What follows is a rough edit of what I wrote in my deck log as the experience unfolded. It is not meant to be read as a final piece, but is presented to share the experience for those who want to read the detail of our voyage to Bermuda. (For a brief report on the NARC Rally trip, click here.

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Let me see if I can break down this  day trip into chapters. I want to recall what each day was like, its character and events. I do not want to lose this experience, I want to capture it . .  or the me, for the crew, for my kids . . .  for anyone who wants to know what sailing on the world’s great oceans is like.

Sunday, November 1 - Departure Day?
Overcast and a raw NW 15 knot wind is blowing. The front has passed. The wind is now from the right direction, but something does not feel right.

6:30 AM- still in my bunk, I call Commander Weather on my cell phone.  Chris admits there’s no good scenario. There is a series of lows moving along the Gulf Stream  that will create nasty conditions Monday into Tuesday. Better to depart on Monday and cross the Stream on Tuesday night or Wednesday, but there is a chance of high winds in the vicinity of Bermuda later in the week.

I’m nervous, excited, perhaps scared of what lies ahead. Fear as much for my own discomfort as for what I’m putting my family through, and crew. I know we we will be safe and survive the passage to Bermuda, but in what style. We are riding on the upper edge of my comfort zone. The crew hasn’t an idea of what may await them. I do. I want this trip to be exciting for my family, but pleasant . . .  not to scare the pants off them on our first real off shore voyage. Besides . . .  I and the boat are not read to leave today, although we could.

10 AM - Hank holds the final weather briefing at the Newport Yacht Club. Lots of brave and impatient men want to leave, despite Susan’s warning about the Gulf Stream and the rough conditions tomorrow. They agree to delay 3 hours and depart at 3 in the afternoon. I and a few others elect to depart Monday.

Monday, November 2 - Off we Go DAY ONE

Off the dock at 9:25 AM

Overcast, 50-degrees, winds NE 20 to 30 knots, seas 3 to 4 feet, building to 6 to 10 feet as the day wares on. The course is 165, the wind is on our beam. Staysail and half of main sail, plus half the mizzen, which is out just to keep the boom from banging around.

Boat moving fast, too fast, 7 to 8 knots. Kids are sick, Julie is sick, Rob is sick, I’m sick. The boat is moving a lot in the seas.

4 PM - Reduce the main to 10%, and sail with the mizzen and staysail. “Can we do this . . .?“ I ask myself, get this boat to Bermuda and then the Caribbean. During the NARC Radio Net that I ran at noon, I heard the boats that left yesterday were getting beaten up. Some consolation for leaving a day later.

Looking Back At This First Day at Sea

I awoke at  6 AM this morning, pondering the sanity of departing today. There is no real good departure scenario . .  at least not this week.  Next week? Conditions could be smoother, but this is all still a crap game. So we leave when we feel the time is right to leave, and take what nature gives us, dealing with the hand we are dealt. We make this decision, based not on ego, one-upmanship, competition  with others, impatience, or going along with the herd, we based these decisions on our gut, which is the accumulation of all previous experiences, mistakes and successes combined with what information we have at hand.

We are between a rock and a hard place. Leave on Sunday and get hammered early on, or leave later for a more pleasant trip with the chance of getting hammered  at the end.

“Getting to paradise always requires some sacrifice, some pain .. “ I tell one of the other skippers who have come over to ask when we are departing.

So we departed this morning . . . my feelings as unsettled as the weather.

The sky is gray as we leave Newport. It’s wet with light showers. The winds begin light as we motor past Fort Adams, past Castle Rock out into the Bay and begin to increase as we enter the open Atlantic. The seas are Easterly, building as we leave the protection of land. Winds are NE 15 to 20, then 20 to 25 knots, with gusts to 30. All this doable. The  boat can handle this, and more, but my green crew will have a tough time of it.

By 10:30 AM - we are making 8 knots on a course to Bermuda, but it’s rough, spray is flying, the boat is being thrown about, the kids get sick first, then Julie, then me, then Rob. Emily is fine. Must be that Solcum blood in her veins.  I’m not hungry, but I am thirsty. No one is hungry, other than Emily. I try to eat some bread, which stays down for ten minutes, so, I give in to Julie and Rob’s urging to put on a patch and feel better in a few hours. I’m not 100%, but I am functioning. I am tired and want to sleep, but being on decks is better. All six of us are in the cockpit. We are all suited up in full foulies, PDFs and harnesses. I’m in a full-length, orange-red float suit. The kids are hunkered down under the dodger, not enjoying this at all. It pains me to see them over the cockpit edge, sick, but this too is part of the process of being a sailor. I’ve been through it, am going through it now, so must they.

I steer for 4 hours, then give up the helm to Julie, then Rob, then Emily. They all do their two hours, which gives me time to rest and worry about the navigation and the boat’s management in these conditions, as we slam-bang through the open Atlantic, steering between 140 and 180, mostly 156, our rum line to the waypoint for crossing the Gulf Stream.

12-Noon - I manage the NARC Radio Net and learn that some of the boats are already at the Gulf Stream. A few are hove-to waiting to cross in better conditions later tonight. I am pleased that my SSB radio is working and that I can hear the other boats report their positions, and conditions. Murray, the larger than life Aussie on Boonsada, is enjoying his bashing.

Afternoon: The seas are now an issue. Reduce sail. Roll in the mizzen to reduce weather helm. Staysail and a small amount of the main, to equal the staysail provides a balanced boat and an easy helm, but keeps the boat speed up to 7 or 8 knots. I’m glad the wind is on the beam.

Watch standing. With a crew of 4 adults who can steer and follow a compass course, we can stand 2 hour watches, giving each of us 6 hours to rest between our watches. We are hand steering for three reasons. It provides each crew member with a hands on experience, Hank has urged all skippers in the NARC Rally to forgo the automatic pilot and hand steer . . . but the real reason is our automatic pilot is not working.

6 PM. I go below and get some rest. The motion below is better than on deck. The wind noise is less, the motion not as erratic as above and spray is not flying. No one is interested in eating dinner. I eat a slice of bread, no butter, drink some water. The kids are below now, napping on the lee settee by the dining table, sleeping. Brave little sailors, putting up with the sickness their father has forced on them.

Evening: 100 miles south of NE, 125 miles to go to reach the north edge of the Gulf Stream. I nap in the aft cabin, confident now that the crew can handle the helm, and will call me if there is a question about  a light on the horizon or  something does not feel right.  I go on watch at 3:30 am on Tuesday morning. While we are moving south as fast as Searcher can go, I am not enjoying these conditions. Neither is my wife, or our two kids. Emily and Rob seem to be in their element.

Searcher is the boat to do this trip. She’s fast, well balanced and easy to steer, and has a comfortable motion, as comfortable as one can with 15 foot beam seas. But Searcher at 33 years old, like me who is nearing 70, are both old, tired and with as yet undiscovered ailments and flaws. But with wisdom and caution, perhaps we can make this voyage to the Caribbean, even further. Searcher is a sail boat, She can sail, if I I’m conservative and don ‘t blow out one of the sails or bust a piece of gear.

Searcher is doing fine . . . better than her crew . . . morning dawns, gray and damp.

Tuesday, November 2 - DAY TWO

Morning. Julie, then Emily take over steering as I go off watch at 6 AM.

The winds are now more northerly 20 to 25. Generator on to charge the batteries from the night’s use and for the SSB net coming up at noon.

We are out here alone, no other boats are near. Everything is wet, even my float suit is soggy, socks, pants, t-shirt. Big wash day when we reach Bermuda.

10:50 AM; 39-19 / 69-31. I call Commander Weather on the Sat-phone. Oliver answers. We can expect winds 020 to 040 degrees, 12 to 20 knots, going NW 1 to 23 knots later. Thursday looks to be nice with variable cloudiness, On Friday more easterly 12 to 18 knots, if we stay ahead of a front that will move south off the coast, heading to Bermuda.

He tells me tonight will be rough wet but warmer as we enter and cross the Gulf Stream.

11 AM - kids are still sleeping. Havana threw-up last night on the bedding in the aft cabin.

12-Noon : Searcher’s location  39/15 - 69-25. Boats reporting in on the NARC Radio net tell me most had a fine crossing of the Gulf Stream last night. 15 knots of wind, sloppy waves, but fine.

5 PM: a nice afternoon of sailing. Winds NNW 15 to 20. Little sun, but the conditions are  much better than yesterday, or is it that we are all now into the process, over the sickness and the newness of the experience. We jibe over to a heading of 120 to 210M, with the wind now on the other side. We will cross the GS this evening at its narrowest part, and should be over it in 5 hours. The boat’s motion is better and we are still making 7 to 8 knots. The kids appear over their seasickness, but are still lethargic. The adults are in much better spirits this afternoon.  We may even have dinner.

We’ll be at the GS in a few hours. Oliver at Commander Weather predicts 25 to 35 knots of wind with  gusts to 40 to 45 knits. I do not see this happening.

10:30 PM - just got off watch. We are at 38/07 - 69/27, just entering the GS. Conditions could not be better . . . nothing like Commander Weather predicted. Winds NW 15 knots. Some remaining swells from the NE, but no breaking seas. Making 7 to 8 knots. Steering 190, but the course is 160. Nice motion. The Gulf Stream which loomed as a major obstacle to our 640 mile  voyage turned out to be a non-event. I didn’t know we were in the Stream, until warm spray hit me in the face while at the helm.  The full moon darted in and out of the fair weather night-time clouds.  Dinner last night was lasagna that Emily had prepared before departure. Good dinner, after two days of practically no food.  No rum or wine. This will be a no drinking trip.

We’ve crossed the Stream. Almost didn’t take notice, until I took a pail full of warm water in the face while on watch. Full or near-full moon darted in and out of the clouds all night. Nice sail at 180 to 210M all night, making 7 to 8 K. Skies PC. I took the 8 to 10 watch and again the 4 to 6 AM watch. We are getting into the routine of watch standing. Dinner last night was festive, as everyone was now hungry and read for some food. We had lasagna that Emily had prepared at home before we departed. with the boat on a port tack, Emily and Rob slept on the cabin floor last night, the kids, Julie slept in Ren’s bunk, the kids on the settee around the dining table, I in the aft cabin.

Both Susan and Commander Weather predicted strong winds over the Gulf Stream. Both were wrong. We were over the Stream by 5 AM.

Wednesday, November 4 - DAY THREE

4 AM Location: 37/31 - 69/12

6 AM - Jibe over to port. Winds have veered to the N. 15 to 25 kts. Skies are PC, gray and pumpkin pink as day breaks, turning crimson as the sun lifts above the horizon. Great time to be on watch. Boat is doing 7.5 to 8.5 knots, steering 100 to 110. Not on course but in the general direction. Rob and Emily sleeping on the floor or couch in the main cabin, the kids sleeping on the seats around the dinning table. I’ve had very little sleep the first day or two. My float suit is like a walking sleeping bag that I live in for the first few days, not wanting to leave the deck until I’m confident the crew can handle the helm.  Now I can sleep below as conditions have moderated and we are out of danger.

10 AM - everything up and drawing. The entire crew is in the cockpit, the kids are talking non-stop as they emerge from two days of sickness and cabin fever. We are now sailing in warm waters. Winds 25 kts from the north.

We are over the Stream, 350 miles yet to go, a little past the half-way point . . . three more days. If we can maintain this speed, 7 to 8 knots, and stay on course, we can reach Bermuda in 50 hours, Friday morning. A cold Front is headed our way and should pass us tomorrow. This could be a major event. If we can maintain this course and speed, we can reach Bermuda Friday morning, perhaps ahead of the front?

Spoke to another boat we could see on the horizon. They gave us a weather warning for cold front  due to overtake us Thursday evening with strong NW winds to follow as we near Bermuda on Friday.  With strong NW winds and seas on our stern, there is little we can do to alter our course. We need to set up the right course now.

I am still looking for an early Friday  arrival. I want this first off shore trip to be a pleasant one for the family. What can I do to make it so? Speed up? Ren wants this trip to be over: “Land . .  I want to see land . . . when will we see land Daddy?” Havana is now digging the experience. Rob and Emily are enjoying the whole thing. Julie is fine, smiling as she handles the wheel steering us across the ocean. I’m cautious, enjoying the day, but there is a nagging feeling about Friday. Things are so good right now, I am waiting for the other shoe to drop.

10 AM: Everyone is awake and up in the cockpit. The kids are boisterous, having their sea legs now. It’s sunny and warm but there is a coolness to the air from the cold front that just passed us.

10:46 AM - sight another sail boat to starboard on a similar course.

11 AM - waiting for the noon NARC Radio net to begin.

Things to do in Bermuda:

Fix the alternator

The galley sump pump switch needs to be replaced, same for the bilge switch.

Take on water

Noon - The radio net finds boats strung out all across the course to Bermuda, some are just leaving Newport now, others are just a day away from getting into Bermuda. We are in the middle. Weather warning is now for strong NW winds and seas in the vicinity of Bermuda Friday, after the passage of a cold front.

Will that impact us? If we can reach Bermuda by Friday morning, perhaps not. We’ll see.

What a great day of sailing . . . and motoring for a time as the wind dies and swings around to the NW, then North.  Its sunny, warm and dry. the sky is full of fluffy, popcorn clouds, boat doing  well, 7.5 to 8 K.. It’s a joy to to steer, to watch her meet the swells, ride with them, shouldering off the larger ones, throwing spray,   She’s made for this . . . .

The kids are over the seasickness. It took 24 hours. It’s nice to see them back in full form, wrestling with Rob, home schooling with Emily, playing games in the cockpit. Julie is doing fine, standing her watches,  steering, reading with the kids. She’s fully on board now--even the seasickness, the rough first 2 days did not turn her off from this adventure.

I nap, steer, navigate, manage the NARC Radio net at noon, make notes, discuss meals with Emily, make decisions on sail changes and play with the kids.

Mid afternoon. Winds are light and can’t make up their mind which way to blow. We  are going no where fast. While speed is important, so is course, as we need to get south and east before the you know what hits the fan. So motor sail at 7 K, better than the 5K we were making. We see three sails off to our starboard. No contact. I call Commander Weather on the Sat-phone to see if there is a change in the forecast. Nope . . . a cold front is expected to overtake us Thursday evening.

6 PM - Nice sky this evening., Pink clouds stacked up to the eastern horizon, sun shafts flash into the sky amid layers of clouds to the west. I am now worried about not getting into Bermuda by Friday morning . .  looks now more like Friday evening. If the NW winds are strong they will at least be on our stern, pushing us toward Bermuda, but steering down-wind with a following sea is dangerous and requires concentration and a skilled hand at the wheel. So, we take one day at a time.

6:30 Dinner of turkey curry, rice and broccoli. No rum or wine. This is a dry trip. We are motor sailing now at 7 K, in light variable winds.

8 PM - Motor sailing. Took in the Genny.

9:30 PM - no wind at all. Motoring at 6.5 K. The moon is in and out of the clouds, one looks like the head of a wolf. Three other lights astern, but we out distance them by the time I come off watch at 10.

10:36 PM - No wind, Main up and tight to keep us from rolling too much.  We are  275 miles from Bermuda . . . that’s a day and a half at 7 Ks. My ETA Bermuda is now Friday noon. Julie on watch, then Rob, then Emily . .  then me again at 4 AM.

Thursday, November 5 - DAY FOUR

4 AM - Location 35/46 - 66/58.

6 AM - Location 35/34 -  66/50

7:10 AM Commander weather on the Sat-phone tells me to expect a cold front with a low center to approach us this afternoon. Winds this morning E-SE 10K, then SW to W, increasing to 20 to 30ks. Tomorrow W to NW 25 to 35kts.

11:30 AM

Take in half the main, slow down, winds are brisk and the sailing is great, but in the wrong direction. We are steering 220M. We are not making any progress toward Bermuda. Winds are 20 to 30 East, right on our course. Bermuda is 194 miles away. We wait for the wind to shift to the S and SW before we can make any progress. It’s too rough to motor on course. Winds too strong  as well, so we wait. This waiting will delay our arrival, putting us in the strong NW winds for a longer period.

The day is sunny, at least it is pleasant to be out here, but the winds are frustrating.

12-Noon. Location 35/00 - 66/53

Winds, east at 25Ks. We can expect a wind shift this evening to the W/NW as the CF passes.

2 PM - the wind has moved? Rob , who is at the wheel, wants to tack to Port, putting the wind on our Starboard side.

3:02 PM - winds now blowing 30 from the south. waves are 10 to 15 feet, steep and cresting. Tough going, steering 120 to 130M . . . not on course, but close enough for now. Spray flies as the bow dives into the waves. A gale is expected north of 36 degrees. At least we are below that, but the smaller, slower boats will get caught.

This is the last leg of the Bermuda run and it will be the toughest.  Looks now as if we’ll get into Bermuda Friday night sometime. I just hope nothing breaks.

I hear the front has already passed Teregram, behind us at 33/41 - 6/00.  Herb on Southbound II tells them to keep pushing SE.

4 PM - the front Herb mentioned that has passed Teregram and Moonlight Lady has now attacked us with heavy rain and winds.  A squall overtakes the boat and Rob at the wheel has his hands full. I yell at him through the hatch boards, “go with it . . .  go with it . .  don’t fight it.  .” Rob is drenched, the only one on deck and having the time of his life. The kids are scared, cuddled up with Emily on the settee, who is comforting them, trying to set their little minds at ease, Julie is napping . . . . little do they realize the seriousness of our situation.

7 PM- I go on watch, to find something is wrong with the helm . .  it spins free before effecting the rudder. It takes a full turn before taking up. Something is wrong. I call Rob back on deck, and drive below to tear up the mattresses in the aft cabin, disturbing Julie who is trying to sleep, getting to the steering system. Sure enough, the steering cables are loose. I have to remover the hydraulic system for the non-operating automatic pilot to get to the cables, so yell at  Rob to hove to. “How do I do that?” he replies. “Back the jib . .” I yell back. “Just bring the boat through the wind, so the jib is back winded.” Within a few minutes the boat is quiet, almost still and I can work below. I unbolt the hydraulic lines, spilling pink fluid, then unscrew the flooring, exposing  cables and the turning pulleys. Yes, the cables have jumped the shives and are jammed between the shives and the brackets that hold them. The rudder moves slightly in the swells, leaving us with enough freedom to work. Rob, who has a degree in project management and is mechanically savvy takes charge of freeing the cables. We have to remove the pulley brackets from the flooring in order to work on them. With screw drivers and hammers we force the cables back into position, which sounds easy as I write this, but it took us a few hours.  We had to loosen the cables in the quadrant, and remove one of them, then re-assemble the whole thing, tighten the system, only to have one of the cables jump out and jam again . . . another hour of hammer and tong to get it back into place. This time we tightened the cables well, and test the system. It appears to work well, the cables are tight enough not not to jump out of the shives. The boat drifted ESE as we worked at 1.5 kts. There was no panic, no real urgency . . . we had the tools and the ability to solve this problem,  We also had all the time needed. The boat was not in danger, so Rob and I worked as a team to solve the problems one sparing the other when the going got difficult. Tightening the steering cables was one of the items on my list before we left Maine 2 months ago that I never got around to. Hellva of a time to be doing it now.

Three hours later we are back on course, heading for Bermuda in building NW winds and seas, but we are now moving in the right direction with the wind behind us.

FRIDAY, November 6 - DAY FIVE

3 AM - LOCation 34/13 - 65/50

Winds NW 20+kts, Breaking seas are visible in the moon light. We are steering 150M doing 6 to 7.5 kts.

6AM - Location 33/52 -0 65/40

Strong WNW winds, 35 kts. The seas are now BIG! They are steep and building, but comfortable below. We will be in Bermuda at 9:30 tonight.

12-Noon - 33/09 - 65/18

Same conditions as before. 60 miles to go. Doing 7 to 8 kts, occasionally 10 to 14 as we surf down the waves.

NARC Radio Net: most of the larger boats are already in Bermuda and not responding.  One was just entering as we spoke. Two boats are north of us. Teregram and Moonlight Maid, who fowled her prop while attempting to deploy their sea anchor. Both are hove-to. Rights of Man has lost steering and has also hove-to two-hundred miles north of Bermuda.

4:03 PM - It’s getting hairy outside. Winds are steady above 30kts, gusts to near 40. Waves are now 15 to 25, with some larger, cresting. We stand a chance of being popped, or broaching. Rob is steering, Emily and I are watching the seas as they approach, warning Rob when the big breaking ones come charging down on us.   I’m scared . . . too many things can yet go wrong with the stress the boat is experiencing in these strong winds and seas . . , together with the inexperience of the crew. But the boat can do this . . . these are conditions she was meant to handle, and she does. This alone gives me comfort.

5:48 PM - Sunset plunges us into total darkness as the moon was not due up for a few hours yet. The loom of Bermuda’s lights on the cloud layer is visible to the south. Rob spies the first lighted aid to navigation, the rotating white and green beacon of the airport, then Gibbs and St. David’s lights. Bermuda is within sight.

7 PM - we have about two hours to go to reach protection in the lee of Bermuda’s reefs. We are right on the edge of a potential disaster. A broken  steering cable, or should they again jump the pulleys and jam,  and we would be at the mercy of the seas. We are making nearly 9 kts in this wind, with just the staysail and a small amount of the main. The reefs are now close, less than ten miles. We’ll have to jib over to the other side to  clear the first marker on the reef’s northeast side.

I call Bermuda Radio and give them our information. They are busy with other boats also entering. I am to call them when I reach Mills Breaker buoy.

We pass the lighted buoys that mark the reef, on Bermuda’s east side. The red and green entry lights into Town Cut are visible, but first we have to round the Spit Buoy before lining up and heading inside to protection.

9:30 PM - the hook is down in Power Hole in St. George’s Harbor . . . the boat is still, the winds are gentle, there are no waves . . . We made it.

Looking Back

I’ve made this trip a dozen times, but this was the most difficult. It was for many of the skippers who brought boats to Bermuda this fall. For me, it was a Major Life Experience,   as it was for my wife, my 2 kids and my crew, Rob and Emily.

It was the waves today that thrilled and scared me. As each wave passed under us, lifting us 20 to 30 feet in the air, the entire ocean spread out before us . . . . a landscape of a undulating hills and valleys that reminded me of the rolling English  countryside . . .  only these hills were moving, fast, rising and falling, chasing us south.  The scene was flecked with whitecaps as the larger waves broke and collapsed, leaving behind a white and light blue pool that looked at first like shallow water. The afternoon wore on. The size of the waves now became my major concern, for should the steering cables jam again, or break, or a wave break over our stern we could very well end our adventure then and there. The waves where the major event. I will always remember them . . .

November 1 to 9, 2009