First trip to Bermuda

Unfortunately, Dana couldn't go, but I managed to tag along on a friend's boat, Azura for the Charleston to Bermuda race this year. I've crewed on Jamie Walker's other boat, Frenzy for some of the past couple of years after subjecting him to crewing on our J24 for Charleston Race Week (we didn't do so well). The trip to Bermuda was fairly uneventful, due in large part to experienced crew and a well-found boat. It helped that we had great breeze, which for most of the past 14 years has always been on the nose and frequently < 5 kts once you get out into the Sargasso sea and into the  Bermuda high that tends to prevail this time of year. I'm still amazed at the power of the ocean, but especially with this boat. It seemed that almost in any breeze, it was hard to NOT keep it moving at less than 9-10 kts.

Close reaching under full sail, including storm jib attached to an inner forestay-

It helped that Azura is a 56 ft Swan, but being as new to ocean passages of any length for me still resulted in a bit of "mal de mer". In fact, I think all but 3 or 4 of us at least got a little queasy. For me, it was full blown (pardon the pun) hanging over the rail, at least 3 different times, then sleeping out on deck until I felt better. Just one night of suffering, then I was able to at least intermittently sleep for the remainder of the trip and felt fine. We still need to rig some lee cloths to allow a full crew to have one place to make their "home" for the trip (each lee cloth will have pockets for personal stuff) and have a snug-comfy place to sleep. All of the cushy cabin bunks were usually taken when I went down after standing watch so I usually just curled up on the floor braced against a cabinet. I just couldn't see myself snuggling up to anyone other than my sweetie (sorry, Tom) sharing a bunk... I couldn't sleep for most of the first 24 hours and I got a little grumpy as a result. So much so, that some of the crew were thinking of tossing me over if I didn't "shape up". Chalk that up to experience, as I never go without sleep when on land, but on boats, I definitely need to either be extremely sleepy or have access to cool ventilation and a quiet soft-ish place to crash for good sound sleep. I guess I've come a long way from my days as an age-group swimmer, where I could fall asleep on bleachers during a swim meet between events with all sorts of noise going on. I eventually got enough shut-eye and calmed down... Besides, I don't think they would have tossed me over as I would have taken the coffee hostage. If my moody company wasn't a big hit, at least the coffee I roasted for the trip was. It was a bit "bright" for the first couple of days, but improved as the beans mellowed. It took me a few pots to get the grind and measurements dialed in, but most of that initial bitterness dissipated and we enjoyed a blend of chocolatey Brazilian/Ethiopian and fruity Panamanian coffee on our way to Bermuda and for the first few days after arrival, since most of us just stayed on the boat.

Tom, our systems engineer, awake and asking about coffee-

He's a happy guy, and never ceases to crack me up!

Patrick (our crew boss), not only brought his wealth of professional experience, but also organized and cooked most of the meals with his daughter, Margeaux. Steve (CIA trained chef, rigger extraordinaire and all-around nice guy) made up a bunch of nibble's (Tom called them "Scooby snacks"- a date stuffed with an almond, wrapped in bacon, then broiled to a light crisp) and breakfast wraps, and brought along some fantastic wine for dinner time and happy hour, which is just about to begin-

We usually trailed two lines towing a lure baited with fish and caught two Dorado-

Amazing how quickly they lose color after being yanked out of the water. This is the first one we caught, the second was a bit larger, but unfortunately, went bad due to melting ice before we knew it and was tossed overboard- I swear, it had nothing to do with the cheap vodka-euthanizing formula!

The menu for the second evening-

Third morning out, and I'm feeling quite a bit better after a solid night's sleep to show up by 0700 for my watch. I was excused from my night-shift given the condition I was in-- something I was very thankful for. Joe checking sail trim, Tom applying a little backstay tension and Jamie gives his "Friday afternoon speech" he gives to challenging employees-- makes me really appreciate his leadership (and his wonderful sense of humor)-

We had a few spells of light breeze. One occurred in the middle of the night, so we all had to jump into all of our gear, attach ourselves to our tethers and run up on deck for morning calisthenics (Patrick was our coach) and get the spinnaker up and trimmed, then furl the genoa (thank God this boat now has a furling genoa!), then back down below to sleep. At least a couple of times, we had enough light breeze (< 1 kt) in the morning to allow a little swim time. It is unreal how blue this water is (and how fish-belly white my chest is)-

Maybe an hour or so later the breeze would fill in and we would be back under way. Above, the insanely-light air "wind-seeker" doing it's thing keeping the boat moving at 1-3 kts. Just enough that you could still swim around the boat with someone on deck keeping watch on you. While I was playing around, I managed to  scrub the bow and keel and make sure we weren't towing anything like a crab-pot or fish net since leaving Charleston. Below Robert driving and I'm repairing a seat cushion I accidentally tore from it's velcro strap by stepping on it at this angle.

Jamie took advantage of one boat dropping out of the race and scooped up the owner (Joe) to do our navigation. He did an incredible job routing us out of the lightest breeze, placing us in 2nd place for the race. It was amazing how long he would stay down there, and not get even the least bit sick, then show up for his watch ready to drive- no problem.

We approached within sight of Bermuda from the west/north-west early on the fifth day-

The finish line mark-

Checking into customs-

Motoring over to the Royal Bermuda Yacht Club (RBYC) with former Commodore, Ralph Richardson giving a brief history of the island-

Cleaning up a bit and drying everything out the next morning-

Bermuda Fitted Dinghy races-

These are some crazy traditional boats. Made back in the day when people fished from them, and they gradually figured out they were more fun to just race. Overpowered with up to 1000 sq ft of sail area built on a 14' hull with 3 different masts (35-45 ft tall), they only have about 2" of freeboard and constantly fill with water. Someone (preferably a light someone) has to bail from the leeward side to keep them from sinking. They inevitably do sink, then a boat fitted with a crane helps raise the mast so the crew can all bail the water out and get it moving again. In the meantime, they wait around and drink beer-- probably more fun if the water isn't too chilly!

Party at the RBYC with (from left to right), one of the family owners of Gossling's Rum, the Governor of Bermuda, the lieutenant Governor (I think), Jamie, me, Tom, Patrick, Steve, Margeaux and Joe. I think Robert must've been scoring some rum from somewhere...

I loved this trip, and looking forward to the Newport to Bermuda race next year (with lee cloths), and maybe  doing this one with Patrick on our Olson... that remains to be seen!

Drinking and driving--

Another day in the life...

It's been another "little while" since the last post... This is sort of turning into more of a diary and a sounding post than anything else. The original intent of blogging for us (me) really was to allow family and friends to follow our lives since leaving Tucson, not sure if this radical departure from a well-known and familiar lifestyle was going to turn out well. We're still not sure, and it has both Dana and I a little bit nervous, and me not sleeping well some nights. I'd love to return to all that familiarity. I really miss my family, friends, the mountains, and being able to just get on my bike and ride in any direction for as long as I want, not having to worry about being pegged by a car or truck. What I also miss is working for a hospital and health care system that I think cared enough about it's patients (to say nothing of it's educational mission) to fix it's internal problems. It was so rewarding working at the Tucson VA, at least thinking that I made a difference in the lives of patients and that the jobs of those nurses and physicians was hopefully made just a little bit easier if I was there. If there is one saving grace that we have here, it is definitely sailing. It's about the only thing we look forward to and enjoy while living here. It is all that it was touted to be-- just extraordinary. I'm glad we have it, or I'd definitely be going nuts. I'm sure many of the local sailors must think I'm a bit nuts with all the work I've been doing on our Olson 30. We finally sold the Buccaneer to a nice older gentleman from Richmond, Va. I hope he enjoys it as much as we did. For us, boat purchases have only been getting progressively larger and larger, but still "trailerable". We don't have a suitable tow vehicle, but at > 5000 lbs, I'd rather just leave her "Jojo" comfortably resting on her trailer in the yacht club parking lot when she's not in the water. I could not imagine the hassle dropping and re-stepping the mast every time we decided to trailer her elsewhere for races. It would probably be fun, but man, what a hassle!

Back from the first CORA ocean race

Buckin' along the waves

On her trailer

New Raymarine e7D chartplotter

I've been faced with a bit of a dilemma; leave the VA to find work in a community hospital down in Tampa (by the way, we've been entertaining the idea of moving to Tampa, Fl for about 2 years now), or wait for another 2 years for something to come available at the huge VA hospital there. I've had several conversations with the pharmacy chief there, and that's at least as long as it may take for something to come up. I just have to wait for someone or multiple someone's to retire. This makes timing a bit tricky- gotta sell this house, pack up everything and move. The idea was to do that in stages. Get everything moved either into a storage facility down there or into a house, then sail the boat around the southern tip of Florida, come up through the keys and on up the gulf coast to Tampa, possibly to the Davis Island Yacht Club. This is perhaps the only club in the area that has a hoist available that is large enough for an Olson 30. Hopefully, it'll work out. The boat is mostly ready for the trip now, actually... I've still got a ways to go. I'm taking the advanced piloting course now through the local sail and power squadron, then if we're still here, on to the navigation classes (x 2) and I'll better know my way around the planet, whether by gps chartplotter, radar, paper charts or the stars.

Nessled up snug to the ChYC dock beyind Jim's boat, "Cheers".

Jo' Daddy at bat, Jojo on deck

We just bought another boat.  Yep- pretty soon it'll be time to "thin the herd" as Dana would put it, so we'll be selling Jo' Daddy (the J24 we're racing in a little less than two weeks in Charleston Race Week) as well as our old Buccaneer, Dorado.  The new boat is an Olson 30, which we hope to outfit for some ocean races over the next several years.  First off, we need to do a couple of upgrades- rearranging the backstay (which is already done), replacing lifelines, adding a port-a-potty (big thing for the girls) and possibly replace the standing rigging, because I have a feeling it's all original, or at the very least, may have been replaced around 1994 when the boat was upgraded to a double-spreader rig.

I'm not sure if you can tell from the photo, but the standing rigging portion of the backstay attached to the two plates on the transom is slack.  The line to tension the block system is only partially trimmed, but only has about a foot of purchase left before it is bottomed out, leaving insufficient backstay tension as a result and doesn't allow you to fully depower the main by bending the mast in heavier air.  That was the first modification I made to look like this-

Now there's plenty of trimming line left to apply backstay tension to more fully depower the main in heavy breeze.  You can't see from the photos, but the lifelines are a bit jagged where they run through the stanchions, and have already sliced one of the crews hands.  I found that the class allows a brand of synthetic line for use in replacing lifelines, which have traditionally been stainless cable covered with a plastic sleeve.  The new stuff, called Amsteel Blue, in the 1/4" diameter has a breaking strength of 8,600 lbs.  All you need to do is figure out some sort of sleeve where it runs through the stanchions to limit the effects of chafe, put in some eye-splices in the ends, and presto- happier/safer crew!

Anyway- lots to do.  Jared (one of my most dedicated crew) has already informed me that he won't go offshore in that boat until I fig reefing lines in the boom.  Right now, there are just some parachute cord messenger lines, so I don't know if the blocks and cams in there are functional, but that is the next project..  it's always fun messing around in boats, right!

The sail inventory (this ain't all of them), is quite extensive, especially in the spinnaker category.  Four spinnakers, three genoas (1 x 150%, 2 x 130%), one blade jib and one main.  I think only one main-- there were three owners of Wrinkles (which we've renamed Jojo, just need to go through the proper ceremonies to dename, then rename her), so there are parts and pieces scattered about.  At least one other spinnaker pole (there's one carbon pole in the v-berth) and hopefully another mainsail somewhere.  I'd really like a back up, preferably with two sets of reef points... if for no other reason, to make Jared happy.

I guess that's it- stay tuned for more posts and photos taken of various projects as they come along, and of course, sailing!

The British Virgin Islands and a new toy...

We're back from the BVI's and I have to say we had a blast!  What else would you expect when you had 11 days off from work and enough time to spend with my sweetie, my bro and a good friend!  The new toy (a Canon EOS D60) bought about 2 months before the trip in order to get used to it's features decided to malfunction a couple of days into our journey, so most of the zillions of photos we have are from my cell phone or other people's cameras.  We still have plenty to enjoy, so I'm not too miffed-- other than wishing I could figure out why an expensive, brand new DSLR would not power up for the last 9 days of the trip (until we got back to the airport in St. Thomas, of course... when it mysteriously began working again).  It's not like there's much to go wrong- make sure the battery has sufficient charge, close all doors and turn it on... nothing.  For a while, I thought I must be hallucinating, but nobody on the boat could get it working either, including my brother, a professional pilot and a good friend, Jason, an electrical engineer-- these guys are no slouches when it comes to fiddling with electronics.  Even the Canon repair facility couldn't find anything wrong with it, so I've got it back.  I'm sure it'll be fine until some moment when I've got that once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to take a photo, and it'll blackout again!

Anyway- the trip was just awesome.  I've always wondered what it would be like to sail a bigger boat and live on it, and what better opportunity than to do it on someone else's-- so we chartered a 40 foot sailboat, Wombat.  This Jeanneau Sun Odyssey comes with plenty of horse-power in the motor, and an inflatable Caribe dinghy with a 15 hp Yamaha outboard!  My 3200 lb J24 only has 3!  I now know not to trust all those pretty photos on www.yachtworld.com, though!  Don't get me wrong- the boat and most of it's systems worked well.  I just know that if you are going to live on one for much longer than a couple of weeks, look at something a little more robust that has a few added details.  Evidently, most of the charter boats in the caribbean are used by people who don't really sail that much, so they prep the boats accordingly.  Ground tackle might be a little on the light side, since most people will opt to pick up a mooring ball.  Sail inventory will include just one (1) mainsail and one (1) jib- and only a 100% jib at that.

On our way across the Sir Francis Drake Channel-

Our first anchorage on the south side of Peter Island-

When we got there, the weather was quite squally, so I understand.  The wind was fairly consistent at 15-20 mph building quickly in the morning out of the east and staying there all day long until early evening.  Perfect sailing weather, but they won't let you have a spinnaker.  The teaser is that the boat is rigged for it- the halyard is neatly coiled and stowed on the mast, but there is no pole and no kite.  What a bummer... that would have really come in handy for at least a few downwind stretches, especially the trip coming back from Anegada (or so we thought at the time), which I'm amazed that they let you sail that far in these boats with whatever option you select to secure yourself to the seabed.  In our case, we had a 25 lb cqr anchor with a fixed shank and 200 feet of all-chain rode.  There was a light-weight danforth on 200 feet of braided nylon in the starboard cockpit locker, which might have held better in Anegada's sandy, grassy anchorage.  We know that now!  The morning after arrival in Anegada, Dana, Lee (my bro) and I decided to dinghy ashore, and do a little exploring.  I think it was around 8:30 or 9 am, and a squall blew in while we were walking back along the beach.

Here we are on our way back toward the boat.  It was drizzling a bit and you could see the storm blowing in from the east.  We figured all was well with the boat, but we scurried back toward a cafe/bakery and ducked into their back porch to get out of the rain.  I asked if they had a vhf radio (which they did) and I tried raising Jason, who by now I figured was up and moving around.  No answer.  I decided we'd better get back over to the boat and see if anything was going on, and as we were heading back to the dinghy dock, we saw Jason doing something up on deck... It was a bit too far to tell exactly what he was doing, but whatever it was, he was doing quickly.  We jetted back over (that little Caribe gets up on a plane in about 3 seconds when you open the throttle) and realized the boat had dragged anchor, hooked the mooring below us and was now positioned perpendicular to two large catamarans in the mooring field just downwind from us.  Evidently, the boat started to drift back, and not having anyone else on board (it takes two to operate the windlass and power the boat forward) all he could do is call for help on the VHF, wait for someone to arrive, then hang on.  He tried raising the anchor, but the windlass wouldn't power up.  Two other people were on board when we got back with the dinghy.  We quickly tied up, hopped on and brief introductions were made.  One guy (now at the wheel with the motor engaged in reverse for some reason...) a nice elder English fellow, keeping the boat in place until I relieved him, while another guy ("Red", an American working for Sunsail Charters) was on the bow trying to figure out what to do about our anchor line that had wrapped around the keel when the boat pitched around 270 degrees clockwise while dragging, hooked the mooring and swung into the 47 ft Lagoon ahead of us now (and the reason the Brit fired up the motor, putting it in reverse to hold the boat in place).  Red suggested we drop the anchor line completely before the chain damages the keel and go pick up a mooring below the two catamarans.  We could come back later after the storm dies down and pick up the anchor and all 200 feet of chain, since we were in only 8 feet of water with decent visibility-- so that's what we did.  Once we were free, we secured the boat to a mooring, then I grabbed my snorkel gear and we went searching for the chain and anchor.  It didn't take long, but getting it off the bottom was a bit tricky.  We ended up tying a fender to the chain, then went back to get the dinghy and hauled it all up.  I assumed I'd have a little trouble when I got to the anchor end (figuring that the anchor would weigh at least 40 lbs), but that was easier to haul up than the chain!  Being the first time I'd been using an anchor to secure a boat (before heading down below for a night's sleep) I now have a healthy appreciation for proper ground tackle, and this wasn't it.  A brief post on Sailnet revealed what I had suspected, but again- live and learn!  I'm glad nobody was hurt in the process and no damage was done to either catamaran or the boat we were chartering.  We later found out that three boats tied to some of the less secure moorings (yellow balls) had pulled free and were dragging around the bay.  Some had nobody on board, so people nearby jumped on and secured them to the more stable moorings (red balls)... Pretty amazing how people help each other out in the middle of nowhere!

The day before the storm; arrival at Anegada-

The following morning we made what was supposed to be a downwind/reaching leg back toward the main group in the BVI's (Jost Van Dyke was our destination), but a storm to the south of us blew in and turned it into an upwind beat.  Oh well, we didn't have a spinnaker anyway...  That was the last of the stormy weather and the rest of the trip was quite sunny.  On the way to Jost Van Dyke, we stopped off at Sandy Cay, picked up a mooring ball and swam to the beach.  This had to be one of the prettiest places we saw.  There is no development on the island; it's all national park, and just a few visitors are allowed by permit.

A short little walk around the island- and I do mean short; I don't think it took more than about 10 minutes to walk all the way around.

After swimming back to the boat and eating a little lunch, we decided to head over to Jost Van Dyke and make plans for dinner.  We picked up a mooring in Great Harbour on the south side and took the dinghy over to White Bay and visited the Soggy Dollar.  We had a few hours to kill before making dinner plans, so this looked like a simple diversion-- Dana declined, not being the bar-type, so over the three of us went.  Basically, this is just a bar on the beach with a bunch of people milling around in waist deep water between a bunch of boats, holding some kind of beverage (the "painkiller" being the most popular).  There really isn't anything else to do there other than to "see and be seen", so after having a drink and playing a few "throw the ring onto the tree nail" games, we headed back to the boat to think about some grocery shopping and dinner.  Cooking on a boat is an interesting activity.  Most of our dinners were a team effort (at least 3; I kinda took a back seat approach-- as usual), but having a grill on the stern rail definitely appealed to me... something about making fire and grilling dead animal carcass makes it more fun, especially on a sailboat!

The following morning we raised the main, unfurled the jib and sailed off the mooring toward a gap between St John's (USVI's) and Great Thatch into the Sir Francis Drake Channel for a long sail back to Tortola and return the boat to the marina in Roadtown Harbour.

We sort of underestimated the swell, which really wasn't all that bad, but it took close to 6 hours close-hauled, tacking back and forth in that narrow channel the whole way back.  I think we were about the only boat that did that... most of the others we saw were motoring.  We got back to Roadtown to fill up with gas, and we only used 9 gallons of diesel for the entire 10 days.  Most of that was burned in our one hour twice daily ritual of firing up the motor to charge the batteries; something I didn't think would require such consistent use of the motor, but each morning when we awoke, the batteries were nearly drained at 11.5 volts remaining... another lesson learned about cruising sailboats-- fans, lights, wi-fi (yes, we had "dial-up" speed internet service), the stove with it's electric solenoid (can't have coffee without it!), the radio and all electric pumps on board for running water and the bilge pump all use some amount of juice.  We spared turning on the refrigerator for only when the motor was running, and usually kept one or two bags of ice to keep things cold (Carib beer tastes about as good as Lucky Lager does at anything greater than 60 deg F, so that was a priority).  We only ran the air-conditioner when plugged in at the marina in Roadtown, which was the night before we left and the night we got back in- a/c is nice!  Trying to adapt to sleeping just using overhead hatches for ventilation when you're accustomed to an a/c unit being on is going to be something Dana and I will have to evolve to appreciate, but we're going to try... some day!

During our exit interview back at the marina, the staff asked how we liked the boat and what we wished we had on board.  I described the anchor dragging a bit (although not since my posts and feedback on Sailnet) and a few other things we wished we had on board... I didn't mention the spinnaker and a pole, but it would have been nice to have a bigger, heavier anchor (like a 35 or 40 lb cqr with hinged shank) and a little extra line would have certainly come in handy.  We fashioned a preventer for the boom on one of the few downwind runs we had using 3/4" dockline, which was the only spare line on the boat.  Other than that, I'd do it again... just not on anything else but my own boat (and I won't outfit the interior with Ikea trim and vinyl upholstering).

As far as the area goes, I think we'll be back, but probably not to stay very long.  There is not much wildlife left.  I imagined the reefs would be more alive than what I saw, but most of the coral is dead, and the few fish in the area are common damsel fish, tangs and a few angels.  I couldn't help but figure that if they had more available habitat (live reef) the fish population would be considerably healthier, but I'm just remembering what I've read elsewhere about the condition of our oceans and I'm not too surprised.  The amount of development is striking.  For some reason, I thought it would seem a bit more remote, but the only islands that appeared that way were small cays and the string of islands that run along the south of the Sir Francis Drake Channel.