Reflections on the Crossing
Tamarisk
Mon 2 Jan 2006 21:19
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What was it like sailing across an ocean?
Well, my memory of most of the three weeks has
faded pretty fast. Some moments stand out. There was the start with all those
dozens of boats milling about. I can still hear the 'clonk' of the
chain-plate breaking and remember the subsequent night listening to every creak
and groan while rehearsing again and again what to do if the mast came
down. Then there was the early morning glimpse of the Cape Verdes
disappearing behind us - the last land for two thousand miles - no turning
back now. There was our mid-Atlantic swim. And then the first sight of
one of the sharp-pointed peaks of St Lucia just before nightfall.
But a lot of the rest was routine. Penny did
the 0000 to 0300 watch and Giles did 0300 to 0600. Now and again I'd get up if I
felt the wind was getting up or soemthing else felt wrong but not often. There
was almost no shipping to worry us. I would then do from about 0600 to 1000.
Giles made us cups of tea and bowls of muesli around 0900. Penny would get
the children breakfast and read to them or play with them. At 1200, our ARC
group radio net took place. Penny was generally the one to write down the
weather forecast and check the progress of the boats nearest us. This was
usually a fairly cheerful event. Some of the net controllers had a better sense
of humour than others. The day they relayed news of one boat being abandoned
close to the Cape Verdes was a bit sobering. I would then send the email
containing our position that moved us on the ARC map and downloaded anything
that had been sent to us. Whenever we got an email or SMS everyone would
crowd round to read it. It was very encouraging to know that people were
watching our progress.
Then we'd have lunch. Once or twice we had fish
that Giles caught. We couldn't fish a lot because we were towing a
propellor to generate electricity and the two lines would snag. What we did
land was delicious - dorada and yellow-fin tuna, we think. In the
afternoon, we'd do things like run the little petrol generator or take
salt-water showers. In between we'd put sails up and bring them down. But
the main change once we were settled in NE trades was to take in or take out
reefs. We developed a very slick procedure with Giles going forward, Penny
working some of the ropes and me at the wheel. A reef always involved
turning side on to the seas but only once or twice were they big enough to make
it uncomfortable. The twin jib option worked well above 20 knots but with
only one pole it was hard to keep both full with any less wind.
Mid-afternoon we'd start preparing supper. We
sort of took it in turns but Penny did most of it. Much of the fresh fruit and
veg we bought in Las Palmas lasted well. We were not so successful with the
eggs. We didn't open a lot of tins. Then we might have another go at fishing -
dusk and dawn are meant to be the best times. Then, at around 6, we'd have
happy hour and all get together with a can of beer and some nuts or olives
or crisps. There was lemonade for Anna and orange juice for Eddie. For
about a week in the middle of the trip when we were worried about progress and
fuel consumption etc, we turned off the fridge which made the beer a lot less
attractive but meant there were a few extras left by the time we were nearing
land. Giles or I generally washed up using the salt water tap in the galley
while Penny got the children ready for bed. The children decided they
wanted to sleep in the double bunk in the saloon so that had to be got out every
night. Giles decided he preferred the forward cabin to the navigator's bunk
so moved up there. Penny and I remained in the stern.
Giles generally went to bed pretty soon after
supper. Penny and the rest of us listened to Herb on the SW. We'd wait for one
of the boats near us to be called and then listen closely for his advice. Dan on
Kosh Long was often the best. Towards the end we were all doing Herb
impressions - winds would 'moderwate', Anna would wish me a 'good watch' and I
would tell her it was 'good to have you onboard, Anna'. Penny was usually in bed
by 10. I would try to get the sails and windpilot as well settled as
possible. After 2200, I'd add up the miles we'd done and write a bit of a review
of the day in the log.
There was no moon for the first week of the trip,
which meant it was pretty dark at night. But we had Venus and Mars to keep us
company early - Venus almost dead ahead and Mars almost dead
astern. Between my first and second night watch, the sky would rotate, the
Big Dipper moving through something like 180 degrees but still pointing at
Polaris. Eddie and Anna got good at spotting some of the main constellations.
There were always shooting stars - some flaring brightly as they
fell. Sometimes, we'd be visited by dolphins. First you'd hear them
making a funny wheezing sound through their blow holes. Then you'd see the
tubes of phospherescence whizzing in and out of the boat's bow wave. You'd watch
and wonder for a while and then they'd be off to find more entertainment
elsewhere. I think a fish may have hit us when I was on watch off the Cape
Verdes because the engine suddenly slipped out of gear but most nights were
pretty
uneventful.
Looking at the log now, the impression is of
a crew weaving gently from determination to arrive to a more relaxed
enjoyment of the trip and back again. For the most part, it's a mass of
figures - positions, wind speeds, barometer readings, miles covered. Early
on there are references to the lights of other boats around us. Later, seeing
one boat a day is a big deal. Notes of sail changes and engine use become more
uniform as the miles go by. Then the emphasis shifts from miles covered to miles
to go. And finally, there's the excitement of arriving and relief of
knowing it's going to be alright.
Giles' greatest contribution (among many) was
to keep reminding us what a great experience it was. When Penny or I
said 'just another week to go', he would say 'yes, what a pity and then I go
back to work'. He was the one to notice how every day the sea and sky were
different. He always got excited when we were joined by dolphins or flying fish
and was always keen to help change the sails or top up the fuel tank. He would
put up with my endless ruminations re what to do about the sails, the
electricity, the course or whatever the latest niggle was. He was the ideal
crew. We all worked well together. Everybody was willing. The children put up
with it remarkably well - going into a sort of semi-hibernation. Anna when asked
for three words to describe the trip said: 'boring, dull and boring' but neither
ever seriously moaned. Our success as a team was perhaps the most satisfying
thing of all.
Was it worth doing it as part of the Atlantic Rally
for Cruisers? I think it was for us. The ARC is not as I'd like it to be. There
are too many sailing professionals in the 'in-crowd'. But it is one of the
world's great sporting events. It did help us meet other family boats. And even
at the fairly shambolic prize-giving, it felt like we were part of something
special. But if we did the trip again, I think we'd save the
money.
Other things we'd do differently? - I wish
we'd had a full Short Wave radio kit instead of just a receiver. With
Giles' help, we should have one before the return trip. I wish I'd checked the
chain plates and the cockpit drains a bit better. Lots of other little
things but, thankfully, not many big ones.
We were lucky with the weather and that nothing
serious broke and nobody got hurt. Others fared less well. A catamaran had
to turn back after one of it's chain-plates broke completely. Someone broke
their arm and someone else developed an enormous abscess on their leg. And one
yacht was abandoned and towed back to the Cape Verdes half-full of water. One of
the biggest boats lost its mast. About ten boats gave up for one reason or
another. We finished 124th.
Crossing the Atlantic as we have has not made us
expert sailors. We couldn't have done it without the help we've had from many
people over many years. And we're still very concious of the fact that
we've got to get back. But I think we can all take some satisfaction in
coming so far so happily.
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