I was hoping to depart Currituck Beach around 4 pm. It was now 6:30 pm. I was starting a long journey. So, I had to stay positive, telling myself those two and a half hours were lost 12 hours ago. Distant Horizon has made good time. We are heading for the Gulf Stream.
The winds were still light. Still motorsailing, I set a course almost due east.
The wind had died completely by 7 pm. I knew I would have to start motoring. If delayed, my Gulf Stream crossing would be very rough. So, I shut down the engine to give it a little time to cool. I checked the fluids. Everything seemed good. I was happy because I do not typically use the engine as much as I have on this day.
I went down below and fixed myself a small dinner and prepared some snacks for the cockpit for later tonight. Then, started the engine and continued motoring east.
Boat traffic was surprisingly busy. All day I felt as if I was alone. Now there were several yachts. We talked on the VHF radio. Pas De Deux passed close by in their Catamaran. They were headed to St. John, US Virgin Islands. Lunacy called on the radio just to chat. Hexe was from the Netherlands. They were headed to Antigua and wanted to know about crossing the Gulf Stream. Tabasko looked like he was going to pass very close. He assured me he had me on AIS and Radar and it would be a safe distance. They were moving very fast! Tabasko passed about a mile in front of me and was out of sight in less than an hour. I believe it may have been a large motor yacht.
Approaching the Gulf Stream
About midnight, the wind picked up a little. It was only 9-10 kts; not strong enough to use sails alone, but the north-northeast angle was significant enough that I altered Distant Horizon’s course more to the south. I was okay with that. It is the typical path for going to the Caribbean.
A while later, the wind backed and started to pick up from the north-northwest. The wind was stronger this time; 12-15kts. With this wind direction, We were able to head east again. The engine was no longer needed. So I turned that off. I enjoyed the sound of the water lapping against the hull. Distant Horizon was sailing well. The time went by quickly. The water was still relatively flat with 1-2 foot waves. I knew I was near the Gulf Stream… maybe 10 miles away.
My eyes burned as I strained to see in the dark. My eyelids were getting heavy. I’ve been up for almost 24 hours. Now would be a good time for another passing boat. A little conversation would help wake me up. Instead, I nibbled on a protein bar and drank some water.
This was my first night offshore in several years. We were in the Gulf Stream now. The northwest wind had picked up to 15-18kts. In preparation for the stronger winds, I had set a reef in the mainsail after leaving Currituck Beach.
I was trying a new offshore configuration with the sails. The small sail in front of the mast, the one closest to the mast is the staysail. I was using my storm jib at that position. The regular jib is on a roller furler closer to the bow. It just winds up (furls) when not needed and unrolls (unfurls) when it is to be used. If Distant Horizon runs into a thunderstorm, I furl the jib and already have a storm jib in place. I do not have to go to the foredeck in bad weather. The downside is, Distant Horizon sails slower because there is less sail area… At night, I believe this is a prudent choice.
A Rough Gulf Stream Crossing
The northwest winds were opposing the north-flowing Gulf Stream current. The sea-state was confused; short, steep, choppy waves spaced close together, coming from different directions. It was a rough ride. There was a chill in the air. A thin layer of overcast obscured the sky. No moon shining through the clouds. I could not see any stars.
To the west behind me, the sky still had an orange glow, but now it was just a thin line along the horizon. We were getting farther from the continent. No storms to worry about.
To the east, ahead of me… darkness… pure darkness. The boat would pitch, then roll to one side. I could hear the water rushing by me, but I could not see a wave. At this time, the boat’s wind vane steering system was holding the course well.
A strange banging and clanging on the starboard side of the boat startled me. I couldn’t see exactly what was causing the sound. When I was about to turn on the deck lights I saw the jib sheet angle was wrong… then I saw the sheet block flying around. Thankfully it was sliding down to the cockpit near where I was kneeling.
The boat heeled excessively. I had to furl the jib. When trying to do this, the pressure was intense. Although I was going downwind, I was unable to furl the sail. Finally, I had to sit with my knees bent and feet against the cockpit’s forward bulkhead. I pulled with all the strength my arms had, then pushed with my legs as I arched my back; using every muscle in my body. I was able to pull about one foot of line… Again I pulled and gained a little more. Once more, I pulled and exhaled with a loud groan as my legs pushed. Still gaining more. I took a break and shone my flashlight on the bow of the boat. I had barely furled the sail… So, I continued over and over again. It took 20 minutes, but the jib was fully furled.
I removed the sheet block and set it in a cockpit locker. Before using the jib again, I would have to install another sheet block. The replacement block was also in the cockpit locker. Crawling out onto the side deck could wait for daylight.
Distant Horizon was now sailing on the reefed mainsail and the storm jib.
I barely had time to catch my breath when I saw a shower of sparks near the bow! My senses were heightened. I tried to smell anything unusual… nothing. My eyes were fixated on the spot, but nothing more. Was it just my imagination?
A few minutes passed. Then I saw it again! I was gathering my courage and deciding what tools I should bring when I go up to the bow to investigate when I saw it for the third time. It was clear to me now… The cause was a wave crashing against the bow of the boat. As the water sprayed up in droplets, they came raining down next to the red side light… looking like sparks.
I altered my course slightly to stop this.
And so it goes… every creak, thump, or squeak has to be investigated when starting a new journey. Only when all these things are understood, can I really relax. My first night at sea… in the Gulf Stream with an opposing wind… all on a boat that had not sailed in heavy weather of any sort for four years. All on a dark, moonless night. It was a restless night!
I kept watch by scanning for the horizon… The pitch-black water formed mountains that simply melted and blended with the sky. There was no discernible horizon at all. I could feel the boat being lifted from behind. The waves were coming from the port quarter as we sailed east. I started to feel seasick. With no horizon, I knew it would not be long before I succumbed… for only the second time in my life. The last time was when I injured my shoulder. I knew I had to be deliberate with everything I did now. The last time my mind was in a fog from seasickness, I injured my shoulder. I would not let that happen this time.
The boat was healed over. So, I sat on the port side using my legs to keep me from sliding across to the starboard side. This may seem like a lot, but I did not feel it was excessive. Distant Horizon was sailing with a reef in the main and the storm staysail. She was going a little slow, but when the winds get stronger as they were forecasted, this should be perfect.
Although Distant Horizon was sailing east, I was aware that the current was pushing us northeast. This is what I wanted. I was aiming for a point on the other side of the Gulf Stream where I would meet a fast current traveling east, and then southeast. So, once I crossed the Gulf Stream I would sail southeast with a 2-2.5kt current pushing me.
Steering Failure
I was relaxed enough to start thinking about going below to grab some ginger candies to help deal with the seasickness. When suddenly, I heard a roar behind me… the waves were coming from the port quarter. I turned to look just as we got pooped… that is… a large wave coming from behind the boat decided to break into the cockpit, giving me a good solid drenching of salt water and half-filling the cockpit with water. Distant Horizon was designed with a small cockpit and six large cockpit drains to handle this situation. Thank you, Robert Perry! It worked like a charm… except for my being soaked of course! Shocked by the experience, it took a few seconds to realize the water was quite warm. The air was chilly from the wind, but the warm water told me we were definitely in the Gulf Stream.
My frustration was mounting. I took the time to go below and throw the soaked clothes onto the floor of the head (bathroom)… the sole (floor) is grated so water will drain into the bilge… I put on warm dry clothes AND my foul-weather suit.
Then, I heard a bang and the boat lurched and suddenly healed over in a quick turn. I quickly got myself back to the cockpit. No time for ginger candies… I took the wheel and put the boat back on course. I locked the wheel again to allow the wind vane steering to continue and the boat turned suddenly again. Once again I took the wheel and put Distant Horizon back on course…
Now, with one hand steering and trying to keep the boat on course, I used my flashlight to look around. Everything seemed alright at first. Then I noticed the wind vane steering’s drive unit was moving. Upon closer examination, I found the vane had come off the drive unit and was just sitting there. I tried to put it back in place. If unable to do so, I would have to do the steering. I locked the wheel to hold my current course so I could use two hands on the wind vane. As I let go of the wheel, it spun quickly… the lock was not working!
Now I had to hand steer. I was unable to leave the helm. It was still pitch black. So, I turned on the spreader lights. One of the last things I did before departing was to install a switch in the cockpit to turn on the spreader lights without having to go down to the Nav Station. Man, was I glad I had done that!
It was bright at first, but I could see the sails and the reflected light lit up the water around the boat. That was my first glimpse at how big the waves really were. The forecast said 4-5meter waves. It’s one of the few times I wasn’t going to argue with the meteorologists. They were every bit of that. And without a horizon, I had no way to estimate any differently.
I was settling into steering. In a few hours, We will be out of the Gulf Stream I could hove-to… that is stop the boat in a relatively flat (not heeled over) position. I’d be able to get some rest and have daylight to make repairs.
More Failures to Deal with
Bang… bang… I looked around and didn’t see anything obvious, but I was caught by surprise and had little time to hear what direction the noise came from. Bang… bang… The sound came from all around me. I couldn’t figure out the direction. But it occurred when the boat pitched up, then down a wave… Bang… bang… Got it! The whole bimini frame was rocking back and forth! This is serious because my solar panels are mounted to that frame.
Using my left knee between the spokes of the wooden wheel. I tried to maintain my present course as I leaned forward to open a cockpit locker. Bang… bang… I reached in and grabbed some sail ties (webbing material with a loop sewn in at one end). With two hands back on the wheel I adjusted Distant Horizon’s course. Bang… bang… Using my left foot to hold the wheel, I leaned over and wrapped a sail tie on the bimini frame and pulled it tight. I didn’t care what position, I would fix that later. I just had to stop the rocking. In a couple of minutes, that was done. I was feeling satisfied… I was able to get that done quickly.
With two hands back on the wheel and steering again… bang… bang… softer, but that same familiar sound. The other side of the bimini frame was loose as well… Luckily, when I grabbed the sail ties, I had grabbed a handful. Using my right foot this time, I repeated the procedure that worked well on the other side and quickly had this side of the frame lashed down very tight. So tight that I went back to the starboard side and re-lashed that in the same manner.
Once again, two hands were on the wheel. Listening intently as I steered the boat… thud, thud…. NOW, WHAT!? still listening….still steering…. thud, thud…. That came from above me! The solar panel bracket! relocating to the front of the binnacle, I was steering as I faced backward, and I could see the solar panel frame moving about… I still had sail ties! It didn’t take long to lash that down. It must have come loose when the bimini frame was thrashing about…
I was back at the helm steering the boat, thankful the spreader lights were on so I could clearly see things as I was lashing them down… All I heard now was the water rushing past the hull…
The Break of Dawn
I could see clouds! I looked at my watch. it was 4:50 am… The moon was rising. It should be approaching a quarter moon. It backlit the clouds, making the sky a little lighter. I turned off the spreader lights and allowed my eyes to adjust to the pre-dawn light. The moonlight clearly showed the white top of the waves. We sailed on until the sun was lighting the grey overcast sky.
I was physically exhausted; my legs cramping from hours of balancing against the wave motion on a healing boat. I was seasick. My mind felt numb, and my eyelids heavy. To hove-to, I needed to lock the wheel. The wheel lock was not working… I decided to worry about the wheel afterward. For now, I simply tied two lines on the wheel to limit how much it could turn when I let go.
I centered the mainsail. Then tacked the boat… that is, I turned into the wind as if I wanted to head north… This backwinded the storm jib. The last step is to turn the wheel back the other way again. In theory, the bow of the boat will be pushed by the backwinded storm jib in one direction (to the left in this case) but the wheel is trying to turn the boat (to the right in our case). Those two forces should balance out and the boat is stopped… I turn the wheel hard but the boat started to turn too much… so I eased the wheel pressure and stopped the turn. I had hove-to with the storm jib and the wheel nearly centered… I tied a piece of rope to the wheel and connected that to a bungee cord to hold the wheel in place… It worked!
The winds were as forecasted; from the northwest and getting stronger, a steady 20-24 kts now.
I didn’t trust my rope-n-bungee wheel lock. Too much had happened in my first two days. I went below to make some food. My stomach said that was a bad idea. I turned the tea kettle on. I brought a cushion up to the cockpit along with two apples and a box of Honey Bunches of Oats Cereal, along with a couple of bottles of water. Then I went below to make a thermos of Ginger tea and grab the ginger candies.
I tried to sleep in the cockpit, out of the wind, waking up often to check the state of the wheel and my course. Distant Horizon was going a little more north and not enough east, but I would deal with that after some more rest. I can’t say I slept much, but when I did it was a deep sleep.
The Ginger Candy was good to settle my stomach. The apple was also quite good. The Honey Bunches of Oats… were fabulous… Dry cereal instead of crackers! Still, nothing cleared the fog in my head….
By mid-afternoon, the winds are 24-30 kts. The gusts were 35-40 kts. The seas were 4-5 meters! Honestly, most people embellish wave height. I try to be realistic. If I am standing at the mast, my eye is almost exactly 10’ from the water. So, with 3-meter waves, I can see the horizon when I’m in a trough… 4-meter waves I can not. 5-meter waves are most of the way to the spreaders and 6-meter waves are at the spreaders.
I could use a second reef in the mainsail… Just thinking that meant it was time. I hesitated… Last time at sea, I injured my shoulder trying to set a reef set in large seas while I was seasick. I rationalized that since it was not a necessity, it would be safer to wait a while longer so my head would be clear. I adjusted the mainsheet to put more of a twist in the sail for the time being… just a little since we were moving at an acceptable speed and not heeled over too much with little strain on my rope-n-bungee setup.
The rest of the day and into the evening was much the same… get some rest, check the wheel, check the course, and survey the boat. Everything was going well.
Calm At Last
The barometer on the boat was on the rise. The winds would momentarily drop below 20 kts before picking back up again. This means the winds will soon lessen… and they gradually did through the night.
By 2:00 am the wind was much lower 14-15kts and occasionally gusting to 22kts. The waves were noticeably smaller, just 3 meters or so.
Still seasick, I was happy to leave things as they were. The boat was sailing in the right direction, nothing has gone wrong all day, I just needed rest so I could start fixing things in the morning.
I slept in the cockpit again, waking up just long enough to scan the horizon. The chart plotter was turned towards me so I could easily check for AIS targets. I could also turn on the radar to scan for boats and targets without AIS.
When I woke up… really woke up… it was light outside. I was hungry, but the boat was going too slow. Distant Horizon was a little too far north, but not much.
The jib sheet block was the first item to be fixed. It hadn’t actually broken! The shackle pin had come out. All the pieces were laying on the deck. I quickly put it back together. Then, I tacked the boat to sail more southeast and unfurled the jib completely. The boat was sailing at a good pace again.
I could smell the humidity in the air. I was definitely across the Gulf Stream. The rope-n-bungee setup was holding well. My full-keeled boat was tracking well without me at the wheel or the Hydrovane working. The boat was well-balanced!
Time for some breakfast!