15 10.880n 30 11.791w
I didn’t realise we’d actually have to sail across the Atlantic!
Mon Nov 20 2023
Part of the prep for a voyage like this is reading endless articles and books about ‘how to cross the Atlantic’. Those articles cover a myriad of subjects including (the following list is not exhaustive); provisioning, engine maintenance, generator maintenance , first aid at sea, power management, navigation, Astro navigation, crew management (dark art - lost on me), sail configuration, and so on. And by and large I thought it would be ‘trade wind sailing, so that means we’d slot into the trade winds as we left the Canaries and barrel along with the wind largely arriving at the same angle on the boat until we could smell the spices on the island of Granada.
And if that were the case the sail configuration would be quite straight forward. Because the Atlantic is known for its squally weather a simple set of sails that can be furled away quite quickly would be sensible. I chose ‘twin headsails’, that is two similar sails sharing a foil on the forestay. The principle being that these two sails are poled out, one on either side, and as when needed can be easily furled away should a squall approach.
So as we started the ‘race’ the twins were hoisted and very soon poled out as we made good ground in about 21 knots of breeze doing up to 9 knots speed over the ground. Whilst there was no great sea running the boat felt awesome despite the reasonable wind. In reality this was the first time we had used them in anger and I was thrilled. These guys would be our sailing buddies for the next 25,000 miles and I liked what I saw.
However, the weather routing model we were using (PredictWind) was sending us on a course entirely different from the rest of the fleet. Neil and I were at the bow for over an hour tweaking the new sail and by the time we got back to the cockpit and got our breath back we realised we were about 5 miles or more behind the pack. So the twins were furled away and out came the spinnaker as we then headed off on a track 90 degrees from the one we’d been following.
We expected the wind would get light and get light it did. Ordinarily when cruising we’d hoist the iron tops’l (put the engine on) if the boat speed dropped below 4 knots. That night we saw 1.8 knots but knowing that we’d be penalised if we used the engine it lay fast asleep in its bunk as we struggled through the night.
By this point, thanks to the magic of Starlink (limited access only! I’m way too tight to leave it on 24/7, and I most certainly don’t want to leave it on 24/7 for if I did there would never be another conversation on the boat. The way it works just now is we run the generator for a couple of hours to make water and top up the batteries and as Starlink is power hungry (on a boat at least) on it goes on when the genny is running. And at the very second my crew hear that motor start they immediately stop what they are doing, sometimes mid sentence, and in a heartbeat the chitter chatter and endless wittering that fills every corner of the boat is replaced by a deathly silence. Suddenly their cheerful little faces take on the expression of goat who’s watching a man with a sharp knife approach whose job it is to cut the goats bollocks off. The goat faces the inevitability of it all expressionless and without muttering a note. And so it is that the once jolly crew become like statues as their hollow faces look blankly into the tiny screens on their phones. Calls for ‘anyone fancy a cuppa’ go unanswered as the tumble weeds of social media blows silently through the boat). Where was I, oh yes, the yellow brick tracker broadcasting our results to the whole world. Clearly the fluke of the first leg (4th in class, missing 2nd by an hour and 20 mins (over 5 and a half days) was becoming apparent as we now found ourselves 83rd out of 97. Duh!
It as all a bit disheartening to be honest. We struggled through the first night at barely enough speed to register on the instruments followed by an equally painful morning as we crawled south watching the rest of the fleet head west. But as much as we felt misled by Mr PredictWind at the start of the race I could now see what the cunning old fox had in store. A gybe just after lunch lay the ship on a course where the now slightly fresher NE wind would meet the boat at an angle (135 degrees TWA) to give maximum speed.
And max speed it did. The kite was full and hungry to make good the ground lost. Suddenly the boat was seeing speeds of 8, 8.5 and 9 knots as we tramped along. With the perfect wind angle, strength and flat sea off we charged. Admittedly it was the smaller boats in the fleet but we felt as if we tore through them like a fire in a tissue factory. Such Champagne sailing we were having there absolutely zero appetite to bring the kite down over night. On and on we charged and in the 24 hours from our gybe we managed to pass 43 boats, about half the fleet.
But now we were back with the big boys and getting ahead is not so easy. The crew have remained hungry to keep the kite up and keep the heat on. And so it is with the promise of a relatively quiet night the kite flies proudly once more.
But the point was (or is) I thought we’d put the twins up at the start and that was it for a couple of weeks. Light my pipe, peel a few spuds, read the odd novel. Not so far. Apart from their early appearance for all of an hour about 3 days ago we haven’t seen hide nor hair of the buggers! We’ve actually had to sail the boat every mile of the 350 miles so far (about 100 of them in the wrong direction).
But hope has not faded for the Trades to form in a few days and with it, no doubt, a whole new set of challenges. Let’s see.