If you have followed or read the BLOG of our recent voyage from Annapolis to Makara’s new home in Brunswick Georgia, you will have the background for this log entry.
As we gave Makara her first real ocean shakedown our trip turned very interesting indeed. We encountered Force 8 winds (34-40 knots sustained) between Cape Hateras and Cape Lookout and weather that can only be described as terrible. We did not plan it that way, even though we are a bit “tetched” in the head as they might say down south, but the gales of November were not very forgiving nor all that predictable, even for our friends at the NOAA. My purpose here is not to recount the details of the trip, well documented in our BLOG, but rather wanted to look at the voyage as a whole, focusing on both the lessons learned about sailing Makara and those learned about ourselves.
Let’s start off with the crew. As we sat comfortably in our ever growing colder slip in Annapolis we could not help but wonder about how we would do on this voyage. We knew this was going to be an outside passage. The further we went south, and the more fellow cruisers we talked too reinforced that the inside passage would be tight to impossible for us given our mast height and draft. While the draft was not the main factor the mast sure was and it would have been quite a feat to get under the bridges along the Inter-Coastal Waterway (ICW). We are well over 65’ to the top of the mast with all the do-dads (antennas, sensors and the like). So for us the only “sensible” option was the Atlantic. Now on balance given our love of sailing in ocean waters this did not seem like a bad deal. What was difficult was that we had not been “out there” for a while and there is always that nagging question of whether we still up to the conditions out there. Quite natural to ask such questions, and as I said the dock at Port Annapolis was quite comfy.
I can now assure you that the crew still loves it offshore, no doubt what-so-ever despite dealing with horrendous conditions during a part of the voyage. Nothing can match the stark beauty of being surrounded by nothing but ocean, no land in sight, or a night passage with stars poking through thin clouds (except on a really clear night which we didn’t get). Add to this frequent visits by dolphins that fully breached out of the water and you are in heaven. Now, it wasn’t all fun and joy. We had high winds, rain, more rain, dark nights (no moon), cold, and wind direction only the devil himself would serve up to a sailor trying to deliver a boat, which is effectively what we were trying to do. But, you takes what you gets when you cast off the lines. We did our best in a very messed up November weather pattern to pick and choose our timings. On balance our weather intelligence was not bad, just not great weather. We moved on the best of the worst and focused on the basics. And in the end, by focusing on the basics (a lesson here) we arrived in one piece. This was not assured, however, as a point of perspective, during our voyage two vessels sank along the same route. The outside is not for the faint of heart or the unprepared, never has been, never will be. Call us crazy but we are already planning out next trip! More on that later.
So, with that said I will go through some of the lessons learned this trip:
1) Later is not better in November
We had originally wanted to head south during the first week of November at the latest. Problem was a conflict with Nancy's business responsibilities during the first week of November. In retrospect this is a shame as the conditions at that time off of Hatteras were tame. Also the next week a late season hurricane (Ida) popped up and we had to hold in Annapolis during the second week of November. That was a bummer. After Ida it was basically a continuous pattern of Nor-Easter winds, even more of a bummer. So, the lesson learned for those going south is to get going earlier and hope you don’t get a late season blow from the Caribbean coming north. We had talked about heading south in late October, but concerns about the boat, nervousness about heading offshore before the “official” end of hurricane season, and the noise in our personal lives got in the way. In hindsight we may have been better to ignore all that, and having it to do over again, might have gone south in mid-October. Lesson learned.
2) Anyone can lose their cookies
Nancy invariable does at the start of a voyage, but I had never ever been sea-sick. I found out that given enough of the “washing machine” effect that we found off Hatteras, not to mention diesel fumes, sooner or later even I will heave over the side. Not pleasant but good data. Need to plan this into future voyages and take precautions.
3) We can handle it
At no time during this whole experience did we have issue with our abilities or safety. We stuck to business and got it done. Sure, there were moments when it was pretty hairy and scary out there. Nature is inherently a bit spooky at times, but we were never felt we were in danger. We respected the situation and kept our wits about us. I guess that part of our training kicked in pretty good. As Nancy thought to herself late one night between Hatteras and Lookout in the worst conditions we would see, “the boat can handle this, and I just have to tough it out, just like running a Marathon”.
4) Makara is in good shape
On balance we had maintained and set up Makara pretty well for this trip. She performed very well. She didn't let us down once and treated us pretty well even in harsh conditions. We did find a number of things for the new task list.
6) Be flexible
Given how we started out, or in our case didn’t start out right away, we did indeed show flexibility, but it goes further. At various stages of the voyage we fairly radically altered our destination port, or our departure time to the next port to accommodate the weather as best we could or optimize an arrival, e.g. for daylight. We had always been told that trouble comes with inflexibility. Good we listened.
7) It is good to be out of sight of land
There is a benefit of being out of sight of land, that is, there is no land to hit! I get more nervous when I can see it. I get real nervous when it is close aboard. Good example is the Beaufort channel. When well offshore, aside from the occasion unlighted (yes unlighted) fish haven buoy at night or occasional heavy shipping there is not much to hit. But even those dangers can be minimized with the use of radar (see below).
8) AIS-B rocks
Truly it does. The Automatic Identification System (AIS) which allow other similarly equipped vessels to see each other is far more useful than we could have imagined. We had transponders on an aircraft we used to fly, but had no idea how well this concept would adapt to sea. In practice, while in fog, another vessel warned they were approaching us from the stern. Late at night we were contacted by a large ship that saw us coming to arrange for a safe passing. AIS saved us from the nasty surprises we were used to in the past when the only time you knew a large ship was coming was when you could hear it's engine as it passed close aboard. This is WAY better.
9) Radar rocks
On our previous vessel we did not have radar. Would have been nice since we sailed the Golden Gate at night in fog regularly, but what can you do! We have been trained on radar on other vessels and knew how to use it and did find it very useful. Makara has a good radar and in fog (near the Potomac) and at night we found it quite useful. Often we would overly AIS, radar and a chart to get a full view of what was going on in the blackness out yonder. Oh, and it is good for verifying that you are well off the unlit fish haven buoys at night as well.
10) DSC is spooky
As we were just south of Hatteras, the light still visible I was on watch and Nancy was off resting below. Despite the howling wind a piercing siren suddenly went off on board. Now, if I were on a submarine would have thought the collision alarm or something equally as ominous had gone off. It certainly got our attention but we had no idea exactly what had started to wail. We checked the engine and bilge alarms, no issues there. Then it went off again. That is when we realized what it was. It was the DSC alarm on the VHF. Apparently someone had hit there “Panic” button on their radio and ours, among others, had responded with an acknowledgement of receipt of the distress call. Fortunately the Coast Guard was right on top of it and started trying to figure out whom it was and if there really was a problem. We could not hear the distressed vessel but did catch some of the Coast Guard side. Not sure of the outcome, but it was an interesting practical lesson in how spooky DSC is. You really don’t get much action like that around Annapolis so this was the first time we observed it in action. I was impressed. Nice to know if we have to hit the button something will really happen.
11) Bad things happen
As I mentioned above during out adventure at least two vessels sank on the same route we took. One hit the Jetty at Charleston the other went down near Cape Fear. We heard about these after the fact. In addition, we personally heard several May-Day and Pan-Pan calls as we proceeded south. Bottom line is that it is not all fun and games and one has to continually be on guard so as not to become a statistic.
12) It is a small world
In fact it is a lot smaller than either of us could have imagined. We traveled about 800 nm down the east coast. During that trip we encountered not one but three groups of cruisers we knew from Annapolis. Amazing odds to be in just the right places at the same time. The first was the Evans family who had the slip next to us in Annapolis while the prepped for an ICW run down coast. The second was a gentleman (Al from West Marine) and his wife, along with several friends (all together at least two boats) who docked just on the other side of the Mega Dock in Charleston from us. What are the odds of that? Don’t know the answer but it was sure pleasant to meet up with good friends. I guess that is part of what cruising is all about.
13) We're "outside" people
When you travel south on the east coast there are two options open to many boats. One is the ICW route which is more protected, albeit somewhat tight, vertically and horizontally, as well as shallow in places. The other is the outside route into the coastal Atlantic waters. The latter means rounding the great capes on the east coast, Hatteras, as well as two other significant capes in the triad, Cape Lookout and Cape Fear. I like the name of the later, really instills confidence. The outside route is not for everybody, but some can’t avoid it due to vessel size/height. We wisely chose the outside route due to our mast height, which would have been quite difficult to get safely under many of the bridges in the ICW. Also, as I have alluded to before I don’t like being confined by the “rough edges”. The biggest question was the crew, were we outside people? Honestly we had our own opinion based on previous adventures, having rounded the great cape on the west coast, Conception. But that was some time ago and the older you get the more cautious one seems to become. Actually I think the proper nautical term is prudent. We were that.
The first indication that our opinion was the correct one came in Norfolk. We pulled into the slip in the Marina, our start point for the Hatteras leg and bumped into a delivery captain who was moving a boat moored next to us. He looked at us and said we looked like “outside” people. We both looked rather dumb struck and replied yes, we were heading on the outside. I guess the setup of Makara and our demeanor must have telegraphed the intent. Now it was not until we made the complete outside passage and finally pulled into Charleston prior to the last leg to Brunswick that we mused and said to ourselves “yea, I guess we are outside people” and realized we were. Not really surprising, the years had not dampened our love for the open sea. Bodes well as we venture further and deeper into them.
14)
We want to go again
This voyage can best be characterized as a delivery, getting the boat from point A to point B in the least possible time. We used the engine far more that either one of us would have liked but we needed to get Makara south. On the other hand, the trip also whet our appetite for being “out there”. No sooner did we tie up at our new slip, and toasted each other with a split of Champagne that we had saved for the occassion, than we said to each other “where to next?”.
While there is some maintenance and refitting to do as part of our sea trial lessons learned we thought to ourselves that the Bahamas is not that far from where we were. I think we will do some planning and might just hop of to the islands sometime early next year for a little visit. Ya Mon dat soon.