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 will have WAY more to say about this in due time, but wanted to post it immediately. Thanks to Dave for sharing - you know who you are. Might we have finally reached a tipping point when it comes to taking offshore sailing seriously, instead of a ride to warmer weather?
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?
I wanted to write this a while ago, when the situation I'm about to describe actually was happening, but I thought it might somehow jinx it. So I saved it for now. Spoiler alert: the end of this story happened yesterday, and the boat is safe and sound in Portland, ME, but it got there without me on it. Here it is.
Note: I submitted this article for publication in Spinsheet's May 2012 issue. Re-reading it, it's no surprise that they couldn't use it. I've been too disconnected from the Chesapeake lately, and simply ran out of ideas. Frankly, what's going on at home with my mom has overtaken everything else at the moment, and that's where this article came from.
Kevin Walls got his trail name today. This is apparently something everyone does when through-hiking the Appalachian Trail. You can't give it to yourself, it must be earned. And only after a little while on the trail. For the next one thousand-nine hundred miles or so, he'll be known to his compatriots as 'Tower.' He's something like 6-foot-5, so it's appropriate. Apparently he also has an affinity for a hilltop fire tower that he came across as well, so I guess that makes sense.
We would never have found that hamam in the end had it not been for the guy that walked us there. We’d spent over an hour wandering the streets and the markets around Kardikoy, on the Asian side now because we heard the baths were cheaper (they are), and ended up going around in circles. Nobody spoke English, but I had the place written on a piece of paper and kept asking people anyway.
We didn’t really get very far on Thursday. We walked really far. The bus dropped us off at Taksim Square, and Nate assured us that the hotel was only 500 meters away, and ‘probably in that direction.’ So we started walking. I bought a simit , a circular-shaped bread covered in sesame seeds, which I soon discovered was ubiquitous all over the city.
Saturday, June 26, 2010: One forty-nine AM.
It’s one forty-nine in the morning. I write from the nav table of Truant, the 47’ Cabo Rico cutter that Mia and I are currently in the process of delivering from the Delaware Bay to Newport, Rhode Island. Between the full moon shining through the pilothouse window and the glow of my computer screen, there is enough light to write by.
Greetings and happy Friday! I'm taking this week to formally introduce the new magazine I am editing now, All at Sea Southeast.
It's somewhat of a sister magazine to All at Sea Caribbean, published by the same people and using the same style. It's a conglomeration of all things waterfront, covering the region from the mouth of the Chesapeake to east Texas, from sail, power, fishing, surfing and everything in between.
Note: Okay, at the bottom of this post is some audio I recorded with Matt, I think back in April last year. It would have been a few months before his departure. His Pearson 323 was docked one block away from Arcturus in Annapolis, at the little marina at the end of Burnside Street. I had been friends with him since the summer before when he returned from his double-Transatlantic.
Heartless Bastards baby! They are rocking my world right now.
Dane had an ‘afternoon with the White Stripes’ in the gym yesterday. He and I were debating the merits of Black Math, a few days prior, a song, which, I might argue, is about as hard as a rock and roll song can get. I listened to it several times out running with the dogs in the forest this week. Gets the juices flowing.
Seven knots over the ground! Thanks to a north setting current, we’re now just off the northern limit of Georges Bank, again sailing through heavy fog. This morning after my 0200-0500 watch, my hair was wet enough so it appeared I’d just taken a shower…The boat is really starting to come together now. I put my tools away at noon today (the power tools anyway…).
Clint said this would happen on the boatride back from Åland. I was espousing how much I was looking forward to being back home in Dunderbo for several weeks. Making fires and drinking coffee and not living out of a suitcase or having to move anywhere. He said it. “Mate, in two weeks you’ll be itching to go somewhere new.”
