It's a long way!

When we arrived in Grenada after a 19 day crossing of the Atlantic, a sailing friend, Paul Gatrill made a comment on Facebook to say he thought there was always an anticlimactic element after the crossing.  At the time, I discounted his comment, as we were riding high and re-living the experience with our crew still on board.  A couple of weeks on, I thought he had a point, and maybe this is why…..

Without realising it, we had been thinking about the crossing, on a daily basis, for over 12 months.  Early on we secured our crew and then involved them in the planning for the Atlantic voyage. We knew we would be travelling as a solo boat rather than crossing with the ARC (Atlantic Rally for Cruisers) because our crew had work commitments until after Christmas.  

We crossed with three extra crew, all experienced sailors, skilled engineers and good friends; five of us in total. 

Greg was overall skipper, but everyone agreed to take a specific responsibility and took their role very seriously; seeking out advice from others and researching best practice before sharing it on our Atlantic Crossing WhatsApp group, which became increasingly active.  Most of us were checking in daily with news articles and questions for us all to consider before we left. 

Paul Haresign took responsibility for communication, health and safety, Richard Kern for maintenance and repairs, Kevin Armstrong for navigation and I volunteered to do all the provisioning and catering in exchange for no night watches!  I thought that was a good deal before we set out, but with hindsight it wasn’t an easy gig despite my careful planning!

So, by the time we set sail on 4^th January 2020 from Las Palmas in Gran Canaria, we were all very excited.

Final beers before departure

Paul’s wife Helen, Richard’s wife Suzanne and Kevin’s wife Mandy all came down to Las Palmas for the few days before we left, and we did last minute maintenance and shopping together.  It felt like a family affair and was a bit emotional when we waved off!

Farewell dinner in Las Palmas

Imagine the disbelief an hour later, when Mandy messaged Kevin to say he had left his contact lenses in the hotel!  Well it’s no use having a navigator who can’t bloody see is it?  So, we returned, Kevin a little bit embarrassed.....  Mandy had to get down to the fuel dock where she flung the wash bag aboard, and we were waved off again. Our track on Marine Traffic looked very odd - it appeared that we set off twice! Three hours apart. 

Kevin received endless stick throughout the journey, but managed to get his own back by boring us endlessly with comments about his prowess as a fisherman, after he landed a two metre long Blue Marlin following a tussle of an hour and a half to reel it in.  

Kevin worked hard to play the fish

It was an impressive fish, lured by Wilson the squid (named after watching Castaway the previous evening). 

 I cooked swordfish three ways for dinner, and 
we had several other very good meals from it.  
Kevin is still dining out on the story I believe! 

Swordfish tartare with mango, and swordfish in a sesame crust

Speaking of the film Castaway; Paul and Richard both brought drives with hundreds of films and TV series on them.  We started having the ‘Matinee’ session daily in the mid-afternoon – ‘Big Little Lies’ was very popular, then we would take it in turns to choose a film in the evening.  It’s a bit shocking when you discover your friends don’t have the same taste as you.  God, we watched some crap, but I don’t think I’ve laughed so much for ages!

We were very fortunate with the weather, and managed to sail all the way, from when we cleared Las Palmas until we came into sight of Georgetown on Grenada.  On the entire journey we saw four boats in the first 200 miles and then the loom of one in the far distance, mid Atlantic.  Apart from that we were in splendid isolation, just us, a few dolphins and the beautiful stars, magically twinkling in skies with no light pollution.  Kevin was quite knowledgeable about the stars and planets from his interest in astral navigation, so we all became a bit better at recognising ‘landmarks’ in the night sky. We had plenty of time for awe and wonder, which will remain with me forever.

Kevin handling his sextant!

One of Greg's major concerns was weather information - we were obviously trying to avoid strong winds but we were also trying to ensure that we didn't get stuck in an area of very light winds which would've added days to our passage. Once we were out of range of the Canaries we couldn't get forecasts on the radio or via the internet so we had to develop two alternative methods (belt and braces!) to get information.

Our journey on the plotter

Paul, our Communications Officer had rented a portable device which allowed him to use the internet via satellite. This allowed him to keep in touch with his work for the three weeks we were at sea, and also allowed him to download weather forecasts on a daily basis. 

Paul and Greg analyse the weather data before calling Craig  for  more dynamic info

In addition, every day Greg used our Iridium satellite phone to call our friend Craig Dymock in Cowes on the Isle of Wight. Craig is an experienced sailor and has two Atlantic Crossings under his belt, so he could look at the forecasts on the internet for us and advise us on the best route to get the optimum wind strength and direction. His help was invaluable! 

Our boat is quite well-equipped with aids to help us sail her short-handed. We use the auto-helm to steer most of the time and we have radar and other alarms that warn us if there are any ships (or any other solid objects) in our path. In addition we weren't racing and our priority was a leisurely and stress-free crossing so Greg devised a suitable watch system.

Richard relaxing in his berth

Our watch system worked three hours on, during daytime from 6am to 6pm, then two hours on at night from 6pm to 6am. With four crew in the rota everyone got nine hours off during the day and at least six hours sleep at night.  As a result, the crew weren’t at all grumpy and were up for playing games and spending some social time together. 

This all worked well until the auto-helm failed on Day 5!! The loads exerted on the mechanics of the system when a 21 tonne boat is being pushed along by 20 knot winds are pretty significant and after a few days one of the (very large) bolts holding it all together just broke. 

Paul steering Viridian, in the absence of the auto helm

Fortunately our engineers, Richard and Kevin were up to the task and to everyone's relief they managed to cannibalise some other parts of the boat to make a repair. No-one was very much looking forward to hand-steering the boat for the next 2000 miles!  

Richard calmly fixing stuff!

Since our route was directly downwind we could choose from a variety of sail options including the spinnaker. In the end we discovered that a simple option was the most stress-free and we used our two head sails, one poled out with the spinnaker pole. 

A spinnaker day

We found that was quick and easy to manage whenever the wind increased in the frequent squalls that overtook us. 

All was going well after the auto-helm repair until our navigation system failed a few days later. We had been hit by a very large wave which entered the boat via an open hatch and drenched some of our electronic equipment including the electronic compass. As a result the compass failed and the navigation system also failed! Our crews' expertise was called upon once again and fortunately they were able to make some running repairs and get everything working again. Greg was very relieved! 

Kevin engineering a new fitting from a lump of metal on the back deck!

Morale was generally high throughout the trip, although here were obviously periods of anxiety when we had the breakdowns and on occasions when the swell was huge, or the wind picked up with a squall.

Playing 'Shithead' .... Paul on the Prickly Pear Liqueur forfeit again!

 There was a bit of irony in the fact that the only significant injury was to Paul, our Safety Officer. Secured by his lee-cloth Paul was sleeping on the top bunk when the boat rolled and a clip on the lee-cloth failed, pitching Paul down six feet onto the cabin floor. Luckily he landed on his side not his head but the colours of the bruising were quite spectacular. To add additional injury to injury, the same thing happened the following night making the bruises even more vivid. (Richard may be blackmailable to release the full naked body shots which he definitely took!)

I thought it would be important to make sure everyone was well fed, to keep up morale. 

We estimated that it might take us about three weeks to travel the 3000+ miles, so I worked out the provisioning in terms of what we would need for each week travelled, but with a bit extra for any unforeseen delays into a fourth week.

I planned for week one to be mainly fresh, perishable food and pre-prepared meals for the first few days when we might be slightly nauseous including the cook!

I anticipated cooking fresh food on board in week 2 and possibly use some of our pre-cooked freezer meals.  If we managed to catch any fish, I would weave this into the menu instead.

Sunday breakfast... bacon and egg butties!

Week three would include the tail end of fresh food, finishing off any freezer meals and moving towards the more tinned, dried and bottled ingredients.

In the few months leading up to our departure I spent hours browsing in supermarkets to become an expert in sourcing apparently perishable food with very long ‘sell/use by’ dates which turned out to be time well spent.  

However, what I didn’t fully anticipate was the pitching and corkscrew motion on much of the journey.  I managed to earn myself the nickname ‘Potty Mouth’ by the crew, who were  quite shocked when they heard the extreme expletives emanating from the galley. Paul suggested we have a swear box on the first day when he heard me, but it became clear very quickly that I would be bankrupt before we got to the first waypoint, so that idea was abandoned.

I lost count of the number of spillages, flying food and objects crashing to the floor. You couldn’t put a drink down for a second unless it was in a special holder, so after trying to eat with one hand, hang on to the plate and a drink with the other, we soon abandoned drinking and eating food at the same time.  

Oddly we began to notice that when the motion was calm, I would go off to the galley to start cooking or prepping or brewing up and you could guarantee that as soon as I got down there the pitching would start!  I think it’s known as ‘Sods Law’ but everyone noticed it to the point that it started to feel personal and my swearing escalated accordingly.

Still managed to cook a homemade chicken pie with roasties and veg though!

I also had to contend with what became known as ‘The scary cupboard.’  We have one cupboard where the shelves are on runners and the shelves roll out.  If the boat pitches when you open this cupboard, everything rolls towards you at once and at an alarming speed.  You end up using all your body parts to hold everything back and must wait for the boat to roll-back to grab what you want and slam the door shut.  On some occasions, the shelves just roll right out, and everything crashes noisily to the floor. Sometimes it took two of us to wrestle with holding everything in until we could get back on an even keel. I still refer to it as the scary cupboard even though it has returned to a more benign state!

When we arrived in Grenada and I began to take stock, I realised that during the journey I had made at least 95 breakfasts, almost 1000 brew-ups (tea, coffee, cuppa soup and hot chocolate), 100 lunches, provided 95 afternoon snacks and cooked 95 evening meals plus unveiling numerous overnight treats.

I have written a book about provisioning and feeding the crew on our crossing, complete with recipes and photos.  It’s ready to go – I just need some help with publishing so if any of you have any advice or contacts, please let me know. 

In the end, it took us just under 19 days to sail almost 3000 miles and we moved our home from Europe to the Caribbean. The boat became our little world....and the routine of the watch system; navigation, cooking and maintenance became our lives for almost 3 weeks. 

Straight into the yacht club bar, after mooring up.
 Paul and Richard still obviously good friends after sharing a cabin!

When we arrived we celebrated, and then settled in to repairing the boat and putting it back together. 

Scrubbed up and going out for dinner at a posh restaurant on our first night in Grenada

Well earned rest in the sunshine at the end of a long trip

So, it's true to say that despite being in the paradise of the Caribbean, it did feel a little less exciting with less adrenaline surges for a while, after we arrived.  But then Coronavirus hit us all………. 

Just arriving with Grenada in the background, the end of one stage and the start of a new adventure!

And that’s the theme of our next blog which will be titled ‘Waterworld’ after another apocalyptic film!