Leaving the Azores Behind. And that "Dead engine feeling"
Cat-man-do
Sat 31 May 2008 10:06
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It's now 09:20 in the morning of the 31st
May.
Yesterday continued with lousy winds pushing us
well to the South of where we really wanted to go (see Map?) but motoring into
the weather was out of the question, The sea's were too rough and we'd had
enough of that by then. So we headed on down South West towards the island of
Santa Maria. All was going well enough but headed too far South for my liking so
when we reached a certain point we put a tack in and headed for the channel of
water between San Miguel and Santa Maria. The theory being that although we'd
have to motor into the wind, the sea's would hopefully be a lot calmer which
would make it tolerable until we got out the other side and hopefully picked up
some Northerly winds to take us across to Portugal mainland. We were motoring
along at a nice steady 4-4.5 knots and the seas were indeed a lot calmer, though
still running a bit of a swell. It was decided as you do to have a brew and were
both in the cabin when the sound of the engines changed. In fact they hadn't
changed, the Starboard engine had stopped altogether. Bearing in mind our
problems and losing an engine on the ARC, the feeling was pretty indescribable.
Needless to say it wasn't good. Digging under the berth to get at the engine
whilst we bobbed around had a horrible feeling of déjà vou.
All seemed well with the oil and water levels and
no outward signs of anything amiss. I asked Andrew to try and start the engine,
but it wouldn't turn over, all horribly familiar. After a few minutes Andrew
noticed we were still in gear, and after putting it in Neutral tried to start it
up again. It was with great relief that it chugged into life, only to be
replaced by despair when it was put into gear and it died again. There was
obviously something either very wrong with the gearbox, or something around the
propeller. Fortunately the seas are very clear round here and by climbing down
the steps at one side of the boat you can see underneath the other. Where there
should have been a propeller, there wasn't.
All that could be seen was a big brown mess.
Someone, was going to have to go under the boat and have a look. It has long
been a weird ambition of mine to go for a swim in the Atlantic, this however was
not what I'd planned. I stripped off and tied a rope around myself before
jumping in the water. The water, it has to be said although lovely and clear
isn't anything like the Caribbean to go for a swim in. Firstly it's rather damn
cold and there was a significant current and a smallish swell, not ideal for a
swim. Not mention the ever present Portuguese Man-O-War jellyfish.
Fortunately we have some diving masks on board and
grabbing one of these and a very sharp knife I jumped in the water. To put
it politely, it was a little on the cool side.
I made my way under the boat towards the
propeller area, having to shout to Andrew to pull in on the line as
the current was dragging me further down between the hulls and I couldn't stop
it.
Taking a deep breath I dived down to the
propeller, the sight was not good, there was a huge mass of old rope, fishing
net and chord wrapped tight around the prop, so much of it in fact you couldn't
see the propeller at all. There was nothing for it though, so I started sawing
away at the rope with the serrated knife I'd taken with me. The cold was
making it's effects known though and soon I had to head back to the surface for
air. I've swum under the boat many times, but not in the Atlantic with swells
running and a depth of over 2400 metres. The sight of a 9 and half ton yacht
bouncing around in the swell above your head is not I feel one of life's great
experiences. There's also nothing to hold onto under the hulls, so
whilst trying to fight the current and the swells I gasped for air, only to get
a mouthful of sea water instead. For those that have had this
experience, you know what comes next. A violent coughing fit and a feeling
of wanting to vomit. Apparently Andrew on hearing this was getting ready to
pull me back onto the boat. I managed to get myself sorted to a degree and on
taking another breath headed back under the boat to resume the sawing. Sawing
with one hand and holding onto the bucking boat with the other. This whole
process being repeated 10 times or so before I managed to get the tangled mess
off the prop.
Andrew then pulled me to the back of the boat where
I eagerly climbed out. The cold by this time really beginning to make itself
felt.
Throwing caution to the wind in respect of our
water rations I headed straight for a hot shower. While this helped, it took a
good while and a cup of tea for the shivering to stop. My thoughts at this stage
of fishermen who just dump their rubbish over the side could not be repeated
here in print. If the chance arises I'll put some photo's of the offending item
on here later. With that we started the engine, and once again all appeared well
and we happily headed off towards the East.
It seemed very strange to be out on the boat with
the lights of the islands on both sides in the distance. I guess you get used to
there being no sight of land whilst you're out sailing.
We have now sadly, left the Azores behind and are
heading more or less East towards mainland Europe. I'm hoping that this part of
the trip may be a little less "eventful"
Take care back there.
Brian
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