Sweetpea #4Just a reminder -- This is a log for me and a way to keep you informed. If you'd rather not get these updates, just ask me to delete you from the address. Otherwise, I'm delighted to share them with you and will keep sending them your way. ________________________ Tuesday, Oct 21: After a brief discussion about man overboard procedures, we fitted my harness and lanyard (used to attach me to the boat in various places as I move about above decks) and downed some Dramamine as a precaution. It was time to head out for our first off-shore passage. We hoped to make about 200 miles to St. Augustine, FL in roughly 40 hours. We motored out of the Charleston City Marina at 4 PM and into the harbor with the tide in our favor (going out). The tide alone gave us 3-4 knots of speed -- a free ride. On the way out we were escorted by several dolphins -- a sign of good luck. After 90 minutes, we passed the last ocean buoy marking the entry into the channel. Land was out of sight now. Wind was out of the south west so we had to 'beat' against it (head into it which is a faster, rougher ride. The main sail was double reefed (lowered and tied down on the boom to make it smaller and more controllable against higher winds) and the jib (forward sail) was rolled in quiet a bit too. Seas were about 4 -5 feet with some swells a bit higher. Luckily, with the wind from the west, they have less distance to form (from the shore to us) so were much smaller than if they were coming from the East and had the whole ocean to build in. Weather forecasts said winds would change to north east which would be more favorable (from behind us so that we would be pushed toward our destination producing a smoother ride and less work). This was my first ocean sailing in any boat so it was exciting and I was at the helm! Once we were on course, 206 degrees, Ed went below to cook his famous 'Haste La Pasta' , a good hearty cheese and pasta dish. It was very welcome as we cut through the waves, healed in the breeze and watched the sunset. It promised to be another night of sailing under the stars with steady 15 knot winds. The auto pilot worked beautifully so there was time to notice the beauty around us. After dinner, we set up a watch schedule of three hours on (at the helm) and three hours off to sleep. I had been at the helm so I retired at 8 PM to sleep until my next watch at 11 PM to 2 AM which would be followed by 5 AM to 8 AM and so on. At 1050 PM my alarm went off and I headed out for my watch. Time at the helm at night is a long quiet time. After your vision adjusts to the moonlight (the only lights on the boat are the tricolor light at the top of the mast 45 feet up and a red light inside the cabin at the chart table), the helmsman only monitors what is happening. I guess that's why they call it a 'watch'. The auto pilot is steering toward the course set (which we will hold all night) so that only needs to be checked to see that it is correcting appropriately as the boat is moved by wind and waves. Another duty is to monitor the horizon for ships. The large ships are unlikely to see us even though we have a radar reflector half-way up the mast. Even if they could, they are unlikely to change course. Basically we must assume we're invisible and take evasive action to avoid them. So ships (actually lights) that are moving on the horizon are not of concern because we are not on a converging course. What we are concerned about are ships that stay in the same place relative to our vessel and begin to get larger because they are on a collision course with us. Most of the traffic is coming out of the large ports and following the shipping routes so Savanna GA was where we saw the greatest number of ships. Before he retired, Ed was very clear he wanted me to wake him for any ship that was remotely close because they can affect our wind and pull us into their wake.) The last thing the helmsman on watch has to do is trim the sails to maximize the speed. So watch duty is simply: (1)cross-checking the boat movements, heading and what the auto pilot does (2) trimming the sails to maximize the speed and (3) watching for other vessels which might be headed toward us. Otherwise there is plenty of time to look at the stars (which were out and very bright), to sing and talk to the dolphins which periodically jumped through our bow wake and swim with the boat, or to go below briefly to fix coffee or a snack (thought I was going to lose weight on this trip!). My midnight watch passed quickly and my early morning watch included a beautiful sunrise. Wednesday, 22 Oct: After breakfast we were visited by a very tired and very lost yellow bird. He landed on the aft deck, near the helm and hopped into the cockpit with us looking for a place to rest. We thought it might need some food as well so we threw some bread his way, but our movement startled it and it flew away. Sometime later, another one (or the same) returned and flew into the cabin where it rested on the chart table. I was off watch and sleeping until I heard Ed laughing and saw the flash of his camera. I feel for these birds. They aren't equipped like sea birds to ride the air currents and fly in the ground effect just off the ocean surface. They are land birds and suited for short flights. The birds that visited us tried to fly away several times and ended up just keeping position with our boat as we moved through the 25 knot winds we were experiencing. The day passed quickly. Eating. Sleeping. On watch. Broken up only by the bird visits, dolphins and subtle and not so subtle changes in wind and waves. We shifted to 4 hour watches, because they seemed more natural. I stayed at the helm from 2 - 6 PM because Ed seemed to be sleeping well. We ate and he took 8-12 PM. I took midnight to 4 AM and he was on until 8 AM. We were both needed after 8 AM. Ed came below about 1145 PM and woke me, was very concerned and said ' Chip, I need your help'. I thought it was just my watch, but it was more than that. During his watch, another faster vessel had approached us from behind. Ed changed heading to allow it to pass, but it matched our heading change. he altered again and the pursuing vessel altered also. Concerned, Ed turned on the radio and heard one vessel calling another. "Bird of Paradise .. this is Condor .. do you read? ... over". No response. "Bird of Paradise, this is Condor, do you read? ... over". Again no response. The pursuing vessel continued to alter course with us and to close on our position. Its running lights and shape looked like a trawler. Ed called on the radio, "Vessel approaching ______ (position) state your intention". No response. Ed called again. No response. Ed knew this was an area known for drug running and boatjacking by pirates so that's why he came below to get me. His plan was for me to turn off the light at the chart table and to disconnect the light at the top of the mast (leaving only the compass light). When we were blacked out and not visible because it was a dark overcast night, he altered course 90 degrees. Essentially, we disappeared from their view and Ed maneuvered our dark vessel until we were behind the faster vessel that was pursuing us previously. We ran blacked out for about an hour and then turned on our running lights (looking like a power boat) until dawn. After, that excitement, Ed retired and I took the helm. The wind had shifted to Northwest and we had a following sea so the boat moved a lot to stay on course and counter the waves and wind action affecting it. My watch was over at 4 AM and during Ed's watch, we had another visitor. A flying fish had miscalculated and landed on the deck. It was only 3 inches long and dead before we noticed it was there. Thursday, 23 Oct: About 8 Am, Ed had tried to start the engine as we closed on St. Augustine inlet and twice we got an overheat warning. Something was not working with the cooling system. He woke me (I heard the engine starts and shutdowns and was wondering what was happening) and asked for some assistance. I took the helm and he worked on the engine, checking the water filter, pump, and thermostat. Everything looked OK except the thermostat which appeared stuck so he put in a new one. The engine ran fine after that, so we proceeded into the inlet passed marked shoals (shallow water), the old fort and on to the Lion bridge where we lowered the main sail and waited for the scheduled opening to pass through to the city dock. Once we got Sweetpea tied up in a slip, we went to get some breakfast and looked around in the oldest city in the U.S. I returned and washed the salt off the boat. And we both slept through the day. We have some maintenance to do, food to buy, laundry to do and need to get rested. Our next leg should be St. Augustine to Miami. The distance between the Gulf Stream and the shore line is quite narrow on this leg, generally, about three miles so we can't go against a wind from the south. So we are looking for a wind from the north and will sail when it comes.
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