August 16-17, 2012
(Note to those reading this on a phone: there are a couple of really cool videos from this trip on our conwaysailors youtube channel in case they don’t show up here. Check them out next time you are on your computer for a really good feel of what offshore sailing is like.)
“So what is it, this cruising racket?..It is storms and calms, lonely beaches, rivers, harbors, clouds, the wind. It is the natural world we all need, the world that children know and men most generally lose. It has to be won, for fear, and competence and fighting with oneself are a part of it as well as contentment and sunset at anchor in some peaceful, hard-won cove in Maine. Work, sweat, pain, exhaustion, strength, peace, and exhilaration go into it! Like love, it is dangerous, for you can get hurt in your innermost being – as when you fail yourself and flunk out. But – also like love – it’s the ultimate ecstasy and joy in the world, the natural, unashamed, primitive, naked, lovely world.” –Elliot Merrick, Cruising At Last
I love the way Merrick writes about the sea and about sailing. He captures the grandeur and the depth in a very real way. We had been enjoying Maine so much, and frankly, we were ignoring the fact that we had to eventually leave. All of a sudden, our first overnight passage was upon us. We were certainly prepared physically. The boat is in great shape, everything is working well, our safety equipment is complete, and we had fuel, water, and provisions to last a week. This might be a good time to tell you that our “passage” would only last 22 hours! But it’s always good to be prepared!
I take the wheel as Porter points to the man overboard.
We had done our man overboard drill and we were pleased with the results. Chris surprised all of us, including me, by throwing the horseshoe buoy in the water early one morning while we were under way. He yelled, “Man Overboard!” and we all looked at him like he was crazy for about 3 seconds before it registered in our brains. At first, it was a little like the scene in I Love Lucy, when it was time for Lucy to go the hospital to have Little Ricky (I just realized I’m dating myself here. If you don’t know what I Love Lucy is, please don’t tell me. And I won’t tell those older than me that I only know it from reruns:). We all started running to our positions, just as we had practiced, but it looked a little like a fire drill with lots of yelling and jumping around.
Bryson throws the rope as we come up alongside
I took the wheel and put the engine in neutral. Reese and Porter immediately started pointing at the bright yellow horseshoe buoy (our “man”) so that we didn’t lose sight of “him”. Bryson prepared a rope to throw. I swung the boat around in a slow arc and came up alongside our man as Bryson threw the rope. Bryson walked the rope around to the swim platform and I hauled the man back onboard.
Pulling in our man overboard
We praised the kids for remembering their jobs and for staying calm. They all listened to the directions as I gave them and we saved our man very quickly. We went over a few things, like deciding who would be in charge of pressing the Man Overboard button on the chartplotter, which “remembers” the exact position the boat was in when the person falls overboard. We also talked about what would be done differently if we were under sail (instead of motoring) and what would change if the person was unconscious.
Our “Man Overboard” is safe and sound
For my non-sailing readers, when you sail overnight, you typically break up the driving into “watches”. One person drives for 4 hours and the other person sleeps. Then they switch places. The more people you have, the shorter the watches need to be and the longer the rest periods. A three-watch system might have 3 hours on and 6 hours off. Chris loves overnight sailing and doesn’t need as much sleep as I do. He also gets pumped with adrenaline that can keep him going for long periods. We didn’t have a set schedule for our first passage. We planned to play it by ear and see how each of us was feeling. Of course, we also needed to watch the kids, cook, clean, and navigate while not driving.
The morning we left, Chris drove while I prepared everything we would need for the overnight watches. We checked our life raft, ditch bag (a bag filled with additional supplies to take with us on the life raft in case we need to abandon ship), two satellite phones, an EPIRB (emergency beacon that alerts the Coast Guard with our latitude and longitude to assist in rescue), three VHF radios, and of course, our cell phones, though they don’t do much good out at sea. I also submitted our Floatplan to my dad and Chris’ brother Tom, with Chris’ other brother Frank as an extra set of eyes on our progress. I sent them a detailed description of our boat, safety equipment, contact information, time of departure, estimated time of arrival, and course. They would be watching our progress on Spot and would be the point people to contact authorities if we didn’t arrive as expected and they suspected something had gone wrong.
Cheerful Smurf isn’t affected by the 6 foot seas
Porter models his harness
I laid out the foul weather gear, sailing gloves, sailing boots, life jackets for Chris and I (we don’t wear life jackets when day sailing), flashlights, jacklines, harnesses, and tethers. Jacklines are 40 foot nylon straps that are attached at the bow (the front of the boat) and run along the deck to the stern (the back). The kids wear a harness with a metal ring on it (our adult lifejackets have the ring built-in). Each person also has a tether, which is a stretchy nylon strap with clips at each end. One end clips to the ring on the harness and the other end clips to the jackline. This will ensure that no one falls overboard (if used correctly and ALL the time).
Reese all geared up with harness and lifejacket
We got to test out our new safety system right away. The wind forecast, which Chris had been diligently following for two days, was dead wrong. Instead of steady winds from behind us, which would give us a pleasant and fast ride to Boston, we had 20-25 knots from the southwest, so we were sailing upwind into 5 foot seas and were heeled over (that tippy thing that sailboats do) for hours and hours. This is not a pleasant point of sail and brings on seasickness in most people who are prone to it. When the boat heels over on its side, one’s inner ear gets confused. You look around at the boat, the beds, and the sink, and your brain thinks that those things are abiding by gravity and are straight up and down like they should be. This throws off your equilibrium and makes you feel nauseous. If you look outside the boat, where objects ARE abiding by the laws of gravity, you can convince your mind that your surroundings are tipped. Aside from various and sundry medications, essential oils, old wives’ tales, and acupressure, if you sit in the cockpit and stare at the horizon, you can sometimes start to feel better. My mantra, as I stare at the horizon during these oh-so-pleasant times is, “That’s not moving. I am.”
Porter and Reese try to sleep it off
Our gimbaling oven finds the natural pull of gravity
We wobbled and teetered around the boat all day, hanging on to handholds, the companionway ladder, the galley counter, and anything we could use to get around. Our little oven was gimbaling away on its cute little hinges, making me smile as I watched our teapot defy the waves by staying put. Reese and Porter slept on and off and Bryson was a great helper while Chris manned the wheel. I mustered up the will to make snacks, tidy things up as they fell from shelves, and help the kids, but eventually, I was down and out in Reese’s cabin with her and Porter.
using ginger to help brush off the last moments of seasickness
I can’t even begin to tell you how thankful I was when the wind started to die and clocked around to the West. We all emerged from the cabin and felt better instantly. We enjoyed dinner and an amazing sunset together and as it grew dark, Chris was finally ready for a rest.
notice the horizon
I geared up for my first watch, checked the charts, met with Chris about the plan for the next four hours, and got myself a Coke, a Skor bar, and my iPod (I haven’t had a candy bar in ages and was very much looking forward to it!). The kids were down below, playing games. Just as Chris was about to go down below, we heard a loud “THUMP!” I was sitting on the bench that is behind the steering wheel and the sound seemed to come from behind me. I turned around to look as Chris shined the flashlight and I was FACE to FACE with a huge cormorant, who was standing right there on our swim platform! I screamed, of course. He didn’t budge. Chris charged at it and it flew away. I was shocked at how big it was. They seem so small floating around in the water and diving for fish every three seconds. But this thing was about 3 feet tall with a wing span that I can’t even think about.
no photo can capture the creepiness and enormity of this crazy cormorant
Reese came running up and I told her what happened. I was starting to calm down and Chris was again getting ready to go down below. THUMP! Right over my head this time. He had landed on our bimini, which is the canvas structure that covers the cockpit. Reese and I stood on the lazarettes (benches) to see what the sound was and sure enough, there was our friend, back for a visit. He was way out to sea and cormorants don’t fly very well, so he was probably hoping to rest on our boat for awhile. Within a few minutes of shooing him off, he was back. I screamed again, looked at Chris, and said, “That’s it! I’m off watch!” Chris was fired up about protecting the boat, so I went back down and rested a bit longer. I’m not sure if this story makes me sound like a wimp, but being attacked by giant birds, in the dark, by myself, for 4 hours, was just not going to happen.
I love my foul weather pants. You gotta love a scandinavian company that is used to 6′ tall women!
Chris stayed on watch until 2345 with no further waterfowl attacks, so I again donned my absolutely fabulous Helly Hanson foul weather gear and grabbed my Coke, my Skor bar, and my iPod. I filled my four hours by staring at the stars, feeling the smallness of our little Light of a sailboat in the middle of the sea, and enjoying the sensations of the wind in my hair, the saltspray on my face, and the sounds of my favorite music. The Coke and the candy bar worked like a charm and soon I was dancing in the cockpit (tethered to the jacklines, of course).
looking into the darkness
I spent about 45 minutes watching two ships that were far in the distance. Their lights were so far away that they appeared like two stars on the horizon. Over 45 minutes, they slowly moved toward each other. I watched them get closer and closer until they kissed and became one. They moved as slowly as the sun as it slips below the horizon at sunset. I was a little sad when they started moving away from each other again.
Our mast reaching up into the dark night
I found that the best place to stand was on the lazarettes (benches). From that spot, I could hold on to the dodger (the canvas windshield) and had a clear view of the water in front of us. It was pitch black out with no moon, so I only had about 3 seconds to react once a lobster pot was finally visible. I missed one while checking the chart down below and came up to see it hung up on the side of the boat. I threw the throttle into neutral and moved my tether so that I could look over the side to assess the situation with my flashlight. I really didn’t want to wake Chris up, but I also didn’t think it would be at all within the realm of sanity to hang over the side of the boat in the middle of the night by myself. So I called him up and we managed to free it before it snagged our propeller. This was a close call for sure. I kept thinking about what we would have done if the lobster pot line had gotten hung up on our propeller. We couldn’t dive under the boat in the middle of the night, and we were over 60 miles from land. We would have had to turn the engine off and use only the sails until daylight.
clipped in to the jacklines while by myself up on deck
As night wore on, we got closer and closer to Cape Ann, in Massachusetts. The autopilot was headed towards what looked like a buoy on the chart, so I kept looking for it, nervous that it was going to just pop out of nowhere and that we would crash into it at 7 knots. If you haven’t seen an offshore navigational buoy up close and personal, they are WAY bigger than they appear from far away. They are approximately 15 feet high with a 5 foot diameter. They are made of steel (or some other really strong metal) and one would definitely win a battle with the bow of our fiberglass boat.
listening to music and watching for lobster pots
I got more and more nervous as we got closer to where it should have been. The chartplotter shows the chart of the area with a little icon to show our location. I should have seen it by now. I tried again to decode the description next to it. Each buoy has a unique description so that you can positively identify your location, especially in the fog or the dark. For example, “Fl Gr “1”” would mean Flashing Green Buoy marked with a number “1”. There are notations for color, number, type, and features such as flashing lights, gongs/bells, etc. The line that indicated our route was going right through the description of the buoy, I couldn’t really read it. In addition, Chris had created a “waypoint” at that spot, so there was a blue square on top of all of that. It wasn’t until the third time I ran down below to triple check our position that I realized the description wasn’t for a buoy at all. It was some other abbreviation, indicating a no discharge zone or something. I was so relieved, and a little mad at myself, that I don’t even remember what it was for. Apparently, I need a little refresher course online for reading charts!
At 0400, Chris came up on deck to see how things were going. It wasn’t yet getting light out. I had hoped that there would be at least an inkling of daylight when he came back on watch so that it would “feel” like morning for him psychologically. But he was up and ready to go and I was ready to take a break. My eyes were dry and my stomach was unsettled. It always gets like that when I stay up all night. I flopped down in bed and thought about how comfortable it was. On raceboats, the inside of the boat is gutted. There might be a toilet and maybe one bulkhead (wall). The off-watch crew sleeps on pipeberths, which are canvas and pipe “stretchers” that hang off of the walls. A system of pulleys allow you to swing the cot up or down to counteract the heel of the boat. They weren’t all that uncomfortable, in the same way that jumping in 63 degree water without a wetsuit feels wonderful after getting attacked by a swarm of flies. Add wet clothes, 13 unshowered men, and a non-operational head to the equation and “off watch” on a raceboat starts to sound about as attractive as “on watch”. But today I got to go off watch and lay down in my own bed- by myself, in my cool sheets, after brushing my teeth, washing my face, checking my email, and changing into clean pajamas! I fell asleep instantly, rocked like a baby by the boat. The wind had strengthened, so Chris even shut the engine off, which made it quiet for the first time in hours.
Bryson picks up our mooring in Boston Harbor
I woke up when Bryson came in to tell me we were coming into Boston Harbor. What a sight to peek out of the porthole in my cabin and see a completely different view than the night before! The Boston skyline was in view, the sun was sparkling off the water, and planes were taking off and landing over our heads. Lots of other boats were coming and going around us. Toto, we’re not in Kansas (or Maine) anymore……
the view from our home today
Passage Stats:
Erica’s Hours on Watch: 2400-0400
Chris’ Hours on Watch: the other 18 hours!
Shooting Stars Seen: 2
Ships that passed in the night: 2
Songs sung and danced to: 43
Lobster pots nearly missed: 2
Sugar consumed: 1 Coca Cola and 1 Skor bar
Number of times I had to wake Chris up: 1
Potty breaks: 1 (a significant ordeal with all the gear I had on)
Epiphanies about Life Realized: 3
Freakouts: 1
*****Don’t forget to check out our videos on the conwaysailors channel on youtube.com (http://www.youtube.com/user/conwaysailors). Subscribe to our youtube channel to get an email when we upload videos. I am not as good about videotaping as I am about writing and taking pics, so subscribing might be your best bet for seeing Patronus in action:)
Walking the Dog: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bkrxct3UB-c
Kids Playing During Passage: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1tphTNxuBGE
Preparing for Passage/Goodbye to Maine: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=W8bT1JN5Hrc
360 degree view: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hXnYedGnJWw
Whale!: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=G-_N9U_louI
Offshore driving in heavy weather: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aerbSYk09ck
Bryson and Reese during passage: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QSD6KQGcKFY
Chris trimming sails on passage: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vEXvok5Bg_o