March 2000 - day 1

left morehead city around 10.30 a.m. and headed out to sea on a warm sunny day. the wind was very light so we motored. a handful of dolphins showed up to welcome us to the ocean. in the afternoon, the wind picked up and we set all four lower sails. within minutes, we had about 25 dolphins around us. i went out and sat in the aptly named dolphin seat at the end of the bowsprit. i had 10 or 12 right beneath me, 4 or 5 off to starboard and carol had 8 or 10 along the port side. out in front of them all was one big one who kept slapping his tail and finally succeeded in getting me wet (marine mammal humour). it was a truly beautiful time and we were very sorry when they decided they had played with the bipeds enough and left. anyone who says bowsprits are outmoded etc. obviously hasn't had that experience.

that night we had a boisterous sail through the gulf stream. lots of wind, very warm water and noticeably more impressive seas.

day 2

when the sun rose we were still in the gulf stream but it was easy to see when we were out, the character of the waves was completely different.

the wind died later in the day and since we wanted to put distance between us and the stream as quickly as possible, the old iron studded topsail was fired up again. we passed armadas of Portuguese men of war, jellyfish with iridescent sails that look like something from the dollar store. i have read that these guys can actually tack upwind. we were discussing the possibility of setting up races, the america's jelly bowl?? something else for dennis conner to lose, over and over again?? i find it hard to believe that darwin is responsible for these things...more likely salvador dali.

day3

ok, guys, this is what it's about. it's around three in the afternoon, warm, not a cloud in the sky and since this morning we have been going like a train, taio running down blue slopes with our big squaresail up, just pulling like crazy, the water alongside white with the foam from our bow wave.

the squaresil is a magical thing, it's what the spinnaker used to be before some interior decorator got his hands on it and "improved" it. nigel the windvane is steering us flawlessly in conditions which would give most humans trouble. we haven't touched the helm since we started this run. of all the things i made on the boat, i get the biggest kick out of watching nigel silently controlling 30,000 pounds of steel and evaporated milk with incredibly subtle little movements of his levers and other bits and pieces. carol and i regard nigel as a full crew member.

reason number 2 to have a bowsprit is that you can get ten feet out in front of your boat and watch the beautiful sight of her charging down waves, throwing spray and foam. carol and i just came back from doing that and we have decided to abandon our plan to return to land

day4

looks like we timed this just right, nasty little gales behind us, but all is sweetness and light here. the nights are crystal clear and moonless. when you look through the binoculars you realize that there is really no empty universe between the stars. it's just solid stars to infinity. carol and i stand three hour watches all night then spend most of the day together. the solitary time at night is pretty cool, just you with the infinite skies and the endless ocean. we haven't seen another vessel for almost 48 hours now, it's just us and the real world.

forgot to tell you we saw a big sea turtle the other day and in place of the traditional flying fish on deck we got a squid. oh well, can't have everything.

today was our first real welcome to the heading to the tropics day, perfect sunshine, wonderfully warm. life's a bitch.

day 5

to those of you are in the midst of that endless work of building your boats, today is the day you dream of, absolutely perfect in every way, a great warm breeze from the right direction, gentle deep blue seas, taio sailing like a queen under main, foresail and the big genoa our friend and sailmaker extraordinaire

andy gave us. i go stand up on the foredeck, feeling it gently rising and falling, and look at those beautiful wings curving above us and carrying us along. there really are no adequate words to describe this. all i can say is that if this proves anything it is that you can do anything you want, make any dream come true if you persist. i'm fond of quoting the entire text of a speech which winston churchill once gave, he glared silently at the audience for a few minutes, then thundered at them, "Never, never, never, never, never......give up!" and he walked off the stage. we could all do worse than listen to someone who didn't know himself how to give up.

today is the payoff for not giving up. they say less than five percent of people who start building boats finish them. it really is a grind but at the end of the rainbow you are here like i am at this instant.

we've just finished lunch in the cockpit, carol is sipping tea and reading, stan rogers is on the cd player singing his beautiful song about the bluenose and i can hear, behind stan, the ocean hissing past a few feet from my ear. heaven on earth.

i'm sorry that our family and friends, new and old, can't be here to experience this with us.

some excitement at dusk. a big tanker headed right at us and was getting very close. wind was light so we started the engine in case we had to get out of his way fast. he came right by our stern and told us that norfolk coast guard had received an epirb (emergency satellite signal) from near our position. we told him we were fine and had not activated our epirb. after a little chat they were on their way. nice to know everyone's on the ball, but we wonder who sent the signal and if they're ok.

day 6

it's 10 pm and i'm sheltering in the doghouse as we slam along to windward, not quite going the way we want to go. we want southeast and guess which way the wind is coming from. funny day today, warm and sunny with fluky light winds but building now. better than what's behind us though, gales and storms off the u.s. coast.

we're pounding along pretty dramatically but carol is sound asleep up forward where the motion is worst and i slept like a log up there until i went on watch at nine.

another tanker came by today. at first we thought he was in search of the boat which transmitted the distress call, but he just passed under our stern and kept going.

saw another sea turtle. amazing that they should be out here many hundreds of miles from land instead of near shore but then i realize that we're doing the same thing. i doubt, however that we will lay eggs in the bvi, so there is a limit to the comparison.

nigel the windvane is out there in the weather steering while i'm cozy in the doghouse. better him than me. what great crew he is. steers all day and night, doesn't eat any of the pc cookies or wise potato chips. what a guy.

day 7

good brisk sailing but again wind from the southeast which builds uo to around thirty knots and we're making very little progress in the right direction and are getting slammed around a lot so we heave to. with taio you just lie under foresail alone, rising to the waves. it's sort of like parking but the parking lot is alive.

early in the evening, the wind drops to around twenty and we have a great sail all-night.

day 8

a stunning day, fabulous sunshine, 20 knots of and we cream along all day. we know we're going be overtaken by a cold front at night and we can see it towering behind us. it's so vast and there's no sense of scale.

our fixed mount gps satellite navigation system (only a few hours of use) dies on us but we have a hand held back up. carol is relieved we have the backup. i think, one down....hmmm.

the front catches up to us after dark and carol calls me on deck from my comfy berth as the wind swings through a hundred and eighty degrees and we are immersed in an alien world of cloud.

the wind turns fluky and we decide to spend some fuel by motoring slowly all night through a bizarre world of towering clouds in every shape imaginable.

11 hours later, the 2nd gps kicks the bucket. carol figures the odds of this are a billion to one. i figure it was inevitable. woops, no miracle toys to tell us where we are and we're 600 miles out in the ocean.

of course, we have a sextant, an accurate timepiece, the right tables and a great old device called a walker log which has a little spinner which rotates in the water, driving a clockwork mechanism through 30' of line and records how far you've travelled. this thing which my mom and dad got in england for me is probably 40 years old and will last another century or so with a drop of oil now and then.

day 9

as sun rose we motored through those fantastic clouds, like fantasy castles of stupendous size. around 6am, a mast came in sight. we head their way, three guys on a german boat headed for bermuda. they give us a position. big smiles and we wish each other luck.

we set the square sail for a while but the wind dropped to nothing and wanting to save fuel, we dropped sail and lay in the swells, rolling like mad and waiting for wind. i discovered that by setting the jib, the bow would stay pointed into the swells, as we slid back down them astern, the jib would fill from our motion, keeping the bow up and making us way more comfortable than lying beam to which is what boats do naturally.

carol did a monster tidy on the boat (it gets out of hand after a while)and i decided that i would make one of the darn gps thingies work even though i know nothing about their workings or electronics in general.

in the midst of this a pod of whales came by astern and hung out for a while spouting and doing the usual whale stuff. i was a little nervous, they really are big and there were a bunch of them! what a thrill!

i figured the hand held gps was toast but that the other's problem was a bum antenna. so i did a post mortem on the hand held, harvested its antenna, wired it into the fixed mount gps, wrapped the fancy new antenna in ziploc bags and duct tape and duct taped it to the cabin top. when the darn thing worked, i was as surprised as anyone. sign those donor cards now, folks.

the swells from the north east got bigger and bigger but not a breath of wind. finally around 7pm the wind got up and we had one of the most beautiful sails yet, gliding across the swells so smoothly and with a gentle hissing like we were sliding across silk.

too good to last, two hours later, becalmed again. at 3am, the wind picks up and we are under way under jib alone. it is very dark. at 4am it is literally pitch black. i can just make out a very faint light patch in the blackness. it is our still snow white jib, 160 square feet and only 40 feet from me and i can only just tell that something is there. then the rain begins, very heavy becoming torrential. by 5am when it is beginning to get light, the surface of the sea is white with the impact of the rain and the drops are bouncing a foot off the doghouse.

day 10

from 5am yesterday to 5am today, we covered 30 miles. good grief. of course it's feast or famine. we are now barrelling along in 25 knots gusting higher. we've got large easterly seas overrunning a big northeastery swell. we're carrying jib and foresail and taio is steering herself in this pretty wild environment within two or three degrees either side of her course. poor old nigel the windvane is sulking. he should appreciate the rest.

carol is making green pea soup. just another quiet day at home.

at 6 pm we put the main up with a reef in it and start cranking, nigel on helm. cont'd

we think oh goody the mortheast trades as advertised. we reach at 7 knots all night. the bvi in 3 days mon.

day 11

nope. next day the wind goes around into the southeast and now we have a battle on our hands to get enough easting before we get blown right past the virgins and end up in puerto rico.

see three flying fish but none on deck for breakfast.

winds up, seas up. the state of the seas changes dramatically within twenty or thirty miles, sometimes regular predictable seas consistent with the wind, other times real rough, short lumpy stuff.

after daylight we get into a pretty rough zone. there is a new 12' sea from the southwest running across an old ten foot swell from the north east. on top of this i suspect and later confirm on the resurrected gps that there is an east setting current opposing the whole thing. everything is pretty wild. when the two sets of crests coincide, we get a monster roll that puts our lee rail under. when the troughs coincide, there's a big hole and we slam down into it at 45 degrees and hit solid water at the bottom which makes the boat shudder like it's hit a brick wall. occasionally a breaking crest slams the bow and it sound like we've been hit by cannon shot.

through it all taio plugs along taking no more than a cup of spray here and there. nigel steers a virtually perfect course through this chaos with tiny nonchalant little movements.

we take turns napping in the settee. we alternately go weightless and leaden as taio rises and falls.

carol is down now having a nap. she is amazing. totally without fear. just does her thing. we're having a great time, enjoying this immensely.

day 12

the wind gets light and we're fighting for every inch to the east. if we were doing ok on the averages, we would have 20 knots from the nne or east and be in the bvi tomorrow.

it's a beautiful sunny day and we hate to spoil it but we have to get some easting so we motorsail for five hours to the east. we can't do this forever so we switch off and we're totally becalmed, rolling crazily in the crisscrossing swells, drifting back the way we came at a mile every hour. frustration!

day 13

early morning we speak to a russian ship. he identifies himself as the orange ship. there were so darn many ships we could never have guessed.

very light wind from the nw. we set the genoa and ghost eastwards against the current all day gaining maybe a mile every hour.

in the last three days we have covered 48 miles, ghosting along. with 20 knots of wind on the beam we can do 480 in three days. oh well.

another front goes through at night with sudden windshifts, heavy rain, lots of wind, no wind, squalls all around.

day 14

gray, gray with huge north swells. what is this? we're 300 miles from the caribbean.

i go aft to adjust nigel and see a large dark shape keeping station 15 feet off the starboard quarter. i realize right away that it's a whale and call carol. it has aquamarine blue along its side and i think at first that its gotten trapped in some plastic thing but then realize it's a bluefin whale. it moves over to port passing only a couple of feet behind the boat, swimming alongside and then getting just ahead of the bow and leading us like a dolphin. it is amazing to have him a few feet ahead of the bow showing us the way. i have never heard of whales doing this. awe inspiring.

ok so we only did 48 miles in 3 days but a whale came to visit.

totally overcast, the winds goes light and we're almost at a standstill again.

day 15

totally overcast, very light winds shifting all over the place. we're supposed to be in the northeast trades, 20 knots from southeast to east northeast, and we get calms, winds light from the wrong direction. we haven't seen sun moon or stars for days. darn good thing the gps is hanging on.

day 16

more gray, more light winds and then virtually no wind. there is a huge northerly swell running. sails banging. ye gods. we find a tiny flying fish on deck, must have been on his first flight almost. he's a sad little heap of gossamer on the deck.

the only wind we have is the air pushed along ahead of the swells and we're making about 1 1/2 knots with it and unbelievably nigel steers perfectly. at the top of the swells there is absolutely no wind.

in the evening a light breeze comes up from northwest.

day 17

the breeze holds all night, egads. and even more surprising, a sunrise, we haven't seen one of those for a long time. it turns into a glorious sunny day. we're 95 miles from sombrero island. there is a powerful light on the island and we want to sight it just before dawn tomorrow to confirm our position as we go into the anegada passage and turn west for the bvi's. this is no place to make a mistake or you end up on the big reef off anegada with over 300 other vessels.

we sight sombrero. it's a little flat topped island in the middle of nowhere with no trees and a light 157' high. i pity the lightkeepers, a desolate spot. we cross paths with a pod of whales migrating north for the tourist season in the n.e. u.s.

day 18

in the night the wind goes around to the west, you've got to be kidding, 20 then 25 knots. we drop the forestaysail and throw a reef in the main but we ain't gonna get to the bvi like this. we're only 60 miles away and should have the trades behind us and be screaming along. instead, it's a night of struggle. we're stuck in the anegada passage, wide open to the atlantic with growing west seas running over the 25' or more northerly swells. oh joy. we fight our way south then north, gatting nowhere fast with cheery old anegada and its reefs at one end and various unpleasantness if we get blown too far east at the other.

the seas are crazy, the weather forecast, as always, patently insane, last night was light, variable, we got w, sw 25, today its nw 10-15 but with small craft warnings for confused seas. confused doesn't cover it and we're hove to in 25 gusting 30. do these idiots ever get out from in front of the computer and look out the window?

we can see virgin gorda about 30 miles away but it ain't getting any closer. in the afternoon, the wind moderates but guess the direction, nw, and what direction are we now trying to go, nw. taio isn't a sparkling windward performer anyway and trying to fight through these seas dead upwind is tedious to say the least.

finally we get west of the anegada passage and out of those huge swells. everything is looking better even thogh the wind is still dead on the nose.

day 19

it might not really be day 19, you kind of lose track. good thing we're not doing celestial navigation for which you need to be able to see the sky so that was out anyway..

we plod along all night, st. croix glowing over the horizon, the strip of lights on virgin gorda clearly visible.

the gps chooses this moment to lose contact with it's orbiting friends for three hours and i think, how timely that my hatchet/repair job should so conveniently last until this point.

at 3am we're 20 miles from salt island passage where we plan to slip into the bvi. albert chinnery, (almost all the 130 people on jost van dyke where we are headed are named chinnery or caldwell) the customs guy packs it in at 12.30 and we want to get there before then so we fire up the perkins and for the first time in a long time, head exactly where we are going. we're low on diesel but the darn thing will run on vegetable oil and wd 40 if it has to and we've got a bunch of that.

the day dawns, beautiful, sunny, we're in amongst the islands and recognize them as we pass.

at 8.30 we drop the hook in great harbour, jost van dyke. oh frabjous joy. it.s gonna be a classic bvi day, gorgeous. an english sailor comes over to tell us there has been a watch posted for us on the ssb (shortwave) net. either my kids getting anxious, or jeff and ellen or someone else, we don't know. we clear customs, the immigration charge is ten cents each and there is a big sign saying that jetskis can only be imported into the bvi under special license and must be declared like firearms. we must be in paradise, mon.

jost is our favourite place, very low key and undeveloped. the big attraction is foxy's a funky open restaurant bar which is yachtie heaven and has made foxy a barefoot, guitar playing multimillionaire.

carol and i go down the waterfront to foxy's for one of our typical, orgiastic celebrations after 19 or 20 days at sea,, one beer each. what is wrong with us?

but the best is yet to come. foxy's has the best bbq ribs in the world but you have to sign up for the $23 sat night buffet to get them. however, as pete seeger or ecclesiastes (i always get them confused) said,"to everything, there is a season, turn, turn, turn" and it seems that the tradewinds vanished and we were delayed for a week for the specific purpose of arriving at foxy's at the exact instant when a private party was just coming to an end and we could negotiate for grazing rights on the piles of food remaining, including tons of the ribs. for ten bucks i ate more of those ribs than any human being should. carol, the silly goofball, didn't. just pretend they're celery sticks or something. they we're incredible.

the timing was obviously also organized by various cosmic powers so that foxy would choose that moment to sing my very favourite song of his, which has cracked me up many times just thinking about it in the last 2 years since we were here. he sits there in paradise, barefoot, the endless beer nearby, money rolling in so fast he doesn't know what to do with it and sings his pro-slavery song with the immortal line, "if it weren't for slavery, my black ass would be in soweto today."

a few practical notes-except for poorer than expected windward performance, which can be improved, taio is a magnificent sea boat, she is incredibly dry, no more than a few splashes of spray on deck the whole trip, she is very stiff, heeling no more that 12-14 degrees with all sail up in 20-25 knots, steers like a dream. i am stunned by how she keeps moving in very light air. she really inspires confidence. nigel the windvane is unbelievable, he will steer an almost perfect course in anything, in nasty quartering seas, in light air downwind when windvanes are notorious for poor performance, he will hold a course until there is literally no perceptible wind.

except for the ridiculous fact of 2 gps's dying within 11 hours of each other we didn't have a single failure or breakdown, not even a trivial one.

the weather forecasting more than 300 miles off the u.s. coast was absurd. they were dramatically wrong about wind strength and direction every single day once we were away from the coast.

we never for an instant experienced the trade winds. normally we would reach them about 400 miles from here and have a great 2 1\2 day blast to here, . instead it was 7 or 8 dats of calms, slogging, drudgery and frustration, but i did get the ribs.

It's very beautiful here, hot days, cool nights, nice breeze, gorgeous bahama blue water. we'll stay for a while.

love, john and carol

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