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Written by Trudy and edited by Graham |
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When Graham first suggested to me that we would need to be doing an offshore passage to shake down the boat and find out what would break, my immediate reaction was one of apprehension. Was it not enough that I had agreed to come live on our sailboat for a year? Would I really have to take a watch on my own in the middle of the night when I don’t really appreciate a stint at the helm in full daylight? I am fortunate enough to have a very considerate partner; he made this suggestion some weeks before it would need to become a reality, then made no further comment on the subject. Having had an opportunity to recover from the hectic pace of life leading up to moving aboard, I able to start preparing myself for the concept of an offshore passage. The daily “sameness” of motoring down the Intracoastal Waterway (ICW) at a snails pace aided my judgment. One morning I decided that tomorrow would be our offshore passage if the weather permitted. I would have nobody to blame except myself if this was a bad choice. [Ed’s note: did the little detail of the boat being near a suitable inlet ever enter into the thought process?]
The weather forecast appeared favorable for a passage from Beaufort South Carolina to an intended destination of Brunswick, Georgia. There was a predicted northwesterly breeze of 10-15 knots which should have allowed us to sail to our destination. We were both itching to do some sailing after the numerous hours trying to get the jib to set while motoring down the ICW. We also needed to test out the repaired top swivel on our vintage Harken furler, which had recently fallen to bits and forced a layover for a few days in Charleston, SC. It’s definitely a strange moment it starts “raining bearings” all over the deck! On the morning of our departure we were both so excited to get under way that we did not want to wait any longer. Our passage out of the inlet was uneventful, and once outside I quickly sensed the motion of the boat was very different from the miserable short chop I’d become accustom over the last four years on the Chesapeake Bay. There was a constant rhythm to the movement, and I suddenly understood what the weather forecasters meant when they talked about wave period. Our pre-voyage bubble of excitement for potentially being able to sail somewhere was short lived; the moment we settled on our intended course, the expected breeze turned out to be an insufficient 5 – 10 knot northeasterly from across the stern. Whilst quietly cursing the lack of wind and inability to keep even the main sail filled, my husband announced we would be using the “iron genoa” the whole night. Disaster! Later that afternoon, during one of our hourly navigation and systems checks, Graham appeared at the companionway hatch and exclaimed he had just found a significant pool of mysterious red fluid in the engine drip tray. We stopped the engine to investigate, and both breathed a huge sigh of relief when he realized it was a coolant leak, rather than his initial suspicion of transmission fluid from the gearbox. (Ed’s note: next time we’ll use traditional green coolant additive!) The leak appeared to have stopped on its own, so provided we continued with regular checks, it wasn’t going to be much of a problem after all. Not far into the passage it became apparent that our original destination of Brunswick, GA was not going to work out. Having both agreed up front not attempt to enter an inlet in darkness, our estimated arrival time of midnight prompted discussion of alternate destinations further south. Calculations showed we should be near the St John’s River around 8am, with Jacksonville, FL being a promising destination. (As it happened, when we eventually arrived near the St John inlet, there were so many container ships zooming in and out that we once again changed plans and agreed to continue an additional 28 miles south to St. Augustine, FL.) Having been inspired by good books and fellow sailors I decided to make fresh bread. The kneading was a great way to relief some of my nervous tension about being underway for at least a twenty four hour period. The warmth of the engine provided ideal conditions for the bread to rise. What a joy it was to settle down and eat warm bread for dinner. There would be an added bonus for Graham as there would be enough left for him to snack on in the middle of the night. I did not know what to expect when the sun when down. We had been advised to do our first offshore passage with a full moon to help us with the visibility. (Ed’s note: oops, must have missed that page of the book…) Instead, we were out on a night when the barest sliver of a moon wouldn’t begin to rise until just before sunrise. After the sun went down, the horizon gradually disappeared and the sky and sea merged into darkness. It became impossible for me to judge the distance of objects such as the many buoys around us, and finally I understood why Graham had spent so much time and money installing a new radar and chart plotter in the months leading up to our departure. I cannot image how an offshore passage could be safely completed without the use of a radar and GPS. (Ed’s note: we were actually on a coastal night passage, and that is harder than a truly offshore night passage) At the same time, I am also beginning to appreciate Graham’s desire to learn about celestial navigation. There seems something special about using the same equipment that his father had used before the advent of so many electronic navigation aids. I opted for the first three hour slot for sleeping. All I can remember is shutting my eyes, and then opening them again to find that it was five minutes before the start of my watch. It was not long after Graham had safely tucked himself up that I was commanding his attention on deck. I found it rather overwhelming to see objects moving on the radar in what I knew to be the busy shipping area approaching Brunswick inlet. It took me an hour before I settled into the role and he was able to go back below. (Ed’s note: Trudy did generously allow me some extra time in bed to compensate.)
No, it can't be time for my watch already! In the stillness of the night I started to feel at ease with the solitude of being on watch. The stars were shinning brightly above me, while the far off buoys were showing their paths towards the inlets. I was aware of a pair of sailing vessels following roughly the same course slightly further offshore as I regularly heard Sea Dancer communicate with the passing ships. All was harmonious until I could not fathom a constant dot on the radar. I compared it with the charts and could not see any mark. I feel so stupid when I awoke Graham after two and a half hours, only to find it was a buoy clearly marked on the chart. Tiredness was setting in. I awoke for my second watch an hour too early, and it did not take much persuasion for me to go back to sleep. When Graham woke me at the allotted time, I so wanted to roll over and go back to sleep. I would like to have believed that 05:30 did not exist, but sadly I saw it with my own eyes... As I came on watch, we were approaching the St John inlet and I could hear the ships negotiating with Jacksonville port authorities for six o’clock entries. This time I would need Graham to stroke me at regular intervals in order to reassure me of the correctness of my own thought processes.
Sunrise near Jacksonville FL Once the sun was up it seemed like all onboard should be awake. Graham obliged, but our two cats Sylvester and Shadow were more interested in staying asleep in the V-berth. As the morning progress and the wind strengthened slightly from the northeast, the seas picked up and presented us with a 4 – 5’ rock and roll for the remaining five hours of the journey. The unpleasant motion brought on a bout of seasickness for me and Shadow, and unluckily for him he lost his last meal all over our cushions. (Ed’s note: unlucky for me… I was the one who had to clear it up!) As soon as we turned out of the wave action into the safety of St. Augustine inlet the seasickness disappeared as quickly as it had developed.
Sylvester and Shadow in the V-Berth The coolant leak turned out to one loose hose clamp and one fractured 3/16” copper pipe that were quickly mended while safely anchored. We didn’t get much of a chance to test the new bearing in the furler, but we did get to test my ability to do an overnight offshore passage. Knowing that my confident partner will be at my side when needed, and having the space to grow into this new role makes me believe we can make a great team for offshore sailing. For now however, I’d like to think that all passages can be completed in just one night!
Trudy’s first Offshore Passage on Luna Azul from Beaufort, SC to St. Augustine, FL 08:30 EST 10/31/2002 to 14:15 EST 11/01/2002. Crew: Trudy and Graham Norbury, and their cats Sylvester and Shadow
Written 4th November 2002 and edited 6th November 2002
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