By August 8th, we were were back to sea,
Inverness in our wake and Scandinavia just over the horizon! Arcturus was gliding along at 4-5 knots
on a beam reach, full sail on the first full day in the North Sea. The sky was
low and overcast (I expected we’d see a lot of that), and we could still see
Scotland off the starboard quarter, though it was quickly fading over the
horizon. Keith, the yard worker in Bangor told us that “if you can see
Scotland, it’s going to rain – if you can’t see it, it is raining.”
We left Inverness the day before in a downpour, the current
at the sea locks too swift to let us lie alongside and finish getting the boat
(and ourselves) properly geared up for going offshore. So we headed straight
out to sea, bucking the last of the incoming tide and following in the wake of Walkabout, the big steel Swedish boat
we’d just made friends with the day before our departure. They were at the tail
end of a four month ‘trial cruise’, and on their way back towards Norrtälje,
just north of Stockholm, and had completed basically the reverse of what we
initially set out to do, sailing first to Shetland, then round the West Coast
of Scotland, down to Belfast and back again via the Caledonian Canal. It had
taken them seven years to build the boat (or rebuild the boat, as it were).
They bought the hull and gutted the interior, starting essentially from scratch
to make it their own. Not wanting to take any loans out on their dream, they
instead took the time out, saving dollars and time off year after year, the
effort culiminating in that four-month cruise that was bound to be a preview of
things to come for the couple. He was a ferry captain in the archipelago, she
worked for the local government (‘kommun’), and they’d been able to take the
four months off without risking not having a job when they got back. They
seemed quite happy with the cruising lifestyle.
On the day we left Inverness, they led the way, aiming for
the Kiel Canal, the shortcut into the Baltic. I had had it with canal cruising,
so we decided to go direct to Marstrand, outside Göteborg, on Sweden’s west coast. We were
actually sailing towards Sweden! This was really it, the last big leg of our
big adventure, already one day down. From where we were then, it was a scant
400 miles or so to that ultimate destination of ours that we set out for over a
year ago (nearly four years ago mentally).
Mia and I were alone on the ocean for only the third time
(the first en route to Florida on Arcturus,
and then again delivering the big Cabo Rico to Newport).
Mia had encouraged me to adopt a ‘boat first’ attitude to
help stave off the inevitable exhaustion of the first two days at sea, and thus
far it’s working. I have been working on my grumpiness when I’m tired – being
rousted in the middle of the night is one of my least favorite activities, and
I do not function well when I’m tired, often taking out my grumpiness on
whoever is on board. It kind of becomes a problem when we’re offshore and
something needs to be done. Like reefing the mainsail. Sometimes that sort of
stuff has to happen now, and I often
lay in bed trying to pretend I’m somewhere else, somewhere not in the middle of
the ocean where I can safely go back to sleep, confident that nobody is going
to wake me up. Obviously this doesn’t work. It usually only lasts for the first
day or two until I get in the routine of waking up every 4 hours for my watch.
But this ‘boat first’ attitude has proven a good little mental trick to take
myself and my own immediate needs for sleep out of the equation. Out there,
it’s not about you. It’s about the boat. Treat her right, and she’ll take care
of you. I’m slowly learning this.
Anyway, I rousted Mia that morning at 5, the dawn having
arrives long before that, and she could just about keep her eyes open. I slept
the sleep of the dead afterwards (having been woken twice the night before, Mia
needing help furling the sails, as we’d been becalmed yet again on her midnight
watch), and those last 4 hours of sleep flew by way too fast. I got my coffee
in the morning though, and I must admit I was in a delightful mood in spite of
myself.
In keeping with this ‘boat first’ mantra, I had spent a half
hour that morning sitting on the lee rail and applying service to the two feet
or so of lifeline that the mainsheet, when eased, rubs up against. I still
needed to fix the leather cover on the forward mizzen shroud (and add one on
starboard), and Arcturus will be one
step closer to complete.
The North Sea is notorious for several reasons, namely
because it’s north – we were sailing along at 58º north latitude, where the
minutes of longitude were now less than half a mile apart. And in the North
Sea, the water is cold (about 11ºC). And finally, the North Sea is notorious
because it’s so shallow. Oil fields litter the chart (we got a great passage
chart from the Norwegian Hydrographic Office) and I counted no less than 14
that were immediately in our path.
The sea was strange there that first day. You could tell it
‘felt’ the bottom. The wind was only 5-10 knots from the north, but every 4th
or 5th swell was steep, kicking up the bow and dropping it off the
other side, and the motion was uneven and at times annoying. But with the light
wind on the beam, the sailing was most pleasant – we were making 5+ knots and
pointed in the right direction, so I couldn’t have asked for much more.
To be continued...
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