I guess I should come clean and admit that I made a slight navigational error early on in my trip, setting off merrily towards Bermuda as soon as I was clear of the Bahamas. All went well until the wind died on Monday, and I spent a dismal time alternating between bobbing around aimlessly and charging around under full power looking for some wind.
A cryptic message from my father proved to be my salvation – he asked what I was doing in the Sargasso Sea, long known to sailors as a place to avoid due to lack of wind, far too much seaweed, and home to many a sea-serpent waiting to gobble down unwitting little boats like mine.
I quickly leafed through my Atlantic Pilot Atlas and found no mention of the Sargasso by name, but sure enough it did say that the winds in this region are light and variable, with stronger winds to be found north of 32 degrees. Pointing my bow firmly to the north I gritted my teeth and pushed the throttle forward again.
The rest of the day passed pleasantly enough as I watched the miles ticking off, and I had a go taking sun-sights with my sextant. Today I’ll have a go at actually trying to plot my position, which means taking a series of sights throughout the day and then wading through tables of declinations and GPs and goodness knows what else. Or I could just look at the GPS, but that would be cheating…
Last night was a repeat of the previous night, with a calm sea under a clear starlit sky and Odyssey chugging steadily northwards. I found the perfect position lounging in a corner of the saloon where I could watch films on my laptop while being able to keep an eye on the radar and other instruments just in case any hazards should appear. None did, so I slept well with my usual 2-hour cycle.
This morning I arrived at 32 degrees north and stopped the engine, waiting eagerly for the sails to fill with the promised wind to propel me on my way. Silence. I bobbed around a while. Still nothing. Grrrr! Don’t say I motored all this way north for nothing? Determined to stick to my stubborn pride I refused to speak to the wind until it gave in and blew, and believe me I can be stubborn when I want to. I left the boat drifting aimlessly and made breakfast, all the while pretending to ignore the lack of wind.
Sure enough it broke before I did, and a fitful little gust from the north shook the sails. It died, then came back, then gradually increased until it was a nice little force 3 or so. Perfect! The sails filled, Odyssey took off towards the east at 5 knots, and all was well with the world again.
We’re now back on course directly for Bermuda which lies 415 miles or so to the east, so I anticipate an arrival sometime this weekend. Meanwhile I’ve been discovering just how perfectly Odyssey was designed for the gentleman sailor like myself. Quite apart from having the perfect lounging place down below, I’ve found that I can steer by reclining in the cockpit along one of the nicely-cushioned seats with one hand casually on the wheel and the other on a cool drink resting on the coaming. By piling cushions up behind me on the primary winch I can lean right back in comfort and watch the world go by. Well, if not the world at least the sea, and there is an awful lot of it out here.
Monty (the Monitor) has now taken over from Alan (the autopilot, named after Alan Turing because he’s smart with computers) and I’m about to have lunch. The sun is shining, the sea is calm, and Odyssey is forging purposefully towards the horizon. There may be rough times ahead (including a tropical storm right between me and Bermuda) but right now things couldn’t be better 🙂