A Tale of Two Voyages
The telephone woke me out of a sound sleep. It was late August 2003 and Captain Ed fudge was recruiting another crew for another of his blue water sailing adventures. As he described the allures of Bermuda and Antigua I slowly began to clear the cobwebs out of my brain. Suddenly memories of the warm sun, swaying palm trees and cooling breezes filled my mind. Without a further consideration I agreed. Departure date was Nov. 7, 2003 from Newport Rhode Island.
I arrived in Newport in a fog so thick the seagulls were walking. It was cold and damp. As I approached the dock, I could make out a familiar friend floating near the end. Aphrodite had served well a year ago and the sight of her bow emerging from the fog brought back many pleasant memories.
But all was not as it had been. Instead of being surrounded by the hustle and bustle of 250 yachting crews preparing for a trans-Atlantic voyage, we were in the company of two other boats awaiting their pull out for the season. The Marina was all but deserted. There were no gala events nor manufacturers parties. The best we could muster was the Newport Yacht Club bar which seemed to be the home away from home for a couple of old salts who were more than willing to offer advice on the seas, the winds and our sanity.
This year my prime responsibility was that of Purser. As such I was responsible for collecting the money from the crew, purchasing supplies, paying bills assisting in immigration and storing supplies on the vessel so that when anything was required I knew where it was stowed.
We spent the whole next day buying food, beer, wine, batteries, equipment, and sleeping bags. Other crew members prepared Aphrodite for the voyage. Computers and radios had to be tested. The water-maker had to be functional, the engine tested etc. The Life raft had to be certified and CO2 canisters for our life vests had to be purchased.
Finally on Thursday most of our preparations were complete and the decision was made to leave at dawn. There is always a reason not to depart so in spite of not completing all of the “to do” list we were committed.
Friday morning was our departure day. First, a trip to the water dock to load up, then to the fuel dock for diesel. Finally at 10:30 we cast off our lines, turned the helm to the east and raised our new sails. As we headed out of Newport harbor I could not help but be reminded of the excitement that we felt one year ago in Los Palmas, as thousands lined the breakwaters to wish us a safe voyage. This time we silently slipped into the offshore fog. As we were the only boat on the water I slowly began to realize that this trip was going to be very different.
Instead of wearing shorts and T shirts we wore woolen watch caps, warm foul weather suits, sweaters and long underwear. We soon fell into our familiar watch schedules. We took individual watches for two hours each from six in the morning to six in the afternoon. Then we shifted to two man three hour watches through to six in the morning and the rotation continued. As the land slowly disappeared behind us, I strolled up to the foredeck and noticed that we were being accompanied by a pod of 7-8 dolphins. They swam beside the hull for over an hour, constantly jumping, falling back then racing to catch up. They were so close you could see their blow holes opening and closing as the breathed. Some had distinctive markings or scars on their backs. Then as quickly as they appeared they were gone.
As we progressed south east towards Bermuda the water became deeper and deeper and soon the inshore fishing boats were no longer visible. When we were not on watch, we spent time in our bunks trying to stay warm and build up a reserve of rest, if that was possible. After last years experience I knew that sleep would be a luxury that would be in short supply, and should anything out of the ordinary occur, mental alertness was a necessity.
Day two proved to be out of the ordinary. It is normal procedure to run the engine for 4-5 hours a day, to run the freezer the water-maker and charge the batteries. As the captain pressed the start button, nothing happened. He tried one more time and again nothing. We decided to not try again until we could determine what the problem was. After several hours of examining the engine, the alternators and the batteries we concluded that either the batteries were dead or the alternators were not charging. This was not a severe problem while at sea, but was going to make arriving in Bermuda very difficult. Depending on the height of the seas and the direction of the wind, navigating the long channel and narrow entrance into St. Georges with sails, could be impossible.
Finally, late in the afternoon we tried one more time, and we were rewarded for our patience as the large diesel sprang to life. Our joy was somewhat dampened by the knowledge that we would now have the engine running constantly, complete with the noise and the smell of the exhaust.
During the next two days the wind steadily climbed from 20 to 35 knots. It was also clocking from the north-west to the north-east. During my watch on day three, I noticed that with the waves coming from behind us, I could get the old girl surfing. As the wave would come up from behind, the bow dip ever so slightly, I turned the wheel to port (left) and we would pick up speed. Then as the wave passed beneath us another would make the bow dip and I would repeat. After seven waves we had enough speed to surf. Great fun during an otherwise boring two hour watch.
During that same watch I noticed that the water had suddenly changed colour. Instead of the battleship grey that we had become accustomed to it was now a beautiful blue. The weather suddenly seemed to be warmer, and after reading a thermometer that we had put in the water we realized that we were in the gulf stream. The gulf stream is physically 8-12 inches higher that the rest of the ocean and therefore picks up a little more wind. As a result it is a lot rougher. We also noticed a unique seaweed floating. It turned out that this was Sargasso seaweed which grows in The Sargasso Sea located to the south of Bermuda. We were definitely in the Gulf Stream.
The shoals of Bermuda begin a hundred miles to the north of the island. As the water gets more and more shallow the waves get steeper and closer together. Soon it feels like taking an elevator straight up then dropping off the other side. By this time they were no longer coming from behind, but hitting us straight on the port side. I took my watch with Capt. Ed at 21:00. The seas and wind had been building all day. The rain was being blown sideways and as waves would splash up the hull, they would immediately blow horizontal upon reaching the deck. This was a particularly dark night. All I could see was the eerie red glow of the compass directly in front of me. Trying to keep the vessel on course in such conditions was impossible yet was also mandatory if we were to find the main channel marker some 10 miles off shore. To miss the mark would require tacking and jibing to find it. Any attempt to enter the channel without first finding the mark would be disastrous. So on we plodded into the night. At about 23:00 I felt a large wave hit us from the port side. As it did I lost my footing, so there I was basically lying on the deck of the cockpit as she heeled severely on her side while we rode the “elevator” straight up. I had managed to keep my hands on the wheel and eventually pulled myself into an upright position. As the vessel reached the top of the wave, she twisted to port and dropped down the other side.
As we dropped down the wave all I heard was a blood curdling scream from below. I had no idea what or who had been injured but my instincts told me it was not good. After about ten minutes the second mate’s head appeared in the companionway to inform me that one of the crew had been levitated from his upper bunk and had flown over the protective lee cloth and landed squarely on his back on the folded dining table. He was being treated by our crew doctor as though he had broken his back. I was asked to fall off on the course to allow for a gentler ride. This would put the waves approach from behind. This we could do for only a limited time as with each minute that passed we were heading closer and closer to the coral shores of Bermuda.
After, I don’t know how long, the Capt. appeared to inform me that the injured crewmember had a severe bruise and abrasion on his back. The poor guy had been seasick for three days, then thrown from his bunk and now this. Ed told me to go down below to get a couple of hours rest. We were now down to four crew, as the vessel’s doctor was busy tending to the injured. I was due on deck in two hours.
I crawled into my upper bunk and attached my lee cloth as a precaution from being thrown around the cabin.. The bunk was about eighteen inches high, two and a half feet wide, and six feet long. With the lee cloth up I felt that I was in my coffin. Laying there you could hear the rush of the water against the hull. I remember silently talking to my Dad who had passed away twenty years earlier. I guess I had appointed him to be my guardian angel that night and promised that if he could get me out of this one, I wouldn’t go to sea again. (lies lies)
It was a very long two hours but when I emerged on deck for my shift at 3:00 the conditions had not changed. We continued on to that elusive mark at the mouth of the channel to St. Georges. I don’t know if any of us slept except for the injured who were sedated.
As the sun began to rise we found the visibility to by lighter but no better with the wind blowing spume over the waves. As tradition would have it, the captain offers the Captain’s guinea to the first to see land. After a while I spied a grey form in the distance. At this point the water was the same color as the sky so locating land was difficult. I kept an eye on the distant form and soon realized that it was too angular to be land. We soon identified the object as a cruise ship entering the channel. So I lost the guinea.
We headed toward the cruise ship and soon located our mark. As we approached land we doused the sails and gave thanks for the engine which was still running.
Upon entering the sound in St Georges everything changed. The wind kept up but had no effect on the water. The sky was clear and the sun was warm. We went immediately to the immigration dock and registered. Then, proceeded to our dock at the Dingy Club. Once safely at the dock we purchased shower tokens from a funny looking man on a bicycle, and immediately headed for the showers, our first in four days.
After showering we were as grateful to be clean as we were to be warm. Then in true QHS tradition, off to the pub for some food and refreshment. A new crewmember met us at the pub and his first question was “what have guys been through”. I guess we were a fairly motley looking crew. Back to the boat and a welcome sleep, our first in thirty six hours.
The following two days were spent replenishing supplies and repairing the vessel. A few weeks before our arrival a hurricane had hit Bermuda, so finding tradesmen to work on the repairs was difficult. Ed had used an electrician from the island a couple of years earlier, so we contacted him and he was able to confirm that one of the batteries was dead and one alternator needed rebuilding. This he completed by late Thursday.
Several other vessels that were headed south were stuck in Bermuda as well. There was a tropical low forming over Puerto Rico and no wanted to chance an encounter with it. Although the hurricane season was officially over we were not about to tempt fate so we all sat tight waiting for the low to do something. Eventually by Friday the decision was made. This was the window to exit Bermuda.
We set sail at sunrise on the Friday. Weather was clear and brisk. The wind was behind us again and we enjoyed 2 days of beautiful sailing on our way to Antigua. Then the wind died. We left the mainsail up and furled the jib, started the engine and motored for two days. Quite boring but not unwelcome after our Bermuda adventure. At night we experienced many squalls. These are rain storms that sweep east to west. The wind picks up very quickly and often there was a great amount of lightening. I was always told to stay away from tall objects and metal during lightening storms, yet here we were in the middle of the Atlantic with a huge metal mast pointing in defiance to the skies. The mast is supported with stainless steel shrouds on the side and a forestay and backstay. All metal. I hate lightening. So we dodged and turned and tried as we could to avoid sailing under any of those thunder clouds.
By morning the wind was beginning to build so up went the sails and off went the engine. After a short while we were visited by three minke whales. They slowly crossed our bow as they made their way west. The only sound being the soft whoosh as they exhaled and dove, only to resurface and repeat.
Late in afternoon I was helming again when I heard a snap from the bungee that controlled the fishing line that we were trailing. I couldn’t see anything on the line but I knew we had a fish. After yelling “fish fish fish” the whole crew appeared on deck.(all six of us). We began hand lining it in and when it got close enough one of the guys tried to gaff it with an old knife that had been attached to a boat hook. No luck with the gaff but we did get it into the cockpit. This was a big angry fish. Probably 52 inches and 30 pounds (a fisherman’s estimate). Capt. Ed took care of dispatching him by removing the gills, which are highly vascular. In no time the fish bleeds to death. What comes around goes around. While it was thrashing on the deck it regurgitated a fairly fresh clown fish that it had recently consumed. The ship’s doctor immediately went to his surgical kit and did a magnificent job of filleting this prize Wahoo. Within one half hour we were eating sushi dipped in lime and wasabi. That night we had Wahoo fillets cooked in butter and garlic topped with fresh ginger, all washed down with a great red wine. Who said we had to suffer all the time.
We were now entering the final stages of the trip. At night we could see the lights of the islands in the distance. I finished my watch at 21:00 and went below to get some sleep before we arrived. I awoke at 2:00 to the voices of the crew on deck. We had gone around to the southern side of Antigua and were now attempting to find the channel into Falmouth Harbor. This channel is fairly narrow with steep cliffs on both sides. After a couple of attempts and retreats we managed to keep a light on the port side cliff and eased into the bay. After maneuvering among several other sailboats we managed to drop and secure the anchor. I had been expecting an email during the voyage advising me that I had become a grandfather, however no such message had arrived so I took our celebratory bottle of champagne and popped the cork in a toast to our success. You never win with the sea. She will only let you get away with a tie which we were very happy with.
At 7:00 the next morning, after only 3 hours sleep we hauled anchor and sailed to our destination English Bay, only a short distance. On the way into the harbor we were able to refuel and take on water. We each had a well deserved ice cream cone, then off to immigration. Lyn Michaud (relax everyone he is a guy) and I shared a room at the Admiral’s Inn for the night. This bay was the location for Admiral Nelson’s shipyard where the English would repair their vessels. Part of it has been restored and is a great historical artifact.
We met with the new crew who were going on to the Grenadines. Assisted in bringing order to the below decks. Getting laundry done etc. Then, our final crew dinner and the prize giving by the skipper.
The next morning Lyn and I were in a taxi and off to the airport. I finally arrived home at one in the morning. Little did I know that in only eight hours an event would take place that would, in my own eyes, overshadow this entire voyage. I became a grandfather to Caitlyn. Now she is the apple of my eye and I tell her stories of my old sea dog days. Some day that wahoo is going to be as large as a whale.
