12a-3pm[sic]. Wind is up, but with steady direction. We’re rocking and rolling to the unseen waves.
Day. This is our big wind day.
The setting. Locally, it’s been blowing mid-upper 20’s all night. At 120-140° apparent wind angle, that translates to low to mid 30’s. Today, the apparent wind settles into the mid-upper 30’s yielding trues of 30’s to low 40’s.
Sea state. The local winds build their own waves. The swell from the north, spawned by the 50 kt winds of the front before it reached us, arrives.
The waves. Waves are like fire. Seen before, always new. Except, waves are all around us. The sea state changes, morphing steadily, slowly during the day. When I come on deck, there are waves, steep, 15-20’, marching in behind us. The stern lifts and reveals another steep set behind. As the swell sets in, the rhythm of the waves becomes confused. Local waves ride atop the swells, are blown around, and lose their uniformity. With the swell fully arrived a new landscape sets in. From swell trough, the top is a hundred yards away, with minor peaks and valleys reaching up to the summit, surely 30-50 feet above. Climbing this terrain is steady, straightforward work, unlike the cliff like face of the earlier wave sets. Mostly, the wave period allows Bertha (the Monitor) time to set Terrapin’s course right before the next wave arrives. But not always. Twice, the wheel is grabbed in the steep stuff to avoid being overtaken beam on, leading to thoughtful contemplation of what our night sailing may be like. These are the memories I will carry, to replace, or give meaning to, the ocean sailing videos I’ve watched for years, the magnet that has lured me here. Big wind, big sea, that only the ocean can bring to you.
We’re sailing under deeply reefed main, pulled well in toward the center and held steady with a preventer, and deeply reef staysail. A steady sail plan, no flogging, allowing the Monitor to hold a wind angle of 120-135°. Scott asks how fast we’re going. “5…6…7…9”, I say as we’re overtaken by and surf down a wave. The highest speed noted is 10.1. This, under very small sail.
The afternoon SSB Chris Parker report predicts wind dropping to 20-25 tonight, a welcome prediction for our coming night sail. His prediction holds true. As the evening arrives, we say there’s nothing like a day in the 30’s and 40’s to make the 20’s feel comfortable.
With the wind and seas down, we roll up the miles. There's plenty of wind out here, but the worst of it is now north of us. Chris Parker's briefing recommends following the rhumb line. We'll continue to the SE until we reach "I-65" and then head south. The trades should fill in ahead of us, giving us a good wind angle to Virgin Gorda.
Chart
Maritime Weather Report
.NT2 MID-ATLANTIC WATERS... .ANZ915...HUDSON CANYON TO THE GREAT SOUTH CHANNEL... GALE TONIGHT INTO MON NIGHT. .ANZ920...BALTIMORE CANYON TO THE GREAT SOUTH CHANNEL... GALE TONIGHT INTO MON NIGHT. .ANZ905...THE GREAT SOUTH CHANNEL TO THE HAGUE LINE... STORM TONIGHT INTO MON.
GALE MON NIGHT INTO TUE. .ANZ910...EAST OF THE GREAT SOUTH CHANNEL AND SOUTH OF 39N... STORM TONIGHT INTO MON NIGHT.
GALE TUE. .ANZ925...OUTER WATERS FROM BALTIMORE CANYON TO HATTERAS CANYON... GALE MON INTO MON NIGHT.
Log
Journal
Flying fish on the deck. Lovely day 14-20 kts. Sea state down. By late morning, the main is out with only a small reef. The staysail is in, and the genoa is out at its 1st reef line. We’re rhumb lining today. We’ll adjust if we need to after today, to make more easting. With the sea down, we’re going faster. Just saw 10.8.
Captain Ron, Scott lands a mahi-mahi, and the sail handling gets out of hand.
Chart
Log
Journal
12a-3a. Winds are variable, speed and direction. The autopilot was engaged. Bertha couldn’t keep up with variation. Wind died to 0 with Molly & me in the cockpit. Molly called for Baxter to help bring in sails and start motoring. As soon as Baxter’s head popped into the hatchway, the wind returned. When the wind dropped, the apparent wind angle dropped from 120 to 140°, the sails flogged. I’d hand steer to 90° apparent, bringing us to 080-090° per ship’s compass, until the wind returned.
Morning.
Damn, what a morning. We’re motoring in light wind. We talked movies and learn that Scott’s not seen Captain Ron. With a little thinking, out comes the laptop, powered by a battery pack, blue tooth speaker, solar powered, and Captain Ron is on. After the movie, Bx asks whether we should try to fly the spinnaker. Ya mon. At this moment in the discussion, the rod begins singing. Scott lands a nice mahi-mahi with Baxter on the side deck. It’s filleted on the side deck. We clean up and we’re back to ya mon, lets fly the spinnaker. Scott & Baxter, sweating, wrestle the spinnaker from under the aft berth. An asymmetrical in a sock. Bx & S unbag and work on the halyard. I run the sheet and set up the barber hauler. Molly at the helm. The package is raised to the mast top. All ready. Motor to ½ speed. Molly steering by hand. Bx and Scott raise the sock and I haul in the sheet. She flies! No twists. So cool, the Terrapin logo flying for the 1st time. Go Pro and photos galore. 3k under light wind. Pop, the tack block explodes. That’s okay. The wind’s building and it’s a little dark behind us. I ease off on the sheet. Molly steers the boat under the spinnaker and Bx & Scott lower the sock and then the entire rig. We breach boat rules and toast to a round of Sierra Nevadas.
Afternoon. Can’t stop the sail handling. Moved the dinghy forward, set the pole and set up wing on wing. Carried the rig thru the night through 20-25 kts true direct down wind.
For the first time in days, the wind moves forward of the beam. Now, we wish we had made more easting earlier and banked a few miles east of I-65. In the evening, gremlins arrive.
Chart
Log
Journal
7a. Pulled down the wing on wing rig. The wind and seas are increasing. Wind moving forward of the beam. Late morning the Genny’s brought in, the staysail set at one reef. Seas 5-10, with periods of swells adding another ~ 5’.
Birds. Think I covered this earlier, but saw a single brown pelican fly lazily in front of us several days ago. Closest land was Turks and Caicos about 345 nm to the SE. 2 sightings of a white bird. Description in iPhone. Flying ~mast height, circled boat and left. These birds and pelican heading E to SE. Today saw small dark bird w/white belly. Slim wings. Distinctive behavior, darting low between waves into the troughs. Very active seas, so quick darts up and down between waves. Didn’t appear to pay any attention to us, but did pass within 100 yards.
[12-18 inches with tail. Over all white. Gull like wings. Orange/red beak, about 2-4 inches. Glack stripe in leading edge of wings. Black band across eyes?]
Night. The gremlins arrive. Night’s fallen. The SSB call in is done. Bx asks Scott to pull the line off the wind generator. We’re on a close reach, 15-20 kts, small sea state for the wind, but some wave jumping and rolling. Scott climbs on the cockpit combing and sees that the line was cinched around a blade to stop the gen. Who did this? Bx? Scott and I normally grab the tail line to turn the gen downwind. Doesn’t stop the blades, but slows them enough to stop interference with the SSB. Scott sees that a climb atop the stern rail is needed to uncinch the line around the blade and retreats to the cockpit. “I can’t reach that.” Baxter climbs the rail. Scott on the combing next to him, for a grab, if needed. Bx reaches for the blade, slips from the rail, inward, feet landing on the combing and hanging from the gen pole. The gen pole leans inward. I grab the pole, Scott grabs Bax. We spend the next 30 minutes trying, with some success, to reposition the pole, Scott & Bax working from the combing, Molly and me fetching and handing tools. Me, steadying the pole with my free hand. My tether wears against the Monitor lines leading from cockpit footwell to the wheel. Too much pressure, too long, and the footwell eyestrap explodes, sending the boat into the wind. I grab the wheel, Molly sets the autopilot. Bx is done at the pole, and now he turns to replacing the fitting. Drill out. Enlarge one eyestrap hole and install a strong eye bolt. One of my soft shackles completes the new gear. Bx brings the Monitor back online. Scott & I truss up the gen pole and legs to the stern rail and each other. As we finish, I scoop up a flying fish from the port deck and return him to the ocean.
The wind has veered to the SE. We can't sail close enough to the wind to reach the North Sound of Virgin Gorda. Opting not to bear off to Soper's hole, we motor sail at a close 20-30° apparent wind angle past the west end of Anegada and to the Sound. About 20 miles north of Anegada, Kala's nose goes straight into the air. With the lighted hills in front of us, we line up for the pass between Prickley Pear Island and Colquhoun Reef. We find the back of the Bitter End mooring field in the dark and pick up a ball with little fuss. We are stopped. Baxter brings out a bottle of champagne and we toast ourselves and our good passage.
We are at rest. Over the first days, I can feel the attentiveness of the passage draining away. After clearing in, we dinghy to the BE for a cool drink and a meal and I nearly fall over climbing the steps to the Crawl Pub. The BE appears to be largely populated by Dawgs. We seek out and meet the crew of the boats that lingered near us on the AIS. The Dawgs gather at 4:30 each afternoon, at Saba Rock, the Crawl Pub and, finally, a dinghy raft up off the stern of "three buckets." Someone cuts us loose and we drift towards Vixen Point, drinking and passing snacks and stories from dinghy to dinghy, until a shower hits and we dissolve into individual units and race back to our boats. I've been to the North Sound many times, but never with this experience. Molly, Kala and I paddle board to Prickly Pear while Baxter and Scott kite board, and we are hailed from boats by sailors we know. The rally is community.
It's hot, in the 90's. We clean up Terrapin with our free day at the BE slip. Baxter and Molly take us on hikes above the BE that Francine and I have not yet discovered. I take the jump I cherish, off the side of a boat and into the cooling Caribbean water, as often as I like. Molly cooks a meal with Scott's mahi-mahi. We have fun and work the passage out of our minds and muscles.
But it's time to return home. I miss Francine terribly. And, it's time to let Baxter and Molly complete their transition to island sailing, sending the passage crew home. Terrapin ferries Scott and me to Trellis Bay for our flights out. We leave Baxter, Molly and Kala to their return to boating life, beginning with Aragorn's fire balls blazing to a super full moon.
Thanks to Baxter, Molly, Kala and Scott for the trip of a lifetime.
