Journals from the Atlantic - Part One: WIND
I arrived in the islands almost a week ago already, yet I’ve struggled to formulate words for this blog post. One little piece of writing cannot encompass the 1400+ nautical miles sailed or the 11 days and nights spent as a floating speck in the open ocean. During the passage, the simplest things brought joy and structure to our days, such that it’s difficult to relay their value to someone who wasn’t on the boat with us. So, please forgive my attempts at eloquence.
We untied the dock lines on a Thursday morning, waving goodbye to a crew of friends. Our sail began just as any normal sail does in Wrightsville Beach: pointing up into the wind to raise the sails, slowly cruising down Banks Channel, then rounding the red buoy at the south end of the island to sail out the inlet. Rick, a fellow captain at Soundside, escorted us out on his own boat, bringing a half dozen of my supportive friends aboard with him. It wasn’t until he turned back at the end of the jetty that it started to feel really real.
We’d had such an abrupt departure from the dock (with an audience and a bit of a time schedule to keep to), that once we were alone, it was a jump into action to stow everything breakable, run the jacklines, and harness in. The wind and swells were already building, so we were cruising under full sail almost immediately. Bella’s delivery crew consisted of me as captain, Arisa as crew and head photographer (she only had four different cameras), and my dad, who we awarded the title of “Chief Engineer.” This first day and night would prove to be quite challenging, both physically and mentally.
The three of us had a lot to adapt to. For one, the motion of the sea - though none of us got truly seasick, we all had a strong case of lethargy and loss of appetite, two early symptoms of seasickness. Secondly, we had to get used to some very unnatural sleep cycles to accommodate our rotating 3-hour shifts of night watch. The nights always felt longer than the days. That first one definitely did!
We were sailing south, hugging the coast about 40-50 nm off. Since a tropical storm was working its way north and we hadn’t really done a proper sea-trial on Bella yet, it was much safer to stay within reach of shore for a little while. As we watched the sun go down over an empty horizon for the first time, we had dolphins playing in our bow wake. A sense of excitement and anticipation laced with worry came over me as it got darker. We were flying - we had a double reef in the main and a bit of genoa furled in, yet we were still going about 8 knots through the swells. The wind was a consistent 25-30, and throughout the night a couple gusts came to 38. Everything was going just fine, but I hadn’t pushed Bella this hard before and wasn’t entirely confident in her yet. As I tried to sleep, the creaks and bangs were horribly loud in my cabin. It felt like the hulls were going to break apart with every big wave. Distinguishing between good creaks and bad was a fun little game that kept me quite awake.
Being up on the flybridge for my watch was actually much more relaxing than sleeping. I could see everything going on, rather than imagining the culprit to each loud noise down below. We had a couple squalls come through that night, showering us with rain and blasting a little stronger wind at our sails. A few big waves over the deck highlighted some leaks around the windows, too. Tape and towels were the best we could do at that point. By morning, we were all exhausted and made the decision to head into Charleston to rest and repair things.
After a lovely full night’s sleep on anchor, we were energized and ready to set out again. Calmer seas and more dolphins greeted us as we headed out towards the gulf stream. We watched the water temp slowly rise and fall, letting us know we’d made it across. By the next morning, 24 hours later, we had sailed 173 nm - a very good pace! It was smoother sailing from here onwards. These days of good wind really blurred together. We got into a rhythm. The only adjustments we made in this first week were tapping the autopilot a few degrees south as the wind shifted, and taking a reef at sundown.
Days were spent reading, journaling, napping, studying the Virgin Islands cruising guide, chatting about everything from life goals to what type of cookies we should make on Thanksgiving, and slowly growing tired of our downloaded playlists. Bursts of excitement came whenever my dad caught a fish, which he did three times during the trip! When this happened, we each had our roles: I would jump to the helm to slow us down, Arisa would document with a camera, and he would reel it in. My ambitions to do small boat tasks remained low. Such jobs would have been especially difficult in the still-very-rolly swell. Mealtimes provided the only structure to our days. For being in the middle of the ocean, we ate well! We roasted veggies, made poke bowls from fresh fish my dad caught, cooked spaghetti, and Arisa even made a very yummy (but difficult not to spill) Tom Kha soup.
Our goal was to head pretty much straight towards the USVI from Charleston. We started out strong on this heading, but slowly got pushed more and more southwards as the wind changed from E to SE. To any non-sailors, this is problematic because boats cannot sail directly into the wind…Going SE in a SE breeze requires zig zagging (tacking) back and forth, more than doubling the distance required to get to your destination. By Tuesday, we were approaching the Turks and Caicos and had a decision to make. We could tack, putting us on a NE course (ugh), or duck in and attempt a sail to windward down the island chain. After being at sea for a week, a nice little sandy anchorage in the Turks sounded pretty nice! But my gut (and brain) told me to tack and get back into the open ocean. So we did. And that explains this odd little section of our route.
My goal here was to get northeast enough to hit some lighter air (forecasted only at a certain latitude) and motor directly east as far as we could. Which we did. Without looking at a wind map, our route does appear quite odd. It was very nice to see my plan work out so well. Though I’ve been captaining for a couple years now, I haven’t been the decision-maker on a passage like this before. Each day renewed my confidence in myself, as well as in Bella.
This tack marks the second chapter of our passage and requires another blog entry. Sneak peak: its title is “CALM.”
