Delivery, Part 6: Sag Harbor, Long Island, and Manhattan!

Our final sunset, over Butter Fish Hole south of Long Island. I know, sounds like a badly-thought-out Long John Silvers dish, the butter fish hole:



Our last day at sea, and my last watch is 0300-0600. Easy seas, mild winds, and the breakfast of champions:



We motorsailed into Long Island Sound, greeted by the remains of an old fort. I looked it up later, it's Fort Tyler aka The Ruins:



Finally, after 12 days sailing, we brought Sled into Sag Harbor, none the worse for wear. Here she is tied up to her new summer home in New York:



Coda!

The owner, David, met us at the harbor while we were hosing down the boat. Brought us coffee and bagels, really a super-nice guy. He then drove us to his home in the Hamptons where we had showers, watched deer, and set up flights home.

Jerry and Sherry got flights out the same day. We dropped them off at LaGuardia and then headed into Manhattan. Since I couldn't get a flight until the next day, the owner put me up at the Guest Apartment ( http://www.baeblemusic.com/theguestapartment/ ) at his Greenwich Village home/studio/office, a five-story building with a view of the Empire State Building from the roof:



I'll say it again, he was an amazingly nice dude. I hung out with his family and ate 2" thick New York Strip steaks, and in the morning he had "a car"--a Lincoln limo--drive me to the Newark airport.

Final note, USAirways will screw--I mean nickel and dime--you quite nicely. The ticket did not include the cost of...luggage! $25 extra, good thing I stuck a blank check in my passport. And! Just like Spirit Air, everything beyond basic pressurized air is extra. And! They lost my luggage; it arrived at the marina the next day.

So, thus endeth the journey, my first job crewing a yacht delivery. I think I'll do it again.

Delivery, Part 5: Open Seas, Animals, Strafing Runs

With Bermuda behind us, we set out on the second leg to Sag Harbor. We got into a hell of a squall shortly out, with sustained winds over 30 knots. At its peak, for an hour or so, we had winds at 40 knots, gust to 49, and seas up to 20 feet. Oddly enough, I was never scared. Nor was I able to get pictures.

I learned also that foul-weather gear is only semi-waterproof; it does not let the water back out. Here is my damp grumpy face the day after:



We saw all sorts of ocean life on this leg: lots of porpoises and Atlantic spotted dolphin; bluebottle jellyfish galore; a 12' bull shark that cruised by about 3' from the boat. The problem with photographing random encounters is that animals, generally, are very damn fast.

Supersonic jets, on the other hand, are not. This guy buzzed us about a day out of Long Island, a Navy F-18. He did a slow pass, rolled and gave us a wing-waggle, then pulled up almost into a stall--a Pugachev Cobra, I think--then dropped his nose, powered away...we heard him go supersonic shortly after that. There's a dot in the pictures that's the jet, I assure you:





To be continued!

Delivery, Part 4: Bermuda, Stealing Showers, and Racers

Having made it into the eye of the needle and beyond, we settled into Saint George's Harbor. First stop, Customs. Piece of cake. Noted one of Jerry's business cards was already on the bulletin board there. We then found the local harbormaster--Sandra--and found a place to tie up...right next to the big freight shipyard:



Having cleared Customs and found moorage, the next two most important items: showers and drinks! Sherry knew of a small marina--not to be named in this blog--near the town where the showers were usually unlocked and unguarded. And so they were. Fully clean, we then headed for the White Horse Bar and Grill. Oh, in penance for stealing a shower, I did leave an unopened bar of Irish Spring as a payment offering. So don't give me any crap. Heh.

After some hot wings and Coronas, we went exploring. I stupidly left my cameraphone on the boat, since there was no T-Mobile service in Bermuda. But we met up with some interesting British characters on a racing yacht, the Vision 46 Nasty Medicine, a hypersonic-missile-looking sloop made entirely of carbon fiber, and crewed by 10 people, some of whom were also apparently made of carbon fiber. 10! On a boat half the volume of ours. Anyway, we had a few drinks with Steven the owner, Dick the captain, Tim the crew guy, and Leah the ship's dog, who regaled us with stories of tropical storms in the boat--which weighs about as much as a Starbucks coffee cup--and culinary tales of pot noodles. Not what you think; it's British for Ramen.

Brawl With the Locals!

Not. But it could've been. Back at the White Horse, closing time. Jerry and I are in reasonably responsible condition. Sherry, not so much. She decided it would be fun to ring the big ship's bell over the bar. She reached for it... Jerry and I both dropped into Matrix slow-motion... "Nooooooooooo....!" She rang the bell. Which of course means, "Buy a round for the bar." Jerry and I turned around to count heads. Seven. Long story short, he and I convinced the bartender that she'd bumped it accidentally. And skedaddled.

Leaving Bermuda!

23 hours after arriving, we went back to sea.



Outside the markers, we saw a beautiful barque heading into Bermuda, the school ship Europa:







Second leg of the journey has begun, Bermuda to Sag Harbor, Long Island NY.

To be continued!

Delivery, Part 3: Neptune, Phosphorescence, and Bermuda

A few days out, we made the traditional toast and letter to Neptune. Wishing for fair seas and a safe journey, and of course putting our emails on the letter in case it actually got found. The letter got double-wrapped in zip-loc bags and sealed in a Grey Goose vodka bottle. Sherry's iPhone does not like taking pictures on a moving boat:



Jerry cuts me a break!

After a few event-free watches at the helm, Jerry told me--because I asked him--that I actually did pretty bloody well on my first watch (previous post). He said most newbies didn't last an hour, and I made it to almost 3. So I will definitely have to thank Mid-Ohio Raceway and my Miata days for that. He then explained the secret of keeping the boat on course in heavy seas and strong winds. No, you don't get the lesson for free. Heh.

That night, Jerry and I threw the autopilot on, did a visual and radar sweep, and shut off all the nav lights. We then sat on the swim platform--boat going about 7 knots--and dangled our feet in the phosphorescence kicked up in our wake. Awesome experience. Learned to identify several constellations, plus Mars and Venus.

Weird dreams, part two!

We got pulled over--in the dream--by a USCG cutter at night, blinded by their searchlights as the boarding party came over to us. They were very polite in the dream, professional, with very sharp working uniforms. They were also anthropomorphic iguana-men. As I said, they were very polite. They inspected our passports and ship papers, took all of our hard-boiled eggs, and wished us a safe journey.

Bermuda!

We made it. The entry channel is very very narrow. Here we are heading into the murder hole into Saint George's Harbor:







To be continued!

Delivery, Part 2: USVI to Bermuda!

Having left The U.S. Virgin Islands behind, the next stop planned was Bermuda. We had already secured the boat for sea, storing all items that could go crashing about in the forward head. We ran up the sails, leaving a reef in for now, and said buh-bye to Saint Thomas:



Six Days At Sea Begins!

Quite a learning experience for me; I quickly learned two astoundingly handy new knots, how to steer a compass course--more on that shortly--and how to plot our course and position on a chart, as well as becoming familiar with the boat's extensive electronics. I also got used to the 3 hours on, 6 hours off watch schedule. That worked quite well once we started sleeping in the cockpit of the boat. It also rotated the chef duties: whoever finished watch at 1500 cooked dinner.

Weather kicks up, and I drive the boat!

My first-ever watch steering a compass course on the open ocean: nighttime, 20-25 knot winds, 8-10 foot seas, and unfamiliar boat. Captain Jerry had to take the wheel and get us back on course four times, finally relieving me of helm duty 15 minutes early. I felt like a complete idiot and knew the next two weeks would entail me being basically useless.

Weird Dreams at Sea!

They say people have weird dreams at sea, and they're right. Once I got to sleep, I had very odd--but kind of sexy--dreams about Katie and me on our boat, sailing this bizarre phosphorescent sea on the S/V Sovereign. In the dream, we saw a giant sperm whale breach, but it had bright South American poison-arrow-frog coloration. Why, I wonder, would a 60-ton whale need markings that say, "I'm poison, don't eat me?"

Close Call!

My afternoon watch the next day, there's a blip on the radar. It becomes a spot on the horizon. Then a ship. Then a big ship. Then a big ship that's on a stinkin' intercept course! We hailed her on the VHF for 10 minutes. No response. We finally had to turn off-tack to avoid being run over. Much FCC-approved verbiage from us over the radio. Finally they acknowledged our existence. Beware the freighter Fre Pride out of Milan:





To be continued!

Delivering a 52' Sloop from Saint Thomas to Bermuda to Sag Harbor NY (part 1)

Where to start, where to start? Well, I got the opportunity to crew a delivery finally, a 2006 Beneteau 523 Oceanis, the S/V Sled. Here she is at Sapphire Bay in St. Thomas:



Here's the crew: First Mate Sherry Burger--a captain herself most of the time--Captain Jerry McCarthy in the middle--260k sea miles, 11 ocean crossings, 2 circumnavigations--and deck hand Me.



And here are provisions for 12 or so days at sea, just in case we needed to skip Bermuda ($641 USD):



Jerry and I flew out of Myrtle Beach on Spirit Air, where they charge extra for water and pretzels. We met up with Sherry in Fort Lauderdale for the second leg, landing at the bustling aeroplex in Saint Thomas:



Before leaving, we ferried over to Tortola in the BVI to hang out with friends, Cris and Thorpe:



Both of them are also experienced captains, so I just kept quiet and listened. The club was a jazzy little place with a visiting band from...New Jersey! And they rocked.

After spending the night at Cris' condo on Nanny Cay, we ferried back to Saint Thomas...or so we thought. Our return tickets got mis-keyed and we ended up at the wrong ferry stop with no way to ferry to the right one. We spent 55 minutes waiting in the Customs office, standing in line while they had lunch or something. After that, we grabbed a ride in one of the $3 taxis shuttles that cruise around the town. The shuttles are neat: pickup trucks with bench seats bolted into the bed and a bimini top overhead.

But finally, we got underway! A quick stop to fuel up and top up fresh water, and off we went. Saint Thomas behind us, next stop Bermuda:



To be continued!

A two Afghan night

Before Mike left to go sailing, he removed the wind scoop and put a tarp over the v-berth hatch. The theory being that tarp would keep rain off and I could still have the hatch open to keep it cool. It works really well if the rain is coming straight down. There are a few small holes in the tarp but not enough to cause a problem. However, the tarp is so low and tight it is a struggle to get the hatch closed. The hatch is a big, heavy piece of fiberglass and awkward to move at the best of times.

At 2:15a.m. I woke up to the sound of thunder and flashes of lighting. A big thunderstorm was starting. I jumped up and closed the forward hatch as the wind started driving rain in. Then went back to the v-berth to close the hatch. The rain started in earnest as I reached up to start closing the hatch. I struggled for five minutes with rain whipping at my face and shoulders. I couldn't get the hatch to budge. My hands were slippery, rain was coming into my bed. The lightening began striking closer and closer. I grabbed my big, blue afghan and covered as much of the hatch as I could. I held it in place until the wind died down a bit. After about 15 minutes the Afghan was damp enough to stay in place. I dried off and got back into bed hoping the afghan would hold.

At 3:15 a.m. I feel the splat of water hit as the afghan reached total saturation and began dripping water into the v-berth. It is still raining. I grab a new afghan, push the saturated afghan out of the way and cover the hatch with the new afghan. I hold it in place until I'm sure that it isn't going to blow away. I finally get back to sleep ignoring the occasional splat of water. The alarm goes off at 4:19 a.m. and I hit the snooze button. I do that several times and finally just turn off the alarm clock.

I wake up at 5:30 a.m. I'm not going to work today. I have to empty out the hatch cover, take the tarp cover off, empty the dinghy before it sinks, and take the afghans to the laundry, What a marvelous start to a Thursday morning.

I haven't heard from MIke since Friday. I'm worried that he has been going through some of these thunderstorms at sea. I bet he isn't having fun either.