for the bus heater.
I awoke this morning to broken altocumulus with altostratus mostly to the east and north. It had just rained a bit. Altostratus is a sign of a frontal system, but the pressure is still relatively high, so the weak rain probably indicates a weak front, maybe even just an upper level trough, since there is not much low clouds below the middle (alto) cloud deck.
In any case, even though I’m a weather guy, I still have to make the same sacrifices that we all do, usually a chicken, to keep the weather gods happy.
After anchoring last night I put the boat in ship shape order, something that had been neglected in the drama of getting out of the marina in Stockholm in one piece. Again, I was lucky, more than smart. In hindsight, I should have turned the boat around, while Leonie and Martin were still here to help. As it was, just thinking about the debacle that could have been is tiring, so let’s move on and never mention it again.
Other than to say, I didn’t really tell you of my niftiest move in leaving that marina. The wind is blowing on the port beam, I’m all alone, so besides having to untie one f…ing stern line and haul in the second, I did not want the bow pushed up against the boat next to us.
Therefore, me being so clever, i took my thinner, 100 foot line, tied it to the windward bow cleat, then to the dock, back thru the cleat and then along the side deck to the stern where I held in in one hand while trying to undo the knot on the stern line. I needed to give enough slack on the bow line so the boat could move back, but not too much that it hit the downwind boat.
Not a bad plan, I didn’t hit the boat next to us; more like a gentle rubbing. I figured that’s why he had all of his fenders in covers, while mine looked like, I had collected them on the beach; the night before.
Which I was reminded of when i wrote the above paragraph about anchoring and i noticed a long line streaming behind the boat.
So I travelled all day with this 100′ line streaming behind me, still tied to the bow cleat. Hey, at least i didn’t lose it like the line I still have tied in the bow thruster.
Now you know why i like ending my day with, All’s Well that Ends Well.
The night before after I left Stockholm, I had anchored conventionally, meaning bow anchor on 100 feet, 30 m, of chain about 200 feet, 65m, from a little island. I was on the east side, so in the lee of the island, with strong westerly winds blowing at 20 knots pretty much for days. Only now, this morning, have the winds died to 10 knots.
Well, being so far from the island, I was really not protected from the winds, but there were no waves, but the boat moved around a bit all night and even though I had the snubber on the anchor chain, just the 12 feet of chain hanging from the bow roller to the snubber chain hook, with the boat moving a bit, made enough noise to wake me numerous times overnight.
So, last night, I vowed to once again anchor like the Swedes, pull up to shore, tie to a tree on the island and drop the stern anchor to keep the boat aligned. We had done this many times in the last weeks and the boat is certainly quiet, though I awake at any sharp sounds thinking the boat has hit the rock that is only feet away.
But I did not want to have to go ashore, so I cozied up in this little cove, maybe 20 feet from the rock face, and with no movement on the boat, just dropped the anchor and only 50 feet of chain in about 7 feet of water. I then dropped the stern anchor with only about 20 feet of rode. In this cove, the wind was only a few knots and the boat was pretty still all night. Made for a much more restful sleep.
However, virtually every night that I have done this, at least one time per night, I wake having thought I heard a “loud” bang. I spring up, naked as a jaybird and run to the pilot house only to see the same sight picture from exactly how I left it that evening. In other words, the boat had not moved, at all and the depth under the boat was still a few feet and was unchanged.
It’s really never been clear to me whether I dream of the noise or I actually hear something.
I now think that with the responsibility of being in charge of the boat, our brains sleep like a cat, part of it listening and also watching. I think I did hear something, but being asleep, our brain amplifies the noise to make sure we “hear” it. I do hear other noises during the night, but these ‘loud” noises are notably louder than normal, and thus my reaction of being instantly awake, alert and on my feet..
Similar to when I’ve been asleep in the pilot house on the high seas, I always wake up if I see a light. The rising moon and even Jupiter and Venus have awoken me on virtually every occasion when I’ve been eastbound.
Now while underway on Day 3 of hopefully a 25 day journey, I decided to get serious and get the remote control for the autopilot that is installed on the fly bridge. I run the long cable through the back pilot house window. It means I can sit on the bench of the Kadey Krogen pilot house and make course corrections without even standing at the helm.
Thank you previous owners!
And I’ve just taken some pictures of what this looks like. Please ignore the clutter, but you’ll see the two navigation systems, plus the remote ComNav autopilot head and my laptop.
Big decisions coming up: what to have for lunch/dinner and of course, a snack.
Yesterday, I just had bread, cheese and sausage at mid afternoon for my main meal, then after anchoring and putting everything away, I relaxed with an evening snack of kimchi and soju.
Lekker, as the Dutch would say. I only have one medium size bottle of soju left, so it’s getting time to get back home!
But for now, it has turned out to be quite a nice day. Sure enough as that trough passed through, the clouds broke and we were left with what the weathercasters would say is a mostly sunny day, but is really broken clouds covering more than 50% of the sky.
The clouds are stratocumulus, cumulus and a few almost towering cumulus. Typical clouds after an upper air passage or a cold front. I say almost towering because in the northern latitudes (above 55°N) of North America and Europe, the vertical development of clouds is literally up to a third of what it would be in the mid-west U.S.
Thunderstorms in Alaska and Scandinavia can have cloud tops of 20,000 ft.or even less. In the mid-west, that would be at most towering cumulus would need to double in size to become a thunderstorm (Cumulonimbus).
It’s all about the height of the Troposphere.
OK so I solved the food dilemma.
My morning snack was an ice cream bar, Magnum; premium price, but worth it, since it tastes good since it’s not filled with artificial crap.
Then, by early afternoon, I figured why not eat the weisswurst that was in the freezer. I had bought them for Julie, but alas, we never got to them.
So, waiting for a relatively straight stretch, as in 5 to 6 minutes worth. I fired up the Barbie, threw them on and added a red onion cut in large slices. Lastly, I buttered a sour dough roll I had gotten in Stockholm.
Fifteen minutes later, as my weisswurst was resting, I got the mustard and the last glass of my cheap white wine imported from Tallinn.
Speaking of which, our marina in Tallinn was right by the ferry terminal and two of the three liquor stores. I would describe the scene to you, but you wouldn’t believe it.
Leonie and Martin didn’t. When I told them to bring one of those two wheel carts like everyone else, they thought I was crazy. Until they arrived in Helsinki and getting off the ferry they were constantly having to dodge people and their children pushing hand carts like one sees in the streets of fourth world countries, 1,000 pounds, 10 feet high.
You are only allowed in bring in one liter of hard booze per person into Finland.Clearly they must have packed their household goods in liquor, wine and beer boxes.
This whole trip has been an eye opener about the European Union, the EU. A bureaucracy run amuck.
And it’s only described in those gentle terms by people who like bureaucracies.
Considering I have been in Europe virtually every year since the mid-1970’s, but never with a boat. And now I have seen an entirely different world, in which each country is basically doing their own thing.
Except for the Dutch. They are sticking to the letter of the law. I’m horrified to think of the chaos that would result if those stalwart Dutch, all 15 million of them , were not enforcing those laws enacted in Brussels, that the other 300 million members of the EU could not be bothered with.
They most have not gotten the memo.
Anyway a good dinner and now I will not be in a hurry to stop since I have already eaten.
But in this part of the trip, I did have to eat at the helm, standing up.
I had gotten tired of not paying attention; looking up and thinking holy crap, what is that directly in front of me, throwing the computer aside, grabbing the wheel and turning in hopefully the right direction.
Well, it’s only happened a few times today. So simply easier to eat standing up.
Now maybe you are starting to see why the emptiness of the Atlantic, while a terror to some, is like a warm, cozy blanket to me. Less opportunity to make a mistake and even if you do no one sees it.
Ooh, there is a little boat that has the same line as the Kadey Krogen, just half size. Really cute. OK I took a picture.
My Special Education teachers could really identify with me; I was just like their students. In five years as a Principal, there was only one memorial trip i went on. The trip to the Bronx zoo with our Special Ed kids. We all just wandered around looking at the animals.We, meaning me and the kids, I have no idea what the teachers were doing.
And as a sidebar, there is no science behind the kids who are designated “Special Ed”, now called “Special Needs”. Unless the child is physically missing a number of body parts, usually more than one at that, no objective person could tell “those” kids apart from the so called “normal” or General Education students.
Sadly science and education parted company a long time ago. A very long time ago.
I want to get to Kalmar by late afternoon tomorrow, Monday. Therefore I calculate I can stop, sleep and rest for 12 hours. So, I’ll stop today at 19:00; planning on leaving in the morning at 07:00.
Sounds like a plan, Sam.
P.S. There are fewer and fewer Principals with a science or math background. I’d estimate that at this point in the NYC school system, it’s less than 10%.
And you wonder why kids are not learning science and math.
Day 2 started beautifully, at least the sun rose I the east and as I hauled the anchor, I marveled at the beauty of the tree covered rocks that is the east coast of Sweden.
Quickly getting underway as I plotted my route for the day, I made my coffee and warmed up Danish like thing I had found in Helsinki and then froze for mornings just like this.
The Helsinki Danish really wasn’t; a Danish that is; and like many pastries in eastern Europe, they look better than they taste.
Within minutes I am motoring south between islands to the passageway to the next series of parallel islands.
After passing two, quite small passageways, I turn the corner to enter the third and don’t see it.
I reverse to stop forward movement while I get the binoculars to look that the passageway which is marked on both my charts as a “recommended track”.
I’m in an alcove with the exit not more than 3 or 4 meters wide. There is a sign saying the depth is 2 meters, which works, but the more I look at this passageway, the more I fear going in, getting stuck, half in and half out.
Within minutes, I accept that I shall have to turn around and go the “outside” route.
So an hour later, I am just past my morning’s starting point.
The outside route is less protected from building seas and the winds have been blowing 15 to 30 knots for the last 48 hours at least.
But in the lee of this long, 4 mile long island, seas are only three feet and not so bad.
I get to the bottom of the island, wondering why I have not seen another boat on the water this morning, whereas yesterday, there were numerous boats out everywhere, when as I round the corner, we are hit by 6 to 8 ft. waves with a short period.
Really annoying, with Dauntless bouncing up and down like a pogo stick.
Checking the charts again, I see if I take a direct route to the southwest, it’s only 16 nm. I can put out the paravanes and just suck it up. But I also see that our speed has fallen to 3.9 knots. This is looking like the English Channel all over again.
So I look again at the charts and if I go NW for an hour, I can then turn west and get into sheltered waters after maybe another hour or two. I decide this is the best option, as I am not mentally ready for an ocean like journey yet.
So, now, an hour later as I write this, I have just completed the NW leg and am now heading west. The seas are becoming calmer, now only 3 to 4 feet, and as I go west they will remain choppy, but small, in spite of the wind I hear blowing thru the rigging.
I am also very close to the point I would have emerged had I been able to take Darget’s Kanal, earlier.
I awoke this morning really happy about the journey back to Ireland. Alone for the first time since mid-May; a certain efficiency comes over me when I have no one else to depend on either for physical or mental assistance.
Other than my near debacle leaving my slip yesterday, pretty much everything else goes well.
I even bbq’d 4 lamb chops while underway yesterday, realizing that one of my big problems being alone is that I like to go until just before sunset, but by then, it’s too late and I’m too tired to cook dinner. Therefore the solution is to eat earlier in the day, like mid-afternoon. And I decided yesterday to see if it works.
It did and once anchored; I could relax, do my end of day checks and get ready for bed.
So, I’m looking at today, as a reminder, that I can’t totally ignore the weather, but even in these relatively protected waters, I must plan accordingly.
I have 28 days to go 1600 nm. If I subtract 5 days for a stop in Poland and a weather day or two, that means I must go 66 miles per day. Not terrible, a not so long 11 hour day.
This portion of the trip should actually be the prettiest of the whole trip, and sadly I’m alone for this portion, because I do like to share the good things and prefer being alone for the bad things.
Having got to the sheltered waters, winds still 20 knots, but with no fetch, the seas are choppy at about a foot, sometimes a bit more, I decided to pull in the paravanes, also because it will become shallow again and that’s one more worry I don’t need.
So with my current, refined system, I stop the boat, get to the fly bridge and use the winch to pull up poles and birds simultaneously. I then come down to the side decks, lift the paravane (now right above the rub rail, just below the cap rail) put it on its spot on the cap rail. At which point I must go back to fly bridge and let the small line out which is whipped to the larger lines on the birds. This just allows me to use the slack to tie the bird to the pole while it’s on the cap rail.
All that took only 4 minutes, and felling very proud of myself, I bounded up the side deck stairs to the pilot house, only to hit my head on the overhang. I’m not an inch shorter I think.
Day 1 Leaving Stockholm – Debacle Averted – Barely
Note: I will probably try to have something written for each day. But getting them uploaded is a whole different story.
After seeing Leonie and Martin off, I proceeded to get the boat ready to depart, but was in no real hurry. I’ve realized that no matter when I leave, early or late, it doesn’t make much difference, so I picked late. That way, I can take my time and not try to do stuff while underway
The east coast of Sweden is what they call a skärgärd area. It means there are like a billion islands and/or rocks and they have made passageways, marked routes, fairways thru these waters with the main advantage even when the wind is blowing 20 knots in the non-sheltered waters, in the skärgärd the winds may still be blowing, but no waves to speak of.
Quite nice, but also one must may rigorous attention to the route. Many of the passages are very narrow, as in one boat width, and some not even that, as I soon found out
But even before that, I almost didn’t get out of the marina.
We were docked bow in to the dock, with two lines going to stern buoys to keep Dauntless from cozying up to her new fancy sport boat neighbor. Now in general, Europeans are far more tolerant of boats bumping, pushing, and kissing their boats than people are in America. Even with tons of space, boats will pass within a boat length or less.
But with the strong northerly winds, Dauntless was mugging this other boat, so we added another stern line to another mooring ball.
So now I was alone and I had to get two stern lines off plus the two bow lines and the wind was still blowing 20 knots.
The big mistake I made was that when we arrived I had not wanted to back in. In hindsight, that’s fine, but once the winds died down, we should have turned the boat around and had I done so, there would now have no problem leaving.
45 minutes later I was out; but just barely, though I ended up backing over one of the BIG buoys for the stern line. Luckily it did not hit anything vital, but I sure felt stupid.
But I didn’t really have time to ponder the error of my ways since I was running the boat alone for the first time since May.
I still remember vividly every mistake I made during my first winter in Fairbanks, Alaska: having to change a tire at 50° below zero (-45°C), because I had not put enough air in it when it was warmer, and now, at minus 50°, the tire was so flat it had a flat spot, that would not allow the car to move. Even with thick gloves on, I froze the end of my index finger.
That same winter, same car, I spent a week not being able to start it. One night, walking the 5 miles to work at my first weather forecasting job, I almost froze to death. I was so cold, when I finally got to the get at Ft. Wainwright, the gate guard took pity on me and called for a car to take me the last mile.
You have heard enough about our first Atlantic crossing and what we would do differently.
My first year of teaching was unreal. Swimming across the Atlantic may have been easier.
Dauntless still has the dent in the swim platform from the first time I tried to back into a slip.
So, I find myself relishing the thought of the coming winter.
Because it’s the second winter for Dauntless in Europe and Ireland. I know what to expect; I know what to worry about and what I don’t have to worry about.
It doesn’t get simpler or easier than that.
I know that with Dauntless secure in Waterford, I can spend a bit more time in the U.S.; not only with Julie in N.Y., but also visiting other friends throughout the country and Europe.
A “Real Life of Reilly” A TV show that that as a young kid I found fascinating, why? It was about this foreign place called Brooklyn. Reilly worked in the Brooklyn Navy Yard; which also says a lot about New Yorkers in that we are a city of neighborhoods. Also, since I lived on the west side of Manhattan, it was out of sight.
Literally, my sight.
Had I perhaps lived in the Lower East Side (from which the Brooklyn Navy Yard is quite visible) maybe I would not have thought Brooklyn so foreign. It did have Coney Island, which I was a frequent visitor. But again, in those days, the train to Coney Island took the tunnel under the East River; so again, I missed my opportunity to the Navy Yard. (Nowadays, it takes the Manhattan Bridge, giving a wonderful view of New York (Manhattan), Brooklyn and even the Statue of Liberty.
OK, so back to the story.
I can also spend a bit more time on the continent, taking advantage of Ryan Air’s cheap flights, while I scope out some possible places for winter over next year.
Yes, the second time is great.
So while my second winter in Fairbanks, didn’t come for another 10 years, I knew to put 60 lbs. of air in the tires (double the normal amount) before winter started and the gas station air pumps all froze.
I also knew contrary to local wisdom, to start the car engine with no choke initially, otherwise it would instantly flood and I’d be walking for a week.
And in our second year on Dauntless, I know when someone asks me to back the boat into a slip to make it more convenient for them, I kindly decline.
So, I’m really looking forward to my upcoming second winter and second summer in Europe.
But after two, three starts looking the same as one and two.
So it’ll be time to reset the clock again.
Better to have a new first time; than a boring third time.
So, on day three of the cruise through the Finnish hinterland, we had come up with a slightly revised plan.
Leonie and Martin needed to take the train to the airport from either Stockholm or Kalmar, the latter being two hours closer, by train!. The problem is that two hours on the train is two DAYS on Dauntless.
It would be five days of hard cruising to get to Kalmar and we would have virtually no time in Stockholm.
Now, having ended up spending more than 7 days in Helsinki; I did not want to give Stockholm, the short shrift. I grew up near the Swedish-America line. My second grade teacher was on the Stockholm when it sliced the Andre Doria in half. Stockholm is in my roots more than Helsinki.
And lastly, this may be the last opportunity to spend any length of time in Sweden, even if only two weeks, therefore we modified the plan.
We would continue west northwest, over the top of Aland Island, and thus take a leisurely route to Stockholm.
So in planning today’s route through the billion islands of the XXX, I noticed our chart warned of a magnetic anomaly. Nothing to worry about, the three boat compasses never seem to agree, anomaly or not.
But then in the pattern of islands, I noticed was clearly an impact crater, 2.5 miles in diameter, near Angskärs Fjärden. The magnetic anomaly is caused by the iron core of the meteorite.
So today, we are heading for the crater. I’ve never driven a boat in a crater before.
Well, the crater was interesting. The little town was thought may have a dock, may have had a dock a hundred years ago, but all the kids have left town.
A dozen red painted warehouses, boat ports, and no people.
Almost like those ghost towns of Southeast Alaska.
So, we beat a slow retreat and a few hours later, we were anchored on the north side of a big rock. Well, we thought it was an island on the charts, but alas, it was a big rock island.
Figuring that we would have plenty of opportunity to anchor, visit beautiful, pine treed islands, I convinced Leonie and Martin that this was once in a lifetime opportunity.
OK, a bit of a stretch, but an hour later, after having moved the stern anchor twice, we finally pulled it up totally and dropped 300 feet of chain on the hard rock bottom, figuring if nothing else, the weight of the chain would hold us in place.
So far it has.
And it did.
The next morning, we awoke to a 5 knot easterly wind and Dauntless was facing the east. Hauled anchor and there was some seaweed, but no mud.
In particular on anchor, I wake up about every two hours. This past night was no exception, so I decided to take advantage of the end of summer light. Just in the last week have we experienced dark nights, albeit for only short periods? As we near the equinox, the nights will not only get longer, but also darker.
Last night, in the clear air of the Gulf of Bothia, it was a marvel to see all those stars. The Milky Way was quite evident.
My next to last set of friends/crew left Friday for Tallinn, and I’m waiting in Helsinki for last set, my dear friends of 30 years, Leonie and Martin. This weekend alone has given me the time to pretty much do nothing and on a boat nothing is always fun!
I’m writing this piece now, Monday morning, on the forlorn hope, that at some time in the next days, I will actually have Wi-Fi that is connected to something. Virtually everyone says they have Wi-Fi, which really only guarantees you a router is you read the fine print.
I’m also doing a load of laundry having got the Splendid to work for the first time this year. A few weeks ago, I was inspired enough to actually take the back off to see what the problem was, hoping it was something obvious and that I could fix. An unplugged plug being my first choice.
Well, it did turn out to be obvious, but a little harder to remedy. The belt had simply come off the motor and wheel for the drum. I made a halfhearted attempt to get it back on, and then inadsplixity, I decided it was easier to collect all the screws for the back, put them in a baggie, tape the baggie to the back and then put the back panel in the compartment under the unit.
What was I waiting for? Godot?
In any case, in the time it took me to do all that, it took me less time to get the belt back on yesterday.
My only disappointment in the whole deal was that I discovered that it will still not run off the inverter, but only with the generator. I seldom run the genny, but am now, as I must to a wash for the bed linens for my next guests.
Now back to our story: water and then fuel.
Yesterday, remember the day with nothing to do, I had washed my face in the sink in my head and as I always do I listen for the telltale sound the fresh water pump makes as it cycles off. This usually happens a few seconds after the water is turned off.
I was listening intently because I knew the port side water tank was almost empty and I try not to let the pump such a lot of air. Because when it does that, the faucets will spit at you and as they are at the level of one’s crouch. Then a few hours later, when you innocently go to turn on the cold water, your crouch gets blasted by a plug of cold water. If you’re dressed it’s downright embarrassing, but if naked, it just plain shocking.
So, listening closely as the pump droned on, I went to switch the water tank valves. Turned off port, turned on starboard.
Now usually at this point, it may take many seconds or even a minute or two, for the pump to build sufficient pressure and turn off.
Sometime by turning on the kitchen tap, I can facilitate this process to get the air out, since the kitchen is the highest tap.
I do so and the water pressure is not very strong, much like it is running out. Strange I think. I turn it off and the water pump continues to run and run.
Well, just a few months ago, the same thing had happened. I spent an hour trying to diagnose the problem. Then, it turned out the valve for the just emptied tank was NOT fully closed, maybe open only 1/8” but that was enough.
So this time, I think oh, I know this problem, I go check the valves, but the port tank was fully closed.
Being at a marina, I had turned off the Maretron system which tells me the level of the tanks. I wanted to do this because my first thought was the tank I thought was full, was actually empty. This had also happened to me somewhere in the past.
The Maretron sensors confirmed that I had one full tank, but it also said that I still had 20 gallons in the port tank, which I had thought was empty. The Maretron tank sensor works well for low quantity, so now I was getting flummoxed.
I had already turned off the water pump just so it would keep running while I tried to find the problem.
I switched the tanks again, back to the not quite empty port tank; turned on the pump and ran the kitchen water again. No change, I tried the hot water, but there was not hot water!
Now, this was getting stranger still. Even if the water tanks are empty, the hot water tank is always full since if the water pump cannot pump water from the tanks, it also cannot pump water out of the hot water tank.
Would you like to guess what the problem was?
So twenty minutes later, I finally decide to check all the faucets in the boat.
Sure enough, the faucet in my head was happily running just as I had left it 20 minutes earlier! I turned it off the water pump turned off within seconds.
Now, a little fuel issue, but at least I understood what happened immediately. But I will give you time to guess for yourselves.
Coming back to Helsinki, we had motored for about 5 hours. No problems.
The next morning, I go to the engine room to check the fuel tank levels. I do this my means of sight tubes. Sight tubes are connected to the top and bottom of each tank and indicate the level of the fuel inside the tank just based on the fact that fluid finds its own level. The only thing you much check is that for the sight tubes to be accurate, the valves that connect them to the tank must be open, top and bottom, as well as the feed and return valves to that respective tank. Four valves all must be open.
I check the starboard tank that the motor had been feeding from, it indicated 3” of fuel, at this point about 35 gallons (yes, I need fuel).
The port tank was empty, empty.
I knew I was low on fuel, so I had used the fuel polisher to transfer all the fuel for port to starboard, just in case. I did not want the engine to run out while underway. I know the tank is empty when the fuel polisher is just sucking air.
I also checked the port tank, even though empty, sometimes the return valve is hard to fully close, so it can collect fuel sometimes.
I go to open the four valves and what do I see, they are already open!
Now that strange. Stranger still is that the engine ran and had no problem running. I had done this before last year. I had both feed pipes on from each tank, but one tank was empty. It took me an hour to figure out why the engine would not keep running. Why? Because the fuel pump is sucking air from the empty tank and pumps always prefer air over liquid as it’s easier to suck.
So why did the engine have no problem running?
And the answer is, last year when the engine would not start, the feed pipe was open, but the sight tubes were closed. Had the engine had fuel this is the normal running configuration. By having the sight tubes closed normally, there is less chance of air getting into the system.
This time the 4 valves were open on the empty port tank, the 4 valves were also open on the tank the engine was supposed to be feeding from. But again the engine ran for 5 hours with no hiccups at all, like the good Ford Lehman it is.
Why did it work?
The running engine returns to the tank much more fuel than it needs. Because I had left the sight tubes open also, the engine never got a chance to suck air from the empty tank. Instead after start up, as it returns fuel to both tanks, the fuel to the empty port tank is flowing right back down the sight tube and being feed back to the engine. And it was just enough (since some was returning to the starboard tank also) so that the fuel lines never got any air ingested.
Had I gone down to the engine room while the engine was running, I would have seen a full sight tube.
The reason the previous time something similar happened, and the engine would not run, was because the sight tubes were closed. Now the fuel being returned has to go into the tank, fall to the bottom of the tank, splash, and collect back at the lowest point near the feed pipe.
But that takes too much time and even the splashing fuel in an empty tank causes a lot of air.
SO this time, having the sight tubes open, kept the fuel for aerating itself and also minimized the time it took for it to be at the feed pipe.
The evening of the [first] grounding, Julie and I, along with our NYC friends, Karen and Jason, were joined by our English sailing buddies, John and Jenny on S/V Shaka.
We celebrated our second successful tie to shore with a stern anchor with a bottle of Prosecco followed by a tasty dinner of roast pork shoulder, onions and red peppers all grilled on the Weber Q280, washed down by at more Prosecco and some Cotes du Rhone.
Good food, good company, good wine; no one can ask for more of life.
So I felt far better about the day’s fiasco and remembering my new life’s motto, All’s Well that Ends Well.
That’s what crossing the Atlantic has done for me; my sense of perspective was totally recalibrated, e.g. crossing the street, get run over by a bus, first thought, well, at least it didn’t happen while crossing the Atlantic!
Next day, we awoke to another beautiful day. Blue skies, westerly winds, which were calm in our protected cove. I had never slept so well on “anchor”.
The day’s plan was to move about 10 to 15 miles further east towards Helsinki, as we needed to return to Helsinki the next evening as Jason and Karen had a plane to catch to attend a wedding in NY in two days.
The challenge in Finland is finding a sheltered (from the wind) spot that is not in front of someone’s house, or even visible from said house. In fact, they are a bit particular about that and in just a few days’ time, we would learn just how particular. But that drama is for a different day.
The challenge is to motor relatively slowly around islands that are everywhere, to find a sheltered cove, that we can safely motor up to, get someone on land to put a line around a tree and then deploy the stern anchor. All the while also watching for houses, flag poles, stern buoys, docks and other signs of human habitation that must be avoided.
Not an easy task.
So as we enter a wide channel between a few islands, maybe a third of a mile apart, we spot some locals sunning themselves on the rocks. What better way to find a place than to ask them for suggestions!
Another stupid idea that will cost me $$$, but how much is still to be determined.
So, once again, I am driving the boat, as we yell over to these Finns, hoping someone can not only speak English, but can give us a suggestion as to where we can go and not intrude on anyone’s space.
It didn’t seem we ever got an answer that we could understand, though I do remember they pointed out a rock to be avoided, about 200 feet off the end of their island and 200 feet in front and to the left of our heading.
No problem I say, I see it clearly marked on our charts. I’m certainly not going to run over the little “+” that denotes a rock this time.
And I don’t! But alas, it turns out I didn’t have to actually hit the “+”, but like tossing horseshoes, close also counts.
I’m turning the boat in a lazy 180° aiming along the route we had just come in on, I aim right of the rock going again about 3 knots. But not far enough to the right.
The wind is strong, 25 knots on our starboard quarter, about 120° relative to the boat, and when I look at the chart seconds later, I see that we are getting close to that rock and shallow area just off our port side.
I steer the boat more to the right, but not in that imminent danger mode, in which I push whoever is at the helm out of the way, and spin the wheel faster than the wheel of fortune; no this was more like, umm, that rock is getting close Jeeves, maybe we should wander a bit more the other way.
So in no haste apparent haste, just as the boat turns, we feel the now too familiar thumps announcing we have struck land once again. Dauntless rises out of the water, but not like Moby Dick this time, more like a humpback whale, as we rise, but then slide off to the right.
Again stopping within 20 feet, tilted to the right, but still on the rock enough that I cannot extradite ourselves with a little reverse engine.
It’s a large rock.
Very large, maybe two to four feet below the surface, but at least a hundred feet long in the shape of a banana. The “+” on the chart denoted, the highest point!, but not the full extent.
All my fault in any case. I still got too close for no real reason and was again too sloppy in my helmsmenship.
Another lesson learned the only way one does seem to learn; the hard way. But then as a teacher, having firmly believed that no learning is done unless work, sometimes hard work, is involved, I take my medicine that I so liberally dished out to others.
And I can only smile at that irony, but it’s really not ironic, it’s simply a fact of learning.
So again, we got about half way along the keel before stopping, tilted at an angle to the right, bow up.
Within seconds, literally seconds, a Finn and his son appeared in a little skiff, asking if we needed help to get off. I had already put Dauntless in reverse, but just for a moment, and seeing no real movement, I did not try very hard, and stopped.
Since s/v Shaka was right behind me, I figured why run the motor and prop hard so close to rocks, when they can pull me off.
But the Finn really wanted to help, he volunteered to go get his big skiff, with 150 horsepower engine, but I told him Shaka was right there and we would try with that at first.
He helped my talking the line from our boat to Shaka. While that was taking place, I looked around and it was clear that the deep water was off our starboard stern quarter.
I asked Shaka to pull us in that direction and within seconds of him pulling, we were off.
I know there are now more scrapes and gouges, that will have to be attended to sooner, October, rather than later, the spring, but no visible damage and no holes or issues with the prop or shaft. If I get the opportunity to pull the boat sooner, I will probably do that, just to make sure and develop a plan for the winter.
But let me tell you, while I felt lucky, as I had the day before, I hated the idea that I had used all of my lucky charms in two days, with another 50 days to go in waters just as treacherous.
Like the guy who speeds through the red light, once, twice, three times, sooner or later, he’ll get creamed; and on this trip I had already sped through too many red lights.
Well the friendly Finn suggested a place for us and I asked him to guide us.
He brought us a cove about ½ mile away (maybe the same place the sunning Finns had been pointing to?), but we decided it was too windy and I was frankly afraid to approach the shore (rocks) within 100 feet to see if the wind would die down as we got closer to shore.
So, he brought us to another cove, on the SE side of a rather large island. There was an old stern buoy there, but he told us, while the island was privately owned, (as most of them are in Finland), he had not seen anyone use this mooring for years. But no house was visible, so he was sure it would be OK.
It was a very nice spot: no house in sight, the winds were calm in this sheltered location and we could motor slowly to the rocks on shore. We decided to stay.
The procedure at this point, what with my extensive stern anchoring experience (at one and counting), consisted of checking out the spot by motoring, drifting really, to nose up to shore and if the nose of the boat can get to shore with enough depth under the rest of the boat, all is good.
Next step is to back up. Make a “U” turn to return to a spot about 150 feet from shore. With the boat facing shore again and along the exact track we had just taken in to shore, we drop the stern anchor and slowly motor up the shore/rock again, letting out the rode as we go.
Then some intrepid soul, jumps onto shore or if too high, we use the kayak to get to shore to bring a line around a tree and return it to the boat so we may leave in haste if need be, without having to go ashore again.
Our ground tackle consists of a 100 foot ¼” line, a strap to protect the tree, my 40 pound Bruce with 10 feet of chain and 250 of nylon rode.
So far in the half dozen times we have done this, being so close to land, there is almost no force on the boat to push it away from land. So the bow line’s main purpose is just to hold the bow at a particular position.
Now, having the bow secure, the rode on the stern anchor is taken in just a bit. Enough to hold the bow literally inches away from the rock in front of it. This will preclude knocking, albeit quietly and slowly, against the rock all night keeping yours truly awake. (Or until I get up, and pull in the stern anchor rode to put tension in it, dressed only in my birthday suit). But that’s only happened once so far.
Our stern anchor is my old 40 lb. Bruce with the bent neck with 10 ft. of chain and 250’ of nylon rode that is really stretchy. This was my third anchor rode set that had been stored in the lazerette.
Looking at all the fancy stern rigs boats in Europe have, I decided to actually use what I had for a season before spending (wasting) any more money.
I just unhooked the Bruce from the bow rode (50 ft. chain and 250’ line, got the old rode out of the lazerette and bough a plastic hose reel in Ireland.
The anchor sits on the swim platform, its neck between the slats of the platform, the ten feet of chain in a plastic box also on the swim platform, with the rode running thru the stern hawse pipe to the line on the hose real.
Again, we had a great dinner. Salmon I think. I do love our Weber. Washed down by plenty of wine. And then our German sailing buddies, Andres and Annette, found us. The evening ended with more empty bottles than I thought existed on the boat.
After recounting my tale of woe, we followed him out the following morning, late morning, as the evening before the four men, two Americans, one German, one English, partied like is was 1999.
This was such a nice spot, we returned to it a few days later after having been to Helsinki again to change out crew. Dana and Peter, also from NY now joined us for Julie’s last few days in Finland.
But this time, within a few hours of arriving, two women in a little skiff came by and asked us to leave since their brother was coming with his boat sometime that afternoon and evening.
So we pulled lines and anchors and decided to try to spot the helpful Finn had suggested a few days earlier.
Since we were now a single boat, both our sailing buddies had to press on west towards home, the spot was good for just one boat.
It turned out to be a wonderful spot. Quiet, with a larger view to the north. In fact, the spot we had moved from to make room for the brother was only a half mile away and clearly visible.
So another great day that ended well, well, almost well. The brother never showed up.
We were worried that something may have happened to him!
60° North; 24° East, probably as far east as we will get in Europe this year.
Since leaving Latvia, Estonia and Finland have been interesting. Later this summer I will have to have a Baltic Sea recap, but for now, just a little saga that we have probably all heard before.
We got beat up a bit going between Tallinn and Finland, but what else is new. Maybe we should have named Dauntless, “Windfinder”, because she certainly does that well. The Dog Days of summer, high pressure, hot and windless; not.
We have the Cat Days, high pressure, but not so hot and always windy, 12 to 18 knots. Why “Cat Days”? Have you ever held a cat too long? How do you know it’s too long? One second they are purring contently in your arms; then the stealthy too long switch clicks on, the nails come out and they use your body to spring away, faster than you can say, “kitty, why didn’t you just tell me you wanted to me put down?”
So why Cat Days, because you get up, go outside to marvel at the beautiful sky, just some wispy cirrus at 30,000 feet, not too cool, not too warm, you think it will be a perfect day for being on the water.
As you get underway, it is perfect. You have managed to get out of your tight dock space without hitting anything, you call Port Control asking for permission to leave (mandatory in all eastern European ports so far) and they respond in accented English, yes we may, with a tone that says: thanks for asking and knowing our rules, have a nice day. A feeling of satisfaction comes over you.
It’s mid-morning, you want to make 40 miles, and winds are less than 10 knots, with little 1 foot waves. The Kadey Krogen is slicing thru the water with that reassuring hiss that tells you all is well and this is child’s play.
An hour or two later, not quite halfway, you’re feeling a bit off; not queasy, just not right. You realize the winds are up to 15 knots, the seas have now built to 3 feet and you’ve lost a knot of speed as the combination of wind and waves slows the boat.
Paravanes out to reduce the roll, immediately, the roll is reduced 50 to 90% depending upon wind direction (less for a following sea, more for a sea on the beam).
Now you look at the speed and see that your speed is further reduced, the birds on the paravanes reduce our speed by 0.6 knots.
Umm, our 6 hour trip has become an 8 hour trip. I contemplate increasing power to make up for the loss, but it just kills me to burn 50% more fuel to go an extra knot faster.
8 hours it is.
Today, since Tallinn, we are travelling with our new found sailboat friends, John and Jenny. It’s nice to have thinking partners in new waters like this. But they stay safely behind us. What do they know that we don’t?
By early evening, our first time in Finland, we found a sheltered spot with no houses in sight, one of the criteria for anchoring in Finland. The problem is, there are billions of islands and many times, it is unclear if there are any houses until the last moment, which means we must then turn around and keep looking.
The cove we find is OK, but we decide to try to find a more sheltered cove for the next day.
We use a stern anchor with 150 ft. of rode out. I then slowly motor up to the cove, until our bow just barely kisses the rocks. Some intrepid person must then jump on to the rock or land, and we take a line to a tree and return it to the boat, so that we do not have to get on land again when we depart.
So the next day, our first full day in Finland, we are scoping out a place to stop with simple criteria in mind: a house should not be in sight, especially an occupied house and it has to be on a lee shore.
Since there are millions of islands, there is a lot of choice, clearly too much choice for some simple folk like Julie and I.
Mid-afternoon, we are slowly motoring, looking for a place for the night, I see on both my Navionics and C-Map charts the cross signifying a rock dead ahead, about a half mile ahead, 2 minutes at 4 knots.
I’m steering and I say to Julie, we must watch out for that rock.
Julie sees that point I am talking about and acknowledges it.
We both promptly then forget about it, as we go back to trying to figure out where we can stop.
Until two minutes later, with a large bump, dauntless’ bow rises out of the water like Moby Dick.
We had been going slowly because there are so many obstacles, so dauntless stops as soon as I put her in neutral in about 20 feet, with the weight of the boat on the keel on the rock.
I put her in reverse and we slide right off. I spend the next hour trying to feel any change of vibrations and berating myself for seeing a rock, plainly and correctly marked on the chart and then hitting said rock. No vibration, no holes in the boat. Could have been worse. Far worse.
Julie summed it up best: Richard Sees the Rock; Julie Sees the Rock; We Talk About the Rock; We Hit the Rock.
My first mistake, was that I could have altered course a bit, but instead I tell Julie, make sure I don’t hit that rock.
My second mistake was to then totally forget about the rock.
In hindsight, knowing we were in rocky waters, I was going just above idle speed, about 4 knots, maybe a bit less.
This enabled me to get the boat stopped quickly, so I did not run over the rudder or propeller.
That was about the only thing I did correctly.
When I first saw the rock, I should have altered course so that in the “unlikely” event that I somehow forgot about it, I would not be heading directly for it.
So an hour later, as we had our dinner, we celebrated another day that ended well.
Has a catchy ring to it, doesn’t it? If there are no more mines left, I wonder why they annotate it on the chart. Maybe just in case?
In any case we decide to go right through; what’s the worst that could happen?
It seems the Russians mined large swaths of the Baltic and what wasn’t mined was closely watched; well, as closely watched as can be with conscripted soldiers living on vodka and potatoes.
But all good things must come to an end and with the fall of the Soviet Union, the Baltic Republics were allowed to have their own destiny again and the rest of us can now enjoy that benefit.
Sadly, we did not go to Lithuania as it required a large detour around a current mine field. Well, it isn’t listed on the charts as a mine field, but then I doubt the hundreds of mine fields presently annotated were so listed prior to the breakup of the Soviet Union.
Oh yes, after the Russians moved Poland west by a few hundred kilometers, they took a chunk for themselves, Königsberg, threw all the Germans out, the lucky ones that is, and renamed it Kaliningrad, because the name Stalingrad was already taken.
So, during the last two weeks, we have been exploring country never before visited by me at least. First Poland and now Latvia, Letland in Dutch, Land of the Lets.
Poland and now Latvia have been a wonderful experience, the people, the food, and the warmth showed to us by virtually everyone. Dauntless probably had her picture taken a thousand times in Gdansk. I wish she looked better, Dauntless I’m referring to, not Gdansk, but we’ve already travelled more than 2,000 miles since leaving Ireland, so who has the energy to wash and wax?
I did regret not speaking Polish. Had we stayed another week, we would have probably gone viral. People would ask how long we are staying docked against the wall in downtown Gdansk, because they wanted to bring the family for a photo session the next time.
Wonderful people who also make the most wondrous smoked meats and fishes.
Compared to Western Europe, the prices is Poland, not in the Euro zone and still using the Zloty, were good, maybe 30% cheaper than in Germany.
Latvia on the other hand is in the Euro zone and prices are still amazingly low. So low in fact, that we felt compelled to find out why.
In talking with the marina “bosman,” in Liepaja, he explained that Latvia prepared for the change to the Euro in a very methodical manner. They used strict conversion tables, unlike in most places, like Italy, which saw a doubling of many prices within the first year of conversion, but no doubling of wages, pensions and salaries.
We ended up spending only two nights. Having seen the outdoor and indoor market in the small city of Liepaja, the market in the capital, Riga, was literally 10 times the size. We have never seen so many berries, blue, black, red, etc. in my life. Clearly, people would buy large quantiles to preserve for the coming winter.
The harbor itself was a mix of old and new, with modern bridges, next to Soviet style cranes and trains. I’ll try to upload some pictures.
Today, our adventure in Estonia begins. We had a windy passage yesterday and it looks like the wind will continue for the foreseeable future, maybe forever.
Dauntless is doing well, though I was a bit shocked last night as I gazed at all the scrapes, scratches and gouges I’ve put on her hull in the last two months.
I’ve also used far more fuel than anticipated, 50% more. The actual fuel consumption has been good, the problem is the distances I had calculated. It’s been 60 days since leaving Ireland. What I had not anticipated was that so many harbors and docking places would take a significant amount of time, 30 minutes to an hour to get in and then the same going out.
Therefore, 25 to 30 stops times 2 extra hours for each, is 60 additional hours of fuel consumption, about 90 gallons, at 1.4 gal.hr, which is our average so far in 415 hours so far.
Coming up, Estonia, Estland in Dutch, land in the east.
Just when you thought it safe to reenter the water…
Waking up in the now Polish town of Swinoujscie, I had two problems to solve; one more vexing than the other.
But first, let’s talk about Swinoujscie, gateway to the Baltic and until 1945, a German city, aka Swinemünde. With the looks of an old German town, it boasts a certain charm, with a few modern touches. One of those being an almost identical fountain in the main square to that of the Brooklyn Museum, that I had mentioned in a previous post, you know, the one that started out much like this one in Swinoujscie, until the lawyers got involved.
So Swinoujscie, aka Swinemünde, became one of thousands of cities and towns in which whole populations were uprooted and “moved” at the war’s end. Why because Stalin wanted half of Poland and therefore Poland moved west, but never fear, the western powers and the press don’t talk about it, better to tut tut about displaced people in third world countries, than issues they created themselves.
So on that note, let’s get back to our story.
As you recall from our previous episode, Dauntless limped into Swinoujscie, with her tail between her legs, well maybe not a tail, but a thin line that had wrapped around my bow thruster.
But I was determined to at least fix the autopilot.
If you have read our Atlantic Passage, you may remember that the autopilot was one of the most critical pieces on the boat and I had absolutely no spare anything’s for it.
Having Eve and Nigel onboard, did mitigate the loss, but even with three people, hand steering a power boat for long stretches of time is both boring and fatiguing.
Assuming there is no such thing as coincidences when it comes to mechanical problems, in other words, you change, add, replace any part of a particular system, and then that system craps out on you, there is about a 99.9% chance you whatever you did caused the problem.
So, I got out our hydraulic fluid and the handy fitting for the upper helm station and proceeded to run the system and turning the wheel to get the air out.
But little air came out.
At this point, I figured I better get serious, I got the ComNav book.
In the book I discovered a self-diagnostic the ComNav can run. I ran it and got the ominous response “hard right rudder too slow”.
I could not find the bleed screws that were supposed to be on the hydraulic ram. But I did not want to screw with the ram in any case, since it worked fine; it was the autopilot part that was not working.
I ran the self-test again. Same result.
I went down into the engine room to look once again at the ComNav pump. Maybe I could bleed it there. No, no fittings I could see for easy bleeding.
I took a picture of the pump, maybe the writing will give me a clue or I can better see bleeding screw fittings. Nope. Nothing. Nada.
Run the self-test again. No change, but I realize that while I can turn the wheel and the rudder responds as it should, in fact better than before with no groaning while turning it quickly, meaning I had gotten what little air there was out of the system, when I used the auto pilot control head to turn the rudder, it barely moved the rudder to the left (port).
Clearly the auto pilot was the issue, not the hydraulic steering itself.
I looked at the autopilot’s control panel. A lot of green lights. So at least electronically, the autopilot thinks all is OK.
Back to the engine room to look at that pump again. I crawl over to it. I read both sets of labels on the pump. One reads, “to remove the pump without losing fluid, close the thumb valves”
What thumb valves? Those brass “T” handles that I occasionally play with, wondering what they do? The ones that I had decided should be tighter, but not too tight the other day, while I was changing the main engine oil and in a moment of “let’s turn this and see what happens” madness??
I noticed the one on the left side was tight, the other two, one on top and one on the right, were close to being closed, but not tight.
Umm, could these be the valves that are to close when removing the pump? And if so, should not they be OPEN now?
I have Eve use the autopilot control head to move the rudder, it now moves, not quickly, but better than before. I open all three and she tries again. Much better, almost like it’s supposed to.
We run the self-test again. This time, rudder movement is normal.
I had changed the oil on the main engine a few days earlier. So I was working at the back of the engine and it my spare time I was fiddling with those three T valves. Sort of aimlessly fiddling.
So it seems my fiddling closed at least one valve and we had a few days of indifferent autopilot response, culminating in it not working at all.
Now all is fine. No air, valves open and the autopilot has worked better than ever.
When people ask me about crossing the Atlantic and why I like Kadey Krogen yachts, I say that quite simply I have never had a problem with the boat that was not caused my operator error.
We just passed 4000 engine hours. That’s 2300 hours we have put on the boat in the last 28 months.
I’ve put 300+ hours since leaving Waterford two months again.
I have also been breaking down the cost of this trip during the last few days. That will be the subject of a later post.
We love Dauntless because she never lets us down. Now if only I could find a way to control that nut behind the wheel.
And we shall never talk of it again.
Leba, Gdansk and leaving Poland for the lands to the east