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Miami Passage - Day 01
[This message forwarded from their sailmail status report.]
Miami Passage - Day 1, October 2 Hello from the Atlantic Ocean, 38*34'N, 74*10'W. We started off our passage by heading to the fuel dock to take on diesel, gasoline and water (not all in the same container!) and empty the minimal amount of seawater and Portia's litter which Lydia mistakenly put down the forward toilet, forgetting that it had been secured for inshore use . Just as we were finishing, the rain started, so, in case it turned into a blow, instead of setting our sails immediately as we'd planned, we motored away from the dock in 13 knots of wind. Because our forecast for the night included winds which would build to 20 or so, and gusts to 25, we set a single reef as we turned the corner to go into the channel north of Sandy Hook, raised the staysail and settled in for what we expected to be a boisterous ride. Unfortunately, the wind died almost immediately after we got to the channel leading out from Atlantic Highlands, and on the line we were taking, was nearly astern. It was light enough that I wasn't comfortable with the possibilities for a forced jibe - and, in fact, the main shifted sides several times - so we didn't let the main run, instead keeping it on a relatively short leash. It stayed that way so instead we turned a bit North, to put the wind more abeam. It stayed light airs, so we continued, motorsailing, much further out than we'd planned, but far enough that we could turn for a direct run past Barnegat Light, and onward to Hatteras, if the wind stayed in the direction forecast. Our SPOT locations map shows a nearly right turn as we headed south. For the first several hours, it remained light, other than the very few instances of 6-8 knots, so I put out the genoa. At the time, it picked up to 8-10, and the increased forward motion, along with what I assume to have been a small wind shift, led us to a very close reach, or even a beat. Tightening up all the sails moved us right along in that breeze, but again it died, and for the next several hours was more in the 1-3, with occasional gusts to 4 knots, range. Occasional sprinkles of rain kept our deck clean, and we continued to motorsail, much to my disgust. Returning my phone call of earlier seeking advice about the Wednesday PM departure, Chris Parker called a couple hours out, and said that we were right on track for a great run, but that it would be relatively light airs for a goodly portion of our trip. However, tonight was still forecast to pick up dramatically, so we may have to take in the genny some time later. Meanwhile, to my amazement, more than 6 miles offshore, for several hours we had reasonable internet connectivity, and I was able to tell the rec.boats.cruising newsgroup what was happening aboard in real time. As I type this, now, we're about 6 miles from the Deal-Asbury Park area, and still connected!! The wind stayed very light through most of the night, if you qualify before midnight as "night" but by 11PM the wind had started to rise to sailing quality. Unfortunately for us, instead of the expected West winds, the wind was more on the order of Southwest, and our direction of travel meant that we were beating into the wind. We're thankful that the sea state relatively matched the winds, and our passage was smooth. However, as the wind rose, I took close note, as it had been expected to rise. By the time it was consistently over 10 knots, I thought in terms of pulling in the genoa. There's a saying in sailing: The time to reef is when you first think about it, so when it first hit 14 knots, about 11:30PM, I rolled in the genoa. Flying Pig was still pretty upright when I did, only 8-10 degrees of heel, but I knew that much more wind on a beat would have her heeling more than was effective. Sure enough, by midnight, the winds were consistently more than 15 knots, and moving up, and I was glad I rolled in the genoa. Shortly after midnight, the gusts were approaching 20 knots, and by 1AM steady winds were consistently over 18 knots. 2AM saw many times in the low 20s, but we continued to be comfortable with our single reef and staysail. Unfortunately, the wind stayed from the same quarter, and we continued to beat our way south. Along the way, we had a couple of close encounters with tugboats with a long-line tow behind. The one at 1:30 was very close, and crossing my bow. I hailed him and verified that he saw me, and noted our course. I told him that if it became an issue, I'd fall off and pass behind his tow, for which he was grateful. As he passed me, he hailed me again, and we had a conversation on channel 10. He wondered what my green over red light was. Confused, I said I didn't think I had one, but it turned out our red LED rope lighting in the cockpit was visible for further than I thought, apparently, as it had confused *him*. I turned it off, and he verified that it was what he'd seen. Looks like I'll need to turn it off during close encounters, so as not to confuse others. It's very effective lightng, without harming the night vision we need, but if it is confusing to boats nearby, we'll have to do without! By 3AM the winds were consistently over 20 knots, and the sea state was building. Still, Flying Pig soldiered on, unperturbed. Fortunately, the wind moved a bit aft, lessening our beating attitude, and picking up our speed, even though we were a long way from a close reach. Another benefit of our increased wind was all the power KissyFace, our KISS wind generator, was making. By daylight, when the solar panels kick in, we may even be in surplus! The wind continued to build, as did the sea state. Waves were short-period, making for a bumpy ride, and the 5-7 foot height made for lots of water aboard. By 6AM, it was time for another reef, so I clipped in and went forward to make the change. It was a bit of a wrestling match, but I'd run off (headed downwind a bit) on a broad reach to lessen the apparent wind, which also helped with the wave angle, and made for a dramatic increase in speed. Once the second reef was in, we turned upwind to see about whether we'd also need to take in the staysail. At 25-30 knots of wind, Flying Pig was heeled more than we prefer, but we discovered that Hatteras was less acute an angle than we'd thought was generated by our running off, so we were able to go to a close reach, making her stand up better. It also reduced the apparent wind by a few knots, but it still was a lumpy, wet and windy ride. Later it would pick up even more, despite our lessened angle of attack, and we were back into the 25-30, with higher gusts. I settled in to try to reach Chris Parker during his regular morning broadcasts. A couple of test mailings with Sailmail were very encouraging, achieving speeds, while still only about 20% of the rated maximum for the modem we have, right at ten times the speed we'd gotten on the Maine passage. Chris, in his phone call, had said that propagation would likely be much better today, and this supported his theory. In his first broadcast, though, I could barely hear him, so didn't bother trying to reach him. With all the bouncing around, and making Lydia her coffee for her shift, unfortunately, I mis-set the radio for his second broadcast, by one digit in the middle. No wonder I didn't hear the 7AM broadcast! As the 8AM broadcast was on the same frequency as the 6:30AM one, I wasn't encouraged, but conditions change as the day goes on, so perhaps this one would work. While I waited, out of curiosity, I did another scan with my wifi setup. Despite being 13 miles offshore, I was surprised to find a station. Unfortunately, it was weak enough that I was not able to connect, but it certainly proves the benefit of our setup. We're on a starboard tack, and our antenna has a slight downtilt. Apparently that aligns reasonably well with shore at our level of heel, or we'd never have connected earlier, nearly 7 miles offshore. As daylight arrived, I also saw that all the pressure on the mast had made it pump, despite my careful tuning of it earlier, and the internal collar has again migrated up. Another item for the to-do list! As feared, the 8AM broadcast was the same as the 6:30 one - Chris was barely readable, mostly, and otherwise inaudible. The 8:30 broadcast, having been more careful with my setting this time, worked. Our weather would continue for a good part of the day, but we'd be rewarded with a wind shift which would allow us to run off for a while, easing the pressure, being able to get more West, later. We'd have to point as hard as we could when the conditions eased, as even later, the wind would clock around to the SW. Our efforts to get as far West as possible despite nasty conditions would be rewarded when (presumed - we'll see!) we wouldn't have to tack to continue to Hatteras. With the reduced sail, and our bearing off, while we got higher speed, it was at the price of more rolling as the seas built to 6-8'. I went down to bed with Portia, who hasn't gotten her sea legs back again, yet, and was unhappy. Unfortunately for Lydia, she's not got hers altogether, yet, either, and it was an extremely uncomfortable day for her. A couple of hours after I went down, Lydia came to get me to go fetch a couple of serious items which had come unshipped and were sliding on the deck. I clipped in, and manhandled them into the cockpit until more clement weather would allow safe reattachments. In the meantime, however, the wind had, indeed, abated somewhat, so I stayed up for about an hour monitoring, eventually pointing us a little higher before I went back to bed. Unfortunately, I noticed on my trip outside, we had a couple of casualties - one of our fenders, and a rod and reel, disappeared into the maelstrom, before they could be secured. As annoying (and expensive) as that is, it beats having something break! Thus far, we've been very pleased with our equipment failure rate, being very tolerable this time as compared to last summer. As the wind died and the seas continued, our speed bled off to the point where, when I came up again at 3:30, we were only making slightly less than three knots. The wind had died to the 15-20 knot range (rather than 25-30, gusts to 35 of earlier - so much for one correspondent who thought I'd have doldrums all day!), so I shook out the second reef, returning us to our starting point of a single reef and staysail. Despite that, our speed remained low, as the waves made trying to point into a beat very slow going. Reluctantly, then, we began motorsailing at 4PM, relieving Lydia who went to try to get some sleep and calm her stomach. So, we're now beating into a 15-20 knot westerly with 6-8' seas, but doing very well in getting west, our course over ground being 222 degrees, and the loafing engine helping get the speed up to the mid-5s. So, we'll leave you, now, just south of the south end of the Delaware Bay, about 40 miles offshore east of Fenwick Island, DE, the easternmost part of the state. Stay tuned :{)) L8R Skip Morgan 461 #2 SV Flying Pig KI4MPC See our galleries at www.justpickone.org/skip/gallery ! Follow us at http://groups.yahoo.com/group/TheFlyingPigLog and/or http://groups.google.com/group/flyingpiglog "You are never given a wish without also being given the power to make it come true. You may have to work for it however." (and) "There is no such thing as a problem without a gift for you in its hands. You seek problems because you need their gifts." (Richard Bach, in The Reluctant Messiah) |
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