Jonathan Crinion Ocean Racing

Well that's it, Cape Town to Falmouth. This last bit of the voyage from Madeira has seen some of the worst weather ever - non stop. My wind strategy worked well to go up the centre of the English channel and ships criss crossed all night. The weather grib files have been hopelessly wrong for the past while but I knew there would be 180 wind shift and I timed it to make the tack across the main shipping lanes.

Yesterday was the worst with non stop squalls from morning to night with the largest waves I've ever been out on. Throughout the day I was constantly surfing down these monster waves at 14 to 15 knots with just the solant and a three reefed main. In the afternoon the wind picked up to a constant 30 to 35+ knots and at one point I hit 20 knots of boat speed - exhilarating but at that point I was wondering how to slow the boat down. A pod of yellow bellied dolphins though it was all great fun, and as I surfed down a wave they would, in unison, leap out of the face of the wave on either side of the boat. David Attenborough type image. They brought the kids along too and the little ones were very cute.

As I came across I could see that the strong winds had blown me more off course than I calculated and that I couldn't safely make it around the rocks at Lizard point and so I had to tack back out against the huge waves. The top batten of the main snapped in the process. Going off the backs of these huge waves was a different matter than the surfing. The backs are steeper and the boat now protruded off the top of each wave and then slammed very hard off as it tipped off the back. I was hungry and tired from a full on day of this. A rescue helicopter came out and hovered over me for a while to see that everything was alright - reassuring that they are around now.

Then the wind dropped completely. Fortunately I was on a good line into Falmouth Bay. I managed to drop the sails before the flogged but the enormous swell was now propelling the boat on its own at 8 kts, thank fully in the right direction. It was at that point a huge rainbow appeared over Falmouth and the dolphins came back - they must have followed me all the way, and now a military helicopter now came out to check things out And the wind came back to 30 knots - The full Monty arrival.

I was still a ways off and the sun was setting so now it was time to start picking out lights off the chart. I hate coming in to an unknown harbour in the dark but here was no option at this point. Miraculously I made it in to Pendennis Harbour after a small foray up the River Fal by mistake. I've awoken this morning in the beautiful town of Falmouth and can't wait to explore. My father, who introduced me to sailing, passed away recently in Kingston, Canada. He always spoke of Falmouth and it was his favourite place that he visited frequently. He dreamed of sailing here one day and retiring with a sail boat in the harbour. I can understand and see why now. So for me, this trip has been in part, for my dad.

All the best for now,
Jonathan

The ocean can be brutal. More to the point the weather can be. Yesterday was sunny but with large swells and I had been hitting 17 knots reaching on and off for most of the afternoon. Speeding off faster and faster, the feeling is exhilarating. With a reef in the main and the Genoa up I was under canvassed but the boat seemed balanced and needed little care.

There were the usual storm clouds and I'm getting good at knowing which ones will pass and which will hit. It was getting dark and I figured that I could handle this all night as it just felt so good. All I remember was it started to rain and the wind started to pick up as it always does. I thought I'd be ok and started to make supper. But this was different, the wind just got stronger and stronger and the boat went faster and faster. I saw the wind speed was now 45 knots, then all I remember was falling down towards the front of the boat.

Now the boat was lying on its side being flattened by the wind. The bow must have dug in and the boat gybed. I put on my safety harness / inflatable life vest and went out side in the pitch dark to see why we were not coming back up. It seemed like the wind was pinning the boat down with unbelievable force. The sail was above me still because the vang was preventing it from going over.

With the boat on its side I had to climb up to release it and it slammed over against the running backstay but the boat was still not coming up still and the wind was now intense. I saw waves sloshing down the companion way and quickly closed it and at the same time the boat popped upright.

The wind continued and the sails flogged like they would rip themselves to shreds. The genoa did, as the sheets were tied in a knot around the mast by now somehow. Eventually I furled it. The main sail was caught on the starboard runners and I couldn't lower the sail. Eventually it flogged itself loose.

The boat was now drifting sideways still pressed over but going nowhere without a headsail. I put in the third reef and felt my way forward in the dark to remove the sail ties and raise the new solant. As I did I saw the radar support was bent around the mast but no matter now. The wind was blasting and so the solant now flogged and wrapped its lines in a big knot on the mast winch and the runners on the main had now gone behind the sail... it goes on and on.

Finally I got the boat going again but on the wrong tack because of the runners, but I eventually got it sorted, found a comfortable heading. Inside the boat was a mess. The engine cover had ripped itself off and every container had emptied itself and was floating in about 100mm of water in the main cabin. The food from the stern storage was somehow in the forward compartment.

Did I mention all I had on was my long johns and base layer all this time. I was soaked and everything else was soaked. It's taken most of the night to recover and its continued with 30kts until just now when 20 seems like the wind has died. The swells are like mountains now and I'm still surfing - whooohoo - it's addictive.

All the best, Jonathan

All along I've used one nautical chart for the Southern Hemisphere and St Helena and another for the Northern Hemisphere plus one for Madeira. I'm making fast progress at the moment and should be on the 10 degree West Longitude line shortly where I will switch to a detailed chart to take me into La Manche or the English Channel, depending if you are French or English.

All of a sudden I am confronted with the massive complexity of one of the world's busiest shipping channels and it's associated markers. Let's hope I can stay awake!

My choice is to enter in the middle and avoid the turn off the South of the UK to North and South America and the other corner at Brest that takes ships South.

Each corner has three ship lanes. Incoming, outgoing and dangerous goods in the middle of the three. Sailboats should cross at right angles. There are also strong tides that can give you the impression of moving forward but in fact you are moving backwards over the ground.

At the moment I'm surfing across the Bay of Biscay at 14 to 15 knots over ground. So far no wipe outs but close a couple of times. It?? s a fine balance of either going too high into the wind and heading up or too deep and gybing when a large wave picks up the stern and hurls the boat forward.

I think I've outrun the storm but see that 35 knot winds are expected by tomorrow.

All the best, Jonathan

I'm starting to understand why Bernard Moitessier made the turn and headed towards the Pacific. He was wondering what he would arrive back to if he kept going on to the UK. It's so vast out here and so far away from everything. I have a 360 degree view of the universe. I'm completely self sufficient on this boat, and it could take me anywhere, but there are my two wonderful girls, Jennifer and Zoe in University that I miss terribly, my illustrious mum in Ottawa and my amazing partner in life, Stephanie, to name four good reasons to go on.

I'm wondering what I will do with myself after being focused on this boat for so long. Winter is coming. So much has changed, especially me. I feel a little lost actually. What started out as a one line note on my calendar as 'Sail boat to UK' has turned out to have been a much bigger adventure.

I think it was July when I left Cape Town and it's looking like I'll arrive in Falmouth this coming Sunday or Monday (but wait till I get closer to be sure).

At 8 tonight I'll gybe around the tip of Spain and head across the notorious Bay of Biscay. The sky has cleared momentarily for a truce. The sun is setting and the most spectacular rainbow has just appeared, reaching high into the clouds as if to say of nature: 'I have other feats I can perform'.

All the best, Jonathan

Wisdom says go wide of the Bay of Biscay but my weather files are showing a huge area of no wind to the West of me which forms the centre of a large and very vicious looking low heading this way.

I had to reach the Western point of Portugal to be in position for it and I've done that. (The wind in a Low pressure storm goes anti clockwise) I've managed to stay just to the East of it so that I get the wind on my tail when it hits later today. I'm presently being hit by small storms at the rate of one every hour.

Yesterday evening I discovered that my Active Echo also picks up lightning. It was going off constantly all night. Is it a ship or is it lightning? I could see that I was surrounded by numerous thunder storms. Then I got the first one. It went from 10 knots to 40 knots in a matter of seconds which plastered the boat over for a few minutes till I regained control.

I have never seen rain with so much force, it seemed to be so strong that it cancelled the wind partially and flattened the water momentarily.

I experienced the first squall at dusk so I could see it, the rest were in the depths of night. One after another, over and over, with small interludes of no wind to make sure that I was bobbing around in the wrong direction when the next one hit.

The air smells like fire crackers from all the lightning. Just as I was pondering if a carbon mast conducted electricity a bolt hit close by and that was when I moved the flares and emergency grab bag closer to the hatch and mentally went over my escape route. I added a chocolate bar to the grab bag thinking that I would at least have a good time if the boat was sunk from a hit and I had to bob around in the life raft.

It's morning now and with very large choppy waves. I can still see little storm clouds all over and I'm about to get another. The big storm should hit late this afternoon and with any luck it will propel me wide across the mouth of the Bay of Biscay. Jingle Bells.

All the best,
Jonathan