300 Miles @ 7 Knots

We raised anchor at 12:45 on Saturday and dropped it again at 8:45 Monday morning so elapsed time for the 300 miles was 43 hours which averages 6.97 knots. But we could have gone quite faster and had to slow ourselves down to be assured to arrive in daylight.  When have I ever before tried to go slow!!! We left 2.75 hours after the other boats in our little flotilla and that was my mistake—we should have left five hours later in the day on Saturday. Then we could have let ILENE loose to do what she likes to do best; she is a fast girl.

At departure, the winds which had howled from the east each day, were mild and from the northwest, in our face, so though the mainsail was up, it was not working and we motored out of the channel and though some twelve foot deep shoals off shore. By three pm the wind had shifted north so we could sail on a starboard beat and then on a close reach and we unfurled the small jib. At 4 pm we shut off the engine. Our course put us too far north of Mona Island (after which the Mona passage is named) to see it; but we did see Isla Descheo, an ex volcano about a mile square,  that I had never heard of, ten miles to starboard. At 6 pm, anticipating nightfall, 

we reefed the main but we were still making 7.5 knots.  These rollers are coming at our starboard side.

Lene stood the early watch from 8 to midnight, alone, while I tried to sleep, but we were crashing through some big seas so sleep was difficult to obtain. We both listened to music on Lene’s iPod, which made the watches fly by. “Standing” is perhaps the wrong word to use for our watches because as the automatic pilot steered, we lay down on comfortable cushions, rising at the ends of “cuts” of music to get up and carefully scan the horizon searching for the light of other boats in the neighborhood and being ready to change sails or their trim if conditions warranted. We were also wearing foulies because of the cool weather and spray and were tethered from the harness to a line that was secured around the cockpit, with jacklines to tether too if we had to go forward of the cockpit.

Before nightfall, one freighter crossed our bow, at a distance of about five miles and during Lene’s watch, another passed us, going the other way, port to port, several miles southwest of us. We overtook the other boats in our little flotilla, but at distances too far to see them, except for one sail that we saw on Sunday, far behind us and whose lights we watched Sunday night, who turned our to be Viau. Otherwise: no other boats. Calling in at 4 pm and 8 am gave us the assurance that the others were OK and available should we need help.

We saw the northeast coast of The Dominican Republic starting during the first night when we saw lights on shore, and then the rugged mountainous coast until mid afternoon, but at a distance of 12 to 20 miles.  On Sunday morning we were still going too fast so we furled the jib, making the rest of the passage under reefed main alone.

Three bad but not terrible things occurred. First, a little round bodied, bright yellow bird with grey wings landed on the dinghy behind me during the afternoon, about 30 miles off shore, seeking a respite from the winds which were about 25 knots. Lene saw it and alerted me to look behind me. The bird next flew into the dodger, where there was less wind. Alphie saw it too. Her eyes widened as big as I have ever seen -- the eye of the tiger. You cannot take the hunting instinct out of cats. Alphie sprang and caught the bird in her mouth. Lene sprang too and freed the bird which flew away, probably thinking “Some refuge that was!” But in saving the bird, Lene banged her left rib cage against the back of the port coach roof. Ouch! Arnica gel prevented the visible black and blue mark but not the pain of her bruised ribs. All this too quick for the camera.

Second, our new US flag, that Jerry and Louise had brought to us in the Virgins, had a burial at sea. I had affixed it to our new and improved flagpole, but not securely enough for the sustained 25 knots of Sunday. It blew off.

Third, our boom vang broke.

 This is an adjustable length aluminum tube that forms a triangle between the mast and the boom. It is attached at the back of the very lowest point on the mast with about eight large rivets. It’s aft end is attached further aft to the bottom of the boom. Its primary purpose is to hold the boom down; the boom would lift above horizontal due to the wind pushing against the sail, if not held down. Well the rivets gave way and its forward lower end was rubbing against the deck and the boom was high. I called to Lene to come out to operate the line that controls the length of the vang while I went to the mast with a length of green line and lashed the vang to the boom so it was out of the way. The next step was to tie another line around the boom, lead it to the midship cleat and then aft to the winch so we could pull the boom back down to horizontal.

We also ran into a torrential rainstorm for about an hour Sunday afternoon. I saw a big cloud and diverted from NNE to E to try to outrun it and we did outrun that cloud, but it was merely the vanguard of the bigger cloud behind it. The good news was that there was no thunder or lightning or the high winds usually associated with the passage of a cold front. The winds clocked around and we used the motor for that hour. After the storm the air was colder; the boat had a good freshwater rinsing, to wash off some of the caked on salt that had accumulated from the spray.

Sunday night we were still going too fast with just the reefed main, so I depowered that sail – trimmed it to NOT optimize the wind for speed. As a result, Viau was much closer to us, though still several miles behind, when I came on watch at about 1 am Monday morning. I calculated that we no longer had to worry about being too early, trimmed the sail and sped away from Viau.

Our diet of hot cereal for breakfasts, salad for lunches and hot food for dinner was excellent; my compliments to Chef Ilene. One night we had a dish she invented that I have suggested she send in to the sailing magazines which publish recipes for “one pot” meals for underway sailors. She fried up rounds of chorizo sausage with cubanel peppers, onions and a few mushrooms and stirred in precooked brown rice with chick peas. And topped it all off with grated parmesan cheese. Filling, warm and delicious!

Lene is really getting the hang of this. She can tell from the color of the light, which side of the other boat we are seeing, and by looking at the light against a fixed point on our boat such as a stanchion, from a fixed point on our boat of her head, she can tell whether it is going to pass in front or behind us or hit us. She now uses the computer’s “cross track error” reading to keep us on our path. I am very proud of both ILENEs.

Here is Big Sand key looking south and then looking west. We did not go ashore.

Posted from Providentiales, Turks and Caicos.