Wiggling around the atlantic

03 June 2008 21:15UTC 35'30N 067'34W

It's been a very varied twenty four hours, with winds from all around the compass and from almost nothing to a good 15-18 knots. We've taken a turn westwards, and I'll tell you why but first I have to tell you about Herb.

Herb is a legend among the cruising community. From his home in Ontario, Canada, Herb is a retired meteorologist who sits by his Ham radio set for two hours a day and guides sailors like us on their journeys around the Atlantic. For free, because he likes to and he's a nice guy. Google for 'herb yacht weather' and you'll see what I mean.

Many yachts register with Herb, then they call him on the radio just before 20:00 greenwich time to say they are listening, then he calls them back in turn and gives a detailed weather picture based on their position. We haven't registered because so many yachts are making this passage right now, we just listen and sure enough there is 'Boheme' just fifty miles ahead, and 'Prince of Persia' thirty miles behind, so we get the information.

Best of all, in this area Herb combines weather with analysis of the gulf stream. The enormous river of warm water that stops Britain from being like Newfoundland turns to head out across the Atlantic somewhere ahead of us. Moving at 1-2 knots, it can make a huge difference to our speed and direction and if the wind blows against the stream it can kick up a very unpleasant sea. Added to which the gulf stream, like a river, can meander north and south, and develop eddies and curves that mean being fifty miles east or west is the difference between being pushed forwards or backwards.

So yesterday we listened and heard him advising 'Boheme' to turn to the west and slow down a little in order to miss a south going eddy and time their entry to the gulf stream after a period of strong wind due on Wednesday night. We followed suit and turned to the west.

The wind rose nicely yesterday, from behind us, and the boat was storming along at over seven knots, yet our speed over the ground was only five and a half. Something was pushing us backwards and sure enough, Herb confirmed today that we had crossed a spin off of the gulf stream but had to in order to get to the favorable waters further west. Meanwhile, the wind built and we reefed down for a bouncy night, riding a bucking bronco through the pitch black, cloudy and moonless night. Like driving a car down a rocky road with no headlamps.

That's bad enough, but when a truck comes right towards you and the driver isn't watching the road, it gets a little tense. The ship showed up on our radar twelve miles out. At ten miles, still coming right at us, the guys on deck woke me up. At eight miles, I called on the radio, no response. Another mile and he finally answered my call. 'Oh, yes, I see you on radar now, but can you show more lights, I can't see you' We switched to our deck level lights, brighter than the one at the masthead but more easily hidden by the waves. He seems to alter but at four miles he's still heading way too close to us. I call again. 'Yes, lost you on radar, can't see you any more, can you show more lights?' We flick on the floodlights and he sees us, we agree to pass 'green to green' (he's on our right hand side, we're on his) and it's all OK but you have to wonder about the quality of watchkeeping on these ships. Which is why we are very strict about our visual and radar watch. Sometimes it's good to have a reminder to keep everyone on their toes at night.

After that, I returned to my cabin, up front where the boat pitches headlong into the waves and I can hear the water rushing and slapping at the hull outside. I'm tired though, and am soon fast asleep. I awake to the sound of gentle gurgling and splashing, my bed is much less mobile and it's clear that the wind has dropped. I've slept soundly for four hours, and now it's time to get up, sort out the sails and get the engine running.

We run under engine for a few hours, during which we are blessed by a visit from a pod of dolphins, dancing and jumping in the bow wave for ten minutes. However many times I see this, I'm still overcome with delight and awe at these fabulous creatures. Later in the day, under sail, we spot a whale. It's the first time I've ever seen one and although this is just a flash of his back and tail then a brief spout of air and water, it's a wonderful sight.

The wind has moved around a lot, and we've spent time both sailing and motoring today, but now the seas have flattened out and there is a gentle breeze so we are motorsailing, with the engine in tickover to give an extra couple of knots and make sure we make our track west. We sat on deck enjoying cocktails (Bloody Good Show - banana, orange, grenadine, double proof rum over ice) and dinner (Thai vegetable curry) and Yan strummed the guitar for an hour after dinner as the sun set.

Tonight Herb reiterated the need to get west before going north, we can expect to see near gale force winds tomorrow night, but by being west we see that for twelve hours instead of eighteen further east. In fact, gale force winds from behind us are no problem for this boat, she'll love it and we could do with the extra push up towards Cape Cod and our destination in Boston. Right now it looks like we might arrive Saturday afternoon, but if we'll be later we will stop at a harbour and spend a night at anchor so that we can go into Boston harbour in daylight on Sunday morning.

All's well, N.

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