To
all CYC members and friends at the Constitution Marina
The
following letters were received by email from our resident author:
Webb Chiles (the first American to solo around Cape Horn). He and his
wife Carol have lived aboard on G-dock for the last four years or so and have
finally been able to cut their ties and begin a circumnavigation of the earth. I
received permission to reprint for the Constitution gang. Also, please see his
book, "A Single Wave" at bookstores now.
To email Webb
click
here
Click here to view Webb's Photo Gallery
Even better, click here to visit Webb's own website
Cruising Program Home Last updated:September 30, 2007
February 13, 2007
Hello, Bob,
As you may know from
www.inthepresentsea.com I am back in Evanston, having lost 80şF between New
Zealand and here. It is snowing outside at present, but not quite as cold as it
has been. I walked down to Lake Michigan the other day and was surprised that
it wasn't frozen.
During my last three months on the boat, I did some sailing and a lot of work,
including painting the topsides. The last time I did that was out near the end
of G Dock at Constitution Marina nine years ago, actually ten now that we're in
2007. International Paints no longer makes teal, the color I used last time, so
THE HAWKE OF TUONELA is now 'sea green', which I don't like as much but is
satisfactory. Painting the boat in the water was easier in some ways than in the
boat yard, particularly the prep work where I could sit on the dock to sand the
hull, rather than have to stand on laddders or scaffolding; though obviously it
was easier to work around the waterline on land; and to do the actual painting.
While I continue to love where I have been keeping the boat in New Zealand,
increasingly I miss the open ocean and expect that I will set off again at least
part way around the world next year.
All the best to all of you back there,
Webb
Top
March 28, 2006
Hello, Bob,
Good
to hear from you. I'm writing from THE HAWKE OF TUONELA on her mooring in
As some of you may know,
Carol changed jobs last year, which required a move to
After I sailed back to
There are three articles
coming up in CRUISING WORLD about my sailing last year. A couple of them are
scheduled, I think, around June or July. It must be about time for the shrink
wrap to come off.
Webb
November 12, 2004
Bob,
I'm attaching three photos. One is of HAWKE on her very own mooring here at Opua in the Bay of Islands. I bought it from the marina, and while both boat and I have to leave the country at intervals, I do like the place as a base. Leaving is not exactly a chore, as Tonga, Fiji and Australia are all only about 9 or 10 days' sail away.
The mooring is not quite as isolated as it seems from the photos, which is looking east. There are two or three hundred boats at moorings on in the marina within a few hundred yards to the west.
One of the other photos show HAWKE at anchor last week at an island a few miles from here.
And the last was taken inside the lagoon at Bora-Bora. While you can't see it, the boat is outside the reef. The island in the distance is Maupiti.
I will be flying back to Boston in a week. In fact I bought the mooring because it cost only a few hundred dollars more than it would have to store the boat ashore for three or four months.
Your members might be interested in knowing that my newest book, RETURN TO THE SEA, is out. Any book store can get it, as well as Amazon.com and from the publisher, www.sheridanhouse.com. There is a chapter on living at Constitution Marina which tells everyone's darkest secrets. A must read.
My last email was written not long after I arrived when the Red Sox were down 0-3 games to the Yankees. I must admit that I gave up on the team. Very glad I was wrong. While baseball is not a big game here, the Red Sox comeback and finally winning the series got unusual attention. Sorry I wasn't there for it.
New Zealand is getting into spring. I'm trading shorts and t-shirt for Polartec in a week.
All the best - Webb
October 18, 2004 -Opua, New Zealand
Have you heard the one
about the man who goes into a Tahitian yacht broker’s office and says, “I want
to sell my boat.”
“Oui, monsieur. How much do you want for it?”
“$1.00.”
Well, it didn’t quite happen, but almost.
In early September Carol and I flew to Tahiti, where I had left THE HAWKE OF TUONELA. We found the boat full of mold and spiders. Along with various other mostly minor, but depressing problems that occur on an unused boat, including a frozen engine control shift lever. We attacked the mold and spiders, threw away some books and a mattress cover that were beyond redemption, and I disconnected the engine shift cable, which enabled me to shift by going below decks and moving the lever on the engine itself by hand. Not entirely satisfactory, but better than waiting for a French mechanic who never showed up. On the third day, we left.
Because memory reduces pain, I almost forgot that the boat was in a tiny marina about 20’ from a restaurant that had live music blasting out each night until 3:00 a.m. Able to control the throttle from the cockpit, the engine gave us no further problems, although it did eventually contribute to a change in my plans. Until I took Carol into Papeete on Le Truck, having anchored off the Marina Taina where I had been earlier in the year, I don’t think I fully realized how unattractive and uninteresting the town has become. We were going to walk around and look at the sights and I realized there aren’t any. It is just a place to get paperwork done and use the Internet. We left quickly and went over to Moorea and then up to Bora-Bora, with a two night stay at Raiatea.
There are still anchorages at these islands which are as beautiful as any in the world. We spent time at one of my favorites on the reef at Moorea and found ones new to me at Raiatea and Bora-Bora. We are talking about perfection here if you are looking for clear warm water, fine snorkeling, spectacular landscape. At Bora-Bora the anchorage was in about 20’ of water just inside the pass and west of a small island, Topua, inside the reef.
When after a few days there we powered the mile across the lagoon to Bora-Bora itself, we found the Bora-Bora Yacht Club occupied by a ratty looking, unpleasant American who said the place was closed due to the deaths of two of the owners, and refused us any services or even to remain on one of the vacant moorings. The only alternative to anchoring in 80’-90’ of water was to go three miles away to a restaurant, Bloody Mary’s, which has 7 first-come first-serve moorings. While they would like you to use their restaurant, which we did twice, the man there, a Canadian, was friendly and generous about letting us get water, dispose of trash, and use the moorings for more than one night. The problem is that the place is a three mile walk back to the main village of Viatape, while the Yacht Club is less than a mile. We walked it once, but then either took a taxi--$15 for three miles—or caught one of the infrequent Le Trucks. While almost everything in Bora-Bora is even more expensive than in Tahiti, Bloody Mary’s is not. Dinner there, which was seafood and outstanding, cost the two of us about what it would have at Legal Sea Foods in Boston, and had a somewhat more pleasant ambiance. One more comment about prices. Bora-Bora has one Internet café. It is by far the most expensive I have yet to find in the world: $24 US per hour, far surpassing the former champion, Tahiti, at $11. We used it for four minutes.
Carol flew out on Saturday, Sept. 25. I had planned to return to New Zealand via Tonga, but decided to sail directly back to New Zealand. I was looking forward to some good trade-wind sailing, but it didn’t happen. For the first week I did not have a single five-knot average day, despite setting a cruising spinnaker much of the time. Then as we oozed southwest, we had four 150 mile days of fine sailing; and then we beat the last 600 or 700 miles against strong west and southwest wind, twice reaching gale force. In May going from New Zealand to Tahiti we had less than 12 hours of wind from the western half of the compass. I expected some headwinds, but not solid for a week.
I’m not sure what the answer to beating against a gale in a boat like THE HAWKE OF TUONELA is. As did EGREGIOUS and RESURGAM, the boat will carry sail and point high, and she will also start leaping off waves and landing with unearthly crashes. This is not acceptable. It interrupts my sleep and causes me to spill wine. It is also probably not good for the boat. So I reduce sail until the crashing stops, trying to find a balance between destruction and making some progress. This usually ends up with the boat making about 5 knots good. Temperatures dropped as I moved closer to New Zealand, ending up in the 50ties at night and low 60ties during the day. Clothes, foul weather gear, and sleeping bag got progressively damper and clammier. Also water found its way into previously unexplored regions and dampened some more books.
Landfall itself was splendid, a clearing day after a gale. I was up not long after midnight the last night shaking reefs out of the main and unfurling the jib, until by 4:00 we were under full sail for the first time in a long time. Then the wind died completely and I said the hell with it and turned on the engine. The equation was simple: maintain 5 knots on the rhumb line or screw around another night at sea. I was not looking forward to the wet sleeping bag, so I powered the last 50 miles, across what became glassy seas and a sky clearing from the west. Cape Brett, the southern entrance to the Bay of Islands, was green and lovely, and as we neared there were flocks of gannets diving and a flotilla of small penguins bobbing around. We got to the Quarantine Dock at 4:30 in the afternoon. My 11 year old handheld VHF has died, so I couldn’t call ahead and would have been happy to spend the night there, but the officials saw my Q flag and came down, cleared me quickly, helped cast off my lines and I went out to a mooring I had reserved by email.
Once on the mooring the stillness and motionless were exquisite. I have now been here two nights. Last night the temperature was down to 45°F. Sunny this morning. I’m still tired and still waking up in the middle of the night although no sail changes are necessary.
I really like it here. It almost seems like coming home. I have some drying out to do; a lot of laundry; an engine control to find and install; and preparations to make about storing the boat and flying back to enjoy winter in Boston. I should also spend about a month working on boat maintenance and would like to spend a month cruising the coast. I just don’t know how or when.
There are worse problems to have, and all will presumably be solved in time. Except for the Red Sox. (For those of you in Australia this is a reference to Boston’s baseball team who are about to lose to the New York Yankees once again.)
May 23, 2004 - from Tahiti
About four out of five times, the computers at the Internet connection here in Papeete delete my emails instead of sending them. This is, to put it mildly, frustrating, so I am going to try to send the following en masse. If you write back, I will be able to read your email, but may not reply until I am back in Boston in a little over three weeks.
Webb
THE HAWKE OF TUONELA is sublimely anchored inside the lagoon near the northeast corner of Tahiti. 40’ of clear, warm water; the sound and curl of surf on the reef a quarter mile to the west, with the craggy, otherworldly silhouette of Moorea seven miles beyond; the green slopes of Tahiti itself to the east. And at the beginning of Tahiti’s dryer winter, so far perfect weather, with afternoon temperatures about 88°F/31°C, but cooling off nicely at sunset.
I arrived four days ago after an odd passage from New Zealand, which saw some absolutely perfect sailing, but also saw no wind from the western half of the compass and no wind for us aft of the beam. For more than the last half of the distance, 12 days and 1200 rhumb line miles we were closehauled. Even some of this was pleasant. Sailing a boot like THE HAWKE OF TUONELA to windward in 10-12 knots of true wind and smooth warm seas is fine. But unfortunately four days were in a storm with mostly 20-30 knots on the nose, rising for six hours to 40-50 on the nose, which was not so fine. In the lower range of wind I tried to ease the boat off the waves. During the 40-50 knot hours I was down to fully reefed mainsail alone, just tying not to lose hard gained miles while avoiding damage. We were sort of close-reaching at 2-3 knots. I didn’t think the strong wind would last and am grateful it didn’t.
Quite often, even usually, when the wind is aft I sail under the jib or cruising spinnaker alone. This is the only passage in a long time that I can recall where the main—or at least part of it—was set the entire time.
After some good sailing following the storm, the very last day at sea was rough, with the wind again rising to 20-25 knots; and most of the last night was horrible, with the boat pounding, being pounded, and leaping off waves. Mid-passage I would have eased off; but I wanted to enter port at dawn for reasons that later proved invalid, and so, with a single reef in the main and a deeply furled jib, kept the boat at it, until relief came at 0300 when we finally got to the lee of 7,000’ Tahiti.
I powered the last 10 miles as dawn came up over Tahiti and Moorea, preparing the boat to anchor Med-style off the Protestant church just west of the center of Papeete as I have on five previous visits. Some boats like to tie up at the quay in the city, also med-style, but I never have. Traffic rushes past about 10’ from your bow or stern.
Getting the boat situated can be difficult, even impossible, once the wind comes up at about 1100, blowing hard on your beam as you try to maneuver. The anchor goes down in 50’ of water and the stern lines often have to reach more than 100’. Having arrived alone on four of my five previous visits, I have been fortunate to have sailors from other boats come out and take my stern lines ashore while I played out the anchor. Fortunately THE HAWKE OF TUONELA is the best boat I have owned as far as handling well in reverse.
For this, I dragged out all my fenders and old lengths of line, several of which I tied together to make 150’ shore lines, and even pumped up the dinghy. One of the new regulations I had heard of is that you are expected to call the Port Captain to request permission to enter or leave the harbor. This I tried to do twice on my handheld VHF on channel 16. No one answered so I went in. I found later that they monitor Channel 12.
From a distance Papeete didn’t look much different; but once in the harbor all was changed. The waterfront is being completely redeveloped, and there were almost no sailboats in sight. Bulldozers were doing something along landfill in front of the Protestant church; other construction equipment was working around a new convex curved quay. I continued toward the center of the city, where I found just 7 boats. It was only 0800. No people were visible on any of them. After circling for a while, calling the port captain again unsuccessfully on the VHF, I went over and side-tied to the new quay, where there were no other boats.
Walking back a hundred yards, I found some people stirring on an American yacht with a home port in Montana, who had just arrived the day before from the Tuamotus. They told me where to find the officials, which I did and cleared in without difficulty, although I was told I couldn’t stay side-tied where I was because other boats that might come in would follow my example. By this time the wind had come up, so I took the other choice and powered five miles inside the lagoon to our present location. I have anchored over here before, and prefer it to Papeete itself, though it would have been convenient to stay there for two or three days. It is easy enough to catch local transportation, called Le Truck, back to the town at a cost of $1.30 each way.
While it is early in the season, still I am amazed by how few cruising boats are here. In Papeete in the past there have usually been more than 100. In my immediate vicinity there are 12 other boats, most of which are local. And there are about that many more spread out a half mile north of us. Ashore there is a 300 boat marina filled with local boats. There is a dock to tie up the dinghy and get water and get rid of trash, but no laundry. A hypermarket is located a quarter mile away.
My routine has been to go ashore and ride into Papeete to use the Internet and try to make travel arrangements in the morning, then ride back around noon, work on cleaning up the boat some in the afternoon. I am glad to have two small battery operated fans to cool the cabin. In mid-afternoon I go for a swim, snorkeling over to some coral a hundred yards away, then shower from the solar shower bag, which tends to get too hot. I have a drink on deck, watching the sunset over Moorea. Also just now Orion, Venus and the first sliver of the moon. After dark if I look over my shoulder I see the Southern Cross lined up with the Milky Way.
While ashore Tahiti has become congested and lost some of its charm—what was a two-lane road to Papeete is now a four-lane divided highway with roundabouts, overpasses, and too many French drivers--the view from the lagoon is still one of the most beautiful in the world, and I find myself sitting on deck in the darkness smiling.
And even with some good sailing, being heeled over and having to plan every movement, braced with hand, foot, shoulder or hip, gets tiring. It is splendid just to be on an even keel again.
The plan is that I will leave all this beauty for the, of course, equal beauty of Boston, in a few weeks. I have made arrangements—or so I think—to have the boat hauled out and stored at a new facility about 20 miles south of here on June 16. I will fly out on June 18. I’ll return on Sept 2. Carol will come out then for 3 weeks. We’ll sail as far as Bora-Bora—about 150 miles west—where she will fly back; and I’ll continue to Tonga and probably to New Zealand by November.
Today I have to show my airline ticket to the Immigration officials—since about the mid-1980ties you have either had to have an airline ticket out or post a bond equivalent to the fare—and pick up my laundry. In a day or two I will daysail over to Moorea, where I have a favorite anchorage near the entrance to one of the passes, and then I’ll go on down to where the boat is to be hauled, just to be sure that the people there and I truly have a common understanding.
One thing that has not changed about Tahiti is that it is expensive. Very expensive. Knowing this, I provisioned well before arriving. However I am running out of wine. A routine bottle of wine here costs about $30 in the hypermarket. A good bottle costs $60+. So I bought a boxed wine from Spain for $20. Its name is suspiciously similar to Pennzoil. However it does taste better. Or so I suppose, not having ever actually drunk Pennzoil. Until now. The box does guarantee the wine for 3,000 miles.
Cheers - Webb.
March 22, 2004
After almost five months on the hard at Ashby’s boat yard in New Zealand’s Bay of Islands, THE HAWKE OF TUONELA is back on the water, which is absolutely wonderful. Ashby’s is about as clean and convenient as any boat yard, but life lived climbing up a ladder is not satisfactory. Fortunately I was not aboard most of the time, while THE HAWKE OF TUONELA’s bottom was drying out from osmosis. But I was aboard for the last month, during which workmen recovered the peeled bottom with fiberglass, vinylester resin, and fairing. When they finished, I rolled on five coats of epoxy and three of antifouling paint. The topsides also need painting, but enough is enough.
During the long haul-out I fixed, replaced and installed several things, including a new wireless, mostly solar powered instrument system made by Tack Tick in England, and THE HAWKE OF TUONELA is essentially back to 100% for the first time since leaving Cape Town a year and a half ago. The instrument system is pretty impressive. Being wireless, the displays are sealed, watertight and easily moved from place to place by clipping them in and out of simple brackets. They can even be stuck in a big pocket, such as the pouch on a foul weather parka, and carried around with you. Installation was easy, now I just hope they are as durable as promised.
While parts of New Zealand further south had damaging rains and floods, the Bay of Island had the best summer in many years according to locals, and the fine weather is thus far continuing into fall. Sunny, light winds, temperatures about 22°C/72°F. I am presently on a mooring off the two year old marina here at Opua at the south end of the bay, but just came back from being anchored off Russell a few miles north. Both are pretty spots, surrounded by New Zealand’s ubiquitous green rolling hills. Russell is more exposed to westerlies, but more convenient with restaurants and grocery stores, though it lacks a source for boats for fresh water and showers ashore.
I was surprised to realize in Russell that this was the first time I had been anchored since Brazil two years ago. In the past I have spent most of my time at anchor, but I was at yacht club docks in both Cape Town and Fremantle, on a mooring in Sydney, and in the marina briefly, then the boat yard and a mooring here. I am pleased to report that the anchor still works.
Carol is due to fly out for two weeks in mid-April, following which I will sail to Tahiti and then turn back west to Tonga and probably return to New Zealand in October. I’m looking forward to getting to sea again, having made only the single passage from Sydney across the Tasman in the past year. I just received an order of 100 freeze dry meals from a New Zealand firm and took an inventory and discovered that I now have 180 meals aboard. So I better sail somewhere soon. Tahiti is about 2600 miles east/northeast, and should take about three weeks. There are a few islands where I might stop during the last few hundred miles, but I don’t know that I will. I think I have enough food.
Webb
September 28, 2003
Dear CYC,
Thought you might be interested in the following update. Can't say how much I
am looking forward to
being back in Boston for winter.
All the best,
Webb
I
am presently tied up to a new marina in Opua, New Zealand, having
arrived a couple of days ago after a
nine day passage from Sydney. I’ve cleared into the country in Opua a couple of
times in the past. You used to have to tie up to an old rough wood pier that
was not yacht friendly. Now you tie up to the outer floating breakwater to the
marina, with lots of space and room to maneuver, despite at times strong tidal
current. I had called on my handheld VHF as I entered the Bay of Islands, ten
miles from here, and the officials were waiting for me when I arrived two hours
later. They even took my lines and, being Kiwis, tied them properly. The entry
was quick and painless. One of the trends I have noticed over the years is that
New Zealand has made it increasingly easy for foreign yachts. They now include
a form for you to show anyone you buy something for the boat or have work done,
such as sail repairs or boat yard haulouts, so you don’t have to pay the GST,
which is very nearly impossible to reclaim in Australia. New Zealand wants your
business.
It is probably against some cosmic law to sail to New Zealand without having a
gale, but I pretty much did. I did have gale force winds a couple of
times, but only just barely and they were behind me and only provided good, if
rough sailing.
I left Sydney with a nearly record
shattering low south of Tasmania. It had been sitting there for a while and was
providing strong west winds across the Tasman from Sydney. It was at 942
millibars, which is about 27.4 inches. This is lower than the wildest dreams
of most hurricanes. For my first two days out of Sydney Australian coastal and
high seas weather
forecasts were horror stories, with gale and storm warnings from 16 miles south
of Sydney all the way to Adelaide, 50-60 knot winds, 20-30’ seas. So I stopped
listening to them.
I was halfway across the Tasman, sailing under just a deeply furled jib, before
the low finally moved, as it was expected to, off to the southeast. If it had
come north I might have had some new experiences that I do not need.
While the wind moved from south to north a few times, it stayed on or behind the
beam, except for one day of about twenty knot close reaching. We had no head
winds and no calms except for four hours off North Cape, which is the northeast
corner of New Zealand’s North Island, the last full day at sea, and no breakage
except for the coupling on the Monitor servo-rudder the first night and a
grommet that pulled out of a lee cloth.
This is the second time the breakaway coupling has broken away. The last being
on the passage from Cape Town to Fremantle a year ago. It is not possible to
overstate how unpleasant, difficult and dangerous it is to replace this coupling
at sea. This time I did it in an hour and a half of hanging arms and shoulders
over the stern, while waves rose and fell and tried to rip the servo rudder from
one hand while I tried to line up a pin through four moving parts in the other
and then keep it in place while I threaded a split ring through the pin’s end.
Last year it took me five hours, counting breaks to regain strength and
concentration for further attempts. But then last year it was blowing 50+ knots
and this year only about 30.
I had trouble with breakaway couplings on the Aries vane during my first
circumnavigation and think they are more of a problem than the problem they are
intended to solve. The likelihood of hitting something with the servo rudder on
the vane is remote. It is protected by a much deeper spade rudder just in
front of it and an even deeper fin keel. While the likelihood of the coupling,
which is intentionally a weak link, breaking just through stress is obviously
high. On the Aries I eventually had an unbreakable coupling made and think I
will for the Monitor too when I can find a machinist.
This was my first paperless passage. I now have electronic charts in the
computer, as well as the Simrad chartplotter, and didn’t even take the paper
charts from stowage.
It is very good to be here. I am a month ahead of the crowd, which will be
arriving en masse from the islands in November. This is my fifth or sixth time
sailing to the country. As I rounded North Cape I recalled seeing it in
EGREGIOUS almost thirty years ago. Although THE HAWKE OF TUONELA is a similar
boat, the contrast could hardly have been greater. On the nearly sinking
EGREGIOUS I was at the end of a passage twenty times longer—20,000 miles versus
1,000—and twenty times as long—five months versus one week.
When the next morning I rounded Cape Wiwiki, which is the northern side of the
nine mile wide entrance to the Bay of Islands, the sun broke through a gray dawn
and brightened emerald hills, rocky headlands, fir tree covered islands. This
is a very beautiful place.
I was the only boat underway across the Bay. In another month there will be
dozens, and over Christmas, when half the boats in Auckland come up here,
hundreds.
For myself to avoid the crowds and because I so love Boston winters, I will be
flying back there to enjoy the snow for a few months. I need to leave the boat
out of the water to dry the bottom, which has osmosis, and need to do the final
rewrite of a book manuscript that is due by the end of this year to be published
next fall as RETURN TO THE SEA.
I’ll probably spend October cruising around some of my favorite coves, of which
there are many nearby, then haul the boat in November and fly back then. Who
would want to be in New Zealand in summer when they could be in Boston in
winter?
February 13, 2003
I'm in Sydney, in a slip at the Cruising Yacht Club, which runs the Sydney-Hobart Race, having completed a routine passage from Fremantle and my fourth circumnavigation yesterday.
Sydney is as fine as my memories of it. The only problem is that so far there is no room in the inn. My slip is available only for a few days and I have yet to find an alternative. There is a designated anchorage in the harbor, but it is not very conveniently located. I may have to move over there in a day or two anyway while I search for a mooring or slip.
It took 23 days to cover the 2300 rhumb line distance from Fremantle. By the chart plotter log, we actually sailed 2600 miles and have now done just under 20,000 miles since leaving Boston.
The parts of the passage I thought might be problems-getting the 200 miles back south from Fremantle around Cape Leeuwin, crossing the Great Australian Bight where there is usually a big high with adverse or no wind, and an area in Bass Strait between Promontory Point, the southernmost point of the Australian Mainland and Flinders Island off Tasmania which is strew with half-awash rocks and small islands complicated by strong currents-all passed easily.
I did have to beat south from Fremantle, but against less than 20 knots, and a predicted southerly change the third day out got me around the corner.
All the way across the Bight I had winds on or behind the beam and was not becalmed. I had even considered in the event of strong easterlies or calms to go south of Tasmania. I did dip down into the 40ties, but they were not roaring. A couple of fronts passed with what might have been low gale force winds, but they were astern and provided our best days' sailing. My wind instruments are still not working, so I can only estimate wind strength.
And, after powering for a few hours in flat calm in Bass Strait, the wind blew about 20 knots from the west which enabled me to get through the Bass Strait obstacle course in daylight and with a single jibe. With GPS, it would not have been a problem even at night, but in the old days-which means only twenty years ago when I still used a sextant-it would have been exciting. I passed .8 of a nautical mile from isolated rocks well out in the strait that were themselves invisible except for the waves breaking on them. I'm sure a number of ships found them with their keels.
The last three hundred miles coming north up the New South Wales Coast were the slowest, with 20 knot headwinds, an adverse current, and intermittent calms. But these were to be expected. There was also a considerable amount of shipping, which I tried to avoid by keeping well offshore, but one ship one night came very close. Either he was on autopilot and no one was keeping watch or, and for some reason I feel this is the case, he deliberately came as close as possible. My radar guard zone warned me when he was six miles distant and even though I tacked away my five knot speed was not enough to keep him from passing within a hundred yards. I cannot be certain but I think he altered course when I did. Way, way too close. I thought bad thoughts about "professional" seamen, opened a can of Emu Bitter-a West Australian beer, and then went back to sleep.
It took me two days to make the last 100 miles to Sydney. On the final sunset I was only 30 miles south and tacked offshore, planning to tack back in at 0200. At 0100 the wind dropped, then veered south, when I no longer needed it from that direction, and I headed in. A couple of ships were making big circles offshore, waiting to enter port, so I stayed awake and was off Sydney Heads at dawn. By that time I was powering slowly. I think my prop must be foul and will have to dive to clean it. Maybe today. As we passed through the waypoint I put into the chart plotter three years ago in Boston, when it was 10,000 nautical miles away, I cut the engine back to low
speed and played Sibelieus' "The Swan of Tuonela", which partially gives HAWKE her name, on the cockpit speakers, patted the deck and said, "Hawkey, they're playing our song." A fourth circumnavigation is of course an arbitrary goal, but it did bring a smile to my face.
Being early on a weekday, the harbor was quiet, with only a single sailboat heading out under power, a couple of ships in motion, and the ubiquitous ferry boats. It is a wonderful harbor. If it is not the best in the world, I don't know what is. Now if I can just find a place to stay all will be well.
26 November 2002
I am in Fremantle after a 5 ˝ week, 5,000 mile passage that was the hardest I’ve made in the more than twenty years. Seven or eight gales, five of them in one 15 day stretch, 2 with winds over 60 knots, 2 over 50 knots, 1 in the 40ties; and then a wave threw us over far enough so that the masthead went in the water and ripped everything up there off, so I didn’t have to read such annoying numbers anymore. For a while there was so much water coming in around the companionway, that I wore foul weather gear inside the cabin, even with the companionway closed.
I was just barely in the 40ties for most of this, and finally decided I had to move back north to about 37°S, where I only had one more gale, although I did have strong headwinds for the last 400 miles into Fremantle.
The list of things broken or damaged is more than 30, but only a few are critical: a minor sail repair; two new batteries; a new Windex and masthead light; and a mechanic to check out an alarm on the engine. Structurally the old hull and the new rig held up well.
The batteries were new earlier this year in Cape Town, but, although they were securely tied and held in place by wooden wedges and did not move in any of the numerous knockdowns, have failed. Presumably something inside them cracked.
The engine is running perfectly, but the overheating alarm goes off when it starts up and never stops. Lots of water in the cockpit has presumably shorted it out. Some of my aging instrument system has failed, in addition to the wind information, but I still have depth, and may not do anything about the rest until Sydney, when I may replace the entire system. One irony is that I had just installed an extremely expensive—about $300—LED in the masthead running light. It has almost no power drain and lasts 100,000 hours. They still owe me about 99,900. But I doubt that having the whole thing torn off comes under warranty.
Fremantle is pleasant, but not exceptional, particularly after Cape Town. So far it has has been sunny, but not hot. The Fremantle Doctor blows hard every afternoon and is unexpected a cool wind. Almost too cool.
On arrival I had the worst Customs inspection ever. Period. I expect that they had nothing to do and used me as a training exercise. Other than one man who was an unpleasant fool, they were all nice and polite. But they ran a dog all over the boat, and then had six people drag everything movable from bow to stern onto the dock and went through everything. They even sent the packed life raft to be x-rayed. It was outrageous. They tried to put everything back in place, but of course didn’t. I am still reaching for things and not finding them where they out to be. In the end they thanked me for my patience.
3 October 2001
Although I will not be able to send this until Gibraltar, which hopefully we will reach sometime next week, I am writing at anchor between Ayamonte, Spain, and Villa Real, Portugal, at the mouth of the Guadiana River.
This is the second successive rainy Friday we have spent here. I really should not complain because these have been the only really rainy days since we reached the Azores more than three months ago, but I’d like to get the last 120 miles to Gibraltar done, and this is a lazy, slow moving low.
In between these Fridays, we went twenty miles up the Guadiana to one of the nicest places I have ever been, a stretch of the river perhaps two hundred yards wide with two small villages, Alcoutim, Portugal and Sanlucar, Spain facing one another. Both have a dock to which one can tie for a nominal charge of less than $3 a day at Alcoutim, including electricity and water, and there are seven free moorings, one of which we picked up.
Both villages are built on hills, both with white washed, red tile roofed houses, both with Moorish forts, and inexpensive restaurants.
While the river is tidal even that far up and the midtidal currents strong, we could easily row to the country of our choice. We ate ashore in Alcoutim, but the grocery shopping was better in Sanlucar. It was one of those places where I got up every morning and went to the companionway to see if it was really as pretty as I remembered, and so serene that we almost felt guilty at being there in this troubled world.
We arrived at the big 1000 boat marina in Vilamoura, Portugal, at midday local time on Sept. 11, and an hour or two later happened to see people standing around a television in a café. This was about an hour after the planes hit the World Trade Center. Portuguese television ran CNN broadcasts live. We have a multisystem TV on the boat and so were able to see the news as it was happening.
We were the only American yacht on the dock where most of the boats in transit were situated. Several people, including Germans and British and Portuguese, expressed their sympathy to us. This was the first time that as an American I have been an object of pity.
Even in Alcoutim, while eating lunch in a restaurant where the television was on but being ignored, we noticed how when the midday news came on everyone, including a table of Portuguese workmen, stopped eating and waited for the headlines. Only when there was no news of a retaliatory strike or another terrorist attack did people return to their food.
For us there is a question about stopping in Dakar, Senegal, on the way to Rio. The reasons we have thought of doing so are to break the 4200 mile passage into legs of 1500 and 2700 miles; and to get visas at the Brazilian consulate there. As well, to a lesser degree, to see briefly a different part of the world and human condition. We can get visas in Portugal, but they have to be used within 60 days of being issued, which considering the uncertainties of weather, pretty much means a nonstop passage. I suppose we will decide depending on the world situation when we are ready to leave Gibraltar.
Carol is due to fly from Gibraltar to Boston in mid-October to attend the opening of her last big project, a medical research facility for U. Mass, at the expense of her former firm. That is still on.
In Vilamoura, we were able to buy a hose to replace the malodorous head exhaust hose, which was by far the highest priority problem to arise so far. A few other odds and ends can probably be found in Gibraltar, or Carol might get back in the U.S., or they can be delayed indefinitely.
Naturally we need to do some re-provisioning. My memory from more than ten years ago is that Gibraltar is the cheapest place in the world to buy Laphroaig scotch. The difficulty is in calculating how much I need to get to Australia.
Since writing the above we made it to Gibraltar, powering almost all the way on glassy seas. In fact we powered the entire south coast of Portugal, having no wind on any of the legs, except for an hour on the nose as we approached one breakwater. Except for bringing THE HAWKE OF TUONELA down from Vermont when I first bought her, I don’t ever recall powering so far.
Upon arrival all three of the marinas were full and we had to anchor off the airport in a spot which would be untenable in bad weather. Fortunately a space opened in Marina Bay the next day. Since arriving here, Carol has made her flight plans. Naturally she had no trouble getting a seat. Also we have decided that, barring negative news, we will stop in Dakar, leaving here about November 1. After Portugal, Gibraltar is expensive. Gone are the days of good $3 and $4 a bottle wine. Even Laphroaig costs more here than in a supermarket in Portugal. We have switched to cheap gin. One must be adaptable.
Best regards, Webb
7
July 2001
Dear Harry,
It was good to hear from you. I appreciate the courtesy of your asking if you could pass on the email. Indeed you can. Particularly if you mention that if anyone wants to know more, they can buy A SINGLE WAVE. People may also be interested to know that an article of mine about our passage from Boston is going to be in CRUISING WORLD, probably in November, along with a photo of THE HAWKE OF TUONELA on the cover.
We have moved on from Horta to Terceira, where on the east end we have at last found tranquility at a place called Praia da Vitoria. The mile wide bay here, naturally open to the east, has been made the biggest all weather harbor in the Azores by the construction of two long breakwaters. We share an anchorage that would hold hundreds, if not thousands of boats, with just five others. The weather has even been steadily good for several days, though the temperatures remain about 70 and both of us could stand for a bit more heat to burn remnants of too many Boston winters from our bones
June is probably going to find our watch keeping system unsatisfactory. It is a result of my having spend years as a solo sailor, when I simply went to sleep. Away from the coast this is what we still do, waking up every hour or so to look around.
This was the first passage on which I have had radar. We set it on standby, coming on for one minute every fifteen minutes, with a 16-mile guard zone around us. Carol fiddled with the controls. There is a tendency for sea clutter to set off the alarm. And this in fact worked well.
For the first two nights out we were near fishing boats on the Georges Bank and the shipping route from Europe to New York and I spent a lot of time awake. We stood two-hour watches the last night before landfall because of other sailboats and fishing boats. It was in fact a perfect full moon night and a pleasure to be awake.
From past
experience I know that we will have to keep close watch the last few nights off
the mainland of Portugal. But what
the exact routine will be will depend on conditions.
Best, Webb
2
July 2001
Dear
Harry,
It was good to hear from you. We have moved on from grossly overcrowded Horta, where we were part of the herd jammed four and five deep against the wall, to a new marina in Angra do Heroismo on the island of Terceira, seventy miles northeast of Faial. Our departure was dictated by the French Amel moored inside us, who wanted to leave Monday. We had planned for Tuesday, but didn’t want to make two moves, so left at 0730. A British boat was outside us and almost caught our fenders with his bow line. We went on to the reception dock-rafted five deep-and cleared out when the office opened at 0800. We kept wondering why the Amel did not appear. The British boat just arrived here. They are nice people and explained that the Amel was delayed for several hours when their bow line became snarled on its bow thruster. That must have been a pleasant morning. And people wonder why I so hated being rafted.
The forced departure was fortunate. Monday was perfect. I had not expected to make it here before dark and planned to stand off until dawn, but with a beam wind and long daylight, by mid-afternoon it became apparent we had a chance and in fact reached the harbor just after sunset, but with plenty of twilight in which to come to anchor. Carol and I had been here seven years ago, but the harbor looks completely different with a new breakwater and marina. I rowed in the next morning to see what was available and we then moved THE HAWKE OF TUONELA in. Because they are not officially open, we get a 40% discount and a slip only costs $4 a night, versus the standard $6.
The town is historic and picturesque and hilly, all white buildings, red tile roofs, churches, and forts. While small and wide open to the southeast this is the best natural harbor in the Azores and the place where the treasure fleets anchored on their way back to Portugal and Spain. Also where Vasco da Gama stopped on his way back from India. One of his brothers died and is buried here.
So far the Azores High has not filled in, though it is giving some signs of doing so, and the weather has not been great, only one day in four sunny and warm and the others cloudy and rainy. These are green islands for a reason.
Being settled here, I have pretty much finished an article for CRUISING WORLD. They sent a photographer with chase boat to take some photos of us under sail the Friday before we left Boston and, I think, will run one of the photos as a cover shot with the article.
In a few days we will go to another harbor on the east coast of this island, about 15 miles away, then when weather permits overnight to the biggest city, Porto Delgado, on the biggest island in the group, San Miguel, which I have not previously visited. From there, probably about mid-July we will cross to Lisbon. Two boats we have met here highly recommend a new marina in a converted commercial basin in the city. Assuming we can find room in the summer crush and the place is as enjoyable of others say, we may stay put for a month. Europe, and particularly Portugal, is a zoo in August when everyone takes their vacations.
THE HAWKE OF TUONELA is in good shape.
Nothing serious has gone wrong that couldn’t be easily repaired,
although a couple of waterproof electrical deck fittings have corroded and are
leaving rust stains. I almost
suspect that the Chinese or Taiwanese who undoubtedly made them used inferior
metal, but then that couldn’t be true. I
will replace
them if I can in Gibraltar.
The most exciting moment so far has been when, due to my own error in
leaving too much slack in the jib halyard after I had moved it to set the
cruising spinnaker, the jib furling gear jammed, and I had to go to the masthead
at sea to unwrap the snarl. Three
weeks later, the bruises from bouncing off the mast on the way up and down are
almost gone. The US dollar being strong, Portugal has never been cheaper.
With a decent bottle of wine for $3 and a slip for $4 we are living quite
well and easily staying within budget. Life
is good.
Give our regards to all there,
Webb
and Carol
June 30, 2002
Dear Dan, Mary and Connor,
It is good to hear from you. Carol and I were talking about Boston a while ago and realized that your child would be getting to be nearly a year old. Congratulations on your first and second additions. As you may have heard, Carol is again among you. While we were in Brazil at around Christmas time, her former firm contacted her by email and made her an offer to return as a partner and ultimately she accepted, but did not fly back until a few weeks ago. She enjoyed the times in port, but not the time at sea, but mostly she has always enjoyed her work and takes most of her identity from it. So we will be having a very modern e-marriage. She negotiated more vacation time than anyone else in the firm has, including the founding partners, and will fly to join me for a couple of months a year, and I will fly back there from time to time. I do not expect to sail back there. Boston has its charms, but as I said in an earlier piece in CW, I prefer the southern hemisphere and will spend the majority of my time here for the foreseeable future. Cape Town is rapidly rivaling Sydney as my favorite city in the world. Perhaps when I get to Sydney, it will again reign supreme, but this place is more beautiful. The mountain is always there, not looming over the city, which is built on the lower slopes, but grand and majestic. Sometimes I forget about it, until I happen to glance up and there it is, particularly early in the morning or near sunset when the shadows define the shape. It also doesn't hurt that prices here are remarkably low and that this is a mix of the first and the third world. A considerable proportion of the population is dying of AIDS, but they are not in sight. The only person I have seen that I thought might be seriously ill was the guard at the isolated northern exit from Kruger, and I don't know the nature of his illness. Crime is no more a problem here than in any city, at least in daytime and in the places I frequent. And the new development along the waterfront has made the city much more convenient for those of us on boats than it was when I was last here. I really like the place. I have spread out a bit in the THE HAWKE OF TUONELA, though actually I don't need all the space and will have to stuff rolls of paper towels or something in some lockers to keep things rolling about at sea. I installed a new solar panel regulator and ran new wires to the deck-mounted panel. The deck connector on this panel corroded and shorted out on the passage from Brazil and nearly caused a fire. It did fry the old regulator. The job went easily enough, but required ripping half the boat apart. I am going to add a third solar panel, but probably not mount it permanently. I am due to haul out next week. Winter here is mid-California, more rain than San Diego, but much warmer than San Francisco. Depending on the weather I hope to be back in the water within a few days. I could have the topsides repainted for about $1400, which is probably world class low, but don't think I will. You're certainly free to share the above with others. I've finished an article about Brazil and another nuts and bolts piece about the first year, but don't know yet if CW is going to run them. We have sailed 12,000 miles since leaving Boston, were underway for 130 days and on passages for 90+. This might be the reason Carol went back to work, but she said that if we had stayed in one place, she would have become bored.
All the best,
Webb