Showing posts with label sailing. Show all posts
Showing posts with label sailing. Show all posts

29 December 2019

Martinique and Joyeux Noël

We planned on staying in Martinique just a few days. Two weeks and five harbors later, we reluctantly wrapped up our exploration of this fantastic French island to continue our voyage northward.

Captain Linda Perry Riera


Harbors

After a 12 hour challenging sail from St. Vincent, Argon nestled in to the extensive bay at St. Anne on the southern coast of Martinique. This vast area of good holding in 15 foot depths abutting a precious town made for a welcoming introduction.

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Later, a brief but jaunty down-wind sail to the southwest harbor of Anse DÁrlet (definitely on our all time top 10 list), we enjoyed the pristine water, jovial beach and attractive hillside town.

For a change of pace we also anchored in the urban harbor of the capital city of Fort de France before setting off on an easy short early morning hop to Anse A L'Ane for a couple of nights.

The last few days on the island were perhaps the highlight of our Martinique experience anchored close to shore on an skinny swath of sand in Saint-Pierre at the base of Mt. Pelée along the northwest coast. Saint-Pierre overflows with tragic history from the infamous Mount Pelée eruption in 1902 killing nearly 30,000 people and destroying the city.


St. Anne Harbor was a welcome respite after a long difficult sail from St. Vincent.



Large sea turtles are very common in these waters. We saw the most at St. Anne and Anse DÁrlet.


The rolly down-wind sail along the southern coast through Passe Des Fous. Rocher Du Diamant is prominent in the background.

The spectacular harbor of Anse DÁrlet on the southwest coast (one of our all time favorite harbors).


Anchored near a huge cruise ship in the big city of Fort de France.
Morning sail from Anse A L'Ane to Saint-Pierre.



Harbor of Saint-Pierre with the impressive 4000+ ft Mt. Pelée volcano in the background.

Anchored in Saint-Pierre with Mt. Pelée in the background.


Exploring Land

We were able to get to land quite a bit while in Martinique. Sometimes it was to work, but mostly it was for exploration. Martinique, like all the French islands, is great for provisioning with well stocked markets, good quality produce, excellent wine and cheeses, and reasonable prices. Investigating shops, visiting chandleries, and embarking on rural and urban hikes were a great way to get lots of exercise and experience the island intimately.

Embarrassingly, we still know no French aside from a handful of standard phrases and pleasantries. It is a surprising barrier considering the focus on tourism in the country. However, the vast majority of people were either friendly or neutral about our lack of local language skills. (This is in contrast to the unwelcome vibe in much of Guadeloupe.) Google Translate is of great help in the French islands.

Fantastic, extensive trail along the southeastern coast from St. Anne to Saline Beach.


Vigorous hike along the southwest coast.


Great grilled food along the beach in Anse D'Arlet.

Interesting cascading lights pouring out of the Hotel De Ville in Anse D'Arlet. These are made of thousands of used plastic water bottles.

Close up of the plastic water bottle cascade.


Beautiful glowing plastic garbage mirage at night. Also a reminder of the immense permanent trash we create.


Exploring the big city of Fort de France.

Long hike from Anse A L'Ane to Anse Mitan lead us to a defunct hotel at the tip of Pointe du Bout with interesting street art.
 
Eclectic downtown Saint-Pierre. Many buildings retain a wall or two from original structures prior to the destruction by the volcano in 1902.

Waterfront produce marker in Saint-Pierre.



Hiking Mt. Pelée. The starting point was at about 2400 feet then we hiked up to about 4000 feet. (and there was still more to go)


Breathtaking views down the carved trench of Mt. Pelee. We were pretty tired by about now.

Zoomed in shot of Argon's anchorage along the city of Saint-Pierre from atop Mt. Pelee volcano. Argon is just above the ferry dock.


Are we there yet?! Nope, still more ridges beyond.


Enjoying post hike adult beverages in a funky downtown bar, Saint-Pierre.

We are getting better at deciphering menus.


The Negatives: Thefts, Connectivity and Transportation

Martinique proved to be a wonderful island for cruising. However, there are a few challenges.

Dingy thefts are common in Martinique (similar to many Windward islands). Even gasoline cans getting swiped out the dinghy as well as gasoline siphoned out of the can is problematic. (We anchored next to and hung out with two other American boats in Saint-Pierre - both had their gas tanks stolen recently while in Martinique.) The logistics and expense associated with replacing any of these items is substantial. Currently there are transportation related strikes on the island further increasing gasoline thefts due to the constricted supply. Stainless steel chain ($$$) locks our outboard and gas can to the dinghy. And another stainless steel chain locks the dinghy to the dock when going ashore. It is also necessary to lock the dinghy to your boat at night as thefts occur even when at anchor with owners on their boat. Argh!!

Heavy chains and locks add a layer of inconvenience when going ashore, but it is necessary.


Martinique is the most first-world place we have been in months. Roads are in excellent condition, products and services are plentiful. But this country is by far the most difficult and expensive for data connectivity. Thank goodness we had Google-Fi going in one of our phones, because for much of the time here, it has been the only option but it was slower than normal (not fast enough for voice calls / telecons). We always try to have redundant connectivity options if possible since we are so dependent on it for work. We still had an Orange SIM card from last year on the way south but could not get it to work. And even if we could, the cost of data on Orange is 15EUR/GB... more than quadruple the Digicel price of about $3USD/GB. When we got to Fort de France, we eventually found an Orange Store and brought one of our phones with our old Orange SIM. No one in the store spoke any English and we struggled through using Google Translate. For some reason (in french) we needed a new SIM card (19EUR). But even then, that didn't work so we needed to be escorted to a strangely secure upstairs section of the store to see "The Technician" (9EUR more) who got us working. After all that hassle, data is still 15EUR/GB so we continue to limit the use of the Orange SIM for when we need really fast LTE (like for work teleconferences). We will certainly go way over our allowed 15GB from Google FI this month and have to buy additional data at $10/GB (but this is still cheaper than Orange). We continue to muddle through the data challenges while island hopping.


More hours spent in search of and waiting at an Orange store for help securing SIM card data. No English was spoken here; there was lots of usage of Google Translate.

Google Translate is immensely helpful not only for deciphering menus but for more complicated transactions like renting a car or trying to rectify data issues.


Martinique has a lot to learn from the non-french West Indies when it comes to transportation. In many of the non-french islands, there is a system of private buses and taxis. In Grenada and Antigua for example, a driver can buy a van, and buy a permit to run a particular bus route. His incentive then is to pack as many people into his van and get them to where they want to go as fast as possible so he can cram more people into his van. We have never seen a bus refuse to pick up someone because of such a silly reason as  being "too full".  We have taken several rides on each other's (or strangers') laps.  For the sailor trying to get places, this is extremely efficient. You will never wait more than a few minutes on any road without several buses slowing down, honking and asking you if you want a lift. Often, the buses make stops at businesses and restaurants to deliver supplies from vendors. It's incredibly efficient Island UPS. And costs only about $1USD/trip. The downside of this system, is that because of the incentives, they drive... insane. (Just close your eyes and hang on and enjoy the thumping music.)

Martinique is the extreme opposite. There are very few taxis, and there is no private bus system. There are over-sized, overly comfortable, air conditioned municipal buses that arrive at specific stops very infrequently. (And do not dare try to pay fare with anything larger than a 10EU note.) To effectively get around Martinique, you need to rent a car. But securing a rental without an advance reservation is very difficult as the supply is strangely restricted. The roads are clogged with rental car traffic and parking can be difficult. Message to Martinique: be more like Grenada and the other islands with transportation (only maybe drive a little less frighteningly).

Bob working while we wait (for a long time) for a bus to take us to the chandleries in Le Marin.



Boat Projects in Paradise

Martinique is the Caribbean shopping mecca for mariners (second only to perhaps St. Martin). We took an (inefficient) bus trip from St. Anne to nearby Le Marin. The trip proved fruitful as we scored zinc anodes for the sail drive and bow thruster, an additional piece of stainless steel chain for added dinghy security, a headlamp, and sail tape.

There is always a list of things to fix, tweak, maintain, and inspect. We checked off several small projects recently including whipping on the reefing line and main halyard (to assist line setting for reefing), scrubbing the bottom of the dinghy, rigging the boom brake, checking and adjusting the rig tune, replacing lots of rigging tape. We also made a trip to a fuel dock and, after hovering for nearly an hour awaiting our turn, topped off diesel and gasoline and filled our water tanks. 

There are several projects on the to do list including polishing the bow roller, addressing the vented loop on the sump discharge to stop it siphoning, cleaning the sump, inspecting and cleaning the bilge pump, checking the lazy-jack lines for chafe, getting the broken backing plate out of the boom (probably requires removing the boom) and having a new padeye welded, inspecting all steering mechanics and autopilot...  The more I type, the more I think of...

Oh, and we are way behind on laundry. There is a growing, stinky pile craving attention.



Tweaking the rig tuning, replacing some codder pins, and fresh sail tape.

Whipping mark on the reefing line and main halyard to assist with reefing. (It will be re-done when we can get some reflective sail thread for better visibility at night.)


Replacing the shackle with dynema lashing on the main tack for a more clean attachment to the gooseneck bolt.


Rigged boom brake - particularly useful since we are now happily often sailing off the wind. (A recent padeye breakage is cause for improvising the attachment point temporarily.)


Where to Next?

The next island north is Dominica. Despite being big fans of this beautiful and rugged island, we will keep our stay in Dominica brief so that we can move on to Les Saints / Terre de Haut (part of another French country, Guadeloupe, thus with the same data limitations and language barrier).



Au revoir, Martinique!!






10 October 2019

Aquatic Snowbirds (Again)

Just as the weather is starting to turn colder, we are preparing to migrate southward for our third winter cruising the Caribbean. This time, however, we are able to start off by skipping the difficult, lengthy off shore passages and just hop on a plane.

Captain Linda Perry Riera

We left Argon in Grenada this past April for the summer hauled out, strapped down in a hurricane cradle, and with a punch list of projects to be handled locally on the island. Oddly, we have been boat-less for a summer in New England. Our only association with Argon for five months has been through forced e mails, an occasional reluctant photo, or an eager invoice from the shipyard or a contractor in Grenada. More on the learnings and challenges related to these boat projects in a later post.

Our lives have been strangely normal and exceptionally satisfying spending time in our home in Newport, Rhode Island (USA) as well as lots of traveling to Boston, Massachusetts  for work (including renting an apartment in nearby Lexington for several months - thank you, Helene!).

When not working, Bob has his studio up and running with some sexy new gear. And he has enjoyed starting to record some great local talent. There have been a fair number of brown boxes with new equipment arriving and he has enjoyed setting everything up on this cool studio console that he built in the garage.


Bob's man cave.

Fasnet Pub Session Band.

I am loving my career shift as an independent consultant and despite slightly over-committed myself to work this summer, have managed to schedule in lots of wonderful visits with family and friends.

Great to have the three boys (and two of their three SO's) with us in Newport in June!

My only sail of the entire summer.... Rhodes 19 with Lori and Todd.

Fun weekend in DC with Kelly and the little ones!


My woman cave is coming along quite nicely. I have enjoyed tending to my flowers and shrubs, luring a myriad of birds, and killing invasive voles (well, I have not enjoyed the killing).

Linda's woman cave... Patio completed, new plants in, flowers eventually bloomed!




I have also loved getting in to an invigorating rhythm of ocean swimming. The water temp requires a wet suit at this time of year thus I may have only a few more swims in me before I cave in to the cold. Soon the warm turquoise waters of the Caribbean will be part of my regular winter routine.

Recent cold water swim in Jamestown, RI (USA).


Typical swim track. This one was 2000 yards in 63F (burr!).
Morning swim in Freeman's Bay English Harbor, Antigua last winter.


Now we focus our attention on tending to various life logistics as we prepare to be away for 7 or 8 months. 

Both Bob and I will again work while we cruise. Reliable internet connection has been a learning process - check out past blogs on our trials and tribulations to feed our data needs. This winter we will be trying Google-Fi. We will be sure to provide an update on a future post.


One of my remote office settings last winter. This gives WFH a new meaning (Anse La Roche, Carriacou).
 
But sometimes our WFH set up is more mundane (Antigua outside a local market).

I am committing myself to resume sailing related writing during this coming trip as last winter I was woefully remiss. Most writing will be in the form of reigniting this blog. I have an objective to create frequent short blogs... let's see how this goes.

Bob will fly to Grenada in just two and a half weeks. I will follow a week later. And we will both happily transition once again to life aboard s/v Argon!!



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06 November 2018

Bermuda Passage: A Spot of Bother


Captain Linda Perry Riera

Friday 2 November - St. George, Bermuda (4 days after leaving Newport):  A contorted sixty foot aluminum headstay with a thick stainless steel cable interior lays out of place along side Argon at the seawall in Bermuda, just a stone's throw across the inlet from the Customs Dock. It is oddly twisted with a shattered roller furler at her distal end. The local and semi-famous rigger, Steve Hollis of Ocean Sails, comes wandering up with his two dogs on leash having already heard about our tribulations through the cruising chatter and says in his understated, polite manner "Well, well... looks like you've got a spot of bother here". Yup.

Argon's bent and sagging head stay, tangled genoa and jib, and lashed on roller furler upon arrival in Bermuda.

Newport to Bermuda...

... is a common passage for cruisers from New England to make this time of year on their transit to the Caribbean. On a decent boat, it's typically four to five days (~650nm/750 miles). The trick is that it is often difficult to find a window between weather systems of more than two or three days this time of year. The other challenge is that one must cross a 50nm wide river on the way:  the Gulf Stream.

We had our weather window and we had our excellent crew. The synopsis of the weather was that it was going to be difficult on the front end, then ease up as the passage went on. If we waited, things would have been a little easier at the start but we would have had more headwinds for longer at the end. We chose a departure date along with about 20 other boats from Newport Yachting Center.

Many sailboats gathering at Newport Yachting Center in late October preparing to head off shore to Bermuda as a stopping point on their way to the Caribbean.

 

Monday 29 October:  Uncomfortable Start, as Expected


We left the Yachting Center dock in Newport at 0930 and headed out to sea with a few other boats close behind. Immediately upon leaving the harbor, we encountered some fairly uncomfortable seas sailing high into oncoming 6-8ft waves. This was expected but that didn't really help make it any more fun. Jeff and Linda had a bit of an issue with sea-sickness during this time. Jeff won for sheer volume but Linda took style points. We were sailing close reach with a double-reefed main and the jib.

These conditions remained for the whole day but toward nightfall, the winds started to veer and we got a little more off the wind. Things got a bit more comfortable but not much. The wind eventually did get around enough to switch from the jib to the genoa initially on a beam then a broad reach. Helming required much physical exertion and concentration; certainly no autopilot.

Linda working the helm on Argon during the first day.


Tuesday 30 October:  Challenging but Fast


The wind continued to veer and the waves were not so head on. Argon screamed along at 10-12kts most of the time under a reefed main and the 150 genoa in 18-25kts of wind. At about 1700 hrs we were at 38N and just entering the Gulf Stream. As we watched the water temperature tick up from about 56 degrees to a balmy 76 we expected things to get nasty but surprisingly, the stream was relatively smooth... for now. Still requiring deliberate working of the wheel but seas were following and not dramatically erratic.

The partially enclosed cockpit kept us relatively warm and dry during the front end of the trip and our entry in to the Gulf Stream.


Wednesday 31 October:  The Finicky Gulf Stream Screams "I'm not done with ya yet!"


Note: No photos during the shit-storm.

At about midnight Tuesday night in to the early morning hours of Wednesday, Lance was working the helm hard as we were nearing the outer edge of the Gulf Stream while the rest of us tried to rest amidst the howling wind and roar of ocean against the hull. Bob took over from an exhausted Lance around 0100 and resumed the struggle still sailing very fast with a reefed main and the genoa when the sea state took a pretty sudden turn for the worse. We encountered some very steep and confused waves that were tossing Argon around pretty hard. Eventually, these waves started hitting our quarter and rounding us up into the wind. I was trying to rest down below to have the strength to get through my upcoming turn at the wheel but was kept awake not only by the severe motion of the boat and the normal loud creeks and sounds of water rushing against the hull, but also an unusual seemingly vibrato noise radiating down the port side chain plates where I lay. Bob began to struggle more with controlling the boat yelling some expletives when I jumped up to help.

Since we were carrying the powerful 150% genoa, it was very difficult to steer back off the wind and we found ourselves stuck beam-to the seas. When we were rounded up high into the wind, the rig was shaking violently. The cockpit was repeatedly flooded with large (and very warm) waves. At about this time I called down below for Lance and Jeff to join us in the cockpit. Bob was still at the helm when another large wave came rolling over the starboard coaming. Bob recalls looking down and seeing the autopilot display under water! Another wave rolled over the cabin house top and unfortunately spilled down below in to the galley and salon (as Lance and Jeff were suiting up). This wave set off our SOS Dan Buoy which inflated in the cockpit, its strobe light flashing. Bob thought, "well at least we know it works" whereas I momentarily panicked as I thought it was a spreader that had come down. In another few seconds, the LP gas alarm started going off... it was quite the cacophony! (We eventually ruled out a gas leak and determined it was due to the sensor that had gotten wet from the incoming water.)  All of these things raised the intensity of the situation... it was like being in a flight simulator when they start throwing in faults for you to solve under pressure. But this was no drill and we were hundreds of miles from help.

We attempted to roll up the genoa and found it very difficult to do so. Clouds obscured the partial moon obliterating the horizon making staying oriented extra difficult. We sacrificed our night vision and turned on the deck light for some forward visibility. This is when it was clear that something was seriously wrong with the rig. The outer headstay that carries the genoa is normally not extremely tight and has a bit of sag, but this was way beyond sag... it was bowed away from the boat in a large arch. The outer stay had come lose from the masthead. We fought to roll up the genoa as best as we could with Bob and Jeff precariously on the foredeck, Lance in the cockpit using all his might with the furling line and sheets. And me working the helm struggling to keep Argon downwind but not jibe. We attempted to put the jib out to relieve some pressure from the wind on the genoa but the jib was now getting fouled with the sagging and swinging outer headstay. Upon rolling the jib back up, it got horribly twisted upon itself as the waves and wind continued to batter us.

The manhandling of the genoa took all four of us working in orchestrated chaos... Bob and Jeff bravely spent quite a bit of time on the fore deck in the churning seas as Argon continued to get rounded up and crazy waves bombarded us from seemingly every direction. Although tethered in, I was petrified that one or both would loose their balance and be thrown over a life line only to be in a different type of peril. I managed the helm trying to navigate the waves (there had already been a few unintentional jibes earlier in the evening). Lance did all the line work from the cockpit including somehow eventually getting the genoa furling line coaxed with Bob and Jeff working the sail from the bow. All of this was done over the constant roar of the wind in the rig and the rushing of water against the hull.

Once we finally got the genoa mostly furled, Bob secured the furling drum to the bow with a dock line and we sailed along dead downwind still in complete darkness with just the reefed main to minimize the whacking of the loose outer head stay against the taught inner stay with only the reefed main. A few hours later at daybreak with some muscle and Lance's idea from past experience during a race, we got the jib untwisted and re-deployed... revealing a dramatic diagonal three foot tear about a third of the way up; but still providing a bit of power.

Bob back on the foredeck the morning after in calmer seas with the flailing headstay with partially furled genoa and the sliced jib.


We were soaked, physically spent, and emotionally fried. But encouraged that we had things under control. I was still massively nervous that the whipping around of the heavy headstay was going work it's way loose from the mast and come crashing down on the deck (and the crew).


Spectacular sunrise the morning after.


Conditions were expected to ease up over the rest of the passage and thankfully they did. The stress on our broken rig was reduced but we could not forget that we still had a headstay hanging by the halyard sixty feet above our heads. We could have chucked it (and the genoa) overboard by removing a pin at the bottom, but we decided that since conditions were easing so much, we would continue carrying it and hopefully salvaging the headstay. We periodically eased a bit of halyard out to spread out potential chaff spot as we fired up the motor on relatively flat seas with easing winds.


Recuperating after a difficult night


The weather was continuing to soften and we found ourselves in very light and variable winds under clear and warming skies all day. We expected the wind to continue to veer around behind us so at about 1400 we fired up the engine for what we thought would be a relatively short motor until we got a better wind angle later.

We have about 75 gallons of diesel at this point which should be enough for the rest of the passage, but not by much.

Sagging head stay with the attachment plate pulled away from the top of the mast.


Thursday 1 November: Lots of Sun and Shorts, But Low on Fuel


The wind did not veer and pick up as we hoped/expected - it stayed light and directly on our nose. We spent a lot of time stressing over the dwindling fuel gauge. Lots of typing on a calculator and frowning followed. The wind was definitely not going to cooperate and it was becoming clear that we would likely be motoring the rest of the way and would cut it very close with fuel. Our calculations, even being extra conservative, indicated we should have enough fuel but the gauge did not agree.

The lights of Bermuda were just beginning to illuminate a patch of the sky on the distant horizon. Our destination seemed so close, but it was still 10 or 11 hours away. The fuel gauge did not look like it had 10 hrs left in it... as it bounced between E and up to maybe 3/8. At this point, we killed the engine and turned off the tiny bit of wind as Bob was sure we wouldn't make it. Everyone woke up, and we decided to get a first hand look at how much fuel was in the tank... Bob and I pulled the cushions off the port settee and opened the access panel on the top of the tank.

Shining a flashlight down into the hole, and using a kitchen knife as a dip stick, we saw a very reassuring sight: the tank was still at about 40% (which was in line with our calculations).  By now we figured we had done about 75% of the required motoring so we were sure we would make it. We fired the engine back up and motored on (checking the diesel level manually via our sophisticated method one more time several hours later... just to be sure).

Jeff and Linda peering up at the wildly swinging head stay hoping it would not come crashing down.


Friday 2 November:  Bermuda In Sight and Arrival


All of this time, we still had the main sail up to try and get a little bit of lift, but now the wind was so light and directly on the nose, that it wasn't helping. At about 0200, in the dark cloak of night of course, Bob and I were on watch and we decided to lower the main sail. This routine maneuver turned out to be more stressful and hairy than it should have been. Our lazy jacks had broken at some point earlier in the passage and lowering the main just dumped the huge, slippery sail all over the deck. Bob first tried to bundle the sail with some sail ties but eventually resorted to dock lines. During this operation, Bob lost his balance and nearly had a good fall but managed to catch himself. It was just one more unnerving thing.

As we approached Bermuda on the final stretch, the wind kicked in directly on our nose. We did not attempt to sail both because of the amount of beating needed, but also since the torn jib would have further marginalized our VMG. We knew we had enough fuel to plow directly on.

Happy crew on the home stretch.


Our first contact with Bermuda Radio was an encouraging milestone 20 miles out still in the dark of early morning hours; followed a few hours later in the morning light of overcast skies with radio confirmation upon reaching Mills Buoy that we could proceed through The Town Cut in to St George Harbor and the customs dock.

Motoring through The Town Cut in to St. George Harbor with our sagging headstay, lose genoa, ripped jib, and messily bundled main sail.

A ritual upon arrival after a long passage is a toast with Dark-n-Stormy's. But Lance and Jeff jumped in to action as soon as we tied to the seawall taking down the damaged sails and removing the headstay. The DnS's would wait a bit longer.

Taking down the torn up sails for repairs.


Carefully lowering the head stay.


Evaluating the twisted head stay and busted roller furler.

We salvaged what we could from the outer headstay, including some of the furling drum parts, pins and other rigging hardware.  The foil itself was deemed trash. Bob borrowed a torch from Steve Hollis to try and disassemble it, but quickly switched to a borrowed sawsall to chop it up.

Bits and pieces.
Argon's happy crew with her busted, disassembled head stay.

Argon's neighborhood while awaiting repairs (view from the road leading up to Bermuda Radio).


Close up of the damaged carbon fiber where the attachment plate for the head stay pulled away from the top of the mast.

Now we are immersed in a full damage assessment as well as triangulating communications with the local rigger, Tartan and the insurance company. We are immensely grateful that we all made it to Bermuda with only minor injuries (lots of bruises), a broken but repairable sailboat, and relationships stronger than when we departed. Just a spot of bother.