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The World Cruise of Veleda IV |
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The Azores and Heavy Weather Sailing  We anchored out June 22,
1999 at Lajes in the industrial harbour after clearing customs. Flores is a beautiful island covered with wild
hydrangea hedges and other colourful flowers growing wild along the roadsides. The anchorage however was rolly. We had to inflate our dinghy and put the floorboards in, but we did not lower the outboard motor. I rowed the 150 yards ashore each time. Good exercise. Meaveig was the only boat already there from our little flotilla that left St. George's 21 days ago. Several boats came in over the next four days from the heavy sail from Bermuda. I guess we were lucky as we were the third or fourth boat to reach the Azores out of the 12 or so who started together. A long sail! The straight line or rhumb line distance was about 1850 nautical miles. We sailed 2050 to arrive there, taking 20 and a half days. That, surprisingly, averages out to my original estimation of 100 nautical miles a day. However it was anticipated for 1850 miles, and that distance I secretly hoped could have been covered in 16 to 18 days max. Incidentally, we had lots of food, water and fuel left. We could have stayed at sea for several more weeks before running low on provisions. As it was we did not eat much. Judy lost weight from eating very little. I lost some as I didn't cook much while underway in the heavy seas. Moving around a small boat pounding into head seas at six knots, going through 10 foot plus waves in 30 knot winds is hazardous. Even going up or down the companionway ladder is risky, as when you are shifting from one foot to the other or changing hand holds the boat may take an unexpected lurch; you will be thrown off balance unless you have at least two solid hand holds, one foot hold, and your body solidly braced against a bulkhead. Trying to boil water for tea and coffee is hazardous as well. The stove is gimballed, and there is a solid grab bar across the front top of it. However, several times when I was holding on to this bar the boat heeled so much the stove swung up through an arc of over 10 inches (25 cm.) and the oven door handle jammed my fingers against the bar. I got so that rather than grabbing the bar for support, I would wrap a dish towel around it and hold the towel by both ends for support. My back, behind and hips have bruises from the pounding I received while bracing myself in the galley to cook or get food from the refrigerator or cupboards. Keep in mind, I always had to hold on solidly with one hand, and have my feet and body braced, while doing anything in the galley. That meant that to get out the supplies for coffee and tea was a major evolution. I had to open the cupboard door and with one hand, take out the sugar, in its sealed plastic container, and put it on a rubber placemat to hold the door open. Then I had to take out separately, and find a secure location so they wouldn't roll or be thrown on the deck, the coffee pot, the filter holder, a filter, the coffee can, Judy's tea thermos mug, and the tea canister. Then, having these out and secure, I had to fit the filter into the holder and place them on top of the coffee pot, open the coffee can (Where do I put the lid?), spoon out the required amount, put the lid back on and replace the can in the cupboard in such a location that it wouldn't fly out (as I still have the cupboard door held open by the sugar container). I left the coffee pot on the stove, as being gimbaled it was the most secure surface. Then I had to pry the lid off Judy's mug, open the tea canister to remove the tea bags, and put them into the mug. Incidentally the plastic mug was put down once on a hot stove, and so has an irregular bottom and is very tippy. The tea canister had to be put back, and the water poured into the mug and then into the coffee cone with the filter and coffee. Pouring boiling water safely in a heavy sea is a challenge. If I leave the pot on the gimballed stove and pour into it from the kettle, I have not only the heeling movement imparted by the stove swinging with the boat, but also the movement of the water as it is pouring from a freely held kettle and snaking down the couple of inches into the open filter. If I try to wedge myself so I can hold both the kettle and the pot, my arms and body have to contend with the gyrations imparted to me, the pot I am holding, the kettle from which I am pouring, and the movement of the water as it falls down the few inches into the pot. Making tea and coffee was hazardous. Walking through the cabin to go to the heads was another difficult task. I won't go into the complications of going to the heads. We have several good handholds on the bulkheads and the deckheads which permit us to literally swing through the cabin. It is O.K. as long as we have both hands free. However it is complicated if trying to carry anything as one available hand cannot grasp two handholds at once, and balance is very precarious. Here is an excerpt from SOD'S LAW OF THE SEA in which a sailor is writing to a friend explaining sailing in heavy weather: " Until you have done some sailing to windward in really bad weather it is just impossible to imagine what chaos can be created in a boat in rough water, and certainly this can never be imagined in displays of empty boats in their cradles at Earls Court [a major London boat show]. Leaping about, with a rhythm which you just get used to until it changes with a violent break, will create strange effects on the people and gear. The people will tend to get sick once they leave the deck, and the process will speed up if they attempt to cook; the best course is to get from the deck into a bunk as quickly as possible. Gear which was carefully stowed away will quickly become free range and the wet clothing, oilskins and towels will become mixed with an egg, the marmalade and the Scrabble. This melee will accumulate at the point of lowest gravitational pull, i.e. in the puddle. A simple operation like getting a handful of biscuits out of the cupboard will involve bracing yourself across the galley space, opening the cupboard with one hand and using the other to hold in the rest of the things; an unexpected lurch disengages you from the 'hold' position and you, half the plates, a dozen eggs but NOT the biscuits fall down across the boat to create a very bad-tempered ommelette with the navigator and his charts. Everything, however basic, takes much much longer to do: bruises and cuts are acquired in the process. You have to go to the loo [toilet]: your oilskins are wet, both they and your pants are hard to take off, you achieve your pressing need. In replacing the oilskin trousers the braces catch in the door as you move aft, a lurch spins you round the tethered spot, and you crack your head on the bulkhead and break the braces off the top of your pants. The pain and frustrations in bad weather make you feel that sailing is a mad, mad sport. Twenty minutes downwind or in sheltered water will allow the boat to be tidied up and you to forget how miserable it had been. ROUGH WEATHER SAILING IS THEREFORE MOST COMFORTABLE WHEN YOU HAVE STOPPED. Whilst you are doing it, try to perform as few evolutions other than steering and sleeping as possible." Fortunately we have a fully enclosed dodger and bimini with side curtains and water in the boat or cockpit was not a problem for us. We took on a few waves that came right over the cockpit, but otherwise we were quite dry for the trip. Judy was most comfortable curled up in the fetal position in the downwind settee It was nice seeing the boats we had heard over the SSB net and some of whom we were able to communicate with on our VHF. We had met most of them at the potluck suppers in St. George's, but their comradeship was more meaningful after sharing the ocean voyage. One of the boats, River Dancer, was over 28 days in making the passage. They and several others did not stop at Flores, but went directly to Horta on Faial. We did some maintenance tasks for a few days, and walked around the town. One evening we went with the family from Incognito to a fiesta up in Santa Cruz, a town on the north east section of the island. The drive was spectacular as it wound up and down the steep ravines along the volcanic coastline. The fiesta featured free barbequed sardines, Portuguese bread and red Vino Verdhe. Some local dancers and musicians provided entertainment. We found the people friendly and helpful. One gentleman took us and another crew from Queen of the East over town in his truck to the post office, grocery store and bank. Going up town was a fairly long walk of about 1.5 Km. all uphill. Next Log |
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Links: Peter Cafe Sport Horta Marina
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