Hey there sailing blogs fanatics! I know, I know – I’ve neglected this child of mine so badly that I wasn’t sure if should even start writing again, but then I look at the logs and I am amazed again – thank you for your continuing interest! I’ll try to not to disappoint you and I’ll give you right away some juicy bits on the few young lives you have been following.

Johannes, my first mate, who in late days of August few years back so bravely plunged head-first into this crazy sailing adventure of mine - has plunged himself into another, altogether different trip of his life – he got married this year! Last time we saw each other was back then, in the Exumas, both waving frantically - me from the beach at Wedrick Wells, and he aboard some stranger’s boat, which minute by minute was getting smaller and smaller. We were both facing each other waving and waving and waving, all chocked up, till all I could see were tiny sails floating steadily over the banks. Johannes was heading back to Nassau to catch his flight back to Germany. That’s the last I saw him, but not the last I’ve heard from him – we were exchanging emails from time to time and from them I first heard of his marketing business venture back in Germany, and then about him meeting his future wife at the business seminar. He got married on the shores of Nova Scotia and sadly I was on a different continent when that was taking place, but I’ve enjoyed receiving from him his wedding photos with the backdrop of a lighthouse and rocky Eastern shore of Canada. Once a sailor, always a sailor…

Tobi, my scrumptious, chirpy bird got herself a better sailing deal – after cruizing for a half a year on a boat with Johannes I was lot more experienced skipper, but then I myself wasn’t prepared for the 220V of Tobi. This girl would jump overboard without much of a warning, to chase baby dolphins in the attempt to join-in on the fun. Then she somehow convinced me to head off for Cuba. We have had lots of really great adventures, some bad mishaps and oodles of happy, care-free days. Just to bring up some of those adventures again, once we were hit in a dead night by another boat and that was absolutely terrifying, another time we had continuous encounters with drug runners in Rugged Islands, then Tobs got hit by the boom and subsequently we were both sitting on a dentist chair of a VERY pregnant Cuban dentists, then we were facing Cuban military and running off from the Cuban navy base because Tobs would sneak her laptop onshore when she was told not to. Tobs, Tobs. Full of life and very restless - she hasn’t changed much, except, if that’s possible she got even more restless and edgy. She moored herself in Montreal where she is studying journalism and running a student paper which for better or worse consumed her life completely and entirely. Her school paper is her obsession now and I have no doubts she is on a fast-track to a great career. We’ve hooked up for a quick dinner just another weekend when she was in Toronto on some school paper conference. It was a very quick meeting, since Tobi always is frantically squeezing dozens of conflicting appointments, wanting to see everyone, not having time for everybody and always feeling bad about it. It took her few minutes to dial down, but it was great to hear her palpitating heart sharing a bit about her life now.

Wow, this has turned up to be quite a hefty post. I actually came by here to share few words and say what I have been up to last year and what ever happened to my sailing plans. It looks, my friend, like this would have to wait for another post, so stay tuned for the next blog entry. Thank you all who are visiting this site and to those who wrote me, even though I didn’t always had the time to respond. It’s encouraging to see people still visiting this sailing blog even though it did became a ghost ship for awhile.

Meet the three amigos. Sean, Jon, and myself. After Jon (in the middle) cave in, we really started to look into what would it take to make this sailing trip happen. The plan is to take off after the New Year and head to the Bahamas for a few months. We’re also planning to make our way back to Toronto in April/May. What we need now is to sell my boat asap. I am looking to purchase shoal draft sailboat 30 + feet somewhere on the East Coast or on the Gulf side, around Tampa, and I really don’t want to carry two boats. The old Afterblue has to go and has to go fast as I already have few prospects I want to check out. Here’s my lineup:

• Hunter 30 – 1980, Yanmar 15 HP, 4 feet draft
• Catalina 30 – 1983, Universal 25 HP, 4 feet draft
• Hunter 33 – 1980, Yanmar 15 HP, 4 feet draft
• Hunter 30 – 1980, Yanmar 15 HP, 4 feet draft
• Hunter 31 – 1983, Yanmar 13 HP, 4 feet draft
• Catalina 30 – 1982, Wes 18 HP, 4.5 feet draft
• Pearson 32 – 1981, Yanmar 27 HP, 4.5 feet draft

My criteria are: shoal draft, 1980 or newer, NOT a Atomic 4 engine, under $18k, boat has to be located on the Eastern Seaboard and south of Delaware Bay (we’re starting in January, brrrr…)

After equipping and provisioning the boat we’ll head straight to the Bahamas, and I mean straight. From wherever we buy the boat, weather permitting we’ll go 24/7, until we are in the Bahamas. This time I want to also do the Abaco, but will take the boyz to the Exumas and maybe even Rugged Islands, if we have the time. I am soooo jazzed. We are also expecting several of our friends to join us for a couple of weeks at the time and we will have best time ever. Sailing, swimming, snorkeling, spear fishing, island hopping… Been there, done that, want more!

What is happening with us until then? Sean is heading home now to earn some green bucks - he is hoping to work two jobs for the reminder of the year and then meet me at the boat after the New Year. I have to sell the boat, work out some things with my house and work while making all the plans, buy a boat, plan some logistics, do some fixing, equipping and provisioning and hoping guys won’t stiff me. Jon is working up courage to tell his family and his boss about an upcoming adventure while making plans for some education after the trip.

So here we are, three months and some before casting off the lines, hoping and praying and wishing everything is going to work out.

Chris Across Atlantic
13 Sept 2006

Sailing to Spain!

Hi’a everybody, from Camarinas, Spain. I must say this landfall was a blessed one, as the trip down was particularly difficult. Here picks up the story:

Sailing from Ireland to Spain should be pretty straightforward- go south and maybe a little east and you’re guaranteed to find land. As I was soon to find out, the trip wasn’t to be so straightforward. As my boss in college was fond of saying, “…details, details…” The details involve the track of Atlantic weather systems, mostly Low pressure cells which track across the north Atlantic and veer off towards the Irish and Scottish coasts. Almost without exception these lows would be to the west of my course and would give contrary winds, namely south, southwest and southeast. So all August I was waiting for a depression to pass, giving westerly and northwesterly winds with the hope of an easy sail south. And so it was on the 6th of September that I took the plunge and headed out Kinvara Bay, next stop Spain. The first 36 hours were straightforward sailing- Easy reaching conditions in westerly’s followed by some running as the wind clocked around to the north and northeast. Then the wind kept coming around to the east and then, what I dreaded, southeast. All the time I was able to get weather info from BBC4 on long wave, and it was without a doubt, accurate. So the long beat began with the wind out of the Southeast at force 5 to 7. Plenty strong for my tastes, really, say 25 knots. With two reefs in the main and the “small jib” up (its 80% LP for those who know what that means) Tradition started the bash to the south- little did I know it would last over 3 days. To give an idea of the motion, it was rough enough that, on several occasions, I heard the anchor chain go weightless and hit the underside of the deck. A pot wouldn’t stay on the cooker. Standing was difficult. Any job requiring both hands was almost out of the question. Outside was a very wet experience, spray coming back to the cockpit. All the time Tradition carried a “baby in the bonnet”- sea water collected in the reefed part of the mainsail. It was in short- a b**ch.

I looked back on the trip, plotted the position fixes and thought about strategies when facing such a trip. In hindsight, I think I managed pretty well. My strategy went something like this: Say the wind is out of the south. One can head SE or SW. Using the BBC forecasts I’d make the choice- say the wind is forecast to go SW, then I’d head SW and when the wind goes to the SW, tack back to the S or a bit SE of S. I think this allows one to sail the shortest course (correct me if I’m wrong), all the while making the boat head toward the favorable wind shifts- i.e. chase the weather you want. Also, it only works in areas where the wind will shift. I doubt it would work in the trade winds. In total we covered 750 miles in 6 days, 12 hours. The straight line, shortest course would be some 650 miles or so.

So my days were scheduled around the BBC shipping forecasts, updated every six hours. Can you imagine my mood when, after 3 days of beating, the wind was forecast to come around to the NW? Yahoo I thought, I can actually make Spain on one tack now! Well, west was all the wind came around to, and much lighter than I could have wanted (bitch, bitch, bitch), until, after about 12 hours of that, the wind died to a light SW’ly. Meanwhile the boys back in the UK were talking of strong to gale force Southerlies. Not handy. The big wind never came. With virtually no wind, on came the engine, and we set off motoring to Camarinas. With 65 miles to go, that was 13 hours of motoring, the only motoring I did on the entire trip. My luck the lads at the UK met office were wrong this one time. The S’ly came today, about 12 hours after I made it in. Even in port the wind was strong and it rained in buckets at times all day.

So, about Spain! It’s lovely, of course. In Camarinas all the old ladies make lace on these sort of long and skinny pillows. The threads are managed on wooden spools with short handles on the bottom of them. The spools seem to be identical and I wonder how one could keep a dozen of them identified in your mind. As the ladies work away, the spools click together and it’s this wonderful soft sound you hear as you walk the streets of the old part of town. Seeing things like this make journeys like the one just endured all the more worthwhile. I was in the hardware store today with a pair of delivery crew from another boat. While the old lady was working away on the lace, we were trying as best we could to describe what a woodruff key (keeps steering wheels, propellers, etc. from spinning on their shafts) was to the daughter. Strange sign language, pictures drawn, and so on. Meanwhile the old lady was clicking away behind the counter. The daughter waves up toward a door, inside which was revealed a full up machine and fabrication shop. Racks of stainless steel all over the place. Strange places, these, with amazing contrasts.

Today I checked Tradition into the Marina (Club Nautico de Camarinas) at a rate that made me do a double take. I even when back to ask if he meant that was the price per meter, VAT inclusive, etc. A month on the dock for 112 Euro? Shocking. In contrast- In Portsmouth, NH, one night is $90! The price for 3 weeks and one month being the same, she’s checked into the place for a month. This is the first time Tradition has been in a proper pontoon marina in the time I’ve owned her! I don’t think she knows what to do…still the smallest mast around…

The contrasts keep coming. Last night I met a really great couple setting off on a 3 year circumnavigation. By the book as well- that is Jimmy Cornell’s “world cruising routes.” They are a nice couple and I had lots of (internal) chuckles then they talk about schedules and so on. I suppose their naiveté convinced them to try to head south around Cape Finnistere this morning in a southerly wind of around 30 knots. It wasn’t long before they came rolling back around the breakwater.

Contrast a great couple with the fellow I met this afternoon in the marina. He and his wife had just come in on a brand new Malo 40. Read “daddy has a brand spanking new Caddy.” I asked where he had come from and he replied with Southampton and that he desperately needed diesel. “Could I get some here?” “I dunno”, I replied,
I just got here as well.” “Where from,” he asks. “Ireland” I reply. I suppose seeing a little rough looking 27 footer that had just come from more or less the same place as him was too much for him. Really didn’t mean to piss him off. Oh well.

There is much more to say about Gallica, Spain, and Camarinas. Maybe more later…

Chris

I can hear these blues lyrics in my ears for two years now, and that would pretty much sum up my attempts at real life, with various rate of success, since my return from the sailing trip 2003/2004.

While work, business and my own IT career in the city preoccupy me quite a bit those days it doesn’t take much to yank me back to those memories of care-free life under the sails. Very recently one of my friends, bless his heart, by his innocent remarks, caused me to get overly excited about faint possibility of making another sail down South. In not so many words he express his readiness to join any sailing escapade, be it crossing the Atlantic or sailing in the West Indies or whatever… This, of course, goes directly against “Get a Haircut and Get a Real Job” principles I am trying to live by now, so the whole idea of undertaking another sailing trip on short notice and completely unprepared kind of did me in.

Thanks to this conversation, or a late-night dinner at Royal Orchids, I couldn’t sleep that night and before I knew I started to jot down what would need to happen to be able to take such trip again.

The Boat. Twenty five foot sloop I had the first time, with its limited headroom, camping stove, bucket and an outboard was fine for the first gig, but I am not crazy about doing it the hard way again. I am scooping some Catalinas 30’ so the little Afterblue has to go, it is on sale now, if anyone is interested. I also wrote down what equipment I would want for my next cruise, something you may find interesting, so I’ll put it up on this site soon. (“Soon” – any such terms for time on this website treat with biblical perspective.)

The Moolah. Bread, dough, mazuma, scratch, rhino, spondulicks… Whatever you call it -we would need some. While I recovered financially from my previous trip, other interested parties would have to raise some cash and they are broke as only twenty one year old, guitar playing kid can be. We could probably work something out there, but for me this would be the second time, when I was so close to getting a mortgage, only to slip the country on a boat.

July 28, 2006 “Mainland” Orkney.

I must start off the story about getting to Orkney- not that easy. You might have heard the UK has been having some really hot weather. Hot weather here means no wind and the high possibility of sea fog. Being in the Kyle of Tongue (see below) for almost a week, I got frustrated with the lack of wind, bought some more diesel (big bucks- $7.50/US gallon) and took off for Orkney, only 40 miles away. I had a good forecast, E winds clocking to SE and I thought I’d make Orkney in less than 12 hours even if I had to power a good bit of the way.

The first Orkney island sighted was Hoy, the high island. It was a sight to behold- fog was rolling off the cliffs and down to the sea, dark clouds to the north over the mainland, the rumble of thunder. My plan was to pass through the sound of Hoy, a narrow gap between Hoy to the south and “mainland” to the north. Mainland isn’t to be confused with mainland Scotland, as Orcadians call mainland Scotland “Scotland.” I was late as usual- mainly due to the wind being on the nose for half the journey. Back to the story- the tide sluices through the sound of Hoy at a rate of 8 knots. Since Tradition makes 5 knots at the most, being late isn’t really an option. So, being without wind, facing a foggy channel with ferry traffic and the growing darkness things were looking right grim. I figured that I’d just wait for morning and catch the next tide, hoping the morning sun would burn off the fog. The next morning the fog was lifting and I headed for the sound, and as I got closer, the fog descended again! Again, very little wind and the Orkneys are, apparently the birthplace of all fog.

So, a quick look at the chart showed that I might get to the south entrance before the tide turned. The fog looked lighter to the south and off I went. Well, not much luck, the south entrance was completely fogged in. This south entrance is in the Pentland Firth, ominously rated in the top ten nastiest stretches of water on the planet. Currents routinely run up to 12 knots and have been recorded at up to 16 knots at times. Well, GPS to the rescue- I managed to set a series of waypoints and motored (still no wind) in close to the south of the island of Hoy and S. Walls. I had favorable current most of the way, up to 3 knots, but the current turned in the last half hour and was really running by the time I got to the entrance. Although I set the waypoints as close as 100 yards to the shore, I saw land only twice.

Later I anchored in Long Hope, where the lifeboat station covering the Pentland Firth is situated. The lifeboat was out that morning and the Coxswain said the fog was as bad as he had seen. I spent a grand two days on Hoy and S. Walls, exploring ashore, talking with the Coxswain and Engineer at the lifeboat station. They were the most welcoming of all the RNLI lifeboat stations I’ve ever met. Turns out Long Hope is a very famous station for their rescues in the Firth. Some of the pictures they have are absolutely unreal- they have a few of a 32 foot yacht they towed across Scapa Flow in 90 knots of wind!

The Orkneys are awesome for their history- from Neolithic standing stones to the activity during the two world wars. Scapa Flow is a large inland sea and a perfect anchorage for ships. There is a great museum on Hoy with relics of the two wars- anti-submarine nets, torpedos, etc. One of the more amazing pieces of history is the scuttling of the German High Seas Fleet in Scapa Flow in 1919. Supposedly the work of the admiral without any knowledge of the German high command, something like 70 warships went to the bottom of the Flow. More amazingly, 25 destroyers and 6 battleships were raised in between the two wars. The pictures of the salvage are hard to believe- a 28000 ton battleship, 900 feet long and 100 wide being towed, upside down! As such the whole of Scapa Flow is navigatable again, at least to a yacht’s depth. There are, of course several wrecks left in the Flow the focal points for many local dive groups.

Since arriving the weather has been hot, hot, hot. Reminds me of the Bahamas. Not much wind, but that is all set to change this weekend.