Passage 9

Bermuda to Azores Archipelago with ARC Europe 2007

Kittiwake Log 24 May 2007

At sea again and what a sea. We are experiencing deep north easterly swells of some 7-9 feet with some nasty sloppy smaller northerly waves and the occasional monster that looms up from the NE and ships 'green' all over us. Several burst over us yesterday sending walls of water 10 feet into the air that crashed down on the decks and cockpit sluicing all before them. The tidal waves left us soaked and dripping and, in spite of the hatch cover being closed, they worked their way into the saloon and over the floor. The torrent soaked all in its path leaving books, clothes and countertops dripping wet. We mopped up and no big deal really. We have zipped in a canvass strip that joins the bimini to the spray hood and that has stopped the worst of the ingress.

We are all tired after a long, arduous night of banging, creaking, bouncing and slamming. We are hard over on the port tack with a force 7 gusting gale force 8 NE wind. The inclinometer, that Ian McDowall kindly gave me for Christmas a while back, is off the scale past 40 degree of heel. We are running on reefed main and reefed genoa doing some 5.5 - 6 knots in an easterly direction. 'Marginal' is the word that comes to mind today. It is so often the case in sailing. It was marignal whether we left yesterday or not.

Should we wait 24 hours or longer to let the trough of low pressure fill and the winds slacken before going or get on with it and benefit from a favourable wind tonight. Should we delay till the weekiend when the winds will drop but still be close to Bermudan waters before a gale comes in early next week. We chose to go - marginally. Once out should we go north or east because we can't go north east, where we want to go, because that is where the wind is coming from! We chose east - marginally. Once set on a general direction do we sail as close to the wind as we can to keep close to the rum line, but slam more into the waves and not go as fast, or do we bear away a little to pick-up speed but slip south of the line and have to make it up later. We chose to sail close to the wind as is relatively comfortable - a marignal compromise. Now how much sail do we put out? Full sail is out of the question but how much to reef. A lot and we go slow, sag off to the south but do not heel or slam so much. Not so much reef and we go faster, can point better, but slam more and heel more. We chose the latter, marginally.

So far all this is working fine for us and we expect to make some more northing to our easting tonight as the wind is due to 'back' to the north west and slacken a little. The outlook is for more north easterlies so we will try to make the most of the NW while it lasts. Last night for dinner we had a delicious cottage pie that Ian had prepared before we left. Just heating it up was a huge effort and all I was capable of. Tonight we will have James's pre-prepared chilli con carne. I haven't mentioned wind noise much in these logs. To get some idea of what it is like take two hair driers. Switch them to blow only, no heat.

Place one by each ear at full blast and waft them to and fro across your ears. Now you have it. Quite a racket. For added effect, gargle with salt and spit it into the air blast and get it all back over your face. Throw yourself around the bathroom while doing this. Put your head under the shower and douse your hair with cold water. Allow copious amounts to ingress whatever it is you are wearing. Now there is no need to go sailing. You can enjoy it all from the comfort and safety of your own home. Stay there doing this for two weeks, sleeping only in a cramped corner of the shower tray in damp clothes and you could be with us. Good training, and you will be in pole position for crew selection for our next trip.

Sorry all of this is a bit disjointed today. I had to break off to be sick - again. I've been sick twice now in the last 20 hours, the first time this while trip of 6000 nmiles!

The ARC fleet is rather split with several boats chosing to delay their start till Friday. Of those that have put to sea one has turned back due to a crew member feeling they had had enough. One boat has suffered a torn spray hood and lots of water in the saloon with damaged to instruments. For the rest they are now spread out over a large area and all reporting similar conditions and discomfort. We are about 7th overall in the fleet at present.

In spite of the narks, the sun is out. It is a beautiful day, a few scudding, white clouds in a peerless blue sky. Not another vessel in sight - just a tossing, foaming, lonely wilderness.

All onboard well and doing fine.

Mark
Kittiwake
155 nmiles east of Bermuda

Kittiwake Log 25 May 2007

What a difference a night makes. As dusk drew in and we sat in the cockpit together enjoying James's excellent chilli con carne the winds and seas moderated. They continued to drop as expected and we settled in for a well needed gentle night. Sleep was restored and spirits have lifted. But what happened to the wind shift? It was supposed to back to the north and north west, but apart from a period of light variable winds that lasted an hour or so they have stayed stubbonly north north east. Still as dawn broke we set full main and genoa and are now skipping along at 6 knots in a direction close to the rhum line for the Azores. We have 1577 nmiles to go to Faial our first island of call.

Night at sea is a wonderous place. Never the same. Last night was brightened if not lit by a half moon dancing in out of cloud banks that scudded high above. Stars, brilliant and sparkling in the cold - yes cold - air. (I shall reserve 'bitterly cold' for later, knowing I'll need it for future logs, but that's what it felt like after the balmy nights of the Caribbean). Phosporescence is a constant feature. This glints and shines in the wash of spent waves as we sweep along like the facets of a Victorian steel cut piece of jewelry. Not as bright as has been but enough to thrill. I never cease to marvel how bright some stars are. In a clear cloudless night the star shine is enough to make the seascape quite clear even with no moon. Sirrius at these times casts a star beam on the water that is astonishingly bright and quite serves till the moon comes up.

Dawn this morning began at 04:45 local time as the faintest lightening to the east. Imagine watching a seascape on TV with the colour turned right down - just shades of black on grey till the most gradual of paling begins. As time draws on the light grows in confidence suffusing the east with a soft grey under-lighting the clouds on the horizon.

Still no colour. Gradually, as if someone is turning the colour up on the TV, the soft hues of duck egg blue, and plalest lime emerge. Things speed up now. Beams of light are cast high into the sky and solid colour fixes firmly into the emerging day. The blues and greens transform into yellows first then pinks and golds till in a sudden burst there is a new day heralded by the rising fiery orb of the sun blazing beneath the clouds.

Colour sweeps across the sky and surface of the sea racing to meet us in our onward rush. We collide in a dazzle of salt strewn spray with sails brilliant white edged in rose and apricot. The sea turns blue around us and the wave crests shine a fiery platinum white. The wash of colour is in full pelt now reaching out to north and south as it sweeps over to fill the western horizon behind us.

The day is fully set now and the morning growing long. All on board are rested and fed and doing well.

Mark
Kittiwake
230 nmiles east of Bermuda

Kittiwake Log 26 May 2007

After the gale now the calm! By last night we became totally becalmed rolling wildly in a confused cross swell.

After trying several sail changes and directions we finally had to accept that sailing was not possible. With great reluctance we started the main engine and pushed on through the gentlest of nights. We decided to use the engine because we needed to generate power anyway to charge the batteries and better we got some distance covered at the same time rather than just wallow around using diesel but going nowhere. We also used the absence of wind to head north to get us closer to the rhum line. We and, as far as I can judge, all of the fleet are a little too far south of even the southern route to the Azores. The further south the less chance of a decent breeze over the passage. We made good time through the night on engine and we are now sailing again on poled-out genoa to port and full main, goosewinging on a south westerly zephyr.

Sunset yesterday evening was spectacular. There was not a cloud in the sky, just a faint haze along the rim of the horizon all around. As the sun dropped in to the haze it resolved into a sharply defined disc of deep apricot turning crimson as it sank. The glowing disc seemed to hang suspended for an age before dipping slowly behind the sea's edge and dwindled like a dying ember in a grate till it was no more. To the west the sky glowed the softest of pinks and apricots while to the east night rushed on and the azure blues turned the darkest of blues till all colour ran out and the stars lit up.

All would be fine with our world but were it not for an overheating engine battery that is causing us some concern. We think it is on its last legs and although holding its charge it is not happy. The specific gravity is down in the cells and we will have to be careful how we handle it. We are looking at ways of isolating it from charging when we have the main engine or generator on. We believe we have ruled out other likely causes such as alternator sensor wires not functioning or Adverc splitters not working properly. Never a dull moment.

To cheers us up Andy has made some buttermilk pancakes and we are enjoying these as we sail slowly onwards with Aunt Jemima's syrup - lovely. A nice treat after the massive chicken curry we had last night - well it was Friday night and traditions at sea have to be maintained.

All on board well and doing fine.

Mark
Kittiwake
337 nmiles east of Bermuda

Kittiwake Log 27 May 2007

Glassy sea. Not a breath of wind. No clouds in a sky of pastel blues and whiter shades of pale spanning the heavens - a perfect dome set upon a perfect disc of a perfectly circular horizon. A golden orb of a risen sun casting brilliance upon the scene from the east. A gentle swell oozing greasily across an otherwise flat seascape. The surface glinting and gleaming lazily as the unhurried swells pass furtively beneath. This, believe it or not, is how the North Atlantic Ocean is for us this morning.

These are moments to be savoured, spoilt only by the inevitable drone of the engine as we try to move away from the calms and further towards the Azores. The night was equally calm and uneventful. Soft and actually quite warm in the idle airs. Strong winds are forecast to come up behind us from Bermuda. Our plan is to run ahead and south of the centre of the approaching low system and avoid the worst and benefit from the push when it comes. The winds will be up with us by Tuesday. Wednesday promises to be quite exciting at gale force before calming down somewhat on Thursday.

Right now though we can enjoy the luxury of gentle motor sailing in warm sunny conditions. If only life were that simple. Yesterday and this morning we have been wrestling with battery problems. The main engine battery was overheating badly when being charged by the main engine or generator. We tried all sorts of remedies including taking the second alternator belt off the main engine to stop the charge going in when motoring - but this caused a host of secondary problems due to the inter-connectedness of the service and engine batteries. James did a great job of putting it all back together again in difficult conditions of dark, heat and swell. We tried swapping the main engine for the bow thruster battery but this caused equal complications. This morning we have solved the problem by swapping the problem battery with the generator battery and all systems are fine. If we need charge in future we know we can use the main engine or swap the leads back to run the generator. Either way we have isolated the main engine battery that has clearly just given up the ghost. A great relief I can tell you. Having a battery overheating like that everytime we had to run the main engine, or needed power for the other systems, was not tenable. We ran a real risk of fire or even explosion from the hydrogen being given off if we had not tackled it.

Our old friend the phantom water gusher returned to haunt us as well. Avid readers may recall that we had the same problem on the ARC last year when fresh water was being dumped into the bilges via a pressure relief valve by an over enthusiastic pump. It started doing it again yesterday.

This time though I was able to spot it quickly - I keep the bilges very dry at all times so I can spot problems. I knew from fixing the initial problem in St Lucia that we needed to retune the pressure sensor switch on the pump and balance the pressure with the accumulator. You pump it up with a bicycle pump by the way. The vibrations and rolling of the last few days must have upset it. All fixed in a matter of moments and very little water lost. What price experience hey!

The other little twist to an otherwise stressful day was when I came out into the cockpit to see our wind generator and satellite communications mast wobbling. Again a return of an ARC event. The nuts on the fixings had worked loose due to the recent excessive rolling. The nuts are now doubled up,'Locktited'and 'Nylocked'! Problem permanently solved!? I hope so. Oh and then the knob fell off the cutlery draw and the handle fell off the forward cabin door and the hinge spring on the forward loo cover snapped and Ian crashed through the passage door when a bigger than usual swell overtook us. This will requiring some joinery. And then we discovered that the wave that came in two days ago has knackered the video camera and .. and ..and it was my BIRTHDAY. Yep I certainly felt a year older after that lot. To top it off I even had to sleep on the floor of the aft cabin, while doubling up with James, so as to avoid any potential fumes from the problem battery - as then unfixed.

But, but, but.. am I bothered! NO. This is not what we came for but it is what you have to deal with out here. No electrician to call, no plumber to hand, no mechanic to do you a quick start or a repair, no 'oh sod it lets's go for a beer', no port to run to. We are 800 miles south of Newfoundland and 1400 nmiles to the west,south west of the Azores and nothing in between. Get a problem out here and you have to fix it. I am very fortunate in having been able to choose a wonderful crew with a wealth of experience, skill and nouce so with which to pool resources and come up with solutions.

Many thanks to friends and family for remembering my birthday and for all the gifts, cards and best wishes. Much appreciated.

Andy who is always trimming sials and eeking out the last tenth of a knot in any wind was chief cook yesterday treating us to those excellent pancakes and then a chicken and pasta dish - most tasty. Ian has been a star on the sandwich run making round after round of deli delights.

So we motorsail on into another glorious day with much excitement still to come no doubt.

All on board fine and doing well.

Mark
Kittiwake
1340 from Faial, the Azores

Kittiwake Log 28 May 2007

After a day of tribulations the reward of a day of gentle motor sailing in very light airs on a benign sea. Bright sunshine, shorts and T shirts, cooled ginger beer and lots of talk about tactics.

We are now some 585 nmiles east of Bermuda, approximately one third of the way to Faial of the Azores - our first island of call. The low is definitely coming up behind us and it is likely to be a full gale force 8, maybe even 9 for a while on Wednesday afternoon/night in the area 35N 55W tracking NE. We are pushing on east as fast as possible while balancing the need for speed with available fuel. Again it is such a marginal call. The winds are stubbonly from the east south east so it is difficult to go just south of east down to 33N where we would like to be by Tuesday night. If we bear away to the north to fill the sails with what little breeze there is we risk running too far north.

If we want to hold our current course we need the motor to make the heading to the east, which is what we are doing.

The next feature on the weather map is an area of strong winds and high seas ahead of us lying over the Azores and stretching back to our approach. This is likely to develop Thursday and build Friday. So the margins are being tested again. We need to keep ahead of the worst behind but not run too fast into the worst ahead. As far as we can tell we are as well placed as we can be give or take a bit of southing.

Last night was a very different experience from late. All afternoon the clouds had been building. By night fall we were cloaked in a soft flannelette of suffused dark grey mists as far as we could see above and around. The moon was up but only visible as shafts of white light daggering through rents in the fabric of the heavy mass above. Could this be Philip Pulman's 'Subtle knife' at work carving a ragged window between two dimensions of space? As the hours wore on the rents closed, the light extinguished. Dark Matter the only substance. The boundary between the dark, lowering sky and the darker horizon merged into one - all definition foresaken. We no longer sat upon the ocean but more drifted aloft suspended within a sphere. The only visual reference to spoil the illusion was to look down upon our gentle wake and wonder at the magic of the phosphorescence. Last night it was a poorer show than usual, just a few sparkles in a tracery of white like fireflies caught in lace.

The night was also wet. The humidity rose to 85% and dew formed inside and out. The sails shook showers of water into the cockpit every time Kittiwake rolled in the swell. The saloon walls dripped with moisture and all clothes and bedding became clammy and damp. We sailed in company with Apparition for a while before they were swallowed by the thickening mists in the early hours. We kept an especially alert look-out as we seem to be in an unofficial shipping lane. We saw several freighters yesterday and came within three miles of a Maersk Line container ship adrift with no steam up. We radioed but got no response. A little while later the funnel gushed forth black smoke and they shot off to the south west.

Perhaps they were just having a lazy Sunday afternoon or doing engine maintenance. We shall never know.

Last night I made a seafood chowder of grouper fillets and prawns in a subtle creamy broth of fresh potato, carrots and beans flavoured with fennel and thyme. Delicious. So quick and easy to do and all in one pot.

A massive amount was demolished setting us up well for the night.

Today the sun is out, the breeze balmy. We will be using this time to prepare some meals for later in the week when things could be rough.

James is on the helm, Andy is doing his Open University Biochemistry project work and Ian is a sleep.

All on board well and doing fine. All ships systems functioning as they should be.

Mark
Kittiwake
1194 miles west south west of Faial

Kittiwake Log 29 May 2007

Bank holiday, Birthday, Duvee day off - this is a day to celebrate.

After the frustrations of the past 48 hours we have wind! Warm wind on a brilliant sunny day with little fluffy clouds, a gentle sea and all is right with the world. We are skipping along on a close reach with the enormous cruising chute up, poled-out fine to port doing 6.5 to 7 knots in a light SE wind. We have some 1070 nmiles to run to Faial.

We know that these kind conditions will not last. We are in for a bit of a blow tomorrow and Thursday but we have been promised by the weather gurus an 'ease down Friday'. At that time we will head further north and plan our approach to the Azores. Right now it is pure pleasure.

All ships systems are functioning as they should be. The only maintenance I have had to do today was to put a screw in the headling to hold up a ceiling panel that was slipping, tweak the water pump pressure sensor again and fix the handle on a mug. These are the sorts of problems I don't mind too much.

Last night the atmospherics continued to enthrall. We had NO wind at all. The sea was glassy smooth. Not a ripple to distrub the surface, just the gentle rise and fall of the swell felt but hardly seen as gentle undulations. Around us in a great circle was a ring of vapourous clouds low down on the horizon. It was as though we were in the centre of a vast cauldron being heated on a fire of the setting sun. The rim of the pot was steaming as it heated up and the swells were the first stirrings of a simmer in the making. The cauldron was warmer to the west where the steaming clouds glowed a rosey hue, whereas to the east the night was cooling the rim with the blues and indigoes of encroaching night. The moon was up and the stars brilliant. The sea so smooth there was no moonbeam upon the water. Instead there danced and sparkled a haze of tiny specs of intense lazer lights. A shaft of platinum white speckles cast down from the orb upon high.

Yesterday we saw a pod of whales some five miles away, two turtles (hogsback we think), a pod of dolphins who distained to play, a pair of Kittiwakes who encircle endlessly and lots of jelly fish. The jelly fish float on the surface like little bubble cars. We thought at first that what we were seeing was plastic rubbish adrift. Closer sightings showed them to be transparent domes betopped with a clear fin rimmed in pink-like mini blades of a stegasaurus. Most are as small as the bulb of my thumb but some as large as my palm. They seem too small and defined to be Portuguese men of war' that I know have a 'sail' but in any event they intrigue.

For dinner last night I pan fried pork chops with onions, garlic and sweet peppers tossed in a Chipolte zest and then simmmered in a creamy mushroom sauce. This was served with mashed potato (blended with a little fresh chopped onion, grated parmisan and crushed black pepper) and fresh boiled white cabbage. Tip of the day - peel don't slice the cabbage and it will last for weeks!

The ARC Europe fleet is now very spread out in a long chain but we are again sailing in close company with Apparition. Great to have friends so close.

All on board fine and doing well.

Kittiwake
730 nmiles east of Bermuda

Kittiwake Log 30 May 2007

Bashing along at eight knots with spurts upto 9 knots Kittiwake is flying - racing to stay ahead and south of the rising winds coming up fast from behind, the long heralded low system from Bermuda. We did 136 nmiles in the past 24 hours at an average of 6knots. We flew the cruising chute yesterday from midmorning till sunset to get the most out the lovely lights airs. But last night we took it down and readied ourselves for the challenge of the next 48 hours.

For all the discomfort of the rocking and rolling Kittiwake is a fine yacht under these conditions. She is well reefed down but carrying the main, genoa and staysail. She is stable, well balanced and easy to handle. Cooking, washing up, eating, sleeping, going to the loo is another matter altogether - all a dreadful effort.

Nevertheless, we are in the position we chose to be at the time we set ourselves and so far the 'plan' seems to be working. There are rain showers behnd moving north east and it is bright ahead so hopefully we are on track to outrun the worst.

Last night the sky darkened as a blanket of clouds dragged over us like a wad of cotton wool being unrolled extinguishing the near full moon. As the night wore on the winds rose till this morning we have a near gale but with the sun trying to break through where the moon and stars so failed us.

For dinner I prepared a tilapia and prawn dish in a mango and lime sauce enlivened with a little garlic and ginger and seasoned with lime leaves. We had this with petite pois and basmati rice. It was declared delicious by all and I have to say that for an 'experiment' it worked very well and one I will repeat.

Tip for the day - frozen fish and prawns make for a very tasty and flexible resource that cook in seconds and can be applied to most recipes. Better still if you have time to marinate the fish/prawns earlier in the day it brings out their flavour and that of the marinade. Knorr sachet soups make a great base for inspiration without complex and timely cooking. Last night I used cream of asparagus and it worked a treat. Right now Ian is preparing pancakes for breakfast. A magnificent effort, much appreciated by a hungry crew. Notwithstanding the conditions we make few concessions when it comes to eating well.

All on board fine and doing well.

Mark
Kittiwake
955 nmiles east, south east of Faial

Kittiwake Log 31 May 2007

Well if we came for a challenge - we have got it. The last 24 hours have been exhausting. The wind rose steadily through the evening and night to give us a full blown gale for long periods with gusts over 40 knots. We ran off to the south east to get a better angle on the waves that were building in height and power. It is less seldom said but it is the waves that dictate direction just as much if not more so than the wind when things get rough. The fear of broaching is constant and the best way to avoid this is to not sail broadside to the waves even though you may be on a tack or broad reach. We had to wait until 08:00 local time for me to feel that as the majority of the waves were now coming from the south west we could turn and run east north east towards the Azores. It was touch and go or a while but we are now settled (hah! - that's not quite the right word in this crazy corkscrewing, slewing, rolling vessel we inhabit)on a quartering run doing an average of 8 knots or so. For one mad 15 minutes we averaged 10.6 knots.

As the morning has worn on colour has crept back into the seascape. Dawn not so much broke as leached into a desolate wasteland of foam crested waves and breaking rollers. The cloud was low and everything a muted monochrome. Now the sun is breaking through rents in the cloud base and patches of blue sky are emerging. Colour is seeping into the sea, a washed out blue with turquiose rims topped with a white crests.

Ian, the hero, has just made me a round of bacon sarnies while I struggle to keep the laptop pressed to the navigation table. James is on watch and Andy get some well deserved rest. Last night we enjoyed James's pre-prepared bolognese at a time when lenghty cooking was out of the question.

We hope that the worst is now upon us and that as the front moves to the north east we can expect a moderating wind and seas into Friday. But right now we have just got to tough it out. Kittiwake though throughout has shown here pedigree as a true blue water sailor, and notwithstanding some water getting in through places it shouldn't, she has not given us an anxious moment.

All on board fine and doing well

Mark
Kittiwake
813nmiles from Faial

Kittiwake Log 01 June 2007

The day after the gale finds us in very good shape sailing along in gentle NNE winds at 6-7 knots on a fine day of sun and scattered clouds.

The seas are damping down and the conflicting wave patters gradually canceling one another out. At the height of the gale some waves were truly impressive. Every minute or two huge rollers 20 feet high or more would come rolling in on our starboard quarter from the south, south west - a mass of dark water welling up and bearing down on us with an insolent, relentless purpose. As they arrived we would be pushed up the leading face, picked up and held until surfing down the trailing edge in a welter of spray to be settled in the hollow as the receding wall drove on. On the tops of the waves the colour shone turquoise crested in a froth of brilliant white foam that blew off in streams. Between the big rollers there was a welter of smaller waves filling in and scampering over one another in a crazy confusion making life very uncomfortable. At the height of the gale our wind speed indicator packed up after showing 45knots. We are now reliant on my Father's old hand held instrument - the last legacy of my sailing days with him from 35 plus years ago.

As the gale dropped away and the front moved over in the gathering darkness the wind dropped to nothing leaving us pitching and rolling in a truly horrid fashion in very high seas. To make it worse the temperature went up and it started to rain.

Cooking the evening meal last night was pure mind over matter. I was stripped down to just trousers in the torrid, humid galley - airless and steamy, the hatches closed to keep the rain out. All the others were strapped in the cockpit just hanging on. I was sick twice while making the meal but still managed to deliver a fricasse of caramalised chicken, red peppers and onions that had been marinading in BBQ sauce. This was served on a pasta and marinara sauce. I was able to eat about half of mine before dragging my sweat soaked body onto the saloon berth to collapse for a few hours before my watch at 02:00. Tip of the day, eat as soon after being sick as possible. Sounds mad but it works. Sea sickness is caused by the brain being kidded into thinking the body has been poisoned. The natural defense is to get rid of the 'poison' by being sick. There is nothing wrong with the stomach. As soon as the 'poison' has been ejected the brain feels much better for a brief while. This is when you need to eat something while still feeling good. Leaving oneself empty just leads to a viscous cycle. Works for me - but needs some determination.

Today we are drying out, sorting out and getting on with it. The next concern is not enough wind as the high develops around the Azores stretching down in to the area we need to traverse. The challenges continue. We are grateful that we are in a fine vessel that can handle a variety of conditions well.

Our thoughts are with Nicholas and his crew on Cochise as they struggle gamefully on after being dismasted yesterday. They have jury rigged and are moving along at about 5 knots. Belle is intercepting them to give them some more fuel. The North Atlantic is a pretty tough place where good seamanship, comradeship and resourcefulness are required at all times.

All on board well and doing fine.

Mark
Kittiwake
650 nmiles south east of Faial

Kittiwake Log 02 June 2007

After the 'Ease down' FriDAY (including a delicious prawn and chicken curry - it was a Friday and Kittiwake traditions have to be upheld) came the most awfully frustrating night. The winds fluked and jinxed but stayed stolidly to the north, north east and north east - just where we need to go. The seas that had died down began to get wrestless again and developed a most crazy unbelievably complex pattern of conflicting motions leaving us lurching and rolling. We tried going north - no good the waves just slammed us back in the flukey winds. We tried bearing off to the east, north east under main and genoa but the genoa kept backing. We tried the same with the staysail and this helped for a while but the winds headed us again. Eventually we paid off to the east under genoa and main close hauled in a rising north easterly. We are crashing along on the port tack and, in spite of our best intentions, we are being pushed a little south of east. We are hanging on waiting for the south westerly winds that are supposed to develop later today. If they do come then we will have a reach to the north east and be back on track for Faial.

Last night, as we polished off Ian and James's joint effort of a stupendous curry, the sky to the west treated us to the most spectacular of sunsets. The whole horizon lit up in a fiery orange and crimson blaze as the sun dipped beneath the cloud. It shone a brilliant gold before sliding into a guilded sea. As it did so its rays raced up to the heavens and with a lavish Midas touch turned all to gold. The clouds that had hung as a lumpen, dull blanket suddenly became a gossamer - a golden fleece of incalculable value. I have never seen such a display in 8,000nmiles of cruising. Majestic, vast in scale, unspeakably beautiful. Transient. Impersonal. Unique. Never to be repeated but undoubtedly emulated with time to come.

It is strange to reflect that such glorious, extravagant displays should shine unmoved by any sentiment they invoke or drama played out beneath. They shine just the same whether above entwinned lovers on a cliff top or a lone yachtsman adrift in a liferaft. Have done, will do, for ever and forever. Nothing more than physics at play only made beautiful by human response.

From physics to biology. Yesterday afternoon we were entertained by a pod of dolphins that came to play dashing and besporting under our bows. Later water spouts were seen 200 yards to starboard and there we saw whales cruising solemnly along, grey backed almost silvery. We were glad they did not come too close. We soon passed them and we thought they were mother and calf at rest.

So we press on hard bashed and frustrated at the perversity of the winds. Yet again it is a marginal call. Do we press on east or head north? Either way we yearn for the onset of the southwesterlies soon - please, pretty please, even for a chocolate biscuit!

All on board fine and doing well.

Mark
Kittiwake
552 nmiles south east of Faial

Kittiwake Log 3 June 2007

'Lazy like Sunday morning, ...'. After two watches last night, a bit of whale spotting, a bacon sarni, updating the log and doing a boat check I treated myself to a lie in. Content was I that all was well. We were ambling along nicely at 5.5knots smack on course for the Azores with a gentle wind in the sails taut set for the beat into a south easterly breeze. All ship systems functioning as they should and all crew well fed and happy. Perfect.

It still is. As I prized myself from a wedge shape around the saloon table (we use the seats around the table as an extra berth), stretched and gathered my thoughts I could 'feel' that all was as I had left it, save that the day had grown and warmth cometh.

Last night the sun settled without much show, embarrassed perhaps by the excesses and exhuberance of the evening before. It slunk down leaving the stage empty for the next act - the stars and moon. Without so much as a cloud above the horizon the stars entered first. Not stage left nor right but descending from deep space to fill a vaulted dome above. Our very own planetarium - but for real. Every constellation clear, every star sparkling bright, crystal in the cold, clear night. Their loom providing a suffused glow upon the water and brightening an otherwise dull cockpit.

Enter moon, stage right. A tentative appearance low down to starboard on the south eastern horizon. A jaundiced yellow, mellow in the distant haze - but full. It rose purposefully above the misty props to shine clear and white confident now shrugging off and dimming the stars around - no need of foot lights. Almost perfectly round, its face clear to see, it continued its ascendency casting light before as moon beams upon the water. As they danced towards us lazer straight the sails lit up. Grey fabric turned to stone, solid and pure, shaped in stiff curves like walls designed by Frank Lloyd-Wright. The 'star' of the show dominated the stage and captivated its solo audience till my first watch was complete.

Early the next morning when I regained the con dawn had broken and the sun was breaking forth. The moon as though reluctant to relinquish the stage hung low to the east, vapourous now in a bluing sky - all power spent. Mystical and ephemeral. A lingering reminder of what has been and will surely be again.

Last night for dinner Ian cooked us his special wedgy chips, pan fried in his secret coating. We had this with chilli con carne and tortilla chips. Pity we did not have any avocadoes for guacamole but great nonetheless.

We have seen whales twice now since my last log. The second set rather too close. Ian called me in the early dawn to see them while he swerved around them just off the starboard. Great to see but at such close quarters I consider them a navigation hazard rather than a natural wonder.

The weather report is largely favourable for the run in to Faial. No more gales to contend with. Maybe a period of contrary winds to pass through and diesel to be conserved for likely light winds. We are now just 435 nmiles from the south western approaches to Faial with an ETA of Thursday.

All on board well and doing fine.

Mark
Kittiwake
36.11N 37.25W

Kittiwake Log 4 June 2007

Monday - the start of a new week, business as usual. Up for the morning shift - 07:45 for 08:00. Short commute to work, three paces. Breakfast on the go - bacon and scrambled egg wrap at the wheel with a mug of steaming tea. In-tray - head 072 degrees True on the starboard tack for as long as the wind holds. Take a break after two hours at 10:00 and let someone else take the strain. Simple. Uncomplicated. 'Giz-us-a-job, I can do that'.

Last night the wind died coincident with us having to charge the batteries so on went the engine after dinner. We droned away for half the night before a zephyr grew to a gentle breeze to allow us to become a sailing yacht again and grant those still in their bunks a better quality repose. The morning awoke bright but cool and since has clouded over and become cooler still. We expect we will have some rain before the day is out. But for now we have good sailing conditions and are heading straight for Faial at 5.5 knots in a 10knot south, southeasterly.

You have probably had more than enough of me waxing lyrical about sunsets and moonshine so for something a little more pithy today. Let's do 'smells'.

It has been a great relief to me that we have had a day or more now of being able to open the hatches without fear of waves or spray from working their way into the bilges and dampening clothes, books, carpets and bedding. This has cleared the air and made life much more pleasant below. For while we are battened down smells gather like a miasma. A cocktail of odours combine to a create a fug. Damp fabric - tea towels, clothes, carpet - sour. Engine oil and diesel - cloying and unpleasant. Battery emissions - tangy and slightly sulphurous. Cooking, whatever was last on the menu. Fridge - cheesey/fishy in spite of having been cleansed and bleached en route. The Heads (bathroom and toilet) cleaners - synthetic, sharp and nasty, as well as spirit vinegar for the loos to keep them from chalking up - acrid. Loos smells - you can guess with four hose pipes at play in a rough sea (although chaps your aim is improving!). Bilges - damp and slightly sour. Bedding - in serious need of a launder. Bodies - new sweat and old sweat. AND, worst of all by far to my nose, those awful under arm deodorant and body sprays certain of the crew are addicted to. They spray vast clouds of these vapid, poisonous, nauseating, synthetic, corrosive, all pervasive chemical warfare agents around as though life depended on it. I am convinced that they are the prime reason why we have not suffered any cockroach or other insect infestation this past year. This stuff is a lethal fumigant. It is not as though they don't wash - they do regularly but they still find it necessary to top things off with a 'French shower'and emerge from below at one with the world, refreshed and ready to take on a gale. I can write this now knowing the offenders will not read it till after we are back. Each to their own and tolerance is vital on a small boat.

Last night I marinated pork tenderloin in orange zest, garlic and Moroccan spices before pan frying it till brown and crusty. I glazed it in honey for a final flourish and carved it into slices. Meanwhile I reduced the jus for a tangy sauce. We had this with fresh couscous flavoured with caramalised onions and dates accompanied by, slightly incongruously, garden peas from the freezer. Very fine indeed.

The only maintenance I have had to do today was to unblock a shower tray drain. All other ships systems holding up well.

So we press on still expecting to reach Faial on Thursday.

All on board well and in excellent spirits.

Mark
Kittiwake
327 nmiles West, South West of Faial

Kittiwake Log 5 June 2007

The most testing and dramatic shift in wind and conditions that any of us have ever experienced overtook us last night with shocking suddeness.

At 22:30 local time as we were settling into the second watch of the night in dying airs and gentle seas it all changed. During the day we had made good steady progress towards Faial under a low grey, bank of drizzling cloud. This was more like the North Atlantic of fable - grey and cold - but it was no harbinger for the drama to come. One moment we were ghosting along in a south westerly and then the wind died to nothing. We had put the engine on moments before to charge batteries. One minute later we were smashed into by a 35knot gust from the north east. A complete 180 degree shift and 0 to 35 in sixty seconds!

We reefed with great alacrity down to second reefed main and stay sail from full mainsail, genoa and stay and tried to make a course off the screeching wind to the north. At this point we had little head way and tried to tack to go east. This we biefly achieved before it was clear this was untenable as we would have to pay off so far to the south east as the wind veered further. We tried to come back but the helm seemed to have lost all power and the wheel was free spinning in Andy's hands. I tried and found the same. We had no steerage! I suspected that the sudden wind shift and slamming around had damaged the steering cabling - or worse. We used the engine briefly to help us round as we tried again. The staysail backed and we were now heading north, north west in driving rain, driven spray and an impossibly fast rising sea. All in the pitch dark. The near full moon extinguished by the low black cloud. I took the wheel - for what it was worth and held on. I experimented with the helm port and starboard and found some steerage but very little resistance. Encouraging but not totally reassuring. As the wind rose further it screamed in the rigging and chilled us to the bone. I had come out of my bunk and only had light clothing on under lifejacket and life line. I was getting soaked and very cold but hung on till Kittiwake settled into the new course. We had little speed but she was now sailing herself. I left the wheel to do its own thing. Kittiwake was magnificent, perfectly balanced with the reefed sails and clawing herself out of what had become crashing troughs of swells and cresting the breaking wave tops. We hung on longer till a further shift in the wind to the east a frigid hour later tempted us to try to tack back. This we did. We had steerage! For a brief instant we were heading straight for Faial doing 5knots in a 35 knot full blown gale. It was now abundantly clear that this was no gust or squall to be weathered for a few minutes. We were now in a completely new situation that was going to last for a while. But if it was racing us to Horta - well so much the good. No such luck. Within moments the wind backed to the north east and stayed there all night. We ran off to the east, desperately disappointed that we had lost easting when going north west and now we were losing northing. No choice. We tried the autopilot to see if it was still functioning and could cope in the rough conditions. To our delight it was and it did.

I went below to dry out. By then I had on my foul weather jacket but this was over my soaking light stuff and I needed a complete change if I was to take my watch in an hours time. I had encouraged Andy to take to his berth after a torrid night. Ian was now on the helm and James - rightly - still below gathering his strength for his shift after me.

I dried out and came back on deck. It was now about 01:30 local time. Still pitch dark, driving rain and spray and huge waves. I took a scan of the horizon to check yet again that we were clear of shipping. To my amazement I instantly saw a faint white mast head light dead ahead, very close. I immediatley alerted Ian who confirmed that it had not been visible seconds before. I took the white to be the stern light - we were overtaking it. As we swung in the heavy seas I caught a brief glimpse of red, its port of left side. I saw its light gyrate at the same time and thought this confirmed we were coming up fast on its port side and I was seeing its light as we briefly swung togther. Ian had a different interpretation. Maybe he is coming towards us! Within seconds this was confirmed as the red light firmed up and grew in clarity. We dropped off to the south as I shone our 1 million candle power torch on our sails to announce our presence. The other yacht bore down without changing course. I flashed the light on our sails and was getting ready to deploy an anti-collision white flare we have handy at all times over the companion way steps. But the danger was over. He flashed passed us no more than three hundred yards to port doing an estimated 8 knots never deviating for a moment. Our closing speed had been 12 knots. As he disappeared in the water driven gloom we caught a brief flash of a yellowish light in the cockpit that we took for a torch. Had there been no one on the helm and were they just coming up? We shall never know. Ian brought us back close to the wind and we settled in for a long night. We had had the radar on for spells every 30 minutes or so to check for squalls and shipping but knowing that yachts in high seas are usually invisible. Throughout all the tacking and concerns over the steering we never for a moment forgot we were a yacht at sea and kept scanning the low horizon for lights. Still it was a 'damn close run thing'. What a twist to an already wretched and dramatic night. We had come too close to comfort to a mid Atlantic collision that could have been disasterous.

As we gritted our teeth for the long haul I took over from Ian who went below but remained on call in the saloon. An hour later James relieved me and did his two hour spell. This he very generously extended for an other hour to give Andy extra time to rest from his over extended watch earlier in the escapade. So we drove on into the night and miserable dawn.

I awake at the shift change of Andy to Ian and checked on progress. The wind had backed in the night and dropped off to 20 -25 knots and we were making good progress through slamming seas to Horta. That night we struggled to make 30 nmiles net gain to our destination and only 75 nmiles over the 24 hours. Now as I write we are heading straight for the port of Horta at 5-6 knots. The rian has stopped and the it is brightening.

It is too soon to understand all that happened to us last night. We suspect that the high were in had joined up with the low gathering strength to the east of the Azores. We had been caught in the in-fill 'squeeze' as the wind rushed to fill in the space. Like oil being squeezed between two gogs. The high revolving clockwise and the outer reaches of the low spinning anticlockwise. Nothing in the forecast for our area or the weatherbuoy data for told of anything so severe and prolonged. A helpful wind shift and increase yes but not a full blown gale. We will do a full check on the steering when things moderate, but we now suspect that the vey light steering was due notto breakage but to too little momentum and then paradoxically being pefectly balanced in spite of the challenging conditions both giving a suspiciously light helm and that puzzling inability to steer at the start of the drama. If so then we were worried for nothing. Time will tell but for now we are doing fine.

I will get the latest weather and hear from the fleet shortly and see how others have faired. Before closing I must give glowing testament to the team. At all times they were calm, utterly professional, constructive and generous in all their actions. Considerate of the boat and each other, stoic. The night was full of humour and encouragement and comraderie. I could not have picked a finer set of people to cope with all these challenges so well. Nor a finer boat. At no time did Kittiwake give us an anxious moment. Solid, dependable, easy to handle, reassuring.

All on board rather surprised and tired but undaunted we press on.

Mark
Kittiwake
250 nmiles from Horta, Faial

Kittiwake Log 6 June 2007

'And the challenges keep on coming....' this apposite phrase was one I scripted years ago when writing an interactive recruitment presentation. It has returned to taunt me this trip on regular occasions.

We carried on after the drama of the night before into a lovely, brisk and bracing morning deep reefed in a gale. I came up from a drugged sleep to the good news that the steering we had felt was too light was actually fine. The lightness had indeed been due to too little drive and steerage way as we dealt with that dramatic wind shift the night before. Excellent news and one that confirmed our most optimistic theory with practice in the day light.

No sooner had I absorbed this warming news than I notice that one of the seams on the trailing edge of main sail was beginning to come apart and we could see day light where it was flapping. My decision was instant. It must come down and come down now before the seam opened up and ripped the sail apart. Easier said than done in rough seas and a gale - but this is what we did.

Dropping the sail involved Andy and I going to the mast and releasing the main halyard. As we pulled it down by hand we all lashed it to boom so it would not blow away. James had been roused from sleep for this and Ian was on the helm holding us head to wind. The main is self-furling, which means it is fixed like a vertical roller blind. Its leading edge is secured in a groove that goes the full height of the mast - 17m! Once down Andy did a brilliant job of stitching the offending seam while strapped to the boom over the cockpit. I passed threaded needles and other stuff he needed. I recalled with satisfaction buying a needle threader for £1.10 in a Tunbridage Wells sowing shop one day while waiting for my wife Cheryl. It proved its weight in gold making a difficult job easy. With the repair made good the next hurdle was to rebend the sail to the mast. This took three of us to achieve. Andy and I feeding the luff (leading edge) of the wind tortured, flapping giant up into the groove in the furling system - inch by inch. I sat astride the boom and then at the foot. Somehow against all odds we go tamed the wild beast and two hours later we were fully fit again. Doing this job in a marina on a calm day is a tricky, fiddly time consuming and exhausitng job. At sea in those conditions it was damned near impossible but we did it. Splendid effort by all. What a great team we have on Kittiwake.

Since then we have been driving on continuously for Horta, Faial- a deep reef in the main and with almost all of the genoa, both out to starboard, on a close haul. We have made excellent progress pushing on north east through the day and night. The wind has rarely dropped beneath 25 knots gusting 30.

The next challenge was to keep my lot fed and watered. Hot ham and salad wraps for lunch and a chicken dumpling stew for dinner washed down with lots of teas and coffees has kept the energy up. They we all for taking double watches last night in case conditions worsened but I sent them all to bed and we stood regular 2 hour on 6 hours off through the night. This proved a good decision as although 'challenging' Kittiwake handled the 'steady' but demanding conditions beautifully.

We are now just 110 nmiles from the waypoint off the south western approach to Faial with Horta just five miles further on on the east coast. We are tantalising close but may have even more difficult weather and seas on the approach. The challenges it seems will keep on coming until we are safely tied up.

In the meantime we press on.

All on board fine and doing well.

Mark
Kittiwake
115 nmiles south west of Horta

Kittiwake Log 7 June 2007

We have arrived safely into Horta, Faial after 1805 nmiles from Burmuda. The passage took 14 days and 13 hours. These simple statistics do not convey the range of experiences, conditions and challenges faced. We have had 2 gales, periods of flat calm and the final approach to Horta was done under storm force gusting winds in the dark. The last 24 hours have been torrid and we are exhausted and very glad to be safely tied-up.

As we approached Faial a day out the wind and seas grew and grew until we had a full gale force 8 blowing from the north and 20 foot waves - perhaps higher but in the dark and driving rain it was hard to tell. If we had been further behind in the fleet we would have slowed down and let the bad weather go ahead of us. If we had been a day ahead we would have been in before the worst arrived. As it was we were caught in the hinterland and we knew we would have to cope with whatever came our way. We couldn't outrun it and short of turning back we couldn't avoid it. So we pressed on in exhilarating conditions for the day and prepared for the worst last night. We rigged the para-anchor ready for swift deployment as a last resort should conditions have been too hard to handle. As it was Kittiwake and her crew did splendidly.

It is hard to describe the awesome thrill of handling a 49 foot yacht as she surged into the rushing waves - two storey high walls of heaving, tumbling mass of rage and brute force. Most of the time she shouldered aside the waves and moved on. But on occasions the vagaries of wave over wave meant that she faced a wall of water that she plunged through sending a solid mass of sea cascading back over the deck and into the cockpit. Sometimes this was so heavy that the saloon was inundated with sea water that ended up all over the floor.

In spite of the discomfort when down below it was the best period of sailing we have had this trip. Kittiwake was dashing along at 7-8 knots under close reefed main and partially reefed genoa until this had to be reduced to stay sail and deep reefed main. During the day the sun was out and the sky blue and all was right with the world. By dusk an overcast sky had filled in and the wind rose to a howl in the rigging. The seas built in sympathy and Kittiwake was having to contend with her most severest test to date. The rollers surged onto her port bow and quarter causing her to heel dramatically before shrugging them off with a nod of the head of a flick of the tail. Each time this created a massive seething, boiling wake that streamed out like a thrown table cloth of Bruge lace.

As we got close to Faial we could begin to make out the loom of the lights through the driving rain and wind blown spume. Eventually we gained the lee of the land and we started to relax believing we were out of the worst. As we entered the channel betwen Faial and Pico the winds reached storm force 10 and the waves built to huge proportions as they were pushed down from the north and squeezed in the channel. We rolled up the sails as we turned north with only one mile to go. But the winds and waves were so strong that we not able to make any headway. We put the sails back out again and tacked up the channel to the Pico side before tacking back to Horta and eventually reaching the harbour entrance. The winds were so strong and the waves so high that this took all of two hours even though we were less than two miles away from safety. The spume and rain were being blown horizontally and I was continuously blinded. It was the most challenging helming cnditions I have had to face at the end of an exhausting day and night. All of us were soaked and chilled to the bone.

Eventually we made the harbour entrance only to be faced by the next challenge. By now dawn had broken and at least we could see what we were doing. This was not a reassuring sight. In side the outer breakwater were dozens of yachts at anchor all jumbled together in close proximity all rocking, jerking and straining in the deep swell. We had to run south through this lot with a Storm force 10 wind behind us. I had the engine on idle and we doing over 6 knots. Kittiwake is not an easy boat to handle in close quarters and it took all my concentration to dodge and weave and turn about while the lads rigged for mooring. One of the ARC-Europe boats that had arrived ahead of us, Belle, invited us to raft up along side them. This was organised by James on the VHF radio. A careful turn about through the anchorage and on to the port side of Belle was achieved and we had arrived. Our sincere thanks to George Gamble and his crew for waking up and being so helpful in the driving rain and gusting winds.

No sooner had stopped the engine than the VHF radio sprang to life demanding we leave immediatley, along with two or three other yachts moored close by. The yacht in question was concerned that the pontoon to which they we tied was 'breaking up' in the exceptional swell and wind. She needed to move out before it all gave way. Being a big 'cat' he needed lots of room and he was concerned that the way out was blocked by the rafted vessels down wind of him.

I went back to switch on the engine to oblige, but paused to check the engine oil first. Just as well - the engine crankshaft gasket had given way under the strain of the past few hours and had emptied all the engine oil into the bilges. We had been so lucky that we had tied-up and switched off when we did. Also that we had not just headed straight out again. Had we done so we the engine would have seized and we would have been adrift in the gale amongst the anchorage.

As it happended a move was not necessary and the marina staff rigged supporting warps to the pontoons and we could relax for the first time in days. The joy or arrival and the satisfaction of having met every single challenge thrown at us of the past two weeks was overshadowed by the engine problem. We will have to wait and see what will be involved in making a repair and how long this will take. An engineer will look at it tomorrow. It could mean that our plans for the final leg back to the UK will have to be postponed.

It is drizzling, overcast and the wind is moaning in the rigging but we are IN. Too tired to do anything now but sleep, grateful that we had been so lucky with the engine and quietly pleased that we had mastered a storm.

All on board fine and very tired.

Mark
Kittiwake
Horta, Faial