We weighed anchor at 0930 hrs. on the 17th April from Academy Bay Santa Cruz
bound for Fatu Hiva, a distance of 2952 nautical miles. Reports on the radio
net, from yachts already on passage, suggested light winds ahead so we decided
to sail south in the hope of picking up the steady SE’lys. However, having
motored all day, we picked up a steady 10-knot breeze in the evening, which
enabled us to average seven knots under plain sail. We had decided that, if
Autohelm and conditions allowed, we
would operate two-hour single man watches. This allowed for four watches of
two hours on and six off, with Moira drawing the ‘short straw’ of
cooking, cleaning, bread making and maintaining discipline over the rest of
the crew. The wind persisted from the SE and the following morning we set the
asymmetric spinnaker, which gave us an extra knot of boat-speed. By the early
evening the wind had increased to 20 knots, which provided exciting sailing
but was beyond the capabilities of the Autohelm and would have been a severe
test for the single-person night watches! We handed the spinnaker and took a
reef in the main, sacrificing speed for a relaxed happy hour and a civilized
dinner around the saloon table.
A major problem of tropical sailing in Excalibur is the lack of a ‘Bimini’.
This is an item of nautical equipment rarely seen on the North East coast of
England, consisting of a canvas-covered framework over the aft end of the cockpit,
which provides the helmsman with some protection from the noonday sun. Without
such protection, the day watches could become something of a trial. We had tried
various arrangements with boathooks, broomsticks and bed-sheets, none of which
provided a permanent
solution. In the Galapagos we managed to track down and purchase a garden umbrella,
this we clamped on the stainless-steel binnacle frame. Although this was hardly
proper equipment for a boat flying the Blue Ensign, it provided useful shade
for the helmsman. The system worked well, provided you remembered to dismantle
it before you gybed!
During the next couple of days we experienced light to moderate SE’lys,
which allowed us to settle down to the routine of ocean passage-making and enabled
Mike Toon time to recover from a stomach bug which was sufficiently serious
to keep him off the beer for two days. Our ‘days runs’ varied between
160 and 175 nm. and the daily radio net indicated that we were beginning to
catch some of the boats, which had started ahead of us. By the 21st the wind
was blowing a steady 20-25 knots and, while this gave good boat-speed of 8.5
to 9knots, the Autohelm was having some difficulty coping with the quartering
seas and we were obliged to revert to two-man night watches. The positive side
of this was that we began posting our first 200+ ‘days runs’.
In spite of a fully operative water-maker, the skipper remained somewhat paranoid
regarding the amount of water being used for showers. This led to the introduction
of the ‘Norman Horsman Prize’ for the person who could shower in the
least amount of water. This led to endless debate as Mike rightly pointed out
that his bulk placed him at a real disadvantage – having the ‘greatest
area to wet’. In true Horsman tradition, this could only be resolved by
the introduction of a handicap system – however, no decision could be made
as we could not agree over the relative merits of a ‘performance’
or a ‘measurement’ system. By the 25th of April, we had reached the
halfway stage and had an extended happy hour in celebration of the event. At
this point the Autohelm was becoming increasingly erratic. It seemed to have
a will of its own, and for no apparent reason it would lock the helm; unless
the watch-keeper could hit the standby button immediately the only way to disengage
the infernal thing was to switch it off at the main instrument panel. As can
be imagined, this added considerable spice to the night watches as, even without
the benefit of the spinnaker, involuntary gybes in big seas at 2am did little
for the confidence of the watch-keeper. In fact the night watches were increasingly
eventful as, for two nights running, we experienced close encounters with large
fishing boats. This was a
quite unnerving experience as no matter what evasive action was taken they simply
steered directly towards us. When they got to about 100 metres they blinded
us with a massive searchlight – and I mean us, as by then everyone was
on deck clearing away the life raft and loading the very pistol.
The Autohelm continued to cause problems as can be seen from this extract from the narrative log for 30/04/01…
“0900: Hoisted spinnaker. Full main in 15/20knots from E. sat phone contact re-established. Regular Autohelm malfunction. Bloody nuisance.”
By noon on May 1st. we had 366 miles to reach our landfall in Fatu Hiva. We
were determined to make our land fall on the 3rd as this would give us a sixteen
day passage and, what is more important, it would give a landfall on the skipper’s
birthday. As usual, at this point the wind began to fall light and a daylight
arrival on the third was looking increasingly unlikely. By happy hour we decided
that the only chance of making our deadline was to carry the spinnaker all night
and revert to two-man
watches.
This we did for two nights, ‘though on the second night we chose to hand
the spinnaker in the early hours as, with the sea rising and the wind gusting
over 30 knots, it was decided we could make it quite comfortably and more safely
with a poled out genoa!
Land was sighted appropriately by the lynx-eyed Moira at 0915 on the third of
May, and the following log reading brought the passage to an end…
“1400: Anchored Hanavave Bay Fatu Hiva. Stunning landfall and anchorage. Smoked salmon and Glenlivet for lunch”
Overall, we had a fast, and largely uneventful passage. We averaged 7.56 knots,
never had the wind forward of the beam and, with the exception of the first
day, and never needed the engine. A notable failure was our inability to catch
any fish. In spite of investing in all the best equipment – rods, rod holders,
reels, wire traces and a variety of lures – we only had three ‘strikes’
the whole trip and on each occasion ‘the big one got away’. All the
other boats on the radio net were reporting regular catches of
Marlin, Tuna, Kingfish and Wahoo; we consoled ourselves with the thought that
we must have been sailing too fast for the fish!