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Wed, 8 Aug 2001 Life aboard Alcyone never gets dull, even underway for three weeks. When we left Halifax behind us we sailed east and traveled well under beautiful skies and a big moon. Our first day brought us 136 miles closer to Ireland- HA! Such an insignificant amount! We noted it as a good start and put it from our minds. It is lovely to begin a trip so long that you don't have to think about its end for weeks yet. But on the afternoon of the second day, the wind died off and, after trying to set the fisherman for some light air sailing, we cranked up the engine and began motoring. We struggled to sail, but were forced to motor for the next 2 days before a brief respite of sailing, and then motoring again for a day and a half. As the rumble of the engine persisted, Leslie and Sugar began thinking about food and fuel capacity and we all hoped for wind. Along with increased wind, we hoped for the fog to clear. The first five days of our trip were shrouded in typical Grand Banks fog- thick and consistent. South of Newfoundland, the cold Labrador Current meets the warmer air, creating a blanket of fog. Visibility of 100 feet was the norm. We thought a lot about the men who used to fish these waters in dories launched from large schooners. They left the mother ship and drifted all day feeding out long lines and hauling them back in, laden with fish, before they had to row back to the schooner where they'd spend what was left of daylight salting the fish. In the fog, in the cold, moving their hands in cold water with no sight of each other or their mother ship; while they caught tremendous amounts of fish, many of them were lost in the fog or bad weather. The Alcyone crew passed around a book named "Cod" (Frank had bought it and gave it to the Alcyone library) about the fish off Newfoundland and the men who sailed for thousands of miles to come fish them. The book traces the history of the fishing industry in the area, trailing it through its boom (when schooners from Gloucester, Massachusetts competed with schooners from Europe and Canada for fish and returned home to sell tons of fish each year) into its present near-barren state with extremely regulated fishing. In the few days before we left, we followed a series of radio calls and news stories of a rower whose boat was leaking a few hundred miles into a transatlantic rowing attempt. Not unlike the early twentieth century fishermen, he was rowing in the fog seventy miles from shore. Fortunately, he had radio communication and a passing research boat heard the call and pulled him aboard, the next warning over INMARSAT was a warning of an abandoned rowboat. The south side of Newfoundland is known for its fishing glory, but also for its shipwrecks. Sable Island and the French islands of St. Pierre and Miquelon have hundreds of wrecks studding their shores. The fog, combined with sudden shallows and rocks close to shore, contributes to this area's reputation as the graveyard of the Atlantic. We were sailing well clear of any land, but we kept a sharp lookout for fishing gear. Although the Grand Banks have been fairly well fished out and are severely regulated, there are still some fishermen working in the area. Having caught a lobster buoy along the coast of Nova Scotia, we were aware that there is still deep-sea gear in the area and it is well worth avoiding. Our spirits remained high and we listened to weather reports in expectation of improvements. Five days out to sea, we celebrated Pat's birthday with our usual cake and party and he blessed us by wishing for wind. That night we shut down the engine and sailed under a reefed mainsail, foresail, jib, and fly jib. The wind increased to force 4 and we sailed downwind for Ireland. Receiving weather reports became a central issue on board. Sugar asked to be woken at optimal times to retrieve weather faxes. We also began communicating with Herb on the SSB. Herb is a gentleman who provides weather service for vessels in the Atlantic. He will give you localized weather reports and predictions if you check in with him at designated times. The man spends hours every day guiding vessels to better wind, away from dreary high pressure zones or building gales. Sugar became something of a slave to the radio, having to stand by waiting his turn to hear our weather. But soon, more and more of us gathered around hearing Herb chat with boats down near the Azores, approaching the Caribbean, and surprising us one night by talking to a boat only 200 miles Northeast of us. Our proximity to this other vessel, a 34 foot Norwegian sailboat, turned out to be a great boon. For some reason our transmissions to Herb were weak and the Norwegians acted as a go-between, relaying our position and current wind and sea conditions to Herb who would then give us a report, knowing that we were listening. Sugar then called back the Norwegian vessel to make sure that we had copied the report clearly, and usually ended up chatting with our "neighbor" for a few minutes. Our neighbors were a couple, on their way home from the Caribbean, traveling to make it in time for the wife to give birth to their expected baby. Markus and Sugar traded thoughts about marine equipment, different ports, weather, charts, and all common things in this cruising world where friendship and generosity are quickly exchanged and much appreciated. The Alcyone nav area became a crowded family scene not unlike an earlier era when the whole family gathered to listen to their favorite radio program together; we all found a nook, some knitting, some doodling, and all laughing and nodding in response to the words crackling in from our new friends. In addition to Herb's information, Alyce and Darby collected weather data in a daily log. (The fog left, but clouds were a pretty strong theme- is it 90% stratocumulus or altocumulus?) The girls were engaged in keeping track of the water and air temperature. As a result, we knew EXACTLY how cold it was when we took a deck shower. It should be noted that there were a few silly sailors who elected to bathe while still in the frigid Labrador Current. The log notes: 2 haircuts and 4.5 showers- sounds like someone came to his or her senses half way through. In accord with weather predictions, we sailed east staying along the 45th parallel. We had a great variety of sailing conditions. Our visitors got experience setting and striking every sail combination aboard numerous times. We sailed under full schooner rig, reefed main, double reefed main, brig rig (course, raffe, and either mainsl or big jib), sometimes setting the stun'sl. Everyone on board is expert at re-leading braces, gybing the big jib, and dropping the main boom into the gallows. All things obscure and fluky have been tried and tested. The variety of sailing, into the wind and off it, with big seas and relative calm, kept things interesting. The downwind aspect of the crossing took a toll on the course and raffe gear. The halyards chaffed in the blocks and one by one they parted. During the night of July 19th-20th, we were rousted out of our bunks FOUR TIMES to the sound of parting halyards or sheets and flogging sails. Unfortunately, it's too cold in these latitudes to do any prolonged work in our underwear, so there was a lot of scrambling for clothes and foul weather gear. After once or twice we wondered: should we bother taking off wet gear to lie down? After the first two it got much less alarming and we realized that the gear (with all the same wear on it) would be at about the same point of chafe. We made some adjustments and sent the sails back up again, and again, and again. The next day we changed out sheets and halyards (and actually had to change out a block too since the metal becket broke) and also did some repair work on the big jib. The work does not distract us from the beautiful nature around us. The sea is so vast and wondrous that it continues to surprise and delight us. How could we anticipate every wind shift, beautiful cloudbank, or flash of sea life? Among the surprises were frequent cetacean sightings. We were lucky to have Pat on board because he knows a lot about animal evolution and specifically a lot on whales and dolphins. He gave us a class explaining the evolutionary track from land mammals to these sea mammals and then giving us food for thought and discussion about their communication and cognition. Pat's zeal was rewarded on our last day underway when he lay below the bowsprit and touched some dolphins leaping in our bow wake- as we sailed toward the Aran Islands surrounded by teams of jumping dolphins. The amount of sea life we saw was exciting. Even before Halifax, in the mouth of the Bay of Fundy, we were given a dramatic fluke salute from humpbacks. We went on to see sei whales, fin backs, minkies, and a few pods of 8-10 pilot whales. The sei and fin backs are huge and graceful. They swim at what seems to be a slow pace (faster than Alcyone) surfacing and blowing. It is pretty disconcerting to have a creature almost as long as Alcyone surface 20 feet from the boat. The minkies, smaller and darker, showed up for only a brief visit. But the pilot whales, generally seen in pods of about 10, stuck around surfing down waves in our wake. The ship's company was gathered at the stern watching these playful giants burst out of the face of 8 foot waves. We began a log of all notable animal and ship sightings. Over the course of the trip we saw 26 whales, around 200 dolphins, and 3 sunfish. We only saw 8 other boats (discounting the ones we picked up on radar but never actually sighted) before we reached the Irish offshore fishing grounds, at which point we started seeing trawlers frequently. Not included in the log were a variety of seabirds. We were accompanied the whole way by greater shearwaters and Wilson's storm petrels, as well as frequent visitations by black guillemots, sooty shearwaters, northern fulmars, northern gannets, and arctic turns. Many of these cold water, pelagic birds spend alternate seasons in the north Atlantic and south Atlantic. They migrate from pole to pole twice a year- impressive flyers. They are a physical embodiment of grace and power. Life below Alcyone's deck was warm and productive. Holly and Alyce worked together to knit Leslie a pair of socks. Chris warmed up his fiddle with Irish tunes. Under his tutelage, Alyce continued her flute lessons, practicing Irish and classical music. We have made a marathon run of the Anne of Green Gables series. Leslie read 8 Anne books aloud, beginning when we were in the Canadian Maritimes and just winding up as we reached Ireland. While Anne's florid vocabulary and inspirational tone can get tedious, her antics have made us laugh across thousands of miles. Each day we noted the noon to noon mileage but the day that we truly marked was the day we passed the half-way point. Darby made and tasted her first lemon meringue pie, and Alyce made a pineapple upside-down cake. What a feast we had! And we moved our clocks forward- three hours all at once. It was staying light so long at this point that it made more sense to do that than change one hour every other day. For sailors who sleep and eat according to the watch schedule, it does not make much difference to change the hours of the day a little forward or back. As soon as we were within 500 miles of land a change, a subtle but definitely noticeable change, occurred. We had each made a guess about the date and time (down to the minute) of sighting land. The times we had chosen for our ETA bets became dear to us as we got closer. Holly was caught with pencil and paper calculating the speed we would need to average if we were to arrive during her estimated time. "Only 10 knots! We can do it!" No way! And then I get to gloat a little, "Holly, there is no way because today is the 24th, not the 23rd." I guess not knowing the date is proof that we hadn't totally lost our out-to-sea, independent-from-calendars-and-convention bliss. The bet ended (Leslie won!) on July 27 when Pat looked off our starboard side and was shocked to see mountains under the clouds. They were close, they must have been there for a long time without us noticing. It is weird seeing land after so many days at sea. It is somehow unexpected and out of place. You have to just look out at it in surprise- and everyone did as soon as we shouted out Land Ho! We were greeted to Ireland by teeming dolphins, thirty of them at a time, jumping and playing all around the boat. We sailed in towards the Aran Islands. Alcyone approached the islands in the dusk, just enough light to watch in awe as the grass and rock hills, divided by stone walls drifted by us. We all drank tea and Chris played beautiful fiddle tunes into our first Irish night. We dropped anchor in the dark, placing a metal umbilical cord between us and our destination. It was an awesome feeling to be here. A few hours later, morning was upon us. We were up at first light hauling up the anchor. It was the first time in a long time that the windlass, or we, got that kind of exercise. Up, under sail, and into Galway Bay! Under full sail we charged up the bay in order to enter the gates of the harbor at high tide. There to greet us were two friends of Holly and Pat; they came with local knowledge and pastries! Frank also had a greeting party and headed off that night for shore luxuries. We cleaned the boat and settled into the dock. Bridget, Darby, and Alyce ran off to stretch their legs and scope out the town while Sugar, Chris, and Leslie put the boat to bed and got to witness life on the Galway dock. It took very little social interaction before we were both excited and shocked. It would take a little time to adjust to the city. Galway has treated us well. We have been here now for a week. During our first few days, an arts festival was going on, and the town was filled with street performers and tourists appreciating the festival and just passing through on summer holidays. This week, the Galway races, a nationally famous week of horse racing, has been going on and the town is full of race attenders. We hear that this is nothing unusual. Galway is one of the largest growing cities in Europe and a popular tourist attraction for backpackers and other travelers. While it is still laid back and slow paced, there are many shops and bars and restaurants catering to the tourists. It has natural charm and beauty with traditional music in the pubs every night and Irish knit sweaters for sale but no obnoxious commercialized push to buy and do things. People congregate outside when the weather permits; pass from the lawns along the river and canals to the pubs and back, playing music and sitting in the sun chatting. We can see why people come to visit. We have made friends here in the boat basin and are familiar with local places. We have gotten some maintenance done on the boat. Sugar, Leslie, Alyce, and Darby have gotten to take a driving tour of part of the island and to visit Sugar's relatives. Chris and Bridget have explored Galway to their satisfaction. Chris has gotten familiar with the traditional music session etiquette playing his fiddle. Our guests are leaving the country one by one. Soon we leave the city for more remote places, our adventures in Ireland have just begun. That is all for now. Fair winds, The crew of the Alcyone |