TRANSATLANTIC IN '52

Joe Cunningham

(Dr Joe Cunningham is a Founder Member, who qualified in 1952 by sailing his Vertue Ice Bird singlehanded from Ireland to Madeira, continuing on to Canada. The fact that he achieved this without either engine or self-steering is mentioned only late in his account.)

After completing my medical studies in 1938 I joined the Navy. I was demobbed in 1946, and the following year saw a notice appealing for doctors for remote practices in Newfoundland. These practices were pretty isolated, you would be on your own and there would be a lot of boat work involved. With my love of the sea and of boats I was hooked.

My first two years in Newfoundland were spent on the east coast, where I had a long stretch of coast to service. Much of my travel was in open dories, though I also visited patients by train, jeep or pony and sled. Then in 1950 I heard that the government was building 40ft diesel cruisers to service the settlements on the south coast so I asked for one of those. For the next few years I was based at Hermitage, with twenty-five settlements to look after, only three of which were connected by road. I had a skipper/engineer and cook on board so life was quite comfortable, and when it was too stormy to go along the coast we could hole up in one of the fjords and get in a bit of fishing.

In the last few months of my stay there I was preparing to fulfill a long-held dream to make a singlehanded ocean voyage. My boat was abuilding on the south coast of England near Southampton. She was a Vertue, specially modified for ocean cruising, 25ft 6in LOA and 7ft 2in beam, of heavy displacement and in my opinion the ideal boat for singlehanded cruising. Late in July 1952 I picked her up, sailed to Falmouth with two crew, on to Dun Laoghaire with one and from there home to Portrush alone. There I spent what remained of the summer getting to know Ice Bird and preparing for a transatlantic voyage.

On 17th September I set sail for Dun Laoghaire and Dunmore East with my brother Sam as crew. We had a fine trip down and when Sam went home I was on my own. Dunmore East is a pretty village and I was grateful for the shelter of its harbour as I waited out a series of gales until 27th September when I finally got underway. Within two days the gales had started again and when they moderated fog came in. Altogether after the first week I was wondering what I had let myself in for. However conditions improved as time went on and, though it was a slow and stormy passage, in the middle of the twenty-fourth night at sea I saw the Porto Santo light fine on the starboard bow, just where it should have been. This was a great relief as I had not been really sure that I could navigate. I had had some practice when I acted as voluntary navigator's yeoman on the cruiser I had served in during the war, but it is a very different thing taking sights on the relatively steady deck of a large ship and taking them on the violently rolling and pitching deck of a small boat. At 1100 on the twenty-sixth day I dropped anchor in Funchal harbour to start a very pleasant ten day stay there. I was fit and in good form but found when I stepped ashore that walking was a bit of a problem - my feet seemed to bounce about a foot high every step I took!

I found the people of Madeira most helpful and generous, and Ice Bird was hoisted out by floating crane onto a barge so that I could repaint the bottom with antifouling. In the harbour there I also had my first experience of the camaraderie of ocean cruisers. I had hardly anchored when someone was over with fresh bread and vegetables, and others were soon along to see if they could help in any way. After lots of hospitality I was ready to set sail again on 2nd November.

As I sailed out of the Bay of Funchal a salute was fired form the guns on the hill above the city. I had made a friend of the Commandant of the local militia and he considered this a worthy occasion to use up some of his practice ammunition! Outside the bay I soon picked up a favourable north-east wind that carried me on for three days before I decided that I was in the trades and hoisted my twin staysails. For the next seventeen days I had nothing to do but let the boat sail herself. For most of this time I had the company of two or three little zebra striped pilot fish which probably mistook the boat for a shark. They swam just ahead of the bow, never leaving it by more than a few yards, but finally left me in the night, probably to join the real thing.

Twenty days out the winds started to vary a bit and had to juggle around with my sails to keep her on the desired course. It was beautiful sailing weather and, being alone, during the day my clothing consisted only of a loose shirt worn in the heat of the day to protect me from too much sun. I was determined not to repeat the trouble I had had in walking at Madeira, so each day I stood in the cockpit doing a thousand paces raising my knees high, then did one hundred knee bends, and so on. The counting involved in this led me to a rather compulsive counting of everything I did, even to every sip I took to drink a cup of tea!

On 4th December at 0300, with my log reading 2702 nautical miles, I spotted South Point light on Barbados to the north-west, just a little further north than I had expected. I had to change from just foresails to my main and jib and by 0600 was entering the lee of the island, greeted at first by a rather unpleasant smoky smell from burning the trash from sugar cane and then suddenly by a strong but more pleasant odour of vegetation. At 1030 I anchored off the Royal Barbados Yacht Club after being visited by the Port Health Officer and letting him sail Ice Bird into the anchorage. Soon I was being greeted by some of my friends from Madeira and by new ones who had also completed transatlantic crossings. My legs were good enough to go dancing until the wee small hours that evening.

A very pleasant ten days were spent in Barbados, and then it was off again to St Lucia and Antigua. I arrived in English Harbour on 22nd December intending to stay over Christmas and be on my way again early in January, but after a very enjoyable holiday season news came that Ann Davidson, the first woman to make a singlehanded crossing, was expected, so I decided to stay on a little longer to help greet her. However when she finally did arrive it was in Portsmouth, Dominica, and she was in no mood to sail any further. The skipper of Nymph Errant, whom I had first met in Barbados, was a friend of Ann's, so I sailed down with him in Ice Bird to let him accompany her on the passage up to English Harbour. As we entered the bay at Portsmouth we almost bumped into a whale. Soon we saw Ann's little boat Felicity Ann, but she was ashore recuperating from the voyage. I left him there and returned to Antigua alone, expecting soon to head north. My plans were, however, frustrated by a mild attack of infectious hepatitis which left me with very little energy for several weeks.

On 5th March 1953 my recuperation came to an end and I headed for Road Town, Tortola, in the British Virgin Islands. I arrived on 7th March after a slow but interesting passage, and soon Ice Bird was on the slip to repaint bottom and topsides. A week went by during which I enjoyed much hospitality, including a visit to one of Her Majesty's frigates. Then with Ice Bird afloat again and looking spic and span I spent some time exploring the islands, a beautiful cruising ground.

Shortly after my arrival in Road Town I had been approached by the local doctors, a married couple, who had not had leave in the previous three years, to see if I would do a locum for them. Soon this had been arranged with the Commissioner and I was a temporary employee of the Colonial Medical service. I took over their practice on 27th March, and with it a house complete with cook, maid and houseboy who also looked after the horse! This mode of transport I was not well prepared for, but it proved most necessary as many of my patients lived over the hills on the north side of the island and the only way to reach them was on horseback over very rough trails. There were also visits to be made to the out islands a couple of days a week, so I enjoyed it thoroughly.

On 1st May I was a free spirit again and sailed to St Thomas in the US Virgin Islands, a free port and good shopping centre where I stored up for the next legs of my voyage. I was approached by a young Irishman who had sailed across the Atlantic and was looking for a lift to Canada, so I took him as crew. Such is the nature of singlehanders, however, that although David was a good seaman I found I had to work much harder than when I was alone, but he was pleasant company.

We left St Thomas on 5th May for the passage almost due north to Bermuda, and it was good in the night watches to have the North Star for our guide. About four hours out our log ceased to function, the sinker and spinner gone, probably taken by a shark. We replaced the parts but for several days were kept busy clearing weed from the logline as we were close to the Sargasso Sea and clumps of the weed were floating around us. The weather was very unpredictable with many squalls, some with rain and some out of a clear sky, and at times we were almost becalmed. We also saw several ships crossing our track heading for the Gulf of Mexico and so had to keep a good lookout during our watches, three hourly by night and four hourly by day. Finally on the 14th we picked up fair winds, and on the afternoon of 16th May tied up alongside in St George's, Bermuda. The next day we were towed round by launch to the Royal Bermuda Yacht Club in Hamilton.

After a week enjoying the high life in Bermuda we cast off and were on our way to Newport, Rhode Island. We wore towed through the reefs and then set sail to the west-north-west. This again was a time of very unsettled weather and the third day out was spent riding to a warp in a full gale. When it had passed we were left suddenly with almost no wind at all, followed by squalls with thunder, lightning and heavy rain. The winds kept shifting and changing in strength and a very tired and confused swallow boarded us for a while to rest. Several ships were sighted, and one was concerned enough to make a large course alteration to come close to us to check that all was well.

Finally conditions improved and we had porpoises, petrels and flying fish for company. On 6th June, with about 80 miles to go, we ran into fog and David steered while I navigated with our direction finder until we sighted the Brenton Reef lightvessel about a mile away and were soon safely moored in Newport harbour.

David left me in Newport to travel overland to Canada, whilst I again enjoyed much local hospitality. On 23rd June I was off again to sail alone to Halifax. There was little wind and banks of fog about so I spent the night at anchor in Vineyard Haven, sailed on in the morning, and by late afternoon passed Pollock Rip lightvessel and was in open water and heading for Nova Scotia. The winds were changeable, and I had difficultly in getting Ice Bird balanced well enough to sail herself with the wind on the quarter until I led the weather staysail sheet through a block on the weather rigging and then a block on the quarter to the tiller. When this was balanced by a shock cord she kept well on course, well enough for me to climb to the top of the mast and take photographs of her sailing merrily along with empty decks and cockpit! On the 17th I had the company of a school of porpoises for an hour or so and enjoyed watching them from the bow as they played around, sometimes as many as ten abreast. Early next morning a large whale passed by shortly before I entered Halifax harbour and tied up at the Royal Halifax Yacht Squadron moorings.

Four days later I started out on my last leg to Newfoundland, and one day out had my first gear failure when a running backstay broke during an accidental gybe. It was soon replaced with a spare and all was well. On 5th July the sun went down with a green flash. It took me by surprise for I had heard of it but never seen it before. I hopped onto the cabintop and raised it again for half a second and there it was, without a doubt, light green.

Next evening I picked up land right ahead. At dawn it was shrouded in fog, but by 0515 it was clearing a little as I felt my way in towards my old practice area. Soon I heard a familiar foghorn and Pass Island loomed up a few miles away. A whale blew nearby and the cloud base lifted to about 100 feet with visibility 8 miles or so. As I sailed down towards my old home visibility dropped again, but I passed Grole and Fox Island and then met my old boat coming out of Hermitage. When they saw me they immediately turned back at full speed into the harbour, and when I sailed in I was given a grand welcome with firing guns, waving flags and cheering crowds, and best of all the hearty handshakes and "welcome home" of all my friends.

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