A Passage South
Author: Shirlz
The passage south to the Caribbean from Morehead City was not without interest.
Going out of Beaufort Inlet on a bright sunny day, I saw people strolling on the nearby white sands and regretted not having seen more of the fabled Outer Banks. Will there be a next time?
Two fast days sailing with the wind on the beam saw us safely across the Gulf Stream and heading East. Then the wind changed, as it has a tendency to do, and for the next 3 days we were thrashed by a strong Norther. Reefed right down, I felt safe enough but it wasn’t comfy, as Speedwell slogged doggedly on. Waves crashing over the deck soon ensured that soggily was also aptly descriptive. The beautiful new paper chart that I had invested in became wet and stained, despite its plastic cover. But it still gave me pleasure to mark our daily progress, or lack thereof, on a real chart.
The weather eased after a few days and I had a chance to tidy things up and regroup. The yard hauling parrel had chafed through and I hove-to to replace it. I was also very sorry to see that one of my beautiful wooden oars had been washed overboard. Obviously not well enough tied on.
Many days of cloudy, sometimes foggy, weather, with the solar panel unable to put out sufficient amps, had taken their toll on the battery. I decided to run the engine for an hour or two to help it along. After only a few minutes, the alternator became extremely hot. I had to quickly switch off. I’m not sure what caused this, but suspect it had something to do with the fact that during the height of the bad weather I had accidentally knocked the ignition key for the engine to the ‘stop’ position. It gives off a piercing shriek when this happens and I can normally hear it, but now I was not wearing my hearing aids and the noise of the wind drowned everything else. It was pitch dark, out in the cockpit I could hear a strange whistle, but was unable to locate the source. I decided it must just be the wind in the rigging and went below. And so it stayed on, squealing away, in the ‘stop’ position all night. In the light of day and calmer weather, I discovered what had happened and quickly switched it to ‘off’. Not sure if damage had been done. Two days later, when I started the engine and the alternator got so hot, I had to believe that there must be a connection. Searching through my books on diesel engine maintenance, I could find no obvious explanation. But now I couldn’t run the engine for more than a few minutes without risk of fire. Not knowing what else to do, I wiped down the alternator once it had cooled, and sprayed it liberally with WD40. Of course, at this point the wind died completely.
By now we were far east of Bermuda and about 25 N. Almost where I was hoping to meet up with the steady trade winds. Instead the sea undulated gently, gleaming like the smoothest, silkiest satin. The butter had melted and I was rapidly shedding my warm clothing. ‘So this is what it would be like to be a purist and dump the engine. Hmmm’. After 48 hours I’d had enough. I’d read all the books I’d bought at the Bayboro Library sale and there was a danger that I might be tempted to hit the rum stocks.
A beautiful morning, having my first caffeine shot of the day, I saw an enormous, smooth and shiny black shape surface a few hundred metres off. A whale! As I watched, it dived deep again, showing its enormous tail above the water. Too late to grab my camera, of course, but I felt it was a good omen. I decided to try the engine again, just to see how much time I would have if I needed it to get out of trouble. Imagine my delight when it ran perfectly with no sign of overheating.
We were off again. I decided to head for Guadeloupe, about 270nm away. While expecting to have to find a new alternator I had been planning to go to St Martin where the shopping is good. But not one of my favourite places.
A few days later I was passing the islands of Barbuda and Antigua. There was St Kitts and soon Nevis. Poor Montserrat, all ashy, appeared next and at last, we were looking for a place to anchor in the sheltered bay at Deshaies.
After exactly 3 weeks at sea, I cracked out the champagne and had a quiet little celebration.
April 22nd, 2016 at 16:55
Glad to hear you went engineless for a good while and got to meet a whale, they like engineless sailing too. Btw, I ain’t pure. 🙂