SCHOONER SAILING BLOG

We pass the Fastnet about 3.00am , the wind slack, and sea calm so back to motor with mains up for stability.  It is a beautiful morning to be arriving in Ireland, and our  excitement rises as we pass the familiar harbours of Baltimore, and Glandore, and countdown the headlands from  Galley Head, to Seven Heads, then the Old Head of Kinsale and the Sovereigns and Oysterhaven in sight!

What a welcome we get as we sail into the Bay - a flotilla of small boats with friends and family has gathered to welcome us in, hooting foghorns and cheering as we round up to anchor in the bay.  Ashore Sinead has organised a great welcome for us - flags and bunting and Dave cooking a fantastic barbecue where we are joined by boyfriends, girlfriends, wives and parents and former crew mates  from earlier voyages, Gerry, Scott, Paddy, Nathan, Emma and Carly.

Meanwhile Spirit lies to anchor in solitary spleandour in the bay awaiting firstly a new mooring and then her next commission!

At 2.00am the wind frees us and increases, so we can raise full sail on port tack, switch off the engine and hold our course for home.

With the sun, the wind steadily rises, as does boat speed, and with it our spirits, as we finally get the much anticipated northerlies, blowing out of a clear blue sky.

Kieran sets the bar at 8.4 knots, but the wind steadily increases to 20 knots and Lisa raises the stakes to 9.2, but not without soaking me in the cockpit!  We all enjoy a fantastic day’s sailing with yankee and both mains set full, powering along around nine knots in a moderate sea, a great climax for our last full day’s sailing.

By 10.30 pm we can make out the faint outline of land, and shortly after the loom of the Fastnet light beckons over the horizon ahead.

We are nearly home.

We motor through the night, dropping all the sails as the breeze is dead ahead.  Ivo makes himself busy in the galley cooking pancakes for everyone for breakfast - banana and maple syrup, peanut butter and nutella, and classic lemon and sugar - mouthwateringly delicious!  

By late morning the sea is calm, a gentle swell from the north and virtually no wind.  A school of dolphins busily fish ahead of us, but take no interest in riding our bow-wave.

The rippled surface of the sea is intersected with long oily slicks of calm water - miles in length - running from north east to south west in parallel lines several hundred metres apart.  Our resident oceanographers describe these as evidence of fronts, the marine cousin of weather fronts, indicating the interface between bodies of water of differing temperature and density - a consequence of approaching the continental shelf.  In the middle of one of the slicks we see the unmistakeable form of a Sperm whale, ten metres long with a mottled black skin, smooth near the front, with its characteristic bulbous head, and a nostril to the left side blowing a regular spout of spray as it swam unhurriedly along the surface.

Al climbed up to the front spreaders from where he spotted two others, and we switched off the engine and gently glided to within about ten metres of one, swimming alongside us until it arched its back in the start of a dive, displaying its full fluke before disappearing into the depths.

During the afternoon the wind comes up from the east, in defiance of the forecast, forcing us to take a more northerly course - a direction we had been pinching to achieve on the other tack in order to position ourselves for anticipated northerlies......we live in hope for tomorrow!

Our new crew myself, Alexander and 3 college friends of his Ivo, Cieran and Liza gather in Horta from flights and ferries for the next leg of the voyage.

Spirit is in great shape having been minded by Oisin and Brandon in our absence. We set to with preparations, maintenance, change oil, filter belts etc, fill up with diesel and fuel and even find time for an exploratory trip to the volcano "Capelinhos" , also the site of the most recent eruption.   

In Horta it is traditional to leave a painting on the quay and Lisa produced a mural much admired by other crews. 

By Friday night, we extracted ourselves from the knot of boats rafted to us and we were ready for an early start the following morning. 

At midnight we move the clocks forward.  The sea has calmed again and an orange gibbous moon has slowly sunk over the horizon.  A few dolphins playfully check us out, then vanish as suddenly as they appeared.  The wind veers and I am able to free Spirit, and by lunchtime we are able to set the fisherman - but not before we have to haul Emma up the mast to rerun the top sheet -  and we enjoy some beautiful sailing - silent save for the sound of water gushing along the side and a whistle in the rigging as we go over 8 knots.

A clear night encourages me to take sextant sights on the moon, mars and polaris, (putting into practice the skills John Petch taught me on a celestial crash course one afternoon in Kinsale before I left) but I let the computer do the complicated arithmetic to fix us about 30 miles off our gps position.

It is light early now, having sailed so far east.  The sky is clear save for some puffs of cumulus.  I come on watch at 6.00am and put Oisin and Brandon through their morning workout, raising and lowering sails, re-running sheets and trimming sails until we are settled for the morning breeze which hints at shifting to the east.  Gerry can smell wind. We anxiously watch the instruments as the windex moves degree by degree and knot by knot until by 9.00 am we are freed up enough to unfurl the genoa, and by afternoon we kill the engine as the sails power up and Spirit surges forward at 8.5 knots in a 20 knot breeze. Gerry's nose is vindicated!

1234 miles covered and 1234 miles to go.  We are half-way! We are joined in our celebrations by a school of dolphins who spend some time riding the bow-wave.

The weather has turned cold.  The morning brings us an uninviting steely grey ocean, the sun shimmering through layers of icy cloud.  Nathan was able to give us a detailed forecast over the sat phone, but it doesn't promise any wind.

The motoring is becoming monotonous, the throb of the engine pervasive.

The wind is not favouring us. On starboard tack we head west of Bermuda, on port we head southeast into the Sargasso Sea. Our only option is to motorsail close hauled into the light headwind. With the engine running and little deckwork to do we set to with housekeeping  and vacuum the boat, while Gerry prepares another great dinner and Brandon treats us to a desert of banana split with chocolate sauce!

Isa records the many changing colours of the sky as the sun goes down, with both the moon and venus clearly visible before sunset, and we witness a momentary green flash as it dips below the horizon.

At night the sea is calm - Oisin,  "It seems like we're just gliding through a dark void.  Emma, "Gliding through the night on wings of green, dipping into valleys of space and soaring on clouds of time."

It is much cooler now  - long trousers and fleeces in the cockpit - but the sea has calmed and the wind stays constant at about 12 knots but it is backing and heading us, forcing us West of North. With a big genoa now in place and no waves obstructing her Spirit glides effortlessly forward at 7 knots. We have all settled down to our routines, overcome any seasickness, and with time to spare enjoy each other's company relaxing in the cockpit.

A magical night under the stars inspiring Emma's log entry: " As the Southern Cross thrusts us forward with her great hips Polaris reaches down her ancient hand to draw us ever Northwards!"

Oisin's log entry at 4am: "We're flying with Brandon at the helm we are doing 8 knots in 18 knots of wind."  Clearly hallucinatng from exteme exhaustion he goes on, " As dawn arrives from the East we are greeted by another mute band of cumulus marching towards us,  a polar bear, a lobster, Godzilla in cowboy boots and the omnipresent sombrero cloud. Our own private parade preceding the sun."

In the afternoon I touch base over the sat phone speaking with Kate, getting a centre update from Sinead and weather forecast from Nathan. 

Another clear sky with no moon. Oisin saw a spectacular meteorite, a huge fireball that exploded leaving a smaller meteorite burning a trail across the sky.  A squally morning so we reef the main and furl the genoa but not enough. We heard a ripping sound as Spirit buried her bow in an oncoming swell and the low cut genoa ripped up along the foil. We quickly furled it and unfurled the yankee sailing on a close haul with a loss of about half a knot. 

Emma and I take the first watch until midnight, Jerry and Isa the "graveyard" watch from 12 - 3.00am followed by Oisin and Brandon who are on watch until 6.00am when Emma and I relieve them again. 

We enjoy our first clear starry night as Spirit cruises along steadily at 7 knots nicely balanced between genoa, foresail and main.  As the day wears on the wind starts to back and head us. Our intention is to sail north within a couple of hundred miles of Bermuda then head North East and motor through the Sargasso Sea, hoping to pick up wind again when we reach Bermuda's latitude.

I had chosen St. Barts as a calm anchorage where we could make our final preparations and inspect the hull and in doing the latter discovered why we were so slow. Colonies of barnacles had attached themselves in the 8 weeks Spirit had been laid up in the lagoon. So Oisin and Brandon joined me underwater with scrapers and wire brushes to clean off the hull and propellor while Isa swam around taking photos. 

With all our rigging inspected and safety checks completed  we finally set sail for the Azores at 6pm on a beautiful evening with a steady 18 knots of easterly winds, as the crew gathered in the cockpit for our first sunset at sea and a good dinner prepared by Brandon. Isa's camera recording every move. 

We leave the fetid heat of Simpson Bay lagoon at the opening of the bridge at 9.30 am joining a procession of departing yachts.  Jerry and I have spent the last few days in the engine room,  Emma  & Oisin provisioning for the trip  and Isa went in search of big game fishing tackle. After last minute shopping of perishables - meat, fruit and veg - and picking up Brandon from the airport, who had just flown in from the USA, we spent a rolly night at anchorage before setting off on our shakedown sail to St. Barts late in the afternoon. Although a difficult beat to windward and against a prevailing current we made tortuously slow progress and arrived at the anchorage after nightfall.