windsend

Syberia

Santa Claus left a copy of the computer adventure game Syberia in my stocking. I hadn't really tried this kind of computer puzzle since Myst. Things have come a long way in 10 years. By 'things' I mean graphics, music, animation. Syberia is a beautiful world with entrancing scenery and haunting music. No shoot em up, just puzzles to solve, mostly cleverly done. My only complaints so far (and I am still in the early stages of exploration): the actors hired to voice the characters are generally not up to the quality of the rest of the production, and you spend a lot of time walking the heroine from place to place. But what places...

Journal, Wednesday 11/26

“Dawn finds us on course, more often than not making about as good VMG [“Velocity Made Good - speed directly down wind] as we could make with the spinnaker in the 20-22 knots of breeze and big, confused chop we’re sailing in. Several times during the day we consider switching to a kite, but always manage to rationalize sticking with our poled out jib.

“Life on board is starting to get into its own rhythm. The watch system devised by Tom for our seven man crew has three men on watch and four off at all times. The staggered schedule for each of us it three hours on, three hours off, then 3 on, then 4 off, then 3 on, then 5 off. This repeats every 21 hours, in which time we have nine hours on watch and twelve off. It quickly becomes the ‘Eight days a week’ watch system, with eight cycles every seven days. I make up a spread sheet with a colored graphic representation of each crewmember’s schedule of time on and time off. Despite its regularity, the watch schedule is not so natural that we remember it, so the spreadsheet becomes a popular tool.

“We start doing more housekeeping chores and conversing more about topics not directly related to sailing the boat. Steering with the winged out jib in daylight is easy. We generally rotate helmsmen every hour. The other two watch-keepers are designated ‘trimmer’ and ‘grinder’ – the trimmer holding and adjusting the spinnaker sheet and the grinder grinding the winch holding the spinnaker sheet when directed by the trimmer to do so. Normally, the trimmers job is the most physically demanding, but with the power winches, this job consists of pushing a button when grinding is required, so this job becomes ‘button man’.

“With no chute up, the trimmer and button man have nothing to do but occasional coach the helmsman. We have a couple of rules of etiquette: one is don’t talk to the helmsman, and the other - for the trimmer – is ‘ABE’ – Always Be Easing. Of course, not talking to the helmsman doesn’t include coaching; rather it is a reminder to avoid distracting him from steering, far and away the most challenging job on board and the one most important to our getting to St Lucia in a hurry.

“Every yacht in the race is required to report their noon position daily. This can be done be single sideband over the ARC radio net, by e-mail, or, as in our case, for boats with Inmarsat C, automatic polling of GPS fix. These positions are then posted on the ARC website. Jody, Tom’s wife, then e-mails us the positions of the boats in whom we have a competitive interest. In today’s fixing we find ourselves 60 miles ahead of Roxy, so out poled out jib rig has not hurt us too badly, so far. By 16:30 we have come 595 miles…”

Journal, Tuesday 11/25

“Hounds kite up most of the day, wind is up and down. Finally, in the late afternoon the wind is up, and we wipe out with a long broach. The spinnaker flogs so violently that it flicks the clew like the end of a cracking whip, punching a good size hole near that corner with its own sheet snap shackles. We struggle to get the sleeve down over the sail and then lower the whole sail only to find that the hounds spinnaker halyard has chafed entirely through its cover. [Most of the lines on Anthem are double braid construction, where the outer braid - the cover - is polyester and the in braid – the core – is made from a light weight, low stretch super fiber or combination of fibers like Kevlar, Spectra, or Vectran.] This is very worrisome as we expect to have to use this halyard a lot of the time between here and St Lucia – and after 18 hours of use it is half gone.

“We unfurl the jib and rig it poled out, running dead down wind toward a waypoint south of the rhumb line. This is a spot in the ocean we have been routed toward by Commander’s as the spot to be to line up for the best breeze in the next few days. The spinnaker is quickly repaired and a new halyard reeved, but we decide, in the interest of preserving equipment and crew, to keep the poled out jib rigged during the night. We are making pretty good VMG downwind – close enough to our polars [theoretical predictions of Anthem’s optimum performance at various wind angles and strengths] that we don’t feel that we’re losing much ground under this rig.

Anthem with poled out jib

“The night is mostly overcast giving few visual cues to steer by, and the acceptable wind angle with the poled out jib is small, so steering is very difficult. At Tom’s suggestion we start a system where a watch-mate ‘coaches’ the helmsman by reading the instruments to him, especially true wind direction and heading, while the helmsman concentrates on whatever visual clues he can find to keep the boat on course. This proves a big help and our steering improves dramatically. Dr. John, our medical officer and the unofficial ‘old man’ of the crew turns out to excel at this kind of steering.”

Journal, Monday 11/24

“In the early hours of Monday we break out of the island effects of Grand Canaria and back into the northwesterly gradient wind. A long slog with a double reef in the main and the roller genoa until about noon when the winds veer north and then north northeast. We shake out the reef and then set the AP kite – after shrimping with it for a bit. [Anthem carries four racing spinnakers. All tack to a ‘prod’ or extendable bowsprit rather than the more traditional spinnaker pole. Three are hoisted from the masthead halyard and one from the hounds halyard, about 8 feet down from the masthead, just above where the top of the headstay and the jib halyard meet the mast. The three masthead are called the VMG, the AP, and ‘Big Boy’. And they are progressively heavier and larger. The Hounds sail is the smallest and heaviest, and will turn out to be the workhorse of our inventory]. Commander’s Weather forecast arrives predicting Northeast winds of 15-20 knots for the next day. We’re off to St Lucia, sailing 10 knots plus in the right direction. 2500 miles [all nautical miles here, about 6076 feet each per].

“In the evening the wind gets a little too far forward and we drop the kite and go back to a jib reach. Then we switch to the hounds kite. The hounds kite is in an ATN sleeve, which makes hoisting and retrieving it, if not an easy job, then a much easier job than dealing with the masthead spinnakers. The masthead sails must be tied up with yarn before hoisting, so they don’t fill prematurely. When they come down it is an all hands exercise. It just a few square yards of the sail gets into the water, the friction of water flowing across it make it impossible to haul back aboard and we must stop the boat and drag it in like fishermen pulling up a seine net (know as shrimping). The hounds sail is hoisted inside its sleeve and then the sleeve is raised by its own internal halyard. It is doused by pulling the sleeve back down over the sail and then lowering the enclosed sail. Three or four people can handle this job, but dousing a masthead requires the entire crew and is always a little nerve-wracking.”

Journal, Sunday 11/23

“Race day dawns bright with a moderate northwesterly breeze. We leave our moorings at the marina early to get in a little sailing practice before the start. We set the biggest kite, do a few jibes and a take down. Everything goes smoothly except for a spinnaker sheet that disappears over the side. Then we head back upwind toward the breakwater, do a few tacks. We have discovered that there’s nothing in the rules that prevents us from using our power winches, except for the first half hour of the race. This discovery pleases the crew and almost makes up for the loss of Ashley.

“Our start is at 12:40. We start conservatively and take a minute or two to get the kite up. There is quite a crowd of boats milling around, about 70 in our start, but nothing like the 150+ in the next class. We are leery of the wind shadow of Grand Canaria, which we have been led to believe can extend up to 30 miles to leeward of the island. (In this case that is to the southeast. We start at Las Palmas at the northeast corner of Grand Canaria and then sail down the east coast and at the southern end turn west southwest toward St Lucia some 2780 miles away by great circle route. Hugging the coast is the shortest route, but could be a trap if the wind fails.) So follow the coast early in a brisk Northwesterly, but as the bulk of the island gets more to windward, we jibe farther out to sea. Too late! We get caught in a huge hole. What’s more, the people inshore of us, who we thought were caught worse are getting and ESE sea breeze. So we have boats pulling away from us on both sides. Two of the inshore boats are our dread rival Roxy and Marziana, a little but seriously quick looking little Finish yacht, our near neighbor in the marina.
“Fortunately, we find the sea breeze ourselves before too long. Some of the inshore boats have gotten a jump, but we’ve done better than those farther out.”

Skipper at the helm

Journal, More Las Palmas

"Thursday, 11/20
"Farted around on the boat most of the day, doing small tasks of minor importance. Dressed ship (meaning we put up a hoist of code flags from the bow to the top of the mast and back down to the stern. This is supposed to look very festive, and all the ARC eboats are supposed to do it, making the marina either extremely festive or extremely like a used car lot.) but the cheap string on the code flags kept parting. Eventually this happened on both ends of the hoist so that the flags were trailing off gaily from the top of our mast with no easy way for us to retrieve them. One end of this rig got entangled in the masthead of our neighbor, a Halberg Rassy 45, and we had to go up our mast and he had to go up his mast to get the thing untangled. So much for dressing ship.
"Speaking of our neighbors in the marina, one of the crew on the neighbor on the other side, an X-402 called 'Gobibear' (?) earlier fell off our bow into the very dirty water of the marina while attempting to either get from the land to the boat or vice versa (our bow was better positioned for this sometimes difficult, but never that difficult, traverse than was their stern, a severe reverse transom [see pic]). Later, when Steve T and I were at the local ship chandlery, trying to get a few odds and ends for our punch list, we overheard another crewmember of Gobibear displaying a remarkable lack of mechanical savvy in selecting eyebolts. Two strikes against Gobibear.

ARC boats at the Marina in Las Palmas
"The big excitement of the day is the arrival of our 'frozen' entrees, the main component of our food for the trip. We pack about 20 large plastic containers in our freezer, which will be removed, defrosted, heated and eaten, one a day, during our crossing. A big sigh of relief that the caterer has come through and we don't have to (create and) revert to plan 'B' which would require a lot more cuilinary work than we have bargained for.
"It is now clear that Ashley will never make it, and that two of our other missing crew who were due today are delayed by bad weather in the US, John W until Friday and David T until Saturday. I am scheduled to bunk with John int the Santa Catalina for the next three nights, but, since he made the reservation, the hotel only knows he isn't coming tonight and don't know who I am. Fortunately they have a room for me anyway.
"Paul B, our Brit navigator, the only crewmember I have never met does arrive on time. He looked very much the Brit, wearing a dramatic black and white polka dot rugby shirt with an exhortation which I took to be the UK equivalent of 'rent to own' (actually a bad assumption). Martinis in the 'Cairo Bar'; lobster (Maine , you have nothing to fear), flan, and Tenerife wines for dinner, followed by honeyed rum liqueur.
"Friday, 11/21
"After a good sleep in the hotel (nice room, red marble tile floors, bath with bidet {why can't we figure this out in the US. In Maine, every time I see one of those bumper stickers that says "If you don't like cutting trees, try using plastic toilet paper" I keep thinking "Try using a bidet"}, a really nice magnifying shaving mirror) I loll in bed reading Joseph Kanon's 'The Prodigal Spy', a nice thriller. I have been assigned the task of finding a nce restaurant for the official 'crew dinner' for tonight. Ed H, a friend and customer who made this trip a couple of years ago has recommended a Lebanese restaurant nearby. I think I have discovered the right place. Hope he's right. Big pressure.
"Today had been scheduled as a practice sailing day, but due to the absence of a large part of our crew we postpone that until tomorrow. Instead, more provisioning. Walk to the public market and buy fresh fruits and vegetables, and then to a large supermarket for sausages, cheeses, other perishables. Back at the boat we pack everything away. John W makes his appearance in late afternoon.
"Evening starts with the now traditional martini cocktail at the 'Cairo' bar, then on to the 'El Coto', the aforementioned Lebanese restaurant. The place is run by a Lebanese father and son, both of whom speak great English. The son spent several years in the US and is practically American. We let them choose our meal and the feed us well, and ply us with eponymous Spanish wine. The evening is a great success (sigh of relief).
"Saturday, 11/22
"Blowing like stink from the north to the extent that we are seriously worried about being able to exit from and return to our berth without damage to ourselves and/or our neighbors. David T arrives so we are a full crew, but we agian decide to postpone practice sailing until tomorrow morning, the day of the race itself.
"We spend the day with final preparations - packing, yarning spinnakers, repacking, checking off lists and making new lists. The last evening ritual is put ahead an ohour - an hour early at the Cairo, an early dinner at a Chinese restaurant (empty when we arrive). Although there are ARC events and parties going on all the time we have been in Las Palmas, we seem to be tacitly agreed that we aren't interested and give them a pass.
"Tomorrow we're off."

Volvo 60's ready for ARC

Journal, Las Palmas

"Wednesday, 11/19
"Las Palmas is quite a bustling little city. I would guess of 200-300,000 (actually about 350,000). After mooring satisfactorily we walked around quite a bit looking for a place to eat lunch but finally gave up and came back to the hotel (Santa Catalina - an old colonial pile where we would stay until the start) and had a nice lunch of club sandwiches in the poolside bistro. Actually, I volunteer to spend the night on board as we are a little paranoid about leaving the boat empty overnight in such an urban setting.
"Started our evening with martini cocktails in what we came to call the 'Cairo Bar' at the Santa Catalina. Very old world with rattan furniture, ceiling fans, and crisply starched bartenders. Sydney Greenstreet in a fez would not have been out of place. There was a crew in 'ice maiden' costume for the evening ARC festivities, a "fire and ice" theme party. They were out of place.
"We also catch sight of some drinkers wearing crew uniforms from "Roxy", a J/145 that has been something of a nemesis of Anthem this past summer, nosing her out in both the St. Malo race and the Fastnet. Instantly, Roxy becomes our arch rival in the ARC.
"Our evening meal is taken in an Italian restaurant we had found on our walk (not open for lunch). It was empty when we arrived at 8:30 and there were maybe two other tables of diners when we left at 10:30. Tom ordered our usual ration of a bottle of white and a bottle of red. I had steak with green pepper sauce - very nice - and the others had pasta. We somehow ended up with a bottle of grappa on the table, from which to my shame I drank. Stumbled back to the boat, passing the ARC costume party on the way. Fell into my bunk."

Meeting David

In one of those strange little coincidences that make you believe in fate, I was enjoying a beer after working a long day rigging Anthem in the Marina Rubicon in Lanzarote when who should walk in and sit down at the next table but David S. David and I and a third friend were inseparable for a couple of summers in our early pre-drivers-license teens. We hung out on the Falmouth waterfront messing around in boats, riding bikes, and generally goofing off as was customary for those of our age in those years.

We drifted apart shortly thereafter, but I would occasionally meet or hear of him - enough to know that he led quite an interesting life. He headed a notorious local mortorcycle gang for a bit, shipped out in the merchant marine, spent at least a few years cruising the caribbean with his wife in a Whitby 45 and ended up as a yacht broker for S&S.

He was in Lanzarote helping a friend deliver a big Swan from the Med to the Caribbean. It was great to see him and catch up with the last couple of decades of his life. He and his wife are now living on a farm in the Carolina mountains.

What made the coincidence even more remarkable is that only a couple of weeks before leaving for the Canaries I had run into Mark F., the third member of our young gang of three. I've also been aware of Mark, who has morphed into a Christian fundamentalist and crusader against the inroads of the gay 'agenda' into our local life.

That I should see both of them in the space of 2 weeks thousands of mile apart when I hadn't seen either of them to speak to for a couple of decades was striking. There seems to be some kind of time storm brewing here...

Journal, Arrive in the Canaries

"Sunday November 16:
"Madrid airport after a typical transatlantic red-eye...half sleeping for a few hours. A bad lasgna and a five dollar split of bad red wine, but the Etymotic earplugs are wonderful. Nobody looks in my bags in Madrid or later in Lanzarote.
"The Island of Lanzarote is a very young volcanic island - 2000 ft mountains and lots of raw volcanic slag everywhere with very little greenery.
"The hotel Volcan at Marina Rubicon is themed to suit. The reception building is a 5 story cone of black volcanic rock with a 30 foot opening in the top. The reception area overlooks a 3 story waterfall into a pool surronded by palms and ferns.
"The rooms are beautiful - scattered through buildings that spread organically from the volcano like a spanish village. There are 4 or 5 restaurants, 3 bars, and pools everywhere."

Hotel Volcan

"Next door is the marina where Anthem has lived since September (when she sailed down from Cowes). It's a huge developement - lots of condos and other buildings of unknown intent (still empty) surrounding the harbor. A giant investment- somebody has a lot of confidence in the future of Lanzarote."

"Sunday PM, Anthem is launched and we rinse off two month's accumulation of Lanzarote's ubiquitous red dust. Then dinner at the 'French' restaurant at the hotel Volcan where we sample a couple of bottles of the local Lanzarote wines." (Tom, our skipper, is quite a wine afficianado - always interested in learning about new wines. He blesses the local white.)

Anthem in Lanzarote

"Monday
"Big breakfast buffet at the hotel, then spend the day rigging Anthem for the sea. Steve T and I spent the day re-reeving halyards and reef lines (which had been removed for the two months time Anthem spent on the hard, mostly to protect them from sunlight and dust. Small lines called messengers were left inside the mast so they could be easily pulled back into place), and bending on the mainsail and roller furling genoa. We also rig the storm dodgers and jackstays (Dodgers are canvas constructions that protect the hatches and part of the cockpit from spray. Jackstays are very strong lengths of nylon webbing that stretch the length of the boat. We will use tham to tether ourselves to the boat so that if we should fall overboard we will, hopefully, not be left behind...).
"Late in the day we get a message that Ashley, one of our (eight man) crew, is having problems. He is Antiguan. His itinerary was to take him from Antigua to Miami to Madrid to Lanzarote, but the American Airlines ticket agent in Miami tells him he needs a visa to enter Spain and won't let him on the plane. This is a little a strange since he was one of the crew who delivered the boat from England and entered Spain twice on the way, once in Vigo and once again in Lanzarote. The Spanish consulate in Miami is no help ("Ah, senor, we are so sorry. A visa usually takes 10-15 days, but you must be a resident of the US for us to help you here...")....
"Monday evening we walk the two miles for the marina to Playa Blanca, the beach resort town down the road. The beachfront offers the choice of about 40 restaurants - a real tourist haven - and we have a nice dinner of grilled meats and prawns - and of course some spanish wines.
"Tuesday is spent loading an storing non-perishable food for the trip - canned goods, crackers, etc. and checking over the electrical and mechanical systems, and negotiating the final bill with the boatyard at the marina.
"Mostly we are waiting until evening to start our 95 mile trip to Las Palmas on Grand Canaria where the ARC (Atlantic Rally for Cruisers) actually starts. The trip will take about 12 hours and we want to arrive in daylight.
"Got under way about 6 pm. A beautiful night sail with 10-18 kts breeze from the northeast (we are headed west by southwest). We sail under singel reefed main and furling jib. Eventually the wind drops to under 10 knots at dawn and we motor in to the yacht harbor in Lasa Palmas. After fueling up, we are wedged in between a couple of smaller boats at the marina - the consequence of being one of the last ARC arrivals, but we are actually closer to the city than many of the boats our size.."

Marina in Las Palmas

I'm Back

After almost a month away - preparing to sail across the Atlantic, sailing across, and decompressing - I'm back in Maine. I'm going to put up some of my trip journal to see if I can give a flavor of the experience. I'll also add some comentary and technical details about the sail.