Fatal Attraction, Ep. 219

There was no time like the present. Kinsale was to be our jumping off point as we headed offshore for 1300 nautical miles to Madeira, then onward to the Canaries. Situated as it was along the south coast of Ireland and out to sea from England and France, it made for a nice diving board of sorts to sail southbound unobstructed and in the fresh breezes of the Atlantic.

We had engaged with a weather router to help us determine when to leave, and once we were out in the deep blue wonder, determine the best routing to get to our destination. The problem was, Kinsale didn’t want to let us go. One low pressure system after another came marching across the North Atlantic sea. Many of these systems clipped the northern tip of Ireland before proceeding across Scotland and dissipating in Norway. We needed a 2-3 day period of manageable winds – something less than the 25+ knots of winds that these systems churned out. So, we tucked in and kept our minds busy with numerous projects, projects that had not made the ‘A’ list for departure, but now offered us a chance to be further prepared. And, it gave us a chance to get to know Alex better and for her to figure us out. We were really happy to find her. Alex taught sailing at the Boothbay Harbor Yacht Club back home in Maine. She also managed their complete waterfront operations. Her goal was to complement her US Coast Guard Captain’s License with additional offshore sea time in order to make a career out of being on the water. We had the offshore miles to give her, and in turn, we were super excited to have another person to stand watch and assist with navigating, sail trimming, and the myriad of other jobs onboard a sailboat at sea. The problem was, we couldn’t get out of Dodge.

Finally, after a wait of six days, all the stars aligned and, with the acceptance of 25 knots forecasted from the southwest putting us on a close-hauled tack for the first few days, we had a go-for-launch date for the morning. We thought we’d make the first day underway more tolerable by getting off the dock at the Kinsale Yacht Club and anchoring out in the river overnight. It would be a few less steps in the pre-dawn morning light to drop dock lines and stow fenders. All we would have to do was raise the anchor. And, we might get better sleep swinging on anchor. Well, that was the hope, the dream, at least. The reality was troubling. When we went to drop the anchor, there was a fierce current running upriver countered by gusty winds blowing down river. This wind-against-tide scenario is never a good thing. Boats upwind of us on mooring buoys swung tight around their short nooses, whereas, with our 40 meters of chain out, we swung in a wide arc. As we sat down for a quick dinner so we could hit the sack early, Sea Rose would swing around clockwise halfway and then come to an abrupt chain-snatching halt. As the wind built, she would swing back counter-clockwise and jerk to a sudden stop. This would not bode well for a restful night of sleep. But as the sky darkened, the wind and tide eased and we all settled into our last full night’s sleep for many days.

To get as many miles in before our first night at sea, we set a departure for 5am, just when we thought there would enough light to see the fish buoys in the river channel. We didn’t want to get snagged on one of those obstacles before a long voyage ahead. I headed to the bow to raise the anchor while Karen started the engine and maneuvered us forward. I could nearly do this in my sleep, we had done it so many times before. But what I had never done is contemplate the next steps should the windless strained to a stop after only 10 of our deployed 40 meters had come onboard. The chain was ramrod tight, heading straight down vertically into the water. Under the strain, the windlass clutch kicked in and the gypsy drum slipped to prevent the motor from burning out. I rushed back to the cockpit to grab a winch handle and tighten down the clutch but it wouldn’t budge. It was as tight as a lug nut on an over-torqued car tire. I let the 10 meters of chain back out again and started over, like the advice from every tech support hotline, “Can you please reboot your computer.” This did nothing. We tried driving forward slowly with the chain tight. Perhaps we could break it free from whatever it was stuck on. The chain strained under the additional pressure and I was concerned the next unscheduled event in our early morning departure was a broken windlass or anchor roller. We huddled in the cockpit and discussed our options, which was a pretty short list. A fisherman was departing from a pontoon just in shore of us and I tried to hail him from the bow, but there was no response. Admittedly, my max volume, genetically gifted to me by my modest parents, is not one that clears the room of all conversation.

What we were stuck on was anyone’s guess, but the clockwise and counter-clockwise rotations from the previous evening must have wrapped us around something stout, perhaps an old mooring block. In this harbor – the site of the Battle of Kinsale and many other conflicts over several hundred years – we could be wrapped around an old cannon or the mast of an old square-rigger. It looked like time to track down a diver and kiss our weather window goodbye. There was one option however. I took a thin piece of bright red line and tied it around the chain when it was pulled in tight. We then let out 10-15 meters of chain, enough to allow Karen to maneuver the boat in a counter-clockwise swing around the unknown clingy object, and, with a deft hand on the throttle and wheel against the increasing tide, complete a full 360 degree rotation. I then started taking up on the chain to see what difference that rotation might have made. The chain came up into the anchor locker. In the beam of my headlamp, I saw my red marker line come up over the anchor roller. To my delight, it disappeared down below! I was able to bring in an additional meter of chain! This was the first positive advancement on an otherwise quiet boat. It meant that whatever we were wrapped around in the murky deep, we had succeeded in unwrapping ourselves – at least a few meters worth. Following the motto “If some is good, more is better”, I marked the new tight chain location with more red line, slackened the chain a bunch, and let Karen hurriedly do her counter-clockwise rotation. Throwing caution to the wind, we decided on two full rotations. Getting the boat to pull wide around the object and not directly over it was difficult as we fought the river flow and tried, in the darkness, to guess where we had started. I felt like one of those horses, with their trainer in the center of the ring, rope tight, being cajoled to keep a steady perfectly circular gait.

After two rotations, I again brought the chain in tight, delighting in seeing the first and then the second marker line wrap around the windlass and disappear into the anchor locker below deck. It was hard to judge in the faint light, but I figured we had reclaimed about 10 meters of chain from this clinging creature. We commenced another two rotations, and again, more chain came onboard before it stopped, tight and straight down into the water. This was clearly working, but how many more rotations should we do? What happened if we unwound ourselves completely in the next rotation, and the following rotation started to wind us back up around the object again in the other direction? We took a chance and did another two rotations. I started bring in the chain … and bringing in the chain … and bringing in the chain. It kept coming. Karen let out a shout of joy, and I noticed we were now following the line of the chain over into the center of the river, closer to where I roughly remembered we had dropped it yesterday. And the chain kept coming onboard. And then it happened — the anchor, our trusty Bulwagga anchor that had been with us for longer than Taylor Swift’s Eras tour (ok, even longer than that!) was breaking through the water’s surface. Wow, what an ordeal! I secured the anchor in place and we motored swiftly out of the harbor. Kinsale had held a special place in our hearts since we had visited years ago by land, and I was nearly brought to tears as we first entered the harbor a week ago. Apparently, she had fallen deeply in love with us as well and didn’t want us to slip out of our long overnight embrace. Oh, the power, the passion, the grip, of love!

All told, we lost only an hour in our scheduled departure, perfectly acceptable for any one of today’s major airlines. The latest forecast called for 20 knots of wind, and then increasing later in the day. The present glassy calm was a concern, as we didn’t want to burn through too much fuel right out of the gate. Thankfully, as we cleared Old Head and bid adieu to the sight of land for 9-10 days, enough breeze kicked in for us to kill the engine.

Our weather router had advised us to head as far west as we could make given the wind angle so we could pass through the heavy wind system as quick as possible. This meant that we would be sailing close-hauled in 25 knots of wind for at least the first two days – not an easy task in big swells and fresh from a week of full night sleeping in Kinsale. Sea Rose was putting out fairly good speeds but the ride was quite uncomfortable. We would rise up the face of a wave and then slam down with a reverberating thud that shook the entire boat. It made it very difficult to sleep down below, let alone try to prepare meals and concentrate on navigating. It was as if a couple of burly guys were lifting up our bed frame and then letting it free-fall to the floor … then tilt that bed on its side. All of us were feeling a little seasick. We were getting daily updates from the weather guy but I found it hard to summon the concentration to read through them and boil it down to ‘so, where do we steer’. Fatigue and an upset stomach can make simple decision-making a real challenge. By the morning of the third day – I’m not sure if we were adapting or the weather really improved – we were all feeling better. Warm sunshine was gracing us from above and a long gentle ocean swell (instead of short, steep storm waves) rolled under us. We took showers, we stopped the meclizine, I even shaved. Life was (once again) good.

With our new state of being, I started sending daily email updates to our friends and family back home. Rather than trying to recreate the experience after the fact, I thought I would just include them here so you can understand what it was like in the moment. Here you go!

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Day 3
Hello friends and family! Quick update from Sea Rose. Our Garmin tracker device seems to be misbehaving so I’m sending this note just to let you all know we are Ok. Better than ok actually. The first two days were a little rough getting acclimated, with windy weather and seas left over from a low pressure system passing north of Ireland. But it made for fast sailing. We are all feeling better. And this morning welcomed us with loads of sunshine and gentle seas. We are about 300 nm south of Ireland, about half way across the opening of the Bay of Biscay. Life aboard is settling into a routine. We will continue south and pass off the coast of Cape Finisterre probably late tomorrow. Our plan is to stay at least 50nm off the Portuguese coast…it would be good to pop in and taste some Port but those darn orcas are in the way! Take care.
Tom (and Karen and Alex)

Day 4
All is good onboard Sea Rose today. We enjoyed a fine dinner last night digging into Alex’s eggplant parm, carefully premade before departing Kinsale. Winds were light and the sky filled with orange at sunset but we gradually lost the wind and started motoring in the wee hours. We should be off Cape Finisterre at the NW corner of Spain late tonight as we continue to motor in light headwinds. The mild conditions belie the fact that today is a big day…Karen’s 60th birthday! The balloon man came and made a delivery (can’t wait to see that bill!) and we have cookies and homemade ice cream on the agenda after Alex and I try our hand at a singing duet of Happy Birthday! At least we can count on a background of deep blue ocean water for the show! The last two days have been sunny, warm and beautiful, and everyone is getting ample rest…with warm showers all around.

Our Garmin tracker is now back to behaving properly so you should be able to see our updated position every four hours.

That’s the synopsis for Day 4…hope you are having a fine day too 🙂

Day 5
Karen wanted me to pass along many thanks for the birthday wishes. The party hats and noisemakers are put away, just a few balloons leftover, like the morning after a national convention! Alex joked that there could be a third world war and we wouldn’t know it, such is our non-internet existence, unless one of you were to inform us! We are at our halfway point with 596nm to go. We passed Cape Finisterre in the wee hours, a landmark point on the route. The weather north of it seems dominated by a continuous line of low pressure systems and then there’s the Bay of Biscay with its own tempestuous mindset. South of Finisterre, the Portuguese trade winds kick in from the northeast, a generous following wind for our south southwest direction. It tends to be a consistent wind, and the 5 day forecast has confirmed that. This downwind sailing will also be a good dry run for the ARC+. We tried the big Code 0 sail for awhile but the wind increased and just as we started to furl it, the wind peaked again, making for some tiring work bringing it in and stowing it. I had a private word or two with it regarding the importance of team work before I shoved it back in the sail locker! We are now sailing well with our whisker pole on the Genoa. We successfully topped up our fuel tank from three jerry jugs on deck without losing a drop and we are now set with full fuel and water. Karen whipped up some tasty scrambled eggs for a late breakfast, keeping everything in the pan, a trick in the rolly seas. Her and Alex are reading Demon Copperhead, I am starting We Die Alone about the Norwegian resistance (just in case there is a third WW). That’s the latest from onboard the good ship Sea Rose!

Day 6

Today was our first full day of downwind sailing, with glorious steady strong winds from astern. We are out away from the Portuguese coast and any orca danger and we didn’t have to contend with any ships today. It was just us and the big blue sky filling up our batteries with solar electrons and wind in our sails. We modified our sail plan to have just our Genoa out on the pole and it’s made for smoother course holding and less popping open and collapsing of the sail behind the mainsail. Some things just seem obvious after you’ve done it and you wish it would have been so earlier. Our autopilot was taking cues from the Code 0 rebel pact and started straining under the pressure of steering downwind, the direction that is the hardest for humans or machines. I was in touch with the manufacturer who assured us it was all normal. But not after we all took turns last night perfecting our hand steering skills – Karen and I with a death grip on the wheel, and Alex singing and dancing behind the wheel as she took it all well in stride! We are solidly into shorts and shirts weather now, and the sea temp has skyrocketed to 74 from a tepid 54 back in Ireland.

The Demon Copperhead book group has suffered a drastic 50% drop in membership, with Alex’s Spotify account blocking her from any more listening time even though she downloaded the book before departure- those persnickety tech companies trying to sap our enthusiasm even on the high seas.

Overall we are settling into a routine onboard with our watch schedules, getting extra sleep when we can during the day. Tonight’s dinner of pasta with chicken and pesto is now happily in our stomachs and the sun will set soon as the distance to go ticks under 500nm. Hope all is well on your end!

Day 7
All alone on a deep blue sea. We’ve had another sunny day with speckles of white clouds here and there. No ships or sailboats or vessels of any kind. Nor have we seen any members of the animal kingdom-no dolphins or whales or flying fish. Or planes overhead. We are truly alone. It seems the iPhone is particularly bothered by this, with a message appearing every time I open it saying ‘Turn on cellular data or WiFi’. Apparently it never occurred to Apple engineers that someone would want to use their phone out in the boondocks! We have been sailing steadily along with just our Genoa out on a pole until midday when we mixed it up, unfurling the mainsail in a wing-on-wing configuration. This went so well that the idea was tossed up to fly the assymetrical spinnaker in the afternoon. Regrettably it had other plans for the day, becoming a twisted piece of sausage before we could sheet it out and get it filled with air. Down it went through the forward hatch for another set of stern words from the crew. It took over an hour to unwrap the mess and properly re-stow it in its bag. The agreed to punishment was a 24 hr timeout. We’ll give it another go tomorrow, especially with winds moderating a bit.

Speaking of misbehavior, now that enough time has passed, I can calmly tell the story of our departure from Kinsale. We had gone out the previous day for an orientation sail for Alex to get familiar with Sea Rose. It was a breezy day, perfect for testing out the reefing process and navigation tools. Since our departure was planned for 5am the next morning, to give us as much daylight as possible on our first day, we decided to anchor in the harbour instead of another night at the dock. We found a spot out of the central channel and dropped the anchor, being sure to set it firmly with the engine. The harbour is really part of a wide river and at this time the wind was blowing opposite to the river current direction, causing moored boats nearby us to swing around in odd and confusing directions. We started doing the same, at one moment facing into the wind, the next being swung rapidly around in the opposite direction by the current. This happened throughout our early dinner, and we all hit the sack promptly for extra rest. At 5am, I was on the bow raising the anchor. Only 10 meters of the 40 meter length of chain came in before it became ramrod tight. This was troubling. We tried to use the boat engine to pull forward on the chain to break it free but it wouldn’t budge. Thoughts of finding a diver to free our anchor, and losing our critical weather window for departure ran through our minds. We tried hailing a fisherman heading out in the predawn darkness, without success. All the swinging overnight had wrapped us tight around something, possibly an old mooring block. But what to do. We started by marking the position on the chain when it was pointed tight straight down. We then let out enough chain that we could maneuver the boat in a circle around the spot, a process made easier at the moment by the lack of a strong tidal current or wind. It was anyone’s guess which way we were wrapped but we tried driving counterclockwise. We then tightened the chain over the offending spot. Hurray, we were able to bring in an extra meter of chain! Following the motto ‘Some is good, more is better’ we marked the chain again, cautiously let out more and did two pirouettes around the spot. A few more meters came up, woo hoo! Another two rotations and we had nearly half of the 40 meter length onboard. But when do you stop? If we went around too many times we might end up wrapping around the opposite direction. We tried two more rotations. As we brought in the chain this time, I saw the first marking come back onboard. Then the second marking came over the bowsprit, and then the third. And chain kept coming up and we were pointing far away from the original spot. It all was looking good. More chain came up, and finally, an object I thought we wouldn’t be seeing for a long time if ever, our precious Bulwagga anchor! Phew! We were an hour late. Yet we were headed out the harbor with renewed hope. It seemed that Kinsale was how Vince Vaughan described the scene in Wedding Crashers, “We’ve got a stage 4 clinger here!” The charming Irish town just didn’t want us to leave! But absence makes the heart grow fonder…we hope some day to be back. In the meantime, our business at hand is to keep chipping away at the 343nm to go to Madeira. Hope you all are well!

Day 8
I just came off my evening watch, laying in my berth in the bow eager to get some sleep. The water is rushing by the hull and my porthole like we are in a car wash powered by fire hoses. Fair to say Sea Rose is in her element, parting the seas ahead like a javelin thrown by an Olympian so we can arrive promptly in Madeira. It started off with a fizzle this morning, as forecasted winds were getting lighter and our wing n wing configuration was leaving us eager for more speed. At 0930, with a full compliment of crew on deck we set out to try the asymmetrical again. Out of nowhere a large pod of dolphins appeared, leaping over the water with joy. We took it as a good omen. The asymmetrical went up without a hitch, and so did our speed. This bright pink sail was our engine of progress for the entire day. At dusk, a time to be conservative and low maintenance, we reverted to our Genoa and mainsail. We often try to find a sail plan that is quieter down below at night so the offwatch can get much needed sleep. It’s a pleasant problem to have – the fire hoses of high boat speed being the only blocker for my sleep. I’ll take it! Tonight’s dinner was by our Michelin star chef, co-captain, and weight-lifting-while-off-watch Karen G. She whipped up a tantalizing tarragon chicken in a light cream sauce. Alex, on watch at the helm just before dinner time, had to endure the wafting flavors emanating from the galley, a test of patience like non other! That’s it for the day. Less than 200 miles to go and I’m off to lahlah land. Over and out. Mic drop!

Day 9
Like the annual visit of Santa Claus, the excitement is stirring onboard Sea Rose. As of dinner time we are just 92 nm from Madeira, with an eta sometime around the middle of the day tomorrow (Monday). It was a difficult night’s sleep last night as the wind fell off to 7-9 knots. Sailing downwind is a challenge by itself but in winds that light, combined with even modestly rolling seas, the boat has a hard time keeping wind in its sails. Most troublesome is all of the noises belowdecks. Sails collapsing and popping back open, their control lines slapping against the deck, the rigging shaking under tension-slack-tension cycles. We were broad reaching with the Genoa and mainsail, gybing as we went, kind of like a zig zag route to keep wind in our sails instead of directly downwind. Our ‘Velocity Made Good’ readings were even smaller than our paltry boat speeds on account of our indirect course. In the early hours Karen kicked the engine on which at least gave us the chance to point directly to Madeira. With these light winds, every knot or two of wind increase goes right into boat speed. If only we had the 14-17 knots of forecasted wind, I might have been telling tales of me, the non-performer, singing and dancing! In the morning, with a slight improvement in wind, Alex and I raised the Code 0 (It is important to allow all misbehaving children a chance to redeem themselves!) and pushed it out on a long extended whisker pole. This allowed us to point straight to Madeira and kill the engine. We next unfurled the Genoa on the opposite side. This is a much taunted ‘twin headsail’ configuration that I’d heard long distance sailors rave about. Some have said they’ve sailed weeks on end like this. All we needed was a day. It worked really well as long as we locked the autopilot on a 180deg wind angle setting, basically steering so that the wind was always directly behind us. Boats that have two whisker poles would use the second to pole out–in this case–the Genoa. Seeing that Santa doesn’t truly come for a few more months (sorry to give false hope…there’s really only death and taxes), we improvised by swinging out the main boom and running the Genoa sheet through a snatch block. It’s not pretty – we won’t win ‘best in show’ in Newport or Sydney – but it’s the price of innovation. I dare say the garage Steve Jobs worked out of couldn’t have been mistaken for the lobby of the Ritz. We will try to send another missive off when we’ve dropped anchor in Madeira, but it will definitely be post cooling off swim and post cooling off frothy beverage or two. It’s the next best thing since Christmas. Our plan is to be in Madeira until Thursday morning, then a two overnighter will take us down to Las Palmas. Over and out!

Arrival
After a mellow last night at sea with gentle winds we dropped anchor on the eastern tip of Madeira this morning…all safe and sound! 1288 nm from Kinsale at an average speed of 5.8 knots. Nine days and a couple hours. We celebrated with breakfast burritos topped with chorizo…I don’t doubt that come the afternoon there will be some additional beverages brought forth from the fridge. Thank you for following along on our adventure and for all of your kind words of support!
Tom (Karen and Alex)

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