A `GOOD SAIL'

Larry White

The offshore/ocean sailor admits to a harmless touch of smugness when asked his destination or where he has come from. So it was when we motored out of Long Pond, Conception Bay, Newfoundland with the mizzen already set in the light morning air and a young couple called from the shore "Where are you bound?". "Ireland", I answered. "Have a good sail" was the friendly reply. And that we did, for sure!

We were a crew of five OCC good friends, departing on 1 August 1995 for Kinsale, Ireland aboard the Block Island 40 yawl Astral, belonging to another friend. The owner will cruise Ireland, the Baltic and some of the Mediterranean over the next few years, but his time off today is limited and so we were taking the boat across for him.

Our `good sail' began that afternoon as we carried a spinnaker out of Conception Bay, and took departure off Cape St Francis for the 1682 miles to the Fastnet Rock along the great circle course. But that sunny, warm and moderate-air interlude soon gave way to ten days of foul weather gear in far more boisterous conditions. The waxing moon succumbed to a growing cloud cover and the prediction of the weather service we had subscribed to, that light airs might threaten our water and fuel supplies, began to prove unfounded in the first twenty-four hours.

Over the next ten days we encountered three gales of varying proportions. We were able to anticipate two of these and take moderately effective evasive action. Our radio expert, Ed Kendrick, not only made contact with ham radio friends every day but also kept us in touch with Weather Services Corp, and their information, plus daily NMN broadcasts, allowed us to slip south of the several lows that seemed to skate totally unexpected across our North Atlantic track.

But unexpected or not, even the southern quadrants of these patterns provided some `good sailing'. Forty knots of wind gusting from the north-east was the most we experienced, but 30 to 35 knots hauling from the south-east through to the north-west occurred with each low that passed. It rained a bit, and the seas built to 12 or 18ft at least. On two occasions we were pooped by breaking seas and used a bucket to augment the small drains in emptying the cockpit.

We were surfing at 7 1/2 to 8 knots with only the fore-staysail when the rack and pinion steering gear gave out the first time. Before we could engage the electronic autopilot an accommodating cross sea smacked our bow and pushed us over to a relatively comfortable hove-to position. Then began the process of exhuming the emergency tiller from the very bottom of the cockpit locker. Of course we had never expected to need it and so it was stowed beneath everything, including a large spare Danforth anchor, extra water bottles and the folded Avon dinghy. It took at least twenty minutes to extract the wretched thing and then find the proper key for the tiller deck plate. For temper and blood pressure, as well as safety, provide easy access to your emergency equipment!

With daylight, and the emergency tiller operating, it was not difficult to remove the compass, access the top gearing in the steering column and re-install the `key' that had fallen out. This had to be done again later in the trip, but under much calmer conditions.

Another important project about halfway into the passage was repair of the head. For some diabolical reason the manufacturers of marine toilets assemble them so that it is impossible to remove a bolt in any part without first removing the one above it! Consequently we had the entire contraption in pieces on the cabin floor in order to replace the leathers in the hand pump, and while for most sailors this is simply a rehearsal of a skill practiced more than once in their careers, it would be nice to choose a time when the boat is not bouncing on her ear for the entire four hour exercise.

While it might sound as though our trip was not much fun, in fact as five good friends we had some great sailing. Skipper Paul Perkins is an experienced racing and cruising sailor and an excellent, meticulous navigator, with two ocean crossings and numerous Bermuda races in his resum'. Ed Kendrick is a ham radio operator, has sailed his own boat in Europe, the Baltic and the Mediterranean for over twenty years and now keeps it in Maine. Steve Parson has made four crossings and has cruised all his life in several parts of the world. Jeanie Myer has crossed five times, has cruised abroad, in New England and the Maritimes, and is especially in demand as a superior ocean cook. She produced every meal in all weather conditions and went up the mizzen (like the captain) in the bosun's chair to secure the broken Loran antenna. I too have done a bit of sailing -- including eleven Atlantic crossings~ -- and should probably have my head examined! When a crew finishes a North Atlantic crossing still very good friends it has to have been good fun and a `good sail'.

With three lows behind us the sun ventured out more and more often, and the moon gave us the pleasure of its slow waning from full and some lovely night sailing. Off came the ski underwear as the wind fell lighter, still favouring us from the south-west and north-west. We began to need increasing hours of engine time, and our arrival at the Fastnet Rock was under diesel and bright sun, in shorts and shirts. Fifty miles further along the coast we entered Kinsale and docked in the evening after thirteen days and sixteen hours.

After combining two days of polishing the boat for her owner and prowling the picturesque town, including a few charming pubs and a splendid Captain's dinner at the Blue Haven restaurant, we taxied to Shannon airport carrying an immense quantity of duffles, mouldy laundry and sea boots. Re-entry and the return to reality was eased by a double ration of free drinks, compliments of Air Lingus for no particular reason. It had indeed been a `good sail'!