Finally, underway. First day out of Norfolk
First fish. Hooray! I broke the hex on Uncle Jimmy's reel!
1st fish ready to bake
Second fish. I left him there, hoping to catch another, to clean up 1 time. A wave washed him overboard.
4 or 5 days ago, I went thru a change of heart thanks to my friend Paul's help and encouragement, dropped my fears of handling such big sails under pretty intense wind pressure, and I sailed. Stopped the engine, and sailed. Kinda hard to admit the fear, but it was there. There are so many forces acting on a sailboat, and if they conspire against you, you are sunk, literally, and that has paralyzed me to a certain degree. Also, it is a lot of work. So, that day, I sailed. Turned the engine off, and enjoyed the quiet noise of the hull going thru the water. I even slept and the boat moved us forward.
The next day, doldrums came and I did what I said I would do: I stopped at a scenic overlook. AF was sitting, stirring not an inch, and I just watched. I had never done that before-sat in the middle of the ocean, alone, in the quiet, listening to music, and relaxing far from anyone. I shot the shotgun at a banana peel, and sat and looked into the still blue water for that first shark. I made dinner, and with a glass of wine, thanked God and a few others, for this life, looking forward to a real night's sleep, silently drifting along in the Atlantic. (By the way, I saw the first shark today, as the sun was rising, dorsal fin and tail slipping thru the water surface, looking for breakfast, I guess.)
Just as I was about to turn in, when listening to the Amen from Handel's Messiah, finishing the dishes, I heard the wind start blowing. So I finished, ran up, and went. Boy, did I go. I don't know how fast this old boat should go- called hull speed- but I have only seen about 7 knts, and I saw that night, 8.3 several times. The amazing thing was that I came down below, and slept while she zipped along. I would get up regularly, and check things and the wind was howling, and this old, fat boat, as I told family, was a Ferrari, not a DeSoto. Screaming along, I had the sensation of the ice boaters flying along on those sailboat for ice. It lasted about 8 hours.
Well, I sailed right into a real blow. It got bad. Real bad. Maybe only 10 or 12 foot seas, but fast and angry, banging into each other, frothing. And, suddenly, I lost all control of the helm. The wheel just spun in my hand. A hydraulic hose fitting had blown, probably by the tremendous forces put on the rudder by my fast sailing, but blew anyway, and I had no spare bought, of this unique and, in my opinion, ill-chosen hose and fittings, since I have had TWO blow now. I tried putting the same fitting back on, and it blew 3 times. I searched the boat for a spare, or some substitute, including cannibalizing the water maker high pressure lines, or even my diving hookah. So, there I was, sitting about 450 miles from the US-I really don't know the numbers correctly-getting tossed, literally about and no options for correcting it, in my mind. The big thing to me was that if I changed one detail of the setup that was keeping the boat moving forward into the wind a little, and into the waves, then it could turn, and be rolled by wave. So, I was petrified to change anything. I think I sat here, below, getting pounded about, tossed about, and everything on the floors, for 36 hours, emailing friends over the SSB radio, for thoughts, suggestions, and my sending descriptions of what was going on, as well as reading and even napping. (I need to mention here, how much Paul and Mike and Wes meant to me, for their sending suggestions, offering inspiration, and encouraging me during this ordeal.)My last resort was using the emergency tiller. Anyway, I decided to use some teflon tape, to fool the fitting into not blowing out, and when I did, it held. Bleeding the air is next and I was hesitant to spin the helm wheel, as eventually, the rudder would respond, but not equally, going both ways. But I bled enough for the auto pilot to work, so I started the engine, brought in the sails, and was sending an email to family and friends saying that I was moving, when the line blew again, leaving me with no solution, but the emergency tiller. You open a hole in the aft deck floor, break out a panel of wood, and it slides down over the rudder post. I had prepared some ropes and pulleys and stuff, that I might need, and hurryedly installed this tiller. And off we went, motoring, to Bermuda. That was yesterday, I think about 1pm, and I motored all night long, struggling with this contraption to steer the boat, arriving in Bermuda, about 145 or 125 miles, and I guess all or most of 24 hours, right into a storm here.
Note wear on life raft container, and the hump I had to lift the tiller over, every time I had to steer right.
But,finally, I am at anchor here, checked thru Customs and Immigration, and have my first stamp in the passport for a new place in my new life. So, waiting to repair the sail that the wind sort of shredded, beating it for a day and half at 35 knots, or whatever, I will rebuild this hydraulic system myself. Several other things to be done, as the boat was mistreated badly during those days. But, I am safe, and sizing up a new plan after repairs. I have already spoken to several other sailors here, and the stories of the damaged boats this year are plenty, so, in the end, I think I was lucky.
First fish. Hooray! I broke the hex on Uncle Jimmy's reel!
1st fish ready to bake
Second fish. I left him there, hoping to catch another, to clean up 1 time. A wave washed him overboard.
4 or 5 days ago, I went thru a change of heart thanks to my friend Paul's help and encouragement, dropped my fears of handling such big sails under pretty intense wind pressure, and I sailed. Stopped the engine, and sailed. Kinda hard to admit the fear, but it was there. There are so many forces acting on a sailboat, and if they conspire against you, you are sunk, literally, and that has paralyzed me to a certain degree. Also, it is a lot of work. So, that day, I sailed. Turned the engine off, and enjoyed the quiet noise of the hull going thru the water. I even slept and the boat moved us forward.The next day, doldrums came and I did what I said I would do: I stopped at a scenic overlook. AF was sitting, stirring not an inch, and I just watched. I had never done that before-sat in the middle of the ocean, alone, in the quiet, listening to music, and relaxing far from anyone. I shot the shotgun at a banana peel, and sat and looked into the still blue water for that first shark. I made dinner, and with a glass of wine, thanked God and a few others, for this life, looking forward to a real night's sleep, silently drifting along in the Atlantic. (By the way, I saw the first shark today, as the sun was rising, dorsal fin and tail slipping thru the water surface, looking for breakfast, I guess.)
Just as I was about to turn in, when listening to the Amen from Handel's Messiah, finishing the dishes, I heard the wind start blowing. So I finished, ran up, and went. Boy, did I go. I don't know how fast this old boat should go- called hull speed- but I have only seen about 7 knts, and I saw that night, 8.3 several times. The amazing thing was that I came down below, and slept while she zipped along. I would get up regularly, and check things and the wind was howling, and this old, fat boat, as I told family, was a Ferrari, not a DeSoto. Screaming along, I had the sensation of the ice boaters flying along on those sailboat for ice. It lasted about 8 hours.
Well, I sailed right into a real blow. It got bad. Real bad. Maybe only 10 or 12 foot seas, but fast and angry, banging into each other, frothing. And, suddenly, I lost all control of the helm. The wheel just spun in my hand. A hydraulic hose fitting had blown, probably by the tremendous forces put on the rudder by my fast sailing, but blew anyway, and I had no spare bought, of this unique and, in my opinion, ill-chosen hose and fittings, since I have had TWO blow now. I tried putting the same fitting back on, and it blew 3 times. I searched the boat for a spare, or some substitute, including cannibalizing the water maker high pressure lines, or even my diving hookah. So, there I was, sitting about 450 miles from the US-I really don't know the numbers correctly-getting tossed, literally about and no options for correcting it, in my mind. The big thing to me was that if I changed one detail of the setup that was keeping the boat moving forward into the wind a little, and into the waves, then it could turn, and be rolled by wave. So, I was petrified to change anything. I think I sat here, below, getting pounded about, tossed about, and everything on the floors, for 36 hours, emailing friends over the SSB radio, for thoughts, suggestions, and my sending descriptions of what was going on, as well as reading and even napping. (I need to mention here, how much Paul and Mike and Wes meant to me, for their sending suggestions, offering inspiration, and encouraging me during this ordeal.)My last resort was using the emergency tiller. Anyway, I decided to use some teflon tape, to fool the fitting into not blowing out, and when I did, it held. Bleeding the air is next and I was hesitant to spin the helm wheel, as eventually, the rudder would respond, but not equally, going both ways. But I bled enough for the auto pilot to work, so I started the engine, brought in the sails, and was sending an email to family and friends saying that I was moving, when the line blew again, leaving me with no solution, but the emergency tiller. You open a hole in the aft deck floor, break out a panel of wood, and it slides down over the rudder post. I had prepared some ropes and pulleys and stuff, that I might need, and hurryedly installed this tiller. And off we went, motoring, to Bermuda. That was yesterday, I think about 1pm, and I motored all night long, struggling with this contraption to steer the boat, arriving in Bermuda, about 145 or 125 miles, and I guess all or most of 24 hours, right into a storm here.
Below is how I spent 24 hours, only in rain clothes, but no socks, Paul. My left side is bruised today because of having to use my body to turn right, and lift the tiller over the Switlick hump.
Note wear on life raft container, and the hump I had to lift the tiller over, every time I had to steer right.But,finally, I am at anchor here, checked thru Customs and Immigration, and have my first stamp in the passport for a new place in my new life. So, waiting to repair the sail that the wind sort of shredded, beating it for a day and half at 35 knots, or whatever, I will rebuild this hydraulic system myself. Several other things to be done, as the boat was mistreated badly during those days. But, I am safe, and sizing up a new plan after repairs. I have already spoken to several other sailors here, and the stories of the damaged boats this year are plenty, so, in the end, I think I was lucky.Now, I have taken an extra long shower, shaved, clean clothes, and brushed (twice) teeth. I am ready to clean up this mess, and will talk to sail loft and shop tomorrow.
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