Peter and I departed from Cape Lookout Bight at 9 a.m. on Saturday morning, along with a few other boats heading south, and arrived at the Municipal Marina in St. Augustine at 2 p.m. yesterday afternoon. We were able to sail almost all the way; we just turned on the engine for a couple of hours off the Florida coast to ensure that we made it in before squalls started. I stood watch as much as I could. Actually, the second night I would have been able, despite the tedium, to stay up for four to six hours, but Peter only slept for two hours, and I didn't see any sense in two of us watching nothing.
Here's what it like being on watch at night, particularly when there is no moon. I look out in all directions and see nothing but the dark surface of the water, punctuated, depending on the conditions, with white caps or high waves. (They got up to ten feet on the second night.) The stars make a lovely canopy, if it's not cloudy, which it was. I monitor our position on the chart and look at the radar, where blips would appear if anything else was out there. There usually wasn't. I check the depth, which ranged from 20 to 30 meters as we sailed over the Continental Shelf, not really expecting a problem since we were anywhere from five to 25 miles off the coast. I watch the instruments to know the true and apparent wind and the direction and check the angle of the boat in relation to the apparent wind. I adjust the course in relation to the direction of the wind and in response to gusts. The boat is sailing on auto-pilot, so I don't need to stand at the wheel. I can check the electronic charts for the name, type, location and course of other vessels, if there are any, using AIS (Automatic Identification System). I usually search for company in vain. In addition to using all the instruments, I pay attention to the noise of the sails and the rigging and how much we are heeling over to help me keep a good angle to the wind and not let the sails be overpowered or luff. Sometimes, the wind is consistent in speed and direction, and there is absolutely nothing to do. On this last leg of our journey, it was variable, so I had to hit the starboard or port button on the auto-pilot a few times an hour, but that was the only action required. Maybe this seems like a lot to do, but it is not. The instruments are all arrayed above the companionway, and the full electronic chart on the screen at the navigation table can be seen from there. If conditions are steady, it is pretty boring. If conditions are challenging, then Peter takes over and I stay to help if necessary.
If you don't sail or if you only day sail, it may be hard to imagine what it is like being out to sea for 52 hours (or longer!). Most people have flown some distance, so I will make an analogy. You take off and after a short while you catch the last glimpse of land you will see for two days. You will be over the ocean most of the time, sometimes in clear skies but just as often in the clouds, so visibility is limited. Having a window seat is not that advantageous. The plane is large and the seating is comfortable, but the pilot chooses to fly at a 15 degree angle to horizontal the whole time, so you have to brace yourself even when you are seated. Even if you are flying first class and have a bed, you have to put up lee sheets vertical to the sides of the bed so you don't roll out. And it is just too much trouble to change out of your clothes, so you wear the same thing for the entire flight, whether you are awake or sleeping. Using the bathroom is a bit of a challenge. When you choose to move around, you need to do so cautiously, finding things to hold on to as you make your way from one space to another. You need to wear a couple of layers, because the temperature is around 55 or 60 degrees Fahrenheit, and, depending on where you are, the ventilation is blowing cold air directly on you. And then there is turbulence. The plane rises up and drops down, sometimes with a resounding thump. First class, with the comfortable if slanting beds, is in the front, and you can feel and hear the turbulence more there. The galley is fully stocked, but you have to prepare and serve your own food while bracing yourself againt the angle of flight. (You eat mostly snack food.) No one is coming down the aisle collecting trash. There is no wi-fi or cellular service, so you are disconnected from the world. You didn't think to add songs to your iTunes library before departure, so you are listening to the same limited playlist of your favorite tunes, which, by the end of the trip, you never want to hear again. There is a small library on the plane, but you find that you have already recently read all the selections. Besides, the motion and tilt of the plane combined with reading tend to cause you to develop motion sickness. Your seatmate agrees to play a game of cards with you, but looking at his cards for long makes him a bit nauseous. (And he beats you!) You wonder when it all will ever end.
I have always been an advocate for enjoying the journey rather than focusing only on the destination, but passagemaking is an exception. Do astronauts enjoy the the journey to the moon the whole time? I wonder.
We survived another passage, though. We hadn't really taken into account whether the tide would be ebbing or flooding at the St. Augustine Inlet, and we probably should have, although I don't think we were prepared to wait offshore for it to change. The shoals of the inlet shift over time, so charts may not be accurate. It can be tricky. On our electronic chart, Peter tracked the course of a boat entering the inlet before us, and we followed his course. As we turned at the first marker at the entrance, Peter spotted a sailboat coming out. I went down below to contact them by radio to confirm a port-to-port passing. In that short amount of time, the effects of the strong ebbing current on the waves from the northwest manifested themselves. We were rising up on 10-12 foot waves and then surfing down them at an acute angle. Peter was manhandling the wheel and had the presence of mind to go full throttle. As I popped up, quietly asking "What's happening?" I saw us sliding down a wave, heading toward the outgoing boat. We missed them barely and managed to pass port-to-port, but it was harrowing for a minute or so. That was perhaps Peter's most exciting moment at the wheel so far in our years of sailing.
Now we are safely docked. Even though I was tired after we tied up, I couldn't stand the mess that had accumulated or how dirty the boat had become in a few days. Immediately, I attacked the chaos, whipping things into shape, doing two days worth of dishes and cleaning the bathroom and all the flat surfaces.
Paula and Andrew took a cruise ship from Freeport, Grand Bahama, yesterday and rented a car to drive up the coast. We met them for dinner at the Columbia restaurant last night, where we enjoyed great tapas. They are moving on board today and sailing with us down the coast and across to Lucaya. Peter is working on things on the boat, Andrew is exploring the old city of St. Augustine, I am doing laundry and Paula is shopping this afternoon. As soon as the last load is done, I will remake the beds with the new quilts and shams that were shipped here via Amazon, and then I will explore the town and, I hope, find a new pair of flip flops. The ones I bought over a year ago at Walmart in Idaho Falls during our solar eclipse trip have served me well, but the strap is separating from the sole on one of them.
There are pelicans and gulls flying around, and there is always at least egret on the docks. The marina is right by the picturesque old city and fort, so it is a great base for exploration. Just waiting for the laundry!!!
Here's what it like being on watch at night, particularly when there is no moon. I look out in all directions and see nothing but the dark surface of the water, punctuated, depending on the conditions, with white caps or high waves. (They got up to ten feet on the second night.) The stars make a lovely canopy, if it's not cloudy, which it was. I monitor our position on the chart and look at the radar, where blips would appear if anything else was out there. There usually wasn't. I check the depth, which ranged from 20 to 30 meters as we sailed over the Continental Shelf, not really expecting a problem since we were anywhere from five to 25 miles off the coast. I watch the instruments to know the true and apparent wind and the direction and check the angle of the boat in relation to the apparent wind. I adjust the course in relation to the direction of the wind and in response to gusts. The boat is sailing on auto-pilot, so I don't need to stand at the wheel. I can check the electronic charts for the name, type, location and course of other vessels, if there are any, using AIS (Automatic Identification System). I usually search for company in vain. In addition to using all the instruments, I pay attention to the noise of the sails and the rigging and how much we are heeling over to help me keep a good angle to the wind and not let the sails be overpowered or luff. Sometimes, the wind is consistent in speed and direction, and there is absolutely nothing to do. On this last leg of our journey, it was variable, so I had to hit the starboard or port button on the auto-pilot a few times an hour, but that was the only action required. Maybe this seems like a lot to do, but it is not. The instruments are all arrayed above the companionway, and the full electronic chart on the screen at the navigation table can be seen from there. If conditions are steady, it is pretty boring. If conditions are challenging, then Peter takes over and I stay to help if necessary.
If you don't sail or if you only day sail, it may be hard to imagine what it is like being out to sea for 52 hours (or longer!). Most people have flown some distance, so I will make an analogy. You take off and after a short while you catch the last glimpse of land you will see for two days. You will be over the ocean most of the time, sometimes in clear skies but just as often in the clouds, so visibility is limited. Having a window seat is not that advantageous. The plane is large and the seating is comfortable, but the pilot chooses to fly at a 15 degree angle to horizontal the whole time, so you have to brace yourself even when you are seated. Even if you are flying first class and have a bed, you have to put up lee sheets vertical to the sides of the bed so you don't roll out. And it is just too much trouble to change out of your clothes, so you wear the same thing for the entire flight, whether you are awake or sleeping. Using the bathroom is a bit of a challenge. When you choose to move around, you need to do so cautiously, finding things to hold on to as you make your way from one space to another. You need to wear a couple of layers, because the temperature is around 55 or 60 degrees Fahrenheit, and, depending on where you are, the ventilation is blowing cold air directly on you. And then there is turbulence. The plane rises up and drops down, sometimes with a resounding thump. First class, with the comfortable if slanting beds, is in the front, and you can feel and hear the turbulence more there. The galley is fully stocked, but you have to prepare and serve your own food while bracing yourself againt the angle of flight. (You eat mostly snack food.) No one is coming down the aisle collecting trash. There is no wi-fi or cellular service, so you are disconnected from the world. You didn't think to add songs to your iTunes library before departure, so you are listening to the same limited playlist of your favorite tunes, which, by the end of the trip, you never want to hear again. There is a small library on the plane, but you find that you have already recently read all the selections. Besides, the motion and tilt of the plane combined with reading tend to cause you to develop motion sickness. Your seatmate agrees to play a game of cards with you, but looking at his cards for long makes him a bit nauseous. (And he beats you!) You wonder when it all will ever end.
I have always been an advocate for enjoying the journey rather than focusing only on the destination, but passagemaking is an exception. Do astronauts enjoy the the journey to the moon the whole time? I wonder.
We survived another passage, though. We hadn't really taken into account whether the tide would be ebbing or flooding at the St. Augustine Inlet, and we probably should have, although I don't think we were prepared to wait offshore for it to change. The shoals of the inlet shift over time, so charts may not be accurate. It can be tricky. On our electronic chart, Peter tracked the course of a boat entering the inlet before us, and we followed his course. As we turned at the first marker at the entrance, Peter spotted a sailboat coming out. I went down below to contact them by radio to confirm a port-to-port passing. In that short amount of time, the effects of the strong ebbing current on the waves from the northwest manifested themselves. We were rising up on 10-12 foot waves and then surfing down them at an acute angle. Peter was manhandling the wheel and had the presence of mind to go full throttle. As I popped up, quietly asking "What's happening?" I saw us sliding down a wave, heading toward the outgoing boat. We missed them barely and managed to pass port-to-port, but it was harrowing for a minute or so. That was perhaps Peter's most exciting moment at the wheel so far in our years of sailing.
Now we are safely docked. Even though I was tired after we tied up, I couldn't stand the mess that had accumulated or how dirty the boat had become in a few days. Immediately, I attacked the chaos, whipping things into shape, doing two days worth of dishes and cleaning the bathroom and all the flat surfaces.
Paula and Andrew took a cruise ship from Freeport, Grand Bahama, yesterday and rented a car to drive up the coast. We met them for dinner at the Columbia restaurant last night, where we enjoyed great tapas. They are moving on board today and sailing with us down the coast and across to Lucaya. Peter is working on things on the boat, Andrew is exploring the old city of St. Augustine, I am doing laundry and Paula is shopping this afternoon. As soon as the last load is done, I will remake the beds with the new quilts and shams that were shipped here via Amazon, and then I will explore the town and, I hope, find a new pair of flip flops. The ones I bought over a year ago at Walmart in Idaho Falls during our solar eclipse trip have served me well, but the strap is separating from the sole on one of them.
There are pelicans and gulls flying around, and there is always at least egret on the docks. The marina is right by the picturesque old city and fort, so it is a great base for exploration. Just waiting for the laundry!!!
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| Great egret and snowy egret by Mantra |
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