Local culture in Anse La Raye

The locals call it 'bay of the rays.' It's a fishing village south of Castries (St. Lucia's capital), a sleepy place on the beach, quite the opposite of the hustle and bustle of Rodney Bay marina, where the ARC has taken over for a couple of weeks. It's crazier than ever in the ARC Village at Rodney Bay marina - just this morning, five boats crossed the finish line within minutes of each other, making for some excitement on the docks as the Yellow Shirts made space for them. With over 150 boats now in port, that space is getting hard to come by. But it's all in fun.

The Caribbean 1500 and the people that make it special

(Caption shows the crew of the Moody 54 Habits of Health).
My favorite thing about big sailing events - whether boat shows, rendezvous', pot-lucks or rallies - used to be the boats. I love nothing more than walking the docks and looking at boats, and I like them all. Some more than others to be sure (give me an old classic over a modern plastic bottle anyway), but all of them nonetheless.

Schooner Race watch with Rodney

We left Annapolis early and drove up to Sparrow's Point, to the Old Bay Marina where I'd been twice before to help Rodney do some work on his Tayana 37. The boat had been hauled out for over 3 years, Rodney doing the refit himself between sculpture projects. Two years ago I helped him step the mast, when the boat was on the hard. Earlier this summer, Mia and I joined him and his wife Narda (and their brown dog Brownie) on a sweltering day to help install his new synthetic lifelines. I taught him how to make a locking brummel splice, using two custom fids he'd made in his studio from old pieces of stainless rod stock. They were beautiful, and worked great. Rodney and I met in 2010 when Arcturus was hauled out for the summer in Annapolis, Mia and I doing our own refit. He'd read some of my Spinsheet articles and got in touch with me through my editor there.

SAILfeed: Five days offshore across the North Sea

This post was originally published in four parts on andyandmia.net. I got inspired to edit and publish it here after reading Pat and Ali Schulte's Weird Things Happen at Sea post today. Mia and I had some similar experiences in the North Sea earlier this summer, namely with a moving oil rig (or so I thought) and a rogue wave on an otherwise sunny evening. Here's our experience...

SAILfeed: 'Why Pat Schulte is right, and why I am slightly embarassed.

Note: Henceforth, our sailing content will appear on sailfeed.com, SAIL magazine's online site. We'll be posting summaries here, and you'll always see the 'SAILfeed' logo on the left so you know what's what. Just click the title (or the logo), and the full article is linked. Cool, eh!?

Now I’m inspired. Took me some time. And a cheese sandwich.

I’m writing from a Norwegian Airlines flight, en route from Las Palmas, Gran Canaria to Stockholm, via Oslo. Mia is in the window seat next to me (asleep. She has a knack for dozing off before a flight ever leaves the terminal – once, in Australia, she slept for three full hours, awakening to a view of the tarmac outside her window and assuming they’d reached their destination. The plane, in fact, had never left the airport thanks to a delay. She was oblivious). I’m stuck in the middle seat.

Stockholm Skärgård

Photo by Andy

This story was about our last overnight passage on Arcturus, fromVisby up to the Stockholm archipelago. I wrote it in my journal as it happened, then copied it here in the past tense, as I've been doing. It took place just before Sept. 1...

It was my last night watch of the summer on Arcturus. Mia and I are heading off to Portugal soon to sail Kinship (the boat we delivered with its owner trans-Atlantic earlier this summer) down to Las Palmas, so it wasn't my last real night watch, but felt like it in a way since I wouldn't be seeing my boat for a while. We were only 15-20 miles south of the archipelago ('skärgård' in Swedish), aiming just east of Nynashamn. The plan was to anchor out for the week before finding a dock on Djurgården in central Stockholm for the weekend. We had an open house scheduled with friends and family (thanks to all who visited!).

Stormy Weather in Visby, Gotland

An empty guest harbor
('gästhamn')in Visby. By Mia.

Note: This was originally from my hand-written journal, written on 23 August. I copied it to the computer, changed it to the past tense and edited/added a few things here and there...

It blew hard in Visby the day we arrived. Unfortunately from the west, and right through the opening in the breakwater. The wind brought with it a very annoying swell that battered the empty guest harbor. We were one of six boats in an area of floating docks that could have handled over 200. And one of those six was from Visby, so presumably is always there.

The South Coast of Sweden and a Passage to Visby

Note: This was originally from my hand-written journal, written on 20 August. I copied it to the computer, changed it to the past tense and edited/added a few things here and there...

The south coast of Sweden, the beginnings of the Baltic, proved slow conditions for our little boat. We’d decided long ago not to motor – fuel is nearly four times the price in Sweden as it is back in the USA – and we enjoy the challenge of sailing everywhere rather than giving in to the diesel. Plus, the diesel isn’t exactly reliable, so it’s not really a choice.

Into the Baltic

Note: This was originally from my hand-written journal, written on 19 August. I copied it to the computer, changed it to the past tense and edited/added a few things here and there...

We crossed through the Falsterbokanalen a few hours after leaving Clint in Malmö, officially entering the Baltic Sea ('Östersjön' in Swedish), by my estimation anyway...not sure where it officially starts or ends, but that seemed a convenient enough place. For the first time I looked at, studied really, the chart showing the whole of Sweden - all of the Baltic and Kattegat on the west coast, plus the Gulf of Bothnia ('Bottenhavet' in Swedish) which extends north from Åland between Sweden and Finland.

På Arcturus i Sverige

Note: This was originally from my hand-written journal, written in mid-August. I copied it to the computer, changed it to the past tense and edited/added a few things here and there...

Our friend Clint arrived on the morning of August 17th. He sailed with us across the Atlantic last summer, and left after a few days in Crookhaven, making his way back to Norway. He's a Brit - bloody wanker! - but moved to Norway last year to pursue work as a tree surgeon. We met originally in Fiji, on the same trip that I met Mia on, and we traveled together then for a couple of months. He's a special kind of friend (no, he doesn't ride the small bus Johanna) - we only see each other once a year if we're lucky, but I feel very close to him. His journey to the boat from Oslo was a long one, and included an overnight bus ride. He didn't sleep much because the woman next to him smelled bad and tried to cozy up next to him when she fell asleep.

Realities of Yacht Delivery, Part 2

If you missed Part 1 (published April 29), click here. You need to read it for this part to make sense...

I had originally planned to post this immediately following the 'Realities of Yacht Delivery, Part 1,' which I published on April 29. My mom died April 30. So there.

So, what happened to the Farr? the Vagabond? my mom and dad's Sojourner?

Across the North Sea - Landfall, Final Part

If you missed Part 1, click here.
If you missed Part 2, click here.
If you missed Part 3, click here.

August 11^th, my last evening watch before we’d make landfall in Marstrand. I had one more dawn watch – 0500-0900 – the following morning. We were less than 100 miles from Marstrand.

Across the North Sea, Part 3

If you missed Part 1, click here.
If you missed Part 2, click here.

It was just after 1:00 am on the 10^th, on my morning watch. I had gotten the GoPro working again after it’s leaking incident, and – knock on wood – maybe it wasn’t broken after all. I left it lay on the portside shelf wrapped in a paper towel and a few of those moisture absorber things that come in clothing, and that you’re not supposed to eat. After reassembling it, it appeared to be in order, I hoped.

Across the North Sea, Part 2

If you missed Part 1, click here. 
I hadn't had a chance to write anything since our first day out of Inverness. I’d either been too sleepy, or busy hand-steering while we motored through a few calms. We left Inverness on the 7^th in the midst of a developing high pressure, and by the 9^th, it had developed. Right on top of us. The barometer had climbed steadily since we left, and just then was hovering around 1028 millibars, up from 1022 in Inverness (comparatively, on the crossing last summer, it plunged to 990, the lowest we saw all summer, and the wind blew hard). Every time I glanced at it, the needle seemed to have moved slightly upwards.

Across the North Sea, Part 1

By August 8^th, 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.”

Five hundred miles to Sweden (Hej då Skottland!)

Today is kind of the day Mia and I have been waiting for for almost five years now. Today we’ll set sail for Sweden, the final leg of our voyage ‘home’ that started in earnest in the spring of 2008 when we first laid eyes on Cybele, the boat we saw in Oxford and which I knew would be ours the minute I pulled into the parking lot where she was hauled out.

Indecision...

Adjusting the mizzen
shrouds in Oban.

Note: This is an old post (sort of)...I wrote it four days ago in Oban, so it's kind of outdated, but I wanted to post it anyway. I'll catch up on the rest of the trip in another couple days before we sail for Shetland. This one was written in the cabin of Arcturus when we were moored just off the town's community sailing center, trying to figure out which direction to go. I was probably sipping on a dram of some of that smoky Laphroaig whisky dad and I bought in Port Ellen...when we had the bottle open, it made the cabin smell like a woodstove....

Scotland (Finally!)

The banner at the top of the website is what the boat looked like when we returned to Ireland last week. It looked a lot worse underneath - there was nine months worth of boatyard and parking lot dust (black, sooty stuff) all over the decks, and I'd forgotten how we had taken everything apart inside to leave it air out. It was two days until Mia and my dad had it cleaned up enough to feel liveable.

En route to Portugal -or- How I got fat again and what I'm going to do about it.

It's Day 4 at sea on the final leg of our Transatlantic on Kinship. We're about 189 miles out from Lagos now, sailing along almost dead-downwind with the full mainsail and the solent jib poled out to windward, making 6 knots in just over ten knots of breeze. There are the slightest hints of whitecaps on the water, but the sea is flat, the sun is out and it's rather comfortable on board.

Lesson's from Mom, -or- Why I left a bullfight in Terceira

View of Pico from the top of Faial,
just up the hill from Horta.

Mia had a dream last night about my mom. In it, her family and my mom we're getting together somewhere (I think in Sweden). Mom was sick in the dream, and somehow Mia knew the date which she would die. But she outlived it. Everyone was worried that she shouldn't be out in public in her condition, that she wouldn't be able to handle the stress, that it would only make her worse. Annika, Mia's mom, said 'don't worry, Gail and I are going to go out and have some fun. I will take care of her.' And they did. And Mia woke up happy this morning having thought about Mom.