MysticSail.com

Despite our team of weather forcasters, gulf stream experts and seasoned salts guiding our passage, we just took a beat-down from an angry Atlantic.
Our trip started Thursday benign with light winds pushing us out to sea. It was a great feeling to leave Newport, RI, after being there for much longer than we had anticipated. By nightfall we had lost most of the breeze so we fired up the engines and motored through the night. Led by a playful school of dolphins dancing with our hull, lighting phosphorescent plankton, we had the beginnings of a great trip. All went well through the night with no issues, so when dawn broke we were in good spirits.

The sunrise on Friday morning couldn’t have been more beautiful with shades of amber contrasting the blue seas that surrounded us on all sides. Perhaps we put too much trust in our team of meteorlogical experts because we expected perfect sailing conditions. So confident were we that we ignored the warning sign that dawn’s light revealed. A time tested sea-salt will quote the saying ” Red sky in the morning, sailor take warning”. We should’ve taken heed of that saying because later that day, the fury of the North Atlantic showed us how predictable she can be.

Just after sunrise, we let our sails give the engines a rest. We sailed comfortably for awhile before it became apparent that we needed to reef and de-power this incredibly powerful ship. The seas picked up and the wind continued to build which forced us to reef again. By this time our poor mascot, P-kitty the cat, had begun to “howl” indicating his inevitable bout with sea-sickness. Not long after his horrific, death meow-howl began, the poor little guy blew his lunch. Since I was the only one not busy on deck, I was nominated for the puke-pickup. Going below to remove P-kitty’s partially digested food in a stew of bile and acid was all it took to send me over the edge. Not long after the cat vocalized his intentions to barf, I was too letting chunks fly. It was a downhill spiral that rendered me useless for most of the day. That is until adrenaline forced me into action.
By afternoon, we were in sustained 40-50 knot winds with 8-10 seas molesting our ship. It sounded awful from inside, waves slamming our hull from below causing the table to spasm to the point where I thought it would come apart. Then, just as Ty and I thought we could take a moment to rest…. slap slap slappidy- our screecher sail had come unfurled. We sprang to action, to secure the sail before we lost it to the fury of the ocean. That was no easy task, but at least I wasn’t sick thanx to the surging, fight or flight hormone adrenaline. Using every thread of muscle fiber we had, Ty and I managed to get the sail down and stowed. It took good maneuvering from Kyber to get us downhill, surfing the waves so that the sail would be manageable. The seas were churning below us as we worked on the trampoline totally exposed to the surging waves. Had we not been secured by our safety harnesses, I might not be here to tell our tale… seriously.

Once the sail and halyard was secured, I was free to resume my bout with gut-wrenching sickness. Ty and Kyber proceeded to go bare-pole so that we could use our engines to power through the remainder of this “unforcasted” storm. By night-fall we were in relatively safe seas and could get some much needed rest.

Saturday came with mild winds and small waves. We had to make the call to head back to mainland since it was closer than Bermuda which was roughly 500 miles away. So we set a course for the Chesapeake Bay so that we could make repairs in Hampton VA. About 40 miles out our port engine began to sputter and eventually died. We were sure that our tanks still had fuel in them so we changed the fuel filter thinking that it was clogged and was cutting off the supply to the engine. While working to to change the filter and struggling to get the engine started, the unthinkable happened; the starboard engine sputtered and quit. So there we were 15 miles out with no engines and light wind to power damaged sails. No bueno. So we alerted the coast guard of our position so that we could get in contact with a tow service in case we couldn’t remedy the situation. Here’s the part that gets embarrassing, ( not for me or Ty because we had both mentioned the fact that we could be out of gas long before). But as it turned out, we were in fact out of gas. So once we refilled using the spare tanks we had filled before leaving Newport, we were back in back on track. Up until then we could only guess the amount of fuel in our tanks because our fuel gauge was inoperable. Since the broker who sold Kyber the boat had told us the tanks hold 80 gallons, we were astonished to discover the reality of our 50 gallon capacity.

So now we’re docked at the Hampton Yacht Club for about a week or so. Who knows though, if it’s anything like our delay in Newport, we could be here to ring in 2008…. lets hope the southerners are half as cool as the great people we met in Rhode Island.