24 Hours to Hyeres -- Falling into a Routine

Passages are (hopefully) all about routine. We typically try to leave at first light, set the course a 200-300 miles away, check the weather one last time, put in some waypoints and head off.

This morning we were a little later than we hoped, actually leaving at 6:40am instead of 6:00, but we had some boat cleanup to do (tying the dinghy down, putting the generator away, putting last night's dishes away) and getting the boat ready to brave the big waves like yesterday. Both Jessica and Emma had some stomach problems yesterday so we woke them up before 6am for a preventive dose of Gravol. While I haven't ever been seasick, I can imagine it sucks. It was amazing yesterday how instant the recovery was, the moment we got into the sheltered harbour, all symptoms ceased.

Our routine is about safety and speed. The safety things we do is keep an hourly log of where we are, the GPS coordinates, how long we have to go, and some safety checks if we are motoring (checking the bilge for water, doing a visual inspection of the motor and the exhaust to make sure nothing is leaking) and scanning the horizon for traffic. So far there has been very little wind and we gave up on motorsailing and are just pounding along at 2800 RPM at 8.0 knots, the good news is when there is no wind we go fast.

Ross installing the new radar deflector...the last one exploded. 

For the first 12 hours we powered making over 8 knots, then the wind hit. We we worried about the Gulf de Lyon, a particularly nasty stretch of water where the Mistral blows 40-50 knots with alarming regularity. Now we will see whether the weather forecast is accurate or not.

We chose this departure day because of the weather forecast. There is a disturbance coming out of the Gulf de Lyon for the next several days and this is the best chance for us to make it across until the 28th... and that is a day later than we had hoped to be in Port Napoleon.

So when the wind arrived we started to motorsail, first at 2500 revs, then 2000, then 1500. By midnight we were in 20 knots of breeze and that's when we do our first jib reef. It only costs us about 2/10ths of a knot in boat speed but it provides a more stable platform and if the wind gets stronger we always want to be ahead of it.

Our normal shifts are to have Marina manage the boat until midnight (with Jessie), then I take over with Ross for the midnight to four am shift, then we're relieved until 6 or 7 when the girls go to bed and I generally take the next couple of hours on my own. I did head up when I heard they saw lights but couldn't find the ship on Radar or AIS, but it turned out to be the moonrise. Quite often during the night we see stars on the horizon and mistake them for the lights of ships. It sounds crazy but it happens all the time.

When I went topsides at midnight we were in 20-22 knots of wind on the beam, in about 1.5 to 2 meter seas. We were steering a course of about 30 degrees on the compass. Marina had been hand steering for the past hour because the autopilot when taken off course 20-30 degrees by a wave, cannot correct fast enough so we end up in some trouble. I watched Marina steer for a couple of minutes before I took over, with her keeping the boat in a fairly narrow groove between 20 and 40 degrees. I took over and promptly started steering between 0 and 60 degrees ... with some pretty wild oscillations of course. 

After about 10 minutes we decided to reef the jib about a foot or so, and that made steering easier. Around 12:15 am Marina went to bed leaving me and Ross to manage the boat. We got into a groove and carried on this way until about 2am when Marina popped her head up with a couple of harnesses and had us strap in. In the intervening two hours the wind had gone from 20-22 to 25-28 knots. We shortened sail a little bit more and kept going.

At 3:00am I was getting tired; more accurately my right leg was beginning to cramp up from supporting all my weight because the boat was on a 20 degree heel. Marina offered to take over for a half hour or so and started steering when a puff and a particularly nasty set of waves came through. The boat pitched right then left, and she asked me to take over again. Normally Marina can take most any situation coming at her, but I could tell by the tone in her voice she wasn't confident, so I went back to steering. Instead of a break I had two crackers with cheese filling, a couple handfuls of peanuts, 2 Ibuprofen, and a few swallows of Coke Zero -- my evening caffeine. Rejuvenated I continued to steer while Marina did our every 10 minute Radar and AIS sweeps and hourly safety and position reports. Ross hung in like a champ until 4:30am and then went to bed, leaving Marina and I to enjoy each others company and endure the wind and waves.  We decided not to wake the girls because they wouldn't have been much help (the jib is a hankerchief, the driver steers and their companion does the safety stuff and makes sure we all stay awake. One nice thing is that the moon was getting high in the sky by 4:30 so we could see some of the nastier wave sets. Earlier in the evening it was better to take the waves more 'downwind' but later it was better to head up into the waves. Like most situations it pays to be adaptable and to change strategies when the old ones stop working. At 05:00 the first bits of light appeared on the NE horizon, by 5:30 we could see fairly well and at 6:15 the sun broke over the horizon. We could see the coast of France now, it's just another 20 miles, we're doing 7.8-8.2 knots on the reach and it should moderate -- right?

Well the next couple of hours were a handful. The wind increased to 35-40 knots so we rolled up the jib to be a postage stamp .. at most 1/4 of the normal jib area, and the main was still furled inside the mast. Despite the lack of sail area, we were still bucketing along at 8 knots, so it really didn't slow us down much. The next couple of hours just required good concentration and figuring out where the gap between Isle Parquerolles and Hyeres was. Our trusty GPS waypoint and the IPad helped us out and we pointed the nose of Tara into the gap. In the half hour before we turned the corner we encountered the biggest wave to date. It was probably as high as the boom so some 4 or 5 meters high and roll left, roll right and the bookcase full of books came down onto the floor for the first time since our big wind/wave experience between Gocek and Marmaris. Maybe a third strap of bungee cord is needed to keep the darn things in their place. At 8:30 we turned into the gap between Parquerolles and the mainland, the waves dropped to less than a meter, and we continued sailing until the corner where we rolled up the jib and turned the motor on. I hit the 'auto' switch on the Raytheon autopilot and sat down behind the spray hood having driven the boat 60+miles through the night in a full gale without even a pee break. You gotta do what you gotta do.

We made it...let's have a beer!

We dropped anchor at 9:15, Marina snuggled in with Jessie. I made a quick breakfast for myself then lay down for a minute and woke up at 2:30 in the afternoon when Jessie came in and opened all the windows and hatches and said it was time for lunch.


After the kids went off to explore onshore, Marina and I reflected that we have come a long way in the year, and that we really don't like the overnight passages very much. We are also proud to have been sailing for the last 13 months and have (assuming we can make it the last 40 miles to Port Napoleon) have delivered ourselves, our boat and our crew safely.

Ross and Emma made an awesome bocconcini salad!

After a big grocery buy we headed back to the boat in the dinghy and made dinner, watched part of a movie, and climbed into bed and fell asleep, happy to be at anchor and safe. One week of holidays to go and then the boat is coming out of the water at Port Napoleon and we start our journey home.