Bermuda to BVI

Even though the second leg of our trip is almost 200 miles longer, I have always expected that it will be less difficult. For one thing, we don't have the Gulf Stream to deal with. Also, we have a lot more freedom in picking our weather window from Bermuda to the Caribbean, because we don't have to worry about dodging increasingly frequent coastal nor'easters (gales), and because hurricane season is over. After quite a bit of windy weather, we see a window with a high pressure ridge filling in to the south of Bermuda, which will cause light winds for the first part of the trip. We're a little concerned about getting caught on the wrong side of it, so we leave while the wind is still blowing 25 knots from the north, with swells running 10 to 15 feet.


December 15
We depart Bermuda at 1330 local time in company with Adrian and Leslie on Lalize. We all understand that they will be traveling faster than us and will be out of VHF range within a day, but it's nice to have some company for a while. The transition to open and very choppy ocean on the other side of Towne Cut is extremely abrupt, and suddenly it is full on open ocean sailing. Fortunately, as soon as we round the sea buoy at the end of the channel, we can turn downwind so that the waves are not into us. We settle into a deep reach, heading as low as possible, but since my boat doesn't have a pole for the foresail, I can't go directly downwind. I set up a preventer line for the mainsail before we left, so that makes us feel much better about the possiblity of a jibe, and we bear of to the east of the rhumb line on a port tack.
I discover at 2000, when I attempt to contact Julia on my sat phone (as we had previously arranged), that it is not working! Fortunately, Adrian has e-mail capability on board, through short wave radio - I radio him and ask him to send her a message explaining that she won't be hearing from me, and there's no need to send weather updates. We have our last contact with Lalize at 2100, agreeing to try to contact each other at 0800 tomorrow morning.
It is a beautiful night, with the moon slightly past full, brilliant stars, and phosphorescence from our wake. The phosphorescence is nothing dramatic; it is composed of very bright and surprisingly large bits of light which are stirred by the bow wake and slide by the beam. This will continue each night of the passage. We can see the glow of Bermuda in the sky from thirty miles out. This will be our last sign of land for 800 miles.

December 16
The wind gets steadily lighter overnight, and at 0500, I start motor sailing. I can hear Lalize calling us in the morning, but I'm unable to get back to them. At 1700 we are able to sail for a few hours, until 2100, and then then the wind drops off so completely that we drop all sail and start motoring at 2200.

December 17
We continue to motor in long period swells that are becoming more regular and subsiding. Once we get used to the noise of the engine, it is actually quite relaxing. I run at 1700 rpm, which gives us a speed of 5.5 knots, and, as far as I am able to measure after repeated readings with the dip stick, only burns about 3/4 gallon per hour. Thank you, Herr Diesel. At 1645, a 1000 foot tanker passed one mile in front of us. The AIS had warned us that we were on a possible collision course, so at five miles out, I slowed down, and radioed the Front Opalia that he would leave us to starboard. He confirmed that he would maintain course and speed.



December 18
This morning the ocean looks like the warped glass windows in an old building - it is not flat, but it is smooth. The wind is very calm, and the sun is out, so it is pleasantly warm. Mid-morning we shut off the engine, coast to a stop, and go swimming in 15,000 feet of water (one at a time with a rope attached). I go in first with a mask (Marlin - aka Judy: I'll wait on the boat, while John checks for sharks) It is the clearest water I have ever been in - although there is nothing to see, the boat looks like it is tiny - it is that easy to see the length of it. Since our domestic water pump is fried again, the chance to wash feels really good. So does the opportunity to lounge about the boat without hanging on to anything (or wearing anything).
Just before sunset, Judy calls me up because she sees flying fish. I walk out on the foredeck to look (it is so calm that we don't even have to harness up), and I see what looks like a fin breaking the surface. All of a sudden, I realize that there are dolphins all around the boat! They are playing in the bow wake, zooming back and forth. I move to the bow pulpit and start jumping up and down "Judy, dolphins, dolphins, dolphins!) She comes out and joins me, one on each side on the forestay, and we watch them zoom, breach, and play for a good five minutes. THIS is why we're here. It is truly the highlight our trip.
At about 2000, the wind fills from the SW. I decide to set the main with a double reef, because I figure that the cold front which my four day old maps shows is finally approaching, and the wind will get stronger and veer to the north. It works out well, and it feels good to be sailing again.



December 19
With the wind from the NNW most of the day, we head off course to the west, going as low as possible. During mid-afternoon, the AIS shows a close convergence with a tanker. I hail him and tell him it looks like we will be OK, but I want to make sure that he sees me on his radar. To my surprise, he says the he will alter course to starboard, which he does, quite significantly. It is amazing that a large tanker will alter course for a 41 foot sailboat out here. In late afternoon, we finally reach the tropics! I take a picture of the GPS display to trecord the moment. We are going to have to jibe at some point, and since I believe that the winds will keep veering, I figure we should get it done before dark. It goes very smoothly, and we are on our final tack to the Virgin Islands.



December 20
When I look at the AIS this morning, I am quite atonished to see Lalize (they have transmit as well as receive) 10 miles to our NNW. I quickly raise them on VHF, and we are both glad to hear from each other. They didn't motor through the calm, so that is why we caught up with them. Cool. We are able to talk for most of the way to port, and it is really nice to have someone else out there. The wind is continuing to veer to the ENE, and eventually it becomes consistant in both speed and direction. We have finally made it to the trades!
Three ships pass close enough during the night to require close monitoring. One of them is going to come so close that I radio him to give him a heads up.
During the night we sail over the Puerto Rico trench, and we are over 25,000' above the bottom. So, for all my hang gliding and sailpane friends, that is my new altitude record in a glider!

December 21
Alannastar is now running with a bone in her teeth. She is on a beam reach with a full Genoa and a double reefed main. We are seeing ground speeds of over ten knots while "surfing" down swells, and we are not getting much below six knots while climbing them. Most importantly, with the seas on the port quarter, we are pounding only very occasionally, and I am able to let this girl fly. We cover 175 miles in our last 24 hour run, and we make land well before dark. Check in goes smoothly, and by sunset we are sitting on deck enjoying the scenery and the drinks. Life is good!



Passage distance: 840 nm
Passage time: 6 days, 2 hours