Our planning session the previous night did little to help us determine how long it would take for us to make the passage to Bequia. The weather forecast winds from the northeast and our course was to the northeast! A sailboat has the ability to head into the wind a bit, but there is a zone, usually 45 degrees to either side of directly into the wind, where a boat may not sail. (At least not most boats - there are newer designs that CAN sail directly into the wind using hydrofoils. But these new tech toys are used almost exclusively for racing and cost tens of millions of dollars,) We would not be able to determine how fast we could sail until the morning dawned and we could feel the wind in our faces.
NOT PART OF THIS STORY BUT WORTH A MENTION. This is a photo of one of the America's cup racing sailboats that uses a sail (airfoil) when sailing directly downwind, a combination of airfoils and hydrofoils when sailing with the wind on the beam and that uses its' hydrofoils to sail INTO the wind. On all points of sail, even running (which will confound most physicists), the boat is capable of speeds much in excess of the actual or apparent wind. Speeds of 55 miles per hour are common in winds of a mere 20 knots! More info on how they work: http://terrytao.wordpress.com/2009/03/23/sailing-into-the-wind-or-faster-than-the-wind/ This might get a little technical for some, but it is the most lay person oriented I could find. This really is fascinating stuff; the first new idea in sailing for the last couple thousand years or more!
BACK TO THE STORY
Since we did not possess Larry Ellison's money and boat, we decided instead to get up early enough to have our teeth brushed and the engine fired by nine AM. That would give us seven and a half hours to get the skipper home for dinner. For sure we could do that, even with the wind directly from our next anchorage. The passage was just about 30 miles long. With the wind on our nose we could veer 30 degrees off and motor back for a maximum of two hours east from where that course would take us. Still lots of time to get The Skipper home in time to make his wife happy enough to welcome him.
I just reread that last paragraph and feel the need to apologize. For all you navigationally challenged folks, sorry. Deal with it. For all you navigationally adepts - hang in there; I know I've simplified things. One hour @ 6 Kt and 10 degrees off course will put a guy one nautical mile off course. If he can motor back at 51/2 knots without straining the engine then he can get back in ...............hell with it. You figure it out. Doc says it'll all be OK.
We, being among the navigationally challenged, did just that. Said the hell with it. We figured things would work if we got up at 8:00, did what we did every morning, and readied the boat to head into the wind to raise the sail around nine.
A friend has asked that I explain "heading into the wind" to raise the main. About all I can say is the main sail produces most of the power needed to drive the boat. If it is at any angle at all to the wind, it is producing power. However, if it is in line with the wind as it freely flows over the boat, it will just flap about and make a bunch of noise. While it is in this condition, one guy, with the help of a winch, can raise it. This is hard to explain if you've never raised a sail, but believe me, a sail that is producing power is not a thing to be taken lightly.
I've been blown overboard by grabbing a parted jib sheet (broken rope attached to a corner of the sail closest to the front of the boat) and the only reason I can relate this tale is I was strong enough to hang on till the breeze blew me above the deck, where I let go. A Dacron sail and a fresh breeze are not things with which one can trifle. They will kill you and take no notice. It happens. Heading into the wind, while the sail is not producing power, is the only time a mainsail can safely be raised or lowered, and it's best to raise or unfurl a jib on a broad reach, the wind at your back, where that sail is in the windless lull created by the main. At that time it is producing very little power and is safe to handle.
It was hard to leave our beautiful and safe anchorage on the lee side of Union Island, at Chatham Bay. Last night's view from a bar stool of the rock falling to the sea at the south entrance to Chatham Bay was just as fair seen from the boat this morning. But, it was almost 9:00, and that was the time we had determined we must be on our way. Joe turned the key to fire the engine and checked to make sure cooling water from the exhaust was burbling from the aft port side of the boat. With the engine running and it's alternator providing enough voltage to run the freezer and refrigerator, I turned them on. Ice is expensive in this part of the world and every opportunity to cool these appliances must be taken. Most charter companies want the engine to run for an hour in the morning and an hour in the evening. This allows the batteries to be kept in a charged condition, helps keep perishable foodstuffs from, well, perishing, and insures a Captain who is by nature frugal (a cheapskate) will motor to and from his anchorage.
We had become a well coordinated crew by this point and as I was turning on the appliances, Doc was hooking up the halyard to the head of the mailsail, stowing the lazyjacks and undoing the sail ties and cover that had protected the main from harm overnight. Both of us finished at about the same time, me below decks, Doc above, and then both of us went forward to raise the anchor. Doc opened the chain locker and prepared to engage the electric winch.
The winch uses a one and a half horse motor. The boat has a fifty horsepower engine. Of course it's better to use the boats engine to motor toward the embedded anchor than it is to use the winch to pull the boat to it. During this particular weighing of the anchor it was my job to tell Joe when and where to drive the boat to the anchor using hand signals, and it was Doc's job to release and stow the snubber and to make sure the chain was taken in and safely flaked in the locker. Joe's job was to drive the boat. All of us were fully capable of performing each task required to get the boat underway, and we took turns at each station. Capt'n Chris had done his job; we were an able crew.
After the anchor had been secured to the deck, we motored seaward close by the northern headland of the Bay. When there was enough open seaway, we turned back into the wind and raised our main. Turning back, we unfurled the jib and were on our way. Not bad - we had the anchor on deck at 9:05 and both sails were producing power by 9:30. We were a little behind our schedule but it was no big deal. I've saved the good news of the morning for the last - overnight the wind had shifted and was blowing a little more from the east. If it held its current direction, we could make the passage close hauled on a single tack! Maybe it would be possible to have the Captain home for some afternoon delight before dinner! He had spent a week with us and the week before with a different boatload of goof offs. I'm sure it was time for some home time.
We ran the boat wing and wing, the main to port and the jib to starboard til we gained the point. As we turned, the main was brought in and the jib was set to port. Now close hauled, our course was determined more by the knot meter than the compass. That instrument let us know even more quickly than the luffing sails when we were steering too close to the wind. A difference of five or seven degrees would almost instantly take two knots off our speed. More than that would start the sails flapping (a loss of power) and we'd lose way altogether. It was great fun to see just how close we could run and maintain 5 1/2 on the knot meter without dropping to 4 and a half. Of course Joe was the best, next came Doc, and I was the least proficient. Seems I was more in tune with my surroundings than the instrument. I was enjoying the sea.
To me, close hauled is the best point of sail. The boat heels over (tilts), the bow pounds into the waves (lots of spray in six foot seas) and God is beside me. The lines are straining; you can feel them working. The sails are full and tight. When not at the wheel or otherwise engaged in handling the boat, I most enjoy sitting on the lee side as the boat heels, where I am closest to the water as it rushes by. I'll let my hand drift into the water and feel its force. Then I'll turn to the Lord, who is beside me, and thank Him for the ride.
Capt'n Chris emerged from the cabin just in time to remind us we were supposed to be keeping track of our position. "Where the hell are we," he said. We looked at each other, then looked around at the other each others and finally figured out we had no clue. "Uh, on the way to Admiralty Bay??" I offered.
"Where on the way." he asked. Doc said "Just a sec." and scrambled into the cabin to retrieve a compass and chart. He took a couple of bearings, noted the time and location, marked the chart with a circle indicating a fix, and handed it to the Captain. "We're right here." It was enough to remind us that part of our test depended on being able to fix our position every hour. From then on we were careful to do so. Later, we discovered the Captain had a secret GPS device and could pinpoint our position to within five feet. He checked each position we marked on the chart by taking line of sight bearings, one after the other, with his GPS. I guess all of us were close enough............
About half way through the passage I noticed a squall to the east, the direction the wind was blowing, and mentioned it to the other guys. No one seemed to be overly concerned so I let it pass with no further comment. After all, Doc had the helm and with Chris demoted to a mere passenger today, that made him Captain. Half an hour later I was wishing I had been a little more vociferous. I knew better than to just let it ride. Forgetting that I was the only one of our crew (other than Chris, who was only a passenger today) who had had open ocean sailing experience, I put my faith in the judgement of sailors who had not experienced a squall. It was easy to do, I had come to trust their ability over the last week.
When the squall hit us, we were flying the main at the first reef point, which was well. Our jib, however, was all the way out. We should have reefed it at the first sighting of the squall but did not. Remembering previous squalls, I was fearful the boat would be damaged. "Head up!," I shouted to Doc. "Head up!'' He didn't do it and we really needed to pull some power out of that jib. "OK, then, bear away," I yelled. He held course. Capt'n Chris, hearing the commotion on deck, climbed the companionway and started screaming "We're gonna die! We're all gonna die."
It was enough to clam us down. I shut up, Doc continued on course and Joe hung on. The squall passed and the only damage done was a two foot tear in the jib. The sheets had held, which was my main concern. Oh well, the jib needed some work anyway, and the charter company, who also conveniently owned a sail making shop, didn't send anyone a bill. Got lucky is all I can say about that.
Several hours later, as we approached Admiralty Bay, our path was lighted by a rainbow shining directly above our anchorage. It was a little before 2:30 as we rounded the southwesterly point of the island of Bequia. We debated sailing into the wind for a hour or so before furling the jib and motor sailing into the Bay but since it was my turn at the wheel I elected to do the easy thing. We furled the jib and fired the engine.
An hour later we were in sheltered water and dropped our anchor. Capt'n Chris hopped into the dinghy and headed to his home on the water and his bride, right on time. After a while, he returned. Here he is, on his way back to Andato.
The day was not yet finished but all of us were ready to relax and clean up. It had been a great week but all of us needed a couple of hours down time.
It was hard to leave our beautiful and safe anchorage on the lee side of Union Island, at Chatham Bay. Last night's view from a bar stool of the rock falling to the sea at the south entrance to Chatham Bay was just as fair seen from the boat this morning. But, it was almost 9:00, and that was the time we had determined we must be on our way. Joe turned the key to fire the engine and checked to make sure cooling water from the exhaust was burbling from the aft port side of the boat. With the engine running and it's alternator providing enough voltage to run the freezer and refrigerator, I turned them on. Ice is expensive in this part of the world and every opportunity to cool these appliances must be taken. Most charter companies want the engine to run for an hour in the morning and an hour in the evening. This allows the batteries to be kept in a charged condition, helps keep perishable foodstuffs from, well, perishing, and insures a Captain who is by nature frugal (a cheapskate) will motor to and from his anchorage.The winch uses a one and a half horse motor. The boat has a fifty horsepower engine. Of course it's better to use the boats engine to motor toward the embedded anchor than it is to use the winch to pull the boat to it. During this particular weighing of the anchor it was my job to tell Joe when and where to drive the boat to the anchor using hand signals, and it was Doc's job to release and stow the snubber and to make sure the chain was taken in and safely flaked in the locker. Joe's job was to drive the boat. All of us were fully capable of performing each task required to get the boat underway, and we took turns at each station. Capt'n Chris had done his job; we were an able crew.
We ran the boat wing and wing, the main to port and the jib to starboard til we gained the point. As we turned, the main was brought in and the jib was set to port. Now close hauled, our course was determined more by the knot meter than the compass. That instrument let us know even more quickly than the luffing sails when we were steering too close to the wind. A difference of five or seven degrees would almost instantly take two knots off our speed. More than that would start the sails flapping (a loss of power) and we'd lose way altogether. It was great fun to see just how close we could run and maintain 5 1/2 on the knot meter without dropping to 4 and a half. Of course Joe was the best, next came Doc, and I was the least proficient. Seems I was more in tune with my surroundings than the instrument. I was enjoying the sea.
To me, close hauled is the best point of sail. The boat heels over (tilts), the bow pounds into the waves (lots of spray in six foot seas) and God is beside me. The lines are straining; you can feel them working. The sails are full and tight. When not at the wheel or otherwise engaged in handling the boat, I most enjoy sitting on the lee side as the boat heels, where I am closest to the water as it rushes by. I'll let my hand drift into the water and feel its force. Then I'll turn to the Lord, who is beside me, and thank Him for the ride.
Capt'n Chris emerged from the cabin just in time to remind us we were supposed to be keeping track of our position. "Where the hell are we," he said. We looked at each other, then looked around at the other each others and finally figured out we had no clue. "Uh, on the way to Admiralty Bay??" I offered.
"Where on the way." he asked. Doc said "Just a sec." and scrambled into the cabin to retrieve a compass and chart. He took a couple of bearings, noted the time and location, marked the chart with a circle indicating a fix, and handed it to the Captain. "We're right here." It was enough to remind us that part of our test depended on being able to fix our position every hour. From then on we were careful to do so. Later, we discovered the Captain had a secret GPS device and could pinpoint our position to within five feet. He checked each position we marked on the chart by taking line of sight bearings, one after the other, with his GPS. I guess all of us were close enough............About half way through the passage I noticed a squall to the east, the direction the wind was blowing, and mentioned it to the other guys. No one seemed to be overly concerned so I let it pass with no further comment. After all, Doc had the helm and with Chris demoted to a mere passenger today, that made him Captain. Half an hour later I was wishing I had been a little more vociferous. I knew better than to just let it ride. Forgetting that I was the only one of our crew (other than Chris, who was only a passenger today) who had had open ocean sailing experience, I put my faith in the judgement of sailors who had not experienced a squall. It was easy to do, I had come to trust their ability over the last week.
When the squall hit us, we were flying the main at the first reef point, which was well. Our jib, however, was all the way out. We should have reefed it at the first sighting of the squall but did not. Remembering previous squalls, I was fearful the boat would be damaged. "Head up!," I shouted to Doc. "Head up!'' He didn't do it and we really needed to pull some power out of that jib. "OK, then, bear away," I yelled. He held course. Capt'n Chris, hearing the commotion on deck, climbed the companionway and started screaming "We're gonna die! We're all gonna die."
It was enough to clam us down. I shut up, Doc continued on course and Joe hung on. The squall passed and the only damage done was a two foot tear in the jib. The sheets had held, which was my main concern. Oh well, the jib needed some work anyway, and the charter company, who also conveniently owned a sail making shop, didn't send anyone a bill. Got lucky is all I can say about that.
An hour later we were in sheltered water and dropped our anchor. Capt'n Chris hopped into the dinghy and headed to his home on the water and his bride, right on time. After a while, he returned. Here he is, on his way back to Andato.
The day was not yet finished but all of us were ready to relax and clean up. It had been a great week but all of us needed a couple of hours down time.
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ReplyDeleteLOS - You are my audience! You and maybe thirty others. Anyway, thanks for the compliment and critique. I just write it as it comes to mind with no intention of doing any other thing but write it. If people enjoy the read, great. If not, that's also great! I do this because I enjoy it - no other reason at all. Hits, followers, stats - who cares? Catch you later!
ReplyDeleteOk, I respect that choice. You are a really good writer, so I enjoy everything you do. I'm glad you are back "in the game." What next?
ReplyDeleteWhen this trip is over? A "fantasy" trip?
Your writing is very well done, Forrest. I have enjoyed this trip even though I could be considered non-nautical. It does not matter and I do not believe you need to be critiqued. Please keep doing this because you enjoy it......and for no other reason.
ReplyDeleteBa
LOS - I think I'll talk a bit about the Oregon Trail in upcoming posts. It has my attention now. Ba - thanks for the praise. I'm reminded of the character played by Anthony Quinn in "Lawrence of Arabia" when I read what I wrote and when it was used again by you. Lawrence told him he "Would go fight the Turks in Aqaba because it pleased him - and for no other reason."
ReplyDelete