After checking into the marina, Ian, Roger and I made a mad dash for the airport at Faro and made it back to London the same night. Hannah and Curtis will have some peace and quiet and time to recover.
It was an experience that none of us would have missed for the world.
We will be moving Elemiah along the coast of Spain and into the Mediterranean over the coming weeks and I will from time to time update this blog. I will put some photos on the website in a couple of days
Rosemary and Ian]]>
It was a somewhat awe inspiring to sail in seas where so many famous sailors have sailed - Nelson being the prime example. We thought too of all those who had been shipwrecked there too. The lighthouse, high up on the cliffs and teetering on the edge, was impressive even though we didn't see it when it was dark as we were still too far away. The geology of the cliffs was extraordinary.
I didn't sleep much - I was too busy thinking about the approach to land, the shipping lanes and leaving the boat. It will be quite a change to be back on land.
Rosemary and Ian]]>
But the main source of exercise is counterbalancing the constant movement of the boat. With not much wind, it is not so much effort but with a modicum of wind, even the slightest thing becomes a major effort. For example, getting the potatoes out of the stowage under the bunk feels like a major mountaineering event as the bunk is on the uphill side.
We have eaten very well but cooking is quite difficult. Imagine cooking dinner for five whilst balancing on a wobble board. At the same time, all the items which you are using are on their own wobble boards. Every time you put something down, you have to be sure that it is balanced and that it is not going to slide off or fall over or generally empty itself of the contents that you need for cooking the dinner. It's like those shows where somebody spins plates on poles. You have to keep going back to the first one to make sure that it is not about to fall off its pole.
Yesterday was a prime example. We were eating outside in the cockpit (Thai noodles with chicken and satay sauce). Ian brought out a bottle of wine and put it down whilst he climbed out of the companionway. The boat gave a big roll in the swell and the bottle started to topple. I lunged for it, but could not quite reach. Roger got to it before it had split very much. Meantime, the boat lurched back the other way and caught off balance, I sat down hard, slid off the cockpit coaming onto the side deck. My dish of noodles in my left hand, rolled backwards with me and flipped the contents neatly overboard, leaving a short trail of satay sauce down my arm. I was left stranded on the side decks like a turtle.
There is also all the getting up in the middle of the night for the night watches to take into account as well. During the day, we take it in turns to sleep and loll about not doing very much.
It is really very tiring to spend your whole time on a wobble board.
Rosemary and Ian]]>
So much for thinking that our fuel consumption was going well. We had run out of fuel on the starboard fuel tank.
We then had to bleed the engine and prime the fuel pump - so out came all the companionway steps. The engine manual came out, the right spanner was found, injectors loosened and lo and behold - fuel was flowing from the other tank. Crank the engine up - hooray she is going.
BUT, this means we don't have any wind and not enough fuel to get to Lagos in Portugal. We still have the port tank which is about a third full and 40 litres of diesel in separate containers, but this does not add up to enough fuel to motor all the way.
We hoist the gennaker and make about two knots an hour of progress - mostly in the wrong direction. There is not enough wind to fill our usual sails - we only have between 4 - 6 knots of wind altogether. If there is not sufficient wind to fill the sails then all they do is bang and slat and spill what wind there is. So out came our beautiful angel - but she won't take us directly down wind. We have to sail with the wind on our quarter, but at least this gets us moving, albeit very slowly indeed.
As the day goes on, the speed picks up and we flew the gennaker all night. This morning, Thursday, we still had 280 miles to go. Fortunately, the wind decided to get up during the day and we have been blessed with wind from the north west since lunch time. So we are now able to sail directly towards Lagos and at a reasonable speed.
Since we have booked flights to get back to London, we are really hoping that Elemiah will keep up her speed. Another busy night for our angel. It will be touch and go if we make the plane.
Rosemary and Ian]]>
So what do you do when you are on watch in the middle of the night? On the leg from Nova Scotia to Horta, we were very busy actually sailing the boat - our autopilot was not functioning properly and also we had a problem with the steering. The last few days we have had no wind and so have not been sailing at night but under motor. We have been under autopilot (fixed in Horta) too so there has been less to do.
But, as Roger said, when you are on watch, what you do is keep watch. This means scanning the horizon for other ships and checking the radar. It is easy for a ship to sneak up on you from behind or maybe from under a sail or behind the dodger where it can be difficult to check. The scan needs to be a complete 360 degree check. I do it every 10 minutes or so. First, I scan round generally and then I sweep round with the binoculars. After that, I check on the radar as well. Great excitement if a ship is discovered but there have not been that many - a couple a day I suppose since Horta.
It is amazing how different it is to be away from all the light pollution. When rain clouds abound, it is just black. In the fog off Nova Scotia, there was an eerie puddle of visibility, maybe as little as a few hundred yards and then grey nothing. Now there is just darkness although the sky varies enormously during the night. You can nearly always see the horizon, although sometimes it is obscured with cloud or mist. I watch the clouds pass over - some lighter and some darker. Sometimes you can see it raining in the distance. You ask yourself whether it will pass over Elemiah. Will we get wet? But generally the rain clouds pass in front or behind us - or sweep away to rain on Africa or Northern Europe.
Between the clouds, the stars are bright. Earlier in the month, the moon rose and flooded the sea with light. It has been obscured by clouds the last few nights although last night I saw a beautiful moon set at about 00.30. After the moon has gone the stars are even brighter. The milky way arches over us and I have learnt to recognise the swan flying down the milky way. Curtis and I have both been looking at the constellations. Scorpio has been very bright. The archer next to it - then up to the serpent holder. Curtis and I spent a whole hour last night looking for Hercules. There are so many stars that he is not easy to see. Going round, there is the herdsman, the great bear with the plough inside it, the dragon, Cepheus, Cassiopeia, Perseus and Andromeda and on... It is easy to feel very insignificant - a little speck on a vast ocean, itself a speck in the universe.
Back again to the routine sweep of the horizon - every 10 minutes. Is that a ship's light or a star rising? Better check the radar.
Then I might go down below and make a cup of tea. The cabin is warm and cosy with a pool of light by the galley and the soft glow of the Garmin by the navigation table, showing our course or the radar. I am always amazed that the 2 hours has already passed - where did it go? I was so occupied that I did not notice that time had flown.
Rosemary and Ian]]>
No wind brings its own set of noises. With the sails up, the booms creak, the sheets snap and the shackles jump and rattle over each wave. A set of noises that has everyone on edge. The noise of the engine is something you notice and don't notice. It sort of blanks out everything else but the vibration creates a wealth of new noises within the boat. Mainly the stove and the crockery vibrate, a constant background rattle punctuated by miscellaneous clinking noises. The boat itself acquires a new set of creaks. After a while, we all become accustomed to these new noises and then if there is something a little different we are alert to the change. What is it? What does it mean? We bounce out of bed to investigate any strange noise.
We are monitoring our fuel consumption but so far, we seem to be doing quite well. One tank is still half full and the other three quarters full and we have motored for two days solidly - three nights in fact.
The forecast is for some wind once we approach the Portuguese coast. We hope we get some wind before that, but we are being very careful what we wish for.
Rosemary and Ian]]>
It's hard to say goodbye - Hannah and her mum.Ian takes the boat away from the dock in Lunenburg. John and Maddie and Francis and Laurel wave goodbye from the dock.
Under way - the sun has started to shine.
Getting the angel up
We all sat round drinking beer and Ian and I actually had a dance!
We reluctantly left as we still have to do the shopping, fill up with diesel and do the rest of the tasks to get ready to leave tomorrow morning.
The weather forecast is very good - light winds all the way but in the right direction.
We have decided to aim for Lagos in Portugal. There is an airport there and so we hope that it will be easy to get back to the UK, from where Ian and I can go our various ways - me to Kyiv and Ian to Zagreb.
Rosemary and Ian]]>
We motored directly there as we wanted to arrive early this morning so that we could get our VAT paid. We were duly inspected and we have now paid and officially imported Elemiah into the European Union.
We are busy doing all the jobs that we had listed during the journey.
The Raymarine engineer has been and fixed our autopilot which means that we don't have to hand steer all the time - that will make the night watches easier. Roger has worked on the steering so we are hoping that it will be a lot easier to use as we sail on to Portugal.
Clive the engineer recommended a great place up in the hills and we took a taxi out there. The island of Faial (where we are) is luxuriantly green. The fields are broken up with tall hedges of a bamboo like plant. Each house seems to have its own cow, many with a little calf, in the field behind. The views across to Pico, the next island, are fantastic. We looked out east to where we are going to go and the ocean was calm and sparkling in the evening sun. For once though, I am glad that I am not out on it.
When we arrived at the restaurant, it was a little slice of heaven. Two Germans run a beautiful little restaurant surrounded by flowers, bamboos and trees. The house drops away to two outdoor rooms, covered by wooden beams and boxed in by the tall bamboos. Steps lead to another room and then onto the bed of a stream with huge round boulders and an abundance of beautiful foliage. It was all simply decorated but absolutely delightful and the hosts were too. They had at least 3 cats and a golden retriever called Felix, and they liked to participate in the evening as well. The food was marvellous. Going out there and being in the midst of such green was like balm on the soul.
When we came back into Horta, we fell into bed and slept the whole night through - what bliss.
Rosemary and Ian]]>
Last night, I heard a most peculiar noise whilst on watch. An animal noise right next to me. It wasn't a dolphin so perhaps it was a whale. Then today, Curtis actually saw a whale. He saw its back and its fluke as it dived under.
The steering continues to be very hard work - we need to look at it in Horta.
We have phoned ahead to say that we are arriving. We need to clear in the boat and pay the VAT to the customs people. Duncan Sweet of Mid Atlantic Services is arranging it for us. We are all looking forward to long hot showers and to sleeping right through the night instead of getting up for our two hour watches. We are eating up all the left over bits and pieces.
One more night at sea - I must check the lights we may see as we approach land.
Rosemary and Ian]]>
But this morning we all got up to put the angel up - this time we managed to have the tack too high and on the wrong way round and the sheet onto the clew was twisted as well. We brought it down and put it up the right way and once again we were flying - albeit in the wrong direction. We are going too far south and I am concerned that we will get caught in the Azores high which means no wind. After a couple of hours going to the south east, the wind came round more west south west and so we were able to tack the angel and now we are flying along to the north east. It seems very strange with the boat leaning over in the other direction. All Hannah's books fell out of the shelf.
We have under 400 miles to go to Horta in the Azores and so I am starting to look up details of the marina etc. Ian is being more far sighted and looking at places to aim for in Spain or Portugal once we have finished in Horta.
Hannah and I made hummus for lunch. We all sat out in the cockpit eating pitta bread and hummus, cheese and apple. Yum yum.
In the afternoon, Curtis and Hannah watched a warm front forming and march towards us. As it approached, we all rushed out to bring down the angel - just in time, the wind did an instant 40 degree shift to the north west and it rained. Now there is little wind at all and so we are motoring directly towards Horta.
Dinner is in the oven - I'm introducing Curtis and Hannah to the delights of British school dinner cooking in the form of toad in the hole (sausages cooked in the oven in a batter). Apparently in North America, a toad in the hole is a piece of toast with an egg cooked in the middle of it - quite different. Alas - the toad lived up to its name and was a right toad. We discovered in the night that the gas ran out and so I think that explains why it didn't work - the flame in the oven was not hot enough to cook it properly.
Rosemary]]>
It started off with good intentions as at just gone 6am, we were all up and ready to put up the angel. Unfortunately, she was very sulky and did not want to go up. We crossed the line up to the snuffer, managed to put a riding turn on the winch and then turned the boat the wrong way so that she collapsed in to the forestay, After a lot of hard work, especially by Curtis, we got her up and Elemiah roared off. We were all exhausted.
As the wind built up during the day, we had to take her down but now it is a lovely evening. The wind has moderated somewhat and Elemiah is doing her rocking horse act, swinging backwards and forwards in the most soporific way.
Rosemary and Ian]]>
We changed the gas cylinder so that I could have a cup of tea.
Rosemary]]>
Around midday, the wind started increasing and so our angel came down and we put up the staysail and the jib. We called the weather service on the satellite phone. We were a bit horror struck by a forecast of new low tracking across us which would have winds of 40 - 40 knots and gusts of 50 knots. This possibility had not figured in any of the previous forecasts. We thought about this and then rang them back for a course. A different forecaster did not think it was going to be that bad but after enquiring on our position and speed, suggested that we go further south. So we are now on a course of about 120 degrees true (ie south east) making for 38N. When we hit that parallel, we will then turn east to a course of 90 degrees (due east). We will be a bit below the latitude of Horta on the Azores and so later we will have to turn back north. But at least we will be spared some high winds. The conditions have already calmed from those at a lunchtime.
Lots of dolphins today. We also saw what we first thought was a whale but we then decided it was a basking shark. It was very big with a fin and didn't move. We saw a couple of ships.
We did some jobs: pumped the bilges, retied on the anchor with cable ties (the bolt that should secure it does not seem to fit - another small job for Horta). We stowed everything securely in case the wind gets up in the night.
All early to bed.
Rosemary and Ian]]>
When everybody was up and about we put up the angel again and she has carried us across the sea. We went quite close to another ship - the Rachel B, some sort of gas tanker. It is hot and we are all sleepy after the busy day yesterday. Curtis and I paddled in buckets of seawater. The sea temperature is 22.5C.
A calm starry night.
Rosemary and Ian]]>
The gennaker looks really fabulous and makes a lot of difference to the speed. The wind direction has changed and Elemiah was not keen on a dead run so we tacked down wind, sailing first to the south of our course and then to the north. This was really exciting: the first time that we had been on starboard tack since we left Canada, now some 800 miles away.
We spotted a couple of problems: the staysail had a tiny tear in it which Hannah cleverly repaired for us. The runners on the foot of the mizzen had started to come away from the sail. I had noticed this when it was very windy but that was not the time to do anything about it. So Curtis and I hung out of the back of the boat and tied the mizzen to the outhaul in a different way so that the load was taken completely along the foot of the sail and not up vertically except through the leach line. It took a lot of balancing, but was successful. We will need to get the runners re-stitched in Horta if possible.
We finished off a happy day with a meal of sweet sour chicken.
Rosemary and Ian]]>
The night is very dark under the low storm clouds and there are few lights on inside the boat because people are trying to sleep. All except the helmsman are in bed but sleep does not come easily.
You love a boat for its idiosyncrasies, the tiny everyday noises, those small creaks. Maybe the slap of a halyard on the mast - a noise I abhor for the fact that it should not be flapping but love as it is such a comforting homely sound. But tonight all that has changed.
There is the sound of Niagara Falls slopping about in the bilges beneath my bed - it is far louder than the waves rushing by outside. As the boat rolls, it slops up one side and then swishes down to mount the other side of the bilge. A moment's suspense and then it is off again. The bilge pump is working overtime - it should be employed on a beach, as it sucks up the water as it rises on one side and spits it out to slither down again as the boats corkscrews the other way.
A man appears to have taken up residence in the wardrobe - he is very busy crinkling up paper. Where did he get it from? What is he doing with it? I thought that there were only a few clothes in there. All the books in the bookshelf are scratching their backs against each other - plastic cover on plastic cover - it sounds like the screech of chalk on a blackboard. The shower head in the bathroom next door is knocking on the wall with a regular metallic thunk - at first I thought it was dripping but then realised it was just swinging and . Somebody else is throwing small stones onto the coach roof above my head. Can it be the rain, thudding so hard it sounds like a hail of gravel? Every two minutes a serious effort is being made to clean the portholes - there - another bucket of water is thrown over them with a splash and a whoosh.
Outside I can hear the topping lift flapping against the mast - it will have to wait until tomorrow to be moved. Every few minutes there is a loud thwack - has somebody taken a mallet to the outside of the boat? No, it is just the mainsheet block snatching at the constant rolling. There is the hiss of foaming water streaming past - we are going fast. The boat is twisting and diving from the motion of the Atlantic rollers whipped up by Force 7 winds. Every now and then the shouted groans and protestations of the boat against the twisting demands of the waves are punctuated by solid thuds as Elemiah falls off one of the waves into the concrete hole beneath it. Or a wave smacks on the side and the wooden hull reverberates with a hollow boom.
The pitching of the boat makes it impossible for us in our double bunk - we retreat to different ends of the bed, to slither down the slope of the mattress into separate cupboards.
There is a particularly violent lurch and a god almighty crash followed by the clattering of china. I think the whole galley has fallen onto the floor. i rush to clear up the debris, but there is none - Roger's bag fell on the floor and two cups jumped off their pegs.
I check with Hannah who is on watch and helming: she is fine, enjoying the sleigh ride. I retreat to giggle with Roger at the commotion. This is a form of fun.
Rosemary]]>
Later though the wind got up. We checked that everything was battened down and ship shape for the wind which we knew was arriving. I prepared dinner for today (lasagne) and tomorrow (chili). I also made some carrot and coriander soup for lunch which was warming as the temperature dropped. We brought in the jib as the wind and the seas rose.
Hannah did not feel well but bravely stood her watch. Whilst she and Ian were helming the winds were around 28-30 knots - force 6 to 7. Curtis enjoyed the headlong rush through the night as he helmed and then Roger took over. During his watch winds were up to 32 knots - virtually a gale. The boat was fine and stood up to it all well.
As morning came, it calmed down gradually and once again the sun shone on my watch from 5am to 8am although the sea state was quite different with waves of about 2 - 3 metres.
Rosemary and Ian]]>
Curtis was an absolute hero and went up the mast in the bosun's chair to retrieve it. Roger and Ian pulled him up and he brought the topping lift down again. The topping lift itself could be managed without but we were worried about the end of the line with its shackle swinging about, damaging the wind vane for example. (A topping lift keeps up the end of the boom when the sails are down so that the boom does not clatter around on the decks.)
Ian made some phone calls to John at Covey and we managed to solve the problem of the squeaking bowsprit. As the jib filled with wind, it was pulling the bowsprit to one side and it was rubbing against the caprail - which is so beautifully varnished that we could not allow anything to mar its shine. It was all a question of tightening something - which Roger and Curtis duly did and the squeaking stopped. Not before Hannah as helmsman had got both of them drenched by arranging for a couple of waves to wash over them.
Roger and Ian also tried to adjust the steering to stop it being so heavy. This involved scrabbling about in the bilges under the cockpit. They saw where the relevant nut was but Roger was unsure about which way it should be adjusted, so after all the excavating under the drogue, everything was put back in its place. He did discover and fix a little leak in the drain pipe for the cockpit and so he fixed that whilst he was down there.
We saw a school of dolphins charging around in circles leaping out of the water but they did not come to see us. They seemed to be busy rounding up fish for their dinner.
Curtis did a lovely dinner of fajitas. We all got too much sun, especially Hannah.
Rosemary and Ian]]>
We all sat around in the afternoon, chatting, idly reading then later enjoying the evening sunshine and having a drink whilst our Sunday dinner cooked: pork medallions in mustard sauce with roasted new potatoes and vegetables. The oven is a bit patchy temperature wise but cooks it all in the end if you keep turning the dish round.
After supper, two things happened - we must suddenly have entered the Gulf Stream because the air temperature rose from cold to warm. It all happened within an hour. I went on deck to take my turn at the watch and was far too hot - had to take off my numerous layers which had been necessary not only the night before but all through the day if you sat in the wind. The second thing was that the wind dropped until the wind gauge registered 0. It was all hands on deck to bring in the sails and we motored through the night. Another eerie experience - to be so far out to sea and to have no waves or ripples even on the surface of the water.
As we took down the sails, a little bird flapped into the mainsail. Curtis and Roger caught it and put it on the deck so that it could rest but it insisted on fluttering up to the mainsail again. The second time, it disappeared into the night. These funny birds make a squawking twittering sound not unlike a budgerigar. They seem happy to flit round our stern in and out of the light, calling each other or even us. They seem almost like bats.
Rosemary and Ian]]>