Fai Tira blog Friday 7th Jan 2011  

Bay of Bengal 06:37.46N 085:12.07E

It’s now Thursday the 6^th of January as I sit down to start my first blog of 2011, with the majority of our sail across the Bay Of Bengal and the Indian Ocean now firmly behind us. We’ve certainly encountered a broad mixture of conditions so far and I think that most of us had forgotten just what it’s like to sail on a proper bit of sea, and the Indian Ocean is certainly that, conjuring up many sea-y things, not all of them pleasant!   It’s reminded us just how unpredictable it can be out here, with the unexpected and sometimes threatening occurring in an instant.

It’s caused us to remember the vastness of these watery wildernesses, and how isolating that can feel.... It’s never long before we (the boats) lose visual contact with each other and that, combined with the lack of other traffic and the loss of comfort the sight of land instils, can have the effect of making it feel pretty lonely.

We’d forgotten about the fatigue generated by continuous nights of disturbed sleep, the way the sea can be so agitated and confused, as it’s whipped up by gusting winds, and that just managing to stay in bed can be an art form.

I’d forgotten about the freedom of the night watches that allows your mind to wander to places you’d long forgotten about, and those strange detached, disembodied, voice-like sounds that many of us seem to hear from time to time and give the impression of being looked over by some spiritual presence. Indeed, the sound of a very audible “Boo” as I started one of my watches, sent a tingle down my spine and had me sitting up and looking around with more than just a hint of apprehension!

However, the most important thing we’d forgotten is that in a big sea, you can experience big winds, and from the second day onward that’s how it was, not always from the preferred direction, but it was wind nevertheless and reflected in some of our 24 hour distances of 140 miles plus!.

It’s sometimes difficult to convey the atmosphere and sensations experienced during long passages. So I’ve included some entries direct from my journal, in the hope that they can reproduce some of those feelings.

This is 11.15pm, about the middle of my watch on our third night at sea.

I.ve just experienced what I think is my first UFO encounter. The night was very black and the other guys were just settling down after handing over. I knew the likelihood of seeing anything was extremely remote, so when my attention was drawn to a single white light pulsing at about 1 second intervals ,off to the port beam, my attention was quickly grabbed.

My initial thought was that it was something at sea, even that it might be a beacon, although why on earth there should be one this far out I didn’t know. Then, as my eyes became accustomed to the dark, I realised that it was above the horizon, and as it started to move off to the West I thought it must be a plane, but it was still a single white light.  Then, as the movement continued, each pulse appeared in a different position, making me wonder if it was being caused by the movement of the boat. However, as I looked harder I could just make out a dimly lit nucleus and the pulses appeared to be oscillating around it. It had moved far ahead of the boat and dimmed as Jeremy popped his head out of the hatch to retrieve something, and by the time he’d got adjusted and focused it disappeared, so no witnesses...(Ah well, probably something being driven by one of those disembodied voices!).

So here we are in the middle of the night with only the distant light of Angel off our starboard beam for company in about 20-25 knots of East South East wind, in moderate seas and a completely moonless sky. Hurtling along in our 18 ton lump of iron at 7 knots into absolute blackness, without any brakes! Don’t think that I’d like to be in anything that got in our way......Well unless it’s an oil tanker, of course!

4am 4^th January 2011

I think that I managed some sleep.

It was still very black as I emerged into the cockpit. The sky looked quite clear with many visible stars. One particular one, either Mars or Jupiter (Jeremy says Venus), produced a strange appearance. Its bright light was diffused by a shroud of wispy cloud, the halo effect made it look much larger and without any distinct sharpness, it looked almost like the rising moon. Quite weird!

The wind was broadly from the same direction, but with a bit more South in it, pushing us further North than we’d like, its strength about the same and the seas still lumpy, our speed was about 6-7 knots and we were in front of Angel for the first time.

Our Northerly course started to become a bit extreme, so mindful of Peter’s comments about how close to the wind we were sailing, any adjustments I made towards a Southerly direction were small. However, all seemed OK and at least I’d put a stop to our Northerly drift.

Then at about 3.30am a passing squall shot the wind strength up to 25-30 knots. The genoa backed, the tiller pilot hit the stop, stayed there and the boat started to go walkabout (or should that be sailabout?).  I quickly shot to the blunt end and hit the stand-by button, unlocked the helm and took over. The compass light was out and I had to steer by using the chart plotter and wind indicator. Surrounded by blackness, with the wind whistling in your ears (or in my case ear) the sails flapping, and the boom rattling and with the chart plotter’s delay in response to the steering, it wasn’t long before we were travelling due North, but at least it was in the opposite direction of what was now a very healthy breeze of 25 knots. Anyhow the drama stopped almost as quickly as it started, with the boat on its original course, and the wind speed and direction and boat speed all returned to the previous status quo, I locked off the wheel and re-engaged the tiller pilot and the only effect to show for it: a large blip in the trace on the AIS and chart plotter

6am Thursday 6^th January 2011.

Daylight was just about breaking as I turned out for my late watch, only to be informed that we’d discovered a large tear along the leech of the genoa, and although it was still functioning, any repair we might be able to effect could only be temporary and it would need the attention of a sailmaker once we reached land.

Great!  It would have been ironically comical if it hadn’t been so  ----ing annoying. The first time for ages that we’ve had a proper and sustained sail, and the money saved on fuel will have to be spent on a major sail repair.....Sometimes you just can’t win!!

The engine was running once more as I took over the watch, but again and almost immediately I was able to revert to sail power as the breeze kicked in at 10-15 knots from the South East, and for a long time we felt the effects of a particularly large squall that just drifted past our stern (see I do really know the names!).  It lasted a considerable period and drove us and our damaged genoa along at between 6 1/2 – 7 knots, fast enough to keep Blue Magic at bay for a while, that is until they sorted their sail pattern and came flying by at 8 knots.

Once the wind died, we set about removing the damaged sail and examined the tear. It was extensive and too bad for any attempt at a temporary repair, so we hoisted our only other foresail, the original Yankee, and resigned ourselves to travelling at a much reduced speed.

The engine fuel pre-filter also turned out to be an area of concern, and signs had indicated that it might need attention, so another job materialised as I decided to change it. Not before time, as it transpires, as I don’t think that its evidently now restricted capacity would have allowed it to function effectively for much longer.....

The joys of sailing!

Roll on Sri Lanka.