We spent the 1st doing some last minute provisioning, weather checking and enjoying the city of Norfolk. The forecast was light winds for almost the entire forecast window (about 5 days).
There is a typical migration pattern followed by many (hundreds?) of cruisers every fall at the end of the Hurricane season on November 1st. After a summer spent sailing up north in a more moderate climate and, most importantly, out of the hurricane zone everybody starts heading south to Florida, the Bahamas or the Caribbean. To get to the Caribbean, there are two choices.
It's possible to follow the Intracoastal Waterway all the way to Florida and then fight the trade winds as you island hop to the east. They call this route the thorny path because of the unpleasant, upwind bash required to get from Florida to the windward islands. This route has the advantage of requiring almost no hops of over 12 hours and the convenience of the Intracoastal, but it's slow and boring. Fighting directly into the trade winds will likely be uncomfortable and require lots of motoring.
Alternatively, there is the off shore route. This usually means leaving from somewhere in the northeast - say Boston, Newport, NYC or Norfolk VA. The plan is to get across the Gulf Stream as quickly and easily as possible. The strong northerly current of the stream can make for very rough conditions especially when combined with early winter gales spinning off the east coast or when winds and current are contrary. After traversing the stream the plan is to make as much easting as possible in order to catch the trade winds for an easy beam reach on the long southern leg.
There are several organized groups of boats that meet up at one of the northern ports, share weather briefings, meals and strategies before all departing on (or about) the same date. These include the Salty Dawg Rally and the ARC 1500. We didn't sign up for either of these but Trip did listen in on their SSB nets in order to eke out weather information.
The Ocean Crusing Club (OCC) is an organization of a different sort. It's not geared towards any particular location or time of year. It's a club for long distance sailors with a tough entry requirement - a non-stop passage of at least 1000 miles. Trip and Nicole decided to sign up considering our passage would easy qualify them (and us crew) for membership. Signing up to the OCC had one very nice perk right off the bat. Another member allowed Kalyra to use some dock space in Norfolk at no cost. This sure made the stay in Norfolk much easier and more affordable.
Our plan was to take the offshore route but we badly underestimated the distance from Norfolk to St. Thomas and the average speed we might expect to make.
We started off from Norfolk on the 1st and motored out of the Chesapeake Bay into the Atlantic Ocean in very light winds. It was impressive to go past, often quite close to, the many enormous Navy ships scattered throughout the Norfolk area.
I think the passage can be broken up into 3 phases. Getting through the Gulf Stream, making some easting and then the slow slog south. It's surprising how much the days blend into one another when I think back now about the trip. Perhaps that's not surprising considering how little the scenery changes.
As predicted, the winds were light from the start and we had to do quite a bit of motoring. The highlight of this part of the trip were the many sea birds and porpoises. We even saw whale spouts though they were a bit too far to see much of the whales themselves. If there was one change in the scenery along the entire route it was during this phase. As we passed through the stream the water changed in color to a deep blue turquoise that I never grew tired of staring down into.
We quickly settled into the watch system that was to dominate our time for the remainder of the journey. I'm a light sleeper so I found it pretty easy to be woken every few hours to start my next watch.
After getting through the stream we had a string of about 4 days I will never forget. The seas were flat, the winds just strong enough to move us along at about 4 knots and they were so consistent we barely had to touch the sails. I remember the four of us sitting in the cockpit, relaxed, enjoying a good meal and thinking it never gets any better than this. It was ocean sailing to perfection.
To make matters worse, I was seasick for about 2 days starting on the 10th day out. I used a patch (Scopolamine) when we set out and was not sick at all. The seas were calm when we left so I may not have needed anything. On about the 10th day out, the seas were taking us from the aft quarter and causing the boat to yaw. This, combined with a meal that may not have agreed with me, made me feel terrible. I was lucky that the other crew felt fine and let me sleep though a couple of my watches. I waited too long to put on another patch because doing anything down below when you are seasick seems impossibly difficult. Nicole was good enough to find the last patch for me. She also prepared some watermelon which really seemed to hydrate and energize me. About 12 hours after applying the patch, I was feeling great again.
Nicole and Lyle seem immune to seasickness. Nicole was able to work in the galley in all but the worse conditions and produce delicious, often complicated meals night after night. Best of all were her morning breakfast burritos. Lyle did his share of dish washing and most of mine. He used buckets of salt water saving our precious fresh water. I can't imagine how much tougher the passage would have been without them.
We also saw rain and squalls for the first time. The long stretches of rain were tough because everything inside and out gets wet and humid. It's painful to wake up at 2am, climb into wet foulies and go topside to sit on a wet cushion and face yet more rain. Squalls are a different kind of beast. They are annoying because you never know how strong they will be and you usually have to rush to shorten sail. Standing at the helm in the middle of a night so dark you can't see anything but the masthead nav lights as a squall hits is both terrifying and exhilarating. The boat heels over as the gusts hit. The rain stings your face and you have no idea how long it will last or how powerful the next gust will be. Once you have made it through a few of these the fear is gradually replaced by an Adrenalin rush.
There were other more sublime moments that lacked the intensity of squalls but explain why sailors put up with the many challenges. At some point in the middle of the passage, after days with the complete absence of sea life or other ships we were visited by a school of porpoises that put on a display I will never forget. They did more than the usual playing in the bow wake. They jumped completely out of the water and performed amazing acrobatics - twisting, turning and showing us their pink spotted bellies. While the visitors crowded around Kalyra, the rest of the pod was hurrying to catch up to the boat from a few hundred yards behind us. As they raced to catch up they would power completely out of the water like salmon trying to jump rapids as they head up stream.
As the moon waned the stars took over the night sky. I can't imagine there are better viewing conditions than out at sea hundreds of miles from any light pollution. The milky way was bright enough to cast a shadow, but the real treat was the never ending stream of shooting stars. Some quick short streaks others bright with long trails. They became so numerous we stopped calling them out.
After painfully slow progress towards St. Thomas we hit upon the idea of getting a couple of Jerry cans of fuel from Boat US so that we might motor in and avoid wallowing within sight of land for an extra day or two. Due to some confusion on their part, Boat US showed up without extra fuel but offered to tow us in to the nearest fuel dock. We reluctantly agreed and after about 2.5 hours we were in a slip in Red Hook.
We were all relieved to be back on land but our patience was still being tested. Because of the 2 category 5 hurricanes to hit these islands there was much chaos. We arrived on Sunday, November 19th, seventeen days after we left Norfolk. Both Lyle and I missed our original flights and could not get flights off the Island until Friday the 24th. We found this stretch long. The heat during the day was oppressive and options for comfort on shore were limited.
I reached a few conclusions about blue water sailing:
- It's impossible to make accurate time predictions.
- We're all used to lots of personal space which makes living on a small boat tough.
- It's better to have a good autopilot than an extra crew member.
- Heavy weather is not likely to be a problem.
- Light winds are likely to be a problem.
- Reefing needs to be easy and fast.
- Always consider starting the night with at least one reef in the main.
- Scopolamine patches work.
- Bring a printed sheet of sea shanties for each crew member.
- I prefer the cool Maine summer to the Island heat.
- An InReach (or other brand) satellite tracker is a must have.
I thank Nicole and Lyle for being the best crew I can imagine. Nicole's cooking and provisioning were flawless and Lyle's positive, upbeat and entertaining presence made the long, boring watches fly by. But most of all I want to thank Captain Trip because he was the driving force that made this all happen. His dedication to Kalyra and the passage gave me the experience of a lifetime and the confidince to tackle future blue water passages (once the memories of seasickness fade).
I love your list of lessons!
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