Noon Position: 42 48.2 N 047 12.0 W
Course: East Nor'east Speed 5 knots
Wind: Northwest, moderate
Weather: Fog, clearing, mild. Sea: moderate
Day's Run: 96 miles
The fog is starting to clear, at last we are departing the cold Labrador
current and entering the warmer North Atlantic current, the water
temperature has jumped from 4 degrees to 13 degrees C. Hooray! The chill has
diminished, the hull is drying, and I actually got a sun sight in this
morning, the horizon was still rather hazy so not the most reliable of
sights but better then nothing, and it ties in pretty well with our
estimated position.
Last night I went against ship standing orders and carried the drifter after
sunset, it was drawing nicely in the light breeze, both the jib and main had
been slatting considerably so I had dropped those and it was either the
drifter or nothing. And sure enough when I came on deck at midnight for one
of my regular checks it was no longer where it should have been, filling the
fore-triangle between mast and bow but was making a very effective sea
anchor towed from astern, the halyard had chafed through once again. I
thought I had found a solution to this problem but it seems not. The problem
is the lead of the halyard at the masthead currently passes too close to the
jib furling foil - back to the drawing board. I haven't had a chance to
inspect the sail yet, I bagged it in the dark but from what I could see
there didn't appear to be any obvious damage. I will wait for another period
of light wind and drag it out for a closer examination. So we went back to
the jib for the rest of the night and just had to put up with the sail
flopping around in the light winds, the mainsail stayed stowed.
This morning at 5.30 I awoke and stuck my head outside to see the wind had
freshened a little and we were heading in the wrong direction, south, the
wind having veered around to the northwest. We jibed the jib and a short
while later raised the mainsail, and are now bowling along at a brisk six
knots.
Later in the forenoon I was sitting in the cockpit under the dodger reading,
"In Search of Ireland's Heroes" by Carmel McCaffrey - boy, was I ever
ignorant of Irish history, the POMs sure made a hash of that country. Good
book by the way, I can highly recommend it, very readable. Anyway as I was
reading I heard a very faint but distinct machinery noise, I peered into the
grey gloom, nothing, and the sound was so faint I thought I might be
imagining it. After a good look around and confident that there was
something there, I called the unknown vessel on the VHF radio, sure enough
it was a merchant ship, the BP Loisiana, 2 miles to the north of Sylph. A
little reassuring that I could hear something this far away, though it would
have been nice to have heard a fog signal, which I didn't. I fear modern
ships place too high a reliance on radar and other electronic navigation
aids. Hopefully we will have left all traces of fog behind by the end of the
afternoon as we become firmly embedded in the warm northeast tending North
Atlantic current, sweeping us along to the Emerald Isle, and we can rely on
that good old fashioned and highly effective sensor, the Mk1 Mod 1 eyeball.
Now back to Homer and Joyce.
All is well.
Bob Cat:
Is it time for me to emerge from the sea rug yet? Is it getting warmer or am
I imagining things? I might just stay here for few more days yet, just to be
safe.
Zzzzzz.
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