The 61st Parallel

leaving the dock in Hampton

Heading south at last! The 61st parallel was achieved after 7 days of heading east, more or less, and from here on, we just follow “Route 61” to the Eastern Caribbean.  Largely uneventful, it has been a great sailing voyage thus far.  Although we have been repeatedly cautioned by our professional weather router that we will have windless days necessitating motoring, that prediction has not proven to be very accurate for us.  It’s a big ocean—I don’t hold it against Chris* if he doesn’t get it right every time for our little corner of the Atlantic.

Luke and Harry reviewing the course

Previously unbeknownst to us, we have a resident poet onboard (albeit, unpublished) in the form of Harry.  After noting that the reports from our weather router had been missing the mark, so to speak, for several days running, he jotted down the following thoughts in couplet form. I am pleased that he has granted me permission to publish it here.

Harry

So we pushed southeast on every wave, our waypoints firmly fixed.

The forecast changes every night. “Stay north, No—get south quick.”

Chris Parker does his usual show; uncertainty is high

The trades may blow at 26 or else we all could die.

But next week will be better, at least a day or two

Impulses running down the trough could really screw with you.

You could motor for a day but watch your diesel stock

But then again you may need it more to get you to the dock

The weather guru chatters on; I hope he has some clue

His long list of uncertainties make me Caribbean Blue.

newly published poet, William Henry Corbett

sailing toward sunrise

We were just100 miles off of Bermuda yesterday, envisioning the tanned folks on that tiny island out and about sporting their Bermuda shorts, pastel flip flops and chic sunglasses. Although we were so close, we were not tempted to detour; we have plenty of diesel and so we didn’t need to head there for a top-off. Some of the Rally boats have stopped in Bermuda and are now continuing on to Antigua.  Because of that, we are closer now to the group that left Hampton two days before we did.  

fixing something at the clew

Each evening at 7 PM, Carl begins the Rally Net on SSB (single side-band) for group #4 (12 of the 73 boats doing the Rally) and that’s how we hear the locations of other boats.  Sometimes. Not everyone checks in.  Sometimes the SSB has poor propagation (radio talk for “kssshhssh—I can’t hear you—did you say you wanted fries with that?)

Full moon at the start of passage

Carl and I are thoroughly enjoying the company and camaraderie of our little foursome.  Harry and Luke are both seasoned ocean sailors.  Harry has more years of sailing experience than the other three of us combined. He is a gentle teacher; we learn something from him on a daily basis. 

Time for reading

Luke is way beyond me in his understanding of the sea and wind, and reading of the sails. He is quick to go up on deck when the mains’l needs to be reefed or preventer set, and it was agreed upon before we left shore that if a need arose for someone to climb the mast, it would be Luke who would go up.  (A natural choice as another of his interests is rock climbing.) We met Luke’s father, his paternal grandparents and aunt before departure.  If I was sending my teenaged son off to sail for 10 days with people of uncertain character, I’d want to see what they looked like too.  His family was very nice and we apparently passed muster.

More reading

Three hour watches are working out for us, although there are many hours of the day and evening when all four of us are together in the cockpit, enjoying the warm wind, wave spray and stories. When conversation flags, we return to our Kindles or paper books for a time.  Between us we’ve now read about 12 books on this passage. I can no longer whine about not getting in enough sailing time.  This boat is a rocket (she says with a grin of satisfaction). We are currently zipping along and surfing down the waves at 7.5 to 8.5 knots.  It. Is. Awesome!

Most of our trip was at this angle of heel, close-hauled

Today we had a bit of a celebration to mark our turn to the south. The celebration entailed sharing a Ghirardelli chocolate toffee bar after our noon meal, followed by the bestowing of a small gift upon our most experienced and storied crew member, Harry.  Before I tell you about the gift itself, a little background is in order.  

Glad I finished these side panels before we left

Carl gave Harry a tour of our boat before we left Oriental.  (You may recall that Harry lives in Oriental). After the topside tour, the two men headed below with me trailing behind. Carl pointed out which berth would be Harry’s and then added, “And each bunk is equipped with a loincloth.”  My eyes widened and my ears perked up.

iPad, Kindle and iPhone, check, check and check

Now, to be fair, it is not THAT uncommon for a person of a certain age, or heck, of any age really, to mis-speak now and then, substituting one similar sounding noun for another.  Maybe the speaker had just been thinking about loincloths (for some odd, who knows why, reason) and “loincloth” popped out instead of “lee cloth**” which as we know, is really an entirely different thing altogether.  

The front of the loincloth.  Genuine sheepskin.

Well, Harry is quick and noticed the noun substitution right off, as did Carl, as soon as it passed his lips, no doubt and it gave them both a start. Harry -  “Oh, I didn’t know there would be a dress code for the boat…..I might have to give that some thought.”  Well, in the days that followed, Carl and I DID give the matter some thought. Carl suggested that a loincloth for Harry might be in order. Naturally, I thought that was a marvelous idea and set about making one before we left Oriental.  We gave it to Harry today.  And then continued on down Hwy 61.

Challenge to cook close-hauled

*Chris Parker is our personal weather router as well as the router for the Rally as a whole.  He is right more often than he is wrong, about what we will encounter on the water.  Very glad to have him in our corner.

Leecloth on our berth

**Lee cloth - A stout cloth that can be attached to the walls and/or ceiling on the open side of a berth.  Its’ job is to prevent the sleeper from being dumped onto the floor when the boat heels.