And we are off……………

Today was the day. At 5 a.m. I was wide awake in the pitch blackness of the cabin. The silence permeating through the boat indicated no wind and calm conditions in the Salt Ponds Marina, in Hampton, Virginia where I had docked ILEANA for the past month. After much discussion among the Salty Dawg Sailors at the weather briefing last night and with the guidance of our knowledgeable weather guru, Chris Parker, most of the boats heading to Antigua decided October 31 was the best option to head south.

“Most of the day Thu31 you’ll see mild SW wind mostly in the 10-15k range, maybe a few pockets under 10k. But late afternoon wind backs to SSW and builds quickly, to nearly 20k. You will be moving just-S-of-E toward the GulfStream, so it’s all a nice broad reach, maybe close to a beam reach late afternoon.” Chris told us.

“There is a wind-less RIDGE S of you along 34N, and much stronger SW winds N of you, ahead of Cold front.” He continued.

We interpreted this to mean we had a narrow band in which to sail to avoid the strong winds in the north and the doldrums to the south. The three of us on board, Jeff, Will and I were up to the challenge of facing the north Atlantic at the tail end of hurricane season.

As soon as it was light, we pushed off the dock and into Chesapeake.

Heading east with a beautiful sunrise en route to our destination Antigua……

Setting sail on a 10-day adventure is exhilarating. The seas were calm, and thoughts of the beauty and serenity of the ocean ran through each of us, captivating us with its wonders. As soon as we were on the open ocean, an enormous whale breached on its side, sending a massive wave less than 100 feet from us. By the time I grabbed my phone, she was smoothly following our boat as if telling us not to worry. She would guide us to safety. For me, this was a good omen of wonderful things on the trip to come.

The first night on the boat came quickly. Our plan was to have 3-hour shifts, so one of us was always on deck to look out for other boats and to adjust the sails when the wind shifted. We all wore our life jackets and tethered ourselves to the jack lines in the cockpit, so if a wave washed us overboard, we wouldn’t get too far from the boat…. Although the winds were light at 10 knots, we placed a reef in the mainsail in case the winds picked up.

I came on deck at 4 a.m. for my shift. I had slept poorly as the boat was rocking ferociously in the confused seas of the following wind and the 5 knot Gulf Stream current. Jeff, sitting behind the wheel in the cockpit glanced up at me. “Should we put in a second reef?” I asked. The wind was gusting at 30 knots and the boat was clocking speeds over 15 knots. The wind was putting a lot of pressure on the sails. The boat was twisting and bouncing in the huge seas. She would race down the massive waves and then heel to the port side as a wave smashed into the hull sending spray over anyone in the path.

“She is sailing fine,” said Jeff, “Although the auto helm is getting a hell of a workout. Besides, the 2^nd reef line seems to be jammed. No sense in trying to sort it out in the darkness with the chaotic pitching of the boat over the waves. One of us could end up in the drink!” I nodded trying to portray my confidence so as not to alarm Jeff as he trundled off to his cabin to see if he could sleep in the tempest.

It was only after a few minutes on my first shift when the autohelm failed. It had been groaning from the erratic pressures of going so fast in the massive waves, when it suddenly broadcast a shrill beeping sound. In a matter of seconds ILEANA rounded up into the wind and the sails flapped noisily in the 31 knot gust. Jeff and Will having been jolted from their slumbers, came rushing into the companionway. “Everything OK?” they shouted.

Gripping onto the wheel, using all my strength and trying to wrench us back on course I managed to scream, “Yep. Everything is under control! Not to worry!”

I don’t think they believed me because they both donned they life jackets and tethers and came on deck to see for themselves. “The auto helm was overwhelmed by the forces of nature,” I explained. After checking things out themselves, they reluctanltly headed back to their bunks not sure if the lurking dangers had passed or perhaps this was just the beginning of more problems…..

By morning, I was rewarded by a spectaculer sunrise, making the dramas of the night melt away. I thought to myself, I feel so alive with this living in the moment that sailing on the brings.

Sunrise 250 miles from the US coast, heading east towards Bermuda.

Today a Zoom meeting will advise us whether we should consider hunkering down in Bermuda for a few days while the nasty storms in the Caribbean settle, or whether it makes more sense to soldier through and continue south to Antigua. For us sailors, it makes little difference whether we stop or continue. It is all part of the adventure. We are in no rush to be anywhere. Just experiencing the open ocean and living for the moment is what draws us out here hundreds of mile from the closest shore.