Day 18.

The weather kept us on our toes to the very end.  In a torrential squall, Alcedo swept across the finish line off St Lucia at 0612 this morning (1012 UK time), and is now safely tied up alongside in Rodney Bay marina.  

Our overall time for the crossing was 17 days, 20 hours and 12 minutes.  We travelled 2959 nautical miles, at an average speed of 6.8 knots.

 

 

Alcedo is the 45th ARC yacht to arrive in St Lucia. While most of the fleet will arrive over the next few days, a few boats still have 1500 nautical miles to sail. To all those still at sea, we wish fair winds, calm seas and Godspeed.

Day 17

Distance run in the last 24 hours: 203 nautical miles

Distance to destination: 115 nautical miles

Saving the best till last.

Shortly after sending yesterday's blog, I was off watch in my cabin when there was a loud bang from the cockpit.  This sounded like serious gear failure, but fortunately only a sail tie retaining a block had parted, and no significant damage was done.  David the skipper effected quick running repairs, and within 15 minutes we were on our way again.
The Atlantic has relented, and has rewarded us with an exceptional final day at sea.  The huge waves have abated to a moderate and helpful swell while the trade winds have remained strong and quite consistent, and we have enjoyed an almost perfect finale.  Through the night and all this morning Alcedo has flown, touching speeds not achieved earlier in the crossing.  This morning she has relished the following seas, surfing down azure waves.  The boat is so perfectly balanced in this twin headsail configuration that helming has been a matter of fingertip control.  At noon the crew were elated to learn that since noon on Tuesday we had covered 210 miles - a 24 hour record for this passage. 

The end is now almost in sight but the anticipated sightings of other yachts have simply not materialised.  We have seen two cargo ships and a tanker this morning, and we are currently overhauling a (non ARC) yacht in the distance, but we seem to be arriving in splendid isolation.  We have made excellent time over the past few days and now anticipate crossing the finish line off St Lucia around breakfast time on Thursday.  It is not easy to estimate how well or how badly we have fared in competitive terms.  We have made a safe and seamanlike passage, which is the most important thing.  Our start number for the cruising division - determined by size of yacht - is 63.  This means that Alcedo is the 63rd biggest yacht in the cruising fleet of approximately 200, and as boat speed is determined by waterline length, then all other things being equal we ought to finish in around 63rd place - so this can serve as a very rough and ready measure of how well (or how badly) we have performed as a crew. 

This Atlantic Challenge blog now draws to a close.  I will send a final finish time and a few last details tomorrow.  Later, when I am back in the UK, I will try to add a few photos to illustrate moments I have written about over the past few weeks - unfortunately it is prohibitively expensive to send photos across the web on a daily basis. These illustrations will probably have to wait until after Christmas.  My family deserve some time first! 

It would be invidious to wrap up the blog without recording my heartfelt thanks to several people, without whom this 'adventure of a lifetime' could not have happened.

I am grateful to the many people who encouraged and supported me (even those who told me that I was mad), and especially to all those who sponsored me to make the crossing.  There have been some incredibly generous sponsors, but I have equally been moved by boys from school who individually donated £5 here or £10 there to the cause.  Thank you so much!  I am indebted to Tony Little, my Head Master, who granted me leave from work to make this trip.  He must have realised that a few weeks at sea would 'blow away the proverbial cobwebs' of 13 years living under the same roof as 50 adolescent schoolboys - which was always 'entertaining'.

The opportunity to cross the Atlantic owes most to David and Sally Batten.  They welcomed an interloper onto their lovely yacht, and into a close family crew (Jane is Sally's sister, and Venetia is David's second cousin).  They are all hugely experienced, and have been remarkably unperturbed by my naïveté.  They have been tolerant of my steering, my cooking and my catastrophic failure to produce the promised fishing tackle. Jane's lunches have become legendary, and Venetia (who has previously crossed the Atlantic and sailed to Antarctica) must be the most over-qualified 'ship's boy' in history.  For David and Sally, this crossing is part of a longer journey, as they are staying with Alcedo to sail in the Caribbean for the present, and beyond - who knows?  They have all been the most congenial of shipmates, and have made my time on board instructive and above all fun.  It has been hilarious at times.  I now recognise diverse tropical sea birds at a glance, and I shall never forget the 'alcoholic oranges'.

I want to pay tribute to David and Olivia Chapple - two of the bravest people I know.  The way they have created something positive and invaluable to others from the tragedy they have experienced has been inspirational.  They have given me wonderful encouragement, and they know that without Horatio, and without their example, I would never have attempted this voyage - a trip which acknowledges something of their son's spirit of adventure.  Those who are not familiar with this story can discover the details at www.horatiosgarden.org.uk

 

Finally, my family.  Their messages have been my daily treat.  Understandably Véronique was pretty sceptical about the whole project, knowing better than anyone my unique capacity for disaster.  She has tolerated my eccentric desire to roam the ocean and given me a fool's pardon, but I know it has not been easy having a partner loose on the wide and lonely sea.  Without Jonathan the blog would have faltered - he has reliably transmitted my messages on a daily basis.  My absence at sea meant that I failed to see him play in a rugby final at school, which would have delighted me, and embarrassed him.  Most shameful of all, the dates of the ARC meant that I missed my daughter's 18th birthday.  Fortunately Melanie is the true sailor in the family, and understands something of what this trip has meant to me.  I hope that she can forgive me.

Day 16

Distance run in last 24 hours: 192 nautical miles

Distance to destination:  319 nautical miles

Apparently the Atlantic has decided to bare its teeth one last time.  Last night was very rough - the roughest since we have been on passage.  The wind grew stronger with gusts over 30 knots, and the sea has been wild and unpredictable.  Staying on course was tricky throughout the night watches, not helped by occasional fierce rain squalls blowing through.  As we were being thrown around down below, even in our bunks, no-one had much sleep last night, least of all the poor skipper who was more or less permanently on call dealing with sail adjustments. Morale is good but the crew are all a bit tired and battered.
Morning dawned grey with an impressive sea running.  Winds have remained astern at force six, gusting to force seven at times.  Alcedo has been running fast before the swell, surging forward and maintaining speeds close to 10 knots.  I would not describe the seas as mountainous, but the waves are certainly big - at times towering over the yacht.  The sun came out in mid morning, and we are now running under a bright blue sky over an angry sea, surrounded by breaking crests and with white foam streaked over the surface of the waves.  As Venetia remarked, 'the wind is perfect, the problem is the sea'.  All those on the helm have managed inadvertently to dip the end of the boom in the water from time to time, as larger waves have rolled the boat beyond our control.  Alcedo has proved very forgiving and sea-kindly, and she has looked after us all impeccably.  It has been an exciting day, something of a 'white knuckle ride' in truth, but under these conditions we are closing fast upon the Windward Islands.  It seems unlikely now that we will manage the '200 mile day' that we had hoped for, but we are all enjoying this roller-coaster finish to the ARC.

For followers of this blog, there is still time to donate.  Please check out www.horatiosgarden.org.uk to see the excellent charity I am raising sponsorship for, or follow the links to the charity or to the myDonate page from this blog.  Thank you .

Day 15

Distance run in last 24 hours: 182 nautical miles

Distance to destination: 507 nautical miles

A blissful day at sea.  Believe it or not, we have at long last found the trade winds (more accurately, the trade winds have found us), and all cynicism and scepticism over their existence can now cease.  We have a 15-20 knot tail wind, a practically cloudless sky and Alcedo is romping along at a consistent 8-10 knots - conditions are idyllic.  It is measure of the vastness of the Atlantic that although around 300 yachts are plying similar routes to the Caribbean (and there must also be commercial vessels out here), we have not seen another soul - not a light on the night-time horizon nor an electronic contact on our screens - for the last five days.  So it was a surprise to find a contact blinking on the chartplotter at breakfast time today, although through binoculars this turned out not to be a yacht but a 'floating gin palace' motoring swiftly beyond us.  However, this afternoon we do indeed have a sail on the horizon, and we think that we are now increasingly likely to see other yachts as our various routes begin to converge on St Lucia.  If present conditions persist, we may make landfall late on Thursday or on Friday morning, and we are all keen now to get to Rodney Bay before the bulk of the cruising fleet arrive. We still seem to be in a good position - in Sally's words 'we are behind a few boats that we should be ahead of, but ahead of several we ought to be behind'. 

I spent 20 minutes before watch this morning again trying, and failing, to catch flying fish on camera.  I was then given a lesson in catching flying fish by a pelagic sea bird (a brown booby, the experts tell me) that seemed to use Alcedo as cover for successfully and repeatedly diving on unsuspecting fish - this bird followed our yacht for most of my morning watch and provided excellent entertainment.

 

A comment on distances.  Critical observers of this blog's regular statistics will have noted that the daily distances run by Alcedo are not identical to reduced mileage to our final destination in St Lucia.  It may be worth explaining the several reasons for this.  Firstly, the distance run each day is given by the ship's log (which records progress through the water), and inevitably wind direction and other factors (like human error in steering straight) mean that a yacht does not always proceed directly towards her chosen destination (although we have been very fortunate in this respect during the ARC). In such a case the distance run will inevitably be greater than the reduction in 'miles to go'. Secondly, unlike travel by road, the boat is travelling over water which is itself moving over the face of the earth. This is why boats returning to Europe generally take a more northerly route, where they can take advantage of the Gulf Stream, which can add 3 knots or more to boat speed.  While crossing the Atlantic, we have gained some slight advantage from the North Equatorial Current which flows westwards at around one knot.  In other words, if we were becalmed, the ocean current would itself move us in the general direction of St Lucia by about 20 miles each day.  So the distance travelled by Alcedo towards her destination may be greater than the log distance shown. (I hope this makes some sense...).  Finally, my erratic steering, particularly in the light airs experienced for most of the past week, means that not all our progress has been in the ideal direction, sadly....

 

Day 14

Distance run in last 24 hours: 176 nautical miles

Distance to destination:  690 nautical miles

We have now been at sea for two weeks and have covered over 2200 miles....and at last we have wind!!!  It has been an ideal day at sea.  A rising breeze filled in from astern during the early evening watches on Saturday, so the crew dropped the mailsail and the staysail, setting twin running headsails to gain maximum benefit from the advantageous wind direction.  This led to a delightful sail all through a warm but cloudy night, running ahead of the wind at 6 or 7 knots.  By breakfast time today conditions were more demanding.  The wind had strengthened considerably, passing 20 knots at times and blowing hard over the port quarter.  When I took the helm at 10:00 Alcedo was broad reaching under full genoa and triple reefed mailsail.  A large and threatening sea was building.  Dark waves as tall as houses were sweeping in from the North East, blotting out the horizon with white crests curling and breaking as they swooped down on the yacht.  The rising wind whistled in the rigging.  Alcedo was in her element, rising to meet the steep seas, shouldering aside the crests and plunging into the troughs beyond, at times hitting 10 knots of boat speed with up to 25 knots of wind across the deck.  This was an exhilarating sail, all the more welcome for the lengthy anticipation.  One rogue wave broke over the cockpit, drenching the helmsman and adding an unexpected salty flavour to the freshly baked bread that was cooling under the table.  I do not think that Venetia, who had chosen today to bake, was much impressed with my steering at this point!  Later the sun broke through and the seas turned a spectacularly deep blue, offset by white spray, although the evening was once again cloudy.  The wind has eased slightly but Alcedo continues to make excellent headway, still under her twin headsail rig.  As we have pushed further west, so the stronger winds originally expected on Monday appear to have arrived one day early, and this bodes well for the final phase of the crossing.  What was in danger of becoming a crawl to the finish may now become a collective sprint into St Lucia.  The crew are certainly back in competitive mode, and are looking forward to some fast and hard sailing to conclude the ARC.

Day 13

Distance run in last 24 hours: 147 nautical miles

Distance to destination: 866 nautical miles

The crew of Alcedo have been inspired (and relieved) by the realisation that there are now less than 1000 miles to go, and conditions have improved slightly over the past 24 hours.  There is a little more wind, and from a slightly better angle, and even the relentless swell has been more helpful, giving us an occasional surge as we semi-surf down a wave.  There has been marginally more sailing, and marginally less motoring, much to everyone's relief.  Today has been mainly cloudy, and the sea is a dark foreboding grey-blue in colour.  The flying fish have returned, although not in their earlier numbers.  At lunchtime a bird no-one had seen before swept by astern - subsequent research identified this as a female white-tailed tropic bird (a first for the 'twitchers' on board).
The ship's clock will be adjusted for the third time today, as we close on 45 degrees west and move to three hours behind UK time.  Accordingly the skipper is currently on watch - when the ship's clock moves, David stands watch for one hour so that our daily pattern of watches does not need to be amended.  The GRIB files show that we should have a lot more wind (up to 25 knots) from Monday, and if correct the final few days might provide quite exciting sailing.  As for the so-called trade winds, mention of these now produces only bitter and ironic laughter on board.

Day 12

Distance run over last 24 hours: 139 nautical miles

Distance to destination: 1019 nautical miles

Regular readers of this blog will not be surprised to learn that another day has dawned with feeble and fickle winds blowing from astern.  Alcedo's bows point resolutely towards the Caribbean.  A languid Atlantic swell sweeps in from the north east, passing Alcedo and disappearing off to the south west, where the waves will eventually break on the shores of Guyana or Venezuela, or the beaches of Brazil.  As each wave passes, it rolls the yacht just enough to spill whatever wind exists from the sails, and stalls progress.  On the wheel I anticipate the deflection, correct the helm and reset the course, only to be rolled by the next succeeding wave...this continues for the full two hours of my morning watch.  On the chartplotter, the symbol representing Alcedo moves imperceptibly slowly across the vastness of the ocean.  We have 1000 miles still to go.  Even the flying fish have given up and gone home.
We have seen no other ships - yachts or cargo vessels - for the last two days.  Spirits are lifted by a brief visit from a pod of dolphins in the early afternoon, but we are moving too slowly to amuse them and soon they too are gone.
We are still holding a good position in the fleet, as most other yachts are experiencing similarly light conditions.  As we reach the 1000 miles to destination mark, it is sobering to reflect that one of the ARC boats 'Beagle' has still 2100 miles to run.  In the days of commercial sail, men would go mad at sea in becalmed conditions.  Perhaps they still do?

Day 11

Distance run in last 24 hours: 157 nautical miles

Distance to destination: 1163 nautical miles

At last!  After another trying day, the wind filled in during Wednesday evening and we began to make faster progress.  Flying a bright yellow spinnaker, one of the boats from the racing division had gradually overtaken us during the day, but as the wind strengthened we overhauled him during the hours of darkness and left him far astern overnight.  However, with the new dawn so the winds became lighter once again, and we seemed to be resigned to yet another day of gybing left and right seeking the breeze.  After an especially frustrating watch Jane took to her bunk demoaning what she described as the 'betrayed winds'!  However, as the easterly wind now seems established we decided to adjust our sail wardrobe, and David and I spent a complicated hour on the foredeck this morning setting up a second headsail - this was a 'first' for both of us.  We have now dropped the mainsail and are sailing downwind under twin running headsails, and if the wind remains astern (or if we catch the long anticipated but possibly non-existent trade winds) we may retain this configuration for the next thousand miles.

It has become very warm.  Sailing downwind always feels warm, as the yacht is travelling in the same direction as the breeze, reducing the apparent wind felt onboard. We are all seeking the shade during hours off watch.  There are still many flying fish in these latitudes, and another landed on deck last night.

'Caro' from the racing fleet arrived in St Lucia today, breaking the previous record for the ARC by 8 hours.  We remain quite well placed in the cruising division, and are enjoying getting the best performance we can out of Alcedo.

Day 10

Distance run in last 24 hours: 154 nautical miles

Distance to destination: 1325 nautical miles

An unexpected shock.

At dusk (around 18:50) last evening (Tuesday) in position 17'44.39 N 36'12.46 W Alcedo hit a submerged object.  I was helming at the time and was the only crew member on deck - there was a dull thump and a tremor shook the yacht.  Speed dropped instantly from over 6 knots to 3 knots.  I immediately checked the area around the boat while the rest of the crew rushed on deck, a couple prudently collecting life jackets on the way.  There was no sign of anything obvious in the water.  We conducted a very full and careful check of the boat - the bilges and the keel bolts particularly - and were very relieved to discover that no water was coming on board.  After circling for a while, and checking the steering, we tentatively continued on our way.  No-one can be sure what exactly we struck.  Thankfully it was certainly not one of the submerged containers that all too frequently fall from cargo ships - this would have done serious and possible terminal damage to the yacht.  There may have been a log beneath the surface, or more likely a large mammal such as a dolphin, porpoise or a small whale (Jane thought she saw a shark's fin - possibly a basking shark? - circling after the impact, but could not be sure in the poor light). Fortunately for us Alcedo seems to have struck a glancing blow and sustained minimal damage.  All the other crew members have sailed many more sea miles than I have, and none have managed to hit anything (yet), so there has been a certain amount of leg-pulling and gallows humour that I have registered this achievement in mid Atlantic on my first ocean crossing.

After this excitement, I had another exceptional early morning watch from 02:00.  Alcedo was sailing under mainsail and poled out genoa, the stars were out and we hit 8 knots at times.  However, the wind has proved very inconsistent, and soon we were motoring again.

As we sail west, time on board gradually changes from GMT.  Today we changed the ship's clock for a second time, and we are now two hours behind UK time.

This morning began cloudy, with occasional squally rain, and has been especially maddening.  There is now a little more wind, blowing from astern, but this has been very variable in both strength and direction.  We have had sails up and down, been on port gybe then starboard gybe, been poled out or dropped the genoa altogether.  Sally has been especially frustrated and my entire watch seemed to consist of sail changes and direction changes, as we chased whatever wind there was.  The Atlantic swell rolls the boat from side to side, just enough to spill wind from the sails and impede forward progress.  To add to our enjoyment, we had a brief squall just before I came off watch.  Since we gybed to the south this morning we have seen lots of flying fish (we seem to have found a sort of flying fish superhighway) and I decided that I was going to try to film these strange creatures.  Easier said than done, however, and quite probably (like the sail changes) another comprehensive exercise in futility.  

Day 9

Distance run in the last 24 hours: 149 nautical miles

Distance to destination: 1476 nautical miles

It is said that no two days are ever the same, but today closely resembles yesterday.  Over the previous night, we closed with a yacht several miles off to starboard, and passed him in the morning.  Last night we had a yacht several miles off the port quarter, and by morning he too had disappeared astern.  The sun is up again in a blue sky with a few similarly fluffy clouds, and the sea is a deeper shade of turquoise blue.  At 27C the temperature is a couple of degrees warmer. The wind still allows us to steer directly for our destination, but is slowly changing to a more easterly direction, and imperceptibly filling in, although for the moment it remains too light to give us much of a boost.  We have been motor sailing in order to maintain a respectable daily average, although we will be penalised for this on corrected time at the finish.
I think it was Giles Dealtry who reminded me that ocean sailing was 90% boredom and 10% fear, and the past couple of days have been monotonous.  We have been reading while waiting for the wind to arrive.  I'm almost through Anna Karenina on the Kindle, and we have enjoyed the distraction provided by occasional fleeting visits from shearwaters and petrels (no more dolphins or frigate birds, sadly).  In such light conditions meals, such as breakfast (below) have been relaxed affairs.

 

One of my current watches is the 'graveyard shift' of 02:00-04:00, but I am enjoying this slot. The sky provided a spectacular light show last night. The absence of light pollution here in mid Atlantic makes so many more stars visible to the naked eye, and our iPads make these easier to identify,  I counted over 20 shooting stars in 30 minutes, and if the skies remain clear we are expecting to observe a comet too over the next few nights.
The good news is that the wind is expected to strengthen tomorrow, and enable us to make faster progress towards St Lucia.

Day 8

Distance run over the last 24 hours: 155 nautical miles

Distance to destination: 1624 nautical miles

Sailing can be maddening at times.  On Alcedo we are enjoying very benign conditions, and we should be happy.  We are in the Tropics now, the weather is warm and sunny, the sea state is almost flat, and the wind direction continues to allow us to point directly at our destination.  All that is missing is the crucial ingredient - enough wind to drive us quickly towards St Lucia.  For most of last night and this morning the wind has hovered between 4 and 7 knots, while we really need something over 10 knots to make a fast passage.  We are not becalmed and we are making the best we can of the conditions, but progress is slower than we would like.  The consolation is that most of the ARC fleet must be facing similarly fickle winds (indeed we slowly gained on another yacht during the night and then passed him this morning). Not that we are in the least competitive, of course.
As for the trade winds, we are coming to the conclusion that these are merely nautical mythology....

Day 7

Distance run in last 24 hours: 151 nautical miles

Distance to destination: 1762 nautical miles

Things have taken a marked turn for the better.  By making a westerly course yesterday Alcedo punched through the 'vigorous squall line' that had been making life a misery.  We came out of the rain this morning, into pleasant sailing conditions with sunny skies and only a few distant clouds.  Even better, the wind had shifted to the north west, which has enabled us to tack to the south west and to set a course directly to our destination in St Lucia.  This happy state of affairs will not last of course, but for the moment we are enjoying the sensation of sailing in the right direction! All the wet weather gear has been dried on the guardrail and we have been able to open the hatches and get some welcome air through the boat.
We have not seen any dolphins for the past couple of days, but are at times accompanied by one sea bird or other.  While steering through one of the more miserable watches yesterday, I was distracted and entertained by a frigate bird that swooped and glided around the yacht for 20 minutes or so.  Impervious to the winds and rain, he disappeared off to the east.  
While Jane was on watch in the middle of the (very dark) night, she noticed something flapping the cockpit.  Thinking this was a piece of paper she reached to pick it up, and was startled to find she had a flying fish in her hand.  I was pleased to see several of these remarkable creatures  skimming over the waves this morning.
We have now been at sea for one week, during which we have sailed 1172 nautical miles.  Due the wind and currents, these have not all been directly towards St Lucia, unfortunately.  The GPS now gives us our distance to destination, and it will be good to see this figure decline over the next few days.  But where, where, where are the trade winds?

Day 6

Position: North west of the Cape Verde Islands

Distance run in the last 24 hours: 188 nautical miles. Now less than 2000 nm to destination.

The ARC and the Trade (Winds) Descriptions Act.

Crossing the Atlantic with the ARC is supposed to be simple, straightforward and fun.  Just leave the Canaries and follow the African coast south until roughly the latitude of the Cape Verdes, then turn right and pick up balmy trade winds which waft the yacht west across to the Caribbean.  Unfortunately this is not at all what the ARC is delivering in 2013.  For the past 24 hours we have been battling an Atlantic depression with strengthening winds, building seas and almost incessant rain, and the forecast is for this to persist over the weekend.  We have just passed through a horrible squall line, with a short period of absolutely torrential rain.  The good news is that the wind angle allows us to make rapid progress towards our destination, but the bad news is that everyone and everything on board is wet.  Life is more difficult when the boat is heeling by 20 degrees, and we have had winds over the deck approaching 30 knots at times.  Conditions are tough, but not extreme, although we shall all be thoroughly fed up of this low pressure system before we break free from it.  Despite the rain, steering the boat has been exhilarating, although not so easy in the pitch black of night when it is impossible to discern the direction or size of incoming waves.  Indeed, I had a woeful time helming last night, when the wind was hard to locate, and my reactions were not nearly as sharp as they should have been.  I am fortunate to sail with a forgiving crew! This morning was much better, reaching before impressive waves sweeping through from the south.   Sitting at the wheel looking up at the waves as they roll in is an inspiring sight.  Is is above all at moments like this, in the solitude of the ocean, that the sheer power of the sea is most impressive.  Alcedo has sailed wonderfully well, and is more than capable of looking after us all.  
We had one moment of drama yesterday afternoon, when the heavy cabin table tore itself free of its mountings.  Fortunately the crew were in position to catch this as it fell, and no serious damage was done, although Jane suffered a bruised ankle. 90 minutes of hard work (mainly by the skipper) later and the table was more effectively secured in place.
Dreadful news from the ARC people this morning, that the French skipper of one of the yachts died last night, apparently from cardiac arrest.  His yacht has put into the Cape Verdes.  This has cast a grim shadow over the rally, and everyone's thoughts are with his family.