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Gayle sent these to me this morning. Very neat. We purchased a Garmin inReach mini for the trip. First time for my voyages I could communicate back. It worked perfectly and integrated seamlessly with my iPhone. But, it did distract me a bit and I don't dig that. I am as vulnerable as anyone else to device addiction. I have to be very careful or it interferes with what I am always seeking. Man I am yammering already. Pictures below.
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Great work John. Congrats on a challenging, but successful and safe voyage! Quaff a pint knowing your CD forum buddies are all with you in spirit and smiling.
This was the toughest of the three trips I have made between NC and the Virgin Islands. But first, the the numbers:
-Total trip distance: 1,466 miles sailed.
-Time: 12 days 6 hours.
-Reefs (taking in/shaking out): min of 16.
-Sail changes (hauling up or dropping sails): 19.
-Tacks: 4.
-Fuel used: 6 gallons.
-Water used: 20 gallons.
-Ships sighted: 8.
-Windvane disengaged due to sargasso: 13 times.
For this trip I purchased a Garmin inReach mini. Essentially, it is a satellite based texting device. It requires a subscription. In the past I carried a SPOT which allowed me to transmit my GPS coordinates to ten people via their email. I had no idea if they got it or not. In fact it had proved to be a bit unreliable. The inReach, however, allows you to send and receive text. It's not as quick as cell/WiFi based texting but it worked very well.
Chris Parker, our wx consultant, found me a small wx window for crossing the Gulf Stream on a timeline I could make. It required me to leave on a very light wind day. Probably motoring would be required he said. I did not want to start off motoring. The next window though was about a week away. So, I sailed out the Beaufort inlet at 0900 3 December and within an hour I was motoring for 5 hours!
Anyway, soon we were sailing on port tack. But not east. Parker wanted me to go south first on the west side of the Stream to avoid a developing low pressure system. Finally, I got headed and tacked SE and entered the GS about 2100 on the evening of 3 Dec. I crossed as quickly as I could. It's always amazing to cross the GS. The temps are cool/cold and then suddenly they are warm and humid. 8-10 hours later it is cool/cold again.
In no time we were galloping along ESE. The norm for the voyage seemed to be SSE-SSW at 20-25 kts. Working jib and a main with one or two reefs was generally the best combination. The wind maintained strength for a large portion of the trip. So the waves built. That meant we had a lot of dynamic motion. Big wave slaps. "Bam" in the middle of the night. Just constant up and down and all over the place. I ate reasonably well. Hamburger paddies with potatoes slices. Scrambled eggs etc.
Around day four I got nauseated. That was not that bad part though. I experienced vertigo--not dizziness but head spinning vertigo. I had it once before at home. Something to do with a crystal getting loose in your inner ear. I had it off and on for about 24 hours. I could not look down or to the left with out my head spinning. But it eventually went away. I got my stomach under control with some scopolamine capsules and began to eat again. Though I did not regain my normal appetite I managed to eat enough to maintain my strength. Cup O Noodle and Ramen were invaluable. I drank a lot of water.
We experienced more squalls than on either of the previous voyages. The log reveals 18 or 20 kts gusting 25 with squalls to 30-35 for much of the first 10 days. The last day or two was mostly 22 gusting 28 with squalls to 35 kts. There were maybe two or three days without squalls. Most of them were at night. I sailed on essentially a new moon so there was only starlight at night for a good portion of the trip. And once the clouds rolled in I could not see the squalls at all. So I reduced sail more at night than I usually would. That slowed me down.
I motored three times total for the whole trip: at the beginning, which I mentioned, and then twice more, once for about five hours and once for about 2.5 hours. What does that mean? Well it means I did not roll around in a flat calm for the better part of a day. It means I kept moving towards wind when there was none where I was. What it also means is I didn't lay on deck looking at the stars or read in the cockpit, or write in my journal, or make a good meal, or really look the rigging of the boat over closely. I think motoring worked against my personal nature. The experience was wholly unsatisfying even if it was effective in propelling me towards my destination.
I picked up the Trades early this time. I think around 27°N/64°W. As I made my way further south they increased in intensity.
This voyage tends to have a lot of upwind work. But combined with the higher winds and significant squall activity it was simply a more physically dynamic environment than past voyages. A fair amount of twisting off of waves slewing the stern, being overtaken by hissing crests, or blasting water all over the boat and cockpit when close reaching. More hull slap than usual. BAM! Like a gunshot, water flys over the boat. More crashing down off waves. More fatiguing for me.
I have come to rely on the mains'l, stays'l, and working jib. Those three sails, in the past, have always allowed me to keep the pedal down. Last trip we had a whole series of 140 mile days. This time I had one. I think this was because I reefed down to a stays'l and double reefed main and the wind would go light after the squalls. If it was night time and squalls were forecasted, I didn't want to haul up sails in the dark only to get whacked 30 minutes later by a squall I could not see. So I sailed more under-canvased during times of reduced visibility than for any other trip I have made. I think a furling jib would have helped me power up the boat in the lulls. Then furl it up and carry on with the stays'l as the wind returned. So it might be time for a furler.
The Far Reach performed great, as usual. Everything worked perfectly. She was responsive, well behaved, balanced, easy to sail. Though the ride was lively and dynamic at times, I was always able to move through the boat without being beat up or thrown around. I never needed the lee cloths because so just slept on the leeward pilot berth. Those big open saloons many people seem to enjoy are a hazard offshore.
The new pram hood was great a great addition. The windows were awesome. I spent hours standing on the steps under the hood just gazing at the water, sky, and stars. A highlight of the trip.
The new solar panels and batteries. Worked perfectly. I was able to run a small 12v fan inside the boat (we were closed up much of the trip) without a care in the world. Never stopped transmitting the AIS. Gobs more power than I need.
LED nav lights. Awesome. Very bright. No complaints.
Some voyage highlights:
Towards the end of day one I was visited by a Redwing Blackbird. He flew right up to the transom and landed on the fantail. He stayed aboard about 30 minutes.
One time after the windvane oar detached I tried to put it back on but couldn't. I was laying on the lazarette with my head and arms over the stern. The lower swing arm would not rotate. I opened the lazarette and looked at the quadrant and a 2' long PVC pipe I use as tiller extension on the dinghy outboard engine was wedge through the windvane quadrant!! I pulled it out. I had been careless stowing it.
On 5 Dec I had a scary encounter with the MV "Horizon Thrano." I just randomly stuck my head up out the hatch one morning and there she was as clear as day. She had already crossed our wake less than one mile away! Why didn't the AIS alarm go off?? I checked the AIS carefully going back through every menu item. There it was. I had failed to turn on the alarm. That could have been a fatal mistake. God only knows how close ships had passed me the previous days as I lay sleeping.
I broke my first piece of gear in 11,500 nm of sailing. The bail broke on a Schafer block I had leathered and used as a turning/foot block for the jib. Looking at it I decided it was just not large enough for the task. My fault. I had a larger Harken spare and was back in business in 10 minutes. I still have the original Cape Dory foot blocks. I'll reinstall them when I get home.
I saw my first Tropic Bird of this voyage on day 5. They are beautiful, graceful, and curious creatures. Always a highlight to see one.
At one point my AIS would not hold the satellite signal. It kept beeping and alerting me with an on screen message "GPS signal lost." Turns out a foam throw cushion in the cockpit was sitting right over its under bridge-deck location. I moved the cushion. "GPS signal acquired." Cue the sigh of relief.
On the morning of day 11 we we were sailing along close-hauled on a somewhat smooth but undulating sea. I was standing on the bridge-deck with my hands on the gallows. Suddenly the water rose up. A very big swell. Maybe 15'. And we began to sail up the swell at a 45° degree angle. It was like climbing a long hill. The vision is stuck in my head. There was no breaking crest or flying spray or really any sound at all. Just this long climb. When we got to the top I could see a long way off. Then, we slid down the other side. The whole thing lasted maybe 10-12 seconds. It was both eerie and fascinating.
The boom was lashed into the gallows for the last two days. We were close or beam reaching under the stays'l alone. The gallows really proves itself in such circumstances. Strapped into the gallows, I can grab hold of the boom for balance. It's no longer a weapon that can do me harm.
The last 48 hours were essentially a contest between incoming bad weather and boat speed. Chris Parker had forecasted for days that the wind and wave height would increase significantly Wednesday 15 December. Every couple hours I checked my position. "What can I do that I am not doing?" The last 24 hours was the windiest of the voyage. But because I had got so much easting--62°57"W--I could crack off for what had been forecasted for days as a serious wx event. At last, I reached my Way Point and turned SW finally sailing a broad reach towards the north bank of the BVI. It was comfortable. But it was slower.
It was a long night. I slept two hours. Low lying Anegada and her dangerous reef were in the dark off my port bow. My way point was 5 miles west of the island's west end. Then, at 0545 EST, LAND HO! It was unmistakably Virgin Gorda off the port bow in between squalls. It was a beautiful sight. At 0810 we crossed over the north bank of the BVI. With the naked eye I could see the tops of palm trees on Anegada 4.5 miles away to the east. In 10 hours we had sailed over a 24,600' deep section of the Puerto Rican Trench to 190' on the north bank. I added the double reefed main and we were ripping along towards the goal line.
About five miles from Tortola I was inundated with squalls. Back to just the stays'l.
As I sailed past Cane Garden Bay the heavens opened up and it poured down rain. We were hammered with the most intense squall of the trip. Maybe 40+kts. I could see about 100 yards. I fore-reached back and forth with just the stays'l. The squall would pass and I would make a beeline for Thatch Cut to St John. But the air would go light. Before I could get there BAM, another squall. Jog back the other direction. I decided I had to be right there at the cut to get through between squalls. So we repositioned accordingly. As soon as the squall past I did something I had never done before--I dropped the stays'l and sadly I started the diesel and just motored along on a walk of shame. It was about a mile and a half into Francis Bay, St John where I picked up a National Park mooring.
So that was the voyage from NC to the USVI. It was hard uncomfortable sailing. Not horrible. Not difficult. Just uncomfortable. I don't think I was as on top of my game as I was the last trip. This was probably due to the fact I spent the last two years with the Far Reach on the hard focused on installing an engine and lost some sailing proficiency. That's all on me. But, the voyage was just as rewarding. Just as satisfying. And well worth it. I am here with a wonderful boat. The water is great. The scenery breathtaking. The temperatures perfect. It's time for some serious fun.
Last edited by John Stone on Dec 18th, '21, 05:34, edited 2 times in total.
Still hanging out at Francis Bay. The wind is honkin' till Monday morning. I have been eating and sleeping. Also, taking care of some small tasks. I'd like to get some pictures of the FR from the dinghy but it's been too windy. Today, I looked the engine over. Pulled the engine box off and the drip tray out. Found the source of a small leak (rudder post stuffing box) which I will tighten as soon as the squalls back off. Been rowing twice a day. Generally doing as little as possible along with being appreciative for being able to make such a voyage and spend time here.
MTF
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Today's task list: Eat, sleep, work on small projects, relax.
I inspected the rudder post stuffing box. It had definitely been allowing water ingress. Not a lot but enough that I noticed it. I tightened the rudder post stuffing box about 1.5 turns. You can see the verdigris in the picture now forward where it had been aft before I tightened it. The hydronic pressure on the gland must have been significant over the 12 days at sea with waves forced up under the stern counter.
I went out for a row around the anchorage this afternoon and was able to take a few photos of the Far Reach. She is looking pretty good I think. "Look Ma, no outboard."
The wind has backed off significantly today. Probably work my way down to St Thomas tomorrow.
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I spent part of this morning looking over the shock-cord attachment that connects the Cape Horn servo blade (the wood oar that goes into the water) with the lower yoke bracket at the bottom of the tower. I have searched the internet. Nobody seems to have an issue with excessive break away. Not a word about it. I read back through the manual. The only thing mentioned about this connection is three turns of 1/4" shock cord is sufficient to keep the oar in place but allowing it to break away if contact is made with a hard object. If it breaks away to easily increase tension.
So I so cut a new length of 1/4" shock cord and made four turns and made it tight. It definitely goes on the lower bracket with more force. We will see if that helps. I will also scout around for some 5/16" shock cord. 3/8"'is too thick to fit in the small space within the confines of the SS oar bracket.
The other thing that occurs to me is I am sailing through the Sargasso Sea. In some places it is choked with sargasso though I have not noticed as much sargasso this voyage. Maybe this is not an issue anywhere else. Jim Walsh tells me he has never had his Monitor vane servo blade trip due to Sargasso. But then no other CH windvane owner has come forward with the issue I have experienced. But, I do seem to remember reading during the Golden Globe there were problems with windvanes breaking the lower tube and I think that included the Monitor. They now offer a tube reinforcement sleeve. I have to remind myself I have over 10,000 miles on this vane with this being the only problem I have failed to successfully correct. Maybe there is something I am missing.
It dies appear my efforts to shape the steering oar after we determined it had warped and subsequently caused difficulties steering in light air were successful. Anyway, I have been very happy with the vane except for this one problem associated with the Sargasso.
I'll probably get underway tomorrow for Elephant Bay, St Thomas about 15 miles away.
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I couldn’t imagine how the blade was held in position so I looked at the owners manual. There’s only this reference to the issue you’ve encountered “ Tension on the shock cord is adjusted to maintain the oar in place, except when an effort beyond normal is imposed.If it breaks too often, without apparent reason, increase the tension on the shock cord.”.
Clearly you are on the right track. Since shock cord has no industry standards or measurements to indicate strength I agree with your remedy.
Hi Jim. Thanks for taking a look. Seems the only reasonable solution. It's what Yves had said to do. The question is how to get the tension. The thing is, sailing around the VI does not replicate offshore. But, there is no way around it right now. I am going to focus on more tension and the most reasonable simplest way to do it. Occam's Razor etc.
I like/love the vane for so many reasons but most of all it steers the boat incredibly well. Up wind, downwind, heavy air, light air. It's very sensitive and demonstrates very little yaw. But this one thing is driving me nuts. And no other owners seem to be complaining so it must be an error I am making or something I am over looking. I am going to solve it. And when I do it will probably be one of those well duh" moments.
This morning I sailed off the mooring in Francis Bay, St John about 0820 in a light ENE wind. I sailed down wind through Durloe Channel then across Pillsbury Sound. I sailed right through Current Cut. The wind began to increase a bit to about 18 kts as we sailed wing and wing along the south coast of St Thomas. A short sharp rain squall overtook us before we could enter West Grogorie Channel so I dropped the jib and hove to under a double reefed main for about 15 min. Then we carried on to our mooring in Elephant Bay.
After cleaning up the boat I hauled water and 40 lbs of ice, then made it into Tickles Pub and I had a fantastic bacon cheese burger and a couple of Guinness. Roberto, I was thinking 'bout you.
It was my first meal off the boat since 2 Dec and it was worth the wait. Lots of friends showed up at the pub. Tomorrow I will start in on laundry and groceries and get the boat ready for some sailing next week.
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