January 2020

2020 started with us at anchor in Marigot bay, St Martin.  Elsie’s health continued to give concern, with occasional upset tummy and fatigue.  On the 1^st we had a lazy day; on the second, she was feeling better and we took a bus from the local station over to the Dutch side for another stock-up at the cash and carry; on the third, we were notified that our new sail cover collar was ready so I dinghied the length of the lagoon to collect it, getting a few last minute things from the chandlery while down there; on the way back, I checked out.  The plan was to leave the following morning at 04:00.  Unfortunately, that evening, Elsie was once again ill, with symptoms almost of appendicitis, and we decided to delay 24 hours.  As it happened, she was well again by the morning, but we decided to stay anyway.  Looking at the weather again that evening, it was clear that Sunday was going to have light winds, so we delayed a further 24 hours.  We did get away, as planned, on Monday and had a pleasant downwind sail to Blunder Bay, the first stop in the B.V.I.s, arriving 30 minutes before sunset and anchoring in the lee of Prickly Pear Island.  Tuesday was laundry day and, as we hadn’t done it for 4 weeks there was plenty to be done.  We moved across to Leverick Bay, anchored and dinghied ashore, only to find that there was only one working washing machine.  Fortunately, the only person ahead in the queue was an employee of the resort and she graciously gave way, so we were able to make a start.  It still took over 3 hours to complete but it was a job that needed doing.  We then went over to the fuel dock to take water, then motored round to Long Bay to anchor for the night.  There were already 5 boats, occupying the favoured area so we dropped the hook in 9 metres.  The water was just too cloudy to see the bottom 11 metres below where we settled but we believed that we were over sand. Swimming ahead, I could see that the general area was sandy so we settled for the night.  2 hours later there was a grating sound as we shifted a bit and the chain ran over a rock.  It will just be an isolated one, I thought. Not so.  We spent a fairly restless night with intermittent rumblings and occasional snatches as the anchor chain leapt from rock to rock.  Fortunately, in the morning most of the other boats left so we picked up and moved closer to the beach. 

A prolonged period of strong winds was forecast so, on the 9^th, we picked up and sailed downwind under just the genoa, to Roadtown where we picked up one of the free moorings and had a good shop at the local supermarket.  Then off again to the crook of Peter Island, anchoring in White Bay.  We had been here last year so knew that it had good holding, shelter from the prevailing easterly wind and a pleasant beach.  We knew we were here for a while so established a bit of a routine:  up, coffee, morning news, breakfast.   A bit of maintenance, a bit of Spanish practice, a little sunbathing, lunch.  Swim ashore for a walk on the beach (the island is private, so we couldn’t go inland), a bit more Spanish, shower.  Sundowners, radio, dinner, book, bed.  Elsie had another bad episode with her digestion and research showed that, even though she had had her gall bladder removed years before, gall stones could still be a problem.  Since this latest episode definitely followed eating a cake with cream, she decided to cut out dairy completely.  At the time of writing, this seems to be working.

The main focus of maintenance was trying to trace the origin of water in the bilge.  This time it was fresh water.  We had eliminated rain and the forward fresh water tank.  We tried turning the pressure pump off for a couple of days.  Finally, I started lifting floorboards and found a plastic pipe which had sawn itself through rubbing on a little bulkhead.   Hurrah!  And we even had the solution.  Years before, I bought a selection of whale brand fittings for just such an eventuality.  All I had to do was saw the pipe through, clean up the ends and insert a straight fitting.  Unfortunately, I had bought 12mm instead of 15mm fittings.  Fortunately, I discovered this before making the cut, so I was able to just tape up the hole in a temporary fix.  Other little entertainments included replacing the impeller of the bilge pump;  making up a new snubber as the existing one was wearing through on the bow roller;  making up a protecting pipe for the new one; discovering, in the middle of the night, that the solar panel on the bimini had torn itself loose and was in danger of leaving us and trying to ensure that this would not happen again.

Sunset sail

The gale finally blew itself out on the 14^th and we headed downwind then back across to Roadtown for provisions.  There was a swell running in and, the mooring buoy not having pick-ups, we gave up trying to use them after a couple of attempts and anchored instead.  We also called in at the chandlery which, happily, had the correct fitting for our water pipes.  We bought a replacement and some spares.  Stocked up, we headed downwind to the U.S. part of the Virgin Islands.  Hoping to avoid physically checking in, we went into the first big bay, Francis, and took one of the obligatory moorings.  Five minutes on the ‘ROAM’ ap and we were in the CBP system with clearance pending.   We were still ‘pending’ the following morning and, eventually, decided to take a walk ashore.  Of course, as soon as we landed, the CBP message came through, instructing us to report to the nearest office ASAP.  We decided to have our walk anyway.  Along the beach, over the hill to the next bay and back encountering, to some surprise, a couple of grazing deer.  Back on board we sailed, under genoa, down towards Cruz Bay.  Our intention was to anchor just to the south but there is a very small area to do this so, spotting a vacant mooring ball just to the north, we had a quick change of plan and picked it up.  As we were doing this, we noticed a cruising yacht being escorted to the next buoy along by a coastguard boat, blue lights flashing.  After lots of backing, filling and shouting, they got tied up and the coastguard departed.  Into the dinghy and round to Cruz Bay.  Checked in and a quick wander round the supermarket.  Back to Ruby for lunch then t her round to Cruz Bay for a top-up of water then motored round to our ‘regular’ anchorage in Rendezvous Bay. 

Deer

We heaved up at 08:15 on the 16^th and, with one reef in the main, sailed down to St Croix.  We managed to avoid the showers, which appeared to be being sparked by Virgin Gorda, but still caught some of the gusts including five minutes of 30-35 knots.  We had reefed the genoa when we saw it coming but, with only one reef in the main, hand steering was required until it passed.  We headed into the anchorage to the west of Buck Island and were cheered when the only other boat, a day-tripper, departed at 16:00.  Not so cheered when a fellow cruiser came to share the anchorage at sunset but he, obligingly, departed the following morning leaving us in splendid isolation.  Coffee then dinghied ashore for a walk up the trail to the top if the island and down the other side, managing to do so before the first tourist boat appeared at 09:30.  Many other boats joined us during the day but they all left so we had another night alone.  At least until 9 PM, when we heard a loud horn.  Poking our heads out, there was a coastguard RIB with blue flashing lights.  We had been working on the assumption that the requirement for a permit to visit the island was still in abeyance.  Were we about to be disabused?  No.  there had, apparently, been flares fired earlier – had we seen anything? No.

Local hero, Fredriksted

An early rise again on Saturday.  Starting the outboard, for our trip ashore, I felt discomfort in my lower back.  I have had back problems going back decades, with three crushed lumber vertebrae at the root.   By being careful, I have avoided pain for many years and put this down to early morning stiffness. Lifting the dinghy onto the beach brought a little more pain and I should have given up there but I was looking forward to my exercise and marched to the top of the hill and back, while Elsie opted for a level beach walk.  Going up was fine but on the way down I felt a jarring with every step and, by the time we were back on board, I was in considerable discomfort.  We picked up after breakfast and Elsie sailed us down the coast to Frederiksted under Genoa while I lay down and nursed my back.  On Sunday, things were worse – I could hardly move.  Even the gentle exercises I remembered from previous events were beyond me, so it was a boring day of lying down and taking the tablets.  On Monday, I was a little better and we went ashore for a little wander round the town (Elsie starting the outboard).  There were many people on the streets and when we got to the park we found seating laid out, music playing and stalls set up.  Being from the other side of the Atlantic, we were unaware that it was Martin Luther King Day.  We found ourselves seats in the shade and waited for the parade, which was mostly schools, with a couple of marching bands.  We stayed long enough for anthems: US, Virgin Islands and Black but excused ourselves after the first of about 10 speeches.  Back to Ruby for another day of nursing my back.  On Tuesday, we went for a little tour of the island by getting the public bus to Christiansted and back, using the hour between busses for va walk round the town.

Time for us to leave

We now had a little dilemma.  The anchorage at Frederiksted is good for winds from the Eastern semi-circle, which covers 99% of the time.  On Thursday, however, it was forecast to veer to the south-west and then clock round to the north-west before becoming light and variable for several days.  With my back still playing up, I wasn’t ready for the long walk down to the point, which was one of the things we had been looking forward to when we came here, if we hesitated, we could be stuck for a week.  We had almost decided to leave on Wednesday morning when we spotted a large cruise ship heading our way and that was the final factor.  Up anchor and, expecting the wind to be just east of south, set off initially under just genoa.  It steadied at ESE so we had a change of plan, hoisted the main, and had a great broad reach up to the eastern end of St Thomas.  We went somewhere different, due to the forecast wind, to Redhook Bay.  This is a busy little ferry port and most of the anchorage is taken up with moorings but we managed to find a spot and anchored for the night.  It was not the most comfortable with ferry and other traffic but this died down late at night and we slept well.  On Thursday, we dinghied ashore and caught a ‘safari’ bus into Charlotte Amelie, the main town.  A little wander round here then we tried to get out to the western side.  This wasn’t very successful as the official busses only run 3 times a day and safari busses don’t go there at all.  We weren’t prepared to pay for a taxi to what would probably just be a tourist resort so, 3 busses later, we found ourselves back where we had started.  There was an adequate supermarket, so we stocked up with a few day’s food and returned to Ruby.  The wind was due to box the compass during the night and, as we were anchored close to mooring balls (including one which had been reinstated during the day), we moved further out.  Not only did this put us in deeper water, it also took us out of the no-wake zone and a particularly large wash from a ferry took out Elsie’s sundowner rum before she had even taken a sip. Not a happy bunny.  On Friday, we motored round to Magens Bay, on the north side of St Thomas.  This has a half mile long beach, frequently listed as being in the world’s top ten.  With the odd winds of the past few days there was a bit of a swell running in, but we found a spot in the north east corner where it wasn’t too bad and settled in for a lazy afternoon.  The next couple of days we spent having an early morning trip ashore (we weren’t allowed to beach the dinghy but I could drop Elsie, moor the dinghy on a little buoy and swim ashore to join her) a healthy walk up and down the beach before the hoards arrived, then going back for lazy days. 

We had our final trip ashore on Tuesday morning then picked up and motored the 20 miles to Culebra in the Spanish Virgin Islands, anchoring in the beautifully protected Ensenada Honda.  Ashore to check in at the airport.  The last time we did this, 3 years before, all had gone smoothly.  This time, we were refused entry to the DHS office and told to phone headquarters.  They, in turn, told us to use the ROAM ap.  2 minutes to enter our details; 30 minutes to get a response ‘stand-by for video conference’; a further hour of sitting, watching the screen until I was down to 10% battery.  Time to go back to Ruby.  Now the heavens opened, so we waited another 20 minutes until the rain reduced to a steady drizzle.  Halfway through, Elsie remembered that she had left hatches open so, again, not a happy bunny.  Back at the dinghy dock, the outboard wouldn’t start so a long row back to the mothership.  There, we found that we had a message saying that they were now ready for the video conference but, by the time I responded, they had gone.  We finally managed it at 20:00 only to be told that we had to return to the office that had refused to talk to us 4 ½ hours earlier, to get our passports stamped and cruising licence issued.   On Wednesday morning, I took advantage of the flat calm, and morning cool, conditions to go up the mast to check that all was well (it was).  We then went back to the DHS office.  Elsie was still a little aggravated about the run-around and waited outside, to just pop in and have her fingerprints checked at the appropriate time.  I think our displeasure was apparent as it was a very formal process, they accepting our entry to the USVI’s as being continuous, and dating everything from then, so they didn’t have to face her wrath.  We stocked up on fresh food then picked up and headed the mile or so out to a mooring field protected by a reef.  We entered slowly and I went just outside the moorings, looking for the vacant on.  I glanced down at the depth gauge to see it go from 3.5 to 2.5 metres. Into astern, but not quickly enough to prevent it going to 1.5 and us gently sliding to a halt.  

A quick check on the state of the tide showed that we were just past high water so rapid action was needed.  Going astern wasn’t enough, so we got out our little kedge and I was about to run it out when a neighbouring boat offered assistance so I gratefully handed it to them.  Unfortunately, it didn’t set properly, despite 4 attempts and even them hauling on our halliard to heel us, reducing our draft, wasn’t enough.  A quick underwater inspection showed that we had just grazed the side of a sand bank so I ran out the main anchor to see if we could pull the bow round and go out forwards.  No.  I then assembled our larger, Fortress, kedge and ran that out astern.  It set very well but was still insufficient to pull us off.  We gave up for the day.  The tidal range was only about a foot and conditions were calm so there was no danger.   I decided that the stern anchor could be better positioned so went out in the dinghy to try to move it, only to find it completely buried.   I tried to dig it out just using snorkel gear but failed.  The following morning, I got out my little SCUBA set and managed to dig out the anchor, put a tripping line on it and repositioned it. Our neighbours vacated their buoy and we ran a breast line from our stern to that. We then waited until the tide was back to the height it had been the previous afternoon.   Slack the main anchor; half astern and tension our new breast line and she just slid off.  I slipped our 2 stern lines, we picked up the anchor and tied up to the buoy while I retrieved the Fortress, which came up nicely on the tripping line, then we moved to another buoy for a well-deserved break.  It was flat calm in the afternoon so we went out in the dinghy for a very slow wander round the reef.  Lack of ripples and very clear water meant we could see it perfectly but it was insufficiently interesting for us to stop, anchor and explore further with snorkels.  On  Thursday morning, we let go at 09:00, intending to go about 4 miles to Cayo de Louis Pena but, going round a corner after a mile, we saw a little bay with no boats and 2 mooring balls, so went in there instead.

Monthly stats:

Over Ground  268
Log                 282

Elsie's Christmas message

Well, Merry Christmas. I hope you are all having a great day and eating and drinking to excess. We are and its only midday. Lionel has been eyeing up the huge inflatable duck the three children on the boat in front of us have got from Santa. I may have to warn them to padlock it up at night!!!

As the last week of 2019 approaches it is time for reflection of the year we are about to leave behind and excitement as a brand-new year develops in front of us. As many already know I made a huge decision in November which changes our lives – no more long distance off shore sailing for me. The decision was made during a particularly gruelling passage between Norfolk, Virginia and Bermuda. I thought I would have changed my mind by now but no. After taking time out and reflecting on the mental and physical strains of offshore sailing I am even more adamant now than before. Thank you Mads and Lotta for helping Lionel get Ruby to Antigua. They had an arduous passage made even worse by the gas line to the new cooking stove failing and having to eat cold food for five days. Coming out of Bermuda, for the first 48 hours they were yet again hit by huge swell. I don’t know what was worse, watching the satellite link and getting emails or not being there. At one point the Tracker failed and we did not get any information for about four hours but it was just a blip and everything started working again in the afternoon. I spent most of a day contacting gas fitters in Antigua about fixing the gas problem and thank goodness one of them came through like a star and had it fixed while they booked into Antigua. Thank you so much.

I flew home for a short break to see friends and family and have a quiet pet sit with two very well-behaved dogs, three cats and fifty-five sheep. It rained most of the time I was there but we still got out for some spectacular walks round the Border countryside. I managed to catch some sort of virus between Glasgow and Guadeloupe and arrived back at Ruby feeling drained and very very ill. The next couple of weeks, I slept, I drank liquids then I slept some more which was a real shame because we visited some of my favourite places. Reaching St Kitts, I started to feel better and after some barraging we managed to secure a berth in the marina and a few days of sightseeing and walks around the capital. Not the most scenic place but I felt much better as we left to head towards St Bart’s and one of our favourite little anchorages for Christmas. Although it isn’t as peaceful as we remember it’s a lovely spot and being a French Island good food can be found, duck and traditional roast veggies for Christmas dinner tonight.

So, for the rest of the winter we will float west wards towards Cuba spending time on the larger islands which we have neglected. We are hoping to do some land travel on DR and Cuba if we can find safe places to leave Ruby but one thing this year has taught me is never make a plan in stone. It is still hoped we will coast hop up the east coast of USA to Nova Scotia and Newfoundland for the summer, we both loved Canada and are looking forward to exploring even more. It’s business as usual on Ruby Tuesday, we just have to plan better ahead and anticipate when we will need crew for the longer off shore passages.

Merry Christmas and here’s to a fantastic New Year for all of us.

December 2019

In which Elsie rejoins us after her trip back to Scotland and we cruise slowly through the Leeward Islands.

At the start of December, Ruby Tuesday was at Jolly Harbour, Antigua, with Lionel, Mads and Lotta (who had helped me bring her down from Bermuda) aboard; Elsie was in Scotland, having decided against sailing that leg.  The past couple of days had been calm but, on the 1^st, we had a forecast for a sailing wind so we rose at dawn, picked up anchor at 07:05 and headed south.  Overnight, a large swell had built up from the west and there were breakers over a shallow, 2.5 metre, patch just west of our track.  The forecast was for the wind to be just north of east, 8 knots, by 08:00 veering and increasing through the day.  The strength was correct but it started ESE so, expecting it to veer, we sailed close hauled.  Of course, it went the other way, so we ended up on  a broad reach but we did make good progress and arrived Deshais at 15:20.  There was a vacant mooring ball so we initially tied up to that then realised that, with the westerly swell bouncing off the beach it was rougher her than further out so went back out to anchor.  Ashore, to book in at Le Pelican, have an ice cream, a wander round, then a beer at the bar featured in ‘Murder in Paradise’.

Mads and Lotta

On the second, we had another early start and motored the ten miles down to Malendure, anchored, and dinghied over to Pigeon island to snorkel over Jaques Cousteau and the reefs which featured so much in his 1960s documentaries.  There was a fair current running, which made for hard work but it was worth it for the abundance of fish.  A swift trip ashore to get bread for lunch, then another 12 miles down the coast to anchor for the night.  Storms over the island were sufficiently strong to give us 10 knots of westerly wind so we managed to sail most of the way, then had a much-needed shower to wash the salt off the decks and sails.  Bringing in our towels etc to keep them dry, Mads managed to drop Lotta’s new bikini bottom over the side.  Fortunately, it floated long enough for us to turn and pick it up.  We overnighted at anchor off Marina Riviere Sens and had another early start to sail round the bottom of Basse Terre and up to Pointe a Pitre.  Once again, the wind was less than totally helpful, forcing us to beat for a couple of hours along the bottom of the island, then veering to its forecast direction to give us a broad reach up the east coast.  More showers on the way washed the last of the salt away.  We anchored in a not very scenic spot near the centre of town at 13:05 and went ashore to check out busses etc. then, in the evening, I took the bus up to the airport to meet Elsie who was re-joining after her couple of weeks away.  She had been travelling for 36 hours so it was another early night.  Unfortunately, she had picked up a virus on her travels and was feverish by the morning.  Mads and Lotta hired a car and toured the island, I fiddled about with minor jobs and went ashore for a little shopping and Elsie mostly slept.  On Thursday morning, I ferried our guests to the marina.  Elsie was still unwell but I persuaded her to help me take Ruby to the fuel dock for water in the afternoon.  We tried to anchor on the other side of the but, for some reason, I couldn’t get the anchor to hold so we ended up close to where we had started, the other side of a boat with a dog, abandoned for the afternoon and night, which continually barked and whimpered.   Not restful.

On Friday Elsie, though not up to full strength, was well enough to move and we headed out at 0745 to sail up to the Isles de la Petite Terre.  It was directly into a 15-18 knot wind, so spirited but we managed it in 7 hours, taking on of the mooring buoys with a bit of a fumble as I had under-estimated the current flowing through the mooring field.  I managed to drop the boathook overboard and made the instant decision to retrieve it.  Not wise as I could barely make way against the current.  Fortunately, Elsie was alert and threw the M.O.B. sling for me and hauled me back.  There were many tourist boats in and we had seen a couple of yachts leaving but we were the only overnight visitors apart from a small motor cruiser which appeared at sunset.  We wanted to get ashore before the hordes arrived, so rose at six, only to find heavy showers.  These passed and we managed to get ashore before 7 and strolled along the beach and round the lighthouse trail, greeting the many iguanas warming themselves in the morning sun.  The first tourist boat arrived shortly before 9 so we returned to Ruby for a lazy day.  I did go for a snorkel swim but, even with fins on, I struggled with the current and had to ask Elsie to stream our floating line in case I failed to catch the ladder as I passed.  After those exertions, we decided to spend the rest of the day not doing very much, just another stroll ashore after the tourist boats left at 16:00. Walking along the shore, we found a small shark patrolling his beat and christened him Fergal.  On Sunday morning, we found him again, together with Fiona. Surprising, to us, they wee prepared to share their very narrow patch.  After our morning walk, we let go, hoisted sail and headed to St Louis on  Les Saintes.  We alternated broad reaching and goose-wing running in the ENE’ly F4 and managed to grab a convenient mooring buoy close to the dinghy dock.  Elsie was still feeling poorly so stayed on board on Monday.  I took the laundry ashore and got a service wash done for 20 Euros at the office of Le Saintes Multiservice, who also provide the mooring balls, together a little shopping, including bread and croissants.

Grande Anse,  Les Saintes

Shower over the mooring field

I had checked anodes in Bermuda and they had ample metal remaining.  On my afternoon dip today, I was alarmed to see that the one on the propeller was down to a sliver.  We had a joint walk ashore on Tuesday morning, over the hill to the Atlantic beach and back.  Later, I replaced the prop anode, just using snorkelling gear. This is just about at the limit of my ability so I was pleased that it went smoothly.   On Wednesday, I made a quick bread run, then we set off back to the mainland.  The wind was forecast to be Easterly F4 so we left one reef in.  There were frequent showers, however, so we put a second on in before reaching the bottom of Basse Terre.  A good decision as there were 35 knot gusts.  A French yacht, just ahead of us failed to put enough jib away and it flogged horribly as they had to unload it.  By staying a couple of miles offshore, we managed to keep wind for a further 10 miles but then had to admit defeat and motor the last ten up to Pigeon Cove, anchoring in a little bay where there was, allegedly good snorkelling and a hot spring.  Elsie was again tired so I went for a swim by myself.  While there were some quite nice reefs and a few turtles, the water was very cloudy and the ’hot spring’ was a pipe with warm water enclosed in a ruined structure with a precarious entrance.  Not inviting. 

On Thursday, we took the dinghy into the little fishing harbour, remembering to take a stern anchor to keep it off the rocks while we were ashore, walked the length of the town and back and did a little shopping.  Then, up anchor and motor the last 10 miles back to Deshais.  The intention was to continue the following day up to Antigua, so we checked out, had an ice cream and hauled the dinghy back on board.  On Friday, however, Elsie was again not feeling up to strength so we just had a lazy day on board watching other boats.  A large sailing passenger ship arrived, giving a bit of elegance to the harbour.  They stayed all day, leaving just before sunset with all sails out and a couple of tenders buzzing around.  They circled until last light, possibly getting pictures for next year’s brochure.  We had spaced ourselves nicely from other boats on arrival but there was an influx of new ones in the afternoon trying to squeeze into gaps that were only just there.  The problem was made more interesting by the wind swirling round the bay, giving little clue as to where existing anchors were laid.  A Belgian boat laid theirs just a bit too close and the crew dashed ashore.  Fortunately, on their return, they had spotted a vacant mooring and they moved to that.  Their space was taken an hour later by a yacht registered in the BVIs but with a Russian name which managed to just be the couple of feet further away to make it acceptable.  Strong gusts, accelerated down the surrounding mountains, that night had me watching to make sure no-one was going to drag down on us but, happily, everyone seemed to have set their anchors properly. 

Passenger ship leaving Deshais at sunset.

It seemed that we might have problems checking into St Kitts on a Sunday so, on Saturday, we had to decide whether to kill time here or off the Antiguan coast.  Purely on the basis of better bread, we elected to stay put, even though it meant launching the dinghy again. I decided to leave it in the water that night to get one last baguette on Sunday morning and it was as well that I did.  As we were finishing supper, about 8 PM, we heard shouting and whistling.  A small Swedish boat, Alma, which had anchored inside us the previous day, was dragging and was almost hitting a large French catamaran.  We knew that the Swedish boat had only one man and a young, maybe 6 year- old, boy on board and wondered how they were going to manage driving the boat and picking up the anchor.  It soon became clear that they weren’t.  As soon as the owner left the helm to try to raise the anchor, he lost control and the French started shouting and whistling again.   I quickly donned a lifejacket, started the outboard and headed over.  Was quickly designated driver, while the owner headed forward.  At first, I over-controlled the unfamiliar boat especially the engine which was almost inaudible (and I never did find the tachometer).  Together, we managed to raise the anchor, move to a new spot and re-lay it.  It dragged again.  And again, and again.  Eventually, we headed into the mooring field to see if there were any vacant balls. Fortunately, there was one and we managed to tie up with no further incident.  Back to Ruby for a well-earned beer.

On Sunday, we sailed up to the SW tip of Antigua, with an easterly F5 giving us a nice beam reach. We anchored in Johnstone Bay in time for a late lunch and had a lazy afternoon.  We continued our journey the following morning, lifting the anchor at 0600 and heading to the narrows between St Kitts and Nevis. The wind was forecast to be from North of East, giving us a broad reach but it decided to alternate between East and ESE so we were in the no-mans-land and had to alternate between broad reaching and running.  Adding to the entertainment were frequent showers, with gusts to 30 knots so there was plenty of playing with sails.  Through the narrows, the wind finally behaved and we had a nice beam reach up to Basseterre.  We tried to contact the marina at Zante for a berth but they were replying neither to radio or telephone so we anchored outside and dinghied in.  The dockmaster, when found, thought that he could offer us a berth so, after booking in with some of the most pleasant officials I had ever dealt with, we settled in for a rolly night.  On Tuesday morning, I went ashore to find the dockmaster and was told to try again at mid-day.  I did, with no reply but, on my 3^rd dinghy trip in, I managed to find his boss and we finally got in at 16:30.  The calm was very welcome but it was carnival time with loud music into the not-so- small hours, so we didn’t get our full sleep.  On Wednesday, we caught a local bus to the top of the island, had a little walk, and caught another bus down the other coast back to town. Just as we arrived, we saw a supermarket that we hadn’t noticed before and got some much better food than that available in the centre.  Thursday was another lazy day with just a walk along a not-very-scenic shore to a chandlery to buy a couple of things.  We booked out on Friday morning and motored the 5 miles to Christophe Harbour Marina where we knew we could get cheap fuel and topped up our tank.  The marina is a complete contrast to Zante, which caters for local fishermen and cheapskate cruisers, is very informal, rather untidy and full.  Here was quiet, immaculate and efficient, with 3 staff helping to tie us up and pass the fuel hose. It was also a little reminiscent of ‘The Prisoner’, with each staff member having their own radio and identification number: “Number eleven, this is number six.  The captain of Ruby Tuesday is coming to the office to pay for fuel”.  “Roger, number six.  I will let you know when he is on his way back to the fuel dock”.  Fuelling done, we headed just outside to anchor for the afternoon.

The forecast for Saturday gave ESE’ly winds 12 – 14 knots, clear skies, ideal for a nice broad reach up to St Barts.  Elsie suggested that it would be slightly shorter to head up the Western side of St Kitts but I poo-pooed this – much better to be out in the clean winds on the Eastern side.  As we picked up the anchor, at 07:00, the wind was gusting up to 20 knots, so we left the second reef in.  We motored the couple of miles to the Southern tip.  Wind, light NE’ly.  We motored through the narrows. Wind light Southerly.   We motored right up the coast of St Kitts, with the wind boxing the compass, anything from 5 – 25 knots with frequent showers.  Finally, with about 20 miles to go, it steadied to forecast speed and direction and we arrived off Gustavia at 14:30.  The anchorage was fairly full and we were surprised to find a vacant mooring ball and grabbed it quickly.  Then ashore to check in and do our Christmas shopping.  No, not presents but lovely food.  St Barts is a billionaires’ playground and even the pleb’s supermarket has 20 types of cheese and fridges full of smoked salmon and fois gras.  We restrained ourselves to one basket but it was rather full.  Back to Ruby for sun-downers and, once the airport closed for the evening, a quiet night.     

On Sunday morning, after a bread run, we let go and motored the 3 miles up to Anse du Colombier, a lovely bay with a string of little islands protecting it from the South, which was relevant as the wind was due to veer over Christmas.  We were pleased to find several mooring balls vacant and grabbed one.  Within an hour, later arrivals were fighting over the last one but several of the late-comers were day trip boats and there is also room to anchor.  We settled in for a lazy few days with just the odd bit of light maintenance and snorkelling to break up the sun bathing.  We did venture ashore with the dinghy early on Monday morning, before the day trippers arrived, but the access area is fairly small and, with a bit of a swell rolling into a steep-to beach, the landing was ‘interesting’ so decided we probably wouldn’t bother again. 

On Tuesday, we were woken at 04:00 by a loud bang.  We both rose rapidly to try to discover the source.  Was it something falling? Or a mooring line parting.  Despite searches, we found nothing untoward and returned to bed.  On making my morning coffee, I found the culprit.  A bottle of maple syrup, not used for a few weeks, must have been gently fermenting and had exploded in the beverage cupboard, making a very sticky mess with lots of broken glass embedded in it. Still it could have been worse as the mess and flying glass was contained in the cupboard.  Restored by coffee, I took the dinghy the 2 miles or so back to Gustavia for daily bread and a couple of other grocery items routing via the small boat passage inside the islands.  It was far shallower than shown on the chart and, with swell now coming from the south, quite rough.  The whole main anchorage was also getting quite rough so we were very pleased to have bagged our spot. As well as cruising yachts and day-trip catamarans there had been one or two larger motor yachts in ‘our’ bay.  It now rapidly filled with those of the 100 – 150 ft size who were choosing also to escape the swell.  .   One of them, Lulu, made an ambiguous radio call tat afternoon, suggesting that he might be dragging his anchor.  He picked up and moved further in, so we assumed that he just wanted a better space.  At 03:00 on Christmas morning, I was woken by an air horn being sounded.  I rose to see that Lulu had dragged (again?) and was now resting on the bow of an OCC yacht, Wild Bird, on the mooring next to us.  Gayle, from the latter, had gone aboard Lulu sounding the horn to rouse the crew.  Guests appeared first and then the crew who eventually manage to get her clear, but not before punching a hole in Wild Bird’s bow.  After that, Christmas day passed quietly.  We had our traditional listen to ‘The Messiah’ and slobbed around before having an, almost, traditional dinner of duck confit with roast vegetables.

On Boxing day, the wind was forecast to veer to the South West, then North West, which would not be comfortable, so we let go our buoy that morning and motored back round to Gustavia to check out.  We tried to pick up a couple of mooring buoys but both had tangled ropes, so we just anchored for the hour or so required, then picked up and sailed, under genoa only, downwind to St Martin.  We considered going initially to a bay on the East coast but the North Westerlies were now expected to be light so went straight round the West coast to anchor off Marigot, on the French side.  A quick nip in to register – no charge, and settled for the night.  On the 27^th, we took the dinghy through the lagoon to the Dutch side, dropped off the collar for the mainsail lazy bag, to see if a new one could be made.  From there, we took a bus to the big supermarket and Cash-and-Carry searching for bargains, which we found enough of to load us down for the return trip.  In the afternoon, we dinghied into to the local supermarket, stopping off to say hello to Nicky on Blue Velvet on the way, for some fresh food shopping.  The following day, I went Dutch again, to get parts for our deck shower and stereo.  I thought that I had done well until I returned and found that nothing fitted. 

Marigot anchorage from Fort Louis

We rose early on Sunday and managed to get ashore before it got too hot to climb up Fort Louis, the fortification the French put in to protect Marigot from the bloody English.  From here, we took a low-level walk across the bridge to Sandy Ground, where the less-well-off locals live.  We had heard that there had been riots here a few weeks before but were surprised to see so much evidence.  The road was littered with burned-out cars, some of them with diversion signs painted on, which, presumably, the locals were insisting or remaining to re-enforce their grievances (dating back to the hurricanes of 2 ½ years before).  A good visit to the supermarket and back to Ruby for lunch. 

Residue of riots at Sandy Ground

On Monday,Elsie woke feeling ill again.  She was shivery and nauseous.  It seemed that we had regressed a couple of weeks.  We reckoned that her diet the previous day might be to blame and she should try to cut out dairy and wheat for a few days.  She was a little bette
r after, a very light, lunch and I made another trip to the Dutch side to return the Speakers I had bought on Saturday, getting instead ones that would fit; remembering to buy a boat hook and collecting the propane bottle.  I stopped at the fuel dock on return to get a couple of cans of water but it was unavailable today.  On Tuesday, I did some local shopping and fitted the new cockpit speakers.  Elsie was a little better but turned down the offer of joining me on a walk ashore as she didn't trust her digestive system to be more than 100 metres away from a lavatory.

It was New Year's Eve and the locals had plenty of fireworks to celebrate.  Unfortunately, they let them off at 10 minute intervals from random locations, so we heard a lot of the bangs without seeing many of them.  We followed our usual practice of staying up til midnight (U.K. time) before having a nightcap and retiring to bed. 

Monthly stats:

Over ground:   363
Log:                 410

Annual stats:

Over Ground: 7323
Log:                7524

November 2019

In which we make our way from the United States to the Caribbean an d Elsie decides that she has done enough offshore passages.

We started November on Greta and Gary’s dock in Norfolk Virginia, waiting on weather to take us to Bermuda, a staging post for our winter in the Caribbean.  Apart from our northward voyage in the spring, when we had hitched a lift from the Gulf Stream up to Norfolk and then followed the coast to Block Island, it was our first major offshore passage since Bermuda – Antigua of nearly a year before, when we had a horrendous start which had tested Elsie’s nerves.  For several days, it had looked as though Saturday, 2^nd would be a good time to leave.   Winds should be generally light and anything over 15 knots should be from behind the beam. It looked as though we might have to motor for a fair way but this was worth it to get an easy passage and rebuild confidence.  So, on Friday, we got a lift from Greta, topped up the propane bottle and did our provisioning, including a dozen cases of beer.  We also topped up the water.  Fuel was at 90%.  We left the dock at 0945 and motored down the Elizabeth River to a place where we could install the wind steering rudder (it makes manoeuvring in confined spaces tricky).  Preventers were rigged; safety lines attached; all loose objects stowed away.  We were ready.

Elsie setting off in  hope.

As expected, we had to continue motoring down the Chesapeake.  At 14:00, the wind had risen sufficiently to get the sails out and motor-assist. By 18:00, with a N’ly F2, we were able to progress under sail alone.  The forecast was for the wind to back a little and increase to F4, with maybe gusts to 20 knots.  This seemed to be working out when Elsie came on watch and we put in 2 reefs so that she would have a comfortable night.  The Cape Hatteras area is notorious for rapid weather changes and, once again, it proved our undoing.  The wind continued to increase and by 02:00 it was F6, with gusts to F7.  We put the 3^rd reef in but Elsie was shaken and, at change of watch, suggested we return.  I looked again at the forecast.  It continued to show that, if anything, we would have too little rather than too much wind and I made the decision to continue, in the hope that a few days of lighter, favourable, winds would get us back on track.  I seemed to vindicated that day.  We kept the 3^rd reef in and just used variable amounts of genoa to be comfortable as the wind varied between 10 and 20 knots.  That evening, with lighter winds, the batteries needed charging, so I started the engine.  Twenty minutes later, the over-temperature alarm sounded and we had to shut it down.  We carry a portable generator for just such situations, so I got that out and gave us an hour’s worth of charge to see us through the night.  Fortunately, the winds continued to be light, so I was able to work on the engine on Monday.  Opened up the sea water pump:  3 of six blades missing from the impeller, which was only 100 running hours old.  Replaced.  Engine run.  No flow.  The missing blades would have migrated to the heat exchanger, restricting flow, but I wouldn’t expect them to block it completely.  Nonetheless, I opened it up (managing to catch most of my new coolant as I did so).  Yes, the blades were there.  Re-assemble; re-run; no flow.  I took each pipe off in turn to blow it though and found that the one from the intake to the filter was blocked.  There were a few little mussel shells in the filter, which gave a clue.  With some trepidation, I disconnected the pipe from the sea-cock; gentle trickle.  Poke with screwdriver; stronger flow.  Re-connect; re-run and, hurrah, proper flow.  Another bunch of shells in the filter. 

The wind now started to veer round.  NNE, NE, ENE.  We put the wind on the port bow and followed it round.  This, unfortunately, meant that we headed in the direction from which the wind had been blowing a couple of hours before, with residual swell causing us to slam into it which both slowed us down and made it very uncomfortable.  Eventually, it veered enough that we were able to tack, head East and have an easier motion although we had to remain hard on the wind on this new tack for the rest of the day and through the night. Up to this point, the forecast had been for very light winds, but from ahead, for the last 100 miles, meaning that we could not arrive in daylight on Thursday, so we had no reason to hurry as I preferred not to enter harbour in the dark.  Our new forecast on Wednesday evening, however, showed that, if we made good speed, we could arrive with an hour to spare so we piled on the canvas and proceeded.  Once again, it was Elsie who caught the, un-forecast, gusts in the small hours.  With too much sail up, she had a stumble, hurting her ankle.  The wind did die at mid-day and we motor-sailed, then motored, the rest of the way.  That afternoon Elsie broke the news that she had decided not to continue doing something which she had come to hate – long offshore passages.  Did this include the next leg down to St Martin?  Yes.  Given the experience of the last few days, this was not surprising but it was still a blow.   We had both known that the decision was coming but hoped that we could make it down to our Winter cruising ground and plan future voyaging with the need for long passages.  We did make it to St Georges before sunset and proceeded to the customs dock to check in, made easy as they had our details from before and had already completed much of the paperwork ready for us.  We then motored across to the south side of the bay, poured large rums and breathed a sigh of relief. 

Friday was spent tidying up from the voyage, licking wounds and tying to work out what to do next.  While Bermuda is nice, it has limited appeal and we definitely didn’t want to spend the winter there; Elsie’s mind was firm that she was not going to make the next passage; I was half tempted to do it solo but that was firmly vetoed.  We ran through people we knew who might be tempted to sail with me and sent invitations but nothing doing there.  The Cruising Association have a ‘crewing service’ where they match people wanting sailing experience with those needing crew.  I framed an ‘advert’ for this and read through many profiles of possible people, finally sending invitations to the six most likely.  Over the next 24 hours, I got 3 responses: 2 would or could not help; 1 was interested but wanted more details.

On Saturday, Elsie opened her heart on the internet, posting the same message as on the blog, both to general friends and on the OCC page.  The result was rapid: huge support, both emotional and practical.  She was offered a home to ‘look after’ in Cornwall for the Winter; we were recommended people who might be interested in helping me and friends from the summer said they would try to work out how they could re-arrange their own lives to help.  By Monday, we had a firm plan:  Elsie would fly back to the U.K. and a Scandinavian couple, Mads and Lotta, who had hauled their own boat, would join me and sail down to Antigua.  After that, it just required details.

Life continued on board.  We managed a little trip ashore on Saturday.  On Sunday, we moved to the anchorage on the North side, as the wind was forecast to shift and increase.  A good move as, by evening it was starting to blow.  This didn’t prevent us from going ashore to the White Horse pub for sun-downers, including an introduction to ‘Dark and Stormy’ cocktails – very appropriate to the weather outside.  There were several other cruising couples there, all of whom reported getting ‘beaten up’ on the crossing, which made us feel a little better.   Amongst them were Gino and Carolyn, from Andiamo.  They had been about 12 hours behind us and had been struck by lightning, taking out their navigation lights, their wind indicator, their fridge and their autopilot, meaning that they had to hand-steer for over 24 hours. So, just maybe, we were right to press on.  Monday was a maintenance day:  While Elsie did the laundry, I cleaned the carburettor of our little generator. It had been running a little rough and was found to have dirt in the main jet.  I was very pleased that it ran well afterwards.  Not so pleased that fuel was leaking but a bit more torque on the bowl bolt sorted that.  We managed to get some water from the dinghy club, where Elsie was doing the laundry and were back to nearly full tanks.  More maintenance on Tuesday.  Since getting our ‘new’ windlass, we have slowly been accumulating twist in the anchor chain.  This might be because the chain is getting worn or, maybe, the gypsy (which is shaped to lift the chain) is the wrong size.  As a temporary fix, I pulled all the chain out of the locker and took, maybe, 30 -40 turns out of it, re-marking it in the meantime.  Elsie spent hours researching flights and, eventually, booking them to take her home on Sunday, via New York and Paris.  In the afternoon, we removed to mainsail lazy bag, which needed a new zip.  On Wednesday, we took that ashore for repair then bussed into Hamilton, the Capital.  A little shop browsing; a long visit to a gallery that imports carvings from Zimbabwe and a shop at a supermarket that has a better selection, and better prices, than that available in St Georges.  Gino and Carolyn came over for sun-downer drinks.  .  Thursday was spent on little jobs, a long walk, then collecting the lazybag and re-fitting it.

On Friday, Mads and Lotta, my crew for the trip to Antugua, arrived.  I bussed round to the airport to collect them and we also bussed back, though the driver wasn’t too happy at us bringing luggage on board.  Saturday was forecast to be wet and windy but we ventured ashore in the morning to do the walking tour of the town.  Quite entertaining, though a little hammed up.  Mads and I got roped into the ‘ducking the gossip’ drama but little got done in the afternoon.  Then on Sunday it was time for Elsie to leave.  The mid-day flight to New York had been fully booked which meant she had to catch the 0830 one so we booked a taxi for 07:00.  She then had a 12 hour wait at JFK airport and a further connection through CDG at Paris before getting to Glasgow on Monday afternoon. Not an enviable trip.  Mads, Lotta and I went for a walk in the afternoon.  We were just about ready on board, apart for the usual wait on weather so on Monday we went for a little sight-seeing trip.

Crystal cave

Mads and Lotta in St Georges

First to the crystal cave, which was very nice but rather over priced at $24 per head; then into Hamilton to look for a bikini for Lotta (not available), buy rum, a little walk round the town and then a major dry goods shop before returning to Ruby.  At 5, we went over to Andiamo for return drinks with Gino and Carolyn, who were still waiting on auto-pilot parts.  The weather forecast was still holding good for a Wednesday afternoon departure so, on Tuesday, we headed over to the fuel dock to top up with diesel and water.  Mads and Lotta then departed for a longer sight-seeing trip, down to the Naval Dockyard then back through Hamilton to buy fresh food.  Mads cooked some excellent burgers for supper.  We would have savoured them even more had we known how long it was going to be before our next good cooked meal.

Wednesday started windy, as forecast but we ventured ashore for a walk in the morning and stopped off to check out and collect our duty-free rum.  Lunch, then at 14:45, picked up anchor and ventured out.  The wind was 20 knots, as forecast, but had not veered as much as we expected and was on the beam rather than from behind.  I wanted to head away from it but Mads had plotted a blue line to Antigua and, on his watch stuck to it.  Just as on our previous departure from here, once we were south of the protecting banks we encountered a very nasty steep, short sea, with lots of spray and occasional green water over the deck.  Lotta suffered badly and even Mads couldn’t face food.  I couldn’t be bothered to cook just for myself so just had a sandwich for supper.  Lotta was too ill to go below and spent the first 24 hours occupying one side of the cockpit while Mads and I kept alternate watches from the other.  Thursday continued windy though, with the wind now coming from behind, it was more comfortable.  Lotta was able to go down that evening, though was still not up to eating, so I just made bacon and egg for myself and Mads. 

Lotta crocheted a hat for Mads en route

There was a tropical storm, Sebastian, to the south of us.  It was forecast to head east before we got to its latitude but, to be sure, we continued with the wind on the starboard quarter through the night to give it plenty of room. While downloading weather on Friday morning I tried to make a cup of coffee.  The gas would not light which was odd, because I could smell it.  Then the gas alarm sounded.  Everything off and investigate.  The flexible hose which had been fitted, at great expense, in Annapolis had broken.  This was very bad news.  It could not be repaired on board and we had no other means of cooking so it was going to be cold food from here to Antigua, still 5 days away.  Even worse were the potential consequences:  Propane is heavier than air and will sink to the bilges.  Unlike in a house or caravan there are no holes for it to escape so there it will remain.  Any spark could cause an explosion and fire which, on a small boat in the middle of the ocean would probably be fatal for all on board.  I opened as many hatches as was prudent in the prevailing conditions, removed the floor boards to assist ventilation and used the hand bilge pump to try to pump the gas out.  Elsie was pestered with many messages through the morning to advise her of the problem and ask her to try to find a solution for our arrival.

Weather downloaded, we could see that Sebastian was indeed clearing to the east, so we gybed round to put the wind on the port quarter to start making ground to the east.  After the afternoon forecast, I finally had confidence to shake out he third reef for the first time since departure.  On Saturday morning, this was followed by the second, as the wind was forecast to slowly veer round to the east and remain below 15 knots all the way to Antigua.  There was a sad ceremony at mid-day as the fridge was emptied and all our fresh meat, which could now not be cooked, was thrown overboard to feed the sharks.  Sunday dawned clear with, as forecast, an easterly 15 knot wind, giving us perfect sailing.  Unfortunately, by late afternoon showers were appearing and we had to reduce sail again.  At 8 PM, the wind unexpectedly veered to south and remained there all night, forcing us to motor.  It relented a little on Monday morning and we were able to sail, albeit slowly as it rarely got above 8 knots. By 16:00 it had veered again and we motor-sailed for several hours.  At 23:00 it finally co-operated and we were able to sail again. By 08:00 on Tuesday it had settled in the east and we were able to continue our gentle curve towards our destination.  Convinced, 24 hours later, that it was going to stay just behind the beam at 10-12 knots, I finally took out the last reef.  If we managed to average 5.5 knots, we could make Jolly harbour before sunset, have a restful night and check in the following morning. The wind accepted the challenge and increased to 14, then 16 knots.  By the time we were in the shelter of Barbuda, we were making 8 knots over a flat sea with 18 knots of wind.  Great fun.

Predictwind tracking from Bermuda (arrowed) to Antigua.

We arrived at Jolly Harbour at 14:00 and went straight to the customs dock.  I had managed to remember the password for the local clearance system and was done in 20 minutes.  By that time, Trevor, a local mechanic, was aboard looking at the cooker.  Elsie had researched him and I had phoned on our approach.  30 minutes later, he had fitted a new hose.  We had a cooker!  I had, however, promised a meal ashore, so we went out to anchor did a quick tidy up, broached my new bottle of Goslings dark rum and had a celebratory ‘Dark n Stormy’ apiece, before dinghying back for our first hot meal in a week.

3 dark n stormys

On Thursday morning, we managed to find, and book, flights to take Mads and Lotta back to the states for a week later.  They then took the laundry ashore while I did a bit more tidying up and relaxing.  .  Light winds were forecast for Friday and Saturday so we had a gentle programme.  Friday, we had a little provisioning run then shifted anchor a couple of miles, to do a little snorkelling round the five islands reefs then a walk ashore in the afternoon.  Saturday, we went a little further north, to Pinching Bay, more snorkelling, then back to Jolly in the afternoon to book out and intended to top up on fuel and water but, as the fuel station closed at 15:00 missed out on that.  We finished the month back at anchor off Jolly Harbour, cleared and ready to go down to Guadeloupe to change crew back to the usual establishment.

Ruby at anchor off Jolly

Monthly stats:

Over ground  1591
Logged          1785

Another fine mess - by Elsie

Well it’s happened, I’ve lost my nerve. No more long distant sailing for me. I’ve made a pact with Neptune sealed with a large tot of our best rum. He rules the waves but will let me sail if I don’t impinge much on his territory.

Do you know how much it has taken to say these words? Anger. Tears. Anguish. Feeling a failure. Then realism, knowing I can’t do it anymore. Being thrown around a boat for days on end. Not being able to eat or sleep or read or listen to music. Taking 20 minutes to go to the head. The simplest task taking forever. Being so terrified that I can’t move. Its no fun anymore.

Yes, it was a bad passage, Norfolk, Virginia to Bermuda. The weather which was downloaded every 12 hours was never the same. In fact, sometimes the weather was coming from the opposite direction it forecast. Each time our plan changed. We have to go north, we have to go south, we need to keep hard on the wind, we need to come way off the wind. Before we started, we were worried about the amount of motoring we might have to do. No need to worry. We motored hard to get into St George before nightfall and that was about that.

Am I failure? Am I letting myself and other people down?

I am definitely letting Lionel down. He is scurrying around trying to find crew for the passage from Bermuda down to the Caribbean. I’m letting myself down. No one likes to admit they have limits, reaching that limit is a shock, reaching that limit in the Atlantic Ocean is terrifying. Failure? What a horrible word. I feel a failure. After 4 years and 35000nm I should be able to cope with most things but I can’t. But then, reality hits. Through the Med, I’ve crossed the Atlantic, I’ve sailed through the Caribbean, I’ve made it up the east coast to Canada and back down without mishap. Is that being a failure, or am I trying to make excuses for myself?

I know people change, their outlooks, their tolerances, their goals. We cast off from Cork in August 2015 with all the expectations of who knows what. We had sold up and packed everything we wanted to keep in a shipping container. We didn’t know how long this adventure was going to take but we were going on it. Sometimes we spoke about round the world, sometimes it was a year in the Med, sometime it was crossing the Atlantic and coming back to Scotland in the next season. The world was our oyster and we were going somewhere. Lionel had just finished treatment for cancer and he was just happy to be alive. We knew we had the check ups and maybe subsequent treatment to face but life was good. However, we were realistic. We spoke about giving up sailing and finding a new adventure if this one did not work. The agreement was if one of us was miserable the sailing stopped and we moved on. We went on our merry way.

Now I have to face the reality. I am miserable doing off shore long distance sailing. I am quite happy on short hops and day sailing but I can’t face the day after day off shore. There was tense 24 hours when I faced my concerns and told Lionel. He felt let down, very let down and so he should. He had asked me a couple of weeks back if I was sure I was OK to go offshore to Bermuda then down to St Martin. I said yes, I was looking at it as a challenge. In my defence I did suggest turning back after 24 hours. We already had contingency plans, as all good sailors always have, Morehead, work our way down the coast, jump to Bahamas then head to DR and Cuba but we went on and now we are anchored in St George, not having a clue where to turn to. Somehow, we have to get down to the Caribbean. Just 7 days sailing to St Martaan then I will be happy to continue amongst the islands to Cuba then up the coast to Nova Scotia. Seven days and I cannot face it.

Why am I telling you all this? Why am I not hanging my head in shame and hiding myself away from REAL sailors’ gazes? The reason, simple. We all share our good times, our land marks, our triumphs but when it comes to the end its always “the boat is up for sale”. Yes, there is reasons given some of the time, goals have been met, grandchildren arriving, injuries or just moving on to bigger adventures. I have never read someone saying enough is enough. I have never seen the words “I failed”. I know I am not the first sailor ever to give up off shore sailing because they have lost their nerve and I will definitely not be the last. Its something not to be celebrated but it’s a reality in our lives and people like me should not be looked at as any less sailors because we don’t do it anymore.

I am not as brave as I thought I was

I have let the love of my life down terribly

Life will never be the same again

“Well, that’s a fine mess you’ve got us into”, in the words of Laurel and Hardy.

October 2019

In which we hang around the Chesapeake, visiting a couple of boat shows and prepare to cross to our winter cruising grounds.

We started October at the top of the Chesapeake Bay, having come from Atlantic Highlands all the way down the coast of New Jersey, up the Delaware and through the C&D Canal.  We were both tired and looking forward to taking it easy for a few days.  On Tuesday, 1^st, we just took advantage of the afternoon ebb tide to motor the 8 miles to Howell Point, at the mouth of the Sassafras River.  With a light southerly wind, we had another peaceful night, only punctuated by occasional gunfire from an army range across the river.  This varied from automatic rifle to heavy artillery.  The wind was still blowing up the bay on Wednesday, but forecast to veer later.  We left at 08:55 and started to beat down the bay, with a slight heading current so progress was slow.  The fairly narrow passage between the shallow banks was narrowed further by the danger area around the military zone, which was definitely active with small patrol boats positioned every few miles, so we had plenty of practice tacking.  By 13:30, we had made about 20 miles when the wind did suddenly veer and we were able to head south on a reach to the Annapolis bridge and round to Whitehall Bay.  This is a delightful anchorage, well protected from everything except the south and, once again, we had it to ourselves so we could have a recharge of our social batteries before proceeding to the maelstrom of Annapolis.  On Thursday, we motored the last 6 miles up the Severn River to Weems Creek.  Here we found a few OCC boats, including Five & Dime, one of our companions from the Summer cruises.  Dinghy ashore for a little light shopping and again for ‘happy hour’ at an Irish pub in the centre of the town to catch up with friends. 

The Power boat show was on and we decided to have a day looking at the ‘dark side’ on Friday.  The only ones that we were genuinely interested in were the ‘trawlers’, moderate sized cruising boats which we could conceivably move on to if we found sailing getting to be too strenuous but still wanted to be on the water.  We could still cruise to the Caribbean in the winter, up and down the east coast in the summer and possibly complete ‘The Great Loop’ by going up the St Lawrence to the Great Lakes, through canals to the Mississippi to the Gulf, round Florida and back up.  Unfortunately, there were very few of these present, the overwhelming number of craft being small boats for fishing or family day trips, with a number of very high-end fast cruisers.  Nonetheless, it was an enjoyable day out.

That evening, we welcomed a guest on board.  Suzanne, who was our first house sit host, 2 years before, joined us for the weekend.  On Saturday, with a moderate easterly wind, we sailed 35 miles down the Chesapeake to Madison Bay, on the Little Choptank River.  It was a near beam reach most of the way with just a few miles of beating up the river at the end.  A huge area to anchor in, which was just as well as, when we came to lower the anchor, no result apart from a low voltage warning.  Fiddling with connections gave no joy, so we dropped the anchor by hand.  The following morning, experimentation gave no progress, so we had to haul up by hand, running a rope back to a cockpit winch to do so.  A couple of practices, to slicken up our dropping technique, and we got underway back to Annapolis.  Although the forecast was for S’ly F3, we left a reef in the main until we got out into the bay and it was as well that we did.  The wind went from 8, to 12, to 18 knots by the time we were heading north and, by mid-day it was over 20.  We started on a broad reach, and put in a second reef, but then went to goose winged with a full, then reefed genoa.  We still managed 8 knots, with the occasional 10 as we surfed down the building waves, which had over 120 miles of fetch from the Bay Bridge.  Suzanne is an experienced sailor and seemed to enjoy it.  Back to a broad reach to enter the Severn river, accompanied by many Navy sailing boats heading home from their day out.  The wind dropped as we got into the lee of Annapolis and was down to 8 knots by the time we returned to Weems Creek.  This made positioning easier as we dropped the anchor almost where we had before.  A very late lunch, then dropped Suzanne back ashore before collapsing, exhausted, for the night.

Monday was spent working on the windlass.  We managed to borrow a length of signal sized cable from Curt, on Five & Dime, and tried to work logically through the system, eliminating possible causes.  The prime suspect, the hand controller, was first to cleared, Then the windlass motor and gearbox. By bypassing sections of cable at a time, we were able to demonstrate that it was the logic system, between the busbar and the solenoid relay that was the problem.  To permanently bypass this, I needed to buy suitable wire and was just setting out to do this, involving dinghying ashore and walking 4 miles, when a local passed in his skiff and offered to give us a lift if we ever needed one.  I quickly accepted his offer and got the required parts.  An hour of running wire and fitting a new fuse and the moment of truth – could we use the windlass?  Yes.  Hurrah!  I noticed, however, that the starter battery was low.  A quick check showed that it was not charging.  Was the logic for the windlass ‘no charge – no use’ and was this the reason that we had had the failure?  As it was late in the day, I left further investigation until the next day.  On Tuesday morning I found a very sad looking terminal on our auxiliary alternator.  Was this the source? Disconnecting it produced a flash, so it obviously wasn’t completely dead. On re-connection I now found that now neither battery bank was charging and gave up in despair.   Elsie’s focus was on getting a new cooker, to replace ours which has been getting very worn and inefficient, so we dinghied ashore and were about to summon an Uber when another boat’s crew arrived and summoned one for themselves.  We were going the same way, so shared.  At the boat show, Westmarine were handing out bags with stickers basically saying ‘if you can fit it in here, we’ll give you 20% discount.  We believed that they could supply our chosen cooker so Elsie asked the manager if he could fit one in the bag for us.  Amazingly, he said that he could.  A significant saving.  A little wander around Dollar General, to get a few give-aways for the Winter and the hardware store for a new terminal for the Alternator, then a four mile walk ‘home’.  Another day of playing with wires on Wednesday only resulted in more confusion but the evening was the annual OCC dinner.  Having met so many wonderful people in the last 2 years since we last attended, we had a great evening catching up with old friends.  We also met a few new ones, including Suzanne Chapple, who organised a long and very successful cruise in company around the western Caribbean the previous year.  We would very much like to go along if she ever does it again, so were pleased to ‘make our mark’ with her.  The keynote speaker was Pete Goss, a serial adventurer who recounted the story of his round-the-world solo race of 20+ years before, including such episodes of sailing 160 miles into a hurricane to rescue a fellow competitor and doing a major operation on his own arm in mid Atlantic.  All told in a very modest and self-deprecating fashion.  The best of British.  

High speed cat

When weight is so important that you have a carbon fibre loo

Thursday was the first day of the sail boat show.  It was the preview day, costing twice as much for entry as other days but we deemed it worth the extra as it is quieter. It seemed that everyone else had the same idea as it was heaving.  We split the day up into sections, looking at a couple of boats then going around vendors’ stalls.  There were people we wanted to see:  the cooker manufacturer, to check vital dimensions and see if they could beat Westmarine’s offer (no); Gill clothing as Elsie has an issue with her nearly-new jacket; Balcan Electrics to see if there troubleshooting guide would be of assistance with our alternator problems (no, but he put us onto a workshop that might help).

On the boat side, we were pleased to note that Dufour seemed to be dragging themselves up from the poor finish we saw a couple of years before; Beneteau and Juneau, not so much.  We visited Pete Goss’ new cruising boat and had a nice chat with his wife, Tracy.  A trip out to the alternator workshop resulted in a long walk home but we gained confidence that they could help.  On Friday, I was kindly given a lift back there, with one of the alternators, before we went back to the show for a second day.  We had no great plans for this so just popped onto any boat which didn’t have long queues.  Looked at a couple of brands we hadn’t seen before, Tartan and Catalina, as well as Hanse and Bavaria.  Also visited a couple of ‘out there’ boats: a Pogo 40, which we had seen an example of in Spain a few years before.  It is a stripped down almost racer, with minimal crew comforts.  The previous one had been owned by a middle-aged couple, which seemed a little odd to us; this one was crewed bit a fit young couple which seemed far more appropriate.  We finished on Eagle, a 53 ft carbon, foiling, wing-masted catamaran, rigged out as a party boat.  In the evening, there was a pot-luck supper at a property adjacent to the creek, where a few of our friends were staying.

On Saturday, I was given a lift to pick up the alternator.  Disappointment as still no charging, possibly due to the other one also having failed, but we could not remove this until after we had moved round to a dock where we would get our new cooker on Monday, so we just tidied up for the weekend and hoped. On Sunday, our friends from Washington, Starla and Fred, picked us up from the boat ramp and took us to Baltimore for the day.  We had a pleasant walk along the waterfront to an area where there was a beer festival happening. We lunched on mussels and beer, followed by a cookie and ice cream combo from a store which delivers cookies until 3 AM, for those with insomnia. 

New cooker

Monday, we motored round to the South River and a dock owned by the OCC Port Officer, Westbrook Murphey.  This was to collect our new cooker, which duly arrived and we took our old one to the dump.  Unfortunately, the new one had been adapted to US fittings and would not connect to our French pipework.  Visits to 2 stores and several phone calls had not solved the problem at the end of the day.  Also disappointing were the alternators.  I removed both, together with the ‘smart’ controller from the auxiliary one, for testing.  The controller seemed to have failed so needs replacing.  As we were without a cooker, we walked to a Vietnamese restaurant for dinner.  I enjoyed my meal but Elsie’s was far too salty.  Tuesday was spent working on the two technical problems, with little progress apart from finding a plumber who was prepared to work on the cooker.  We spent the evening at out hosts’ house, with a great meal prepared in honour of Mike and Karen Bury who, hopefully, had that day sold their boat, Chapter Two. On Wednesday, I figured out the wiring on our new regulator and, at least, got one alternator working.  We then had a little game of ‘musical boats’ to allow ‘Believe’ to come into our dock, with us mooring alongside them.  The plumber returned and connected up the stove, at extortionate cost as he had had to search widely for parts.  Thursday brought no more progress on the other alternator but Elsie managed to get the laundry done.  By Friday, I had totally run out of ideas and appealed to friends in the Cruising Association and Ocean Cruising Club for help.  This bore fruit on Saturday as Peter Whatley from the OCC took the problem in hand from the other side of the Atlantic and convinced me to take the alternator to bits.  New brushes, fitted by the helpful technician, were jamming.  A bit of filing down and a lot of cleaning and success! We finally had two working alternators again.  We intended to start moving again on Sunday but we awoke to constant rain and decided to remain put and just do a bit of tidying up. Monday was brighter and we left the dock at 09:00 to motor across the South River to Harness Creek.  Ashore for shopping at the hardware store (electrical fittings) Westmarine (bit for outboard) and supermarket.  Away again at 12:40 and motored / sailed across the bay to St Michaels, anchoring at 17:45.  Before sunset, I fitted my new part for the outboard. It was a ‘Doel Fin’ hydrofoil which provides lift and helps to get the dinghy on the plane.  I had to modify it a bit to fit our motor but, on trying the next morning, it seemed to work.

Alternator brush

We had come over, mainly, to visit Tod and Anne, friends from the summer cruises but also to visit the Chesapeake Bay museum. So, on Tuesday, ashore to look round that. Interesting for the history of fishing, especially shellfish and also boat building in the area.  We followed this with a very pleasant pub lunch with Tod and Anne, then back on board for supper.

Frames for replica ship at CB museum

Away early on Wednesday for a good downwind sail to Cuckold Creek, a very picturesque anchorage near Solomons.  On previous occasions, we have had this to ourselves, but had to share this time.  Another early start on Thursday and down to Ingram Bay, near Reedville.  Another quiet spot.  Friday started flat calm, so we delayed until mid-day before sailing down to Little Bay.  Here, we were delighted to find more friends, Nicky and Reg on Blue Velvet and George and Frances on Twin Cove.  We were invited on to the latter for sun-downer drinks and snacks. Saturday was again a slightly delayed start for wind, then a great beam reach down to the York River and run up to Sarah Creek, pleased to find our usual spot unoccupied.  The marina here, York River Yacht Haven, is remarkably accommodating and, for a $10 fee, we had full use of their facilities on Sunday: Laundry; showers and even use of their courtesy car for a little shopping.  While waiting on laundry we joined Harltey and Lesley on board Atsa for a cup of tea. 

Twin Cove

The afternoon was spent on Engine play.  Our domestic hot water, which is heated by the engine, had been running cooler and cooler and now was rarely getting above tepid.  I decided to try removing the pipes at the engine end and blowing through.  Pressures were much higher than expected; We had to put up to 25 PSI to get things moving, then a gout of orangey brown mud arrived in the waiting bucket.  We repeated several times until the water ran clear with only one instance of a blow-back, which resulted in a spray of mud over the engine and aft cabin.  Up anchor on Monday, first for fuel and water then a sail down the river and towards Norfolk.  We anchored for the night in Willoughby Bay: a large, shallow, well protected area at the entrance to Norfolk.  The only downside is the Navy base with constant helicopter activity and we found ourselves under the circuit with aircraft passing 200 ft overhead every few minutes.  There was a pause at sunset, then night circuit practice which somewhat disturbed our evening cocktails but they did finish at 10 to give us a quiet night.  We were delighted to discover that we had hot water for showers!

 On Tuesday, we motored the final 9 miles to park ourselves on the private dock at the condo of Greta and Gary, OCC port officers. There is a block of 29 apartments, each of which has the use of a dock, but only about 3 are permanently occupied so G&G have negotiated visiting facilities for cruising yachts.  This is a great way for us to get close to the city and also meet with other visiting OCC members. On Wednesday, 2 more arrived: Kialani, a circumnavigating American family and Blue Velvet.  We spent the evening, with the others, in G&G’s apartment for a great eating, drinking and chatting session.  Thursday morning was spent planning our next move: probably down the coast to Beaufort, NC, as the weather didn’t look good for going to Bermuda, followed by another blow through of the engine cooling system and top-up of the coolant.  We then did a little shopping and visited the Chrysler Museum of art after lunch.     

Monthly stats:

Over ground   350
Log                 363