TripSailor.com® Sailing Blogs

Saturday, 19^th November

I saw Pascal and his crew on the pontoon, and they appeared to be in a hurry. On asking “where’s the fire” (and then explaining the expression) he replied that unless they checked out by 14.00hrs marina policy was to charge for another night. Now it would be a shocking waste to pay another night’s fee for the couple of hours myself, so I followed suit. Steaming round to the arrival’s berth on full power, Pascal & co caught my lines and told me to run. I made it dead on time. Well it’d pay for a meal out when I arrived…

I finished final preparations on the arrivals’ berth afterwards, which included popping some more stitches in the genoa to buy me some time- I’d get it done properly when I arrived I promised Makatea. Making last use of the wi-fi connection I put through some skype calls before untying my lines and heading south again.

For someone who loves sailing, I always feel nervous before starting a passage. (I do believe that the man who heads out to sea without a healthy respect for the ocean will come unstuck- and probably sooner than later.) Needing some music, I’d listened to half a CD before concluding that James Blunt wasn’t the best choice if you’re feeling a bit down! The Rolling Stones helped lift my spirits, I was away.

While in port, I had made yet another adjustment to the self steering. By chance I had noticed that there was a lot of play in the system, and the wind-sensing vane was having to move a long way before actually doing anything. This would have the effect of making the steering far less responsive than it could be, and I hoped was the cause of my downwind difficulties… Well it was the time of reckoning as the wind was directly from astern. To my sheer delight the course handling had improved dramatically, a huge weight off my mind.

By 22.00hrs we were bowling along under main and poled out genoa. (At this angle the front sail is “shadowed” by the larger main, and when on the same side is almost impossible to fill without a special pole to hold the clew outboard.) The downside is that once this has been set up, ability to manoeuvre quickly is reduced.

We were passing south of the separation zone and in relatively heavy traffic; although nothing excessive I wouldn’t be getting my head down anytime soon. Many ships passed without concern, and two rightly altered course by a few degrees, following the rule “steam gives way to sail” when in open unrestricted water. I was keeping a careful eye on a ship which apeared to be on a collision course. Despite flashing the bridge two or three times (with a powerful torch- not by exposing myself) there was no change. It was decision time. As the metres counted down I saw that a collision was inevitable without immediate action. I’d altered my course as far as possible without getting the whole set up in a mess, but it wasn’t enough. It was either going to be a mess of sails, or a mess of smashed boat and a scratch on his paintwork- I was already hand steering by this point and shoved the tiller hard over. The coaster, which must have been a good 100ft, passed by less than three boat lengths away- of ours that is. (Certainly close enough for the crew to hear the choice phrases I shouted to describe their lookout skills…) It was a sober reminder of the dangers of singlehanded sailing, although I comforted myself with the fact that we were not far from a pinch point at the time. I sorted out the tangle and got us moving again- under main only now. I stayed on deck until we were well away from the shipping lane before turning in and leaving Makatea to it.

Sunday 20^th November

Feeling the curse of the dreaded “mal de mer” once more. I’ve come to the conclusion that for now it’s going to be just one of those things I have to go through for the first few days at sea, but it really is horrible and saps my energy at the time I really need it.

The good news is that the wind is from the right direction, and knowing that we’re making such amazing progress lifts my spirits no end. We’re sailing at a good 5.5kts under single reefed mainsail alone! I know that with a bit of effort we could be going faster still but I just haven’t the energy right now. I spent most of the afternoon sleeping, rising only each hour to draw a cross on the chart and take a cursory glance around… and vomit.

Monday 21^st November

I finally gave in and took some anti emetics (they have a tendency to make me drowsy which is a problem in itself) and I was now starting to feel better. Wanting maximum speed gain for minimum overall effort, I reckoned that it would be worth shaking out the reef and going back to full main. I thought I’d blown it at first when our SOG actually fell to 2.2kts, but I finally coaxed her to get back up to speed- and beyond…

I had an unfortunate moment when one of my radio mics fell into the bucket part of my “bucket and chuckit” toilet I use at sea. True to my friend Martin Wills’ positive outlook on life, I tried to look on the bright side. I know what you’re thinking, “what bright side could there possibly be here?” There were two actually. Firstly, it was the waterproof one so I could give it a damn good scrub afterwards.  Secondly, well it just could’ve been worse you know…

Tuesday 22^nd November

Feeling much better today, sea sickness at bay for a change and fingers crossed it stays that way. Spent the morning chasing every extra tenth of a knot in boatspeed. I tried every combination of mainsail and genoa size possible, as well as every fractionally different attitude to the swell. I’d never realised it before but the angle of approach seems to matter hugely in terms of both speed and ride comfort. Eventually settled right back where I started hours before but I’d learned quite a bit in the meantime.

I also managed to watch a DVD; “The Notebook”. It was a lovely film but quite sad about an old couple- the wife having dementia. It reminded me of how wonderfully patient my [grand father] had been when he looked after my granny in her last years.

Wednesday 23^rd November

Getting close now, Porto Santo 34 NM off, 235 degrees @ 11.00. I decided we were sailing a little higher than ideal, and really need to bear off a little. This meant a “dead run” (where the wind comes directly from behind the boat) and is not the best point of sailing. The boat rolls more than ever (terrible for sleeping!) and unless prepared to put up with the constant flapping of the shadowed genoa, means either rolling it away or poling it out on the opposite side. This tricky little tactic is called “goose winging”. Every sailor knows that to achieve this balance requires concentration; a course change either way will cause one sail or the other to collapse, and if the wind is allowed to get behind the edge of the mainsail, a potentially damaging “slam gybe” results. (This is not good for morale…) I decided to try anyway, as I knew that we’d have a lot more downwind sailing before the trip was out.

It took a while to set up the heavy spinnaker pole without being catapulted over the side, but finally the Goose had been Wung. I had more reason than ever to thank that extra bolt I’d added to remove the play, the course was now being held sufficiently accurately to sail in this delicate manner. The GPS confirmed a speed increase of over a knot which was fantastic news; 24 extra miles a day will prove to be quite significant over a 3000 mile passage!

When I popped my head out after the 14.00hr fix I looked forward and could see land. Woo hoo! It’s always more interesting to navigate by eye than instruments, and to see the detail on the land alter as the distance off decreases.

By 18.00 I was snug in a berth on the pontoon. As I’d turned round in a tight space a couple of guys on nearby boats jumped up to help (it’s amazing how quickly people arrive on deck when they’re not sure how close a yacht is getting in harbour!) Fortunately the manoeuvre went to plan and I casually stepped from the stationary boat holding both lines- naturally feeling suitably pleased with myself. John was the first chap I spoke to, who was quick to lend a hand and his shower key… well I had been at sea for four days. The other (Norweigan) gent left when I was secure, but returned five minutes later to invite me to dinner with him and his family! I spent a lovely evening with them on their equally lovely yacht before leaving to make some calls. This sort of hospitality never ceases to amaze me, and yet is typical among the sailing community far and wide.

I spent the following day exploring the town, a good walk from the harbour itself. I also moved the boat to a mooring which at the same price as anchoring saved a good 10 euros from the final bill. Now mooring or anchoring is seen by many (including me traditionally) as the poor man’s option compared to an alongside berth, however in many ways it is actually far better. Apart from the cost saving there are no noisy fenders rubbing alongside the hull as the boat moves, no creaking, snatching mooring lines, (which may well need to be adjusted according to tide height in the middle of the night) and the boat always points into the wind. Less important here right now perhaps, but if there is any sign of rain it means that the hatch can be left open and nothing will be blown down below. Lastly, the boat is far more secure. From now on that will be my choice whenever feasible.

I also finally managed to clear in with the customs officers. I had been to their office a few times to find they were out, and was a bit concerned when they finally caught up with me and summoned me over. Having heard all sorts of horror stories about “officialdom” by armchair sailors I was a bit concerned but as it turned out this was completely without cause. The paperwork was efficiently dealt with inside 10 minutes, with the officer asking about my journey and if there was anything I needed help with!

The following day the wind was blowing in the perfect direction for a fast trip over to Madeira. After a leisurely start which included a 500 metre swim before shower and breakfast, I checked out again and headed for the mainland.