05/02/2007, 250 miles East of Chesapeake Bay
Early in the overnight, we are still hove to on this clear night. The winds slowly increase into the upper teens. The forecast as of 5pm yesterday still has gale force winds in the northeast quadrant of the forecast area north of Hatteras. But I am thinking of sailing.
At 0130, I can get US VHF radio forecasts for the Southeast. Winds at Frying Pan shoal are only 14 knots.
I get the boat underway again at 0230 after reviewing the 0200 weather faxes. These faxes show nothing new -- the low pressure system is supposed to move east very quickly, shows up as a "DVLPG GALE" and should be east of Nova Scotia by 0230z (2230 ships time) tonight. The storm should be out of our way by the time we get to its latitude. I drop the main and roll out the jib and the running backstay for a comfortable broad reach north. By 0300 we are gliding smoothly Northnortheast under jib alone, with the wind around 20 knots and moderate seas.
It is damp and clammy, and low clouds have rolled in, and I think we are in the Gulf Stream, but the current is light, perhaps one knot. Perhaps we are in an eddy.
At 1000, we are rolling along in a brisk breeze and bright sunshine. We are making around 7 knots in 5 - 7 foot seas, with some breaking crests, but the boat's motion is easy and smooth. Our decks are dry. Mabel hasn't met a wave yet but that she rises gracefully to meet.
We are playing chess with the Atlantic grandmaster of weather, having positioned ourselves west while the Atlantic places a threatening low to our North, moving East. We will sneak in behind the low.
But we are not entirely out of the woods. The morning preliminary surface analysis shows a NEW low in western NJ -- will this one cross us? Later weatehr faxes show that this low will dissipate.
Beryl's poor history book is not havng a good crossing. It seems that every time we pull it out in the cockpit, on Beryl's afternoon watch, a wave slaps the boat and drenches the book in seawater. Robin kindly dries it out page by page, but school is canceled for another "storm day."
Low clouds and the weather front hit us at dinnertime, as we enter the Gulf Stream. I make spaghetti, since it is easy to serve in bowls. The winds shift as we enter the Gulf Stream, so Robin tacks the boat. We hit an unexpected eddy setting westward.
I find Beryl hand steering at 2330 in the lumpy, steep seas of the Gulf Stream, as Aunt Mabel can't handle them.
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05/01/2007, 250 Miles East of Hatteras
Clear overnight with a bright moon and a stiff wind. I am trying to slow the boat down, with the jib rolled up most of the way. We are still taking a bucket of water down below from time to time. I am worrying about how to negotiate a gale and the Gulf Stream; we may have to heave to tomorrow night in order to stay out of trouble.
Spent the day jogging along under triple reefed main and about 1/3 of the jib. I spent most of the day repairing the mainsail, both where another sail slide had torn loose, and where there was a rip in the sail by yet another sail slide. This last rip I patched with the sailcloth I bought in Bermuda.
By midafternoon, it is time to consult with the Aeolus of the airwaves again, Herb Hilgenburg. Last summer, on our eastward departure from the East coast, Aeolus gave us nothing but gentle breezes and smooth seas. Like Odysseus, all our contrary winds were tightly bagged up.
Odysseus had less luck with his second visit to King Aeolus than his first: "You are cursed," Aeolus told him, "all of your mariners will be killed and you will be prevented from going home for ten more years." Aeolus would not help Odysseus with fair winds the second time around.
This afternoon, Herb Hilgenburg advises against sailing north on the strong southwesterlies behind the gale system to our north: "North of 35 degrees, you will have gale force and storm force winds, with winds in the Gulf Stream gusting over 40 knots." Instead, Herb advised, we should sail southwest to 72 degrees west and 34 degrees north, and wait for the wind shift to the northwest behind the front.
This is frustrating advice. We are eager to make some northing, towards home. We would fly on a 20-30 knot southwesterly, and we have sailed in similar winds comfortably before. It makes no sense to me to wait until the winds are blowing directly against us before turning north, when we could be flying downwind before the front passes. I asked Herb what we can expect if we turn north a little earlier, after the gale force winds to our north start to move away. "I told you what you can expect before, you will have gale and storm force winds north of 35 degrees and you should stay south of 34 degrees 30 was his reply.
Still, we are thinking of watching how the storm plays out overnight and in the morning, and making our turn before the wind shift. But at 1700 hours, we heave-to in a light southwest wind, basically anchoring ourself at sea, to wait and sea. As a precaution, I installed the storm cover on the cockpit porthole, and bent on the storm jib in case we needed it.
I am very sleepy this evening, and napped through Beryl's 2200 watch -- not much danger of hitting anything while we are hove to and making no way.
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04/30/2007, 200 miles NW of Bermuda
THere is a squall at 0045 -- wind gusts up to about 25 knots. I roll up part of the jib and we tack to the west, jogging along comfortably at around 5-6 knots, making 270 degrees magnetic, towards our "corner" point at 35 by 70 degrees. I am still hoping we can turn at the corner and run north with the favorable winds kicked up by the storm further to the north.
At 0230, a sea splashes through the companion hatch while I am studying the Navtex forecasts for offshore the SE United States. NOAA is confirming Herb's gale warning for offshore waters north of Cape Hatteras -- we are probably will have to heave to for a while south of 35 degrees to wait it out. I will not sail into a gale forecast for the Gulf Stream! We are now sailing away from a storm instead of sailing towards home.
Sunny skies greet me in the morning. We are on a nice beat in an easy 10-12 knot breeze. We tack to the west-northwest to make our "safe turn" point of 71 by 35 degrees.
I cleaned the engine bilge today.
Beryl is very unhappy we are not headed straight towards home; she refuses to attend to Robin's morning science classes.
Sloppy seas are periodically shipping some water below. I have double lashed the anchors.
In the evening radio contact, Herb Hilgenburg tells us to hang tight for 36 hours -- gives us a waypoint around 100 miles away (30 minutes of latitude south of our own "turn point") -- as a place to shoot for for midday Wednesday -- two days from now. It will be hard to go that slow.
I am considering heading closer to Hatteras to cross the Gulf Stream where it flows north instead of east . . . but I am not sure. It is stronger there, and a longer trip.
So we slow the boat down by rolling up part of the jib, wallowing along at four knots at first, but then somehow Mabel learned to sail with the smaller sails and we picked back up to 5 to 6 knots. Still, sailing slowly is not good for crew morale, with a crew eager to get home.
After dinner, Robin wonders aloud whether we will see dolphins again. As if on cue, a school of dolphins appears, jumping and leaping, and doing tricks . . .
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