What a trip! I think I earned my stripes as a sailor on this one. You name it, we encountered it except for lightening (thankfully). Confused seas, rough seas, big seas, a squall, a couple too many, a pair of mammal encounters, stunning sunsets/sunrises, gulf stream complications, broken instruments, a few too many stunning sunrises/sunsets, missed flights, safe harbor.
After a month of reflection, and rest, here is a brief chronicle of some of my thoughts during this adventure:
Tuesday June 29th: And We Are Off
12:30 p.m. EST........ So long Bermuda! We are underway and the learning has begun. We were escorted out by some dolphins, I went swimming in 4,000 ft of water after which I threw up for the first time. I made it 55 miles, there is a first for everything. I felt fine when I was at the helm or when I was resting down in the cockpit. The sickness came when I moved from one place to the other. The seas were rather confused, at least that is what my gracious host assured me of at the time. Despite puking a couple of times, I was feeling pretty good. Happy to be on our way, excited for what might come.
Wednesday June 30th: It's Alive!
Took some Meclizine at 5:30 AM for sea sickness. No need to play around with the sickness anymore. My first overnight shift completed. I was fairly concerned during this 4.5 hour shift. Sailing was a challenge, sailing completely blind was not easy at all. Luckily I was accompanied by a full moon, numerous flying fish, a pair of compasses, a couple of instruments, and the wonderment that was provided by the phosphorescence. I had read about the phosphorescent microorganisms but I was not prepared for encountering them. I felt like I was in Avatar. After a bit of rest, I was back on deck mesmerized by the blue Sargasso seas. We travelled 170 miles in 24 hours of relatively rough sailing. We were heading into the current with the wind behind us at 7-11 knots. The agitated seas were about 9 ft and I was having a hard time imagining 3 more days of this. Time to dig deep Myers. At 7 p.m. we encountered a small squall, 220 miles from Bermuda. Takeaway of the day: the tiller feels alive, the rush of the water, a glide, it almost has mind of it's own. At the same time, with the tiller comes an obligation to be on, to be alert, it is a privilege and a responsibility.
Thursday July 1st: The Big Squall
Finished my second overnight watch. I would like to say I felt more comfortable after this one........ not yet. I put the patch on for safe measure at 5 am, the sunrise was incredible. The steel blue seas was nothing short of awe-inspiring. By 10 am we hit another small squall, lots of rain, second reef was out, boat was really heeling over, rain and more rain. By 1 p.m. the wind had settled down and we were able to have some lunch. We were 310 miles from Bermuda, 25 miles from the Gulf Stream. Weather on the horizon. I had a moment at this point. In my boating experience to date, under the power of a motor which could get me going to over 65 mph if need be, when you see weather, you run and you run hard. You may not be able to run from it but you run hard through it. Here, we just steadily stayed the collision course. Eventually we were in it. The big squall. Thirty plus knot winds, 12 ft seas, mainsail down, number four jib up and motor on. 15 hours (mostly overnight) of white knuckled, N/NE winds, 2 hour shifts, cold, wet, very exhausted, frightened. I was dozing off at the helm, I got disoriented and went the wrong way. We got blown off course, it was terrifying particularly when we were changing sails. I was at the helm, Jim on bow. I couldn't but help to think that had something happened to him....... I would be on my own. It would be up to me to save us. By no means was I ready for that. Killua was amazing though. I tell you, that boat is just solid. She is kind and forgiving, she is balanced, rock solid.
Friday July 2nd: We Made It!
7 a.m. One of the most beautiful sunrises of my life mainly because it revealed clear skies ahead. I am sure Jim had not a worry in the world about what we just went through. Me? There were moments...... and that is all I have to say about that. We were well into the Gulf Stream at this point, more dolphins which was a nice sign. We spent 5 hours fighting wind and current during which time we lost 4 miles on the Vineyard. The Gulf Stream had shifted, we were not where we had hoped, the wind was against us, and we were where we did not want to be. Jim was pretty unhappy about all of this. Very unhappy at times. I on the other hand was armed with a new perspective on things. I would rather be stuck in the stream than be alone at the helm, at night, in a squall, with 36 hours of sailing experience under my belt, hanging on way too tight.
Saturday July 3rd: Stuck in the Suck
3 p.m. We are 229 miles from MV, we have gone 50 miles in the last 10 hours. According to Jim, we have been beating against wind and current for three days...... "a sailor's nightmare." Let the motor sailing begin and get us out of the stream. I need a shower BADLY, get me off of this boat! We worked it as hard as we could, thanks to the little motor that could and as much sail as we could get out there. During our two full days in the stream, we averaged a measly 83 miles per day. We were peeping the water temperature gauge (a drop below 70 degrees means you are nearly out of the stream) frequently and hoping to see the end of the sargasso grass which is another tell that you are still in the stream. I missed my flight back to Colorado, once again..... get me off the boat!
Sunday July 4th: Please....... Please Get Me Off This Boat
My journaling became non-existent at this point. We were sailing VERY hard, every knot counted. We both wanted and Jim needed to get off of Killua so he could make a meeting. It wasn't funny anymore. We were not really eating, while we still had topics to talk about, I think we both were getting tired of talking Obama and the economy. That said, we came up with some very interesting fiscal, governmental, and social remedies for U.S. of A. That or we all need to move to Canada. In other news, I really found my sailing groove on this day. The two finger tiller technique was a very useful tip that was bestowed upon me by my patient captain. I wish he had taught me this a couple of days ago, but it was nice to feel like I was really getting it. I was feeling connected to the boat, letting her head into the wind and then bringing her gently back down. I learned to let her take the waves, she could do it better and more efficiently than I could. Just let her do her thing. We are putting money in the bank by heading a bit to the west. I had my first "relatively" comfortable overnight shift. By no means did I feel like I was a captain of the sea, I still didn't feel great about being blind particularly when the boat was darting into the wind and then I had to back her off. But I did feel like I was getting it, I could feel and perceive what was necessary to be more at ease at the helm. I may have missed another flight at this point. I miss my wife and the hounds.
Monday July 5th: Almost Home
12:20 p.m. Hello Vineyard. Great to see you. REALLY great to see you. I need a shower, a shave, the third s, a solid meal, and a drink! 690 miles of exhilaration, fear, learning, connection, laughter, curse words, anticipation, patience, and bonding. A trip never to be forgotten. My deepest and most heartfelt thanks to both Jim and Killua for looking after me in every way during what will be one of the most unforgettable adventures of my life.
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