Stranded on an Island during the COVID-19 Crisis!
I write this while I wait, sitting in a jury-rigged airport terminal in Roatan, Honduras; a solution the Honduran government has made to address flying out foreigners during total lockdown.
Seeing the ice in clear skies was a hell of a reward for the heavy weather yesterday. Thus far we’ve stopped to admire two big bergs from close range, bringing in ICEBEAR under power (the wind, after all that fuss, shut down completely around 1200 noon as we rounded Cape Race) to within a hundred yards or so. I put the drone up to get a bird’s eye view, and the crew stopped to admire the beauty of nature’s most striking sculpture. Both bergs we stopped for had at some point in their decay rolled, for the tops of them were pure white and smooth as marble, highlighted in spots by deep turquoise cracks where they’d broken apart and re-frozen during their lifespan.
This has been all over my Facebook page the past couple of days, thanks to Kevin King, who crewed with us and took the footage. When the whale first approached, we were in awe, and just enjoyed his company. Kevin wanted to film right away, but I kind of discouraged him - if you're always behind the camera, you can't appreciate what's right in front of you. But the whale kept coming back! I was afraid jamming the camera down in the water might scare him off (he thinking it might be a harpoon!), but eventually we gave it a go. I think it was worth it!
This was written yesterday, posted today (Monday). Photos below.
We arrived into St. Croix yesterday afternoon after what I think was probably the easiest passage I’ve ever done. We sailed on starboard tack the whole way, broad reaching in anywhere from 8-25 knots, and only motoring for one hour, through a pretty calm spot when the sails were banging around and we had to roll up the jib.
I just had an interesting email exchange with a friend whose in the (years-long) process of outfitting his boat for extended ocean cruising. The boat is similar to Arcturus, and we have similar ideas about things, and somehow got in touch a few years back. Anyway, we've had several of these types of exchanges. I won't say who it is out of respect for his privacy, but I want to publish my response to his latest email about rigging, sails and engines. I'll preface each section with what I'm about to discuss, but won't include anything specific that he's emailed me. What's your take?
Sunday, November 10th
I got off the 0400-0800 watch about an hour ago. Getting occasional nausea from the rolling and pitching of this smaller boat, but I guess that's something I'm going to have to get used to! We entered the Gulf Stream just north of the Carolinas this morning. Everything looks and feels the same, except now we have no wind. August made the call to fire up the engine. A low rumble accompanied by a high metallic pitch is settling like a white noise blanket throughout the boat. The noise is tiring, but going less than 5kn is even worse.
I cooked a bean chili last night that was received quite well, and I was happy to be able to make what felt like my first real contribution as second mate.
Final thoughts - I woke up today feeling slightly groggy, worried I'm getting a little cold. Also, I can't poop!
Early October. I lay in my sleeping bag, feet in (it does get cold in the mornings!) when I woke to a BANG. My eyes fired open, and I half-hopped half-slid out of my bag and bunk. No time to dress - in four quick steps, I was climbing the companionway ladder to investigate the cause of my disturbed slumber. With a knotted stomach, I tumbled out from under the dodger to give ISBJORN a good, hard look. When nothing immediately jumped out at me, I risked a glance around. The other boats in the mooring field floated peacefully. I glanced towards town and found what I was looking for.