Atlantic Crossing 4.0

Crossing an ocean is addictive, there's no other time when life as we know it stops. This is my fourth crossing and each is so different. The nerves were high for this one as we were going East, from Antigua to France, famously the tougher direction. You have to go into the weather, beating into the wind and swell.

Departure 07/05/24

We haven’t seen the sun since leaving Antigua. It’s been a squally, wet, overcast, and feels as though we’re already in the North Atlantic when in fact we’re still at 20 degrees of latitude.

Squalls, squalls, more squalls

I’ve come up on deck for night watch and the stars are out in full, not a speck of black in the sky. I don’t know where to look, at the sky or sea. The phosphorescence streaming past the hull, erupting waves of light, or at the studded sky. If I look down I may miss a shooting star. I’ve probably missed five now, fuck a duck. Now I remember why I love ocean crossings. When there’s nothing to mark the horizon but the gentle fade of stars.

There are high flashes above the clouds that pepper the horizon ahead. Amazement quickly turns to fear when the stars are dimmed by a sudden flash of lightning. I believe it’s heat lightning that doesn’t seek grounding. Yes, I’m going to go with that, its nothing to worry about.

A dramatic sunset over the Atlantic

11/05/24

Alone on night watch is a time like no other. Solely responsible and entirely alone. Well not entirely, everyone sleeps and will be woken with the slightest unfamiliar movement. But the freedom is total. I feel alone with the wind and the waves, responsible for a small boat in a big ocean.

I swear I’ll do this alone alone one day on my own boat, not that I’d enjoy it, I think sailing is better shared and I’d shit myself in fear with the slightest mishap. But, for this feeling of total freedom it’d be worth the challenge.

First the spray of water, a jet to tell of their presence. Then a dancing of light just beneath the surface. Their arching backs drip with the sparkle of the sea. Dolphins jumping in the wake, lit by phosphorescence.

Windy and FREEE

12/05/24

You have weeks together with little to do, the chat gets creative. One hour focussed on what we’d do if the sun were not to rise one morning. Life on land would be total chaos, supermarkets rifled, people maddened.

At sea however, totally self sufficient, we’d thrive. Minus the small unknown of what the change in temperature would do to the wind. Would there be no wind at all? We’ve limited fuel. Or would the wind pin us down? Ignoring this, we’ve stocks to last months, a water maker and all the water in the sea to desalinate, a full alcohol fridge (that would likely dwindle fast), a generator, starlink. The moral of the story is, you’re better off at sea in the apocalypse.

One of the highlights of ocean crossings is the switching off, life slows down. Email correspondences are the only tie to land and they fill the day with news, laughs and a semblance of familiarity.

Dear...

"Nearly halfway and finally giving the engine a long rest. Been very light so far and thank foooook as currently in 15 knots of breeze and can safely say that that is enough. The trauma flashbacks of beating into 25 knots last year may not be helping… and you heard it here from me first, 40 degree wind angle and swell is best avoided. Getting a very mild taste for it tonight, swell has built but the boat does not slam! Not ever once! Ever ever! Just cruising FLYING ALONG at 10 knots, and trying desperately to hold on at this slant / there’s a dent in my lee cloth. Not seen more than 17 knots so got to count ourselves lucky!"

"I made fajitas last night, the crew run the serious risk of salmonella but so far no reports / no one was hurt in the making of the dish."

"No fish have been caught despite my best efforts changing lures. I might go vegan, I think the ocean is empty."

Hours spent splicing.

### you can take the girl out of Nelson but not the rigger outta the girl ###

16/05/24

Its nearing arrival day, nearly time to stock the fridge with beers. Only 300 miles to go and I cannot wait to stretch my legs and walk up a hill, smell the Azores' flowers, take a long hot shower, sleep in bed without moving or being held in place by a lee cloth, sleep a full night without waking for watches, see a building or anything that's not the horizon. The list is long and though I love being at sea, arriving in a new place is always exciting. I'm tired of the boat's heeling and itching to be in the famous Peter's Sport Cafe in Horta with a celebratory cold Superbock.

Dolphins close to the Azores, and delicious mahi mahi one dinner of the crossing.

The famous sailors hang out, Peter Sports Bar, and seeing old friends on arrival.