Island Spirit: Solo Atlantic Crossing

Log of the Island Spirit MMSI 235113215

Jolly Harbour Marina, Antigua, West Indies

Wednesday 25th April 2018

Well, this is it, my biggest challenge yet.

I arrived here in Antigua a week ago, following two weeks languishing in Fort du France (Martinique) and before that, a couple of days in Bequia. The last five days I’ve been feverishly preparing to cross: stocking up with dried and tinned food (plus 80 litres of bottled water), stowing the dinghy on the foredeck (deflated), servicing the engine, sorting out a couple of compass glitches (new lamp on the steering compass and a compass swing to resolve a fluxgate issue), servicing the autopilot, and fixing a million things that have broken over the past year. All that remains is to store up with fresh meat, fruit and veg, and pre-cook loads of stews, casseroles, and bolognaise sauces to stow in little portion-pots in the fridge, fill up with fuel and water, and keep an eye on the Atlantic weather. There are a couple of nasty-looking lows up there at present, which I hope will fizzle out over the next few days; I leave on Tuesday (1st May) with the option of north to Bermuda, or straight to the Azores. The latter is horrendously long for a single-hander but will shorten the overall passage time by possibly a week. The wind conditions in situ will determine which I choose.

My biggest fear is the performance of the autopilot in heavy weather. Time and again during my island hopping it’s failed to cope, causing me endless hours of hand-steering, unrelieved discomfort, and exhausting sleep-deprivation. With the prospect of two or three weeks of near-gale winds in heavy seas, I’m obviously a little apprehensive. (I’m the only lone sailor I know that doesn’t have a wind-vane self-steering rig for ocean crossing, something I’ll be aiming to rectify in Europe.

When I’ve saved a few pennies.)

Still, I have a couple of plans in mind should I encounter the worst. First, I plan to use a trailing kedge anchor on a long rope and swivel to help prevent accidental broaching in heavy following seas, and if I become too exhausted or unable to leave the wheel to eat, I’ll simply heave to for a couple of hours.

Tuesday, May 1 2018

1300: Slipped from marina dock then spent an hour drifting and circling near the fuel dock, waiting for a Swedish yacht to fill up and leave, and shrugging helplessly to the small group of friends gathered there to see me off. It transpired that the fuelling crew were late back from lunch.

Finally got alongside and fuelled up, then almost tearful goodbyes from my new-found friends: Lewis, a fellow single-hander who works in the City of London financial district, a pleasant young man with his long-keel, 32 ft sloop in whom he plans to follow in my wake when his essential repairs are completed; Pete and Sue, an engagingly homely couple of live-aboards from Cheshire, Norman and Sara from South Wales who’ve already sailed their yacht, Norsa, around the world and seem ready to do it all again. Must also mention Ex-naval officer Adrian and wife, Sam, running a yacht delivery business while living aboard their own beautiful sloop, Neva, who helped me fix my steering compass and make a lovely cup of tea from their coveted store of PG Tips. Finally, Canadians Scott & Beverley, who kindly donated their leftover dry provisions before leaving their boat, Rose Lee, and flying home. Lovely people all, who became firm friends over the short, fortnight break in Jolly Harbour Marina.

1400: Dropped anchor outside the harbour in order to play with my sails, and make final adjustments to Georgina, my sometimes-wayward autopilot. Got out my storm trysail (first time out of it’s bag) and hoisted it on the spinnaker halliard. The rig worked fine, once up, but proved awkward to handle on deck in a stiff breeze. Dread having to deploy it in heavy weather – just hope I get plenty of warning, should the weather-gods take unkindly to us.

1600: Departed for Bermuda running before an Easterly Force 4-5, fully reefed main and three quarters of genoa giving us a bouncy 6.5 knots in a choppy sea. It’s a lovely sunny evening and right now I’m feeling pretty good.

Sailing a broad reach with compass heading 005° (350°T, allowing for Variation) until we clear the island reefs, then I plan to come round to 020° to make Bermuda while keeping east of any bad weather from the US coast.

1830: 17° 15’N 61° 50’W, Course 020°M Speed 6.7kts.

Sunset: Close reach under 18 kts of wind. Georgina behaving herself, although a little graunchy at times in a 2m beam swell and choppy cross-sea.

2000: 17° 27’N 61° 59’W Course 027°M Sp 7 kts.

Close reach with 17 kts wind, rolling heavily from a long but weighty beam swell. A full (ish) yellow moon rising behind ominous-looking cumulous clouds. Possible squalls coming my way.

Wednesday, May 2 2018.

0600: 18° 26.5’N 62° 11.4’W

Feeling tired and dispirited due to my diligent half-hourly wake-ups to check for shipping. After clearing Barbuda, however, with nothing but open ocean for the next 950 miles, reverted to hourly intervals. By 4am I was thoroughly bushed, and, relying entirely on AIS to keep me warned of any impending collision, I slept fitfully through till 6.

As presaged by those heavy clouds from the east, it was indeed a squally, squally night, but as the sun came up on a clear sky, my spirits were lifted by a flock of terns swooping and chirruping around us, diving gracefully into the rolling breakers to catch their morning feed.

1000: 18° 48.7’N 62° 11.4’W Co 020°M Sp 5

Beam Reach, with slightly reduced wind. Choppy seas on a long, westerly swell. Partly cloudy.

1410: 19° 12.7N 62° 14.5’W Co 020°M Sp 7

Mostly fine sailing so far. Weather warm and balmy with 15 kts of wind, but the heavy seas make an uncomfortable ride in the confusion of swells. Haven’t touched the wheel or the sails since yesterday afternoon. Well done, Georgina, though I wish you wouldn’t use so much wheel.

1600: Haven’t quite got my sea-legs, or into the ‘cruising groove’ yet, so spirits sagging occasionally and not eating well. Taking it a day at a time. Made 150 miles today.

The sea is a boiling tableau of iron blue, hung with vast orange patches of floating sargasso, sometimes in long, ugly streaks, often huge islands of the stuff. I fancy catching a fish and look longingly at my rod. But fishing is definitely out of the question with all this floating weed to snag my gear.

No seabirds now, but earlier came on deck to frantic squealing as a huge flock of dark grey, unidentified birds (sleek and tern-like) dived into the hidden bounty beneath the boat.

An hour later, and the sky to the northeast is now streaked with mares tails; change is coming, and already I see a dark mass of towering cumulous gathering from windward. It’ll be several more hours before we feel its influence, and anyway, I’m as reefed as I can be and all secured below. Barometer remains steady at 1022mb, so any disturbances, however wet and violent, are likely to be brief.

1947: 19° 46.0’N 62° 20.0’W Co 202°M Sp 6.5 kts.

Thursday May 3 2018

0001: 20° 12.9’N 62° 21.6’W Co 202° Sp 7.5

Georgina struggling to steer in heavy squalls. I don’t intervene, however; I need to know she can handle whatever the central Atlantic throws our way over the next month. She’s oversteering badly, and I’m worried she might tack and heave us to, or worse, broach and cause an uncontrolled jibe. Watching her carefully and thinking about that sea-anchor rig, among other options. Now it comes down to it, I’m hugely reluctant to deploy that heavy anchor, with all its attendant drag, not to mention the undue strain on the quarter-cleats.

0600: 20° 50.8’N 62° 22.1’W Co 202 Sp 7

There’s another yacht just a few miles ahead of me. I spotted her earlier on AIS, Avocet, American MMSI number. She’s a sloop, like me, but bigger, around 45ft, with a similar sailplan; two reefs and shortened genny. I’m slowly overhauling her as she crosses my bow right to left. I’ll pass clear to her starboard.

At about two hundred yards abeam I think about calling her, but my VHF is off to save power, and she may not appreciate being forced to transmit for the same reason. So I leave the radio off. (Chagrined to learn later that she was calling me, eager to exchange greetings.)

1030: 21° 21.5’N 62° 27.8’W Co 015 Sp 7

Avocet still in sight, but dropping slowly astern.

1100: 21° 25.4’N 62° 28.3’W Co 015 Sp 6

Wind veers to the southeast, so now on a very broad reach. Gave out a little on both sheets. Luckily (or cleverly, smarmy git!) I was ready with a preventer on the main boom, and quickly knotted it on. The change wasn’t entirely unexpected.

1425: 21° 46.8’N 62° 32.6’W Co 005 (ish) Sp 6

Avocet has disappeared into a squall, who’s influence is affecting us with 30 knot gusts in its northern acceleration zone. Georgina decided she’s had enough, and suddenly disengages her clutch, causing us to slew to windward and heave to. I Heave in the mainsheets and ware round back on course, but five minutes later, it happens again. I get out the 3mm Alan-key and tightened up the clutch, then set Georgina to wind-vane mode. Seems okay now but need to watch our course. She still oversteers quite alarmingly, not very encouraging for the long passage northeast after Bermuda.

1800: 22° 10.7’N 62° 40.9’W Co 010 Sp 7

My first cooked meal: beef stew. Lovely. Feeling much more alive and optimistic tonight – in the groove at last. I could easily steer northeast now, and miss Bermuda; three weeks or more at sea no longer seems daunting. Still, I’ve never been to Bermuda, and my curiosity wins out in the end.

2110: 22°33.9’N 62° 48.9’W Co 010 Sp 6.8

No shipping about, AIS alarm set for collision warning at 12 minutes, and so to bed.

Friday May 4 2018

0225: 23° 10.4’N 62° 58.8’W Co 010 Sp 8

Woken up by high winds, the boat’s motion is rough and jerky due to our excessive speed, slewing and lurching like a fairground ride. Gave a long withering scowl at the clouds scudding across a gibbous moon, and went back to bed.

0910: 23° 56.4’N 63° 13.2’W Co 010 Sp 7.5

Got out the Autopilot handbook to see if I could ameliorate Georgina’s erratic steering. Rudder gain seems to be the key, so tried reducing it from its default 5, to 2. Ah! This works. Much better. Short, gentle wheel movements, and less lurching about. Should have thought of this before… like three years ago? Duh. Feel such a dickhead.

540 miles to Bermuda.

1247: 24° 22.0’N 63° 20.5’W Co 010 Sp 7

The main saloon hatch is leaking badly, splashing me rudely awake from my afternoon snooze. Need to see if I can fix it in Bermuda. Meanwhile I stuff a towel between the hatch and the sunblind.

1700: 24° 52.9’N 63° 28.0’W Co 010 Sp 8

25 knot winds caused by a heavy squall creeping up from starboard. Upped rudder gain to 3 to give Georgina more scope to recover from a big gust.

The westerly swell has increased significantly over the last two hours, now 8 to 10ft with an obdurate cross sea knocking the bow brutally to windward. Georgina has coped so far (with her captain’s new-found competence); whether she manages in higher winds/seas remains to be seen.

Tonight’s dinner is baked potato with bolognaise sauce and grated cheese. I’ve been dry since Antigua but would dearly relish a tot of rum before dinner. I won’t risk it though, not in these changeable conditions.

Have been naked for four days, but that won’t last much longer; already the nights are feeling cooler.

All in All, feeling pretty good; spending most of the time just reading and sleeping in the saloon (too wet in the cockpit).

A big tanker crossed my wake yesterday, but apart from that, I’ve seen no vessels since leaving Avocet behind. The ocean seems vast and empty, which fills me with a great feeling of tranquillity, at peace with the world, and at once, somehow removed from it.

Looking at the Idaho potatoes swinging in the net under the bimini, a thought occurs to me. They are obviously GM (genetically modified), which is banned throughout Europe. Each potato is of the same shape and size, perfect for baking. There are no blemishes or knobbly bits, no indents to make peeling awkward. In short, they are perfect; they could have been machine manufactured. And they will last far longer than conventional, or ’organicaly’ produced tubers. The only problem is, they lack the solid, earthy flavour of our home-grown varieties, and this is disappointing. So please don’t let this genetic perfection taint our Albion shores, tempting supermarket retailers and customers to cheaper, more convenient products and drive our valiant potato farmers out of business.

2000: 25° 15.0’N 63° 33.4’W Co 010 Sp 7.5

And so to bed.

Saturday May 5 2018

0555: 26° 20.0’N 63° 53.5’W Co 010 Sp 7

A good night’s sleep (yup, slept right through the night), waking up to a clear dawn, Georgina keeping us effortlessly on course. I want to marry her. I lavish her with endless praise and apologise frequently for my erstwhile lack of regard to her needs. RTFM, you old fool!

1110: 26° 52.5’N 64° 03.6’W Co 101 Sp 6.5

Barometer risen to 1024mb in past four hours. We’re nearing the western edge of the Azores High.

1300: 27° 02.7’N 64° 05.9’W Co 010 Sp 6

The sky is virtually cloudless, wind down to around 14 knots, but the sea remains wickedly roistering, impetuous, even. It just took me twenty painstaking minutes to construct a simple cheese, ham & tomato sandwich, trying to balance and hold on while stopping the half-built sandwich from flying into the sink. I probably used up more energy in the process of making it, than my body received from it.

Last night I noticed my starboard navigation light was out. It irritates the hell out of me when something doesn’t work, especially when it’s too rough to go forward and fix it, if that’s even possible – no way to tell until I’ve investigated the problem. The consequence is that vessels approaching my starboard bow at night will not see me. Of course, any major vessel out here must have AIS, so will see me, and even most yachts carry it these days. So the risk is minimal for now. The problem will arise when I get close to Bermuda, which I calculate will be early Monday evening, with the much greater density of shipping. Not to mention entering St Georges harbour at night. I could manage to go up to the foredeck of course. In a real emergency. But a duff nav light in an empty ocean just doesn’t cut it.

1856: 27° 39.2’N 64° 16.4’W Co 010 Sp 6.5

With such a clear sky I was hoping to see the Green Flash at sunset, but alas, as the sun approached the western horizon, a band of distant cloud moved in and pissed on its parade. Had a pre-dinner tot tonight (It’s Saturday Night, after all), which went straight to my head. Enjoyed the chicken stew all the more for it, though.

2325: 28° 06.4’N 63° 24.1W Co 013 Sp 6.5

Starry, starry night! Flipped back the bimini to just lie on my back and gaze up into the spangled heavens. Sea now slightly calmer.

Sunday May 6 2018

0336: 28° 30.7’N 64° 28.6’W Co 013 Sp 5.5

Lights of the cruise ship Anthem of the Seas clearly visible at 16 miles to starboard, obviously en route from Hamilton to St John’s, which she will probably reach by Tuesday morning and disgorge her hordes of Newlyweds, Overfeds, and Nearlydeads onto the beaches and shopping malls of Antigua. If that sounds cynical, then it’s supposed to be. I hate cruise ships for what they do to local environments, and how little they contribute to struggling island populations. Enclosed and cosseted holiday resorts are also off my Christmas Card list. End of rant. Back to bed.

0640: 28° 48.0’N 64° 31.5’W Co 015 Sp 5.5

Pressure slowly rising, now 1026. High cirrus clouds with underlying fluffy cumulus to the east confirms the influence of the Azores High. Sea continues to slacken, the wind dropping. 220 miles to go, hope I don’t lose the wind in the last day of passage.

I usually like a cooked breakfast on Sunday mornings (Eggs, bacon, beans, and toast), but eying the cooker swinging wildly on its gimbals, I thought better of it, promising myself a postponed Full English in St Georges. Instead, I settled for porridge laced with ground cinnamon and nutmeg, then liberally drizzled with honey. Delightful!

Feeling settled and at peace with the Universe. Atlantic Crossing? Bring it on. Coffee now, then back to my reading. Currently it’s: “We need to Talk About Kevin”, not really my kind of novel, but recommended by Lewis, and I’m finding it a surprisingly compelling read. Just wondering why Franklin never replies to her letters. Thinking he must have died, horribly, probably, at the hands of his sociopathic son. (That’s not a spoiler, I haven’t got halfway through the book yet. Just seems obvious.)

While I’ve been writing, a thin layer of cirrus and alto cumulus has moved in to cover half the sky, continuing to encroach westward. So not much expected from the solar panel today. I’ve tied back the vane of the wind generator to stop it spinning around and stalling, so at least I’ve got a constant, if paltry, charge going into the batteries.

Note on Power Management: Continuous use of autopilot takes a heavy toll on the batteries, plus the fridge, which is on all day7, but turned off at night (to make way for the nav lights). Instruments, chartplotters, VHF radio And AIS also use significant, if not excessive power. I run the engine for one hour mornings and evenings to keep the batteries charged, but on a good, sunny and windy day, I may sometimes manage with one hour a day.

1020: 29° 09.8’N 64° 34.5’W Co018 Sp 6

200 miles to go. Going to try fishing. A traditional Sunday pastime.

1525: 29° 39.5’N 64° 36.4’W Co 025 Sp 5.5

Fishing trawl out with a spoon lure. No enquiries yet, but maybe towards dusk???

Wind shifted slightly to the south this afternoon, so changed course to 025°M. There’s a ship on AIS 20 miles ahead, heading for Florida. It’s CPA is 15 miles, so I doubt I’ll catch a glimpse of her. Otherwise, just a lazy Sunday afternoon.

1935: 30° 04.2’N 64° 35.8’W Co 025 Sp 5.2

The Blue Ocean seemed barren today. No birds, no whale spouts, no dolphins or leaping mahi mahi, not even the odd flying fish. I know the two-mile column beneath festoons with trillions of creatures, but none grace me with their presence. Like intrepid fishermen since time began, I wind in my redundant lure and hope for better luck tomorrow.

With my Kindle on charge, I’ve little to do but sit on the leeward quarter of the cockpit, contemplating the sugarscoop stern three feet below. It is almost constantly awash, because the boat sits too deep at the back end. It’s a problem I’ve tried to mitigate by moving half my spare fuel (60l) to the forepeak. That still leaves the three heavy batteries, which I can do nothing about, and another 60l of diesel which I will gradually transfer to the main tank as the voyage progresses. The one redeeming thought: less chance of pitchpoling should a storm come my way.

Maybe.

Monday May 6 2018

0043: 30° 33.9’N 64° 33.8’W Co 026 Sp 6.5

Thank heavens the wind picked up; thought I was going to stall, becalmed, on the final day (which would have made it NOT the final day).

0844: 31° 20.4’N 64° 19.0’W Co 045 Sp 7

Wind now gusting F7 from SSE. Increased swell making this sailplan uncomfortable and difficult. Need to think through my options. Best not to rush into a solution only to regret it later.

1010: 31° 33.0’N 64° 24.8’W Co 000 Sp 4.8

So, that didn’t last long. The wind dropped back again but remains SSE. Here’s the problem.

My ideal course for St Georges puts the wind directly astern. I don’t want to make ground to the east in case the wind shifts westerly, leaving me with a long beat back. So I’ve decided to roll away the genny and proceed on mainsail only: just wish I’d shaken out a reef yesterday when it was relatively calm. Still, making 5.5 knots now, and smack on course for an early evening ETA. My only slight niggle is that pesky nav light, that comes on intermittently, but is mostly out. Hopefully not too many harbour movements at night.

1400: 31° 52.1’N 64° 30.1’W Co 000 Sp 5.5

30 miles to go, and I make my obligatory call to Bermuda Radio. No reply.

1840: 32° 11.8’N 64° 37.5’W Co 015 Sp 4.5

11 miles to go, under engine and mainsail due to little wind. In contact with Bermuda Radio, who are monitoring my progress and will give me clearance to enter the channel after I’ve dropped the mainsail. All very procedural and ordered after the low-tech anarchy of the Antilles. Not sure which I prefer.

2200: Berthed alongside St Georges Town Wharf after clearing customs at the customs dock. All fairly painless and straightforward really.

Two Belgian guys from the yacht ahead of me took my berthing lines. I can manage alone, but was glad to stand on the (rolling) jetty and speak to someone apart from myself and Georgina (who rarely responds to my conversational gambits). They seemed incredulous that I was making the passage home alone; kept glancing down into the boat to see if I had a crew member hiding below. It surely isn’t that unusual these days?

Tuesday May 7 2018

It seems I can’t berth alongside, since all the berths are booked up by the ARC boats heading home to Europe. So I go out and drop anchor 100 metres offshore, and spend half the day getting my dinghy assembled and inflated. The upside of this is, no mooring fees, saving myself about $42 per day. It means I can stay here as long as I like. Mm, need to think about that.

Friday May 11 2018
Still at anchor in St Georges. Planning to leave tomorrow, destination, Ponta Delgada, Sao Miguel, the easterly island of the Azores Archipelago. I'll be taking the 'middle route', 055°T to 38° then 070°T, total distance 1900NM, taking between 12 and 16 days, depending on the wind. This is the big one folks. I'll post again on the other side.