Marsh Harbour-Georgetown, 2/16-18/2010, Part II

When we left you last, we'd just finished a harrowing experience at the fuel
docks in Marsh Harbour. That all ended well, of course (all of our
harrowing experiences do, you know) :{))

So, with all our tanks filled, off we go in a building breeze, leaving the
fuel dock several hours later than anticipated, at 11:30AM. With the wind
at 20 knots or greater, and with all the changes of direction needed, we
sailed on genoa alone. Avid followers of our log will recall the same route
taken with my son and his wife, going south in approximately the same
conditions. I'll shorten the story to say that we went through every point
of sail, from an extreme beat (wind at 30* or less on our bow) to a dead run
(wind right behind us). During our sail, we were on both tacks (a tack is
the side from which the wind is blowing - thus, we'd be either on a
starboard or port tack), with our heading changes including both tacks
(coming about into the wind) and jibes (changing direction downwind) during
our trip down to Little Harbour. It was a marvelous sail other than the
constant changes every few minutes. Most places in the Bahamas are
recommended for VPR, visual pilotage rules, where you want to be able to see
and read the water and the bottom, and we made the cut opposite Little
Harbour at 3:45PM, with ample light to see our way through to the Atlantic
Ocean. Off we go!

The wind by this time is starting to moderate, and we set our course for
157*, hoping the wind would come further to our north, as it was nearly
directly behind us. Not only was it a bit strong for a spinnaker, we'd be
in darkness soon, and that's not the time to deal with having to take it
down suddenly - at least not without many crew. Our original plan had us
going through the two passages between Great Abaco and Eleuthera, but those,
too, were daylight-only exercises. We'd have arrived too early, and,
besides, I, at least, far prefer open water to having to worry about tides
(which create strong currents in these cuts) and worrying about coral heads
or sand bars. Accordingly, we headed outside, for the northeastern tip of
Eleuthera, after which we'd turn south.

Once we found how it was looking, we stopped and put up the main at 4:15PM.
We'd have preferred going wing-and-wing, with the Genoa out to one side and
the main out to the other, so we could have gone directly downwind, on
course for the northeastern tip of Eleuthera. In the lumpy, quartering
following seas, we didn't feel comfortable about poling out the genoa,
however, as, if we rolled far enough, we'd have the pole in the water,
unnecessarily stressing the rigging. Without that pole holding the sail out,
which would have helped even for our broad-reaching posture, the genoa
flapped and filled a lot, but we still made over 6 knots in 8-10 knots of
apparent wind, keeping the wind at 120* on our stern.

Unfortunately for us, the wind not only didn't turn, but instead backed a
bit, so, reluctantly, we adjusted our course to keep us on a broad reach
(wind approximately 120* on our stern), taking us much more southerly, at
165*. That course would require a later jibe to clear Eleuthera, but,
still, our dead-reckoning time of arrival would still put us at the entrance
to Georgetown early in the day. The wind started to die, and with only 4-14
knots of apparent wind, we frequently wallowed through 120* starboard to
150* port apparent wind direction. Fortunately, not only was the wind light,
but the rolls were quick enough, that we had only a couple of gentle jibes
of the main, which very quickly sorted themselves back out. Despite the
light winds, we made between 5.4 and 7 knots toward our destination.

Lydia went down for her first sleep after dinner, at 6:30, at which point
the already light winds got lighter and more fickle. With only 4-10 knots by
8PM, the boat rolled along, sails banging. Every time there was a gust to
(only) 14 knots, the boat stiffened up and our course stabilized. Conditions
other than the sea state in general were great, and I had terrific
propagation as I joined the Maritime Mobile (Ham radio) net at 7PM. The
wind, however, continued its flaky ways, and at 10PM I gave up and put in
10* further south to try to stabilize us somewhat, as our rolls were now
taking us through the full 120*Starboard-120*Port range. This was OK,
really, as we'd have to jibe it later, anyway, and the difference in
distance was still minimal in terms of the time to arrival in Georgetown.
Our estimated time of jibe would be 12:30-1AM. Despite the lowering and
flaky winds of 4-8 knots from many different directions, we still made 4-5
knots toward our destination (VMG, velocity made good).

We'd learned, much to our excitement, that our new chartplotter did what
we'd expected our other to do, which is to actually turn the boat toward the
next waypoint when we put in the "go to waypoint" command, rather than just
showing us the indicator arrows and the line we were to travel. Accordingly,
for the most part, Ray (the chartplotter) took over from Otto (the
autopilot), and we were left mostly to watch out for traffic. However, by
the shift change at 1AM, I'd taken to "driving" the boat with our autopilot
wheel (the thing which tells Otto what to do), moving as much as 30* at a
time, to cope with the wind shifts. The wind was shifting in velocity from
2-12 knots, and 45* in direction, with each (not necessarily at the same
time!) lasting no more than about 20 seconds.

Once Lydia was up, at 1AM, we jibed the boat to a course of 90*, and she
took over Otto's management while I went down to sleep. When I came up for
her relief at 4:30AM, conditions were much the same, and at 5AM, in about 2
seconds, I watched our wind indicator's dial go through a full 360* sweep!

Lydia reappeared at 7:30 after my listening to Chris at 6:30AM, being unable
to sleep with all the stern motion, and we had breakfast a little before
8AM. By this time, with all the autopilot activity (Otto and Ray are hungry
power-eaters) and full instruments, including radar, having been on for 24
hours, along with all the cranking we'd done in our many bleedings on
filter/air-leak expeditions, our batteries were down to 65%.

Our usual solution to low batteries is to start our Honda generator, putting
its output through our shore power outlet, feeding our charger, with the
generator sitting on the platform on the stern. However, that's not such a
good idea under way, as the platform isn't all that stable in these
conditions, so we reluctantly turned on the engine to take advantage of our
new high-output alternator. We hoped that some additional forward thrust
might help stabilize us, and were rewarded with not only lots of amps
flowing into our battery but a bit of stabilization as well as some increase
in speed.

As this is the end of the first full day, it seems like a good place to
stop, so I will :{))

Until next time, Stay Tuned :{))

L8R

Skip and Crew

Morgan 461 #2
SV Flying Pig KI4MPC
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"Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things you
didn't do than by the ones you did do. So throw off the bowlines. Sail
away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore.
Dream. Discover." - Mark Twain