Alone, alone, all, all alone,
Alone on a wide wide sea!
And never a saint took pity on
My soul in agony
-'The Rime of the Ancient Mariner' (1798) pt. 4-
Map: From a daytime satellite image above the earth. (On a suspiciously clear day...)
ST.MARTIN TO AZORES
I have given myself a departure day of Saturday 20 May 2006. Thursday is too early as I still have lots of shit to do, to make the boat and myself ready. Friday is bad luck. So it is Saturday. I've been very confident throughout the week and just about looking forward to some time alone at sea. But on Saturday morning my feelings change. I don't really want to get out of bed. I have pulled the Zodiac on the deck and lashed away the outboard already the night before. I must go.
I have to go. I have to go. I have to go. Pull it up. Pull it up. Pull it up. Pull it off...
I cook a huge risotto, enough to feed me for the first two days. In fact, enough to feed a family for a few days. I notice my hands shaking a little when I put the last items on the deck away. I feel empty. I didn't get to know anyone in St.Martin, the locals not being overly friendly. Even many of the yachties, whizzing past in their 15hp dinghies, looked the other way as I was trying to wave hello. There was no-one to say anything to and no-one waiting for me in the other end. I felt very alone.
(Don't get me wrong here. I'm not crying for your sympathy or feeling sorry for myself. The immense loneliness in the entire world just happened to be the feeling at the time of departure)
I pull anchor and as I slowly drive through the 50-odd yachts at the anchorage, I blow into my fog horn and wave to everyone. One person appears in his cockpit and disappears back in without a response. As I exit Marigot Bay and start driving into the gap between St.Martin and Anguilla, a huge rain area comes over with 20kn of wind braking the so-far calm morning. Three hours later I'm clear. I'm under blue skies, out at sea with a nice 15kn from the ESE.
FIRST WEEK
On the first day out at sea I have a funny feeling in my mouth and after an inspection I find that my tongue has turned grey. I keep brushing it the best I can but a few days later a whole collection of lumps, like little blisters, appear at the very back of my tongue. The awful thought of throat cancer enters my mind. I tried to quit smoking (again) in Mossel Bay six months ago. I'm facing at least three weeks, probably more out at sea. What is going to happen to me?
Eating is a struggle. The risotto tastes like shit and is too oily. I throw it over the side. I have no appetite, nor any motivation for cooking. I open up a tin. In the mornings I force myself to eat a big bowl of porridge - quick and easy.
What's on TV tonight? Watching DVD movies on the old laptop took me out to the other worlds. Crossing this part of the Atlantic was mostly like living in house arrest in a well equipped caravan.
I have no idea how to do the watches. When Paula was onboard, we always kept a watch, even if it was just a scan around the horizon every 10 minutes. I had heard long time ago that single-handers sleep through the day and stay up at night. I started to think about it. What is the chance that a ship would cross my path excactly? I mean actually drive over me. It would have to hit the 10-meter patch of ocean out of thousands of miles. In addition, the ship would have to be driving blind, not use its radar and/or not have anyone on watch. What's the chance of that happening? I bet a lot more people get hit by lightning and I've never been worried about being hit by lightning.
So I decide to make the boat as visible as possible. I rig a led-operated headlamp so it illuminates the mainsail. I turn the anchor light on and go to bed. Charlie stays up. Sleeping is important. If I'm run down and tired, I am not going to be able run the show, particularly if something breaks down or if the weather turns bad. I sleep well every night, all night and don't worry about ships. Let them worry about me.
The first week goes slowly and I struggle. I struggle to be. The destination seems lightyears ahead. The only thing that keeps me sane is the SSB and the chance to listen and even talk to a another station once a day. The e-mails and music are also important. Charlie? Well, she does get a pretty heavy dose of cuddles and eventually starts sleeping next to me too, something she rarely did before.
My throat is still funny and the back of my tongue is full of some strange looking growth. I e-mail a doctor friend of mine and he suggests a fungal infection. I gargle with salt water, put plenty of lemon juice in my rum and do my best to reduce my smoking to a minimum.
The distance of my positions on the chart (covering the whole Atlantic) was a worry. They were too close together. I fixed the problem by not plotting the position every day.
After the first week, things get better. I relax a little, I eat better and I still sleep every night, all night. The weather - dispite a lot of cloud and drizzle - is pretty mild and I'm able to sail either north or east in comfort. I lose Chris Parker of the Caribbean Weather Service on the SSB and I can't make contact to Herb - another weather net. I start playing with weather faxes. The SSB becomes the centre of my activities. Radio Finland. Fax. E-mails. Fax. Fax. Fax. Radio Finland. Try to talk to Chris. Fax. Log to Southbound II weather net but not being able to talk. Listen to the net. Fax. Fax. Radio Finland. And finally to bed.
I found a small leak in the exhaust. Nothing worth losing my good night sleep but for the lack of better things to do, I patched it up with some epoxy bog.
I find entertaining religious channels on the Broadcast frequencies. Marital advice. Apparently there are so many divorces today because people have forgotten that they need to submit themselves to Jesus and love Jesus and let Jesus sort out their marital problems. Jesus! (I'm tempted to say "Jesus fucking Christ, man!" but I don't want to say that here. Ooops. I just did.) Anyway, the point is that you would have no marital problems if you had married Jesus instead. You can yell and shout all you like, and he still loves you, man. What a great guy. But what about your wife? And isn't Jesus a guy? I thought the Church is not keen on gay marriages or polygamy?
How would your wife feel if you were never at home and gave her no attention because you're always talking to Jesus instead? I suppose it's supposed to be a threesome with your wife and Jesus? Enough of that and back to the story....
SECOND WEEK... AND THE THIRD ONE... AND THE FOURTH
The wind dies in the evening. I start the engine and motor through the night. Another 50 miles done by the morning. Another 1000 to go. I work out the fuel and decide that it's too early to start using the engine. Next evening the wind dies again and this time I pull the sails down (sick of listening to the banging and flogging of them) and pull up the storm jib which doesn't make noise. I turn the mast head light and point my led-head lamp to the jib. Time for bed. I sleep well and Charlie comes to bed with me in the morning. At sunrise, I turn the lights off, have quick a look around and notice some breeze. I hoist the main and pull the genoa out. Back to bed for another three hours of sleep.
That's pretty much the rest of the story. Light winds. I'm moving slowly, but surely. My lucky star, Jupiter, is out every night and while other yachts get caught in gales, while cold fronts sweep across the Atlantic and low pressures come and go, Aliisa remains in light to moderate, steady winds.
Horta is a small town in the island of Faial. h
Three weeks later the Azores High is finally established and my chances of wind are diminishing. I've got 400 miles to go but the track takes me right across the high with no wind in sight. Hmmm. I've saved my fuel and as I turn the engine on, I smile to myself. The notorious North Atlantic with not one single squall or a moment of nasty weather! Then I remember that I'm only 38 degrees north and that I still have another 2000+ miles to go - to go to 50 north and continue to 60 degrees north. Well, as long as Jupiter is out there...
