Position: 49 19.11 S 067 42.77 W
At anchor off San Julian
Wind: West, F6/7 strong breeze/near gale
Weather: Overcast, mild
Day's Run: 66 miles.
We have made it! That was probably the longest 120 miles I have ever sailed.
What should ordinarily have been an overnight sail turned into a major three
day adventure.
I was right to be concerned about the interaction between waves and tide
closer into shore. At one stage yesterday afternoon we found ourselves on a
southerly heading, close hauled on the port tack about three miles off the
beach, the wind was southeast, fresh, but he sea was from the south, short
and steep. We punched into it for quite a while making good only about two
knots. I persisted for a few hours as our course was good for San Julian
whereas the other tack, while no doubt a lot more comfortable would have had
us heading the wrong way. Then later towards evening as we once more crashed
over a wave I heard a 'clunk . clunk . ka-clunk' from forward. "Oh oh! I
know what that is." I quickly donned foul weather jacket and went to the
bow. Sure enough the anchor had jumped off its roller and was bashing
against the side. More bloody painting! I was annoyed with myself, this had
never happened before and only a few hours previously I had inspected it and
added an extra lashing, which had since chafed through. A few choice words,
a skinned knuckle and soaked oilskins saw the 50 pound CQR lashed inboard
out of harms way. I went aft tired and a bit frazzled, we needed to tack, we
obviously were not going to make San Julian that night. I found myself
thinking maybe I have bitten off more than I can chew here, maybe I should
give up and go through the Panama Canal like most everyone else.
Once we had tacked the immediate difference in the boat's motion was
extraordinary. We had a barely perceptible roll and were making good 5 ½
knots. That's better. Once we had opened the coast by a few miles we tacked
again and the motion was much more sedate, Sylph easily climbed over the
head sea normal for the gentle breeze we were heading into.
Then, only an hour later, we were becalmed, sails slatting and the counter
slamming in the residual sea. I closed the exhaust valve to stop sea water
from getting into the engine, dropped all sail and went below for a rest.
I awoke at a quarter to midnight, some wind, up sail and we were away again,
broad reaching off a nice fresh northerly. At 2 a.m. I reduced sail to slow
down a bit - it's funny how two reefs and only half the headsail only
reduces speed in such conditions from 6 ½ knots to 5 ½ knots. By 3 we were
getting close to San Julian, the main navigation light on Cabo Curioso
appeared to be extinguished, either that or our navigation was completely
out. It did not inspire confidence for a night approach. We gybed away to
head out to sea to kill some time. An hour and a half later we gybed back
hoping to arrive off the entrance at first light and high tide. The wind
started to ease as we made for the entrance, which had us under full sail
again. As twilight gathered and then daylight we were in San Julian Bay and
things were lining up nicely. The tide was not perfect as it would soon be
turning and against us but it would do. As we continued in the wind died to
a very light headwind. Disappointed that we were not going to be able to
sail in I started the engine and dropped sail. I looked around me, once
again I thought of the men who had preceded me here. These were the same
waters Magellan and Drake had negotiated several hundred years ago. I had
good charts, satellite navigation, reliable weather forecasts, accurate
tidal predictions, a diesel engine and a handy seaworthy little craft, and
still I find it a challenge. I wondered what Magellan would have done in
these same conditions, the wind dieing, tide against him, confronting a
narrow entrance into a completely unknown estuary. These early seamen must
have had a near intuitive knowledge of tides and the management of their
craft a second nature to them. What brave souls they were. It is little
wonder that on top of all the natural challenges they had to contend with
that they also had to deal with the lesser mortals their crews were made
from, in the form of mutinies.
Eight miles of motoring into the now well marked channels (the old chart I
have isn't quite lined up with the GPS constellation but only 600 yards out
and once the error has been discovered easy to compensate for) we dropped
anchor at last off the beach to the south of the small town. But my dramas
for this little passage weren't over yet. As I put the motor into reverse to
set the anchor we immediately dragged despite a generous amount of chain.
The wind was once more starting to freshen a little and I had to motor
forward a little then smartly jump to the bow to heave several meters of
chain back in with Sylph's manual anchor winch, about seven repetitions of
this procedure saw all the chain recovered and the anchor in sight - who
needs to pay for expensive gym memberships with a nice old manual anchor
winch to mess around with. I re-anchored in a slightly different position
but still was not happy. I could hear and feel the anchor rattle over the
hard cobbled bottom 7 meters beneath us. I have found this to be a common
problem in rivers and estuaries with strong streams. The water rushing back
and forth scours the bottom and leaves a hard packed smooth stony bottom
which a modern anchor has a hard time penetrating. In these conditions I
much prefer my old fashioned fisherman. I thought of changing anchors or
setting a second anchor but by now was very tired. We seemed to be holding
OK so I had breakfast and a couple of hours sleep instead.
Now, later in the afternoon, we have that second anchor set, it dug in at
once and I am feeling a lot more relaxed. We have had some winds up to
thirty knots already to put a bit of strain on them, along with a few knots
of tidal stream and all seems to be holding well. I shall sleep a lot more
soundly with that second anchor out.
The Prefectura and the paperwork will have to wait until tomorrow.
As I look at the weather fax that has just come in, it appears to me that we
have come quite a ways south. We have almost crossed the 50 degree mark. The
bottom of South America seems tantalizingly close but, in terms of what we
will yet probably have to go through to get there, it also seems a long way
to go.
All is well.
Bob Cat:
Yes, yes, all very tiring. And if, Dear Reader, you have made it this far,
the best part of the blog, (I am sure many of you skip straight to my
section - like the comics in the newspaper) I shan't bore you any further
but let you, like me . . . Zzzzzzzzz.
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