Daily Journal update

The stern of Spirit was lifted almost vertically through the air, the rudders clung on only to submit to the almighty force of the blue-green monster.  The whole boat slewed to starboard, but Spirit never let go, she was designed for this, this was her medium. She shrugged a moment and the slipped down the back side of the wave only to face its twin sisters…

We had upped anchor at 2am on the 10th December most of the crew were up, we were all psyched for the crossing that lay ahead.  The Melchior Islands, a small afterthought in the majesty of the Peninsular, had given us good shelter but the gentle send from the ocean swell was a forewarning of what we might expect in the ensuing 5-6 days.  The fact that our trip down had taken a full five days and we were over 120 miles further south meant we were steeling ourselves for a minimum of five possibly six days at sea.

The weather forecast looked favorable, hence our departure.  It is an unwise sailor who takes on the Drake blind or against better advice.  We could expect lightish winds from the east and south east for a couple of days building to twenty knots.  This would allow us to track west so that we could put enough west in the bank to counter the forecast strong NW winds that accelerated down the Chilean Andes on day four.

I was on watch one with Maggie, Matt and Neil.  Watch 2 (that curiously named themselves Team A) comprised Darrel, Mark C and John.  Team 3 was Bruce, Andy and Louise.  As the rest of the boat hunkered down in their down sleeping bags the four of us looked back at the slowly receding Peninsular.  Even though our watch started at 3am it was still light. As a special treat for us a pod of whales, probably humpbacks on their way south to their Antarctic feeding grounds, surrounded us in the dusk and with their air blows said farewell for this trip.

At the first watch change the breeze filled in and the engine was thankfully swtiched off.  The wind had filled in from the east, of even better news was that it was blowing at twenty knots and not the ten the forecast had predicted.  Spirit perked up and happily buried her prow into the rolling seas and the log showed 7.1 knots.

Routine on a sail boat is built around the watch system.  Each team spent three hours on watch and six hours off.  30 minutes before handover one of the on-watch team would go down below and gently wake the next team. Three hours can seem a long time, but our crossing soon became lively.  The winds continued to strengthen and Spirit, with her iceberg-scrubbed clean bottom, began to really enjoy the trip. 1800 on the 10 December the log entry reads one word – ‘trucking’ speed 8.3 knots.

The morning on the 11th dawned with the arrival of the birds.  Many had followed us the previous day, eager to feed on any scraps but oblivious to the fact that we are forbidden to throw any organic matter overboard below 60 degrees south.  This morning we saw the majestic Royal Albatross as well as a host of other albatross’, John was busy ticking them off in his book and explaining patiently to yours trully that simply classifying them as large, medium and small birds was doing the amazing nature a little disservice.

Looking back at the log I can see that the 11th was also the break through day.  We were expecting to sail into a hole and have to motor at a frustrating 5 knots, instead the wind just strengthened and veered into the SE.  This meant that our average hourly speeds were now in the unprecedented 9knots plus bracket.  Our progress was rapid.  We had managed to leap ahead of the hole in the wind between the low pressure we were riding and the next pressure system to the west.  Low pressure systems in the southern hemisphere rotate clockwise (the opposite to what they do in the northern hemisphere).  This explained our wind, we had bridged the system and were sitting in a strong wind band in the SE corner of a large but not too deep, thankfully, low pressure moving off towards the Falklands.

The log entries now started a trend that was going to be recurring for the next 36 hours.  Speed records.  1930 on the 11th Team A noted 13 knots.  The rest of the watches put this down to hyperbole but with this now strong SE airflow in place for over twenty four hours the seas had built considerably.  With the swells now growing to 4-5m this made surfing possible.  0010 on the 12th December reads – 11.2 knots, ’38knot gust….smokin’.

05.00 on 12th Team A claimed 15.1 knots and the rest of us had had surfs in the fourteens so a competition was now on…

By daybreak on the 12th, we were experiencing night for a brief 3 hours between midnight and 3am each team was handsteering in big orderly seas.  When you came on watch you would be listening to the thrum, clatter, hiss, rush and thump of Spirit as she ploughed her way onwards.  You shuffled into your snug Weezle undersuit and oilies, donned your lifejacket and looked out at the confident watch ahead of you almost whooping with joy as they jockeyed with the blue-green monsters.  Still slightly fuddled by sleep your brain could not quite compute what on earth you were doing here, hundreds of miles from sanctuary yet hooning down monstrous seas with gay abandon. Once on deck and hands on the wheel your confidence in Spirit was rapidly rekindled and a smile took hold even if occasioned with fear.

Funny how just when your team set the undeniable speed record of 17.6 knots at 1200 on the 12th, Team Andy managed to better that by 0.2 knots on their next turn….. hmmm.

This lunchtime leg saw the seas at their biggest.  If you have watched waves from a beach you will know that bigger sets, often twice the size of the average, come through every ten to twenty waves.  In our case these big sets, normally of 3-4 waves were up to 8m in height.  From the top of one of these monsters, as Spirit pirouetted on its peak, you looked at the deep spume filled trough and the tumbling white water of the following giant behind you and for a split second thought ‘s^^t I hope Matt does not screw this up’.  Sometimes Spirit would hunker down, plough her way up and over the leviathan and our speed would, if anything, decrease. Perhaps she had decided that that one was just a little too big for playtime. Other times she came alive and fizzed down the wave momentarily clocking the record times.

By this time we were a good day if not day and a half ahead of where we had hoped to be – even in our wildest dreams. The wind had been so consistent, strong (over 50knots) and from the right direction we had been able to pile on successive 200 plus mile days. We had also been able make good our course, albeit with a little too much east meaning we would have to gybe.

Our collective thoughts were now on the Beagle Channel that lay just 100 miles ahead.  Would the wind stay with us and how would these monstrous seas pummell us on the notorious shallow bank on the approach to the Beagle just east of Isla Nuevo.   If the winds dropped or backed, as was forecast, then we could find ourselves 50 miles short in huge seas but with just our humble engine rolling our way westward at between 4 and 5 knots.  If, on the other hand the winds maintained  and built the shoals good be extremely uncomfortable.  Gybe, a complex and potentially dangerous maneouvre in a large sailing boat in big seas complete, we barreled down the rum line for the Beagle.

Neptune obviously found favor for our crossing.  The wind moderated to 20-25 knots as did the seas.

Fittingly our watch were the watch that brought Spirit over the line and into the Beagle. Bruce, Louise and Andy handed over to us at 3am.  Still no sign of land.  at 0345 in the first light of the new day I spotted land 18 miles off our port bow – Isla Nuevo.  Our progress had moderated to 7.5 knots and on the horizon we passed a cruise ship heading south replete with passengers off on their comfortable adventure.

At 0600 we had Isla Nuevo abeam to port.  Watch handover and bed for a couple of hours.

I am now writing at 10am.  Everyone is up including Neil after his crossing wide battle with sea-sickness.  Darrel is taking the repeated VHF calls from the Chilean and Argentinian authorities who are monitoring our progress.  The crew is slowly moving out of the routine of watches on the Southern Ocean and back to normality. A shower, breakfast and thinking about civilization.

So as the expedition draws to a close what do I think now that I have a return trip over the Drake under my belt. A mixture of relief, respect, achievement and reassurance.  When Ben Lexcen designed Spirit in the early eighties he set out to design a fast, stable boat that one man could drive round the world and through the toughest seas.  Thank you Ben, whilst your charge may be a little tired and is most certainly greying a little, she is a well-found, safe boat that never once felt out-of-her depth in the Drake.  I think I speak for everyone when I say that this northbound crossing was an experience that will remain with us for a long time. We may have been lucky with the wind, we have dodged the bullet of 35 knot headwinds forecast for tomorrow, but there is little in life that can explain what it feels like with three reefs in the mainsail, a fully reefed genoa plunging down an 8m beast with a team of people you have just spent a month exploring the edge of the world.

3 days 3 hours to the mouth of the Beagle.

MarkB 13.12.16