An Offshore Experience

Wow.  What an adventure.  For those that have been following along, there have been some delays as we have gotten ready for our offshore run to the Virgin Islands.  All good projects, though, and excellent things to get accomplished.  Arcturus ended up with a new electrical system and I received a DC electrical education.  Lots of work with the engine.  New rigging on the mast, new instruments all the way around.  Far too many things to list now.  We left about five weeks after we planned but made significant improvements to Arcturus.  It was a chaotic time for everyone involved.  John Teple deserves a special thank you for all the work he put into the boat.  He was very patient throughout the projects as I added more and more items to the list.  I’m not sure Arcturus would have made it back without the work he did and the things he taught me over the last two months.  As I have reflected back on our Offshore Experience, I was trying to decide with what tone to present the events.  Adventurous young crew?  Scary sea tale?  Perseverance and problem solving through difficult situations?  A solid boat with a few mishaps?  I couldn’t land on one so I am just going to tell it as I remember and try not to embellish any information.  It may seem like we are foolish when certain information is taken out of context.  We just tried to make the best decisions with the information we had.

So here’s what happened.

We were finally checking off all the little things that needed to be done and had a weather window that looked favorable to head out for the 1200 nautical miles to the Virgin Islands.  The departure date looked to be December 5.  The winds were forecasted to be out of the S/SW for a few days before clocking around to the North.  We would have good conditions to cross the Gulf Stream out of Beaufort.

Important side note – The Gulf Stream:  Beaufort is an excellent place to head out to sea if you are intending to cross the Gulf Stream.  It passes close to land and is relatively thin at that point.  It is a north flowing current that ranges from about 1-3 knots.  You want to take great care not to be caught in the Gulf Stream when there is any northerly component to the wind.  The opposing wind and current cause steep seas that are uncomfortable at best and dangerous at worst.

We had a few projects to finish up at the dock.  We performed an oil change and changed out our fuel and oil filters.  Mom and Dad waited patiently to see us off as we finished up our last minute projects.  We finished up our final tasks and said our goodbyes as we cast off our dock lines.

It was a beautiful fall day for it being early December with the sun out and the temperatures around 75 degrees.  The current escorted us out of the inlet and we were in the Atlantic and underway.  It was very calm so we decided to keep the motor running until the wind picked up or we were on the other side of the Stream.  You could see the relief on everyone’s face.  We were out of project mode and finally sailing.  Dolphins were swimming around us and the late afternoon sun looked beautiful over the water.

We hoisted the main and put one reef in, which reduces the amount of sail area up.  The mast had just been rerigged and it took us a few minutes to get a few of the lines straight.  We decided to start our watch system at 1800, right after sunset.

The sunset was beautiful over the water.  Our new AIS system came in handy right away.  AIS is a device that allows us to see information about other vessels on the water, usually gigantic ones, and make course adjustments to avoid them.  They are able to see our information as well and avoid us if they feel so moved.  We saw a few lights on the horizon and were able to quickly tell that they were not on a collision course with us.  Very cool!

Jimmy and John take the first shift at 1800.  Pollux and I go below to rest.  It takes a while to get used to the noises offshore and neither of us slept well.  There are loud, normal noises that you come to ignore and loud, abnormal noises that you better hop up and help with.  Not always easy to distinguish.  Everything sounds disastrous to the sleep-fogged mind.

Pollux and I come up on deck at 2100 to relieve Jimmy and John.  They relived tales of the dolphin pod that had followed along with us for the past hour or so.  The pod swam alongside doing flips and following Jimmy’s flash light beam in the water.  I was still groggy with sleep and figured they were pulling our leg.  I was waiting for the story to climax with leprechauns riding the dolphins and a herd of unicorns galloping over the water.  It turns out there actually were dolphins.

It was a beautiful night and the phosphorescence was trailing behind the boat lighting up our wake.  Pollux and I spent the shift telling stories and enjoying the night.  We go off watch at 2400 and try to get some rest.

We get woken up around 0200 to Jimmy telling us to come up and help pull down the main.  The wind had picked up to 25-30 knots out of the S/SW and we had too much sail up.  Pollux pops his head up to check on the guys outside and Jimmy yells for him to duck his head.  He drops down just as the boom flies across the hatch.  John and Pollux recounted the event with wide eyes to me later.  Close call!

Jimmy asks Pollux to drop back below.  He says he needs fresh air and needs to get out of the cabin after the near encounter from the boom.  I am scrambling to get my foulies on as the cabin is bouncing and rolling beneath my feet.  I glance out the portlight and the seas have picked up significantly.  Pollux doesn’t look too good as I pass by to head up.  I glance back and see him getting sick in the sink.  Oh man.  The boom incident and rolly seas must have set him off.  I come on deck and tell Jimmy it will probably be just the three of us for a bit.  Jimmy takes the wheel while John and I get ready to take the main down.  Pollux passes a dock line up from below and we climb on the cabin top.  We turn on the new spreader lights and suddenly it’s daytime.  Thank you, Dr. LED.  2600 lumens raining down!

I try to relay instructions to John over the noise of the main sail and the wind.  It is very rolly up on the cabin top and we struggle to get situated.  John is at the mast controlling the halyard as I try to stuff the sail and tie it up.  We drop the sail and John does a great job of gathering it up as I tie the boom up Sunfish-style.

I decide to stay on deck since we are only 30 minutes from our shift and my adrenaline is still pumping.  Pollux is suited up and in the cockpit.  He apologizes for getting sick.  No worries at all man.  We start our watch and he is a champ as he tries his best to stay attentive.  He gets sick over the side a few times but stays up on deck.  We have the headsail out with the motor still running.  We make great speed and the watch is fairly uneventful.

Jimmy and John relieve us at 0600 and I climb into the V-berth to get some rest.  There is quite a bit of water in the V-berth and a pile of anchor chain has spilled out of the forward locker.  I do my best to stuff it back in but it is very difficult.  There is a decent amount of water coming in from the locker door.

Jimmy wakes me up around 1030 and says that he is not feeling well at all.  He got seasick for the first time ever and needed to lie down.  No worries man.  I pop my head up and notice the seas are getting big.  John is at the wheel and gives me a big smile.  There is lots of spray and a few waves coming over the back and side of the boat.  It is still pretty warm out but a bit windy.  I glance up and notice the main halyard that is used to raise the main sail is wrapped around the spreaders at the top of the mast.  Damn.  It must not have gotten secured well when we took the mainsail down.

Sometime during the watch Jimmy pops his head up. He casually asks, “Hey Dan, which circuit is the bilge pump on again.”  Why, James, I believe that would be the cabin light circuit (long story, don’t ask!).  You need to pinch the wires together to hook it up (long story, tale for later!).  “OK.”  He goes back below and pops back up about 10 minutes later.  He calmly states, “I think we have a bit of a problem, man.  The bilge pump doesn’t seem to be working.  We’re not sinking, but there’s a lot of water down here.”

I open the hatch to take a look.  Oh wow.  The floorboards were floating and I see a pair of goggles and other random gear sloshing around the cabin floor.  Where is the water coming from?  Surely all of this could not just be from the anchor locker.  I relay the message to John and Jimmy pops his head back up.  It looks like the head exploded.  Peat moss is everywhere.  A light bulb went off in my head.  We didn’t close the deck vent to our new composting toilet.

Important side note – Our New Composting Toilet:  A composting toilet was one of our latest additions on board.  We removed the old hoses and reclaimed the holding tank for storage.  The compost head uses peat moss as its base for composting.  We were able to use the old deck pump out as a negative vent to keep air circulating through the composting head.  We installed a mushroom deck vent in its place so that we did not have to cut a new hole in the deck.  You can close the mushroom vent while underway to prevent water from entering the toilet.  If you remember to.

I get ready to climb down the port side of the boat and close the vent.  Any action that requires going up on deck turns into quite an operation.  The vent is conveniently located amongst our five diesel jerry cans.  I hold onto the side stays with one hand and try to close the vent with the other.  The rail and vent get submerged on every other wave.  I finally get the vent screwed shut and crawl back to the cockpit.

Jimmy lays back down to get some rest.  John is a champion and was up on deck steering.  I went below to take a look at the bilge pump.  The floor boards were floating around and the situation looked grim.  I undid the strainer for the bilge pump and it was full of peat moss from the composting head.  I clear it out and turn the pump back on.  It pumps for a bit and then gets clogged up.  I repeat this operation for several minutes.  It eventually stops pumping but is not clogged.  Uh oh.  I undo the Out pipe and nothing comes out when the pump is on.  I undo the inlet to the strainer and there is a huge clump of peat moss.  I reconnect it all and it continues to pump.  I pop my head out and give John a thumbs up with an Eyebrows Up Question Mark added in.  He smiles and gives me a surfer hang 10 sign.  Awesome.  I pop below and continue to babysit the bilge pump.  I pull off the stairs and engine door.  I pull up the aft floor board and water is up to the top of the fuel tank.  I keep babysitting the bilge pump for quite some time, waiting for the water to go down.  I have to empty the strainer every 20 or 30 seconds.  The engine bay is so hot and I have my shirt off and am just in my trousers.

Important side note – The Engine Bay:  During this operation, the engine is roaring inches away from my ear and I’m dripping sweat from the heat of the engine.  Hands bleeding from nicks and scrapes as I am trying to clear the strainer.

The water level finally starts to go down and it drains to the bottom over the next hour or so.  I finally get the water down and join John outside.  He has been steering for over four hours straight.  I relieve him on the helm and he naps for a bit in the cockpit.  We are both exhausted.

At one point on the watch, our dinghy Izar takes a wave up front and shifts off the cabin top onto the deck.  Damn.  John volunteers to climb up and secure it.  By all means.  He climbs up on deck and starts to reposition our dinghy.  Jimmy pops up on deck in his t-shirt, boxers and life vest and says he saw Izar shift while he was resting in the V-berth.  He goes up on deck to help John.  It is very rolly and there is a lot of motion up front.  John remembers this as the scariest time of the trip for him.  He says he nearly slipped off twice during the operation.  They manage to get Izar repositioned and well secured.  Definitely thankful for the ratchet straps that Hal Snyder let us have to tie Izar down.

John heads below at the watch change to get some rest.  Jimmy and I sit up on deck talking over our options.  The bilge pump seems to be functioning and we have the water situation under control for now.  We seem to continue to take on water even though the vent is closed.  Pollux seems to be feeling better but it is still possible he will be seasick.  The main halyard is wrapped around the spreaders.  What are our options?

We can continue on to the Virgin Islands.  The bilge water situation could get worse and Pollux could be sick for the next nine days.  We will need to go up the mast to retrieve the main halyard.  Definitely not enough fuel to motor the whole way.  Not a great option.

We could head back.  How?  We could try to get back to Beaufort.  The Gulf Stream is going to push us north and there are no good harbors until Virginia after that.  There is also Cape Hatteras to think about, probably the most treacherous cape on the East Coast and the heart of the Graveyard of the Atlantic.  Don’t feel like being another little dot on the poster.

We could head south outside of the Gulf Stream and cut back in towards Charleston and Beaufort with a better approach angle to the Gulf Stream.  The wind is currently in our face from the South which will make progress difficult.

We could turn north and go with the wind and the stream towards Virginia.  There is a northerly cold front that is coming in but we could potentially make it before it comes in.  We are about 150 nautical miles out at that point on the wrong side of the Gulf Stream.

The conditions are excellent to head to the Virgin Islands, awful to try and get back to the US.  Our best option seemed to be to head back and try to motor towards Beaufort.  Jimmy and I pull out a piece of the headsail to help stabilize the boat.  The engine starts sputtering just as we finished tying off the jib sheets.  We both look at each other.  We should have way more fuel left.  I grab the wheel and Jimmy heads on deck to get a jerry can.  They are all tied together up on deck and it takes quite a while to undo the knots.  Not an easy operation.  He brings the fuel back and pours it in.

Important side note – Diesel fumes and nausea:  Diesel fumes are a quick path to seasickness.  Sprinkle in a dash of chilled Salt Spray and add a pinch of Roller Coaster Boat Motion.  Cover well with Exhaustion and Dehydration and let it sit for a few hours.  You are well on your way.

A bit of diesel is spilled and gets on his foulies.  Shit.  We try to crank the engine up and it won’t start.  Shit.  Jimmy grabs the wheel and I go below and grab the tool bag and pull the stairs and engine door off.  The engine warmth actually feels nice this time although I do my best not to touch the scalding metal.  It is so nice and quiet without the engine roaring in my ear.  I grab a few paper towels and get ready to bleed the engine.  You have to bleed the air out of the fuel line of diesels if any air gets in the lines.  I start with the fuel filters and have James turn the key to send fuel through the lines.  I clear the air from the filters and then move to the nut I know I am supposed to untighten on the engine itself.  We’ll call it the fuel input nut?  I drain the air out of it and have James push the start button.  She fires right up.  Hell yeah.  I wipe the pool of diesel off the floor and my foulies and clean everything up.  Pollux was feeling much better at that point and he goes on watch with Jimmy.  I stay below and babysit the bilge for a while before laying down in the quarterberth to rest.

Jimmy wakes me up about an hour later.  “Dan, we have to make a decision.”  Ugh…I could barely think.  “We are making negative progress into the waves and the Stream.”  I glance at the chartplotter and we are going 0.5 kts North.  “We are still taking on water.”  I glance down at the floorboards that are now floating again.  “We are burning our fuel quickly and cannot make any progress south.”  We decided to turn around and make a run for Norfolk.  I try to get some sleep.

I wake up, suit up and go on deck at 2100.  Jimmy informs me that he has broken my old speed record of 10.9 kts with 13.3 kts.  Wow.  The winds are at our back and we are nearly around Cape Hatteras.  John and I come on watch and continue the mad dash north.  We need to get there before the weather shifts.

I was very anxious about Cape Hatteras.  The seas get pretty confused as we approach the Cape.  Most of the waves are from the SW but a few would come around from the SE and break over the side.  I decided to steer around the Cape because I had a little more experience in these situations.  John and I made pretty good progress through our shift.  We go off watch at 1200.  I turn the wheel over to Pollux.  I warn him that he should watch out for 330⁰, and try to keep it pointing more to 0⁰.  The waves will crash over the side if you aren’t careful.  I drop below and promptly hear a wave crash over the side.  I pop my head up.  Pollux says he sees what I am talking about with a smile on his face and salt water dripping off his hood.

Pollux wakes me up a little later and informs me that the SPOT is not working.  I don’t react.  You have to be kidding me.  Lots of little things were going wrong and starting to wear on me.  Nothing catastrophic yet but not a lot of positive things either.  Pollux opens the cover and puts new batteries in.  Still not turning on.  Our last SPOT Check In was on the north side of Cape Hatteras.  The SPOT was supposed to be a way for our parents and friends to be able to see that we were safe as we were out in the ocean.  Even when we turned around to head north, we could continue to Check In and show that we were OK.  Now the device was not functioning and our last position was off the notorious Cape Hatteras, the site of hundreds of ship wrecks.  Super.

We come back on deck at 0300 and things have calmed considerably.  They have the Autohelm on and we are continuing with good speed towards Virginia.  It started getting colder during that shift.  We both had to go below to get extra layers.  We traded sessions of nodding off while the other watched and tried to stay warm.  We sat close together as the Automhelm guided us along until we are off watch 0600.

Jimmy wakes me up at who knows what time.  “Dan, the winds have shifted to the North.  We are making less than 1 kt towards Norfolk.  We have 70 nautical miles to go and will not make it on the fuel we have.”  Good morning to you too, James.  I try to groggily go over options with James but keep nodding off.  “Dan, we need to make a decision.”  I prop myself up and try to snap out of it.  What are our options?

We can turn around and run south with the wind and round Cape Hatteras to go into Beaufort.  The wind has shifted to blow against the Gulf Stream which would create very chaotic seas.  This would be our last resort.

We can try to beat into the seas and make progress north.  The halyard is up in spreaders and it is unlikely we can make progress.  Not a great option.

We can deploy the sea anchor, of which James and I only know about from book theory.  We can wait out the weather with the anchor deployed and wait for the weather to turn until we can make progress for Norfolk.  We have three jerry cans of fuel left.  Not a great option but what else can we do?

I tune into the VHF Weather channel to try and get a forecast.  The forecast informs us that the weather will not change for another 36-48 hours.  Wow.  That is a long time to wait out the weather on our sea anchor.  We try to beat into the wind for a while.  I try to get some rest.  I am unable to function at all from exhaustion.

Jimmy wakes me up at some point.  “No progress, Dan.”  He says he thinks we should contact the Coast Guard to ask for advice and see if there is a safe inlet between Norfolk and Beaufort.  We hail them on the VHF.  Jimmy tells them that we are taking on water but it is currently under control.  I glance over at the floorboards and the water sloshing around on the cabin sole.   He lets them know that we are all currently safe but do not have enough fuel to make it north and do not like the idea of rounding Cape Hatteras again.  We give them our position and they recommend that we come into Oregon Inlet.  Really?  The dredger is there now and they have a depth of 12 feet in the channel.  We are only 7 nautical miles away from the inlet.  We have three jerry cans left and can definitely make it on the fuel that we have.  We take a look at the chart and we are at the perfect angle to sail and make a dash for the inlet.  It would have been a major slog if we have been much farther south.  Jimmy starts whooping and hollering.  “We’re going home boys!”  There is hope.  The Coast Guard stays in contact with us and they are going to meet us at the outside buoy to escort us in.  Awesome.  We turn towards the inlet and start screaming along at 7 kts under headsail and motor.

Jimmy and I later realized that we had abandoned our new sailor buddy Pollx in the cockpit while we were making these decisions.  He recounts later he was doing his best to maintain the course that Jimmy requested.  However, the seas were rolly and large and kept pushing him east out into the ocean, away from land and our safe haven.  He took several waves to the face as he worked to maintain the course and yell out over the engine for some helpful hints.  He hears yelling down below, later identified as Jimmy’s victory yells, and wondered what could be going on.  Jimmy came up on deck and delivered the news.

The bilge is full and the floor boards are floating again.  I babysit the bilge pump and correspond with the Coast Guard on the VHF while the guys bring us in.  Pollux is doing a fantastic job on the helm.  We have beam seas at this angle and he is keeping the boat on a good line to the inlet as the waves splash over our side.  The boat is rolling all over the place and it is very cold outside.

Jimmy and I form a plan below.  He is going to stay on the radio with the Coast Guard as we approach.  I will take the wheel as we enter the inlet and the guys can relay messages back and forth over the engine noise.  The seas are getting very high as we approach the inlet.  The waves are going to be at our back as we approach the inlet.  I was relieved about that.

We approach the buoy and I take the wheel from John.  The Coast Guard hails us and says they are going to send two cutters out.  One to lead us in and one to try and break the waves behind us.  They hail Jimmy and ask if we are sure we want to attempt this entry.  There are two areas where we will have to surf breaking waves into the channel to get in safely.  They can take us off the ship now if we would like.  The channel is narrow with shoals on each side.  We will have to ride one wave down one side of the channel and catch the next back across the other side.  Jimmy says we are not ready to abandon ship yet.  They said the second boat will be there to scoop us out of the water if things go bad.  Make sure your lifejackets are on.

The first cutter takes off and we follow.  Jimmy pulls out his video camera and catches the first part of the approach.  (Check that out on the Sail Away Web Design Facebook page if you haven’t seen it yet!).  I put my game face on as we set off.  The first few markers are not too bad.  The waves are pretty large.  Hold on, that’s not exactly right.  There are times for modesty and times for realistic accounts.  The waves were huge, breaking, steep and close together.  We follow the Coast Guard’s path and listen to their VHF instructions.  They said to surf within the channel not outside of it.  Definitely good advice.  They warned us of two sections of steady breakers.  We approached the first one.  I keep checking behind me to make sure one doesn’t sneak up on us.  It picks our stern up and we start surfing to the port side down the wave.  OK, not too bad.  I straighten up and prepare for the next wave.  It comes and pushes us towards the green markers on our left.  We pass that set of breakers and see the final one up ahead.  Alright, big money.  I reset back to the red side of the channel and prepare for it.  The wave picks us up and we get laid over on our rail as we surf down it.  Another large one looms behind us and we surf our way past the breakers.  It looks like we’ve made it!  We all begin to relax a bit and smiles and back pats start working their way around the group.

We follow the cutter under the bridge.  The current is dicey in this area and we have to do a little bit of tricky maneuvering under the Oregon Inlet Bridge.  The Coast Guard offers to guide us through the rest of the inlet and sound for about an hour until we got to Wanchese Island.  Perfect.  I continue to steer while the guys go below to warm up.  I hear Pollux singing on the ukulele and Jimmy and John laughing and recounting our adventure.  We made it.

We warm up with noodles and dry clothes and head towards the marina.  We pull into the marina and the Coast Guard comes over to talk to us.  Awesome guys.  All really nice.  We shook all their hands and thanked them for their guidance to get us in safely.  We begin to make preparations to find a warm, dry place to sleep for the night.  We cleaned up on board for a bit and went to stay at the Comfort Inn in Nags Head for the night.  That first hot shower was incredible.  That bed.  Wow.  Warm, large dry, salt free.  Amazing.  Spirits ran high and we were all glad to be alive and well.

I am definitely thankful for every crew member on board.  Everyone played a key role at some point or another to get us in safely.  John did some key, solid helming while Jimmy needed rest and Pollux was recovering.  He pulled nearly a 12 hour shift.  Pollux bounced back with great energy and was key as I was becoming exhausted the next day.  He steered through some rough, nasty, cold seas with no complaints.  Jimmy was a rock the whole way through.  He made critical, reasonable decisions that helped bring Arcturus and crew back safely.  I was never concerned about a loss of life on board but there were two times when I feared we would have to abandon Arcturus.  We were unable to stop the flow of water coming in on the other side of the Gulf Stream.  We had closed the head vent but were unable to pinpoint where the other water was coming from.  The second was on the north side of Cape Hatteras when the winds shifted.  I did not see a good option that would get us back safely.  Several things worked out in our favor and we were able to come in safely.  We are all thankful for that.

The new plan is to continue to check over our systems to make sure everything is still functioning properly.  We are going to head out tomorrow to Ocracoke and then work our way down south along the ICW.  Charleston will be a possible spot to head offshore down to Florida.  We will go through the Bahamas, to the Dominican Republic and then to Puerto Rico.  This route is known as the Thorny Path because of the trade winds that blow across the islands impeding your progress.  We are looking forward to the journey and can’t wait to see all the beautiful sights along the way.  Jimmy and Pollux are going to head home for a bit while John Cappel and I work our way down the ICW.  Everyone will join up around the end of the month as we head over to the Bahamas.  Should be fun!