The Midwatch Log: April 2013

One of our biggest concerns with cruising from the beginning has been my seasickness. I am not the kind of person that gets sick just thinking about being on a boat but it is real for me. We even discussed having me take an offshore sailing course, prior to purchasing Midwatch, to really test the waters and figure out if it really is a huge obstacle or something that I am capable of getting over. I did look into a course but the several thousand dollars that it cost, the time off from work, the airfare, hotel rooms and baby sitters while I was gone were all too much. We decided that we would plan our trip around my capabilities once we were out there and, “damn the torpedoes!”

We have struggled a bit while out. I tried the patch with fair results, several over-the-counter meds and a prescription med, meclizine. Meclizine worked the best but left me groggy for nearly two days. Midway through the winter we had developed a plan that included my Mom and Dad visiting the Bahamas and returning to New Hampshire with the kids in April. This would allow us to get the boat to North Carolina as quickly as possible with time to prepare for the next phase of the trip, a passage to Europe. As the winter wore on, Bob began to worry; I wasn’t being debilitated by seasickness on the trips but by the meds. He started discussing getting someone else to help get the boat to Beaufort.

We have debated for many years over what my role on the boat should be. As a Mom, my number one role is to keep the kids safe which interferes with my rate of learning and even my dependability as an able seaman. I have learned a tremendous amount on the trip but the combination of the seasickness, meds and playing ‘Mom’ still limit my rate of learning. The trip to Beaufort would offer two things, a kid-free passage and a trip length long enough to shake the bonds of seasickness. I had been really looking forward to this trip, knowing I would not be able to take any of the Atlantic legs. The thought of being sent home was too much for me to take. I began experimenting with the seasick meds once again.

We took two trips out into the Atlantic in our final weeks in the Bahamas, trying no meds and the patch one more time. We decided that the patch, although not quite as effective as the pills, at least left me alert, even if a little nauseous. We decided that slightly nauseous made an ok seaman, asleep at the wheel, did not, and the trip was on.

My Mom and Dad flew into Treasure Cay and took the ferry from Green Turtle Cay where we all spent five days at the Green Turtle Club and Marina. It was a great spot and really fit the bill. My parents had a nice room near the swimming pool and we were tucked safely into a slip at the marina with just a short walk between the two. We were back and forth all week with just enough to do on the island to keep everyone busy. The restaurant at the resort was outstanding and we even had a great celebration, including cake, of my Mom and Dads’ 50^th wedding anniversary. We felt privileged to be able to share in this very special day with them. The waitresses at the resort got to know us quickly, bringing Finn two glasses for his milk each meal and teasing my Mom about her strange new liking for coffee. The evening of the celebration they all sang “Happy Anniversary” in their beautiful, strong Bahamian voices, around the table they had decorated for us with fresh flowers picked in the rain and seashells. We shared the cake with them but still had enough left for Finn to enjoy later. Ah…life with grandparents.

One of the concerns with our travel plans was that the weather would not allow a departure near the time that everyone flew back to Boston. Bob watched the weather for weeks in advance, studying weather patterns and windows, seeing what could happen and how long it would take to make the approximately 500 mile trip. We generally average over 5 knots while sailing but we have had long stretches of 4 and some 6. Our new friends on Amicus II also had a planned departure date for a ‘direct to Beaufort’ trip and Bob had been sharing notes with Mark, the captain-Dad. Amicus II tentatively planned to wait near us for their window with all of us wondering if we would be making the trip in tandem. Their opportunity presented itself almost immediately and they departed for the States without even staging themselves north. This was a bit sad for us but we were excited for them and followed their trip closely, catching word of their location on the SSB radio each morning on the Chris Parker radio program. They had a great trip and we anxiously started to watch for the next window.

The kids and my folks were scheduled to leave on a Tuesday and we began to see the opening of a potential window for us on Monday. As the week moved quickly on, it was beginning to look more and more like Sunday would be the best departure day. I discussed it with my parents, explaining that if there was an opportunity, we really had to take it or we may risk another two weeks before another opportunity arose. They understood and, fortunately, all were well settled into the Green Turtle Club to weather a day or two without us.

We spent a considerable amount of time preparing with the kids going back and forth between my folk’s room and the boat, swimming in the pool and enjoying long leisurely dinners in the dining room. We were joined by our friend Stein from the Anna Rose on Saturday afternoon and had a nice visit with him on the boat and again over breakfast on Sunday.

The harbor has a shallow entrance and our planned departure was for high tide, scheduled for just before noon. We untied at 11:53 and Bob smoothly reversed from the slip. Poor Anna cried while Finn did his best to show her how to “tough it out” with his Superman imitation, my Mom and Dad waving goodbye. Anna has a gentle heart and wears her heart on her sleeve, she also was the most keenly aware of what we were about to undertake of the four on the dock so our hearts went out to her as the tears slipped down her face.

I have to admit, I was more worried about my Mom and Dads’ trip all the way back to New Hampshire with the kids then I was about our 500 mile ocean passage. I did not know what the procedure was for grandparents traveling with children into the US or what they would face for a transfer in Washington DC. Getting Finn and five bags across terminals was a tall task.

"Battle dress"

The morning we left I downloaded weather images from the internet so that we could refer to them on our journey and we headed north, across the Sea of Abaco for the closest cut into the open ocean at Manjack Cay. It was high tide so we traversed with few concerns, even spotting what at first we thought were three dolphins, travelling over a beautifully clear, sandy spot near the cut. As we watched, and they didn’t surface for a breath, we slowly realized we were watching three large sharks, large enough to watch their fins cut the surface as they cruised along, easily keeping up our six knot pace. We passed out of the Sea of Abaco and into the Atlantic to the calmest waters we had seen yet on our trip. Surprisingly, the wind was fair and the current even better and we cruised along, occasionally even reaching 8 knots. We glorified in that “We are just a couple again” feeling for the afternoon, feeling no seasickness, basking in the warm Bahamian sunshine. Midafternoon Bob latched into a nice Mahi mahi. We swiftly hove-to, I reeled in the second rod while Bob pulled in the fish. I gaffed it first try and Bob cried “fish is back on the menu.”

As evening approached, we pulled out our borrowed satellite radio which includes weather maps and listened to the radio. This was soon followed by a NOAA weather alert for thunderstorms and even tornadoes in Florida. Earlier weather reports had the storms far north of us and travelling northeast but we seemed to be approaching rather quickly. By midnight we were almost on top of them. Bob made the decision to reef and hove-to and wait for the storms to go by. Our positive current and winds continued and even at a “standstill” we continued with our northerly course at 3 knots, while the thunderstorm ground to an almost standstill, eventually splitting with some moving off to the northeast as expected and the southern half heading southeast, towards us and the Bahamas. My midnight to 3 AM shift consisted of checking the radar and watching the stars to starboard and complete darkness to port. By 5 AM it was evident we would not be able to wait out the storms and decided to push on and try to skirt around the eastern side of the lower cell. We put on as much speed as we could watching the growing streaks of lightning to our west all while the sky lightened in the east. We could watch our progress on the satellite radio but the radar that was tracking the storm did not reach out to the far northerly end of the storm, so we were not sure what we were going to hit. The winds and lightening began to increase and at one point a multi-branched, jagged bolt stretched out in front of us from one side of the horizon to the other. This was the first of my “Wholly $&!t!” moments of the trip. I hung off the starboard rail, watching for the rising sun, knowing this would be easier in daylight. One hour dragged on to two, we went through a little rain squall and the skies began to clear. It slowly dawned on us that we had made it through. The seas were left choppy by the unsettled weather but the wind continued in a favorable direction. We pressed on at close to 7 knots through a wild and confused sea. It was at this point that I moved onto my back to prevent nausea and stayed there for most of the trip. We passed a fishing vessel and saw several longline buoys during the morning but all else was quiet.

We were feeling relieved all day, knowing that the weather prediction was for the wind to continue to reduce and that we would likely be motoring the following day. A strange line on the weather map was confusing us, “was that a warm front?” we wondered. By midnight the wind had reduced to floppy-sail level and so I started it up and motored through my midwatch (technically, the midwatch is the midnight to 4 AM shift, we were taking three hour watches.) getting a good jump on the battery charge. Bob came on watch at 3 AM and we began to watch what was obviously an approaching front. I hadn’t slept all that well the first night so I was really ready to sleep now. The cold front came through, the wind switched from the south to the north and Bob tacked back and forth several times trying to deal with the changing winds. I switched back and forth from bunk to bunk, trying to stay in bed. At one point I shot across the bed and managed to flop myself over to the opposite bunk, all without standing up.

This isn’t what the weatherman called for!

At this point we had managed to maintain a relatively straight northerly course. With a north wind we were now forced to choose northeast or northwest. I don’t remember the reasoning but we headed off to the northeast, heeled heavily and straining the rigging. All day we waited for the wind to calm down as forecasted and it only increased. We eventually had to tack to the northwest as the wind began to clock and we began to experience significant counter currents. We continued on the northwesterly course for the next day and a half, all the time waiting to encounter the Gulf Stream with no significant reduction in wind strength.

The only significant excitement over the next two days again occurred on my watch. It was about 2:30 AM and I was beginning to get a little sleepy. The jib was half furled due to the significant wind and it suddenly was flapping like crazy. I found the spot light and quickly realized the furling line had snapped. I winched in the full sail and latched myself in to go forward and check what happened and pull in the line that was dangling over the side. I was just coming back when Bob appeared in the cockpit, anxious to find out what had happened. He told me not to go forward again unless he was there and we agreed that made some sense.

About this time, we passed a line on the chart that said approximate limits of the Sargasso Sea and then approached the line on the chart that identified the approximate center of the Gulf Stream. We were still getting slammed by a counter current so I checked out the weather data downloaded before departure, there was no way to predict where the Stream was. The imagery from Sunday showed erratic and meandering currents and who knows what the current map looked like. We had no way of finding out.

We did have the satellite radio and by Wednesday morning I was tired of finding bunnies in the clouds and trying to identify the constellations and I suggested we listen to NPR or the BBC. Bob turned on NPR and they were talking about the attack in Boston. “Attack in Boston!?” Finn and Anna were flying into Boston that day! The interviewer droned on and on about the psychological impact to first responders while we were hollering at the radio to give us some information! Slowly the picture emerged as we sat there in shock, wondering which of our runner friends were there that day.

The wind began to clock around and we were finally able to tack to the northeast and began to run parallel with the “Supposed” Gulf Stream in a counter current that was holding us back. We had the first comfortable sailing for days and we looked forward to getting through the night and waking up on the final stretch. I actually felt well enough at this point to go down below and I cooked some Ramen noodles. Not exactly high cuisine but a major step forward for my seasick self. I really looked forward to a nice southeasterly breeze in the AM that would shoot us into Beaufort on a broad reach.

My watch started at 6 PM as we passed Charleston and began to approach the Cape Fear River shipping area. After seeing a total of about three ships on the entire trip, we suddenly could see two! There was a large ship to our north and a smaller research vessel to the east. We knew the identity of the research vessel when we heard them call the Coast Guard. They had encountered an overturned vessel. We listened intently as we approached the scene which was on our course. The vessel was mostly sunk and the ship soon continued on their way. We never saw the vessel but the Coast Guard continued to announce it all evening.

The next ship I saw looked amazingly close to us. AIS showed it 7+ miles away but this just wasn’t fitting into what I was seeing. I woke Bob and he fired up the radar, the ship was just a mile and a half in front of us, heading directly towards us. Bob radioed the ship and they very succinctly told us that the rules required that we alter our course. We quickly altered our course 15º to starboard and passed him by. We saw several more ships that evening. This was conclusive evidence we were getting close!

Just before our collision course-excitement, while lying in my normal prone position on the port side bench, I caught a glimpse of an orange light, deep in a big puffy cloud. A moment later I saw three more lights lined up in the same cloud. I was well into the fourth day with “the patch” for seasickness. I knew the directions said not to wear for more than three days but I wasn’t about to take it off. I vaguely remembered reading something about halucinations if you wore it for too long and I lay there wondering if these odd lights were real. We then encountered the ship and I promptly forgot about it. About a half hour later, the lights started up again and I hollered for Bob to come see. He didn’t make it on time so I still wasn’t too sure what I had seen. I was coming off watch and getting into bed when the coast guard came on the radio and asked that anyone who had seen orange ‘squares’ to call in the sighting. I was just falling asleep and asked Bob if he thought I should call in the squares I had seen. He said, “Do you mean flares?” I didn’t have it in me to get up, I couldn’t even keep my squares and flares straight. Another sailing vessel called in and reported a flare sighting and I felt better about being so lazy, and not halucinating. I knew I wouldn’t be able to give them much information, but I had seen it twice, separated by at least a half hour. I told Bob “it didn’t really look like flares to me, it was something military, not flares… or squares.” A moment later the coast guard was back on the radio, canceling the request, no explanation. “See…” I said, “Military” and I promptly fell asleep. I was back up at 11:50 for my Midwatch, I had become very good at waking myself a few minutes before my watch at this point and we discussed our route to get by Cape Fear and the Frying Pan Shoals. We continued on, still fighting the current but it was finally beginning to lessen. I awoke Bob at 3 AM and knew that when I awoke at 6 we would be beyond Cape Fear and in the homestretch.

I awoke to a positive current and an easterly wind. We finally could set a direct course for our destination after three days of tacking back and forth and we were making up time. I had been checking my cell phone for the past 12 hours, wondering at what point we would encounter service. As I came on watch I checked again and realized I had one bar. I told Bob and we each quickly tapped out a text. I think mine reached its destination (Brother’s fiancé, who would be able to pass on a message to the kids) but Bob’s was unsuccessful. Soon the bars were gone but the current started pushing us along. My appetite was beginning to come back and I ate peanut butter with a spoon out of the jar.

By midmorning, we were making serious time, the seas were down and I was considering removing the patch. Bob told me to hold off, he thought the winds would pick up…and they did. We had a squall and once again we were in 20 to 25 knot winds under full sail. We hadn’t reefed and once again the galley drawers went flying. This had happened once earlier in the trip. They have little latches which connect them to the drawer above and finally to the counter top. I am sure the drawers were nice and snug when the boat was constructed 25 years ago when I was graduating from highschool but over the years the many opening and closings and all the back and forth from sailing has worn them down. The lowest drawer, with the most wiggle room came flying out. The second came all the way across and smashed into the setee on the opposite side of the boat and the third spewed its contents, including several large knives on the little bit of floor space remaining. We added another broken item to our growing list.

As the day rolled on the mood reversed from the morning high spirits, suddenly the impending arrival seemed a whole lot further off. The wind was strong enough and close enough out of the east to make a direct path difficult. The batteries were critically low and we had failed to charge the batteries by running the engine the evening before, apparently the alternator was broken. We couldn’t furl the jib because of the broken furling line and would have to take it down when we were ready. Midmorning Bob decided to start the motor to see if the alternator would work. He couldn’t get the gear shift to move. I began to contemplate entering the harbor with no motor, a full jib and no roller furling…in 20 to 25 knot winds. This wasn’t going to be fun. We sat and stressed for several hours and finally we decided to just hoveto and try getting the engine started, at least. Then we could make contingency plans on getting into the harbor, if needed, versus stressing. It worked! We stopped the boat, Bob was able to shift and the motor roared to life, still not charging the batteries but at least we could get into the harbor without panicking. We took the jib down and motor sailed to the harbor entrance. We called customs once we had cell service and then we called our folks. We finally arrived at a marina recommended by customs and tied up, exhausted, salty and extremely proud of ourselves, ready for that fish dinner. Bob had to remind me to remove the patch.