32:22.79N 64:40.34W

Squall!  Changes all…

The wind is howling through the rigging at 40 knots and spray is now blowing in horizontal streaks from the wave tops.  Mind you, it’s hard to see much of anything in such torrential rain but we are pleased to have reduced sail in time for the blast.  Ananda is as steady as a rock under engine and a scrap of mainsail and fortunately there’s little shipping to be worried about out here in the Atlantic and no rocks either – we’re 400 miles from land.

We’re on passage for Bermuda having left St Thomas 4 days ago.  Until half an hour ago we were enjoying sparkling sailing with full main and genoa, the boat speeding along at 7kts, 8kts, and then over 10kts.  It felt good to free Ananda at last from the shackles holding her back; we had been effectively hove-to for 24 hrs.  This was because we wished to keep south of 26 degrees to keep clear of a storm brewing up near Bermuda with 40-50kt winds. 

But the cloud was thickening and sky was becoming darker and darker.  Communication with weather guru Herb on SSB was unreliable with poor radio propagation, although Tim, back in Lakenheath, England kindly analysed weather conditions for us on the satellite phone.

Now the front is upon us and it feels like night in the middle of the afternoon.  Thunder and lightning crash all about us.  We fear a direct hit that could wipe out the boat’s electrical system or even worse cause a fire or sinking.  But the nearest strike is one mile away – 4 seconds.

After half an hour, the wind drops for a while, then returns once again with the same ferocity - but now in the opposite direction.  We hand-steer and run downwind, not caring about making any particular course in these conditions.  Both soaked to the skin, we are wearing harnesses and lifejackets; our ‘soft door’, a canvas and plastic screen, is keeping the weather out of the cabin.

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Our stay in the American Virgin Islands had been an interesting one.  Few English visit the islands; the yachts here are almost entirely American as strict visa regulations keep other vessels out.  We were fortunate enough to have valid American visas and so were allowed entry, albeit after being photographed and finger-printed!  Process or paranoia?  Who knows, but the Americans could certainly learn a thing or two about risk assessment.

Caneel Bay in St John is a pretty place.  Ashore is an exclusive resort, once owned by Rockefeller, built on an old plantation.   There is good snorkelling on the coral reefs that fringe the shoreline.  And with good internet access, we are able to sort out our IT problems and install new programmes.  It’s sociable too, with Captain Steve, Dan and Alan on Blue Pearl moored nearby.  The wind picks up but Blue Pearl leave anyway – they have to return to America via the Bahamas before Dan flies Steve and his wife Linda up to Boston in his private plane for their daughter’s graduation.

Eventually we’re ready for the passage to Bermuda.  There’s 850 miles of Atlantic Ocean to cross and the passage involves sailing through the ‘Bermuda Triangle’ (if you really believe in that sort of thing  (hmmm…?).  The forecast seems ok, for the next few days, anyway, so we weigh anchor and slip off around the SE of St Thomas to head due north for Bermuda.

And all is well – until we get news of the storm.  But it’s well to the north of us, and we should only get the tail end of the system with perhaps a few squalls.

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By late afternoon the wind has moderated and returned to the SE and the skies are lightening to the east.  We’re sailing again, and feeling much relieved to have passed through the maelstrom.  But there’s more to come…

It’s 9.30pm and Stellie is on watch while I sleep.  The wind has caught all the sails aback and something is obviously amiss.  I don safety gear and try to steer the boat back on course but the wheel won’t budge – it’s locked solid.  And none of the instruments are working, including the navigational plotter.  I switch everything off and mercifully we can steer the boat once again, albeit by hand.  But it’s a long dark moonless night as we take it in turns to hand steer by compass and stars, managing 2 hour watches each throughout the next 12 hours.

The next morning I remove the compass from the binnacle and disconnect the autopilot control head – my hunch is that this is the instrument that is causing the trouble.  Incredibly, the instruments all splutter into life and with our spare remote pilot control added we once again have use of the autopilot.

What a difference a day makes!

The rest of the voyage is pleasant with gentle sailing conditions and it feels wonderful to arrive back in Bermuda – almost home from home to us now. 

After a much needed rest, I take the offending instrument to bits, and it’s full of water.  No wonder it dragged down the instrument network!  Without much expectation, I scrub its circuit board with soap and fresh water and dry it.  Then the print gets a careful scrape and clean-up to remove any corrosion before a spray-up with motorcycle lacquer.  Finally I reinforce the case is with epoxy before reassembly.  And surprise - it actually works!!

But the instrument case’s poor design means it can never be truly waterproof.  So Stellie sets to with the sewing machine…

The result – a new binnacle spray cover!

As a break from jobs, we take a trip to Hamilton to visit an arts and music festival in Par-La-Ville Park, then it’s back to the Swizzle Inn for our favourite meal.

Next stop, the Azores.  1800 miles or so of Atlantic Ocean.  This could take some time.

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