Feb 6, 2011
The 56 horses charged out of the gate of Bell Channel, moving as one force, ready to conquer the sea. Abruptly the motion of the sailboat changed as if orchestrated by the wind and the waves. Instead of a sleek racehorse galloping along a smooth track, the SV Ariel transformed instantly into a bucking bronco, determined to oust Ed and I from the cockpit. Only shocked grabbing and clutching saved us from disaster. Captain Ed’s directive was, “Time to put on our life jackets!” We only had 122 nautical miles to travel with no relief in sight. So much for our extensive homage to the weather gods!
Our boat buddy, Pelican Rose, the Little Trawler that Can, poked her nose out of the Bell Channel to witness her bow to rearing up into the air and crashing back down with her stern following close behind. She shivered and shook and continued to plough along. Watching from the cockpit of Ariel, we were concerned. If all 23,000 lbs of a deep draught 6 ft keel sailboat was crashing and banging, what was happening aboard a 35 ft Mainship Trawler that transported most of her weight above the water? We hobby horsed, bow to stern. Just as we adjusted into a flattened stance feet braced against the cockpit bench wall with accompanying white knuckles dug into the binnacle, the boat added a new move. The repeated rumba step demanded a lurch from bow to stern a few times followed by a few dips port to starboard. I did not appreciate this dance. Pelican Rose liked the manoeuvre even less. After a final near meeting of the starboard side of the trawler and the determined waves, Captain Peter’s voice hailed on the VHF radio, “Ariel, Ariel this is Pelican Rose.” The brief message was prudent for a future safe passage. “Pelican Rose is returning to the Grand Bahama Yacht Club.”
Captain Ed expressed concern for the safety of Pelican Rose. I asked, “Can a trawler tip over and is she able to right herself?”
The educated response was, “If a trawler lands on her side she is not completing her voyage.”
At that moment, Captain Peter executed a perfect manoeuvre turning the trawler out of the rolling waves. The onslaught from the beam reversed. The Trawler sped back to the protection of her slip.
The SV Ariel struggled farther from land by herself. A sailboat like Ariel was challenged and excited to enter into battle with the wind and water. Not so the crew aboard. I felt sick with the motion of the boat but I willed back the waves of nausea and popped a ginger lozenge, candied ginger and ginger ale into my dry mouth hoping that I would not transform into a ginger root before the journey’s end.
The white sails of Ariel billowed as they were hoisted as defence against the wind and water. The raising of the wafting sails involved Ed riding the rocking boat up and down, side to side. His life jacket, clipped onto the lifeline that ran bow to stern, allowing enough slack to attend to the business of sail hoisting. The sails seemed to raise the bow of the boat and eased the ride. The speed increased as the motor was silenced. This day upon the water had been created for a 37ft Tayana sailboat. We skimmed across the continuing waves at 6.5 knots. The sea was impressed and in response her waters began to flatten. My stomach settled back into its usual location and I began to think survival was a possibility. Captain Ed wore a proud smile, revelling in the performance of the SV Ariel. I commented, “I think I will lay down for awhile.”
Watching the sky sail past was pleasant until the boat dipped into another wave. “I hope the green plastic tarp protected our bed in the V berth from the onslaught of waves that rode over the bow on the first part of the trip” I thought. A wet, salty bed was never pleasant.
For the technical fan, at 13:31PM we had 97.7 knots to go. The wind speed was 19 knots. At 14:20 PM Ariel chopped into the waves. The breeze struggled to stay above 15 knots. The boat slowed to 4 knots on our current tack and fought into the waves. A white puffy cloud appeared overhead and we receive a spurt of breeze measuring 17 knots. The Captain said, “Perhaps we should let out all of the genoa to 150% to increase the speed to 5 knots. The decision proved to be wise.
The interruption of a message from the VHF radio broke the silence. The blurted announcement originated from Tow Boat US more than 100 miles away. Lucaya became a memory held 25 knots behind our current position.
“From time to time we passed through scattered patches of golden brown seaweed that laid on the surface of the water, like a carpet. The seaweed was home to a suspended array of garbage, the refuse of human beings. The seaweed carried a burden of beer bottles, an orange, plastic bottles and other manner of disregarded materials.” Captain Ed’s Journal Saturday February 6th, 2011.) the sea offered her own system of clean up behind disrespectful guests.
The sunset at 18:00 hours presented the unusual and unique occurrence called the “Green Flash” or the Armageddon light. As the sun disappeared over a horizon free from all landforms, in the perfect situation, a green colour flashes into the sky from the horizon skyward. If you blinked, you would miss the brilliant explosion. The green flash was like a brief fireworks display. We were delighted to witness to this night phenomenon. We felt Nature’s blessing.
The calm water created the chance for the preparation and service of a culinary delight – chicken noodle soup, while sailing at 4 knots. The soup sloshed from side to side in the bowl keeping time with the motion of the sea.
Radio conversation with the Disney Dream Cruise Ship provided a welcomed divergence from the sound of waves stretched endlessly in all directions like a black blanket. The Captain, of the cruise ship destined for Freeport, altered his course to provide a wide pass of the SV Ariel under sail.
The water was flat; the wind was 12 knots; the speed was 4.4 knots; the journey completed was 45.2 knots; 71.9 knots remained to our destination.
During my watches, Ed slept and my Kindle Book is my auditory companion. “Sarah’s Key” by Tatiana de Rosnay filled my mind while my eyes scanned the navigational instruments. Our course was altered to pass behind a gigantic freighter. Heavy Greek accents peppered the night with messages between the Captains. I listened to the story unfold and kept the SV Ariel on a safe course.
Dawn arrived in the company of brief, welcomed shower. The enclosure, canvas and decks received a warm wash down of the salty residue. The end of the shower offered a huge multicoloured rainbow with hues of colours bright with hope, joy and possibility. I had sent an email to friends announcing we were leaving Brunswick, Georgia, to seek the Wizard of Oz Somewhere Over the Rainbow. We witnessed the rainbow, now to find the Wizard.
Our final destination loomed at the end of the 24 hour passage from Lucaya to Royal Island Eleuthera. Ariel motored through the gate formed into jagged coral rock. The 60 lb Manson anchor smacked the water and abruptly disappeared beneath the swirling turquoise water. From my position at the helm I heard the chain reel out with a metallic grating sound link by link. The chart plotter noted the location where the anchor met the sea. The reference point would give direction to the anchor alarm. The eyes of the weary sailors feasted on the panoramic view. The gentle breeze promised a lulling motion of comfort. We had arrived at Royal Island.