A crossing, A brother and Vizzavona
We wake up early as there is a lot to do this morning before we leave the port and go for our test sail with Dave. But after checking with him, we conclude to stay one more night in Antibes and postpone the test sail until Sunday. Dave has terrible hay fever and we still have so much to do on the boat. First we need to go to the port office to pay for our stay and get a connector for the water hose. It seems to be a bit of a mission for the person in charge. When I tell them that I am about to put 900 litres of water in the boat they tell me it is negligible and won’t charge me for it .. I guess compared to one of the super yachts it is indeed negligible. Once paid they proudly give me my WIFI password. I guess it’s better later than never?
Then I start my hunt for a replacement hose. Of course I am facing the usual 2 problems: the hose connects to 2 ends of different diameter and the diameter of the current hose is no longer available. I am also facing a third problem for once: all the chandleries are closing at midday for the weekend. With only a few minutes left, I decide to go for 2 different sizes, one bigger and one smaller, except that they are out of the smaller one. I guess I’ll just take the bigger one then and hope for the best.
The afternoon is spent doing boat jobs, the hose fits and Mr Perkins is happily running. By 7pm we decide to take a break and go for a last wander around Antibes old town.
Sunday’s test sail is a complete failure, there is absolutely no wind, the sky is grey and Dave only has a few hours before he needs to pick up his friend from the train station. Hopefully tomorrow the weather will be more in our favour. At least, tonight we are anchoring just outside Antibes, with a couple super yachts. Something I had said I would like to do one day.
Monday, day of the crossing.. We wake up to a beautiful view of Antibes. With excited and slightly nervous energy we checked the weather, prepared ourselves and set off to the marina to pick up Dave, Ben’s youngest brother, who would be joining us for the crossing to Corsica. As we are just about to leave Kim goes for a final visit to the toilet. Now you have to realise that every, and I really mean EVERY sailor has at least one toilet story. They are usually pretty horrible and make nappy changing look like a walk in the park. As I am just about to hoist the anchor I receive a MAYDAY call from the aft bathroom:
“Mayday, mayday, I have overflowed the blackwater tank”
Oh crap, literally. While living in a house you don’t really pay much attention to your plumbing and what happens next after flushing a toilet. On a boat, managing grey water and black water can be a bit of challenge, moreover on old boats. Which is time for a fact check.
Fact check “There is nothing wrong with an old boat”: I call horse shit on that one. There is a lot that is wrong with an old boat, amongst which is the management of waste waters. 40 years ago, it was normal to just chuck everything overboard regardless of where you were. Nowadays you have a lot of rules and regulations and rightfully so. It’s better for the environment and for the people swimming nearby. Old boats simply are not up to standard. In our case, we only have a 30 litres black water tank which is a piece of cake for me to fill up in a few days …
The irony is that the day before that we had been talking about it, wondering how a full tank would manifest itself. Now we know, it overflows from the top lid with the pungent aroma of fresh sewerage as the hint to the senses.
I was planning on writing the next section but Kim asked me whether we could alternate writing the blog which, of course, I refused. So she threatened to start her own blog, with my help. At the prospect of such labour, I accept.
Kim:
Dave, like Ben, is an adventurous guy who likes to ride motorbikes, race sailboats, travel the world, get lost in the jungles of South America, and basically live life to the fullest. The more I get to know him, the luckier I feel that he is still alive considering some of the adventures he’s been on! The plus side of him living life on the edge means that Dave is a person who probably stays calm under pressure and he is able to react quickly in an emergency. In fact most of what I would consider an emergency, he would call exciting. I trust him and both Ben and I are really pleased that he is joining us for this milestone first crossing and for many more sailing adventures later in the year.
It’s about a 24 hour trip to Corsica and our target is Girolata, a tiny village in a sheltered bay which has dramatic cliffs, clear blue water and cows on the beach. That’s right, cows on the beach! That’s the carrot for me anyways. The weather is not particularly in our favour with a headwind and some side on swell predicted so we expect Kujira will be bouncing and rolling on the waves at some point during the trip. It will be a good test of our sea legs.
The trip starts off well at 10am with quite steady winds of 10-12 knots. We put up the main, Genoa and mizzen and are chugging along nicely for the morning and afternoon, munching on the fresh bread that Dave has kindly brought with him. We all take turns at steering, discuss our plan for the overnight watch shifts and go through all the important safety features of the boat so we all know what to do. We look back and can see the snow on the French Alps in the hazy sky.
Ben decides to finish some important boat jobs including installing the front toilet, and attaching the Jackstays. The Jackstays are important lines of rope that lie on the deck. They allow you to clip in your tethers (stretchy safety lines clipped on your lifejacket) and the tethers slide along the jackstay as you move around the boat. Should something unexpected happen, they are there to make sure that Jack stays on the boat! I’m eager to give it a go while the conditions are “easy”, so I clip myself in and move around to all the parts of the boat easily. It works really well and I commend Ben for a job well done. The sea state is quite rolly for me and I am grateful that our boat also has rigid stainless steel guardrails around the whole deck. Kujira, you’ve got our back.
By mid afternoon we take turns having a nap and I am happy when it’s my turn. The boat is heeled over (leaning) and I have put our “stay in bed board” in place. This was a feature of the Maramu that I knew would come in handy! The back window is open a little, my window is open to the cockpit and I can hear Ben and Dave chatting and having fun as I slowly drift off to “Lalaland”.
I wake up to the sound of Ben strumming his guitar and the guys still chatting away. But there is another sound concerning me…the wind whistling outside. It’s picked up since I fell asleep and the boat is heeling a lot more as a result. I struggle a little to climb over the bedboard and poke my head out the cockpit window to ask the boys if everything is ok. I see on the display screen that the wind is now 15 knots. “Are you feeling worried?” Dave asks. I say that I’m concerned and that we should be ready if it gets any stronger. I also suggest that we should reef in (reduce our sails) a bit. Being the safety conscious (yes, sometimes that does mean sensible) school teacher that I am means that I prepare for danger long before it arrives. Many years working with around 30 4-5 year olds has taught me that. In other words I’m a chicken!
We had practiced reefing the main and furling in the Genoa a few times already under easier conditions so that everyone knew the drill. We eased the main to de-power it and as we were preparing to furl the Genoa the wind was gusting 20+ knots. Our furler is electric, but it is a power hungry old model and we have had the low voltage warning a couple times already. So, to reduce the load on the furler Ben decides to head more into the wind. This should reduce the winds pressure in the sail making it easier to furl. At the same time Dave needs to carefully release a bit of pressure on the Genoa sheet (rope) so that the sail becomes less tight while we manoeuvre. The rope groans and sounds as if it’s going to break. The next gust makes us heel even more and I find myself leaping up the high side of the cockpit and panicking. Every man for himself! Get ready to abandon ship!
Meanwhile Dave and Ben manage to wrestle the sail in with the low voltage warning beeping sound adding to the fun. The boat starts to heel a lot less. The gusts are strong, but don’t feel as scary. I compose myself and we all concentrate on sailing Kujira through this tricky patch.
Once things are a bit calmer, I give myself a pat on the back for being assertive. No pat on the back for panicking though. Although I’m a newbie sailor and Kujira can probably take a lot more load than I’m ready for yet, there is a golden rule when sailing with others on a crossing. That is, if someone asks the question, “Do you think we need to reef in?” they are probably right. You can always increase your sails later, but it’s easier to do that than reef when it’s already under a lot of pressure. We got through that experience and we all learnt from it.
It was Ben’s turn for a nap and he arrived nicely refreshed to make dinner and then start the night watch. Ben is a wonderful cook and I know I am absolutely spoiled to have a husband who makes delicious food. Tonight, sadly, it was British cuisine. Soupy mashed potatoes, canned peas and bacon. Dave’s face sunk. We had also pretty much had only bread all day. Well, it’s easy to keep this down at least.
After the sad dinner Ben was on his watch and Dave and I tried to sleep. Poor Dave was trying to sleep in the front cabin, which must have felt like a tumble drier with all the swell. I slept somewhat, but was naturally nervous to leave Ben on his own to handle the boat. I went in and out of sleep, kind of like you do in meditation, but not nearly as relaxing. Periodically I’d hear the creaking, grinding of the winches and when Ben tacked it sounded like chaos in the cockpit. It wasn’t of course but your mind plays tricks on you when it’s 2am, you’re at sea sailing in the dark, on a rolly boat with your internal organs sloshing from side to side. Fun times!
Little did I know that Ben had an exciting moment on his watch…
Ben:
The plan was simple, I do the first watch from 9pm until 1am, Dave from 1am until 4am and Kim from 4am until 7am at which point we were meant to be only 3h away from our goal. It never goes according to plan. I effectively start my watch, on my own by 10-10.30pm. The winds are light and shifty and trimming the sails in the dark turns out to be really challenging. I thought I would have time to listen to some podcasts or music but I simply don’t have a minute for myself. By midnight I start to feel tired and on top of that our progress which had been spot on the prediction all day long is now much slower than it was meant to be. It’s dark, lonely and I feel a little helpless. I wonder about some of the choices we made in the past year. However, the centre cockpit with a hard dodger is doing an excellent job at keeping me warm and protected. The moon isn’t meant to rise until 3am and all I can see is our navigation lights reflecting on our sails. I also realise that Kim should have done this first watch as the wind and seas are meant to pick up around 3am. As I am seriously considering waking up Dave, I notice on our plotter 2 ships aiming in our direction. The AIS identifies them both as gigantic passenger ships. We still have a good 30 minutes before ours paths cross but I decide to stay on watch until they have passed us.
T-15min: it is now clear that one of them is going to pass behind us, the other one however is on a near collision course.
T-10min: The AIS predicts that we should be within less than 500m from one another. That is not enough for me considering the size and speed of the ship. Also, at 2 knots we have very limited manoeuvrability.
T-8min: It’s time to get in touch with them
“Vizzavona, Vizzavona, Vizzavona, this is Kujira, Kujira, Kujira, do you copy?”
“…”
T-7min: I keep on trying
“Vizzavona, Vizzavona, Vizzavona, this is Kujira, Kujira, Kujira, do you copy?”
“Kujira, ziss iz Vizzavona, ve copy.”
“Hi Vizzavona, I just wanted to check that you were aware of my position”
“Yes, wat iz your intention?”
“We are a sail boat so we need to keep our course”
“Ok, wat do you want us to do?”
“If you could avoid running us over that would be great, thank you”
“Ok, ve vill pass in front of you, over and out”
“Thanks”
T-5min: As far as I can tell, they haven’t altered course nor changed speed. The maritimes rules are however crystal clear, a sailboat has priority over a powerboat and this is regardless of its size. To make maters worse, the wind suddenly picks up and Kujira think it’s the best time in the world to suddenly jump to 5 knots speed. We are now on a perfect collision course.
T-4min: I start to feel very uncomfortable about the situation, Vizzavona is clearly not giving a bloody coconut about the situation and may not even have noticed our sudden change of pace.
T-3min:
“Vizzavona, Vizzavona, Vizzavona, this is Kujira, Kujira, Kujira, do you copy?”
No reply
“Vizzavona, Vizzavona, Vizzavona, this is Kujira, Kujira, Kujira, do you copy?”
No reply
T-2min:
“Vizzavona, Vizzavona, Vizzavona, this is Kujira, Kujira, Kujira, do you copy?”
No reply.
I don’t think that playing chicken with a 200 meters boat is the best idea in the world and while I know that we have right of way and that in case of an incident our conversation has been recorded, I decide to ease the main and alter course.
T-1min: I can nearly see the white of the eyes of the passengers but my evasive manoeuvre worked and Vizzavona will miss us.
T-0min: Kujira which has now nearly stalled is being shaken like a pecan tree by the wake of the boat. Thank you very much Vizzavona I will not forget you. All pumped up from this event I can stay on watch a bit longer.
Kim:
I woke again from another manoeuvre, wanting to check how things were going. Ben was annoyed.
“Go back to sleep!” be said sternly. “I need you fresh for your watch later.”
“The noise woke me up anyway and I’ll come up for a minute”.
“No, Kim. You need to sleep!” he said with more urgency.
I climbed out of bed and walked through the passageway to the stairs. Bang! Ouch! I catch my little toe on the tables that are stored in the passageway. Feeling clumsy I continue up the stairs and talk with Ben in the cockpit. He’s tired and not happy to see me awake. I tell him it’s ok, I’m going back to bed and to wake me up of he needs help. Agreed.
I make my way back to the aft cabin and feel something wet on my stubbed toe. It’s blood. Ah darn it! I sliced the top of my toe which now has a flap of skin waving around and think I caught my toenail in the process. Ben comes to check on me. It’s ok. I clean it and bandage it up for now, hoping it might stick itself back together somewhat. Luckily it was just the Pinky toe!
Ben:
We are now slowly getting closer to 3am, I have been on watch for more than 5 hours and it’s definitely time to hand over the whale but by now the wind has picked up quite a bit but so has the swell. As it is meant to increase even more and not sure whether Dave would reef I decide to do the manoeuvre and then wake him up. As I start putting one reef in the genoa I get a low voltage warning on the plotter. I don’t like that. Something is wrong and I am not sure why. If we lose the ability to furl the head sail it could easily turn into a bit of a situation. I decide to put Mr Perkins to work for a bit to recharge the batteries a bit. Meanwhile I go wake up Dave who has been awake pretty much the whole time. We stay on watch together while I update him on the situation. I am so tired that I forget to put an entry in the logbook and fall asleep right away in the lounge.
Kim:
Dave has his watch and I join him to take my turn at 4.45am. The Genoa is partly furled in as I had asked and the wind is a steady 10-12 knots. I feel rested enough to take on the challenge of sailing in the dark for the next hour or so. It’s reassuring that daylight isn’t too far away. Although we have radar and an AIS (Automatic identification system) on board so other ships can see us, I still feel very vulnerable in the dark. It humbles me to think that the Maori people’s ancestors sailed all the way from “Hawaiiki” (somewhere near French Polynesia) to Aotearoa, New Zealand, hundreds of years ago in wooden canoes navigating by the stars. Respect!
6.00am Sunrise is a welcome relief and I’m feeling quite relaxed. But I am prepared for stronger winds that are expected later this morning.
7.00am The winds are still nice and steady and not too strong. The sea state is getting worse though and my speed isn’t optimal as the Genoa is partly furled. I decide to unfurl it another section, which is good because with more speed through the water, the boats motion becomes more pleasant. I hope the guys are able to sleep.
7.45am The wind is creeping up steadily and it’s now 15+knots. I have the autopilot on and it keeps the course pretty well. I decide to reef in the main sail. Can I do it alone? Maybe I should wake Ben up to help? Let’s give it a try first. If I can’t manage it for some reason I can wake Ben up then. I reef in successfully and feel quite chuffed. I did it on my own! Yay me! The boat feels easier to manage now.
8.00am The wind is 18-20knots. It’s feeling quite intense. I decide to furl in the Genoa partway again. I want to avoid overloading the furler motor so I adjust the autopilot by less than 5 degrees to head a little more into wind. Then I just need to release the rope a little and push the button to furl in. Right, here we go…
Damn it! The boat is tacking! That wasn’t supposed to happen! I turn off autopilot and turn the helm to tack fully. Double damn it! The rope on the other side of the boat isn’t ready to pull in around the winch. Rookie mistake! The boat pretty much stalls in the rolling waves and something crashes down below waking Ben up.
“I need your help Ben”. He springs into action. He finds me trying to steer at the same time as pulling in the rope which is now attached to a loudly flapping Genoa, something you don’t want in strong winds.
“Make sure we’re facing the right way”. I feel confused when I look on the screen. My tack was a disaster! Together we get everything under control again and Ben says we can use some dinosaur juice (diesel) to motor sail the rest of the way. Whew! That was a big mess up from me.
It’s a good thing that we employ the help of Mr Perkins. Even with his assistance the waves are really big (for me) and a few splash over the front of the boat. Holy crap! And we’re still in the Med…The dinner bell keeps dinging on it’s own. By some miracle the guys are sleeping through all of this Kafefe.
9.30am I think I see a dorsal fin. Ah it’s just my imagination… Nope that’s a dolphin! There’s another one! How exciting! They swim and dance through the waves next to the boat. What a great reward for the hard work, and surprises in the night!
Land ahoy! We motor sail into Corsica and decide that once we are safely moored in Girolata we’ll have brunch. Girolata does not disappoint. It’s a tiny village in a secluded cove and it looks like a town that time forgot. A search on Wikipedia says “Inhabitants: 8”. A local working in a shop later tells us that it’s grown to 16 since then. After a bit of a rest we take the dingy to shore and we find cows on the beach as promised! It’s a cute little place to spend a couple days in and we wander around the small shops and up the hill to the old village. It must be a real pain if you forget to buy milk when you go grocery shopping here. Maybe that’s why they have the cows…
Ben, Dave and I tuck ourselves safely into our beds which feel incredibly calm compared to the last 24 hours. We did it! Kujira, our whale, did a fine job indeed.
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