Dear Friends;
***First and foremost***, we will not be renewing our Sailmail subscription this year because we will be sailing only inshore waters for now. This email address will be invalid in about two weeks. If you wish to reach us after that time, please make note of the address we will be using: philipandleslie@sv-carina.org.
A number of people have contacted us to find out how we are adjusting to life "on land" in the USA. Well, it's been about 9 months since we pulled into a slip on C dock at the Port of Kingston and a lot has happened, most of it good. We remain liveaboards and are now being ruled by a teenage orange tabby kitten named Halyard. He is quite the little character and is carving his own place in our hearts to help fill the big hole left by the passing of the fat cat, Jake.
A little catch up: we left Pohnpei in Micronesia in May of 2017 and arrived in Sitka, AK on July 1st. After cleaning the boat up a bit we sailed (read motored) down the inside passage and arrived in Kingston in September. It was a bit of a delivery since we needed to get back to deal with a number of issues. A pity we had to rush; Alaska and BC were so incredibly beautiful and we didn't get to enjoy it as much as we would have wished.
Carina suffered cosmetically on the journey across the north Pacific and then down the inside passage. There wasn't a speck of intact varnish on the whole boat. She was also t-boned by another sailboat while at anchor in Comox BC. We were ashore at the time and came back to Carina to find broken lifelines, ripped life line netting, stanchions bent like pretzels, a three foot section of the teak toe rail shattered and ripped out, a seriously bent bow pulpit and damage to some of the paint on the starboard bow top sides. Who would have thought so much damage could be done in such a short period of time? But the two men on the sailboat left their cell phone number and, when they later stopped by to apologize, agreed to put in a claim to their insurance company. We appreciated their honesty but dreaded the ordeal of getting bids for the repair: a shipwright to repair the teak toe rail, a welder to fabricate new stanchions and stanchion bases and to repair the bow pulpit and finally, a painter to repair the top sides. We decided we would replace the lifeline ourselves.
All the repairs are done except for the top sides painting which we hope to complete once we haul out for bottom paint in Port Townsend in mid-June. The last time we applied bottom paint was in 2015 in the Philippines and Carina is in need at this time. We have hired a diver to at least clean our propeller so we can effectively drive a seriously fouled hull the twenty-five miles to Port Townsend. Oh, almost forgot, we also had Carina's engine removed for rebuilding and we hope to break in the engine on the way to PT and during a little vacation to the San Juan Islands after that.
We have been very busy giving presentations about our trip and sailing topics in general, working on plans for a smaller home, tending to our vegetable p-patch, and just trying to adjust to a US which seems so foreign to us now. On and off we are working on a book. Now that most of Carina's repairs are nearly complete and the weather seems to be improving, we hope to spend some quality time exploring the watery byways nearer to our home port.
Your friends of the yacht Carina,
Philip, Leslie, Halyard and the spirit of the fat cat, Jake
website: www.sv-carina.org
At 4/25/2018 and 16:34 UTC (GMT) our position was: 47°47.68'N / 122°29.92'W
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Sunday 10 June 2018
Sunday 24 December 2017
//WL2K - Carina Dispatch
Dear Friends;
The winter solstice has now passed and we are looking forward to lengthening days here at 48 degrees north where our mostly-cloudy maritime climate makes many days seem shorter than the statistics would suggest. Rain here at sea level means the mountains that surround us are frosted with snow that glitters brilliantly when the chilly winds of the Arctic clear our skies. Now tied to the dock at Kingston, WA in the USA, at least for now, we are staying cozy aboard as we turn our attentions to Carina after spending the fall working on our home. The park at the head of the dock and many boats glow with holiday lights that bring lots of smiles to tots of all ages.
Halyard, our kitten, is growing fast and his antics warm our souls. He'll never step into the boots of the fat cat but is developing his own distinct and endearing personality.
As we reflect upon 2017, we are thankful we safely endured the four month, 6,000+ nm journey home where we are nearer to our family and our oldest of friends. We have thousands of memories of good people all around the Pacific that are being renewed as we begin to tell our story and revisit our photos. We miss these faces and their smiles, which makes us realize the impact they have had on our lives. We are indeed very fortunate people.
Happy holidays with love,
Your friends of the yacht Carina,
Philip, Leslie and our fuzzy young crew, Halyard
website: www.sv-carina.org
At 11/2/2017 and 14:49 UTC (GMT) our position was: 47°47.68'N / 122°29.92'W
ps:. PLEASE, if you wish to respond to our emails, DO NOT hit the "reply" button as it sends our original message back to us OR, if you do, please delete our original message before sending.
----------
radio email processed by SailMail
for information see: http://www.sailmail.com
The winter solstice has now passed and we are looking forward to lengthening days here at 48 degrees north where our mostly-cloudy maritime climate makes many days seem shorter than the statistics would suggest. Rain here at sea level means the mountains that surround us are frosted with snow that glitters brilliantly when the chilly winds of the Arctic clear our skies. Now tied to the dock at Kingston, WA in the USA, at least for now, we are staying cozy aboard as we turn our attentions to Carina after spending the fall working on our home. The park at the head of the dock and many boats glow with holiday lights that bring lots of smiles to tots of all ages.
Halyard, our kitten, is growing fast and his antics warm our souls. He'll never step into the boots of the fat cat but is developing his own distinct and endearing personality.
As we reflect upon 2017, we are thankful we safely endured the four month, 6,000+ nm journey home where we are nearer to our family and our oldest of friends. We have thousands of memories of good people all around the Pacific that are being renewed as we begin to tell our story and revisit our photos. We miss these faces and their smiles, which makes us realize the impact they have had on our lives. We are indeed very fortunate people.
Happy holidays with love,
Your friends of the yacht Carina,
Philip, Leslie and our fuzzy young crew, Halyard
website: www.sv-carina.org
At 11/2/2017 and 14:49 UTC (GMT) our position was: 47°47.68'N / 122°29.92'W
ps:. PLEASE, if you wish to respond to our emails, DO NOT hit the "reply" button as it sends our original message back to us OR, if you do, please delete our original message before sending.
----------
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Sunday 24 September 2017
Meet Halyard
---
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Sunday 17 September 2017
//WL2K - Carina Has Arrived Home
Dear Friends;
On Thursday September 14, 2017 at 1115 local, Carina rounded the breakwater at the Port of Kingston in Appletree Cove. The sun was shining brightly and the mountains were all "out". There to meet us was our good friend Richard Smith who saw us off over 14 years ago. Our trip log reads: 41,223 nautical miles.
We have an address and have started collecting keys; a post office box, our home, and soon, a serviceable old car. It still feels like a dream...
Your friends of the yacht Carina,
Philip, Leslie and the spirit of the fat cat, Jake
website: www.sv-carina.org
At 9/15/2017 and 3:42 UTC (GMT) our position was: 47°47.68'N / 122°29.92'W
ps:. PLEASE, if you wish to respond to our emails, DO NOT hit the "reply" button as it sends our original message back to us OR, if you do, please delete our original message before sending.
----------
radio email processed by SailMail
for information see: http://www.sailmail.com
On Thursday September 14, 2017 at 1115 local, Carina rounded the breakwater at the Port of Kingston in Appletree Cove. The sun was shining brightly and the mountains were all "out". There to meet us was our good friend Richard Smith who saw us off over 14 years ago. Our trip log reads: 41,223 nautical miles.
We have an address and have started collecting keys; a post office box, our home, and soon, a serviceable old car. It still feels like a dream...
Your friends of the yacht Carina,
Philip, Leslie and the spirit of the fat cat, Jake
website: www.sv-carina.org
At 9/15/2017 and 3:42 UTC (GMT) our position was: 47°47.68'N / 122°29.92'W
ps:. PLEASE, if you wish to respond to our emails, DO NOT hit the "reply" button as it sends our original message back to us OR, if you do, please delete our original message before sending.
----------
radio email processed by SailMail
for information see: http://www.sailmail.com
Sunday 10 September 2017
//WL2K - Carina Almost Home
Dear Friends;
We are now in the Gulf Islands of British Columbia, Canada after making our way south over 1,000 miles along the classic route of the inside passage from Sitka AK through British Columbia, Canada. Except for a very few rare moments, this has been a motor boat trip into southerly winds with long days of monotonous hand steering watching for traffic and huge, potentially-damaging flotsam, in the cockpit under all weather conditions, for up to 16 hours per day. We spent many days in fog or rain seeing nothing but grey, with a handful of glorious clear days when every mountain, cascade and glacial sparkled. We understand this is unusual and that the summer weather in Alaska and northern BC has been nasty this year, even while the southern coast enjoyed continuous sunshine, record-breaking heat and devastating fires. There was one amazing sunny warm week in early August in "southeast" and we truly enjoyed it, though we have spent most of the last two months in fleece, gloves, jackets and hats - not what we expected. Our journey pales in comparison to friends Jay and Danica aboard s/v Alkahest, a 42' Tartan. They will eventually be traveling the inside passage but first, they have to finish the NORTHWEST PASSAGE sailing east to west. We believe they are now in Nome. We can't imagine the conditions they have endured and are so looking forward to catching up with them once they safely reach Seattle.
The first gale of our trip was on 30 July and then things seemed to keep getting worse weather-wise; long days of strong wind on the nose, rain and cold air. We lost count of the number of gale warnings. At times the the wind and current conspired to stop Carina dead where our GPS registered almost no boat speed. Thinking we had missed the season, we have pushed hard every single day for three weeks since leaving Prince Rupert until we reached the southern Gulf Islands yesterday. Thankfully for most of this push, we had the camaraderie of Amante, a catamaran we met while waiting out a gale to cross exposed Dixon Entrance between AK and BC. At Quadra Island, we also caught up with Sidewinder, good friends from many southsea adventures. That being said, weather and current gods smiled on us as we rounded Cape Caution, crossed Queen Charlotte Strait and started down the Johnstone Strait, a place you do not traverse under adverse conditions. The weather improved dramatically once we rounded Chatham Point into Discovery Channel from Johnstone Strait on Labor Day weekend, where the sun suddenly turned warm and the hull stopped sweating inside.
The upside of this trip were the breathtaking views of mists, cascades and glaciers, and pristine isolated and uncrowded anchorages visited by wildlife - bears, eagles, loons, kingfisher, porpoises, orcas and humpbacks. There is no place like the Pacific NW - Alaska and British Columbia - where we learned to love cruising. Another compensation was the good company of new and old friends we met or hope yet to meet along the way - Martina & Larry, Kristy & John, Joel & Alice, John, Chuck, David Dorothy Wade Kevin Rusty & Rascal, Melanie & Ed, Dan Linda Lamby Gus & Shelby, Naomi & John, David & Suzi, Gary & Maggie, Terry & Mary, Jim & Sharon, Darlene & Floyd of The Great Northern Boaters Net, Roger & Pearl, Ross & Karen, Chuck, Jim & Jan - and countless friendly helpful people in the various ports and anchorages. In the Johnstone Strait we serendipitously spotted Lyric of the Port Madison Yacht Club, with Tad & Joyce aboard, whose circumnavigation in the late 90s helped inspire us to cruise the wider world. It was wonderful to see them - we circled each other taking photos and catching up - and the chance encounter made us realize we were really getting close to home.
On Wednesday, we stopped in Comox on Vancouver Island to buy some fuel and food. While we were off the boat provisioning, a local sailboat smashed into Carina's forward bow section and destroyed our lifelines, stanchions and teak toe rail. The two men aboard the other sailboat left a note of apology and contact information and promised payment for the repair. All well and good, but we'll still have to stop in Port Townsend to get an estimate and try to schedule a time for the work to be done. This incident is particularly ironic as we have sailed over 41,000 nautical miles on our journey and the only serious mishap happened so close to home.
We still expect to reach our home port of Kingston WA mid-September, weather and currents depending. We know it will be a bittersweet experience; the exhilarating end of a tremendous adventure of exploring tropical islands and distant countries with the pleasure of meeting and knowing diverse peoples, tempered by the reality and hard work of reintegration into the US.
Thank you to all of you who followed our adventures, those who helped make our journey happen, and those who gave us encouragement along the way. Fifteen years ago, Joyce and Tad urged us to dispense with the material possessions and trappings (such a descriptive word!) we had acquired, because when we returned from cruising we would be different people with altered values. Their words were prophetic and true.
Your friends of the yacht Carina,
Philip, Leslie and the spirit of the fat cat, Jake
Clam Bay, Kuper Island, British Columbia, Canada
p.s. When we acquire internet access we will update our website's photo-journals from this incomparably beautiful and wild cruising ground.
At 9/8/2017 and 22:36 UTC (GMT) our position was: 48°58.94'N / 123°38.97'W
ps:. PLEASE, if you wish to respond to our emails, DO NOT hit the "reply" button as it sends our original message back to us OR, if you do, please delete our original message before sending.
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radio email processed by SailMail
for information see: http://www.sailmail.com
We are now in the Gulf Islands of British Columbia, Canada after making our way south over 1,000 miles along the classic route of the inside passage from Sitka AK through British Columbia, Canada. Except for a very few rare moments, this has been a motor boat trip into southerly winds with long days of monotonous hand steering watching for traffic and huge, potentially-damaging flotsam, in the cockpit under all weather conditions, for up to 16 hours per day. We spent many days in fog or rain seeing nothing but grey, with a handful of glorious clear days when every mountain, cascade and glacial sparkled. We understand this is unusual and that the summer weather in Alaska and northern BC has been nasty this year, even while the southern coast enjoyed continuous sunshine, record-breaking heat and devastating fires. There was one amazing sunny warm week in early August in "southeast" and we truly enjoyed it, though we have spent most of the last two months in fleece, gloves, jackets and hats - not what we expected. Our journey pales in comparison to friends Jay and Danica aboard s/v Alkahest, a 42' Tartan. They will eventually be traveling the inside passage but first, they have to finish the NORTHWEST PASSAGE sailing east to west. We believe they are now in Nome. We can't imagine the conditions they have endured and are so looking forward to catching up with them once they safely reach Seattle.
The first gale of our trip was on 30 July and then things seemed to keep getting worse weather-wise; long days of strong wind on the nose, rain and cold air. We lost count of the number of gale warnings. At times the the wind and current conspired to stop Carina dead where our GPS registered almost no boat speed. Thinking we had missed the season, we have pushed hard every single day for three weeks since leaving Prince Rupert until we reached the southern Gulf Islands yesterday. Thankfully for most of this push, we had the camaraderie of Amante, a catamaran we met while waiting out a gale to cross exposed Dixon Entrance between AK and BC. At Quadra Island, we also caught up with Sidewinder, good friends from many southsea adventures. That being said, weather and current gods smiled on us as we rounded Cape Caution, crossed Queen Charlotte Strait and started down the Johnstone Strait, a place you do not traverse under adverse conditions. The weather improved dramatically once we rounded Chatham Point into Discovery Channel from Johnstone Strait on Labor Day weekend, where the sun suddenly turned warm and the hull stopped sweating inside.
The upside of this trip were the breathtaking views of mists, cascades and glaciers, and pristine isolated and uncrowded anchorages visited by wildlife - bears, eagles, loons, kingfisher, porpoises, orcas and humpbacks. There is no place like the Pacific NW - Alaska and British Columbia - where we learned to love cruising. Another compensation was the good company of new and old friends we met or hope yet to meet along the way - Martina & Larry, Kristy & John, Joel & Alice, John, Chuck, David Dorothy Wade Kevin Rusty & Rascal, Melanie & Ed, Dan Linda Lamby Gus & Shelby, Naomi & John, David & Suzi, Gary & Maggie, Terry & Mary, Jim & Sharon, Darlene & Floyd of The Great Northern Boaters Net, Roger & Pearl, Ross & Karen, Chuck, Jim & Jan - and countless friendly helpful people in the various ports and anchorages. In the Johnstone Strait we serendipitously spotted Lyric of the Port Madison Yacht Club, with Tad & Joyce aboard, whose circumnavigation in the late 90s helped inspire us to cruise the wider world. It was wonderful to see them - we circled each other taking photos and catching up - and the chance encounter made us realize we were really getting close to home.
On Wednesday, we stopped in Comox on Vancouver Island to buy some fuel and food. While we were off the boat provisioning, a local sailboat smashed into Carina's forward bow section and destroyed our lifelines, stanchions and teak toe rail. The two men aboard the other sailboat left a note of apology and contact information and promised payment for the repair. All well and good, but we'll still have to stop in Port Townsend to get an estimate and try to schedule a time for the work to be done. This incident is particularly ironic as we have sailed over 41,000 nautical miles on our journey and the only serious mishap happened so close to home.
We still expect to reach our home port of Kingston WA mid-September, weather and currents depending. We know it will be a bittersweet experience; the exhilarating end of a tremendous adventure of exploring tropical islands and distant countries with the pleasure of meeting and knowing diverse peoples, tempered by the reality and hard work of reintegration into the US.
Thank you to all of you who followed our adventures, those who helped make our journey happen, and those who gave us encouragement along the way. Fifteen years ago, Joyce and Tad urged us to dispense with the material possessions and trappings (such a descriptive word!) we had acquired, because when we returned from cruising we would be different people with altered values. Their words were prophetic and true.
Your friends of the yacht Carina,
Philip, Leslie and the spirit of the fat cat, Jake
Clam Bay, Kuper Island, British Columbia, Canada
p.s. When we acquire internet access we will update our website's photo-journals from this incomparably beautiful and wild cruising ground.
At 9/8/2017 and 22:36 UTC (GMT) our position was: 48°58.94'N / 123°38.97'W
ps:. PLEASE, if you wish to respond to our emails, DO NOT hit the "reply" button as it sends our original message back to us OR, if you do, please delete our original message before sending.
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radio email processed by SailMail
for information see: http://www.sailmail.com
Friday 28 July 2017
//WL2K - Carina in Alaska
Dear Friends;
As all of you know by now, we sailed into Sitka Alaska, USA on July 1, 2017 after a passage of 4,689 nautical miles from Pohnpei in Micronesia. And though we remember the trials most vividly, we had some glorious sailing and inspiring moments too. The stellar performance of our little vessel, the amazing display of energy in the enormous expanse of ocean, and the gorgeous and sometimes goofy wildlife made the trip memorable.
Unfortunately, our last days at sea were challenging physically and emotionally and neither of us were a pretty sight when we arrived. Many aspects of the trip - the battle to stay dry and warm when the inside of the boat was the temperature of a very damp refrigerator (41 degrees) and every line we touched was wet with cold seawater, the dearth of fresh water, the few serious breakdowns and the niggling trivial ones like cold seawater dripping on the settee or sloshing on the cabin sole - tried our skills, resilience, patience and sanity, but the closest we came to despair was two days out of Sitka as a stalled low pressure system continued to cast its frontal bands in our path and easterly winds made it impossible to sail to Sitka Sound's Cape Edgecumbe. We questioned our karma more than once during those last days of our journey, when nature sent us tall, choppy, confused seas and head winds gusting to gale force. When we were able to sail, it was as hard on the wind as we could squeeze - a bash into unforgiving cold seas that frequently, as in every few minutes, brought green water aboard. Green water made it difficult to stay dry, and staying dry was the only way we could stay warm, as our only heat was that generated when we used our galley stove or with our bodies.
Our last night at sea was spent hove-to with winds finally abating and moving southerly as morning approached. Seas were slower to subside. Being almost 80 nm from the port of Sitka, we fired up the old diesel early in the morning at our change of watch and then pushed as hard as we could - as hard as we ever have pushed the engine and as hard as we dared - racing daylight through blinding rain and fog, motorsailing with canvas pushing too, feeding each other warm drinks and encouraging words as we hand steered for 17 hours, continuously monitoring radar, AIS and VHF for traffic when we could often not see through the fog. Nearing Cape Edgecumbe, our AIS and a securite message on the VHF helped us to avoid a cruise ship on a reciprocal course, proving once again what a valuable tool this is for pleasure yachts. A hail on the VHF shortly after from old friends Randy and Gayle on SV Otter (from Ecuador 11 years ago!) brought a big smile to our faces and helped to ease the stress of the drive to arrive.
At nearly 9 pm we were finally inside Sitka harbor, lowered our mainsail and dropped the anchor as daylight faded rapidly with the heavy cloud cover. When Philip was happy with our set and we turned off the engine, the feeling of calm was like a big thick cozy blanket gently enveloping us. Forty six days and some hours of constant movement, of constant attentiveness, of constant worry and it seemed impossible to believe, at least for a moment, that we had done it and that it was done. We had brought Carina back across the biggest, coldest, most capricious piece of ocean either of us had ever encountered - the not-so pacific, North Pacific. NOW what do we do? Not tomorrow, now. The titer of adrenaline in our bloodstream was way too high to just fall into bed, so we just wandered around the cabin and deck that both looked like something you'd see in a disaster documentary, wrote critical things into our log and finally toasted our little boat and each other. With no other dry place to sleep, we both squeezed into a single sleeping bag on the port-settee, hugged tightly, and slept like we had not in over six weeks, happy to be safe and anchored in Sitka.
The difference between Pohnpei, our departure point at latitude 07 North, and Sitka at latitude 57 North, could not be any more dramatic than it is. When we left Micronesia, the temperature was a steamy 80-85 degrees F during the day. In Sitka, the temp was about 55 degrees and, when we arrived, raining. No bare feet, palm trees, bamboo, yellow fin tuna, fresh tropical fruit, and no sweating in the tropical sun. Just foulies and boots and layers of polar fleece and gorgeous mountains frosted with snow fields, salmon-berries and fireweed, pods of whales, ambling brown bears, leaping salmon and reclining sea otters.
Early the morning after our arrival, we tied to the transient dock and were immediately greeted by friendly folk - Joel of The Boat Company, bringing mail of warm bedding, repair kits, and charts, Randy and Gayle of Otter, and Chuck the one-and-only and very friendly US Customs and Border Patrol officer who welcomed us with a quick flurry of paperwork and a sincere smile. Bundling up, we closed up Carina and waded off towards town in search of friend John who had flown from Whidbey Island WA in for a brief visit. Half way down the long dock of Sitka, we spotted his smile in the shadow of a big brown foulie and all got hugged hard. A slosh into town and we settled into a luscious lunch and great conversation inside the warm, dry and friendly Sitka Hotel. It was a great homecoming to America! Thank you so much, John!
We have dozens of people to thank for the loving support on our journey - the preparation, the execution, and the arrival - including the ever-diligent amateur radio operators of the PacSeaNet who stood by for our call every single day. And, where the hell would we be without Ken and Audrey? We won't try to name all of you for fear of an oversight, but you know who you are - those who helped us prepare and saw us off, those who watched our progress and who sent weather, parcels, advice or just kind words our way, and those who helped us when we arrived - please know we love you all and sincerely appreciate your help and encouragement.
Our stay in Sitka was glorious, despite our weather acclimation (brrrr) and our long list of must-dos that dominated our daily existence. We did countless loads of laundry as every textile on the boat was wet (including most of the cushions), opened up and sopped up every locker, gave away unimaginable pounds of stores, and simply slept as long and hard as we could during the sunny summer nights. There were critical chores, like repairing the genoa, servicing the HF radio, and recommissioning the diesel cabin heater, but it was all good. We were warm and dry and safe in the company of old and new friends in a lovely, friendly place with an abundance of supplies - John R, Randy & Gayle, Kris and John F of Mew (thank you Kristy & John T of Raynad!), Martina & Larry of Aldo (thank you Nola & Jerry of Moonsong), Joel & Alice (thank you Ken), Patrick & Wyvonne of Andante and fisherman John Erp on F/V Keet. Sitka is a great town with lots going on and we hope to see more of it and the tiny wild nooks around the west coast of Baranof and Chichagof Islands on our next cruise north.
On Wednesday July 19 we reluctantly pushed out of Sitka and began our summer passage down through "Southeast" towards the Puget Sound, anxious to get going on the last chapter of our journey home which will be the subject of our next note.
Your friends of the yacht Carina,
Philip, Leslie and the spirit of the fat cat, Jake
website: www.sv-carina.org
At 7/25/2017 and 0:23 UTC (GMT) our position was: 57°11.90'N / 134°50.96'W
p.s. PLEASE, if you wish to respond to our emails, DO NOT hit the "reply" button as it sends our original message back to us or, if you do, please delete our original message before sending.
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radio email processed by SailMail
for information see: http://www.sailmail.com
As all of you know by now, we sailed into Sitka Alaska, USA on July 1, 2017 after a passage of 4,689 nautical miles from Pohnpei in Micronesia. And though we remember the trials most vividly, we had some glorious sailing and inspiring moments too. The stellar performance of our little vessel, the amazing display of energy in the enormous expanse of ocean, and the gorgeous and sometimes goofy wildlife made the trip memorable.
Unfortunately, our last days at sea were challenging physically and emotionally and neither of us were a pretty sight when we arrived. Many aspects of the trip - the battle to stay dry and warm when the inside of the boat was the temperature of a very damp refrigerator (41 degrees) and every line we touched was wet with cold seawater, the dearth of fresh water, the few serious breakdowns and the niggling trivial ones like cold seawater dripping on the settee or sloshing on the cabin sole - tried our skills, resilience, patience and sanity, but the closest we came to despair was two days out of Sitka as a stalled low pressure system continued to cast its frontal bands in our path and easterly winds made it impossible to sail to Sitka Sound's Cape Edgecumbe. We questioned our karma more than once during those last days of our journey, when nature sent us tall, choppy, confused seas and head winds gusting to gale force. When we were able to sail, it was as hard on the wind as we could squeeze - a bash into unforgiving cold seas that frequently, as in every few minutes, brought green water aboard. Green water made it difficult to stay dry, and staying dry was the only way we could stay warm, as our only heat was that generated when we used our galley stove or with our bodies.
Our last night at sea was spent hove-to with winds finally abating and moving southerly as morning approached. Seas were slower to subside. Being almost 80 nm from the port of Sitka, we fired up the old diesel early in the morning at our change of watch and then pushed as hard as we could - as hard as we ever have pushed the engine and as hard as we dared - racing daylight through blinding rain and fog, motorsailing with canvas pushing too, feeding each other warm drinks and encouraging words as we hand steered for 17 hours, continuously monitoring radar, AIS and VHF for traffic when we could often not see through the fog. Nearing Cape Edgecumbe, our AIS and a securite message on the VHF helped us to avoid a cruise ship on a reciprocal course, proving once again what a valuable tool this is for pleasure yachts. A hail on the VHF shortly after from old friends Randy and Gayle on SV Otter (from Ecuador 11 years ago!) brought a big smile to our faces and helped to ease the stress of the drive to arrive.
At nearly 9 pm we were finally inside Sitka harbor, lowered our mainsail and dropped the anchor as daylight faded rapidly with the heavy cloud cover. When Philip was happy with our set and we turned off the engine, the feeling of calm was like a big thick cozy blanket gently enveloping us. Forty six days and some hours of constant movement, of constant attentiveness, of constant worry and it seemed impossible to believe, at least for a moment, that we had done it and that it was done. We had brought Carina back across the biggest, coldest, most capricious piece of ocean either of us had ever encountered - the not-so pacific, North Pacific. NOW what do we do? Not tomorrow, now. The titer of adrenaline in our bloodstream was way too high to just fall into bed, so we just wandered around the cabin and deck that both looked like something you'd see in a disaster documentary, wrote critical things into our log and finally toasted our little boat and each other. With no other dry place to sleep, we both squeezed into a single sleeping bag on the port-settee, hugged tightly, and slept like we had not in over six weeks, happy to be safe and anchored in Sitka.
The difference between Pohnpei, our departure point at latitude 07 North, and Sitka at latitude 57 North, could not be any more dramatic than it is. When we left Micronesia, the temperature was a steamy 80-85 degrees F during the day. In Sitka, the temp was about 55 degrees and, when we arrived, raining. No bare feet, palm trees, bamboo, yellow fin tuna, fresh tropical fruit, and no sweating in the tropical sun. Just foulies and boots and layers of polar fleece and gorgeous mountains frosted with snow fields, salmon-berries and fireweed, pods of whales, ambling brown bears, leaping salmon and reclining sea otters.
Early the morning after our arrival, we tied to the transient dock and were immediately greeted by friendly folk - Joel of The Boat Company, bringing mail of warm bedding, repair kits, and charts, Randy and Gayle of Otter, and Chuck the one-and-only and very friendly US Customs and Border Patrol officer who welcomed us with a quick flurry of paperwork and a sincere smile. Bundling up, we closed up Carina and waded off towards town in search of friend John who had flown from Whidbey Island WA in for a brief visit. Half way down the long dock of Sitka, we spotted his smile in the shadow of a big brown foulie and all got hugged hard. A slosh into town and we settled into a luscious lunch and great conversation inside the warm, dry and friendly Sitka Hotel. It was a great homecoming to America! Thank you so much, John!
We have dozens of people to thank for the loving support on our journey - the preparation, the execution, and the arrival - including the ever-diligent amateur radio operators of the PacSeaNet who stood by for our call every single day. And, where the hell would we be without Ken and Audrey? We won't try to name all of you for fear of an oversight, but you know who you are - those who helped us prepare and saw us off, those who watched our progress and who sent weather, parcels, advice or just kind words our way, and those who helped us when we arrived - please know we love you all and sincerely appreciate your help and encouragement.
Our stay in Sitka was glorious, despite our weather acclimation (brrrr) and our long list of must-dos that dominated our daily existence. We did countless loads of laundry as every textile on the boat was wet (including most of the cushions), opened up and sopped up every locker, gave away unimaginable pounds of stores, and simply slept as long and hard as we could during the sunny summer nights. There were critical chores, like repairing the genoa, servicing the HF radio, and recommissioning the diesel cabin heater, but it was all good. We were warm and dry and safe in the company of old and new friends in a lovely, friendly place with an abundance of supplies - John R, Randy & Gayle, Kris and John F of Mew (thank you Kristy & John T of Raynad!), Martina & Larry of Aldo (thank you Nola & Jerry of Moonsong), Joel & Alice (thank you Ken), Patrick & Wyvonne of Andante and fisherman John Erp on F/V Keet. Sitka is a great town with lots going on and we hope to see more of it and the tiny wild nooks around the west coast of Baranof and Chichagof Islands on our next cruise north.
On Wednesday July 19 we reluctantly pushed out of Sitka and began our summer passage down through "Southeast" towards the Puget Sound, anxious to get going on the last chapter of our journey home which will be the subject of our next note.
Your friends of the yacht Carina,
Philip, Leslie and the spirit of the fat cat, Jake
website: www.sv-carina.org
At 7/25/2017 and 0:23 UTC (GMT) our position was: 57°11.90'N / 134°50.96'W
p.s. PLEASE, if you wish to respond to our emails, DO NOT hit the "reply" button as it sends our original message back to us or, if you do, please delete our original message before sending.
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Thursday 27 July 2017
Sitka
Dear Friends;
We sailed into Sitka Alaska, USA on July 1, 2017 after a passage of 4,689 nautical miles from Pohnpei in Micronesia. And though we remember the trials most vividly, we had some glorious sailing and inspiring moments too. The stellar performance of our little vessel, the amazing display of energy in the enormous expanse of ocean, and the gorgeous and sometimes goofy wildlife made the trip memorable.
Unfortunately, our last days at sea were challenging physically and emotionally and neither of us were a pretty sight when we arrived. Many aspects of the trip - the battle to stay dry and warm when the inside of the boat was the temperature of a very damp refrigerator (41 degrees) and every line we touched was wet with cold seawater, the dearth of fresh water, the few serious breakdowns and the niggling trivial ones like cold seawater dripping on the settee or sloshing on the cabin sole - tried our skills, resilience, patience and sanity, but the closest we came to despair was two days out of Sitka as a stalled low pressure system continued to cast its frontal bands in our path and easterly winds made it impossible to sail to Sitka Sound's Cape Edgecumbe. We questioned our karma more than once during those last days of our journey, when nature sent us tall, choppy, confused seas and head winds gusting to gale force. When we were able to sail, it was as hard on the wind as we could squeeze - a bash into unforgiving cold seas that frequently, as in every few minutes, brought green water aboard. Green water made it difficult to stay dry, and staying dry was the only way we could stay warm, as our only heat was that generated when we used our galley stove or with our bodies.
Our last night at sea was spent hove-to with winds finally abating and moving southerly as morning approached. Seas were slower to subside. Being almost 80 nm from the port of Sitka, we fired up the old diesel early in the morning at our change of watch and then pushed as hard as we could - as hard as we ever have pushed the engine and as hard as we dared - racing daylight through blinding rain and fog, motorsailing with canvas pushing too, feeding each other warm drinks and encouraging words as we hand steered for 17 hours, continuously monitoring radar, AIS and VHF for traffic when we could often not see through the fog. Nearing Cape Edgecumbe, our AIS and a securite message on the VHF helped us to avoid a cruise ship on a reciprocal course, proving once again what a valuable tool this is for pleasure yachts. A hail on the VHF shortly after from old friends Randy and Gayle on SV Otter (from Ecuador 11 years ago!) brought a big smile to our faces and helped to ease the stress of the drive to arrive.
At nearly 9 pm we were finally inside Sitka harbor, lowered our mainsail and dropped the anchor as daylight faded rapidly with the heavy cloud cover. When Philip was happy with our set and we turned off the engine, the feeling of calm was like a big thick cozy blanket gently enveloping us. Forty six days and some hours of constant movement, of constant attentiveness, of constant worry and it seemed impossible to believe, at least for a moment, that we had done it and that it was done. We had brought Carina back across the biggest, coldest, most capricious piece of ocean either of us had ever encountered - the not-so pacific, North Pacific. NOW what do we do? Not tomorrow, now. The titer of adrenaline in our bloodstream was way too high to just fall into bed, so we just wandered around the cabin and deck that both looked like something you'd see in a disaster documentary, wrote critical things into our log and finally toasted our little boat and each other. With no other dry place to sleep, we both squeezed into a single sleeping bag on the port-settee, hugged tightly, and slept like we had not in over six weeks, happy to be safe and anchored in Sitka.
The difference between Pohnpei, our departure point at latitude 07 North, and Sitka at latitude 57 North, could not be any more dramatic than it is. When we left Micronesia, the temperature was a steamy 80-85 degrees F during the day. In Sitka, the temp was about 55 degrees and, when we arrived, raining. No bare feet, palm trees, bamboo, yellow fin tuna, fresh tropical fruit, and no sweating in the tropical sun. Just foulies and boots and layers of polar fleece and gorgeous mountains frosted with snow fields, salmon-berries and fireweed, pods of whales, ambling brown bears, leaping salmon and reclining sea otters.
Early the morning after our arrival, we tied to the transient dock and were immediately greeted by friendly folk - Joel of The Boat Company, bringing mail of warm bedding, repair kits, and charts, Randy and Gayle of Otter, and Chuck the one-and-only and very friendly US Customs and Border Patrol officer who welcomed us with a quick flurry of paperwork and a sincere smile. Bundling up, we closed up Carina and waded off towards town in search of friend John who had flown from Whidbey Island WA in for a brief visit. Half way down the long dock of Sitka, we spotted his smile in the shadow of a big brown foulie and all got hugged hard. A slosh into town and we settled into a luscious lunch and great conversation inside the warm, dry and friendly Sitka Hotel. It was a great homecoming to America! Thank you so much, John!
We have dozens of people to thank for the loving support on our journey - the preparation, the execution, and the arrival - including the ever-diligent amateur radio operators of the PacSeaNet who stood by for our call every single day. And, where the hell would we be without Ken and Audrey? We won't try to name all of you for fear of an oversight, but you know who you are - those who helped us prepare and saw us off, those who watched our progress and who sent weather, parcels, advice or just kind words our way, and those who helped us when we arrived - please know we love you all and sincerely appreciate your help and encouragement.
Our stay in Sitka was glorious, despite our weather acclimation (brrrr) and our long list of must-dos that dominated our daily existence. We did countless loads of laundry as every textile on the boat was wet (including most of the cushions), opened up and sopped up every locker, gave away unimaginable pounds of stores, and simply slept as long and hard as we could during the sunny summer nights. There were critical chores, like repairing the genoa, servicing the HF radio, and recommissioning the diesel cabin heater, but it was all good. We were warm and dry and safe in the company of old and new friends in a lovely, friendly place with an abundance of supplies - John R, Randy & Gayle, Kris and John F of Mew (thank you Kristy & John T of Raynad!), Martina & Larry of Aldo (thank you Nola & Jerry of Moonsong), Joel & Alice (thank you Ken), Patrick & Wyvonne of Andante and fisherman John Erp on F/V Keet. Sitka is a great town with lots going on and we hope to see more of it and the tiny wild nooks around the west coast of Baranof and Chichagof Islands on our next cruise north.
On Wednesday July 19 we reluctantly pushed out of Sitka and began our summer passage down through "Southeast" towards the Puget Sound, anxious to get going on the last chapter of our journey home which will be the subject of our next note.
At 7/26/2017 and 19:36 UTC (GMT) our position was: 57°04.50'N / 134°49.62'W.
We sailed into Sitka Alaska, USA on July 1, 2017 after a passage of 4,689 nautical miles from Pohnpei in Micronesia. And though we remember the trials most vividly, we had some glorious sailing and inspiring moments too. The stellar performance of our little vessel, the amazing display of energy in the enormous expanse of ocean, and the gorgeous and sometimes goofy wildlife made the trip memorable.
Unfortunately, our last days at sea were challenging physically and emotionally and neither of us were a pretty sight when we arrived. Many aspects of the trip - the battle to stay dry and warm when the inside of the boat was the temperature of a very damp refrigerator (41 degrees) and every line we touched was wet with cold seawater, the dearth of fresh water, the few serious breakdowns and the niggling trivial ones like cold seawater dripping on the settee or sloshing on the cabin sole - tried our skills, resilience, patience and sanity, but the closest we came to despair was two days out of Sitka as a stalled low pressure system continued to cast its frontal bands in our path and easterly winds made it impossible to sail to Sitka Sound's Cape Edgecumbe. We questioned our karma more than once during those last days of our journey, when nature sent us tall, choppy, confused seas and head winds gusting to gale force. When we were able to sail, it was as hard on the wind as we could squeeze - a bash into unforgiving cold seas that frequently, as in every few minutes, brought green water aboard. Green water made it difficult to stay dry, and staying dry was the only way we could stay warm, as our only heat was that generated when we used our galley stove or with our bodies.
Our last night at sea was spent hove-to with winds finally abating and moving southerly as morning approached. Seas were slower to subside. Being almost 80 nm from the port of Sitka, we fired up the old diesel early in the morning at our change of watch and then pushed as hard as we could - as hard as we ever have pushed the engine and as hard as we dared - racing daylight through blinding rain and fog, motorsailing with canvas pushing too, feeding each other warm drinks and encouraging words as we hand steered for 17 hours, continuously monitoring radar, AIS and VHF for traffic when we could often not see through the fog. Nearing Cape Edgecumbe, our AIS and a securite message on the VHF helped us to avoid a cruise ship on a reciprocal course, proving once again what a valuable tool this is for pleasure yachts. A hail on the VHF shortly after from old friends Randy and Gayle on SV Otter (from Ecuador 11 years ago!) brought a big smile to our faces and helped to ease the stress of the drive to arrive.
At nearly 9 pm we were finally inside Sitka harbor, lowered our mainsail and dropped the anchor as daylight faded rapidly with the heavy cloud cover. When Philip was happy with our set and we turned off the engine, the feeling of calm was like a big thick cozy blanket gently enveloping us. Forty six days and some hours of constant movement, of constant attentiveness, of constant worry and it seemed impossible to believe, at least for a moment, that we had done it and that it was done. We had brought Carina back across the biggest, coldest, most capricious piece of ocean either of us had ever encountered - the not-so pacific, North Pacific. NOW what do we do? Not tomorrow, now. The titer of adrenaline in our bloodstream was way too high to just fall into bed, so we just wandered around the cabin and deck that both looked like something you'd see in a disaster documentary, wrote critical things into our log and finally toasted our little boat and each other. With no other dry place to sleep, we both squeezed into a single sleeping bag on the port-settee, hugged tightly, and slept like we had not in over six weeks, happy to be safe and anchored in Sitka.
The difference between Pohnpei, our departure point at latitude 07 North, and Sitka at latitude 57 North, could not be any more dramatic than it is. When we left Micronesia, the temperature was a steamy 80-85 degrees F during the day. In Sitka, the temp was about 55 degrees and, when we arrived, raining. No bare feet, palm trees, bamboo, yellow fin tuna, fresh tropical fruit, and no sweating in the tropical sun. Just foulies and boots and layers of polar fleece and gorgeous mountains frosted with snow fields, salmon-berries and fireweed, pods of whales, ambling brown bears, leaping salmon and reclining sea otters.
Early the morning after our arrival, we tied to the transient dock and were immediately greeted by friendly folk - Joel of The Boat Company, bringing mail of warm bedding, repair kits, and charts, Randy and Gayle of Otter, and Chuck the one-and-only and very friendly US Customs and Border Patrol officer who welcomed us with a quick flurry of paperwork and a sincere smile. Bundling up, we closed up Carina and waded off towards town in search of friend John who had flown from Whidbey Island WA in for a brief visit. Half way down the long dock of Sitka, we spotted his smile in the shadow of a big brown foulie and all got hugged hard. A slosh into town and we settled into a luscious lunch and great conversation inside the warm, dry and friendly Sitka Hotel. It was a great homecoming to America! Thank you so much, John!
We have dozens of people to thank for the loving support on our journey - the preparation, the execution, and the arrival - including the ever-diligent amateur radio operators of the PacSeaNet who stood by for our call every single day. And, where the hell would we be without Ken and Audrey? We won't try to name all of you for fear of an oversight, but you know who you are - those who helped us prepare and saw us off, those who watched our progress and who sent weather, parcels, advice or just kind words our way, and those who helped us when we arrived - please know we love you all and sincerely appreciate your help and encouragement.
Our stay in Sitka was glorious, despite our weather acclimation (brrrr) and our long list of must-dos that dominated our daily existence. We did countless loads of laundry as every textile on the boat was wet (including most of the cushions), opened up and sopped up every locker, gave away unimaginable pounds of stores, and simply slept as long and hard as we could during the sunny summer nights. There were critical chores, like repairing the genoa, servicing the HF radio, and recommissioning the diesel cabin heater, but it was all good. We were warm and dry and safe in the company of old and new friends in a lovely, friendly place with an abundance of supplies - John R, Randy & Gayle, Kris and John F of Mew (thank you Kristy & John T of Raynad!), Martina & Larry of Aldo (thank you Nola & Jerry of Moonsong), Joel & Alice (thank you Ken), Patrick & Wyvonne of Andante and fisherman John Erp on F/V Keet. Sitka is a great town with lots going on and we hope to see more of it and the tiny wild nooks around the west coast of Baranof and Chichagof Islands on our next cruise north.
On Wednesday July 19 we reluctantly pushed out of Sitka and began our summer passage down through "Southeast" towards the Puget Sound, anxious to get going on the last chapter of our journey home which will be the subject of our next note.
At 7/26/2017 and 19:36 UTC (GMT) our position was: 57°04.50'N / 134°49.62'W.
Monday 26 June 2017
Update
Dear Friends;
NOTE: this update will be sent to our Dispatch List once we get a Sailmail connection...
Greetings from the Gulf of Alaska Seamount Province! Our GPS advises us that on our rhumb line, there are 499 nautical miles to our waypoint at Cape Edgecumbe at the entrance to Sitka Sound. As you may imagine, we are beginning to anticipate landfall after 40 days (so far) at sea. During our voyage we crossed the International Dateline and discovered the day we lost in Fiji eight years ago. We also gave back three hours borrowed while adventuring.
The sea around us is mostly a gun metal gray and the sky, completely overcast, the color of old pewter. We spot bits of giant kelp and logs that remind us we are no longer in the tropics where we would more likely see flotsam of bamboo and bobbing coconuts. The cold continues as we head north in spite of the emergence of summer in this beautiful corner of the world. It seems the high latitude trumps all. Yesterday, by contrast, we had almost perfect sailing - a broad reach with brilliant sunlight and a sparkling sea - and huddled under the dodger out of the wind and, like lizards on fLat rock, let the sun warm our faces as we watched the magnificent sea slip by.
The nights are short here where the earth's circumference is diminished, and there has been no true darkness - where the sea surface is invisible in an inky blackness - for days now. The north Pacific is cold, though the hull temperature is actually rising (up three degrees from a low of 41 F) and that's made a difference in the comfort level in the cabin. We are still bulging with layers and layers of undergarments and polarfleece and have piles of gloves in various stages of dryness hanging about the cabin, but getting out of the warm bunk to a mug of hot tea isn't quite as hard as it was 1,000 nm ago. We are sharing a hooded fleece-lined "great coat" and have a change of watch routine wherein we pass the coat, often in the red glow of the confined cabin. The off-watch then scampers for the bunk before it loses the warmth left behind by its previous occupant. Thus we are truly "hot-bunking".
We are STILL eating well, thanks to Philip's diligence, but we've probably shed a pound or two keeping warm despite our continuous eating. There is still a corner of red cabbage in the fridge, and a potato or two, but otherwise we're dependent on preserved food. We bake fresh bread every few days and look forward each morning to high-fat comfort-food peanut butter on toast. We have also become capable nappers, with skills rivaling those of cats or newborn babies.
With only a little under 500 nautical miles to our destination, you would think that we only have an additional 4 or 5 days or so until we reach Sitka. However, we hesitate to speculate given the fact we just discovered a tear in the belly of our much-beloved and hard-working genoa that's been on duty nearly non-stop for the entire passage. We can unfurl perhaps one third of the whole sail before the tear appears; this limits the effective sail area significantly. Coincidentally, we are just coming into the influence of a forecasted low pressure system that will give us stronger winds for at least two days, so we are running with staysail and reefed main and making about 4 - 4.5 knots. If we need a bit more headsail, we can still use the undamaged portion of the genoa, so there is no serious issue with making headway. Should we get calm or lighter winds before we reach Sitka, we can effect a repair or swap the sail out with our spare. If not, we'll do so in port.
So that is the latest issue to be dealt with. Other recent problems we have successfully tackled, during the daylight hours under benign conditions include: replacing a broken engine starter, exchanging a failing v-belt to the raw water pump, soldering a capricious radar power cable and replacing a sheared stainless steel bolt securing a padeye for a fairlead block at the port side of the coaming. Yesterday, we were completely surprised to discover damage to the SAME cotter pin holding the latch pin of the Monitor wind vane and had to replace it once again, though it only involved one of us hanging over the stern this time.
On the other hand, our KISS wind generator has been humming away, giving us ample power when the wind is blowing, a plus when the slanting sun is rarely visible through clouds or fog. Our AIS unit has also been a godsend, warning us of huge cargo ships that are passing nearby; ships with flags of convenience from Panama, Malta, Cyprus and Liberia bound for exotic west-bound destinations of Singapore, Japan, China and east bound to the considerably less exotic port of Everett, WA. One ship's mate actually called us on the VHF radio as we passed three miles away and inquired as to our well-being, indicating we were brethren of the sea. That brought a smile to our morning.
Our current position is 53 degrees 45 minutes north and 149 degrees 13 minutes west and we're heading 066 degrees true. Our best guess now as to when we might make landfall is this coming weekend, probably July 1st or 2nd. All this depends on the vagaries of the sea and weather.
Your friends of the yacht Carina,
Philip, Leslie and the spirit of the fat cat, Jake
website: www.sv-carina.org
At 6/26/2017 and 15:10 UTC (GMT) our position was: 53°53.90'N / 148°36.15'W.
We were traveling 069T degrees true at 4.4 knots.
NOTE: this update will be sent to our Dispatch List once we get a Sailmail connection...
Greetings from the Gulf of Alaska Seamount Province! Our GPS advises us that on our rhumb line, there are 499 nautical miles to our waypoint at Cape Edgecumbe at the entrance to Sitka Sound. As you may imagine, we are beginning to anticipate landfall after 40 days (so far) at sea. During our voyage we crossed the International Dateline and discovered the day we lost in Fiji eight years ago. We also gave back three hours borrowed while adventuring.
The sea around us is mostly a gun metal gray and the sky, completely overcast, the color of old pewter. We spot bits of giant kelp and logs that remind us we are no longer in the tropics where we would more likely see flotsam of bamboo and bobbing coconuts. The cold continues as we head north in spite of the emergence of summer in this beautiful corner of the world. It seems the high latitude trumps all. Yesterday, by contrast, we had almost perfect sailing - a broad reach with brilliant sunlight and a sparkling sea - and huddled under the dodger out of the wind and, like lizards on fLat rock, let the sun warm our faces as we watched the magnificent sea slip by.
The nights are short here where the earth's circumference is diminished, and there has been no true darkness - where the sea surface is invisible in an inky blackness - for days now. The north Pacific is cold, though the hull temperature is actually rising (up three degrees from a low of 41 F) and that's made a difference in the comfort level in the cabin. We are still bulging with layers and layers of undergarments and polarfleece and have piles of gloves in various stages of dryness hanging about the cabin, but getting out of the warm bunk to a mug of hot tea isn't quite as hard as it was 1,000 nm ago. We are sharing a hooded fleece-lined "great coat" and have a change of watch routine wherein we pass the coat, often in the red glow of the confined cabin. The off-watch then scampers for the bunk before it loses the warmth left behind by its previous occupant. Thus we are truly "hot-bunking".
We are STILL eating well, thanks to Philip's diligence, but we've probably shed a pound or two keeping warm despite our continuous eating. There is still a corner of red cabbage in the fridge, and a potato or two, but otherwise we're dependent on preserved food. We bake fresh bread every few days and look forward each morning to high-fat comfort-food peanut butter on toast. We have also become capable nappers, with skills rivaling those of cats or newborn babies.
With only a little under 500 nautical miles to our destination, you would think that we only have an additional 4 or 5 days or so until we reach Sitka. However, we hesitate to speculate given the fact we just discovered a tear in the belly of our much-beloved and hard-working genoa that's been on duty nearly non-stop for the entire passage. We can unfurl perhaps one third of the whole sail before the tear appears; this limits the effective sail area significantly. Coincidentally, we are just coming into the influence of a forecasted low pressure system that will give us stronger winds for at least two days, so we are running with staysail and reefed main and making about 4 - 4.5 knots. If we need a bit more headsail, we can still use the undamaged portion of the genoa, so there is no serious issue with making headway. Should we get calm or lighter winds before we reach Sitka, we can effect a repair or swap the sail out with our spare. If not, we'll do so in port.
So that is the latest issue to be dealt with. Other recent problems we have successfully tackled, during the daylight hours under benign conditions include: replacing a broken engine starter, exchanging a failing v-belt to the raw water pump, soldering a capricious radar power cable and replacing a sheared stainless steel bolt securing a padeye for a fairlead block at the port side of the coaming. Yesterday, we were completely surprised to discover damage to the SAME cotter pin holding the latch pin of the Monitor wind vane and had to replace it once again, though it only involved one of us hanging over the stern this time.
On the other hand, our KISS wind generator has been humming away, giving us ample power when the wind is blowing, a plus when the slanting sun is rarely visible through clouds or fog. Our AIS unit has also been a godsend, warning us of huge cargo ships that are passing nearby; ships with flags of convenience from Panama, Malta, Cyprus and Liberia bound for exotic west-bound destinations of Singapore, Japan, China and east bound to the considerably less exotic port of Everett, WA. One ship's mate actually called us on the VHF radio as we passed three miles away and inquired as to our well-being, indicating we were brethren of the sea. That brought a smile to our morning.
Our current position is 53 degrees 45 minutes north and 149 degrees 13 minutes west and we're heading 066 degrees true. Our best guess now as to when we might make landfall is this coming weekend, probably July 1st or 2nd. All this depends on the vagaries of the sea and weather.
Your friends of the yacht Carina,
Philip, Leslie and the spirit of the fat cat, Jake
website: www.sv-carina.org
At 6/26/2017 and 15:10 UTC (GMT) our position was: 53°53.90'N / 148°36.15'W.
We were traveling 069T degrees true at 4.4 knots.
Friday 23 June 2017
Day 37 - 3754 nm Run
The summer soltice has come and gone but as we push north, the days are still, for us, getting longer and longer. Or perhaps I should say, the nights are getting shorter! As I write, we're inching towards 51N, hampered by NNE wind. Nights now aren't getting completely dark even with our continuously cloud-enshrouded sky. By 1 am (we're on GMT -11) there is a definite glow in the eastern sky though it has only been marginally dark a few hours.
We are now well east of Dutch Harbor and moving towards the Gulf of Alaska with about 878 nm to Sitka Sound. The water temperature has risen a couple of degrees and that's made a big difference in the comfort level in the cabin. It's still chilly but it doesn't feel as much like a walk-in refrigerated steam bath as it did 1000 nm ago.
For a few days we've been dealing with a high pressure system and its light winds. It has been a struggle to keep moving in the right direction sometimes. By this time tomorrow we expect to have better winds, but we will believe that when it happens. Meanwhile, we're dealing with maintaining our little vessel, getting sufficiently rested and well fed, and staying chipper.
On the list were a new V belt for the engine water pump, replacing the failed starting motor, and soldering a corroding shield wire line on the power cable of the radar.
With light winds at night we can hear the chittering nearby of a sea bird, perhaps a northern fulmar, whose stocky build we have seen in daylight hours. We were visiting again last night by a fur seal who frolicked in the shallow swell, zipping and reeling through the water like a torpedo, sending up a phosphorescent glow, and periodically surfacing and emitting a sharp POOF of air.
At 6/22/2017 and 18:04 UTC (GMT) our position was: 50°57.46'N / 158°30.14'W.
We were traveling 091T degrees true at 3.8 knots.
short-footer
We are now well east of Dutch Harbor and moving towards the Gulf of Alaska with about 878 nm to Sitka Sound. The water temperature has risen a couple of degrees and that's made a big difference in the comfort level in the cabin. It's still chilly but it doesn't feel as much like a walk-in refrigerated steam bath as it did 1000 nm ago.
For a few days we've been dealing with a high pressure system and its light winds. It has been a struggle to keep moving in the right direction sometimes. By this time tomorrow we expect to have better winds, but we will believe that when it happens. Meanwhile, we're dealing with maintaining our little vessel, getting sufficiently rested and well fed, and staying chipper.
On the list were a new V belt for the engine water pump, replacing the failed starting motor, and soldering a corroding shield wire line on the power cable of the radar.
With light winds at night we can hear the chittering nearby of a sea bird, perhaps a northern fulmar, whose stocky build we have seen in daylight hours. We were visiting again last night by a fur seal who frolicked in the shallow swell, zipping and reeling through the water like a torpedo, sending up a phosphorescent glow, and periodically surfacing and emitting a sharp POOF of air.
At 6/22/2017 and 18:04 UTC (GMT) our position was: 50°57.46'N / 158°30.14'W.
We were traveling 091T degrees true at 3.8 knots.
short-footer
Wednesday 14 June 2017
//WL2K - Carina Dispatch - Update - Day 28
Dear Friends;
We continue to make progress though we had a few days stuck in a sunny high pressure system with very little wind resulting in runs less than three figures in 24 hours. We made up for that the following day with the best run of this passage so far: 128 nm. We paid for those miles though; close hauled on a starboard tack, wind gusting over 30 kts, 3+ meter seas, rain and cold, Carina driving through the seas and often falling off the peaks, landing with a gathump that jarred every molecule aboard. An uncomfortable night for sure.
We have seen few vessels on AIS but only one visually as we've mostly been engulfed in fog. This morning we had our first official gale, winds generated by a deep low passing west of us on its way to the Aleutians. The hull temp is 46F. Our GPS says we have less than ~1,650 nm to go but, as all sailors know, it lies.
The Laysan albatrosses are back with us, wheeling across the sky and skimming the waves. We had a couple of days in a row where dolphins and minke or pilot whales visited. Philip muttered "I sure hope he knows what he is doing" when one whale surfaced and blew 20' from Carina's starboard quarter. Eventually, they disappeared and we haven't seem them since. Another surprise visitor was an eared pinniped (fur seal?), ~4' long, that swam up to Carina's side and frolicked around for about an hour. We were shocked to see such an animal so far from shore (we thought they stayed close to land). He obviously wanted to come aboard - he kept rising from the water and examining the deck - but our freeboard was too high and our lifeline netting prevented access. Eventually he too went away.
We have had a few instances of "issues" with which we've had to deal. This is pretty much expected on such a long trip. A few days ago, Leslie was was making routine rounds of the cockpit when she looked down at the paddle of our self-steering Monitor wind vane and exclaimed "Holy #@$&^%! - the hinge pin on the Monitor paddle is about to come out!" So in a flash we took in our genoa and staysail, hove to, removed all the impediments from the stern: sliced the lashings of the half-high Phifertex weathercloths, untied fenders, lifted the Danforth stern anchor inboard, moved throw cushions, etc., in order to gain unimpeded access to the Monitor. Philip reached over the stern on the port side and Leslie snaked her body through the narrow opening on the starboard side, one time thinking she might get swept overboard as Carina rose up and over a 3 meter swell, tilting the stern sharply downward. (She was tethered in so if she'd gone overboard she would have at least still been attached to the boat). Leslie jammed a screwdriver into the hinge assembly to try to align the pin/spring combination which was under pressure. As she would get it aligned in the pitching sea, many times up to her elbows in cold seawater, she'd shout "pound it" (meaning the pin) over the shriek of the wind. Then "stop" as a wave and a twist of Carina's hull sent the whole affair off kilter again. Then jam, align and "pound", again. Philip finally hammered the pin home and Leslie slipped in a cotter pin and after nearly losing cotter pin and screwdriver to waves, secured it by spreading the legs so it would stay in place. Even though we were hove to, waves came crashing up immersing us as we tried to work. Eventually, we got everything secure, though for a seemingly simple job, it took us about an hour. Adrenaline coursed through our veins for hours afterwards. Should we have lost this pin and the hinge, we would have had to bring the paddle aboard, replace the parts with our spares (not an easy task to do even on a calm day in port) and try to align and replace the pin holding the paddle. As Philip said then "I don't even want to think about it". The alternative of course is to hand-steer, which is not an alternative at all. The good news was that we discovered this at 1000 hours local and we had plenty of daylight in which to work. I'm not sure how we would have dealt with it if happened at 0200 on a moonless night. The bad news was that it was blowing 25-30 kts and gusting higher; one of the reasons it took so long to fix.
The day before yesterday, we noticed that the genoa was chafed near the luff about 6' off the deck - from the cockpit Leslie could see daylight through a small area at a crease. Winds were light so we rolled in the sail to the area of chafe, cleaned the cloth with acetone and applied adhesive Dacron on both sides. We will stitch the patch when we reach port.
During our rough night of beating we lost the contents of one of our water jerry cans on the side deck. We still have the can but it's empty. Our watermaker has developed a leak in its cleaning valve, too, so we're being even more cautious about our water supply.
We're still eating well - pasta puttanesca and marinated artichokes for supper, fresh bread in the oven - and sleeping well in our cozy, warm dry bunk. The fresh breezes make it too cold to spend much time in the cockpit despite our thickly layered clothing and we're keeping the cabin warm by keeping the windowed companionway cover in place.
All is well.
Your friends of the yacht Carina,
Philip, Leslie and the spirit of the fat cat, Jake
website: www.sv-carina.org
At 6/14/2017 and 3:34 UTC (GMT) our position was: 43°35.79'N / 174°34.15'W
p.s. PLEASE, if you wish to respond to our emails, DO NOT hit the "reply" button as it sends our original message back to us.
We usually have limited bandwidth that makes it difficult to receive lengthly messages.
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We continue to make progress though we had a few days stuck in a sunny high pressure system with very little wind resulting in runs less than three figures in 24 hours. We made up for that the following day with the best run of this passage so far: 128 nm. We paid for those miles though; close hauled on a starboard tack, wind gusting over 30 kts, 3+ meter seas, rain and cold, Carina driving through the seas and often falling off the peaks, landing with a gathump that jarred every molecule aboard. An uncomfortable night for sure.
We have seen few vessels on AIS but only one visually as we've mostly been engulfed in fog. This morning we had our first official gale, winds generated by a deep low passing west of us on its way to the Aleutians. The hull temp is 46F. Our GPS says we have less than ~1,650 nm to go but, as all sailors know, it lies.
The Laysan albatrosses are back with us, wheeling across the sky and skimming the waves. We had a couple of days in a row where dolphins and minke or pilot whales visited. Philip muttered "I sure hope he knows what he is doing" when one whale surfaced and blew 20' from Carina's starboard quarter. Eventually, they disappeared and we haven't seem them since. Another surprise visitor was an eared pinniped (fur seal?), ~4' long, that swam up to Carina's side and frolicked around for about an hour. We were shocked to see such an animal so far from shore (we thought they stayed close to land). He obviously wanted to come aboard - he kept rising from the water and examining the deck - but our freeboard was too high and our lifeline netting prevented access. Eventually he too went away.
We have had a few instances of "issues" with which we've had to deal. This is pretty much expected on such a long trip. A few days ago, Leslie was was making routine rounds of the cockpit when she looked down at the paddle of our self-steering Monitor wind vane and exclaimed "Holy #@$&^%! - the hinge pin on the Monitor paddle is about to come out!" So in a flash we took in our genoa and staysail, hove to, removed all the impediments from the stern: sliced the lashings of the half-high Phifertex weathercloths, untied fenders, lifted the Danforth stern anchor inboard, moved throw cushions, etc., in order to gain unimpeded access to the Monitor. Philip reached over the stern on the port side and Leslie snaked her body through the narrow opening on the starboard side, one time thinking she might get swept overboard as Carina rose up and over a 3 meter swell, tilting the stern sharply downward. (She was tethered in so if she'd gone overboard she would have at least still been attached to the boat). Leslie jammed a screwdriver into the hinge assembly to try to align the pin/spring combination which was under pressure. As she would get it aligned in the pitching sea, many times up to her elbows in cold seawater, she'd shout "pound it" (meaning the pin) over the shriek of the wind. Then "stop" as a wave and a twist of Carina's hull sent the whole affair off kilter again. Then jam, align and "pound", again. Philip finally hammered the pin home and Leslie slipped in a cotter pin and after nearly losing cotter pin and screwdriver to waves, secured it by spreading the legs so it would stay in place. Even though we were hove to, waves came crashing up immersing us as we tried to work. Eventually, we got everything secure, though for a seemingly simple job, it took us about an hour. Adrenaline coursed through our veins for hours afterwards. Should we have lost this pin and the hinge, we would have had to bring the paddle aboard, replace the parts with our spares (not an easy task to do even on a calm day in port) and try to align and replace the pin holding the paddle. As Philip said then "I don't even want to think about it". The alternative of course is to hand-steer, which is not an alternative at all. The good news was that we discovered this at 1000 hours local and we had plenty of daylight in which to work. I'm not sure how we would have dealt with it if happened at 0200 on a moonless night. The bad news was that it was blowing 25-30 kts and gusting higher; one of the reasons it took so long to fix.
The day before yesterday, we noticed that the genoa was chafed near the luff about 6' off the deck - from the cockpit Leslie could see daylight through a small area at a crease. Winds were light so we rolled in the sail to the area of chafe, cleaned the cloth with acetone and applied adhesive Dacron on both sides. We will stitch the patch when we reach port.
During our rough night of beating we lost the contents of one of our water jerry cans on the side deck. We still have the can but it's empty. Our watermaker has developed a leak in its cleaning valve, too, so we're being even more cautious about our water supply.
We're still eating well - pasta puttanesca and marinated artichokes for supper, fresh bread in the oven - and sleeping well in our cozy, warm dry bunk. The fresh breezes make it too cold to spend much time in the cockpit despite our thickly layered clothing and we're keeping the cabin warm by keeping the windowed companionway cover in place.
All is well.
Your friends of the yacht Carina,
Philip, Leslie and the spirit of the fat cat, Jake
website: www.sv-carina.org
At 6/14/2017 and 3:34 UTC (GMT) our position was: 43°35.79'N / 174°34.15'W
p.s. PLEASE, if you wish to respond to our emails, DO NOT hit the "reply" button as it sends our original message back to us.
We usually have limited bandwidth that makes it difficult to receive lengthly messages.
----------
radio email processed by SailMail
for information see: http://www.sailmail.com
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