Chapter 15 A Life on the Ocean Grey June—July 1993 It is about 1800 miles from Bermuda to the Azores, but the area between them is usually dominated by the Azores High during the summer months; an area of light winds and calms. Farther north the weather is influenced by lows which form in the Great Lakes area and track eastnortheast across Québec, Labrador and Newfoundland dragging strong south west winds to the south of them. Somewhere between the Azores High and the westerlies you should be able to find the wind you want. When we crossed with Oborea in 1988 we sailed southeast from Nova Scotia to the fortieth parallel and followed this across. We had, I think, one day of calms and two of headwinds and made Flores in 14 days and Horta in 16. Donald Street in his Transatlantic Crossing Guide claims that you cannot cross the North Atlantic without at least one gale. We missed out in 1988, but the gods caught up with us this time. Here is the log of our 1993 crossing: Monday 21st June. Sunny, warm and almost calm winds but we left Bermuda at noon anyway as the winds were supposed to pick up a bit later. Outside harbour we fed the seabirds and sunbathed as we steered north east toward the fortieth parallel. A clear night full of stars. We covered 45 miles by midnight. Tuesday 22nd June. The winds gradually increased during the day and the seas got a bit lumpy but we made good progress. We monitored Southbound Too every evening, a station out of Bermuda that broadcasts weather information to yachts on single sideband. He reported a couple of gales tracking east to the north of us. Yachts up around forty degrees were taking a pounding and he recommended we stay south of thirty three degrees so we turn south of east. Made 158 miles today. Wednesday 23rd June. Winds continue to increase out of the south west to about 20 knots with some rain although we continue to make good progress through rough seas under reduced sail. 140 miles today. Thursday 24th June. The front trailing from the gales north of us passed us this afternoon with a windshift to the WNW. The skies cleared for a while and the sun came out, but the waves are still around eight to ten feet and the winds are still strong. Sailing under double reefed main and small jib. 122 miles on the log. Friday 25th June. By sunrise the seas were fourteen to eighteen feet, the highest I have seen and we are running east before them under small jib through rain squalls, but by afternoon it has calmed down a bit and we can set the full mainsail and Iris is baking bread. I think the worst is over. Only 101 miles today. Saturday 26th June. Weather continues to moderate and by mid morning we are under full sail close hauled as the wind continues to veer to the ENE. The whole crew is out sunbathing for the first time in a few days. 128 miles. Sunday 27th June. Clear skies today but choppy seas and the wind has gone right ahead. Bouncing uncomfortably to windward first on starboard and later on port tack. Only do 88 miles. Monday 28th June. Got so uncomfortable pounding to windward during the night that we hove to to get a good night's rest. During the day the wind moderated and we were able to sail to windward again, but by evening we were becalmed. Only 45 miles on the log; a week at sea and we have done only 606 miles, will we ever get there? Tuesday 29th June. Sunny skies and smooth seas. Very light wind on the port quarter. Doing about three and a half knots. See a group of whales in the distance. Lying sunbathing on the deck and looking up at the mast Iris notices that the port side of the gaff is unsupported at the mast end; the stainless steel pivot bolt has broken and the weight of the port half of the gaff is being supported by the narrow cross piece at the aft end. We try to lower the main gently but but it gets jiggled enough to crack the gaff right across. We put up the spinnaker and I epoxy and clamp the gaff on deck. 85 miles today. Wednesday 30th June. Hot and sunny with continuing light winds. Replaced the gaff and got the mainsail up again. Finally lowered the spinnaker after 28 hours, a record for Oborea. The cats are all out basking in the sunshine when a couple of petrels circled the boat for a while to annoy them. another 76 miles on the log. Canada Day. The sunny hot weather and light favourable winds continue and we make slow but steady progress toward the Azores. Three little fish spend most of the day swimming in the shade of our rudders. 88 miles. Friday 2nd July. Finally the wind picks up a bit and we are beam reaching at seven to eight knots under perfect conditions. It has taken us eleven days to reach the half way point, hope the second half is quicker. Passed very close to two cargo ships around dawn; we have seen ships almost every day, but none as close as these. Around noon we see a sail on the horizon ahead—it must be a monohull at hull speed—as long as we stay above seven knots we gain on him, but when our speed drops he pulls away. 174 miles today, this is more like it! Saturday 3rd July. The perfect conditions continue and we did 165 miles today. The mystery sail was still in sight on the northern horizon this morning, but was gone by nightfall. A school of spotted dolphins spent some time jumping around Oborea. Sunday 4th July. The favourable winds continue out of the south most of the day, but a new gale is forming south of Newfoundland which should give us strong southwesterlies as it passes north of us. In the evening though the wind goes ahead and gets lighter. 156 more miles on our way. Monday 5th July. A squally night; strong headwinds alternating with calms. During one of the calm periods the mainsail banging about split six feet along a seam. We get the sail down on deck. The headwinds increase during the day and the seas get rough. With great difficulty under the bouncy conditions Iris re-sews the sail and I bend it back on. The seas are too rough to make much progress to windward so we heave to under the small jib and reefed mizzen with the helm lashed to wait until things change. Oborea sits facing forty five degrees into the wind and waves and drifts ninety degrees to the wind at about a knot and is comparatively comfortable . Only 43 miles today, 806 miles for the week. Tuesday 6th July. Nothing has changed and we are still hove to. Apparently the gale which formed south of Newfoundland moved due south and has stalled right behind us. With the Azores High ahead of us we are caught in a strong easterly flow, with little change predicted in the near future. We try sailing a couple of times to get out of it, but after four hours of teeth jarring pounding during which we made good only eight or nine miles we decided it wasn't worth it so we hove to again and Iris baked chocolate chip cookies to raise our spirits. Drifted 36 miles north. Wednesday 7th July. Little change except that the winds have perhaps increased a bit. With the boat shut up everything is getting pretty damp and squalid inside. In the galley a container of cous-cous escaped and spread its contents everywhere. It feels as if we are stuck like the Flying Dutchman. We talk to a racing yacht twenty miles south of us, they are still sailing to windward under triple reefed main but taking quite a pounding and hand steering in two hour watches as their autopilot cannot handle the conditions. 23 more miles on the log, but to the north. Thursday 8th July. The gale center is finally moving—directly toward us. The wind and seas are increasing. A passing cargo ship I talk to figures the weather is stuck as the conditions were the same here when he went past the other way. We change to the storm jib, but by ten o'clock the wind is around 35 knots and the seas 15 feet. Oborea will no longer sit at forty five degrees to the seas but keeps getting pushed beam on which is not too safe so we drop the triple reefed mizzen and turn and run down wind under the storm jib, sheeted amidships. At once we are doing six knots (in the wrong direction) so we stream the drogue to slow us down. This is the first time we have used it and it works well, slowing us down to two knots. Oborea  will not drift directly downwind by herself though, she wants to sit at about 30 degrees to the waves. By four in the afternoon the wind is in the 40 to 45 knot range and the seas over 20 feet and it is necessary to take them precisely stern on so we have to hand steer until after midnight. It is raining heavily and with the wind from aft we have to keep the companion slides closed. Every time we go in or out pints of water find their way below and everything is soaked. Sailing is fun they say? 41 more miles on the log. Friday 9th July. After midnight things begin to ease a bit and by one we can safely let Oborea take care of herself and we retire below. The gale center has started to loop back to the north west, back toward Newfoundland and good riddance. By four in the afternoon we have the drogue back aboard and the mizzen up and are sailing on course for the first time in five days. Conditions are still very rough though and we heave to to prepare and eat dinner. 39 miles on the log. Saturday 10th July. In the books the gentle sun comes out after the storm and the seas become smooth. Not here though, the seas are rough, the wind continues at 15 to 20 knots out of the south and it is overcast with heavy showers. A front has stalled over us now and we still cannot dry the boat out—it is getting pretty musty. Winds get very squally in the night so we heave to again. 72 miles closer to the Azores. Sunday 11th July. Will the rain, grey skies and rough seas never end? Spend the day bouncing along under a handkerchief of sail at four knots, slowing down for squalls. A spectacular display of lightning overnight. 76 more miles under the keel. Monday 12th July. Actually saw the sun for a couple of hours—we can't remember when we last saw it, but in the main there is little improvement in the weather. We have been at sea for three weeks now, a new record for me, and we still have over 200 miles to go. 86 more miles today. Tuesday 13th July. This morning we passed within seven miles of the 3,000 foot high island of Flores, the most westerly of the Azores, without seeing it! This is apparently typical of these islands where on what seems a fairly clear day the coastline is hidden in mist. A lot of the early navigators had trouble finding them. We had thought of putting in to Flores for a much needed rest, but the only harbour is small and rock bound and open to the east, so you have to be ready to leave at a moment's notice if the weather starts to change. Not very conducive to relaxation which is what we both need, so we decided to sail on another day to the all-weather port of Horta. We got 105 miles nearer today. Wednesday 14th July. By nine this morning we had full sail up for the first time in ten days and a hazy sun warmed us. Terns and gulls flew around us, a sure sign of land but there was none to be seen. We both made guesses at the visibility, Iris said four miles and I said three. When we finally spotted the high cliffs of Castelo Branco at eleven thirty we were only 1.6 miles off according to the GPS! Then the wind gave out completely and we had to motor the last fifteen miles arriving in Horta at two forty five after twenty three days, two and three quarter hours at sea. Our log clocked 2,162 miles through the water for a great circle distance of 1,792 miles. This is by far the worst of the nine ocean passages Oborea has made to date. We try to comfort ourselves by telling each other that if things are bad enough they can only get better. And there is no place better than the Azores to recuperate. For the first time in a year and a half we are in an economy not based on tourism. Horta is an agricultural and fishing community, very old world European with narrow cobbled streets and black and white mosaic sidewalks. Above the town the green terraced fields ascend into the clouds and along the narrow highways there are wildflowers everywhere. Things have changed a bit in the five years since I was last here; I would now class it as inexpensive rather than ridiculously cheap. The excellent marina at Horta costs us $12 per day (I have converted all prices to Canadian Dollars at the current exchange of 125 escudos to the dollar) That is half what we would pay in North America, but is a 400% increase since I was last here! Every morning we get a loaf of fresh bread from the bakery for 66 cents. In the evening we stop at one of the many little bars, Iris has a coffee and double brandy and I have a large draught, our bill—$3.12! I paid more for just a draught in Bermuda. We will remain at Horta until after the Sea Week festivities (the first week in August) and then, after stops at a few of the other islands of the group, on to Portugal and Europe.