Seeing the ice in clear skies was a hell of a reward for the heavy weather yesterday. Thus far we’ve stopped to admire two big bergs from close range, bringing in ICEBEAR under power (the wind, after all that fuss, shut down completely around 1200 noon as we rounded Cape Race) to within a hundred yards or so. I put the drone up to get a bird’s eye view, and the crew stopped to admire the beauty of nature’s most striking sculpture. Both bergs we stopped for had at some point in their decay rolled, for the tops of them were pure white and smooth as marble, highlighted in spots by deep turquoise cracks where they’d broken apart and re-frozen during their lifespan.
This has been all over my Facebook page the past couple of days, thanks to Kevin King, who crewed with us and took the footage. When the whale first approached, we were in awe, and just enjoyed his company. Kevin wanted to film right away, but I kind of discouraged him - if you're always behind the camera, you can't appreciate what's right in front of you. But the whale kept coming back! I was afraid jamming the camera down in the water might scare him off (he thinking it might be a harpoon!), but eventually we gave it a go. I think it was worth it!
This was written yesterday, posted today (Monday). Photos below.
We arrived into St. Croix yesterday afternoon after what I think was probably the easiest passage I’ve ever done. We sailed on starboard tack the whole way, broad reaching in anywhere from 8-25 knots, and only motoring for one hour, through a pretty calm spot when the sails were banging around and we had to roll up the jib.
I will have WAY more to say about this in due time, but wanted to post it immediately. Thanks to Dave for sharing - you know who you are. Might we have finally reached a tipping point when it comes to taking offshore sailing seriously, instead of a ride to warmer weather?
I just had an interesting email exchange with a friend whose in the (years-long) process of outfitting his boat for extended ocean cruising. The boat is similar to Arcturus, and we have similar ideas about things, and somehow got in touch a few years back. Anyway, we've had several of these types of exchanges. I won't say who it is out of respect for his privacy, but I want to publish my response to his latest email about rigging, sails and engines. I'll preface each section with what I'm about to discuss, but won't include anything specific that he's emailed me. What's your take?
I love sailing into a harbor, especially at night. Moitessier once wrote that he prefers sailing into a harbor at night because nobody is watching, and you don’t have to worry about folks thinking you’re showing off. Sometimes you are, of course, but to me, it’s more about the joy and challenge of coming in under sail than anything else.
Sailing from the hot & humid Chesapeake northeast past New England & on towards Canada has been exceptionally exciting in terms of the changing weather and the cooling water temps. We're at sea now for almost five days. You could fly the route in a few hours, but experiencing the gradual change in climate as we cruise along at a jogging pace is what truly makes ocean voyaging a special thing. It really IS a long way from home when you realize how much the weather's changed and watch it do so gradually. We're not in Kansas anymore.
After the rescue, we continued motor boating for nearly the next 24 hours. Unlike the previous week on the DelMarVa rally, where we scooted out the Canal and down the Bay at a cool 8 knots, riding a fair tide the whole way, we bucked the tide this time, making only 4-4.5 knots under power nearly all the way to Cape May. When we did finally get within site of the ocean itself, the wind was on the nose and light.
We took turns at the pump as Someday’s owner Dennis searched in the bilge to find the leak. There was a good 3-4 feet of water sloshing around, but we kept ahead of it with the huge pump. Me, Sean and Mia took turns, while the rest of my crew kept the boats apart, and Sheila, Dennis’ wife, communicated with the USCG and Tow Boat/US.
This is the first in a multi-part blog series about Isbjorn's first offshore passage from Annapolis to Lunenburg, Nova Scotia. There are loads of photos in the galleries at the end of each post. Start with this one, and follow along. Normally I do this from at-sea, but we forgot the email device for the sat phone! So here it is now, in one big dump. Some of this I wrote on the boat at-sea, some of it after we arrived. Enjoy! -Andy
Andy and the crew of Isbjörn have no email at sea so they won't be posting blogs while offshore. However, the Yellowbrick tracker can post to Facebook, so check there for brief updates now and then. Also, Isbjörn's position is updated every four hours at 59-north.com/tracking. - Rory
Matt Rutherford's first post of their latest Ocean Research Project voyage to Greenland. Matt and Nicole departed Annapolis last week, and are en route. We'll be posting their blog entries here on 59º North for your adventure reading pleasure. Check out Matt's site at oceanresearchproject.org.
Position 2015.06.15: 39° 34’ N, 072° 11’ W
Mia has informed me that the last article I wrote about our little run-in with the Navy ship was shared something like 22 times on my Facebook page. Apparently it struck a cord with some people, so that's cool. Given that, and having had time to think about what happened some more, I thought I'd type a little followup.
I was sleeping on the port settee, the first time since we started this trip back in NYC that we were on starboard tack and I wasn't hanging in the lee cloth. So a nice cozy sleep, and I was out cold. We'd been motor sailing all night, and the wind was veering around from SW to an expected NE as we passed through a very weak cold front. We we're smack in the Gulf Stream to boot, but starting to make progress again in the right direction.
11:18pm. We're back on NYC time since departing Bermuda this morning. After only one full day ashore, we're back to sea again on Blue Heron for the return journey to the USA mainland. The short respite was pretty nice actually - not enough time to get fully acclimated to land life again, so we still have our sea-legs.
Less than ten miles to Town Cut now and St George's harbor. It's the first real calm morning we've had the entire trip, or at least since turning the corner off Hatteras and aiming for Bermuda. We're unfortunately motor boating this last home stretch. There is a boat behind us under spinnaker, part of the Bermuda 1-2 Race. He's putting us to shame, and he's sailing solo!
Yesterday, before the guys got here, my dad and I took the ferry over to Hope Town. It's known for the old 1800's lighthouse with red and white stripes, that still burns a kerosine light to this day. Retired Senator Tom Harkin of Iowa lives there when he's not in DC. Tom sailed with me on both legs of the Serenity passage from BVI-Tortola and back in February, and I've gotten to become pretty good friends with him.
