Log of the Rubicon

Dolphins.LOG OF RUBICON’S TRANSATLANTIC VOYAGE

By Michael de Angeli

Prologue: In March 2009, I was asked by Peter Bourke to help him and Bill Biewenga deliver Peter’s Outbound 44 Rubicon from Newport to Plymouth, England, so that Peter could compete in the OSTAR (for Observer’s Single-handed Transatlantic Race), that is, sail her back to Newport alone. The OSTAR is famous among sailors as one of the toughest ocean races; it is typically upwind the entire distance, and one has either to take a northern route and likely encounter ice and fog, or go south and fight the Gulf Stream. The list of winners includes all the famous singlehanders, Tabarly, Chichester, Weld, Hasler, and many others. Just completing such a sail is a major accomplishment.
I was encouraged to take the trip by a combination of factors. I’d always wanted to make a transatlantic passage, but had no immediate prospects of getting a suitable boat. I had been impressed with the Outbound yachts at the Newport Boat Show a few years back, and had even gone on a test sail, so I knew that Rubicon would be ideal for the trip. I didn’t know Peter well, having met him through Vicki’s having helped him to buy a condo in Newport, but he seemed a decent sort with whom I could get along for three or four weeks in a small space. Having Bill Biewenga, a noted weather expert and highly experienced skipper along would give us the best possible leadership. So the circumstances seemed as favorable as could be.
The trip was expected to take about 25 days, and the route planned was to leave Newport and go generally SE across the Gulf Stream, then to go east at about 39 degrees N latitude; this would take us within about 150 miles of the Azores, to provide a stopping point if needed.
The following is a lightly-edited version of a daily email log I sent home for distribution to a list of interested parties, having had some photos added.

Tuesday April 21, 2009
Time - 1000 hrs
Position - 41° 33’ N, 71° 22.5’ W - that is, still at home.
Weather - Drizzle, minimal breeze
Sea state - N/A
This trip has been a great example of the “hurry-up-and-wait” sort of occurrence that is so typical of boat trips. The books all say not to rush a trip because of outside scheduling matters, but wait for a favorable weather window, and we have certainly taken that advice. We were originally planning to leave last Wednesday, then it was Saturday, and now it is going to be tomorrow - assuming things don’t change again, that is. However, now the weather gods look friendly and we look forward to a reasonably smooth crossing of the Gulf Stream, the big obstacle. It also looks as if we will be able to shorten the trip somewhat by not needing to go so far south, and may yet get to England in good time.
Having had all this free time has been a bit of a bonus, as I have been able to get a lot of chores done here that had been postponed, albeit while climbing the walls with adrenaline, of course. And Peter Bourke, the owner, has satisfied himself as to the myriad of boat-related details that had to be attended to; the boat is fully provisioned, everything works, at least for the time being, and we should all be well rested.
Hopefully I shall have a more interesting report for you in a day or two!
Thanks for your interest and support,
Mike

Friday April 24 Time 1117 Position 40 deg 17 min N, 69 deg 57 W - that is, about 65 nm S of Nantucket.
Wind 10 - 12 from the W, waves light, course 144, speed 6.4. Sunny and about 55. We need to go a little more east to hit the Gulf Stream at the optimum point but can't quite get there with this breeze; hopefully the wind will go a little S, or we will jibe in another 10 - 12 hours. We just checked the 48 hour and 96 hour surface pressure predictions and things look favorable.
We finally made it out of the harbor at 1630 yesterday. We had been all set to go Wednesday PM, to the point of shuttling the cars to their proper places, when we got an urgent call about the weather and so deferred to yesterday. I was all packed, I had said my goodbyes and we wanted to make an early start, so I just stayed on the boat and spent the evening familiarizing myself with its systems, the contents of The crew of the Rubicon ready to sail across the Atlantic.the many lockers, and so on. I got up at 6 with the sun and looked out the window to find a wild scene - a huge fire in one of the building at New England Boatworks, where the boat had been prepared. There were fire trucks all over, hoses running everywhere, smoke billowing out (fortunately blowing away from the boats as it was evil-smelling stuff), guys at the ends of long truck ladders spraying water on the adjacent buildings to prevent the fire from spreading. I walked over and learned that the fire had started in the stockroom building, where all the paints, resins, acetone and other highly flammable stuff was stored. No wonder there was a lot of smoke.
Eventually it became clear that the firemen had it under control so I went back to the boat to make coffee and wait for Peter and Bill, who did not show up on time. Eventually a young cop came and found me and told me they were evacuating the whole yard as it been declared a hazmat area! He gave me a ride out to the gate, where I gave a statement of ignorance to a detective and met Peter and Bill, who of course had been refused entry. We dispersed to make alternative plans to get aboard the boat somehow.
Ultimately we really lucked out, as a couple we'd met who have the same model boat and had somehow avoided being evacuated were able to get aboard and deliver the boat to the next-door yard, where we fueled and eventually got underway.
I had the watch from 1800 to 2100, with plenty of company for the first couple of hours, and then from 0300 to 0600 today. Apart from being rather cold it was quite nice, very clear and moonless. I saw the Milky Way for the first time since I was a child and it was quite a sight. I was almost sorry when the sun came up and the stars disappeared. We started with a triple-reefed main and Solent jib and have worked gradually up to a full main and Genoa. Peter in order to practice for his single-handed return is doing most of the sailhandling work and I can't say I mind.
Life on the boat thus far is pretty comfortable; the boat has a nice steady ride, doesn't roll or pitch much, is hardly heeled so walking is not difficult, and we have been able to do rudimentary cooking - had some of Vicki's lovingly-prepared meat loaf last night (highly successful) and I made bacon and scrambled eggs today. It's not like at home, though, the bacon was Canadian and the eggs beaters. No toaster, either. Still, not a bad way to keep oneself alive for another few hours. Losing weight however will not be difficult on this trip...
2100 hours - bedtime after a long day - but a glorious sail, 7.5 - 9 all day long in winds of 20 - 27, broad reaching. A bit rolly as the waves were 6 - 8 on the starboard quarter, but the boat rides beautifully and the autopilot is very reliable. Latest issue is the genset quit - probably got a bubble in the fuel since the filters looks OK. We'll bleed it in the morning and try again. Meanwhile we’re charging using the main engine, which works but is less efficient. It's always something with these #$%^ing boats!

April 25 Things are OK here...sort of. It is a beautiful day, much warmer than it had been, but there is no breeze so we are motoring along. No breeze means no waves, so the ride is smooth. We are now at 39 deg 37 minutes N, 67 deg 08 min W, or maybe 300 miles south of Nova Scotia. We are already seeing the warmer water from the Gulf Stream but aren't in it yet.
The problem is I discovered this AM that one of our two 100 gallon freshwater tanks is empty, probably due to a leak somewhere. The other is full, and if we're careful gives us enough water to make the trip. The usual rule of thumb is 1 gal/day/person, so 100 gals should be ample for the 19 or so days remaining, if nothing else goes wrong. Plus we have about 40 gal in various containers. Still, not a good thing. When Bill gets up from his nap we will get into the plumbing further and try to diagnose the problem, then we'll be able to determine whether it is safe to go to England or whether we need to think about our alternatives.
Things got worse here when the second 100 - gal tank went dry. We have just enough water in bottles and such to make the Azores if we limit ourselves to drinking only - no washing except in salt water, etc. We also have a lot of fruit and veggies so it shouldn't be too onerous. I was given the option of deciding whether we should go there or Bermuda or return - the direct shot to England is out of the question now - but I couldn't do anything but agree to the Azores without destroying Peter's dream of doing the OSTAR and of course I couldn't do that. Always wanted to see the place anyway.

Sunday April 26, 1016
Position N 39 deg 14 min, W 62 deg 45 min - 475 miles out of Newport, about 1500 to the Azores. We are flying along on a close reach in 25 knots true out of the SW and making 9.5 through the water, 10.9 over the ground, having apparently picked up the edge of the Gulf Stream - we expect to be in it fully in about 125 miles. Waves are about 6 - 8 feet and every now and then one slews the boat quite a bit as we slide down its face. Thank God and Raymarine for a reliable autopilot. We were considering trying out the windvane but it is a little too exciting to start playing with a new toy - maybe in a couple of days when things are supposed to be more settled. Water temp is 60.3, up from 39 (!) leaving Newport - that was a cold night. By comparison for my midnight to 0300 watch last night I needed neither hat nor gloves.
Re: the water situation, as I said Peter gave me veto power about continuing but I really didn't hesitate - it would have been awful to spoil his dream, and I would have felt like a wimp too. We should be fine as we are being very careful - no cooking with water, no washing of clothes, but there is enough to drink - 2 liters/day/man plus quite a bit of Gatorade, in juiceboxes (!), as well as bottles, V-8, etc. Fortunately we sleep in our clothes so you don't often realize how bad you smell. After I get off watch at 1200 I will clean myself up insofar as possible with baby wipes and put on fresh clothes - I think I have enough to do so once more before the Azores and then we can do wash.
We have definitely gotten into the routine. You do your watch, sleep for 3 - 4 hours, get up and read, cook, talk. I have had quite a weather lesson from Bill. Every day we get new chart showing the surface pressure and one showing the variation in water temp that shows us where the Stream is and then pick a course to stay below the lows and above the highs, thus getting continued westerly breeze and relatively flat water. The nice thing about this being a delivery is that if the wind doesn't suit us for sailing we can just motor - quite a nice option.
My first night watch was neat - the stars and Milky Way were out and then I saw the dawn, which was very cool. The next day's there was a bit of "what have I gotten myself into?" But last night's was not bad at all - I guess this is what chilling out means, a rather novel sensation for me.
We are even eating pretty well - last night I made a salad, including lettuce, tomatoes, carrots, apples, tuna, cheese, and green pepper. I wouldn't order that as a main course on a bet at home but out here it was pretty tasty, used up some fresh stuff, and was an easy cleanup to boot. We can only rinse dishes in salt water and let them drain, so this is a real plus. Peter made us scrambled eggs this AM which were really good, but somebody ought to come up with an industrial application for the adhesiveness of scrambled eggs to a grooved Teflon pan - calling this stuff non-stick is grossly misleading.
Hope all are well at home - see you in a few weeks. Thanks for your interest and support - Mike
PS - since I started this note SOG is now 11+ and sea temp is up to 64. Mavbe we will be in the Stream sooner than we thought. If this holds up we will have a fast trip!

Breakfast al fresco.

0600 Sunday April 26 and we are hauling along at 9.5 knots - this boat really goes well when there's some breeze - about 20 knots, on a broad reach, the fastest point of sail. It's a little gray but the sun seems to be trying to come out. We should be in the Gulf Stream in an hour or so and that promises to be exciting; then we have to skirt a new low pressure system a day or so to the east.

Monday April 27 - 1022 Position 38 deg 33 min N, 58 deg 32 W, 662 miles out, about 1430 to the Azores. We are close reaching at 8+ in a N breeze of 25 or so, with the Stream helping with another knot or so, directly toward the Azores, so we're making good time. Yesterday's run was 188 miles; 200 is considered quite advertisable for boats of this class, so that's good. Sails up now are triple-reefed main and reefed Solent; making all those changes gave Peter a good bit of practice working on a wet, occasionally sprayed, seesawing foredeck. He is very careful and deliberate and should be fine. It is just a question of learning the correct sequence of steps for each of the procedures. Seas are about 6 - 8 so the ride is a little rolly, but not too bad. The sun is out and the wind is expected to die down this PM, so when the seas flatten out a bit we will try to figure out why the genset quit last night. It pretty much has to be a fuel issue - that's the only reason a diesel stops running apart from catastrophic failure - so hopefully bleeding it will cure the problem. As it is now we are charging the batteries using the main engine which is OK but not as efficient. We will probably have to motor a good bit of the way to the Azores so we have to be careful of fuel.
As to personal concerns I will simply say that my scruff is now beyond the Hollywood-style two-day look (not that you see it often in white!) and well into the Walmart Christmas greeter stage. Nice. Seriously, things are fine; getting used to catnaps whenever possible, the water situation is well in hand - we even had a fine vintage fruit punch Gatorade with our dinner last night - I am getting to enjoy the night watches, even when, as last night, there wasn't anything to see but the instruments, watching for a sudden increase or shift in the wind, which would have necessitated the sail and course changes made later. The anticipated shift came after I went off watch at 2100; I was made aware of it when I was nearly spilled out of bed by the gybe!
Cheers to all,
Mike

Tuesday April 28 0900 EDT
Pos 38 deg 50 N, 55 deg 23 W
Close hauled under full sail (at last!) in N breeze at 12 -15. Waves 4 - 6 but well spaced, so much less roll. Making 6.5 - 8 through the water, slightly less over the ground - must be in an eddy.
This is the nicest sailing day we've had so far. I was on watch last night from 2100 - midnight, and was actually having to sail the boat, i.e., changing course to keep the wind where the sails wanted it, as it kept going forward and then coming back. Also it was varying between 12 and 24 knots, so it would have been premature to shake out any reefs; we were under triple-reefed main and reefed Solent for two days as the wind was 25 - 30, with gusts to 35. Overnight the wind dropped somewhat, and Peter and Bill gradually increased sail until at 0600 we had one reef in the main and the genoa mostly rolled out. Since then I've unrolled the genoa fully and Peter and I shook out the last reef in the main. This finally approximates the usual Bay sailing, where you're really working on the sail trim to make progress upwind. Fun after four days of mostly "set it and forget it".
Our course for the Azores, now 1285 miles off (this is very approximate as the island chain is several days' sail wide and we haven't yet put in the chip that will allow us to pick an exact waypoint) is 108 deg magnetic. We could steer that course easily, giving us a slightly broader reach, which would be faster, but we are staying close-hauled to put some northing in the bank and keep the "Southern option” open, as Bill Biewenga puts it.
I have spent a lot of time talking to Bill and have learned a lot; I had read a lot before re the weather, but there is nothing like looking at the maps and then making decisions to bring that abstract knowledge home. Basically, in the North Atlantic winter weather pattern, you get a series of extratropical lows coming off New England/ Maritimes, and these track generally easterly. At the same time you have a series of subtropical highs, in a lower-latitude band. The wind in lows is counterclockwise, and in highs is clockwise. So, if you pass between the lows on your port and the highs on your starboard, you will get a series of westerlies, which is what you want when you're sailing east. The trick is to thread the needle and stay below the lows proper and avoid the worst of the weather. That's why we are keeping some northing in the bank, so we can go S if a low appears in front of us. Of course, it is not that simple; the N breeze we are seeing now is flowing from between a high behind and a low in front of use, both well to the north.
Bill is really an impressive sailor - he figures he has done 400,000 sea miles, 25,000 just last year, which is further than I drove my car! This is his 37th transatlantic passage. In one of his early ones, a solo passage on an Open 60 from Plymouth UK to Newport (coincidentally Peter's route in the OSTAR) the weather was so bad he didn't get out of his foulies for eleven days (ick!) and couldn't leave the cockpit for three, living on water, peanut butter and Rye-Vita. This was what convinced him he had to learn more about the weather, and, of course, now he is a world-recognized guru in taking meterological data and turning it into route-planning advice for sailors. Sometimes he goes along, as now; on others, such as Steve Fossett's solo run in the Route du Rhum (France to Guadalupe, if I recall correctly) he closets himself in his house for the duration and is online and on the phone with advice 24/7.
Well, the seas have flattened, making chores possible. I spent my first hour cleaning the galley, cockpit and head as best I could using salt water and a sponge. "A lick and a promise", as my mother would say, but way better than nothing. Now it's time to make coffee and a real breakfast for the first time in a couple of days. Bill does the weather and makes the calls, I do the cooking - not as important but appreciated just the same.
Cheers, Mike
1244 April 29

Position 39 deg 11 min N, 51 deg 18 W Doing close to 9 knots over the ground, 10's and a few 11's through the water, course 110, in 22 - 30 WSW, waves 6 -10, double-reefed main and 70% furled genoa. At this rate we will be halfway to the Azores by 4 PM, and as we passed Castle Hill last Thursday at 6 PM, that projects to twelve days for the trip - very good time for 2100 miles. Of course the wind is not expected to last so we shall probably have to motor later in the week, and then our max is about 7.5. England will be another six or seven days from there.
Peter and I were fantasizing that ideally we would arrive Horta in the morning, giving us a day to get all the things done that need to be done, have a long shower, do the wash, get a decent meal, and then get going the next day. Of course, even apart from the coincidence of us finishing such a trip just when we'd like to, the departure is also probably wishful thinking, as a weather window must be found. The idea is to catch the SE side of a low and ride it NE'ly to the English Channel. We shall see; no sense making any reservations just yet. However, it does look good for us to get Peter to Plymouth in time for the start of his race home, and that was the goal.
Conditions are rather boisterous at the moment, with big waves throwing the boat off course constantly and rolling her 10 - 20 degrees to either side. Fortunately it is a warm sunny day. Bill is on deck giving Peter a primer on hand-steering, which will be good practice for him - it is a tricky business. I continue to be impressed with the boat; despite all the motion it is never sharp or snappish, and you can feel things happen in time to hang on. Every now and then there is a "Thump!' when the bow hits a wave head-on, but it is uncommon enough that you notice it; on some boats, which "pound", it is a constant drumbeat and very tiresome. And whether we are watching or not, she just keeps plowing ahead; it is very confidence-inspiring.
Standing one's watch at night is especially interesting. Our scheme is 3 hours on, 6 off, so one day you have 2100-midnight, next midnight - 0300, the next day 300-600. We are now so far east that the sun sets by 1800 and rises abour 0500 (Bill doesn't believe in resetting the ship's time as we pass time zones for some reason.) All are exciting in that you simply fly through the darkness, the wake streaming by, occasional waves breaking. Last nght the moon was up for a couple of hours and that is always pretty on the water. Later I watched the constellation rotate around the North Star, and watched Venus rise. And of course watching the Sun come up on the water is really neat.
For this trip I was advised to discard my standard uniform of T-shirt, flannel shirt, and jeans in favor of the modern technical clothing, and I would certainly endorse this advice. Out here one is constantly a little too cool and then a lot too warm, but it just isn't as much of an annoyance as it would have been with traditional fabrics. You stay dry, and that is a huge help. [Endorsement opportunities available.]
All for now - Cheers, Mike

2107 Wednesday 4/29.
Position 39 deg 1 min N, 49 deg 47 min W. going 8.4 over the ground at 115 deg M in 18 - 22 from the N. Just over 1000 miles to Horta, more than halfway.
Just got off watch. We had had a prediction that the wind was going to go from WSW where it had been for several days, to N around 8, so we jibed just before dark. This is a complicated proposition since, because the boat has an inner forestay, you have to: roll up the genoa; take the backstay forward and secure it; remove the preventer; jibe the main; and then reverse the previous steps. Good thing we did it, though; the shift arrived right on time, with gusts to 34, rain, and clouds. But being ready, with two reefs in the main and a partial jib, we just reached off and gradually came back up to course as possible. Speeds were 8's and 9's with a few 10's - this boat really goes well. The waves have even quieted so there isn't even much of a roll. Crossed the 50th parallel during all this.
A small bird a long way from home has taken refuge under the dodger, doubtless grateful for the shelter; that's fine but we don't want him/her inside, obviously, so we have to keep the hatch shut. No big deal.
Thanks to all for your nice emails, interest, and support. Talk to you in a couple of weeks. Cheers, Mike


2154 Thursday April 30
Position 39 deg 16 min N, 45 deg 59 min W, speed 7.5 - 9 in 16 - 23 kts from the N, course 092 Waves 2 - 4, cold and cloudy
We have been doing 7 - 9.5 through the water all day on a close reach, and now are essentially close-hauled. The breeze is so steady the autopilot can easilly keep the boat very close to the wind. Now we're hammering along in the dark. These speeds feel fast during the day - I don't think I've been on anything less than a 12-meter that goes so fast - but at night it is really something. You sit hunched in a corner of the cockpit under the dodger to stay out of the wind; it's probably about 55 F out, and with an apparent wind of close to 25, it's really cold. And from time to time there is a "whump" when the boat hits a wave just so and a blast of spray bursts over the back of the boat. You watch the foam rush by like a spring-swollen river and just pray the autopilot keeps working, because you sure don't want to try to hand steer the boat; fifteen minutes of that would leave me looking for a bracer, and those are still five days off in Horta. Keep your fingers crossed...
Life heeled over at twenty degrees presents another set of challenges. Just typing this I have to wedge my leg under the nav desk so I don't fly off the seat, and have to type one-handed because the mouse wants to jump off the desk. Cooking is another fun thing. Tonight I made a variant of my well-known Chicken Provencale; the variations included having to use precooked teriyaki chicken instead of parts, lack of white wine and various spices, and so forth. The main difference was I had to cut the chicken up ahead of time, as for a child, because you can't cut it in your cereal bowl while you're holding onto the bowl; you're a hand short. Anyway it came out rather gumbo-like, but everybody appreciated it and at least we got through dinner without the pan flying off the stove. The whole prep process is like that; you have to wedge yourself into the galley so you can have both hands free to cut things up, everything has to be braced or put in the sink so it doesn't slide off onto the floor, we have a beautiful gimbaled three burner gas stove, except that there's only one set of pot holders, and they only reach the smaller burner, so you have to cook things in stages, the contents of the fridge are all in a heap at the leeward bottom corner...
But I'm not complaining, really I'm not. This truly is a priceless experience..and it will certainly make me appreciate the comforts of home all the more.
Thanks for all the funny emails. Nothing like a letter from home. Keep 'em coming - Cheers, Mike

Friday May 1, 1903 EDT. Pos 39 deg 32 N, 42 deg 35 W.
Closehauled in 22 - 28 true from the N, making 115 over the ground, under reefed Solent jib and triple-reefed main.
Very wet and windy. They say "gentlemen don't sail to weather " and this is why. Heel is more than before making life interesting - you have to brace yourself with a foot against a vertical surface, hard, even when sitting down. Sleeping of course you just curl up against a cabinet or something. If you're tired enough, you can sleep despite the motion and the sound. Pretty wild. But it doesn't feel dangerous, just awkward.
Peter Bourke, the boat's owner, is in training for a single-handed race back from England - that's why we're going there - and so he does most of the work that takes one out of the cockpit. That way he gets to figure out all the best way to do things, especially where to clip on his harness. Bill has been coaching him on all sorts of stuff that you don't see in the magazines, like: the boom is trying to kill you, just like the ocean; always face forward so you see the waves coming, and stay on the balls of your feet; clip on so that if you fall you fall on the boat (getting oneself back onboard while hanging from a tether would be extremely difficult, but I expect self-preservation would let you do extraordinary things. I don't intend to test this theory personally). I give Peter a great deal of credit for taking this on. He is my age, rather slight, very diffident about his sailing abilites, and yet he wants to give himself a really tough test. A brave man and one not easily intimidated by a huge task. His lot coming home will be ten times worse than our trip over - sleep in catnaps, upwind the whole way, and nobody to turn to. Even the simplest of sail-handling tasks are complicated by having to run back and forth.
We are now 1456 miles out of Newport and have about 650 to go to the Azores. Unfortunately, there is a new low in our path, which is gving us all this wind, and it may slow us up some. But the rations are holding out well, the boat is just an amazing sailing machine, and we'll get there sooner or later - wet, cold, and weary, but we'll get there. I can hear the music and smell the beer already!
Cheers, Mike

Peter driving.1402, May 2
Pos 38 55 N, 40 58 W, about 570 nm from the Azores and 1566 from Newport.
Closehauled in 20 - 24 under triple reefed main and reefed Solent jib.
Course 133 over the ground.
Last night was pretty rough. The breeze had been picking up all day and we tucked in a third reef just before dark for safety’s sake, having previously gone down to the Solent jib. It wasn't enough. Not long after the wind built to over 30 with gusts to 40, so we (Bill and Peter doing the real work) had to drop the Solent and put up the storm jib. This was quite a production of over an hour, since it hadn't been done in this sequence before, etc. Moreover, pretty much just as the job was done, the wind fell off a good bit, down to 20 - 26 (those of you who remember your high school physics will recall that the force exerted by wind goes up as the square of the velocity, so going from 20 to 40 results in four times the force) so that eased things somewhat. Unfortunately the wind also went forward, so we had to fall off by 40 degrees or so from the desired course, meaning that unless things changed again we'd be tacking. Tacking a few times is no big deal in a Tuesday afternoon Jamestown Yacht Club race, but when it adds 200 miles or so to an already long-enough trip, it is not a pleasant prospect.
Plus, it was raining, and the light on the speedo suddenly went out, so I had to spend my watch hunched over it, and adjusting the course constantly so the boat would go fast enough for the autopilot to work. After all this I went to sleep (not "bed"; that would imply a distinct upgrade) feeling not so pleased with things.
Got up at 6 and after packing my pocket with a healthful breakfast including the three main food groups of protein (beef jerky) carbs (granola bar) and dessert (chocolate) went on deck. Now we are wallowing along in 16 - 20 with a storm jib and triple reefed main, 40 degrees off course and going only 4 or 5. Plus Peter reported that the chartplotter at the helm had quit working. However, this turned out to be a simple matter of resetting the screen brightness from its night value to one visible in daylight. So that was good. Before long we had the Solent back up, and during my watch the wind lifted us by 15 degrees or so, so we are more or less back on course. Plus the sun's out, which always helps. So life is good...at least for the moment.
Note re route planning - We are getting the 48- and 96- hour charts from NOAA, and then paid reports from Commander's Weather. Bill doesn't seem to think much of Herb Hilgenberg and we don't have the isochron software.
Thanks again for all the emails and news from the outside world.
Cheers,
Mike

1617 Sunday May 3
Pos 39 deg 23 N, 38 deg 45 W. Heading 155 at 6 - 7 knots under double-reefed main and Solent jib in an SSE breeze of 12 - 14 knots. Waves small, sun out, very pleasant sailing. Azores are 447 miles away at a heading of 110; ETA is late Tuesday or early Wednesday.
For the last couple of days we have been trying hard to make northing, rather than shoot straight for the Azores, because we had been told to expect an NE breeze that would make it tough to get there from anywhere south. We had also anticipated the SSE breeze we are now experiencing. Today's weather report however says the SSE will continue for a couple of days and the NE will not materialize after all. So much for custom weather reports and routing advice. For most of today, from about 0430, we have been heading NE, and have just tacked to take the long leg to the SSW next. We will then have to tack again in a day or two, unless of course the weather changes again. That's the nature of sailing.
The good news is that it is nice sailing, no big heel, no big waves, so I plan to do something a little more ambitious than simply heat up a prefab dinner tonight, as I've been obliged to do for the last few days. It gives me something to do. Peter even made us a nice breakfast of corned beef, eggbeaters, and english muffins today, enjoyed alfresco. It even was warm enough to go short-sleeved for a little while.
On the subject of filling time, I had thought perhaps I would have time to do some writing, apart from these emails, but that really hasn't panned out. For one thing you really have to be ready to go at a moment's notice; for another, there is only one place to sit at a desk and plug into a power source, and it is full. You can read a book at a substantial angle of heel because that only requires two hands, but unless your computer is fastened down somehow you can't use it. So that hasn't worked out. I have had time to do some reading; when I'm on watch I usually read and look up every couple of minutes to check the instruments and the sails. There's a cozy spot under the dodger where one can do this and see the masthead fly without getting up. Then every 30 minutes or so I scan the horizon for shipping (less than one/day out here). At night I wear my headlamp, a very useful tool, to read by.
Re shipping, someone was asking about radar - we have it, of course, but we don't keep it on, because it burns a lot of power and who wants to spend their watch staring at a blank screen? We do have very useful new-tech device called an AIS, for Automatic Identification System. Under a recent law big ships have to carry a transponder and receiving device, and we have this as well. When a ship comes within ten miles, an alarm sounds and the computer then gives you a screen showing the name of this ship, its bearing, range, course, and speed, and calculates the closest point of approach. This works very well and we've confirmed by radio that the other ships see us as well; they often don't see small boats on radar, so this is definitely an improvement.
Did finally see some wildlife - got up at dawn a couple of days ago and found a handsome little fish on the side deck - it gave me quite a start! Bill thought it might be a marlin. Then yesterday we saw a couple of dolphins jumping alongside; they apparently like to play in the bow wave, and hung around for five minutes or so, then took off. Very attractive animals and clearly they were having fun.
Peter is trying to get the windvane to work, and the breeze looks to be coming left - I'd better go see. Thanks again for all your messages, they are most welcome.
Cheers, Mike

Our fish.Monday May 4 1850 Pos 38 deg 43 N, 36 deg 55 W. Moving slowly, 6 knots or so to the NE in what we hope is a dying SSE'ly, hoping for a shift to the NE; actually anything but an easterly would be a welcome change.
A nice couple of days' sailing in sunny weather, but frustrating in that we have made little progress toward the Azores, now some 397 miles away, but bearing 109, which is just about exactly where the wind is coming from.
Jeff McDonough of the Jamestown Press wanted to know what the most difficult part of the trip has been. Hard to say, exactly. I've described before the difficulty of doing simple everyday things like cooking, but this is just an inconvenience. And as above the lack of progress for the last couple of days has been frustrating, especially as we had been making such good time. Another frustrating thing has been the ongoing mechanical problems, in addition to the water issue. I mentioned previously, I think, that the genset had been acting up. Later it transpired that we couln't draw fuel from the starboard tank, i.e., that the engine would die if we tried to do so. Until today, it has been too rough to really do more than speculate about the source and cure of these problems. We did get into it a little today, but had to cut things short when it looked like we were getting into a squall, which fortunately didn't materialize.
Here's the scenario, for those of mechanical bent (and maybe writing this all out will help me diagnose it). We assume both problems are fuel supply issues as there isn't much else to go wrong with a diesel that suddenly shuts down. The genset has separate supply and return lines plumbed to the starboard tank. The starboard tank is adequately vented. Nonetheless the main engine won't run when connected to the starboard tank,. In delving into this it turns out that this winter the yard replaced the line running from the Y-valve (connecting P & S tanks to the engine) to the S tank. What is odd is that the latter hose diameter doesn't match at the ends, it looks to be 1 inch at the Y-valve and 3/4 at the tank. So that will need to be traced out. Possibly the yard misplumbed it somehow; unlikely but possible.
What's even more frustrating is that after hours of discussion about how we could get the fuel out of the S tank (which we will need if we are going to motor to the Azores, which we are about ready to do), none very promising, Peter suddenly remembered that he'd had a fuel problem last year and simply bypassed the whole issue by connecting the genset fuel line to the engine, thus supplying the engine from the S tank. So at least we can readily do that to get access to the fuel in the S tank. Plus I want to bleed the genset as well, hopefully get it running, and at least remove the specter of coincidence from the analysis.
So that's the latest from the high seas...Keep those cards & letters coming, it's nice to know there are people out there reading this stuff!
Cheers, Mike

1210 Tuesday May 5 Pos 39 deg 07 N, 35 deg 37 W.
Motoring directly toward Horta into a 12 knot headwind at 5.4 over the ground - not fast, but at last we are going in the right direction. ETA is Thursday late; ideally in time to do some basic things and have a good dinner, then get the boat ready and head to England Friday sometime.
When we were looking at the problem with the S fuel tank mentioned in yesterday's email I had noticed that the supply hose from the tank was 1/4 inch while its supposed other end, at the Y-valve selecting fuel supply from the P or S tank, was 1/2. So one of the first things to do was trace out all the plumbing and figure out what had happened.
FYI, diesels draw much more fuel than they use and the rest is pumped back to the tank, so you have to have both supply and return lines for each piece of equipment. In this boat, both the engine's supply and return lines go to Y-valves connecting them to the P and S tanks; you must throw the supply and return valves together so as to avoid overfilling one tank with the returned fuel from the other. More on this anon. Also, to complete the story, Peter had had the genset supply and return shutoff valves moved for better access and a couple of the original copper lines replaced by the yard over the winter.
It soon appeared that in replacing the lines, the yard mechanic had connected the S engine supply line to the genset's return port into the tank, while the genset return line was connected to the S supply port. The 1/2 inch engine supply line was too short to reach the proper port, so we couldn't just swap them, but it did look possible to simply connect the engine supply line to the genset's supply port. Before we did that, however, we wanted to try the genset to make sure the line itself was OK. We could get it started but it wouldn't keep running; it was clearly starving for fuel, but it appeared the problem was in the genset itself as it would keep running if we kept priming it and bleeding the high-pressure pump.
Switching the S engine supply line was no big problem, except that the fittings had to be changed as well to accommodate the 1/2 inch line; but after quite a lot of searching Peter was able to locate a roll of Teflon tape and the job was done. No problem for a former pipefitter such as myself. We fired up the engine using the P supply, then switched over to S. It ran fine for several minutes, then began to starve; we primed it furiously, thinking that once we'd eliminated the air inevitably introduced when the lines were changed it would be OK, but that didn't seem to be happening. I did remove a plug in the top of the tank inspection port and heard a "whoosh" indicating that the vent was still clogged (despite our having checked it yesterday), but that didn't help. So we went back to the P tank and thought about it for awhile.
Suddenly Peter noticed fuel spewing from the S vent - the return valve had been left in the S position while we were drawing from the P tank! I ran below and switched it over. Then I noticed another thing - that the connection of the oversize S supply line to the Y-valve was leaking. That all by itself would have been enough to prevent the engine from running properly from the S tank (even if it had been plumbed properly), but I would never have had an inkling of the problem if the tank hadn't been over-pressurized by returning fuel to it while drawing from the P tank. I grabbed a wrench and tightened it up; it took nearly a full turn. So obviously the yard mechanic had made several distinct mistakes, plus hadn't done the job properly. Not good.
Anyway, now the engine is running like a top from the S tank, and the availability of that fuel gives us enough to motor all the way to Horta, which we are now doing. What a relief to finally head in the correct direction! And if the wind ever does shift to a positive direction we'll get there even sooner.
Quite possibly the fact that the vent line was plugged was the source of our trouble with the genset as well, but we can't confirm that until we get some more fuel line hose and re-plumb the system.
Oh, yes - saw a couple of whales this morning, just lolling about on the surface, within about 50 yards of our course. Bill told a funny story about nearly running one over who saw the boat at the last minute and got out of the way in a hurry, leaving a big brown cloud behind!
One of the nice things about a trip like this is, presuming you get along, you really get a chance to have some good conversations. I have learned a lot from Bill about all manner of boat-related issues, and have had a number of nice chats with Peter as well. He is quite a guy; his wife died suddenly at 42, and he's raised their two kids himself. He had always been an armchair sailor, and really only become an active sailor in the last six or eight years but has already done a number of single-handed passages, including Bermuda twice and numerous trips between Newport, Raritan Bay NJ, and Rock Hall, Md. He tell me he is writing a book in which the lessons he's leaned from sailing and as a single father are intertwined. Who knows, it might actually be a good perspective; certainly single-handed offshore sailing teaches you to plan your moves in advance, be patient and conservative, and execute each step of each maneuver carefully. That has to be good advice when dealing with children as well.
Bill is a little more complex; I mentioned to him and Peter that sometimes I feel that this is a marine remake of "City Slickers" with him in the Jack Palance role and Peter and me as middle-aged wannabe sailors. But whatever Bill may think of our abilities or lack thereof, he is patient and doesn't raise his voice or condescend. I have asked him a lot of questions, some of which were doubtless stupid, but he hasn't said so. He also is very deliberate and careful (but not slow) in his movement around the boat and the actions that he performs. He even eats noticeably slowly, noting that there's no point in rushing through a pleasant part of the day. Again, a good life lesson there.
Cheers, and thanks again for your emails,
Mike

Bill at the helm.5/6 1700 hrs, Pos 38 deg 38 N, 31 deg 24 W 132 nm from Horta.
Motoring into a 10 - 12 knot headwind and making 7 over the ground. ETA about 1400 local tomorrow. Can't wait!
We have simply been motoring all day. Rather noisy and dull, with the only point of interest an oil-pressure gauge that reads just a little lower than we would like, but it seems stable. We'll get a mechanic to take a look tomorrow if possible, and he can help with the re-plumbing of the engine and genset. We will need to concentrate on personal needs, showers being first, with laundry not far behind, and a bit of shopping. Our provisions have held up well but obviously we are out of most perishables. Not a bad trip eating-wise, and tonight I have been authorized to use a couple of cups of water to make rice; pretty much all cooking has been done in olive oil, which is fine up to a point but we're ready for a change. I also hope to have time to paint the boat's logo, a Roman-style helmet, along with the boat's name and hailing port on the seawall at Horta; this is a cruising tradition here and should provide a nice photo op.
I noted earlier that we had covered 40 degrees of longitude since leaving Newport; as long as this has taken us, it is only 1/9th of the Earth's circumference. Kind of puts things into perspective.
Hope to have a real travelogue for you tomorrow - Cheers, Mike

Land ho!5/7 0723 Pos 38 deg 21 N, 29 deg 27 W
Still motoring into a headwind of about 12 -15, which has slowed us to 6 over the ground. We sighted the island of Faial at 0700, and that's a real milestone; a welcome sighting indeed. About 38 miles to go, ETA about 4 PM local time; hopefully early enough to get some things done.
Through the last day and night we have been watching the engine oil pressure gauge cautiously. It behaves oddly. Over a period of ten or fifteen minutes it settles slowly down to a figure rather on the low side of what the gauge shows as acceptable, maybe 15 on a scale of 80, and once in a while it drops lower. Then the engine takes on a lower note for ten seconds or so, without losing revs, and the pressure rises again to maybe 35 - 40; then it sinks back to 20 and slides lower. Very odd. Plus, we have noticed that if it drops very low, you can drop the revs to 2000 (from our usual 2500) and the pressure jumps to 40 - exactly the opposite of what you'd expect.
All this seems to suggest a problem in the gauge or sender rather than the oil pump per se, but it is hard to be sure. Hopefully we can get an English-speaking mechanic this afternoon or tomorrow and get it squared away. We are likely to have to motor for two or three days leaving Horta and it would be nice to know nothing's wrong.
Another opportunity to use one of my favorite aphorisms, wherein I regard boating as an exercise in problem-solving.
Thanks to Jack for the travel suggestions, which we will follow if there's time - the boat and its timely departure have to come first - and to Bill for the memories of your 1974 visit. It may be that the wine you suspected had been cut with kerosene was the local green wine - vinho verde, it's in the cruising guide - but I shall approach it cautiously, as you suggest.
I've written before about Bill and Peter. They both enlisted in the Marine Corps, Bill right out of high school in about 1965 and Peter, having graduated high school a year early, in 1968, at 17. They had a fine time reminiscing about it the other night. They talked fondly of how the esprit de corps in the Marines, that whole "Semper Fi" thing, was so much higher than in the other services, doubtless because as a Marine you have volunteered to do the toughest jobs first. I am sure it was a very positive experience for both of them, character-building and all that. Perhaps this voyage will have given me some of that character.
 Another of my favorite aphorisms is "Any problem you can solve with a credit card isn't really a problem" - well, out here there's nobody to swipe your card, wave their hands, and make your troubles disappear. Putting oneself in a position where self-reliance is essential, and then carrying it off, is definitely a positive experience.
More later if possible.

May 8, 1815 local, docked in Horta.
Well, it looks like we will be in Horta for at least another day and very likely two. The low pressure system we were going to try to skirt to the E is moving faster than predicted and will probably be here tomorrow, bringing sustained winds of 35+ and gusts to 50. We would have had to fight our way up the W side of this, that is, into NW'lies, which of course is exactly the direction in which we need to go. We could handle that, and the boat surely could, but it seems the better part of valor to wait until the storm has passed. There's another one coming later in the week, but we always anticipated that the Irish Sea and the Channel would be bad - no sense in putting ourselves through two gales.
Farmer's market in Horta.I can't say I'm sorry to be spending another day here, although of course if it is blowing 30+ and raining tomorrow it won't be as nice as it is now - 80 degrees and sunshine. I've now prowled around much of the town, having been given the job of finding a suitable restaurant for tonight's dinner (why do you suppose I of all people get this job?), and it is rather charming. There's a nice farmer's/fish market, lots of little shops and cafes, a few museums, and so on. I've learned that the volcano latest erupted in 1957-8 - you see the barren new land as you approach from the W - and John Kennedy, while still a senator I gather, introduced the Azorean Relief Act making it easy to emigrate to the US, so folks could flee the volcano. Apparently most of the islanders have relatives in the US in consequence.
We did get some things done today; I got the fuel plumbing revised, so now we can draw fuel from both tanks and run the genset when needed, Peter did the grocery shopping, we mailed cards and letters, got a picture with the J'town Press in it in front of the famous wall where voyagers paint a memento of their trip (I would like to do this but not in the rain). Getting the plumbing done involved several trips to MidAtlantic Yacht Supplies (MAYS), a very cool chandlery - kind of like West Marine in the space of a small shop. Very well supplied and they even have a book swap, whereby I was able to get rid of a dozen or so paperbacks and pick up some new ones. I got friendly with the owner, Duncan, who's from New Hampshire; he's looking for an early 70's VW bus, preferably with a 2-litre engine, to be kept in the US, so if anyone knows of one let me know and I will pass it along.
Hope all is well with everyone -
Cheers,
Mike

1045 local May 9 - at the dock in Horta
Still waiting out the storm - the cold front has passed and we are getting the anticipated breeze out of the N. We plan to leave later today/tonight/tomorrow depending on its progress. We are in the lee of the land here so it is hard to tell, but we will get a custom prediction later on and decide then. Everybody is chomping at the bit to go but it just doesn't make any sense if we are just going to have beat into a northerly. As nice as this boat is it doesn't go upwind like a racing boat - it would need tighter sheeting angles and a deeper keel, I think - so we tack through about 110 degrees over the ground, including leeway, and that is a very slow way to make progress to weather.
Fish market in Horta.I went to the local farmer's market this morning and got some veggies for the next leg, plus homemade berry jam, fresh eggs, cheese and hot pepper sauce. Should be good. The meats and fish also looked good but I am doubtful about their preparation at sea; no grill out here!
We went to an interesting restaurant last night. They bring you a 6 inch square piece of volcanic basalt that's been heated to 550 F and you cook your meal on that. Bill and I had tuna and Peter steak. Very good and rather fun. Peter thinks this would work as a restaurant concept in the States but I have my doubts re liability; those stones are mighty hot.
It looks like it won't rain much so I am off to buy paint, brushes, etc and contribute our graffito to the traditional wall here. There are literally thousands of painted-on mementos from past voyages all around the marina and harbor. I wouldn't want to risk bad luck by not participating. Pictures at 6 -
Cheers,
Mike

2108 GMT May 9 Pos 38 deg 35 N, 28 deg 22 W, broad reaching on a heading of 114 M at 6.5 - 7.5 under storm jib and triple-reefed main in 19 - 30 from the NNE, waves about 15 feet
We finally left Horta at 1830. In the harbor it was peaceful and fairly warm, but within about a mile we had the conditions above - quite a change. We left at this time because it looks as if the weather should improve tomorrow afternoon sometime and we can spend the night sailing in the lee of Isla Sao Jorge, in the “Canal" that extends between Sao Jorge and Pico, so the waves shouldn't be too bad. Then early in the morning we will turn N and leave Terciera to starboard.
Throughout this whole leg, although we have to make only 12 degrees N and 22 to the east, the trick will be to make northing whenever possible and avoid getting set down to the E. There lies the Bay of Biscay, a place noted for rough weather and moreover one where wind and current conspire to suck you in and not let you out. Bill says the Gulf of Maine is the same way.
Our wall painting.I must sat I wound up enjoying Horta vary much. Today I painted the required graffti on the seawall, the boat's name, Rubicon, the year, the hailing port (Newport) and a Roman-helmet design Peter has on the crew T-shirts. Some of these mementoes are quite detailed, with tiny flags, the crew names, sometimes even quasi-philosophical sayings, and so on. Of course some people are there for months at a time, too; we met one Canadian couple who've been there since August. It's nice, but it's not that nice. But very European and thus interesting.
The people in Horta include of course a large number of sailors, predominantly English and French I would say, and the Azoreans, of course. Although people on the street don't acknowledge you when you pass, they are friendly enough if you ask directions or the like. Nearly everyone has some English, so you can get along. I did get the words for "please" and "thank you' - "por favor" and "obligado", respectively - but that was the extent of my linguistic ambitions. I did buy some homemade jam, cheese, and pepper sauce, along with some eggs, from a woman from Pico this morning at the farmer's market, and she had no English at all. Based on this unscientific observation I conclude the other islands are less cosmopolitan. Certainly Horta is the only port in the Azores that rates a mention in my cruising guide.
Keeping our fingers crossed that the boat's various systems continue to function; things have not been too encouraging thus far, but we'll see.
Cheers, and thanks again for the emails,
Mike

1514 GMT May 10 Pos 38 deg 46 N, 26 deg 15 W, pretty much straight for the English Channel, close-reaching in 22- 26 under triple reefed main and storm jib, waves about 15 feet.
I had the 0300 - 0600 watch last night and it was quite a ride - wind was steady at 32 - 36 with gusts up to 44 - a full gale. We were broad reaching at that point so the speeds were high, 8's and 9's all night. Quite exciting with the occasional "sneak attack" from a wave breaking near the boat and dumping solid water into the cockpit (it has an open transom so drains quickly), lots of pitching, yawing, and rolling, but no real drama; the autopilot kept us on course magnificently. Around dawn we passed the E end of Terciera (I had the plan wrong in the last email) and turned to the NE, and the breeze has moderated considerably, so we're going a good bit slower. The waves take longer to settle down, so we're still seeing 12 - 15 footers. It might be time to put up a little more sail, as the storm jib just doesn't have much power to accelerate us when we've slowed in a lull - 20 knots of breeze being a lull - but Bill believes in playing it conservative and it is certainly comforting to stay more or less upright. The wind is supposed to abate further in a few hours and then we'll see. Right now we are making progress in the right direction and that's a good thing. About 1050 miles to go, ETA next weekend sometime.
I was watching a pod of four or five dolphins play in our bow wave for five minutes or so. They dive towards the bow and then dive deeper, I think. I suppose the different wave pattern is a novelty for them. It is a pity we don't have video of this sort of thing, plus the waves. It is quite a sensation to watch a wave eight or ten feet above eye level come right up to the side of the boat; then the boat rolls away from the wave, the wave passes underneath, and the boat comes back up. At other times the bow rides high up the back of a wave, then dives Dolphins.downwardly, sending up a huge shower of spray. Whee! Very entertaining but hard to show with still pictures.
I am also curious how the dolphins find us in this vast expanse of sea. We have seen them four or five times now. I wouldn't think this boat made enough difference in the waves to be noticeable in such a rough sea; maybe it just sounds funny to them, even under sail as in this case, and they swim over to check us out?
Cheers,
Mike

2054 GMT May 11
Pos 40 deg 01 N, 23 deg 29 W.
Moving slowly at 65 deg under full sail in 7 - 9 knots from the NNE. Only waves are 4 - 6 ft swell.
We had passed last night with minimal sail up, concerned that the wind would pick up overnight as it often does, but by dawn it was pretty dead and we soon had full sail up and were motorsailing at 6.5 - 7.5, and in the correct direction. It was a very nice sunny day, and we had an extended dolphin show with at least a dozen playing around the boat for half an hour or so, with more sightings later. I even got a picture of one - not easy to do as they don't stay in the air long and my camera is one of those digital jobs that has an annoying delay between button press and exposure.
Thanks to the flat weather today we got a lot done - washed some clothes, cooked breakfast and dinner (chicken provencale again, with rice and salad - practically as good as at home, much praised and eaten off a horizontal table top) and got the genset working. That had been another of those mysteries; it would start and run for 30 seconds or so, then start to die; you could keep it going with the priming solenoid, but then it would die. Bleeding it didn't help, and the tank was venting properly. Eventually I switched the supply and return lines and that did seem to help (not entirely sure I didn't make this mistake when I replumbed it in Horta). Finally I noticed a bit of fuel bleeding from one of the connections - the hose clamp was loose, as, it turned out, were a number of the others. Goes to show that you have to check everything, not just the obvious stuff. Now we're pretty confident in it, although we haven't given it a full test yet as we've been motoring most of the day and the batteries are charged. Tomorrow, the water system!
Peter brought along an interesting book called A Little History of the World, written in the 30's by E. H. Gombrich, more or less for children but quite readable, tracing the various lines of development of civilization. There are things in it that are familiar but many more that are not, and he ties it together very nicely with about the right amount of detail for me, at least. I was struck by his description of Buddha's teaching, that the road to avoidance of suffering is to eliminate all desire, so whatever happens you can't be disappointed; ultimately, if you no longer desire life, you won't be reincarnated to suffer anew but will go to Nirvana. I don't view my life as one of suffering - far from it - but it did make me think.
A boat in the middle of the ocean is sort of a sociology lab; there are things you can do, like sleep and read a lot, things you can sort of do, like cooking and communicating, and things you can't do. So your immediate desires are reduced to what is possible, such as a snack in the middle of your midnight - 0300 watch, and what is hoped for, such as decent weather for the rest of the trip and a safe and undramatic finish to it. You try not to dwell on the things you'd like but can't have, such as a hot shower and a cold beer; that way lies madness. (Fortunately none of the crew are whiners; it could get pretty intolerable to be confined to this space if we didn't get along, but we are doing so quite well, I think.) At any rate it is a lot easier to think about such grand concepts out here, where the only relevance of the clock is the watch-change, and the days blend together seamlessly, than on land with the constant demands of life on shore.
Now, about that desired safe and undramatic finish to the trip...not going to happen. There is a rather deep low pressure system closely juxtaposed to a high right in our path to England. Between them, in particular, the wind will be very high, 50 knots +, and there will be 20 foot breaking seas. This does not sound like fun. So, we have slowed down to try to let this mess pass. There is a point behind this storm about 300 miles in front of us and we are aiming to get there Wednesday or Thursday, and do so we've deliberately slowed down; that's why we're no longer motorsailing. ("Deliberately slowing down" a sailboat, one of the slowest forms of transport known to man?!?!? What a concept.) As Bill puts it, we are trying to cross just after the freight train, not in front of it. Anyway, at that point we'll still be 600 miles out, and that will take another 4 or 5 days. There are strong winds predicted there as well, but in the 25 - 30 range, and we already know we can handle that (Famous last words? Hope not.)
Nothing to do but grin and bear it, and continue one's pursuit of Nirvana...
Cheers, Mike

2102 GMT May 12.
Pos 41 deg 17 N, 21 deg 44 W.
Sailing at about 5 knots at 064 under double reefed main in about 18 from the WSW.
We're still sailing slowly on purpose, to let the storm pass us by and hopefully give us a decent ride the rest of the way. The weather looks as if it is behaving as planned so this might work. Probably tomorrow we will start to sail as if we meant it - going slow on purpose goes very much against everyone's instincts, but it is clearly the correct call in our present circumstances. We still have nearly 900 miles to go and it would be nice to make some real progress.
Nothing cosmic to report today; Peter and I went through the water system in detail and couldn't find anything wrong. We know these things don't just fix themselves but it is a real puzzle. Probably operator error, of course, but it would be gratifying to figure out how we lost 400 gallons of water without noticing it.
Hopefully I will have some real mileage to report tomorrow - Cheers, Mike

1946 GMT May 13
Pos 42 deg 25 N, 19 deg 18 W.
Sailing fast on the rhumb line (065 M) for the English Channel - doing 8+ in 16 - 20 knots of breeze from the NNW under single-reefed main and 80% of the Genoa.
It looks as if our decision to slow down through this morning was a good one; we are now behind a low and should experience fairly light winds for the next few days, but that's what motors are for. Entering the Channel we anticipate high winds, maybe as much as 40, but they should be from astern and much less painful to deal with than if on the nose. (Bill keeps repeating something about it always being tough to Preparing for heavy weather.get to England, and apparently leaving is just as bad.) Of course none of this can be relied on fully, but as things appear now we are going as fast as we can safely, bearing in mind the goal was to deliver the boat and Peter to Plymouth in good condition. It is certainly a lot more fun to go fast; slowing down on purpose was painful.
Peter has been spending some time here and there trying to get his Hydrovane self-steering gear to work and today seems to have succeeded; it held an accurate course for well over an hour. This is a huge plus for him on his return, especially as there is no backup autopilot. This unit can do the steering even if he loses electrical power. The gear itself is a very nicely made unit, with a separate rudder (also a good feature, in case you lose the main rudder somehow) which is turned in response to the wiggling of a vane responsive to the apparent wind. Thus, unlike the autopilot, it doesn't follow a preset compass course but keeps the boat at the same angle to the apparent wind. Both have their virtues, although the vane is really only useful when you're going to be going a long way on the same course in wind of fairly consistent direction. The unit is very clever and it would have been an interesting thing to describe for a patent application - I'm not going to try to do so here.
I made an inventory of our food supplies and we should be OK, although we may be living on canned stuff and crackers for the last day or so. On the other hand, if it really is blowing 40, home cooking won't be the first thing on anyone's mind. We will just have to forgo salads for the last few days. The water issues we had on the first leg have not reappeared - still a mystery.
Thanks to all for your interest and emails. They are very much appreciated. Peter noted earlier that an email out here is like a letter in boot camp, a pleasant reminder of home.
Cheers,
Mike

012 GMT, May 14
Pos 44 deg 09 N, 16 deg 26 N.
Moving slowly toward the Spanish coastline under motor.
The mood here on Rubicon is rather black. Until about 2 PM we were motorsailing nicely at 8+ directly toward the UK, looking at a Monday arrival and feeling pretty good. Then we got a new weather report indicating that a "huge gale" is developing over Ireland, with winds of 50 knots and seas of 20 - 25 feet. The wind we could probably handle OK, especially as it was supposed to be from behind, but seas of this size are enough to roll a boat, which is very dangerous and not conducive to our mission of getting both Peter and the boat to the starting line in one piece. So once again we are killing time for a couple of days until this blows through. Hopefully this will be the last such delay, but who knows?
Actually the mood has lightened somewhat since we first got this news, as originally we thought we would have to wait until Sunday to get back on track and now it looks like Saturday evening will be OK. Plus Bill has been regaling Peter and me with stories of lost keels, dismastings, leaking boats, autocratic skippers, bad designs, and so on, forcing us to conclude that this really is just a minor inconvenience and that things could be much worse. Just another stop on the road to yachting Nirvana - you may as well accept what the weather gives you, because there's nothing you can do about it. But don't ever make plans you can't change where a boat trip is involved.
Thanks again for your interest and emails,
Cheers,
Mike

1924 GMT May 15
POS. 43 deg 51 N, 13 deg 40 W.
Sailing under triple reefed main and reefed Solent at 6 SOG course 072, not quite toward Plymouth, in 16 - 23 knots from the W.
Things are looking up here - we are back on track, almost. Still going ten degrees or so E of the rhumb line, to stay below 46 N until tomorrow noon, by which time the big seas should have subsided. From there, the wind looks favorable until our arrival - it will be 25 +, but from the W mostly, so the ride shouldn't be too bad. About 550 miles to go, looking at a late Monday/early Tuesday arrival. Now we just have to keep our fingers crossed that no new storm will present itself. Even with all the information we are getting, which is quite extensive, you just don't know.
I asked Bill whether the kind of delays we have experienced on this trip were typical. Apparently this one is almost unique in his experience - it's one thing to delay departure for a day or two as we did to get a decent weather window, but most unusual to have to slow down and let a weather system pass in front, as we've now done twice. He is obviously quite frustrated, has missed giving a weather seminar scheduled for this Sunday, has a house construction project in Saunderstown to finish, and has to come back over here to Germany next Friday. Quite a guy. He was telling us earlier in the trip about signing on to a long distance race years ago aboard a boat that had a five-spreader rig that he figured was bound to break, because there were a bunch of guys on the crew that had been through that before and he wanted to see how they would handle it! It did, 400 miles out, and he learned. Incidentally, the company who built it, Stearns Rigging, isn't around any more...wonder why...
Hope all is well back on shore - cheers,
Mike

1923 May 16
Pos 45 deg 48 N, 10 deg 59 min W - about 385 miles from Plymouth.
This has been quite a day. We were making pretty good time all day in 25 - 30 from the W, waves were about 16 - 18 feet but well spaced. I was on watch at 2 PM, just reading a book and minding my own business, when Bill stuck his head out the companionway and said he'd had an email from Commander's Weather (whose predictions we have been getting daily) that we were about to be overtaken by a line of squalls with winds of 50+. It seems they look at satellite pictures and can tell what kind of clouds are forming and from this can deduce their behavior.
Naturally we took all precautions; dropped the Solent, got the storm jib ready (in case the main ripped or the like, to make sure we'd have steerage), everybody got into their full foul weather gear and harnesses, and so on. The squalls did hit as advertised, the winds never reached 50, but there were a lot of gusts into the low 40's, and a solid rain, the first real rain we'd seen. Given that the air temp is 50 or so, this made things pretty wet and miserable. However, the boat just doesn't care; she just keeps driving ahead under triple-reefed main at 7 - 8 knots. Bill stayed at the wheel throughout, in case the autopilot had a problem, but it did beautifully; one shudders to think what this trip would have been like without it.
After an hour or so the rain stopped and we took turns getting dry and resting a bit. Another squall may come through but at the moment the clouds don't look as threatening as those we saw before. The waves have built to 18 - 20 feet, but are still well spaced; they roll up right behind the stern of the boat and tower over your head by six or eight feet, but then the stern rises smoothly and unhurriedly, like a duck's; Waves.then you slide off the back of the wave, and it starts again. At the top of the wave you are left looking down into a valley to the next wave twenty feet or so deep and maybe 150 feet wide. Quite impressive. With this kind of spacing the waves don't break much and so we haven't had more than the occasional shot of spray in the cockpit. We're expecting these sorts of conditions to continue for the next couple of days, until we arrive, so it will continue to bear watching.
Peter and I had quite a conversation in the aftermath of the squall while Bill was sleeping. At times like this you do wonder why you've put yourself in such a position. There have been some days of excellent sailing on this trip, and some interesting things to see, such as the dolphins. But for much of the time, even when the sailing is non-threatening and pleasant, there's nothing to see but a six-mile circle of ocean and sky, and so Peter and I have both been reading on watch, occasionally looking around. I suppose one must concede this defines boring. And at best life aboard is uncomfortable, to one degree or another. None of this comes as a surprise of course; nor does the length of the trip, nor the various frustrations mentioned in earlier emails. So why do you do it?
I suppose there are lots of reasons, some more worthy than others. I think it's a good thing to want to test oneself, on the "what doesn't kill you will make you stronger" theory. Keeping cheerful is definitely testing sometimes. There are lots of ego-related reasons for doing something like this, I suppose. The experience itself is worthwhile; now one understands the stories of bygone voyagers and the hardships they faced a little better, although to be fair this is not in the same league as the epic stories. And I think there is a lot to be said for the genuine camaraderie that develops between the crew-members on a trip like this; you really do depend on the guy next to you to do his job, and he likewise on you. We don't get that sort of honest cooperation and teamwork much in modern life.
Would I do this again? Ask again later, as the ouija ball used to say, I'm too close to it now. I had pitched this as a once in a lifetime trip, and right now that translates to "never again!" But...never say never, although it would be hard to find another ride with as good a combination of boat and crew. It does seem based on Bill's comments that we've had more than our share of bad weather and delays; of course, ideally one would leave a month or so later, as we're still in the winter weather pattern. It has been a great experience, but once may have been enough for me. At this point I am reminded of the comment Dick Kurtz, with whom I worked years ago, made after a trip he took to the North Pole: "It was a million dollar trip. And I wouldn't do it again for another million."
Thanks as always for all your support, and your emails - it's a very pleasant surprise to hear from the home guard!
Cheers,
Mike

1941 May 17
Pos 47 deg 56 N, 008 deg 11 W.
Heading straight for Plymouth at 58 M over the ground, making about 7.5 under storm jib and double reefed main in 22 - 30 knots from the WSW.
The squalls mentioned in yesterday's email lasted a little over 24 hours. It was interesting to watch the typical convection clouds form a few miles off and then come toward us, sometimes bringing rain, sometimes just wind. Each included gusts of 40+, and we saw 47 and 48 in different squalls overnight. At that point we were still under triple reefed main alone but the boat speed was consistently in the 8's with plenty of 9's and a few 10's thrown in. The waves have gradually subsided, although every now and then you still get a set of 16 - 18 footers. So the mood is good tonight.
We have now got 211 miles to go and it looks as if we will arrive pretty late Monday night, probably too late for Customs, so we'll have to spend the night aboard; at least no one will have to stand a watch. I have the midnight - 0300 watch tonight and I'm not looking forward to it. It'll be really cold and I don't have exactly what I need; a balaclava would be a big help. I have a really dorky hat with earflaps that sort of work and is held on by chinstraps joined by Velcro, but the straps are too short and the Velcro comes undone and gets caught in my beard. Just another wardrobe malfunction. I do have a one-piece fleece suit that was lent to me, and that works well as one of four layers; the only problem is that it is purple and aqua, making me look a little like Barney the dinosaur.
Getting ready to go on deck is quite a production, what with all these layers, boots, foul-weather pants, jacket, harness and all. Getting one's pants on is especially difficult as you have to hold on with one hand at all times and it's hard to get your pants on with just the other. Then you have to make sure you've got a headlamp and a snack (we do snack well on this boat) and then you can hardly move for all this clothing. I look like the Michelin Man by the time I'm ready to go on watch. And don't forget to use the head first!
However, the sky is pretty clear at the moment and maybe the stars will be out. It has been enjoyable to watch them progress, and watch the moon wax and wane, something to which I normally don't pay much attention. I did bring a book that explains the legends of the constellations and that has helped identify them. Scorpio predominates most nights. The best night for stargazing has still been the very first night out of Newport, when it was terribly cold but completely clear and moonless; I haven't seen the Milky Way again, alas.
By this time tomorrow we should be well into the English Channel - should be an interesting ride, it is supposedly the most heavily-traveled shipping lane in the world. Today I was on watch and had recently scanned the horizon when I heard a torrent of French from the radio. It was a small warship of some sort, just a couple of miles away and steaming fast in the opposite direction. It was a real eye-opener to have missed it and we are all being very careful, especially as soon we will be getting to the Continental Shelf and should start seeing fishing boats.
Cheers,
Mike

1732 GMT May 18.
Pos 49 deg 30 N, 5 deg 24 W, about 66 miles outside Plymouth.
Due in about 3 AM Tuesday. Deep reaching at 6.5 - 7 under double reefed main and poled-out partial genoa.
Well, sports fans, the end is in sight - not literally, it still looks like open ocean, but we are definitely in the English Channel now. There is a regular flow of traffic, both large ships and fishing boats and the like. We haven’t seen a sailboat other than at Horta since we left Newport. We’re also seeing planes, including one little one that came within about 50 yards to get a good look at us; maybe a drug dealer looking for a place to drop a load? The 30+ knots of breeze we’ve had for the last couple of days have finally subsided and we are now in 20 - 25 which seems very tame. Seas are down as well to 4 - 6 feet.
One thing Peter and I have learned from Bill on this trip is that you have to plan ahead re changes in the weather and keep ahead of it on your sail changes. As you’ve seen we have had a dizzying array of sail combinations, between four degrees of mainsail (full plus three reefs) a genoa that can be rolled out fully or partiallly, a Solent jib (set on a removable inner forestay) and which is reefable as well, and a storm jib. There is also a storm trysail to be used in place of the main but fortunately we’ve avoided situations where it would have been called for. It’s a far cry from our local sailing where the choice is simply between a #1 and #3 jib; if the weather doesn’t suit one of them you just stay home. Out on the ocean you have to be ready for any sort of conditions, and they do change fast sometimes.
One of the choices Peter made when ordering the boat was between the Solent jib or a second roller-furled headsail on a permanent inner forestay. The latter would have been much easier to use, but has certain limitations. As matters stand now, to change from one to the other he has to lug the new sail out to the bow, and hank it on, which is a complex procedure involving reattaching and re-leading the sheets, and so forth. It is possible to hank the storm jib on over the Solent, but then you have to remove the storm jib in order to use the Solent, etc etc. Big waves.A roller-furled inner jib would have been much less hassle; just unroll it as desired from the cockpit. The big disadvantages of the roller-furled inner jib are that then you don’t have a place for a storm jib, and you can’t get the inner forestay out of the way in order to make tacking the genoa easy. With the removable inner forestay you can drag the whole business out of the way when sailing in protected waters.
Today it was decided to set the genoa on a spinnaker pole set out to one side; between removing, flaking, bagging and stowing the storm jib, taking one of the preventer tackles to serve as foreguy, freeing the lines for the pole car adjustment, rerigging the jib sheet so that it wasn’t fouled in the lifelines, this procedure took nearly two hours with Bill helping, not just coaching. It is a very useful rig in the right conditions but I can’t see Peter going to all that trouble when single handing unless it is very clear he’ll be able to use it for some days.
Thanks again to all for your interest. Should have a final report tomorrow and perhaps a wrap-up in a week or so with pictures.
Cheers,
Mike


Wednesday May 20 1000 British Summer Time - in Plymouth's Queen Anne's Battery Marina.
We arrived 0400 yesterday after having motorsailed in 18 - 20 all night. The Channel was no big deal after all; we were lucky with the weather and there wasn't much traffic. Arriving Plymouth at night was quite something; it is a huge place with lights all over and a low, nearly invisible breakwater. Apparently four years ago a Frenchman trying to get here for this race was calling his wife to tell her he'd arrived when he ran his trimaran onto the breakwater - that was the end of his race. But Bill and the chartplotter got us through and we docked just after dawn.
We are docked in a corner of the marina with about 20 other contestants. There is a lot of excitement, fellow competitors coming around to get acquainted, yachting media types, and officials from the sponsoring club, the Royal Western Yacht Club. Before 6 AM I had made a new friend, Marco, an Italian living in London, who's going to leave his boat in Wickford after he arrives. I promised to meet him then and show him around the area when he arrives.
About the same time I met Peter's friend Huw, having recognized him by the bottle of champagne he had promised to bring. Huw was the fellow who was to have had my spot but had to cancel. Too bad for him! It turns out we have a lot in common and we had a fun day and evening.
The boats entered run the gamut from brand new race machines to middle-of the road cruising boats like Peter's to older boats that have been more or less refit. Marco's is in the latter category, a 1986 Sigma (?) IOR design he's prepped on a shoestring and a prayer. He and most of the other competitors have aggressive plans to go north, avoiding the Gulf Stream the whole way and picking up the Labrador Current, which runs down the edge of Nova Scotia and Maine. It may be fast, but it will be very cold, with the possibility of icebergs and the certainty of fog. I hope these younger guys don't burn themselves out early by trying too hard too soon; it is usual for about 30% of the fleet to drop out, some quite early. Peter should be in relatively good shape; this boat is by far the most comfortable in terms of ride quality and creature comforts, and he knows how to pace himself, and keep himself warm, well-fed and -rested.
Sunset in the Channel.One interesting story; there is a19-year-old entered who hadn't completed his required 500-mile solo run, and left yesterday to do so; pretty tough to do that and then get ready in two or three days for a 3000-mile race!
Plymouth is a pretty nice place. Most of it was bombed to dust in WWII thanks to the presence of a big Royal Navy base but we are opposite an old fort now used as a Royal Marines site, and behind that there are a dozen or so blocks of neat old buildings, now all turned into restaurants and shops. Nice to see green grass and flowers - when we left Newport it was still winter!
Peter, Huw, and I had dinner last night with about 14 of the competitors and various wives and girlfriends. It was a really nice time; the single-handers are a close group and much friendlier to one another than the crews you see at the usual crewed regattas. Plus they are a polyglot group, several Germans, quite a few French and Brits, and Peter and one other American. I shall be sorry to leave this group, it has been fun being treated as a star!
One final Bill Biewenga story. My brother Jack emailed me Monday suggesting that I go take some pictures of the Tamar Bridge a few miles west of Plymouth. This was built by the famous engineer Isabard Kingdom Brunel in 1859 to carry a railway line between Devon, where we are, to Cornwall to the W. My father's always been a big Brunel fan and The Great Iron Ship, about Brunel's building the Great Eastern, by far the largest steamship of the era, one of his favorite books. We even named our Sunfish Great Eastern after that ship; the name barely fits on a Sunfish's narrow transom. Anyway I was telling all this to Bill as we passed the Eddystone Light at about 0100 Tuesday. He said he'd learned to sail in a Sunfish. Seems he was living in a development outside Chicago that was built around four former quarries that had filled, forming ponds. When there were tornados and his concrete company couldn't work, he'd go sailing in a Sunfish. Learning to sail in a Sunfish in a tornado...too much. The man's just a plain adrenalin junkie, that's all.
Off to London in an hour or so, back home Saturday after exactly one month. Truly, it has been the experience of a lifetime. Thanks again for all your interest and support.
Cheers,
Mike
Arrival in Plymouth.
Epilogue - As of June 6, Peter is about halfway back to Newport. He is well back in the OSTAR fleet, but his mood is good, despite some serious difficulties with the boat. The autopilot and some of the sailing instruments are out, apparently due to problems with the “Seatalk” data bus by which the various electronic components talk to one another. Peter has a separate GPS, so he knows his position, and the wind vane is doing the steering, but it is not as efficient as the electronic autopilot. Nonetheless he reports that he is still enjoying the OSTAR dream.